#nessian fanfiction
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You're the Kind of Reckless that Should Send Me Running
A/N: you know, sometimes, self-care is... (checks notes) making a sex bargain with a fae to get out of a marriage contract. It just be like that! But happy Day Three of @nestaarcheronweek lovelies! Hope everyone enjoys some smutty Nessian. As a warning, this is toe-ing the line with dubious consent since it is a fae bargain, so please read with care!
Read on AO3
A bottle of your finest alcohol and your most prized possession.
That's what the woman in the market had told Nesta to bring in offering. Whispered words shared between the brick building of the butcher and the wooden stalls bedecked in green leaves and pastel colored petals, the first sign of spring. The woman's own stall had been tucked closer to the alleyway between buildings, half cast in shadow. What little light did break through bounced off the gemstones of amulets, carved into the grooves of runes in animal bone.
Only desperate people spoke with the woman who always kept the hood of her cloak up to shroud her face.
And desperate Nesta was.
She listened to everything the woman said, carefully tucked away the instructions, the tips the woman offered for the best results. And when the woman had finished speaking, Nesta placed a single silver piece into her palm and slipped back into the crowds of the bustling market without looking back. She kept her head down, tried her best to look inconspicuous lest word get back where she didn’t want it to.
But Nesta caught Clare’s eye across the market square, her friend offering the barest hint of a nod. It was Clare that told Nesta about this woman, about the information she offered, about the outcomes that information promised. According to Clare, it was how Morrigan had done it just last week.
So, that day in the market, Nesta seeked out the woman, and now, here she walks.
She steps over roots and brambles, her soft steps doing nothing to quiet the crunch beneath her feet. With each step, she winces at the way the sound echoes in the wood around her. She glances around, between the barks of the trees that stretch out and above her, but there’s no sign of anyone else but her. It doesn’t stop the hairs on the back of her neck from standing on edge.
A twig snaps somewhere behind her, and Nesta freezes, nearly dropping the bottle of whiskey she’d stolen from her father’s reserves. She clutches it a little tighter to her chest, afraid to even breathe while she waits for another sound, waits for someone to appear. But the only sound that answers Nesta is the rustle of the wind through the branches and leaves, the distant sound of an owl hooting.
Breathing out slowly, Nesta continues trekking forward. She dares to look back over her shoulder, but there’s nothing but more trees and the streaks of silver from the moon breaking through the canopy above. She shakes her head, reminding herself of exactly why she’s here, why she’s doing this.
She just has to find the clearing. That’s what the woman in the market said, that deep into the woods to the north of the village, the trees would part into a clearing. A ring where the trees dare not grow, where the roots stretch to form an altar. Where a fae waits for humans brave enough to make a bargain.
If only she could find it.
Nesta doesn’t know how far she’s walked, but she feels as though she’s been walking half the night. She can’t help but wonder if it was all a lie, a trick. If there is no clearing and no fae who can help her. It would be just her luck.
With a huff, she decides to call it, decides she’ll make the painstaking trek back to her family’s manor house. She spins on her heel only to find herself standing in the center of a clearing that wasn’t there previously.
Fae magic.
“And what do we have here?”
The voice is deep, rough, practically a low rumble where it skates across Nesta’s skin. She swallows hard, raising her chin, before she turns to face that voice. The man is leaning casually against the trunk of one of the trees lining the clearing, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted as he watches her.
A male, really. A fae male unmistakably from his appearance.
He’s large, bigger than even the butcher back in the village, standing a header taller than Nesta with wide shoulders and a wide chest. Wings stretch behind his back and loom over his shoulders like haunting shadows. Dark curls tumble down to his shoulders, framing a pair of eyes that look almost cat-like, that seem to glint green and gold even beneath the silver of the moonlight. The sleeves of his tunic are pushed up to his elbows, showing off swirls of ink along his skin that Nesta swears shift as though a mimic of the magic she’s sure runs through the fae’s veins.
There’s a rough sort of beauty to his face, to the cut of his cheeks and his jaw. As though they’re carved by the very wind she’s sure he must ride with those large wings of his. His nose doesn’t sit quite straight, a slash slicing through his right eyebrow, but it only seems to add to his features. He’s handsome in a way that Nesta knows she’ll never find in her village, in a way that can only be fae. In a way that Nesta has to swallow hard before finding her voice again.
“Are you the fae that helps women escape their marriage contracts?” Nesta asks, refusing to allow her voice to waver, for her nerves to show.
The fae pushes off the tree, stalking closer to her. “So what if I am?”
Nesta thrusts her arms forward before the fae can get too close. “I brought these in offering.”
The fae tilts his head again, his gaze raking over Nesta from head to toe. Those cat-like eyes rover over her frame slowly, goosebumps erupting across Nesta’s skin as if it’s fingers trailing a blazing path. When his attention returns to her face, there’s something different in his expression. A fire burning amongst the greens and golds of his hazel eyes, the left side of his lips tilting up in a smirk. He reaches forward, the large span of his hands on full display as his fingers curl around the neck of the whiskey bottle.
“You have good taste,” the fae comments, examining the whiskey.
“I stole it from my father.”
“And the dress? Did you steal that from him too?”
Nesta snorts at the implication. “No. It was a gift from my mother, right before she passed.”
The fae hums, but he doesn’t say anything more. He begins to circle her, like a predator sizing up its prey, but Nesta refuses to be cowed. She stands perfectly still, straightening her spine against his scrutiny, raising her chin that little bit higher in defiance.
“Is it sufficient? To your liking?”
“Why the dress? Why not your hair?” the fae asks, twirling a strand of Nesta’s hair around his finger. He tugs it toward his face, inhaling deeply. “It’s oh so beautiful. Like burnished gold. Even beneath the moonlight.”
“If that is what it will take, then you can have it.”
The fae chuckles, the sound low and seeming to resonate from deep within his chest. “You must really dislike your betrothed.”
“You would too if you met him,” Nesta grumbles, not even bothering to swallow down her eye roll.
Tomas Mandray.
That was who her father saw fit to marry her off to. Nesta’s hated her father ever since he selfishly sat idly by when her mother fell ill, deciding that the life saving medicine she would need was not worth the steep cost. His recklessness since her death has only gotten worse, shady business deals and gambling habits digging the Archerons into a deeper hole.
Despite the confidence her father exudes around the other high society members of their village, Nesta knows it’s nothing more than a facade. She knows their family is one wrong deal away from losing everything. Knows there’s a desperation thrumming just beneath her father’s skin. It’s what led to him agreeing to the first man who came forward for her hand, without a thought for the type of man he is.
“Is that so?” the fae asks, finishing his circle and stopping in front of her again.
“It’s the worst kept secret in the village,” Nesta explains, unsure what compels her to tell this fae the truth. Perhaps there’s something in his face, in his presence, that has her wanting to trust him. “Everyone knows that Lord Mandray raises his hand to his wife, that his sons just stand by while it happens.”
“You think he’d lay a hand on you?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Real anger flashes across the fae’s face, hazel eyes practically blazing and his lips curling back in a snarl. His fists clench at his sides, muscles in his arms flexing with the motion. The rage isn’t directed at her, but that doesn’t stop Nesta’s heart from thundering between her ribs. She knows the stories of the fae, knows of their strength. This male could tear her apart with ease if he wanted to.
It’s a ferity and display of power that should terrify her, that should have her spinning on her heel and running straight back to the village, but instead she continues to meet this fae’s gaze.
The fae’s expression softens, almost curious, as his gaze sweeps over her anew. It’s unnerving, as though he can see beneath her skin and down to her very bone. As though she’s splayed open for his examination all the way to her soul. Whatever he sees, whatever he finds, it has him stepping closer still. Close enough that Nesta has to tilt her head back to hold eye contact. Close enough she can feel the heat that seems to radiate off him. Close enough that every inhale has her chest a hair's breadth away from his.
“You never told me your name,” the fae says, warm breath skating across Nesta’s cheeks.
“I don’t know yours,” Nesta fires back, raising her chin even higher in challenge.
That cocksure smirk tugs its way across the fae’s face again. “It’s Cassian.”
“Nesta. Nesta Archeron.”
“Nesta,” Cassian repeats, as though tasting her name, testing the weight of it on his tongue. A shiver threatens to skitter up Nesta’s spine, but she’s quick to swallow it down. “Should we make a bargain, Nesta?”
“You’ll do it, then? You’ll end my marriage contract?”
“Happily.”
“For my hair?”
“I’ll accept the dress, but that’s just an offering, sweetheart,” Cassian explains, holding up the dress and whiskey bottle in emphasis before tossing both away. “We still need to make a proper bargain.”
“Alright…” Nesta begins slowly, wading through her memory, through the lessons from her mother. She knows wording is important, knows that she needs to be careful about the phrasing of this bargain. “You ensure that my marriage contract to Tomas Mandray is void, that I’ll never marry Tomas Mandray, that I’ll never marry anyone in the Mandray household nor anyone that I do not choose for myself. And in exchange…”
“And in exchange, you’ll become my wife.”
“What.”
Cassian grins fully down at her, one of his hands reaching up between them to curl that strand of her hair around his fingers again. “You can’t marry anyone else if you’re already married to me.”
Nesta blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around it all, but Cassian's hand shifts, the backs of his fingers dragging down her temple, her cheek. The touch is distracting. She supposes it makes sense. How can she marry someone else if she is already wed. Clare never specified exactly what Morrigan had to do to break her own marriage contract to the eldest Vanserra. Perhaps, this is how it works.
But alarm bells still ring in the back of Nesta’s mind, whispering of caution. It’s too vague, gray area so expansive that it feels too risky to simply agree.
“And what does that entail? Being your wife?”
Cassian chuckles again, Nesta practically able to feel it where their chests are nearly pressed together. “You were about to be wed, and you don’t know about wifely duties?”
Nesta’s temper flares red hot, and she glares up at him. “I know what’s expected of a wife.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“What does being a wife mean for a fae? What does a fae expect of me?”
“You can do whatever you want as my wife, Nes,” Cassian offers, palm fully cradling her jaw.
“Don’t call me that. And stop that,” Nesta snaps, knocking his hand away. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“Trick you? I’m hurt, sweetheart. I thought you wanted this bargain?”
“I do.”
Panic swells in Nesta’s chest, churning her stomach. What if he changes his mind? Goes back on the bargain? Anything she wants as his wife. It’s not specific, definitely not even close to what Nesta was taught when it comes to fae bargains, but it only hurts him really. Anything she wants. And what she wants is to live the rest of her life far away from the Mandrays and any of the other aggravating villagers who either look down their noses or leer at her.
“Alright,” Nesta finally breathes, sending a silent prayer to the Mother that she doesn’t live to regret this.
“Alright?” Cassian repeats back, bringing both his hands to Nesta’s jaw this time, tilting her head up. “So it’s a bargain then?”
Nesta swallows hard, her heart skipping a beat when Cassian’s thumb drags across her bottom lip. “It’s a bargain.”
Cassian’s mouth crashes against hers at the same moment a burning sensation cascades along her spine and between her shoulder blades. It has Nesta gasping against Cassian’s lips, but he merely uses the reaction to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue into her mouth. His arm drops to curl around her waist, hauling her closer still until she’s pressed flush against his body. She can feel every line of hard muscle beneath his shirt, feel the strength in his grip around her.
He tears his mouth away, but he doesn’t go far, latching his lips against her neck. His mouth is hot against her skin, her entire body roaring to life and reacting to his touch. She tilts her head, a quiet groan tumbling past her lips, when Cassian’s teeth find her pulse point, tongue soothing over the brief sting.
When Cassian pulls away, Nesta’s whole body sways forward, practically chasing his mouth and his kiss. Slowly, her eyes flutter open, finding Cassian’s own gaze already firmly on her face. There’s a fire in his hazel eyes, lips kiss bitten and pink. His grip on her hip holds her steady, fingers of his other hand burying themselves in the strands of her hair.
“What do you say, wife?” Cassian asks, voice low and deep. He drags his nose along her jaw until he can press his lips to her ear. “Should we consummate our bargain?”
Just his voice has heat pooling low in Nesta’s gut. Has her thighs clenching and her toes beginning to curl in her shoes. And when he presses a kiss to that spot behind her ear, a shudder ricochets down her spine. She clutches at Cassian’s shirt to hold herself steady, daring to arc against him.
“Yes.”
Nesta’s world tilts, and then her back is cushioned by grass and moss. She barely has time to register the change before Cassian’s lips are back on hers. He settles atop her, hips cradled within the bracket of her thighs. Nesta finally buries her fingers in the dark curls of his hair, threading the strands between her fingers and tugging hard until Cassian is groaning into her mouth, his hips pressing down against her. She can feel exactly what she’s doing to him, the hardline of his arousal digging into her hip.
She slides one of her hands down his chest, feeling the heat of him even through the fabric between them, feeling his heartbeat just beneath the surface. She traces down and down, but before her fingertips can even brush the waistband of Cassian’s pants, her hand is yanked away. Cassian’s fae instincts are too quick, grip curling around Nesta’s wrists and pinning her hand above her head and into the dirt.
“Don’t you know, sweetheart, that a good husband always ensures his wife is taken care of first?”
Cassian pulls back enough that he’s able to settle comfortably on his haunches. Nesta feels overly exposed, splayed out in the grass beneath him. His gaze roves over her form with a hunger that has her heart rate spiking, has heat flooding through her veins until it settles in her core. Her chest heaves with each deep inhale as painstakingly slow, Cassian unties the laces down the front of her dress.
Her nerve endings are already on high alert, and the slow drag of fabric over her breasts as her dress is pulled open has a moan bubbling up and out of her throat. Her nipples are already pebbled when the cool air hits them, and the heat of Cassian’s hand as he palms them is a welcome reprieve.
Cassian leans back down, his mouth closing over one of her breasts. His tongue laves over her nipple, teeth nipping and tugging at the bud. He pulls back with a quiet pop, switching to her other breath, and Nesta bucks up against him, desperate for friction. Desperate for more.
“Cass… Cassian,” Nesta begs quietly, moaning when he drags the flat of his tongue over her breast again.
Nesta doesn’t even hear Cassian’s laugh this time, merely feels the vibrations against her skin, but he gets the message. He kisses a blazing path down her sternum, down her stomach. His hands find the hem of her skirts, pushing them up her thighs and her hips until her whole dress is nothing more than a bunch of fabric around her waist.
He keeps sliding down until he’s settled on his stomach in the grass, wings spread wide and tall above them both. For a moment, Nesta is transfixed on the way the moonlight ripples through the membrane, the patterns of the veins and scars, but her focus is brought solely back to the fae between her legs when Cassian’s fingers hook in the waistband of her undergarments, sliding them slowly down her legs.
Her breath hitches in her throat as he settles her thighs over his shoulders, at the feral look on his face. Those cat-like eyes of his are almost completely swallowed by his blown out pupils, and his grin shows off the sharp tips of his canines. With his dark hair falling along his temples and cheeks, he truly looks like a wild man, like a beast ready to pounce and feast on its prey. Nesta tosses her head back with a whimper as he lowers his face down, already anticipating his warm breath across her cunt, his tongue, but it never comes. Instead, Cassian’s lips find home along her inner thigh, a teasing display of what’s to come.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Cassian’s low voice rasps, lips never straying from her skin. “I want to see the look on your face when you fall apart on my tongue.”
Nesta tips her chin back down, meeting Cassian’s gaze fully again. His teeth sink into her inner thigh, sucking a bruise onto the skin. Whether it’s a reward or a punishment for her behavior, Nesta isn’t sure. A glint sparks through his hazel eyes, and it’s Nesta’s only warning before he buries himself completely between her thighs.
The first slide of his tongue over her cunt has Nesta’s thighs squeezing out of instinct, but Cassian’s fingers curl against the flesh, holding her open and exactly how he wants her. The flat of his tongue drags over her until he reaches her clit, tracing tantalizing circles over the bud that have Nesta bucking against his hold. It’s clearly the reaction he was hoping for, and the vibrations of his answering groan only add to the sensations threatening to send Nesta spiraling, send her unraveling, almost embarrassingly quickly.
And all the while, Cassian keeps his eyes on her face, pinning her in place, while he works his magic. Whether it’s his fae magic or just the magic of this male, Nesta doesn’t know. Nor does she particularly care as long as he doesnt stop. Her hands scrabble desperately for something to grasp onto, dirt digging under her nails and moans tumbling past her lips unbidden as Cassian presses his tongue into her. It curls and flicks at her walls like he’s determined to collect every last drop of her arousal, like a male parched and starved.
When Cassian finally pulls back, the sight is obscene. His hair is disheveled, lips and chin glistening beneath the light of the moon. He doesn’t even bother wiping his mouth, merely licking his lips with another low groan.
“I knew you’d make the prettiest sounds,” Cassian tells her, suddenly sinking two fingers into her cunt. “Now, come on, wife. Scream my name for the whole wood to hear.”
The pace Cassian sets is punishing, his fingers fucking into her hard and deep, thick in a way her own fingers have never been. Nesta feels like she’s on fire, her entire focus pinpointed on the fingers driving into her, the stretch of them, the way they drag along the walls of her cunt. She rocks her hips up against his hand, chasing the flames, the friction, the familiar feeling coiling tighter and tighter.
“Gods, look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight. Flushed such a pretty pink and taking my fingers so well.”
Nesta keens at the words, her hand snapping down to curl around Cassian’s wrist. Not to stop him, but to keep him there. He squeezes in a third finger beside the first two, curling them until Nesta is practically arching up off the ground. Her throat already feels hoarse from her moans, from the shouts of Cassian’s name.
“That’s my good girl. I can feel the way you’re squeezing my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock.”
“Cass. Cassian. Please. Gods, please.”
Cassian groans, dropping his face to her neck, teeth dragging along the skin, across her collarbones, his fingers never stopping. “Fuck. You beg so pretty too.”
Cassian’s thumb finds her clit, working it in tandem with the three fingers still thrusting into her. Nesta’s toes curl, her thighs practically shaking. She can feel herself standing on that edge, on that precipice. Cassian shifts his face down, lips closing around her breast again, and Nesta goes tumbling head first. She clenches down hard around Cassian’s fingers, half aware of the shout torn from her throat as her release barrels through her.
Cassian continues to move his fingers, dragging out her orgasm. But soon, the aftershocks subside, the stimulation teetering toward painful. Her whole body shudders with a whimper, but Cassian slips his fingers free. He makes a big show of pushing them between his lips, groaning around the taste of her. It has Nesta reaching for his wrist again, this time, bringing his hand to her own mouth. She sucks on his fingers, curling her tongue between the digits.
“Mother, save me,” Cassian mutters, watching her with hooded eyes.
He pulls his fingers free, but he’s quick to replace them with his own mouth, kissing Nesta deeply. Nesta moans into the kiss, burying her hands back in Cassian’s hair and tugging hard. His tongue curls around her own, his hips aligning and rocking down against hers. It’s a reminder of what’s still hers for the taking, the brush of fabric against her sending sparks ricocheting anew.
She reaches for the hem of his shirt, pushing the fabric up and up, determined to take it off. But his wings. Her fingers falter as she realizes she’s not sure how to get it off around the wings. She pulls back from the kiss to try and get a better look, but Cassian is having none of that, drawing her right back in. She huffs against his lips, tugging at his shirt in emphasis, and when Cassian is the one to finally pull back again, his hazel eyes are alight with amusement.
He reaches behind his back, the snap of buttons almost as loud as their heaving breaths in the quiet wood. Fisting the fabric, Cassian tugs the shirt away with ease, leaving Nesta with the perfect view of the wide expanse of golden skin, of the muscles carved into it, of the dark hair dusted across his chest and down his stomach like an alluring path leading down and down.
Nesta traces the lines of tattoos painted across his skin with the tip of her fingers, traces them all the way down his chest and further still, daring to dig her nails in against his stomach. Cassian hisses at the sting, but the look in his eyes tells her that he really likes it. It makes her feel bolder, braver. She dares to reach down, palming the hard line still trapped in his pants.
With a groan, Cassian drops his head against her collarbones. She continues her ministrations, curling her fingers as best she can and moving her hand up and down. Even through the fabric of his pants, Nesta can feel the way he twitches, can feel the weight of him. The size. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised, what with Cassian being fae and not an ordinary man, but it still has heat sparking along her spine, has her mouth running dry just as surely as her thighs clench together.
She pushes at the waistband of his pants until they slide off his hips, down his thighs. Cassian finishes the job, kicking off the fabric. His cock bobs free between his strong thighs, the head already glistening with his own arousal. Nesta goes to wrap her hand around it, but her fingertips barely graze before Cassian is pinning her wrists again. He’s able to hold both her wrists in the grip of just one of his hands, using his free hand to find home beneath her chin and raise her face to his.
For a moment, Cassian merely stares at her, eyes roving over her face as though he’s trying to memorize it. Warmth flares through his hazel eyes, and Nesta swears she can feel an answering spark between her ribs, can feel it grow and tether like a golden thread there. He leans down and connects their lips, the kiss surprisingly soft. Nesta tries to deepen it, tries to free her hands so she can pull him close again, but Cassian keeps the kiss a gentle slide of lips.
“Cassian,” Nesta huffs frustratedly, hooking her legs around his waist and digging her heels into the small of his back, trying to encourage him where she wants.
“So needy, my wife,” Cassian teases, gripping his cock and dragging the head along her cunt, through the wetness that’s pooled there. “Do you want my cock, Nes? Want me to fill you up and fuck you good?”
“Isn’t that what a good husband does?”
Cassian’s whole body shudders with a groan, his wings flaring wide. “Perhaps a good wife should beg for it.”
“Please,” Nesta whispers, capturing Cassian’s bottom lip between her teeth and bucking her hips up against him. “Please fuck me.”
“Good girl.”
Cassian grasps at her hips, tugging her close and tilting them up. He presses his own hips forward until the tip slides inside her, thrusting shallowly. Just the first few inches stretches Nesta in a way she’s never felt before, in a way she fears she could become addicted to. He pulls his hips back just to sink back in further, the drag along Nesta’s walls leaving her moaning.
When their hips are finally pressed flushed together, Cassian still, nosing along her neck and her jaw. Nesta feels so incredibly full, her every nerve ending on fire in the most delicious way. She clenches down around him, her cunt seeming to draw him that much deeper, and Cassian’s groan echoes her own.
“Gods, you’re so tight,” Cassian murmurs into her neck, lips dragging against her skin. “But you take me so well.”
“Cassian, please,” Nesta begs again, trying to shift her hips against his hold.
Whether the begging does the trick or Cassian merely takes pity on her, Nesta doesn’t care. All she can focus on is the way Cassian pulls his hips back only to snap them back forward. Again and again he drives his hips forward, each hard thrust sending lightning licking through Nesta’s veins. With her hands now free, she curls them around Cassian’s back, practically clawing at his skin as she rocks her hips up to meet him thrust for thrust, as she chases the unparalleled feeling of him filling her over and over.
She dares to trace her fingers toward his shoulder blades. Dares to trace the spindly bone of a wing. Cassian lets out a near animalistic growl, hips digging against her own as his movements stutter.
“If you keep that up, this will be over much too soon,” Cassian warns through clenched teeth. He sits back on his haunches, splaying Nesta’s legs across his thighs.
“Sensitive?” Nesta asks. “What does it feel like?”
Cassian’s thumb presses down on Nesta’s clit, Nesta keening at the sensation and pressure. “Like that.”
Cassian works his hips back up to a brutal pace, moving his thumb in tandem with every hard thrust. It doesn’t take long before Nesta finds herself on the edge of that precipice again, before she goes tumbling over with little to no warning. Her back arches up off the ground, cunt clenching hard around Cassian’s cock. Cassian continues to snap his hips, working her through her orgasm, until he shudders and stills above her, warmth flooding Nesta’s core as surely as the fire blazing through her veins.
Cassian shifts back, pulling his softening cock free and drawing a quiet whimper from Nesta’s lips. She still feels like she’s burning, still feels desperate to dive back into the flames and the feeling sparked by this fae male. And though there’s still the lingering fullness from Cassian’s own release, her cunt still spasms with the aftershocks of her orgasm, still clenches around nothing.
She pushes herself up into a seated position, moving before Cassian can get too far. She all but clambers into his lap, steadying herself on his shoulders until she can settle comfortably. Cassian’s hands find her waist, an almost awestruck expression on his face as he peers up at her. But there’s embers in that hazel gaze too, still flickering as one of those hands glides up her spine, as his fingers curl into the long strands of Nesta’s hair that have fallen free from her updo.
“You know,” Nesta begins, reaching down until she can fist his cock, stroking it teasingly. “There’s this rumor. That fae males can recover more quickly than a man.”
“Is that so?” Cassian teases, but Nesta can already feel the way he’s started to harden again from her ministrations.
Nesta tightens her grip, quickens her pace, until Cassian is groaning and bucking his hips up against her, until his cock is standing at full attention again. She shifts forward on her knees, lining Cassian’s cock up with her cunt and sinking down on it. She moans at the fullness taking over her again, the rightness of being pressed together like this. She feels key-up, the overstimulation too much and yet everything that she needs.
She starts to rock her hips, gasping at the drag and friction, chasing the heat already climbing dangerously high. With one hand still buried in her hair, Cassian draws her mouth back to his, groaning against her lips as he kisses her. He plants his feet on the ground, snapping his hips up to meet hers.
“Gods, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Cassian murmurs against her, hands sliding down to palm at her ass and guide her movements. “Riding my cock like a good fucking girl.”
Nesta shudders at his words, clenching down hard. She picks up the pace of her hips, chasing another release. She starts to feel the burn in her thighs, can feel the stickiness of their own arousal, of both their releases dripping and smeared across the skin there. She’s half aware of her hoarse moans ringing in her ears, of the wet sounds of sex and slapping skin echoing in the woods around them. But all that matters is the slide of Cassian’s cock, the pressure building between her thighs.
She reaches a hand down, fingers slipping through the wetness there and against her clit, but Cassian is too quick. His own fingers curl around her wrist and pull her hand away. Nesta whines high in the back of her throat, tugging against his grip, but it’s no use.
“I don’t appreciate anyone touching what’s mine,” Cassian warns, squeezing her wrist that little bit tighter.
“And am I yours?” Nesta asks, sinking down fully and swiveling her hips to get the friction she was looking for.
“Always. And I’m yours.”
“Good.”
With her free hand not captured in Cassian’s hold, Nesta reaches over his shoulder. She slides her fingertips across his leathery wings, trying to mimic the way her hips move with the shapes she traces. She dares to scrape her nails against his wings, remembering how he’d responded before. With a roar, Cassian all but crushes her to him, his cock twitching deep within her. It’s enough to send Nesta crashing through an orgasm right there with him, spots dancing in her vision as she shakes with the force of it.
Nesta’s entire body feels wrung out and sated, embers banked but still keeping her deliciously warm. It takes her a moment too long to realize she’s slumped forward against Cassian, their chests pressed together and her head dropped to his shoulder. She knows that she needs to move. She knows that, now that their bargain is complete, she needs to return to the village. But trying to will her muscles to work feels like an impossible feat.
She decides to give it under her still heaving breaths even out, until her still thundering heart quiets to a soft beat. Cassian’s touch is surprisingly gentle where his fingertips trace shapes and lines up and down her spine, but soon his hands are gripping her properly. He shifts until they’re both sprawled across the soft, mossy floor of the wood, wings curling almost protectively around her. Warmth seeps into Nesta’s skin every place they’re pressed together, relaxing her all the way down to the bone.
There’s a safety wrapped up in his embrace, and Nesta allows her eyes to flutter shut, allows it to lull her under. She thinks back to Cassian’s words, his declaration that she’s his and he’s hers. And for a moment, just this moment longer, she almost allows herself to believe it.
~ * * * ~
Nesta quietly thanks the seller, carefully placing the folded fabric in the basket hanging from the crook of her arm. She slides her fingers against the pretty pink of it, the color reminding her of Elain. She’s sure that her younger sister will create something beautiful with it.
As she steps out of the small shop in the village square, Nesta can already feel eyes on her. They’re practically scorching holes through her shoulder blades, but she refuses to turn and look. The staring has been the trend the past two days, ever since that night, especially with the men in the village. Perhaps she should have found a way to work keeping the village’s disdain at bay into her bargain.
Sighing softly to herself, Nesta keeps her head held high, her shoulders back, as she follows the winding road back toward her family’s home. She keeps her grip on her basket tight, wills her breathing to come steady and slow, even as her every nerve ending feels on high alert, her heart beginning to skip between her ribs.
A hand grips hard around Nesta’s bicep, yanking her into the gap between two buildings. She barely has time to let out a shout of surprise before another hand is closing over her mouth. Her back slams against wood, nails biting into the skin of her arm, her cheek. The basket slips from her fingers, items skittering across the ground, as she comes face to face with a pair of brown eyes, ruddy cheeks, and lips pulled back in a sneer.
“Did you think you could get away with embarrassing me?” Tomas spits, leaning in until he’s right in Nesta’s face.
Nesta uses her free hand to pry Tomas’s fingers off her face. “Leave me alone. There’s no longer a contract between us or our families.”
“You think I don’t know how you did that? That the whole village doesn’t know? A lowly whore just like Morrigan.”
“Fuck you.”
“It seems you’ve dirtied your mouth as much as your body. Don’t worry. I’m more than happy to use both to remind you of your place.”
Panic flares through Nesta’s chest as Tomas uses his body weight to pin her in place, his hand reaching for her skirts. A low growl echoes in the space around them, Tomas’s entire body going rigid at the sound. They both look toward the other end of the alleyway, a large figure looming there. Even with the shadows, the silhouette of wings is unmistakable.
“A fae?” Tomas whispers, true fear leaving his voice trembling. “In the village? During the day?”
“Get your hands off her,” Cassian warns, voice low and threatening.
“This isn’t any of your business,” Tomas calls out, all fake bravado Nesta is sure.
Cassian prowls forward, each step slow but measured. “I won’t ask again.”
Tomas’s eyes dart between Cassian and Nesta, and Nesta watches the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow. Of all the things Tomas may be, one of them is clearly not stupid. He releases his hold on Nesta, stumbling back a few steps. His eyes never leave Cassian, a true prey caught in a predator’s trap, as he backs away.
Cassian’s smile is all ferity and teeth. In the blink of an eye, he closes the distance, hand snapping out and curling around Tomas’s throat, holding him in place. “Did you think I was just going to let you go?”
“This isn’t any of your business,” Tomas repeats, but even he sounds unsure at his own words.
“I don’t appreciate anyone touching what’s mine.”
Cassian doesn’t give Tomas the time to say anything else. His hand tightens around Tomas’s throat, lifting him up off his feet and slamming him against the wall opposite of Nesta. Tomas sputters and chokes around Cassian’s hold, his feet kicking out helplessly as he claws at Cassian’s forearm.
“What do you say, Nes? Should we break his fingers for committing such an offense?”
Nesta swallows to find her voice again. “Why stop at his fingers?”
Nesta can’t see Cassian’s face with the way he’s holding Tomas, but she can imagine the gleam in his hazel eyes. It’s clear from the way Tomas’s face completely blanches. Cassian’s wings flare out wide behind his back, keeping him balanced as he strikes. The crunch of breaking bone is drowned out by Tomas’s blood curdling scream. Cassian works with an almost terrifying ease and efficiency, as though he’s tearing mere parchment and not body parts.
Tomas crumbles to the ground with a soft groan when Cassian finally steps back. The fae crouches down, but Nesta can’t hear what he whispers to Tomas. He reaches his hands out and wipes them against Tomas’s shirt, cleaning the man’s blood off using the fabric. When he’s finished, Cassian straightens and turns back to Nesta, carefully retrieving her dropped basket and items and holding it out toward her. Slowly, she takes it from him, stepping over Tomas’s body and back into the village market and sun.
“You’re a hard woman to find, Nesta,” Cassian starts, stepping out of the alleyway behind her.
“I didn’t realize you were searching,” Nesta comments idly.
She pauses, hesitates, in the now empty town square before squaring her shoulders and continuing the trek back to her family home. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised when Cassian falls into step beside her, unbothered about the villagers who clearly scattered due to his presence.
“What did you expect? Most wives don’t sneak away from their husbands in the middle of the night.”
“I thought that was how it was done.”
Cassian’s chuckle is just as warm in the light of day. “You humans have very odd traditions then.”
Nesta rolls her eyes at his teasing words. “Not that, you big bat. I meant your bargains. Do you track down every woman you make your wife to end their marriage contract?”
Cassian’s fingers curl around Nesta’s wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tugs her to a stop. With a quiet huff, Nesta turns to face him properly. It seems almost strange to see him under the bright light of the sun, without the rays of the moon casting silver shadows across his face, his wings.
He’s still as ruggedly beautiful as Nesta remembers him.
With the curls of his hair scraped away from his face and secured in a bun, the hard line of his jaw is on full display. His hazel eyes seem to burn as golden as the high noon sun, and with the light stretching through them, Nesta realizes there’s a reddish hue to those powerful wings stretched behind his back.
“I only have one wife, sweetheart.”
Nesta blinks a few times, sure that she misheard, trying to wrap her mind around his words. “What do you mean?”
“What other meaning is there?” Cassian drawls, reaching for a stray strand of her hair and twirling it around his finger, a gesture reminiscent of their night together. “The only wife I have is you.”
“So you tricked me with your bargain.”
“Tricked you? I distinctly remember you agreeing. Remember the way you begged for–”
“Stop.”
Nesta takes a firm step back, Cassian’s hand dropping away from between them and back to his side. He tilts his head as he watches her, but Nesta squeezes her eyes shut. He’s too distracting. His presence, the warmth that radiates off his frame, his eyes and the kaleidoscope of emotions swimming amongst the golds and greens. She needs to think.
“Nesta,” Cassian begins, his voice soft and low.
“I said stop.”
Even his voice is distracting, the timbre and drawl of it skating across Nesta skin, wrapping around her limbs like a warm embrace. It seems to rumble from deep within his chest, and Nesta knows exactly what that chest feels like pressed against her own. She knows exactly how his lips feel dragging across her skin, against her lips, against–
“Why?” Nesta asks, her eyes flashing open again. “Why would you make that your end of the bargain then?”
“Because from the moment I saw you in that wood, I knew there would never be another for me.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“I was ready to drop to my knees before you bargain or not,” Cassian continues, stepping back into her space. This time, he wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her flush to him until Nesta has to tilt her chin up to keep eye contact. “Now, I know I said you could do whatever you wished as my wife, and that is still true, but you can’t tell me you wish to stay in this sorry village. Come home, wife.”
Warmth pools through Nesta’s chest, tugging just below her ribs, at her heart, but that voice in the back of her mind still scrambles and screams. “And how do I know I’m not escaping one cruel man just to run into the arms of another?”
The question pulls a growl from Cassian’s throat. “I would never dare to lay a hand on you unless you asked. And anyone who does dare will have my wrath to answer to, just like that sorry excuse of a man in the village square.”
Before she can think twice about it, before that voice can talk her out of it, Nesta presses up onto her toes, crashing her mouth against Cassian’s. He responds instantly, his lips dragging and sliding with her own, his arms and wings wrapping around her. There’s a comfort, a safety, a contentment here in his embrace, and that warmth in Nesta’s chest puts down roots, unfurls and blooms. It settles all the way down to the very marrow of her bones, to her soul.
When she finally pulls back from the kiss, she steps back from Cassian completely before he can drag her back under. She clears her throat and resettles the basket on her arm, turning on her heel and continuing toward her destination. Only when the familiar worn wood of the door comes into view does she finally stop again, turning over her shoulder.
“Stay out here.”
She doesn’t wait for Cassian’s response before she steps inside her family’s home, the scent of fresh bread greeting her. She spies her father asleep in the rickety chair he favors in front of the fire. Typical. With an annoyed huff, Nesta sets down her basket, heading in the direction of the bedrooms.
“Nesta? Is that you? You were in the market longer than I thought. I was starting to get worried.”
Nesta ignores her sister, continuing down the hall and through the bedroom door. She digs a bag out from beneath the bed, laying it open and turning toward the wardrobe. She makes quick work pulling out all her favorite dresses and folding them into some semblance of order.
“Nesta? Is everything–what are you doing?”
Nesta only glances toward Elain now standing in the doorway, Feyre standing just behind her and peering over the middle Archeron’s shoulder. Instead, Nesta returns to the task at hand, grabbing her most beloved books and adding them to the bag as well. Her attention dances briefly toward the old desk in the corner, but she presumes even a fae would have parchment and pen for her to write.
“Don’t ask questions,” Nesta finally says, closing the bag. “But I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Feyre echoes, stepping back enough that Nesta can walk back out of the bedroom.
“Yes. Now that there is no longer a marriage contract with the Mandrays, there’s no…” Nesta sighs, pausing in front of their home's front door and turning back toward her sisters, but there’s nothing but understanding on Elain and Feyre’s faces. “I’ll write once I’m settled. I swear it.”
With a final nod, Nesta pulls open the door, stepping back into the sun. As if she already inherently knows where to look, her eyes find Cassian where he’s leaning casually against the trunk of a tree. It’s reminiscent of the first time she saw the fae, only this time, his expression seems to soften as he takes her in. Nesta refuses to admit to the way her heart stutters at the smile on his face.
“Is that–”
“Don’t ask questions,” Nesta cuts Elain off. “Just know that this is what I want, that I’ll be happy. Don’t let father ever try to convince either of you that you don’t deserve that too.” She starts down the path away from their house before another thought occurs to her. “And perhaps stay out of the woods. Especially at night.”
Nesta continues down the path and across the grass until she reaches Cassian, wordlessly holding out her bag. She swears it’s purposeful, the way his fingers skate across her skin as he takes it, and yet goosebumps erupt up her arm either way. She waits for Cassian to begin leading the way back between the trees and deeper into the woods, but instead the fae takes the time to secure her bag over his shoulder until it rests between his wings.
“Oh, we’ll be flying,” Cassian explains, answering her unasked question.
“Flying?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll like it.”
Before Nesta can say anything else, Cassian scoops her up and into his arms, holding her close to his chest. Nesta is quick to wrap her own arms tightly around his neck, squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation of the rush, of the wind, but it never comes. When she opens her eyes again, she finds Cassian watching her. Waiting for her permission.
“Well? Take me home, husband.”
—
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies
#NestaWeek2024#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acosf#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nesta x cassian#my fic
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Amidst the Madness Chapter 3
You've all had me so absolutely FLOORED with the reaction to this fic so I decided to move chapter three up and get it out for Lover day of @nestaarcheronweek
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55268251/chapters/140703211
Teaser:
“You faeries have such strange romantic notions.” She plucked at a loose thread on her dress, “at first I thought it was because things are better here, more pregressive, but now I see it is only delusion.” Rhys inclined his head, inviting or daring her to continue, she wasn’t sure which. “What a ridiculous thought, that a man would not hurt a woman that belongs to him.”
“You don’t belong to anyone,” Feyre growled. Nesta only shrugged.
“Why do I get the feeling that isn’t exactly true in this frigid wasteland of a territory.” Rhys’ face went pale, the truth revealed in his darkening eyes.
“You are not Illyrian. Their customs do not apply to you.”
Nesta hummed, “How fortunate for me.”
#nessian#nesta archeron#nessian fanfiction#cassian#acosf#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#nesta and cassian#acotar
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Will You Let Me Hold You?
Written for @nestaarcheronweek Day 4: Lover
Summary:
“You want to hold me?” Nesta asked, almost as if he was speaking a different language.
The implications of it broke his heart, just a little more.
“Yes,” Cassian answered.
“Just hold me?”
“Yes, Nesta. Hasn’t anyone ever held you, just because they could?”
---
Aka 5 times Cassian shows Nesta affection through physical touch, and one time she returns the favor.
Read on A03:
Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @doriansgf @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @slipknotvol3 @stylishmuser
#archive of our own#nesta archeron#nessian#nesta x cassian#cassian#nesta archeron week 2024#Cassian Loves His Mate#acotar#nessian fanfiction
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Body Shot
Pairing: Nessian x Reader
Summary: Reader introduces Nes and Cass to body shots.
Warning: little smut and fluff. Unedited(sorry!)
A/N: This is not the same time line as Crush on Them. It is a standalone. Hope you like this❤️
Masterlist
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You walked into the House of Wind to see Cassian and Nesta kissing. You sigh at your lovers, always around each other kissing or fucking, not caring where they were or who near them. Though, you admit, you liked it. Liked how they didn't care what other people thought and just did whenever they wanted.
They break apart at the sound of your footsteps walking in. Both of them instantly turning to you and ginning. "You're back! How was you day?" Cass asks, getting up to kiss you welcome. You instantly melt into his lips, pouting when he pulls back.
"How do you think? Keir was an ass as always. I got the job done, though." He takes your gear and leathers off as you rant on about how Rhysand gave you a mission to go to Hewn City. Keir had some notice to give to the High Lord, but Rhys and Feyre were too busy with other things to go there themselves. You didn't get time to tell your partners about your task before going there, it took you an entire day to finally be able to come back.
"After going there, I got to know he wasn't even there that moment, I had to wait an entire hour before meeting him. I was so pissed." You huff as you sit on the couch beside Nesta before pulling her into a small kiss too. "And then the meeting was in some club, it was so disgusting. Everyone was drinking and humping anything they saw, and the smell! I almost puked! I swear I even saw a couple fucking in the background." You gag at the memory. Ness and Cass, too, grimacing in disgust with you.
"Alright we need wine if we want to erase that image out of our heads." Cassian walks out to the kitchen, leaving you and Nesta alone for a minute. You shift from your sitting position and lay your head on her lap, wrapping your arms around her waist and relaxing your head on the soft muscles of her thighs.
She waves her fingers through you hair, freeing them from your bun and massages your scalp lightly. You almost pur under her hands. She smiles slightly at your closed eyes and the tense of your body slowly relaxing with each stroke of her fingers.
You are almost asleep when Cassian walks back out, balancing three glasses and a bottle of white wine in his hands. "Alright, come on, drink up." He sits down at your other side as you get up from Nesta's lap, and he lines up the glasses to fill them.
"You know, you could've just asked the house to bring and serve these for us." You raise an eyebrow at him. Nesta smirks at you both and Cassian pauses pouring the wine for a second, frowning at the glass, as if he just now realized that. "Well- Maybe I just wanted the house to rest for a day." His tone sounding defensive before continuing his work.
You and Nesta laugh when he doesn't look at you while handing out your glasses.
-☆-
"You know, I also learned something else in that club today."
Both of your partners groan at your words. You have been talking non stop about all the vulger things you saw in those walls and how revolting you feel at them. They both were polite enough to hear you, but not listening anything that came out of your mouth. Their drunken states not helping at all in paying attention to things they don't want to listen to.
"Oh don't worry, this one's fun." You get up from where you were sprawled out on the ground. Nesta and Cassian laying on the couch, sitting in a position that can be described as in middle of sitting and laying. Their eyebrows raise as they look at your excited expression before glancing at each other with suspicion.
"Okay so this is apparently a thing they do in bars, it's called a body shot." Your smile raising their unsureness even more.
"And what is that?" Cassian asks.
"It's when one person lays down, and another person drinks alcohol off of them." You nod in enthusiasm.
"What do you mean off of them?" This time it's Nesta that asks because Cassian is still trying to understand what you said through his high head.
"Like, the person that's laying, has to hold a lemon in thier mouth and the other person puts salt on the layer's chest and spills drinks in thier navel and drinks from there." You try to explain as good as you can, but words don't seem to come to you to do so exactly.
Cassian frowns,"that navel part, sounds... unsanitary." Nesta nodding along him.
"Well that's true. Maybe we'll just make the person laying, hold the glass." You say.
"Oh so we are doing this?" Nesta blinks.
"Yes!! Come on it'll be so fun!" You pout.
"Well who will?" Nesta looks between the two of you.
"Don't look at me. I didn't understand any of it. I'll just mess it up." Cassian puts his hands up.
"Nesta, come on please. I really want to try it. It'll be alright if you really dont want to though. Your choice." You smile at her.
She looks at you and then Cassian and he nods, repeating your words. She inhales deeply before finally saying. "Fine. I'll do it." And you squeal in excitement.
"Alright. What do I have to do?" She gets up from the couch, standing in front of you. Slightly smiling at your excited face as you ask the house for a cut in half lemon and salt.
"Okay, take off your shirt." She does, but the second it's off, you and Cassian both get distracted when you realized she doesn't have anything underneath. She smirks at your reactions when cassian matters,"I don't know what's happening but I love it."; And you practically drool at her perfect breasts.
You quickly gather yourself and shake your head, trying to think straight. You clear your throat and say,"Alright, now lay down on your back on the ground." She does so without question. Laying in front of the couch so that Cassian can see you both from your sides. You kneel down beside her before draping one leg over her thighs, straggling her lap.
You take the glass of wine and instruct her to hold it. You sprinkle a pinch of salt over her naked chest and take the lemon,"Open your mouth." Your voice a thick with arousal as you try to keep your eyes away from her curvy flesh. Her lips part, taking one end of the piece of lemon between her teeth.
"Ready?" You wait until she nods and then dip down, parting your mouth to trail your tounge over her chest. Starting from her lower chest, slowly leading up. Feeling a little mischievous, you circle your tounge around her nipple, the sour taste of salt mixing with the sweet of her pirked bud. You smirk when she gasps under you.
You arch your spine, leveling your ass up for Cassian, giving him a perfect show as he groans. You sit up enough to take the glass out of Nesta's hand and drink down the liquid before putting it aside for the final step. You lean down again, parting your lips and take the other end of the lemon between your teeth. You graze your lips over hers, stilling a little to smirk at her fushed expression before leaning back and swallowing down the sour juice.
You take out the remains of lemon, and it vanishes, the house throwing it out for you. You smile widely at Nesta,"And that is a body shot."
The three of you are silent for a while as they try to take in what just happened. Your smile slowing flattens when Nesta doesn't say anything but just stares at you, up on her elbows. You think maybe she didn't like it and try to pull away from her, thinking of apologising before her hand suddenly shoots out, pulling you back onto her.
Before you could say anything she leans up and slams her lips to yours, her hand now gripping your hair and the other, behind you, wrapping around your waist and pulling you into her. You chests flushed together, her tightened nipples rubbing against the fabric of your clothes.
"Wait! So you liked it?" You pull back as far as you can with her hand pulling on your hair, she uses the time to bite and suck on your neck, and you whimper at the pain and pleasure.
"Yes." She whispers against your skin before pulling back to look into your eyes and says,"And we're not done."
She kisses harshly, and pulls at your clothes to rid of them, another pair of hands join hers when she fambles with the bottons too many times. She pulls back to concentrate on getting you out of your clothes while Cassian tips your head to side, your back against his chest now as he kneels behind you over Nesta, you lean up to kiss him too, just as passionately. His stubble grazing against the soft skin of your face and you whimper.
Nesta finally opens all the bottons of your shirt and roams her hand over your chest, pinching and twisting your nipples, making you moan into Cassians mouth. He pulls back to take Nesta's mouth on his as thier hands wrap and pull on your body. You moan again, you love seeing them kiss and having thier hands on you.
It is going to be a long night.
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#acotar#acotar fandom#acotar fanfiction#acotar fluff#cassian#nesta#nessian#nesta x cassian#nesta x reader#nesta x cassian x reader#cassian x reader#nessian x reader#nessian smut#nessian fanfiction#Nessian fluff#acotar smut
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Creator Highlight #2 - @asnowfern
Welcome back to Nessian Creator Highlights!! We want to take a moment to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use up so much of their freetime and creative energy to share their work with us!
Today we want to highlight @asnowfern
If you've never spoken to asnowfern, you're missing out. Besides being one of the nicest people in the fandom, her talent is immense. Blending history, mythology, and the characters we've all become so fond of, asnowfern is a master when it comes to telling an compelling, gorgeous story.
If you're looking for some nessian recommendations, try out these:
We're Not Strangers: Cassian's muscles twitched as every fibre of his being screamed at him to go after her. He didn't know her, not in this lifetime, not yet. OR another take on the reincarnation/soulmate trope.
Crimson Blade: When Paris-based Feyre stops contacting their London home, Nesta engages private detective Cassian to investigate. The truth turns out to be much bloodier than she ever expected. OR a vampire Cassian and human Nesta Victorian love story
The Writings On The Wall: “So why haven’t you killed me?” she demanded, continuing when he raised a questioning brow, “You’re a hunter. Isn’t that what you do?” “I hunt malicious demons.” he answered easily as the infuriating smile returned. “You don’t seem very malicious to me.” She's a demon, he's a hunter. Their fates intertwined after a chance encounter. Can Nesta and Cassian overcome all odds to be together?
You can find more- including Emorie- on @asnowferns AO3
#Nessian#fanfic#Nessian fanfic#Nessian fic#Nessian fanfiction#pro Nessian#fuckyesNessian#creator highlight
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Breed Me
Happy Valentine's Day!
A little one shot of pure smuttiness for all of you to enjoy today. Also, blame @tswaney17 for this! She sent me a video in IG of a pink cookie being decorated with the words 'Breed Me'. She said 'Elriel'. I said 'I have to write this'. So here you are.
This is an Elriel and Nessian smut
(Generally speaking a bonus set in the world of A Match Baked In Heave, but is a standalone)
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuckety fuck fuck.
She knew it. She just knew it. She knew that she’d forget. And she did. She even forgot to set the reminder not to forget.
Valentine’s Day.
Their first Valentine’s Day together.
The only excuse she managed to come up with was that they’ve been together for almost a year now. They began properly dating right around the last V Day, and therefore, it’s been some time and Nesta was allowed to forget. Or so she told herself. But she was the worst girlfriend ever. She didn’t even have a card for him!
The problem was that Nesta Archeron, barrister extraordinaire, successful, beautiful, admired, and well-put together always, did not possess a romantic bone in her body. Romance just wasn’t how she operated. Nesta liked to go to Michelin starred restaurants, she enjoyed good wines, she adored interesting trips, and she got emotional when walking down the streets of Florence overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and history of the place. But romantic, she was not. At least, not in the sense that people came to expect someone to express their romantic side–chocolates, flowers, jewellery, horrid chocolate lava cakes and even more terrifying public marriage proposals with the ring being dropped to the bottom of a champagne flute. If her boyfriend Cassian ever did that to her, she’d break up with him. Though that wasn’t exactly his style–he’d probably propose on a mountain peak, or looking out at some terrifying squall, or, if she were lucky, at night, on the streets of Florence, when no one was looking and it was the two of them.
But, enough about proposals and romantic gestures.
She’d leave that to her sister Elain. Her other sister, Feyre, had an even less romantic attitude than Nesta, if that was even possible. Feyre was hopeless in the romance department. Good thing her husband Rhysand was romantic enough for the two of them, and then some. If Rhys could gift Feyre the Moon on a string, he would.
That left Elain. The only one who was a romantic at heart, and per Feyre ‘romantic on steroids’ who adored V Day and began prepping for it in advance, the way others prepared for Christmas.
Nesta never enquired about Elain’s Valentine’s Day plans, because she was frankly, a bit scared. Though the Archeron girls were all girls, and close in age, they weren’t the types to discuss their sex lives with each other. They weren’t the types to change clothes in front of one another, and Nesta couldn’t remember when she saw any of her sisters naked. That’s just how they were. And Nesta preferred to keep it that way.
But today, she was desperate. And she was close to Elain’s house.
Unannounced pop-ins weren’t a thing that the sisters did either, but Nesta was always close to Elain and now, she hoped that Elain wouldn’t mind it. Besides, it was only 2 pm. What could Elain possibly be doing?
Just in case, though, Nesta sent a warning text “I am in the neighbourhood. And need to stop by. Are you decent?”
The last part would’ve seemed like an overkill, but it wasn’t. Because Elain, and her husband Azriel, were known to get it on frequently and at any time of day or night. Nesta had to get her eyes bleached by now, considering how many times she either overheard them or walked in on them. Azriel was a damn exhibitionist, who loved semi-public sex, and what’s more, the man’s had some peculiar interests, which made being in their company a veritable minefield of strange sexual encounters. Elain…well, she was in love. She was love-drunk, dick-drunk, and sex-drunk most of the time.
Nesta hurried down the street, before rushing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. True to Elain’s character, the white columns beneath the awning were decorated with pink, white and red roses. Love was in the air.
Nesta banged on the door and heard ‘it’s open!’
She entered the foyer, toed off her boots and almost ran to the open concept first floor kitchen and sitting room.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” her sister asked, worry etched on her pretty face.
Elain was wearing a pink dress with red flowers and a wide pink headband, which struggled to contain waves of her thick curls. The dress accentuated her growing stomach, which was just beginning to round and pop at 4.5 months. Of course, Elain made the prettiest pregnant woman in the world. Shiny hair, sparkling eyes, clear skin, a wide smile, gorgeous boobs, no weight gain other than in her stomach, and the most perfect pregnancy–no violent sickness, explosive vomiting, sickening cravings or swollen ankles for the middle Archeron sister.
“I am brilliant!” Nesta put on a fake smile. “Just need a few ideas,”
Elain eyed her with a disapproving look and then said,
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Ummm, forgot what?” Neta decided to play stupid.
“Don’t play stupid,” her sister snapped. “You forgot about Valentine’s Day and now Cassian doesn’t have a gift, does he?”
Nesta plopped on the stool by the marble bar and announced with pretend excitement,
“No. But that’s where you come in!”
“Oh, is that so?” rolled her eyes and then picked up a pastry bag, and curled over the counter. “Am I expected to get your boyfriend a Valentine’s Day gift?”
“No, no, no,” Nesta assured her breezily. “Nothing like that. Just…ideas. Give me some ideas. I will execute!”
Elain thought for a second, absorbed in whatever she was doing with that pastry bag, and then explained,
“Men don't care about presents. Not for this type of holiday,”
“They don’t?”
“No! Cass doesn’t want a box of chocolates!” she laughed. “He’d just have to work it out longer at the gym.”
“So then…?” Nesta’s voice trailed as her brows knitted in confusion.
“You are hopeless!” Elain sighed. “Romance. Seduction. That’s what he wants. Seduce him…”
“O-kay…As in?”
“I have to teach you how to seduce a man?” Elain demanded.
“I don’t need to seduce him. He is already seduced!”
“Expand your repertoire,” Elain all but ignored Nesta’s reasoning. “Do something you don't normally do,”
“What, whips and chains?”
“Why must you go that far? Unless you want to be chained and whipped?”
“No thanks.”
Nesta knew for a fact that that was more of an Elain and Azriel thing.
“Then what?” she asked again.
“What about sending him a sexy video?” Elain proposed.
“I am not sending nudes,” Nesta stated firmly. “If that ever gets out,”
“You think he is going to share your nudes?”
“Phones get hacked. Next idea?”
Elain sighed and then leaned back against the fridge, and crossed her arms on her chest.
“Have you tried introducing some whipped cream? Strawberries?”
“I don’t like mixing sex with food,” Nesta told her.
“Oh god. Well, what do you like?”
“My choices are nudes or rolling around in greasy sheets?” Nesta demanded crossly.
“Play a game,”
“What kind of game?”
“Like a sex game. You tell him one of your desires, and he tells you one of his, and you both do it,” Elain proposed.
Nesta chewed on her lips, thinking about it. It wasn’t a terrible idea.
“What else?”
“Try having sex in an unusual place,” Elain suggested. “Not in bed or a shower. But somewhere you don’t usually do it in,”
“Hmmm. Okay.”
This was giving Nesta ideas.
“We have a book,” Elain began but Nesta shook her head,
“No. Please no. I don’t want real-life examples from your sex escapades!!!”
“All I wanted to say,” Elain pouted, “was that if you have a sexy book or a magazine, you can open it to a random page and act out whatever is there…”
“Oh. Hmmm. That’s not bad. You’ve done that?”
“You just said no real-life examples!” Elain reminded her dryly.
“Yeah, true.”
Giving her a meaningful look of pure judgement, Elain added, “wouldn’t hurt if you dressed in something other than your smart clothes and your suits.”
“Lingerie?”
“It’s been known to help.”
In the next moment, Nesta exclaimed, “Oh my god, what is that!?!? Elain?!”
Elain glanced at the MASSIVE bouquet of pale pastel flowers that Azriel had given her earlier today. It wasn’t unusual that Azriel would give her flowers, so she didn’t quite understand Nesta’s reaction.
But Nesta was staring, wild-eyed, at what Elain was doing, and she saw a whole array of sugar biscuits, which were already shiny with icing, and upon which Elain was writing.
Writing such as:
Lick Me
I Lick You
Butt Play
Toys
Anal
Reverse Cowgirl
Pearl Necklace
Blindfold
Breed Me
Outside
Car BJ
69
And many others, which Nesta couldn’t even make out.
“What the hell is this?!” she cried out.
Elain began to scramble pathetically, trying to turn the biscuits over, but it was too late. Nesta’s seen enough.
“Elain! What the heck are you two up to?”
“Okay, whatever,” Elain was redder than the icing on the bakes. “It’s a game, okay? We are going to play a game too!”
“What kind of game is this?!”
“I think it’s obvious,” Elain hissed.
“Not really…”
“My god,” she rolled her eyes and threw her head back dramatically. “It’s a very simple game, Nesta. There is a platter of biscuits–you select one or two, and read what it says. Then you do it.”
Nesta’s eyes bugged out,
“So you are going to do anal?!?! Or a car BJ!?”
“I don’t know!!!!!!!!!!!” Elain screeched, all flustered and red. “Maybe! Maybe we’ll do anal,”
“You are pregnant,”
“You can have anal when you are pregnant. Also, I am not discussing this with you anymore. I’ve given you ideas. That’s it!” she stomped her foot.
Before the conversation could escalate even further and end up in a potential screaming match, the front door opened and Azriel’s deep, highly masculine and unabashedly sexual voice announced,
“Two jacket potatoes, coming up. Baby, I hope you are naked, because I am fucking gearing up to eat your pussy like a bulldog eats cereal.
“Also, they made me run three sprints today–though I told him that I am an old man with a wonky knee–but per your request, I am still sweaty. So have your way with me, lick it up.”
Nesta made a gagging noise deep inside her chest.
“We are not alone!” Elain screamed frantically.
“Who are we with? The dogs don’t count.”
Elain and Azriel had four dogs. The oldest, who was Elain’s originally, and then he had three sons–Benny, Churchy and John Boy–whom Elain and Azriel also kept. So, the dad and the three sons ran around together, and caused mischief and were four of the cutest dog potatoes ever.
When Azriel stepped inside, holding–by the looks of it–Churchy and Benny in each arm, both of them were dressed in red sweaters, it dawned on Nesta what he meant by ‘jacket potatoes’. Because it was kind of unbelievable that Elain and Azriel would dine on jacket potatoes for Valentine’s Day. Nevermind that Azriel was planning on dining on something else entirely.
“Oh, Nesta,” he muttered, without an ounce of excitement.
“Don’t worry, I am just leaving,” she got up from her seat, scowling. “I don’t need to be hearing about all your perversions,”
“Perversions?” Azriel smirked. “Judgey much?”
Elain was still squirming from embarrassment, but Azriel didn’t seem to care that his sister-in-law became privy to some seriously serious sex talk.
“The boys are knackered,” he announced, dumping the two pugs into their beds. They didn’t even wake up. Both were outfitted with heart-shaped headbands, and red jumpers with white hearts.
“Nesta, something you need?” he asked, “or,”
“Definitely not! The last thing I need to see is my sister licking your sweat or whatever the fuck you implied she was going to do to you.”
He laughed, while Elain buried her face in her hands.
Azriel was abnormally handsome–in a way that was almost unnatural, and his handsomeness allowed him to get away with a lot of nonsense.
“Let me guess, you forgot it was V Day and didn’t get my brother anything,” he suggested, stepping behind Elain and wrapping his arms around her.
“Ha! Not even close!” Nesta lied.
“All right then.” Azriel clearly didn’t believe her. “Then off you go, ice princess. I need to fuck my wife.”
“Az!” Elain moaned helplessly, while Azriel turned her around and cupped her face in his hands.
“What?” he smiled, while his tongue traced a line against her lips. “Let’s make Nessie so uncomfortable, she’ll run out screaming!”
“Already there,” Nesta hissed.
With Elain’s back to her and Azriel occupied with the kiss, Nesta quickly swiped a bunch of biscuits from the counter and dropped them in her bag. She can play the game too!
“Bye, you degenerates!” she cried out, and ran out, hearing Elain’s soft ‘byeeee’ on the way out.
-
Nesta and Cassian
“Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome,” Nesta cooed. “Do you want to play a game?”
“Any game you want, sweetheart,” Cassian offered, his voice thick and husky, “I’ll even lose, if you’d like me to,” he promised. His normally bright hazel eyes were dark and satiny, glistening with want and lascivious desire, as they skimmed over Nesta’s stunning lushness, presented to him in all its glory.
She greeted him in their kitchen, when he stomped inside like a big bear, dripping with February rain. He sure didn’t expect to find her there–wrapped up like the perfect candy box of Valentine’s chocolates for him to unwrap. Truthfully, he thought that she’d forgotten about it today–this holiday wasn’t her jam. But, oh how wrong he was.
Nesta was splayed on the white quartz countertop, dressed in nothing but blood-red silky lingerie, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The panties were little more than a piece of tissue paper, covering literally nothing, and the bra, which was tasked with containing Nesta’s lavish cleavage, was hardly anything more.
The bra was held together by an innocent looking rose, which nestled at the juncture of her soft, plush tits. While the same rose was attached to the top of the panties, just below her belly button.
“Well, that won’t be necessary,” Nesta assured him breezily, slowly, but intentionally crossing one long leg over the other. To complete the festive look, she wore gravity-defying red Louboutin heels. “I think we can both be winners in this game.”
She slowly walked her manicured fingers down the countertop, to an assortment of heart-shaped biscuits which were laid out in a…heart shape.
Cassian was a bit shocked. Not just from watching the gorgeous body and the spectacular set that she was wearing, but also from all this wild Valentine-ism that she went out of her way to do. He wasn’t expecting it. This was more of an Elain thing to do.
But he’d lost his ability to speak anyway, so it was a moot point. He was trying to wrap his mind around everything that he was seeing. There were only harsh, primal sounds coming from his gut. Very caveman-like.
“Pick a biscuit,” Nesta offered, tapping her finger next to each one.
Cassian shucked off his sodden jacket and his brogues, tossing his suit coat on the floor, uncaring. Slowly, like a lion stalking a lioness in the wild, he approached Nesta, trying to appear unaffected.
“What do we have here?” he finally managed to ask, licking his lower lip slowly. Nesta tracked the movement and shifted her body, so that her breasts almost spilled out of the flimsy bra cups, her nipples straining against the transparent lace.
“A gift for you,” she offered, batting her lashes at him.
“And what will it say?” he pondered, slowly untying the topknot of his long, black hair.
“I don’t know,” she admitted innocently. “But whatever you pick, you get to do to me…How does that sound?”
“Sounds like I am up to the challenge,” he promised, watching her bite her lower lip.
His cock stirred within his trousers, while he watched her full lips glisten with a smear of bright red gloss. What a trail it would leave on his cock. The thought alone made him harder.
Absently, he picked up one of the biscuits and then turned it, to see the message.
“Hmmm,” he hummed, cocking his brow.
Nesta craned her neck to sneak a peek, but he tsked and shook his head.
“No, no, Miss Archeron, a deal is a deal. Whatever it says, I will do.”
“But what does it say?”
“Something very interesting, and something I am very in the mood to do,” he told her and then slipped the biscuit in his back pocket.
She pouted, but it didn’t last long, because Cassian leaned over her and kissed her. Grasping her slim wrist in his huge hand, he brought it firmly to the swell of his cock.
“Must have been an interesting message,” she murmured into his mouth, but he wrapped his lips over her soft, pouty mouth and pried the sticky red lips apart with his tongue. Her thin fingers groped his dick firmly, just like he liked it, and a satisfied moan slipped from his lips, landing on Nesta’s tongue. She still sprawled on the counter, but despite the awkward position, Cassian put his big, warm hands on her thighs, travelling slowly over her soft skin toward the gossamer coverage of her panties, until his thumbs traced the warm wet slit beneath the material.
Nesta moaned into his cheek, biting the skin on his jaw, as she squeezed his shaft harder, working it over with her expert hand. She smelled incredible, her expensive Chanel perfume tickling his nose, as he inhaled deeply, while thrusting his palms under her ass cheeks and palming her hard. He caressed her tongue with his, opening her further up to his kiss, kneading the soft bare skin of her behind. She breathed hotly into his mouth, letting go of his cock and winding her arms around his neck. The loss of her hand on his erection was tragic, but that also allowed Cassian to pull her to him, making her grand tits press into his chest and the warmth of her pussy into his dick. She rubbed against him impatiently, murmuring ‘sorry for ruining your trousers’ to which he replied, ‘feel free to ruin all of me, sweetheart’.
She nodded, her long leg wrapping around his calves and pulling him even closer. The lips of her pussy stretched around the base of his erection, and she ground on him firmly and confidently.
“What’s my present for V day?” she teased, stroking his long hair and the back of his neck.
“Also a fun game,” he said, dragging his tongue over her mouth, kissing her lazily and with obscene sort of tenderness, indulging in her scent and her taste.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A version of whack-a-mole.”
“Are you the mole?” she queried.
“I am the whacker and the mole,” Cassian told her confidently.
-
Azriel and Elain
“Where was I?” Azriel murmured, watching Elain’s arched body in front of him. “Oh yes,” he remembered, “spreading your legs…”
He was behind her, his scarred palm rough on her hip, as he parted her thighs further. She was panting loudly, and he smiled, caressing her hair lovingly, “my little pillow-biter”.
“Mmm,” was all Elain managed, while the head of his hot, heavy, hefty cock prodded at her entrance, but he didn’t push inside. Instead, his hand slipped under her and stroked her round belly, while he whispered, “he good?”
She nodded yes. “He is good.”
“Ask for my cock, wife,” he then ordered.
She wiggled her round ass against his groin, the underside of his hard cock landing between her butt cheeks, but didn’t do as he asked.
He tsked and then slapped the heavy pole over her folds, making her gasp and clutch the sheets harder in her hands.
“Be a good girl, and ask,” he encouraged her, but she shook her head, stifling another moan when he smacked his cock over her pussy.
“Oh god,” was all she managed, because while it hurt, it also felt so good.
“I am waiting,” he sang, gripping her breasts in his hands and painfully twisting her nipples.
“Mmm–nooo,” she argued like a brat, shaking her head stubbornly.
Azriel sighed and contemplated for a moment, as he casually fondled her tits, half-seated on her hips.
“Last chance, beautiful. Ask for my dick,” he told her.
She shook her head and remained silent.
The thrill of punishment made her even hornier, as she didn’t know what he was going to do.
Flipping her over on her back, he kneeled on one knee over her and cupped his balls in his hand, lazily stroking his shaft. When she made to touch it, he said, “nope. You didn't ask for my cock like a good wife should. Now you are not getting it until I am ready to give it to you,”
He traced his lips with his thumb, while still rubbing his shaft, smearing precum over it, before sliding down and straddling her chest. Gathering her heavy breasts in his hands, he then spit on his dick and firmly pushed her breasts together. “Get ready, sweetness,” he warned, before thrusting his thick cock inside her cleavage. “Now, you are going to take my cock like my good girl, swallow nice and deep, while I fuck your pretty titites,” he instructed, pumping slowly between her breasts. “Tongue out,” he ordered, and Elain stuck her tongue out for him. The smooth head of his cock immediately landed on it, and she burrowed the tip into the sexy little slit, licking on it, tasting him. “That’s a good girl,” he approved, smiling down at her, as he quickly fluffed a pillow behind her head, so that the angle was just right. He squeezed her breasts even harder, and she gasped, especially when he tweaked her nipples, but he didn’t stop thrusting steadily, his movements precise and firm, so that the head of his cock remained inside her mouth for her to lick and suck on.
“Eye contact at all times, my love,” he reminded her, smiling at her, before pushing deeper in her mouth. Elain watched him obediently, her mouth full of him, her lips stretched around the thickness of the shaft, as she panted loudly around him. He jiggled her tits playfully, keeping them wrapped around his base and his balls. “Now you’ll have my cock in your mouth for as long as I want, naughty girl,” he pinched her nipples, “start sucking, baby.”
Elain submitted, immobilised beneath his weight, sucking scrupulously and hard, as she watched him like he wanted.
She wanted to be here too, in this place, in his position. She enjoyed being dominated, and Azriel dominated her well. She didn’t crave pain, though when he spanked her, or choked her, or slapped her with his dick, she loved it, but she needed to submit to his desires. She loved taking his cock any way he told her to, loved to serve him in bed, loved to give up control.
So she sucked sloppily, while he pumped her tits and worked his heavy balls up and down her chest.
“Is that good, pretty girl?” he asked.
She nodded, gasping for breath when he pushed his cock deeper. He didn’t stop, and pressed further, whispering “choke on it, beautiful. Come on!”
She sputtered and choked, her eyes pleading with him silently, as tears ran down her cheeks, but he shook his head.
“No. Swallow. And choke,” he ordered. “Open up. Wider,” and as she did, he plunged further, into her already trained throat.
After they got married, for three months all she did was suck his cock multiple times a day, learning how to train her gag reflex, learning how to truly suck dick, falling in love with it.
He released her tits from his grip, and she noticed the blossoming of bruises on her skin, while he propped himself on his arms, before starting to fuck her mouth greedily and obscenely.
Elain relaxed under the onslaught of his expertly delivered thrusting in her mouth and while he still choked her, she was also enjoying herself. She loved her husband more than it was rational or describable. Azriel fulfilled every dream, every hope, every desire, every need that she had.
Elian hummed against the hard, hot pole in her mouth, which made Azriel feel drunk, particularly when the sound reverberated in her throat, tickling the head of his shaft. He lovingly brushed his thumb over her cheek, watching her bob up and down and meeting every push of his shaft. The noises that she was making–sloppy, wet, explicit–were an erotic symphony in his ear. If he could listen to her gag on his dick for the rest of his life, he probably would.
“You are so good to me,” he whispered. “My Ellie. But, I promised you a gift.”
He eased his pounding of her mouth and resumed his spot on her chest, sliding his shaft back between her breasts. Her breathing eased and she put her hands on his firm, muscle-corded thighs, stroking him slowly, running her fingertips through the nest of pubes around his cock.
His balls tightened and this member twitched next to her sternum, while she squeezed his rock-hard ass cheeks in her hands, digging her nails into his skin. Just like her, he liked a bit of pain as well.
He pulled out of her mouth just in time for the warm jets of cum to land on her lips, her neck and her chest.
“Mmmm, more,” she finally moaned, licking the familiar salty outpouring from her lips, while he kept coming, until it was dripping down her chest. He scooped some with his fingers and let her lick them off the sperm.
“Beautiful girl,” he purred lovingly. “With a beautiful pearl necklace.”
She laughed and touched her neck. There, beneath the globs of cum, was her new pearl necklace, her Valentine’s gift and the present for her pregnancy.
Azriel collapsed on the bed next to her and then handed her a glass of water. She chugged it down gratefully and he took the biscuit from the nightstand. On it, in pretty script it was written ‘Pearl Necklace’.
Elain got up, amidst his protests and skipped to the bathroom, where she washed off her V Day gift and brushed her teeth.
Then, she quickly returned to bed and collapsed into the embrace of her husband.
“I love you, you know,” he said seriously, spooning her from behind.
“I do know that,” she smiled and kissed his hand. “And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”
He kissed her shoulder gently and then arranged her against himself, before spreading her pussy with his fingers and nudging his already-hard dick inside. He thrust in slowly, filling her gradually and completely. She sighed contentedly.
“Are you hungry?” he worried.
She shook her head and made herself comfortable on his bicep.
“But I am happy.”
“I am happy if you are happy,” he said to her, and kissed her cheek.
Elain yawned.
Incredibly, of all the biscuits that she would have selected, she randomly chose ‘cock warming’--her very favourite thing to fall asleep with. It’s almost like she…cheated.
-
Nesta and Cassian
Nesta rolled her hips, seated on Cassian’s knees. Her own knees were tucked against his thighs, pressing tightly into him, holding him immobile.
“You look delicious, Nes,” he ground, his voice choked, as he ran his thick fingers through her long silky hair, though now it was tangled against her back.
Her pussy was dripping his shaft, each fold splayed prettily to accommodate his considerable girth and he couldn't get enough of the sight. Especially with the red of her panties pulled aside haphazardly, reminding Cassian of how impatient she was with him.
A lock of hair bounced over her round breasts, still covered by the bra cup, but it didn’t stop him from putting his mouth over her puckering nipple and biting.
“Fuck me, Cassian,” she grunted through gritted teeth, holding onto the back of his neck. She ground down on him, taking him inside her gorgeous body wholly, tempting tits swaying freely next to his face. He bit her nipple again, sucking on it through the material, and her head fell forward, pressing into his forehead.
The wet, hot friction between them was almost unbearable, but Cassian held her firmly by the hips, fucking up into her and making her take all of him again and again. It was pure, glorious heaven.
“Gimmie a kiss, sweetheart,” he told her, as he fucked her with rough, deep strokes. This was his favourite Nesta–weakened and compliant, her lips pink and glossy, when he took her mouth in a messy, wet kiss. She keened into him, allowing him full control of her body, sucking on his tongue like he wanted her to–soft and sighing with pleasure. He rocked her steadily, his thrusts deep and punishing, as he caressed her arched back and the peachy cut of her ass. She took him breathlessly, her mouth forming an almost shocked ‘O’ every time he hit that perfect spot inside of her, angling her body just so and making her cry out loudly again and again.
“Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.”
Her head lolled to the side and she closed her eyes, her grip on his neck and shoulders easing, and he held her closer, allowing her to relax and know that he had her.
“Good fucking girl,” he murmured into her hair, pressing his thumbs into the divots above her ass. “Letting me fuck and breed this perfect pussy.”
At that, Nesta exploded. The squelching sounds of her dick pushing inside her became a staccato of explicit, sultry melody.
“GOD. Cassian. I love you,” she squealed, as he huffed and grunted with adoration at her words.
The walls of her pussy squeezed him tightly, holding him in an almost painful vise-like grip, as she climaxed all over him, melting into a loud, needy scream. She fell into his chest, pumped continuously and nestled her face into the crook of his neck, sucking on it with desperation.
Only then did Cassian let go of his iron self control and came inside of her, letting her milk every drop of his seed.
“Beautiful, Nes,” he babbled in her ear. “Take it all. Finally.”
This was perfection.
The way she gripped him and how her pussy pulsed all around his dick was incredible.
Nesta was severely allergic to any hormonal contraceptives, and non-hormonal IUD didn’t work for her, causing constant bleeding and extreme discomfort. So they practised the ‘natural method’ and he never came inside of her. Until tonight. Finally. It was amaz-
“Cassian!!!” she cried out. “What the hell?!? What did you do?!”
She pushed against his chest and stared at him with a horrified expression.
“What did I do?” he exclaimed, alarmed.
He was in fact, still orgasming inside of her.
“What?!” he repeated.
“You came!” she accused him pointlessly.
“Well, yes,” his brow furrowed.
“Inside!” she stated the obvious, like he wasn’t aware.
“Well, yeah. You wanted me to!” he reminded her, as he kissed her lips.
“What? When did I want you to?”
“Nesta,” he sighed. “I know you are blissed out, baby, but you asked me to,”
“Asked you what?!”
“To come inside of you. Calm down, sweetheart.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“Stop freaking out. It’s going to be okay.”
“When did I ask you?!” she repeated again.
“The cookie.”
“What cookie?!?!” she screamed.
“The biscuit. That you told me to choose.”
“What about it??!!!” she wiped her face.
“It said Breed Me.”
She stared at him helplessly, mouth open.
Cassian kissed her again and pumped into her deeper, making everything seem inevitable.
“So I bred you,” he shrugged, looking proud of himself.
-
Fucking Elain and her fucking biscuits.
#elriel#nessian#azriel and elain#elain x azriel#nesta and cassian#cassian and nesta#elain archeron#azriel#nesta archeron#my fanfiction#nessian fanfiction#elriel fanfic#my writing
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Feysand Oneshot
𝗙𝗲𝘆𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁🥰
𝗜 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗳 𝗜’𝘃𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀. 𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗔𝗖𝗢𝗦𝗙 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗚𝘄𝘆𝗻𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗹 & 𝗡𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲….
Two weeks after Feyre gives birth….
The curtains swayed slightly as a gentle breeze flew into Rhysand and Feyre’s room. He’d left the windows open at her request right before she fell asleep on her sketch pad. Even while on strict bedrest she refused to stay away from painting. Today he and Nyx were her subjects. He held their baby as she sketched smiling softly to herself. Until she fell asleep still drowsy from the drugs Madja had administered.
It’d been two weeks since she’d almost died. Since Rhys had almost lost her and their son. No matter how long he lived Rhys would never forget the complete and desolate despair he’d felt in those moments. The horrible feeling of helplessness. How even being the most powerful high lord in history could not help him save his wife and son.
If it wasn’t for Nesta….His heart clenched painfully as he thought about what might have happened. He would never stop being grateful for Nesta. Ever.
“Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles and then I would have to trade you in for a younger model”
Rhys looked up to see Feyre awake.
“Why are you sitting over there?” she asked.
Because he couldn’t get comfortable. No matter how hard he tried. His instincts,his powers were always on alert. Always watching. He hadn’t slept for two weeks but Feyre didn’t know that. He carefully kept that part of his mind locked away. She would worry and that was the last thing she needed. No. He would stay awake and watch over their family.
Rhys felt like at any moment she would slip away. Nyx would slip away. And there would be nothing he could do about it.
“Rhys?”
“Yes Darling?”
“Come to bed.”
“Let me get Nyx first”
After Feyre had fallen asleep,Mor had come to get the baby to lay him down for a nap. Even though the River House was impenetrable considering Rhys had warded it like a fortress,he still couldn’t breathe properly until both Feyre and his son were in front of him.
He knew Nyx was in the nursery. Their minds were already connected. He could see Nyx’s dreams and random thoughts. Their son was a deamati too. And right now,Rhys could see Nyx looking up at Mor as she giggled and played with him.
“Nyx is fine. Mor is with him. He’ll fall asleep in no time”
“But-“
“Come to bed Rhys” she said leaving no room for argument.
He stoop up from the chair and went to her. She wrapped her arms around him and placed his head on her chest lightly stroking his hair. He entertwined their legs together under the blankets.
I know you haven’t been sleeping ‘ she said into his mind.
I sleep. When you’re asleep.’
Don’t lie to me’
He sighed and looked up at her with those violet eyes. Feyre could literally see stars in them.
“I’m sorry” he said quietly.
He nuzzled deeper into her as she continued stroking his hair. Her strokes turned slower,more gentle..
“I know what you’re doing” he mumbled as his eyes started feeling heavy.
Ten minutes later he was asleep. Feyre kissed his head and held him tighter.
——————————————————————————————
A soft knock woke him up.
The bed was empty.
Where was Feyre? Nyx?
“Feyre?” he called out.
“I’m here” she said poking her head out of their closet.
He mentally checked in with Nyx who was dreaming of…a river filled with milk? He must be hungry. Rhys smiled and shared the image with Feyre who laughed out loud.
“I’ll tell Mor to bring him back”
The knock sounded on the door again. Rhys stood up to open it and a sentry stood outside.
She bowed her head and said “I’m sorry to disturb my Lord. The High Lord of Day has arrived”
“Thank you Lia. I’ll be right there”
He closed the door and turned to Feyre. She was wearing one his sweaters as she climbed back into bed. He should’ve have brought comfortable clothes closer to her so she wouldn’t need to stand up.
“I can get my own clothes Rhys. Stop treating me like an invalid” she said shaking her head at him.
He was about to reply when Mor barged in holding Nyx.
“Helion is here” Mor announced. “And this little angel is about put his lungs to good use unless you feed him”
Feyre reached out to collect him and Mor placed him gently in her hands. She sat by her as she fed him stroking Feyre’s hair lovingly. Feyre looked up to see Rhys still standing…watching them.
“Helion is waiting” she said gently.
He nodded. Then walked over to kiss her and Nyx before turning to leave.
——————————————————————————————
He found his friend in the private library with Azriel,Cassian,Nesta and Gwyn? She never came to the River House. He knew because Nesta and Azriel had invited her many times but she always declined.
“And how old is he?” she was saying to Helion.
“Thousand of years old”
“Oh my goodness” she said in awe. Azriel stood behind her shaking his head.
Cassian noticed Rhys standing by the door and walked over to him.
“How’s Feyre”
“She’s…getting better”
Cassian nodded.
“What’s going on here?“ Rhys asked.
Cassian chuckled before saying “Az finally got Gwyn to agree to come here when he told her Helion was arriving with his Pegasus.”
That made sense. Gwyn had an almost obsessive fascination with the magical creatures. He was sure Helion was happy to meet someone who cared about the creatures as much as he did.
“Maellan is by the River. You can see him if you wish”
“I’ll take you” Az said gently taking her hand.
“Thank you so much” she said to Helion.
She turned and was startled to see Rhys at the door. Gwyn bowed and Rhys said “Hello Gywn”
“Hello. Congratulations on the birth of your son. I hope he and the High Lady are doing well”
“They are. Thank you” he said smiling warmly.
She blushed before Azriel dragged her away throwing a warning glance at Rhys. Rhys heard something like
“he needs to keep those smiles to himself” in Azriel’s mind as the shadowsinger walked away.
Helion went to Rhys and hugged him. “Congratulations my friend. I’m so happy for you”
“Thank you Helion”
“How is Feyre and the babe?”
“They’re doing well.”
Helion observed him closely. “You don’t like to leave them”
“Not if I can help it”
Helion nodded. They turned to walk out of the library and headed to the gardens to talk further.
——————————————————————————————
After Helion left,Rhys went back to his room and found Cassian and Nesta with Feyre and Nyx who was in Nesta’s arms. The baby kept staring at Nesta and giggling. Nesta was cooing to him in a baby voice. Cassian stood next to her watching them.
He climbed into bed with Feyre and threw an arm around her shoulder.
“Everything alright?” she asked
He nodded then said,“Helion informed me that Kallias,Thesan and Tarquin would all love to formally meet the baby. They asked Helion to meet with me and inquire if that was feasible”
“Is it going to be a ceremony of some sort?” Feyre asked
“No” Rhys replied gently. “I think our friends want to meet our son”
“Oh…Alright then”
“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling up to it-“
“I’m fine Rhys. I promise”
Rhys nodded and bent down to lightly kiss her.
Cassian covered Nyx’s eyes “Honestly Rhys there is a baby in here”
Rhys flipped him off.
Nesta gently placed Nyx in his cradle before dragging Cassian out to give the new parents some privacy.
Some minutes later,Nyx fell asleep and an image flashed into Rhys and Feyre’s mind as their son started dreaming. Tears sprung into Rhysand’s eyes as he saw what Nyx was dreaming about.
A swirling cosmos of stars and light. And right in it’s center…his face and Feyre’s shone brightly with love.
The center of their son’s universe.
Just as he was theirs.
#gwyneth berdara#azriel x gwyn#gwynriel#pro gwynriel#gwynriel headcanon#gwyn berdara#gwynriel fic#pro gwyn#nesta archeron#house of wind gang#pro feysand#feysand supremacy#pro feyre archeron#high lady feyre#rhysand x feyre#pro rhys#high lord rhysand#nessian fanfiction#nessian#nesta x cassian#nesta acosf#pro nesta#pro cassian#pro inner circle#pro azriel#pro gwyneth berdara#pro rhysand#pro feyre
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Balter
Balter (v): to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment
for @nestaarcheronweek day three: "Self-care." I would like to see Nesta find the joy she does in dancing without the judgment and need for perfection she faced as a child, and I think that that could be a form of self-care for her.
Pushing down on the brass handle of the entry door, Nesta pressed forward over the threshold and into the building. Feyre had mentioned an empty dance studio near her art class on the Rainbow, and Nesta had finally worked up the courage to go inside.
The dim hallways echoed with her footsteps, that and her quiet breathing the only sounds in the building. A door was cracked open to her left, light pouring into the hall from what she could see was the studio.
Nerves wracked through her, shaking the anxiety out of her hands before gaining the courage to step into a room so similar to those her grandmother had forced her to spend hours in as a child.
But when she stepped into the space, there was a warm to the light, and a comfort she felt at being the only person in there. There were no strict teachers, no mothers or grandmothers to critique her form. It was only Nesta, and she couldn’t help the pleasured smile that reflected back at her through the mirrored wall.
Setting her bag down in the corner, Nesta settled in for warm up stretches, breathing deep to let her muscles fully relax as she pushed and pulled them. She was surprised at how peaceful it was in here, a place to herself.
Standing, Nesta moved to her bag and retrieved the symphonia Cassian had gifted her, eyes glittering at the sight of the thoughtful gift. Setting it down in front of the mirror, she tapped the orb and basked in the melody that rang through the space.
She let her body flow with the music as she began to dance. Occasionally trying movements and variations from her childhood dance lessons, Nesta smiled both when she recalled the movements perfectly and when she made a “mistake.”
There was no one here to tell her how to do things, how her shoulders were hunched or her legs weren’t turned out. It was a new type of freedom she hadn’t experienced yet, and it unleashed a new type of joy.
Twirling as many times as she could, spilling her soul into each motion with precision and error, accuracy and disregard, Nesta bloomed in the freedom of movement. She expressed herself, lost and found herself in the music until she was dripping in sweat.
Wiping her forehead, Nesta heard a knock at the door and looked up to see Cassian’s proud smile. The Illyrian leaned against the frame, admiring his mate for a long moment before he spoke.
“Feyre mentioned that you might be here. I thought we could go for dinner in the town tonight?”
Nesta’s smile only grew, a release she’d unlocked within herself pouring into the world and spreading like bright wildfire. “I would love to,” she replied, running to press a kiss to Cassian’s lips. “Let me get cleaned up here.”
As Nesta moved to collect the symphonia, a tune started playing which tugged on her heartstrings - the song she and Cassian had first danced to at the Court of Nightmares, and again at their mating ceremony.
She looked to the doorway in search of her mate, but found it empty. Instead, Cassian stood behind her in the center of the room with a knowing smile, one arm politely tucked behind his back as the other remained held out for her to accept.
“May I have this dance?” he whispered, breathless at the sight of Nesta’s gaze on him, those silver flames in her eyes every bit as powerful as when they danced to this song the first time.
Her gentle hand wrapped around his, the other resting on his shoulder as they danced - not how they did at the Court of Nightmares, or even at their mating ceremony. They danced like they were the only two people in the world - two souls recklessly twining together like thread of fabric, without care if they might tangle, for they’d be together forever nonetheless.
The song ended, but they danced in the quiet for some time after that before Nesta’s stomach growled. A soft chuckle escaped Cassian’s lips, the general looking down at his mate to admire her features.
“Let’s get you some dinner,” he whispered, and she nodded, immoderately content in that moment. “I watched you for a moment. You seemed very happy to go back to dance,” Cassian noted.
Nesta nodded, tossing her bag over her shoulder before reaching for Cassian’s hand. “I was. I think it’s a nice form of self care, almost therapeutic for me. I think I’ll keep doing it.”
#nestaweek2024#acotar#acotar fanfiction#nesta archeron#nesta x cassian#nessian#acotar fanfic#acotar imagine#a court of thorns and roses#nesta#nesta acotar#nesta acosf#a court of silver flames#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nesta x cassian fanfiction#nesta archeron fluff#nesta archeron fanfiction#acosf#acotar nesta
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Stu(died): Chapter 6
Summary: Finals week and Cassian’s birthday
Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List
I don’t know if anyone really follows this anymore or if anyone even remembers what happened last chapter, but... I finished this chapter. Nesta’s a bit aggressive in this one btw.
~
Nesta will blame it all on these godforsaken holidays.
That’s why she goes to Cassian’s family dinner and stays through the night, because the cheer has her in a chokehold and she can barely gasp a no. That’s why she behaves nicer than she is. That’s why she doesn’t bother arguing when his mom asks what they are to each other. Tutor x Student? This is not a fanfiction!
It must be the lights, the cheer, the joy that regrettably seeps into her skin and drowns her in glitter. That’s why Nesta stays and talks in a voice so soft she can barely recognize herself. She looks in the mirror, too, that day to see if the difference in her persona is a tangible thing, something that she can turn on and off like the bathroom light switch, but all she sees are fake reindeer ears and snowman pajamas.
Who are you?
So, Nesta decides that an alien who likes Christmas and being well fed has inhabited her body. And it’s an alien that kisses Cassian that night.
The real Nesta would never do such a thing.
The real Nesta is a professional. Strictly business. Cassian is a student and tutoring is her job, and she contemplates this as she watches him across the table, biting at a pen. What if he makes a mistake, she thinks. Pens over pencils?
He leaves teeth marks on the cap, and she wonders what the alien sees in him. A guy who leaves all his mistakes on paper. He’s left-handed too which makes it worse. All the ink is smudged, and his palm is a Smurf level of blue.
Cassian doesn’t care. Cassian doesn’t care about anything.
Then why did he give you a gift? Why did he invite you? Why does he stay?
The alien speaks and it’s decidedly in Cassian’s favor.
“So,” Cassian drags, “I know you don’t like going out. Or at least you prefer to be staying in, but I thought we could do something next Wednesday.”
Cassian taps his pen against the table in way her heart has repeated every time she thinks of that night. The christmas lights. The warmth in her chest. The soreness in her arms because they were wrapped so tightly around him.
But Nesta does what she does best, dismissing him with a simple shrug of her shoulders, giving nothing away. Because there is nothing there. She’s his tutor.
“Wednesday’s a school night.”
“You’re in college,” Cassian counters.
“And college is still school,” Nesta says, shaking her head a little too abruptly.
Everything feels abrupt. Wrong. The oddity of the movement has her scrunching her nose. Why is she nervous suddenly? That must be what this feeling is. Apprehension. Danger. A terrible need to hide. She doesn’t feel this way decorating the tree at his house, not even meeting his family. No, in fact...
She feels like she belongs there.
Nesta doesn’t even belong here, in this body, sitting in this room, watching this boy-man-child-person rattle the table with his jostling knee, playing drums with writing utensils.
So, Nesta breathes in a disgruntled sigh, and raises her chin like a bad habit.
“I’m busy Wednesday,” Nesta says, her voice final, like she’s ending an essay and hitting submit. Grade me harshly, she thinks, but this is business. This is education. This is forward thinking.
It will be better this way, she thinks. But like many other times before, Nesta isn’t sure who this is better for. It’s all muddled up in her brain, because this is what Cassian does. He confuses. He distracts.
And Cassian never stops prodding like he should. In fact, he leans back in his chair, a certain smirk on his face meaning he’s ready to negotiate. Dinner and movies and after session snacks and walking her home and buying her books. It’s always that smirk and sometimes it’s a soft, gentle smile right after she agrees, breathless and bitter that he convinces her so easily.
It’s an indecent look. One so confidently sure of himself that Nesta’s sure she’s not staring at the same Cassian.
Her heart pounds in her chest and Cassian, the alien, smirks. “Well, I was hoping you could find someone to cover your shift.”
“And why would I do that?”
There it is. Cassian smiles and it’s reminiscent to a holiday. Glee inducing. Glitter infested. Green and red and bright, retro lights. Trees taller than she is and warmth. Warmth to chase away the bitter frost.
He leans his head in his palm and he smiles as he places the pen behind his ear, chewed up cap and all.
“It’s my birthday next Wednesday,” he says as if Nesta doesn’t already know. She does. She knows too much about him. She’ll blame it on that forgettable freshman year, the semester he sullied his name and ruined their chances of... friendship. He did this to himself, she thinks.
Cassian leans closer, a covetous whisper of his words like he’s keeping some secret. I’ll share this with you, she reads from his tone.
Share this with me, the alien agrees.
“I want to spend it with you. I thought we could see a movie.”
Because she’s been talking about wanting to see one--or rather complaining that she never has the time.
Cassian leans back as if he’s ready to hear her terms, but Nesta holds her breath. She tries to will her heart to stop sounding like drums. She swears she can hear it get louder, a whole orchestra sitting in her chest.
I hate movies sits right on her tongue, but that alien squanders the thought. Oh no, the alien thinks, you want this. The alien is joyous. The alien likes this attention.
So it’s no wonder when the alien takes control, pushing that ridiculous need to panic outside of her body.
“What movie?” it asks.
Cassian’s eyes widen and he shoves his notebook away as if it’s blocking his view. “You agree?”
“I didn’t agree,” Nesta says, defensively, “I asked what the movie will be.”
But Cassian shakes his head. His hair is neatly tucked behind his floral scrunchie and a few curling wisps of black escape at his neck. Regrettably, she feels a strange urge to grab at the straying piece and tug.
But she hates that scrunchie. She hates his hair that’s never neat. She hates the indecent way he walks through this earth as if already knowing who he is. Where is his confusion? Where is his fear?
“We can see any movie you want, but I think you’ll want to see that horror movie coming out.”
Nesta scoffs, “You hate horror movies.”
“I don’t hate you, though,” he quips, his lips tucking up fondly. A little comically. A little too neat and nonchalant. A little too calm and self-assured.
Maybe an alien is inhabiting his body. One side of his lips is raised and his eyes are a rich shade of amber in this library light, and she wonders... are you flirting with me?
I hate you sits right on her tongue, so immediate she almost says it aloud.
Only the alien stops her from spewing the words. Rip if off like a Band-Aid, she argues. Then he can hate her and go find a new tutor and she’ll never have to see him again. The alien doesn’t like that thought at all. She feels her stomach drop at the thought, dipping like she’s racing down a hill.
Maybe she’ll puke and this will all be over with.
But if he does get a new tutor, someone else will have to tap at his notebook five hundred times and sigh this one, Cassian! Someone else will have to keep him focused and resist his bribery, his negotiation, his eyes and his hair and his voice.
“This one, Cassian,” she hears herself tiredly sigh, when he looks back to his homework a little too lost to have been paying attention this whole time. “Anyways, I can’t get it off. I need two weeks' notice for things like that and Janie won’t cover for me. She’s going back home after her last final.”
Cassian frowns and Nesta ignores how that expression makes her feel. She is tired of feeling, she decides. “I’ll still see you that day, right?”
He sounds desperate. Likes she’s ruined his hopes and his dreams. Nesta refrains from telling him that his work ethic will do that for him.
“We have a tutoring session in the morning. As is my job.”
“You’re job... Right...” But Cassian merely nods, instead of arguing like she thinks he might. “I’ll take it,” he says, seemingly content with the bare minimum she gives.
But the alien inside of her sits back, wound tight and ruthless... it is not satisfied with bare minimum.
It is not tired of feeling.
~
The house is warm, but Nesta’s face is still red. There seems to be a permanent state of cold that’s been permeating her body and it’s not another of bout of sickness that would have her regrettably missing Wednesday. Her nose is cold to the touch and her feet, though covered in enough socks to be safe enough as shoes, are freezing. She looks in the glare of the microwave and even there she can see it.
She looks like fucking Rudolph.
And yet, instead of lying in her bed, smothering herself in blankets, and turning on the space heater that may or may not light her room on fire, she is in the kitchen, trying not to put her head in the stand mixer.
“Woah,” Emerie says, dropping her towel where she pats at her wet hair. Nesta sighs before facing her loving, but judgmental friend. What will she say at her flushed cheeks? “Are you... baking?”
“No,” Nesta answers quickly, rolling her eyes. “Can’t you see? I’m trying to get the mixer to knock some sense into me.”
“Well your head might be too big to fit in that bowl,” Emerie jests. “Have you tried the emulsion blender and the big pot?”
Nesta only sighs, her gaze moving across the endless about of mixing bowls. Is this what hell feels like?
“Hmm,” Emerie says, “you’re doing your lovesick sigh. Must be serious if you’re baking and sighing. Anyone I know?”
Emerie gives her a pointed look, one just as indecent as Cassian’s smile.
Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.
Cassian who can’t get out of her head.
But instead of replying, Nesta straightens her stance and runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the ponytail. Get it together, she repeats to herself. “Nothing’s serious. I just wanted dessert is all.”
“You’ve never touched a whisk a day in your life.”
Nesta scoffs, “that’s not true. I licked the batter off of it the last time you made cake, remember.”
“I do actually,” Emerie nods wistfully. “That was good cake.”
She moves to inspect the counter where Nesta currently rests her head in defeat. There’s flour and eggs and milk and oil. Sugar and baking powder, and there’s too many bowls for Nesta to know what to do with. Who needs this many bowls? What person decided they needed 15 plus bowls in their pantry?
“You have flour in your hair, you know.”
Nesta shrugs, “casualty of war.”
“Ahh, must be about someone I know then. You only start mentioning war when you’re too busy fighting your feelings.” Emerie chuckles at the seemingly clever thing she says, but Nesta doesn’t find her words so amusing.
“I have no feelings,” Nesta answers immediately. “In fact, I don’t even want make this cake anymore. I’m tired, actually.”
“I mean... it is exhausting hiding from the truth.”
Nesta glares up at her friend, but Emerie only smiles wider at her look. Of course, she’d have friends who found her glares endearing. How inconvenient, she decides. Next time, she’ll pick friends who hate the same things she does... or have no friends at all.
But that thought makes her chest ache, so she dismisses it quickly.
Emerie points to the mixture of melted chocolate. “For Cassian right? When is his birthday again?”
Nesta sighs, lowering her head once more on the counter.
“December 16th.”
“So you’re dating now?”
Nesta scoffs, wondering how Emerie reaches that conclusion. But Emerie merely points to the spoon covered in a fluff of butter and sugar, as if that will convince Nesta of how ridiculous she seems.
“No we’re not,” she remarks sternly.
“Nesta... you’re baking a cake.”
“I like cake.” Which is true. It’s her favorite dessert. She happens to be lucky her younger sister lives hours away, or she’d eat it every day. As is her right.
“Okay,” Emerie shrugs simply. “Then you’re baking a cake when you have a final tomorrow and you could be studying.”
“I’m taking a break! Aren’t you the one always going on about self-care?” Nesta can’t help but wrinkle her nose, grumbling about being reminded of her impending doom. Because she does have a final tomorrow. A final she could be studying for if not for the fact that a frat boy has her in a chokehold.
Take your fucking cake and be done with me, Nesta thinks violently.
Emerie waves a hand, “That’s to Gwyn. To you, I say there’s a hunky boy that follows you around like a lost puppy, and you are under no obligation to like him but...” Emerie’s words hush to a whisper and she puts her hand to her lips as if keeping a secret.
Everyone with their fucking secrets!
“I think it’s clear that you do.”
“No,” Nesta dismisses, shaking her head. “Negative.”
“Denials not just a river in Egypt,” Emerie sings.
“What about Egypt?” Gwyn inquires. The door shuts abruptly and Gwyn sets down her bag of books with a loud thud. Emerie tuts, because it’s obvious she’s been studying instead of taking a break like she’s been trying to encourage.
Gwyn doesn’t take a break for anyone.
And neither does Nesta... usually. Neither does Nesta always and it doesn’t matter if this class is an elective that was never really that hard, she should be studying to make sure without a doubt she doesn’t miss one problem.
But Emerie doesn’t goad at their friend, instead she takes a piece of chocolate off the counter and raises it to her lips. “I was just telling Nesta here that's she’s obviously infatuated with our nosy neighbor. Why else would she be baking?”
“You’re baking?” Gwyn questions, thoroughly astonished. “What 18th century novel have we set foot in where you’ve suddenly gone domestic? Is this what love does?”
Gwyn blinks and for a moment Nesta doesn’t know what to do with that expression, but then Gwyn is moving to the couch, picking up the bag of brightly colored balloons. “Is this what the bat is for? You told me it was for your sister.”
Emerie’s brows furrow and she looks to Nesta confused. “Bat?”
She means the stuffed bat that Nesta picks up at the giftshop Gwyn sometimes works at, near the hospital. Nesta volunteers there so... what can she do? It’s just there and Gwyn is laughing while she blows up balloons, telling her that she gets a 30% discount on all the things and suddenly Nesta is grabbing the black toy. It’s a heating pad just like her lobster.
It doesn’t make any sense, but Nesta also buys a card. It’s the alien!
Happy birthday, you old bat, it writes.
Nesta grimaces, but when she looks up at her friends, she throws up her hands. “We’ve known each other for two years! It’s just a friendly tutoring gift. Like good luck with the semester, thanks for keeping me employed. Hope you fail again soon. It means nothing!”
But at her outburst--which is a little too high-strung that even Nesta blinks at her own antics--Emerie backtracks. Emerie fiddles with a spatula on the counter, turning it over and her voice gentles into a soft tone, all placating like she’s a child.
Great... now she’s hysterical.
“You know it’s okay if it does mean something. You are allowed to like someone. It’s a perfectly okay thing to do... and it’s just as well if it is or if it isn’t Cassian.” Emerie places her hand on Nesta’s arms and Nesta tries not to shirk in on herself.
This is what she hates. She can feel it like a lump in her throat. The feeling of being seen, watched, peeled away layer by layer as if she means to rip off her skin and discover all the secrets Nesta hides. She hoards them away like a little dragon and her gold. What will they do once they find it, she fears. How will they ruin her?
Danger. Danger. Danger.
She feels unsafe. Nesta shakes her head, her face feeling hot and she wants to go to her room, except that’s the cowards way out and she can’t be seen like a coward. She’s a bad bitch. She feels nothing.
“I say this because I want you to know that we love you whether you date this man or not. Whether you date anyone or not.”
Gwyn shrugs though her lips don’t raise comfortingly like Emerie’s. She’s rather upfront as she says, “we love you so much that we’ll threaten his favorite part if he hurts you. I know several ways we can make it look like an accident.”
Nesta laughs a short sound. “So do I,” she says, softly, suddenly tired.
“Yeah, yeah,” Emerie waves, “we can help hide the body and all that jazz... but can we also help with this cake? Do you want help with this cake?”
I want you to stop looking at me, Nesta thinks.
“I wish Cassian had never come into our lives,” she answers, though she doesn’t know how honest her words are or what they actually mean.
Nesta lays her head on the counter, contemplating the emulsion blender and that giant pot Cassian had made her soup in. She wonders if flour is as hard to clean as glitter or if it will stay on her face and her clothes for a little bit longer, evidence of her crime.
But Nesta concedes to the offered help. If she ropes Emerie and Gwyn into this then at least she’ll have someone to blame when Cassian inevitably starts asking questions.
~
“It’s a little misshapen,” Nesta says and it is. At best, it reminds her of the one from Harry Potter--massive letters spanning the entirety of the cake. But at least, she spells all the words correctly. It could have had an entirely different name on it, too, which Nesta contemplates doing more than once as she frosts.
Cassian looks to the cake like it’s made of pure gold and any mentions of Caspian, Callum, Carlos, and Cade fall off of her tongue. Because C.A.S.S.I.A.N is written in big, bold, blue lettering, just like the corners of her notebook when she absently scribbles.
Cassian lights up somehow when he smiles, and his lips are wide staring at the chocolate. The hazel shine like a warm cup of tea and she can see all of the amber swirls. Rich cinnamon. A baker’s dream. A reader’s paradise.
He is the embodiment of the word cozy... just like being in the library, surrounded by all these books.
But these feelings are made up of lies, she tells herself, and his face makes her want to puke. At the very least, she’s starting to feel nauseous and she wonders if Cassian can tell. She practices schooling her facial expressions in the mirror to look aloof and she hopes the hour has done her well, because her cheeks are starting to feel warm.
She looks red, looks dire and distressed in that mirror. She looks like she is going to fail a test--has already failed it and there’s nothing to do to save her grade. She’s being dramatic, Nesta keeps repeating to herself, but the words do nothing to make her seem calm.
She doesn’t think she seems calm now, but Nesta will keep telling pretty lies. She’ll keep swallowing them, pushing past the lump in her throat. She’ll fill her stomach with something that soothes.
“You made this?” Cassian asks.
Nesta shrugs, trying not to fiddle with the sleeves of her sweater because she can help the movement. She’s in control of her body and she always has been. She is a stronger bitch than this.
And a cake is no big deal, she reminds herself. She can make cake for anyone, even herself. If Nesta wants cake, she can make cake and she can eat the entire thing in one go. She could even take back this one and run.
But Cassian gathers his arms around the base of the cake as if wanting to tuck it to his chest, and suddenly she remembers the thought from freshman year. That he must give good hugs.
Nesta recoils, tucking her arms across her stomach.
“I almost don’t want to eat it,” Cassian notes lightly.
Nesta startles in her seat.
“You have to eat it,” Nesta demands, forcefully. She’s been staring at that cake every time she opens the fridge and it takes every bit of willpower not to say to hell with Cassian and eat it herself. She’ll be damned if he doesn’t let her eat some of it. Isn’t that what Emerie keeps saying last night? That she can make her cake and eat it too. That it will be her reward.
“I made it for you,” she argues and she can feel her face getting hot. “Why wouldn’t you eat it? Isn’t that bad luck or something?”
“Bad luck? Like a fortune cookie?”
“Bad luck like a curse. You don’t eat it and you don’t get your birthday wish.”
Cassian’s lips raise lightly, slowly, schemingly. “I get... a birthday wish?”
Nesta pauses, hearing how the words sounds. They sound childish and stupid. This will ruin her street cred’. She’s not going to be the smart one anymore. She’s the stupid one. The one who makes up things that don’t even make sense.
“But you have to know...” he trails off, shaking his head as if it’s obvious.
Nesta refrains from yelling get on with it as she asks, “know what?”
Cassian squints, his gaze focusing on her face, curious but apprehensive all at once. Cassian laughs, but the sound is short. Almost scared.
“So, when we were in freshman year, I had a whole day planned about how I wanted to spend my birthday. My family had plans too, they were going to come up and take us all out to dinner. Do it big. Fancy steak house and... I don’t know, go carts or something. They said it was my first birthday away from them and they wanted it to be special.”
“Okay.”
“I told them to stay home, because I wanted to spend it with you.” Cassian gives her a knowing look, but Nesta doesn’t know anything, so she keeps quiet, leaning on every word. “In my mind, it would have probably been dinner too, the seafood place that’s a bit out of town, and maybe the bookstore because I figured if I could get you into a bookstore, you’d start talking about your romances and I could play down the fact that I was nervous as hell and I didn’t know what to say.”
“You were the only person I wanted to spend my birthday with. It’s like... I met you and it was only you from then on.” Cassian shrugs, lightly, and Nesta watches as he closes his notebook, with an air of finality. As if to say studying is not as important as you. As bold of a claim as it is.
“So you have to know, Nesta. The only wish I have is you.”
The only wish I have is you.
The only wish I have is you.
The only wish I have is you.
The words replay in her mind and Nesta can feel her face getting warm. Her chest feels different. Nausea, maybe... so Nesta, stares at the textbooks instead of looking into his eyes.
She snaps her fingers quickly. “I think you’ll understand this chapter more if I can find this textbook I’ve been meaning to give you. I’m going to go check.”
“Right now?” Cassian asks, astonished.
Nesta shrugs, nonchalantly. “No time like the present.”
“Nesta...”
But she moves, swiftly from the table and into the aisles, willing herself to not look back--hoping upon hoping that he will leave her alone.
Cassian follows her with a soft call of her name. “Nesta...”
“Nesta,” Cassian speaks, hushing his tone to not disturb the one or two other students they pass along the way. Nesta doesn’t know how far she’ll go, but she’s hoping she’ll make it to Australia by Tuesday... or at least deep enough for Cassian to give up, inevitably resigned to the fact that she won’t be distracted in her pursuit. Just ignore him, she thinks. “I don’t need a textbook right now. You don’t need a textbook.”
“I think your grades would beg to differ.”
“Did something I say bother you?”
“Your entire being is bothering me,” Nesta scoffs.
“Bothered how?”
But Nesta keeps moving, her head straight and her gaze straight ahead.
Cassian grabs her arm, a strong but gentle pressure. Nesta eyes the touch, startled by the fact that she doesn’t immediately shrug him off. “Tell me so I can make you feel better.”
“As if you have so much control over me,” she says, though she still doesn’t shove him away.
“No, but you have control over me,” Cassian says, loudly. Nesta gives him a dirty look for speaking so loudly in the quieter part of the library, and he looks apologetically at her. Then he rolls his eyes, smiling fondly as if to say see. “I want to please you, to make you happy... and I thought I was doing a horrible job until that kiss.”
“Don’t bring up that kiss,” she said, loud and outraged and also furious that he has her yelling in a library.
“Why?” Cassian goads, pushing the conversation forward, which is so unlike him to do. “You kissed me, remember.”
“You invited me to spend Thanksgiving with your family, and besides you didn’t push me away.”
“Oh no, I wanted to kiss you.”
Nesta crosses her arms, giving him a look that means there will be no arguing with her. “Well you shouldn’t.”
But Cassian’s lips raise, undignified and stupid. “In fact I want you to kiss me again.”
He moves closer to her and Nesta takes several steps back. He’s as tall as she remembers, and there’s no comforting table or textbooks that stand between like a barrier. She supposes she could grab one from the shelf and chuck it, hope it meets his face. She can run. She can transfer schools.
But that would disrespecting the books and that thought has her clenching her impulsive fists. He’s tall and he smells good. Pages and pillows and soft sheets. Something like fresh air. Something a little darker with more muted notes. A little like getting lost in the woods.
A little like being found.
Cassian looms over her and for once he doesn’t back away and Nesta doesn’t assert space. He raises his hand, his palm gently, hovering close to her skin... waiting to see what she’ll do if he gets close. Nesta closes her eyes and Cassian trails a thumb down her lips as if tracing a map.
“Do you want me to kiss you again?” He asks, his breath so soft against her cheek.
She can feel the books against her back and it reminds her of romance novels. Cassian and her in between stacks, sneaking in dark corners for clandestine meetings. Anyone could see them. Her boss could see her. The tutoring monitors could crawl up to the fourth floor and shout, this is what we pay you for? But no one is here. It’s only Cassian, and his hulking frame. That red sweatshirt spilling across his chest.
Nesta glares, crossing her arms. She hums, and she’ll say it’s to make him wait, but it sounds much too wanton--a deep groan in the back of her throat.
“That’s not a yes,” he muses.
“This is coercive,” she says, kicking her foot. “We’re in a library,” she seethes.
But he smells so good, and he hovers over her just right. The perfect height to be pinned against bookshelves. It almost seems sacrilegious. Would that damage the books, she thinks. What if they push against it so hard, each shelf falls over like dominoes? There would be no hiding what they’ve done, then.
Cassian smirks as she thinks, that dimple in the corner of his mouth shining on his face and she wants to place her thumb there... She wants his lips on hers. His body on hers. His hands skimming across her skin like he’s tracing words on a page.
If she touches him first, he can touch her. If she only says yes, then she can taste him again. She looks to that floral scrunchie. She’d be able to pull on it, pull at his hair and hear his groans and finally find out what they sound like outside of her conspiring imagination. The ones hidden so deep, she thinks no one will ever find them.
Nesta looks to his eyes, but they’re much too bright. She can see herself in them, all flushed. Interestingly enough, she doesn’t look frightened. She looks ready... wanting... waiting... eager.
Nesta can’t help biting at her lips. “Books make me weak,” she mutters to herself. A fatal flaw.
“Oh I know,” Cassian says, smiling. “But I'm not going to kiss you unless you expressly tell me yes. I’m not going to kiss you, unless you want this, Nesta.”
So, Nesta pushes at his shoulders.
It only takes a tap before Cassian is pulling away as if nothing happens at all, here between bookshelves. Is that disappointment in his gaze or does he just assume she will say no? He doesn’t appear perturbed. If anything, it seems expected. Or perhaps he’s a gentlemen and he does mean what he says.
“Back to Gauss’s law it is,” he says, softly.
But Nesta is strangely disappointed by that.
She can imagine following him back to the table where they’re tucked away in a space that is reserved for those who want to talk and study. Not the quiet area where she usually studies by herself. They go back to the table now and they’d pass blow up mattresses and every once in a while a student in a dinosaur costume would roam the hall as someone else films them from behind. Just like every true finals week, when students become so tired facts turn into fiction.
Right now though, there’s no one in sight. It’s quiet and strangely calm and… the alien grasps Cassian’s hand because Nesta is tired here between shelves.
Finals week lunacy has sunk in completely, she thinks. She can barely recognize herself at all as she stares at her flushed face in the gleam of his eyes. It’s no wonder she’s contemplating how sane she truly is.
Cassian swallows, she can see the bob of his adam’s apple, but his gaze is open and warm and he’s wearing her favorite sweatshirt she could just wrap herself in. If only he wrapped his arms around her.
So Nesta does the only sane thing, she can grasp, all thoughts of Gauss gone and instead, Nesta begins writing romances on his lips.
~~~~
Stu(died) Tagged List:
@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430 @unhealthyfanobsession @simpingfornestaarcheron @talkfantasytome @sayosdreams
~
Do they get together after this? ahahhahahhahauahaahhfa
no.
#nesta archeron#cassian#nessian#nessian fanfiction#Stu(died)#vidalinav writes#vidalinav writes fanfic
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❈ ❈ Holiday Traditions ❈ ❈
A/n: I'm so happy I got to participate in the @acotargiftexchange this year! I had so much fun coming up with what Nesta and Cassian do to prepare hosting their first christams for @moodymelanist . I also saw it’s her birthday today! So show her some love and check out her fics they are amazing🤗
I hope you like it❤️ happy birthday Merry Christmas love!
warnings: none, just pure Christmas cheer 🥰
❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈
Nesta plopped the last box of ornaments on the coffee table with an accomplished sigh. She had successfully brought down all of the boxes by herself from the attic. Cassian was going to help but she grew impatient waiting for him to come home from shopping. It was the last thing they had to do and Nesta was too excited to wait. So she chugged her morning coffee and braved the attic ladder for the spirit of Christmas.
This was Nyx’s first Christams so everything had to be perfect for her little nephew. Looking around the living room Nesta smiled to herself. The mantle–which currently housed a roaring fire– was beautifully decorated with fir branches, colorful winter candyland baubles, twinkling lights, and two large bows at either end. Their usual soft throw pillows on the couches have been changed out for candy cane pillows and blankets with snowflakes and snowmen.
The only thing left to decorate was the tree. Nesta started opening all the plastic boxes when the front door opened, Cassian’s cheery voice ringing through their warm home. When he appeared in the living room bags of different sizes decorated his arms, a large grin on his face. “Hey baby, I thought I was going to help you with those?” Nesta returned his smile unwrapping the book stack ornament Cassian got her last year. “I could’t wait. Did you get the stuff for our mega gingerbread house?”
Cassian chuckled and held up a bag from their favorite bakery. “Oh yeah. Let me put this stuff away and we’ll decorate.” Nesta smiled at his retreating back. She couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world. As a child her and her sisters never had a good holiday experience thanks to their parents. Their mother’s focus was throwing the best parties for Christmas and New Years. Always neglecting to get the girls presents or doing any holiday activities with them.
When Feyre and Rhysand found each other that’s when the new holiday traditions started. The first time they all spent Christmas together Nesta was drawn to Cassian and the love he had for the holiday. He made sure she and Elain felt welcome, the brothers even made sure they had a few gifts to open. Ever since that day Cassian and Nesta were inseperable.
Cassian laid out the gingerbread pieces on the island along with the icing and candy toppings. He swiped two candy canes for him and Nes before sorting gifts that could be wrapped today and ones that he’d wrap tonight when Nesta was fast asleep. Gathering the gifts, wrapping paper, tape, and scissors he headed back to the living room.
Nesta was half done unwrapping the ornaments, humming along to the Christmas playlist lightly playing from the speaker. Cassian never knew why she insisted on throwing Justin Bieber’s Christmas album into the mix of songs but he went with it. He would never tell Nesta that he enjoyed it. Cassian would never hear the end of it from her or his brothers. Dumping the gift supplies on the couch Cassian started picking up ornaments, choosing which ones he wanted to hang on the tree first.
As the hours passed Cassian and Nesta were giggling as they reminisced about the joke ornaments they had bought each other over the years. Cassian found a Santa hat in one of the decoration boxes and decided it was his, even though Nesta fought him for it. Her consolation prize was silver tinsel Cassian wrapped around her like a scarf.
Once the tree was done, Cassian and Nesta stood back wrapped in each other’s arms. Cassian kissed her tinsel covered head and looked down at his girlfriend with deep adoration. She looks so beautiful with the colorful Christmas lights reflecting in her blue-gray eyes. Images of their future together ran through his mind. A few more holidays by themselves and one day, maybe, a set of twin girls with his hair and her features running around. They’re in matching Christmas PJ’s trying to sneak a peak at the gifts they spent hours wrapping after bedtime before being caught by mom and dad.
Breaking him from his thoughts Nesta bumped her hip against his. “Alright you,” she said cooly, “Lets get to wrapping.”
Getting settled on the floor Cassian started rolling out wrapping paper. Nesta turned on the TV immediately changing the channel. When Nesta saw Rudolph was on she let out a happy hum, watching with a childlike wonder Cassian rarely saw from her. They noticed most of the gifts are for Nyx. Yeah he’s only a few months old, but Cassian and Nesta wanted his first Christmas to be special. Since they were hosting, the pair wanted their nephew to be the center of attention.
Moving to the kitchen Cassian put the kettle on for hot cocoa as Nesta took a seat at the island and began unwrapping the toppings, throwing a few gumdrops in her mouth. “Hey,” she said to get Cassian’s attention. He turned to see Nesta cocking her arm back, gumdrop between her fingers, nodding at him with a determined smile. Cassian smirks, opening his mouth wide, leaning his head back a little. Nesta launches it in a short arch landing right on Cassian’s tongue. They both raise their arms in victory letting out a twin ‘woo’.
Mega gingerbread house had to look perfect this year since it would be the center piece of the mantel. So this year they actually tried to not make it a disaster that would collapse just so they could eat it. Once it was a sugary monstrosity Nyx was sure to grab at, the pair carefully transported mega gingerbread house to its pedestal. It was quite impressive. The house looked like it belonged on a mountain top, Nesta guessed it kind of was thanks to where it was placed.
Looking at his watch Cassian grimaced, noting it was much later than he thought.
Getting settled in bed Cass watched his show on his iPad while Nesta read Christmas book seven of the twelve he got her. She hated being behind on her twelve days of Christmas reads. This one was about a long distance couple finally meeting for a magically holiday in the city.
An hour passed before Cassian heard Nes slightly snoring. He smiled to himself as he softly kisses her forehead, silently slipping out from under the covers. Two years ago Cass caught Nesta snooping through her gift pile during the day so he made the decision to wrap in the middle of the night.
Sorting through the gifts in the living room Cassian couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. This year’s haul for Nesta was perfect if he did say so himself. He even got her special wrapping paper with little books on it.
After an hour of wrapping gifts Cassian crept back upstairs. There was one more thing he had to check on before he went to sleep. Tiptoeing as best he could to the closet he slipped inside. Using the flash light on his phone so he wouldn’t wake Nesta he quietly opened his shirt drawer, digging out the smal black velvet box.
Checking on the ring he knew was tucked away in the perfect hiding spot Cassian grined. Everytime Cass looked at the engagement ring his heart pounded with excitement. It took all of his self restraint to not propose to Nesta everyday. No, he would wait and make this the best Christmas, better than the one they first met. He’ll never forget the surprised face Nesta made when he handed her that first gift. Cassian smiled thinking about the surprise that will grace Nesta’s beautiful face in just two days.
Two more days and they’ll have a life time of happy holidays together.
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#cassian acotar#nesta acotar#nesta archeron#nesta archeron acotar#nessian#nessian fanfiction#nessian fanfic#nesta x cassian#nessian fluff#nesta x cassian fluff#acotargiftexchange2023#acotar secret santa 2023#modern!nessian
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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
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Just Looking At You Got Me Thinking Nonsense
A/N: happy Day Four of @nestaarcheronweek! Sometimes, to really be a lover, you have to risk it all in a bidding war, ya know? This was a fun little fic to write, and I want to give a big ole shout-out to the Anon who sent me this prompt! I hope everyone enjoys :)
Read on AO3
Cassian digs his phone out of his back pocket, opening back up the group chat and the most recent messages still waiting there. With a nod, he pockets the phone again, rolling out his shoulders. There’s a glass case full of pictures and some sort of awards on the wall opposite him, and Cassian uses it as a makeshift mirror. He’s always had a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous, and now his curls are a tangled mess as a result.
A door opening down the hall has Cassian almost jumping out of his skin. He turns just in time to see the exact woman he’s here for walking down the hall, her arm looped with a red head that Cassian is pretty sure was in his trig class last year.
“Trust me, it will be over before you know it,” the red head says as they walk.
“Until I have to sit through some stupid dinner after… You’re lucky that I love you.”
“I know, and I am lucky you’re doing this with me. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go up there alone.”
“Hey, Nes,” Cassian calls in greeting when they’re close enough, raising his hand in a wave.
Whether she doesn’t hear him or is just ignoring him, Cassian isn’t sure. But both women don’t acknowledge him, walking through another door further down the hall. One that, he presumes, leads into the large hall.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Cassian mumbles to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Idiot.”
“Idiot is certainly one word I’d use to describe you.”
Azriel’s low chuckle echoes Rhys’s remark, and Cassian turns to glare at both his brothers. He knocks his shoulders against both of them, leading the way back toward the front of the building and the main doors into the hall. There’s more laughter, but at least his brothers fall into step behind him. He doesn’t have time for their teasing. Not tonight at least. This is his one chance, and he’ll be damned if he fucks it up, if he loses it. He needs to focus.
Cassian knew that Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen the first time he saw her walk into his gen-ed English lecture earlier this semester. Her blue gray eyes had been piercing beneath the lights of the lecture hall, and Cassian wanted to dive into them and drown in them right in that moment. Even more so when he watched her roll those eyes at something said at the front of the lecture hall.
Gods, he wanted to make those eyes roll.
He was sure that the Mother must be smiling down on him when Nesta had ended up in his seminar after the lecture too. It was clear that she was smart. That she had a passion for books. That she didn’t take any bullshit. He could sit and watch and listen to her in that seminar for the rest of his life and be happy. And when she absolutely eviscerated Tamlin for his “analysis” of Lolita, Cassian had been ready to drop to his knees right then and there.
It made him try harder. He made sure he actually paid attention in the lecture, made sure he did the readings, made sure he came to each and every seminar with his analysis prepared in hopes of impressing her. He wasn't sure it was working or not, but sometimes, he swore he saw her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile, of a smirk, when he spoke. He swore that sometimes he could feel her gaze on him when he wasn't looking.
And then, one day, he’d walked into the seminar room to find the seat next to Nesta open. He’d practically stumbled over his own feet in his rush to slide into that open seat, earning an amused head shake from Kallias. Using the few minutes before the seminar started, Cassian had called her Nes and gotten a withering glare in response. He was sure the look was meant to cut him down where he sat, but it only stoked the embers in his chest into a full wildfire, only made him grin wider.
It became a game after that. Every seminar, he’d take the seat beside Nesta, and every seminar, he’d spark a back and forth between them. He cataloged every look, every response he was able to draw out of Nesta. Every eye roll. Every derisive snort. Every sarcastic quip. He got drunk off it all and kept coming back for more and more. And when he made Nesta blush, the pretty pink spreading across her cheeks, he knew that was it for him.
He spent the whole rest of the week after that trying to figure out the best way to ask Nesta out, sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being asked in front of their whole seminar group. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her to speak to him after the seminar, prayed to the Mother to take pity on him, and blessedly, take pity on him she did. It’s what led Cassian to finding out that Nesta was pledged to Mor’s sorority.
How he found out that she would be here tonight.
One of the sorority members greets Cassian and his brothers when they step through the doors to the hall, her name tag reading Deidre. She holds out three paddles, but Rhys and Azriel both wave her off, only Cassian taking one. Lucky number nineteen, just like his jersey. They settle into seats at an empty table, and then it’s just a waiting game.
It doesn’t take long before Mor is stepping out onto the stage, giving her welcoming speech as president, but any words she says fade away as soon as the women participating tonight walk onto the stage. As soon as Cassian catches sight of Nesta. Her dress is a silky, silvery blue that, along with the stage lights, brings out the blue of her eyes, and the hem is short enough to show off the stretch of her legs. She has that look on her face that’s Cassian’s favorite, and just the sight of her has his mouth going dry. She’s gorgeous.
“And next up we have Nesta Archeron.” Cassian’s attention snaps back to Mor. “She’s pre-law and minoring in English. She loves romance novels, so you better be ready to bring out all the stops if you’re the lucky one who gets to take her on a date. Now, we’ll start the bidding at–”
“One hundred dollars,” Cassian calls out before Mor can finish, jumping up to his feet and holding up his paddle.
“Mother save us,” Rhys mutters under his breath.
“Wow. That’s…” Mor clears her throat. “That’s quite generous. I guess we’ll be starting the bidding at one hundred.”
“One fifty.”
Anger flares low in Cassian’s gut at the second bid, and it burns even brighter when he turns his head and finds the owner of the voice. Eris Vanserra. Cassian has hated the man ever since he had the misfortune of sharing a class with him freshman year. Ever since he watched him stroll into a college class wearing designer clothes and look down on everyone. He’s pompous, pretentious, and has a face practically asking for Cassian to punch.
And punching Eris’s snooty face is definitely something Cassian’s fist itches to do right now.
“Two hundred,” Cassian declares, turning back toward the stage.
“Two fifty,” Eris echoes.
“Two seventy five.”
“Three hundred.”
“Holy shit,” Mor mutters before seemingly remembering that she has a microphone in her hands. “I mean wow. That’s officially our highest bid. Ever. Do we have a response?”
“Five. Hundred.”
Gasps and murmurs of surprise sweep through the room at Cassian’s announcement. He glances toward where Nesta still stands on stage, her eyes wide and pink settled high on her cheeks. But those wide eyes are pinned on him, not Eris, not Mor, and her attention has his heart stuttering between his ribs, has it tugging toward the stage as though she holds the thread so firmly wrapped around it.
He dares to toss Nesta a wink before turning to smirk at Eris, but Vanserra is still lounging casually in his seat with a sort of cool arrogance that ice starts to prickle beneath Cassian’s skin.
“Five fifty,” Eris declares, eyes cutting toward Cassian with a smirk of his own.
“Fucking prick,” Cassian mutters under his breath before he leans down to speak to Rhys. “Okay, I’m going to need to borrow more than what we originally agreed to.”
Rhys sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously, Cass? This is getting a little absurd for a single date.”
“She’s worth it.”
“Is she? You know, I’ve heard stories, and–”
“Fuck you,” Cassian growls, turning back toward the stage before he runs out of time. “Five seventy five!”
“He’s clearly dedicated. You’ve got to give him that,” Azriel mutters with a low chuckle.
“You know Vanserra’s not going to stop, right?” Rhys adds, his tone almost bored.
As if in answer, Eris’s voice rings out again. “Six hundred.”
“Seven hundred,” Cassian calls out quickly before dropping his voice again. “If you’re so worried about your rich boy checkbook, then do something about it.”
“What am I supposed to do about it?”
“Seven fifty,” Eris’s voice drowns out Rhys’s question.
“Alright,” Azriel sighs, pushing up to his feet. “This is just sad to watch now.”
Cassian sighs as his brother walks away, knocking his fist against the table in frustration. “Eight fifty!”
He waits for Eris’s answering bid, but there’s only silence ringing out in the hall. Cassian’s brow pinches in confusion, and he snaps his attention back toward Eris’s table. The man in question is on his feet, standing toe to toe with Azriel. There’s a suspicious looking stain across Eris’s shirt, and his lips are pulled back in a sneer.
Whatever lashing Eris is giving for his now ruined designer shirt, Azriel takes it unfazed. He merely reaches for a napkin, the movement nothing short of sensual as he wipes it against Eris’s shirt, against his chest and down his stomach. Even from across the room Cassian can see the way Eris’s face has turned a color to match his face.
With Eris thoroughly distracted, Cassian looks back toward the stage, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Mor.
“Oh! Right,” Mor speaks into the microphone. “We have eight fifty. Do we have higher than eight fifty?” Cassian motions with his hand to hurry up. “Eight fifty going once. Going twice. Sold for eight fifty.”
Cassian falls back into his seat with a relieved sigh, unable to bite back the wide grin that pulls across his face. He did it, he was the highest bid. He gets to see Nesta outside of their lecture, outside of their seminar. He gets to spend time with her one on one and to find out what really makes her tick.
He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.
He’s practically bouncing on his feet waiting for the rest of the women to have their bidding, for the evening to come to a close. He all but jumps back up to his feet, plucking the check from between Rhys’s fingers. The look on Mor’s face is all too knowing when he hands over the money, but even that doesn’t deter him.
He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.
“Eight hundred fifty dollars, huh?”
Cassian spins around to come face to face with the exact woman in question, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. But Cassian has learned a lot sitting next to Nesta this semester, and he recognizes the light sparking in her blue eyes, the slight pinch at the corner of her lips. Try as she might, she can’t hide her amusement from him.
“What can I say, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, grin still wide. “I’m quite dedicated to getting what I want.”
“Oh? Is that why you pulled that stunt with Eris?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was merely Azriel flirting.”
Nesta laughs, and it’s already Cassian’s favorite sound, a sound he wants to draw out of her again and again. “He flirts by spilling drinks on people?”
“Everyone has their own version of flirting. Look at us, with our back and forth.”
That comment does earn him an eye roll, Cassian’s blood singing and his heart soaring at the reaction. He dares to step even closer to Nesta, until he has to tip his chin down to keep smirking at her. Dares to reach up between them for a stray strand of Nesta’s hair and tug on it teasingly. Dares to tease the backs of his fingers along her now pinkening cheeks.
“You might actually be crazy, you know.”
“Only because you make me that way, Nes.”
—
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies
#nestaweek2024#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acosf#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nesta x cassian#my fic
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I was reading back to enjoy some elite ACOMAF and ACOWAR Nessian and I have to say the entire thing is so so funny with the context that Cassian has known Nesta is his mate the whole time.
Like we’ve always known, but knowing that HE KNEW?
Fucking hilarious.
He’s just like “you see this feral cat right here? Well she’s mine and I’m gonna pull at her tail until she scratches my eyes right out and then man oh man is she gonna love me.”
#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acosf#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#nesta and cassian#acotar#nessian fanfiction
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Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries
For @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk. Happy Holidays! It has been such a joy to get to know you over these last few months. You are wonderful and brilliant, and I cannot wait to FINALLY be able to scream in your comments about my obsession with Semper Eadem without arousing your suspicions.
Many thanks to @velidewrites and @perhapsajacket for beta reading this first part of this fic and reassuring me that the Nessian vibes were working. And many thanks to @acotargiftexchange for putting together this wonderful event. Y’all are the absolute best! 🥰
Summary: When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.
For information about the historical elements to this fic, see the end notes.
This is chapter 1 of 4.
Read on AO3 or continue reading below the cut!
Chapter 1: Somerville College, Oxford
July 1916
“I think of you hour by hour. You are always close in your own secret place in my heart. I hold you in my arms when no one else is near. I kiss your forehead, your eyes, your hair. No, not your lips, dear, even in fancy. I have never in my maddest dreams kissed your lips. But I ache and crave and long for them, though—till you give me leave—I dare not even pretend that they are mine. Will you ever give me leave? You say No now. Yet I think you will, Avery. I think you will. I have known ever since that first moment—”
“He’s asking for you again.”
Nesta looked up from her book to see Gwyn Berdara’s head poking through the doorway. It was late—or early, rather, she realized, blearily squinting at the clock on the wall and rubbing her eyes. She should have retired to her bed in the dormitory hours ago, and from the pleased look on Gwyn’s face at catching her off-guard, her fellow nurse was well-aware of that fact.
“Surely someone who’s actually on duty,” Nesta said, yawning and looking pointedly at Gwyn, “can take care of whatever it is he needs.”
Gwyn snorted. “Apparently there’s no one except ‘Nurse Nes’ who can make the pain go away with her magic touch.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So it’s a good thing you’re still here.”
Bristling at the nickname that only one of the soldiers convalescing at the Third Southern General Hospital was shameless enough to call her, she replied curtly, “I’m not going. Tell him I’m not here.”
“I don’t think he’d believe me,” Gwyn said, grinning.
“And why is that?”
“Because,” said Emerie Carynth, appearing suddenly beside Gwyn and wearing a matching smile on her face, “I told him you’d still be here.”
Nesta glared at her.
“Not on purpose, I swear,” Emerie quickly amended. “But don’t think I missed that you have a copy of Dell’s new romance.” Nesta glanced down at the book she still held open in her hands, her attention briefly flicking back to the dramatic confessional love letter left she had been in the middle of reading. “We saw you try to hide it in the dining room when it came in the post. I bet Gwyn you wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to start it.”
Returning her focus to her traitorous fellow nurse, Nesta frowned. “That doesn’t explain how he knows I’m still here.”
“He may have overheard me celebrating my victory a few minutes ago.” She smirked. “Gwyn has to take my shifts with Merrill for the next week.”
Nesta grimaced. The older nurse was brutal to work with, especially if she thought the VAD nurses like Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were shirking their responsibilities. She accommodating enough for the soldiers, but all the nurses knew to steer clear of her wrath whenever possible.
Gwyn nodded at Nesta’s expression. “And he was my next patient when Emerie found me.”
“And what? He forced you to come back here and bother me?”
“He asked nicely.”
“Weak, Gwyneth Berdara. Weak.” Nesta knew her fellow nurse had a soft spot for soldiers like him who bore their injuries with grace and good humor, willing to crack a joke or, if they were not too injured, gambol about the grounds during recreation hours. Especially if those soldiers were tall and dark-haired and unreasonably muscled.
Gwyn shrugged unapologetically. “Like he doesn’t make you flustered, Nesta.”
“He does not,” Nesta bit out. Exasperated, absolutely. Incensed, occasionally. Even, in rare moments, begrudgingly amused. But certainly not flustered.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are,” Emerie said, grinning with a faux innocence that Nesta didn’t believe for a moment. “He’s not even my type,” she smirked. “But I have eyes.”
“I hate you.”
“As much as you hate him?”
“More.”
Gwyn hummed. “Lucky Emerie.”
Nesta raised an eyebrow in question.
“Oh, nothing. I’ve just never known anyone whose hate looked so much like desire before.”
Emerie winked salaciously at Nesta, who only rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “I’m still not going.”
“Sure you’re not, Nurse Nes.”
“Emerie, I swear—”
“He expected you’d say that.” Gwyn smiled, interrupting them. “And he told me to tell you that if you didn’t come help him, he’d have to cope with the pain through song.”
“Arse.” She had heard him singing with the men before—loud, raucous marching songs that seemed to be dictated primarily by enthusiasm rather than any actual musical talent. “So he intends to wake the whole wing if I don’t go? That’s asking nicely, Gwyn?”
Gwyn shrugged. “I’m sure Clotho and Merrill wouldn’t blame you for it.”
But they would, Nesta knew. When she paused her studies at Somerville to join the VAD and the military hospital that sprang up in what had once been her college, she and her fellow volunteers were told to make the patients in their care as happy as possible, no matter what. They were not to do anything that would cause a scandal, of course, but barring that, any desire was considered reasonable—extra food after mealtimes, a new pillow every hour, even time with a preferred nurse if requested. After all, they were exactly what the first letter of their organization’s acronym indicated: voluntary. They had no previous training, no credentials or certificates like those possessed by the professional nurses who oversaw them. What did they know?
Quite a bit, and often more than the so-called ‘professionals’. Certainly more than they did a year and a half ago when they first entered the service. Nesta may have been raised in a manor house, bred for marriage and comfort after the culmination of her studies, but the war had changed all of that, had changed her. She was no longer a stranger to fluids and grotesque injuries, to bodies and hard, messy work. Gwyn and Emerie were the same.
But none of that mattered, not really, to the more senior nurses, except for the fact that it made their jobs marginally easier. The VAD women were still expected to appease and please. So they did.
Nesta sighed, looking forlornly at the book she wouldn’t get to pick up again for at least another day.
“I’ll tell him to expect you in ten minutes, then?” Gwyn asked, reading her decision on her face.
“Yes, alright,” Nesta grumbled, standing and stretching for the first time in—she glanced again at the clock—three hours. She hoped that whatever nonsense she was about to face would resolve itself quickly enough that she could get home and sleep, although, she thought, as she began to gather her things, she wouldn’t count on it.
“Hope Dell’s book was worth it!” Emerie called as she moved out of the doorway and back into the darkened ward.
“I’m sure it was,” Gwyn said to Nesta, following Emerie out. “Piers’ letter?” She asked knowingly.
“Piers’ letter.” Nesta mimed fanning herself, and Gwyn laughed as she left Nesta to gather her things.
Grumbling about needing to find new friends, Nesta slowly made her way into what had once been the West dining room. With thin walls, cramped quarters, and a confusing odor of long-forgotten roast dinners mingled with astringent antiseptics, it was ill-suited to its current purpose as a hospital ward.
Almost as ill-suited, Nesta mused to herself as she wended her way through the beds of sleeping men, as she was to the nursing profession. Her friends seemed to take to the profession naturally: Gwyn had quickly amassed a staggering knowledge of illness and injuries and could diagnose patients quicker than most of the physicians; Emerie demonstrated a singular talent for using the standard physician-prescribed therapies in innovative ways to help the soldiers progress more quickly along their healing journey.
Nesta had no such mastery. She wasn’t incompetent at any task, and was quite good at many of them, but she did not have any particular specialty. Nor did she excel at the ‘appease and please’ aspect of her role. She had little patience for the soldiers’ petty complaints, their bored antics, their casual flirting. She did her job, cared for her patients professionally and efficiently, shutting down their attempts for favors and conversation and flirtation, and went home to her books at the end of the day. It was how she liked it. And it meant that, over time, few soldiers particularly liked her.
All except one.
At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Nesta saw him turn his head, a satisfied smile already stretching across his face that, had he been anyone else, would have caused Nesta’s heart to start racing.
As a man, Lieutenant Cassian Davies was magnetic. Handsome in a rugged kind of way, he was imposingly tall and broad with a body that, even injured as it was, spoke of lethal grace and destructive power. His face bore the proof of this: small scars cut across his eyebrows and lips, and his nose had clearly been broken and reset at least once. His hazel eyes often shone with a mirth that drew soldiers and nurses alike to his bedside, but there was an edge to them as well—something surprisingly hard and deceptively calculating. Like all of the men convalescing at their hospital, Lieutenant Davies had seen tremendous bloodshed, but he alone seemed to rise above it, to possess some inherent mastery over it. He was dangerous and desirable in equal measure, and though Nesta refused to join in with the other nurses when they gushed about him in the privacy of their dormitory, she couldn’t deny his appeal.
As a patient though? He was everything she loathed: loud, flirtatious, stubborn, and shamelessly relentless in his attempts to irritate her.
“Nurse Nes!”
“Threatening to wake the ward is a new low, even for you, Lieutenant Davies. And don’t call me that.” Nesta hissed, approaching his bedside and glaring down at him.
“Sweetheart—” Lieutenant Davies raised his good arm in an attempt to pacify her, but Nesta interrupted him.
“Wrong again, Lieutenant.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Nurse Archeron,” he apologized with mock contrition, affecting the tone of an impudent schoolboy brought before his headmaster. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was just about to treat the lads to a rendition of ‘Pack Up Your Troubles.’”
Nesta didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to look over his chart to guess at what it was he might need. The sooner she could figure it out, the sooner she could leave Lieutenant Davies and his foolishness behind. She could make it through this without succumbing to his antics. She could be professional. She could.
Even with her eyes focused on his chart, however, she felt the weight of his gaze on her, deciding how best to challenge her attempt at professionalism.
And then he found it: “I still could sing, you know. You might benefit from hearing the chorus.”
She whipped her head up and saw his eyes spark with pleasure at having successfully baited her, but she was too irritated to care. “‘Smile, smile, smile?’” Nesta asked, biting out the lyrics.
“You already know the words! You’ll be a natural in no time.”
“Please.” She resisted the urge to argue further, forcing herself to direct her attention back to the chart in her hands. Could he want another pillow? Or more food? Was he due for—
“So, what do you say, Nes?” Lieutenant Davies asked, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you going to smile, smile, smile?” He grinned as he softly sang the melody.
“Your singing is atrocious.”
He scoffed. “It’s excellent. Now, my dancing—.”
“I can only imagine that it’s even worse, Lieutenant Davies,” she interrupted.
“Once I get back up on my feet again I promise to show you just how wrong you are. Don’t think I didn’t notice you considering a smile.”
“Enough.” This had to end. Nesta could feel the weight of her hair heavy on her head after having it tied up in her standard braided coronet all day, and that, coupled with Lieutenant Davies’ teasing, was threatening to give her a headache. “What do you want?”
“Nesta Archeron,” he admonished, and Nesta chose to ignore the way her body shivered at the sound of her full name on his lips. “We have got to work on your bedside manner.”
She huffed. “If you find it so appalling, there are at least a dozen other nurses who would be more than happy to assist you.”
“I told Gwynnie. None of them have your magic touch.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Nes—”
“Wake the whole ward for all I care.” She dropped his chart with a clatter and turned on her heel, ready to storm out
There was a pause, and then, before she could take a step, Lieutenant Davies called out softly, “My shoulder is a little sore.”
Nesta imagined it was. The report of his injury at the Somme had been a gruesome note in what was and continued to be the bloodiest battle of the war thus far, and one that just kept going, if the steady stream of new patients into the hospital was anything to be believed. A few days into the battle, Lieutenant Davies had been wounded by shell fragments that embedded themselves into his chest and shoulder, some dangerously close to his lungs. He bore the injury well, but from the lines etched on his face and the tension in his jaw, she could tell it ached more than he let on. He would be bedridden for at least another two weeks before physical therapy could begin.
“And you couldn’t ask Nurse Berdara for another dose of morphine?”
“You make me feel like I’ve earned it, sweetheart.”
She snorted at that. “Fine.” She stooped to gather the supplies she would need from a low shelf on the cart at the foot of his bed, then turned to pull on gloves and prepare the needle for the injection. “But only because you were due for one anyway.”
“Whatever you say, Nurse Archeron. I know you like me.” As she administered the drug, he began humming quietly, his body slowly loosening as it worked its way through his system.
“Done. Goodnight, Lieutenant Davies.”
“No goodnight kiss?” He murmured the question as his eyes shuttered closed, relentlessly flirtatious to the last.
Nesta watched the morphine lull Lieutenant Davies into a deep sleep. “For you? I think not.”
She turned and made her way quietly out of the ward, thinking of her bed and her book. And if her thoughts drifted back to a certain sleeping soldier and she smiled slightly? Well, there was no one awake to notice.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
August 1916
“How are you feeling, Lieutenant Davies?”
Cassian looked up from the casualty sheets he had been apprehensively scanning for his brothers’ names to find Sr. Merrill, one of the older nurses who oversaw the hospital, standing at the foot of his bed.
His arm fucking ached—not that he would say that to a nun. He hadn’t lost all his manners in the trenches.
Just most of them. And especially when faced with the pretty nurse who made him feel more than a little stupid with her honey-brown hair and sharp tongue. But Nesta Archeron was nowhere in sight, nor had she been for several days—attempting to avoid him, most likely.
So he only answered, “Still a little sore, m’am. But better than yesterday.”
Sr. Merrill smiled at that. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re in good spirits. You’re to start physical therapy today.”
Cassian could have wept with joy. Although the injury had been localized to his upper body, the damage had been severe enough that the doctors had insisted that he remain bedridden and stuck indoors for at least a month. And he had, albeit reluctantly. For someone used to near-constant activity, whose men called him ‘the General’ for the drills he would put them (and himself) through between battles, a month of idleness was akin to torture. There were only so many card games a man could play or books he could read, only so many soldiers and nurses he could talk to, and (in his bleaker moments) only so many times he could catalog in minute detail the unidentifiable stains that graced the walls of the ward. Restless and bored, Cassian was more than ready to get back on his feet, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on his face again. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow. I have you scheduled with Nurse Carynth. She’s one of our best for physical therapy.”
Cassian knew her. Strikingly pretty and statuesque, she could out-swear most of the men and had earned her reputation as an excellent physical therapist through a combination of what appeared to be genuine brilliance and a singular ability to browbeat and cajole her patients into pushing themselves. He had seen her work with a few of the other men from his company, and knew that if anyone else in the hospital deserved the title of ‘the General,’ it would be her.
But he wondered—“I’ve heard she’s effective, yes, but,” He paused, looking for the right words, although he knew that Sr. Merrill and the other nurses were inclined to humor their patients’ requests whenever possible. “I was wondering if I could work with someone else.”
“Oh?” She looked puzzled, but pulled out a pen to note the change. “Do you have a specific nurse in mind?”
Cassian smiled.
He was still smiling as he sat in Sr. Merrill’s office the following day listening to an incensed Nesta Archeron argue with her supervisor.
“No.” She said, her blue-gray eyes flashing flintily as she crossed her arms. “I’m not working with him.”
Sr. Merrill raised an eyebrow. “And why not? Do you have an objection to working with Lieutenant Davies?”
“Yes.”
When Nesta didn’t elaborate, Sr. Merrill gestured for her to continue. “Go on.”
Nesta tilted her head, and Cassian could tell she was calculating her response. “It’s not personal,” she began.
Cassian snorted. He knew that it absolutely was. Nesta Archeron was the one nurse at Somerville who couldn’t stand him. From the look on Sr. Merrill’s face, the older nurse knew that as well, although she did an admirable job trying to hide it.
“It’s not.” Nesta turned to face him for the first time since they entered the office a few minutes ago. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. He could feel the anger radiating off of her, burning cold and sharp and exhilarating. It had been over a month since Cassian had seen any combat, but watching her like this scratched the same itch, and he knew that he would do any number of unspeakable things to keep stoking that fire.
He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Then what might be the issue, Nurse Archeron?”
She glared at his use of her correct title for once, knowing he only did it to irritate her in front of her supervisor, then turned back to face Sr. Merrill with a barely audible huff.
“My reasons are professional. I am not a particularly skilled physical therapist, and the severity of Lieutenant Davies’ injuries suggests that he’ll need special attention. He should be working with Nurse Carynth or Nurse Madja.”
Sr. Merrill frowned at that. “You’ll be following a plan of care left by one of the doctors, so there’s no need for you to do anything terribly innovative. That’s not your role here.”
“I know you’ll take good care of me, Nurse Archeron,” Cassian added, doing his best to look sincere. And he was, mostly. Nesta may not have been the warmest nurse at Somerville, but she was a damn good one. Not that he’d ever tell her that.
She didn’t respond to his comment, but Cassian was familiar enough with her expressions after a month of making a study of her to know she wanted to roll her eyes, and he couldn’t help the grin that began to break over his face.
“But I know how you VAD girls are,” Sr. Merrill interrupted, forestalling any further argument between them with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her tone dripped with derision, and Cassian’s grin faded as he saw Nesta tense, her spine straightening.“If you’re truly unwilling, I’m sure Lieutenant Davies will accept another nurse for his therapy.” She paused. “But I will be making a note in your file, Nurse Archeron.”
Nesta’s lips tightened. Cassian grimaced slightly as he observed her wage a silent war with herself, feeling increasingly ill-at-ease with his provocation of this element of the hospital’s hierarchical drama.
“Well, Nurse Archeron?” Sr. Merrill asked.
Cassian watched Nesta collect herself. The changes were subtle–her spine remained straight, unbowed by the weight of the threat, but he saw the way she banked the fire burning in her eyes until all that seemed to remain was a cool, professional detachment. He hated it.
But he knew her answer.
“I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Sr. Merrill handed Nesta a folder that Cassian presumed was his plan of care. “Thank you for wasting everyone’s time.”
Nesta took the folder and stood abruptly, stalking out of the room.
“Lieutenant Davies,” Sr. Merrill addressed him, drawing his attention away from Nesta’s retreating form. “I understand if you’d like to switch nurses after that … display.” She looked distastefully toward the door. “I have always believed that you boys deserve better than being subjected to the whims of spoiled ladies unused to hard work.”
Cassian stood stiffly, his injured arm aching from tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and frowned down at Sr. Merrill. “I meant what I said. I trust Nurse Archeron to take care of me.” His tone was sharp, defensive.
Sr. Merrill sniffed. “Of course. See that I don’t hear any complaints from your commander if you remain on the injury register longer than you ought.”
“You won’t. M’am.” With a sharp nod of his head, Cassian turned to follow after Nesta, moving a damn sight slower than he would have preferred. His arm throbbed and his legs felt heavy and stiff, aggravatingly fatigued already.
Nesta had stopped by the entrance to the ward, presumably to wait for him, her gaze focused off into the distance rather than watching his progress.
Cassian didn’t rush—wouldn’t have, even if he could have moved more quickly—taking the time instead to study her. She still wore the detached professionalism she had donned during the meeting, but her eyes were tired, wearied after the confrontation with Merrill. He wanted the fire back.
And he knew how to get it. Quashing his still-lingering guilt, he asked, “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
She startled slightly, coming out of whatever reverie she had been caught in, and scowled up at him as he drew abreast of her. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”
He smiled to hear a hint of spirit back in her voice. “I’ll take you in whatever mood I can get, Nes.”
She hummed, her gaze assessing and the set of her mouth unimpressed. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
With that, she pulled open the door to the ward and began walking deeper into the room, not stopping to see if Cassian was following after her.
He trailed along behind, noting that she passed the door that led outside onto the lawn where most of the other officers had been led by their respective nurses for therapy or recreation. The late summer day was inviting, after all—bright and sunny and warm after a span of rainy weeks.
Because of this, the ward was nearly empty, so Cassian called out to her, “I didn’t mean to cause any problems, you know.”
Her gait didn’t change, but he saw the tilt of her head as she considered his words. “That’s not an apology.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t know about Merrill. I’m sorry for having involved her. But,” he smiled, “I’m not sorry you’re assigned to me.”
“We’ll see,” she said, finally stopping and turning around to face him.
Nesta had led them to a room at the back of the ward. It was small and slightly dingy; he guessed that it had once been some kind of larder for the college before the war.
Cassian looked inside and then back at her, a question in his eyes.
She raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to go inside. “After you.”
“I thought officers got to go outside for their therapies.” He looked back longingly toward the door to the lawn, the late summer morning streaming through the window panes nearly irresistible after a month indoors.
“Not the ones assigned to me. Everything we need is right here in this room,” she said. She wasn’t quite smiling, but he could see a hint of malicious pleasure gleaming at the corners of her eyes.
Cassian forced himself to smile, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t evident. Well played, Sweetheart. He turned to the only weapon he had remaining because he damn sure wasn’t about to give her this victory easily. “It certainly is, sweetheart. And we’ll get to be so close,” he all but purred, trying to ruffle her feathers.
But she only rolled her eyes and began setting up the space according to whatever was detailed on his chart, dragging a chair and a few small weights to the center of the room.
He turned to cast a final glance back, wondering what he could do to change her mind. Surely she didn’t want to spend the day cooped up inside too. What would she want? Would she want him to beg for it? Would he?
He would. For her. And for the outdoors.
But then the sound of a throat clearing delicately brought him back to the cell of a larder, and he returned his attention to Nesta. Her eyes were on him, head tilted to the side like a predator studying its prey.
“Positive you don’t want to work with Nurse Carynth now?”
Cassian looked her over, his gaze catching on the blue-gray eyes that dared him to call her bluff, and he smiled, a real one this time. He would play her game. For now. “Positive. Do your worst, Nurse Nes.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few notes on the historical elements of this chapter:
— The title of this fic comes from Robert Graves’ poem “Intercession in Late October.”
— The quote that opens this chapter is from Ethel M. Dell’s Bars of Iron, which was one of the best-selling books of 1916. Dell wrote hugely popular romances and was successful enough to support her family on the proceeds of her writing alone, although her work was often disparaged by critics and criticized for being too sexual.
— Cassian is loosely based on Robert Graves, a captain in the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, a poet, and the author of Goodbye to All That, a 1929 memoir about his experiences in WWI. Nesta is loosely based on Vera Brittain, a VAD nurse and author of Testament of Youth, a 1933 memoir about her experiences as a nurse and her postwar turn toward pacifism.
— Both Robert Graves and Vera Britten were connected to Somerville College, although they were not there at the same time. Somerville was founded as a women’s college in 1879; it was requisitioned by the War Office to serve as a hospital during WWI. Vera Brittain had been reading English Literature when the war broke out, and she took a leave of absence to serve in the VAD, returning to complete her studies in History in 1919. Robert Graves, after being injured in July during the Battle of the Somme (July 1, 1916—November 18, 1916) was sent to Somerville to recover, and while there, had a brief romance with one of the nurses.
— The tensions between the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) and professional nurses was a real concern during WWI, although it has been dramatized here. Most of the volunteers were middle and upper class women and lacked both the skills of professional nurses and (for some) the propensity for hard labor and discipline. These tensions gradually dissipated as the war went on.
— “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit-Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile” was a popular WWI marching song, first published in 1915. The words were written by George Henry Powell and were set to music by his brother, Felix.
— The notice “Officers are requested not to throw custard at the walls” was real; it was found in Maitland Hall after Somerville was converted back into a college.
#nessian#nessian fanfiction#acotargiftexchange2023#acotar gift exchange 2023#nesta archeron#cassian#historical au#wwi au
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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
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A/N: Happy Cassian Appreciation Week! It has been so long since I’ve posted anything and this fic sort of came to me unexpectedly. I really miss Nessian and I super, super miss the concept of them in Illyria with Nesta going with Cassian after ACOFAS. I guess this is an AU to ACOSF, and it’s a little angsty, a little smutty, and a lot of Nessian, which of course I love and live for.
Thank you @cassianappreciationweek for putting this amazing week together. I’m so excited!!!
~*~
Nesta was curled up on the couch, a cup of tea steaming besides her and a thick novel held in her hands which she promptly laid down once she saw him.
She didn’t say hello, or ask how he was, not that he expected her to. And apart from a quick nod of acknowledgement on her part and a grunt from him, that was it for them.
Cassian was tired. Bone-deep tired and he worried he may not have the energy to speak for the rest of the week, let alone do anything else. The rain he’d been caught in on the way home hadn’t helped his mood either. And definitely not as he’d trudged upstairs and peeled off the sodden clothes and leather that stuck to him like glue.
But a quick, heated bath restored some of his energy and he made his way back down to Nesta, still on the couch, and still reading as he towel-dried his hair.
“Good book?”
A hum. Yes.
“Did you eat?”
Another hum. Lower. It could be yes or no, he’d learned.
“Come eat with me.”
A click of her tongue. He was interrupting her reading and it was his cue to stop bothering her. So he did.
He made his way to their small kitchen, following the smell of freshly warmed up food. He opened up the pots on the stove, taking in the rice, lentils and chicken. The smell was heavenly and after surviving on stale bread and hard cheese for the past week, he was relieved to eat a hot meal that required a plate and cooking.
Nesta didn’t move away when he joined her on the empty side of the couch, nor did she prompt him to eat somewhere else. Not that there was anywhere else to go eat. It was either down here with her, or upstairs shut away in his bedroom.
He opted for company, however silent it may be.
“It’s good.” He said after getting a second serving for himself.
“Emerie’s recipe.” She flipped the page, eyes never once wavering from scanning the lines in front of her.
He finished the remainder of the meal quietly, peeking glances to the female across him, not even two feet away, every so often. She’d opted for a loose knot at the back of her head, as opposed to the tight coronet braid it was usually in. And the nightgown she had on covered her from shoulders to toes.
Last he’d seen her, the week before, she’d looked much different. Her hair had been loose, falling down her back in silky ripples. He’d wrapped his hand around the length of it once, twice, until he’d had enough to tug her head gently backwards and meet him for a kiss. His hips had snapped into her own, pounding deeper and deeper and she’d pulled away with a moan, burying her head into the pillows as he tightened his grip on her hips. The thin scrap of lace that she’d come to him wearing, a barely there nightgown, was sitting discarded besides him on the floor besides the couch. He had been too close and he would have pushed her over the edge soon enough had there not been a sharp rap on the door a few feet from them.
Nesta had quieted immediately while Cassian had stopped altogether. The knock had come again a few moments later and Cassian had flipped her over onto her back while yelling out at whoever was at the door.
A message had come from a northern kingdom in the mountains that he was needed for some sort of emergency. Cassian had discussed the details for a few minutes more while continuing to fuck Nesta slowly, covering just her mouth as she came hard around him, back arched and eyes rolling back in her head.
It wasn’t until the messenger told him goodbye and that he’d be waiting at the training barracks for him that Cassian had properly extricated himself from Nesta, and propped himself into a sitting position on the couch.
Nesta was still catching her breath besides him and the swift peek he’d gotten between her slightly spread legs, of her swollen sex, had almost tempted him to taste her one last time before he had to be off. Almost, because before he could do anything, Nesta had reached down and dressed herself in that damned gown again.
Before he could rise as well, and cool down to get rid of his hardness, Nesta had gotten on her knees between his open legs, sucking him down her throat. It hadn’t taken him very long to explode in her mouth, his hands holding her hair back while he fucked it with a frenzy. She’d taken every thrust, and swallowed his release while continuing to work her mouth around him.
Her eyes had looked up at him wickedly as her tongue had chased him from the side of pleasure to overstimulation and he had twitched against her hold.
They hadn’t shared a goodbye but Nesta had kissed him swiftly, brutally, with the taste of himself still on her tongue before walking away.
“What?,” she snapped, pulling him from his lewd thoughts.
“Nothing,” he said, scraping his dish clean. He picked up the bag he’d brought with him and made his way to the kitchen to clean up.
It was only after he’d washed his dishes and placed the leftover food in the icebox did he call out to Nesta to join him. She hadn’t moved right away but after a few breaths he’d heard a shuffle, the closing of a book and she’d soon appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“What?” Clipped. And a hint of annoyance if he’d read the rest of her posture correctly.
“Aren’t you charming? Is the book getting good? Did I interrupt an upcoming smut scene?”
He opened the white box’s packaging and Nesta took a seat opposite him from the center island.
“It already happened. They were going at it again.”
“How refreshing,” he chuckled with a wink. Nesta rolled her eyes.
“So I know how you are about your chocolate cake, but you have to try this one. I picked it up from a bakery up north and trust me, you’ve never had anything like it before.” He placed a generous slide onto the cake plate and pushed it towards her, handing her the fork she always favored.
Nesta didn’t eat it. She only surveyed the white cream and strawberry jam in between the large cake layers with barely concealed disdain. Strange. To his knowledge, she liked strawberries fine enough. And cake was always a welcome dessert for her.
“Where is it from?”
“Erm, Miyola. It’s a small town between these two hills in the northern Steppes. I know the baker there. I haven't had a chance to go in a while but I was nearby for the work I was doing with that Illyrian king, so I decided to drop by on the way home.”
She picked up her fork, spearing the center of the cake, but still not eating it.
“This baker is your…friend.”
She stated it but Cassian heard the question in her voice.
“Yes,” he answered, confused. A sort of friend that he’d known for a couple decades. Nothing like Azriel or Rhys, which were more family than friends at this point. But still, a good friend who made great pastries. And always gave him some extra for free when he left.
Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Just friends? It’s a very nice cake.”
“Yes,” he answered again, irritation beginning to spike in him. Gods but he was tired.
Nesta reached down to her lap before procuring a small piece of paper, all but throwing it at him.
“It fell from your bag when you came home.”
Cassian read it in silence, quickly realizing what Nesta was probably thinking.
“It’s not…”
“She doesn’t seem to be very set on being just friends, don’t you think?”
Nesta’s glare was murderous.
Layla, the baker he’d met a century ago had been a fun, heated tryst that had quickly fizzled out. Or so he’d thought. And when he had dropped by this past week, his thoughts of their past nights had been a fleeting memory. Perhaps he should have explained the cake was for Nesta, his…
Well she wasn't really his anything. Not between them or amongst the rest of the world. She’d made that much clear the first time they’d slept together. A very formidable line had been drawn, by her, making it known to him that it was just sex. Just for fun. And only while she was staying with him in Illyria. That it had nothing to do with romance, or care, or anything outside of base lust and desire. Which he could understand if it was any other female besides Nesta. If it had been any other female, he would have gladly accepted the agreement, and while he still had, a large part of him had felt empty at the thought. That it was all they would ever be. So for her to question this situation, question them when there really wasn’t a them - well it clawed at some already fraying part of him.
“Is that a problem?” He couldn’t help the snap in his words, the teeth he had to keep himself from baring.
If she wanted to play games, he could too. Nesta didn’t expect that and her spine stiffened, practically begging her to fight back. Bite back even. But he knew she wouldn’t answer truthfully. Because to do so would mean admitting that this thing between them was something real, something more than what she was lying to herself about. And the best thing she always did was run from the truth.
“Of course not. Why should I have a problem who you invite to your bed? I was just curious since you said- no, you lied, about who she was.”
“I didn’t-,” Cassian caught himself, taking in a ragged breath. So that’s what they would do tonight. Fight. He was in no mood for it.
“She’s a friend. I didn’t lie about it. And even if she wasn't, why do you care?”
Her spine went ramrod straight and she took in a quick breath, eyes blazing with simmering fury.
“I don’t,” came her strained reply.
Sure.
“So eat the cake.”
She waved her hand, ignoring him. “I don’t care. I don’t control you. I’m not stopping you from whatever you want with her. If you’d like to even bring her here and fuck her, why should I care?” Nesta got up, getting shriller and shriller with each passing word. “I don’t care one bit Cassian. Don’t stop on my account. While you’re at it, why not become reacquainted with all of your old friends? Females just seem to throw themselves at you left and right, don’t they?”
“They do, actually,” Cassian retorted. “I didn’t think you’d give a shit though. You don't about anything else.”
Nesta seemed to startle at his sudden outburst, but she quickly recovered.
“Well how great that’ll be then. You can go to one of them now and stop panting after me.”
“I wasn’t aware you were so miserable,” he deadpanned.
She smirked, crooning. “Males’ egos are truly a thing of wonder. You aren’t doing anything for me that I can’t do for myself with my own hand.”
Cassian laughed darkly. “Let’s not get into all the things I do to you. With my hands or otherwise.”
A faint blush stained her cheeks at that but she didn’t back down. She opened her mouth, readying for her next attack, but Cassian interrupted it.
He tried softer this time. “Don’t be cruel, it doesn't suit you.”
“Doesn’t it?,” she snapped.
Cassian shrugged then. “Jealousy definitely doesn’t. You would know if there were any other females around me in that way. You’d smell it on me.”
She shook her head. “I’m not jealous. I already told you, I don’t-.”
“Yes I got it the first time. You don’t care. Are you done now?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Cassian had to laugh at that. “Are you done, Nesta? Have you had enough?”
Eyes narrowed in contempt, arms crossed over her chest in lovely defiance, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
Cassian took a bite of the cake. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. And you don’t quit. I’d admire it if I wasn’t so tired. And I’d encourage it if I wasn’t already in a piss poor mood. Gods know I don’t need any excitement for a while.”
She blinked, unmoving, but quiet. So he continued, finishing up his dessert.
“But we do this, don’t we? You pick a fight with something that isn’t really an issue. I say something, you say something worse, I say something back, you get upset. You cry and then I’m the asshole that has to apologize for something you started. Or did I miss something?”
She knew he was right, but Nesta wouldn’t say it. Nesta wouldn’t say a lot of things. So instead he reached across the table, and pushed her plate further towards her.
“Eat the damn cake, Nesta. I brought it for you.”
She did. With just enough contempt that she might have scratched the plate with her fork from her first bite. But she did it. And eventually she had a second slice too, Cassian noted with a small feeling of victory.
“What’s her name?”
Gods save him, not this again.
“Nesta, I don’t-.”
She held up a hand, almost placating him. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I just wanted to know her name.”
Cassian hesitated for a moment. “Layla.”
“Pretty,” she noted quietly, moving the fork around her empty plate.
“Yes,” he murmured, cleaning up, and trying his best not to stare too much at Nesta, in case she spooked and ran from him again.
“Is she? Pretty, I mean.” Nesta’s voice was soft and too fragile for his liking. She wouldn’t look at him as she asked.
“Yes,” he admitted slowly. And she was. He couldn’t deny it. And even if he lied, Nesta would know. She always knew when he lied.
Nesta left then.
He argued with himself the entire way up the stairs and to her door. To talk to her, soothe her worries, and reassure her that there was no one else for him. But to do that would mean acknowledging that there was something here of enough substance where another female might present a problem.
Nesta would never accept that.
Still he knocked, and even though she didn’t and wouldn’t respond, he let himself in.
“New book?”
She didn’t look up once, sprawled out on her stomach, with her feet to the head of the bed.
“Old book. Rereading it.”
At least she spoke to him. He supposed they were no longer in that rough place anymore where he would have to worry about her stoic silence. She rarely iced him out since staying with him. Rarely felt the need to resort to it, even with some of their worst fights. This, he could work with.
He sat down beside her, trying his best, and failing, to keep the peace.
“You’re beautiful,” he finally said after a pregnant pause.
She clicked her tongue. “Is that why you’re here? I don’t need that from you. I’ve been told I had a face fit to marry a king since I was eight. This isn’t news for me.”
Of course it wasn’t. People had to be blind to not know that Nesta was stunning. Becoming Fae had only heightened it to being otherwordly.
“Well, then you should know that just because Layla-.” She clicked her tongue, shutting him up. She didn’t want to talk about this. But he couldn't leave it so cold and open. Especially not when he knew exactly what sorts of thoughts were probably racing in her head.
“Nesta,” he murmured, hoping she’d at least look at him before he threw his heart out in front of her, yet again. She had a habit of stomping the life out of it, but he prayed one last time, that maybe she wouldn’t.
She closed her book then, turning onto her back to look up at him. Her hair fanned out behind her and Cassian couldn’t resist carding through the tresses softly, gently, with so much hesitation it was a wonder he didn’t tremble too.
There was something about Nesta that terrified Cassian. Not the stone cold facade or the cutting words. He could take a hit or two to his ego, and with Nesta, it was more entertaining for him than anything else. But he had faced foes on battlefields for centuries, had killed and maimed without much thought, and never once had he encountered someone like her.
The brute strength and the efficiently cutting violence that he could easily execute with had always helped him as a soldier. As a general. And then as commander. Never had it been a weakness to deter from until he’d met Nesta.
Then, suddenly, all his largeness, all his brash, booming loudness had become dangerous. To her. For her. Gods knew she had the temper and fire inside to match his own, and to meet every shredding, stupid thing he said to her with her own poison. But it wasn’t the same and he knew it.
The fragility that she hid behind a beautiful, almost impenetrable mask scared him. As if he may one day, accidentally, shatter her irreversibly, if he wasn’t careful. So he tried again this time, trying and willing the words to form in the gentlest way possible to deal with this storm of a woman laid out in front of him.
“I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t guard you from reality even though I’d like to. There will always be another Layla if you go looking hard enough. And knowing you, you tend to go looking for heartbreak just so you can swing first.”
Cassian didn’t miss the fact that her storm-grey eyes began to fill with tears, but he had to commend her grit in not letting them fall.
“Is it not enough if I tell you there is no one else? Not now, not for a very long time, and not anytime in the future as long as you wish it.”
She laughed, but it was a hollow, broken sound. “I never asked for your loyalty.”
“You have it anyhow.”
A stray tear leaked out and Cassian’s hand flexed automatically to reach over and wipe it away. He held himself back only for a moment, judging whether or not it would shatter this delicate moment. Another tear leaked out and Cassian gently wiped it off then. Nesta nuzzled against his hand and it took everything in him to not pull her towards him.
“I never asked anything of you,” she whispered into the heart of his palm.
“I know.”
“So why do you keep giving?”
Cassian smoothed her hair, stroking her cheek. “Because I can. Because I want to. I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”
She froze as he leaned down over her, before softening against him.
“I suppose so,” she whispered against his lips.
Cassian kissed her gently, even though his soul had been wholly consumed by her. Perhaps it would never be enough time in this world for him to show her how much she mattered to him, how much he cared. But for now, this would do.
~*~
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#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#nesta x cassian#nessian fanfiction#nesta fanfiction#cassianappreciationweek2023#acosf au#one shot#arinbelle#cassianappreciation
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