Summary: Resisting her mates has become a pastime of sorts for Nesta after being confined to the House of Wind. SMUT 18+ ONLY MDNI Mating frenzy Cassian x F!Reader x Nesta.
Nesta hates her mates. She hates having mates. She hates the stupid string connecting her ribs to each of theirs.
Hates herself for the way she’d shielded Cassian’s broken body from Hybern and called out for Y/N to abandon her position on the battlefield and come save them.
Y/N…Y/N. Her mate, has saved her more than once. She saved her night after night from drinking herself into a stupor and having strangers fall into her bed. If Nesta wants to fuck someone, Y/N is more than happy to indulge her.
And when Nesta is in need of something a bit more than the best fingers and tongue known to man; Cassian, who so adored his wife, makes love to Nesta like it is his job.
It isn’t fair, what the cauldron stole from them by creating her. Y/N and Cassian went from perfectly happy married mates to having to accommodate Nesta. It isn’t fair. She hates feeling like a burden. So much so that Nesta tells them she wants no part in their union, no place in their bed, or space in their lives.
Given that it was her choosing, Nesta’s blood shouldn’t be boiling at the way Mor is making eyes at her mate. Cassian and Mor have history, everyone knows it, but to the best of Nesta’s knowledge, Y/N and Mor haven’t slept together.
Maybe it’s the easy closeness the two females share that is slowly sending Nesta into oblivion. Perhaps it is the mating bond itself, but the possessiveness she feels over Y/N…
Cassian’s eyes find Nesta’s, arching an inquisitive brow as he speaks through the bond. “Everything alright, Nes?”
Nesta shakes her head, casting him out and sealing her mental wards, tight.
Y/N looks toward her mate with a patient, kind grin.
I want you. Nesta has to bite her own tongue to keep from screaming it. I want you. I want you. I want you.
“Clearly you’re having a moment,” Mor clears her throat as she rises to her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow at Rita’s for dinner, don’t be late.” She warns.
“Goodnight, Mor.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Nesta says not a word, storming off in the direction of her room. She hates this house. She hates everyone in it. But most of all she hates herself for wanting them so badly.
There is a soft knock at her door some time later. “Nesta.” Y/N calls.
“Go away.” Nesta bites out, turning over in her bed.
“Nesta,” her mate repeats, leaving the name to hang heavy between them. “I want you.”
It is nearly enough to ease Nesta’s anger for being sent to this stupid house to live with her mates and ten thousand fucking steps. Nearly enough to shake her resolve, force her into submission. But Nesta is so tired of not having a say. This is one of the only things she can control and she sinks her claws into it. More than willing to cut off her nose to spite her face.
“You and Cassian need to stay the hell out of my head.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Nesta swallows down her guilt, “go away.”
This time Y/N listens, returning to Cassian with a heavy heart. Sobbing her frustration and sadness into his chest.
Cassian hushes her, “Nesta will come around.”
“She was so loud in my head, Cass. She said she wanted me, so why-“
“Because she’s Nesta.” Cassian chuckles.
Y/N can’t help the wet laugh that escapes her.
“I want you too, you know?” He reminds her.
She lifts her head to look at him, really look at him. Cassian is perfect. The light of her life. “I want you.”
“I’m yours.”
Y/N rolls atop of her husband, her love, kissing him for all she’s worth. Rolling her hips against his until the familiar length of his cock presses against her.
Cassian flips her beneath him, all but shredding the pretty little dress she slipped on after abandoning her Illyrian leathers.
She helps Cassian rid himself of his own gear, rolling her onto her belly and caressing the sensitive membrane of her wings.
They’d wanted to clip them…where she grew up. Cassian shoves the unbidden image of what might have been from his mind.
Y/N’s wings, the most magnificent wings he’s ever seen, are a sight to behold. He wonders idly what their child’s wings will look like. The sweet baby growing her womb has not made its presence known, save for the tiny swell of her lower belly.
Their friends, their family, picked up on the change in her scent immediately. Congratulating her, hugging her, sharing their excitement.
Nesta said nothing.
When Y/N is writhing beneath him, Cassian snakes a hand down to her heat, slipping a single finger inside.
“Cassian,” she whines.
He slinks further down the bed, pressing kisses to the plush globes of her ass. He is rightfully accused of kissing it anyway. “So sweet.” His tongue licks a firm stripe up her slit, dipping into her soaked entrance.
She reaches back, grabbing for his hand, resting at her thigh to keep her in place. “Don’t tease me, please. I need you inside.”
“I am inside,” Cassian runs his tongue along the seam of her thigh. Wiggling his finger for emphasis.
“Please,” she whines.
Cassian moves up behind her, pressing himself against her back. “I would do anything for you. You’re gonna have everything you want, always.” He slides the head of his cock through her wetness, spreading it down toward her bundle of nerves.
“Cassian,” Y/N can hardly breathe with him so close to where she needs him. “I love you, please.” She blubbers.
He fills her aching cunt in one fluid motion, forcing himself to the hilt inside her. “Anything you want.”
“Fuck me.”
“I fucking love you, you know that?” He says, through gritted teeth as he sets a punishing pace.
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” he praises. “Relax your pretty arms for me,” he lays a hand between her shoulder blades until her chest is flat against the mattress with her perfect ass in the air. “There you go, my love. Let me do all the work, my mate should never have to do anything hard.”
Nesta hears the obscene sounds coming from her mates’ shared bedroom, but more than that, she felt that stupid string between them pull taut. Love and lust calling to her through the bond.
She pads down the hall, turning the knob of their unlocked door and swinging it open. Nesta’s mates seem to miss her grand entrance, and for good reason. Lost in the throes of pleasure.
Y/N pushes up and away from the mattress, her face contorted in pleasure.
Nesta sucks in a breath, Y/N is so beautiful. Cassian is beautiful.
“Hi,” Cassian coos, bringing Y/N’s back flush to his chest and holding her against him. The two of them fit perfectly together, as though they were made for this alone. In a sense, perhaps they were. He continues fucking her with gentle, deep thrusts. Allowing her breathing to steady and he kisses her shoulders, her neck, the side of her perfect face. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. So good.”
Y/N only whimpers as his strong fingers begin circling the swollen bundle of nerves between her thighs. “Cass,” she cries, “Cassie-”
He chuckles, “yeah, sweet girl. You’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard.”
“Now,” she pleads, “please now.”
“Need you to come with me.”
“Please, please.”
“Shhh,” he begins working her faster. “You’re ok.”
Y/N cums, milking his cock for all he’s worth.
Cassian looses a low growl as he fucks her full of his own release.
Y/N’s eyes open slowly, her gaze falling on the figure standing at their bedside. “Nesta.”
“Nesta?” Cassian follows her gaze.
“I want you.” Nesta breathes.
Y/N blinks at her.
“I am tired of not having you.”
“Then come here,” Cassian extends a hand toward her, panting, cock still buried in their lover.
It can’t be this easy, can it? If so, Nesta is a fool for denying them and herself for this long. She shoves at Cassian’s shoulder, rolling him away from their mate.
He tucks an arm beneath his head as he rests easily against the mattress, awaiting her next move with one large hand splayed over Y/N’s ass.
Nesta moves for Y/N next, coaxing her onto her back. Drawing her legs up toward her chest so Y/N’s swollen cunt is on display. Dripping with Cassian’s seed. “You are so beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m gonna make you cum until you cry.” Nesta warns.
Y/N shivers beneath her.
“Geez, Nes. Let’s ease into this.” Cassian huffs a laugh, brushing sweat damp hair from his wife’s face.
“I’m tired of waiting.” Nesta insists.
“You’re the one who made us wait.” Y/N peeks up at Nesta so innocently, despite her obscene position, Nesta flushes.
She lowers her face to the apex of Y/N’s thighs. Tasting her mates together. Savoring them.
“Nesta,” Y/N whimpers as Nesta begins thrusting her wicked tongue into her pulsing cunt.
————————————————————————
Nesta wakes first, in her mates’ bed. In their arms.
Y/N’s head resting on her chest, draped over her waist towards Cassian, who is holding both of them beneath his arm and wing.
Fuck. Nesta realizes she can’t get out without waking them. She’s going to have to talk about this. Explain herself. And that terrifies her.
“Good morning,” Y/N yawns a few moments later. Her dazzling smile illuminating the room faster than a hundred sunbeams.
“Good morning.” Nesta hesitates, not wanting to disappoint her. Again.
“You’re going to run, aren’t you?”
“I don’t see how I can with both of you on top of me.” Nesta challenges.
“Is it really so bad?”
“What?”
“Being with us.”
“I don’t-“ Nesta swallows hard. “I’m not…no.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Y/N asks.
“Me.” Nesta tells her, “I am the problem. I always have been and always will be.”
Y/N makes no attempt to stop the frustrated tears from welling in her eyes, “why do you think that?”
“Because it’s true,” Nesta snaps.
“No it’s not.”
“You have to say that, you’re in love with me.”
“You’re right, I am in love with you and I don’t think you’re a problem. But if that’s how you feel, fine. If you are a problem, I want you to be my problem.”
Y/N’s confession rouses Cassian, rubbing his eyes as he attempts to make sense of their conversation.
“You,” Nesta stammers, “you couldn’t handle me. You’re sweet and soft and kind. I’m not. I’ll crush you, I’ll hurt you somehow. And the worst part is, I’ll do it without meaning to because I am broken. I’m broken on the inside.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Y/N whispers, “you can’t scare me away. I won’t run, no matter how hard you bite, no matter how many times you bare your teeth at me. I can handle you. We can handle you.”
Nesta’s eyes land on Cassian, “tell her she’s wrong. Tell her I’m not worth it. Tell her-“
“No,” Cassian says, simply.
“No?” Nesta blanches.
“You’re our mate, Nesta. There is no universe in which you are not worth it.” Cassian moves into a sitting position.
“This isn’t fair to you.” Nesta follows his motion, leaning her back against the head board.
“Life isn’t fair.” He reminds her. “So do your best. Or hell, do your worst as long as you’re doing it to me. With us.”
Nesta scoffs, gaze darting between them, “you’re insane. Both of you.”
“See?” Y/N purses her lips, “we’re not perfect either, you’ll have to make sacrifices to be with us too.”
“That’s not the same.” Nesta rises from the mattress.
“Where are you going?” Cassian demands, prepared to pounce.
“To give you idiots what you want.” Nesta pulls on her nightgown. “I’m going to make you breakfast.”
Y/N’s furrowed brow softens.
“That’s how it’s done, right? That’s how I accept it. I’m offering you food. So get your clothes on and meet me downstairs.” Nesta spins on her heels, abandoning the warmth of their bed for the kitchen.
Cassian is out the door first, chasing her down the stairs of the House of Wind. “Hold on a minute, are you sure?”
“Do you want me to change my mind?” Nesta challenges, flipping on the stove burner.
“No, shit, Nesta.” Cassian wraps a hand around her delicate wrist. “I just want you to be sure. This is forever.”
You’re scared too. Nesta realizes. Scared she would leave, bolt at the first sign of trouble in paradise and he is right to worry. That is what she’s always done. To Y/N…to him.
It is dangerous, to love another so deeply. Nesta would sooner reduce the world to ash than allow harm to come to a single hair on their heads.
“I’m sure,” Nesta breathes, pressing into him as his lips meet hers. “I love you. I’m sure.”
“Ok,” Cassian grins against her mouth.
“So…the mating frenzy.” Nesta smirks, tangling her fingers in his hair.
“Mhm.”
“Tell me what to expect.”
Cassian laughs, eyes twinkling as he pulls back slightly, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Expect the filthiest fucking you’ve ever received and the sweetest love you’ve ever made over the course of a few weeks. Expect to cum over and over until you’re so sensitive you can barely stand it and then cumming again. Expect everything you’ve read in your books and then some.”
“W-weeks you said?” Nesta swallows.
“For Y/N and I it was two, we had to cut it a little short due to other obligations, but with you…I don’t think that will be possible.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Lady Death joins Lord and Lady Bloodshed in a mating frenzy. It’s going to be intense.” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, “don’t worry, we’ll talk you through it.”
“Is it safe for the baby?” Nesta wonders.
“Sex is perfectly safe during pregnancy, encouraged even, as it promotes the production of hormones which lower stress and reduce anxiety.”
Nesta nods.
“Sweet of you to ask though, I see you’ve got a soft spot for our mate.”
“You’re one to talk,” Nesta scoffs. “You spoil her rotten.”
He leans against the countertop, giving Nesta room to crack a few eggs into the sizzling pan. “Can you blame me?” Cassian’s eyes land on the female in question, now standing in the doorway. The silk of her nightgown hugging each delicious curve.
Nesta follows his gaze to Y/N, leaning casually against the doorframe. No. She doesn’t blame him at all. It is still jarring to Nesta, that Y/N is the same person who slain the King of Hybern with one clean slash of her blade. The same person who had knelt beside her, covered in blood, holding Cassian upright. Assuring Nesta it was over and that she would make it ok.
Y/N who commanded armies along side her mate, Y/N who brought warriors to their knees, the same Y/N who held her hand. Who looks at her like she is the most precious thing in the world.
Y/N crosses both arms over her chest. “Blame you for what?”
“Spoiling you.” Cassian says, with pride. Crossing the room to his wife and wrapping her in his arms, walking them toward Nesta.
Y/N giggles as he peppers her face with kisses.
“Nes was just making sure the frenzy we’re about to have is safe for the baby.”
Y/N reaches for Nesta’s free hand, placing it against her lower belly. “You’re gonna be a good Mama.”
Nesta sucks in a breath, “you want me to be-“
“Unless you don’t want to.” Y/N drops her arms back to her sides. Allowing Cassian’s large hands to splay across her womb. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“No,” Nesta chokes out, “I want that. I want everything with you but I don’t…want to intrude. I don’t want to be a burden.”
Y/N untwines herself from her husband, wrapping her arms around Nesta at the stove and pressing her lips to her shoulder. “You’re not.”
Nesta stiffens.
“I love you.” Y/N reminds her, “I promise, you’re not.”
Nesta nods, pushing the eggs around with her spatula. “You love me?”
“Yes,” Y/N laughs.
“Then grab us plates and forks.” Nesta demands, “and eat.”
————————————————————————-
They hardly finish their breakfast, despite Cassian’s warning they should finish it all. “You’re going to need the energy.”
And now, three rounds in, Nesta wishes she’d heeded his warning.
Y/N climbs down from her perch atop Nesta’s face.
“Where are you going?” Cassian growls at the loss of her lips against his as he continues pistoning in and out of their mate.
“To her.” Y/N informs him.
Nesta blinks up at Y/N from her position on her back. Whining and whimpering at the feel of Cassian inside her. She’s never been fucked like this.
Y/N lies down beside her, hands clawing at the sheets.
Nesta screams at the brush of Y/N’s finger over her pebbled nipples, darkened from their earlier ministrations.
“Oh, baby,” Y/N purrs, smoothing a hand over her mate’s belly to her aching bundle of nerves.
Nesta gasps reaching a hand behind the female to carress her wings, earning her a cant of Y/N’s hips against the outside of her thigh.
“It’s a lot, but you can take it.” Y/N kisses Nesta’s flushed cheek. “We just have to break you in a little bit, huh, my love?”
Nesta can’t speak, she can hardly breathe.
“I need your words, baby.” Cassian insists, “tell me you’re ok.”
“I’m ok.” Nesta chokes out, “god, Cassian. Y/N!”
He bends at the waist to capture her lips. “I love you, Nesta. We love you.”
“Fuck, Cass.” Nesta finally understands Y/N’s tendency to cry out ridiculous variations of his name.
‘Cassian’ means Y/N is still in her right mind. ‘Cass’ means she’s either close or cumming already. ‘Cassie’ means he’s hitting that spot and not stopping, even after she’s cum.
“Good job.” He coos. “Taking my cock so well. Are you sore, sweetheart?”
Fuck, the pet name stirs something in her. Nesta nods.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She shakes her head. Lost in the sensation of Y/N’s fingers skating across her lower belly. Tracing the outline of Cassian’s bulge within her.
“Right there,” Y/N looks to her husband, “that’s how deep you are.”
Cassian licks his lips, “mhm. She feels like heaven.”
“Such sweet noises too.” Y/N drawls, circling Nesta’s swollen clit, “make her cum. Show our perfect mate the stars.”
Nesta throws her head back, “fuck!” It’s too much. Too intense and she loves her mates, so fucking much. All she can do is cry out.
Y/N takes the opportunity to seize her mouth. Swallowing her pleasure.
Nesta will never tired of this, no matter how many times she cums, no matter how sore she gets. The thought of spending even a second without one of them beside her, on top of her, inside of her is unbearable.
Y/N’s fingers do not stop circling, Cassian does not stop fucking her, even as Nesta crests that wave of bliss and rolls toward the next one.
“Again, baby.” Y/N coos.
Cassian hikes Nesta leg up to his shoulder, kissing the inside of her a shin as he begins to move. His length dragging over her sensitive inner walls.
Nesta wails. Sinking her nails into the delicate skin of Y/N’s forearm. “Too much.”
Y/N strokes Nesta’s hair. “I’ll be gentle.”
Cassian slows his thrusts, grinding against her slow and deep. “We’re going to take care of you, love. Good job using your words.”
Nesta would do anything for them. Tears roll down towards her temples from the corners of her eyes.
“Hey,” Cassian begins to withdraw from her slick. “Don’t cry.” He’s no stranger to a few tears here and there from Y/N when he’s fucking her too good and she cums too hard. Like hitting some hidden release valve. This is different, Nesta is full on crying, covering her face with her hands.
“No.” Nesta locks her legs around his waist. He will leave her empty and hollow and alone. “Please.”
“Nesta,” he coos. “I love you, but you’re gripping me like a vise and if you don’t stop this is going to be more than an emotional release.”
“I’m sorry.” Nesta sobs, “I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s ok.” Y/N assures her, “you’re ok.”
Nesta nods, burying her face in the crook of Y/N’s neck. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?” Cassian says, gently enough for a fresh batch of tears to well in Nesta’s eyes.
“Of getting used to this.”
“We want you to get used to this.” Y/N says, pulling Nesta tighter against her side, making room for Cassian to lie behind their mate. To engulf her in his arms in a feeble attempt to quell her pain.
Cassian murmurs, “we’ve got you.”
Nesta cries until her shoulders are wracked with sobs, until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are swollen. She cries until she can’t anymore. Y/N and Cassian hold her. Whispering sweet nothings and promising that everything will be ok.
“Stay,” she pleads, “please stay.”
Cassian hooks a finger beneath Nesta’s chin, turning her to face him. Hazel eyes softening to that heart breaking degree Nesta thought was reserved only for Y/N. Directed at her now. “We’re always going to stay. Always.”
“No one is leaving.” Y/N chimes in, “not now, not ever. We’re going to be together, in this life and every one after. You belong here, you belong with me and Cassian.”
Cassian raises Nesta’s hand, holding it to his heart.
“And our baby.” Nesta says, through it sounds like more of a question.
Y/N melts, nodding quickly, “and our baby.”
“We’ll make it official with a ceremony, a wedding, even.”
It is too good to be true, Nesta knows it. But for once in her life, she is too well loved to care. She no longer waits for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps the wolf had not eaten her, merely chewed her up and spit her out anew. “I want…to be your wife.”
“And so you will be.”
Lord and Lady Bloodshed welcome Lady Death into their union, happily.
Summary - She's the assistant. They're the CEOs. Things are about to get very, very inappropriate.
Thrown into the high-stakes world of tech and security, she's the ditzy assistant struggling to keep up with the impossible perfection of CEOs Cassian and Nesta.
Between spilt coffee disasters, chaotic office drama, and encounters that leave her flustered, confused, and a little... distracted, she starts to realise there's far more to this power duo than just business.
Every glance, every touch, every heated moment threatens to push the line between professional and personal.
Can she keep her composure, or will the temptation of the CEOs prove impossible to resist?
Tags - boss x assistant AU, polyamory, workplace romance, flirty and fun, power dynamics, protective CEOs
Contents -
୭ One | The First Spark | 2.5k words
୭ Two | Fault Lines | 2.3k words
୭ Three | Flustered | 2.2k words
୭ Four | Silky Kisses | 3.1k words
୭ Five | Crash and Burn | 2k words
୭ Six | Edges of Restraint | 2.1k words
୭ Seven | Paper-thin | 2k words
୭ Eight | Crossing the Threshold | 2.9k words
ACOTAR Masterlist
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
Another requested fic!! This one was subtly inspired by a message by @galacticoceans and an ask! I'm not 100% sure about the posting order yet, but this is actually my second time writing a female as one of the love interests x
I think I did better on this one (fingers crossed), but either way, please be gentle, it was such a blast to write, and I had so much fun bringing these chaotic, flirty CEOs and their ditzy assistant to life :)
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
Summary: When your perfectly private life implodes, your alphas are there to help.
Warnings: omegaverse, mean girls, insecurity, hurt/comfort (mild)
Words: ~2.2k
Author's Note: I am cranky af this morning. But at least I already have something written for today. I hope you guys like it, let me know what you think 🫶
18+ only pls
🩶❤️🤍❤️🩶
Your nightmare had come true.
On all the tabloids and magazines was your face, your name, the details of your relationship. And of course, you’d only found out once you’d finished your commute to work.
Call after call reached your desk all day, reporters asking for more details on your relationship with the Cassian and the Nesta. Each time, you shut them down. Halfway through the day, you stopped answering it altogether.
“Y/N, come in here please,” you boss, Ianthe, called out, causing every head in the office to turn towards your desk. You made your way to her office as quickly as you could, ready for any reprieve from your coworkers’ eyes. Once you were settled into the chair in front of her desk, a grin broke over her face. “So are you really dating Nesta and Cassian? Have they marked you yet? What are they like, in person?” The questions came out rapid fire, leaving you no time to process, let alone answer, each one.
“You called me in here to… talk about my love life?” you asked incredulously. “Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?”
“What is unprofessional, Y/N, is not answering your phone when it could be clients calling. I think you should just go home for the day, if you’re not going to dish,” Ianthe said, admiring her manicure instead of looking at you. “Scoot, scoot. I don’t have all day to deal with you and your drama.”
You rolled your eyes at her and stood, returning to your desk to grab your things. On the elevator ride down to the bottom floor, you checked your phone. Missed calls and several apologetic texts from your alphas, but nothing could have prepared you for the view from the lobby.
Outside were dozens of paparazzi, far too many for you to evade, especially since you had taken the train to work today. You slipped into the bathroom, hoping that no one had noticed you, then dialed Cassian’s number. He didn’t have practice today, and was more likely to be able to pick you up.
“Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for our relationship to be out like this,” Cassian pled, voice desperate.
“I know, Cass, I just… I’m leaving work now and there’s a crowd outside, waiting for me…”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, baby, just hold on for me. I’ll call you when I’m pulling up.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” you sighed, then hung up. Your eyes went wide when you heard the bathroom door open, and you ducked into a stall and locked it. The less people who know where you are, the better.
“Can you believe that’s the omega they chose? They were a perfect couple, but with her?” one of the women sneered. “I don’t know how they stand it. I bet her scent isn’t even good, she looks like she smells of smoke and fertilizer.”
The other women laughed with her, your heart sinking as you realized they were talking about you.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, I would guess that her scent is addictive to them, and that’s why they overlook how ugly she is.”
“Or she’s a freak in bed,” a third woman tittered, the other two joining in.
“No matter what, they could do better. I mean, Nesta Archeron alone could have anyone she wanted, but with Cassian Moore? Even a mated omega would leave their alpha for them.”
“Are you speaking for yourself?”
“Of course, I would leave James in a heartbeat if Cassian and Nesta asked me to date them. And I’d gladly beat that bitch to the ground to earn her place,” the first woman boasted.
“Sure you would, Ms. Manicure,” one of her friends teased, and their footsteps led towards the door. “She’d be easy to beat, I’m sure. The ugly ones always are.”
The door shut, leaving you alone in the silence of the bathroom once more.
Were you really that bad looking?
A few minutes later, your phone rang. Cassian. You didn’t bother answering, and merely made your way out of the bathroom and to the entrance, doing your best to keep your head down and face unrecognizable. Maybe they didn’t have your looks memorized yet.
A black sedan pulled up just as you opened the doors, and flashes overtook your vision.
How Cassian and Nesta endured this on a regular basis, you would never understand.
You pushed your way through the crowd of cameras, overwhelmed by the sound of your name being shouted from every direction. The car door swung open just as you reached it, your boyfriend’s face bringing a sense of calm as you dove into the car, slamming the door shut behind you. The noise instantly died down, giving you room to breathe.
“I am so sorry, sweetheart, neither Nesta or I were expecting this to happen,” Cassian apologized, easing the car back into the street.
‘I know, Cass,” you sighed, taking the hand that he offered and nuzzling your cheeks against it. His normally calm winter wind and ember scent was plagued with panic and worry, and not near as soothing as you needed. You pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, a soft smile on your face when his scent cleared slightly. “Is Nessie okay?”
Cass shook his head, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. “I’m not sure how she’s feeling, she decided to finish up her work before coming home, and asked me to look after you until she’s back. I have a feeling she’s angrier than I am about this.”
You nodded in agreement. Nesta had the fiercest temper of the three of you, though Cassian’s still rivaled hers when provoked. And with the lengths Nesta had gone to, keeping your relationship secret from the world at your request, you knew that she would be furious with whoever had leaked the information. All you hoped was that she could let it go for the night - you had a feeling you’d need to nest and snuggle with your alphas for the entire night while some silly sitcom played in the background.
The car ride went by too slowly once you noticed two cars trailing you, likely desperate paparazzi hoping to get a picture of the two of you together.
Thankfully, Cassian and Nesta’s apartment had a private parking lot, and only residents with key cards could enter or exit the garage. Your nerves were still high when Cassian opened your door and helped you out of the car with his gentle hands.
“Do you want my jacket?” he asked, already shrugging the fabric off and settling it over your shoulders. His scent enveloped you and you took a deep breath, your exhale taking your fear with it. “Better?”
“Yes,” you sighed, omega content now that you’d been calmed by your alpha.
“Let’s get inside, then,” Cass said, leading you to the elevators with an arm around your waist. The trip up usually felt long, but when Cassian tugged you into his side and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head? It went by in a blink.
He corralled you into the apartment, hauling you into his arms the moment the door was shut and locked, and you were safe in the privacy of your home once more. Even if you didn’t technically live here, it still felt like home to you, considering that you nested here, your alphas were here, and you felt safest here.
“What do you think, should we eat something or take one of those fancy bubble baths that you love so much?” Cassian asked, bouncing you in his arms like a baby. You giggled a lightly slapped his arm, though you really had no problem with how he was manhandling you.
“I think a bubble bath,” you whispered, grinning when Cassian took off for the bedroom. He set you on the bed, and immediately set to pulling out a bath bomb, bath salts, and candles, everything that made for a perfect bath.
Once he was in the bathroom, your worries came rushing back. What those women had said, the fact that the picture on all of the front pages was of you naked in bed with Cassian and Nesta, taken when you’d stayed at a hotel a few cities away two nights ago, through the slightly open curtains.
Cassian returned and you forced a smile on your face. No need to burden him with your worries, not when he was being so thoughtful.
The water was delightfully hot when you slipped into it, Cassian following a moment behind. Lavender greeted your senses, the soothing smell making you sleepy in only a few minutes. You laid in Cassian’s hold until the water turned cool, and only then did you pull yourself from the water. Cassian dried you off and dressed you in your fluffy robe that had migrated from your apartment to theirs a few months back.
You padded into the bedroom without him, beelining for the closet that held your nesting fabrics. Inside was an overflowing cornucopia of all that you needed to make a perfect nest to hide from the world with your alphas.
You heard Cassian’s fond chuckle just before his arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping you mid-movement as you were laying out a plush blanket. “Did you want me to run out and get any special food or drinks? I’ll be quick,” he said softly.
“I suppose… you could get me my usual snacks and an energy drink?”
“Right away, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see your nest all finished.” Cassian’s words sent heat to your cheeks, his sweetness always made you feel so special. You gave him a kiss once he was dressed and walked him to the front door, and once it was shut you returned to your nest in an instant.
You took your time building your nest, disappointed when it was finished and Cassian had yet to return. Slipping out of your robe, you put on a soft nightgown and crawled into your nest, turning the tv on to find something to watch.
You were halfway through a romcom when you heard the front door open, two voices sounding in the main room. You almost jumped out of your nest to run and greet them, but you only had to wait ten seconds for Nesta to pass through the bedroom doorway, her eyes instantly on you.
“Oh, love, I’m so sorry,” Nesta said tearfully. “I swear we had no idea this would happen, and I am going to kill that hotel for not keeping their window-washers from swapping out with non-employees. But- how are you? Do you need anything else beyond what Cassian grabbed?”
The smile on your face was bright as you reached out for her. “Only my alphas in my nest.”
Nesta grinned back, then turned to the closet to find something more comfortable to wear. By the time Cassian entered the room with a tray laden with snacks and various drinks, Nesta was already curled against your right side.
“My girls are so pretty,” Cass cooed as he dove into your nest, claiming your left side and pulling Nesta tight against you with one arm. “Snacks, anyone?”
Two movies later and you were feeling calmer than you had since seeing the news, but insecurity still lingered in your chest.
“Do I… Are you guys embarrassed of me?” you asked in a small voice, hiding your head against Nesta’s chest.
“Why would you say that, sweetheart?”
“Well, I- there were these girls, talking in the bathroom at my work…”
“And?” Nesta asked, voice sharp even as a hand ran up and down your arm gently.
“They were talking about how…” you paused, trying to keep from bursting into tears immediately. “How I’m not pretty enough for both of you, and you only like me for my scent.”
“That’s bullshit, Y/N. We love you because you’re you, amazing and perfect and so beautiful,” Cassian gushed.
“And we do love your scent, but it’s because it’s your scent. We love you for you, sweetheart,” Nesta murmured into your ear. "We are your alphas, and you are our omega. Nothing will ever change that, and we are in no way embarrassed of you. In fact, Cassian and I have been looking forward to taking you everywhere with us, once you’re comfortable of course.”
You sniffled, wiping your eyes before raising your head, just in case a stray tear had fallen on your cheeks. “You- you are?”
“Of course, princess,” Cassian said softly. “We’ve wanted nothing more than to show the world who our perfect omega is, but we knew how uncomfortable you were with being in the spotlight.”
“I hadn’t realized…” you trailed off for a moment. “I didn’t know that you wanted to show our relationship that badly. I'm sorry..."
"You don’t need to apologize, Y/N,” Nesta said as she patted your arm reassuringly. “We know just how brutal public attention can be, and we never once felt like our relationship was lacking without being public. You are perfect, and I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Nessie. Gosh, I sound so silly,” you laughed wetly.
“No you don’t, sweetheart. Those women however…” Cassian shook his head, anger leaving with it. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”
“And I love you, Cass. I love both of you so much.”
“Good, because you’re ours,” Nesta giggled, pressing her lips to your neck.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible, being in the limelight, so long as you had Nesta and Cassian by your side, reassuring you.
based on this request (thank you @suppppp97! i hope this meets your request, i had a ball writing it)
Nesta doesn't like you. Never has, not since the first time Azriel introduced you as his mate, and you chalked it up to a personality clash; namely, Nesta being prickly and you being, well, you. You had thought that was how it was going to stay, but when you and Nesta get captured by Illyrians, you have to work together, and you find yourself understanding each other a little more. You might even end up friends. [10.3k words]
warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, Nesta and reader being assholes to each other (at the start), reader being a BAMF, plot, interrogation, az being a softie at the end
Prefer to read on Ao3? | masterlist
You have to laugh. Just a day ago, you and Azriel were out on the balcony of the House of Wind, eating breakfast, talking about this upcoming mission like it was a sunday stroll over honeyed tea and buttered scones. As new as your mating bond is, it’s easy to take that gentle, domestic intimacy for granted. Now, your legs ache, your head is throbbing from lack of water, and you can’t quite feel your fingers for the burning cold. What’s worse, you’re stuck in this fucking cave in the middle of fucking nowhere with who else but Nesta fucking Archeron.
Truly, for whatever reason, she can’t stand you, and over these past few months, you’ve learnt to live with it. She’s hardly ingratiated herself to you in any case. Little digs here and there, things about how different you and Az are. You’re loud; he’s quiet. He’s tall; you’re, comparatively, short. You get paperwork done as quickly as possible; Az is as diligent as they come. He’s a broody, secretive male; and you’re a little ray of sunshine, his words, not yours, even in your angstier moments. When you talk, he listens and, well, Az doesn’t exactly talk much at all, does he? After that first meeting, when Az introduced you to the Inner Circle, she said, “Opposites attract, I suppose,” and you realised that you and her just wouldn’t click.
You don’t care. Az doesn’t care, even if it has soured their friendship somewhat. Not even Cassian cares. But by the gods, if it wouldn’t make jobs like this one a whole lot easier if you could just be civil with one another.
The Blood Rite. Heightened tensions. Pissy Illyrians with a penchant for making things difficult. You were sent to find out if there was going to be any trouble this time around.
You know the Steppes pretty well from your days travelling through the Court as a merchant, then you got to know the more dangerous parts as a mercenary when the trade dried up during Amarantha’s reign. You have contacts here with some of the more amenable war bands and it’s for this expertise that Cassian wanted you to come, so you could speak with those who are less willing to talk to a General. Azriel, of course, was never going to let you come to Illyria without protection, and Nesta scares the camp lords so much that she could be used as extra leverage if things took a turn. So, it was the four of you who headed off.
It should have been you and Azriel together. It should have been fine.
There had never been problems in Stonecross. It’s a camp tucked away by the northern coast of the Court, fairly progressive as far as Illyrian camps go, and absolutely vital for trade—particularly for the medicinal professions. In the rocky, sea-facing caves in the mountain under the camp exist the perfect conditions for certain plants to grow: fungi, flowers, some things not even Madja would fully understand the uses of.
You all realise too late that they put it, whatever it was, in the food. You’d been too complacent. Too trusting. It didn’t even take ten minutes before the four of you started to feel drowsy, then nauseous, and then, in horror, you saw Az’s shadows drop off his body, like the magic which kept them tied to him had suddenly vanished.
You don’t really remember what happened next, it’s all a blur, but you got grabbed, flown (or maybe winnowed, it is the days before the Blood Rite after all), and now, you’re here…
You’re in a carved-out room of black, damp stone, the only light coming through the slight crack under a boulder which covers what looks to be a doorway. The air is thin, and you have to be far down because you can feel the heavy pressure in the fluid of your ears. Though you aren’t in chains, it feels oppressive, like you had been thrown in a prison cell and forgotten about.
At least Nesta’s still out cold. You wince at yourself for the thought, but honestly, you wouldn’t be able to think straight if she was hissing comments at you. In the sliver of light, you can see that she seems uninjured, as are you, and her breathing is steady, like she’d been knocked out without a fight. Sometime soon, you’ll need her up (unconscious, she’s a liability), but for as long as you can, you’ll take the drip-drip-drip through the walls as your only company.
The first thing you need to do is let Az know you’re awake, to try and see if he’s close by or if he needs help. You pull on the mating bon—
The mating bond.
You can’t—you can’t feel it. Another wave of nausea washes over you as you bolt up from the ground. The thread between the two of you, this new, wonderful, golden string which calls you to him time and time again, the Mother’s blessing which binds you together, it’s slack in your chest. Still there, thank the gods, but… useless. You can’t feel him anymore. Not even the little bits he sends you every now and then, when Cassian makes him laugh or he sees something that reminds him of you. It’s all gone. Like losing a limb.
You press your back against the cool stone of the room and remember to breathe. Force yourself to feel the rock beneath your feet, to focus, to think.
Azriel, you know, you trust, will be okay. He has to be. Maybe he’s disorientated like you are, being held somewhere, either in Cassian’s company or without it. Maybe he’s already escaped and is coming to find you right now. Or maybe, you’ll need to find him. Regardless, you can’t afford to panic. Not now. Az wouldn’t panic; he’d find a way out, and you and him, you’re Cauldron-chosen mates, so you can find a way out too. You can get back to him.
You will get back to him.
You just need to look around and see—the light.
They had to have got you two inside this room somehow, so that boulder blocking the doorway has to be moveable. Outside, something is causing that crack of light to come through, there’s a sconce, or a faelight, so there’s a walkway, and a walkway means that there’s some other rooms in here, connected by a complex of passageways. And passageways mean a way out.
You need that boulder gone.
If you had your full arsenal of magic at your disposal, it would be simple. You could bolster your muscles and push it out of the way without breaking a sweat, but even as you walk towards it, you can feel how your legs drag and your vision blurs. Every joint feels like it’s grown rust, grinding uncomfortably across your bones. The poison in your system remains. Still, you try. Still, you steel yourself in case someone is waiting for you behind it and you need to take them on.
The rough stone cuts into your palms as you use every drop of energy you have left in you to push at it, to try to roll it one way or the other, but it doesn’t so much as budge an inch. In frustration, you kick at it, ram your shoulder into it and send shooting pain up your arm, but still, it doesn’t yield.
You’ve been defeated by a hunk of fucking rock. So, yeah, you have to laugh.
Alone, there’s no chance of you moving it, not while you’re still affected by whatever they put in your food. You can either wait for gods know how long for it wear off, or…
You flick your attention to Nesta, half-slumped against the wall, and you sigh.
For all your differences, you respect Nesta. You like her tenacity, the way she moves with such precision in the training ring, how she stands up for herself and her friends regardless of who it is she’s challenging (the first time you saw her go toe-to-toe with Rhys, you had almost wanted to cheer for her). Sometimes, you think that if you hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, you and her would get along just fine—for your love of dance if nothing else. More importantly, she’s your only hope of getting out of here on your own terms.
Muscles protesting every movement, you crouch down and nudge at her side. She doesn’t stir. You nudge harder and her eyes shutter. She mutters something you don’t catch under her breath.
Oh, fuck it.
You shake her shoulder more harshly than you need to and yell at her to wake up. Her eyes flick open with a start, and you have to catch her hand before her fist connects with your jaw.
“Relax,” you say as she struggles in your grip, “it’s me. Could you please not break my face?”
“No promises,” she snaps back, wrenching her wrist away from you, rubbing at where you were holding her. She opens her mouth again, probably to sneer something at you, when you see the words die in her throat as she pales, clutching at her chest. “Something is wrong,” she grates out. “What the hell did you do—?”
You roll your eyes as you pull away, settling yourself on the ground a little ways from her in case she actually does decide to break your face.
“Cauldron, Nesta,” you say, “I didn’t do anything. It’s whatever they drugged us with. It’s dulling our magic, including the mating bond.” You tap where you feel the Azriel-shaped hole in your chest. “Must be some faebane alternative we’ll have to deal with.”
This seems to calm her burgeoning fear, but if looks could kill, you’d be dead. “How are you so calm about this?” she asks, murmuring something else which sounds distinctly insulting as she plucks herself off the ground and follows the stream of light to the doorway.
“Panic gets you killed,” you say, watching her come to the same conclusion you did as she pokes at the gap in the wall.
“Yeah,” she scoffs, “Az says the same.”
“It’s almost like we’re mates or something.”
“Almost.”
Though the bond might be dulled, your instincts flare at the insinuation before you tamp it down and keep your face carefully neutral. Again, even in the dark, you can tell she shoots you a glare.
“Instead of doing something, you had to come and wake me up?” she continues, beginning to push at the boulder as your anger simmers in your blood. The audacity to suggest that you hadn’t tried… she’s something else.
“Would you have preferred it if I had left you behind?” you fire back, pulling yourself up and over to her, stopping just short of too close. “I already tried moving it and it won’t budge, not while we’re still weak. We’ll probably have to try it together—”
She cuts you off abruptly and goes back to the boulder. “I don’t need your help.”
Ignoring her, you barely lay a finger on the stone before she yanks you away and snarls at you to, “Back off.”
Incredulous, you huff, but you relent, leaning against the wall as you watch her fail to get it to move, just like you did. After significantly less prodding than what you tried, she admits defeat and swears at the rock for being in the way without sparing you a glance.
A thousand snarky comments come to mind, including around nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine which include the phrase ‘I told you so’, but you refrain. Pissing her off even more doesn’t seem conducive to getting out of this cell, so you say, “Look, Nesta, I get that you don’t like me—”
“Understatement.”
“Fine,” you continue, “you really don’t like me. And while I don’t understand why, I do need you to get out of here and as much as you might hate to admit it to yourself, you need me too, so let’s just put our differences aside and…” you trail off as her face sours. “What?”
“You don’t understand why,” she says.
“We really don’t have time to get into it, Nesta.”
“Don’t we?” she asks harshly. “That rock is hardly going anywhere.”
Clearly, she’s up for an argument—maybe that’s how she blows off steam when Cassian isn’t around—but you most definitely aren’t.
“Neither are we if we don’t stop bickering,” you reply steadily.
She narrows her eyes at you. “Oh, you always have something clever to say, don’t you?” Your name slips from her mouth like a curse. “Az caught himself a real prize with you.”
Is that what this is all about? You and Az? You know Az and Nesta are good friends, or, at least, they used to be, and she would obviously want him to be happy with whoever he’s with, mate or not. But, as far as you know, he is happy, and you trust him to tell you when he’s bothered by something. Frankly, whatever Nesta thinks about your relationship is irrelevant, even if it stings a little not to be accepted by her.
“Take it up with the Mother, Nesta,” you say, increasingly irritated, “but after we get the fuck out of here, please.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” she snaps back.
You roll your eyes. “Please. Let’s not.” There’s no warning in your tone, so she ploughs on.
“Az was fine before he met you.” He wasn’t, he was drowning himself in work and booze after the Solstice with Elain, but that’s his secret to tell. “My sister was fine before he met you.”
“Gods, what does Elain have to do with this?”
“Don’t say her name like that—!”
“Why not?” you say, your anger bubbling to the surface finally as your patience snaps. “She’s my friend, you know, but I doubt she’d have told you that considering the fact you never see her. When was the last time you even stepped foot in the townhouse?” You know it’s unfair, you know Nesta can’t get down from the House of Wind without Cassian or exhausting herself on the steps, but you’re past the point of caring.
When she doesn’t respond, you double down. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, Nesta.”
To her credit, Nesta’s response hurts more than you were expecting it to. “I don’t need her to tell me,” she snarls, “if I were her, I’d resent you too.”
Scoffing, you drawl, “Oh, and why’s that?” but you feel the doubt creeping up on you like a wraith.
Az had told you about what he had felt for Elain and how close they had been to getting together. For a time, you had agonised over it. It didn’t seem right to you that they had been prevented from acting on their feelings, even if it worked out for you in the end, and you had always thought, despite Az insisting otherwise, that Elain might not like you because of that. But, she had been perfectly pleasant the first time you met, and you managed to break the ice with a joke about flowers (it was rather specific and no one but Elain had appreciated it). From there, you’d become fast friends.
But if Elain is just humouring you like you suspected she might…
“Because,” Nesta says, “you stole Az from her. They were close, did you know? Even Feyre thought they were good for one another. But you come along and what’s worse, you rub it in by trying to spend time with her.”
“Heaven forbid I actually enjoy Elain’s company,” you say, though it comes out significantly less venomous than you meant it to. “Did she tell you all that herself or are you pulling it out of your ass?”
“You’ve got her fooled, I’ll give you that much,” she replies. She lets out a humourless laugh. “She even thinks you and Az are perfect together, but I see what you’re doing loud and clear.”
You blink at her.
Inexplicably, it isn’t annoyance which washes over you, it’s understanding. It becomes obvious to you now, despite what Nesta is saying, why she doesn’t like you.
Of course.
She’s trying to look after her sister, and even at your own expense, you can’t help but admire her for it. Maybe if she actually talked to Elain about you, you could end your petty, little feud. Or maybe she’d just find another reason to dislike you.
Either way, it won’t matter if you kill each other in this cave.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Nesta, I really have tried to be nice to you. If you don’t like me, that’s fine, we don’t need to be friends. But I didn’t steal anyone from anyone, Az made his choices and I made mine, and I really do like being Elain’s friend. I’m sorry if I’ve somehow offended you or… I don’t know. Just, I’d like us both to get out of here, alive, preferably, and for that, I need your help. So, please, if you have to, pretend I’m someone else for a bit and then I promise I will never bother you again. Deal?”
For a long, long moment, she says absolutely nothing at all, as though she’s trying to work out if you’re being genuine or not, and the silence stretches over the space between you. Then she looks away, sets her jaw, and grumbles, “Just help me move this.”
“Gladly.”
It takes coordination, begrudgingly followed suggestions for which way to push and for how long, and the poison in your veins brings bouts of dizziness which means both of you need a break, but, eventually, the boulder moves, just a fraction. The beam of light at your feet grows. Again and again and again, you and Nesta use every ounce of energy you have left to get it out of your way. You just hope that whoever is keeping you here isn’t nearby, because the scraping of rock against stone is almost deafeningly loud.
You don’t know if it takes minutes or hours, but you get it so the two of you can see into the corridor, and then you open up the doorway enough for you to be able to squeeze through the gap. The jagged, black stone scrapes at your skin as you shuffle and you definitely pick up a few new scratches, but you suddenly find yourself in the middle of an uneven walkway, filling your lungs with air fresher than what you’ve had since you woke up.
You take it in greedily, looking around to see if there’s an obvious way out, but both in front and behind you look the same. An endless tunnel of stone, equally lit up by torches protruding from the walls. You wait a moment, trying to feel any sort of breeze or even trying to pick up faint sounds of people.
Nothing.
Inside the cell, Nesta says your name rather urgently. You peer at her through the gap and see a flicker of relief on her face before it’s gone.
With a different angle, you wordlessly make quick work of moving the boulder further, and Nesta manages to free herself not long after. All the while, a sense of foreboding settles over you. The lack of a guard, even a patrol, is starting to strike you as odd.
“Come on,” she says, making left—it’s as good a direction as any—but you stop her.
“Wait,” you say, “doesn’t this all seem strange to you?” You make a point of looking behind you and gesture around. “There’s no one here.”
“Good,” she replies, “maybe they’ve forgotten about us. Let’s go.” And she strides off, forcing you to follow behind her, shadows dancing with each other in the torchlight.
“Or maybe they haven’t,” you urge, catching up to her, “maybe they’re waiting for us somewhere. Or they’re trying to lure Az and Cassian down here and it’s a trap.” That makes her pause and look at you, considering sharply. “We should try and stay as hidden as possible,” you suggest, “keep to the shadows rather than storming down the middle of the corridor.”
She barks a laugh. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
You frown. “Doing what?”
“Saying what Azriel says. If I had a mark for every time he’s said the words ‘keep to the shadows’...” she trails off, shaking her head.
“I’m not—just—” you sigh, “—let’s just be careful, okay?”
She steps very slightly closer to the wall, further into what little shadow the torches are casting over the rock, and keeps going, so you follow her through the twists and turns of the cave system, hoping you’ve picked the right way. Every corner looks the same, your footsteps sound the same, the cadence of Nesta’s breathing is monotonous and steady. It feels like you’re going around in circles.
But you aren’t. You can feel the slight lightening of pressure in your sinuses, how the ground ever so slightly tips upwards. You even start to feel like you might be getting out of here without meeting a single obstacle.
And that’s when you reach a dead-end.
A mockingly sheer column of rock with a gap right at the top, where you can see a coiled up rope which is almost certainly used to manoeuvre up and down. Through the gap, you see beautiful, white light, and you reason that this must be some kind of exit.
“Come on,” you say to Nesta, steadying yourself against the wall, “I’ll boost you up and then you throw the rope down for me.”
She looks at you incredulously. “That must be fifteen feet high at least,” she says. “There’s no way you’re getting me up there.”
As ever, you are entirely unimpressed by Nesta’s doubt. “I’m stronger than I look. And unless you have another idea…?”
Despite her general lack of faith in you, Nesta doesn’t even try and contemplate a different option; she knows as well as you do that there isn’t one. You cup your hands in front of you and bend your knees as Nesta tentatively uses you as a step-up.
“Ready?” you ask.
She hesitates, peering down at you. “For what?”
“Just get ready to grab the ledge.”
Without warning, you toss her upwards, putting all your strength into getting her as high as possible, and she lets out a grunt as she manages to grab hold of the edge of the lip above you. For a moment, you think she might not be able to hold on—she sways and shakes, probably due to the poison still sapping your energy—but she eventually hauls herself up and disappears out of view.
Then you wait. It can’t be for more than thirty seconds, but as they tick by, your anxiety starts to spike. What if she just leaves you here? What if she takes her opportunity to get rid of you just so Elain can have Azriel? As much as you like Elain, the idea of anyone else having him sends shooting rage through your nerves, even with the bond absent in your chest. It’s a natural instinct, but before you can spiral—“Mind your head,” comes the call and down comes the rope, thick, old, and covered in dirt, but it’ll do. You make quick work of it, despite your screaming muscles, and join Nesta at the top.
You want to ask her what took her so long, but peering through the gap where the light comes through, it becomes quite obvious.
Illuminated by a great cut-out in the ceiling of the cave, covered in mosses and deep green hanging vines, is a lake nearly three-times the width of the Sidra. The water is startlingly blue, clear, and it looks deceptively shallow, but you’ve seen lakes like this before. They tend to go down so deep the pressure would kill you before you reached the bottom.
What’s worse, on the other side of the lake is an Illyrian encampment, populated by at least six warriors, maybe more you can’t even see, armed to the teeth and evidently waiting for something to happen. You can see them talking to one another, but what they’re saying is lost under the sound of running water coming from the cascade on the far side of the lake.
Thankfully, the two of you are hidden in darkness under an outcrop. Perhaps if Nesta had taken you right when you got out of your cell, you would have ended up on the other side, right in the middle of your captors’ base. Either way, it looks like the only way out of this is in a fight.
“How long can you hold your breath for?” you ask Nesta, calculating roughly how far you’ll need to swim under the surface so the Illyrians don’t detect you. Without weapons, you’ll need the element of surprise to disarm them, and from there, well, you’ve seen Nesta spar with Cassian. It’ll be easy. By the side of you, however, she is almost eerily still. “Nesta?” you say, turning to her.
You expect her to be watching the Illyrians, maybe lost in thought about how to take them out, but you’re wrong. She’s staring down into the water, unfocused and unblinking. She almost looks frightened?
The thought occurs to you that Nesta might not know how to swim. Then, something Az said to you when you first met both her and Elain hits you. He told you to be careful mentioning the Cauldron, that, understandably, they don’t like thinking about it and suddenly everything clicks. Nesta doesn’t like water, doesn’t like being submerged in it, because it reminds her of being inside the Cauldron. Maybe something else too. She’s been through a lot, as Az tells you. In your chest, your heart lurches, not with pity, but perhaps with a profound feeling of sadness for her.
“Nesta,” you say lowly. You aren’t about to coddle her, she doesn’t need that, wouldn’t want it anyway. You wouldn’t either. She flicks her gaze over to you, but it’s clear she’s still not all here. “I have a theory,” you continue, and you explain that there must be another passage to your cell, probably in the opposite direction to the one you took. As you talk, you see her eyes sharpen, not so dull, and she actually starts listening to you. “If you can distract some of them and lead them back to our cell, I can swim over and take out as many as possible while you keep them occupied.” It’s the only thing you can think of to keep her out of the water. “We can meet up over there once you’re done.”
Whether she appreciates it or not, you can’t tell, but she looks you over, then to the Illyrians, and says, a little hoarsely, “Get under the water. I’ll draw their attention away.” You nod, kicking off your shoes as you go to lower yourself in as quietly as possible, but she grabs your wrist and stops you. Her grip is firm, but not violent. “Be careful,” she says, and without waiting for a reply, she lets go. “Go on then.”
Glancing at the lake, you take a moment, and lower yourself in slowly.
The water is freezing cold and you swallow a gasp as you enter. Pushing through the pain, with one last fleeting look at Nesta, you take a deep breath, dip your head under the water, and start to swim. You just have to trust now that Nesta holds up her end of the plan.
You try to take the shortest, most direct route possible without getting spotted, but your lungs are burning and without your magic to help, you start to think that maybe you won’t be able to make it without coming up for air. The waterfall isn’t so far away from you and the running water might conceal you just enough to allow you to breathe for a moment. It’s your only shot, so you go for it.
The strength of the water batters you, but the first, quiet hit of fresh air is enough to make it inconsequential to you. For as long as you can chance it, you take it in, and push your luck by looking over at the encampment. From here, it’s difficult to see, but you think you count two males, looking around nervously, and you swear you can hear shouting from down one of the corridors. Seems like Nesta managed her distraction well.
Enough. You dive back under and move as fast as you can, ignoring how much of a struggle it is. You have to do this, you have to get out of here. You have to get back to Azriel. And, godsdamn you, you want to see Nesta get back to Cassian.
Your hands hit the other side of the lake before you realise it, and, as silently as possible, you emerge from the surface. Still, there are only two males in the encampment, and you definitely weren’t imagining the shouting. Here, it’s louder, and you can make out male voices, obviously irate. The two other Illyrians watch the alcove closely, not even whispering a word to each other.
One of them is older. He’s bigger and has more siphons, but he’s no commander; you’d guess he’s an Oristian just by the way he holds himself. You can feel his ego from here. The other one is younger, barely out of training. He fidgets with his armour and his weapons, his leg bouncing where he sits on a rock and pays so much attention to the alcove that he isn’t looking where he clearly is supposed to be: right at you.
You pull yourself out of the water with natural grace and drop immediately into a crouch, blending in with a darkness. Your wet clothes are making the cold seep into your skin, but you need all the protection you can get and the padding around your joints might be enough to buy you some time if things go wrong.
The Illyrians are too close together, sitting around a central opening where the vestiges of a fire lay. Though you’re strong, there’s no way you can take them out hand-to-hand if it’s two against one. You’re trained in combat, but mostly for swords and daggers. You need another distraction, and, as you shift your feet to try and get a better view, you get one.
You kick a pebble and, thinking quickly, you snatch it from the ground before it can hit something that will draw their eye to you. You weigh it in your hand. If you want it to make an impression, you need it to hit something away from the water, so the sound of the waterfall doesn’t mask it.
You catch something glinting in the corner of your vision. In the exposing light, a shield is propped up against a nearly empty weapons rack. Briefly, you consider making a rush for it, thinking a shield is better than no weapon at all, but you know that’s even more of a long shot than trying to take them out quietly.
So, you opt to aim for the shield, and as the pebble flies, you know you’ll reach your target.
A clang sounds out through the atrium and the two Illyrians startle out of their trances. The older one barks an order for the younger one to check what the disturbance is, then berates him for being a coward when he hesitates. You wait impatiently for there to be enough distance between them, then you strike.
You dash behind the bigger Illyrian, keeping to the shadows, and as soon as you can, you pounce. You wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him back and behind the rock he was sitting on, keeping him as out of view as possible in case the kid decides to turn around. He kicks, attempting to buck his hips and flap his wings to get you off him, but you’ve got him so firmly held that there is no chance of him overpowering you like this. Your hand closes over his mouth to stop him shouting, and you choke the air out of his lungs silently. Not to kill him, just to knock him out. Snapping his neck would take more force and compromise your position, so you settle for his unconsciousness and lower him to the ground.
Concealed behind the rock, when the other Illyrian turns, he sees no one. His following shout tells you he’s panicked, and you wait for him to come to you. He stands in the middle of the encampment, turning around, scanning for threats, and you quietly unsheathe the sword that the older Illyrian had strapped to his back.
Sharp, Illyrian steel. You smile faintly. You and Az have sparred with these so often that it feels like an extension of your arm as you hold it.
You wait for the remaining Illyrian to be facing away from you and, when the time is right, spring up from behind the rock. Your blade meets the back of his neck before he even knows you’re there, and he immediately stills as you press it against his skin and blood wells at the edge. In the meantime, the shouting down in the alcove behind you has stopped, and you hope that means Nesta has dealt with the others.
“Throw your weapons away from you,” you say calmly. He does as he’s told without complaint, unsheathing even a hidden dagger in his boot. Smart male. “Turn around slowly.” Again, he does what you say, but you keep your blade at his neck and maintain a healthy enough distance from him.
He stares down at you uncertainly, his hands away from his sides, and gulps as you assess him. Typically Illyrian, he has dark hair, tan skin, and brown eyes which betray his fear. A fully fledged warrior would have tried to disarm you by now, and, as a result, would likely be dead. This one seems to have more sense.
“Your name,” you say. Statement, not a question.
“Wilsen,” he supplies quietly, uncomfortably shifting as your sword remains firm at his throat.
“Why are you keeping us here, Wilsen?”
When he hesitates to respond, you press the blade against him and he grimaces. “I have orders,” he says, a little frantically, “that’s all I know. I swear it.”
It’s moments like these when you wish you had Az’s shadows whispering in your ear, telling you truth from falsehood, divining someone’s character. Ultimately, you have to rely on your gut feeling, and it’s telling you that Wilsen is lying.
You bring the tip of the blade to the underside of his jaw, cutting a fine line through the skin of his neck. “Try again,” you say. “Think more carefully about your answer this time.”
As he deliberates, the strangest feeling flows through you. Your magic, sputtering in your veins as it tries to come alive again, fighting against the poison. Hurriedly, you try to yank on the mating bond, but it still lies dormant under your ribcage, and it’s this fleeting moment where you lose your focus that you blame when you fail to notice Wilsen’s eyes flick to just above your shoulder.
A thick, calloused hand clamps over your mouth, another squeezes your throat as you’re dragged backwards. Instincts kicking in, you try to twist, to pull the hands away, but they just tighten their grip as you flail. The blade in your hand hits something, maybe Wilsen’s neck, as you’re forced to let go of it in the scuffle, but you’re too blinded by the pain to care.
Some unseen Illyrian, maybe an escapee of Nesta’s wrath, has you trapped against him. You try to reach up to scratch at his face to get him to release you, but all you can feel is the heave of his chest as he laughs and wrestles your hand out of his sight, freeing your mouth. He’s choking the life out of you to the point where all you can do is gargle and thrash, to try and somehow get out of his hold.
Even the smallest bit of your replenishing magic seems to do nothing. You try fortifying your muscles, try directing some of it to weaken his, but to no avail.
You come to the conclusion that, as your vision starts to blur and darken, you’re dying, and this Illyrian is enjoying it. You fight, scratch at his arm, but that only seems to egg him on, to draw it out. He’s not even taunting you, not in any way you can make sense of, he’s just amusing himself in the brutality of it.
Your teeth feel like they’re fizzling. You can’t feel your body anymore, you’re weightless, outside of the bounds of reality where all that exists is the immense pressure on your neck and oh gods this is it, you’re dying you’re dying you’re dying and you’ll never see Az again—
Suddenly, the feeling stops.
You must be dead, you think.
It’s funny, though, you can still see, and there’s this throbbing in your temples. Dead people don’t get headaches, do they? How awful. You can’t escape migraines, even in the afterlife.
The Illyrian behind you (oh, he’s still here?) lists backwards, and it’s only logical that you tumble with him, but, for some reason, you don’t. Instead, there’s something keeping you standing, gentle, tender heat around your middle and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there’s someone saying your name.
“Breathe,” they say, and then your name again. There’s something so familiar about it and—you can breathe.
Desperately, you gasp in air, your brain aching after being starved of it, but you take in too much and start to cough so much that your eyes water, pulling out of this person’s grip and doubling over. Again comes a gentle touch, this one at your back, as you feel like you’re hurling up a lung. Again comes the reminder to just breathe, and you do. Your coughing stops and…
You whirl around, meeting Nesta’s sharp eyes as she steps away from you. In her hand is a sword, slick with red which drips to the floor, and behind her, a dead Illyrian lying in a pool of his own blood.
You open your mouth, then snap it shut.
Nesta Archeron just saved your life.
“Thank you,” you manage to wheeze out, the words catching in your throat as you struggle to regulate your breathing.
A muscle ticks in her jaw. “I’m not about to let some lowlife choke out Azriel’s mate,” she says pointedly, casting a dismissive look over to the dead Illyrian, “and you’d have done the same, if it were me.”
You would have, you just didn’t think Nesta would be the one to say it.
She looks you up and down from your dripping hair to your crumpled clothes. “You look like a drowned rat.”
Just as you go to respond, you get interrupted by a low groan of pain, and you see that Wilsen is still alive, just bleeding profusely from his shoulder. So you did catch him in the crossfire. Nesta advances on him so quickly that you barely have chance to shout for her to stop.
“He knows something,” you say, moving towards her gingerly, stepping over the Illyrian who tried to kill you without sparing him a second glance, wincing as you try to move your neck. “I was interrogating him before I got interrupted.”
“I don’t know—!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nesta snarls at him before turning back to you. “You were interrogating him?”
You hum confirmation, the sound scratching at your throat. “With a sword.”.
She just looks at you. “Of course you were,” she mumbles, “Az’ll be so proud.”
“Cassian will probably pounce on you as soon as he finds out you took on three fully-grown Illyrians with your bare hands,” you reply, offering her a sly smile which almost feels normal.
And Nesta, to your surprise, laughs. A real, genuine, contagious laugh which rings through the atrium, and you find yourself chuckling along with her.
“Neither of us are getting much sleep for a week,” she says, adding with a gesture to her blade, “and I caught the last one with this actually.”
You let out a giggle. “That’ll definitely get Cassian going—”
“Oh you’re both whor—”
“Shut the fuck up!” you and Nesta spit at Wilsen in unison, before you whip your gazes up in shock to look at each other.
And you both burst out laughing again.
It’s nice. You don’t think you’ve seen Nesta laugh so much in your presence ever. Maybe you’re delirious from the air loss, but you’d go as far to say you’re enjoying her company, and by the look of it, she might feel the same.
Still, you have Wilsen to deal with.
Once your bout of laughter dies down and you can breathe normally again, you peer down at him as he looks up at you. He looks quite deathly pale. Nesta steps aside, her face darkening, as you crouch down next to him, hand on the wound at his shoulder, but not pressing down, not to cause him pain. Not yet.
Azriel will provide that afterwards in any case.
“Do you know the way out of here, Wilsen?” you ask. Even though you can feel yourself slowly regaining your magic, the mating bond has still not burst back to life. You guess Nesta’s hasn’t either, considering how attentively she’s paying attention to the two of you.
He swallows thickly, eyes you warily. When he takes a second too long to answer, you push two fingers down, right on his shoulder blade. It won’t kill him, but it’s not going to feel like a warm hug from his mother either. He yelps in pain while his blood seeps onto your hand. “Fuck, it’s—” he sucks in a breath as you release him, “—there’s only one way.” His eyes flick to the cut-out in the roof of the cave, right above the middle of the lake, and Nesta follows his gaze carefully. Just barely, you catch her flinch. “And unless you can sprout wings…”
You pull away, letting him sag into his body. Even if the vines growing down the hole can take your weight, and by the look of them, they might, you still need to get to them. You hope Nesta is coming to the same conclusion you are. When Wilsen says there’s only one way out, he means it, and it means you’re going to have to give her a very, very quick swimming lesson, if she can stomach it.
“Why did you bring us here?” she asks suddenly, aiming her question at Wilsen.
A ragged sigh escapes him. “Give me something in return,” he says, his spit gurgling in his mouth as he talks. You’ve seen this before. He doesn’t have long.
“Tell us and you might live to see tomorrow,” you say hurriedly.
He has the energy to scoff. “So your mate can torture me in his dungeons? No. I’d rather die,” he grits out, shifting on the floor, his arm deadweight against the ground.
“You’d rather bleed out here than have a chance at surviving?” Nesta asks, her tone increasingly agitated. She starts to say something else, but you motion for her to calm herself, and she does, all the while giving you a look as if to say Do you even have a plan?
You turn back to Wilsen, bracing your forearms on your knees. “You have family?” you say quietly, and the ensuing rage which comes over his face tells you that yes, he does. “If you die here, Wilsen,” you continue, your voice soft, “my mate will find every male in that family of yours and he will ask the question you refused to answer. If they don’t know, he’ll move onto the females. Your wife, sister, mother, whoever. And if they don’t know, he will go through Stonecross, Illyrian by Illyrian, until someone tells him what he wants to know. And if he does that, he’ll be sure to let everyone know it’s because you, Wilsen, did not give us an answer right here, right now. So, this is what I’ll offer you: not just your life, but the lives and dignity of everyone you care about. Happily, I’ll let you die, but how happy that would make them? I’m not so sure, are you?”
Only the sound of the waterfall behind you lets you know time hasn’t stopped. Even Nesta’s breathing is so silent you can barely hear it, but you can feel her eyes on you. Wilsen is deathly still. You get the distinct feeling that if he wasn’t bleeding out, he’d have his hand wrapped around your neck. “Your choice,” you finish with a shrug.
His words are vitriolic. “You were supposed to die down there, you fucking bitch. Nothing more than motivation for the General and your mate to make a mistake. So you’d all finally understand how it feels to get kicked when you’re down,” he spits, but his voice shakes. Scared, or struggling to stay awake? Does it matter? Either way, you think he’s telling the truth.
“Seems a convoluted way to kill someone.” Nesta’s voice sounds more distant in the quiet.
Wilsen shoots her a glare, from which she doesn’t baulk. “They were supposed to find you. It was supposed to hurt. We were going to take them on once they had. Make them pay.”
“They’d have torn through you,” she says. “You never would have made it out of here anyway.”
“It’s better to die standing than on our knees in front of a half-breed High Lord and his bastard brothers.” He starts to cough, like breathing might have become difficult.
“You’re dying, Wilsen,” you say, moving towards him to put pressure on the wound, but his hand shoots out to stop you and he shakes his head.
“Let me,” he snarls. “I gave you what you wanted, so let me die.”
“I can stop the bleeding,” you reply. It’s a strange kind of sorrow you feel for him. Dying alone, surrounded by people you hate, is no way to go, not even for males like him. He’s still young, still impressionable. Entrenched nonetheless. Someone will have to tell that family of his what he was willing to die for.
He winces, struggling to keep himself upright. “Don’t put your fucking hands on me.”
Nesta says your name and breaks you from your thoughts. “Leave him,” she says, “he doesn’t deserve your pity.”
You sigh and stand. As you do, you see relief flicker over Wilsen’s face before pain takes back over. If you offer him a quicker death, you’re not sure he’ll take it, so you don’t offer at all.
“You’re sort of terrifying, you know,” Nesta adds, flicking her eyes from the lake and back to you. In her eyes, though, you don’t see fear. You see it in the way she assesses you, in how she holds her head. You’ve earnt her respect.
Attention on your exit, you huff out a shaky laugh, eager to stop thinking of the dying Illyrian behind you. “That’s rich coming from you,” you say. When she frowns at you, you continue, “They call you ‘Lady Death’. You don’t get that name by preaching peace and love.”
“And what do you call me?” she asks, edging closer to the water, squinting up at the daylight.
You come to stand next to her. “I should like to call you my friend, Nesta.”
“Don’t push it,” she replies, but you can tell it’s not as serious as she meant it to be.
“Not enemies then?” you suggest.
“If we get out of here without drowning,” she says, dipping her hand into the water and immediately pulling it back out again, “I’ll consider it.”
You offer her a small smile, seeing that for the olive branch that it is. “Good enough for me,” you say. “You know how to swim?”
She nods, but seems uncertain. “I can float well enough.”
“But, you don’t like water?” you ask tentatively. When she narrows her eyes at you, you hold your hands up in surrender. “Not judging. I don’t like heights.”
“Az takes you flying all of the time,” she deadpans, decidedly unimpressed.
You shrug. “He’s helping me get over it.” With a grimace, you add for her benefit, “It’s slow going.”
Having only just managed to regain any sort of heat in your body, you’d hesitate to get back in freezing cold water, but with your magic not materialising any further than a few sputters in your veins, your conviction is all you have to get you through it. That, and the need to help Nesta out of here too. You crouch down.
“This is ridiculous,” she says, crouching with you.
Your eyes flick to the sword still in her hand. “You’ll have to leave that behind. When you get in, try not to panic. Your body will go into cold water shock if you do. It’s mind over matter, and once you’re used to it, you’ll be fine.”
“That,” she says, her voice dropping into something near enough trepidation, “doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Nesta. Just… trust me.”
With that, you push yourself off the edge of the rock and into the water, attempting to acclimate yourself to the temperature as much as possible, fully submerging yourself before you resurface, treading water with relative ease. You take deep breaths and stave off the biting cold, trying to show her that if you can do it, she can too.
“Come on,” you urge, aware that even though you’re resilient, you can’t take much longer than ten minutes in here. A human would barely last five. “It’s not that far to the vines, and then we’re out of here.”
Laying the sword carefully down at her side, Nesta scans the water, as though she might be able to discern which parts are cold and which are tolerable, with little success, if the face she makes is anything to go by. You watch her take a few breaths, shut her eyes, and mutter something which might even be a prayer, or else a curse on your name if this goes wrong.
Then she jumps, feet first, into the lake.
You wait with bated breath for her to come back up, and for a few sickening seconds, you think she might be sinking until—
“Fuck!” she gasps. “That’s freezing.” She’s almost hyperventilating with how quickly her breath is coming. Not good, that’s panic. She needs something to focus on.
“Nesta,” you say urgently, wading over to her, “look at me.” With difficulty, she does. “You remember what I said before?”
Gaping, she nods.
“What did I say?”
“Try not to panic,” she says slowly.
“Right. What else?
As she thinks, her breathing starts to even out. “It’s not far to the vines.”
“Exactly,” you tell her, “we’re almost there.”
Thank the Mother, the gods, and anyone else who deigns to help you, Nesta starts to swim, and you let her get ahead of you just in case she needs you to support her. It’s tough and you are pushing with all your might to stay afloat, to make it to the first vine you see.
Nesta grabs it and pulls herself out of the water, trusting that it can take her weight. The plant is thick and woody, so it does. She looks down at you, still in the lake, but you tell her to get out and up as soon as she can.
You find another, slightly thinner, but still strong enough to hold you. Your arms ache and your shoulders are screaming at you. You push and push and push, one thought in your mind: Get out. Get out. Get out.
The vine seems to be getting higher the more you climb, like it’s growing faster than you can move, but you’re almost at the top. Just a little further.
Nesta, she’s somewhere, maybe above you, but you can’t hear her grunting as she hauls herself up anymore. You chance a look down and she’s not there either. You figure she must have made it out.
You’re so close. You can feel the sun on your face, can smell the fresh breeze of the outside. It must have been hours since you woke in that cell. Honestly, you’re not sure how long you’ve been gone. Maybe days. Gods, you’re so tired. The cold has sapped the adrenaline out of you and you’re running on fumes.
The next hold you find on the vine snaps and you lurch to the side, yelling as you find purchase on a knot lower down. As you catch yourself, you force your ankle into a twist and something twinges.
You hear Nesta swear faintly. You pull yourself in, steadying yourself, and you look up to see her peering over the side. She’s lying flat on her front, holding onto the edge of the gap. “You’re almost there,” she shouts down, her teeth chattering, her hair hanging loose in long, wet strands.
Every part of your body is telling you to stop, to rest, but you can’t. That’s a death sentence. You test how much weight you can put on your ankle and yelp as pain shoots all the way up your leg, but if you stay here, you’re doomed.
So, you keep going, using your arms to lift yourself up, your uninjured leg to hold yourself in place. Again. And again. And again. You grit your teeth and you lift.
When you’re within reach, Nesta lowers herself down as much as she dares and thrusts out her hand. Blissfully, you grab it as soon as you can. You feel her grip the back of your shirt as she pulls you the rest of the way out of the cave and the two of you roll to the ground, side-by-side, staring up into the cloudless, blue sky, chests heaving.
“Next time we hang out,” you say, breathless, “let’s just get a coffee or something. Go buy a book. Feed the ducks down by the Sidra.”
Nesta scoffs out a half-hysterical laugh. “Deal.”
She sits up and you meet her eyes as she looks down at you. “Your ankle?”
You hum roughly as you try to move it, but that shooting pain hits you again. “Totally fucked,” you say.
“I am not carrying you anywhere.” She looks around. “I don’t even know where we are. It doesn’t look like the Steppes.”
Letting out a sharp hiss as you pull yourself up, you take in your surroundings. “No,” you say, seeing how the snow is thin on the ground and the thick, tall pines of the Illyrian mountains have given way to bushier cedars. If you can find the source of that lake underground, a river or a stream, you can find a village somewhere, even in the middle of this unknown forest. When you were a merc, you did things like this all the time. “We’re further south, I think. Probably closer to the Hewn City than anywhere else.”
“How could you possibly know that?” she asks, frowning at you.
You raise a brow at her. “Observation,” you say simply. “There’ll be a settlement somewhere nearby. Or at least some shelter.”
“You,” she replies, “can’t walk. Not with your ankle like it is.”
“I have high pain tolerance.”
When you try to stand, Nesta catches your wrist and holds you still. “We should wait for the poison to wear off a little more, then you might be able to do something.”
You shake your head, seeing how high the sun is in the sky. It’s past midday. “We don’t know how long that will take. If there are more Illyrians about, we need to move. I know you took them out down there, but you caught them unaware. We get spotted from the air? We won’t be so lucky. And just because we’re not in the Steppes doesn’t mean it won’t get dangerous come nightfall.”
Though she makes a face, she grits her teeth and gets up. She offers you her hand. “You’re as stubborn as him too.”
You take it gratefully and let her help you up. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say as she slips her hand around your back and supports you.
You pick a direction, and with Nesta’s help, you manage to hobble your way to a stream, then a village thankfully not too far from where you were being held.
By the time the sky darkens and the stars illuminate the snowy ground, you two are in a semi-empty inn, sipping free soup by the fire, courtesy of the owner’s healthy fear of her High Lady and her sister. Nesta, you can tell, feels vaguely uncomfortable about it, and you like her all the more for her humility.
Come midnight, Nesta and you are half-asleep, dozing in the warmth and basking in the easy, quiet conversation you had been having about Sellyn Drake, of all people. When you go to your rooms, she bids you goodnight and you bid her the same. Your head hits the pillow and you’re out.
You have a dreamless sleep for once.
In the morning, you jolt awake, pain erupting in your chest from the—gods, the mating bond. You desperately tug back, pulling so hard that the thread goes taut, telling Az I’m here! I’m here! Please, for the love of the Mother, please come and get me. Then you bolt out of bed, hop out of your room, and bash on Nesta’s door, calling her name and definitely waking the innkeeper.
Off-balance, you almost fall through her door when she opens it, but she steadies you. She looks like she barely slept, but then, you probably look similar given the day you had yesterday. A few hours isn’t really enough.
“The bond,” you breathe out. She needs no more explanation and you watch her concentrate, obviously calling on Cassian the same way you call on Az. “Is he—?”
“He’s alive,” she says sharply, “but… pained.”
“Shit. He’ll be okay.”
“I know.” But the worry on her face is pressed deep into the furrow of her brow.
“Az,” you say, “he’s on his way.” For good measure, you tug on the bond, now gorgeously back alive, fluttering in your chest, and he responds in kind.
For a moment, her face lightens a fraction and her eyes flick behind you.
You feel it then: the cold touch of a shadow wrapping gently around your wrist and, deep in your bones, that old, ancient warmth.
A grin breaks out on your face when you turn, seeing Az appear from shadow in the foyer, just as the innkeeper rounds the corner. She sucks in a breath and swears quietly, frozen in place, her eyes flicking between the three of you warily.
Az, his face carefully controlled, but with a bemused look in his beautiful hazel eyes, smiles at her gently. “Thank you for looking after them,” he says lightly, and you almost melt at the sound.
You must send that down the bond because something akin to a chuckle skitters back at you.
“O-of course, my Lord.” Her mouth opens and closes a few times. Azriel waits patiently. “I’ll—w-will you be staying for breakfast?”
“No,” you say, “thank you. We’ll be heading off now.”
The innkeep swallows. “Right. Was e-everything to your liking, my lady?” Cautiously, she glances at Nesta, who does her best to soften her face, then back at you.
“Slept like a baby,” you assure her. You nudge Nesta.
“Yes,” she says. “A perfect stay, thank you.”
At that, Az raises a brow at you, more confused at Nesta giving you the time of day than anything else. Long story, you mouth at him.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” the innkeeper says decisively, promptly retreating back downstairs, presumably to cool her nerves.
“Cassian’s fine,” Az says to Nesta as soon as he’s assured it’s just the three of you up here. “He’s being dramatic about it.” Then he catches how you’re keeping your weight off your right leg. “What happened?” he asks darkly, his shadows coalescing around his shoulders.
“Just take us home,” you say, reaching for him. As he wraps an arm around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head, you inhale the scent of fresh, night-chilled mist and cedar, something so uniquely your mate’s that any tension left in your body drains out of you. “I think I want to sleep for a week.”
He huffs, pressing a kiss to your hair. Then, to Nesta, “Are they dead?”
“Difficult to kill a vine,” she deadpans. “I tried to get her to rest, but she’s worse than you. Get me back to Cassian, would you? He’s tugging on the bond like a child.”
His hand leaves your back to grab a hold of her and winnow you all back to Velaris through his shadows, which cling to you, fussing around your ankle like it’s a mortal wound. You barely feel the jump, Azriel making sure to keep you upright when you land on the terrace of the townhouse.
“He’s downstairs,” you hear him say.
Nesta pauses for a moment, but then the door to the inside clicks, and it’s just you and Az.
“Do I want to know what happened to make Nesta look at you like she might actually like you?” he asks quietly, pulling away so he too can fuss over you.
You kick his shadows away. “I think we’ve come to an understanding,” you say. “Maybe we aren’t friends just yet but, it’s something.”
> title | gender / sex of reader ; pov used to refer to reader (first person = i, second person = you, third person = they/she) ; word count / length ; sfw or nsfw ; any additional contents of note ; @/author
azriel
> shadows and sunlight | fem!reader ; third person pov ; 2.5k words ; sfw ; @sweetpeaaquarius
> and the dreams are answered + our happiness | fem!reader ; second person pov ; two-part series ; sfw ; pregnancy ; @chillinini
cassian
> being mated to cassian | afab!reader ; second person pov ; headcanons ; nsfw ; @jeannineeeee
> oddities | afab!reader ; second person pov ; 1.4k words ; nsfw ; sex pollen ; @alicenchanted
> reader who’s native language isn’t english | gn!reader ; second person pov ; drabble ; sfw ; @ellecdc
> moments + part 2 + part 3 | fem!reader ; second person pov ; multi-part series ; sfw but nsfw references ; @tunetales
> size kink with cassian | gn!reader ; second person pov ; drabble ; sfw ; @ddejavvu
> different person | tagged as fem!reader but can be read as gn (i think) ; second person pov ; drabble ; nsfw ; wing play ; @inkedinshadows
> snow on the beach | fem!reader ; second person pov ; 4k words ; sfw ; @flickering-chandelier
rhysand
> murmurs of the abyss | afab!reader ; second person pov ; drabble ; nsfw ; mind control ; @velarisdusk
> moments + part 2 + part 3 | fem!reader ; second person pov ; multi-part series ; sfw but nsfw references ; @/tunetales
> the house loves to meddle | fem!reader ; second person pov ; 1.1k words ; sfw ; @/ellecdc
> grumpy rhysand | gn!reader ; second person pov ; drabble ; sfw ; @/ddejavvu
> this tempest, ours | fem!reader ; second person pov ; 11.7k words ; nsfw ; @/velarisdusk
nesta
> take a look at my girlfriend | fem!reader ; second person pov ; 4k words ; nsfw ; @daycourtofficial
> soft library moments with nesta | fem!reader ; second person pov ; drabble ; sfw ; @diluted-calico
Pairing: Nesta x Azriel x Reader | WC: 2.7k | warnings: SMUT, threesome, cunnilingus (f!receiving), piv, bondage?
Summary: You and Nesta have been fighting lately, the two of you giving each other the silent treatment. Your shared mate, Azriel, is less than thrilled to be caught in the middle and forces the two of you to work it out.
Author’s note: happy @polysjmweek courage day!!! I started this fic for last year’s poly week and did not finish it in time woops. But it’s a good reminder we should all have the courage to talk to our partners (see how easy I applied the theme to this)
You sauntered into Azriel’s study, an extra skip in your step as you closed the door behind you, your robe falling to the floor as the latch clicked shut. His tugging on the bond brought you here, a silent pull through the house leading you exactly where you wanted to be: with him.
Azriel looked up from his desk, smiling at you as you came closer, his eyes wandering over the dark blue lace that left little to the imagination. You crawled into his lap, settling your weight on top of him, sinking into the warmth of him that you had been craving all week.
“Missed you.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart.”
Your lips met his, a quick kiss before you moved your lips along his cheek, his jaw, his neck. You moved your legs to straddle his waist, wasting no time in letting the moment grow heated. He had wanted you here, lightly tugging at the bond in your chest to get you to his study, even sending a shadow escort to ensure you got here.
It had been a lonely week without him around. You wanted to take your time, to relish in his touch, but you also were worried he would change his mind.
Your hips ground down onto his lap and you were very happy to find the hard press of him through his pants.
Hands began unbuttoning his shirt, feeling across the planes of his chiseled chest as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders.
“Someone’s eager.” He chuckled, the weight of his hands on your hips not enough. You needed him to be doing more, needed him to feel how needy you were.
“Always happy to see you.” You held him close, kissing him again, rubbing up against him with a need only he could fulfill. A week had been much too long without him, not even his shadows keeping you company.
You whined as he stood up, letting your feet drop to the floor. He spun you in his arms, walking the two of you over to the desk. His face went into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
“S’okay, I’m going to take care of you.” You ground your hips against him, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “Be good for me, yeah?”
You nodded enthusiastically, letting him lower you to the desk, your ass still pressed against him.
“Arms behind your back.” You did as he instructed, excitement thrumming from you. A whole week without your mate had been much too long and you knew Azriel would come around eventually.
The cool caress of his shadows greeted your hands, holding you still. You moaned at their touch, unable to help it. You had been so starved of his touch and now you were getting somewhere.
Lost in your lustful haze, you didn’t hear the door open or the click of shoes until you saw them on the floor in front of you.
“What’s she doing here?”
Nesta’s voice was harsh as she approached the desk, looking down at you. Your lip curled in annoyance, biting out, “what are you doing here?”
Nesta prowled over to the desk looking down at you, your heart thumping wildly at her gaze.
“It looks like you’re trying to butter up Az with your cunt.”
“You’re just upset he invited me here.”
Nesta rolled her eyes, “please. He invited me in here.”
Lost in your own world, the two of you start bickering once more. Neither of you noticed Azriel until it was too late. He had prawled around to the other side of the desk, and before you knew it, his large frame was pushing Nesta’s back down, pushing her chest into the desk, his shadows locking her in place just as they were to you.
Nesta’s eyes glowed with small silver flames attempting to burn the shadows, however the shadows merely wrapped around the flames, extinguishing them.
“Let me go.”
Nesta’s words were venomous, her anger pointed directly at Azriel. She twisted and turned her head for him, unable to see him as he stood behind her.
“No.”
She rolled her eyes, looking at you for backup. It only fueled your annoyance - now she wanted your help after icing you out all week?
“Az, please?” Your tone was soft, pleading, but his response didn’t change, only shaking his head. You slumped into the desk, not thrilled at being forced to confront Nesta.
“I’m tired of you two fighting. Neither of you leaves until you kiss and make up.” You had come here hoping to kiss Azriel, certain he had come to your side of understanding of the argument. Maybe even felt bad that he had avoided you. Clearly, you were wrong.
“Azriel, I’m half naked.” You didn’t want to talk to Nesta, much less be in the same room as her, but it was unfair to you that you were the only one disrobed.
“You want to even the field? Fine.” He moved forward, quickly ripping the dress from Nesta’s body, ignoring her growl. Buttons from her dress flew everywhere, scattering across the floor. He pulled the fabric from beneath her, leaving her in her purple underwear.
You couldn’t lie - the action had you squirming against the shadows a bit, heat pooling in your stomach at the display of dominance.
“The two of you will act like adults and figure out whatever is going on. I’m tired of sleeping alone.”
Having two mates was all fun and games until two of you broke out into a fight, the third not wanting to pick sides. Poor Azriel slept in your shared bed alone, the two of you sleeping on guest beds or couches.
You sighed. The three of you had been sleeping alone all week, and the loss of physical contact as you slept was getting to you. You knew it was getting to Azriel - it was really the only way he slept, and you hated having put him in the middle of this as you looked at the dark circles beneath his eyes.
A defeated sigh escaped your lips. “I’m sorry, Az.”
“Oh yes, apologize to Azriel first.”
“Well, he’s the one who tricked us here.” Nesta rolled her eyes but you continued. “And this fight between us has affected him too.”
You tapped your foot on the ground, trying to dispel some of your nervous energy. The room was silent, Azriel watching the both of you making you squirm into the desk a little.
“I’m sorry Nesta.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Nesta groaned, smacking her forehead against the desk.
“Of course you don’t. Why apologize if you don’t know what for?” She muttered more at the desk than at you.
“Then tell me why you’re upset! I’m not a mindreader, Nesta. If you’re mad at me, tell me why so I can be better.”
Nesta ground her jaw, the sound of her teeth gnawing making you wince. You could tell she was struggling, so you sent some reassurance through the bond to her. The effect was immediate, and she finally looked at you. Her eyes were full of hurt, and you nearly crumbled at how much pain was swirling in them.
“When we were fucking last week, while Azriel was gone, you said his name.” The memory was coming back to you. Nesta had your hips pinned down on the kitchen island, her tongue devouring you with no end in sight. She had buried herself beneath your skirts, making the two of you late for dinner with her sisters.
As you were about to finish, you felt Azriel stroking the bond, sending enough feeling down it that had you seeing stars.
“Oh.” You felt foolish, hadn’t even realized his name had slipped out. No wonder she was in a sour mood all evening.
You knew there was more to it, though. There had to be.
“And it made me,” she paused, looking around for something. Azriel met her eye, giving her a nod to continue. “Made me feel like I wasn’t enough for you. Like you need him here, too.”
“Oh, Nes.” You melted at her feelings of inadequacy, cursing the shadows that kept you in place from running and hugging her. “Nes, Azriel was stroking the bond right then. He caught me right as I was about to finish and it surprised me more than anything. He usually shuts us out when he’s gone.”
Nesta’s anger fizzled out in her eyes, replaced with a touch of sadness that was breaking your heart. Your wonderful, perfect mate, thinking she wasn’t enough for you?
“I do shut out the bond when I’m gone. But, whenever you two are fooling around, it always seeps through a bit.” You felt a twinge of guilt at that - you thought he had you two completely shut out. You and Nesta usually fill the time he’s away with even more sex to ignore the slight ache of his absence.
Oops.
“Nesta, you are so important to me. You both are, but individually, you mean the world to me. I’ve been a wreck this past week without you, wondering what I did to deserve your ire. If I had known you just needed more of my love and affection, I would have gladly given it to you.”
You sent all the love and adoration you felt for her down the bond, trying to cushion her feelings of inadequacy. She brightened before you, practically giddy with your emotions.
She sent back equal amounts of love, but this time it was laced with a mischievous glint as she looked to Azriel quickly before looking back at you, trying to convey something without words.
You looked at Nesta, a wicked gleam in your eye. It was undeniable between the three of you that Az could never truly say no to you. A fact you had exploited on many nights.
“Azzy, can you let me go now? Please?”
Your voice took on a pleading tone, and Azriel’s shadows relinquished their grip on you almost immediately. The loss of their touch was a bit disheartening, but you needed it to further your plans. You moved around the desk, brushing past Nesta, fingers trailing over her plump ass as you continued towards the shadowsinger.
You lifted on the tips of your toes, cupping your hands to Azriel’s jaw. You kissed him, soft and slow, his arms wrapping around you. The bond in your chest practically purred at the contact, happy to be with both of your mates once more.
“Azriel,” you pulled just a hair away from his lips, “can you let Nesta go?”
He nodded, but you didn’t turn your attention to Nesta, opting instead to kiss Azriel again. You listened as Nesta moved behind him, undoing the flaps of his shirt. You pushed his arms up while Nesta slid the shirt over his head.
“We just needed your help, Az.” You lightly scratched down his stomach, moving to untie his pants, pulling them from his waist. Nesta kissed his neck, her hands reaching from behind to toy with the waistband of his underwear. The effect was immediate, the male between you two groaning at the touch.
Your fingers caressed his stomach, nails scratching the toned muscle as you felt his cock stiffen against you. Nesta’s hands wrapped around Azriel’s torso, her fingers toying with his nipple rings.
“Nesta, he said we can’t leave until we kiss and make up.” You stood on your toes, trying to see her over Azriel’s shoulder. She returned the wicked glint in your eye, understanding exactly what you were thinking.
Nesta lifted her head over Azriel’s shoulder, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was tender and slow at first, a means of apology from both of you. It quickly turned into more when she slid her tongue across your lips, capturing your moans in her mouth. The two of you surrounded Azriel, keeping him pinned between your bodies. You pressed against him, your hands moving to the waistband of his underwear, lightly caressing his length.
Nesta brought her hands down around his torso, her hands wrapping around his cock while you fondled his balls. A deep moan came from him at the attention, vibrating from his chest.
You pulled away from Nesta just far enough to speak. “Nes, our poor mate has been caught in the middle of our fight.”
“Maybe he should stay in the middle of us making up.”
Nesta pushed Azriel down on the bed, pulling off her underwear as she climbed onto his hips. You bit your lip, part of you just wanting to watch the two of them. They were gorgeous together - all sharp and intimidating beauty that left you speechless.
“Are you coming?” Nesta’s voice was full of impatience as she slowly sank onto Azriel’s cock. His loud moan sent you moving, scrambling onto the bed by Azriel’s face. You were above his head, looking down at him.
Even upside down he was gorgeous.
You couldn’t help bending down and catching his lips for a quick kiss before moving your thighs around his head. You caught his wide smile before quickly seating yourself over his mouth, his tongue slowly moving through your folds.
Words on your tongue were cut off by Nesta’s face pressing into your chest, her mouth moving across your breast. She rolled her tongue around one of your nipples, her fingers playing with the other one. She held your breasts gently, her touch making you moan in pleasure.
You reached for her, your fingers trailing down her neck to her chest. Her thrusts were moving faster as your fingers got closer to her nipples. All you wanted was to take them in your mouth, play with your mate for hours but Nesta’s position made that impossible.
You ground onto Azriel’s face, his tongue moving in time with Nesta’s thrusts. Arousal was flowing through the bond that connected the three of you, every thrust building it up higher and higher. You felt that tension in your gut rising. Wrapping your fingers around the back of Nesta's neck, you brought her head up, bringing her back up to kiss you. Your hand trailed down between where her and Azriel were connected, your finger massaging around her clit.
You were all that was holding her up as you felt her orgasm rip through you, the spike of arousal sending you and Azriel over the edge as well.
You fell from Azriel’s face, laying back on the pillows. Nesta was breathing heavy, Azriel’s cock still inside her as she kissed him, her tongue moving across his lips and face to gather every ounce of your arousal on her tongue.
She laid back on the pillows, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as she brought you close to her.
“I missed you.”
Her voice was sweet, your chest swarming with her regrets of letting this go on for too long, silently vowing to herself to be more open and direct.
“I missed you too.”
Nesta looked down at you, the sincerity in her voice quickly replaced with a commanding tone that made your stomach flip.
“Don’t think I’m going to be nice to you, now.” She began pushing you down her body, situating your face on her hips. Her scent was intoxicating, even more so that it was mingled with Azriel’s.
“Prove you missed me. Clean me up.”
You didn’t have to be told twice, quickly burying your face inside her, moaning into her cunt over how much you missed her. This was your penance for your wrongdoings, and you would gladly spend all night making it up to her.
Between her moaning, you felt a bit of uncertainty from Nesta’s end of the bond. You quickly tapped her leg twice, letting her know you were very happy where you were.
You hadn’t even been aware Azriel had moved until he was behind you, his hands on your hips just long enough to line his cock up with your entrance. It had only been a week, but it felt incredible to be in between your mates again, all three bonds open and singing.
Nesta pulled you by your hair closer to her, wrapping her legs around your head, locking you in place.
