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maisonaime · 3 months

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Give and Take

Softdom!Cassian x Healer!Reader

Premise: You get back after a long day of work and Cassian is ready to take over everything, you give him control so that you don’t lose it entirely.

Splitting this into two parts so that I don't lose my mind over it anymore. Love to all who jumped on this prompt!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, smutty fluff, emotional overstimulation, self-sacrificing, poor self-care (bordering on self-harm), injury and slight gore, 18+ minors DNI

Part 1:

The last flight of stairs up to the rooms you and Cassian occupied in the River House seemed steeper than you had ever remembered, dragging yourself up the stairs was utterly Sisyphean, the last stretch in a long day that had frustrated tears finally pricking in your eyes. You were tired to your bones, fed up with being hunched over a desk, and the day was still far from done over eleven hours after it had begun. You woke and dressed when the sky was dark, and were returning hours after the braziers lining the hallways had been lit.

You had two bags hanging in the crook of one elbow, full of brewing equipment that needed to be polished with a protective tonic before being used in class tomorrow. In the same arm, you were clutching a thick stack of essays requiring grading. Tucked under your other arm was a folio of research on restorative therapies for Illyrians who had their wings clipped. Slung over your shoulder from training was your weapons belt, sheathed with two daggers and a longsword Cassian had wrought for you as a wedding gift.

The file of research slipped from your arms, scattering down all the steps you had just climbed in complete disarray. You made a small sound of anguish and finally, the tears were flowing freely. You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. You were grateful for the research you were able to do to find a way to reverse the horrors wrought on Illyrian females. You were enthusiastic about teaching your students, passing along ancient knowledge to the trainees who would one day be your peers. You itched for training with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn; pouring intentional movement into your body after long days of obligatory motion.

Healing people, feeling your tendrils of power sweep over broken bones, seeking out the source of symptoms, touching the broken parts of people’s souls. It was the greatest gift, one that multiplied every time you held a newborn babe, watched someone run or dance on legs that had never worked before, and felt the relief of familial caregivers as you restored hearing or sight or even small amounts of lucidity to their aging parents. It was quite possibly the only gift that you valued more than your precious mate. The one who you had remade and been remade by.

You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. But there were some days when you felt the burden of worlds bearing down on you. Days when failed healings left you shattered. Days when there was simply too much to do and not enough hours to do it.

“What’s all this sweetheart.” Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs, his darkened gaze forcing you to rethink your current predicament.

Despite his intimidating size and title, the Lord of Bloodshed was as gentle a lover as you had ever known. He had honed his resolve over the centuries, along with all his other skills. Even in the most feral moments between the two of you, lost entirely to the bond in skin and teeth and brutish groans, he would never lose himself. He could balance himself over you for hours with just the head of his cock pressing into your center, and could sit perfectly still while stuffed down your pretty little throat.

What he couldn’t do was abide by disobedience. And disobedience to Cassian was self-neglect. Disobedience was forgetting to eat, not getting enough sleep. Disobedience was piling too much onto your plate. Disobedience was trying to lug over one-hundred pounds of shit up the stairs after you had left before dawn and were returning long after dark. And disobedience would earn you punishment.

—

Ever since you had helped Azriel rehabilitate his shredded wings after Hybern wrought his havoc, you had remained in close connection with the High Lord’s Inner Circle. Your attentive and tranquil care healed both Azriel’s wings and the lingering horror that wracked his soul in the following weeks as he tried to move on from those paralyzing moments of agony. You treated his flesh and soul with equal gentleness, cementing your regard as a healer with the capacity to treat vulnerability with as much tenderness as you treated wounds and sickness.

When Cassian lay broken and bleeding, of course, it was you who was summoned to the tent. He was like every other patient before in your ability and desire to help him. But he was also like no other patient before because he was your mate. You could still feel his screaming cleaving the air and reverberating through your jaw, dulling all senses to anything but him. His brothers had to hold him down with tears in their eyes; Feyre lost her stomach; Mor just sat in the corner silently shaking. You were cursed to remember every ounce of hopelessness in his eyes as he scrambled away from your hands, refusing any of your help or assessment for fear of what you might find.

You found femur bone shattered like glass, tearing into the muscle and tendon of his massive thigh. You found snapped cartilage, torn muscle, and severe hemorrhaging that nearly cut off blood supply to his entire left wing; the damage so bad it would have resulted in field amputation had you not been there. You found the husk of a man who had been so sure he was going to die without being able to save his family, without even being able to say goodbye.

You burned yourself out with the raw power that flooded from you as you were confronted with the primal need to save him. You gave yourself entirely to the will of the goddess that had blessed your hands. At one point Rhys had to blanket your mind in darkness so that you wouldn’t drain that well of power entirely.

When finally, the damage left could only be healed by time, you had collapsed over him and refused to move. Unable to. Gentle, weak arms had dragged you ungracefully to a warm chest, to a beating heart. The only thing you could hear through the thundering haze of your overwrought senses.

“Don’t you ever do that again, for anyone. Not even me sweetheart.”

And then it was Cassian’s turn to heal you. To watch over your trembling body as you recovered from the depletion of your powers. He fed and bathed you. Stretched and massaged the muscles that felt as though they had been filleted by lightning. Braided your hair to keep it from knotting during the long hours you slept.

He poured himself into you in a way you had never had before. In a way you had only ever provided to others, never received yourself. In a way you hadn’t ever known you wanted so badly until you were sobbing hoarsely into his arms, years of self-sacrifice pouring out of you.

It didn’t stop there. Only when you had settled into living together did either of you realize the extent to which overextending yourself had become a way of life. The first time you came home past midnight, Cass was in a panic thinking you had been hurt or taken. When you stumbled through the door on legs bent with exhaustion and informed him that you had eaten exactly three crackers and a handful of berries all day, he just stared at you for a long time.

“How do you expect to save everyone if you destroy yourself in the process? This level of self-sacrifice isn’t noble, it’s irresponsible. Now, get on your fucking knees.” Your head snapped to him, pinning him with a disbelieving scoff. But he was dead serious.

In a flash he had your hair gathered in a stern but gentle fist, and you had your mouth very, very full. He fucked your mouth with a fervor, his fingers finding the corners so he could pop your jaw open further and push himself even deeper down your throat.

He came with a hiss, freeing a hand from your ruined mouth to pound in a fist against the unyielding stone wall.

Then he scooped you up and laid you in bed, pouring water with lemon and honeyed tea down your throat. Leaving your side briefly, only to return with a veritable feast of foods specifically selected to strengthen your body and magic. His care was almost overwhelming, but you found yourself surrendering to his vigil over you.

—

“Put it down” he said, pure authority radiating from him.

“Put what down?” you feigned.

“All of it, sweetheart. And don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to have to take you down to Az’s workroom. He put up such a fuss last time, even after I cleaned everything in front of him.” There was no room for disobedience in his tone, even if the remark had you chuckling.

You struggled to unburden yourself, unsure of how to extend your arms and set down one item without imperiling another. You met Cassian’s gaze with pleading eyes that quickly turned fiery at his smugness. You drew yourself up slowly, eyes narrowing…

And dropped everything from your hands, letting the first bag of glassware slide off your arms and crash to the ground – even if the sound of tinkering glass made something in you twist and cringe.

“Don’t be a fucking brat, you know it’ll only make things worse.” he snapped, lips pulling back in a feral grin as he raked his gaze over your body, your leather-bound dips and curves displayed to him unobstructed.

The belt you set down gently, minding your beautiful blade. In the middle of the night after your mating ceremony, in the haze of your frenzy, Cassian had marched you down to the deepest chambers of the Court of Nightmares, where the mountain burned nearly as hot as your bond. You had watched with lust-glazed eyes as he hammered out a blade and fused it to the hilt he had already carved and polished—smooth, rounded obsidian imbued with the cavernous powers of the Mountains.

He fucked you hard into the stone floor and then soared into the night sky with you and the weapon, cooling skin and steel alike. And when you finally touched ground again, he wasted no time showing you exactly why he chose that particular shape for the handle.

A snap of his fingers had the scattered papers piled neatly beside it. Then you gingerly set down the second bag of glassware, cringing as you considered how your eager disobedience would reflect back in Cassian’s treatment.

“Good.” he crooned. “Now go bathe and wait for me in bed.”

Cass abided by your whims for the most part, always eager to take care of you but never pressuring you to submit. He could always tell when you needed to give away control. When you needed to be told what and when to eat, how to dress, when to speak, and when to be silent. When to “get on your fucking knees” and when to “lay down darling, that’s it, now hush my love and let me work.” And he would give it to you every time without tire, for the rest of his days.

As you passed him to make towards your suite, he sidestepped into your path and halted you with a hand to your shoulder, the palm of his other hand cupping your face. He looked down at you with gentle eyes. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eager to shove away the pressures of your autonomy, even if just for the next few hours.

“I counted five things that you placed over your own needs today. Your patients, your students, your research, your training, your healing. Then you had to go and double it by bratting off and making a mess of your things.” He glanced around, unimpressed at your display of resistance.

“It’ll take me time to fix and polish the glassware and reorganize your papers. So you’ll wait. You’ll be doing a lot of that tonight. It only makes sense, I think, that you take ten hard edges before we think about next steps.” His voice was hard, determined, even as his hands were so so soft.

Your eyes widened, head shaking even as his words had your blood thrumming with desire.

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you will. Maybe this time you’ll finally learn your lesson about what happens when we deny ourselves what we need.”

#acotar #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian smut #smut blurb #but like also not #it’s more than that #acotar fanfiction #fantasy #acotar crack #night court #rhysand #azriel #healer!reader #Dom!cassian #illyrian baby #one meaty batboy to go please! with the thickest thighs you can find!

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unhealthyfanobsession · 6 days

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“Hello I am someone who likes to use a bow and arrow and will be made into a faerie by the end of this book”

“Oh cool and what is your name?”

“FEYre ARCHERon”

#it’s giving moon moon #acotar crack #acotar memes #feyre archeron

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sapphicmsmarvel · 3 months

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mor: the inner circle walking in

idk what this is, it's crack and short.

Feyre:

“I’m so happy you found someone! Remember to pee after!”

Azriel:

“I cannot believe my shadows didn’t report this.”

Rhys:

“I’ve seen far too much of my cousin I wish to never see again.”

Cassian:

“Yooo you were right she is hot Mor! Ow! Okay! No need to throw a pillow at me!”

Nesta:

“Cassian was right, she is hot. Next time, throw something harder at him and remember to lock the door, idiots.”

Amren:

“Did you two learn nothing from when Nesta walked in on me? Lock the damn door.”

Elain:

“Hm.. I did not realize you were so flexible, Mor.”

#acotar x reader #morrigan acotar #morrigan x reader #morrigan fluff #acotar fluff #acotar crack

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smol-bean-azriel · 2 years

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Cassian: You know what bro?

Azriel: What bro?

Cassian: If I was a cat, I’d spend all nine lives with you bro

Azriel: …bro 😭

Cassian: bro 😭

#my memes #acotar crack #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowaf #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of frost and starlight #cassian #azriel #cazriel #inner circle

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a-court-of-messy-break-ups · 2 years

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In an alternate dimension, Tamlin is in the dining hall doing paper work there while at the sametime eating breakfast—or lunch, he doesn't really know what time it is, he's been there since dinner the other night, sorting things out in his court when Rhysand suddenly winnows himself behind Tamlin.

Rhysand smirks, noticing how Tamlin continued on in his work, he decides to sneak up on him threading lightly until he's just a feet behind Tamlin. He raised his hands, placing on Tamlin's eyes, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin, Tamlin knowing who it is doesn't flinch only sighing in content.

@taylors-fourth-cat-meow i feel like you missed this content so here

#yall are gonna be sick of me for this #tamsand #tamlin x rhysand #rhysand slander #tamlin #IS IT EVEN RIGHT FOR ME TO ADD THIS UNDER RHYSAND SLANDER ????#acotar crack

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temperedink · 10 months

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Tea Time

A conversation between Feyre and Rhys before Feyre heads out for afternoon tea.

400 words, rated G for "good God, what even is this?"

A crackfic drabble that started with the thought of "what if the Suriel was alive after the war?"

Read on AO3.

#feysand fic #the suriel #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar fic #acotar crack #i wrote most of this on my phone in the car in half an hour #AND IT SHOWS #somehow took two months between the last two fics i wrote #and this time it's a day??#who am i even #fic: tea time

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rin-u-pos · 1 month

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I don't know if anyone watched or remembers gintama, but there was an arc with Prince Hata's people. They choose the next king based on the size of the antenna on their head (they called it chinko for short which means penis in japanese). The heir with the biggest one was the next king. This is how I imagine the the magic chooses the next high lord.

Picture for reference. Can you guess who was the favorite? Also yes that one guy has a micropenis.

Also this is how I picture sjm men with a third leg. (spoiler that's the prince from the previous picture in a duck costume. Don't ask it's complicated)

#what do I even tag this #acotar crack #tina's thoughts at 2 am #but it's actually 10pm

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readychilledwine · 19 days

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A Debt Paid in Full

Summary - Your father shouldn't have sent his prettiest daughter after refusing to pay his Tithe

Warnings - this is unhinged and kind of dark, virgin reader, younger female/older male, manipulation, smut, beron is... surprisingly giving and slightly charming but arrogant. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding Kink, beron

A/N - You all asked for it. Please don't ask for more. I feel dirty 🤣

The Whore Home Masterlist

“Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?” Being circled by the High Lord of Autumn had to have been the scariest thing you had ever experienced. “Is that why Daddy sent you? Does he think a nice pair of tits will buy him time to pay his tithe?”

“No, my lord,” yes, you thought instantly. “He is just busy over looking the land and farms. He apologizes for sending a female in his place, but you know how we are when it comes to business.”

Beron seemed to smile as he studied you again. “I imagine you already know you are only useful for certain,” he paused, looking over your frame again, a true smile forming at what he saw, “activities.”

“My father taught me my place, yes.”

“How old are you?”

“302, my lord.”

“And unmarried?” He tisked slightly. “And unpresented to the court as an available female?” He circled you again, a new dangerous light gleaming in those eyes. “Why?”

You took a deep breath. “My mother needed me home to help with my younger siblings, and now that they no longer require me, I am a spinster per our standards, my lord. I am not a viable option for marriage.”

“But you are for fucking. Or for a second wife. A pretty little toy to keep around when someone's lady refused to come warm their bed.”

“Ah, a second choice. How very desirable. I will stay unwed. Be the village witch.” The statement was out before you could stop it. Beron paused midwalk, looking at you with those dark eyes and his brows raised. “I apologize.”

“You are lucky you are very, very beautiful.” A hand went to your light red hair. “Your spring court mother did you quite the favor. Her fair blonde hair mixed with red. You are a unique treasure.”

An odd feeling set into your stomach at his constant compliments, at his hand twirling your hair, his body so close to yours you could feel the fire that ran within him.

The Autumn Lord was by no means an ugly male. He had produced 7 beautiful sons, each one resembling him but with their mother's eyes and hair. He was fit, body lined and cut with muscle you could make out under his fine tailored clothing.

“I believe you and I could reach a compromise, y/n. Regarding your father's discretion.” The sinking feeling of what he meant hit you as a hand trailed your lower back. “Your father knows I collect beautiful things, and you, little fox, are a beautiful thing.”

“Are you attempting to seduce me, my lord?”

“Is it an attempt when I can smell it clearly is working?” Beron walked you back to the wall, a hand resting on your hip and the other going behind your head to protect you from impact. “Is this what females dream of? A fae lord to whisk them away from their troubles, shower them in luxurious gifts and clothing?”

“I just dreamed of being taken away. The rest did not matter.” Beron smirked at the words, something that should have made your skin recoil but instead caused heat to settle between your legs.

“Let's make a bargain, little fox. You stay with me, be my little second wife, and your family never pays a tithe again.”

Your eyes widened at the offer. It was a sacrifice you could make. What was your life in exchange for the safety of your family with your father's choice to ignore the tithe collection. Beron was handsome, the Forest House was beautiful, but he was cruel. “I want to be treated well.”

Beron hummed. “You will be, if you stay in line. Keep that pretty mouth in check. I was kind today. I will not always tolerate your attitude, though.”

The hand resting on your hip began to trail to the curve of your ass, the hand previously resting behind your head now, allowing him to lean into you and cage you into his body and the wall. “How soon?”

“Tonight. I have never been known to be a male with patience when I want something.”

“Why marriage? Why not just my maidenhood?” The question seemed to spark something in him, eyes growing darker and the scent of arousal being to consume every breath.

“Why would I allow something so pretty to slip between my fingers? Especially when I didn't know I would be the one to ruin her? Yes or no. My tolerance for your questions is wearing thin and I can easily just drop you off as I have my eldest arrest your father.”

What was your life, in exchange for the safety of theirs? “Yes.”

That one word was all it took for him to pounce. Lips finding yours and dominating a heated kiss. He winnowed you from the room, taking you to what must have been his personal suite and walked you back to the bed. His hands roamed everywhere before picking you up and placing you on the softest bed you had ever dreamed of. “How attached to your dress are you?” The kisses moved to your jawline as he awaited his answer.

“I'm not.”

“Good. I will give you a thousand more.”He burned every thread from your body, groaning at the newly exposed skin, so soft and untouched. Untested and unexplored. “I think your father knew I'd be weak for you. Your younger sisters had been presented to my court and married off, yet here you are. Hidden away because you were his most precious gem.”

All you could do was whimper as soft thumbs ran over your nipples. Pinching them lightly. His lips ran to your neck, feeling like a trail of fire as they did. Every inch of you became so sensitive that you broke out in goosebumps. He stopped at a spot that made your back arch, sucking the skin there until you were sure you would bruise before continuing his path down.

When he finally reached your breasts, he stopped temporarily, scooting you up the pillows a bit more before removing his crown and placing it on head. “Be a good pet and hold this for me.” You couldn't help but to laugh, but that quickly turned into another moan. “So responsive.” The praise quickly shot to your core just as a hand did, running along your soaked folds with an arrogant laugh.

Every kiss, every lick, every gentle touch on your core had you mewling for him, back arching as you whined. When one finger pushed in and curled up, hitting a spot in you that you would have never found before immediately pulling it back out . “And such pretty noises.” You couldn't help but grip the sheets, praying to any God who would listen as his kisses continued lower until he settled between your legs.

“Perfect. Just absolutely perfect.” Beron was oddly gentle, kissing your thigh. You could have died when he first licked at your core, growling as he did and nudging that precious bundle of nerves.

“Beron,” you whispered almost in warning, fingers gripping the sheets tighter.

“Ssh, relax.” He continued to motion again, setting your nerves a light and making you cry out at the foreign feeling. He continues then, slow methodical licks. Watching from lust filled hooded eyes as your back arched, as your mouth fell open, as your nails dug so deeply into his mattress your knuckles turned white.

When his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking light as his tongue pressed into it, you saw stars. Then his fingers, his damned fingers pushed back inside of you, stretching you out and preparing you for him. It was all too much, yet not enough. He used his free hand to pin your hips down, leaving you with no escape from his mouth.

Your stomach started to feel tight, and your mind became hazy, core clenching at the now two fingers pushing in and out, scissoring and dancing on the sensitive spot you have only read about in novels. You went barreling over the edge quickly, feeling him smirk on your core as you screamed for him. He pulled his mouth away, keeping his fingers deep inside of you, working you open for him.

You had not even noticed him remove his clothing using magic, but he was bare before you. Scars littered his muscled chest and shoulders. They danced along his back and ribs. They were a reminder of his cruelty born in a place of hatred for his own father, his own upbringing. But for some reason, now of that matter, as he kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “Give me one more, y/n. Cum on my fingers before you get my cock.”

He increased his rhythm, holding your head up to keep that golden crown resting on your head. His experience was quick to bring you over the edge again, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he did.

He also kept your eyes on him as he used your slick to lubricate his cock, kept your eyes on him as he centered himself. And he kept your eyes on him as he pushed in, watching your mouth fall open again as the burn from being so full took over. Watching in sadistic glee as you whined and moaned. He barely gave you time to adjust, letting go of the back of your head in favor of pounding into you over and over.

Now you truly could have died. You could have died with a smile growing on your face as he pulled out before forcing you to take all of him back in, making the pain quickly turn into a burning need as the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. He moved your legs, placing one over each shoulder and fucking so deep into you that you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. “So tight, pet.” His voice was breathy as his head fell back in pleasure. “Such a perfect cunt.”

His thrusts became harder as he watched your face, trying to figure out what you liked. And a sudden gasp shifting to a wail of pleasure told him exactly what it was. Over and over, he hit that spot inside of you, the one he had found earlier with his fingers. His eyes almost seemed to roll as you grew tighter, clenching and twitching around him, swallowing him whole.

“Perhaps I should breed you as well. Make sure this pretty pussy stays mine.” Your body responded before you verbally could, gripping him higher and thighs beginning to shake. “You like that, don't you? Like the idea of being used, being bred. Fuck you're perfect. So fucking perfect.” His fingers found your clit again, massaging the swollen bundle of nerves as he buried himself into you.

Completion found you again, ripping you so deep into pleasure as you milked his cock that you couldn't help but to fall into a silent scream. Beron fell over after you, heat passing through the room as he did and intensifying everything. He allowed your legs to fall from his shoulders. Catching himself on his forearms above you, he sat and watched as you came down from the high. He studied you like a new toy, plotting and planning what he would do to you. “Yes,” he spoke more to himself than you. “You will be quite fun to keep.”

Beron Smut Taglist:

@secret-third-thing

#beron vanserra x reader #i dont even really want to tag this?#acotar crack fic #beron vanserra #in my defense you all encouraged me

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the-darkestminds · 1 month

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I think people are being disingenuous when they claim Gwynriel is a crack ship. Gwyn and Azriel are two characters who interact in the book, they have things in common/shared experiences (Sangravah, training, the blood rite), and Gwyn was included in Azriel’s bonus chapter in a positive light. A crack ship is one that is bizarre and extremely unlikely to ever be canon. For example: Mor and Lucien. It would be ridiculous and make zero sense. But to dismiss Gwynriel outright sounds like denial to me.

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

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crack headcanon for feysand, reader is friends with nyx and she meets feysand for the first time. she blushes instantly and they notice and think it’s hilarious. Reader drags nyx out later and whispers ” omg your parents are so hot, like ur mom is such a milf and your dad is such s dilf ” nyx is like ” ew that’s my parents ” the whole inner circle hears and laughs😩😭💀

nosy parents

(part two) (part three)

Summary: The Inner Circle overhears a conversation between Nyx and a friend

Warnings: none, not proofread

A/N: I LOVED this! lmao crack drabbles are my guilty pleasure, (sorry it ended up being more of a drabble than head cannons!)

Nyx, your best friend, decided it was finally time for you to meet his parents. You were hesitant at first, in fact you resisted it for as long as possible. Mother above, his parents are the High Lord and Lady of the night court. The fact that you’re somehow friends with him in the first place is still ridiculous, but his insistent badgering finally made you cave.

He told you to dress casual, and you made him come over to your apartment before and check that your idea of ‘casual’ was actually correct. He gave his approval, one thing you always appreciated about him is his unflinching honesty.

The dinner went well, you smiled and laughed throughout it and they had a way of making you feel comfortable. What Nyx didn’t tell you, is that the entire inner circle would be there. He slipped into your mind halfway through “what do you think?”

“I think you ‘conveniently’ forgot to tell me the entire inner circle would be here.”

“They’re all my family.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Still both of you managed to escape outside, to one of the balconies, afterwards.

You were teasing him, nudging him in the side. “You didn’t tell me your parents are so hot,” and grinned.

“That’s gross,” he groaned, seeing him blush and get flustered was well worth it … for a few seconds, until the entire room behind you burst out into laughter. It was your turn for your entire face to turn beet red as you found them gathering behind you.

“It’s not my fault they’re nosy,” he hedged, “they probably wanted to see if were actually just friends.”

You audibly groaned, clutching your face in your hands. You'd never live this down.

#next gen acotar #feysand #feyre archeron x rhysand #feyre x rhys #nyx archeron #acotar drabble #acotar crack fic #acotar imagine

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animezinglife · 22 days

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Elucien Scenario: Lucien's "Fire" vs. Nosy Sisters

What if Elain and Lucien ended up being extremely private about their relationship to the point it drives Feyre and Nesta absolutely nuts?

They want to know.

They need to know.

But Elain's lips are sealed and Lucien's not telling after anything.

Everything they've managed to gather has been from reading between the lines and guesswork.

One night when the sisters are all lounging together, Feyre gently presses that she's heard a rumor about Autumn Court males (trying to keep the situation as delicate as possible), and when Elain acts confused (or plays dumb), Nesta cuts to the chase and asks her outright.

To which Elain still doesn't answer, but the fact her face gets as red as it does and she immediately downs her drink answers the question.

Lucien doesn't know why they're looking at him like that when he returns and gets visibly uncomfortable.

But at this point, he's used to it.

#elucien #elain archeron #crack scenario #lucien vanserra #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #I can just imagine Rhys's and Cassian's faces #and Feyre telling Rhys down the bond what they're trying to get out of her sister #you know you'd love this #animezingscenario #acotar #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin

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maisonaime · 1 month

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The Star Who Listened [Azriel x Reader]

My little contribution to @starfallweek 2024 ✨

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star, Character B finds them

Note: Angst with a happy ending. This prompt immediately reminded me of this quote from a very beautiful but heart wrenching spoken word poem about the power of friendship and of friends who dream together. Happy Starfall Week!

“You kept a rock on a satin pillow on your bookshelf and told me ‘It’s a star.’ You said you found in a junkyard. And it had been broken down for quite some time because too many people wished on it, and that’s a lot of pressure for one little star.” Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long, For Instance

There was no telling how long he had lain there. Long enough that the ground had given way to valleys and mountains, snow and grass, fire and rain. Long enough that the wind and the moon cooled his skin, warped from the burnout. Long enough that the bones that cracked on impact hardened in the same position they had come to rest. Long enough that he learned all of the parallels of nature.

First he learned the way the ground vibrates during an earthquake is almost indiscernible from the thundering of hooves and feet as armored men trample over him. His tears flow into the rivulets of blood from fallen warriors, which flow into the river that rages through the carrion. He wants to wash away with it.

Then he learned how the earth would split and crack and flow bright and hot, creeping across the ground like candlewax. It looks like his beautiful, ruined hands. He remembers the skin dripping off of bone when he could no longer hold the burning dreams they piled into his arms. So bright, and so beautiful, but so heavy.

Then he learned how the air would hang heavy before the sky cracks open. It reminds him of the weight that hung around his shoulders in the moments before he tumbled from the sky. Feels the despair, the failure in being unable to remain afloat. He waits for Hera’s wrath for his forsaking of Astraea.

Azriel could’ve recounted all the lessons he learned in all the hundreds of years he’d lain there. Could’ve stopped someone to tell his story, to beg pity or forgiveness, or simply for a listening ear. But how could he have proven his tale?

Who would believe that a small, rough-edged, unassuming rock was actually a fallen star?

How could he even begin to explain the thousands of dreams he had forsaken when he fell? He had seen some of those dreams dashed personally. Had seen the men whose safety had been prayed for fall screaming on their swords. Had seen a woman who wanted nothing more than a child bury seven silent born at the riverbed. Had seen the children who dreamed of their prince or princess and were instead sold into marriage beds with monsters and carted away from their homes.

So he could not move, he could not speak. He could only relive his failure and all the lessons he’d learned from it. Lessons he would never get to use. Lessons that meant nothing to anyone, because lessons don’t mean as much as dreams do.

Rocks don’t mean as much as stars.

But to you they do.

You, who look to the stars to guide you. But who also looks to the ground to see how far you have come. You who use rocks to mark the trail the stars take you along. You who collect the ones you find most beautiful, the ones that remind you of the stars.

You too have a gift for seeing the parallels in nature.

And yes, dreams are beautiful. But so are the lessons we learn when they do and don’t come true.

And so, this is how he finds himself in your pocket, after so many years in the dust. After so many years on the cold ground. The wool of your skirt is warm and soft, and it cushions Azriel’s hardened heart.

The next thing he knows he is resting on a satin pillow, high on a shelf in your room where he can watch over this strange savior. He watches day and night. Watches as you work and write and wander by day. Watches as you dream by night.

He wishes you had left him on the ground. He is stricken and terrified to be so close to another’s dreams, even as his very essence cries out to caress them. It is worse agony than he ever faced. At least before didn’t have to be so close to the humans who once depended on him.

He feels perverted because you haven’t even entrusted him with your dreams and here he is fantasizing about them. Prostrate before you trying to hold himself back, because he cannot warp your dreams with his horrible hands. Cannot bear the responsibility of ruining even one more dream. No matter how large or small.

He doesn’t even know why he is there. Why you plucked him out of his quiet obscurity and forced him to endure this proximity to such a vociferous dreamer. He loves and hates it in equal measure. Loves and hates you in equal measure.

And then the strangest thing happens one day. You are showing a friend around your room. And your friend points to him and laughs “Why do you have that rock on that pillow?” and Azriel would blush if he wasn’t a rock. But you smile knowingly and say “That’s not a rock, it’s a star I found. It fell from the sky when too many people piled their wishes onto it. Too much pressure for anything, don’t you think?” and the friend nods understandingly.

And Azriel glows. And Azriel cracks. Because he is awash with the forgiveness of a dreamer. And he remembers the child with eyes like yours but different, the first who looked up to him and wished. The one who made him want to take as many wishes as he could carry, and then take more after that.

And when the friend is gone, you reach up onto the shelf and bring down the satin pillow. You set it on your desk, and observe the crack that that splits your star down the middle. You gingerly separate the two halves, and behold the bright blue gemstone in the center.

You smile. “Do you think the weight of one person’s dreams is bearable? I promise to leave plenty of room for your own.”

Azriel glows as brightly as he once did in the sky.

#Starfall Week 2024 #acotar #azriel #fantasy #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #classic Azriel angst #because of course I did #angst #angst with a happy ending #night court #acotar crack

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offtorivendell · 3 months

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The Asteri, the Daglan, and Prythian's Court System

Disclaimer: this is a stupidly massive crack theory that could end up being disastrously wrong. Oh well.

Spoilers: the ACOTAR and CC series to date (I'm halfway through HOFAS right now, slowly plodding along, so nothing beyond that).

Image from ACOSF, Kindle edition.

Buckle up for some more of my nonsense! I think I could have discovered why Prythian's land has the Court and High Lord Systems. This theory still has a couple of wrinkles to iron out, but it's plausible, so I figured I'd share what I've got.

A massive thank you goes to @ladynightcourt3 and @psychologynerd for our chat yesterday morning, which led to this post. I love you guys! 💜

Full warning that this will A) be absolutely cracked, and B) contains Maasverse spoilers, including from HOFAS (up to around 40% I think), but I was mulling over what I'd read so far and this popped into my mind.

Part 1 - The Court System

Bryce made, I think, one hell of an assumption when she said the following in HOFAS:

Vesperus, the only Asteri left on this world, lay dead. - CC HOFAS, chapter 26

@wingedblooms and I have previously theorised that some of the barren regions in Prythian may be so because the death gods were trapped there, drinking the magic of the land, rendering it spent - lifeless - and possibly unable to power up a gateway to an interstellar rift. We both also think it's very interesting that one Elain Archeron was referred to as “a rose bloom in a mud field,” but I digress.

However, in HOFAS, we learnt that there was a Daglan/Asteri, called Vesperus (who considered herself the Evening Star and their god), trapped in a crystal coffin far below the Prison, which was once a land of Dusk.

The female’s long nails scraped along the lid of the coffin. She didn’t look at them as she tested the lid for weaknesses. “I am your god. I am your master. Do you not know me?” - CC HOFAS, chapter 24

It's interesting, no, that the region was named after the Daglan who ruled it? Was this common practice? Because we just so happened to learn, in Feysand’s ACOSF bonus chapter, that there was once an ancient Night Court goddess named Nyx.

You know, their son's namesake? Yikes. 🫣

“You may call me Vesperus.” The creature’s eyes glowed with irritation. “Are you related to Hesperus?” Bryce arched a brow at the name, so similar to one of Midgard’s Asteri. “The Evening Star?” “I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. - CC HOFAS, chapter 25

Silene, Theia's second daughter, who “escaped into the night,” gave us further information that appeared - to me, at least - to be incomplete. Or perhaps inaccurate? She had been taught by her mother, so she could have been fed certain things as facts. For example, was the land of Prythian really divvied up into seasons and times of day before the Daglan came to town?

The land strengthened. It returned to what it had been before the Daglan’s arrival millennia before. We returned to what we’d been before that time, too, creatures whose very magic was tied to this land. Thus the land’s powers became my mother’s. Dusk, twilight—that’s what the island was in its long-buried heart, what her power bloomed into, the lands rising with it. It was, as she said, as if the island had a soul that now blossomed under her care, nurtured by the court she built here. - CC HOFAS, chapter 19

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. - CC HOFAS, chapter 19

My sister and I grew older. My mother educated us herself, always reminding us that though the Daglan had been vanquished, evil lived on. Evil lurked beneath our very feet, always waiting to devour us. - CC HOFAS, chapter 19

Reading between the lines, I think it's just possible to link the powers of each land with the Daglan who once ruled over them. Perhaps each region - each “precursor” to a modern day Court - had a Daglan/Asteri buried underneath a barren peak, or in a body of water? Is this why the lands have frozen seasons, pools of starlight*, or powers based upon the light of the time of day? Because of a monster buried far, far below the surface?!

*Is there a Daglan entombed in a crystal coffin far below the surface, or is it a cache of firstlight, one that may be refuelled each Calanmai? Or, as @psychologynerd has suggested, is there a Made object of power that will draw Elain to the Spring Court?

Our home had been left empty since we’d vanished. As if the other Fae thought it cursed. So I made it truly cursed. Damned it all. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

Despite my efforts to hide what this place had once been, a terrible, ancient power hung in the air. It was as my mother had warned us when we were children: evil always lingered, just below us, waiting to snatch us into its jaws. So I went to find another monster to conceal it. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

I left, wandering the lands for a time, seeing how they had moved on without Theia’s rule. They’d splintered into several territories, and though they were not at war, they were no longer the unified kingdom I had known. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

As a quick aside, I still suspect that Fionn may have been a Daglan - or similar, perhaps an Under King - who tricked Theia into thinking him a normal faerie and used her to overthrow his peers in order to gain more land for himself. It seems exactly like something a rogue Asteri would do.

Like I suggested earlier, could each region be named for its ruler? Because the names of at least one of the Midgard Asteri was, shall we say, coincidentally similar to the Daglan of Prythian, and others appear to match at least the solar courts.

Solar:

Dawn - Eosphoros

Day - Rigelus

Dusk - Hesperus

Night - Sirius

Seasonal (incomplete/unsure/probably incorrect):

Spring - Austrus?

Summer - Octartis?

Autumn - ?

Winter - Polaris?

As I said, the Midgardian Asteri don't perfectly match up to the seasonal Prythian courts, but it's too close to not consider as a possibility, imo.

Perhaps the lands of Midgard were broken up into solar regions and something else that wasn't seasonal? But given the Vesperus/Hesperus competition... maybe whatever species Asteri and/or Daglan are are strongest when travelling with a full complement of powers? And each "clan" (for lack of a better word) that travelled together had dawn, day, dusk, and night “lights,” as well as spring, summer, autumn and winter lights? Could it weaken them to be without a full cohort of powers? As @ladynightcourt3 said, it would explain why they were so upset about Sirius. Could Rigelus be hoping for a replacement to find them and return them to full strength, and that's why he keeps an empty throne?

Part 2 - The High Lords

No one knew that the infant who sometimes glowed with starlight had inherited it from me. That it was the light of the evening star. The dusk star. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

An Asteri being buried under each Court could explain the high lord magic as well.The HLs are “a different breed,” per Lucien. Did the Asteri/Daglan need a Starborn Fae who is predisposed to holding, or withstanding, their magic? If this is the case, it would explain why the next in line to inherit the power - or who the magic chooses - isn't always a direct descendant of the previous high lord. Does it pass to the Fae with the strongest Starborn blood? And why the mountain shook when Mor got her first period. There has to be a Daglan/Asteri buried under the Hewn City.

That being said, why is it only men who can inherit the magic, and not women, especially when we now know that high ladies used to exist? Did Theia's betrayal made them distrust females in general, or was it something Seline did? Or is it because the women have the most/purest/strongest, starborn power, so did the men keep them down to use them as “breeding stock” in order to legitimise their rule, similar to what Pelias did with Helena?

Part 3 - Further Thoughts

I still wonder how Hybern and Hel could come into play here, because I think those lands are linked. A Valg/Hel Prince population on a different island?

@psychologynerd noted that we’ve previously connected the solar and seasonal courts, such Dawn = Spring, Day = Summer etc., and that it would track for Autumn and Dusk - an appropriately matched pair - to migrate together to Midgard. As an aside, this could tie in with the parallels shared by Azriel and Lucien, who may be/are linked to Dusk and Autumn. What if their power was connected via their “stars”?

@ladynightcourt3 wondered if Hesperus may have changed her name, hence Vesperus’ anger.

I can understand how a Daglan's presence may impart their magic into the land, especially if they're left buried - steeping? - in the soil for millennia, but how would that magic shape the faeries living there? Is it like I suggested in this post, that prolonged exposure to a powerful object allows a tie to be forged?

A bonus crack theory for fun - what if Merrill is a trapped Asteri? Either Nyx or Sirius, whom Apollion ate, and perhaps she escaped the pit of Hel through the base of the House of Wind library; nobody knows where she came from, she's descended from Rabbath of the Western Wind… her room is described as a cell and she called Nesta “girl” like Amren - an ancient - did. I dunno, but there's something about Merrill.

As always, thank you for reading! 💜

#hosab spoilers #hofas spoilers #acotar cc tog crossover theory #acotar theory #the dusk court #dusk court #the night court #night court #prythian #acotar #sjm books #maasverse #feysand #feyre archeron #rhys acotar #crack theory

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