#nesta archeron x cassian

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3

Five years earlier:

She wasn’t used to Georgia’s humidity. 

Nesta never wanted to get used to it. Standing just outside the little white house that now belonged to her, Nesta wiped sweat from the back of her neck. The town was small—no more than a couple thousand people, if that. No big buildings, no major downtown, and worst of all, no Chinese food. Not unless she wanted to creep closer to Atlanta and given that Nesta’s car was a piece of rusting junk built a full decade before she was born, she doubted she’d make it.

So much for being a hot shot lawyer. 

Nesta dumped her bag just inside the white picket fence, ignoring the peeling paint and splintering wood. It was the kind of place Elain would have thrived in. With a sigh, Nesta turned her back entirely on the overgrown yard and began walking along the only road in the town to the center—aptly named Main Street. 

There was practically no one out. A few older woman walked with looped arms down the sidewalks while a harried mother pushing a stroller made her way toward the only grocery store. Nesta made her way toward the marble carved library, taking the steps one at a time despite the unrelenting sun overhead.

The air inside was ice cold and empty save of two women who were quietly talking to each other. One of them—the red head—clearly worked there given she was behind the desk. The other sat perched on the counter, a book in her lap. They had been clearly talking with some animation though now that Nesta had intruded, the pair stared with wary suspicion.

Nesta hadn’t come to make friends. Lifting her chin with all the haughtiness her mother had instilled in her, Nesta marched toward the shelves lined with fantasy and romance and began reading the jackets. 

She needed a distraction. All she could think about lately was what would happen if Rhysand ever found them. Surely he was irate…he’d be out for blood. They’d flat out lied, pointing the finger straight at the notorious mafioso and the feds, in their eagerness to put him away, had overlooked all the evidence suggesting otherwise.

But Rhysand would know.

And Nesta wanted to forget him. Mobsters lived short lives, besides—in a year, he might be dead and the whole thing over. She could keep herself busy for that long. So long as the library kept books on the shelves, Nesta could find something to do.

She brought them to the front desk where the red head and the dark haired woman waited. “Library card?” The woman’s name tag read Gwyn. 

“No,” Nesta said, fishing out her new drivers license. Agnes Smith. Sure. That sounded real. “Here.”

Gwyn eyed it for a moment. “You don’t look like an Agnes.”

“Tell that to my mom.”

Gwyn began typing on her computer, glancing at Nesta’s ID. “Emerie,” the dark skinned, dark haired woman said with a friendlier smile. “I think you look like an Agnes.” Gwyn rolled her eyes. 

“You should come by the general store,” Emerie added, glancing at the ID for Nesta’s address. “You moved into the old Brandon house.”

“Grizzly murder happened there,” Gwyn said seriously.

“Did not. He died of all old age,” Emerie said quickly. “It’s been run down for a while. I’d be happy to help you out.”

“Do you like women?” Gwyn asked suddenly and bluntly. 

Taken aback, Nesta said, “Um…not really—romantically, anyway.”

Emerie sighed. “It was worth a shot.”

Nesta almost blurted out that she’d still take friends before she thought better of it. No need to be defensive or obsessive. “Where is everyone today?”

“It’s ten am,” Gwyn said.

“They’re at church,” Emerie replied when it was clear Nesta didn’t understand. 

“But not you?” Nesta questioned.

Gwyn handed her ID back, along with a white library card bearing her pretend name. “We aren’t welcome.”

“Why?”

Emerie grimaced while Gwyn scanned Nesta’s book. “They think I’m a homewrecker…and Emerie likes women. Openly.” 

“Fuck them,” Nesta said without thinking. It was the first smile she’d seen from Gwyn—a small, half formed thing, but a smile all the same. “We should start our own religion.”

“That sounds like blasphemy,” Emerie teased.

“It sounds like witchcraft,” Gwyn added, pushing Nesta’s stack of books toward her. “I’m in.”

Which was how Nesta found herself hosting brunch that Sunday with two strangers in a house that didn’t belong to her.

PRESENT:

“Who is that?” Emerie asked, sitting on Nesta’s front porch holding a sweating glass of iced tea. 

“He’s not local at all,” Gwyn agreed, lowering her sunglasses to take a look at the tall, muscular man making his way toward Nesta’s gate. Wearing mirrored shades and a suit that was bursting at the seams, he looked like he was playing dress up as a cop.

His dark, wavy hair half pulled in a bun didn’t seem regulation, for one. But something about him seemed off somehow. 

“He one of yours?” Gwyn questioned. Nesta had long since betrayed the secrecy she’d been sworn to, telling her friends everything but the most critical piece of truth in order to protect Feyre. 

Nesta scratched her ear. No, this man was definitely not one of hers. 

“Want us to stay?” Gwyn asked, likely thinking about the shotgun mounted in the back of her pick-up truck.

“I can handle him,” Nesta assured them. Gwyn and Emerie stood, leaving behind their cups to slip from the yard. Gwyn nodded at the man once, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. That left Nesta standing at the top of her porch steps wearing a butter yellow sundress, arms crossed over her chest.

“Ma’am,” he the man began as he approached, his expression unreadable. She waited, watching as he took off his sunglasses only for recognition to slam into her. Oh. She knew this man from pictures.  “My name is Cassian.”

Rhysands right hand man. Nesta didn’t move, unwilling to betray she knew who he was. “What can I do for you, Cassian?”

Not even a fake name? Was he that confident she’d never done one google search? He had a mugshot, had appeared in the papers just enough times for Nesta to recognize him. They called him The Lord of Bloodshed thanks to his rumored job of handling the things Rhysand didn’t want staining his hands or his conscience. 

And that man was standing at the bottom of her steps, armed just beneath his suit jacket. 

“I’m here on behalf of your case,” he said like a pretty liar. 

“Oh? Has something happened?”

“An indictment is coming. I’m to escort you back home once Rhysand has been charged.”

Liar.

Still, there was no reason to call him out on it. If Rhysand had found her, he must be still looking for her sisters. She didn’t believe for a minute he’d found Feyre—his bruiser would have pointed his gun at her by way of greeting had he. No, they were monitoring her.

And Nesta could watch them right back. 

So she smiled, hoping she seemed innocent and sweet. “What a relief,” she lied, stepping to the side so he could come up. “I was starting to think I’d be trapped here forever.”

“Can I come inside?” Cassian asked, looking around her immaculate yard with interest. “It’s hot out here.”

“Better get used to that,” Nesta said, pulling open the screen door so Cassian could get the lay of the land. “Are you staying here?”

“If you don’t mind. The hotel is…”

Roach filled, she knew. People still went, content to carry out their clandestine affairs in filth so long as no one ever found out. 

“I have a spare room,” Nesta told him. Cassian turned back for his own car—a brand new jeep  that was laughably out of place in her little neighborhood. He returned with two bags slung over his broad shoulders, eyes hidden behind his glasses. The sun hit the golden brown of his skin, making it seem as if he glowed and tragically, Nesta thought he was a good looking man.

He’d kill her if she wasn’t careful…but attractive, all the same. 

Nesta showed him to the smaller room she kept made up just in case Gwyn or Emerie wanted to stay the night, thinking the full sized bed didn’t seem big enough for this man. He had to duck beneath the doorway, putting him well over six foot three—maybe six six? He made Nesta, who stood tall at five nine, feel dainty by comparison.

“Should I call you Cassian, or…?”

“Cassian is fine,” he replied, sunglasses resting atop his head. “This is perfect, by the way. I promise you’ll barely know I exist.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nesta said in a flirty voice as she eyed him. “I think it would be hard not to notice you.” He grinned, unaware that a real agent would have shut her down in seconds. “Well, Miss Agnes, I’ll do my best to keep out of your hair.”

Nesta offered him another smile, mind racing. If she survived tonight she assumed she’d survive as long as he wanted her to—and as long as she didn’t admit she knew what he was. That meant keeping it from Gwyn and Emerie, who wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from treating him like a criminal.

He thought she was prey, but Nesta Archeron was a survivor. A predator, just like this man. And she had lived in Georgia for five years—she had guns hidden all over the house. He didn’t need to know any of that, though. Nesta waited while he unpacked some of his things and peeked around her little house, mostly quiet as he cased her. Sitting on her sofa beneath a ceiling fan moving at top speed, Nesta heard him push open the back door and walk through the yard where she assumed he was testing the gate.

He messed with windows when he returned, pushing back curtains to peer out into the street. “You’re wide open out here,” he finally said with a frown on his pretty face. And he was pretty—sculpted and rough in a way that was hard to ignore. Nesta found herself noticing the green in his hazel eyes and the way stubble clung to his strong jaw. A slit cut through his eyebrow while faint scars littered his jaw and hands, betraying a man who knew his way around a fight. 

He was fooling no one but himself. 

“This is where you put me,” she reminded him, wondering if he understood what she was really saying. 

“Maybe we’ll keep the curtains closed,” Cassian said, as if Nesta didn’t do that anyway. The sun was unforgiving and the only way to survive swampy summers was to try and keep things shady and cool. 

“Do you want to take off your jacket?”

“I want to take everything off,” he admitted, shrugging out of what she had to assume was stolen. “Even my own skin.”

“That’s how I felt when I first got here,” she told him. He’d look back on all this and remember—he’d realize she knew the moment he stepped onto her lawn. “You get used to it.”

She was going to kill him, she realized. The knowledge slammed into Nesta’s chest violently, paralyzing her for a moment. She’d never killed anyone…but at some point she’d have to kill this man before he killed her. Cassian, for his part, was unaware of the slant of her thoughts. He must have already known when he came down that he planned to kill her just as soon as he was given the order. She doubted he intended to take her home…and if he did, it would be under duress. 

That was future Nesta’s problem, though. For now, all she had to do was stay one step ahead of him. And that meant pretending like she believed every word coming out of his mouth and ignored all the obvious signs that he was a liar. 

“Hungry?” she asked. 

“Starving,” Cassian agreed. He vanished into the room she’d given him, leaving Nesta enough time to try and steady her nervous hands. By the time Cassian returned, Nesta was slicing up meat for the grill outside. There was absolutely no way she was turning on her oven.

“Can I help you with that?”

Instinct demanded she say no. She didn’t want Cassian anywhere near lighter fluid, for one. He looked so earnest and she was pretending, so Nesta nodded. “I haven’t seasoned it yet.”

“Leave it to me,” Cassian said with an easy smile. And she did, watching him from the corner of her eye while he seasoned her meat and vegetables. He vanished out the back door and when he returned, sweat glistened over his face. Nesta found herself standing there for a moment, staring as he pulled the rest of his hair off his face, biceps straining against the cuff of his t-shirts. 

Cassian was heavily tattooed with black ink that crawled over his arms and up his neck, broken only by the sweaty shirt he wore. 

“Why do people live like this?” Cassian asked, wiping his brow on his sleeve. “It’s horrible.”

“I keep saying it,” she replied honestly. “I would have preferred a colder climate.”

“Next time,” Cassian grumbled. “What are you doing now?”

“Cutting up fruit. Want some?”

Cassian picked a blueberry out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “How do you spend your time, anyway?”

“I’m the town lawyer,” Nesta informed him. “I work in a little office down on Main Street.”

“And when you’re not working?”

She shrugged. “I have friends…but I mostly read.”

He glanced toward her shelves of books in the living room, visible from the hall connecting the two. “Anything interesting?”

“Take a look,” was all Nesta could think to respond. Cassian didn’t take her up on her offer, turning instead to go check on the grilling meat. Had she not known who he was, Nesta might have thought the awkward environment was just because a stranger had invaded her space.

It felt almost normal. 

Almost.

Because Nesta couldn’t forget a killer was sitting across from her, his hands soaked in blood. She kept coming back to it as they ate in relative silence. Why had Rhysand sent him here? What did he want with her? Nesta needed to figure it out.

And figure it out fast.

CASSIAN:

Nesta Archeron was beautiful.

Cassian hadn’t expected it. He’d seen a picture of Feyre only once and had kind of imposed her face on all three Archerons. Walking up to her house had been a surreal experience. For one, all Cassian could see was her tits pressed against the neckline of that sundress she wore. Holy fucking Christ, but Nesta’s body was something out of his most depraved fantasies.

But her eyes were something else. Icy blue and calculated, it was no surprise Nesta had survived five years out mostly on her own. Did she even know her sisters were guarded by federal agents while she was left to fend for herself? 

It irked Cassian. Sure, he was grateful he’d been able to gain access to her life so easily, but surely someone was keeping their eyes on this woman? So the likes of him couldn’t just stroll into her home and do whatever he liked with her? 

But after two days living with Nesta, Cassian learned that no one seemed to care if she lived or died. Which was just as well—because he was starting to care. Just a little, he told himself that second night as he laid in bed staring up at the ceiling fan.

His only job was to get her back to Rhysand in one piece once he’d tracked down Feyre and married her. Nesta wouldn’t even know until it was all too late and the feds would lose their pathetic case.

And then Cassian could go back to his regular life in a place that wasn’t drenched in humidity. How did anyone sleep? Even with Nesta’s air conditioner going at full blast, Cassian found himself shucking off his shirt and kicking the sheets to the floor in a desperate attempt at sleep. 

Thinking the living room might be cooler, Cassian dragged his blanket with him to the couch where he found Nesta, half hidden in the dark with a piece of toast in her hand.

Her little night dress was enough to empty out his mind. Why was she so hot? Cassian could see every curve of her perfect body beneath the silken blue fabric and her hair was loose around her shoulders rather than braided in a crown atop her head.

He wanted to lick the salt off her skin.

He wanted to lick a lot of things, actually.

Cassian was fairly certain federal agents weren’t supposed to have sex with their charges—even if Rhysand was certain Vanserra had something going on with the middle Archeron. Cassian wasn’t anything close to a cop and fucking was his favorite thing to do. 

“I ah..” Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly hyper aware that all he wore was a pair of loose shorts. Nesta was looking only at his face with a grim determination—as if she found it very difficult to do so.

You can look at any part of me you like.

Having sex with her would certainly pass the time. 

“It’s hot,” Nesta said, flipping on a lamp on the side table. “I keep meaning to get someone out here to look at my AC, but…”

“I’ll look at it,” Cassian promised. “Before the sun comes up.”

“You’re handy?”

He was, actually. “I grew up with a single mom,” he said, flashing her a smile before making his way to the sofa. “We didn’t have a lot of money, so I learned how to do repairs.” Nesta tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Unwilling to give her a reason to banish him, Cassian made a show of fluffing the couch cushions before stretching himself out. 

“My shower doesn’t have hot water,” she finally told him.

Cassian grinned in the dark. “I can take a look at that, too.”

“I would appreciate it,” Nesta replied. 

“Why don’t you make me a list? I’ve got nothing else to do all day and I feel like a freeloader sitting on your couch.”

That was true. Cassian was used to staying busy and suddenly he had nothing but downtime. It was tempting to go to the library and find his own books to read and treat the entire thing like a vacation. This would help build trust between them, he rationalized.

And Cassian liked having something to do. He liked being useful to people. 

“I could do that,” Nesta said, still standing in his line of sight. Even in the dark, Cassian could see her nipples pointed through the fabric. He wanted to touch them.

“I’m here to help,” Cassian reminded her.

“Of course,” she said, her tone unreadable to him. 

He nearly asked if she wanted to join him. It was on the tip of his tongue, but Nesta beat him to speaking, adding, “Well. Sleep well, Cassian.”

“You too,” he said, disappointment ribboning through him. It was absurd to think a woman like Nesta Archeron was going to crawl in his dirtbag lap.

Still, Cassian could dream. And he did, waking with a throbbing erection he had to discreetly handle in the freezing cold shower. Cassian hadn’t noticed it wasn’t hot given the air was miserable and he didn’t want to take a boiling shower for once. He could hear Nesta in her room listening to music, up with dawn just like he was. 

He found tools out in her garden shed, unused and rusty. They’d likely belonged to the previous tenant, whoever they’d been. Still, they worked well enough for Cassian’s purposes. What she needed was an entirely new unit. Cassian guessed the old one was over a decade long and judging from the rattling, it was on its final legs.

He had money. A lot of money. Would she believe him if he told her the agency had decided to replace it? Nesta didn’t strike him as particularly stupid—if they’d never helped her before, she might not believe they’d help her now. He couldn’t live the way they had been, though, which was how Cassian found himself on the phone with the local repairman giving out his credit card details over the phone.

Nesta was gone by the time Cassian came back into the house, drenched in sweat and slightly sunburned on the tops of his arms. It was a relief to get into the basement and work on the water heater, and by the time Cassian finished, the service guys were there to replace Nesta’s air conditioner. It required them to turn the air off which was actual hell, though once it was back up, Cassian felt instant relief. 

Nesta returned with a scowl on her face, dressed in a pencil skirt that made Cassian’s mouth dry out. How had Archeron managed to create her? Cassian had met him—he was nothing special. An unremarkable man in every way imaginable, including his appearance.

Nesta could have modeled. Could have had her face on billboards, her body in magazines. Had he met her back home, he knew he’d have dogged her steps hoping for just a look in his direction. 

“Any news?” Nesta asked, sliding her keys and purse onto a side table. Cassian watched her kick off her heels and turn her face upwards toward the vents blowing cold air.

“Nope,” he said. What would Rhys do if he kept her here for a year? Kick his ass, likely. “Rough day?”

Holding up a cloth shopping bag, Nesta nodded her head while Cassian rose to take it from her. Inside he found an assortment of peppers, onions, and a rather nice steak he assumed she wanted to grill. Cassian had never grilled before he met her and found that he rather liked it. In fact, he liked the whole little game he was playing. Pretending to be the sort of man who had a house and a wife and a barbeque suited him.

In another life, Cassian would have thrived.

“I’m working on another divorce and her soon to be ex stopped by to tell me what he thought about me.”

“I hope it was to tell you you’re beautiful,” Cassian replied without thinking as he peeled stickers from the vegetables.

“No it wasn’t,” Nesta replied, her tone uncertain. “It was to tell me what a bitch I am.”

Cassian arched a brow. “Did you tell him to get fucked?”

Nesta chuckled. “Not this time…but I wanted to. He thinks if he digs his heels in, he can avoid this divorce but it’s happening either way.”

“This is why I’m not married,” Cassian said, reaching for a knife.

“Oh?” Nesta asked, an amused smile on her perfect face. “Is that the only reason?”

Cassian couldn’t help his grin. “I’m off-putting to women, of course.”

“There it is,” she said with a pretty laugh. “Want any help?”

“Get out of my kitchen, Nes,” Cassian replied, swatting her away. “Water’s fixed, by the way.”

The whole thing was warm and domestic. Nesta thanked him before sauntering off, hips swaying with each step. The only thing to temper Cassian’s hot blood was the hotter grill outside and a reminder that Nesta was off limits to him.

He was merely a guard meant to get her back home before the feds scooped her and her sisters back up again. Collateral, he supposed, for the game Rhys was playing with Feyre. Cassian was grateful for that, at least—if Rhys called him and told him to kill her, he wasn’t certain he could do it. 

Cassian returned to find Nesta in a pair of tiny little shorts and a pink tank top. He wished she’d pull her hair down, still left in its braided crown, though in truth he could have stood at the backdoor and stared at her for an embarrassing length of time.

“What did I say about the kitchen?” he teased, setting his tray of meat and vegetables on the counter beside her.

“I wanted to make a little salad,” Nesta told him, showing him the bowl. “Do you even eat vegetables?”

“On occasion,” Cassian said with an easy grin. “I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me, though. I’m not picky.”

“Tell me about yourself, Cassian,” Nesta ordered once they were seated at her little wooden table. 

“There’s nothing interesting to tell,” he replied. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’ll bet you’re a lot more interesting than I am.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Nesta murmured.

“C’mon,” Cassian cajoled. Nesta sighed, eyes narrowed with that suspicious look he was growing so fond of. Was there such a thing as love at first sight, he wondered? Cassian was starting to suspect he was under its spell. Under hers, anyway. Nesta relented, telling him little stories he figured were probably half true. 

Cassian knew the right questions to ask, at any rate. Careful not to mention her family, Cassian asked her about everything else. Nesta spoke about going to law school and living in Georgia, mentioning two friends she’d made—Gwyn the librarian and Emerie the grocer. He’d seen them on his porch when he first arrived. 

He needed to do a little digging on them, but he figured they were likely fine. 

“What about you?” Nesta asked, their meal long concluded. Cassian began gathering up dishes.

“What about me?”

“Are you from Georgia?” she questioned.

Cassian chuckled. “No, I’m not from Georgia. Just got unlucky in my assignment, I guess.”

“Why did you want to do this work?”

Cassian considered that. “I’m good at it,” he replied, drumming his fingers along the edge of the sink. “I kind of fell into it, actually. I guess I succumb easily to peer pressure because when one of my friends suggested I apply, I did it without hesitation.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There had been no application process—he and Rhys had become friends as boys and Rhys’s mother had been like a second mother to Cassian. He’d always wanted to repay them for their kindness and when Rhys asked him to join him as his right hand man, the answer had been obvious.

He couldn’t tell Nesta that, though. She didn’t poke, either, seemingly satisfied with his answer. While Cassian cleaned up, Nesta made her way to the living room, picked up a book, and curled up on the couch. Cassian watched her pull a blanket from the back of the sofa and drape it over her tanned knees.

“Cold, huh?” he joked. 

“You fixed—”

A gunshot silenced both of them. Nesta jumped clean out of her skin, book falling from her trembling hands. Cassian frowned, his own heart racing with excitement. Finally, something interesting was happening.

His own gun was in his hand before Nesta ever stood. “Don’t move,” he whispered, motioning for her to get away from the window.

“Send the bitch outside!” a man’s voice yelled, filling Cassian with cold rage. He was at the door in a moment, flinging it open so it was his large body filling the space. On the lawn, a man stumbled forward, gun pointed at the sky. He pulled the trigger again, clearly trying to intimidate Cassian.

Cassian had been tied up before, a gun pressed against his lips while his cock was threatened with a knife. Some fucking rural drunk with a gun didn’t scare him. In truth, very little scared Cassian. He’d cheated death more times than he could count and he knew, as he stepped onto the lawn in the fading daylight, that he wasn’t going to die today.

This man, on the other hand…well. Cassian supposed it would depend on what he did next.

“Lower your weapon!” Cassian barked, his voice rough and menacing. The man jerked to look at him, eyes wide and watery. “Put your gun down or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Send out your bitch—”

Cassian didn’t shoot him, but he did hit him in the face. Hard. Maybe too hard given the way the man crumpled at his feet as blood poured from his nose. Only the alcohol kept him from passing out which was lucky for Cassian.

Crouching in the grass, Cassian grabbed the man by his thinning hair and forced his head into an unnatural angle. “What did you say?”

“I called her a bitch,” the man spluttered through the blood. 

Cassian cocked his gun with his free hand and pressed it to the man's cheek. “Try again,” he whispered, fully intending on killing this man on the front lawn. Cassian’s finger pressed against the trigger just as Nesta barked, “Cassian!”

He twisted to look at her, arms crossed over her chest. She was fury incarnate right then, marching toward the pair of them without a care in the world. 

“Get out of her, Brent,” Nesta ordered, pointing her finger toward the gate. “This is embarrassing, even for you.”

“You ruined my life—”

“You ruined your own life by cheating on your wife!” Nesta spat without remorse. “And you’re ruining it by assaulting a federal officer.”

Cassian nearly choked. Did he look like a cop right then? 

“He assaulted me,” Brent protested, shoving out of Cassian’s grip.

“If I see you near her again, you’ll find yourself six feet under before you can utter one fucking word. Do we understand each other?” Cassian asked, rising to his full height. Brent glanced from the gun in Cassian’s hand to Cassian himself before offering a sullen nod. 

“Whatever,” he muttered, clearly trying to save face. Cassian watched him stumble off, forcing himself not to pull the trigger anyway at the man’s retreating back. Nesta came to stand beside Cassian, resting her soft, small hand on his forearm.

“That’s the guy getting the divorce,” she told him, as if Cassian cared who he was. Letting someone who threatened him walk away unscathed felt wrong and Cassian longed to rectify it. Where did he live, he wondered? 

“I can see why,” Cassian muttered, turning back for the house. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“He’s not coming back—”

“He pointed a gun at you,” Cassian growled, the memory filling him with rage. 

Nesta only shrugged, proving that she was still part of the life whether she wanted to be or not. Did she know what a liar her younger sister was, he wondered? Did Nesta know it had been Feyre who killed her father? Looking at her in the warm light of the house, Cassian decided that a woman like Nesta wouldn’t allow herself to live this way if she hadn’t known. If she wasn’t protecting someone. 

Who was protecting her? 

“I’m fine,” Nesta reminded him. But Cassian knew all too well how differently things could have gone if he hadn’t been there. Cassian knew how quickly a bullet could end things. 

“I’ll feel better out here,” he said, setting his gun on the glass coffee table. “You won’t change my mind, Nes.”

She hesitated, eyes moving from him to the window. “Fine.”

Cassian had no intention of sleeping, though. He waited until he knew Nesta was asleep, slipping into her bedroom just to check. She was so lovely even in sleep and Cassian had to resist the urge to touch her face. Not tonight. Another night, perhaps—but not this night. 

The thing about small towns he found himself appreciating was how easy it was to find people. Slipping into a local bar, Cassian mentioned what had happened to the bartender, who helpfully told him where Brent lived. 

He didn’t bother to slip in quietly. If he wanted to be unnoticed, he would have called up Azriel. Cassian liked when his marks were scared, for whatever that said about him. Flexing his fingers, Cassian picked through the dirty, mostly empty house. He supposed Nesta was helping to clean him out.

Good for her.

Brent was waiting in a fraying brown chair, a bottle of Jack Daniels held loosely in one hand. “Knew you weren’t no cop,” he muttered. “You got the look of a felon.”

“Have you been talking to my third grade teacher?” Cassian asked, his tone light. “She used to say the same thing.”

“You ain’t foolin’ no one but that girl of yours,” Brent told him, eyeing the gun in Cassian’s hand. 

“She’s the only one I need to fool,” Cassain agreed, coming closer. “I swore an oath to protect her.”

“I didn’t hurt her.”

“But you scared her,” Cassian said in that same friendly tone. “You came to her house and threatened her and I can’t stand for that.”

“Well, I don’t really care if I scared her. Sometimes women ought to be a little afraid.”

Cassian clenched his fingers. “Is that so?”

“Make your threats and get the fuck out,” Brent ordered, taking another swig of whiskey. Cassian saw his gun on a chipped side table. 

“You don’t have much going for you, do you Brent? Wife left you, took all your money…is about to take your house. You’ve got no job, no friends…anyone would lose it.”

“Yeah,” Brent mumbled, eyes glassy. “You get it.”

“If I were you, I’d probably kill myself too,” Cassian added, holding Brent’s gun in his hand. Brent’s eyes found him, big and wide with shock. 

“What did you say?”

Cassian shrugged, making his way closer to the inebriated man. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised when they find you. I’ll bet it takes them days before someone comes checking.”

“Look, you don’t have to do this. I can…I can pay you—”

“No you can’t,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t take your money. This is about honor, of which you have none because an honorable man wouldn’t try and threaten a woman for doing her job.”

“She fucked me over—”

“You fucked yourself,” Cassian interrupted, reaching for Brent’s hair a second time. “And you made a mistake coming after her.”

“I’m sorry—”

Cassian pressed the barrel of the gun beneath Brent’s jaw.

“I know you are,” he said, holding the man’s gaze. “It’s not enough.”

And then he pulled the trigger. The relief he felt was instantaneous, his blood lust slaked. It took another few seconds to arrange the gun in Brent’s hand, letting both his arm and the weapon fall lifelessly into his lap. The bottle of Jack hit the floor with a thud, spilling over stained wood floors.

The scene was practically a work of art. Textbook suicide—no one would look twice at him or Nesta. That didn’t stop him from wiping his prints on the way out, just in case. He found himself back on the couch, face washed of blood, before two am. 

Cassian had been right about one thing: it took them three days to find Brent.

“Suicide,” Nesta said crisply when she learned, eyes focused on Cassian’s face.

He only smiled. 

#nessian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

[nessianweek]

✷ Announcing Nessian Week 2023! ✷

❤️‍🔥 Join us in celebrating Prythian's hottest couple for the third year in a row! ❤️‍🔥

Come celebrate Nesta and Cassian with us from September 10 through September 16, 2023! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, playlists, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Nessian is welcome! Please note this event will be happening on Tumblr, AO3, and Instagram (fanarts) only.

Please tag @nessianweek and use the tag #nessianweek2023 to spread the word!

Nessian Week 2022's masterlist can be found here, and Nessian Week 2021's masterlist can be found here!

This year's prompts are as follows:

Day One: What Happened Next? ✷ What do you think happened after the end of A Court of Silver Flames? Did Nesta and Cassian have their ornate mating ceremony, settle down with children, or something else altogether? We want to hear your interpretations of canon!

Day Two: Rivalry ✷ Nesta and Cassian weren’t quite enemies when they first met, but they certainly weren’t friends. How do you imagine them handling all that frustration with one another?

Day Three: Song Association ✷ What songs remind you of Nesta and Cassian?

Day Four: Alternate Universe ✷ What do you think Nesta and Cassian's lives would look like outside of canon? How would they live in the modern world, a completely different fantasy world, or within the plot of your favorite book or movie? [Non-Canon AUs requested]

Day Five: Home ✷ Home doesn’t always have to be a place — it can be a person, too. What do you think home means for Nesta and Cassian?

Day Six: Warriors ✷ As Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed, Nesta and Cassian are two of the most powerful characters we’ve seen, especially when they’re together. How do you see their powerful nature playing out both on and off the battlefield?

Day Seven: Free Day ✷ Any topic of your choosing!

We look forward to seeing everything that you create for this event, and make sure to tag @nessianweek once the event starts! Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed to planning this event, with special shoutouts to @talkfantasytome, @c-e-d-dreamer, @vidalinav, @melphss, @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk, @separatist-apologist, @the-lonelybarricade, @dustjacketmusings, and @isterofimias! Fanart credit to Aiphos!

Please contact this page if you have any questions about the event. We can't wait to see what you create to celebrate Nessian for the THIRD YEAR RUNNING!

#nessianweek2023 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acofas

[podemechamardek]

I'm so excited to share this commission of Nesta and Cassian inspired by the “my hot witch wife” meme. Once again it was a pleasure to work with Nanda (_inkye), the artist.

Commissioned by me and Elly (nestroves).

🚫 Please do not repost.

#nesta archeron #cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian #nessian fanart #nessian art #a court of silver flames #art commission: acotar

[moodymelanist]

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck) — Epilogue

I can’t believe this story has finally come to a close!! Thank you so much to everyone who followed along with me on this fic, I had so much fun writing it and trying my hand at slow burn for the first time 🩷

Also, a very big and special shoutout to the GC for motivating me every month to write this and helping me come up with fun little ideas to sneak in. Y’all kept me going and I couldn’t have done it without you!!

I hope this ties up everything nicely!!! until next time and happy 2024 everyone :’)

✷✷✷✷✷

Cassian

Cassian had been enjoying his dream when he was abruptly yanked into consciousness by the sound of his daughter screaming her head off in excitement.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Sera yelled at the top of her lungs, her little feet just narrowly missing crushing Cassian’s hand as she jumped up and down on the bed. How she’d managed to even climb up without shaking him awake was beyond him, but she’d certainly accomplished her goal now. “Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

“Jesus Christ, what time is it,” Nesta muttered under her breath. She looked adorably grumpy as always, and Cassian fought the urge to tug where her hair pulled into two loose braids for sleep like he was the little kid here. “Okay, okay, Sera. We’re up, I promise, just give us a second.”

“Too goddamn early,” Cassian mumbled right back. He was usually an early riser, but he’d been pulling a lot of long nights leading up to the actual holiday. Sue him for wanting to sleep in a little later than six thirty in the morning. “Sera, mijita, calm down a little, okay?”

Sera had just turned four last month, so they were much more concerned about making an effort for the holidays these days now that the chances of her remembering it were so much higher. She’d been talking about Santa and wondering aloud about her presents for weeks now, and if Cassian hadn’t been so worried about making the day good for her, he would’ve been able to focus on just how adorable she was.

Keep reading on AO3 here!

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing | @avidromancereader | @a-little-disguised | @kale-theteaqueen

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #Cassian acotar #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #pro Nessian #pro nesta archeron #pro Cassian #pro Cassian acotar #moodymelanistwrites

[labellefleur-sauvage]

I Need a Big Boy

Nesta had been a fan of her city’s rugby team, The Velaris Fighters, for years, all because of one man: Cassian Smith, the team’s captain.

Tonight, she was finally going to show Cassian why she was his biggest fan.

A very short and smutty Nessian fic. Inspired by a few influential tiktoks featuring some very handsome and big rugby men in short shorts and tight jerseys that instantly made me think that Cassian would be an excellent rugby player. No other plot, just sexy vibes.

Word Count: 2600

Rating: E

Read on AO3

XXX

“Yes! Just like that! Just a little bit more, just like that - yes!”

Nesta threw her arms in the air and cheered along with the thousands of other people in the crowd as the Velaris Fighters scored five final points before the sirens that signaled the end of the game blasted through the air. Besides her, her friend Gwyn threw her arms around her neck in a hug, while their other friend Emerie blew into a bright blue plastic stadium horn.

“What a game!” Gwyn exclaimed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “I thought for sure they wouldn’t be able to come back!”

“That was the best scrum of the season. How Rhys managed to hook the ball after the other team nearly had it -“

“And then Azriel managing to grab the ball when Rhys got tackled -“

“But we all know who was really responsible for their comeback win,” Emerie said with a wiggle of her eyebrows, eyeing Nesta. 

Nesta only hummed, too distracted by watching the man of the hour: Cassian Smith, front row prop and team captain of the Velaris Fighters. He had gone through two shirts over the course of the game to her delight, and had abandoned his latest shirt, choosing to go topless while he gave a media interview on the field.

She sighed wistfully, watching the overhead lights dance across his golden brown skin. This man was the only reason she got into rugby several years ago, when she saw an ad at a bus stop for the local rugby team with Cassian front and center. 

Luckily she found rugby genuinely interesting, and enjoyed going to the games. Even better, she got to ogle the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Cassian was a tall brick house of a man, nearly 6’5” of pure muscle. His upper body - shoulders, arms, back, even his neck - was a mess of highly developed muscles. Each rippling ab was defined, and his thighs were thicker than tree trunks. Most of his glorious body was covered in dark, swirling tattoos that contrasted against his golden brown skin. His shoulder length wavy hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and Nesta watched, enraptured, as he slowly took the ponytail out of his hair and raked his fingers through his sweaty locks. 

She licked her lips. It felt like a personal show, just for her. If all went according to plan, then she’d be putting on a show for him soon. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Gwyn bumped Nesta out of her daydream. Shaking herself, she gathered her bag and followed her friends out of the stands, joining the throng of people waiting to exit the stadium.

“You still going to go to the player’s entrance and try to get an autograph?” asked Gwyn.

“She’s going to try to get a lot more than that,” quipped Emerie.

“Be safe!” Gwyn said. “Let us know if you need a ride home or anything! Keep us updated -“

“She’s not going to have time to give us play by play updates when she’s getting railed -“

“OK, bye!” Nesta called, turning away from her laughing friends to walk towards the side player entrance where the players entered and exited the stadium. A small crowd had already assembled outside the doors, people anxiously waiting for a chance to see their favorite players.

Nesta forced her way up to the front railing separating the crowd from the door. She didn’t have to wait long - soon, players from both teams began filling out, some stopping to sign autographs. Craning her neck and standing on her tiptoes, Nesta kept her eyes trained on the door, hoping she didn’t miss him. 

Finally, the door swung open and Cassian emerged. He was even more beautiful up close: his hair was damp around his face, his form fitting t-shirt clung to his body and the fading sunlight highlighted his rugged face.

Nesta lost her breath as she watched Cassian briefly look around the crowd before his eyes met hers. He looked her up and down, head to toe, before sauntering over.

“That’s a great shirt you have on. Did it come pre-ripped like that?”

Nesta grinned. She was wearing a replica of one of his jerseys, with several rips along the shoulders and sides to mimic how his uniform often looked after a particularly rough game. She had also cut a deep V-neck into the shirt to show off her impressive cleavage. 

“No, I had to cut it myself. Wanted it to look more like the real thing.”

Cassian gave her a one sided grin. “Like the rest of my jerseys, it would look better shredded on the ground.”

Nesta snorted, dragging her eyes down his toned chest and lingering on the junction on his thick jean covered thighs. She lazily brought her gaze back to Cassian’s face, noting the slight blush grazing his cheeks. 

“This shirt has a lot of sentimental value to me, so I don’t think I’d be willing to risk having it destroyed. I think I’ll keep this one… unless you can give me something special in return.”

She could have sworn she saw him shudder. “I can think of a few things I could give you,” he said huskily. “How about you come back to the team locker room with me? I can give you a personalized jersey, a private tour of the facilities…”

“That’s so generous of you,” Nesta purred. “I think I’d be more interested in a private tour of you , though.”

Cassian cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can take that? Most people can’t quite handle… all of me, like that.”

Nesta stared up at him and licked her lips. “How about we go somewhere private and I can prove to you that I’m more than capable of handling a big boy like yourself?” she shot back.

He smiled. “That can be arranged. Come on.” He single-handedly moved the heavy metal barrier out of the way, letting Nesta slip through. “My friend and I are going to the locker rooms,” he told the security guard at the door. The man nodded lazily, letting them back inside the building. 

He quickly led them to the back of the stadium and into a large locker room. It was much nicer than Nesta expected - each player had their own personalized locker lined around the room, with a wide, wooden sitting bench in front of each cubby.

Cassian spun her out of her observations and took her face in his hands for a claiming kiss. Nesta sighed as his tongue swept inside her mouth. He broke away from her suddenly, a cocky grin on his face.

“How long were you waiting outside?” Cassian asked, sitting down in front of his locker and spreading his legs.

“Not long,” Nesta shrugged, her lips still tingling from his intense kiss. “I’m your biggest fan, so I was willing to wait a while for you.”

He smirked. “My biggest fan, huh? What else are you willing to do for me?”

Nesta hummed, then went to her knees between his spread thighs. “If you take your pants off I can show you.”

Cassian grinned, standing up to his full height so he towered above her. “I’ve already worked so hard today - how about you put in a little work and show me how much my biggest fan truly appreciates me.”

Grinning, Nesta reached up and undid the button of his jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down. A considerable bulge had already formed between his thighs, and it only grew larger as her deft hands dragged Cassian’s skin tight pants down his legs. She took her time undressing him, letting her hands wander over the hard muscles in his quads and hamstrings and calves. He kicked his pants away when they bunched around his ankles. 

“My, my,” Nesta murmured appreciatively, staring at the outline of his cock straining against his underwear. “What a big cock you have. I can’t wait to see it dripping for me.” She pressed a series of delicate kisses along his clothed cock, kissing up his shaft. Cassian’s abs and legs tensed in anticipation as Nesta’s mouth drew nearer and nearer to his tip.

“I can’t wait to see it stuffed down your throat,” he gritted, tearing off his shirt and tossing it by his discarded jeans. “You’ll do that for me, right? Take my fat cock down your throat? Prove to me that you really are my biggest fan?”

“Anything,” Nesta said, lightly sucking the fat head of him through his underwear. She tasted a bit of his salty precome and had to close her eyes as her desire nearly toppled her, Cassian’s deep groan reverberating through her entire body. Her center throbbed and Nesta felt wetness gathering in her underwear. 

She was tired of teasing him. Yanking down his underwear, Nesta lightly pushed Cassian back so he sat down heavily on the wooden bench in front of his locker and spread his legs. She groaned. His cock was long and thick and heavy, leaning towards his stomach. Nesta took him in her small hand and gave him a few pumps.

“You did such a good job today,” Nesta said. “Let me show you what you deserve.” She dragged the flat of her tongue up from the base of his cock to his tip, then took his head into her mouth and sucked. 

Cassian groaned as Nesta bobbed her head over his dick. A thrill went through her. She was really doing this. She had flirted and teased the most handsome man she had ever seen, whom she’d been lusting over for ages, and now she was sucking his cock with more determination than anything she’d ever done in her life. Nesta had reduced one of the strongest men she’d ever seen to his knees with a few licks of her tongue, and she’d never felt stronger in her life.

Her hand stroked what she couldn’t fit in her mouth - his was the largest cock she’d ever sucked, and she briefly wondered if she would have to eat her earlier words of proving she could handle someone as large as him. Nesta took half of his length in her mouth and sucked hard. 

“Fuck Nesta, you’re so fucking good at this.” A large hand pressed against the back of her head, forcing her down on his cock. “Just like that, I know you can take all of me.”

Eyes watering, Nesta relaxed her throat as much as she could as Cassian gently pressed her head down until her nose met the wiry curls between his legs. Breathing through her nose, she looked up at Cassian.

“You’re so fucking pretty right now,” he moaned, watching her struggle to keep his length within her throat. “Didn’t think seeing you cry while you take my cock would be so hot but fuck, it is.”

Nesta’s pussy throbbed at the praise. A few tears gathered in her eyelashes and she blinked up at Cassian, begging him for anything: to let her move her head, to continue praising her, to touch her, anything.

He seemed to understand how desperate she was. Guiding her off his length, Cassian pulled Nesta up and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue tangling with hers, Nesta relaxed in his arms and against his body. His big hands made quick work of her underwear and jean shorts before he trailed his fingers longingly over the rips and tears of her shirt. 

“I really want to tear this off you - it’s already ripped, it’d take so little for me to destroy it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Nesta snapped. “I told you, this shirt is special to me!”

“I can get you a dozen just like it.”

“Are you going to argue with me about a shirt or are you going to fuck me?”

Cassian shrugged. “Have it your way.” Bending down, he grabbed Nesta under her ass and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the wall so her back was against the surface.

Nesta gasped. It was hot, his casual display of strength. She felt the tip of his cock brush her soaking folds and she shifted her hips, trying to bring him even closer to her.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Cassian hissed. “Did sucking my cock make you this wet?”

“And watching you play,” Nesta admitted, a slight blush staining her cheeks.

“You poor thing,” he crooned, shifting his arms so Nesta’s legs settled in the crook of his elbows, “you’re been a desperate, wet mess for hours, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Nesta gasped. “I’ve been so desperate for you! Please, fuck me!”

“So needy you’ll let me fuck your pussy raw, hm?” Cassian mumbled, leaning down to kiss her as he pushed his length into her tight cunt. 

Nesta sighed, gripping Cassian’s huge biceps as he worked himself into her. She slumped down a bit against the wall, securely held by Cassian’s hands under her ass and his arms supporting her legs.

“How lucky I am, for my biggest fan to have the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt,” he said, withdrawing then pushing back into her. “Like you were made for me.”

She smirked at him. “Told you I could take it.”

Leaning her head against the wall, Nesta lost herself with the feel of Cassian’s big, strong body around her and his thick cock pistoning within her. He hit places she’d never felt before, and she knew she’d never be able to take anything except his glorious length.

The only sounds filling the locker room were their moans and the wet slap of his cock slamming into her pussy. Nesta felt herself getting even wetter the rougher he got. Reaching down, she furiously circled her clit. 

“You feel so good,” Nesta gasped. “So perfect.”

“And you’re such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this,” Cassian groaned. 

Nesta looked up at him with wide eyes. “Since I’m your biggest fan, I’ll let you come in me. Just for you.”

Cassian cursed. “You want me to come in you?”

“Yeah, want you to fill me up.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he moaned, thrusting so hard and deep inside her Nesta knew she’d be sore later. It was wonderful and everything she’d ever wanted. 

“Cass, yes, right there!” She gave her clit one final brutal rub and she was coming, quaking in Cassian’s strong arms as he chased his own release.

“Fuck Nes,” Cassian groaned, emptying himself within her tight cunt. He gave her a few more weak thrusts before he stopped, resting his head in the hollow of her throat. Giving her a quick peck on the lips, he withdrew his cock from her body. 

“I was worried you were actually going to destroy my shirt, you big oaf,” Nesta said as Cassian carefully set her down on shaky legs. 

“I’d never destroy the first jersey I ever gave you,” he replied, gathering their clothes. “I know how much you love that thing.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Nesta said, leaning up to kiss him. 

“I love you too. I don’t want to kink shame you, but when you asked me to roleplay with you as my biggest fan for some dirty locker room sex -“

“Oh, don’t say you weren’t into it right away!”

“I just thought it was a bit weird, considering my girlfriend should already be my biggest fan. Do you know the logistics I had to figure out to make sure we’d have the locker room to ourselves?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “This just means you have a pretty big leeway for what you want the next time we roleplay.”

“Oh I’ve already decided what I want. Maybe some sweaty post-workout sex, with leathers and chains, stuff like that.”

Nesta grinned. “I can’t wait.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar #my fics #my fic #rugby!cassian #rugby au #cassian is big and hot #and nesta is into it #who can blame her #a court of thorns and roses

[wildlyglittering]

Illyrian Comfort Pie

I shared a post with some Christmas OTP prompts and asked if anyone wanted any for Nessian and @dustjacketmusings chose:

"Every country has different traditions for Christmas when it comes to food: trying something new when they have always eaten the same dishes for the holidays feels wrong at first. But when it’s cooked with love by their favourite person, it can sure taste like new traditions."

I don't know if this entirely fills the prompt and it's a lot rougher than I'd like but please enjoy!

Illyrian Comfort Pie

“Fuck you, Morrigan.” Nesta wiped her bare arm across her brow, spices and herbs transferring straight from her forehead onto her forearm, the little green and orange specks dusting her skin. “And fuck you Rhys come to that.”

The alarm on her phone screamed and Nesta whirled around in her small kitchen space. She’d put the device down earlier, stabbing at the timer with a flour covered fingertip whilst trying to shove her pie into the oven.

Where the hell had she put the damn thing?

On the counter stood an open cookbook entitled ‘Recipes from the Heartland of Illyria,’ a bottle of wine which doubled as a rolling pin and cooking motivation, and Nesta’s pathetic pastry attempts one, two, and three – each one slightly less gloopy than the last - until she finally made semi-successful attempt number four.

No phone.  

Nesta let out a noise halfway between a screech and a yell, her hands reaching either side of her head, ignoring whatever food stuff would end up in her hair.

“Shit!” At least she managed to remember what the phone alarm was for, swivelling behind her and yanking down the oven door, reaching for the mitts as she ducked a plume of smoke.

This one didn’t smell too bad. Nesta grabbed the pie and shoved it onto the trivet on the counter. The crust was a little singed on one side but, if she was careful, she’d be able to scrape that off.

Her movements jostled a reem of paper towels and as they fell to their side, they revealed the object of Nesta’s irritation. One phone.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling as she turned off the alarm. Her thanks was to whatever cookery god was willing to listen and half to the smoke alarm not going off.

Three notifications waited for her. She took a breath in and hit open on the first one.

Hahaha. You agreed to what?! Even *I* run from making that dish. Pretty sure my *grandmother* ran from making that dish and she used to be a baker. Anyway, are you coming Thursday?

Emerie. Not providing the answers Nesta was so desperately hoping for, instead reminding Nesta she had yet to confirm drinks with her and Gwyn. Nesta typed out a quick response.

Yes to Thursday. Any chance your grandmother would attempt making this again if I paid her?

Sent. Nesta moved onto notification number two - Feyre.

Did you want me to see if the Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street will do a delivery? If you put it in the oven for a bit and burn the edges no one will know.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. The audacity of her sister to assume Nesta would need assistance and that she’d burn the pie. She had burnt the pie but still, the audacity.

She chose not to respond to that one and instead moved to the final notification. Cassian. Nesta took a deep breath and hit open.

Are you having as much fun as I am? Thinking I could do this as a side hustle.

There was a photo attached. Cassian had taken a selfie of himself standing in front of his obnoxiously large quartz kitchen counter. His dark hair was tied in a messy bun and he winked into the camera. He wore an apron Nesta had never seen before, deep red with candy cane striped ties and in Christmas style writing was embroidered ‘Kiss the Chef’ underneath a sprig of mistletoe.

Nesta squinted at the image, zooming past Cassian himself to the dishes behind him slightly out of frame. Was that a bowl of perfectly glazed parsnips? A tray of immaculate shortbreads?

She let out another noise and flung the phone back onto the counter so she could press her palms into her eyes. At this point she was covered in flour, meat juice, and soggy pastry pieces. Sweat gathered under her breasts and trickled down her back from the constant heat of the oven.

Nesta had been baking for over six hours now and though there was a small part of her which wanted to cry, she refused. Although she’d cursed Morrigan and Rhys the biggest ‘fuck you’ should have been delivered to Nesta herself.

She’d agreed to this when she should have declined, and now her pride would cause her to take a fall.

There had been five of them for drinks at Rita’s. Should have been two – only Nesta and Cassian for their quiet post theatre drinks, but Morrigan had been there with other friends who she swiftly abandoned as soon as she saw Cassian arrive.

Within minutes Morrigan had called Feyre and then before Nesta knew it, she was being squished into a booth, Cassian to her left and Feyre to her right, while she sipped her chilled white wine and counted the minutes until it was socially acceptable to say her goodbyes.

“Oh my god,” Morrigan had been saying. “That was the best dish I think I’d ever eaten. Do you remember it Rhys? The caramelised onions and gravy? What was it called again Cass?”

Cassian groaned and lolled his head back. “Illyrian Comfort Pie. My favourite.” He took a sip of his beer. “The Illyrian army did a version with off-cuts, almost ruined a perfect dish.”

“What’s this pie?” Feyre asked.

“Only the best pie in the world,” Cassian replied, his eyes misting over. “Imagine thick tender beef soaked in its own juices for hours, drowned in rich gravy and embedded with caramelised onions all under a cover of hot crust pastry.”

“You need a room, Cass?” Rhys laughed.

Cassian raised his middle finger to Rhys but joined him in the laughter.

“Cassian’s ex made the best version,” Morrigan said, her eyes sliding to Nesta. “Honestly no one would be able to top it. Bri wasn’t even Illyrian but it was spot on.” She took a long sip from her own glass of red wine. “I guess it doesn’t need to be your own tradition if you care enough to put in the effort.”

There was a heavy silence which would have lingered if not for the clearing of Feyre’s throat. “Who’s got who for Secret Santa?”

“Oh, I’m sure if Nesta put in the effort it would be just as good. Right?” Nesta looked up and met Rhys’ eyes as he ignored Feyre’s question. He smirked as he finished speaking, cocking his own beer bottle to his mouth.

Three more pairs of eyes looked her way. Nesta felt the slight, almost imperceptible tensing from Cassian but it was Feyre’s eyes which widened the most. There was a kick against Nesta’s shin under the table.

“I’m sure it would,” Nesta said, “if I had the time.”

“Cassian was telling us at the bar you’re now on vacation. All your gifts already wrapped and under the tree. Sounds like you have time.”

“Rhys...” Feyre began but Morrigan jumped in.

“I think that would be a lovely Christmas present for Cass. You can start your own tradition now you’re official. Illyrian food is so hearty.”

There was a part of Nesta which was too stubborn for her own good. Rhys’ smirk and Morrigan’s too-wide grin opposite her, the meeting of the cousin’s eyes like this was some in-joke they had just started. Feyre kept kicking her under the table, the jostling movement irritating Nesta further.

The flash of irritation was the problem. That, and the second glass of wine she’d drunk on a half empty stomach fuelling it. Her temperature rose and her skin prickled and instead of counting to twenty like she’d been practicing in her apartment Nesta opened her mouth.

“Fine,” she said, “this whole thing sounds great. One Illyrian Comfort Pie it is. When do you want it? Day after next?” Nesta quickly grabbed her glass to take a swig of her drink before she agreed to anything else.

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up but she didn’t want to meet his eyes, he was probably thinking how Nesta wasn’t implementing those ‘take a moment’ techniques. But his hand reached down to clasp her free one under the table, giving it a squeeze.

“You know what?” he said, looking at the group. “I want in on this. New traditions sound great. You’re making mine so how about yours. What’s the Archeron family dish of choice?” He asked this looking at Nesta but she still had the wine glass clamped to her lips. No longer drinking, just holding it there to feel the cold.

“Ooh,” Feyre said, clapping her hands and jiggling a little on her seat. “Roasted venison, but that’s quite tricky. We haven’t eaten that since Elain went vegetarian. We also had roast potatoes and honey glazed parsnips. Green beans. There was a cheesy mash and – oh, oh, the shortbread biscuits with a chocolate drizzle and the Prythian Pavlova. That’s Nesta’s favourite.”

Cassian laughed. “You want to take a breath there, Feyre?”

In response, Feyre’s stomach grumbled. “No, but I think I need some dinner.”

Aside from Nesta, the table laughed. Her wine glass was now empty and back on the table, her fingers toying with the stem, her mind too preoccupied with the thought of this pie and how the hell she’d even find the recipe.

As the chatter resumed, now about where Rhys and Feyre were going for dinner, Cassian’s weight shifted against her, his arm casually slinging around her shoulders.

“You ok?”

She glanced up at him, plastering a smile on her face. “Absolutely fine.”

“Hmm. Is that genuine fine or Nesta fine?”

Cassian was staring at her intently, concern swimming in his dark eyes. She knew if she immediately conceded he’d let it go, their friendship group knew Nesta wasn’t known for her domestic pursuits and Cassian could whip up a mean dish filled with flavour.

If she really wanted to, Nesta could cheat her way out of this. Getting Elain to bake the pie for her would have once been a consideration until Elain and Lucien’s diet change. No meat, no dairy, no sugar.

No flavour, Lucien had added, ignoring Elain’s frown.

Still, there was something else shining in Cassian’s eyes. Excitement. He was pleased she’d agreed, he relished competition in all its forms and he seemed eager to do this with her.

Nesta’s smile melted in a more genuine one and she squeezed his hand back. “Honestly, it’s good. Dare I say I may even find it fun?”

That was two days ago. Two long days.

“Ha!” She now shouted to her cramped kitchen. “Two drink Nesta has no concept of what the fuck fun is.”

Everything was a mess, even the edges of the cookbook were singed and Nesta cringed at the sight. Gwyn had managed to track down the edition on her behalf and Nesta hated to see a book suffer.

She looked at the clock. Two hours to go – plenty of time to shower, dress up and cart the pie to Cassian’s where they would have a grand unveiling in front of their friends. Her phone pinged and Nesta glanced down to see a reply from Emerie.

She says no chance.

“That’s not a problem,” Nesta said, wiping her hands on her thighs and staining her jeans further. “Because I now have a half decent pie.” She picked up the sharp knife. “Just scrape some of the black bits off and we are good to go.”

The knife slid through the crust and Nesta lifted some of the burnt pastry off using the blade. Odd. What was a deep and crispy brown on the surface seemed pale and soft underneath. Almost as though the pastry hadn’t fully cooked all the way through.

“It’s just this bit,” Nesta told herself. “I’m sure the rest is just fine.” But as she gently lifted the pie-top she could see the same pale colour underneath. Worse was the distinct lack of steam rising from the filling. “No, no, no, no. You’ve been in the oven for almost two hours.”

Grabbing a fork, she stuck it into the dish and scooped out a lump of meat. Juice, which looked far too oily for her liking, dripped off the prongs. Nesta placed the meat on the counter and cut through it with a knife.

She was met with resistance. The beef was still cold. A noise left her throat unbidden, something akin to a half sob. Nesta had researched the best meat cuts for the pie, she’d made sure to go to the best butcher and spent no less than forty-five minutes asking the rather exasperated man behind the counter questions from her list.

Her eyes flew up to the clock. Less than two hours to go. The time she’d budgeted to get ready and go to Cassian’s now shrivelled up. Just like my hopes for this pie.

She peered into the dish, the caramelized onions bobbing in the gravy like some apple bobbing contest gone wrong. “You’re mocking me,” she said and then groaned. They wouldn’t be the only ones.  

Nesta sank down onto her floor, ignoring the drip of gravy she sat on and put her head on her knees. She could imagine it all now; Feyre, Rhys, and Morrigan all dressed up, swanning around Cassian’s apartment waiting to be served their multiple courses.

Feyre’s eyes would go wide at Nesta’s attempt but she’d try and make Nesta feel better and yet somehow by trying, she’d only make Nesta feel worse. Cassian would likely tuck the monstrosity – if she even bothered bringing it – behind some extravaganza he’d made and perform an elaborate distraction.

Rhys and Morrigan would probably just snigger behind their drinks and tell her that ‘at least she tried.’ Patronising fuckers.

A tear dripped from the corner of her eye down her chin.

Nesta had tried. Had really tried. She’d memorised the recipe from back to front before she even started, she’d gone out into Velaris Market with a clipboard, she’d called Elain early for pastry tips ignoring Lucien joining the call to ask Nesta if she could describe what real food tasted like because the memory of butter was fading fast.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, knowing she must look even more of a state than before. But wait – there was an option open to her. Hope flared yet.

Nesta grabbed her phone from the counter. What had Feyre said? The Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street might be able to deliver. If anyone served an Illyrian Comfort Pie, it would be them. She scrolled through her favourites for the number. Her and Cassian had eaten there so often, she practically had them on speed dial.

The phone answered after the second ring.

“Hello? Hi. I know it’s late notice but I’m in a bit of a bind and hoping you could help.”

She explained the situation, confirming that yes, her pie request was for that Cassian, the one with the tattoos and arms.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Nesta said, eyeing up the clock and tapping her foot against the cupboard. “I’ll ask him. Some kind of protein shake, I think. Yeah, it’s really glossy hair. I’ll ask him that too. Anyway – the pie?”

They were regretful. Truly. Nesta could almost feel their sorrow down the phone. They didn’t have any pies pre-baked and they wouldn’t have one ready for the time she needed it by. They offered Nesta and Cassian a discount on their next visit and Nesta thanked them before hanging up.

“Well. Shit.”

Her eyes itched and she wanted to cry again but this wasn’t the Archeron way. She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. There would be no pie but Nesta would be damned if she turned up without bringing anything and looking like a chaotic mess.

The kitchen horror show was a problem for future her, but in less than an hour, she had showered, dressed herself in her most confidence boosting little black dress and practiced her affirmations in front of the hallway mirror.

“You are a calm, confident, capable woman. You did not achieve the pie. Others have probably not achieved the pie. You have achieved other things. Like your best friends, two degrees, and this awesome looking pavlova.”

Nesta held the covered bowl to the mirror as though to show her reflection the cream and meringue evidence. Her lipstick red smile shook a little but the taxi driver was calling to say he was downstairs so there was no time for doubt to creep in.

On a usual night it took too long to get to Cassian’s. The drive was less than fifteen minutes from one end of the small city where Nesta lived to Cassian’s address and every second stretched out painfully slow.

Tonight, it was as though all roads had cleared especially for her just to say ‘look, you can get to your ritual humiliation even earlier.’

“It’s not like I’ve ever seen Rhys or Morrigan cook,” she mumbled to herself as she exited the cab and entered Cassian’s building. The porter nodded and buzzed her in and then Nesta was counting the too-quick numbers on the elevator.

Cassian’s apartment was one of two at the top of the building and though the sound-proofing was excellent, which they could attest to personally, Nesta was surprised at the distinct lack of any festivities sounding from behind his door when she approached.

He answered after one knock, hair freshly washed and dried. His white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons were undone, swathes of black swirling tattoos on display.

Cassian let out a low whistle and grinned like a wolf when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite lady, in my favourite dress of hers, with my favourite dish.”

He leant in to kiss her and Nesta winced at the mention of food. Cassian’s lips met hers in a chaste kiss but he must have noticed her response as he was frowning when he pulled away.

“Come in,” he said with a light tone. “Let me take that.” He held his hands out for the bowl she was carrying but she clutched it tighter to her body.

“That’s ok, let me find a space to put it.”

“Sure.”

Nesta stepped further into the apartment. Everything was chrome, quartz, or wood but Cassian couldn’t help himself when it came to Christmas. What was once an interior designers dream for a ‘bachelor living’ magazine spread was now a grotto fit for the dreams of any eight-year-old girl.

A smile lifted the corner of her lips. She’d never begrudge him this. Foster care and ten endless churn of care homes hadn’t left Cassian with any sense of home and the orphanage tried their best but lacked the funds.

Cassian had told her that his best Christmas eventually came in the Illyrian military and all that involved was eating dry turkey from paper plates and reading stupid jokes from cheap crackers. But he was with people that felt like family and that’s what mattered the most.

Now, garlands hung from the oversized windows, a tree larger than Cassian himself stood by the fireplace decked with shining ornaments. A range of presents piled up under the tree to the point where they spilled across his floor.

Stockings on the mantel, rugs everywhere, gingerbread houses which increased in number each time Nesta was over. Candles on every surface.

“Wine?” Cassian asked as Nesta slid the bowl onto his counter. She nodded while taking a breath in. Ham and apricot, honey, a distinct scent of rich chocolate. All the food laid out but under coverings to keep them fresh.

Her stomach stank. She’d failed him so miserably.

Her face must have painted a picture because Cassian moved beside her. “Hey, what’s up.” His fingers tucked under her chin, tilting her face to his. Those deep eyes of his, again swimming in concern.

She hoped the best Christmas present she could get him was honesty.

“I fucked it.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“The pie, I completely fucked it up.”

His confused blank expression immediately melted and he laughed, his head thrown back and the column of his throat on display. His face in laughter was a delight, he was young and happy and in love with life. “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“There is no pie. I botched it.”

He looked down at her, his expression softening, his smile gentle. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. That pie is an art only the devil knows how to get right. Did you know Emerie’s grandmother won’t even make one and she won Illyrian baker of the year for fifteen years?”

Nesta coughed and reached for the wine poured out for her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Cassian moved round the counter to Nesta’s dish. “So, what did you bring?”

“The only thing that didn’t involve my oven. The meringue isn’t even home-made. I’m such a sellout.”

He peeked under the covering and exhaled. “Oh, thank the Mother.” He stepped back, his hand over his heart. “I fucked it.”

Now, Nesta blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“The meringue for the Prythian Pavlova. It was the one thing I wanted to get perfect but do you know how hard meringue is to make? I couldn’t even make it to the store.”

He shook his head, grabbing his own glass of wine. “I even rang Elain to ask her for tips but Lucien answered and begged me to tell him in great detail how the filo wrapped parcels were smelling. He said, and I quote ‘go low and take your time’. I’m not sure how comfortable I am having them over for New Year.”

Nesta laughed, shaking her own head, glancing around the apartment. It had taken her long enough but something finally dawned on her. “Am I early? When are the others arriving?”

Cassian paused, swirling his glass. “Yeah, about that... I thought ‘fuck ‘em.’”

Nesta’s eyes bulged. “I think I’m missing something.”

Cassian put his glass down and leant back against the far counter.

“You know Bri’s pie wasn’t all that great. Mor was being...” he trailed off, scratching his eyebrow the way he did when he was uncomfortable. “Mor was being difficult and it was unfair. Rhys too. But I liked the idea of you and I doing our own holiday tradition so I guess I thought I’d see where we ended up.”

He gestured to his apartment and the dishes before them. “So, we ended up here. Just you and I, a bottle of wine, lots of delicious food and a very comfy rug we’re fucking on after dinner.”

“Is that right?” Nesta said, putting her glass down. She walked over to him. “Have you seen what you’ve made? We are not fucking after dinner.” She placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating a rhythm against her palm as she ignored his disappointed face. “We’re fucking before dinner.”

That wolf grin was back on his face and he leant forward to kiss her but Nesta stopped him. “I feel bad, everything here is an Archeron dish. You didn’t get your pie.”

“Oh, I’ll get to eat my pie.”

“Cassian!”

He laughed again, his broad arms wrapping around her body. “The fact that you tried means everything. I promise. This is a great start to our forever tradition.”

Nesta looked up at him; the hours of failed baking, the constant smoke alarms, the mess she had to clear up tomorrow. Worth it. All of it. “Forever you say?”

“Forever.”

#nessian #nesta #fanfiction #fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #illyrian comfort pie #writing request

[slytherhys]

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

6th day of christmas - ugly christmas sweater

this oneshot is dedicated to Candice. Thank you for helping me whenever I'm writing about Nessian. love you frenchie

Proof of Love (Nessian AU)

If there was one thing Cassian knew about his girlfriend, it was that she loved receiving gifts. Books, clothes, a pretty flower he picked up from the street on his way home… Nothing could quite compare to the smile that took over Nesta’s lips whenever he surprised her with a new present.

Which didn’t really explain why she was now sitting on their couch, her book long discarded, staring at his latest gift with a blank face. Cassian felt his grin falter, eyeing the sweater in her hands.

“What is this.” She asked, eyes never straying away from the garment in front of her.

Yeah, Cassian was mildly suspicious she hadn’t like it all that much.

“An ugly Christmas sweater.” He said nonetheless, eyeing the red sweater. He had thought it was hilarious when he had first seen it: the upside-down bat and his cheeky grin, the little Christmas hat that was adorned with a real, tiny bell that jingled whenever Nesta moved.

He ignored the way the frown on Nesta’s face seemed to deepen whenever it rang.

“I can see that.” Her eyes flickered to him once before returning to the sweater, as if still not quite believing what was in front of her. Whether that was a good or a bad sign, Cassian wasn’t entirely sure. “Why?”

Now it was his turn to frown. “What do you mean why? So you wear it.”

“Where exactly would I wear this?”

“Feyre and Rhysand’s party.” Cassian said, since it seemed pretty obvious to him. “The invitation specifically indicated Ugly Christmas Sweater as the preferred attire.”

“My preferred attire is my normal clothes.” She raised an eyebrow at his wounded expression. “I’m not wearing this, Cassian.” She said, folding the sweater and reaching for the shopping bag once again. As if it was decided.

“And why not?”

She gave him a blank stare. “It’s hideous.”

“That’s the whole point of it.” At least he thought it was. When Feyre had explained him the concept, it had seemed a bit confusing. Could a sweater be too ugly to be an ugly Christmas sweater? Maybe he should’ve checked with Feyre before buying them-

Nesta went still. “Cassian.” She looked up at him, a flush in her cheeks. “Why is there two of them?”

Oh, right. Cassian grinned, taking the bag from her hands, and pulling out another sweater. His sweater. “So we could match.” He said, draping the sweater in front of his torso.

“Why would we want to match.”

He shrugged. “Because it’s Christmas.”

Nesta shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.”

He stepped closer to her, making her tip her head back so she could meet his eyes. “Because it’s fun?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms in defiance. “To whom?”

He hummed, leaning down as he gently pulled her up to her feet. Nesta seemed unfazed, but Cassian knew better. The dilated pupils, the flushed neck, her heaving chest. He smirked, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Because you love me?” He murmured, smiling.

Nesta cleared her throat, pushing him away and walking to the other side of the couch. “Even love has its limits.”

Cassian stopped, turning with a grin on his face. He raised his eyebrows, watching her as she tried to keep her distance. “Is this yours?”

Nesta eyed the sweaters. He could almost see how much she wanted to say yes. How much she stubbornly wanted to stomp her foot, refusing to wear what was truly a hideous sweater to a party, of all things.

But she didn’t – not even when, hours later, Rhysand opened his front door and eyed them with humour in his eyes. At his growing smirk, Nesta stood a little straighter.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She growled, walking past him without a glance back.

And no matter how hard he tried, Cassian couldn’t suppress the sheepish grin that took over his features as he watched her stomp through the foyer, jingling with her every step. Mother’s tits, he loved that woman.

He was suddenly extremely glad Feyre had explained to him what, exactly, an ugly Christmas sweater was. He was especially glad she had accepted his suggestion to make them the party’s dress code. 

He found his brother studying him, a smile on his face as he let him inside the house. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know this was all your great idea?” He said, looking down at his own sweater. It was dark blue with silver-threaded stars and big, bold letters saying, If lost, take to wife. Feyre most definitely wore its counterpart.

“That woman is wearing a stupid fucking sweater for me, brother.” Cassian grinned. “It was absolutely worth it.”

If there was one thing Cassian knew about his girlfriend, it was that she loved receiving gifts. Books, clothes, a pretty flower he picked up from the street on his way home… Nothing could quite compare to the smile that took over Nesta’s lips whenever he surprised her with a new present.

Which didn’t really explain why she was now sitting on their couch, her book long discarded, staring at his latest gift with a blank face. Cassian felt his grin falter, eyeing the sweater in her hands.

“What is this.” She asked, eyes never straying away from the garment in front of her.

Yeah, Cassian was mildly suspicious she hadn’t like it all that much.

“An ugly Christmas sweater.” He said nonetheless, eyeing the red sweater. He had thought it was hilarious when he had first seen it: the upside-down bat and his cheeky grin, the little Christmas hat that was adorned with a real, tiny bell that jingled whenever Nesta moved.

He ignored the way the frown on Nesta’s face seemed to deepen whenever it rang.

“I can see that.” Her eyes flickered to him once before returning to the sweater, as if still not quite believing what was in front of her. Whether that was a good or a bad sign, Cassian wasn’t entirely sure. “Why?”

Now it was his turn to frown. “What do you mean why? So you wear it.”

“Where exactly would I wear this?”

“Feyre and Rhysand’s party.” Cassian said, since it seemed pretty obvious to him. “The invitation specifically indicated Ugly Christmas Sweater as the preferred attire.”

“My preferred attire is my normal clothes.” She raised an eyebrow at his wounded expression. “I’m not wearing this, Cassian.” She said, folding the sweater and reaching for the shopping bag once again. As if it was decided.

“And why not?”

She gave him a blank stare. “It’s hideous.”

“That’s the whole point of it.” At least he thought it was. When Feyre had explained him the concept, it had seemed a bit confusing. Could a sweater be too ugly to be an ugly Christmas sweater? Maybe he should’ve checked with Feyre before buying them-

Nesta went still. “Cassian.” She looked up at him, a flush in her cheeks. “Why is there two of them?”

Oh, right. Cassian grinned, taking the bag from her hands, and pulling out another sweater. His sweater. “So we could match.” He said, draping the sweater in front of his torso.

“Why would we want to match.”

He shrugged. “Because it’s Christmas.”

Nesta shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.”

He stepped closer to her, making her tip her head back so she could meet his eyes. “Because it’s fun?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms in defiance. “To whom?”

He hummed, leaning down as he gently pulled her up to her feet. Nesta seemed unfazed, but Cassian knew better. The dilated pupils, the flushed neck, her heaving chest. He smirked, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Because you love me?” He murmured, smiling.

Nesta cleared her throat, pushing him away and walking to the other side of the couch. “Even love has its limits.”

Cassian stopped, turning with a grin on his face. He raised his eyebrows, watching her as she tried to keep her distance. “Is this yours?”

Nesta eyed the sweaters. He could almost see how much she wanted to say yes. How much she stubbornly wanted to stomp her foot, refusing to wear what was truly a hideous sweater to a party, of all things.

But she didn’t – not even when, hours later, Rhysand opened his front door and eyed them with humour in his eyes. At his growing smirk, Nesta stood a little straighter.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She growled, walking past him without a glance back.

And no matter how hard he tried, Cassian couldn’t suppress the sheepish grin that took over his features as he watched her stomp through the foyer, jingling with her every step. Mother’s tits, he loved that woman.

He was suddenly extremely glad Feyre had explained to him what, exactly, an ugly Christmas sweater was. He was especially glad she had accepted his suggestion to make them the party’s dress code. 

He found his brother studying him, a smile on his face as he let him inside the house. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know this was all your great idea?�� He said, looking down at his own sweater. It was dark blue with silver-threaded stars and big, bold letters saying, If lost, take to wife. Feyre most definitely wore its counterpart.

“That woman is wearing a stupid fucking sweater for me, brother.” Cassian grinned. “Whatever comes my way was absolutely worth it.”

#nessian fic #nessian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron #12 days of christmas acotar edition #12 days of christmas #my writing #christmas writing #christmas prompts #ugly christmas sweater

[shadowisles-writes]

Why Did It Have To Be Me? (Part 2)

Summary:  19-year old Nesta is stuck working with 21-year old Cassian as camp counselors for Windhaven Wilderness Explorers, a summer program that immerses tweens into the Illyrian forests. Will she find a way to address the sizzling tension between them before summer ends?

A/N: Part 1 of this was written by @vulpes-fennec​ for the ACOTAR Writing Circle so make sure you check it out and the other collaborative works here! I borrowed some canon ACOSF Nessian moments for this and I can’t wait to see what the next person does with the last part of this fic <3

Word count: 3029

Warnings: smut

.

Perhaps the gods had listened to her prayers, because Nesta was miraculously paired with Tarquin for the next session of camp. Unfortunately, they didn’t get kids this time, they got teenagers. And it wasn’t that Nesta had something against anyone around the age of thirteen—she distinctly remembered that being that age sucked—but the drama in the camp was unbearable on some days. The kids were making out left and right and all the first kisses happening could have been cute if they didn’t stir up so much tension.

Nesta tried her best to be open for girl talk, but considering her situation with Cassian she didn’t feel like her advice would be helpful. Tarquin, on his end, managed to distract them enough during the day that the activities still went smoothly. In the evenings however, they spent their time catching newly made couples trying to sneak away from the cabins.

Usually, everyone laughed about it and went for a walk of the camp until they found whoever had decided to make out that night. This time however everyone was worried. Melody couldn’t find her way around the trails during the day, there was no chance she checked her surroundings if she ran away crying and the forest behind the cabins didn’t lead to any trail.

A girl she shared a cabin with had warned Nesta, some story about a boy breaking up with her because tomorrow was the last day of camp, and he didn’t want to keep dating her once they went home despite his previous promises. Nesta should’ve seen that one coming.

“Melody!” She called out for the teenager, branches cracking under her feet as she trekked through the trees.

“Melody!” Cassian’s voice echoed somewhere on her left.

Tarquin and Emerie were spread out a little bit further while everyone else remained to keep an eye on the rest of the kids. The girl’s name echoed through the woods, but she never called back to them. They spaced out their shouting, trying to listen for her instead, and that was how Tarquin eventually found her.

“Got her!” His voice was loud enough that they all heard him and turned to jog towards the source of the sound.

Nesta was last to arrive, following the flashlights ahead of her to locate them precisely.

“Honey,” Emerie rubbed Melody’s back. “It’s going to be alright, let’s get back and we’ll get you some hot chocolate.”

“Is she alright?” Nesta panted slightly while Tarquin began to herd her back toward the camp, Emerie still doing her best to soothe the girl.

“Fine, just the usual drama.” Cassian nodded, letting them walk away. There was no point in crowding her more than that.

“Noah’s a little shit,” she huffed as she watched Melody’s still hunched shoulders until she was out of sight.

“Can’t argue with that,” he shrugged before turning to face Nesta. “Maybe you should’ve taught him how to avoid conversations, much better than being direct, right?”

She couldn’t say she didn’t deserve that one.

“We’re coworkers, Cassian.”

“There’s no one to see us now, and we won’t be working together anymore in a day.” He took a step closer to her and Nesta mirrored him with a step back, then another until she was against a tree. Her heart was racing the way it always did when Cassian was around. The power that man held over her body was unfair.

“It’s not just that,” she tried to avoid his eyes, but it was no use when he stood so close to her. His hazel eyes were captivating, drawing her in until she nearly forgot how to breathe. Focus, Nesta told herself and took a deep breath to settle herself.

“Then what is it? I can take whatever you need to throw at me,” Cassian placed one hand on the trunk above her head, somewhat caging her in. “Anything’s better than straight up ignoring me.”

“You won’t understand,” she said, voice rasping. Nesta was focused on school. Focused on herself. She wasn’t good at everything like he was, certainly not at letting people in, and this thing with him required more honesty than she was capable of. “I am not like you.”

“That’s never bothered me one bit.” He placed two fingers under her chin to make her meet his eyes.

Nesta straightened, holding her own head up so he’d lower his hand. “It should.”

“You say that like you want it to bother me.”

“It bothers everyone else.” She reminded him, but it wasn’t enough to deter him.

“I’m not fucking everyone Nesta.” Cassian’s fingers brushed her waist before the warmth of his palm covered her skin.

“No, you’re not.” She gritted her teeth, hating how nice his hand felt on her skin. “You’re an arrogant bastard.”

“And you’re as haughty as they come.” He grinned, far from insulted. “We’re evenly matched.”

Nesta had never been so annoyed with him. That asshole always had something to say back to her and she was done trying to argue. “Let go.” She almost barked at him.

Cassian snorted but obeyed. His hands dropped back to his sides, but he didn’t step away from her, his ridiculously muscled chest still in her line of sight. Nesta told herself that it was to knock that stupid smirk off his face that she curled her fingers in the fabric of his shirt and hauled her mouth to his.

         She forgot to close her eyes. The warmth of his mouth was too distracting, and even in the darkness of the forest it allowed her to see exactly how far his eyes widened in surprise. His body was stiff, as if he had suddenly forgotten how to move, so Nesta pulled away and watched him breathe hard.

         She made to step aside, but Cassian caught her wrist before she could fully remove her hand and surged to kiss her. Nesta was knocked back into the tree, swallowing back a surprised noise while he grabbed her hip with one hand and tangled the other in the hair at the back of her neck. His body was lined up with hers, pressing her tight against the rough bark, but all she could focus on was the heat emanating from him.

         Cassian kissed her like it was the last thing he would ever do, his tongue sweeping into her mouth the moment she parted her lips and pulling a moan from her. The sound was his undoing, his fingers dug into her scalp harder, tightening around her hair so he could better control the way her head was tilted. Nesta let him, her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke as she ran her hands over every bit of skin she could find until she reached his hair.

         It was softer than she’d imagined even after weeks of camping, and her tugging on the silky strands made him groan. Nesta let herself forget that she hated him, the irritation disappearing as she allowed herself to become distracted, solely focused on his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, the strength of his body pressing against her but somehow still not close enough.

         The hand on her hip released its hold on her, and Nesta almost protested until Cassian placed it on her ass instead, his second hand soon joining to lift her. Her legs wrapped around him, and she moaned again when he pressed her back against the tree, perfectly aligned with her this time. Nesta couldn’t recall ever needing something—someone—so badly. Cassian groaned at the first push of his hips against her, grinding hard. A whimper fell from Nesta’s lips as she arched her back, and he didn’t hesitate to part from her mouth to attach his lips to her neck instead.

         She needed more. His lips felt amazing, biting, licking and sucking on the sensitive skin in a way that she knew would leave marks, but she wanted to feel him. One of her hands traveled down to his shoulder and felt his tight muscles roll as he kept her up. Nesta mapped out his chest, putting just enough space between them for her fingers to trace his abs through his shirt until she reached the waistband of his shorts.

         Cassian groaned and bit her shoulder when she finally cupped his hard cock through the fabric. His lips crashed against hers again, his hips moving forward to grind into her hand, and Nesta kept stroking him, imagining how the hard length would feel inside of her.

Their tongues tangled for a moment before Cassian nipped at her bottom lip, her jaw, that soft spot below her ear. Nesta was breathing as hard as he was. Her body was burning with need, and every bit of friction against the tight seam of her shorts drove her a little wilder.

She ground the heel of her palm into him and Cassian made a noise she’d never expected from him. “If you keep doing that, I’ll—” Nesta did it again, craving that sound. Cassian’s hip bucked into her hand, and he breathed out hard, tilting his head back.

She watched the strong column of his throat for a second before her teeth instinctively found his pulse point, lightly biting before she licked his skin and tasted the sweat off his skin. Cassian’s chest heaved and he cursed through a pant. Nesta wasn’t relenting, imprinting the shape of him into her palm, the thickness and length of him as she pictured him hard and leaking in front of her mouth. Her mouth watered at the thought of him on her tongue, and all she could do was bite down on his shoulder as she worked him harder, her hand rougher.

Cassian was panting so heavily she could barely make out her name on his lips. His hips were grinding into her so hard she moaned against his skin, dying to feel that same strength as he buried himself in her. Nesta wanted to feel him so deep she couldn’t breathe. She scraped her teeth against his neck once more, and Cassian erupted. He fell apart still holding her up, her hand stroking him until he was shaking.

His eyes were wide when he pulled back, putting Nesta back on her feet. She knew that if there was more light she’d see his lips swollen and he’d notice the blush on her cheeks. For a moment, Nesta nearly leaned forward to kiss him again, but Cassian remained gaping, as if the shock and regret was only hitting him now.

Nesta swallowed back her want, the burning need in her was quickly replaced by cold cruelty and she shoved at his chest to move away from him. It was a knee jerk reaction, one she wouldn’t need if she hadn’t let herself believe for a second that being close to Cassian could do any good. He was a man, no different than every other she’d met in her life.

“Someone’s quick off the mark.” She said as she left Cassian there, walking back to her cabin without another look at him.

.

Parents came around to pick their kids up throughout the day, leaving the camp quiet and empty for the first time since summer started. Once the last one was gone, Nesta and Emerie didn’t linger. They got into a car together and drove away before Cassian could get anywhere close to Nesta.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re running away like the boys have cooties?” Emerie asked as she turned off the dirt road and onto smooth pavement.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if Cassian did,” Nesta leaned against the passenger side door and stared at the trees they passed by through the window. She wished every single one of them didn’t remind her of the way Cassian had pressed her against the rough bark for the hottest make out session of her entire life.

“You should pick the music.” Emerie didn’t take her eyes off the road to grab her phone from her pocket and hand it over to Nesta. “And you can tell me what perfectly infuriating thing Cassian did when we stop for coffee.”

The nearest Starbucks was miles away, which gave her plenty of time to sort through her thoughts. Emerie knew Nesta didn’t like to be pushed, and she was great at handling her moods.

“Deal.”

The drive back to Velaris university was long, but after some good songs, coffee and Nesta telling Emerie everything that happened the night before, there were only minutes left until they reached their dorms. The girls had been blessed with single rooms right next to each other which had made becoming friends too easy in their first year. With a little bit of administrative meddling, they had scored the same rooms for another two semesters.

“We’re ordering food before getting our stuff, right?” Emerie checked as she pulled into the reserved parking lot.

They had put their things in storage together for the summer, and while they’d need to go get bedding and a few basic things for the night, Nesta was in no rush to open all of her boxes.

“Fuck yeah, I’m not even unpacking until tomorrow.”

A pizza and too many “a few more minutes” later, the girls were back in Emerie’s car to drive to the storage unit. They’d need two trips to fit all the boxes in, and it only took one look for them to agree to pick up everything that wasn’t essential the next day.

“Nes, grab this one,” Emerie grinned in a way that meant she was up to no good.

“What’s in it?” Nesta frowned because she was sure she’d already secured her bedding and everything she’d need to shower.

“It’s labeled lingerie, you might want to keep it around for the next time you see Cassian.”

“I will kill you,” Nesta muttered though she did take the box with her. “Cassian doesn’t deserve to see any of this.”

“Course he doesn’t,” Emerie snorted. “He’s a man, they never appreciate pretty things.”

Cassian might, but she tried not to let herself think about it. She’d noticed him staring before, his hungry eyes taking in every inch of skin whenever they went swimming with the kids. Unfortunately, Emerie was far from distracting enough for Nesta to erase the thoughts from her head.

Memories of Cassian followed her until she was in bed alone that night. Nesta couldn’t help but touch herself to the thought of him. She’d never gotten her release against that tree, and her body was still responding to the memory of his touch. Her fingers rubbed her clit in tight circles as she allowed her mind to picture him again, his large hands on her skin, his moans, the hard length of him against her.

Nesta rubbed harder as she clenched around nothing while imagining what he’d feel like inside of her. She was soaked in seconds, dreaming of the thick head of his cock hitting the deepest parts of her, his hips grinding against her as hard as she knew they could. Maybe he’d moan her name, panting as he had in the forest, his abs clenching as he’d drive into her relentlessly, fucking her as she dragged her hands down her muscled back.

Nesta came the way she hoped she would’ve against his body. She would have been loud in that forest, but in her dark room a quiet whimper was all that escaped her, her chest rising and falling fast until she opened her eyes.

She remembered his face after he came, of the look in his eyes when she’d pushed him away, of the regret in his eyes.

Nesta gritted her teeth as she rolled out of her bed and into her bathroom, not even taking the time to enjoy the lingering pleasure of her high. Cassian wouldn’t fuck her, because Cassian didn’t like her. How could he when all she did was complain about him and insult him?

No one ever liked Nesta. Men liked her body, sometimes, and she let them use it when she was in the mood for it. Cassian had his turn too, he’d enjoyed himself and now it was over. Nesta didn’t make a habit of letting men close to her twice, she’d tried it enough times to know it wouldn’t end well.

She’d get told she was uptight, a stone cold bitch, heartless, cruel. Nesta had heard it all before from men and her own family. Her mother had raised her that way, and her own father had told Nesta she had no heart after she didn’t cry over the woman’s death. Her sisters didn’t hold back either, everyone knew she was the mean one out of the three.

Nesta splashed some cold water over her face to steel herself and went back to bed without another thought of Cassian. He would be no good to her, and if she’d managed to avoid him on campus for an entire year, this new one would be no issue either.

.

The first week was a whirlwind of freshers entering the dorms and drinking too much, the second was the same mess but with classes thrown in the middle of it. If one more drunk child knocked on Nesta’s door in the middle of the night because they couldn’t find their own door, she was going to commit murder. She already had a deal with Emerie that they would find an apartment off campus for the next year.

Friday night didn’t miss. A knock came on her door, and Nesta knew that not opening it would only lead to pounding. “I will fucking kill you,” she muttered as she rolled out of bed in her shorts and tank to tell the freshman to fuck off.

Except it wasn’t a freshman standing in front of her door, but a grown man with dark hair almost to his shoulders and hazel eyes Nesta couldn’t look away from.

“Cassian,” she breathed out. The surprise of finding him there stopped her from closing the door or telling him to leave when he walked into her room and let the door fall shut behind him.

“I’ve come to repay a debt.”

#i'm sorry i can't resist a college setting #i had to #acotarwritingcircle #nessian #nessian fic #nessian smut #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #emerie acosf #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #cassian smut

[lily-chen-supremacy]

nesta: *is the hot witch wife*

cassian: *does whatever the fuck she wants*

#idk this just popped into my head #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #acotar #sjm #acotar incorrect quotes #nessian incorrect quotes

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Since you are open for Halloween prompts, how about dialogue prompt #5: “I may or may not have stayed up to watch a horror movie and now I can’t sleep - don’t laugh at me! - can you please come over?” for Nessian! Bonus points if it's Cassian being the scaredy cat lol 😉

Scared, Sweetheart?

Nesta Archeron x Cassian

“I may or may not have stayed up to watch a horror movie and now I can’t sleep - don’t laugh at me! - can you please come over?”

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

767 words

*******

She answered on the first ring.

“I’ve been gone less than three hours,” Nesta rolled her eyes and closed her book, making sure to mark her page before placing it on her lap. “You can’t tell me you miss me already.”

Cassian’s voice rang out clear from her speaker, as did his scoff. “Sweetheart, you should know by now that I always miss you.”

She hummed in affirmation and despite herself felt the corner of her mouth twitch up. “Did you call just to hear my voice, or did you have an actual reason?”

“Do I have to have a reason to call my girlfriend?” He asked almost indignantly, but she noticed that he avoided her question.

“No.” She shuffled to put her book on her coffee table and leaned against the arm of her sofa, glancing briefly into her kitchen to spot the flashing clock on her stove. It was late. Both she and Cassian had to work the next morning, hence why she’d opted not to stay the night at his place. She really should have gone to bed an hour ago but one minute she was picking up her book and the next she was a hundred pages deep. She should be asleep right now – so should Cassian. And while neither were strangers to the occasional late-night phone call, they generally respected each other’s schedules when it came to work. Meaning, she decided to push again for a straight answer. “But…”

He sighed. “I may or may not have stayed up to watch a horror movie and now I can’t sleep – don’t laugh.”

Her first snort was involuntary. The second one wasn’t.

He went on, serious but with a hint of pleading that only made her more amused. “Come over. Please.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he sounded offended. “Why do I want you to—”

“No, I mean why did you watch a horror movie?” She corrected with an eye roll. “You hate horror movies. You only tolerate them with me because I like them, and even then, you can’t go two seconds without holding onto me.”

“Yeah, well, I’d be holding onto you, horror movie or not. And don’t act like you don’t love it because I know you do.” He was right. “And I know that right now you’re rolling your eyes at me, but if I could see you then I’d see you biting your lip trying your best not to smile.”

Damn him. She released her lip from her teeth and doubled down on her questions. “Can we get back to the reason you decided to watch a film that you hate?”

“I don’t hate them,” he argued again. “No, I love ‘em. The scarier, the better. All those creepy-ass demons, deranged serial killers, and bloody massacres, what’s not to love?”

Nesta huffed a laugh and shook her head as she stood from the sofa and stretched, groaning as her stiff joints cracked. “And yet, you watch gory war movies without a problem.”

He sputtered for only a moment. “That gore is historical and generally accurate. If I’m watching one of those and someone’s bleeding out it's not because an undead, satanical, nightmare-inducing creature is making a meal out of them.”

“Mhm, so you admit horror movies give you nightmares?”

Nesta waited as she searched for a clean pair of dress pants she could wear into the office tomorrow, carefully folding them and placing them in a bag before aiming for her bathroom to collect her small go-bag of toiletries.

“Irrelevant,” Cassian finally answered, and she could hear rustling in the background as if he was settling into bed. “Are you coming over or not?”

They both knew she was.

So instead of answering, she asked another question, still not understanding why he would not only choose a horror movie but then watch it all the way through. “You did know what movie you were playing, right?”

More rustling.

“Yes, and?”

She thought she heard the faintest trace of a smile in his voice which stopped her in her tracks as she neared the front door.

“Did you watch that movie just to have a reason to call me back over there tonight?”

“Yes, and?”

She absolutely heard the grin in his words this time. Leaning her forehead against her door and loosing a long-suffering sigh, she tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“You’re an idiot.” Nesta stepped out of her apartment and locked the door behind her.

“Your idiot.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, half grumbling half chuckling, with another roll of her eyes as she walked towards her car, “my idiot.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @rowaelinrambling @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @elentiyawhitethorn @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111 @the-lonelybarricade

#Nessian #Nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #nessian au #nessian fic #nessian fluff #Halloween #halloween fics #halloween prompts #asks #c e d dreamer

[acourtofladydeath]

Alright friends, I’ve done a thing. Here is my first straight porn fic (I mean there’s plot, but it’s there to support the porn), revolving around the bat boys making custom bejeweled toys for their significant others. Which they all then wear to court at the hewn city. There are 8 chapters planned, and the first was posted today. Enjoy, you filthy animals. (I know I did).

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feysand #high lady feyre #night court #hewn city #high lord rhysand #cassian #Nesta #nesta archeron #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #feysand fic #azriel #azris supremacy #Azris #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x eris #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #my work #my fic

[nessianweek]

Nessian Week 2023

Hi all! Nessian Week 2023 is three months away, so we wanted to see what prompts (if any) you all wanted to see return from Nessian Weeks 2021 and 2022.

Alternate Universe and Free Day will return, so they’re not listed as options below. We’ll take the top two options from the poll, so vote for your favorite prompt!

Thanks in advance, and we can't wait to celebrate Nessian for the third year in a row ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

#nessianweek2023 #nessian #polls #nesta archeron #Cassian #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta x cassian

[moodymelanist]

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck) Chapter Nine - November

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE but we made it. happy belated thanksgiving and happy holidays to everyone celebrating!!

we only have the epilogue to go after this, so I hope y’all enjoy this chapter and all its softness. everything is finally paying off in this chapter and I can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts about it 🥹🥹🥹

I’ll save all my sappy feels for the epilogue when I post it tomorrow, but I can’t believe we’re almost done with this fic. where did the time go truly!!!!

✷✷✷✷✷

Nesta

October quickly flew by and rolled right into November, and before Nesta knew it, she was unpacking her winter clothes from storage and talking to Cassian about what they were going to do for Thanksgiving.

Nesta normally got roped into Elain’s Thanksgiving plans with Lucien, Eris, and Gwyn’s giant family, but one look at Cassian’s puppy eyes made it clear that whatever they decided to do, Nesta would be spending the holiday with him. She thankfully wouldn’t be alone – Rhys had invited Feyre to come to dinner, a development that Nesta would not let rest as long as she had the breath to talk about it – and Elain had promised to stop by to see the both of them at some point.

Emerie would be spending the holiday with her girlfriend, Cresseida, who she’d brought to Nesta’s baby shower the month before. In a strange twist of fate, it turned out that Cresseida’s brother was dating Amren, so Emerie would be the one putting up with her instead of Nesta.

It was really such a shame. Emerie had rolled her eyes when Nesta had told her as much, but she certainly hadn’t disagreed.

Keep reading on AO3 here!

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing | @avidromancereader | @a-little-disguised | @kale-theteaqueen

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta x cassian #pro nesta archeron #pro Nessian #pro Cassian #pro Cassian acotar #Cassian acotar #moodymelanistwrites

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Musc Ravageur

After obtaining an alluring perfume from a local vendor, Cassian and Nesta find themselves under a strange spell and unable to control their lust for each other.

(A sex pollen fic inspired by and for an SJM Kink Meme prompt and for Nessian Week 2023)

Happy Nessian Week! This smutty one shot is for @nessianweek Day 7 (Free day). Thank you so much to the organizers for running an amazing event!

This fic was inspired by an @sjmkinkmeme prompt on their spreadsheet for a Nessian sex pollen prompt. I've been wanting to do a sex pollen fic for a while and this prompt was the perfect inspiration!

Rating: Very Explicit. Please see the AO3 link for tags/warnings.

Word Count: 7K

Read on A03

Cassian adjusts his clothing and looks himself over in the mirror, feeling oddly nervous. He has no reason to be, the sensible voice in his head tells him. Nesta is his mate, and loves every gift, big and small, he’s gotten her in the past few months since they were mated.

But he still doesn’t have the best record with Winter Solstice gifts for Nesta, so he thinks the nerves are justified.

He glances over at the intricate perfume bottle on his nightstand. Nesta had never really shown a liking or affinity to fragrances. Cassian thinks her own scent—iron, smoke, and sheer willpower—is already perfect and there’s no reason to try to cover it up with anything else.

The old fae female hawking her wares in the Palace of Thread and Jewels was persuasive, though. Like a familiar friend was coaxing him along, Cassian walked up to the fae’s stall. Grinning slyly, like she had been expecting him, the half-concealed female took one look at him and thrust an ornate glass bottle with a mesmerizing, swirling liquid inside into his hands.

“For your true love,” she said in a whisper, eyes bright. “Guaranteed to make them wild with love.”

Nesta didn’t need that—they had spent the past month showing each other how wild with love they both were with each other after they had accepted the mating bond. Cassian took a slight whiff of the bottle. The perfume had an indescribable scent, like nothing he’d ever smelled before, and just that small sniff lay heavy in his nostrils. It was cloying and thick and heady and Cassian needed more, and before he knew it, he laid a finger on the top to spray an even more generous spritz—

“None of that, now.” The old fae’s worn hands darted out and grabbed the enchanting scent from his hands. Cassian shook his head, unsure of what had just come over him. “Save it for when you’re alone with your true love. It’ll be much more…appreciated then.”

Cassian didn’t remember tossing the money for the perfume to the woman, nor did he remember taking the perfume in its elegant box home and storing it away for a special occasion. And what could be more special than the annual Winter Solstice celebration with his family at Rhys’s house.

He grins and adjusts his vest. It’s little Nyx’s first Solstice, and Feyre’s birthday as well. His friend and High Lord seems to understand the importance of this year’s festivities, based on the extra energy and smiles he had been throwing around all week.

Satisfied with his appearance, Cassian takes the perfume from the desk and steals one last smell. Like before, the intoxicating aroma lingers in his nose and travels throughout his body, despite the fact that he hasn’t even sprayed any on himself. He had almost forgotten the perfume entirely before a niggling thought in the back of his mind reminded him of his purchase. He’ll spray some on Nesta soon, though, and the thought has his cock twitching in his trousers.

Cassian hustles out of their room. If Nesta isn’t in their room getting ready, there’s only one place she could be. Throwing open the doors of the library, Cassian stares at the vision that is his mate.

Nesta reclines on a reading couch, looking as elegant and proud as a queen surrounded by her adoring people. Fitting, Cassian thinks wryly: her beloved books are her subjects, and he is her loyal supplicant and advisor. Nesta’s hair is up in a simple braided bun, a few wisps of hair framing her long face. Her dress is a floor length smoky blue silk dress, with a deep ‘V’ that shows off her breasts and an equally deep leg slit that displays nearly the entire length of her strong, shapely legs. Just a glimpse of her smooth skin and muscles makes Cassian wish, just for a moment, that they didn’t have to go anywhere tonight, that he could spend the evening peeling Nesta’s dress off, trailing his lips along her petal soft skin higher and higher and higher—

“If you keep looking at me like that, we’ll never make it to Feyre’s.”

Cassian grins at his imperious mate, at her cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk. “You’re definitely making me double-think our family tradition, dressed like that.”

Nesta stands up—Cassian has to stifle a moan at the glimpse of flesh that’s revealed along Nesta’s leg and hip when she stands—and walks over to him, her heels thudding against the carpeted floor of the library. “Shouldn’t the sight of me dressed like this make you lose all thoughts and ideas from that gorgeous head of yours?”

He grins down at Nesta and places a soft kiss against her lips. “Of course, mate. How right you are.”

“And don’t forget it.”

Cassian chuckles. “You really do look amazing, Nes.”

His mate smiles fondly up at him and lays a hand on his shoulder, and not for the first time when it concerns his mate, Cassian forgets how to breath. “And you don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Do I look better than you?”

Nesta snorts and runs her hands down his jacket, straightening it out. “You know the answer to that. What’s this?”

“Oh!” Somehow, in the span of two minutes, Cassian had already forgotten the perfume. Digging in his suit jacket, he pulls out the delicate glass bottle. “I was in the market earlier and found this perfume. I know you don’t typically wear anything but it reminded me of you.”

Nesta smiles up at him. “That’s so sweet.”

“And the woman selling it said it would make my true love wild with passion, or something.”

“Yes, because we don’t regularly show each other how passionate we are for each other, hm?” Nesta asks sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. 

“Exactly. I know I’m already perfect—“

“Who told you that?”

“—but I figured another gift for my beautiful mate couldn't go amiss. Want me to spray you?”

Nesta takes the swirling perfume from his hand and takes a few steps back. “You can sometimes be a little heavy-handed with your cologne. I’ll spray it myself.”

“I do not spray that much cologne.”

Nesta inspects the bottle and the contents within. “Oh, yes you do. I shouldn’t be able to smell the Illryian mountains after you’ve been back for half a day and have bathed.” She opens the cap and takes a small sniff from the bottle. Immediately, Nesta’s gray eyes dilate and Cassian swears he hears her heart rate increase. “Oh!”

“Right? That was my reaction too.”

“It smells… I can’t describe it. Like pure sex.”

Cassian chokes on his breath because fuck, if that isn’t the perfect description. “I didn’t think—“

Without another word, Nesta douses herself with the perfume, along her arms, torso and the hollow of her throat. A beat passes, then Cassian watches, entranced, as his mate seems to transform before his eyes: her eyes close and she body shudders then relaxes, her heart beats even faster, Cassian swears he hears Nesta whimper, and the all too familiar scent of Nesta’s arousal slams into him like a fist to his face. 

“Nes—“

“Oh Cassian,” Nesta coos in a sultry voice he has never heard before. Her eyes are half lidded as she prowls towards him with an easy, confident stride. “Let's leave the thinking to me from now on.”

“Fuck Nesta.” Cassian isn’t sure if it’s the perfume or Nesta’s arousal he’s smelling, but his cock is hard in his pants and twitching against his leg.

“Yes, exactly, fuck me,” Nesta growls. Suddenly Nesta is in front of him and grabbing his jacket to bring him down to her and she’s kissing him, all fierce tongue and teeth and lips. Her hands roam over his torso and the back of head cementing him to her as she continues kissing him like her life depends on it.

Cassian grips his mate’s heaving shoulders and pushes her away from him, the scents of her arousal and the perfume making him dizzy. “Nesta, what’s gotten into you?”

“Hopefully your giant cock soon.”

“Nes,” Cassian growls, in equal parts frustration and arousal. 

“I need you,” Nesta pants, squirming in his grip. “I don’t know what—what’s happening but I need you right now, or, or…”

“Or what?” Cassian breathes through his mouth, trying to keep a level head through Nesta’s sudden madness.

“I feel like I’m burning everywhere, and I need you! In me, fucking me! Please!”

Cassian takes a moment to observe his mate. Her cheeks are flush and her breath is leaving her open mouth in great gasps. Nesta’s gray eyes look blurry—whether that’s from whatever madness has suddenly overcome her or the sudden tears gathering in the corners of her wide eyes, he isn’t sure. “This makes no sense,” he grits out. “You’re not well. You need a healer.”

“No!” With a speed that leave even him blindsided, Nesta sprays the perfume in his face and along his body, encasing him in a shroud of the tantalizing vapor. 

Cassian coughs and bats his hands through the mist. “Fuck, Nesta…” The perfume burns his throat and mouth as it travels down into his stomach then branches out into his body and permeates his skin and organs and bones, hotter and hotter. It’s as if something within him is changing, the shock of the perfume altering his very essence, turning him into a beast with only one thought, mine, mine, claim her—

And then, everything is quiet and calm. He blinks. Why is Cassian so concerned about Nesta? She’s fine, just as he is, and currently rubbing her body against his like a cat in heat. Nesta needs to be fucked, and Cassian needs to fuck her, right now—why was he fighting her earlier?

“You feel it too,” Nesta croons, softly cradling his jaw. Her eyes are huge and glazed, and Cassian can see his own dilated eyes in her reflection. “The burning, the need… you feel it too. I can see it.”

The inferno that raged through his body earlier has faded, and the heat is now simmering just below his skin. His ears are ringing, the sound getting louder and louder, and his skin feels itchy, but then Nesta grips his jaw to force him to look at her, and nothing else matters but the delectable female in front of him, a fire sparking within her eyes that he hasn’t seen since she gave up her powers.

“I need you. Now.”

Cassian doesn’t wait. Grabbing her dress, he tears it off her lithe body and is rewarded with a moan and a fresh gush of desire from his mate. He growls as Nesta claws off his clothes and he’s bare and stiff and proud before his wife. 

Nesta looks him up and down, a corner of her mouth tilted up. Her hand leisurely strokes his aching length. “Lay down on the ground so I can fuck you.”

Cassian growls. The urge, the hunger, within him demands to be sated, now, and the quickest way to do that is if Cassian gives them what they both need and bends her over the nearest piece of furniture to give his female the pounding of a lifetime. He opens his mouth to say as such when Nesta beats him to it.

“Get down on the damned floor right now before I go find some other way to get off,” Nesta snarls up at him, shoving his chest.

“You were just begging for my cock a moment ago, sweetheart,” Cassian crows back, a cruel grin on his mouth. The hunger he feels for Nesta is intense, but arguing with her temporarily sates that overwhelming desire. “You’re in no state to make demands of me.”

Nesta bares her teeth then ducks down. Before Cassian can track her, she kicks her leg out and sweeps his legs out from under him. He hits the floor hard and he feels a shot of pride for Nesta—his fierce Valkyrie has come so far—before every thought flees his mind as Nesta faces away from him and lowers herself over his lap. Cassian groans. From here, he has an amazing view of Nesta’s pert ass and strong legs as she she squats over him, as she grips his cock and angles it up, as she notches the thick head of his length at her tight entrance. She’s so wet, he can feel her juices already rolling down his straining shaft. 

He shifts below her. The aching desire has come back in full force and he needs relief, needs Nesta, now. Cassian’s hands dig into the plush rug beneath them. “Gods, Nesta, move.”

Nesta glances behind her to look at Cassian, an eyebrow cocked. Her body is already shining with sweat and she’s breathing hard, but he’s never seen a more beautiful and divine being in his life.

“You’re in no state to make demands of me,” she parrots back at him. But Nesta is a generous god; she slams onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in one and bringing them both instant relief. They groan in unison. Normally, Cassian has to take his time easing into her tight cunt, to make sure he doesn’t hurt her. 

Nesta doesn’t need any niceties tonight. She bounces on his cock, her strong legs moving her up and down, up and down, his cock. Cassian hears her panting softly above him as she braces a hand on his leg for leverage. Her other hand disappears between her legs—he feels her fingers occasionally grazing his shaft—and after only a few seconds, Nesta comes. Her walls squeeze his length and she softly moans as she comes down from her high.

Cassian looks on through bleary eyes. Nesta never comes that quickly or easily, preferring to gradually build towards a release with him. But that doesn’t matter, he decides. He’s warm and buzzing and jealous that Nesta has come already and he hasn’t. The burning beast within him rears its head again, and this time, it won’t stop until it’s satisfied.

“Are you only interested in getting yourself off?”

Without wasting a beat, Nesta shifts herself so she’s on her knees above him, still facing his legs, and leisurely rocks back and forth over his cock. Cassian bites his lip. From this angle, he has a perfect view of his thick cock splitting her glistening pink lips open, her folds spread obscenely around him. 

“You’ll come when I decide you can come,” she replies loftily, not deigning to look back at him and still taking her time and rocking above him. 

Cassian is done playing. Gripping her hips, he thrusts up into Nesta’s tight heat as she lowers herself onto him. She gasps and her cunt tightens around his length. 

From there, it’s a hot, sweaty battle for dominance between the two of them. They’re each racing for the same goal, he realizes, but Cassian refuses to lay back and let Nesta fully dictate when they finish. His hands are a brand on her hips and ass as he moves her up and down his throbbing length, and Nesta keeps riding him, going faster and faster and harder, her legs shaking with the effort. His cock is soaked with her juices, the sound of their flesh meeting wet. 

They’re both breathing hard. Nesta whines, a soft, keening noise from the back of her throat, and Cassian knows she’s close, that they’re both in the final leg of the race towards release. He’s burning from within and he needs to come, more than he’s ever needed anything in his life, and he needs Nesta to come with him. Blindly reaching between her legs, Cassian swipes a few fumbling fingers through the top of her folds. 

Nesta’s orgasm triggers his. As she moans his name, Cassian thrusts into her one final time and come inside her with a roar that shakes the windows. He’s coming, and coming, and coming, thick, endless ropes within Nesta’s welcoming cunt, more than he’s ever come before. Cassian’s continuing release fuels Nesta’s, and it’s a delicious feedback of their ongoing orgasms triggering the other. 

When it finally ends sometime later—Cassian isn’t sure when—they’re both sweating and quiet. His cum leaks out of Nesta’s cunt around his somewhat softened cock. The burning beast within him is sated for the moment.

Nesta twists over her shoulder to look at him, still seated atop him. “I hope you’re not too tired after that,” she purrs, and Cassian lets his head hit the floor. 

XXX

Time has lost all meaning to Nesta.

Perhaps it has been an hour, two hours, a day, or even a week. All she knows is the feel of her mate’s thick and heavy cock in her mouth.

Nesta takes Cassian’s length fully down her throat, the short hairs at the juncture of his thighs tickling her nose. She breathes through her nose and relaxes her tongue and jaw. Above her, he makes the most decadent noises.

“So good Nesta, taking my fat cock in that perfect mouth of yours,” he praises her quietly, and Nesta practically comes right then and there, just from the feel of his smooth shaft along her tongue and his honeyed words.

She desperately wants to reach a hand between her thighs and rub a finger over her clit or, even better, thrust her fingers inside herself and pump. Nesta doesn’t. There’s a sort of delicious agony in denying herself what she wants now, knowing what’s coming later will be worth the wait, like saving a piece of rich cake for after dinner at the end of a long day, knowing the reward would be appreciated all the better for waiting.

And wait she has. Nesta doesn’t know how much time has passed since a dreamlike fog, thick and heavy on her limbs like the morning mist, suddenly settled over her mind and body. It didn’t start out that way—she vaguely remembers a scorching sensation tearing through her body as a wild, feral need emerged from somewhere within her and demanded her mate. 

It isn’t completely unlike those wretched years after she was Made and turned to drinking and sex to attempt to feel anything in her life. Except now, though, she has Cassian next to her. She’ll never be wanting for anything again, as long as she has him, her mate, her equal, by her side.

Nesta feels one of Cassian’s hands slowly thread itself through her ruined hair. With a sudden tightening of his grip, his hand wrenches her hair and pulls her down further onto his cock. Nesta gags, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. “Something distracting you, sweetheart?” he taunts with a mocking sweetness, a corner of his mouth twitching up.

Her equal, indeed. Any other time, Nesta would have whipped herself off of Cassian’s dick and asked the House to deliver whatever type of punishment she thought he’d deserve. Now, though, with a cloud of lust making her dizzy, all Nesta could do is whimper around his length at the dominance in his tone and words. 

That dominance wasn’t exactly his idea, however. After Nesta had ridden him on the floor of the library like a warrior charging into battle, Cassian had dragged them to the couch and brought her close to his chest, a touching act of sweetness and normalcy at complete odds to what they had just done to each other. 

She couldn’t stand it, though. The buzzing beneath her skin branched out into her blood and veins and lungs and heart the longer she sat still without her mate’s cock in her in some way. Nesta had clambered out of his lap and kneeled between Cassian’s thick thighs, pumped his still half-hard shaft twice, then took him in her mouth.

The first time she made him come with her mouth and hands was quick, just a few minutes of her tongue working his sensitive tip and her hand squeezing and stroking what she didn’t have in her mouth. He had come with a hoarse cry, his hands digging into the couch cushions, thighs spread wide. His salty come coated Nesta’s tongue and rushed down her throat, her gaze content and proud at making her mate feel such pleasure. Cassian was still hard—somehow—beneath her, and a final splash of come landed on her lips as she detached herself from his shaft with a soft pop. 

His eyes were still bleary, like hers, like he too wasn’t quite sure what was happening. But also like Nesta, the continuous ache and need to continue fucking and coming was too great. It was tinged with a sense that something was wrong, but neither could concentrate long enough to voice and actually think on their concerns. 

Without missing a beat, Nesta had licked Cassian’s come off her lips, then took his cock back inside her mouth and started it all again.

Now, Cassian’s hand on the back of her head forcibly guiding her up and down his cock feels like a fixture, like Nesta is only complete with his hand in her hair and his cock down her throat. He moans when she drags her nails down the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“Trying to mark me up, mate? Leave bruises on my legs, like I’m going to leave bruises on that pretty neck of yours later?”

Nesta whimpers around his cock, wetness rolling down her cheeks when he thrusts his cock into her raw throat, and wetness rolling down her legs at everything happening to her right now. The sound of Nesta’s gagging and whimpers fill the room. She braces her hands on Cassian’s knees as she lets him fuck her throat, his hands tangled in her hair as he grunts and moans above her, all while Nesta stares adoringly at her mate. She’s close, and the haze within her thickens, and everything is jumbled—

Her world shifts and suddenly Nesta is on her back on the rug, and Cassian’s thick cock is entering her slick cunt in one brutal thrust. Lightning races up her spine as she comes suddenly, almost violently, her body shaking and her release coating her mate’s cock and thighs. Her inner muscles squeeze so hard she forces Cassian’s length from her body and she writhes on the ground. She has experienced mind numbing pleasure at the hands of her mate many times before tonight, but the release she experiences now is unlike anything she’s ever felt. Nesta vaguely hears Cassian cursing quietly to himself but Nesta is too far gone to recognize what he’s saying.

She receives no reprise. Still on her back with Cassian kneeling between her spread, trembling thighs, he thrusts into her still quivering pussy and resumes his brutal pace. “So good, Nesta,” Cassian purrs, his eyes hazy and delirious with pleasure. “So good of you to soak me like that. Did sucking my cock make you that needy?”

Nesta whimpers, too stricken with lust and already needing more even after the most intense orgasm of her life had been ripped through her body. This couldn’t be natural, what was happening to them…

But then Cassian slowly wraps a large hand around her throat, and all thoughts leave Nesta’s brain. She’s with her mate whom she loves more than anyone else in the world—what could be unnatural or wrong with what was happening to them?

“I asked you a question: did sucking my cock make you so needy that you squirted the second I started fucking you?”

His hand wasn’t too tight around her throat that she couldn’t answer. “Yes,” Nesta gasps, the feeling of his hand around her and cock within her already working her towards another orgasm. She grips the back of her thighs to widen herself even better for her mate, and Cassian moans appreciatively, looking down between her legs to watch himself pound into her red, swollen folds.

Cassian’s hand tightens around her throat as his breathing quickens and his thrusts get harder and sloppier. She feels herself leaking onto the rug, and knows her scent will be entwined in this room, just like it’s already entwined with the male above her. All Nesta can do is grip the back of her thighs to keep herself spread for him as she whimpers and urges him on, dark spots forming at the edges of her hazy vision. Her heartbeat thrums just under her skin. “Please, please, please…”

“Be a good mate and come,” Cassian snarls, releasing her throat to slap between her legs. He hits her clit and Nesta launches to the stars, like one of the many flying celestial bodies on Starfall. 

Eventually, she falls back to the planet, and Cassian is with her. She feels his spend trickle between her legs, and glances down to see him aim the last of the come on her lower stomach. Their breathing gradually slows. Nesta lightly touches her neck and knows from the slight ache already forming that she’ll have a bruised necklace in the exact shape of Cassian’s hand adorning her throat in the morning.

But all thoughts of later are far away in her mind. All Nesta focuses on is the feel of Cassian’s sweaty, hard body above her, quieting the ache between her legs and hunger in her blood.

XXX

“Put your back into it and fuck me!”

Nesta snarls like a crazed beast at him, and she looks it too: there are red scratches already forming along her back, her hair is in complete disarray around her sweaty face, her teeth are bared and the fingers of her elegant hands are curved into claws that could tear a male’s throat out. 

And she’s all his.

Deciding the best way to shut his mate up is to make her speechless, Cassian grips her hips even harder than before and steps up with one leg on the now-creaking couch in the library. This way, he has better leverage to fuck into her as Nesta hangs onto the back of the furniture for dear life.

Cassian is pretty sure they’ve been at it for hours. He hasn’t seen the sun come up, and a rescue party hasn’t come looking for them, so he dimly assumes in the back of his mind that no one is missing them and it hasn’t been that long. It’s hard to keep track of time, however, when his entire world is now centered on fucking the female in front of him.

“Have I not been fucking you well up till now? Are you not covered in my sweat and come? You were just screaming my name a few minutes ago.”

“If you were actually up to the task of satisfying me, I wouldn’t have ever stopped,” Nesta snaps without looking back at him, her hips gently swaying in front of him to try to entice him, and dammit it, it works. Through the ever-present fog that settled over his eyes and body, Cassian sees a bit of red creep into the corner of his eyes at the suggestion that he can’t keep up with Nesta. Stroking his cock, he watches in a haze as he sees two of Nesta’s long fingers skim her soaking folds before they plunge within her soft cunt. 

Cassian watches, entranced, as Nesta pumps her fingers in and out of her pussy. It’s an awkward angle for her, and she isn’t able to fuck herself as deep as he knows she wants to. She hangs her head down and moans, her hips moving in time with her thrusts, before Cassian remembers her earlier dare: put your back into it and fuck me.

He grabs the hand fingering herself and wrenches it out of her cunt before landing two hard, quick slaps to each of her rosy ass cheeks. Her ass bounces with the motion and Nesta moans in delight, and her ass keeps jiggling as Cassian thrusts inside her to the hilt with one savage push and he starts fucking her.

Just like every other time they’d fucked this night—day? Week?—Nesta takes it, takes him, so perfectly, not needing time to adjust to his length and girth. Cassian isn’t sure he’s ever been with a female that’s been as wet as Nesta is tonight, since he can’t remember anything from more than a few hours ago, but he doesn’t think submerging a partner in the Sidra would get them as wet as Nesta is now.

Cassian grips her hips, putting all of his strength and muscles into fucking Nesta harder than he’s ever fucked her before. She moans into the fabric of the couch, and he’s pretty sure she’s biting the couch to stifle her noises. 

He grabs her hair and pulls, making her back arch. “Come on, Nes. Let me hear it. Tell everyone who’s fucking you so well.”

“Cas—Cassian,” she whimpers. The wet slapping of their flesh meeting nearly drowns out her words. Cassian smacks her ass again. “Louder.”

“Cassian!” Nesta shrieks, and he can’t keep the grin off his face.

“I think… that’s enough of my back… don’t you agree?” Cassian can barely speak over how hard he’s moving into Nesta. The hand gripping her hip for dear life and the other hand in her hair keeps Nesta connected to him, and he’s thrusting so hard the couch is moving across the floor. He glances down and sees her ass bouncing against his hips and his cock, glistening with her wetness, shining in the low lamplight.

The beast that’s been lurking under his skin all night is rising to the forefront of his mind, demanding to be unleashed onto the female under him. Nothing else matters to Cassian but release—his and hers. His heart beats erratically in his chest. He needs to come now or he’ll die, he’s sure of it, and by the desperate whining leaving Nesta’s mouth, she feels the same aching need as well.

His hand gripping Nesta’s sweaty hair plunges between her legs and strokes her bundle of nerves punishingly, without any thought of kindness or care. Neither of them wants or needs that now, and when Nesta breaks and wails her release, his name on her lips, Cassian shatters with her. 

The beast within him purrs, content to rest until it needs to feed again.

XXX

Nesta isn’t sure how much more of this she can take. 

Logically, she realizes there’s no way she should still be conscious at this point. Between all the sweat and come that’s left her body, she should be a dehydrated husk that’s been left out in the sun too long. Even after she managed to hoarsely ask the House for some water—it had dumped a huge carafe of ice cold water with two glasses on the only unbroken table remaining, along with meat, cheese, crackers, and an entire chocolate cake—she still feels thirsty and empty and needy. Things are becoming clearer to her—she remembers there was something odd about that perfume Cassian got her—but her skin is still too tight on her body and she’s just uncomfortable.

Underneath her, Cassian is trying his best to bring her some relief. His tongue stiffens and grazes the side of her clit, and pleasure-pain lances through her body. 

“Why can’t you always be so sweet with your tongue like this, instead of giving me attitude all the time?” she asks fondly, staring down at him.

Between her thighs, Cassian chuckles and hooks his arms over her legs, keeping her cunt on his face. He hadn’t wasted a moment after coming inside her to throw himself on the ground and tug her over his face. “To clean you up,” he’d said, which was perhaps one of the most thoughtful things he’d ever said to her. 

Cassian doesn’t seem to mind that he’s licking his own release along with hers. He also doesn’t seem to be in any rush to make her come, or to seek any pleasure for himself. His cock is half-hard against his thigh and twitches with every moan and shaky breath that leaves her lips, but he doesn’t make any effort to change their positions.

His tongue swirls around her entrance before it plunges inside her. “Fuck,” Nesta sighs, carding a hand through his thick hair and gently moving her hips over his lips. “You feel so good.” Cassian stills, letting her ride his face as she chases her orgasm and quivers above him. 

Nesta falls forward, bracing her hands on the floor as she comes down from her high. She tries to swing off Cassian’s head but he only tightens his strong arms around her legs. 

“Again,” he commands from below, his voice muffled. He doesn’t give her any other option; his tongue strokes her clit in broad laps as Nesta grits her teeth.

Now it’s a bit too much pain and not enough pleasure. “I can’t,” Nesta says, fighting to upend herself from his grip, tears burning the corners of her eyes. “It’s too much.”

"You will come again on my tongue,” he shoots back forcefully, like he’s willing his statement into reality. “Touch yourself.”

Nesta groans, in frustration and because of what his lips are doing between her thighs, before she gives in and pinches her nipples. She leans back, seating herself fully on her mate’s face, and Cassian hums in approval.

His tongue dances over her folds as he slips a single thick finger inside her. Nesta hisses, squeezing her breasts. Despite her body being more accommodating than ever before when it comes to Cassian’s cock, her channel finally feels a twinge of tenderness at the intrusion. He’s gentle, though, barely thrusting inside her and letting her own rocking hips dictate how much of himself she takes within her. 

Whatever strange fervor that had taken hold inside her isn’t ready to be done yet, though. She finds release again on Cassian’s face and feels empty. “One… one more time,” she gasps weakly, crawling off him and laying down on the floor on her side. 

She hears Cassian shuffling behind her, then feels the floor reverberate as he thumps down on his side behind her. Dragging her top leg over his hip and positioning an arm underneath her head, Cassian turns her head towards him. 

His face is shining with her come, and it’s one of the most erotic things she’s ever seen in her life. It’s a sign that he’s happy to pleasure her, and also proud to have her mark him, to bear her scent proudly. Nesta tugs her mate to her lips by the back of his neck at the same time his hard cock enters her. 

They groan into each other’s mouths. Finally, it seems neither of them have the desperate, insatiable need to reach their release as soon as possible. Nesta’s eyes and body feels heavy and tired but she feels more like herself than before. Based on the bleary look Cassian gives her as he rocks in between her legs, she thinks whatever strange delusion that overcame her earlier is leaving his body as well.

Nesta relaxes in Cassian’s arms. He’s warm behind her, a reassuring presence. Cassian buries his face in the back of her neck as his hips speed up, pushing himself into her fully on each thrust. The sound of their bodies meeting is dirty and wet and filthy, yet she feels more connected with her mate now after what they just experienced.

Cassian breaks Nesta from her loving haze by pumping all of his cock inside her and grinding against her, hitting a sensitive spot he rarely manages to find. Stars erupt in Nesta’s eyes as equal parts pleasure and pain lights up her body.

“Fuck, Nes, you’re perfect,” Cassian mutters into her neck. He’s thrusting and grinding against her pussy as his fingers brush her folds. “So lucky—love you so much—mine, mine—“

“Yours,” she gasps, twisting to pull his face back to hers, her lips hurriedly brushing against his. “And you’re mine.”

“Yes, always,” he groans, screwing his eyes shut. He’s pounding into her with abandon, his fingers circling her clit. “Fuck, come with me.”

With a sob, Nesta comes. Cassian finishes soon after, shooting his release deep within her body. For several minutes they’re silent, each shaking with exhaustion.

The sun is peeking out from the bottom of the library’s windows when Nesta raises her head. When she finally comes again sometime later, the fog that had been hanging over and inside her finally dissipates, leaving her sluggish. The all-consuming need from that damned perfume is finally gone from her weak body, its scent no longer blanketing her skin. She crawls on shaking legs and arms to the water jug and hauls it over to Cassian, still laying on the floor.

“I know we just got done having sex—“

“Please don’t say you’re still feeling… whatever we just experienced,” Nesta interrupts tiredly, wiping her mouth after drinking from the carafe.

“No, no, I think I’m fine,” Cassian says, accepting the water from Nesta. “I was going to say, I know we just finished fucking like animals, but the sight of you crawling with my come running down your leg would normally be enough for me to go again.”

“And now?” Nesta asks, laying down on the floor, her head on Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian takes a long drink. “Now, I think we went at it so much I’m afraid to even look at you. My cock needs a break.”

“Just your cock? That seemed to be an entire body workout.”

“And you weren’t complaining.”

Nesta hums and closes her eyes, feeling Cassian’s steady heart beat under her head. They’re silent for some time until Cassian speaks.

“What happened to us?”

“It was that perfume you got me,” Nesta spats. “I felt fine until I smelled it. It must have been drugged to act as an aphrodisiac.”

“The female I bought it from did say it would make my true love wild. I didn’t think it would be like that,” Cassian winces. 

Nesta narrows her eyes and looks at Cassian. “Who did you buy it from again? When I can manage to stand and take a bath, I’m going to pay a visit to the Palace of Thread and Jewels with that cursed perfume and put my Valkyrie training to good use. I’m going to smash the bottle at her feet—“

“No need to be so hasty,” Cassian says, squeezing her. “I wouldn’t mind keeping it around, for special occasions.”

Nesta stares at him incredulously. “You’re mad.”

“Mad with how much I love you.”

“Just shut up and kiss me and be quiet,” Nesta sighs, and Cassian laughs and obliges his mate. 

XXX

Rhys glances out of the River House’s window into the dark night above. It had snowed earlier, and he can still make out the three spread outlines pressed into the fluffy snow, one much smaller than the other two. It had been a perfect Winter Solstice with Feyre and Nyx, and now Rhys gets to enjoy the evening with his small family as well.

Was it wrong of him to ask a local vendor to sell some enchanted perfume to all his friends, guaranteed to drive them uncontrollably mad with lust? Perhaps. Did Rhys also have to sneak inside his friends’s minds to ensure they actually used the perfume, to make sure his small family was alone tonight? Maybe. 

But it was Feyre’s birthday, and Nyx’s first Solstice. After everything he and Feyre had been through this year, all Rhys wanted was to spend their first Solstice as a family together, alone, just the three of them. 

He loves his family, truly. But sometimes Mor and Cassian can get a little loud, and Elain and Lucien get a little too affectionate in public, and Amren mutters offhand remarks under her breath, and Azriel broods in the corner, despite Gwyn being all smiles around the room. It all just seemed too much this year, after the fucking horrendous year they’d had. A quiet day with his mate and their son was the only way Rhys wanted to spend the day.

“I wonder what happened to everyone,” Feyre says quietly, coming up to stand next to him at the window, Nyx in her arms. Their son had had a very busy day, between a delicious homemade breakfast, playing in the snow, unwrapping his new presents, and trying a bit of Feyre’s birthday cake, and he’s fighting to stay awake. “I hope they’re ok. Should we look in on—?”

“No!” Rhys interrupts, and Feyre and Nyx give him matching looks of surprise. “Uh, I’m sure they all had a long day and decided to spend time with their mates.”

Feyre gives him a long, searching look but doesn’t say anything. “Will you still have your annual snowball fight at the cabin in the morning?”

Rhys thinks of the perfume that Cassian and Az have, and how confident the fae was in her enchantment. “Actually, we all decided to postpone it this year, to spend more time with our mates and families.”

Feyre’s face lights up brighter than every star on Starfall combined, and Rhys would make the same decision to douse his friends and family in an aphrodisiac in a heartbeat, just to see his mate experience even a fraction of the happiness she’s feeling now. “That’s wonderful! Maybe the three of us can paint something together with those wonderful finger paints you got me.”

Nyx makes a happy, contented sigh from Feyre’s arms and Rhys smiles. The bond between him and Feyre glows strong and bright as the best Solstice Eve he’s ever had draws to a close. “I can’t wait.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #cassian x nesta #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my fics #my fic #surprise its just smut #what else is new #sorry if there are any weird tenses! #first time writing in present and i think i got everything #but it feels wrong #past tense for life

[wildlyglittering]

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter Three

Happy New Year's Eve everyone! Whatever your plans, I hope it's a good one!

Chapter 3 is up! Please show it some love here or on Ao3.

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter 3 - writinginthedust - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas [Archive of Our Own]

Silver In Her Eyes

Rhys’ eyes shone when he scrutinised what Nesta had forged. The blades were mainly daggers but there was the occasional broad sword varying in size and width. He looked upon them all the way Nesta imagined the dragons from her childhood fairy stories would look upon a hoard of gold.

Covetous.

“This one’s most spectacular,” he said, palming the flat side of a sword. Both the blade and Nesta squirmed, Nesta feeling the unwanted touch as though Rhys had traced his fingers down her spine. “This would suit Cassian, don’t you think?”

The sword was the tallest and widest Nesta had forged so far, the hilt of it reaching the underside of her breast. The handle twisted into wings spread as though in flight and the blade shimmered with barely visible words, all in a language she instinctively understood to be Old Illyrian.

This was a rare occasion she agreed with Rhys. In truth, as she hit the hammer down onto the metal, she only had Cassian in mind. Images of him in battle played before her, torrents of rain slamming into his frame as he wove through soldiers, his body twisting and turning as if in dance.

Whether she was remembering the time she watched him fight or whether she was seeing flashes of him from his past, Nesta didn’t know. Maybe these were events yet to come, the ground wet with blood.

There had been a moment, when she struck the final blow to complete the sword, when she envisioned him running someone through with a blade, so similar to the one in Nesta’s hands it couldn’t have been any other.

Elain had the curse of prophecy not her so Nesta didn’t know if what she saw was true. Who Cassian was slaying Nesta couldn’t see, but the sword screamed its victory. Death to the High Lord.

“Well? Is this for Cassian?”

Rhys was staring at her while she was elsewhere inside her head, those purple eyes flashing mauve. The whispers of the blades in the room started soft and grew in intensity until they were roaring. What is he doing? What has he done to you, Mother? To your sisters?

The noises overlapped but a quiet blade in the corner, its handle twisted into a snake drew her eyes. It had called to her before, quieter than the rest but more insistent. It gave Nesta an image, of her picking it up and slicing open Rhys’ cheek.

“Yes,” she said, forcing the noise into silence. “It’s Cassian’s.”

Rhys’ smile was all teeth. “I wonder what he will name it.”

He wasn’t talking to Nesta but himself. Her involvement was done, as though she’d birthed a child and handed it over to be fodder. What was once hers, was no more.

Her fingers buried themselves in her skirts. The enjoyment of this room, of the act of creation, was dissipating. A thrum of power tinged under her skin and spilled forth from her palms as she forged, the clash of hammer upon metal was a song which sent delight coursing through her.

Before he took the sword away, Nesta reached out to touch it. Betrayer, she called it. She didn’t know why.

***

While Rhys was inspecting Nesta's work, Mor and Cassian stood at the top of the House of Wind staring outwards at the rooftops of the city and the winding path of the Sidra.

The light breeze drifted through their clothes and hair and Mor threaded her fingers through Cassian’s free hand which curled around hers. His other hand scrubbed over his face as though he could wipe away the fatigue which showed.

“We can't turn Kallon, he’s Keir’s through and through. The others? Breaking that news to Rhys is worse.”

Mor gave Cassian’s hand a squeeze. “That they won’t declare either way?”

Cassian cleared his throat. “They’ll declare but not for Rhys.” He paused, struggling with the words. “They’ll declare for me.”

Mor gasped and looked up at her oldest friend, her dearest friend. He stared straight ahead at the open sky, refusing to look at her.

Mor’s lips twitched upwards. Despite herself she found this development had a seed of... something. She didn’t know what. It would have been a failure had the War-Lords of Illyria declared for Keir but something squirmed in her chest which spoke of another disaster if had they declared for Rhys.

“Don’t tell him,” she said. Cassian looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Rhys isn’t in his right mind. I don’t know how he’ll react.”

Cassian shifted; Mor knew she was another person asking the most honest of their group to lie. This was too close to Cassian taking power away from Rhys; the armies now with an Illyrian ruler instead of a fae one.

“Please,” she said, this time stepping in front of him, sliding her other hand into his, tilting her face upwards towards his. Mor had been opposite her cousin in his study only hours before and had seen that Rhys wasn't himself.

A darkness was creeping in and while they battled to save Feyre and Nyx, to save the lives of all the Night Court, there was part of her which believed there was no saving Rhys.

They may as well try and save themselves.

Cassian smiled a half sad smile and shrugged. “I can never say no to that face.”

Mor let go of his hands to grip him in a hug, her arms barely able to wrap his entire body as he enfolded his around her. Mor leant into his strength, her face pressing against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat.

When she first saw him, she was shocked at how pale he had become, how his wings drooped. Rhys had Cassian flying across the entirety of Illyria, meeting with every War-Lord regardless of how small the camp.

Mor pulled back to look at him. “Rhys is going to the Mortal Lands to speak with Lucien. He’s hoping he will convince Tamlin to side with us. We now have Eris.”

“I’m surprised Eris agreed so easily.”

So, Cassian was unaware of Eris’ request. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him but instead she blurted out another thought. “I think Feyre should know the truth.”

Cassian paused but nodded. His hands squeezing the tops of Mor’s shoulders. “I want Nesta to know too. She’s no fool. She’s watching us all to see our missteps.” His voice then turned sharp. “Rhys has her working every day in the blacksmiths he built her. I hate this, I hate lying too her, I hate Rh-”

He cut himself off, swallowing down the words he couldn’t take back if he said them out loud.

Mor was amazed that Nesta had been forging without question but perhaps Mor was wrong. It was possible Nesta was, as Cassian said, monitoring them all with querying eyes. Of course, there was a shift in Cassian, one of such significance that even if Mor wasn’t so close to him, she would have been able to scent it a million miles away.

Instead of thick earth and smoky air, Cassian now smelt of rich, floral scents, reminding Mor of times when she walked the gardens of Winter, their snow-white roses in full bloom or of the hot nights on the Sidra when the jasmines were in blossom.

Mor placed her open palm over his heart wondering what would happen if she dug her nails in, if she curved her fist into a claw to pluck out the thread woven tight around him binding him to another.

It was as though that very thought had summoned a demon. As if Mor’s mental will to cut the thread for Cassian had thrummed it, bringing the heart on the other end to come calling.

A delicate cough announced her presence and Mor and Cassian pulled apart, their conversation dead.

Nesta stood at the entrance of the rooftop, golden-brown hair bound about her head like a crown, those eyes almost silver in the light. The expression on her face spoke of boredom. Bored of being in the House, bored of forging, bored of seeing Mor draped around Cassian like he was wearing a fine silk scarf.

“Azriel’s here,” Nesta said, her voice ringing clear across the roof. “From wherever it is Rhys has him flapping about.”

Nesta glided towards them like her footsteps were oil and the stone stabs were water. Nesta paid Mor no attention, those sharp eyes on Cassian. “You wanted me to tell you the second he returned. You’ve missed Rhys though.”

As Nesta moved closer, Mor scented the perfume of Nesta’s skin. She smelt like the freedom of the sky and the cold mountain top of Ramiel.

Cassian seemed to stiffen and relax in Nesta’s presence. A curious juxtaposition of calm reassurance that the female he loved was before him and the terse excitement of a battle about to begin.

His spar partner had arrived, his new best friend, his love. Their eyes fixed only on each other and Mor stood, surplus to requirement.

It wasn’t true. Nesta’s heart may have been a withered old thing with only love enough for one, but Cassian’s was an unlimited space and he could keep loving everyone for an eternity.

Mor could share him; she’d learnt she had to but as she thought it an image passed through her mind. Prophecy or wish fulfilment she didn’t know, but it was of Nesta writhing in a gilded golden bed of Autumn, satin sheets sliding over soft skin.

If truth was Mor’s gift, then she was terrible at giving. Cassian didn’t need to know about the conversation Mor and Rhys had only hours before. Rhys wouldn’t allow any union between Eris and Nesta, if only for Cassian’s sake, for the love he had for a brother.

Mor wouldn’t allow it either. Whatever thread bound Nesta and Cassian had been woven at the will of the Cauldron and she wouldn’t have Cassian fractured. She’d already shared him enough and if a piece broke there would be little left still for Mor.

***

“Do you want children?”

Cassian tensed, the beat of his heart under her fingertips quickening as she traced patterns on the skin over his ribcage.

He’d been lying on his back with his wings spread over them both like a canopy of black. Nesta lay on her side, as naked as he was, tucked into him. Since she spoke his muscles were tautened and ready to spring.

Why shouldn’t she ask? When what they did in this bed had a possible outcome. She had the right to know his truth.

“Are you drinking your contraceptive tea?” His voice was low, serious.

“Yes.”

“Good, don’t stop.”

A shard of hurt burst through Nesta like she’d been pierced with glass but she sat up and fixed her face with a glare, moving away so no more parts of them touched. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked over to her quickly and then back to the ceiling, his jaw clenched. It wasn’t true, she realised. His response would never be a denial of wanting children, she felt his want as though it were hers.

A house of them. That’s what Cassian dreamed. Small, winged Illyrian babies that would light up his days, who would bundle him to the floor and squeal with delight at their father’s return.

“Where is this coming from?”

“You’re fucking me,” Nesta said, “sometimes said fucking has consequences and I want to know where I stand if a consequence arose.”

His eyes widened as he now stared at her, the whites showing and his pupils shrivelling into dots. Nesta was reminded of a panicked horse bolting in a field because it stumbled upon a snake.

“You’re not already-”

“Cauldron, Cassian I’m not. Didn’t I just tell you I was taking the tea?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, moving from the bed as quick as she could in case he tried to stop her but she needn’t have worried because he didn’t try.

Her robe was draped over the back of a chair in front of the window, the dark starlit sky the backdrop to the table which still housed their dinner plates. She bound the garment tight around her body, her back to him.

“Nesta-”

“I’m going back to my room. I’ll see you when you next return from one of your ridiculously frequent Illyria visits.”

“Nesta.”

His voice sang of desperation and she turned. Cassian was sat up, the sheets falling around his waist. He scrubbed a hand over his face, a tell that he was tired.

“It’s not that I don’t want children. It’s just-”

He glanced away and for a moment Nesta felt a pang of sorrow. His handsome face was etched in worry lines that grew deeper these past months. His skin held a pallid hue, the same hue she noted on Morrigan earlier. She who was golden had lost her shine.

Agony stretched over Cassian’s face and as he tried to force words out and force them back at the same time. She hadn’t the patience.

“What,” she spat, “just what.”

“I can’t have them with you.”

A heat flooded through her and as she clenched her robe there was a hiss and scent of burning. When she looked down, scorch marks charred the material where her fingertips had been.

She stormed from the room, ignoring Cassian’s calls behind her, hoping that her bare feet smacking against the stone tiles wouldn’t leave their own mark. Nesta slammed the door of her bedroom, telling the House not to let him in even if he begged.

But Cassian didn’t beg. There was no plea outside her door.

Nesta closed her eyes, holding her hand over her chest, pressing firmly over her heart. Connected to the other end she sensed he wasn’t pleased she had marched away but there was a sweet taste of relief laced with the bitter flavour of guilt. It was the latter which caused him to lash out.

Panic had risen in him like a tide at her questions so Nesta let him believe she had taken offense, that she had interpreted his words as wouldn’t have children with her. The actual words were as loud and clear as a church bell. Can’t have them with you.

Can’t.

Her head hurt. Although the blacksmith room was a distance away in the House, the blades were calling for her. They wanted her time, her attention, her love. Another voice, something both large and small, spoke to Nesta in warm tones.

It is good you asked.

Nesta pressed her palms to her eyes. She sipped her apple blossom tea that morning as she did every day, the sweetness of the contraceptive medicine tingling her tongue, when that same voice slid into her mind. Ask Cassian if he wants children. So, she asked.

Nesta unfurled her wrap, ignoring the newly formed holes and picked up her silk nightgown from where it lay. She smoothed the material over her hips and turned to the mirror to tame the strands of her hair.

Voices were everywhere; from the smithery to this unknown other. Everyone was dancing to different tunes now, a waltz that appeared to revolve around some avoiding Rhys and others clamouring for him. Now there was Cassian’s faux pas.

Can’t not won’t.

Although she was one step further along the path to the truth than before, Nesta didn’t smile. “No,” she said to her reflection, “I don’t think the truth is something to smile about.”

#nessian #fanfiction #fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #neris #nesta archeron x eris #anti rhysand #silver in her eyes

[theladyofbloodshed]

Part One ¦ Part Two

Part Three - The injured Cassian needs to stay the night

This tiny mortal had more fire than most fae. She could give the Autumn Court a run for their money. Hell, he’d have like to seen her take Eris Vanserra down. Part of Cassian was glad she did not have magic in her arsenal though – and another part of him should have liked to have seen Nesta Archeron imbued with magic, if only to see what sort of havoc she could wreak on Prythian.

Nesta threw down the arrow onto the table. ‘Get out of my house, you absolute brute.’

‘Make me.’ 

It was a voice he used on Illyrian males, low and threatening. For a mortal female, it should have had her knees buckling in terror. Nesta wasn’t like the rest of them.

Swifter than most, she’d lunged for the broom and swung it at him.

Stunned by the move, Cassian didn’t even throw up an arm to catch it or to shield himself. The head clattered against his face, bristles catching in his hair. He felt his lip rupture then the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

She was swinging the broom again, fighting a grin off of her face. This damn female. She was amazing.

Cassian caught the handle this time then dragged her towards him. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’

‘This is me making you leave. I do it to the spiders too.’

‘You split my lip,’ he said in disbelief. If Az and Rhys found out a mortal female had successfully attacked him when it took them years to do the same, he’d never live it down.

‘You split mine first,’ countered Nesta, refusing to release her grip on the broom handle.

He tugged it sharply, launching her forwards and into his bare chest. She dropped her hand and he seized the moment to pin her against him before she could lash out at him again.

Cassian had woefully underestimated her. One of her feet stomped onto his. It made him laugh because there was no great weight behind it but, as he chuckled, her knee came up to his groin. A pain shot all the way to his stomach. He doubled over, breathing shallowly to stop himself from vomiting across the floor.

She had the broom again.

A jab from the handle hit him in the kidneys. He wheezed. His magic sputtered from the ash infecting his veins then he failed to stop the second blow – this time from the head of the broom – that knocked him off balance.

It took a moment for Cassian to understand his reality. His cheek was on the wooden floor, his wings sprawled out along it too. His magic was completely empty, stolen by the ash wood arrows. Nesta brandished her broom still, but wisely kept out of reach. How in the Mother’s name had a skinny, mortal female overpowered him? And why was his cock stirring at that knowledge?

‘Now, will you leave?’

An involuntary smile lit up his face. ‘Oh, ho. I’m not going anywhere now. You’ve injured me more.’

‘Why are you grinning at me that way? It’s disturbing. Did I hit your head too hard?’

‘Sweetheart, if I told you that nobody has been able to hit me on the head in the ring for nearly three centuries, would you believe me?’

The thought of letting her loose on Blue Annis was appealing just to see what she’d have managed to do the creature.

‘Would you believe me if I told you that if you call me sweetheart one more time, I will ram this broom handle so far up a place where the sun never shines you will not be able to sit for a week?’

He clutched his stomach on the floor, his laughter loud and raucous. ‘If you were fae, I’d marry you.’

Nesta clicked her tongue then began sweeping the floor, not caring when she bashed it repeatedly into his body. ‘Out you go, you wretched spider.’

‘I’ve nowhere else to go,’ he said, standing up. She was taller than most females, taller than even some fae females. Cassian still loomed over her like a spectre – not that she gave a damn. She merely moved past him as if he was a tree in her way.

‘That’s not my problem.’

‘Can’t I stay the night?’

Her nostrils flared at that. ‘Absolutely not. Put your damn shirt on.’

‘You were admiring the view – I didn’t want to take it from you.’ Over his head went his shirt, and Nesta’s eyes gave one final longing stare to the golden skin of his stomach. ‘There are only a few hours of darkness left. I can’t fly. My wings are too damaged. Please, just for a few days, let me stay here. I’ll do whatever you want.’

‘What I want is for you to flap home, pigeon.’

He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was impossibly enchanting. ‘I’ll die, Nesta. I will be killed by your kind.’

‘Good riddance.’

‘If you meant that, why did you shield me in the woods? Why did you lie to your own people?’ Cassian blocked her from her path. The cabin was too small for her to go anywhere else. He gripped her wrist, hard enough for her to feel his strength but with enough tenderness to convey that he wouldn’t hurt her. ‘Wouldn’t you like company for a couple of days? I’ll cook. Clean. Chop wood. Whatever is needed, I’ll do it while my wings heal.’

She gritted her teeth and inhaled loudly. ‘Fine. Sleep on the floor.’

‘Like I’m a hound? There’s room for both in that comfy, little bed if we squeeze in together.’

‘I’d rather cut off my hand than allow you in my bed.’

‘Allow me?’ Cassian roared with laughter again. ‘You’ll be on your knees begging me to take you to bed tomorrow night.’

The cabin was plunged into sudden darkness as Nesta blew out the lamp. Only the glow of the embers in the hearth provided any light which Cassian used to find a spot on the hard, wooden floor to curl up on. He’d slept on worse. He’d had nights in the snow wondering if he’d ever see the dawn. A cabin in the woods with a feral mortal wasn’t the worst. Actually, it give his pulse a little thrill. She might try to kill him in the night – which he’d be ready for.

Her bed creaked with age as she settled in the covers. A soft thump hit the floor which he presumed was her day-gown. He had been teasing Nesta about the bed, but if she’d said yes, he certainly would not have refused her. There was an icy beauty to this female, all cold stares and cutting words.

Was Nesta fearless or simply insane? The others would lose their heads in amusement when they heard what she had done to him. The corners of his mouth stretched into a smile in the darkness thinking again of the way he’d held her to his body yet she had still managed to slip away like a snake to knee him in the balls. Few could ever manage that against him.

‘Have you got a spare blanket? It’s cold in here.’

‘Apologies. Let me just go to a field, collect wool, spin it, wash it and weave it into a blanket for you. No. I do not have a spare blanket. I am exiled in a cabin and should have died weeks ago. No, I do not have a spare anything – especially not for giant bats who have ruined my sleep.’

Cassian pressed his hand over his mouth to fight against the laughter. So much anger for one so small. Then again, if his people had decided he was to be sacrificed and exiled him to the woods, he might be pissed too.

***

Frost glittered on the tiny window pane. A gap in the curtain revealed it to Nesta. She shuddered and wrapped the blanket tighter around her body. She would need to travel further on foot today in search of more wood to burn. Her tinder was low too – though that was more difficult to find and she got through her supplies quickly.

A scratching sound made her pulse leap.

A male stood at her stove stirring a pan with a wooden spoon. He was tall enough that his head swept the ceiling in places. Black hair was tied into a loose knot at the nape of his neck and the armour he wore was leathery scales like a dragon’s skin with red stones cut into the fabric. The set of wings on his back were enormous things that nearly reached from the roof to the ground. Atop each one was a claw. The memories of last night came flooding back to her.

At the sound of her climbing out of bed, Cassian turned. In the dim light of the fire, he’d been rugged but pleasant enough to look at. Now that Nesta saw him fully in the stark light of morning, her opinion had not done him justice. He was handsome. Far too handsome to be stood in her kitchen making breakfast. Fae, she reminded herself. His ears were rounded and dark stubble lined his jaw, reminding her of the men from the village, but with those wings, nobody would ever confuse him as a mortal. His skin was much darker than hers. It reminded her of somewhere warm where the sun never set.

‘Have you got any milk for the porridge?’

‘What am I supposed to milk?’ She said through gritted teeth. ‘Myself?’

Without thinking, Nesta gestured to her breasts. Too long in this cabin. Too long with only herself for company. Heat scorched her cheeks which was made worse by the excited grin plastered on Cassian’s face. She scurried for her dress, but it wasn’t in a heap by the bed where she left it. It had been hung up on the peg near the front door.

Cheeks burning, Nesta crossed the cabin and yanked the dress over her head to hide her body from him.

‘That’s like giving a child a sweetie then snatching it away,’ he complained.

‘My breasts are for me to enjoy only.’

‘And do you enjoy them, Nesta?’

Nesta wondered if it was possible to start the day again if she crawled back into bed and hauled the blankets over her head.

‘I’m not a morning person,’ she said as if that covered all of her verbal slips.

‘I am which is good because you kept me awake with your snoring.’ He searched through the cupboard then found the singular bowl. He frowned then spooned porridge into it and pushed it into Nesta’s hands.

‘I do not snore.’

‘Have you had many bed partners to confirm that?’

‘My lack of bed partners is the reason why I was exiled.’ Nesta jabbed the spoon into the porridge. It was all she ever had for breakfast – and never made exciting with cinnamon or fruit or even milk. ‘The monster liked maidens apparently.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ said Cassian, using a fork to eat the rest of the porridge directly from the saucepan in the absence of another bowl or spoon. ‘Blue Annis wasn’t fussy. She liked young girls, but she would eat anything.’

‘I’ll be sure to let the village know in twenty years when they bring the next sacrifice and find me still here.’

‘You’ll stay here then?’

Nesta narrowed her eyes at the man in disbelief. ‘Generally, exile does mean one cannot return. I am not about to risk my sisters’ lives so that I can return to our miserable hovel where I have no prospects whatsoever. Perhaps I’ll become a witch of the woods. I shall become a story to scare small children.’

‘After the way you attacked me last night, I’m honestly shocked that there isn’t witch blood in your marrow.’

A small laugh slipped out from the jail of her lips. It must have been her exhaustion that led her to attack him with the broom. He had made her blood boil unlike anybody else had ever managed in the past. Her lip still had a dry cut running through the middle, but he bore no marks on his face. Even the punctures in his wings were healing much quicker than normal. It was the fae blood. There was a part of her that wanted to seize this opportunity and ask him about Prythian. Perhaps their understanding of faeries was all wrong. He hadn’t tried to steal her, hurt her, trick her in anyway. He’d been like a mortal in his essence – discounting the sprawling wings.

‘I’ll chop wood for you today. It's starting to snow. I’ll ensure the store outside is full before I can fly again.’

‘You don’t have an axe.’

With his chin, he gestured to the longsword resting in its sheath against the wall. ‘If it can cleave through bodies, it can manage a few logs. Can’t allow my favourite hellcat to get cold this winter.’

For most of the day, Nesta barely saw the man within the cabin. Mostly, he spent the day outdoors chopping wood – which proved more difficult with a sword than he anticipated – or travelling slightly further on foot. He moved gingerly, the ash still affecting his body. Nesta did not want to voice her concern that he was exposed in the daylight, but his hearing seemed finer than hers. He could hear a stream to the east that she was deaf to and Cassian mentioned a woodpecker, but she had not seen nor heard it.

When he came for a brief break around lunchtime, he stared with eyes agog at the tea she presented to him.

‘Where’s yours?’ He asked with suspicion, snowflakes melting in his hair.

‘There’s only one mug. As a rule, the exiled do not entertain guests.’

His eyes scrutinised it. ‘You drink it first in case it’s poisoned.’

Nesta held out a hand for the mug then sipped it, savouring the peppermint taste as it slipped down her throat, flooding her body with heat. ‘I should be offended that you do not trust me – but you were becoming far too familiar with me. I’d hate for you to think of me as a friend.’

This huge man smirked then, his hazel eyes glowing with light. ‘What a cruelty that your wit is banished to this cabin.’

‘I was growing too powerful for the village. They sought to humble me.’

Before returning outside, Cassian had loaded another couple of logs onto the fire and given it a good poke with the iron rod to make it roar to life again. On his way out of the door, he’d ran a finger across her shoulder blades with familiarity. The touch made her body shudder. It was strange and yet not.  

Nesta was a creature of solitude – she had figured that out already. But she had wanted to be a mother and to explore the world. None of those options were possible condemned to this cabin. What could she do? Bleat her case to the village elders that the fae male who was her current house guest had slayed the beast two decades earlier? The other girls had gone sobbing and met a horrific end. The scratches in the floor could not be buffed or polished out. Nesta had pulled a rug over the stain on the floorboards that she couldn’t clean out. It seemed that fate had not wanted Nesta. It had chosen a different course for her and she refused to believe it was simply to waste away in these four, crumbling walls.

#the exile and the injured #nessian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian