#devlon acotar

[ghosts-cyphera]

hi my current inappropriate male crush rn is devlon from acotar. if you've read it you know how in the wrong I am for this but you know what? I am not ashamed. in my head he looks like theo james in this picture and no one can change my mind.

[mischiefmanagers]

I think I just entered my Lord Devlon era so apologies in advance 🫡

[jmoonjones]

Emerie week!

Bryce gets Emerie some self defense weapons for her shop

A truncated version of my Emerie Brings Democracy to Illyria AU

Emerie in the library 💜

[witch-and-her-witcher]

Devlon x Rhys's Mom

Hear me out (@popjunkie42 and I have discussed this at length, bless her heart):

It's established that Rhys's mother was not in love with the High Lord. She spent most of her time in Illyria, had her wings intact, and apparently was given enough freedom to move about on her own that she could take her daughter on camping outings.

Plenty of opportunity for her to fall in love with the War Lord who seems to be allowed a lot of freedom to disrespect Rhys and the other Bat Boys in the present (but, Cee, he trained them and that's where the sentimentality comes from! No. That's not romantic and tragic enough.)

Those laws imposed to stop female wing cutting and to ensure they're trained in the battlefield are quietly (or in the case of Rhys's absence UTM not so quietly) fought because the murder of Rhys's mom and sister's justify that Devlon couldn't protect them, the dangers going against their traditions brings, and the other Illyrians rally around this tragedy.

Devlon looks at Rhys and see's the High Lord that would take his lover off to breed, filled her head with too many High Fae beliefs and values that don't apply to the reality of growing up in brutal Illyria. Devlon looks at Rhys and sees a young male who is still dreaming even though Devlon lost his dream centuries ago.

Devlon looks at Rhys and sees his mother, the daughter that was like his own, and relives the grief of those losses over.

And Rhys looks at Devlon and sees the male his mother actually loved. He knows he'll never be able to dispose of the stubborn Lord or his old-fashioned beliefs because it would mean disposing of someone his mother cherished.

So, they're both trapped in each other's orbits and Devlon tends to Rhys's mother's house whenever the IC aren't in Windhaven and Rhys continues to send Cassian to try and find a middle ground for the old and new.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lord Devlon x Illyrian!reader: Give Me What I Want.[*]

A/N: I thank you so deeply for making this request and opening my eyes to this male, oml—

Warnings: slight brat taming (woah!), wing play, dom/sub dynamics (kinda)

Arms fly over his shoulders, gripping to steady yourself as you jerk your knee upward, aiming at the soft organ between his legs.

A low snarl rips from his chest, a broad, calloused palm biting into your thigh, keeping you from slamming it home. He twists your leg to the side, pulling it up over his hip, stepping into you so you’re tipping backward—forced to desperately cling to him to keep from falling to the kitchen floor.

“Let me go, brute,” you hiss, digging your nails into the muscle cording his shoulders, hanging from his strength. “I would sooner sleep outside this winter than visit your blasted brother again. He makes a pass at me every time you look away.”

“If you’d stop seducing him with those eyes of yours, there wouldn’t be a problem,” he growls, free arm wrapping around your waist, keeping you within his warmth. “I can’t take you anywhere without something happening.”

“You’re putting this on me?” You snarl, arms aching from holding him so tight, having spent the afternoon drying the various pots and pans from lunch, then immediately switching to preparing dinner, which is laying untouched atop the table. “Don’t you feel any sense of protection for your wife? Your own brother is trying to steal me out from right beneath your nose, ‘Lo. Aren’t you embarrassed? Ashamed? I’m not some common whore to be traded about, no matter how you like to say so.”

Rough fingertips splay across your ribs, skating beside your breast, possessively. “He knows what would happen to him if he so much as touched something of mine. If advances have been made, you have only yourself to blame, temptress that you are.”

“That’s your answer?” You hiss. “That it’s my fault your brother keeps trying to take liberties with me? You should train your dogs better.”

Devlon growls in warning. “He is my brother, and you will show him the respect he deserves. He is a fully fledged warrior, and you will do well to treat him as one.” He pulls you tighter to his body, your back straining with the curve, gritting your teeth against the ache. “Or do I need to remind you of your placement in this world?” You snarl your disagreement, hands raising to the thick, dark locks of his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. “I will submit to my husband, and my husband only. If you know so thoroughly that I am yours, why tolerate any other male attempting to put his hands on me. Do you have no sense of possession? As your wife, I would expect more aggression from you, but clearly this brother of yours has something over you if you’re at his mercy—”

“I will not have you sewing discord within my family, witch.” Lip curls at the title, hands lowering from his hair, trailing down his back, just grazing the great wings—

The second you do, Illyrian instinct kicks in, and he goes for the throat. Muscle tenses, then you turn soft and pliable in his arms. Calloused fingers stroke over the sensitive skin placatingly, as if calming a beast through scratching behind its ears. Heat flushes your cheeks, legs trembling, arms turning weak and limp as the stimulation settles in the pit of your belly.

“Don’t… Quit it, ‘Lo,” you pant, shooting him a scathing glare. He can’t just do this every time you have an argument. And yet it always seems to end with you flipped on your back, a larger pair of wings hiding you from the world, your fingers running through his hair while his hips grind against your own.

Hands fall away from his wings, instead pulling to your chest, attempting to squirm out of his dominating hold, feeling all of a sudden as though his hands are all over your body, touching the curve of your hip, the softness of your waist, the hollow of your throat. “We aren’t done with this argument,” you manage, heat already pounding between your legs.

“Argument?” He pulls you tighter to his chest, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you speak of a children’s sparring match like it’s a war.”

Grit your teeth. “Stop infantilising me. You don’t give me proper attention, or the topics I bring up. A good husband listens to his wife.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says dismissively, though his hands have slowed on your wings. You’re grateful for the reprieve.

“You’re being dense,” you snap, regaining enough to control to steady yourself with the one leg that’s still planted on the floor. “I would’ve though as warlord you would understand when to pick your battles—you’re always saying that makes a good warrior.”

“You think we were battling?” He sneers, pulling your thigh tighter over his hip. “You’d be on the floor painted black and blue if we were.”

“This house is my battle ground,” you hiss sharply, anger flaring in your blood at the nonchalance he spoke about hurting you with. “As your wife, home and family are my designated areas. You don’t hear me asking what you spoke about during those meetings of yours, because I know my place. And I don’t expect your help in the kitchen other than perhaps giving me coin to buy the necessary materials, because that isn’t your place. Your brother’s actions are an attack on our family, and as a relatively dignified male, I expect you to defend it.” You finish, keeping your attention locked with his sharp hazel eyes.

Dark brows furrow as his attention pierces into you, the edges of his mouth twisted in an almost permanent frown. You fight to keep from shifting in his hold as he judges your points.

“Unnervingly sound reasoning, as usual,” he mutters, relenting at last. Lips quirk in triumph, making him shoot you a dark glance, fingers biting into your thigh. “I suppose it’s not acceptable for him to put his hands on my wife, even if provoked.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you snap, heat finally receding enough for you to be rational. “Where did that idea even come from? I’ve been nothing but loyal to you.” He snarls roughly at that, hips pressing into your abdomen. “Don’t lie to me, wife. Do you even understand the strain you put on me to resist taking you before our wedding night?”

Lips part as heat flows between you, something hard and stiff pressing into you, the shape of his arousal more prominent that it was before. “What are you talking about?” You breathe, his mouth poised to devour your own. A muscle feathers in his jaw, and you can feel the strength contained within his warrior’s body seeping into your own. “You know what I’m talking about,” he growls. “You are female. You should hold no power over me.”

You can do nothing but stare up into his hazel eyes, two siphons glittering on either shoulder, blazing storm-cloud grey. “And yet every day drove me deeper into madness. Every day I was denied you, deprived of you.” Lips brush over your own, a roughened promise whispered in secret. “I could have killed on our wedding day, with how intense that strain was.”

He had seemed ill-tempered—you’d assumed he was simply innately miserable, rather than it being out of impatience. “‘Lo…” you plead, softly, breathlessly.

“It should not be me that feels that way alone,” he growls, hand sliding up between your wings, your spine arching. “I should not be the one subject to you.”

“Yet here you are,” you manage, wishing he would shut up and put his mouth over your own already. He snarls, silencing you. “Can you even comprehend the need I have for you? Understand a fraction of the longing I feel for you? How my bones groan to have you near?”

The world around him falls away, negative space. “Show me,” you breathe, “show me.”

Hot lips press over your own, hand releasing your leg in favour of sliding beneath your ass, hauling you upward. Thighs wrap tight around his hips, your hands cupping his jaw as he groans up into the kiss, head tipped back to go deeper. Fingers thread through the thickness of his dark hair, rolling your hips against him, hands dipping lower. Skating over his shoulders, down his back.

He snarls into your mouth as your nails graze the base of his wings, the tendons shuddering beneath the feather-light touch. His hold loosens, allowing you to slide down a little, his arousal pressing flush to your centre. Hips buck as you attach your mouth to his neck, your Lord stalking from the kitchen, prowling through your house so he can bed you. Teeth scrape over a pulse point, hands squeezing your ass in response, shifting you in his arms so your centre rubs over him.

Forearm slides beneath you, hand gripping the nape of your neck, unlatching your mouth from his throat. Siphons burn the colour of thunder-clouds, hazel sharp as it pierces into you. “Hands and knees,” he grits out. “On the double.”

Neither of you dare waste a second. The moment he releases you, ties are loosened, clothes are strewn across the floor, wings flare for balance as you’re practically shoved onto the bed. Feel the heavy weight of his cock between your legs, one arm sliding down your front, calloused fingers plying you apart enough so you’ll be able to take him. “‘Lo, please…” you pant, tightening around his digits as they slide in and out, curling softly against spots he knows you like.

Pleasure weakens your muscles, lowering onto your forearms, wings twitching near their tips, shuddering as heat pulses between your legs. “I need you relaxed,” he grits out, your spine curving at the rough drag of the syllables. “I am relaxed,” you pant, “do it.”

Your Lord curses under his breath, then pulls away; you whine at the emptiness. It’s transformed into a moan when the tip of his cock presses to your entrance instead, poised to fill you up—if he would just push his hips forward. You hiss, telling him to get on with it, but he only slides in the first inch or so, nowhere near enough yet. “What are you doing?” You manage breathlessly, attempting to shift to peer at him, but he holds you still.

“Do you feel how badly you want that?” He growls, pulling out a little more. You could scream at him to slam in, but it won’t get you anywhere, so you nod your head instead, choosing compliance over disobedience. “Imagine constantly feeling that need every time someone so much as walked in the same room as you. Do you see how cruel you were?” A moan slips from your lips, his hand rising from between your legs to grip your breast, thumbing at the sensitive peak of your nipple. “I’m sorry, ‘Lo,” you pant, practically trembling beneath his hands. “I’m so sorry…”

“I bet you’re fucking sorry,” he snarls. “Not so nice being on the receiving end, is it?”

Swallow thickly, heartbeat spiking at the vulgar language. “Please, ‘Lo. Please, I need you.” Fingers pinch the sensitive skin. “Of course you do.”

Then he slides in, and you’re pressed forward, making room for him until his hips are tight against the backs of your thighs. Eyes roll with pleasure, harsh pants of relieve spilling from your lips as you clamp down on him. Words blur and fumble, a strange mesh of pleading sounds pouring into the air, the duvet doing nothing to muffle them. “That’s better,” he groans, drawing his hips back in favour of slamming in. You cry out, pleasure rocking your mind as he sets a punishing pace, hips smacking against your thighs, cock touching those previously stimulated spots, having you tighten around him.

Canines scrape over the junction of your neck and shoulder, finding the part he likes, where you’ll struggle to conceal the mark. Teeth bite down and you moan, wings fluttering in pleasure as he presses against them, pinning them to your back. Vision blurs with the stimulation, tears brimming along your lashes, bursting with the need to have him this deep inside you at all times, to be so utterly and completely full there’s hardly room for breath.

Your husband pulls away, gripping you by the hips, slamming you back against him in time with the rough pace he’s chosen. Cries spill helplessly from your chest as he puts his weight behind each thrust, grinding his hips against you so he’ll touch more of the lovely, mouth-watering places inside you. You try to cover your mouth but he’s having none of it, one hand fisting in your hair as he tugs you upright, forcing your spine to curve to his will as he pounds into you.

Waves of dizzying pleasure crest over your skin, a scream whimpering from your mouth as you flutter around his cock, sending him over the edge. He snarls as it hits him, release spurting into you, feeling the thick liquid spill deep inside, filling you up and stuffing you full. Eyes slide shut, pushing tears down your cheeks while muscles spasm from overstimulation. The last waves finish, and his grip loosens on you, allowing you to collapse down into the mattress, exhausted.

The bed dips to your left as he settles beside you, one great wing splaying across your back, tucking you beneath it. Take your time to regain your strength, before rolling closer, your own wings folding to allow you to press into the sturdy heat of his side. “What about supper?” You question quietly, eyes still shut as you bask in the aftermath. He grunts noncommittally. “We can eat later.”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbles, hunger beginning to make an appearance now your mind is unoccupied. You groan, brows narrowing into a frown before you sigh, making to push up from the bed. His wing presses you down, keeping you laying comfortably on your front. “I’ll get it,” he mutters, standing and moving to kitchen.

When he returns, you’ve burrowed under the covers, closer to his side than your own, eyes shut, breathing deep and even. He rolls his eyes, setting the plates down on the tables either side your large bed.

You’ll wake up in an hour or so, once you’re sufficiently rested.

Then it’ll be time for round two.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

[nattblacklupin]

Fierce protector

Pairing: Lord Devlon x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, illyrian soilders inappropriately touching reader (nothing too intense), fighting? (Not really, but still), kinda suggestive at the end but no smut

Summary: Lord Devlon protects his mate no matter what

Masterlist

Everyone in Windhaven was scared of Lord Devlon, one wrong move or word, and he will destroy you the next training. He was especially fierce about training the women in the camp, his mate helped him realise they could be good and useful fighters too. Now it takes one bad word about any woman in the camp, and you got it. Training or, in worst case, punishment that will surely teach everyone their place.

Today was one of these days, and Devlon wasn't letting them go easy today. They spoke too openly about his mate. They should be glad he didn't kill them. Just the thought of yesterday events was making him see red.

He was waiting for his mate to finish her shift in the pub. He told her uncountable times she didn't have to work and that he will take care of her, but she refused every time. Devlon wasn't happy about it, but if his mate wishes to work, he will have it and respect it. His mate matters to him the most and if he has to stay in her pub whole shift just to scare of drunk horny warriors then let it be like that, anything just too see her smile at the end of the day.

Today started as a normal night for both of them. Y/N made sure everyone got their drinks while he was making sure she is alright. The men can get quite handsy, which he totally won't tolerate, not with any woman and totally not with his mate.

"Hello pretty, could you please give us three shots?" One of the soilders yelled at you. He immediately turned to them. It's not something new that men compliment you. He himself does that nearly every day. But he was keeping eye on them. Young warriors often didn't know when to keep their mouth shut. Their table was close to Devlon, so no word that left they shameful mouth didn't miss him. He was still left with a cold mind. Let them fantasise. You would never even get close to them in that way.

You were used to drunk men, their words just pointless part in your night. Their order was quickly done, and you started walking to their table. On your way, you shot Devlon quick smile. You missed him - like it isn't only half an hour since you last kissed him.

Everything was going smoothly, and they didn't do anything stupid till you were leaving them to take care of other orders. One of them whistled and slapped your ass. In a second, his hand was grabbed by your mate, and the soilder was on the ground.

"You wanna try that again?" Devlon growed at him. How dares he touch his mate like that? Only he can do that. The illyrian soldier was nearly peeing his pants while begging for forgiveness. Devlon didn't see through his anger, all his instincts were screaming at him to protect mate and kill any potentional threat to her.

,,Devlon, love, let him go. You can punish him on the training tomorrow. But don't let him destroy the night today. " You knew how to calm down your husband. These little angry scenes were nearly on a daily routine. Devlon could control himself, just not when it came to you, his only weakness.

,,let's go home, love. " you said and took his hand to slowly lead him away from the soilder. He luckily did let go, and his hand went around your waist. ,,talk to my mate like that one more time, and I will literally kill you." He was dead serious when he said that ,,that goes for all of you."

You quickly nodded at your coworker so they knew you were leaving. Everyone was probably happy that you decided to leave sooner, and they didn't have to deal with their angry commander.

The moment you left the pub, you kissed him. The kiss was fast and heated. Nothing sweet about it, but at the moment, you knew that Devlon needed to calm himself somehow, with what you will gladly help him further at home. Your lips left his, and you looked up to smile at him.

,,my fierce protector."

[acourtofladydeath]

TTBW Snippet #3

Alrighty, here's your last tasty morsel to get you ready for what's to come.

Devlon simply began to scour the group again, eyes narrowed as he took in the faces of the five camp lords around him. The mistrust he had was written clearly across his face as he hung around the outskirts of the group. “I don’t trust this, Cassian. When you said you’d be coming, I didn’t expect anyone else to turn up. This seems,” Devlon’s speech trailed off as his words became softer. “I don’t know what it seems like, but I don’t think this will end well.”  Cassian clapped him on the back as he spoke, voice still full of the joviality and mocking that he could find in any circumstance. “Well, if it goes poorly, that’s why you’re here. You’ve never failed to get me out of a jam before.”  Devlon let a small smirk grow on his face as he said with mock severity, “yeah, well, getting you three demons through the blood rite alive nearly killed me.”  Cassian laughed with the male for a moment before he continued, tone more serious than before. “Dev, I don’t think you’re capable of letting me down. You and I discussed the stakes. Cauldron, Nesta and I nearly debated to death over it. This is how I can make a difference. Let them know I don’t think I’m above them, that I want to work with them and not just order them around like pawns.” Cassian’s voice changed from confident and convicted to something smaller, hopeful and yet not. “I have to try. I don’t know what else to do, progress has grown stagnant. It’s just a drink. Illyria needs this.”

Stay tuned tomorrow for the title and description drop.

[foxcort]

acotar & asoiaf au collection || the Illyrians as the Knights of the Vale.

"We Remember." // Ser Cassian Royce of Runestone, Commander of the Knights of the Vale, Heir of House Royce, Vassal of House Arryn.

Ser Devlon Corbray of Heart’s Home, Second-In-Command of the Knights of the Vale, a member of House Corbray, Vassal of House Arryn.

Ser Emerie Belmore of Strongsong, a member of House Belmore, Vassal of House Arryn.

Ser Balthazar Waynwood of Ironoaks, a member of House Waynwood, Vassal of House Arryn.

[nightcourtreader]

I’m re-reading acowar. I’m so behind on my acotar & cc re-read it’s ridiculous.

But anyway. A thing I want to point out is what the fuck is Devlon from the Illyrian camp. Other than illryian of course.

Then he noticed nesta. “What is that,” Devlon asked. Nesta merely stared at him, one hand clamping the edges of her gray cloak together at her chest. One of the other camp-lords made some sign against evil. “That,” Cassian said too quietly, “is none of your concern.” “Is she a witch.” I opened my mouth, but nesta said flatly. “Yes.” And I watched as nine full grown, weathered Illyrian warlords flinched. “She may act like one sometimes,” Cassian clarified, “but no—she is high fae.” “She is no more high fae than we are,” Devlon countered. A pause that went on for too long. Even Rhys seemed at lost for words. Devlon had complained when we’d first met the amren and I were other. As if he possessed some sense for such things. Devlon muttered, “keep her away from the females and children.” (Page 484-485, acowar)

How is he able to sense that amren, Feyre & nesta are other? I know with amren at the time it was obvious. But you wouldn’t really know with Nesta until you look at her eyes when she’s upset. And Feyre doesn’t really show that she was made either.

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

It really is funny that emerie is explicitly described as striking and not beautiful, because I imagine her as a combo of cassian’s force of personality (where you can’t look away from her whenever she’s in the room) and azriel’s perfect face (where you don’t even want to). So basically a goddess I guess

[shallyne]

SJM game: Chased by...

A generator chooses a Villain that chases you and 10 characters that get split into 2 groups who could defend you. You can only choose one of the groups to defend you.

You are getting chased by Maeve

Group 1:

Azriel, Clare Beddor, Lord Devlon, Drakon, Einar (Autumn King)

Group 2:

Hunt, Declan, Bryaxis, Duke Perrington, Aedion

All characters are randomized, I did not choose them specifically. Just added their names to the generator. Round 2 because I added characters of the sjm universe

[jmoonjones]

OK, so this story really ballooned in my mind and it started to become clear that drawing it all out would be a pretty big undertaking, especially since much of it is exposition.

I made the pivot to writing most of it out because as a dyslexic person, it does me good to practice writing (I tried for the style of a history book? Maybe?). Prior warning on any typos, just roll with it. 

In post-war Illyria, the land finds itself ensnared in a web of adversity. A dwindling population hampers agricultural endeavors, while power struggles over vacant leadership positions sow discontent among the people. Whispers circulate, advocating for Illyria's right to select its own leader from someone who lives within their own borders. 

This chosen person would safeguard the interests of Illyria and its inhabitants from being used as a military power but ignored in times of peace. Progression is overdue, trade is being stunted, and the now-largely female population (due to the losses during the war) is eager for equality. 

And thus enters Emerie, a Carynthian and a Valkyrie, as well as a small-business proprietor. Practical and resolute, Emerie begins to garner support from the predominantly female populace, with her Carynthian status creating male allies as well. She envisions a future of thriving trade, using her own experience running her shop, and dreams of Illyria never being lacking in spices and salt. 

She envisions cultivating an economy based on tourism, enticing other courts to partake in Illyria's small shops and enterprises, and this will help build new businesses like hotels and guided tours.

As the movement gains traction, the final piece of the puzzle falls into place: Devlon. Possessing the wisdom of age and name recognition she lacks, Devlon bridges the divide between the disparate camp factions and gives her 'legitimacy' to the wary males by standing as Emerie's second-in-command. 

Devlon wants independence for Illyria and is smart enough to see that getting on board with Emerie and her group would give the movement more traction and more likelihood of success. 

(It helps that Nesta, ever vigilant, casts an ominous witchy glance at Devlon whenever he looks to be up to no good. He will eventually establish himself as a trusted confidant to Emerie and her government. )

In a collaborative effort with their loyal companions, Emerie and Devlon meticulously pen a declaration of independence so thorough and thoughtful that even Rhys, the High Lord of the Night Court, accedes to its terms. Acknowledging that the most advantageous course of action for Illyria is to empower it, Rhys pledges financial aid as seed capital while the newly independent nation gets on its feet. A special bond endures between Illyria and the Night Court, now operating as sovereign entities with far less strain than before.

Emerie becomes the Prime, with Devlon as her Second-in-Command. There's an initial forum with citizens to share their worries, followed by a celebratory party DJ-ed by Nesta's ipod-egg and featuring singing by Gwyn. 

Rhysand employs this secession as a catalyst to deepen his involvement in the Hewn City, but this time with benevolent intentions. Bereft of the Illyrian army, he endeavors to gain control over the Darkbringers and seeks to enhance the quality of life therein, offering the possibility of migration to Velaris for those who desire it.

With Nesta and Cassian at the helm of two formidable armies—the Valkyries and the Illyrians, respectively—Illyria solidifies its status as a force to be reckoned with in Prythian. This commands immediate respect from the other courts, who are intrigued at this new country for them to trade and visit (but not dare to take on in battle). 

Oh, and did I mention that our trailblazer Emerie secures a seat at the High Lord table being the first female and elected leader to sit there? Because she does. 

Gwyn, bravely venturing forth from the confines of the library, champions the cause of non-High Fae rights. As a part-nymph, she has personally encountered bigotry, which resonates with the plight of other marginalized fae and Illyrians. (Remember all that 'lesser fae' bs from ACOTAR?)

Gwyn assumes the mantle of their advocate, bolstered by Nesta, who desires a future where her part-Illyrian child will never experience such animosity. Several priestesses get involved and their 'safe haven library' mission expands to other courts (becoming a quasi-embassy) run by a priestess-ambassador. Helion and Meallan are invaluable as transportation while they get set up. 

In this shared mission, Nesta stands as Gwyn's steadfast second, while Gwyn reciprocates as Nesta's second within the Valkyrie army. Together, they dedicate their efforts to train any woman who aspires to be empowered and thrive.

Emerie bestows a position of authority upon one of her close friends in Windhaven; a fellow small-business owner, who becomes the Chief of Trade. She begins by establishing a robust import framework, laying the groundwork for future exports and imports. Initially targeting the Night Court as a trade partner, their aspirations eventually extend to encompass all of Prythian.

Azriel becomes both emissary for the Night Court and shared spymaster. This mutually beneficial alliance allows Illyria and the Night Court to share confidential intelligence. By being more involved in Illyria, Azriel begins to reconcile his own long-held prejudices to his people and heritage. He splits his time evenly between the two courts (when he's not spying). 

Nesta and Cassian live in Illyria full-time, training their armies and raising their family. Nesta also dedicates time to creating a night life by helping establish several clubs/bars with dancing and music for all to enjoy. Eventually talented Illyrians will form schools dedicated to the arts. Speaking of school...

Devlon's cause is education. Too proud to ever admit he's wrong, he realizes he needs to be right more often than not to make that work. He sets up schools in each camp, many of which also serve as boarding schools for the orphans. He claims it because it's because he doesn't want to deal with wild children running about, but he becomes very invested in education and it gets really dusty in here whenever a child hugs his leg. 

This emancipation advances Illyria and the relationship with the Night Court is forever made more solid now that there's mutual respect and admiration between the two. 

Are you still reading? Oh my goodness, thank you. As you can see, this idea would have been tricky to draw out since most of it is exposition. 

[sarawritestories]

You Are Not a Burden

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: You have been tasked with going to the Spring Court to check in on Tamlin for Rhys. Though You and the High Lord do not get along and this visit leaves you injured and doubting your abilities in Rhys and Feryre's court and in the Inner Circle.

Content Warning: Angst, Aggression, injury, Stubbornness, Self doubt, barely proof read.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I hope you enjoy this angsty fic that has some really good fluff at the end.

Exhaustion had been your constant companion in the past weeks. Doing emissary work between Summer and the Day Court had been successful and have been in good company with Tarquin and Helion, who have always loved when you come to visit. Though standing on the dilapidated building of the Spring Court, you wished you could be anywhere else. The territory has been neglected as shown by the dead plants and the Mansion looking like no one has stayed there in centuries in a matter of months. The once rich color of the land had dulled, and the people of this court have suffered just as much as the land.

Rhys had asked you personally to touch base with him as you were already traveling to nearby territories and seeing the exhaustion on his face mostly from taking care of Nyx and not wanting to have Feyre endure going back there you agree. The relief in his eyes made it worth being here though it meant that you would be apart from your mate for weeks as Cassian was at the Illyrian camps handling Devlon and making sure the camps were staying in line. The time apart has left an ache in your heart, but the work has been a great distraction.

Shaking your mind from your thoughts and sending love down the bond that links you to your General. There was a warmth that took over your body as he sent warmth and comfort through the bond. Taking a breath you raise your hand and ready to knock on the door when the door opens, and your eyes meet Emerald ones. “I could hear your heart rate spike. What do you want?”

You straighten your posture, “I was in the area, I wanted to check in.”

Tamlin scowls, “Consider me checked in. You can go run to your High Lord and your Bastard, like the good little Bitch you are.”

He is about to shut the door when you breach your boot against the frame preventing it from shutting, ignoring how his blow hit his mark and gave a knowing smirk placing the mask Rhys has taught you “Look who got his bark back.” You rolled your eyes, “Can I please come in? The sooner we have an adult conversation the sooner I can leave, and you can wallow in whatever pity party you’re hosting for yourself.”

His claws peeked over his knuckles, “Why do you care, you sure as hell didn’t care when you took Feyre from me? You sure as hell did not care when your High Lord let her come in and destroy my territory.”

You cross your arms, “Tamlin, Feyre, wanted to do that on her own, there was no coercing on our end. As for your territory...you were a ticking time bomb. Your people were getting frustrated with your rule. Feyre just sped up the process. Maybe it’s time you stop blaming others for what happened in your court and take some responsibility.”

In a flash Tamlin tackles you to the ground, your head hitting the concrete at the bottom of the stairs, your vision blurred slightly as Tamlin’s claw clamps around your neck and squeezes, “I want you to listen very carefully,” He snarls and you wince, “You don’t get to judge me when its apparent there is no use for you in that vile court you call home. Rhys and Feyre have no use for you other than sending out and parade around in other territories.” He smirked as a tear escape cascading down your cheek, “I’m sure you are only good for warming your general’s cock and sitting prettily on his lap.” You wince as his blow landed some of your deepest insecurities being confirmed by the person you hate the most. “You are not welcome in my territory and if I catch your scent even in my territory, I will kill you. Leaving your Corpse on your bastard mate’s doorstep.”

He presses his face close to hers causing a whimper, “Get. Out,” he whispered and ripped away from your body the sound of a door slamming solidifying that the High Lord of the spring had slithered back into his tomb. You laid facing the sky the beautiful sight of the sky a stark contrast of what transpired.  For a moment not fully aware of how that escalated quickly, and your hand gravitated to your neck and tears began to pool. You make sure that your bond was locked so your emotions were not flooding to Cassian as he was out checking on his armies.

You stood and the ground began to spin briefly before steadying yourself a sharp pain stung behind your eyes and you touched the back of your head and something wet and warm met your fingertips. You look at your hand and find blood dripping down to your wrist, without a second glance to the manor, you winnowed back to Velaris. You ended up on Madja’s doorstep and you stunned the older Fae healer, “Oh dear, let’s get you checked out” Madja brought you inside and tried to tend to your injuries.

The familiar mental claws scraped your mental shield as Madja had you lay in her cot checking your neck to make sure Tamlin didn’t do any permanent damage as a bruise in the shape of a hand was blooming across your skin. You open your shield enough to let your High Lord come in.

“Home so soon?” Rhy’s voice was a mixture of surprise and concern, “Was your trip constructive?”

You take a steadying breath Tamlin’s words began to bubble up. You tamper it down just enough to keep it from Rhys and replied, “Yes my report, will be on your desk in a few days.”

“I’m glad you’re home, Cassian and Azriel are on their way as we speak so we’re having family dinner tonight at the River House.”

“I’ll be there. I am going to rest it’s been a long journey, and I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Rhys chuckled, “I’m sure Cassian will be more than happy to help tire you out when he sees you. He has already promised to kick my ass for keeping him away from you for this long.”

You smile briefly, and once again Tamlin’s words tried to bubble on the surface causing you stress. Rhys must have picked up on the shift of your feelings, “You sure you’re okay. Tamlin give you a hard time?”

“Rhysand, I’m fine, I’m just tired. I’ll see you at dinner.” You put your shield up before he had a chance to press further on the subject, and let unconsciousness claim you.

~Later That Evening~

You make your way down to the dining room of the River House, your plumb colored gown swishing against your bare feet. The high neckline that has a cut out that compliments your breast is why you chose this. Madja was able to close the wound on your head but the dark purple bruise dawning on your neck was going to have to heal on its own. The sound of laughter flooded your ears and the sound usually brings a smile to your face but this time insecurities run rampant.

They don’t need you.

You don’t belong.

You don’t bring anything to this group. They are better off without you.

You wince at the last one, but you school your features and put on a smile and walk into the dining room. The laughter died out and nerves racked down your body by the silence your lips turning down slightly, “Don’t mind me,” You whisper as you make your way down to the empty chair next to your mate. Your heart stopped at the sight of him as he rose from his seat to approach you. Being out in the mountains in the Fall sunshine his skin had darkened a shade and there was stubble along his face that made your toes curl. He was devastatingly handsome, his hair in a clean bun and his leathers been replaced by a dark button up shirt and dress pants.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Cassian scooped you in his arms and spun you around. Placing you down he steals a kiss from you, “I missed you. I was so happy to hear you were home early.”

His hand grazed down your face and as he neared your neck wiggled out of his grasp and got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek and gave him a small smile, “Me too, General.” You take your seat, and You see Cassian take his, his brows furrowed.  The food appeared and everyone gave approval

Feyre looked at you and gave her smile, “How is Tarquin and Helion, I hope they are doing well and treated you well.”

You are only good at parading to other courts.

You cleared your throat as fiddle with the food on your plate not having a solid “They are fine, warm and loving as always.”

“Rhys and Feyre have no use for you… you are only good for warming your general’s cock and sitting prettily on his lap.” The image of Tamlin snarling in your face and his hand squeezing your neck.

Rhys stilled his head shot up and his eyes met yours, your eyes widened and slam your mental shields up. Cassian’s head swiveled between his brother and you and guilt washes over you as he realizes that you have him locked out of the bond. “How was the Spring Court?” Rhys asked tension seeping into the room. Cassian’s head whipped to Rhys.

Feyre also stilled, “You sent her to the Spring Court?” she whispered her food forgotten. Mor poured more wine and filled Amren and Azriel’s goblets. Azriel’s shadows almost obscured him from view and Amren leaned against her chair and sipped her goblet.

Cassian’s grip on his fork tightened his knuckles turning white, “I chose to go,” I whispered. I reach my hand to grip Ferye’s across from me, “It was fine. I was banned but that was the only thing that happened,” Feyre didn’t return her smile.

Rhys jaw locked, “Don’t lie.”

Cassian through gritted teeth, “Someone tell me what’s going on right now!”  Rhys made eye contact with the General and his eyes went vacant along with Feyre’s. He was showing both yours and his mates the image that slipped. When the connection was severed you saw that the General had tears in his eyes as rage contorted his features. Feyre had tears streaming down her face.

You rise from your seat tears threatening, “I’m fine. I can handle myself. I’m so sorry that I ruined Family Dinner with this.” You fled and could hear Cassian call out your name as you winnowed to the door of the House of Wind and took the 10,000 steps to the top. You are aloud yourself to fall apart and sobs racked your whole body. Emotions swirling, of the pain on Feyre’s face and the pure rage on Cassian’s, the venomous truth that Tamlin spewed to you and when you reached the top. You moved as quickly as you could despite your thighs burning from the trek up the steps.

You reached the bedroom and were greeted by Hazel eyes, and you sniffled, “Cassian,” You whispered.

The General was leaning against the bed post with his arms and ankles crossed his eyes red rimmed, “Why did you block me out?” His voice was quiet and pained, his knuckles were bloody.

You open the bond and worry is sent down to him, “You’re hurt,” you whisper not looking away from his knuckles.

 He looks down at his hands and his eyes meet yours and they soften at your worry and relief shimmers down that bridge between him and you. “The blood isn’t mine. It’s Rhys’,” He shrugged, and you bit your lip, Cassian sighs and pushes of the post and approaches you and you avert your eyes. “He’s fine, he could have fought me off, he let me get the hits in. He felt guilty.”

“Why?” You ask, taking a step away from the door and approaching him.

Cassian stared at you in disbelief as he brought his arms down, pushing off the post to close the distance between the two of you. “Because he purposely put you in danger sending you to Tamlin’s territory. That the bruise your hiding behind that neckline is his fault.” Your eyes widened, “Rhys had stopped by Madja, and she told him she was worried about you.” You nod briefly, “We’re all worried about you. Especially Rhys and myself.”

You shake your head, “It wasn’t. I went willingly. I may have pushed Tamlin’s buttons, and he got the up on me.” You whisper, “It’s not Rhys’ fault it was mine.”

Cassian cupped your face in his hands, “Rhys was aware that you and Tamlin do not get along. He also knew that you wouldn’t say no whereas anyone else would have. As your High Lord and more importantly your friend, he should not have put you in that situation.”

You wrap your fingers around his hands that are still cupping your face, “Tamlin wasn’t wrong though.” Cassian’s face fell at your admission. Tears trailed down your cheek, “I feel like I don’t have a job that is really helping this court, but I can’t fight like everyone else and sometimes I feel like Rhys and Feyre really don’t know what to do with me.” Cassian wipes her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m even a good enough friend to be part of the Inner Circle. Then what he said about you.” You closed your eyes, “I know you love me. I know you value me as a friend, partner, mate and wife, but I think back to the number of times you have had to reassure me and take care of me. I can’t help but feel like a burden to you and this court.”

“Oh Sweetheart,” His voice cracked as he picked you up and led you to the bathroom where he took a moment to change you out of your gown. His eyes were flaring with anger at the sight of the bruise. He puts on one of your favorite night gowns that is red and black. He guides you to the vanity back in the bedroom and has you sit as he begins to brush your hair. “There has never been a moment since you came into my life where I ever found you as a burden. You have been such a bright light in my life, your smile brightens the room and even on my worst day that same smile always melts my problems away. You have the affect on the team too, your easy and calm demeanor grounds everyone even Amren.” He meets your gaze through the mirror with his smile that always settles your nerves. “Your charm is perfect for dealing with temperamental High Lords which is why Feyre and Rhys have you go out and touch base with them every now and then. They like you and find comfort in your presence.”

He kisses your cheek and turns you so that you’re facing him, “I love you, You have never under any circumstances simply been someone who warms my cock.” You give him a small smile and his eyes light up at the upward tick of your lips. “I love your kindness, and your bravery. Most importantly it’s your willingness to drop anything for anyone, no questions asked. People know they can come to you for a listening ear, a shopping spree. You even know when I just need to hold you after a difficult mission, and you don’t pry but you somehow know what any one of us needs at any given moment. That’s special, Sweetheart, you’re special.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I will happily remind you of that, everyday from now until my heart stops beating that you are NOT a burden.” Another kiss to your lips briefly before he pulls away.

You feel tears flooding out one more time as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck taking in his scent. “I was nervous, that if you sensed my dread and fear down the bond, you would have shown up in the Spring Court. That’s why I blocked you out and I really wish I hadn’t. I thought he was going to kill me he even told me as much.” Cassian stilled at the admission but did not say anything as you continued, “Then when I got here all I could think about was how I couldn’t inconvenience anyone to help. I was cowardly and didn’t want Rhys to think I failed him. Failed you and began and self-doubt is a parasite that is easy to come in and harder to extract. I just didn’t want to bring the mood down of everyone being home for the first time in weeks. ”

Cassian snorted and you could hear him roll his eyes, “He failed you, Sweetheart. But Tamlin will be dealt with. I promise.” You nod and continue to sob into his neck ruining his dress shirt with your tears.  “Also, you are more important to me than any dinner or game night we could have. How you’re feeling takes priority for me that will never change. Just because you're not feeling joy all the time doesn't make you a burden, it's normal to have those bad feelings as it is the good ones.”

Cassian tucks an arm under your knees and behind your back and carries you to the armchair looking out at the balcony. Holding you close as your sobs ebb and flow he strokes your back and presses his head against yours whispering sweet nothings.

A few moments go by when the sobbing turns to soft hiccups, you raise your head from his neck to meet his beautiful honey-colored eyes. “Thank you, for being you, Cassian, you always know what to say.”

He presses a kiss to your hand, “Promise me something, Sweet Girl.” You wait to let him continue, “Promise me that you will not block me out like that again, if you think you will be in a dangerous situation or territory, you keep the bond open so I can help. While we’re at it, tell me things. Don’t try to protect me from your dark feelings, or worries, it’s my job as your mate and your husband to help you through them and work on quieting those loud voices. No different than what you do for me.”

You nod, “I promise.” You kiss him, “I love you.”

He smiles and holds you tighter to him, “I love you too, Sweetheart. Let’s get some rest, we have an early meeting with the High Lord and Lady tomorrow.”

You nod and let him carry you to bed. He quickly removes his clothes, apart from his underwear and crawls into bed next to you, bringing your head to his chest and his wing wrapped around the two of you for extra warmth as your eyes droop close you feel lips on your forehead, “My beautiful, mate.” He whispers as you drift into slumber.

~FIN

[nattblacklupin]

A/N It's mostly acotar, but I plan on writing for other fandoms, too! Request are open, just limited to acotar for now.

Cassian - lord of bloodshed

Never was much of a romantic: 1, 2

Happy

Invisible string

Ice and blood

coming soon

Eris Vanserra - heir of autumn court

Not so secret

Sleepless nights

coming soon

Lord Devlon - war lord

My fierce protector

coming soon

Amren - ancient one

Timeless

coming soon

Azriel - shadowsinger

Ice and shadows

Coming soon

[litnerdwrites]

"Cassian would be such a good father!" "He's such a girl dad!" "I hope we get a Nessian baby in the next Acotar book!"

That would be the start of a horror story. Not because of the risk of death thing, since it was taken care of at the end of ACOSF. No. Nessian are not ready for a kid, and quite possibly never will be at this rate. There are 101 reasons why neither Nesta or Cassian would be good parents at this current stage in their relationship and their personal development, especially if the dynamic we see in the HOFAS bonus chapter is anything to go by.

When you become a parent, you are responsible for your child's physical, mental and emotional wellbeing, and should provide for them within the best of your abilities. That goes beyond food, shelter and clothing. It means support, love and encouragement, fostering a safe, nurturing environment for them to grow up, free to be themselves.

Nessian can't give that. Not entierly anyway. I don't believe that either of them wouldn't love their child. What concerns me is if they would love their child enough.

Cassian has proven time and time again that he will chose Rhysand over Nesta, no matter what. If he can't chose his damn mate, how could he chose his child. What would he do if it came down to choosing between his Rhysand and his mate & child?

We've established that the mating bond is likely to be the Cauldron's form of selective breeding based on power, so it's highly likely that their child would be incredibly powerful too. The IC have been shown to go as far as lie and manipulate their own in order to exploit their powers. That is what happened to Nesta in ACOSF time and time again. Hell, it's been happening since the IC met Nesta in ACOMAF.

It's not beyond possibility for the IC to lie and manipulate or guilt trip Nessian's child the way they did to Nesta, so they can exploit that power. The worst part is, Cassian, thus far, hasn't given us a reason to think he wouldn't go along with it. If Amren, or Rhysand decide they need Nessian's kid to do something "for the good of the court" but Nessian's kid doesn't want to, or is reluctant? Would Cassian really stand up to Rhysand for the sake of his child? He doesn't love Nesta enough to stand up for her, why would he try to stand up for his kid?

Even if he did stand up for NK, (I'm calling his and Nesta's hypothetical kid NK from this point on, to make things easier) what's to stop the IC from going behind his and Nesta's back? What's to stop Cassian, from going behind Nesta's back on the off chance that he agrees with the IC but Nesta refuses to allow it (assuming NK isn't an adult, which in this world is about 50-80 years)? I wouldn't put it past Nesta's own sisters, and so-called family to undermine her rights and position as NK's mother by going behind her back and making the kid do what they want anyway.

They might not even bother hiding it from her and, like the intervention, tell her it's happening, regardless of how she feels. What proof do we have that Cassian would stand up for her or NK? Would stop the IC, for his child's sake, and defend his mate's right as Nk's mother? He wouldn't. Current, cannon Cassian, wouldn't. He simply doesn't care for Nesta enough to defend her rights and boundaries as his mate, so we can't believe he would defend NK from the IC, if it came down to it.

Then there's the issue of Illyria. Some people are of the opinion that the bat boys would send their kids to Illyrian war camps because it's their culture, while others argue that they wouldn't because it was traumatising. Personally, I think certain parts of Illyrian culture needs to become part of their history instead, like the child soldiers, and wing clippings, for example, but that's not the point.

Rhysand claims to advocate for change and equality in Illyria by thrusting a sword into a woman's hand, and basically forcing them to train too. Based on the argument with Devlon in ACOFAS, it's safe to assume that some level of force and authority is being used to make the women train. But handing them a sword and making them train, presumably in skin tight leathers, while men gawk and stare at them, isn't Equality.

Equality, by definition, means that men and women have the same status, rights and opportunities.

Opportunity, by definition, is "A set of circumstances that makes it possible to do something".

Equality in Illyria won't exist until men and women alike have the choice to not be warriors. Women like Emerie are lucky enough to inherit businesses, but the social circumstances mean that while women may, technically, run businesses, social pressures prevent it. They either wouldn't get business, or other Illyrians might refuse to sell business licenses or stock to them.

These same social pressures are what the IC apply to women when they make them train with the men, without considering what they want. These are the same social pressures that the IC would apply to NK if they decided that they wanted her at these camps. Not only would they consent to leaving one of the youngest members of their 'family' with a people who are so openly hostile to them and to women in general, what are the odds that they would hear any objections from NK?

If NK said they didn't want to train, but the IC wanted them to become a warrior, either to help protect Velaris or to, once more, exploit their powers, or their potential strength (Illyrian killing power, whatever that is).

Cassian claims to love his people, but won't provide them with the opportunities they deserve. He doesn't look or listen to find out what they need, and he did the same to Nesta. He forced her to do things she didn't want to, without asking or understanding what she wanted or needed. If his child were to refuse training, or express interest in other areas, would he ignore them too? Would he force them to train as well?

If his child went through something traumatic (which is pretty much guaranteed with the IC as their family), would he resort to the same methods they used to break Nesta? Once again, we have no reason to believe he wouldn't strip his children of their personal choices, all so they become loyal, complacent weapons of the IC.

What's worse, is that those children may even become weapons to use against Nesta. Who's to stop the IC from telling Nesta's own kids lies and stories to turn them against her? They isolated her in an attempt to break her into compliance, what are the odds they wouldn't bar Nesta from her children? They used Elain to strong arm Nesta into doing their bedding, who's to say they wouldn't use her children? Or manipulate her children against her in some way? Who's to say Cassian wouldn't just let it happen, or even actively participate in the manipulation.

Cassian's loyalty and dedication to the IC would always come before Nesta and their potential children. He's not ready to be a father because he could never put his children before his brother or the rest of his family. The truth I'm seeing is that Cassian, clearly, doesn't love his mate, and probably wouldn't love his child as much as the IC. He wouldn't love them enough to stand up for them. He wouldn't love them enough to not manipulate or coerce them into using their body or powers in a way that the IC approves of (yeah, I also never thought I'd have to read, much less write, that a parent wouldn't love their kid enough to not manipulate them). He's unfit, at this point, to be a parent.

Moving on to Nesta, who still has several unresolved mommy issues, clearly. Her mother raised her to marry a prince and, assumedly, be the perfect wife. Given that the way women are treated in the mortal lands, it's not a stretch to imagine that part of that training would mean obeying her husband (or in this case, mate,) and looking the other way if he cheated, amongst other things.

These values may explain why Nesta isn't as assertive against the IC or Cassian as we'd like. Even if it's subconsciously, some of those values seem likely to be so ingrained in her that she can't break away, as we see when she takes Rhysand's abuse in HOFAS bonus chapter. It's also a fair to assume it may be part of the reason she does what the IC ask when searching for the trove. I'm not saying that those traditions and her mommy issues are the only reason why, there's plenty of other reasons why Nesta acts in these ways, including the brainwashing she got in ACOSF, but it's reasonable to assume that they're at least part of the reason why.

Speaking of brainwashing, Nesta was brainwashed in ACOSF. She was beat down and forced into submission to the point where she even tells Gwyn that she's glad Feyre did that for her. Nesta gave up her dream and desires to travel, her power, her autonomy, and her aspirations just to be subservient to the IC. She became barely a shell of who she was by the end of that book.

That's not to say this is Nesta's fault. Not by a long shot. This is a result of abuse at the hands of the IC, her mother and Cassian. Abuse that left Nesta way more vulnerable and malleable than she was before, stripping her of anything the IC didn't approve of. Meanwhile Cassian did nothing. She thought that she had to earn Cassian's love, despite him being her so-called mate. She seriously thought that she, as her parents' daughter, had to earn their love, for fucks sake people.

What happens if the IC decide that they don't like way NK is growing up, or that they don't like how the kid is dealing with potential trauma? Will they push Nesta into believing her own child doesn't deserve her love? Will Nesta, at any point, consider if her child doesn't deserve her love if they don't have an interest in training or court affairs or training their powers? f

Nesta, like Cassian, is unfit to be a parent, for similar, yet very different reasons. Nesta's self hatred and the lack of ability to stand up to the IC (not saying that's her fault) would bring into question if she would be able to stand up for her children. If Cassian won't stand up for either of them, then how would she, if she feels that her kids deserve better, and that the IC are better. If she feels powerless, and weak, because of their abuse, she likely wouldn't be able to stand up to them. If they come after her together, she wouldn't be able to stand up to them.

I'm not saying any of this is Nesta's fault. She is a victim of abuse. Plain and simple. However, it's also reasonable to decide that she'd be unfit as a parent at that point in time, in large part, due to the environment that was created around her. It's not an environment to raise a child. Especially since Nesta is so brainwashed that it took a stranger from another world (Ember) who knew nothing about her pointing out how messed up her situation was for her to begin considering it as a possibility.

Nesta's own self hatred wouldn't allow her to see anybody but herself as the problem, so she likely wouldn't stand up to the IC or Cassian for her kids, in part because it was so ingrained that she had to obey her husband, but also, in part, because she's less likely to be able to fully understand if or how the IC or Cassian's actions hurt them. Or to consider those actions unnecessary. Even if it came down to mating bond divorce being the best option, if kids are involved, she might not end up going through with it, which can often be worse for kids than a divorce.

Nesta would love her kids so fiercely, but it would be difficult for that love to outweigh the brainwashing, self hatred and abuse that has been engraved into her mind for practically her whole life. She wouldn't love them enough for it to overshadow those voices in her head, through, once again, no fault of her own.

Then the kid themselves. Bringing a child into that mess would be just as torturous for the poor kid.

Imagine what it would do to a child, seeing your uncle threaten to kill your mother, while your aunts, and father and rest of your family let it happen. All because your mother tried to do the right thing?

Or, another scenario, is if NK overhears their aunt (Mor) complaining about how horrible their mother is, and how she belongs in a place you were taught was terrible and evil because she's just like them.

What would it do to NK, to grow up hearing Amren, somebody their Uncle and mother trust and love, refer to their mom in reference to how useful her powers are, or to NK themselves by how useful they are to the court.

NK would likely be forced to do things they don't want to 'show a united front' or to train because it sets an example to the Illyrians. NK would be exploited for their potential power, an initiative likely spearheaded by Amren, and trained to be just as blindly loyal to Nyx as Cassian is to Rhysand.

The child would likely be left to Amren to train, with or without Nesta's consent, and even if she did find the strength to vehemently reject the IC's methods of trying to raise her kid, she'd be punished. She'd be locked up and told she was bad for her own child's wellbeing, while breaking down the poor kid the way they broke her down. They stripped Nesta of her autonomy and freedom. If she had a kid, it wouldn't be long before they stripped her of her role as a mother.

At the end of the day, Nessian wouldn't be great parents, because the IC aren't a great family. They have issue upon issue to work through before they can consider their relationship even somewhat functional or healthy, much less bring a child into it.

So no. Nessian doesn't need a kid. They'd be terrible parents and need to figure their own shit out before they even consider having a kid. Nesta isn't in a good place, mentally, physically, or emotionally, to be able to act with the kid's best interests at heart. Meanwhile Cassian is either delusional enough that he thinks Rhysand's best interests equal everybody's best interests, including his kid's. So, he won't bother to stop Rhys or the IC from using the kid however he wants.

Which is why I'm begging you. Please. No. No Nessian kid in the next book. Not in any book. Not unless SJM somehow fixes the relationship between Nesta and Cassian, and by that, I mean figure out how to fix Cassian's character from ACOSF.

(On a side note, Nesta's basically still a kid by fae standards, and so is Feyre. So why? Why would they not wait anyway? Cause ew.)

[danikamariewrites]

what do you think about brattamer boys or feysand or nessian?👀 like reader is having a massive attitude and is being spoiled and they aren’t having any of it😋

Brat tamer ACOTAR Throuples

A/n: I couldn’t pick one so here’s a very short collection of all three lmao (this is all I could come up with for now apologies 🫣 might expand later idk)

Warnings: brat reader

Bat boys x reader

You’re their spoiled little princess

You can do no wrong even when you have an attitude bc your the sweetest thing in their eyes

Rhys gives into you most, he’s awful at disciplining you when you’re a brat

Cassian is stern but you can break him half the time. But when he’s serious your attitude determines your punishment

When Cass is in charge of punishing you It ranges from spanking to having Az restrain you while Cassian over stimulates you and doesn’t let either of them touch you no matter how much you beg

Azriel absolutely spoils you and gives you the most attention but the second your attitude changes he’s putting you in your place

Feysand x reader

Both give in to your demands way too easy

They secretly love your bratty attitude

Love spoiling you, fueling your ‘I deserve everything I demand’ attitude

You love their punishments

Nessian x reader

Nesta is the super strict one

Cassian gives in saying, “but Nes, look at this face. Our baby didn’t do anything.”

You hate having your time with them interrupted

You once threatened to feed Devlon to Bryaxis when you went to Windhaven with for a work trip

They didn’t punish you for that but Cassian was shaken at the name drop