Before The Dust Settles

Since you asked... Soft Nessian headcanon: Nesta is absolutely the type to read through the night and Cassian will be passed out asleep curled up next to her but periodically there will be a sleepy mumble of "go to sleep" but Nesta will just keep saying "one more chapter"

This technically was just a really good headcanon, but I am so sleepy that I wrote a fic about sleep. This is my second fic about sleep... being half awake must inspire me or something.

~

Nesta’s chest is a beautiful thing. Not just because her breasts mold perfectly in his hands and she becomes pliant as he tugs and bites, but because when Cassian lays his head there, he can hear her life like trickles of water. Her heart is the pitter-patter of rain.

There’s nothing quite like music than the sounds that Nesta Archeron makes. From her moans, to her yells, to her quick snapping fingers when she’s frustrated. There’s nothing much that can compare to the sound of her breathing. Even the symphonia can’t rival her heartbeat.

So Cassian finds Nesta’s chest most agreeable. It’s the best place to sleep, where he can wrap his arms around her while she reads. It’s the best position for his wings.

He worries about his weight hurting her at first, but Nesta assures him that she’s comfortable. She’s always cold, Nesta reminds him.

You keep me warm, she says.

Cassian swears he blushes at her words but he buries his burning cheeks in her blue nightgown and she burrows her fingers into his hair.

It’s easy to sleep with her heartbeat in his ears. It’s like his soul calms at the thump it makes and she reads the night away, absent-mindedly stroking his hair. He wants to cry at first... at the touch. What it means. She, the female of his dreams, in his arms.

More than that, Nesta loves him. He’s never felt more loved in all his life so it’s easy to drift, to float down still waters where sleep awaits. He has never felt more safe than in her arms.

And sometime in the night, she laughs. A soft bell rings in his ears and the movement of her chest has him grasping her tighter.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbles.

“Shhh,” Nesta whispers as if his interruption disturbs her. “It’s night already, you should be sleeping.”

He merely gives her a slow blink and when she raises a brow as if to say of course, she’s right, Cassian can’t seem to argue when he’s only half-awake.

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles, when he hears the shift of a page.

“There’s only one more chapter,” Nesta says.

“That’s a long chapter,” Cassian muses as he closes his eyes.. He can still see the chuck of more than a few chapters under her hands, but he’s too tired to argue and Nesta’s much too soft and warm to resist.

And when Cassian awakens for the third time that night, he can only frown at the book still in her hands. The light is still on and the heavy glow makes him want to shield them both with his wings.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“There’s only a few more chapters,” Nesta pleads, showing him the pages as proof. “I’m not lying this time.”

Cassian concedes, tucking himself into her chest as he grumbles about sleep. He drifts off to dreams thinking of rain.

When Cassian wakes for the fourth time, it’s to a heavy book thumping on his back. Her thumb is still stuck in-between pages and Cassian reaches for her bookmark first.

Her chest moves languidly like ships rocking on the sea, and Cassian thinks he’ll dream of waves tonight. He'll hear siren songs as he sleeps.

But first, he reaches for the light and tucks her closer.

@arinbelle

ACOSF 78.5

Wrote a chapter that i felt was missing, plz convey ur thoughts  plagiarized the sex scene bc that felt uncomfy to write lol

Hours later, once Feyre and Nyx were sound asleep and Rhys had some color return to his cheeks, Nesta and Cassian flew back to the house. The new family was under vigilant watch by Mor and Elain, the latter who had refused to let Madja leave without the finest bouquet made from the rarest plants in the river house garden.

Mor had winnowed Gwyn and Emerie back to the library – Emerie had no desire to return to Windhaven just yet, especially when her home had been torn apart both by their Illyrian kidnappers and later, by Cassian’s utter panic. Nesta was not quite ready to part with her sisters-in-arms just yet, but knew they all desperately needed a bath and a warm meal.

Alone in the sky, Nesta rested her head against Cassian’s shoulder. She savored his scent, taking deep, heady breaths of him as they flew under the twinkling stars in the sky. She savored the feel of his strong heartbeat alongside the steady beat of his wings. She pressed a kiss to his jaw and idly traced the veins of his neck. She had missed this feeling desperately over the past week. And for a few terrifying moments on the slopes of Ramiel, she thought would never be in his arms again; the though threatened to set free the tears she hasn’t yet shed. Cassian must have sensed the direction her thoughts had headed in and only clutched her tighter to him.

Cassian flew them higher and higher, and with each beat of his wings, Nesta allowed the bone-tired weariness to creep in. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate a full meal or got a full night’s rest. She ached to be reunited with her bed or be reacquainted with the House’s culinary creations.  

A few wingbeats later, Cassian arrived at the landing of the House. He gently lowered Nesta down to her feet, but as soon as her legs touched the ground they threatened to buckle. He wordlessly lifted her back up and carried her past the threshold of their home.

“Welcome home,” he whispered against her ear.

Nesta shuddered; her home, her friend. In response, the house brushed a calming wind against her forehead, and Nesta could smell of roast beef (or was it a steak?) wafting from her room and hear a trickle of water coming from the adjoining bath. As if the house knew exactly what she needed; an old nursemaid indeed.

Cassian carried her down to her room and cautiously set her down. Her knees wobbled but she remained upright. They both silently took in their surroundings and started; in the corner of the room stood a spiral staircase, a staircase connecting her room and Cassian’s above her.

Cassian chuckled, “Guess someone has been doing some redecorating while we’ve been away.” 

“I guess so,” Nesta mused. To the House she said, “Thank you.” Nesta could’ve sworn the air around her bowed in response.

“What should we do with my room upstairs – we can turn it into an indoor training ring. Or an auxiliary library. Or into a giant closet. The opportunities are endless,” Cassian grinned. 

Nesta blinked away the tears threatening to let loose. It was so silly – so silly to be brought to tears by something this mundane. But to have options, to have the ability to plan for the future. The future with him. This was something she would never again take for granted.

“We can do whatever we want.” She said in response. She took in a deep breath. “But right now, I think I really want a bath.” 

Cassian nodded. “I can’t say I like the scent of you in another male’s clothes. I’m looking forward to using this outfit as kindling.” 

Nesta snorted, and slowly, painfully walked into the bath chamber towards the already drawn bath. The enticing scents of lavender and lilacs drifted towards her; but she found herself too exhausted to peel off her clothes, oversized though they were. Cassian silently entered behind her and gently took off the stolen, stinking clothing. He lifted her naked body into the bath and Nesta groaned at the first touch of warm water against her aching body.

The water didn’t sting against her injuries as it should have; taking a quick glance at the bottles lined up next to her told Nesta that the House had mixed a healing salve into the water. Nesta couldn’t be more grateful.

As soon as she was settled in the bath, a tray of roast beef and vegetables appeared in front of her, resting across the tub. Next to the main course was the most beautiful slice of chocolate cake Nesta had ever seen. The sight of the steaming meat and shining dessert had Nesta ready to break down in tears again.

“Looks good enough to eat.” Cassian said, a touch too innocently. Nesta smiled up at him.

“Do you want to get in?” She asked him, echoing the question from so many months before.

The amber in his eyes darkened, his eyes scanning over her body like a brand. His gaze lingered on a cut on her shoulder; Cassian sucked in a breath, and schooled his face into neutrality. Courtier indeed. His response was the same now as it was then, and a softer type of pain slashed across his eyes, “You’re hurt.” 

“That didn’t stop you before.”

Cassian growled, low and heady in his throat, and Nesta’s blood sang in response.

Cassian pointed towards the tray of food. “Alright. Get started on your dinner. I’m going to go dispose of these godsforsaken clothes and be right back.” Cassian turned and picked up the pile of torn and dirty clothes and strode out of the bathroom.

Nesta’s tired and aching body thrummed in anticipation, creating a strange combination of exhaustion and eagerness. She turned her attention towards her food, and began to eat, counting down the seconds until her mate returned. 

*

Cassian hadn’t been gone more than four minutes when he returned to the bath. He laughed softly at his view: Nesta dozing off, in front of her a half-eaten plate of roast beef and a second plate, completely empty, where not a single crumb of chocolate cake remained. Nesta’s mouth was lined with her dessert; he had never known his mate to be an ill-mannered eater, but the residue from her meal showed him how starved she must have been.

Mate. His mate. He leaned down and helped himself to the remaining beef and vegetables on her plate. This wasn’t quite the food sharing ceremony that he wanted, but what was hers was his, and what was his was hers. They might as well start sharing now.

He lifted the empty tray off the bath and set it on the floor. He turned to grab a towel but was halted by Nesta stirring.

“What took you so long?” She grumbled.

“I was gone for less than 5 minutes. You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t care. Get in.” Nesta threw as much bite into the command as she could, but her exhaustion won out. Instead, she wound up sounding like a petulant child. Irritated, she made to scooch forward in the tub and stared up at him expectantly.

Cassian loosed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Your wish is my command, my lady.” He peeled off his clothes, keeping his eyes on hers. He wanted her – needed her – badly, but knew she needed rest. He lowered himself into the bath behind her, wings and all.

“Dunk your hair in so I can wash you.”

Nesta obeyed, and was rewarded by his fingers skillfully lathering something scented with lilacs into her hair. He massaged her temple, her hair, and behind her ears with such skill that she moaned. She felt him hard and ready behind her and made to reach for him. He flicked her hand away, his laugh a quiet grumble in his throat. Cassian leaned his mouth down against her ear to whisper, “When you’re healed and looking pretty again, then I’ll let you fuck me wherever you please in this House.” 

“Using my own words against me. You’re a quick study, Courtier.” Nesta chuckled, “You would think saving the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court would entitle me to some sort of a reward.”

Cassian felt his heart clench, and quickly forced the somber thoughts out of his mind. She had saved them; she had saved them all. He would never stop being thankful for his brave, beautiful mate. “Dunk your hair back in the water and we can get you dried up.” 

“I don’t want to leave the bath yet. I like it here.”

I like it here with you, were the words that were left unspoken, but understood, between the two of them. Cassian nodded silently against her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.

Nesta leaned more fully against him and closed her eyes, and Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist. In their home, his mate in his arms, he relished in this moment. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Nesta whispered, “You’re more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

Cassian stared down at her, but her eyelids were drooping and he knew that she needed rest. He only held her closer and began soothing strokes down her leg.

Safe in her mate’s arms, Nesta slept. 

*

Hours, or maybe even days, later, Nesta awoke in her bed. It was dark again – could she have actually slept an entire day? She rubbed her eyes awake.

Wings, she realized. She had been sleeping cocooned in her mate’s wings; they both were. She turned to face him; her beautiful, kind, and fiercely loving mate. Her love.

It was rare that she awoke before him; his Illyrian training had him up at the crack of dawn every single day. It wasn’t often that Nesta had an opportunity like this, an opportunity to stare at his perfect face. A face she hadn’t seen for a week. A face she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate in their reunion that had been cut short.

Conveniently enough, they were both naked – she peered down and laughed quietly. Even in sleep, he was ready for her.

Nesta lifted an arm to trace the velvety membrane of his wing. She traced from its outermost border toward his back, stroking determinedly where skin met wing, and pressed a kiss to his chest, trailing her mouth upwards. She reached her other hand down and began pumping him softly, and felt her own wetness begin to pool between her legs.

“Good morning,” he whispered when her mouth met his.

“Good morning,” she whispered back, smiling. She lifted her hips in silent command.

Grinning wickedly, Cassian obeyed. He nudged at her entrance but halted there, and Nesta whimpered.

Cassian snickered, “Still so impatient, Archeron.”

Nesta growled. She arched her neck in a second command digging her fingers into his shoulders, and Cassian didn’t hesitate a single second before licking up her neck and plunging into her at the same moment.

I missed this. Being drenched in you. Nesta gasped at Cassian’s voice, as clear as any words spoken aloud, in her mind. Cassian chuckled, his laugh a song to her blood. One of the many benefits of the mating bond, in case you forgot.

Cassian drew out in a long slide, leveraging Nesta’s stunned silence to his benefit. He thrust back, seating himself fully and watched her eyes roll back into her head. The sight of her so undone so quickly had him ready to come instantly, but he willed his cock to relax.

He withdrew again, and watched his cock slide out, gleaming with her wetness, and then plunged again. With every thrust, he lost himself in her, as if he hadn’t already done so weeks, months, and years ago. He lost all sense of himself, and there was her, only her.

I love you. He said into her mind with every thrust. I love you.

Nesta couldn’t stop the barrage of tears freeing themselves from her eyes. The words that had evaded her for so long, the words she knew to be true with his every action and every glance in her direction. The words she didn’t know she needed to hear until now. 

“I love you,” she choked out, “I have always loved you.”

 I love you. With everything I have ever been, with everything that I am, with everything I will ever be. I love you.

Release barreled into them both at the same moment, and he rammed up into her with such a mighty thrust that they both screamed. She clamped around him, and he spilled as much of himself as he could into her.

They clung to each other, Nesta stroking his arm and Cassian clutching her tightly to his chest on top of his thundering heart.  

“I love you,” he whispered, silver lining his eyes, “More and more with every passing moment, with every passing day.”

She kissed him deeply, letting her lips and mouth and tongue convey what words could not. Surrounded by the love of her House, the love of her mate, and her growing love for herself, she said to him, do it again.

Cassian grinned, happy to oblige.

Be the first who ever did

unhappily married nessian one-shot, angst, hurt/comfort, nesta is sick

-

“Okay,” Cassian says, brushing by her, “I’m off. I’ll see you tonight at Helion’s.” He grabs his coat off the rack and swings it around his shoulders. “Don’t be late, alright? Six o’clock.”

Nesta leans against the kitchen counter and nods. She’s never late. She’d be excommunicated by her husband’s friends—not that she’d really mind. He puts his hand on her shoulder and brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Bye,” she says, but his back is turned and he’s pretty much gone.

Without him and his interruptions, his footsteps on the penthouse floor, the place is coldly quiet. Nesta pads to the bathroom and starts to run water for a bath. It’s too cold today to do anything, and her head hurts, anyway. Sometimes Feyre will call and ask her to take care of Nyx, but there’s been no hurried voicemail today, no blinking time on the phone, and she knows the rest of the day will pass in the way of most others: slow, like molasses, tired and dripping, until someone cleans it up in time for the party, the dinner, the gala, the whatever. She puts a hand to her head and fumbles around in the cabinet for painkillers. After she takes a bath she’ll figure out what she’s going to wear tonight.

Out of the bath, she only feels worse. She pins up her hair and ties her robe, then goes to the guest room where she keeps all her clothes. There’s a lot of clothes. Being married to the general of the Night Court gives her a lot of money and a lot of time and a lot of clothes. Numbly she looks through the racks, head spinning.

Seguir leyendo

Ok ok so hear me out

Prompt- basically one where Nesta and Cassian didn’t mate at the end of of ACOSF, never even slept together. Nesta just ends up giving in and agreeing to train or work in the lib and eventually becomes ‘apart’ of the inner circle and does magic and shit for them or whatever.

And cassian of course is overjoyed because nesta is part of the fam now and he keeps trying to play with her or rile her up (like the old Cassian did) back to his old self now that she’s doing what they want but because nesta was forced to submit she’s just a shell of a person, doesn’t want to argue with him or anyone, just does what she’s told. And now cassians beginning to really panic (as he should) because he just wants her to be happy

Love your work btw <3

Did someone ask for ✨Angst✨

Nesta learned young that the world wanted silence from women.

Yes, she had been a woman then. A girl and then a woman and now … a female. Pretty dresses and panting creatures who thought with the parts between their legs and a list of rules she never wanted to follow. The only difference in this life was that it would never end.

The Fae claimed to be different, well, the hypocrites she was surrounded by claimed to be different.

The humans rapped her knucles with hard wooden switches and pulled her spine up straight and sat her on the shelf like a pretty little doll to be silent decoration. They demanded silence and a pretty smile.

Feyre and Rhysand and their merry little court put a sword in her hand and sent her to war even as they demanded the same thing. She was allowed to speak and sweat and curse as much as she pleased. She was allowed to be wild as Feyre always had been, but still they expected silence.

Silence where it mattered.

Nesta found her spot in this court when she started to learn from Elain. When she noticed that no one bothered her no matter how far she fell, how depressed she clearly was, how haunted her eyes looked. No one yelled or locked her away or claimed to hate her. You could not hate a person who never said what they thought.

It was a different kind of freedom, Nesta supposed, to be completely numb. To watch your own too long, too graceful fingers slip past this beautiful, hazy possibility you once clung to with battered knuckles and a warrior’s spirit.

They never commented on her drinking now, though it was worse than it had ever been. Feyre giggled and set bottle after bottle between them on a coffee table as she prattled on about her mate and her baby and whatever new way the world was set to end this time. Nesta smiled now as she never had before. Smiled and nodded and made a well timed joke between sips of pink spiked summer water and Feyre never noticed.

How proud she was of herself, of the warrior sister she plucked from the slums and gave a purpose.

Nesta wore the dresses Rhysand gifted her even though the softest silk felt like sandpaper against her skin. She ate at their table and fought all of their battles and it was almost tolerable.

Living like a tiger in one of those roaming circuses. Not free, not allowed to be what it was born to be, not allowed to revel in its pouncing nature, but … secure. Fed and managed and perfectly fine.

She was perfectly fine.

“Nes is going to kick your ass pretty soon if you don’t get back in the ring, Rhys,” Cassian joked one night as he peeled sweat-soaked leathers from his toned body. Tossing them to the floor, treating the House like his maid the way he always had. The way he would have no reason not to.

“I could kick his ass now,” Nesta said on cue and without inflection. That was her line. Cassian baited Rhys and she flexed the muscles she let him train into her body and agreed with whatever he said.

“It would be a waste for Nesta and I to ever spar with fists.”

Nesta swallowed. She had no line for that. No witty response for mention of her party trick power that was only allowed out on Rhys and Feyre’s command. Cassian swooped in, convinced it was a lasting sensitivity he must save her from. “As long as none of us play her in cards,” he joked.

Nesta rolled her eyes and laughed how she was supposed to.

It wasn’t until later that night, long after the sun had set, when she was drinking her way through Rhys’ rapidly declining supply of good whiskey, that she realized her mistake.

The numbness only worked when no one looked too close. And no one ever cared to … except for him. He always looked too close.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Of course.” Maybe that was where she went wrong. Being too amicable. Somewhere, in a deep echo chamber where she kept all her true thoughts locked away, Nesta knew that she would never acquiesce without a snarky comment. She didn’t have the energy to find that line. And why should she? Everyone but him was fine with this.

Cassian sat too close on purpose, pressed his knee against hers and took a long drag from her glass rather than getting his own. He refilled it and licked the side before giving it back to her.

Nesta took a sip from the other side. His eyebrows knitted together.

“Still insisting on all this fabric I see,” he grinned lecherously, picking up the gauzy end of her nightgown. “Feyre and Mor don’t take you to that fun shop by the rainbow?”

“They do,” Nesta nodded, eyes fixed on a spot in the distance.

“Maybe you would let me join you next time?” He smirked, bicep brushing up against her shoulder.

“If you would like.”

“And you can try some things on for me?” Nesta nodded as she took another sip of her drink.

“If you would like.”

“And then we can go behind the store and fuck like animals in plain sight?”

“If you-“ Nesta paused, mind catching up to the words she had been tuning out.

“There we go,” he sighed, moving back and sinking into the chair beside her. “There was actually life in your eyes for a second there.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Talk to me, Nes.” She hated when he called her that, hated the softness he insisted on cloaking her with in his own mind. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. “Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit!” Nesta winced, because the last time Cassian said those words to her …

“I’m fine,” she forced a smile. “Really!” She couldn’t go back. Couldn’t go back to being locked away and cut off and terrified. She couldn’t go back to being desperate and under their control all the time.

“You aren’t fine,” he whispered. “You barely even seem like yourself, Nes.”

“Exactly,” she felt her eyes spark for just a second before dousing them in cold water. “I am better now.”

Cassian only blinked. “Better?”

“Just like you all wanted.”

“We didn’t want a shell, Nesta!” His voice rose, cracking at the top in a way she had never heard.

“Of course you did,” she shrugged. “Everyone is happy this way, Cassian.”

“I’m not,” he shook his head, eyes going wide with the realization of just how empty she was now.

Typical Cassian to change his mind just when she gave him everything he wanted.

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Nesta what the fuck?” He nearly toppled out of his chair, falling to his knees with an audible crack. Nesta raised her legs up and hugged them to her chest to avoid contact. “Nesta this isn’t … where did you go?”

“I am right here,” she smiled her new smile. The one that danced like a reluctant spirit on her lips and would never reach her eyes.

“No,” he shook his head. “No this isn’t … this isn’t you, Nes.”

“Of course it is,” she shrugged. “It is exactly the me you told me to be.” Even her accusations sounded like sleepy sighs. “Train or go to the human lands. I trained. Live here or go to the human lands. I lived here. Play nice or be cut off. I played nice.” Nesta looked up, past his eyes instead of into them. “I followed all your rules, Cassian. You don’t get to change them now just because your favourite toy is broken.”

“Hi, yes, I’m Lily Evans. I received a call?”

Lily unzipped her jacket and leaned against the edge of the receptionist’s desk, staring down at a dumpy old woman with big round glasses.

“Oh yes, dear, he’s right over there,” the woman said, leaning forward to continue in a whisper, “I would have him checked for a head injury if I were you…he seemed pretty confused when he walked in here. Poor thing even forgot how to use a telephone.”

Lily smiled and nodded at the woman, knowing good and well that her friend’s confusion was not caused by a concussion. She turned her head, staring a few feet down the hall at a figure slumped in a chair against the wall. She had to admit that even though it was a bit of a pain having to pick Sirius up from a muggle police station, him not being behind bars was a huge positive. She walked towards him, her footsteps echoing against the tile of the empty hallway. His head perked up and he looked at her, his wild curls covering half of his face. He stood, wrapping her in a hug.

“Lily, darling! Wonderful to see you!” He smiled his trademark smile, toothy and charismatic. A smile that had dodged many detentions, changed many grades, and fooled many girls over the years.

Lily, however, saw right through him.

“Sirius, what is going on? How did you get here? Why are you here?”

“Ah, I just figured I needed an adventure, that’s all,” Sirius shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, “Ernie from the Knight Bus and I are very well acquainted. Also have you tried this muggle drink? The secretary woman gave it to me. Honestly, the things you guys come up with-”

Lily put her hand firmly on Sirius’ shoulder, bringing his mindless rant to a halt. He always got like this when he was trying to hide something, or trying to convince his friends that he wasn’t upset. She gently took the can of Coca-Cola from his hand, setting it on the floor by her feet.

She reached up slowly, brushing away the mop of curls that covered the right half of his face. She winced as she saw his eye, dark purple and slightly swollen. Someone had punched him. Sirius avoided her gaze, opting to stare down at the toes of his boots instead. Lily had a feeling she knew who had given him the black eye, and she was livid.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Sirius reached into his pocket, pulling out a ripped piece of paper. Lily immediately recognized her handwriting. She had given Sirius her address before Christmas break after finding out that James was going to be on holiday for most of it. He had shrugged it off at the time, but she insisted that he take it in case something bad happened. However, it looked as though part of it had been torn away.

“Kreacher found it and tried tearing it to bits,” Sirius told her, rolling the paper between his fingers, “I had a right hard time getting it back from him. I couldn’t remember the rest and I didn’t know what to do when I got here, so I made a bit of a loon of myself asking people on the street until someone brought me here.”

Lily smiled, pulling her friend into another hug. She held him tighter this time, twirling his curls around her finger as he melted into her. She could tell he was exhausted. Her heart broke for him. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“Come on, it’s getting late. We’ll go back to my house and make some tea. My dad’s already made up the spare bed for you.”

Sirius pulled away, giving Lily a watery smile and running a quick hand over his eyes, wincing as he grazed his bruise. He picked up the can from beside their feet and Lily swung her arm around his shoulder, giving the woman behind the desk a quick nod as they left the building. As they stepped out into the cold winter air, Lily saw headlights coming up the street. She smiled and clutched Sirius’ arm.

“Ready to ride a Muggle bus for the first time?”

Part Time Soulmate, Full Time Problem

Summary: Nesta has been chosen as a sacrifice from her village- to appease the monsters, she's ordered to die.

But what's monster and what's merely humanity are two wholly different things. And on Calanamai, Nesta will learn which is which.

OR WHATEVER THIS IS MONSTER NESSIAN OKAY?

[note: based on this prompt: Calanmai for the fae is a time for celebrating their magic and fucking like rabbits, but to the humans it's time to pick their sacrifice to the demons of the woods to ensure their people and lands prosper and remain safe for a year. Every year the town picks a name of a human female to dress up like a virginal sacrifice in white, bound and gagged, and left at the border of the forest for the demons to take. Girls growing up are told to be kind and pure or else they could be chosen next. This year the name chosen is Nesta Archeron. That night a group of burley and aggressive men show up and force Nesta to comply or she could see her younger sisters taken in her stead. She willing dawns the gown and walks to the edge of the forest. When the men start to gets handsy while they try to tie her up the demons show up early and decide to make a meal of the human filth before taking the tantalizing and feisty human.]

Warning: dubious consent, inappropriate use of tails, human men | 6k words | NSFW | read on ao3

“Don’t tell Elain.”

Nesta didn’t know why it was so important Elain was left out of what was happening. It wasn’t like Elain would try and stop things, nor would Nesta risk her engagement to Graysen by telling the truth. 

Even it was Elain’s fiancé who’d sanctioned the entire thing to begin with. Feyre, though, the little snoop, had been listening to the entire thing. Hidden in a nearby tree, Feyre had heard the Senior Nolan approach her. 

“Every decade, a maiden is chosen as sacrifice,” he’d begun while his rat faced son had grinned down at her. No doubt, this was their way of absolving themselves of all responsibility to Elain’s family. They’d get the beautiful, submissive one and be rid of obstinate, difficult Nesta.

Still, her heart had raced as they’d continued. “This year, you’ve been chosen, Nesta Archeron. Are you virginal—”

She’d kill them, one day, for forcing her to admit she was. For the way they’d looked her body up and down despite the younger Nolan being pledged to her little sister. She was nothing more than a piece of meat to them, an object to tease and torment and yes, even fuck if they so wanted. She’d been afraid, for a moment, they might drag her behind those terrifying walls where no one would be able to help her.

Instead, Nesta had submitted to their demands. She’d go when the drumming began or they’d drag her and chain her to a tree. If she didn’t, Elain or Feyre—or maybe both—would be sent in her stead. It had been implied that her sisters might meet the same terrible fate as her father. Nesta had swallowed the urge to scream and merely agreed without a smile.

Fuck them. 

Fuck them. 

“You’re not really going to allow this, are you?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips the moment those men had vanished from sight. “Run away.”

“And let them drag Elain off instead?” Nesta had snapped. She could picture it. Elain, pleading with her betrothed, making him promises he would force her to honor once she was found safe in the morning. And to appease monsters who had long vanished from the world, Graysen would defile her.

And then he’d probably kill her.

Just like they’d done to their father. Nesta wasn’t stupid. Nolan wanted Elain, and the only thing keeping him from getting her had been the Archeron Patriarch. He was a miserable, ugly bastard in every other regard, but when it came to his favorite, he’d protected her as best he could. 

And they’d killed him for it. Nesta knew Elain dragged flowers out, mourning and believing it had been monsters who’d killed him. Wholly unaware the monsters were nothing but trees, and it was the men in the village she ought to be afraid of. 

“Don’t tell Elain.”

Feyre had sworn not to, though in exchange, Feyre wanted to walk Nesta in. Nesta still thought Feyre believed she could escape out to sea. She didn’t understand what Nesta did the moment she heard the distant drumming. This wasn’t about monsters and it never had been. It wasn’t about appeasing them, nor was it about order. It was merely about fear. Every decade, a young woman was chosen from a council of wrinkly, stupid, small dicked men who decided which woman was too frigid to ever fuck them and punished her—and every other woman in the village—by forcing her into the woods where they hunted her for sport.

And it worked. How many girls Nesta’s age had given themselves up when they didn’t want to simply so they’d never be chosen? Nesta refused. She’d refused both Tomas and his filthy, disgusting father and if she had to guess, the senior Mandray was on that council of assholes. 

Feyre’s tryst with Isaac Hale was too well known, and Elain too heavily coveted to be made an example of. That left only Nesta, who had too vocally opposed the match once their father died.

She regretted leaving Elain behind. She wanted to tell her cowering sister not to marry Graysen. To do so was to betray that Nesta knew she wasn’t coming back. They’d lied, told Elain they merely wanted to see what the drumming was about. Elain would never follow. 

It gave Nesta a small amount of comfort knowing that Elain would leave her flowers, too. That no matter how the village tried to erase her, Elain would keep her memory alive. The comfort was, however, small, the moment they stepped into the unseasonable warmth. Feyre drew her cloak tight around her, glancing at the bright red clasped around Nesta’s throat.

Why bother making herself hard to find? Better to just get it over with. All Nesta hoped for was whoever came for her, they made it quick and she was able to die on her feet rather than her knees. 

Beside her, Feyre’s fingers brushed the back of her hand. It was better that Feyre came—she knew not to reach for Nesta, to try and hold her or offer comfort. The closest they’d ever get to acknowledging how awful things were was that small gesture. 

I’m with you, those fingers seemed to say. Nesta balled her hands to fists, marching toward the swaying trees. 

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta, they seemed to whisper. Mocking her, just like those distant drums. Who was banging them, she wondered? Was it all part of the ruse? Or a real festival the men in her village took advantage of? Nesta’s heart hammered in time, thudding so loudly she couldn’t hear the rustling wind or her own heavy breathing. The Nolans were waiting at the edge of the trees. And like she’d suspected, the Mandrays were there too, along with the Winchesters, the Bogdens, and the Pattersons.

“You were supposed to come alone,” Nolan said, eyeing Feyre with distaste.

“I’ve come to see her in,” Feyre replied, jutting her chin defiantly. “And make sure everything is done according to protocol.”

Nesta’s throat constricted at Feyre’s bold words. Tomas lunged, grabbing Nesta’s shoulder before she could twist away. Feyre tried to pull her back but Tomas was stronger, pinning Nesta’s back to his chest.

“Or what, baby Archeron?” he asked, his breath fanning over Nesta’s neck while he laughed. “Run back home before we make a game of you, too.”

Feyre’s stamped her foot, drawing a knife she’d hidden in her boot. Graysen stepped forward, perhaps realizing how terrible it was for his future marriage if both his fiancé’s sisters died in one night.

Or, Nesta realized as he stalked closer and closer, he’d done the math and realized Feyre would tell Elain what she’d seen.

“Feyre,” Nesta choked out, struggling against Tomas’s hold. “Feyre, run.”

She could deal with this. Nesta didn’t expect Feyre to sacrifice herself for her, besides. Someone had to take care of Elain. 

Forcing herself not to cry, Nesta met Feyre’s starry-eyed stare. “Go,” she whispered. She couldn’t stand it. Let it be me, she thought wildly, trying to make Feyre understand. This is what I deserve. 

Feyre stumbled back into the treeline, gobbled up by the darkness. Even Graysen hesitated for a moment, standing still in a silvery patch of moonlight. Nesta understood what had unnerved him.

The forest had stilled. No more crickets, no wind, nothing but those ominous drums in the distance. Everyone who might have been banging them was standing in a semi-circle around her. Tomas’s grip on Nesta’s arms slackened for a moment as a long shadow blotted out the rest of the moonlight. 

“Fey?” Nesta whispered.

The creature that emerged was decidedly not Feyre. He was massive, made of golden brown muscle painted with blue and black inked whorls, all of it illuminated by blood red scales edging his skin. The creature towered over Graysen, tall enough to be a juvenile tree and twice as thick. Nesta didn’t know where to look first—at the rounded, black horns jutting from his forehead, the fangs gleaming in his mouth, the talons at his hands or the thick tail swishing with irritation behind him. 

He turned to face her, pinning her with hazel eyes more green than brown and behind those muscled shoulders— “Oh, gods,” Nolan whispered as massive, black, membranous wings unfurled. 

Where was Feyre? 

The smile he offered was anything but friendly. “Is she for me?” he rumbled. No one moved, nor did Tomas release her, though Nesta wished he would. 

The creature cocked his head. His dark, chestnut hair tickled against his shoulders while the wind blew the gentle waves against his high cheekbones and full lips. A scar streaked over his eyebrow, while another cut against his nose.

More, still decorated the muscles lining his ribs, his black inked shoulders and biceps, his pectorals. What kind of monster was this man? 

“Well?” he intoned in that deep, gravely voice of his. Unlike the high born men surrounding her, Nesta had the sense that this creature was a brute of the highest order. A warrior of his people, the sort who had battled things far worse than the men before her and survived. “Is the maiden for me?”

“And if she isn’t?” Tomas dared to ask. 

Nesta looked skyward at the full, silvery moon. Was it hysteria that made her smile? She closed her eyes as the creature said, “Then I’ll kill you for her.”

Hands shoved her at him, flinging her at his booted feet. Nesta gasped, the ground stinging her palms. 

“Take her, then,” Tomas spat. “She’s worthless to us, now.”

Clawed fingers gripped her upper arm, pulling her to her feet. She was close enough for the smell of pine trees and snow capped mountains to wash over her. 

“Did you touch her?” he asked, eyes never leaving her face. Nesta set her lips in a firm line, jutting her chin in the air just as Feyre had done earlier. She wasn’t his toy, either, and resented how much worth they ascribed to her virginity. 

“We broke the bitch in for you,” Tomas laughed, though it sounded hoarse—forced. “You’re welcome.”

The creature’s smile made her shiver. Nesta didn’t move when his tail curled around her calf, squeezing slightly. 

“Did you now?” he asked, stepping around Nesta. She skittered back, avoiding touching those massive wings of his. “I don’t recall asking you to do that.”

No one spoke. The creature paused when he reached Tomas, looking over his shoulder at Nesta. “He’s pissed himself,” he told Nesta, still smiling as if the whole thing were funny.

“Is it true he touched you?”

Nesta swallowed, nodding her head.

“And did you ask him to? No lies,” he added, as if Nesta would ever want to protect any of the men now trembling before the beast. She shook her head no. 

He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth. “Seems like it’s my lucky day,” he said, advancing on the men. “It’s been a long time since I tasted human flesh.”

Nesta didn’t move—watched as those sharp talons cut through Tomas’s throat. His screams were music to her, silenced in a gurgle of blood. All she could think about was that night in the barn, his hand on her mouth to keep her quiet, his knee between her legs. Nesta didn’t let herself consider what it said about her that she enjoyed the sight of Tomas being ripped to pieces or that she wasn’t afraid. 

Not until that winged, horned man turned to look at her, blood dripping from his teeth. He held her gaze for a heartbeat, smiling with a different, darker sort of hunger.

The kind that convinced Nesta she ought to run. 

She was looking for Feyre, though it occurred to Nesta that her sister might have seen the monster and turned around and gone home. Nesta wouldn’t have blamed her for that. Not when the distant silence set Nesta’s teeth on edge. Shouldn’t they be screaming loud enough to wake the village? 

Nesta’s legs pumped through the underbrush, dragging her closer and closer toward those loud drums. Closer to—

“Hello, Nes,” came that voice. She whirled and there he was. Blood soaked and grinning, his wings tucked tight against his back. “You got further than I thought you would. Not far enough,” he added, glancing around.

“Let me go,” she panted, resting her hands on her knees. “You got what you wanted.”

“Wrong,” he replied with easy amusement. “What I want is you. Killing them was merely a little sport.”

“A little…” Nesta couldn’t catch her breath. “A little sport.”

“I think you liked it,” he added, taking a step toward her. 

Nesta shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, trying to pretend she wasn’t as afraid as she was. He was massive, was made of pure muscle, of claws and horns and fangs. 

“To be hunted?” he asked, his eyes the only light in the darkness. He was close enough she could smell him again. Shouldn’t he smell like fire and brimstone? Like sulfur and death? 

She shook her head. “To be powerless.”

Those eyes of his found hers, so reminiscent of the first grasses of spring poking through the winter frost. Nesta blinked just as he lunged just as Tomas had. One moment Nesta was on her feet, still trying to catch her breath and the next he’d jumped, beating those massive wings.

They were skyborne.

“No!” she screamed, twining her arms around his neck. He only laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that reminded her of a cat. “Put me down!”

“I think not,” he replied, taking them higher and higher, until the treetops were mere dots beneath the clouds and Nesta—Nesta couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

“Please,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to his chest in an attempt to slow her frantic heart. “I–”

“Don’t get sweet on me now,” he said, tightening his grip. Nesta meant to snipe. To tell him to get fucked. 

“I’m going to kill you,” she whispered. Darkness was encroaching on her vision, and it was, she decided, a mercy to lose consciousness up here.

“I look forward to watching you try,” he replied, lips in her hair.

“Bastard.”

Her neck hurt. That was the first thought Nesta had when she came to. Her neck and her shoulders ached, stretched in a way that felt unnatural.

“There she is,” came his voice. Nesta opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of oblivion to look at him.

“You’re naked,” was the only thing she could think to say. She was in a cave illuminated by torches hanging on the four walls, bathing the two of them in a warm, orangey glow.

He’d restrained her, looping her wrists together with rope he’d then suspended to a ring in the ceiling. Nesta was forced to sit on her knees, the purpose of which seemed obvious enough.

He wasn’t aroused, which was a small mercy. That didn’t make her feel much better. Not when she couldn’t keep her eyes off the log hanging between his legs. Nesta had seen penises before—she’d seen Tomas’s pathetic thing when he’d pulled it out, releasing his hold on her just long enough for her to sink her teeth in his ear and escape. There would be no escaping this. Nesta knew he was watching her examine him, practically preening if those splayed out wings were any indication. It was just…she didn’t think they were supposed to be so tapered, and definitely should be scaled…or covered in thick ridges. 

Nesta’s eyes returned to his face. “Do I please you?”

“You disgust me,” she returned, breathless and scared. “Untie me right this instant.”

“How will you pretend you hate me if I unbind your hands?” he replied, still smiling. He’d wiped away the blood and the blue paint, leaving nothing but his scarred, brown flesh and the blank inked whorls she was certain foretold her doom. 

His wings stretched end to end in the cave, taloned tips hovering over his broad shoulders. He snapped them in close and stepped closer. Behind him, Nesta could see he’d folded up her cloak and dress just beside his pants and boots. Why? If he was going to eat her, too, why bother at all? 

“Don’t toy with me,” she told him, letting her desperation color her words. “Just…just make it quickly. I swore I wasn’t going to die on my knees—”

He laughed, jolting her back. “Die? Is that what you think?”

Nesta couldn’t help but look back to his cock, unmoved and yet…he was naked. “Yes?”

He came closer and closer, until he was kneeling, too, on that soft bed of blankets. Nesta could hear the steady thrum of the drums, pounding until her blood jumped, too. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he whispered, running a callused hand over her cheek. “And I’d untie you if I didn’t think you’d claw my eyes out.”

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, for all the good it did. He was closer still, running his tongue over her collarbone.

“Make a deal with me,” he whispered. Don’t, a voice in her head whispered even as she looked down to meet his gaze. 

“What kind of deal?”

He chuckled, lips trailing toward her breasts. Fuck him, and the way her body was warming beneath his touch. It was magic—she’d swear it was. He’d woven some spell, had gotten in her head somehow.

“If I can’t make you feel pleasure with only my mouth, I’ll release you back to your little hamlet before the drums stop.”

Nesta blinked. With just his mouth? A red tinged haze had settled in her mind, clouding her judgment because she thought that was a decent idea. “And if you can?”

“Oh, Nes. I think we both know what happens then.”

She didn’t, but maybe it was better he didn’t spell it out. Besides, Nesta was known for her iron will. If he thought a couple minutes of kissing her was going to be enough to break her, he had another thing coming. 

“Fine,” she said. Given he’d already removed her clothes and tied her up, she had little room to bargain. How fun, besides, to wound the monster's pride. “Do you have a name, or shall I call you brute?”

“You can call me whatever you like,” he told her, licking her peaked nipple. Nesta swallowed—she hated it, she hated it, she hated it–-and focused her eyes on the flickering light of one of the torches. 

“But most people call me Cassian.”

“Cassian,” he repeated, catching how his breath stuttered. “That’s a rather nice name for a creature like you?”

He shrugged those inked shoulders. “And Nesta seems like the sort of name you’d give your daughter knowing she’d grow up to be a witch.”

Well. Nesta huffed and Cassian licked again, looking up at her as if to ask, did I guess right? Do people think that about you? 

She didn’t deign to answer, nor did she need to. He knew he was right, had marked her just as surely as she had the moment he’d seen her. 

“Is this your great plan?” she asked, still staring at the flame when his lips sucked around her nipple. Nesta knew how to bring herself to completion and this was not how it was done. Not that Nesta was going to tell him that. Let him waste his time—she’d be back in bed, this whole thing little more than a memory. 

“Are you always so impatient?” he murmured, his tongue lavishing praise over her sensitive skin. 

“When I’m tied to a ceiling? Strangely, yes, I do find myself impatient. Get on with it, Cassian.”

He grinned, nipping at her neglected nipple gently. “The words every male wants to hear. Get on with it, Cassian,” he mimicked, grinning as he…as he laid himself on the floor.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, squirming when those big, broad hands reached for her waist. Nesta twisted, straining her shoulders in an attempt to keep him from lowering her directly against his face. 

“Using my mouth to please you, remember?” he asked, looking up at her through dark lashes. 

“That’s not—this isn’t what I meant—Cassian, don’t—”

She hadn’t realized his tongue was forked until it slid from behind his teeth to lick her cunt. Nesta screamed, unsure if it was fear or rage or even the betrayal of her enjoyment that made her do so. Cassian didn’t stop, digging his fingers tighter into her hips to keep her still. 

“Cassian,” she panted, thinking she could convince him to stop if she just…if she just what? Begged? When his tongue was swirling over her clit the way her fingers often did, but softer and wetter than anything she could have managed herself? “Cassian, stop. Let’s…lets just talk—”

He sucked her clit between his lips and Nesta bucked into him, unable to help herself. Instinct demanded she rub herself against him while the last remnants of her good sense begged her to fall limp until he grew tired and just killed her.

That was the crux of it for Nesta. She didn’t truly believe he wasn’t going to kill her, that this wasn’t some game in which he wound her up, took everything he could get, and then bathed in her blood, too. 

Twisting against her restraints, Nesta could go nowhere and do nothing but submit. There would be no pretending, of that Nesta knew for certain. His mouth was too precise, messy in a way she thought she should have hated and yet secretly she relished it. She liked the smacking noises of his lips, the rumbling moans from his lips. 

And when she’d twisted, she’d seen that thing standing at attention between his legs. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was a test to see if she was right—that saying his name did something to him. Nesta didn’t know what, exactly, but when she said it, he bucked, fingers digging against her flesh hard enough to bruise. 

Nesta was nothing if not petty. If Cassian was going to drag every inch of pleasure out of her then she’d do just the same to him. In this battle of wills, she would be the victor. He would regret giving chase in the woods, would rue the day he’d ever chained her up. 

She’d leave him here, his own hands suspended over his head and if he begged her really pretty, maybe she wouldn’t kill him—a sweet fantasy given the horned monster was currently licking at her furiously, desperately.

And his tail— “Don’t you dare,” she gasped, her words little more than a moan.

“You’ll like it,” he replied, just as desperate, just as ragged. “Trust me.”

“I don’t—”

He growled, those hazel eyes flashing. It’s not like she could tell him no. Cassian flat out refused to hear her say it. Nesta closed her eyes and took a breath, fighting the urge to scream. She was so close, and it did occur to her his tail might stall her. It was so strange, scaled and fleshy like the rest of him and yet unnatural. She couldn’t pretend he was human, not with the horns and certainly not with the wings and yet when she looked at him, sometimes he looked like a man.

His tail stroked at her inner thigh. Nesta’s head fell to her chest while she tried—and failed—to act like it didn’t feel good.

“Stop,” she tried, clenching tight when she felt the tip tease against her entrance.

Cassian merely sped his tongue, his eyes never leaving her face. Gods, Nesta was going to come all over his face, he was going to get to keep her and she’d failed and—

His tail pushed into her body, maybe an inch. Not more than two. The stretch was enough to set her over the edge. There was no denying what was happening. Even with her teeth clenched so tight she could taste blood on her tongue, Nestas legs shook around his face, clenching so tight she didn’t know if his groan was pleasure or pain. 

“That’s enough,” she whispered when he kept pushing in. Nesta hated him for the reaction he drew, for making her come a second time when he began to gently thrust in and out of her, still working her too sensitive clit with that forked tongue of his. “Cassian—”

“I’ll tell you when it’s enough,” he panted, pulling away just long enough to see his glistening lips and shining, bright eyes. And, was it her imagination, or had the drums increased their tempo? Cassian, too, was licking faster, had begun to really work her with his tail and Nesta…well, Nesta was wrecked. She pulled at her restraints, twisting her body not in an attempt to escape him, but because he needed to lay forward.

Secretly, she needed to touch him, too. 

“Cassian, please,” she whispered, ignoring the string of words grunted from his throat in a language so old, she had no idea what he was saying. Uxor mea, or something close to it. Nesta, who’d been given a thorough education by their mother before she passed, had no idea what he was trying to say. 

“Please, please—Cassian no—!” Nesta came so hard her whole body went taut and slack all at once, jerking around him. She managed to throw herself sideways, kneeing him so hard in the face blood trickled from his already crooked nose. 

Cassian snarled, eyes flashing even as he propped himself up on his elbows. “I need a break,” she said, writhing against his tail still buried inside her. “I need to breathe.”

He looked toward the entrance of the cave, the movement so animal it set her on edge. Behind him, his wings flared before tucking tight against his body while his lip curled upward, revealing those sharp teeth. Nesta thought she heard rustling, a dress perhaps slithering over the ground, and soft footsteps walking closer, closer—and then nothing at all.

Cassian waited another heartbeat before those broad shoulders of his relaxed.

“What was that?”

“Not for us,” was all he said in response. “Have you taken a breath?”

He withdrew himself from her entirely, letting Nesta sag to the ground. Arms still held over her head, she wondered what it would take to convince him to untie her. Would he believe her if she said she wasn’t going to claw out his eyes? Not for lack of want, but simply because Nesta lacked the energy.

“What have you planned now?” she asked, delighted there was still bite to her words. Cassian was unaffected in a way no other man in her life ever had been. By now, they’d be bristling, determined to punish her for her smart mouth. Violent, even—hadn’t Tomas done that? Wasn’t that why she was chosen for the monster now rising to his feet before her? 

“I’m going to fuck you until you purr like a kitten,” he replied, flashing her a blood tinged smile. 

“Am I allowed to use my hands?” she retorted, looking up at her wrists still over her head. He hesitated, once again surprising her. The answer ought to be no. It hurt her and kept her at his feet, and that was what he wanted.

Wasn’t it? 

“Are you going to hit me?”

“I think you might like it if I was rough,” she responded silkily. And Cassian didn’t bother to hide how right she was, shuddering as his eyes rolled upward.

“Yes, I think I would,” he agreed. “I’d let you draw blood if you wanted.”

“Untie me,” she urged. Cassian hesitated even as his fingers became tipped with those sharp talons. 

“There is nowhere to run,” he said, eyeing that door again. “I’ve warded the entrance, but even if you did manage to incapacitate me and make it out, something far worse would harm you. I wouldn’t be able to help you.”

His words rang in the silence, punctuated by those pounding drums. He stood, muscled and broad—and erect, which she was trying so hard not to stare at despite being eye level with the thick appendage. 

Nesta shifted. “What is out there?”

He flashed her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re males, almost like the sort you’re accustomed to. But on Calanmai, we revert back to beasts. We’re driven by instinct,

Nes—and not everything out there will find you as beautiful and charming as I do.”

Nesta’s heart hammered. “Don’t lie to me.”

He strode toward her, reaching up and slashing. She collapsed to the soft bed beneath her, frantically unlooping the rope that had bound her. As she worked, Cassian crouched before her, his tail gently curling around her ankle. Just as it had done when she’d been standing outside the forest, waiting for him to exact his revenge. 

Lifting her chin with one gentle finger, Cassian said, “I would never lie to you. Ever.”

The drums drowned everything else out. “What are you going to do with me when this is all over?”

“Take you away,” he whispered, his mouth ghosting over her own. “I think you’d like it. You’d be the most terrifying thing those mountains had ever seen.”

“What about…” Nesta swallowed, because she knew what she’d have to say if he told her no. And Nesta wanted so badly to let him drag her off to the mountains, wherever they were, where she’d never have to see that miserable village ever again. “What about my sisters?”

Cassian’s eyes sparkled. “I thought you were the bravest female I’d ever seen, staring down Death the way you did. You did see him standing in front of you, did you not?”

Nesta reared back. “No. I only saw you.”

“Lucky me,” he replied with a grin. “I would have fought my brother if you’d preferred him. He has your sister—and the other one…the timid, weepy thing—”

“Elain,” Nesta said, waiting to hear Elain was still in bed, still safe.

“She is fine, as well. In the morning, I’ll take you to see them both,” he added. And, she supposed for good measure, he slashed one of those talons over his wrist, letting the blood drip toward his elbow. A promise written in blood.

“I will not harm you,” he whispered, rolling his shoulders as the drums outside increased in tempo. “I swear it.”

She thought all she had to do was shake on it. When she offered him her palm, Cassian curled those claw tipped fingers around it, slashing through her own thin, delicate skin.

Nesta hissed even as he pressed the wounds together. Warmth flooded through her bones, some magic that made Nesta feel settled.

Almost peaceful, given the circumstances. Maybe as much peace as a person could feel when they were kneeling and naked on a blanket, and their come was still shining on a monster man's lips. 

“Come here,” he whispered, tugging at her elbows. Nesta was staring at the wound, teeth gritted against the white hot pain. Blood trailed down her arm in little rivulets, staining her fair skin. And the wound itself…was knitting itself back together. There was no other word for what was happening. Like magical stitches, one moment it was an open line of blood and skin and the next it was unblemished and the pain was gone.

Nesta held it up to her face, ignoring how Cassian had manipulated their bodies so she was perched in his lap, her legs spayed around his massive, muscular thighs. She thought of Feyre, and all the times she’d come home injured from hunting in the woods and how useful this little trick might have been back when they were cutting up dresses to bandage the wounds. 

Something tugged in her chest. A muscle Nesta had never been aware of, something glimmering and golden and warm—something she would have noticed before, because that little tug filled her stomach with butterflies.

Cassian’s hand returned to her swollen clit, causing her to jump.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, realizing only right then that his massive, tapered cock was pressed against her wet cunt, glistening with his own arousal.

The sight of him so close to her was obscene. 

“You can take it,” he replied roughly, not understanding what she meant. His touch was too much, but his cock…Nesta had the sneaking suspicion it was just enough. It would hurt, and she’d beg him to keep going, to unmake her.

“What is happening?” she asked him, because surely her want, her need—hell, her agreement—was some different sort of magic.

“You are mine, and I am yours,” he replied, his voice dark. Sharp teeth grazed her neck, drawing a shiver from her naked frame. “There will be no others.”

Nesta had a million questions, all forgotten when those big hands of his, devoid of the talons from before, cupped her ass and lifted her ever so slightly. Just enough to sink down on that tapered tip.

“Relax,” he gritted out, as if it pained him to speak. Nesta looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to find those hazel eyes wide and blown out, nearly black with what she assumed was arousal. In the distance, the drums seemed fevered and frantic. 

Cassian did, too. He gave her no time to adjust to the sheer size of him, nor did she think it had occurred to him that before his tail, no one and nothing but her own fingers had ever been inside her body. A conversation for another day—though he realized it the moment he seated her fully on him and Nesta doubled over, squeezed so tight around him she didn’t think she could breathe. He was in her lungs, her throat, her—

“Breathe,” he rasped. “Fuck, Nes, I—”

“It’s fine,” she said, because it was. Gods, but it was better than fine, even with the strange pain of the stretch and the invasion, it was good. “It’s fine.”

Why was she comforting the monster? When had that happened? 

“Tight,” was all he managed to say. Cassian was unraveling with just one touch—that kind of power was bound to go to her head. “So fucking tight, Nes.”

“Move,” she whispered, writhing her hips. The position required him to do most of the work, not that she cared. He leaned back, gripping the tops of her thighs to lift her just enough—pulling out only to plunge right back in.

They both moaned loud enough for a moment, she heard nothing else. Not the frantic, uneven beating of the drums or the world around them. Just him, groaning softly with each new thrust of his cock. His tail curled over her thigh, teasing the sensitive skin like it had a mind of its own. 

Cassian licked the side of her neck, growling at the taste of salt and maybe fear. She would have given anything to have even a fraction of his senses. Nesta wanted to taste what he tasted, wanted to smell what he smelled. 

Cassian withdrew himself, snarling not at her but she thought, himself. He hadn’t thought the position through, and now he couldn’t find his own release. She grinned even as he positioned her on her hands and knees like she, too, was an animal. She certainly felt like it. 

Watching him over her shoulder, her braided hair slipping from the pins to drape over her slim shoulders, Nesta knew she was in trouble. Wrecked, even, at the sight of that winged, horned man gripping the swell of her ass. He was so handsome despite his monstrosity—he wanted to keep her? Maybe she’d let him. 

Cassian slid into her body with another snarl, not of warning, but approval. Of pleasure. Nesta pressed her cheek into the soft blanket beneath her and did as Cassian had said.

Breathe.

Relax. 

There was nothing nice or gentle about the thrusting behind her. She didn’t want it, and he didn’t offer it. Nesta suspected he couldn’t. This was the quietest he’d been and she had a feeling it had something to do with the discordant drums in the distance, thudding wildly in some messy culmination she was unaware of. To her, it rang through her chest into that threaded cord, demanding more. 

More, more, more. 

“Cassian,” she gasped, feeling his tail prod at her backside. He didn’t say a word, growling softly.

“Cassian, you—”

“Take it,” he ordered, spreading her cheeks apart with those big hands of his. 

“I can’t,” she said, eyes rolling upward. “It’s too much—”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”

There was nothing else to convince him, not without squirming away to go where, exactly? This was where she wanted to be and Nesta couldn’t deny it. And when his tail pushed into her ass, stretching her beyond what she’d ever imagined she had capacity for, Nesta let him. 

Breathe.

Relax.

More, more, more.

It was exactly how she imagined. Pleasure edged in pain, rough and unforgiving. She could feel his tail and cock rubbing between that thin layer of skin, and once Nesta got past her discomfort, the fullness of the fucking felt good. 

She felt mindless. Cassian had said the creatures like him were guided by instinct that night, but she felt as if she were, too. All she cared about was chasing pleasure, pushing back and meeting him thrust for thrust. Her fingers curled in the blanket, digging so hard she broke one of her nails in the process.

“Cass,” she panted, her voice muffled by the fur. “Cass, I—”

She came, clenching so tight around that ridged cock and tail that Cassian snarled approvingly. Of course he’d like it. Cassian kept pumping, though his own movements, will still rough, were also out of sync. He’d lost his rhythm just like the drums.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Cassian was waiting. Holding himself back for the exact moment the drums just stopped. Nesta didn’t know, though, and was too tempted to reach for one of the wings draped over them both. Running her finger over it, she found it was soft rather than slimy or tough. 

Something yanked viciously in her chest. Nesta came, still worked up, still sensitive from the soft rub of his ridged cock and his overeager tail. Cassian did, too, pouring himself into her with a roar that shuttered the torches on the wall. Nesta could feel it dripping down her legs, could hear him panting in the dark.

His tail withdrew first, and then his cock. She expected him to get up, to leave her laying in a mess of his own making. Maybe dress himself and leave, or say something about how disgusting she was, how he’d broken her, ruined her—

“Nes,” he whispered, his eyes the only light in the dark. “Come here.” Already he was reaching for her, bringing her to his chest still half wrapped in the blanket. Maybe it was all the fucking, and the being bound…and probably the murder, too, but Nesta felt exhausted. Wrung out and barely able to keep her eyes open.

“My dress,” she whispered when he stood.

“I won’t forget,” he told her, his voice hoarse like he’d been screaming. Had he? She barely remembered.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

Cassian chuckled. “You’re my wife, now—I’ve bound us did you bite me Nesta?!”

She had. It was the last thing she remembered before the darkness took her.

Nesta woke with a start. Gone was the oppressive heat of summer, of the humidity that made her hair curl against the back of her neck and her clothes stick to her skin. A chill bit through the air, invading even the warmth of the blankets she lay beneath. Nesta sat against a mountain of pillows to survey the room. A fireplace roared while frost blotted out the sun on the large, wall to ceiling window panes. Dark wood furniture mixed with red and cream walls made Nesta feel safe—at home.

And Cassian was there, lounged naked in a chair. Those big, soft wings were draped behind him, and he’d tied half of his wavy hair off his lovely, rough face.

He grinned when he saw her. “I was starting to think you’d never wake up.”

“Where am I?” she demanded, her heart settling at the sight of him. If Cassian was here, she was safe. Nesta knew that for a fact.

“Home,” he agreed, rubbing absently at a ring of scars on his forearm. Teeth, she realized with no small amount of satisfaction. She’d forgotten she’d bitten him. “In the mountains, just like I promised.”

“And my sisters?” she added, certain he would not honor that promise.

Cassian stretched those long, powerful legs while Nesta ignored the way his cock, once stuck to his thigh, was stirring to life. He sighed.

“Elain,” he said pointedly, and she wondered if he’d forced himself to learn their names or some other  creature had forced him to, “Is by the sea.”

She’d love that, Nesta thought ruefully.

“Happy,” Cassian added, like he knew it mattered to her. “And Feyre is in a palace not far from here. We’ll see her first.”

Nesta nodded, pushing the blanket from her body. “Now?”

“Soon,” he agreed, catching her around the waist to haul her into his lap. His wings furled around them, blanketing them in soft darkness. The light from the fire glowed softly through the membranes, beckoning her to touch.

Nesta did, surprised when his cock jumped against her bare stomach. “You like that?” she questioned.

“Yes,” he agreed, sucking in a breath through his sharp teeth. “Do it again.”

“We’ll never get anything done,” she warned him, dragging her finger along the edge all the same.

Cassian only smiled.

“That's fine by me.”

A concept...

Nesta x Eris Vanserra brotp

Just hear me out ok?! Ok. Thank you.

Understanding each other when the whole world is against them.

Eris about to throw hands but getting THAT look from Nesta and shutting his mouth.

Eris and Nesta gossiping about everyone like, “Love his jacket” - “he might be a dick but he sure has good taste”

Imagine Morrigan’s shock, imagine the inner circle’s shock. 

I’d live for the drama. Full on. 

Call me a bitch but… Feyre understanding that Nesta can make friends outside of the IC… as can Lucien.

Nesta would be his confidant and he would be hers. 

I honestly think Eris would protect Nesta from the venomous snake that is Morrigan (My hate for her is deep and don’t even bother trying to change it)

“Don’t talk to her like that. whatever problem you might have with me, DO NOT DEMEAN NESTA.”

I also think that Nesta would protect Eris from Cassian and Azriel. Like we all know mami is a fucking physco (I aspire to be like that) so she’d probably just jump in between like”Move Nesta”- “make me” while Eris is trying to subtly push her outta the way

“DON’T TOUCH ME VANSERRA,”

“yes ma’am.” 

Cassian’s jealousy

Nesta getting mad at Cassian because he belittles him at every chance he gets as does Eris and she just watches them fight.

I’m basically seeing Nesta just in the middle saying a Veronica lodge line:

“I can’t stand the male toxicity in this room.” every time they fight.

The IC might make peace with Eris because if Nesta knows the truth, what happened and why he did what he did then they might…ya never know.

Matching outfits. 

And the most important thing:

He would belong solely to her and no one else.

He’d make her laugh and she’d make him show his true self to the world.

The Queen of Death and the Lord of fire. 

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

guys GUYS GUYS THIS VIDEO OF THIS PERSON WHO IS RECORDING THE ACOSF AUDIOBOOK .... NESTA AND ERIS TF

@ recordedbooks on instagram

The Full "I Will Love You." Letter. The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket

Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope.

I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it. I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear daggerproof tunics, and as a daggerproof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.