#Nessian Fic

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Diesel Is Desire, You Were Playing With Fire

A/N: It's still day six of @nessianweek, right? Just posting a teensy bit later than I intended! 😬 Anywho! What better way to celebrate Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed than the two of them being hot and covered in blood? And simping about it? Am I right? Hope everyone enjoys!

Read on AO3

The pounding in his head seems to radiate from the left side, a constant thrum near his temple and gnawing straight through his mind. It has a low ringing still niggling in his ears, has pressure building behind his eyes, as Cassian slowly opens them. The instant flare of light leaves him wincing, but as his eyes adjust, he realizes just how dim it actually is around him, most of the light spilling in from torches in the hall beyond.

Dim and damp.

There’s a cool dampness that clings to the air around him, to the stone pressing against Cassian’s cheek. With a soft grunt, he tries to push himself up into a seated position, only to find his hands bound, metal scraping and tugging at the skin of his wrists when he tries to move. He rolls over enough that his gaze can follow the chain of the shackles up and into the stone wall. Some more shifting brings his attention to the rope tightly bound around his wings, and he dares to test out the strength of the restraint, grunting in frustration when there's no give.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

A hand digs into Cassian’s hair, tugging against the wound there until he’s yanked up and into a seated position. He blinks a few times against the pain and comes face to face with the hard, brown eyes and arrogant sneer of Maelor.

Of course.

Of course, this male decided to pick back up the mantle that Kallon and his little band left behind. Cassian still remembers when Maelor was a youngling in the rings, over throwing punches and refusing to follow any orders.

“Are you finding your accommodations comfortable, General?”

Cassian hums, making a big show of looking around the room. He notes just how small the room is, the single exit along the opposite wall. The metal bars of the door look sturdy, but the rust on the hinges look promising.

“You could consider hanging some art on the walls,” Cassian drawls, flicking his gaze back to Maelor.

The male looks unimpressed with the comment, eyes flashing and teeth pulling back over his bared teeth. Cassian bites back a smirk. It’s too easy to get a rise out of the male. Barely through the Blood Rite means the male is still too green, still unseasoned about this sort of thing. And probably too stupid to have really thought through this little plan beyond the rage Maelor is letting get the better of him.

“But I suppose I’ve seen worse,” Cassian continues, shrugging his shoulders as much as his restraints will allow. “Than wherever here is.”

Maelor snorts. “Nice try. As if I’d tell you that. I’m not stupid.”

Cassian bites his tongue around his disagreement, against pointing out the obvious. “Can’t be too far from the western steppes where I was patrolling. I presume that’s where you attacked.”

“You didn’t even hear me coming,” Maelor tells him, puffing out his chest like a preening child. “You’re losing your touch, Lord of Bloodshed.”

“Still, we both know you don’t have the strength to carry or fly me that far, so let me guess, an old converted cellar in the deserted Wirmlowe camp?”

Maelor’s fists clenching is the only confirmation that Cassian needs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re still the one in chains. Still the one who will pay for your crimes against the Blood Brothers.”

“Blood Brothers? Really? That’s the name you decided on.”

The sound of the back of Maelor’s hand across his cheek is loud in the small space, ringing off the stone walls around them. Cassian chuckles at the display, another blatant show of the untampered emotions from an inexperienced warrior.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cassian tells him, working his jaw against the sting. “Nes likes my pretty face.”

“I don't have time for this,” Maelor mumbles, spinning on his heel and stalking back toward the door.

“There’s still time, you know. To let me go and pretend this whole thing never happened,” Cassian calls after him, shaking his head solemnly as he leans casually against the wall. “I mean it's your life on the line, but…”

Maelor whirls back around, that sneer back on his face. “Your precious High Lord isn’t coming for you.”

Cassian chuckles again. This male really is more stupid than he looks. “Oh, it's not Rhys you have to worry about.”

As if on cue, the door behind Maelor’s back explodes off its hinges, the force sending the male flying to the ground, the metal bars crushing him against the stones. Silver flickers and floods into the room, those flames echoed in a pair of eyes now standing in the open doorway. Now narrowed firmly on Cassian.

There’s no stopping Cassian’s grin at the sight. He’d felt that familiar warm thrum in his chest as soon as he’d come to. Felt that gentle tug that informed him the other end of that golden thread was drawing closer. And now here she stands, silver still simmering and weaving at her fingertips, leathers clinging to her frame, and hair pulled away to show off the sharp angles of her face. To give Cassian the perfect view of one of his favorite expressions painted across her face.

“One night. One date night, and you had to get yourself kidnapped.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart.”

Nesta steps further into the room, moving lithely over Maelor’s body with ease. “If you didn’t want to go to the ballet tonight, you could have just said.”

“You really think this was my doing?” Cassian asks, holding up his bound wrists in emphasis. “Think this is what I want?”

The left side of Nesta’s lips lift up into a smirk, the blue of her eyes sparking in that way Cassian’s always loved. “Well, we both do know how much you love to be tied up.”

“Only when it’s you doing the tying.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but there’s no hiding the fondness in her expression. It has Cassian’s grin stretching wider across his face, has warmth bubbling between his ribs. She finally turns her attention toward Maelor’s body, crouching down and rooting around until she locates the keys on his person. As she focuses on unlocking the shackle around each of Cassian’s wrists, he can’t help but stare at her face, especially so close to his.

All these years and it’s still such a problem for him, tracing the planes of her high cheekbones, the faint freckles that he knows are echoed more prominently across her shoulders, each dark eyelash framing a pair of icy blue eyes. Gods, he’s truly the luckiest male, and he’s sure his dopey smile only reflects the sentiment.

The shackle on Cassian’s right hand releases, and he winces slightly, taking a moment to flex his fingers and turn his wrist. It’s at that exact moment that shouts echo from above them, what sounds like thundering steps growing closer and closer.

“Didn’t you check the whole perimeter before storming in here?”

Nesta sighs through her nose, pressing the key into Cassian’s freed hand. “If you’re going to critique my rescuing, then you can rescue yourself next time.”

She pushes back to her feet, unsheathing Ataraxia. She resets her stance, lifting her sword aloft and readying for the rebels that come storming into the room. Four males by Cassian’s count, and the Mother only knows how many more there could be on the way. Each one wears a sneer, wears a look of pure rage and blood lust, and it’s all directed at Nesta.

Directed at his mate.

Cassian swears softly under his breath. He focuses his attention on unlocking the shackle around his left wrist, even as the clanging reverberation of metal on metal bounces off the walls around him. When he’s finally free, he scrambles toward Maelor’s body, unsheathing the male’s blade and jumping to his feet.

He’s quick to turn his attention toward the first male he sees in front of him. He’s as unseasoned and undisciplined as Maelor, the male’s tell before he strikes forward obvious. It’s almost too easy the way Cassian is able to parry the strike, and he sends the male’s sword skittering across the stone before he sinks his own into the Illyrian’s gut. When the male drops to his knees, Cassian finishes the job, the feel of warm blood across his knuckles all too familiar.

His eyes flit around the rest of the room, finding Nesta squaring off against two males. For a moment, he can do nothing but stare, but watch his gorgeous mate. Her feet move with all the grace and lithe speed of a dancer, parrying and dodging each male’s attempted strikes against her. Ataraxia arches through the air as she slashes across one of the male’s chest, blood splattering across her leathers, her cheek. She turns fully toward the other male, preparing to square off solely with him, but it means she doesn’t see the third male now approaching her from behind, in her blindspot.

There’s no stopping the red that floods Cassian’s vision, instincts roaring through his veins and clawing through his chest.

He rushes forward, the weight of the sword in his hands, the swing of it, second nature to him even with the unfamiliarity of this particular blade. The male crumples into a pile of limbs and blood, and Cassian turns back toward Nesta with a winning grin, his mate having already disposed of the other Illyrian male.

“You’re welcome.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at his teasing drawl, but then those eyes are widening. She lunges forward, and there’s a soft, gurgling grunt right by Cassian’s ear, the distinct sound of metal sinking into soft flesh. He turns his head and meets the unfocused gaze of a fifth male, Nesta flicking Ataraxia upward to finish the job before pulling it free.

“You’re welcome,” she mocks back, that teasing smirk back on her face. “You’re losing your touch in your old age, General.”

Cassian chuckles, reaching his non-sword hand up and trying to wipe the blood from Nesta’s cheek. It’s unfair really, the way she looks even more beautiful with the streak of red across her skin, the splattering that reaches up toward her brow. With the silver still simmering in her eyes, Cassian thinks he might be falling in love all over again.

He leans down, bumping his nose against hers. “Careful, Lady Death.”

“What the fuck?”

Cassian pulls back, turning just as three more males come rushing through the door and into the room, more footsteps still echoing from above. Cassian almost wants to laugh. How big could this rebel group be? There couldn’t really be that many males that wanted to follow Maelor of all people.

Either way, Cassian and Nesta reset their stances, settling back to back with their respective swords raised. It’s a practiced dance between them, the way they move so in sync. With every offensive strike forward that Nesta takes, Cassian takes a defensive parry back. They spin in place together, taking on and felling each Illyrian that dares to raise a sword against them.

Despite the familiarity of a sword in his hand, the weight of the borrowed one is not, the balance not quite right either. One lucky swipe by the male he’s facing, and the sword in Cassian’s hand goes sailing out of his grip. He quickly switches to hand-to-hand, landing a strong uppercut that knocks the male unconscious. Shaking out the throb in his knuckles, Cassian spins back toward Nesta, placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her steady.

“What are you doing?” Nesta gets out between gritted teeth, still swinging Ataraxia.

“I need a weapon. Hold still.”

Cassian shifts his hands up into Nesta’s hair, finding the dagger disguised as a hair pin that he knows is always hidden out of sight there. He pulls the dagger free, the golden brown strands of Nesta’s hair tumbling free down along her spine. Her hair sways and glints from the torch light with her every movement, and Cassian has to remind himself of the situation they’re currently in before he gets distracted again.

“You know,” Cassian begins, whirling back around and using the dagger to take down another male. “As far as date nights go…”

“Don’t you dare,” Nesta seethes, sweeping out a male’s feet from under him and driving Ataraxia into his chest.

“I’m just saying that–”

“Mother save me, you would be enjoying this.”

Cassian sinks the dagger into the neck of the Illyrian in front of him. “Can you blame me?”

With the last of the Illyrian rebels a crumpled heap against the stone floor, Cassian is able to return his attention to Nesta, to sweep his eyes over her and really take her in. Her hair hangs like a curtain around her face, framing it the way Cassian loves best, even with the blood now making a mess of the strands. There’s still blood on her face too, contrasting with the bright blue of her eyes, sparking and flaring with the adrenaline and magic still coursing through her. With Ataraxia still clutched in her bloodied hands and the Illyrian leathers clinging to her frame, she’s a dream. And with the half a dozen males slain by her hand at her feet, Cassian is almost embarrassed to admit how aroused he feels.

His mate. His wife. His Nesta.

“I’m only a male after all.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she sheathes Ataraxia, stepping closer into Cassian’s space and pressing up onto her toes so she can wrap her arms around his neck, pushing the rope from his wings and finally freeing them.

“Just so you know, this doesn’t actually make up for tonight.”

Cassian chuckles, sliding his own arm around her waist and tugging Nesta’s body flush against him, right where she belongs. “I’ll have Rhys see if the ballet can do an extra performance. Just for you, sweetheart.”

“Good. It’s the least you could do after I rescued you, you big bat.”

—

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 @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

[mykingdomforasong]

Nessian "enemies" to lovers modern au ("enemies" in a deeply unserious, and also very one-sided way) set at a gym where they both teach classes. Cassian teaches a kick-boxing class after Nesta's pilates class.

Cassian keeps inviting her to stay and join his kick-boxing class, teasing her a little, trying to convince her to stick around, etc. And her read of the situation is that he's some gym bro who doesn't think pilates and dance are that hard and is trying to show her a "real" workout. This has happened to her plenty of times before with other men. She mostly ignores him, because she's tired of going through this.

Finally, she agrees to take his class if he takes her pilates class first. She's got something to prove, so she makes class a little harder than usual. By the end, he's half-dead on the reformer, and she's smug. "Not so easy is it?"

"No, but it was a lot of fun! I might join your class more often, if that's okay?"

"You ... enjoyed it?"

"Oh yeah, I used to do pilates and yoga with my friend Mor all the time, but fell off a few years ago."

"So you ... knew it wasn't going to be some super easy class for girls?"

"No why would I --" and then the lights finally go on in his brain, and he realizes how he's looked from her point of view for the last few months. He's instantly so apologetic just, "You thought I was making fun of you for four months? Oh, I'm so sorry, no that's my fault. I should have been more clear. I just know you're a dancer. I thought you might enjoy the cardio work out."

Nesta is just rubbing her temples, trying to process this whole situation. "So you're not a giant tool, just some big, hot dummy?"

"You think I'm hot?"

It's maybe the worst day of her life, but she does goes home with him.

[xxvalkyriesxx]

The Blood on Your Hands

Summary: Cassian's had enough of Rhysand threatening his mate. He's decided to show his High Lord what happens when he threatens her for a second time.

This is pure smut. The first half is somewhat violet as a heads up. Also warning, there's slight HOFAS spoilers but I made it vague enough that it doesn't go into much detail. This isn't an anti Rhys train, I was just mad at his reaction.

Additional Tags: I was mad once again at HOFAS / Mainly the BAM bonus chapter / Cassian is crazy in this / 1000% alphahole / But I love him / Possessive Cassian / Mating bonds / Its pure filth in the second half / Smut / Praise kink /Not really blood play but blood is kinda there 

Read on AO3 or below

Tag list: @separatist-apologist

There was so much red, Cassian couldn’t see his siphons anymore. His hands were coated in blood, his blood. The male who was his brother, his friend, his High Lord.

Rhys would heal.

That was his only reassurance as he punched his face again. His fist connected to Rhys’ mouth once more. From the hit, he spit out the mixture of saliva and blood and tears.

“We’re Ilyrian. So today we will follow their laws.” Cassian growled, his teeth baring at Rhysand. Rhysand was smart not to say anything. His breathing was heavy as he gasped for air.

Rhysand was high lord but he was no Lord of Bloodshed. He could fight his way through a battle with strategy, but when it came down to physical strength, that’s where Cassian had him. But Cassian had another factor in his anger. Something ancient and holy that not even the Illyrians would deny.

His hazel eyes met her silvery blue ones. Her face remained stoic, not a single wince of fear in sight. Yanking the High Lord by his hair, Cassian dragged Rhysand to Nesta’s boots. She wore Illyrian leathers, just like the two of them. An Illyrian in mind and soul.

“Apologize.” Cassian demanded. Rhysand mumbled something but Cassian decided that wasn’t good enough. He pulled on Rhysand’s hair, making him look up at Nesta.

“Apologize to her. Now. Be clear with your words. I will not ask again.” The High Lord gulped as more blood left his mouth. His entire face was bruised in shades of blues and purple. Ironically it complimented his violet irises.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Rhysand spoke. Cassian sneered. “For what?” Rhysand coughed more of his blood.

“For threatening to kill you, Nesta…For a second time.” Cassian roared at the apology, his hand finally letting go of Rhysand’s head. He marched forward until he stood behind Nesta, his mate.

Silence from Nesta amplified Rhysand’s gasps and coughing fits. Still standing without so much of any emotion. The queen of queens her mother projected her to be, and today she was.

“Rhysand.” Nesta spoke. Her voice firm with her silver flame eyes.

“You will never threaten me, or my loved ones again. I did what anyone with a human heart would have done. That includes my sister. The very sister you’re mated too. There are concepts that even century old fae like yourself cannot understand. I hope after this, you understand my actions. You do not have to agree, but respect is something of mutual value.”

She offered her hand to him. “You’re high lord, which is why Cassian decided to do this in the training yard and not in Illyria. We need to be strong and unified against the ones who cause unjust rebellions. So let this be a one time moment. A learning moment if you will.”

Rhys looked up at Nesta. “Never fuck with Cassian’s mate again?” Nesta smirked. “You’re a fast learner.”

She grabbed his hand and helped him up. Together they brought him inside where Feyre was sipping her tea. Looking up, she grimaced.

“Jeez Cass, did you have to go that far?” Cassian glared at her in reply. She rolled her eyes.

“Has everyone learned their lessons?” Feyre asked. Rhys and Nesta looked at each other then nodded.

“Good. Cassian, put him down over there. I’m going to make his favorite tea and then I’ll start healing.” Cassian did as the High Lady instructed. He graciously placed the High Lord down on the sofa. All three of them heard her mumble about ‘big Ilyrian babies’ as she walked to the kitchen.

“Brother.” Cassian said, firm but gently. Rhys kept his eyes closed, but he spoke softly. “I would’ve done the same thing to you, you piece of shit.” And for the first time that evening, Cassian laughed. He bumped his fist on Rhys’ shoulder who hissed in pain. “You did that on purpose.” “Just a love tap, brother.”

Cassian walked over to Nesta who stood with her arms crossed, watching the whole scene. “Ready, Sweetheart?” A crack in Nesta’s steel armor appeared. A soft smile welcomed his question. “Always.”

The General of the Night Court swooped his mate into his arms and disappeared to their room.

The second Cassian closed their bedroom door, Nesta quietly asked the House for a sound barrier under her breath. The House created a barrier as asked, keeping everything inside their room private. Cassian looked over to Nesta and as he started to approach her, she backed him up against the door.

His eyes widened for a split second before he could smell it. Her yearning. Her need. Her desire. She placed a hand on his cock, feeling it grow hard through the leathers. A breath left him as her lips connected to his neck. She nipped and sucked at him, their desire growing.

“Never have I ever been turned on by a brutish fight.” She mumbled into his skin. “Good to know what gets you off, Sweetheart.” Cassian replied.

Her hands ran to his leathers, slowly undoing the armor letting it fall to the floor. Eventually as she reached his pants, they dropped down along with her knees. Nesta didn’t even flinch at the impact, as it just made her more turned on. His cock, thick, long, and throbbing to be inside sprung out. Quickly she took her hand and started to pump. Her lips found his head, licking his slit before putting his length in her mouth.

Cassian moaned, grabbing Nesta’s hair, pushing his cock deep inside her throat. She gagged as tears sprang into her eyes. A throbbing need matched at the apex of her thighs.

“Look at you. Taking my cock so well, Sweetheart. You didn’t let me clean up first. Does beating the shit out of someone do it for you? Do you want me to fuck you with their blood on my hands?” In response Nesta moaned, picturing the thought in her head.

“You’re filthy, Sweetheart.” The humiliation burned her desire great as she squeezed his cock harder. Cassian hissed, fucking her throat. He pulled her mouth almost fully off before entering her mouth again, letting a slip of air come in.

“If you don’t stop, Sweetheart, I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that? You want my cum everywhere, don’t you?” Nesta’s tears splattered on her face as Cassian yelled, his hot finish releasing. Nesta pulled her lips off, drooling.

“Your beauty will end me and all our enemies. They will fall to their knees looking upon you.” Cassian fell to his own knees, pushing Nesta down on the wooden floor. He quickly removed her leathers, wanting every piece of her. In seconds Nesta was bare before him, her arousal coating her inner thighs. A smirk fell to his lips.

“All of this, for me?” Nesta whimpered, her hips bucking wanting to be touched.

“Answer me, Nes.” Cassian ordered. “All of it. All of this. It’s for you, Cassian. Now please fuck me!”

“Or do I have to get your other brother involved to finish the job?” Nesta taunted.

Immediately Cassian wrapped a hand around her throat squeezing. His teeth bared as he growled. “You will involve no one else but me inside you, Nesta.” He squeezed harder. “Understand?”

Nesta’s eyes fluttered, air being trivial at this point. But she nodded to his command. Gently his hand left her neck. And right as she gasped for her air, Cassian put his mouth on her clit. Nesta swore so loudly as she saw stars appear in her vision. He sucked on her before his lips left, dragging his tongue everywhere. The taste of her consuming him to no end.

His mouth traveled from there to her inner thighs, biting the soft skin, claiming every part of her. Nesta gasped as her hands pulled at his hair. His lips found her clit again and with a tiny nip of his teeth, she came. He pulled away, keeping her legs spread apart, watching her cunt clutch at nothing.

“Please, Cassian. I want your hands, your cock. Please. Please fill me until your cum is slipping out of my cunt.” Her face flushed at her own words.

Cassian growled and let go of her legs before grabbing her cheeks. “Get on the bed. Choose whatever position you want, Sweetheart.” He let go and watched her scramble to their bed. Her arms down on the blankets with her ass up. Mother above he could die just by that view.

“I’m going to wash my hands and then I’ll be back, Sweetheart.” Nesta whined, stomping her feet the best she could in that position. Cassian strolled over, yanking her hair so her upper body came up. “I would rather chew my hand off, then have another male’s blood inside you, Nesta.” The way he growled her name made her desire leak onto the bed.

He slapped her ass hard, catching Nesta off guard. She gasped at the impact, the upper half of her body dropping back down when he let go of her hair. The red handprint on her ass was divine as he walked away. As he got into the bathroom connected to their room, he kept an eye on her.

“Touch yourself, Nes. I want you to get yourself ready for me.” Cassian called out.

Slowly Nesta brought her arm in between her legs immediately sinking three fingers inside herself. Cassian and Nesta moaned in unison. Quickly Cassian washed his hands, the blood leaving a pink faded trail behind. In mere seconds he walked out to the bed, putting two of his own fingers inside Nesta, joining her own. She squealed at the tightness of having five fingers inside her.

“You can take it, Sweetheart. You take my cock and my whole fist. You were made for me. Just as I was made for you.” He whispered into her ear. The action of their hands thrusting faster and faster made Nesta gasp as she came. Cassian licked his lips.

“I love it when you do that.” Nesta huffed a breath. “I could have gotten myself off three times by now.” “You sure you want to be a brat today?” Nesta shaked her ass in response. Cassian growled. He took her hips into his hands and thrusted his cock into her. They moaned at the sensation as it been days since they last fucked.

“I don’t have the patience for discipline tonight. So you’ll get it rough and learn your lesson later.” Cassian shouted, his hips slamming into her. His cock thrusted in her cunt as Nesta held onto the bedspread for deer life. He grabbed a hold of her neck again, pushed her body flat against his, her back on his chest.

“What do you want? Tell me, Nesta.” “Want you. Fuck me. Make me cum.” “Not what I’m looking for, Nes.”

She screamed as his pace slowed into a taunt. So slow that his cock left her except for his tip.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Nesta screamed in agony. “Please, Cassian. Fuck me. MATE. My Mate. PLEASE.” Then he found himself back inside her, pounding into her. They moaned and screamed as their desires finished, coating her walls. They breathed heavily as she dropped back down to the bed, his cock leaving her.

Cassian watched the cum leave only for it to be pushed back in. Nesta moaned at the sensitivity of the area. She gasped for him to be gentle. He noticed the bloody fingerprints over her thighs making he purr at the sight.

“I will mate. Now before we take a bath, let me clean you up.” He flipped her onto her back before he walked off and wetted a clean washcloth with warm water. He came back and gently began cleaning her thighs and in between.

“Should I beat up more people around you, Nes?” Cassian looked down at her. “Maybe I should join you and Azriel in your interrogations.” A feline grin on her face. “Perhaps, if you’re good.” He teased before he threw the cloth into the hamper. He picked her up in his arms, and off the two went to bathe.

[fuckyesnessian]

Creator Highlight #5 - @moodymelanist

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 free time and creative energy to share their work with us!

It was only a matter of time before we recognized @moodymelanist. You may know her as the GOAT of Nessian and the organizer of some of the best events in the fandom, like @sjmromanceweek, @nestaarcheronweek and @nessianweek!

You would think that would keep her busy enough, but besides throwing our favorite fandom parties, @moodymelanist also writes some of the filthiest, angstiest, and funniest Nessian fics around.

Check out:

Where The Light Won't Find You: Nesta Archeron descends into the darkness.

What if Nesta went into the Court of Nightmares?

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck): Nesta and Cassian have a steamy one-night stand while out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but their lives are changed forever once Nesta realizes her period is late. Follow along as Nesta and Cassian navigate preparing to become parents, balancing their other life stresses, and figuring out their feelings for one another!

Can't Help It: Nesta and Cassian at their most toxic and self-destructive. There's enough hate sex and emotional denial in here to make a grown man cry.

bonus (because I found it impossible to pick just three):

The Better To Eat You With: Nesta has to make it home from her aunt Ripleigh’s before dark. Too bad the big bad wolf lurking in the woods has other plans.

You can find more on her masterlist!!

[shadowdaddies]

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.”

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Nesta & Cassian Domestic Life Headcanons

Nesta had to put a ban on Cassian touching her books after he put them back on the shelf upside down and out of order. He also dog eared pages of books she had loaned him and one book in particular had crinkled pages almost like someone brought it into the bath with him.

Cassian can't understand the idea of a throw pillow and thinks that all pillows should and can be used to sleep with. Nesta has tried over and over again to explain to him the idea of decorative pillows but it goes nowhere.

Cassian learned how to cook Nesta's favorite childhood food by having Elain teach him. During an evening when Nesta had a particularly rough day, Cassian whipped out his cooking skills and made her an Acheron family meal.

Nesta always hangs Cassian's weapons up for him because he seems to be incapable of putting them away when he gets back and insists on just dropping them in the doorway.

Cassian loses things constantly, from weapons to mail to his own shoes and it drives Nesta insane. Oftentimes, Cassian will be looking for something and ask Nesta if she has seen it. When he can hear her walking down the hall to come find it for him he starts panicking and searching frantically, knowing she will find it immediately and give him "the look".

Nesta braids Cassian's hair before he goes to training and insists he make an actual hair care routine. He doesn't fully understand why conditioner is important but he knows it makes Nesta's hair smell like flowers so he isn't too bothered.

Whenever Cassian goes somewhere for a few days he leaves notes around the House of Wind for Nesta to find. They say cute little things like "Thinking about you", "Love you lots", "I bet your butt looks great". She keeps them in a box on her bookshelf and reads them when she needs a pick me up.

Cassian and Nesta still practice and train together, but they take Sunday morning off to go have breakfast in Velaris, just the two of them. Cassian orders the biggest breakfast with the most amount of protein he can get and Nesta settles for something lighter but always wants strawberry crepes for dessert.

Cassian sleeps hot while Nesta sleeps cold. The House of Wind helps chill and heat the bed right down the middle so both of them sleep well.

Nesta started a formal book club with Gwyn, Emerie & The House and Cassian has to leave and go "find something else to do" so he doesn't keep coming into the room to distract them.

Cassian buys Nesta a new weapon for every holiday and occasion and calls it a "we" gift.

[autumnshighlady]

This Is Me Trying

Cassian x Nesta

summary: It's been a few months since Nesta and Cassian have made things official, but things have only gotten worse for Nesta.

warnings: ANGST! slight inner circle slander, no happy ending, not super pro-Nessian

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this fic is based on 'This Is Me Trying' by Taylor Swift, also spot the Grey's Anatomy quote hehe. This fic is basically me working out my own relationship issues haha, so it was pretty emotional to write because I'm basically Nesta in this situation and it's rough. But I also truly think this is a more realistic version of Nessian than the one sjm tried to shove down out throats in ACOSF.

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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Nesta sighed as Cassian’s arm squeezed around her shoulders, squishing her farther into him than humanly possible. He belted out a laugh at whatever Mor had said, a deafening noise next to Nesta’s ear. His touch felt like acid on her skin, and all she wanted to do was get away from it.

Nesta had been trying her hardest to communicate her feelings with Cassian, she truly had. But it was hard – everything she said seemed to leave his brain the second he was around the Inner Circle, like they were now. Nesta was at one end of the couch with Cassian to her right, and Elain on Cassian’s left. Feyre was sitting on an armchair across from them with Nyx in her arms, in Rhys’s lap, while Mor and Amren were perched on cushions by the fireplace. Azriel was sitting a bit behind Rhys and Feyre on a stool, quietly observing the scene. A couple hours ago, Nesta had pulled Cassian aside and explained that she was having an overwhelming day, and requested he not touch her for the night. She couldn’t explain why she felt that way – she tried, and nothing came out. All she wanted was some physical space from Cassian’s presence. The male had sworn he understood, and said he would give her space.

That had lasted all of 20 minutes into the evening before he slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her body into his. He had failed to notice how Nesta froze, rather than relaxing into his touch as usual. She knew it wasn’t malicious, that he wasn’t deliberately ignoring her request. He had just simply… forgot. 

And this wasn’t the first time she felt suffocated and trapped by Cassian. Guilt plagued her, knowing he truly didn’t mean to do it, he was just trying to show his affection. For a while, Nesta thought that the Cauldron had mated them under the premise of opposites attract. Cassian was extroverted and wore his heart on his sleeve, easily making friends and jumping into any conversation or group. Nesta was an introvert, preferring to mask everything she felt, both good and bad. She did not have that confident ease about her, nor did she feel inclined to befriend everyone she met or chat their ear off. She was perfectly content to be more like Azriel, sitting and observing rather than participating. 

But maybe there was such a thing as people being too opposite for it to work out.

Nesta had felt like she was drowning in the Cauldron all over again, slowly being backed into a corner and suffocating under Cassian’s constant presence and need for her attention. Now that they were officially together, he was everywhere. Cassian had lightened his duties in Illyria to spend more time with Nesta, which only made it worse. At first she had found it sweet, but as the weeks passed it became more irritating.

Cassian was supposed to love her. Surely, someone who loved her would be able to understand her enough to know that this wasn’t what she wanted? He was always trying to find different things to do with Nesta, and it was beginning to get overwhelming. It hurt her heart to see how enthusiastic he was, how badly he wanted to make her happy. She was disgusted with herself for not feeling the same, for wanting to fight and pull away.

Her youngest sister’s voice brought her attention back. “Do you have anything to add, Nesta?”

Nesta blinked, not having heard a word of what was said. “To what?”

Feyre sighed. “We were just talking about building another home for me, Rhys, and Nyx in the mountains, since you and Cassian basically live at the House of Wind now. What do you think?”

The room was tense, everyone frozen as they awaited Nesta’s reply. If she was in a better mood, she would have chuckled inwardly. No matter what she did, no matter how many times she proved herself to them, the Inner Circle would always see her as a rabid monster waiting for a chance to lash out. Perhaps if it were another day she’d entertain them, just to show that she hadn’t lost her bite. But she had no energy today. “Sounds like a great idea.” She said simply.

Everyone visibly relaxed, relieved that Nesta hadn’t made a snide comment about how many houses Feyre and Rhys had, even though she wanted to. Cassian patted her arm proudly, as if to say look how much more docile and well-mannered she is now, thanks to me. Realistically, Nesta knew that wasn’t actually what he was thinking, but it sure felt like it. Only Feyre gave her a strange look, as if she could sense something wrong. 

“So, Nesta,” Rhys said smoothly. “Cassian tells me you’ve gotten pretty good in the sparring ring.”

Nesta’s mouth was dry, the hot air from the room closing in on her. “I’ve improved, yes.” She managed a reply, earning another squeeze from Cassian that tightened her throat even more.

She hadn’t wanted to be touched at all tonight, yet he was doing it anyway without even thinking.

“It’s been a while since I’ve practiced, you could probably give me a run for my money.” The High Lord chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

Again, everyone anxiously waited for Nesta to challenge him, to cause a scene and ruin the evening for the group. It made her feel physically sick, how she felt like she was drowning all over again and not only had Cassian not noticed, but the Inner Circle seemed to like her better this way – a shell of the female she was before, a quieter version.

“I think Rhys is challenging you, sweetheart.” Cassian chuckled. “Go on, go kick his sorry ass.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Nesta said quietly, but it was too late. Mor and Amren had stood up, moving over to where Azriel sat in the back to clear the space on the large rug by the fireplace. Feyre had climbed off Rhys’s lap, too, taking Nyx with her and handing her to Elain as she joined everyone over by Azriel. 

Rhys down the rest of his wine and stood up, pushing his chair back and wiping invisible dust off his sleeves. “Come on, Nesta. Show me what you got.”

The room began to close in on Nesta even more, the air stifling and catching in her throat like sandpaper.

“It’s fine, really.” Nesta insisted, but was interrupted by Cassian gently shoving her to her feet.

“My girl is gonna make you eat dirt, brother.” Cassian said as he pushed Nesta up onto her unsteady feet.

More cheers from the females by Azriel began to sound up, all urging Nesta to show off her skills. It should have felt endearing, and she should have felt more excited at the opportunity to punch her annoying brother-in-law in his face. But all she could feel was suffocation, like she was back in front of her mother’s cruel gaze being forced to perform for people that did not care for her. An object, a plaything to be used to entertain others then put back in its box when they were done with her.

“No.” Nesta’s voice was barely above a whisper, unheard amongst the loud cheers.

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta!” Feyre and Elain chanted from the background, egging her on. But she was frozen, arms slack at her sides.

“Come on, Nes!” Cassian barked playfully. “You’re acting like I haven’t taught you anything. Come on, do it for me–”

“I said NO.” Nesta snapped, her sharp voice silencing the room as she whirled around to face Cassian. He stared at her, eyes wide with shock.

“It’s all in good fun,” He said, brows furrowed in confusion. “He won’t actually hurt you. Besides, when else are you going to get the chance to–”

Nesta cut him off, her anger bubbling over the surface like a volcano that had waited centuries to finally erupt. “What part of the word ‘no’ suddenly means ‘convince me’?” She demanded.

Nobody said a word. Disappointment was written all over Cassian’s face. Amren snorted in the background, her whisper pointedly loud as she said, “I guess some people will never change, even after being spat out by the Cauldron.”

Tears burned in Nesta’s eyes, but she refused to let them see. Wordlessly, she stormed past everyone, making her way to the door of the river house. She hadn’t even made three steps out into the street before it opened up again behind her, heavy footsteps crunching in the snow.

“What the fuck, Nesta?” Cassian demanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. 

“Let go of me.” She spat, trying to rip her arm from his grip. But he only held on tighter.

“We were having fun, what’s wrong with you?”

“Cassian, let go of my arm right fucking NOW.”

The male glared at her, but obliged. Nesta yanked her arm back to her side, rubbing the now sore area. Annoyance seeped from the male as he ran a hand through his hair. “The night was going well,” He grumbled. “It was all going well until you made a scene. For once in your life, Nesta, can’t you just try?”

“This IS me trying!” Nesta shouted, his words stabbing her harder than any knife could. After everything she had opened up to Cassian about, how could he not see that she was trying her best? That she was trying to make him happy by going along with his obscure date ideas, putting on a happy face being dragged to dinner with the Inner Circle even though they basically locked her up after the war? 

“Well you’re not trying hard enough!” Cassian’s words hit her like a truck. The tears she had been fighting to keep back began to stream down her cheeks like icicles in the frozen wind. “Fuck, I’ve tried to hard to convince my family to give you a chance after how you treated them. I’ve gone out out of my way to make you happy, and this is what you fucking do? We all try so hard for you, and you won’t try at all.”

Nesta couldn’t stop herself from flinching at his words. Her brain screamed at her to yell back at Cassian, to bring out those claws she spent the last few months trying to rid herself of. But she couldn’t. She was exhausted, tired of pretending to be as happy as Cassian was. It sucked the life out of her, chipping at her away piece by piece until she felt empty inside. Her old self would be ashamed of how submissive she had become.

Cassian sighed, rubbing his face, and taking a step towards Nesta. He held his hands out to hold her. “Nesta, I’m so sorry–”

He stopped speaking when Nesta took a step back, shying from his touch. His hazel eyes were filled with hurt and confusion, and she sighed. “Cassian,” She said slowly. “Did you not remember how I asked you not to touch me tonight?” 

The Illyrian’s brow furrowed in confusion, then softened as the realization dawned on him. “Is that what this is about?”

Nesta sighed, another tear rolling down her cheek. “Not just that–”

He interrupted her. “I completely forgot, Nes I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to. You should have remembered to respect my basic wishes. You don’t listen to me, Cassian. You hear me, but you don’t listen.”

Cassian sat down on the steps by the door, wings drooping in sadness. But she felt no pity for him, only anger. He was the one who didn’t listen to her when she asked not to be touched, who ignored her when she protested sparring with Rhys, but he was somehow the victim too? It made her blood sing with anger. “I tell you not to touch me because I’m having a bad day, and you pull me into your lap like a dog,” She continued icily. “I tell you I don’t want to do something, and instead of respecting that, you try to force me to do it for everyone’s entertainment. You know damn well that Rhys has never liked me, and how he meant it when he threatened to kill me a few months ago. And yet you pushed me to try and fight him anyways.”

Cassian stared at the frozen ground. Nesta could practically feel his confusion, a raging sea of emotions written all over his face. The wind blew his hair into his face, a sight that Nesta would have found beautiful once. But now it only filled her with sadness. She had bent herself backwards trying to become ‘worthy’ of Cassian in his and his family’s eyes, cursing herself alone at night and thinking she was the problem. Cassian was an objectively good male – loving, affectionate, good in the bedroom. Any female would be lucky to have him, so why wasn’t Nesta happy?

The answer had been deep down inside her, trying to claw its way to the surface, begging for Nesta to acknowledge it. And then it washed over her one day – everyone was quick to assume that she was the one at fault in the relationship, not Cassian. And somewhere along the way, she had convinced herself of that too, pushing down her gut feelings for the sake of trying to make it work with the general. She knew that her words shot to kill when she was mad, and she often couldn’t stop them no matter how much regret they filled her with. But when Cassian had come along, she learned to hold her tongue, to push back those claws inside her. The issue was that in the process of doing so, Nesta had begun holding her tongue more often than needed, bearing the facade of a female submitting to her mate just like everyone wanted. 

Nesta had finally been de-clawed, Cassian wearing her talons around his neck like a trophy. She felt like an open wound at every party, her former self slowly oozing out of the gaps in flesh Cassian had clawed from her. And the worst part was, everyone liked her better this way. But she felt the opposite of better, she felt suffocated and empty.

“I understand you are trying to push me out of my comfort zone,” Nesta continued through tears, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. “And I appreciate it because sometimes that is needed. But you’ve pushed too hard, Cassian.”

“I only wanted what was best for you.” Cassian said dully.

She scoffed. “And how would you know what’s best for me when you never asked me? What, you just assume because we’re together you have some sort of decision-making capacity over me? That you have any idea what’s going through my head, what I’m feeling, or even what I want?”

Cassian stood up, taking a step towards Nesta. She stepped back again, wanting to keep the space between them and not caring about the hurt that flashed across Cassian’s face. “I know you, Nes.” He said softly. “And I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” The wet spots on her cheeks began to freeze over in the cold wind. “You love the idea of me. You love being with me, having me by your side. But you don’t truly know me, Cassian. And you don’t truly love me. You just think you do.”

The hurt swimming in Cassian’s eyes churned into anger. “You’re kidding, right? So you mean the past five months we’ve spent together have been nothing? That I truly didn’t get to know you at all in that time?”

“You’re 500 years older than me, Cassian. Five months is a blink of an eye in your lifetime. So no, you didn’t truly get to know me in that time.”

Cassian scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. But Nesta continued. “The only reason you think you got to know me was because others forced us into each other’s proximity. I did not come to spend time with you on my own free will. And I was isolated from everyone and everything, except for you. In that time, Cassian you… you took something from me. You took little pieces of me - little pieces over time, so small I didn't even notice. You wanted me to be something I wasn't, and I made myself into what you wanted. And I let you, because I thought I could make you happy that way. But it will never happen again. I am done changing who I am to make myself ‘worthy’ of you.”

Nesta turned around, not waiting to hear his response as she strode down the snow covered cobblestone. There was no towering presence following after her, much to her relief. She did not go back to the River House, or in the direction of the House of Wind. Truthfully, Nesta had no clue where she was going, only that she was done letting herself fall apart to please people who would never love her for who she truly is.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

You're the Risk, I'm Going to Take It

A/N: It's here! It's here! Happy @cassianappreciationweek lovelies! I know I for one am super excited for all the content and fun in the cards this week. We're starting out this week with a fun little ficlet! Because flying on a rollercoaster totally counts as flying, right? Hope everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3

In Cassian’s humble opinion, an amusement park is the perfect place for a first date. The rides provide the perfect amount of excitement and adrenaline rush all while offering a built-in conversation starter, no awkward small talk or uncomfortable silences that so often seem to come with a nice dinner. The lines give the perfect excuse to chat and get to know each other in between the excitement. The thrills give the perfect excuse to hold hands. The games even give the perfect excuse for him to show off.

What’s not to love about an amusement park date?

And so when Nesta Archeron finally agreed to a date with him, an amusement park was the easiest suggestion he ever made.

Honestly, he still can’t believe Nesta even agreed to a date with him in the first place. He’d been completely enamored from the very first moment he laid eyes on her. The very first moment those icy blue eyes rolled back in her head. Mother save him, he loved making those eyes roll. He loved the adorable scowl that took over her face anytime he called her sweetheart, and he loved their teasing game of back and forth.

He loved the first time he saw her eyes truly spark, the first time he made her laugh, and he swore he’d break his own back to see that expression, to hear that sound. Again and again and again if it were up to him. He’d give anything to find out if her lips taste as delicious as they look, to find out if he can make her blush a pretty pink beyond just her cheeks. He’d give anything to get a second date.

“Is this why you said to wear comfortable shoes?” Nesta asks from the passenger seat, tearing Cassian away from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Cassian answers easily, throwing his truck into park. He slips out of the driver’s seat, quickly jogging around to pull open Nesta’s door, but she’s already clambered out before he can. Still, he holds out his arm in offering. “M’lady.”

“Idiot,” Nesta teases softly with a roll of her eyes.

The reaction just has Cassian grinning even wider, especially when Nesta settles her hand in the crook of his elbow despite her words. He leads the way toward the front gates, pulling up the tickets on his phone, and then they’re stepping inside. There’s various families, groups of friends, and even a few other couples milling about, their voices and laughter mixing with the melody of wheels on tracks and screams from the rides. The sugary sweet scent of fried dough floats on the breeze, flooding his senses.

“So, what do you think?” Cassian asks, turning his head so he can peer down at Nesta. “Start easy and work our way up?”

“Sure.”

Despite the response, Cassian doesn’t miss the way Nesta keeps her face forward, the way there’s not a single slip to her expression as though she’s purposefully keeping it neutral. Cassian tilts his head, curious what could cause such a reaction, but before he can ask, Nesta snaps her attention fully to him, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Cassian chuckles easily and shakes his head, leading them both down the winding path and toward the large, wooden rollercoaster of the park. Luckily, the line is quite short, and they barely have to wait at all before they’re sliding together into one of the cars. Cassian pulls the black bar down over both their laps before slinging his arm across Nesta’s shoulders, offering her a winning smirk.

“Ready, Nes? If you need to hold my hand, you don’t even have to ask.”

“What am I? Five? Why would I need to hold your hand?”

Cassian gives her shoulder a teasing squeeze. “Because of all the turns and drops? Because I’m so attractive you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”

Nesta scoffs, driving her elbow right into Cassian’s gut hard enough that he lets out a pained gasp, curling forward over his knees. Of course, it’s at that exact moment that the ride goes rocking forward, the cars pulled along the track and up the large first hill. As the cars go cresting into the first drop, Cassian throws his arms up, laughing through every twist, every swoop of his gut as they go flying over another hill. By the time the ride is pulling back to the beginning, he feels breathless.

Breathless and ready for another.

He leads Nesta to the other wooden rollercoaster in the park, the one with two tracks that ‘race’ one another, and when they’re finished with that ride, it’s on to their first steel rollercoaster of the day. Cassian is buzzing as he secures the safety over his thighs, but when he glances toward Nesta in the seat beside his own, her grip on the metal handles is white knuckled. Her fingers flex as the ride operator begins his teasing introduction spiel, throat bobbing with a hard swallow.

“Alright, sweetheart?” Cassian leans over as best he can to ask.

“I’m fine,” Nesta snaps, not even bothering to meet his eyes.

Cassian doesn’t believe her for a second, but before he can ask again, the ride starts, the only sound filling his ears the click of the track as they climb up and up followed by the rush of wind as they crest into the first drop. But when the ride ends, he focuses his attention back on Nesta. On the way her shoulders slump almost in relief when she gets off the ride and her feet are back on solid ground. On the way she takes a deep almost steadying breath before pushing through the exit gate. On the way she holds her spine straight as steel like she can feel his attention as he follows her down the path and back into the main part of the park.

“Which ride next?” Nesta whirls on him to ask before he can utter a word.

“Are you afraid of coasters?” Cassian asks anyway.

“No,” Nesta answers too quickly, crossing her arms. “Why would I be afraid of rollercoasters?”

“You could tell me if you were. We could–”

“I’m not.”

Nesta raises her chin, her blue eyes blazing and narrowing on him. Daring him. I Will Eat Your Eyes for Breakfast, that was what he named this look of hers. One of many that he has named in the time since he’s known Nesta. And in that time, he’s also learned just how stubborn she can be, that iron will and pride one of the many attributes of hers he loved.

“Aright,” Cassian concedes with a shrug. “Let’s go big then. Do the one with the big drop and all the loops.”

“Great.”

Cassian presses his lips together to keep from smirking. “Great.”

Nesta is quiet as they wait in line for their turn, and Cassian wonders if she’s trying to mentally psych herself up for the rollercoaster. He watches her carefully, waiting for the cracks to show, for her to finally cave and admit the truth. But perhaps he truly is underestimating her and her unwillingness to yield.

“Last chance,” Cassian offers when the small gate swings open, indicating it’s their turn to step onto the ride.

Nesta doesn’t even bother deeming him with a response. She strolls right through the small gate and to the first open seat of the ride for their row. She hops up into the seat, quickly pulling down the shoulder restraint. Cassian shakes his head with a chuckle, stepping over to the seat beside her and doing the same.

“Hold hands?” Cassian suggests again, holding his hand out palm up.

“I don’t need to hold your hand,” Nesta bites out. “I told you, I’m not scared.”

Cassian puts on his best pout, wiggling his fingers. “But what if I need to hold your hand? Please, Nes?”

Nesta makes a big show of sighing, but she carefully releases her grip on the metal handle of the shoulder restraint. Her fingers slide between Cassian’s own, and he curls his, daring to slide his thumb across her skin with a wide grin.

It’s at that exact moment that the ride surges forward, going from zero to seventy miles per hour just as the rollercoaster’s tagline promises. Nesta’s scream is blood curdling, her grip on his hand tightening enough that he actually winces. As they go soaring through the first loop, he chances a glance toward her, but he finds Nesta with her eyes squeezed shut, face scrunched in fear.

The high speed has the ride ending before Cassian knows it, laughter echoing from the seats behind them and a ‘whoop’ coming from a guy in one of the front row seats. But Nesta still has her eyes closed, still has a death grip on his hand, even after the ride comes to a full stop and the shoulder restraints release with a quiet whoosh.

“You have to let go of my hand now, sweetheart,” Cassian leans over to whisper.

It takes a moment, but slowly Nesta’s fingers uncurl and she pulls her hand away. She hops down from the seat, stalking toward the exit without a glance backward. Cassian is quick to jog after her, slinging his arm around her shoulders when he catches up.

“You know, that was quite a scream for someone not scared,” Cassian comments teasingly.

“Shut up. I hate you,” Nesta snaps, shrugging out of his hold and continuing forward.

“Come on, Nes.” Cassian continues after her, moving in front of her and halting her steps. “I’m sorry, okay? No more coasters, I promise.”

Nesta continues to watch him dubiously, those blue gray eyes still narrowed, but her shoulders relax at least. Cassian steps closer into her space, reaching up for one of the stray strands of hair that’s come free from her updo through the rides and now tumbles down along her temple. He twists it around her finger, tugging until that scowl finally vanishes, until the corners of her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile.

“Forgive me?” Cassian requests, giving in to his own soft smile that he knows there’s no point trying to fight.

Nesta hums, clearly intent on denying him, but she can’t hide the spark in her gaze that gives her away. The reaction has Cassian laughing and shaking his head fondly. She’ll be the death of him, and he’ll die happy.

He glances around, spying one of the game booths just down the path from them. With a decided nod, he starts to walk backwards from Nesta, holding his arms out and shrugging in faux innocence. It earns him an eye roll, and he knows he’s won, finally turning full around and stepping up to the booth.

He hands over the money to the worker, awkwardly settling onto one of the low stools despite his tall frame. He squints at the small target, moving the water shooter up and down until he’s confident he has the right aim.

“I expect the biggest prize,” Nesta tells him from his left.

And Cassian intends to give her nothing less. As soon as the bell sounds for the game, he presses down the little red buttons with a single minded focus. He doesn’t spare even a glance toward the kids sitting to his right that he’s playing against. He doesn’t even bother to think about them. He stays focused on his target until the winning bell rings out, the lights flashing above his station.

“Let’s go,” Cassian cheers, pumping his fist and jumping up from his seat. He points toward the prize he wants, a large purple narwhal plushie, that the worker hands over, and then he whirls back toward Nesta, presenting it with a wide smirk. “M’lady.”

“You’re an idiot.”

She says the words, but she still laughs softly as she does, still takes the plushie to hug close to her chest. It’s a sight and a sound that has Cassian’s heart stuttering and blooming with warmth between his ribs. Has him grinning wide enough that he’s sure he really does look like an idiot. Not that he cares. Especially when Nesta leans closer, pressing up onto her toes and kissing him on the cheek.

“And now you’re forgiven, but no more rollercoasters.”

—

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 @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

[kale-theteaqueen]

Bellum Omnium Contra Fatum, Chapter I

---

“So, do all of this town’s pretty women coup themselves up in stuffy back rooms or are you just special? Seems like a crime, sweetheart.”

Nesta blinked, her irritation returning so quickly she almost gasped. There it was again. Sweetheart. Like she was some young thing hoping to stroll through town in his arm, like a show pony. She was unable to hide her scowl. Coldly, she replied,

“Are all Yanks this skilled at talking to them?”

He tilted his head back and released a loud, genuine laugh. It was musical – the most vibrant sound Nesta had heard in… well, in years.

It was a dangerous sound. One that felt taboo. One that, undoubtedly, would consume her thoughts tonight when she went to bed alone in the room upstairs.

“I’m afraid so, Miss…?”

“Mandray,” Nesta supplied, holding out her hand for his coin. He may be Emerie’s lodger but that didn’t mean she’d wash his clothes for free. “Mrs. Mandray.”

To his credit, his surprise (and disappointment) seemed only to flash across his face for a moment. But he didn’t change his tone, as she thought he would. Instead, his eyes seemed to soften, and he dutifully dropped a small pile of coins into her hand. After a moment's hesitation, he replied,

“Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you more often."

And then, as if to test it out on his tongue, he repeated, “Mrs. Mandray.”

---

War may be hell, the world bleak, but when Captain Cassian Garcia meets the mysterious Nesta Mandray, he finds a light in the darkness.

Nesta, meanwhile, yearns for escape. Trapped in a loveless marriage in a town that has never understood her, the handsome American Officer lodging in Emerie's house becomes too tempting to ignore.

Even if she knows that to tempt fate against certain death was a fool's errand.

Cassian, though, is certainly going to try his best.

A WWII AU for @nessianweek 2024 Day 4: Alternate Universe

Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @doriansgf @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @unlikelypersonalknight1 @slipknotvol3 @stylishmuser @lady-winter-sunrise @bri-loves-sunflowers @misswonderflower @acourtofladydeath @natasharomxnov @unhealthyfanobsession

[asnowfern]

I Take Care of Papa Too

A/N: What? It's almost Sunday noon where I am? Sorry, I can't hear you over the fluff I wrote for Day 7 of @cassianappreciationweek

Enjoy!

In hindsight, Cassian knew that he would be facing tough days ahead of him the minute Alea sneezed in his face mere moments after Nesta left for her diplomatic mission in the human lands. Within a few hours, Cassian was blessed with the full package of a cranky, coughing, sneezing and feverish toddler.

The House was a godsend, giving him periodic reminders of mealtimes and to monitor her temperature. By the second night, Alea's fever had broken and he could collapse with exhaustion and relief.

Cassian had faced down armies and feared Fae generals but the courage it takes to force feed his daughter medication? That was something even the infamous Illyrian commander was afraid of.

"Papa?" A sweet voice pulled him out of his self-rewarded nap, continuing at his noncommittal hum, "Alea wants to go fly!"

Cassian groaned slightly, blinking his eyes open, "Now?"

"Fly!" She repeated in a tone which accorded no arguments.

He pushed through the heaviness settling in his bones and scooped his daughter up, looking into a matching pair of hazel eyes.

Trying his luck, he asked, "Can papa take a nap first?"

Flecks of green and gold danced in the young fae's mischievous eyes, her little wings tucking in as she answered resolutely, "No. Let's go fly now!"

Heaving a loud mock sigh, Cassian carried the both of them to the balcony and activated the shield with a tap on his siphon, "Get ready"

The wide toothy smile on Alea's face was all he needed as he launched them up in the air, his daughter tucked firmly in his arms. Relishing every excited yelp and giggle from the toddler, Cassian tuned out the discomfort in his joints and the pounding in his head as they soared over Velaris.

Cassian's heart ached at the thought that one day, Alea's own wings would grow strong enough and she would no longer need her papa to carry her to fly over the city. Tugging her in closer and tighter, he flew higher and faster, knowing just how much his daughter loved those.

It was hence a surprise when his daughter piped up, her eyes suddenly bright and wide, "Home."

He paused in mid-air and turned a concerned gaze on her, "You want to go home?"

The young fae's lips trembled as she said shakily, "Want to go home."

Cassian frowned, worry brewing in his belly as he launched them on a direct path back to the House of Wind. Did he go too fast? Was it too soon after she had barely recovered? Should he call for Madja?

His feet had barely touched the floor before Alea jumped off his arms, running as fast as her little legs could towards the kitchen. The Illyrian followed closely, the unease in him building with every step.

He watched as the toddler snatched up a cup, spell-proofed against shattering, and filled it with water. She thrusted the full cup at him, the water splashing slightly onto the floor.

"Drink," she commanded.

Cassian's fingers closed around the glass and lifted it to his mouth, taking a small sip. His eyes never once left his daughter.

"Papa, drink!" She ordered, her mouth set in a grim line highly reminiscent of her mother.

Once the glass had been drained, chubby hands wrapped around his hand and pulled him towards his room. She stood at the foot of his bed, jutting out her chin as she leveled the same authoritative stare at her father. It would have been effective if it wasn't so darn cute.

"Sleep!"

Cassian felt the edges of his mouth quirk up as he let his daughter usher him into bed and pull a blanket over him.

"Comfy?" She patted the covers around him, asking a question often asked to her.

"Very," he soothed, "but aren't you going to join me?"

"Papa is warm! Papa needs to sleep!" She declared.

Cassian's chest warmed and melted, "Papa is ok, sweet pea. Why don't you join me? Alea is sick too."

"No," her lips puckered into a pout, mini fingers continuing to smoothen the covers, "Alea takes care of papa too."

Hoisting his heavy arms over the blanket, Cassian pulled his protesting daughter into bed with him, murmuring softly into soft golden brown curls, "Papa gets better with hugs."

"Really?" The small skeptical voice asked.

"Yes," he insisted sleepily, the pull of the soft mattress impossible to resist.

***

The scent of his favourite stew wafted over, rousing him awake. He smiled at the golden thread thrumming contently in his chest. Sure enough, his beautiful mate in all her stern braided glory sat next to him, her fingers thumbing through a page of her book.

"Alea?"

"Asleep in her room," she replied, not taking her eyes off the book.

"You came back early," he remarked.

Nesta snapped her book shut, settling it at the bedside table. She turned her silvery blue eyes on him, "My babies are sick. How could I stay away for too long?"

"Alea said she will take care of me," he said, unable to turn off the slightly smug tone in his voice.

"Of course," his mate replied matter-of-factly as a smile played on her lips and she carded slender fingers through his curls, "that's what we do in this household."

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter One

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

Three years later…

Nesta Archeron made a lot of mistakes in her life. In the seventh grade she accidentally told a secret that wasn’t hers to share. When she did her online classes during high school she had forgotten about an entire English project and simply had to take the failing grade. But this current mistake, as she smelled of cheap beer and liquor. This was by far the worst mistake she’s ever made as she stepped out of the Uber facing the Velaris Courthouse.

Bile rose in her throat, the contents of the alcohol gaining an upperhand. She gulped then massaged her face, putting color into her cheeks. It would all be okay. I’ve been fine in the past. I’ll be fine now.

She climbed the marble steps before entering the courthouse, finding the room her case was assigned too. 

“Where is your client, Mr. Vanserra? I won’t ask again.”

“I’m sorry, your honor. She’ll be here any minute.” 

Ah fucking shit. Eris might just pull out all of his hair for this.

Heads swung as Nesta opened the court door, keeping her head low. She wore an old dress that most definitely had a ripped somewhere and her heels seemed to be wobbly. Or was that herself being wobbly?

Eris greeted her quietly before glaring at her. He pulled his head near her’s.

“Your have to be fucking kidding me right now. Are you actually drunk right now, Nesta?”

Nesta made a motion with her head to show somewhat as an answer. Eris sighed heavily before turning to the judge.

“You honor, my client has appeared now. I think we can start now.”

The judge peered down at Nesta. Her silvery eyes and black hair bob made Nesta squirm slightly.

“Listen young lady. If you’re ever late to court again, there'll be a lot more trouble given to you.” The judge said before continuing.

“You pleaded guilty for driving under the influence and as this would be your second offense, your consequences fit your crime.”

Nesta swayed back and forth, the nerves lingering in her body. She dropped her chin a little and looked over her shoulder. Near the back was her baby sister, Feyre. And at her side was her long-term boyfriend, Rhysand Valyrian. Feyre’s face was written in disappointment while Rhysand shot glares at Nesta.

Better watch out, buddy. Your face might get stuck like that.

“Miss Archeron, did you hear me?” The judge called out.

Nesta jolted, coming back to reality. “I’m sorry, Judge.”

Eris groaned, his hand already in his hair.

“It’s your honor, girl.”

“Yes, your honor.”

The judge began flipping through a packet in front of her.

“I will not be repeating myself after this, Miss Archeron.” She paused before continuing. “As you pleaded guilty this will not be entering an official trial. I would sentence you to the Dusk Court Prison if it was solely up to me Miss Archeron.” 

Nesta’s heart began to speed up. Prison was really on the table this time when she spoke with Eris last; the night she made bail.

The judge sighed. “But after a loved one sent in a letter I’m afraid their decision had swayed me. Nesta Archeron, you will not be sentenced to prison.”

What felt like a collection of relieved sighs happened across the room. However Nesta must have imagined it.

“You will serve three hundred and seventy-five hours of community service while on probation. You will meet with your lawyer and parole officer once a week. If things go over well we can look into extending the meetings every two weeks.” 

“Your license will be suspended for 1 year. You will be attending mandatory Alcoholics Anonymous sessions in the area you’ll be staying in.” 

Nesta gripped her wrist, nails digging into her skin.

“Finally, you will be volunteering at the House of Wind Therapeutic Ranch in Windhaven. You will not be allowed to leave the site unless otherwise approved by the staff or mandated such as the sessions.”

Her stomach dropped. Freezing water dumped over her entire body.

A ranch?

“Your honor, is this a horse ranch?” 

The judge looked down at her with a deadpan stare. “Yes, Miss Archeron. This is a ranch that involves horses. Although there may be other animals there too. Is that a problem?”

Nesta shook her head. No, no, no. This couldn’t be right.

“No, your honor. I’m not qualified to work there. I’ll take the–” but before Nesta could continue, Eris squeezed her shoulder roughly. He glared at her, his rusted color eyes glancing at her silvery blues.

“Your honor, my client doesn’t understand how this is a tremendous opportunity given to her. She will take it. Won’t you, Miss Archeron?” Eris squeezed harder, Nesta wincing. Her breath drew heavier, a faint memory of hands on her before.

There was no escaping. This was her consequence.

“...Yes, your honor. I understand.”

“I’m glad that you do. You’ll be needed at the ranch by nightfall tonight. If you cannot arrange a ride, the court will order one for you. If you break any of these rules, Miss Archeron, the consequences will escalate to a higher degree. Do I make myself clear?”

Nesta nodded. “Yes, your honor.”

The gavel’s sound bounced across the rooms. The sentencing was finished. Dread filled her veins while Eris stepped away from her, packing his things. She looked behind her again to see Feyre standing there, arms crossing over her chest. Rhysand had just walked out the door.

Nightfall came as Nesta sat in the passenger seat of Feyre’s truck. Technically it was their father’s old truck, but he passed it down to her shortly after her high school graduation. The fabric seats were torn with threads peeling and mysterious stains that Nesta didn’t need to know more of.

The car ride was filled with so much silence, it was like a third person was in the truck. Nesta kept picking at the skin, creating bloody hangnails. The radio wasn’t on either. Nesta loved music, but Feyre looked like she wanted silence. Her sister’s eyes kept on the road, both hands on the wheel. Driving through the highways then onto backroads, Feyre and Nesta made their way to the town of Windhaven. Approximately an hour outside Velaris.

There was humid mist in the air as rain drizzled from the sky. The windshield wipers rubbed against the glass. Nesta winced every time the wipers made a sound.

Red lights reflected on the puddles on the two lane road. The car came to a stop. And then Feyre sighed.

“Nesta, I love you. You’re my sister. But I can’t keep doing this.”

“I can’t keep reliving this nightmare of my family dying because of alcohol. Mom and dad died because they drank themselves to death.”

Nesta’s hand curled into her palm. Bitter words were hanging off her tongue and she did nothing to stop them.

“You need to get over dad’s death. It was almost three years ago. And secondly you need to get a new car, Fey.”

Fey was the nickname Nesta and Elain had decided for her when their sister was born. It had been stuck like that since. Feyre winced at her old nickname. The light turned green, and Feyre drove again.

Silence came in between them once more, as Feyre made a turn onto a dirt road. Some of the street lamps were on, illuminating pastures and arenas. Nesta’s stomach turned at the once familiar sight.

“That’s not fair, Nesta.” Feyre counted as she pulled up to a house, putting the old truck in park.

“You’re the one literally dating Daddy Warbucks. He could give you the moon if you wanted. Maybe ask for a new car or some shit.”

“You will leave Rhysand out of this. He has nothing to do with this. And Nesta…IF you don’t change your ways, I will make sure you will not meet my child. I will not have that in their life.” 

Nesta sat stunned in the quietness of the truck. Her gaze went from Feyre’s face to her stomach then back to Feyre.

“I love you, Nesta. But after this, no more. I will not let you be a burden to my life anymore. I will not have my child witness that.”

Nesta’s lip trembled slightly before she roughly opened the door and grabbing her stuff from the back seat. She didn’t look as she marched on forward, her suitcases and backpack in hand trailing behind her. As she climbed the porch to the front door, it suddenly swung open.

A man, a tall man, stood in the doorway. His long hair in a half up half down style as he leaned against the frame. The wheels of the truck became distant as Nesta looked up at him.

“So, Nesta Archeron. We finally meet after all this time. Welcome to your new home.” He stood inside, ushering her in.

“Prison is more like it..” 

“I can get orange jumpsuits if you think that would make you feel better, however I don’t think orange is your color.”

Nesta scuffs, the insult nailing her. She glared daggers at him.

The man moved on, walking down the hall before turning around to face her. “I’m Cassian. Your warren, if we want to stay on the prison theme.” 

“And lucky you. You get the fourth floor all to yourself. Enjoy, Nes.” Then he walked off, not bothering to help Nesta.

“My name is Nesta!” She called out after him followed by mumbling a few curses under her breath. Nesta took her things and began to climb the stairs. Step after step Nesta made her way flight after flight when she finally got to the last step of stairs. A closed door stood on top.

Nesta sighed, her breath heavy and jagged from the climb.

“I never hated a place more than this.”

She grabbed her belongings, dragging the heavy suitcase up the final set of stairs. The wheels rolling off the wooden steps. Once at the top, Nesta opened the door. 

She was greeted with a decent sized room especially for an attic. This had to be the attic after all. There was

 twin bed in the corner near the window with an AC box unit installed.

The suitcase and bags were thrown to the ground as Nesta pulled out a piece of gum. Quickly she began to chew as her stomach hit the bed. Squeals of the bedsprings hit her with force. The spearmint flavor kept her mind at bay, letting the urges stay in the dark.

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows

[fuckyesnessian]

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

[velidewrites]

When the Goddess of the Underworld grants a mortal General an extended stay in the land of the living, she doesn’t expect him to come back with another deal — one she has no idea will ruin her life forever.

Pairing: Hades!Nesta x Cassian

Word Count: 14k

Notes: This is Part I of my follower celebration project, Divinity! Thank you for being here <3

Warnings (please read before proceeding): Graphic depictions of blood, injury and death; 18+, explicit sexual content, return of the monsterfucking agenda, this means monster sex; monster cocks; yes cocks plural; Cassian has three of them let's just get that out of the way now; are you reading the tags?; let me just repeat it: there is monsterfucking in this fic; proceed at your own discretion

Beta'd by @melting-houses-of-gold <3

Read on AO3 || Check out this BEAUTIFUL art commissioned by @melphss inspired by this fic! 🥹💕

When Hades appears, the earth beneath her erupts in flames.

They are not the hot, blazing kind the mortals burn for the Gods kind in their temples. Their fire is passion, wild and impossible to tame. It molds the stone to its will and consumes everything in its path, threatening to blind and scorch and hurt anyone who crosses it. It is a living breath—a sign that one day, like everything else, its fervour will fade away, leaving nothing but ash as a reminder of its former glory. A fire that begins to die the moment it is born—the moment it dares to lick, to taste.

It is a mortal fire. A human fire.

It is nothing like hers.

The silver flames surrounding her are made to repel. A display of her power—of the risks involved in getting too close. They swirl around her like pets at all times but when she steps into the Overworld—it is too hot, too volatile to sustain their icy touch. When Hades enters, they slither up her form, the cold pleasant against flesh, and take their rest in the pits of her eyes, where they make her gaze burn with a reminder of what she truly is.

Death.

Thanatos smirks at it sometimes—at the fear reflected in the mortals’ eyes as they meet her own. He is the only one who seems to understand—understand that Hades is not the Harbinger of Death, but its Nurturer. The Underworld is where it thrives, devoid of the passions and distractions above, yet full of a different sort of beauty. Peace. Quiet.

But Hades is not mortal. And sometimes, Death gets too quiet to bear.

Today is that day, and, like always, she makes her way upward until sunlight seeps its roots deep into her bones.

There is a downside to the Overworld, though, one she has no idea how the others stand to endure. For to walk among the mortals, the Gods must become one of them—in flesh, if nothing else. Down in her kingdom, she is allowed to roam free, the same as Olympus—although even there, she is not entirely without restraints. Hades grimaces slightly at the thought, but discards it just as quickly. She did not come here without a purpose—she never does—and it would be foolish to slip into unnecessary distractions.

Besides, she thinks as the flames around her begin their ascent at last, this mortal body is not without a purpose. Right now, if she is to be completely honest, she can’t exactly remember why she despises it so. Today’s form is perhaps her favourite of all, every inch of it revealed to her as the silver flames trail up her legs, her breasts, her neck. Once they settle in her eyes, she can finally appreciate what she has become.

She likes the softness of her skin underneath the pads of her fingers, and the sensuous sway of her hips as she takes her first step. Her hair, a golden shade of brown, falls in part down her back with the rest of it draped over her shoulders, the cascading waves cupping the curve of her exposed breasts.

What pretty sight, she thinks, then smooths a hand over her thigh. Her power responds instantly, its gentle hum weaving the earth, wind and sun into a silky thread. It doesn’t stop until the gown is complete and hugging her body with a fabric of the darkest black. Hades’s mouth ticks up in a smile at that—it seems that no matter what body she chooses, the colour suits her every time. The gown is sleeveless, and she stretches her arm, admiring the contrast of her milky skin against the fabric. She is the paling moon hung over the midnight sky—a light that shines most beautifully in the darkness.

The rest of the garment gathers at her hips before falling loosely to the ground, covering what she thinks is too much of her supple form. She’ll have to amend that later—she may be a Goddess, but she still wants to make a good first impression.

A breathless sound somewhere behind her tells her she has nothing to worry about, and Hades smirks to herself before turning to its source. A mortal man gapes at her openly, his eyes holding nothing but pure, unrestrained awe. He is old, she thinks, taking in his hunched form and wrinkled skin with a raised brow. A part of her is glad her beauty is one of the last things he will see.

There is no hope for him left when his gaze moves up to meet her own. Only the strongest of mortal minds can withstand the deathly fire in her stare—and this man no longer possesses the resolve of his younger counterparts.

She says nothing—does not even move when he finally understands what kind of creature he stumbled upon in this forest. Not a lost, wandering maiden, but a Goddess.

The worst Goddess this world has to offer.

The awe in his gaze freezes into fear, and his jaw hangs open for the last time before his knees buckle and he falls to the mossy ground. The elderly fog in his eyes chills and becomes frost, a thin veil of cold death. Hades sighs at the scene.

This is inconvenient.

She does not wish to see Thanatos today—not when it means another, long lecture and a hundred reasons against her coming here again. He is perhaps the only one who even dares to contradict her, and she appreciates that at times, but with this—with this, she is certain. Thanatos will say she’d lost her senses, to be sure. It wouldn’t be the first time, and just like all the times before, she would deal with him later.

The barest tinge of guilt passes over her, and she silently curses this mortal flesh for submitting to such foolish, such human impulses. Thanatos, after all, is her most valued friend, even if everyone on Olympus believes him her servant. The truth is, Thanatos is no more than her guest in the Underworld, for his presence is undesired anywhere else.

It is why she does not mind when the less astute of the mortals mistake her for Thanatos—for the God of Death. He lives out his eternal life in the shadows, appearing only when situations like the man before her require it. She is content to take the blame, the hatred—she repays it tenfold when their souls arrive in her kingdom.

Thanatos may be Death, but Hades is its ruler. Its Queen.

Still, whatever compassion she holds for her companion in the Underworld is of no use to her now, and so she shoves it away and makes her way to the edge of the forest. Thanatos will know what caused the old human’s death, but Hades will not be there when he arrives.

The moss is soft beneath her feet, dampened by the rainy days succeeding the summertime. She despises the dry heat, the heavy air and the scorching rays of sunlight. It is why she only visits later in the year, when the climate is more welcoming. When there is…more to be seen.

Hades can see him now, in fact, as she looks out to the fields from behind the wide oak that borders the forest. Demeter keeps him hidden almost all year, like a secret she does not want known to the rest of the world—not even to the Gods. Especially not to the Gods, Hades thinks. Though, of course, there is no hiding from them no matter how hard she tries.

She’d been watching him long enough to understand why. Her son’s power is raw and untamed—it is unlike anything she’d ever seen. Hades can’t quite comprehend how a being so impressive in his skill had managed to come out of a woman so gentle as the Goddess of the Harvest. There’s no denying it, though—he is part of her, no matter how much his power differs from hers. Their auburn hair and russet eyes are one and the same, even the placement of freckles on his toned arms mirrors that of Demeter’s. He shines like the fire that burns under his gaze—bright and hungry and unstoppable. Perhaps that is why he intrigues her—his flames complement her own, their passion a balance to her peace. It is not the same kind of mortal passion that fills her with such distaste—he will never die out. He will burn alongside her for as long as she wants it.

He is a God, just as she is. Eternal. Demeter claims she’d crafted him from the autumn leaves that had once fallen over her crops, but Hades sees the lie for what it is. A man like him cannot be anything but the fruit of pleasure and the joining of flesh—though whose, Hades does not know. Another God, to be certain. One shameful enough for Demeter to remain in her cottage amongst humans—a place so pathetic that no self-respecting God would bother looking at it twice.

But not Hades. Hades comes every year.

Every year, she watches the God of Autumn and wonders if he feels her fire, too. If he does, he says nothing—and so Hades chooses to believe he is not aware of her presence at all. He leaves Demeter’s stead on the dawn of the first autumn day, and the season erupts around him in a symphony of bronze, crimson and gold, glistening even in the most rainy of days. He roams the lands then, admiring his work until Demeter appears at the doorstep again, urging him inside with a worried look on her face. He abides every time, and every time, Hades is too late to stop him.

She will not fail this year. This year, he will be hers at last. She will grab him before he returns to his mother’s side and take him to her kingdom with her—show him what true power means. What being a God means.

She has a few months before the time comes, but she had come today to admire him from afar. Eris. A beautiful name, she must admit, for a beautiful man.

Soon, you will be mine.

He will make a fine consort—he is exactly what she needs in the Underworld. A flicker of light, of fervour, a cackling fire to disturb the quiet. At last, she will—

Hades sucks in a sharp breath, her mortal lungs contracting violently in answer. She whirls on her feet, expecting to find someone behind her—another mortal, perhaps, who strayed too far on their evening hunt. But she finds the forest empty.

It is then that she realises the disturbance came from within her—that her power set every nerve in her body on alert, knocked the air from her chest, stirred by whatever dared to come near it. And since there is no one beside her…

A low snarl slips past her throat.

Someone entered one of her temples—and defiled it.

Hades takes one, final look at her betrothed before the earth beneath her cracks and the silver flames swallow her again.

***

The temple shakes as it signals her arrival, the pile of ruined marble a testament to her anger. Hades feels no remorse—she has hardly any worshippers here, if the spiderwebs draped over the large columns are any indication. This is a village of warriors, and fierce ones at that—they do not accept death even as they march bloodied into battle. She’s been seeing more and more of them in the Underworld lately, souls defeated by the neighbouring legion on the other side of the mountain. A pointless, petty war, Thanatos had told her, though Hades had no interest in hearing the rest of the details.

Through the fractured roof, she can make out the dusk slowly melting into a greyish night. The last remnant of daylight is the pale beam of the sun, illuminating one of her ruined statues. Hades recognises this face—it is one she took on ten years prior. One of her least favourites, but pretty nonetheless.

Pretty enough that the sight of blood on her marble cheek fills her with rage.

Defiled, the word thrums through her again. Degraded by mortal touch.

The crimson smudge gleams fresh, its iron scent brushing her nose without permission. She scrunches it in distaste—yet another violation of her divinity. Whoever did this would not leave her temple again. She would see to their punishment personally.

A gargled cough echoes through the stone, and Hades whips toward the sound.

There you are.

The man’s body is curled up on the floor, but no rubble surrounds him—whatever caused him pain, it happened before her arrival. Blood pools at his side, tainting the pristine marble and reeking of him. There is no doubt left in her mind—this is the man who did this.

And he is already dying.

It seems that her job here is done—perhaps Thanatos is already on his way. Hades turns her back to him and gathers her power again—if she hurries, she might still catch a glimpse of Eris before darkness breaks over the sky once more.

But then the cough reaches her again, and this time, it is followed by a strangled sound.

“Please…”

She halts, though she isn’t sure why.

“Please,” the man rasps again.

If he does not die on his own, her fiery gaze might hurry things along.

Hades turns.

Somehow, he managed to pull himself up to his knees despite the open slice across his navel. Whatever sword had caused this, it was no average one—this man is nearly severed in half, blood pouring out of his squelching flesh in a thick, ruthless current. He holds a large hand over his guts, and Hades wonders if it is the only thing still keeping them in place. This is no ordinary man, she realises, no ordinary warrior—he will not die until he’s exhausted every path, every resource, the very last resort he can think of.

His last resort appears to be her.

Interesting.

“What will you give me?” she asks him, her voice dropping an octave. He tilts his head up to meet her gaze, and Hades considers that perhaps she does not need anything in return at all.

He is, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she’s ever seen. Breathtaking in every sense of the word. So breathtaking that she searches her mind for any Gods who might have sired him—she had never seen a mortal this exquisite. A son of Ares, perhaps, or Athena, even, but he has no resemblance to either of them—there is nothing polished about him that she’d seen up on Olympus, nothing refined into that sleek, eternal perfection her kind likes to boast of. No, he is as wild as the howling wind in the harshest of winters, as rough and hardened as the frozen earth at the foot of the mountain towering over her temple. 

His hazel eyes blaze with want, but it is not the hunger she so often sees in the eyes of her betrothed. He wants to survive, to live, but his reasons have nothing to do with him.

“Anything,” he says, and there is new strength in his voice, one Hades did not expect in a man on the threshold of Death. “I will give you anything.”

She doesn’t want to admit this, not out loud at least, but he intrigues her immensely. A man with the face and stare of a God—and yet still, just a mortal, dying man.

She realises then that he’s holding her own stare directly—that he’s taking in all that silver fire and his answering gaze holds not even a shred of fear.

“Your name,” Hades decides. “Your name in exchange for your life.”

His dark brows furrow, and she knows he is turning her words over in his mind until he finds the trap, the secret motive she surely plants underneath her request. A thought crosses her mind that whoever he is, he has been trained to deal with deception, to recognise threat before it even comes to life. But the only threat here is her curiosity, and so, when he looks up at her again, she already knows he has found nothing.

“Cassian,” he tells her, and Hades breathes again.

Somewhere deep inside her, she hears the fading voice of Thanatos, a final voice of reason before she succumbs into this bargain with no hopes of return. Forget his name. Go home. Do not think of him again—destroy the temple, if you must.

She does not have to. Hades is a Goddess, a Queen—she will be damned before she let this distraction ruin the plan she’s been crafting for decades.

Thanatos will honour this bargain—he will not come for this man, and will defy the Fates in doing so. The least Hades can do is listen.

“Do not seek me out again, mortal,” she warns.

And with that, she is gone forever.

***

Forever does not last long enough.

“Ignore it,” the shadows tell her, and she turns to meet their face.

Thanatos’s expression is grave, though that does little to stop her—he always looks this way, after all, pained and somber even in the quiet reprieve that the Underworld allows him.

“I cannot,” Hades says, and her friend’s lips only press tighter together.

She wonders if it is her friend trying to shield her, or the God of Death. Perhaps he is merely trying to spare her—to keep her from making the same mistake he had. Thanatos has never quite recovered from Athena’s rejection, or Aphrodite’s heartbreak, the romance brief as it was. But this—she—is different. This has nothing to with risk, or with romance—only curiosity, burning somewhere deep inside her chest, and brighter than the silver fire in her eyes.

Right now, that curiosity is fuelled by anger, because the man—Cassian—dared to disobey her command.

She felt him the moment he touched one of the statues in her temple, his touch roughened by the calloused skin of his open palm and tainted with battle yet again. To think that this man, this mortal, has now dared to summon her twice—it makes her want to rage for the rest of eternity.

“You ask too much of me,” Thanatos accuses, his words pulling her out of her thoughts yet again.

Hades waves a hand. “I do not ask of anything yet.”

His gaze narrows on her, and she can practically feel his scrutiny clawing at her skin. “Your temple reeks of his blood—surely you’ve felt it, too.” The shadows swirl around him eagerly, like a child mindlessly nodding along to its parent’s words. “You know where this path will lead you.”

“Precisely,” Hades hisses. “I forbade him from ever returning there again, and yet, not even a month later, he came back—no doubt with more demands.” Her anger simmers inside her again, but she manages to keep it contained. The time to unleash it will come later—soon, if Thanatos would just get over himself and let her pass.

The God of Death angles his head slightly. “You intend to punish him, then.”

“Of course,” Hades says, trying her hardest not to take offence at the disbelief in his tone. She knows Thanatos’s faith in her has been shaken, that he disapproves of her plans, her determination. That he disapproves of the Overworld, and of Eris, and—

“You’re wrong,” he interrupts. She didn’t realise she said the words out loud, though perhaps Thanatos could simply read them on her face. “I only want you to understand. This God of Autumn, and now this…this human—they will never be enough for you here.”

Her eyes flare silver. “You mean you will never be enough.”

Hades regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth, but it is already too late. She let her anger get the best of her—to strike where she knew would hurt him the most. She can tell she succeeded from the way his eyes darken, from the way his shadows curl at his sides like snakes ready to defend their master, to fight venom with venom.

Thanatos is not her master, though—and even though down here they may only have each other, she is still the Queen. His Queen, for as long as he chooses to remain in the Underworld. His opinions, his jealousy, she decides, are not welcome here.

Her body relaxes as the momentary guilt lifts from her shoulders, and when she speaks again, her voice is colder than the silver fire pooling at her feet. “I am leaving for the temple.”

Silence falls between them, and when she no longer believes Thanatos has anything of value left to say, she turns her back to him at last.

She’s about to disappear when she hears his voice again. “This will be the last favour, Hades,” he warns her.

Good. She will not need any more.

Still, the words echo in her head the entirety of her journey upward, fading only when the temple comes into view. The ground trembles under the weight of her fury, the stone walls crumbling inch by inch with her every step. She has no idea how the temple still stands, frankly. She was expecting it to collapse after her last visit.

She was also expecting to see Cassian amidst all that rubble, drenched in his own blood and his guts slowly spilling out of his body. Instead, she finds him in perfect health, his chin held up high as he meets her gaze from beneath her statue where he waits.

Kneeling.

Hades is not one to be easily taken by surprise, but the sight of him on his knees before her makes her breath hitch in her throat. He’s cloaked in a warrior’s leathers, traditional to his region, dark and ridged and tight, and Hades can’t help it when her traitorous eyes trail down to admire their work. She can make out the defined muscle of his thick thighs, wondering how they’d feel under the touch of her human hands. She wants to dig her nails into the golden-brown skin—wants to pierce those leathers and find out just how hard those muscles are.

She hears his breath turn ragged when her gaze settles on the bulge at their apex, and the thought crosses her mind that, perhaps, he’d be more than willing to answer all her questions had she only asked. Her form seems to please him as much as he pleases her—though that, at least, comes as no surprise.

The gown she’d selected would no doubt make Thanatos choke in disbelief. The black lace is sheer and hugs her body in all the right places, revealing her smooth skin from the collar at her neck down to the lean muscle of her calves. The thread forms intricate patterns over her nipples before descending to her navel in a V-like shape, covering just enough of her cunt beneath to make any God drop to his knees.

Any mortal, too, of course, she reminded herself as her gaze lifted to the male before her once again.

“I thought you’d like to see me this way,” Cassian says, his voice low and deep and reverberating through her in a slow, shuddering wave. “Hades.”

The moment shatters like glass.

Hades straightens, silently cursing Thanatos, the Fates and, above all, herself for giving into his beauty, to the temptations of this mortal flesh. She is Hades, the Goddess of the Underworld, and this pathetic, mortal male had nearly made her knees buckle at the sound of his sultry baritone. Her anger is renewed, a flame brought to life once again as it replaces the pleasant heat that has somehow managed to pool at her core. Hades reminds herself then that she has come here to exact punishment, not…whatever this is. Whatever he makes her feel.

After all, Hades has plans. In two months or so, she will finally be joined in the Underworld by her betrothed. Her consort. Her equal.

Cassian is none of those things.

“You disobeyed me, General,” she says, because she does not dare to say his name out loud. Besides, she is certain that’s exactly who Cassian is—a male of such strength, such size, cannot be anything lesser than. “I ordered you to never seek me out again.”

Their gazes lock and hold.

Cassian does not even flinch. “I’m afraid I’m in need of your favour once again, Goddess.”

The ground shakes again—then stops as Hades takes a levelling breath. “What makes you think you will have it?”

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, and Hades’s eyes dart to the movement, to this new, exciting position his muscles arranged themselves into. She can swear he kneels wider now, as though he knows, as though he smells the curiosity, the arousal on her.

Cassian shrugs. “I suppose I can only hope.”

“What is it you want?” Hades asks. “You don’t seem injured to me.”

His entire body tenses, and she catches a shadow passing through his features. “It’s not me,” he tells her, his shoulders rolling back and inch as he looks up to meet her eyes again. “It’s my mother.”

“Your mother?”

“She’s dying,” he says, and there is the smallest hint of strain in his voice now. She must be important to him, then, Hades realises. She never understood how humans feel so deeply.

So she tells him, “All things die eventually, General.”

Cassian’s jaw clenches hard. “It’s too soon,” he says. “She was taken by illness none of our healers understand.”

“It is the will of the Fates, then.”

Lightning flares in his hazel eyes at that. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Hades barks a laugh. “You?” she asks, “or me?”

A muscle juts in his jaw, and she wonders if he bit hard enough to draw blood. “I put myself at your mercy,” he says before adding quickly, “Your Majesty.”

Something about the title pleases her immensely, and so she doesn’t kill him right on the spot. “You would give yourself to me?” she asks instead. She can already hear Thanatos’s protests in her head, but her mind wanders anyway. Cassian in her kingdom like a pet she could keep at her disposal, curled by her lap and ready to serve. Pretty. Obedient.

Hers.

He would entertain her—her consort, too, perhaps, when he joined her side at last. A lovely sight to admire in the morning and play with at night.

Hades hums lowly, and Cassian’s eyes flare up again—with a different light, this time, and she swears she can see specks of gold in those endless pools of hazel.

“You propose a bargain, then,” she begins, surveying him head to toe once more.

So beautiful.

Cassian nods. “Save my mother’s life, and my life, my heart, my soul—is in your hands.”

Hades considers.

Kill him, the raging fire inside her says.

But the golden light staring back at her pleads, Take me.

Hades steps forward and reaches out a hand. “Come with me.”

***

They arrive at the Gates of the Underworld hand in hand.

“Am I…” Cassian starts, taking in the sight around him. “Dead?”

Hades smirks to herself.

“No,” she tells him. “You will live for as long as I need you to.”

His eyes widen, as if struggling to grasp the immortality she’s just laid out before him. “And my mother?” he asks.

“You will never see her again, if that is what you’re asking.”

Cassian releases a long, long breath. “Lead the way.”

The only way into the Underworld is through the Acheron river, and though Hades can come and go as she pleases without the unnecessary ordeal, she decides to accompany Cassian anyway—this time, at least. She tells herself she simply doesn’t want him to drown—after all, this is his first time in the Kingdom of the Dead, and it would be a shame to lose a pet she’d only just acquired.

Cassian sways as they step onto the small, wooden ferry, but Hades only looks ahead. “So,” she begins. “You survived.”

His confusion is almost palpable, rolling off of him in waves and leaving creases in the dark water. How strange it is to have someone in the Underworld feel so strongly, Hades thinks. There is only peace and quiet in these lands, and he is a disturbance—Thanatos would surely say so, at least. He might be a disturbance, yes—but to Hades, it is a welcome one.

A useful one, too.

“Oh,” he suddenly says, ripping Hades free from her racing mind as she thinks of all the ways her new guest could be used. “You mean the battle. The first time you saved me.”

Hades stills at that.

The first time?

She would hardly call their bargain saving. His companionship was his price, not…not some kind of gift. The General is chained to her now, to the Underworld—he belongs to her just as the darkness here does.

This is his punishment, and yet…and yet his words ring of salvation, and it makes Hades wonder.

And so she says, “Tell me more of this…battle.”

A step behind her, she hears him loose a breath. “We stood no chance. We…I lost almost all my men,” he says, and Hades feels the Underworld purr in delight at his words. It will feed on this guilt, this regret of a survivor until its endless hunger is appeased. “We defended our village in the end, but at a cost.” His voice breaks as he adds, “So many of us—gone. They took our women, our children…”

And, Hades realises, these fallen souls—they all belong to her now. They all rest here, roaming the quiet darkness—the warriors, the children…The women.

The question escapes her the moment it crosses her mind. “And you?” she asks. “Did you have a…a woman?”

There is only silence between them—silence and the Acheron’s gentle current as they make way toward Hades’s fortress.

When he answers, Cassian’s voice is hoarse. “No, Your Majesty,” he says. “I did not.”

And Hades…Hades no longer knows what to feel.

She shouldn’t feel, she reminds herself. She has spent too much time in this body, this mortal prison of emotion and softness and pain, its flesh strong enough to subdue that silver fire within her that’s used to killing everything that dares cross her path. Once they reach the shore, she will leave his side for a while—will find a place to unleash those flames, if only to remind herself of who she really is.

Of who she’s supposed to be .

But they’re still crammed on the ferry now, the shore nowhere in sight, and so, for the last time, Hades indulges in her curiosity. “Why me?” she asks, still not turning to meet his gaze. “Why not Thanatos, or Athena, or Ares, even?”

She feels his hazel gaze on her back, his presence stronger now, somehow—but this time, there is no confusion filling it, and she knows he understands exactly what she’s asking.

So Hades finally turns.

“Perhaps,” Cassian grins, “I thought you could use some company.”

For the first time in her eternal life, Hades laughs.

***

She returns the next day, deep from where she dwells in her fortress, and finds Cassian looking out to the dark waves washing up on shore.

She took on her human form once again, though for reasons she can’t exactly justify. She doesn’t need this body, not here—but this is how Cassian knows her, and she likes the hunger flickering in his eyes as they sweep over its every curve.

This is merely for her enjoyment, Hades tells herself. He is, after all, to be her entertainment—company, as he called it earlier. She doesn’t really care what he thinks of her—but an inflated sense of an ego is true to any God, and, mortal or not, he seems like the right person to stroke it.

Something heats deep inside her as she thinks of all the places he could stroke her, all the wet, sinful pleasure he could help her coax out of this flesh—

“You’re back,” Cassian says, turning to meet her silver gaze.

Compose yourself, the fire within her hisses.

“Not exactly,” she tells him, thankful for the coolness in her tone despite the heat still shooting through her body. “I was just about to leave.”

His brows knit over his eyes, and he tilts his head slightly, dark hair spilling over his shoulder. “Leave?” he asks. “What for?”

Hades crosses her arms. “Contrary to what you might think, I have pressing matters to attend to.”

“In the mortal lands?”

“Yes,” she says, then waves a hand to urge him closer. “I have something for you, General.”

Cassian’s eyes flash, a glimmer of light in the dim space of the Underworld, and he takes a step toward her. “Oh?”

Hades nods, and lays out her hand to reveal her gift.

“I…don’t understand,” Cassian says, but his gaze remains fixed on the seven crimson stones, gleaming gently in Hades’s palm.

“They are called siphons,” she explains, then waves a hand again. The stones are now edged in his leather armour, the two largest ones resting proudly atop the strong muscles of his arms, and Hades smiles at the sight. They look as thought they’ve always belonged here, as though they’ve been part of him forever. “They’re meant to amplify your power—your speed, your strength, your precision. You may be a formidable warrior in the Overworld, General, but down here, you will need these to keep the more…defiant souls at bay.”

Cassian’s fingers brush over the siphon at the back of his palm, its bleeding light reflected in his marvelling stare. “So…” he begins quietly, then clenches his fist—as if testing the newfound power of his grip, “I’m to be your…guard?”

Hades’s smile curls into a smirk. “Think of yourself as more of a helpful guest, General.”

His eyes finally lift to meet her own. “And are your guests allowed to ever return home?”

The Goddess’s smile sours. “This is your home now.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“If you so wish,” she continues, not really wanting to hear the rest of it, “You are welcome to wander to the Overworld whenever I’m…otherwise occupied.” Then, she adds, “As long as you remember that no matter where you are, you belong to me.”

She half expects him to cower—even Thanatos gives in to the icy bite in her tone from time to time—but Cassian appears relaxed, his siphons still glistening quietly atop his armour. “I am yours to command, Goddess.”

“We’ll see,” Hades only says, then brushes past him and toward the river.

He moves so fast she does not even see his hand dart for hers—and when his fingers lace with her own, Hades is so stunned she freezes entirely in her trail.

She has never been touched like this—not by a mortal, at least. She had taken lovers before, Gods—those of a grand status and those of lesser significance—but they felt nothing like this, and this has nothing to do with the trap of her mortal flesh. His golden-brown hand is warm, and every roughened bit of his calloused skin tells her of him—the battles he’d won and the battles he’d lost, the spirit they crafted like the strongest steel. It sinks into her, as if searching for her own, hidden so deep within her she’d never thought it existed until this very moment.

In a land of eternal dreams, Hades feels awake.

“I’ve offended you,” Cassian says quietly.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Hades replies, but her voice is distant now, still buried with the soul she didn’t know she possessed.

“I have not forgotten what you’ve done for me,” he continues, as though unaware that the world has just tilted beneath their feet. “You saved me—before I met you, I knew only of war and bloodshed and pain.”

“What makes you think you’ll find anything better here?” she asks, the question no more than a breath. “What are you hoping to find?”

The peace, the quiet darkness of the Underworld…Hades knows better than anyone that it will never be enough, not unless the passing soul is already dead—and Cassian’s soul practically sings with life, like the wind ruffling the snow-capped trees, like the gallop of hooves cracking the rocky earth. 

But when his fingers wrap tighter around her own, she realises Cassian doesn’t seek peace. 

“Understanding,” he tells her softly. “I think you seek it, too.”

Hades’s gaze drops to where their hands are joined, life and death, and she is no longer sure where one ends and the other begins.

“I do not wish to return,” Cassian continues when she stays quiet, “My place is here.” His thumb brushes over her knuckles, and the thin hairs on her arms rise at the barest touch. “My place is here with you, Hades.”

Hades blinks.

You know where this path will lead you, Thanatos’s voice practically screams in her head, and finally, finally, Hades realises—this is all wrong. 

Cassian’s place may be at her side as the bargain deemed it—but her place is nowhere near him at all.

Suddenly, Hades is grateful Thanatos, or any of the Gods for that matter, weren’t here to witness this—whatever this thing between them is. She is Hades, after all, a Goddess and a Queen, and Cassian—this man—has no say in where she belongs.

Besides, Hades has already decided—she belongs here, with Eris. With the God of Autumn, the season where everything dies—the perfect consort to the Queen of Death itself. They are going to live in her kingdom exactly as she planned, burning together for all eternity. Death and Decay.

Hades frees herself from Cassian’s eyes, and if there is any hurt in his eyes, she does not stay long enough to see it.

“I’ll return soon,” she says as she once again makes way toward the river. “I must hurry if I am to catch my consort before the dusk breaks.”

Every soul in the Underworld goes utterly still.

Hades smiles to herself.

That ought to keep him at bay.

But when Cassian speaks again, his voice dips so low she swears it makes the ground shake. “Your what?”

He takes a step toward her, the crimson light of his siphons blazing on the river’s surface. Hades doesn’t grace him with a look, her back straight to him as she explains, “My betrothed—the God of Autumn. He will join us once the season ends—at the sight of the first snowfall.”

“You didn’t tell me,” he says, and it’s almost an accusation.

Hades’s smile becomes cruel, and she turns to face him at last. “This matter does not concern you,” she answers, and watches his siphons flare even brighter.

“The God of Autumn.” Cassian chews the words as if the taste is not to his liking. “And you love this man?”

Hades almost laughs. “Love has nothing to do with it, General—he is my consort. My equal in every way that matters.”

“Is power all that matters to you?”

“Yes.” A half-lie, since power is the only thing that matters to Hades.

Cassian hums, mulling over her words. “And if…” he starts, and Hades only keeps listening because this is the entertainment she has been hoping for. His confusion, his anger—they were expected. Jealousy, on the other hand…

“And if there was someone more powerful than him?” he finally asks. “More powerful than your God?”

Hades scoffs. “I have no interest in concerning myself with Olympus ever again.”

“I don’t—”

“Enough,” Hades says, because as entertaining as this is, she knows the sun has already begun to set in the Overworld. “I expect to see you at the Gates upon my return.” She turns her back to him again. “You are to remain here until then.”

How utterly lovely it feels to see the warrior ignite within him again. He is once again reminded of their bargain, of the Goddess standing before him, and the flames inside her purr at the control she’s regained. He’d thrown her off, she can admit that, with the warmth of his skin and the softness of his touch—but this anger, this roughness…This is a language Hades understands. Her immortal skin tingles deliciously under his gaze, under the fury burning underneath. She’d never met a human so…defiant.

It is no matter. One way or another, he will be tamed by her hand. By her cunt, if that does not work. Gods or men, males always seem particularly susceptible to those.

She steps to the edge of the shore, surveying her reflection in the murky water. The black silk clings to her body like the thickest shadows, exposing her bare skin in places she’d carefully selected in her quarters earlier. The curve of her breasts is revealed by a deep cut in the top of her gown—another slit in the fabric teases her bare thigh, all the way down to where it pools at her feet. With each passing day, she enjoys the curves of this body more—human, yet so deliciously divine.

A low, guttural sound somewhere behind her tells her the General shares the sentiment.

A flicker of her power places something heavy atop her neatly braided hair, and gaze moves to admire the onyx jewels when she hears his voice again, his large frame appearing on the river’s surface.

“I will not.”

Her smile fades, but she does not grace him with a look. “You dare disobey me again, General?”

“I am coming with you,” he says, that anger creeping into his tone again.

She scoffs again. “You will do no such thing. Your presence would only disturb me.”

He moves in closer, the warmth of his chest nearly sinking into her back now. “Oh?” he muses, his eyes fixed on their reflection as he leans over her shoulder. “Do you find me distracting, Majesty?”

Cassian’s breath is hot on her neck, teasing her skin, the sensitive spot below her ear. Hades fights the urge to shudder, forbids her body from reacting to the emotion rolling off him without restraint.

His powerful arms come around her then, hands resting heavily on her waist, and her body leans instantly into the touch. Hades gasps out in protest, a small, exasperated sound at the blatant display of the effect he has on her. This body keeps betraying her, keeps answering his call with a song of its own, one Hades isn’t sure she ever wants to hear.

Cassian brushes his thumb over her skin—somehow, she can feel the warmth of his touch beneath the silk—and their gazes meet in the reflection of the Acheron, his eyes shining brighter than the flames in her own. The message is clear.

Don’t you see it? Don’t you see how good we look together?

“Stay,” Cassian murmurs, his soft mouth brushing the shell of her ear. Hades watches the movement in the water, and she’s not entirely sure she’s even breathing as he says again, “Stay here—stay with me.”

Hades closes her eyes, and, for just a moment, she lets herself imagine what would happen if she obliged. She wonders how those hands, that mouth would worship her—the way a Goddess deserves to be worshipped. Maybe his tongue would trail a path down her neck—place wet kisses on her exposed skin until it reached her breasts, already heavy and aching for his touch. Maybe she’d let him flick one of her nipples—trace lazy circles over the pebbled spot as he took it into his hungry mouth. Maybe…maybe she’d let his hands slide downwards, let them feel the slickness they’ve already begun to coax from her. Maybe she’d let his tongue taste it, too.

And then Cassian’s fingers brush her waist again. “You don’t need him.”

Hades opens her eyes.

She whirls to face him again, to face the man who was meant to be no more than a momentary distraction, the man who now thought it acceptable to touch her, tease her as though she belonged to him.

No, Hades thinks. He belongs to her.

“You,” she tells him, “have no idea what I need.”

When he opens his mouth to protest, Hades is already gone.

***

The island is warm and filled with sunlight.

It is so unlike the Underworld that Hades finds herself blinking a couple times before her immortal gaze adjusts to the sight. The sea is bright and turquoise, and its waves foam into a pearly white as they crash against the shore. Even the sand glimmers under the light like dusted gold.

It is exactly the kind of place Hades expected to find her.

She knows Aphrodite is staying over at the palace, towering over the water in an opalescent kind of stone. The small kingdom seems untouched by autumn’s decay, not yet at least, and Hades suspects one of the Gods must hold it in their favour—Helios, perhaps, judging by the sun hanging high up in the sky despite the late hour of the evening.

The island is a beautiful place, though Hades has little interest in staying—she’s here with a purpose, one pressing enough that it cannot wait for her to fully take her surroundings in. Besides, she knows Aphrodite has sensed her arrival from the way the seafoam stiffened as it washed up on shore. It makes Hades smirk—she wonders what, exactly, her presence here has interrupted.

“I wasn’t expecting you for another month.”

The voice behind her is like fresh, sweet honey dripping over her skin, and the first instinct of her human body is to take her fingers into her mouth and lick them just to get a taste. Hades hisses sharply in response—Aphrodite’s always set her traps well. She could only pity whatever mortals she’d chosen to ensnare this time.

Hades turns, the sand molding itself to her feet. “You know I hate leaving things until the last minute,” she says, the words enough of a greeting as the two Goddesses face each other at last.

Aphrodite chuckles. “Of course you do.”

Hades knows she should have expected perfection from the Goddess of Love and Beauty, but seeing Aphrodite’s face makes that fire inside her stir with jealousy anyway. Her face is so impeccable it almost hurts—the mortals, no doubt, fall to their knees at a mere glimpse of it. Full, rosy lips and eyes of a fawn’s coat, gazing upon her from beneath long, dark lashes—the portrait of innocence hiding an ancient, cruel soul.

Aphrodite smirks, as though she can tell exactly what Hades is thinking, and brushes a loose curl off her shoulder. The colour mirrors that of Hades’s, but Aphrodite’s hair is even lovelier, somehow, with a luminescence to it that seems to rival the very sun itself. She’s woven pearls into the small braids tied at the crown of her hair—her preferred symbol of her divinity. Except, of course, for the brief period of time when she’d opted for sapphires as her favourite jewellery. Hades’s scowl deepens even more at the thought.

“Thanatos sends his regards,” she says, if only to wipe that stupid smirk off her pretty face.

Instead, her golden brows shoot up with amusement. “No, I don’t think he does.”

Hades rolls her eyes before they flicker to the grand structure ahead. The palace nearly beams with Aphrodite’s presence—even the wind here seems to carry her scent. Jasmine and honey—a poison too many to count had mistaken for nectar.

Perhaps that is why Hades can’t help herself again. “So,” she muses, “the rumours are true, then.” She looks at Aphrodite again. “Will I be invited to the wedding this time?”

Hades is more than certain Aphrodite hadn’t come to this island for a holiday. The beautiful Goddess never does anything without purpose—that, at least, the two of them have in common. If she resides here, at the palace, Hades can guess well enough who her next victim is.

So she adds, her lip curling slightly, “A coronation, perhaps?”

Finally, that grimace Hades knows all too well blooms upon Aphrodite’s perfect features. For something to rattle her enough to drop her sultry mask…Hades can’t help but be impressed.

“There might not be either,” Aphrodite says, crossing her arms over her pearly white dress. “He’s proving…especially difficult.”

Now that piques Hades’s interest. A mortal immune to Aphrodite’s charms? It seems impossible—Hades had seen the Gods themselves trip over their feet for as much as a shred of Aphrodite’s attention. That whoever this prince was hasn’t yet made her his wife was…

Intriguing.

Still, Hades isn’t here to gossip about Aphrodite’s latest conquest. She’s got her own mission on her hands, and one far too important to indulge in irrelevant chitchat.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Did you bring what I asked you?”

Aphrodite reaches out a hand. “You doubt me, Hades?”

“Always.”

She laughs, the sound weaving into the soft whoosh of the sea. “So mistrustful,” she scolds playfully. “How will you keep your loved one, my dear Hades, with your heart guarded so closely?”

“That’s what I have you for,” Hades says, then takes the seeds from Aphrodite’s open palm.

Aphrodite only hums.

Hades takes that moment to examine what she’d come here for. Four, singular seeds—pomegranate, she realises—shining a gentle ruby in the slowly dying sunlight. An untrained eye would mistake them for merely that—but Hades feels the power thrumming inside. Wicked. Forbidden.

She looks up to meet those brown eyes again. “How does it work?”

“The power contained within the seeds shall bind your lover to your side—simply feed him one of them at the beginning of each season for the spell to be renewed.”

Hades’s eyes narrow. “You only gave me four seeds.” They would only last a year—a year to keep Eris in the Underworld.

Aphrodite smirks again. “Perhaps you’ll have to consider opening your heart then.”

A low snarl slips past Hades’s teeth. “This was not our deal—”

And then she feels it.

A shift in the wind—and a fire blown out.

The same fire she thought would burn until the end of time—the same fire she thought would burn with her.

Aphrodite’s brows furrow as she, too, feels it—and her sneer returns when realisation dawns upon her. “Or perhaps you won’t,” she says, and with that, she’s gone.

Hades allows herself one breath as she stands alone at the beach.

Then her flames erupt, and her fury is unleashed.

***

Divine blood has many forms.

Thanatos’s blood, for example, is the darkest shade of black, thick and viscous and reminding her of tar. Once it slithers down his body, upon its first contact with the ground, its still into obsidian—there are still remnants of it scattered atop Olympus, glinting ominously even in the most starless of nights. They serve as Thanatos’s personal reminder: Don’t ever return. You are not welcome here.

Hades had never seen Aphrodite’s blood—she’s not even sure the Goddess has ever bled—but she imagines it as a thousand pearls liquified, a shimmering silk exuding an opalescent kind of light. It tastes of the endless sea, wrapped up in fragrant jasmine to disguise the salt.

She’d never thought she’d ever see Eris’s blood, either. And yet it pools right before her, seeping into the drying crops.

It gleams a bright crimson and fills the air with a tinge of metal that Hades knows she’s tasted before—it starts off bitter before it sours on her tongue. Iron.

Human.

Hades’s eyes flicker to the cottage ahead where Demeter rests, still blissfully unaware. Not a God then, she thinks to herself, but a mortal—a mortal man has sired her betrothed, and left his blood in Eris’s veins as proof.

It made Eris vulnerable. It made him killable.

Her gaze returns to his body, already chilling as Autumn slowly slips out of his grasp.

Hades’s blood is the silver fire that flows in her veins. Cold. Restless. Unforgiving. An excellent aide in exacting revenge. She cannot use it here, in the Overworld—so Hades waits, letting her burning eyes promise the vengeance she’s already begun plotting.

Fortunately, her prey already waits in the Underworld.

“You know who did this,” Thanatos says behind her.

Hades does not turn to face him. “You don’t have to sound so pleased.”

“I did tell you not to go down this path,” he reminds her. “This—all of it—is on you.”

Hades whirls on her feet. “Save him,” she breathes. “You have to—”

“No.” The word slams into her like a wall of ice. “No more favours, Nesta.”

Hades goes completely, lethally still. Even her blood falters in its tracks, the flames too stunned to keep on raging. 

Her warning comes as a whisper. “You dare?”

Thanatos crosses his tattooed arms over chest, the dark swirls shifting with his golden-brown skin. She’d never asked, she realises in that moment, what the meaning behind them is—she also finds that she doesn’t care.

“I dare,” Thanatos says.

No one—no one in her divine, eternal existence—had ever used her name. Her true name. Too powerful, too sacred to be spoken by anyone but her. Even Olympus doesn’t know—and if they do, they never dared to so much as think it. She’d only told Thanatos, centuries ago—a mistake, she now understands—and Aphrodite, her price for the now useless pomegranate.

For Eris is no good to her dead. In the Underworld, he’d be all but a shred of a soul he was here—powerless. Empty.

Unworthy.

Nesta rages again.

And then leaves to exact her revenge.

***

The Underworld is quiet when she returns—as if the fallen souls themselves have decided to stay out of her way. Even the Acheron seems to have stilled, its gloomy current frozen into place.

They all feel it—the anger, the fury rolling off their Queen. They’re wise to know crossing her now is a fate much worse than death.

Like an obedient pet, Cassian waits for his mistress at the shore. He holds his chin high, his hair swept back in dark waves as he watches the silver flames reveal her inch by inch. He looks every bit the General that he is.

Expect that Generals are meant to obey their masters—to follow their every command without question. And yet this one stands before her with blood on his hands that isn’t his own, the crimson siphons illuminating the proof of his defiance.

Worst of all, his hazel eyes show no remorse—only intense, absolute determination.

He’s proud of what he did, Nesta realises. She’s comforted by the thought that, after she’s done with him, he will no longer be anything.

She lets her flames swallow the ground beneath her, lets them lick up her legs as she steps toward him. It feels liberating to have them to live and breathe her rage outside her eyes—now, every bit of her is that cold, unforgiving fire.

Still, Cassian meets her blazing gaze and doesn’t even flinch.

It angers her even more.

“You,” she breathes, the sound dry and hoarse on her tongue, “ruined everything.”

Cassian crosses his powerful arms. For a moment, he reminds her of Thanatos—his red siphons mirror the sapphires she’d given her friend all those centuries ago. Had she not been so utterly foolish and given them to Cassian, Eris might still have been alive now. Sitting on the throne she’d prepared for him, Aphrodite’s magic coursing through his veins.

But Eris is dead now, his soul likely travelling down to the Underworld right this moment. All because of—

Of her.

She should’ve left him for dead the first time—should’ve heeded Thanatos’s warning and allowed Cassian to die a warrior’s death.

Instead, she created a monster.

“If it’s forgiveness you seek,” Cassian almost scoffs, “You’re in for a disappointment, Your Majesty.”

“Not forgiveness.” Her lips twist in a cruel smile. “Punishment.”

She expects it then—that flash of fear in his gaze, that final realisation that, like him, she is a monster too.

Instead, Cassian lights up with excitement—as though punishment is exactly what he’s been hoping to hear.

Perhaps that’s why she asks, “Why?”

She doesn’t need to elaborate—he understands well enough.

“You deserve someone better than him,” he says, his chin dipping as his gaze sweeps over the fire slowly travelling up her skin. She ignores the heat it stirs within her, tells herself it’s the silver touch of her flames—except that her power is cold as ice, ice that now slowly melts under the burning hunger in his stare.

Still, she schools her features into disdain. “And I suppose that someone is you?”

Hazel eyes flicker back to hers. “It could be.” He takes a step toward her. “If you want it—if you want me.”

Nesta grits her teeth—if only to keep herself still. “What I wanted,” she says tightly, “is gone now. Because of you.”

Cassian’s voice drops an octave. “Good.”

Her fingers curl into fists. “How dare you,” she hisses, channelling that useless heat into anger. “How dare you kill a God.”

Another step in her direction has her mortal body shaking. “You would give yourself to him.” His eyes darken, the black of his pupils drowning out their colour. “You would give yourself to a God who fell at the hand of a human.” Disgust laces his words—a General unimpressed with his opponent, a General who wished for battle only for his enemy to yield before it even truly began. “I killed him in two strikes,” Cassian says. “I challenge you, I said. For the hand of the one who commands us both. Would you like to know what your precious consort told me?” 

She squeezed her fists harder, the circle of fire around her raging up to her waist now.

Cassian takes a final step—another inch, and he’d be swallowed by the flames. “He said he doesn’t know you,” he seethes, “but even if he did, you’d never be worthy of him.”

Nesta’s flames die out—fade into the dark earth beneath her feet.

It wouldn’t have mattered. She’d expected defiance—that’s why she’d arranged for the pomegranate as a precaution. Willingly or not, Eris would have come to the Underworld eventually. It was not up to Cassian to—

“I defended your honour,” Cassian continues. “You would punish me for that, Goddess?”

There is no reverence in the way he speaks her title—as if her status, her kingdom, as if Hades means nothing to him at all.

As if he only cares about her.

As if he only cares about Nesta.

“Tell me your name,” Cassian breathes.

The entire Underworld freezes.

Slowly, she tells him, “You know my name.” A final warning.

“No—your real name. Not the one they carve into temples, not the one they chant before their dead,” he says. “I want to know you.” His eyes are desperate. “Tell me your name, Hades, and I’m yours—the way I was always meant to be.”

“You,” she starts lowly, “already belong to me.”

Cassian’s eyes flash in surprise.

Nesta goes on, “I brought you here at your own request. I could’ve left you, your mother, everything you hold dear—I could’ve left it all to die.” She points a finger to his chest, her long, sharp nail digging into the hard muscle—and Cassian’s gaze darts to the touch. “But I brought you here instead, and I was planning to give you everything. I would have made you mine—my most prized pet, always at my side.”

His breath turns ragged, and he’s so close that she can almost feel it on her neck.

“But you are no pet,” Nesta says quietly. “I see that now.”

Cassian stills entirely.

Nesta smiles. “You are a beast.”

Silver sizzles beneath her finger, tasting his golden-brown skin, and Cassian’s eyes widen at the sight.

He can do nothing when her magic purrs, and his body bursts into flames.

His screams echo through the Underworld, the ground shuddering beneath his pain, the Acheron quivering at its sheer force. She knows it isn’t their cold touch that pours anguish into his soul, but the transformation itself. The steel-sharp claws that tear his skin apart as his limbs shift into large, heavy paws. The sharp needles piercing at his body before they turn into short, roughened fur, dark and gleaming the way his hair once did. The vocal cords twisting and contracting as they turn his smooth, deep voice into a low, primal rumble.

It’s working.

Cassian was already tall as a human, but his form must have grown threefold now—the four-legged beast that now stands before her is massive, towering over her so that she can hardly reach its torso, let alone face him at an eye level. His eyes…

Nesta swallows. Hard.

What have you become?

Three large heads now blink at her, their pointed ears twitching in what appears to be confusion. He almost resembles a wolf, Nesta thinks to herself, though his fur is shorter, and his shape and size is no match for the creatures she’d seen in the Overworld’s forests. Cassian is now a creature of his own might, no longer needing siphons to amplify his power. No, this beast could crush Eris with as little as a swing of his long, dark tail.

Those three pairs of eyes blink again, and Nesta makes herself face the middle, wolf-like head. And when his stare shines a familiar hazel, she finally, finally smiles.

He belongs to her now, and there is no going back.

His gaze shifts into something like understanding—and a deep huff sounds from the big, wet snout, as though he’s trying to tell her, I was yours all along, Goddess.

She angles her head slightly. “Perhaps I simply like you better in this form, General,” she answers.

Another huff—a scoff, almost—and Nesta can’t help but chuckle.

“You have no idea,” she tells him.

Slowly, Cassian makes his way past her, toward the island’s shore, the ground grunting heavily under the weight of his new form. He stops at the river’s edge, and she knows he’s taking it all in—the beast that has always lurked from deep within his soul, waiting to be released.

Yes, Nesta realises. She does like this form very much.

When the beast turns to her at last, there is a question hiding in his stare.

“Your humanity isn’t gone—well, not entirely, at least,” Nesta explains. “I can change you back as I please.” A sly smile creeps onto her lips once more. “As long as you please me.”

A low growl slips past his teeth—sharper than any sword he’s ever held, no doubt—and Nesta begins to wonder if he even wants to be changed at all. He likes this—this strength, this might she’d given him. As if whatever she says, whatever she does, will never be true punishment—as long as it means he gets to remain by her side.

Perhaps, Nesta considers as she eyes his brutal form, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

He must see the thought in her stare, because, as though in emphasis, Cassian shifts his weight to the back and rests on the stony shore. His powerful middle is revealed, every bit of muscle strong and hard before it leads—

Nesta sucks in a sharp breath.

Hanging between his legs are three, thick cocks, already throbbing and out for her taking.

Her mouth goes dry, and she sways forward a step. He’s large, larger than she’d thought he’d be, larger than any mortal she’d ever seen. His dark fur gathers at the base—one, hard shaft at the top, with two others placed just below it. His cocks mimic the positioning of his heads—the prime watching proudly from the middle, and the other two resting at its sides.

“Impressive,” Nesta hums absently, focused on the erection growing before her.

She takes another step, so close now to where the beast is waiting—so close that she can see the need gleaming at the blunt tips—

Her breathing comes faster. She needs him, too, she realises, that familiar rush of heat returning to her core. She needs to feel him throb under her touch, needs to taste him in her mouth, needs to be filled by all of him until the Underworld collapses under the force of her pleasure.

Nesta tries to ground herself, to steady her breath as she reminds herself to take it slow—he belongs to her now, wholly and eternally, and there is no need to rush to chase her want.

After all, this is supposed to be his punishment. And if there is one thing Hades has always known, it’s how to make the males suffer. 

She can feel his eyes on her, focused on her every move. Good.

Nesta leans forward and reaches out a hand. The next breath dies in every last one of the beast’s throats as she gently drags her finger over the middle shaft.

Cassian shudders violently, and from the corner of her eye, she can make out the claws, digging into the solid ground. She smiles to herself—and strokes the large girth again, swiping her thumb over the pearly want beading at the tip.

She studies each appendage again, the way they pulse with his lust, the picture of her next move already coming to life in her wicked mind. Slowly, she straightens, her hand leaving the throbbing heat of his skin.

A small noise sounds above her—a strained whimper of protest as she parts with his desire.

Nesta clicks her tongue. “So impatient,” she scolds, as if she herself had not just had to restrain herself from straddling him.

His eyes don’t leave her for a second, fixed on the hand that had just stroked his aching cock, and she knows it’s taking everything in the beastly General not to pin her to the ground and take her as she is. A part of her wishes it—for him to lose control, to mount her with all its power, to make a mess of her right here, at the gates to her onyx fortress.

But Nesta has a plan—as she always does.

This time, she will not let him ruin it.

“Look at you,” she hums again, smearing the evidence of his arousal between her two fingers. Cassian’s eyes dart to the movement, the jaws of his three heads clenched tight. “The beast has come out at last.”

He makes a low, guttural sound.

“Don’t worry,” Nesta says, “I still find you pretty.”

The rock cracks beneath the strength of his claws.

He wants her—she can feel the heaviness of his lust in the air between them. He wants to tell her just how badly he wants her impaled on his cocks, how badly he wishes to know the taste of her hot cunt. Too bad. 

She offers him a smile she knows is edged with cruelty. “Be a good boy for me, and I will let you speak again.”

And with that, Nesta kneels.

His desire calls out to her, and she wonders if he’ll taste as wild and untamed as she’d imagined—if she’ll taste the howling wind on her tongue, the hunger for battle and bloodshed. Suddenly, this is no longer about punishment—it’s about claiming him as hers, about knowing every part of him as though it were her own. Deeply. Intimately.

Cassian’s heavy pant fills the Underworld as she strokes the middle cock again, letting her hand slide down to its base before returning to tease the gleaming tip once more. She only smirks as she feels him harden in her hold, and takes him into her mouth at last.

The ground rumbles slightly with Cassian’s stuttered growl, and it only incites that heat within her. Her tongue swirls around the thick head, and she knows she won’t be able to take him all in, too large to ever fit wholly in her mouth. She also knows he expects her hand to aid her, to close around the base in tandem with her mouth—but Nesta has other plans.

His cock hits the back of her throat as she braces her hands on the two cocks beneath.

Cassian jerks almost violently at the touch, the two, throbbing shafts twitching in response to the feel of her on the sensitive skin, and she can’t help but smile slightly against him. He’s heavy and solid in her hands, and she pumps him up and down, rhythmically to her mouth as her tongue reaches out to lap at his length. She watches his muscles tighten and his hips jerk up—he’s close, she realises, something like satisfaction purring deep inside her chest at the reactions she’s elicited from him. Something determined to please him, to make him addicted to her touch.

His next growl is deeper, raspier, and he arches fully into her mouth. Nesta’s vision blurs, her moan a garbled sound as his tip bumps against her throat again—and Cassian pulls back, as though not wanting to strain her.

As if he ever could.

She curls her fingers around his shafts—too thick for them to truly ever meet at the base—and she squeezes him gently as her tongue darts out once more to graze along the underside.

Then she opens her eyes and meets his gaze.

Cassian comes in a wave.

His roar reverberates straight into her core, already wet and crying out for his heat, and Nesta delights in the feel of his throbbing cock on her tongue, in her hands. He comes down her throat as she swallows him, hands still pumping him in a slowing pace until he finally slumps, panting as though in disbelief.

Her mouth slides off him smoothly then, and she smirks at the mess she’d made of him—of the release still spilling out of the two cocks she’d made a mess of. Nesta rises to her feet and, unable to help herself, flashes him a triumphant smile.

Cassian steadies himself weakly, all four of his powerful legs now holding him up as his breath settles. He looks at her as though he’d never seen her before—as though now, he finally understands that it is a Goddess standing before him, that what she’d just done is a sacrament he’d fall to his knees before for the rest of his life.

All three pairs of eyes sweep down her form now until they meet her centre—and she wonders if he can somehow smell the arousal pooling at her core.

His low growl confirms her suspicions—and Cassian takes a step forward.

The image flashes in her mind, then—this beast between her thighs, licking hungrily at the heat dripping down her cunt, pressing its heavy tongue to her clit—

Cassian takes another step.

“You,” Nesta breathes, “are in no position to make demands.”

She is supposed to be the one in charge here, she reminds herself, but the words fade immediately into the daze of her weakening mind as she watches his hazel eyes darken. Cassian huffs, and it’s almost like a laugh—as if he, too, knows that right now, the Goddess is utterly at his mercy.

As if he likes it.

His eyes flicker to her again, a silent plea—he will not touch her until she grants it.

Nesta looses one, final breath before she yields the one thing that has always been only hers to wield.

Control.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she warns, even though she already knows he’d die before he let that happen.

Cassian pounces.

She’s pinned to the ground before she can blink, the dark stone smooth and cool against the exposed skin of her back. Cassian’s massive body hovers over her, blocking out the dim light as he leans further down.

Before she can use her magic, his teeth already flash, and the sound of the ripping fabric fills the air between them. Her gown now lays shredded around them, and the soft breeze sweeps over her naked body, chill against her hot, aching cunt. She arches off the ground an inch, her human body already desperate for his touch, for the delicious fullness of him inside her, thrusting in and out until she can no longer sustain her breath. Nesta wants him—wants all of him like she’s never wanted before, rough and without restraint.

But then Cassian’s monstrous heads lower further down, and do not stop until—

Until one of his snouts presses against her abdomen and he sniffs, a low growl slipping past his sharp teeth.

His eyes burn dark, intoxicated by the scent of her, spread open and utterly, obscenely wet.

Nesta knows he’s begging for a taste.

She knows what’s coming now, knows he’ll feast on her until she comes again and again and again, until he gets to feel that fire on his tongue and deem it sweeter than ambrosia itself. Two of his heads lower, then, as they lick up her inner thighs, their tongues hot and heavy and wet, stopping an inch from where she needs them most.

She makes an exasperated sound as her walls clench around nothing, only more of that slickness coating them, urging for friction. Cassian huffs a laugh and looks up to face her, an infuriating sight when his head should be where it belongs—right between her legs.

She swears that beastly mouth curls into a smile before his middle head dips and drags its tongue clean up her centre.

Nesta moans then, low and wretched, her head falling back against the ground. The crown of her golden hair is like beams of sunlight against the onyx stone, but she doesn’t care—doesn’t care about the looks of this body anymore—only the way it twists and tightens at the rough tongue swiping over its sensitive cunt.

Cassian licks her like a creature starved, like he’d just crossed a desert and she’s the only fountain in sight. His tongue is heavy and large as it drags itself against her walls, and she wonders just how, exactly, she’ll be able to take any of his cocks when his tongue already sends hot bolts of lightning through her veins.

His other two heads resume their journey up her thighs again, and she writhes at the overstimulation—at the wet trails he’s leaving all over her like an animal marking its territory. I might belong to you, he seems to say, but you belong to me now, too.

Somehow, Nesta doesn’t mind.

The realisation is like the first breaking of light in the darkness, like the first birdsong at the end of a silent night. Nesta—Hades—has always only claimed, for herself, for her power, for her kingdom. No one’s ever claimed her—no one has lived long enough to even try.

No one except Cassian.

He doesn’t want her power or her kingdom—he doesn’t even want Hades. He only wants to be Nesta’s, and for Nesta to be his in return. 

Perhaps this—all of it—has not been some twisted curse from the Fates. No, she can almost see their thread now, bright and golden and tied between the two of their souls.

And what a beautiful sight it is.

She speaks, but her words come out quiet, strained.

Cassian pauses.

“Nesta,” she repeats, the word no more than a breath.

He looks up then, his tongue parting with her cunt just barely, and she moans in protest, rolling her hips higher up into him again.

But Cassian doesn’t move—only stares at her, something golden shining in the darkness of his eyes.

So she explains, “You wanted to know my name.” 

His gaze holds nothing but revelation—he looks like a beast waking from a long-suffering dream.

“My name is Nesta,” she says again, a desperate urgency in her tone.

Her name is the last snap before he unleashes himself.

She can practically hear how wet she is as he licks her, the sounds of her pleasure loud and depraved and stirring something deep within her gut. Her breath becomes short, uneven as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust. Her fingers sink into the ground, her power slipping out of her and into the stone, pressing thin cracks beneath the pads of her digits. Her eyes flutter shut, no longer able to register anything but the tongues exploring every inch of where she aches the most—until the middle one slips out of her at last to circle around her clit.

It’s everything Nesta needs to fall apart.

Release tears through her, hot and white and shuddering every last crumbling bit of her world. She comes with a low, strangled cry, and her body falls flat against the ground, swirling with heat despite its cool, welcoming surface. Her human heart thumps loudly in her chest, and she opens her mouth to say something—anything—but words fail her entirely as Cassian continues to sweep at her in a smoother, slower pace, coaxing her through her climax.

Only when her breath finally returns, pouring enough air back into her lungs to speak, does she wave her hand weakly, her power flickering between them.

Cassian blinks, as though something shifted inside him—and understanding dawns upon his features as he finds the change at last.

The look he gives her takes her breath away all over again.

“General—” she starts, a pulse of that familiar heat shooting through her once more as he rises to wedge his powerful middle between her thighs. 

He growls—but this time, the sound is different—changed as it shifts into a voice. Into words. “No more,” he says in a deep, guttural rumble. “No more titles. Speak my name, Nesta.”

His paws rest heavily beside her arms, bracing themselves as he leans over her.

Nesta’s eyes dart to the thick cocks inches away from her core. “Cassian,” she breathes.

Another rumble—lighter, this time, one she can only take for a chuckle. “So impatient,” he mocks, parroting her words from before.

“Give me everything,” she gasps as his middle cock grinds against her sopping folds.

Cassian chuckles again. “You wouldn’t survive everything.” Nesta shudders. “I need to prepare you,” he says, one of his heads lowering to nuzzle at her neck. “Trust me.”

Anticipation coils inside her belly as he guides himself to her entrance—and she gasps out in protest as the tip of his cock pauses right before it.

She knows why he does it—knows exactly what he wants to hear.

“Cassian,” she calls him again, his name like a plea on her lips.

Cassian slides in, and all the worlds collide.

He bottoms out in a deep, rough thrust that rips a wanton cry free from her throat. She jolts against him, his two hard cocks pressed against her thighs, the tingle of his short, black fur on her naked skin setting every last one of her nerves on alert. Nesta’s chest heaves for a breath as he knocks all the air from her body, as she adjusts to the large girth of him in the tightness of her cunt.

His cock stretches her deliciously, reaching a place inside of her no one has ever reached before—and she rolls her hips against him, begging for more friction, begging to feel him stroke it over and over again until there is no more space between them to close. Until they become one.

When he doesn’t make a move, Nesta wiggles again, her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to focus on pushing the air back into her body. But no movement comes—only the low rumbling of his voice again.

“Nesta,” he says, and it’s like a prayer. “Look at me.”

She does.

When her gaze locks onto his, she realises she can see her eyes in the reflection of his—or so she thinks, at least. For her eyes always burn with that deathly, silver fire—they have been from the moment she was born.

But the eyes she sees in his own are a light, lovely shade of blue—like the paling winter sky, calm and gleaming like fresh snow under an arctic sun.

It’s the first time she ever sees them, but the sight is familiar as though she’s been seeing it every day in the mirror—they’re Nesta’s eyes, the ones hidden beneath Hades’s wrath.

She likes them.

She wonders if, this whole time, Cassian has been seeing them, too.

“Mate,” Cassian whispers.

And then, he starts moving.

Slowly, he drags himself in and out, his pace easing into a melting rhythm. He stretches her, watching her face contort in pleasure, groaning as looks down to watch her split open on his cock. Nesta quivers around him, she, too, mesmerised by the sight—by how perfectly he feels inside her, by how perfectly his cock slides in and out of her body.

With every thrust, he reaches deeper, pushing the head of his cock until it fills her so thoroughly that she flutters wildly around his thick length. Her breath turns ragged again, quickening after every stroke of his cock against the spongy roof of her walls.

Cassian growls, throbbing harder inside her, his own pace rushing to match her panting gasps. He drives into her, in and out and in again, the wet sounds of their pleasure mixing with the heavy air. She moans his name, matching him stroke for stroke, hips urging him closer, urging to him to push deeper into her, to find their peak together the way they were always meant to do.

Her walls grip him tighter, and he starts rutting into her frantically, giving into some wild, primal urge to claim her fully, openly, with everything he’s got. He isn’t holding back anymore, he doesn’t care for a steady pace—only the wails of her pleasure and the heat of her cunt welcoming the monster all the way in. 

Nesta nearly chokes as she actually sees his cock puff out her lower body, its perfect curve hitting that spot inside her that made everything but him completely, utterly insignificant. She’s close now, so tight around him that he clenches his jaws to keep himself moving, to hit the back of her cunt with his thrusts.

“Nesta,” he pants, and the sound is her undoing.

They erupt together, the hot slick of her climax coating the length of him as she shakes with the force of her pleasure. Cassian’s cock twitches, and the pumping stutters before he roars and buries himself deep.

His orgasm slams into her, the hot rush of his seed throbbing up his shaft and coating her insides. There is only him, now—only the chase they take on together, the rest of the Underworld fading away. She might be chanting his name, might be gripping the muscled paws she’s nestled between—the only thing she knows is that Cassian is filling her as they ride out their release.

Slowly, the world falls back into place—enough for her to catch a breath, at least. Enough to open her eyes once more and look at the one who’s ruined her life to build a better one anew.

“Mate,” he breathes again, understanding clear in his hazel stare.

As if in answer, something thrums deep within her chest, something warm and golden and not at all like the darkness she’d been used to her whole life. Something that fills the silence—one word, beautiful and unending.

Mate.

Taglist: @melting-houses-of-gold @fieldofdaisiies @octobers-veryown @sunshinebingo @autumndreaming7 @augustinerose @demarogue @helhjertet @jmoonjones @madgirlnesta @areyoudreaminof

[arinbelle]

Inevitable - Part IV

Summary: Nesta and Cassian mated on the night of Winter Solstice. But before they could mate properly, Cassian left soon after, leaving Nesta reeling and Cassian wanting more. When they mate under an official ceremony, with ancient magic, that mating call is renewed, and Nesta and Cassian are going to be in a frenzy. I.e. I wrote 20k fic full of smut.

Part I  | Part II  | Part III  | Part IV

~*~

Nesta had mostly slept uninterrupted through the night, though she’d expected herself to not wake for hours, maybe even days. She had been so thoroughly spent from the past two days and knew then that it had been wise of Cassian to hold off on their joining until she’d had some form of rest after their ceremony. 

Nesta had been half asleep when she’d reached for the pewter on the bedside table, and had been jolted awake by the cold water. Cassian hadn’t stirred until she’d curled up into his side again, reveling in the strength she’d felt as he’d wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her closer.

They hadn’t spoken when he’d woken her the hour after with bruising, tantalizing kisses on her neck. She’d only grabbed the hand on her middle and placed it between her legs. Cassian had not made to move her, letting her rest as he slid into her with ease. 

It had been slow and soft even though she could feel Cassian pulling himself back. They’d always been vocal in bed with each other, never shying away from their desires and what effects they had on the other. And yet there was something more intimate, more fragile in the darkness of their room, with his arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her backwards into his chest as he made love to her. Softer, as she entwined their hands and turned her head back to seek out a kiss. It hadn’t been enough, none of it, yet she’d tried to make do. The burning in her chest, the searing live wire within her begging for more, more, more. 

He’d swallowed her gasps and moans as he’d thrusted deeper, biting affectionately at her lips as she’d gone through her climaxes. And it had been her, wholly her as his focus, even though it was Cassian who had initiated. It had to have been torture she knew to hold back as much as he did.  From hurting her or tiring her out, she didn’t know, but she knew the tenderness he was treating her with had only served to make her want him more. In the end they’d broken apart together, hands clasped above her head, lips sealed in a kiss that promised more with time. 

It was almost night when they woke again, Cassian waking her with a lovely smile that melted her heart. When she’d become so sappy, so lovesick, she had no idea. Yet, it didn’t really bother her. If the end result was waking up to Cassian, a very naked Cassian in their too large bed, she didn’t think she’d ever complain about acting like a silly girl with her first love. 

He’d left her to draw a bath, insisting on it for her sore muscles and whatever other excuse he’d created. Between the breakfast, the bath, and the endless orgasms, she could get used to this. She’d told him as much and Cassian had laughed wholeheartedly, only dropping a kiss at the crown of her head before pushing her to move to the bathing room.

She’d all but thrown a fit when he’d made to leave her in the large tub, filled to the brim with bubbles. Petulant as ever but she’d insisted she wasn’t hungry even though she was. All she wanted was him with her as she relaxed and sank deeper into the water.

”You really are so demanding,” he said as he finished washing her hair. “Most females enjoy having someone to cook for them.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say you can’t cook dinner. I said do it after I’m done with my bath.” So she could steal every single minute of his time and keep him to herself. She wouldn’t say that though. 

“Sure Nes,” he laughed. “Sure.”

Cassian began working on dinner at midnight. Through no fault of her own, although Cassian insisted it was hers alone, they’d ended up staying upstairs for far longer than was originally planned. 

Nesta had watched him walk out of the tub, grabbing a towel to wrap around his hips, and taking away the show. She’d quickly gotten out of the tepid water then, moving to find him and make it right. She’d been enjoying the view far too much and wanted it back. 

His back was turned to her when she found him in his other room, browsing through his closet for clothes. He hadn’t turned her way when she’d come up behind him but she’d seen his wings tighten and tuck inwards. It made the job of pulling the towel right off of his hips that much easier.

Cassian hadn’t even looked fazed when he’d turned slowly to take in her still damp, still unclothed body. He’d only raised a scarred brow to her before roving over her breasts and lower.

”If you don’t keep your hands to yourself mate, you’re going to starve.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d all but purred.

”Of course not.”

He’d pushed her onto the bed then, putting her on her hands and knees and fucking her from behind. She’d screamed into the sheets as she came, all three times, and even then it seemed Cassian could keep going. It seemed the sight of her in such a way, on her hands and knees, hands clenching into the sheets beneath them had renewed something in him. Something far more primal and Fae than before. She’d always felt the term fucking like animals was too crass for her taste. But then again, she’d never been with Cassian then. Never laid like this before where it was more rutting than fucking. 

It was both torture and pleasure to have his thick cock ram into her at that angle, so deep it felt impossible at times. By the end of it she was sobbing from the sheer pleasure, nearly begging though for what she didn’t know.

He’d cleaned her up gently, kissing the marks he’d left at her throat, her hips, her breasts. She knew he’d likely add more before the night was over but that didn’t bother her. To her surprise, Nesta was finding she liked this side of him. This side that wanted to claim and mark her as his own. His.

Her heart sang at the thought, of being his. 

When they’d finally put on clothes Nesta had been temporarily sent away from the kitchen while Cassian cooked. According to him, she was a bad influence. According to Nesta, she liked what she liked, she knew what she wanted, and Cassian could most definitely have fucked her with one hand and stirred the food with the other if he wanted to.

He hadn’t found her amusing at all and sent her away. A time-out at twenty-five had to be a joke but Cassian was serious. 

“I’ve created a monster,” she’d heard him mutter to himself.

Dinner though, had indeed been delicious. She had explored his study and the small bookshelf inside it, picking up a book on espionage and warfare to read. He’d found her with the book in bed, sprawled on her stomach in his shirt and nothing else. She knew exactly what the sight of it did to him. That and the top two buttons undone to give a generous view of her cleavage that he dutifully ignored while he placed her plate in front of her.

”I’m not hungry,” she supplied uselessly. A lie if she’d ever heard one. It was a miracle her stomach didn’t growl at the mouthwatering dinner he’d procured. A feast really with the glazed vegetables, seared chicken, warm bread and some spiced rice that smelled divine.

She’d never tell him that because then he’d act impudent and arrogant with her, but she’d seriously needed to eat. She couldn’t remember being so tired after sex before but two days of nonstop lovemaking had begun to take its toll. Even the night before she’d gone to sleep knowing it would be hours before she could wake again.

Cassian only said softly, with a lilting cadence, “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work.”

Nesta had tried to look a little offended. Tried and failed but she still kept up the picture of innocence. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a saccharine smile. He hadn’t bothered to even look at her as he moved to the other side of the bed. 

“I’m still going to fuck you Nesta, have some dinner.”

”Really?,” she asked coyly, her traitorous body already perking up at his words. 

”Behave and you’ll find out,” he said softly, the promise of something sinful in his voice. 

She pressed her legs tighter as something warm and tight had coiled in her core. Nesta couldn’t understand it, this want, this furious need to have him over and over. Even the day after Solstice and all the days he’d left her be in the House and she’d made do with just her hands between her legs and images of his face, his body, how he felt inside her, was nothing like this. Even in the days following his return, it had never been like this. Never had there been this aching need that seemed to rob her of breath and voice and all rationality that she prided herself on having. 

Cassian settled against the headboard, wings relaxing around him as he poured her a glass of wine and then one for himself. 

“I just opened this one. It’s two hundred years old.”

She took a sip, savoring the sweetness. She’d never really cared for wine but found it most palatable when getting drunk all those months ago. Hard liquor, though it did the job faster, always upset her stomach far more. Besides that, she hadn’t drank alcohol in months save for a few sips here and there at dinner. It had seemed the House had finally deemed it safe enough for her to drink again a month after Solstice, but Nesta hadn’t had much interest in it anymore.

“It’s good. Very good,” she noted, before taking another sip.

”It’s for you.” She raised a quizzical brow at him, not understanding even as he handed her the bottle.

On the sleek black bottle, the label read the name of the wine and province it had come from. And then in curling letters in the empty space of the label was a message. 

To you, the most unlucky girl in the world. 

We wish you the best as you embark on your lifelong journey married to this asshole. We hope this bottle of very expensive wine makes up for all your troubles but it probably won’t. Welcome to the family. 

Love,

Rhys and Az

Cassian rolled her eyes as she laughed but she saw the glimmer of a smile graze his lips as he reread the note silently. 

“Idiots. They made me keep it here for so many years. And every time I’d try to open it they wouldn’t let me, insisting I had to give it to their future sister-in-law.”

Nesta smiled at the thought. 

Cassian looked at her then, and something shifted in his face. “And here you are. After all,” he said softly. 

Nesta didn’t know what to make of the emotion on his face. Didn’t want to more like it since she knew she’d likely start crying if she did. Instead she opted to push his plate aside and slide in between his open legs, leaning back against his chest as she reached for her plate.

She ate her dinner silently, nestled in between his legs. He said nothing more either but she knew the unspoken words that lay between them.

I found you. After all this time, after all these years, here I am. Here we are. Together. 

They cleaned up the dishes together, with him washing and rinsing and her drying beside him. It was so domestic, so simple, yet something tugged in her heart as he handed her the last spoon and dropped a chaste kiss on the top of her head.

She could see it then, this future of theirs. Years ago, the best she could have hoped for herself was a husband who she didn’t detest, who didn’t hurt her or force himself onto her, and one who left her alone as she raised their children in a cold, loveless home. That had been the best option for herself, and she’d accepted that fate. When she had grown older, that acceptance had turned to nauseating fear, especially when Tomas Mandray had become a quickly approaching reality. An abusive, spineless asshole who couldn’t have been bothered to treat her with basic respect, let alone anything more.

Love had never even crossed her mind. Not because she didn’t want it or thought herself to be above it, because that couldn’t be the farthest from the truth. All her life she’d secretly dreamed, pining and hating herself for it, for the stupid wish of true love that could steal her breath away with just a look. A man who would sweep her off of her feet, who would make her feel that the world wasn’t unconquerable, who’d stand fervently by her side and love every facet of her. She’d burned with it, that horrible desire to have something so otherworldly it simply wasn’t possible.

And then she had blinked, and there Cassian was.

Their future would be slow, soft mornings, brought out of slumber with finger soft touches and reverent moments as they shared the space in between their mouths and breathed in the same air. Their future would be lovemaking so thorough, so encompassing, she thought she’d combust herself and be engulfed in flames so terribly hot, so passionate it would meld their very skins off until they were fused into each other. Seared into each other’s souls. Their future would be his windswept hair tickling her as he leaned down to kiss her hello and goodbye every time they reunited and every time they had to part. It would be wars fought side by side on killing fields and visits to the local theater where they would dance for hours into the night. Their future would be a small girl with Nesta’s hair and Cassian’s eyes, a boy with her reserved nature and Cassian’s love for the skies, and so much love for their children, each and every one of them, in all the ways neither of them had been given as they’d grown. 

“Nesta,” Cassian’s voice broke her out of her soaring thoughts. 

Nesta placed the last plate into the cupboard and turned to face her mate.

”Where did you go?,” he asked fondly, poking her cheek before moving past her to the icebox. 

Nesta pulled herself up onto the counter watching as Cassian finished closing the kitchen up. She followed the contour of his wings, umber and red-browns mottling with the illumination from the faelights overhead. So beautiful this male of hers, sometimes he took her breath away. 

“What were you thinking about?,” Cassian prompted lightheartedly.

”Nothing,” she answered. A pause. “Everything,” she admitted with a small laugh. 

“Our children,” she finally settled on. Cassian stopped whatever he was doing and slowly turned around. Something soft bloomed in his face, vulnerable and hopeful.

”What about them?,” he asked carefully, a whisper in the already quiet room.

Nesta shrugged, trying and failing to hide her embarrassment. The soft blush she knew would start staining her skin as she felt it heat up. Months ago, a year ago, she would never, never have admitted such a thing to him. Never would she have been so honest about her feelings, about him, about them, and everything in between. It would give him far too much power over her, even though she knew deep down he’d always had it. No matter what she did or didn’t do, he’d always held her in such rapture it was a wonder she didn’t lose herself completely sometimes. 

“How they would look,” she offered with a small smile. Cassian came closer, stepping in between her legs. “How we would be, how they would be raised…,” she mused, raising her hands up to wrap up and into Cassian’s hair as he pulled her closer towards him. 

Cassian’s smile told her everything she needed to know. It was every assurance she knew she would need whenever they started that journey together and a piece of her heart sang as she knew she’d be alright with Cassian by her side. 

“How many?,”Cassian asked gently, tickling her ear with a soft kiss. 

“You tell me, brute,”

Cassian looked far too delighted with the question, so much so that she decided to stop him instead. Nesta let out a huff, knowing exactly where they were headed. She pushed at his chest, knowing full well it did nothing to deter him. 

“Not that many,” she answered knowingly.

He shot her a reproachful look. “You don’t even know what I was going to say. Maybe I would have said two. Or three.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you were going to say?”

He chuckled. “No. Not at all.”

Nesta met him in the middle as he leaned down to kiss her, leaning into his touch. His fingers tangled into her hair, and she angled closer, moaning as she felt him press himself against her core. Cassian broke the kiss just as she felt she was running out of air, and she gasped at the sudden shock of cold air in her mouth.

”Just to be clear, we’re not having any children anytime soon?”

”No,” Nesta answered quickly, eager to finish what he’d started. She reached for him again but he moved out of her reach.

”Because you just need to say the word,” he offered salaciously. She rolled her eyes, pulling him back, this time successfully. 

“I’ll let you know in a century or two. For now,” she said, struggling with the buttons on his shirt, “just fuck me.”

Cassian threw his head back to laugh, pushing her hands away and pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion. She would try not to think on it for too long but the muscled brown skin suddenly on display, whorls of black ink flexing with Cassian’s every movement, had her legs moving apart of their own accord.

If her mind wasn’t so single minded in that moment she would have chided herself for being so lustful. Surely she could gather her wits for a second. She was definitely capable of it. But in that moment it was harder to think straight and keep her composure, especially as he began undoing the lacings at his pants.

Nesta had no intention of moving from where she’d situated herself, happy to wait for him to join her and fuck her until she lost her voice and all sense of reason. 

Until he pulled his cock out. 

It was already hard and dripping with moisture, and it was so easy then, to push off of the counter, instead dropping to her knees before him, eager to taste and touch.

”Nesta-,” Cassian grunted, almost as if he didn’t want this. Perhaps he was trying to focus on her own pleasure as he’d been painstakingly doing for the past few days. But she’d always loved pleasing him. Loved seeing how she could make him succumb to her and only her, even on her knees.

His body told a different story as he practically molded to her, hands spearing with ease into her unbound hair, holding her tresses out of her face.

He tasted like salt and pure intoxication and the taste of him burst on her mouth as she swiped her tongue over the bead of moisture at the tip of his cock. Cassian made a garbled sound and she felt his fingers tighten sharply in her hair before relaxing again.

She stroked softly, softer than she knew he liked, and peered up at him with heavy eyes. Watching, waiting and not giving him nearly enough sensation to enjoy himself. 

“Careful,” he warned in a low voice. “I know what you’re doing, witch.”

Nesta’s lips curved of their own volition before she could help it. 

“Patience,” Nesta started, before dragging her tongue from base to tip in one efficient lick, “Is a virtue.”

He growled and she felt her breasts tighten at the sound. Felt a pool of warmth begin the build between her legs because she always associated it with pleasure that only he could ever give her.

“You’ll pay for it later then,” he settled on, relaxing into her grip as she quickened her strokes. 

“I look forward to it.”

Then she took him down her throat as much as possible, knowing that it would drive Cassian wild. Whatever was left of him she moved her hands over quickly, slickening his length with her mouth, bobbing and sucking with ease. She made a point to drag her teeth ever so gently as she reached the tip of his cock, and to lick at the broad tip before taking him back down her throat. 

Cassian let out a guttural sound each time she did that and she felt a coy sense of satisfaction. Only she could do this to him. She’d learned his body, all of his ticks, and everything he needed to come. It was a heady feeling to taste him and touch him this way, and she relished in the slick slide of his cock in her mouth, the moans he made as she moved faster and faster, pushing him towards that brink.

“I can’t…Nesta,” he murmured incoherently, thrusting his hips jaggedly, all sense of control lost from him as she worked him harder, deeper, faster. The sting on her scalp as he pulled tighter, moaning her name, was welcome encouragement.

Yes. Finally. She’d wanted this from him. This release on himself, the unbridled energy he always seemed to tamp down on so as to not lose control of himself. She knew everyone assumed him to be reckless and chaotic, all brash temper and quick actions over thought. But he was a thousandfold more careful than she’d ever been, far more controlled and far less erratic. 

She preferred him like this. He’d always been able to meet her word for word, verbal blow for blow, yet he always held himself back from a line she was always wiling to cross. She enjoyed him unleashed, more so, on her and it was only when they were like this, when she could touch him and give and give that she felt satisfied. 

He cried out as he hit his release and Nesta did not slow down. She did not stop to breathe let alone think as she savored the warmth now in her mouth, savored the harshness on his face slowly morphing to contentment. She swallowed every drop and kept her eyes open and fastened on his own gaze down at her. Cassian’s pupils were fully blown and something tender was etched into the planes of his as he looked at her. He caressed her head softly as she released his cock, stroking through her hair with careful deliberation.

Cassian let his hand drift from her head down to cup her chin. Then to rest lightly around her neck before pulling her up by it. He met her halfway up in a savage kiss, and she moaned into his mouth, licking against his tongue and letting him taste his release on her.

“The things you do to me Nesta,” he whispered against her lips before claiming them again. She felt his hands travel down her body cupping her ass roughly before lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around him on instinct and paid no mind to where he was taking them. She kissed down his jaw, licking at where his pulse fluttered under her teeth. She was tempted to bite down on it. Knowing Cassian it would only encourage him. But she held back, controlling this urge to take and take and slake herself on this unbearable desire that had been building for the past hour.

Cassian threw her down on the bed, a predatory smile gracing his beautiful face as he saw how quickly she raised herself up towards him.

”So eager,” he taunted, his laugh running chills down her spine. She didn’t care, couldn’t, not when she needed him so badly-

A knock came at the door downstairs. They both froze but Cassian didn’t look away from her. It came again, sharper this time, and irritation blossomed on his face as his eyes went distant and cold. She recognized that look and knew he was talking to someone in his mind. And she had no doubt who was at the door.

When he came to, it was clear he was disgruntled.

“I’ll be back. Rhys is here.” His voice was clipped as he spoke, and he turned quickly on his heel towards the door. Nesta puzzled over what Rhysand could be doing there, knowing he wouldn’t interrupt for a mundane reason. Worry and dread suddenly filled her and formed a pit in her stomach. What if Feyre was hurt? What about Nyx, Mother above-

“They’re fine,” Cassian abruptly interjected her racing thoughts, as if he’d read her mind. “Everyone is fine, this is about something else. Some work I need to do while I’m still here in Illyria. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be back soon.” A darker emotion passed his face. “He knows he’s not supposed to be interrupting us right now. Asshole.”

Nesta laughed softly, relief calming her. Cassian didn’t look at her as he pulled open the door but she saw the slight turn of his head, angled at her.

His voice was low, simmering with lust and intent, but even as he murmured to her, she could make out his words perfectly. “You better not be dressed when I get back.” 

The command was subtle but it was there. The bite of what he’d left unspoken was also not lost on her. There would be consequences if she didn’t listen and while she usually enjoyed seeing how far she could push Cassian, it was not the time for it. She needed to come so badly and she knew her own efforts would pale in comparison to his touch.

She snorted and considered it for a moment. If he punished her for the disobedience she would still get what she wanted in the end, only she would need to work for it. Were this any other day, she might have enjoyed it, being at his mercy as he kept her orgasm from her. But she felt the mating bond chafing from within, and the consuming urge to mate and couple was quickly rising. In the end she caved, tossing her dress and then her underwear to the side of the room.

If Rhysand and Cassian were talking, she didn’t hear anything. Not even as she strained her Fae senses outwards to where they should be outside the house. After a few minutes she laid down on top of the sheets, raising her knees and crossing her legs tightly in the hopes that it would quell the need inside her to touch herself. The lights above her irritated her eyes and she threw a hand over them to block it out. In fact, everything was starting to irritate her, especially as the time stretched on and Cassian didn’t appear. 

Maybe she wouldn’t wait for him and she’d slip her hand between her legs and come. It wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if it was Cassian himself, but at least then she might finally find release. 

Cassian appeared moments later, as if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts. The door had quickly opened and closed but Nesta did not move her hand off of her face. She did not rise up to meet him. Had not bothered to drape herself seductively over their sheets in effort to get a rise out of him. Fuck that. 

”I’m sorry,” he apologized, but she didn’t react. “Rhys…,” he sighed, cutting himself off. “Everything’s fine but it won’t happen again. I made that clear with him.”

Fine.

She didn’t have to like it but she listened, moving her arm off her face. The Faelight overhead shocked her and she blinked a few times before her eyes adjusted. Cassian’s pants were still on, laces undone, but he’d put his cock back in and her mouth watered at the memory of what they’d just finished downstairs. She pressed her legs closer together, knowing it wouldn't help. 

He didn’t miss it, that small movement and he took in her legs, her raised knees tightly locked against each other and smirked. The bastard smirked knowingly.

He practically purred, mocking her, “You need to come so badly, don’t you?”

She ignored the jab, only pushing up onto her elbows to look at him better. “What’s it to you?”

His eyes roved over her bare breasts and she felt the bond tug in her chest. So he liked the view, but what else was new? His eyes dipped over her taut stomach, likely noticing how tense she was holding herself. Cassian moved closer then, leaning his two hands down onto the mattress just inches from her legs.

”Let me see you,” he asked softly, but it was an order all the same. And it burned through her as she fought the urge to give in or to fight. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and gave a light tug, just enough to jolt but not enough to pull her legs apart.

“Let me see you, Nesta.”

She knew he wasn’t talking about her face.

Nesta opened her legs, raising her head just a touch to see his reaction. What she saw stole her breath away. He groaned appreciatively at whatever he saw between her legs and a hunger overtook his features. He was going to eat her alive and she’d enjoy every moment of it.

”Look at you,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down her core with a featherlight touch. She leaned into it, only for him to move away and sit beside her on the bed.

Cassian’s hand slid down Nesta’s bare stomach, leaving chills in their absence and stoking the fire under her skin even more. She was still sore from before yet it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him and that tantalizing touch making its way down to where she needed most. He was going purposefully slow, she knew, because it was such a Cassian thing to do. To punish her with the one thing he could beat her in.

Patience. 

She could jest and toy with Cassian all she liked about patience, but unlike Nesta, Cassian could and had waited out this sort of torture if he wanted. But worst of all, he would make her wait too. This was punishment for earlier, she was sure of it.

Nesta canted her hips just a touch, causing his hands to go ever so slightly lower to where she wanted it. He slid his eyes towards her, taking in every inch of her torso and breasts on the way up. 

“I will stop.” He said it with just enough mildness that Nesta was tempted to see if he’d actually follow through. But the threat had been made, and Nesta wanted to come, so she stopped her squirming. 

She made sure to tighten every muscle in her body so as to not move anymore. Cassian’s hand still right above the apex of her thighs had to have felt her muscles shift underneath. He chuckled darkly.

“You listen well when you want to come, don’t you? Greedy girl.”

Then, without any warning at all, Cassian leaned down over her stomach, and enclosed his mouth around her core, consuming her over and over. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as his tongue ran down her center and then back up to her clit. Her legs fell open wider and her muscles loosened just as Cassian pulled away.

Nesta almost throttled him.

She didn’t get a chance to though because Cassian slid his entire hand down to her sex and cupped her roughly. He tested the slide of the wetness he’d left on her skin with his mouth, and Nesta canted into the movement, grinding against his hand.

“Greedy,” he muttered again with a small smile. And then he slid his fingers up to circle her clit with just the right amount of pressure to have her gasping. It was so slow, so painfully slow for her, but she let Cassian go on, knowing he knew everything about her body and what she needed. 

It may have gone on for hours, or maybe a few minutes as Cassian continued his torturous stimulation, alternating between rough and fast strokes with soft and gentle ones. 

It was only when he slid two fingers inside of her did Nesta allow herself to make any noise of indication that she was enjoying herself. She’d kept herself silent just to bother him, even though she knew the arrogant bastard was too self-assured to ever worry about that.

It was only when she moaned again as he slid deeper, dragging on the ridge of muscles along the topside of her that he quickly looked her over, smirking at the sight before turning away again. She always liked to see his face when she came, and it was only petty rivalry that had kept her from begging him to look over or kiss her while she came on his hand.

Nesta moaned louder, no longer caring how she sounded. Not as Cassian moved his thumb up to her clit and began circling, his two fingers still pumping in and out of her, faster and faster now. Nesta’s hand went out to steady herself against something, anything, as she felt her climax begin to build.

Her nails dug into Cassian’s thigh, and his head whipped back to see her, just as her eyes shut tight at the sheer pleasure coursing through her bloodstream. Cassian didn’t let up, but his free hand circled the hand she’d placed on his thigh and gently clasped it. Nesta squeezed his hand harder and he didn’t let her go, holding her through everything as it ripped through her, shattering her mind to oblivion.

Even as she came down from the crest, Cassian did not stop. She let go of his hand to stop him but he snagged her wrist easily and placed it on her stomach. 

“Use your words. If you want me to stop, say so.” And with that, he went back to his ministrations. Nesta whimpered from the overstimulation, even as Cassian gentled his stroking, but he didn’t let up. And Nesta didn’t stop him. It was just this side of pain even as pleasure sparked anew for her, and she didn’t want him to stop. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a wicked grin. He stretched her with a third finger and Nesta’s eyes rolled back in her head.

”Cassian,” she gasped. 

It was all the encouragement he needed as he leaned down again and sucked on her clit while pumping those thick fingers into her. Over and over- fuck.

It was too much, all of it was far too much and she came with a silent scream, back arching up to push her core further into Cassian’s face and hands. He led her through the orgasm again, only this time moving away from touching her as she came down from her high. She didn’t think she could handle another climax so soon and as always, Cassian knew what she needed from him.

He gave her the time she needed to catch her breath, undressing himself fully in that time. Her limbs had turned to jelly, and even though the sight of him fully bare so close beside her made her lust return twofold, she didn’t have the strength to act on it.

Cassian didn’t seem to mind at all, content to kiss her neck, the valley between her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, slowly, softly caressing her with his lips. His hands tickled as they moved up her sides, stroking over her arms, her legs, tangled in her hair. She was content too, at his side, simply allowed to be.

”Are you tired?,” he asked after some time, sucking on her pulse before licking a line down her throat to her breast. 

She murmured, eyelids heavy, “No.”

Cassian dragged his teeth over her sensitive nipple and she whimpered as the sensation traveled down to the juncture of her thighs. He looked at her with amusement, hazel eyes flicking over the contours of her body in a generous way.

”I can tell you are,” he admitted. “I can feel it through the bond.”

Yes, he would. It was different now, she could tell. So much more stronger and absolute than when they had first arrived. More than when they had first mated and every time after. It was strange, ancient magic that she wasn’t interested enough in to question.

”It’s fine. I’m fine,” she offered, lifting her chest just so into his face. 

He laughed at that, nuzzling and kissing where her heart lay. “You can sleep. We can continue this tomorrow. Or later whenever you wake up.”

Nesta protested, “No. I’m not tired.” He shot her a look. “Alright I’m not that tired.” Her leg came up to wrap around his hip and Cassian pulled her closer on instinct. And then just to prove her point she grabbed his cock and stroked languorously. 

“I have plans for us,” she reminded him coyly.

Cassian grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards him and kissing the tips of her fingers before pinning it above her head. “I don’t want to tire you out. Or hurt you,” he conceded. 

“You can do whatever you want to me. I don’t mind,” she breathed. 

A bare confession but it was the truth. He could do whatever he wanted, take whatever he needed, and she would freely give it. It was heady, the loss of control she could easily give to him and take back without ever worrying it would hurt her. She trusted him that much and something shifted in his face, as if her words had a far deeper impact on him than she could imagine. 

He kissed her then, with an unexpected fervor, and when the surprise wore off, she matched every stroke with her own. He moaned into her mouth and she pulled him closer, tugging on his unbound hair just the way she knew he liked it. Cassian broke away to bite at her neck, licking at her jaw before peppering it with kisses. Her hips lifted of their own accord, grinding against him and his hardened length.

He cursed softly, peering down to where she’d pressed herself against him, and a surge seemed to overtake him at the sight of it. His eyes darkened with approval and with a shift of his hips he had thrust himself fully inside her.

Her head fell back against the pillows at the fullness of it, at the pressure that she needed to relieve. Cassian pulled her closer, pulling one leg up as he settled between her thighs. She could imagine the view he had, one which had him looking so positively feral. His cock so impossibly deep inside her, one of her legs curled around his hip, the other raised up around his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of where they were joined. 

He shifted slowly, moving out of her with ease before pumping back in. Slowly, so slowly she wanted to die. She snarled with disapproval and his eyes met hers in a smoldering battle of wills.

”Move,” she gritted out.

”Don’t like it?,” he taunted. And moved again, ever so slowly. 

“Go faster,” she snapped, because god damn it she couldn’t handle him being inside of her like this. She needed him to move, to fuck, to finish her so thoroughly she would forget her own name.

Cassian didn’t relent, only barely picking up the pace, enjoying his own personal show as he watched his cock slide in and out of her with ease, knowing exactly what it was doing to her. He could get her off in minutes if he wanted to. He was capable and he’d done it more times than she could count now. 

This was a game to him, to see how long he could torture her, put off her climax and build the temptation until it was unbearable.

She reached down and played with her clit but Cassian caught the movement immediately, snarling with warning.

She didn’t stop, only purring as she held his burning stare. “Don’t like it?,” she threw back, smiling with anything but kindness.

“You’ll come when I make you, witch,” he snapped, but unlike her, there was no bite to his words, only amused affection.

“And when will that be?” To make her point she shifted her hips, taking him harder and faster until Cassian pinned her hips with a free hand.

She whined at that, “I want-”

Casssian cut her off with a kiss, moving against her lips with a ferocity she couldn’t match. 

“I know what you want. You’ll get it,” he promised, a dark glint in his eye that made Nesta shiver. She offered her throat on pure instinct and Cassian leapt at the opportunity, licking and nipping at her pulse point.

He also began moving in her harder, and faster, just how she wanted. Just how she needed from him.

Cassian moaned as he looked down again and Nesta nearly came at the sound itself. It was guttural and low and she could still feel the sound vibrate deep in her chest as he looked down at where they were joined.

His rhythm faltered for a moment as he met her eyes, pulling out of her.

“I could watch you take my cock forever.” It was an obscene sound as his cock slid back into her, and out, over and over as he rammed into her. She screamed, clenching around him, grasping for anything to hold onto.

Tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead and sweat gleaned on both of their bodies. His muscles tightened and shifted, wings spreading behind him as he pulled her closer, impossibly so, “You’re so good to me Nesta, aren’t you?”

Yes. Gods but she was. But she couldn’t say that, couldn’t manage any words at all on how good she could be to him if he said the word. All he had to do was say it and she was willing to crawl to him and pleasure him for however long he wanted.

His hair tickled her chin as he leaned over her and captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard before leaving it with a pop. He dragged his teeth over the other and Nesta moaned his name, not caring for poise anymore. She needed this so much. How she’d held off on touching herself earlier she didn’t know anymore. 

Cassian’s fingers found the apex of her thighs with ease and she widened her legs at his touch instinctually. The rise in pleasure, in sensation, was almost instantaneous and she whimpered against his chest. 

“Cassian,” she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest, pounding in her ears like a war drum. She was overheated with the heat emanating from both their bodies as they moved against each other. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe right. Cassian steadied her with just one look. Just one look into his hazel eyes and Nesta felt herself relax, giving herself over to the pleasure rather than tightening up against it.

He left a bruising kiss on her lips before he continued bucking into her, his hold on her leg tightening in a warm, solid grip that kept her grounded to reality. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel this much pleasure, to be this undone, and to still keep going. There was no end, no beginning, no sense of place or time. There was just them and that thing in her chest that tightened each time he smiled down at her or held her closer as they both came down from another mind-shattering climax. 

“They’ll fade,” Cassian said after what seemed to be hours later after laying silently in their bed. His fingers glided over the bite mark left at her throat in the chaos that had overtaken them and they’d both been reduced to nothing but a rutting and snarling frenzy. 

Nesta laughed at that. “You don’t need to act. I know you’re disappointed.”

Cassian grinned, a feral, glinting smile as he curled closer. He dragged his tongue over the small hurt and she bit her lips to hold in any sound that may escape by accident. She didn’t need to encourage him.

”Is that so bad? That I want there to be a reminder for the world that you're mine.” 

Something warmed in her heart at the words, the sheer honesty he displayed with them.

Mine.

It was such a simple sentiment, but she’d never had that before. Someone to want her as their own, to accept her as theirs and proclaim her for everyone to see and hear proudly. 

“You’re a territorial brute,” she finally decided, quickly kissing him but letting her tongue slide just so over his lips to rile him up.

“You like it,” he lobbied back, leaning in closer to finish what she’d started. But she’d already started untangling her limbs from his and making her way to the bathing chamber.

She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say, knowing it would be a rumbling complaint on her leaving him all alone in their bed. Nesta locked the door behind her for good measure, knowing that a bath to clean off the sweat and sex from her skin would be useless if she allowed him to follow.

Cassian wasn’t in bed when she finally finished changing into clothes and combing her hair. And the bed had been made, with new sheets and all their strewn over belongings set right. 

Nesta felt a tug on the bond and she followed her instincts down the stairs and to the sitting room, to where Cassian was waiting for her. 

The faelight shone through his wings and she paused to take in the image. The amber and brown skin nearly shimmered as she traced the delicate veins underneath with her eyes. Cassian’s hair was unbound again, so unlike him during training and everyday events where he often tied it out of his face into a haphazard knot. Her hands flexed with the memory of the waves she loved to card through, loved to pull on at times, and loved to simply marvel at. He was so beautiful it hurt.

”There you are,” he said with a smile, reaching out his hand towards her. “I was waiting for you.”

Nesta took his outstretched hand happily, letting him fold her into his hold as she sat in his lap. His scent, spice and embers and snow enveloped her and she breathed it in greedily, moving on instinct to his neck, to the pulse that beat under the skin. Cassian let her, his throat rumbling a groan as she pressed a soft kiss to his neck and then the underside of his jaw.

When he speared his hand through her hair, she expected him to tug her closer but to her disappointment, he pulled her back gently.

Nesta clicked her tongue in irritation, her mind already heady with desire that she needed him to satisfy.

He murmured against her lips while his hands held her face firmly in place and just enough out of reach that she couldn’t kiss him. “As lovely as I know you’ll look on this table when I fuck you on it, I need to finish something first.”

Yes, her. He needed to finish her off.

”Behave,” he admonished, granting her one toe-curling, sensual kiss that she left her panting for more. Nesta narrowed her eyes at him as he made no move to go any further, but when he wouldn’t budge she groused lightly and gave up.

”Fine. What do you want?”

Cassian snickered at her disappointment and turned her gently to the table before them. His hand spanned her waist and she leaned back into the solid warmth of his chest. On the table was a small, black velvet box with her name engraved on it.

She looked back at him and an expectant smile bloomed on his face. He nodded towards the box but there was hesitation looming in his face. Nervousness.

”What-“

“Just, open it sweetheart.”

She huffed but didn’t argue, wondering what he could be so nervous about. The wood was cool to the touch and it opened with a soft click, as if it had been kept untouched for this very moment. 

What lay inside took her breath away. A beautiful ring sat glinting in the center of the box, twinkling up at her. Set in what looked to be a silver band that shined in a way she’d never seen before, there were stones embossed in its center. The middle piece was a beautiful oval ruby surrounded by delicate diamonds all around. Nesta had never seen such a beautiful ring in her life, perhaps she never would. It was utterly perfect.

“It’s like your siphons,” she murmured as she pulled it out of its place. She couldn’t help but smile at the likeness. The thought behind it.

”And your fire,” he noted softly, kissing the shell of her ear. “It’s us. Both of us.”

So it was. Her silver fire, the one she’d spent so long running from, was just as much a part of her and who she was becoming as Cassian’s siphons were a part of him. The ring was a perfect union of each of them together. 

Nesta reached for his free hand and placed the ring in his palm.

Alarm ran through his face along with bewildered confusion until she placed her left hand out towards him, waiting.

Cassian let out a relieved sigh and laughed a little. “You had me worried there,” he said with another small chuckle before sliding the ring onto her fourth finger.

A perfect fit. Of course. She marveled at her hand, at the way the lights overhead shone through the ruby and reflected a deep red glint around it.

”It’s beautiful,” she admitted, grinning unabashedly at Cassian. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

Cassian cupped her face tenderly, answering with a gentle kiss that set her heat soaring. “And I love you. So much,” he breathed out. Their faces were so close she knew they were breathing the same air, living off of each other, existing in sync as she’d always known they were meant to be.

”You need one too. A ring,” she explained after a few moments, pulling only a small distance from him to take him in in his entirety. 

He nodded knowingly, as if he’d expected her to say those exact words. He rummaged in his pant pocket for a few moments before pulling out a similar box and handing it to her as well.

Nesta snorted. Of course. She flipped open the box and noted the ring inside was a similar imitation to her own silver band. Slightly thicker than hers with no stones or gems to be found, but there was an intricately engraved design in the color of rubies in the center. 

“What is that?,” she asked, tracing the design carefully.

”It’s a marking. Males usually have it tattooed on us when we marry but I didn’t have time to go to Illyria and get it done. I’ll do it when I can, soon, but this is the next best thing.”

 “When did you do all this?,” she asked as she pulled his hand forward. She hadn’t seen him meet with any jewelers when they were preparing for the wedding, nor any engravers. 

“My band, I received a few days after the Blood Rite. It was easy enough to find a simple band and get it engraved. Most males wear a similar style so it was done the same day.”

“Mmm,” she answered, slipping the ring onto his finger, before kissing his knuckles. Cassian relaxed under her touch, tangling their hands together and appraising them thoughtfully.

“And mine?,” she wondered aloud. “I remember when my father worked with jewelers and traders. A ring like mine couldn’t be done in a day.”

He nodded. “It wasn’t. Took them about a month to get back to me. And then another for me to find the time to go see them in Illyria and pick it up because they made it in the northern villages. Such a long flight Nes, I was so tired after that.”

Nesta frowned, confused. “We only decided to marry three weeks ago.”

Cassian nodded, smirking knowingly. As if he were waiting for her to figure a puzzle out.

Nesta’s breath came unevenly. “When,” she asked hoarsely, nearly heady with the realization she’d already made. “When did you decide to have this ring made?”

Cassian didn’t even hesitate. 

“After the ball in Hewn. We danced and I…” he hesitated for a moment. “I just knew. I can’t explain it.”

Soon after it had been Solstice. He’d gotten her the Symphonia, had gone and found all her favorite songs and saved them for her.

It’s a gift, not a fucking wedding ring, he’d told her.

But there had been a wedding ring. The intent behind it and everything else- it had been there all along. He had known for so long, all those months ago, that he wanted to marry her. And she’d never even suspected, never even thought it possible that he could want her in such a way.

Nesta couldn’t stop it, the tears that sprang to her eyes in that very moment. It was suddenly too much to handle, all of her emotions coming at her like a storm. Regret and sadness and excitement and hope and fear and anger and joy and…love. Above all, so much love for him, for who he was, for all he’d given and done for her, and love for this tenuous future they were slowly building together.

Cassian frowned, clicking his tongue at her as he gathered her face in both his hands.

”Don’t cry,” he soothed softly. “Don’t cry. I hate seeing it.”

She sobbed harder and Cassian murmured her name sadly before tucking her into his chest. 

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.” He stroked her hair gently, holding her through the worst of it.

“I wasted so much time,” she whispered against his heart.

”No,” he answered immediately. Fiercely. He forced her to look up at him, forced her to hold the gaze she so desperately wanted to break from. The hazel in his eyes blazed with so much emotion she couldn’t place it all. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. We were always meant to be sweetheart. Always. From the moment we met. And I already told you once, if we didn’t get time in this world, I would always find you again in the next one. There is no such thing as wasted time. I found you, we’re here, together. It’s exactly as it was meant to be.”

She sniffed and Cassian dried her tears with his calloused hands. She instinctually leaned into his touch, letting his words wash over her.

”Meant to be,” she repeated quietly, more to herself than him. 

“Yes,” he murmured, kissing her once, twice. “I am yours. Wholly, completely, forever, yours. And you are mine. I can’t believe it sometimes but you are. And I will never stop being grateful for it.”

“I’m yours,” she promised.

”You are,” he assured her. Kissed her again.

”And you are mine,” she breathed, almost praying it rather than speaking it.

”Always, Nesta. Until my heart stops beating. And even then, even when this world ends, when we end here, we will begin somewhere again. Always.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. He was so right, so true, her heart burned at the words. At the confession. She sighed into his touch, into his mouth as he kissed her fiercely again, consuming every bit of her being. The softness of their touches quickly evolved into more heated ones with frantically meandering hands and exploring fingers. Nesta did not know when they parted, did not know what time even was anymore. She’d been consumed by him, completely, and if this was how and when she went, she’d have no complaints.

Hours later or days later, she didn’t know, she lay tangled against him, the sheets barely covering her because she knew how much he enjoyed the view. The bond was a living force by then, so strong she didn’t know how she’d gone so long ignoring it and forcing it away. She’d laid there counting his breaths, tracing the markings on his bronze skin, marveling at the power, the life that moved under her fingertips. All hers, every part of him.

Nesta had known then that he was her whole heart. Half her soul. The very air that kept her breathing. They had been inevitable from the moment they’d met. The moment he’d looked at her, the moment she’d heard his voice, the moment their eyes had met.

Meant to be.

~*~

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[fuckmelifesucks]

Cheap Alcohol and Ruined Sleep

Pairings: Elriel/Feysand/Nessian

Summary: Cass and Rhys make regretful 'college student' choices. Az is homicidal. The sisters' night is ruined with them having to help play babysitter. Nesta is annoying. Feyre is tired. Elain is trying to help Az keep his sanity.

Warning: Modern college AU.

Words: 2.4k

Characters: ACOTAR; Sarah J Mass.

~~~~~

“Huh?”

Elain sat up in her bed with a frown, resting the book she’d been reading on her nightstand. The furrow of her brows deepened when she saw what time her clock displayed. Another knock was heard from across the small apartment she shared with her sisters, both peacefully asleep in their own rooms.

Pushing away the glaring screen of her laptop displaying the assignment she’d been working on for the past few hours, she climbed out of her bed and padded out of her room and towards the entry door, wondering who it might be this late at night.

She curled her fingers around the knob and pulled open the door only to be greeted with a sight that surprised her but also didn’t at the same time. “Azriel?”

Hazel eyes like sunsets and autumn leaves and spring trees shot up to meet hers, a weariness to them that made her eyebrows rise as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

With all the seriousness of the world, Azriel questioned, “Would you, by any chance, have some chloroform lying around?” As if that were the most normal thing to ask, and not at all concerning.

“Umm…” Elain blinked up at him, taking in his disheveled raven hair falling onto his forehead and his wrinkled white tee and black sweats and the slight redness to his eyes along with the circles underneath. “Az, why would you need chloroform at two in the morning?”

So monotonous in his reply, it genuinely surprised Elain as he spoke, “I plan on using it on Cassian and Rhysand and then I’m going to drag them out and load them into my truck to go dump them in a shallow ditch somewhere faraway so that I can finally be rid of them and get at least one good night’s sleep.”

“Huh.” Elain stared up at him in the dim light of the silent hallway with her lips parted. Her eyes flicked to the door behind Azriel almost as if she could see the other two men inside. “And what are they up to this time around to get you so worked up?”

Before Azriel could even open his mouth to answer, a disturbingly loud bang of someone’s body slamming into a wall sounded, followed by muffled cries of curses, startling Elain.

A moment later, the door to the apartment opposite Elain’s, that Azriel shared with his brothers, swung open and out came two very drunk and very clumsy men who just so happened to be said brothers and Elain’s question was answered without Azriel having to say a word. Azriel groaned out a series of colorful choice words while burying his face into his hands.

“Lainy!” Cassian gasped as he rushed towards her, face flushed and eyes droopy, and squeezed her in a hug that lifted her off her feet and almost made her lose the ability breathe.

“Oh God, Cass, put me down, please,” she wheezed out, repeatedly tapping against Cassian’s shoulder.

“Put her down, you idiot. You’re suffocating her, for fuck’s sake.” Azriel rubbed at his temples, already over having to babysit two grown adults who were acting like children.

Elain took in a deep breath the instant Cassian let go off her. With a hand to her chest and wide eyes, Elain could only watch as Cass barged right into the girls’ apartment, slamming the door against the wall in the process with a very loud ‘Nes!’ on his way. Nesta was so going to kill him when she woke up. And she most definitely had woken up by now. Elain just knew it. Feyre had most likely too.

“Hiya, ‘Lain,” Rhysand slurred with a drunken smile and ruffled her hair clumsily before joining Cass, murmuring if his ‘Feyre darling, love of my life’ was awake.

She slowly turned to the third person who was currently busy glaring daggers at his brothers while massaging temples a little too hard. Az turned his attention back at her with an apologetic look. “Sorry for ruining your night as well.”

“No need to apologize, even though I would’ve much preferred a quiet night,” Elain murmured out the last part under her breath as she rubbed her palms against the sides of her pajama-covered thighs. “Just…why are they drunk on a weeknight anyway?”

“Cass came home with some cheap alcohol to celebrate the fact that he passed in a test he was sure he’d fail. Managed to rope Rhys in as well, somehow.”

“Dear God…Nesta is going to be so pissed,” Elain groaned.

“I know,” Azriel sighed.

As if she’d been summoned by her name, the door to the room next to Elain’s flung open to reveal a murderous Nesta, blue-grey eyes shimmering with rage as she took in the scene—Cassian conveying something absolutely incoherent to Rhysand while the two sat on or more like threw their weights onto the living room couch that looked way too small beneath the two large men.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Nesta snapped.

The door beside Nesta’s opened as well, though a lot slower this time around, and Feyre stepped out with her hair in disarray, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nes!” Cassian all but cried out as he jumped up from the couch and Elain winced at the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed on him.

“You. What the fuck are you doing here at this time?” Nesta demanded, steel voice sharp like knives.

“I missed you, Nes!” Cass was going to get himself killed.

“Rhys, why are you here at two in the morning?” Feyre, though clearly annoyed at being woken up so rudely, was comparatively calmer than their older sister.

Rhys, suddenly standing in front of Feyre now with his hands cupping her face, only grinned at her lopsidedly. “I—I’m so drunk, Feyre darling.”

“I can see that. Why are you drunk?”

Rhys shrugged, though it was difficult to tell with all the swaying he was doing, unable to hold his own weight. “Cass—Cassian he…” God, he could barely get the words out. Elain didn’t know how Feyre managed to keep a straight face. “H—He made me drink.” Was he actually pouting?

“I so did not!” Cass, not yet so far gone, protested with an overly dramatic gasp and slapped a hand over his chest rather too loudly. “You wound me with your lies right here, in my very heart, Rhysand!”

“Shut your trap, you idiot!” Nesta hissed, clearly still very grumpy while Rhys flipped Cass off and threw back a “Like I give a fuck.”

“Oh, my god. Someone kill me,” Az murmured.

 “Let’s…” Elain blinked, turning away from the shitshow currently taking place in her living room. She made sure the guys’ apartment door was closed before gently pulling Azriel into the girl’s apartment, closing the door behind them. “It’s better if the neighbors don’t hear them.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want they at our necks with noise complains in the morning.”

“This escalated a little too quickly,” Elain commented, looking back at the scene and feeling Az rest his forehead on top of her head.

“Hmm. Tell me about it,” he grumbled. Elain only patted his disheveled hair.

Nesta was out of her room now, busy threatening Cassian’s family jewels while he only smiled down at her lazily. Feyre was still handling Rhys, listening to his ramblings. It was a chaotically wholesome and hilarious scene and Elain wanted to capture it in her memory to laugh recalling it come morning when she knew there would be many regrets coming from the two drunken men.

“Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?” Elain asked Azriel, making sure to keep her voice low.

“I do.”

“Reason why you’re contemplating homicide?”

“You know me so well, flower.”

“Um-hm. You might just have to skip, unfortunately.”

Azriel only groaned and then proceeded to curse the fuck out of his brothers’ bloodlines under his breath. “I might just have them sleep on their backs tonight, just in case. Wanna come help me prove my innocence when the cops arrive?”

“Azriel!” Elain gasped, eyes wide and all.

“Kidding. Kidding.” A beat passed. “Or am I?”

“Alright, none of you are leaving this apartment until those two sober up.”

“There you go spilling unnecessary water on all my plans of peace and freedom, flower.”

“Well, forgive me for not wanting you to get locked up for familicide.”

“Whatever would I do without you, love?”

“Probably something morally questionable and self-hazardous.”

“Hmm.” He finally lifted his head to see how much the shitshow had progressed.

Cass slung his arm around Nesta’s shoulders, either not registering or blatantly ignoring the daggers she was shooting at him with her heated glare. “Did you fall out of a vending machine, Nes?”

“What?” Nesta scrunched up her nose, arms crossed across her chest, though made no move to throw Cassian’s arm off her shoulder. She probably sensed he’d fall right on his ass and hurt himself if she did.

“Because you’re one hell of a snack,” Cass smirked, looking very much pleased with his shitty-worse-than-an-amateur flirting skills.

Nesta blinked at him, looking very unsure if she wanted to smack him or get him some help. “What is wrong with you, honestly?”

“Nes! Nes, are you an edible? ‘Cause I’d eat you right up.” Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. It was all far too painful to watch.

“Oh, my god, that was so bad it makes me want to kick you in the nuts,” Nesta stated, cringing. Though, amusement, just a tiny speck in her eyes, gave her away.

“But you still wanna kick me in the balls. Me. You want to fuck me so bad, it’s so obvious.” Talk about delusional.

Azriel wondered what past sins he’d committed that were so atrocious that he was being punished for them like this. He wanted to be taken out. Preferably quickly and at that very moment.

Nesta looked at Az then. “Just what type of blasted shit is he on? Did he snort something or what?”

“Cheap alcohol does that to him,” Az replied with a withering glare at Cass who was busy trying to get Nesta’s attention back on him.

Rhys on the other hand… “Feyre darling, I’m the most handsome, aren’t I?” he slurred his words, arms tightly wrapped around Feyre’s waist and face buried deep into her neck.

Feyre just hummed, stroking her fingers through his hair and rubbing gentle circles on his back. “Sure are, you big baby,” she drawled with a smile, affectionate humor sparkling in her blue-grey eyes.

“And you’re even more pretty, Feyre darling. You’re the prettiest,” he went on.

“Um-hm.”

Not even giving her a chance to open her mouth again, he continued, voice muffled and childish, “And I won you over with my glamourous wit and charm…” and on and on he went and Feyre let him, content in just babying the grown-ass man.

“It’s a good thing Mor isn’t here to join in with them,” Elain joked as she watched everything unfold.

“I’d have thrown myself out of the nearest window if I had to babysit her as well,” Azriel deadpanned from behind her, dead eyes glaring with murderous intent.

Elain leaned back into his chest and patted his cheek considerately, shaking her head gently with a smile that conveyed both pity and amusement. It was a good thing Mor was away on a field trip.

On that note…“What of Amren?” Their senior probably wouldn’t have been of much help either but still.

“Busy with Varian, as usual. She probably would’ve chewed everyone up for even thinking about disturbing her quality time.”

Elain huffed out a laugh. “Definitely.” Straightening back up, she sighed, a small smile still on her face. “Alright. Let’s go help them before Nesta actually kills Cassian or poor Feyre gets crushed under Rhys with all the weight he’s putting on her.”

“Eh… I’ve got an even better idea. How about we sneak back to my apartment and let those two deal with their drunk men.”

“Az...”

“…”

“Azriel.”

“…fine.” He let out a long suffered sigh. “Just ‘cause you asked nicely, flower.”

“Good.” Elain shook her head with her smile still intact and physically pulled Az with her to deal with their respective siblings’ antics.

“Come on, Rhys. Get off me. You’re heavy.”

“But Feyre darling…”

“We’ll both fall!”

“Cassian, I love you but I’ll seriously chop your dick off if you don’t stop with the cheesy pick-up lines.”

“I thought they were working!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Azriel, come get your brother!”

“Why do I have to put up with this shit?”

“Elain! Help me with Rhys, please!”

“Dear God…”

~~~~~

It seemed that in the midst of chaos, no one was actually able to return back to their designated spaces. At some point, everyone had found a spot to fall asleep in the girls’ living room itself, though their backs were sure to be disagreeable with when they were to finally wake up.

Cassian ended up falling asleep on the floor with one foot on the couch, snoring loudly. Nesta was right there with him, her head cushioned on Cassian’s stomach as she slept soundly, not paying any mind to the rumbling under her head.

Rhysand and Feyre were a few feet away, both on the floor as well, all cuddled up with each other. Rhys had a hand wrapped loosely around Feyre’s waist, curling up against her as they both slept facing each other, legs intertwined and all.

Azriel and Elain slept leaning against the couch. Or more like Az with his back against the couch as he sprawled out on the floor with Elain’s back against his chest as she slept curled between his legs. Head tucked under Azriel’s chin, Elain was all but glued to his front with his arms resting circled around her shoulders.

All were in awkward positions and yet all were deep asleep. Completely and utterly relaxed. Alarms were missed, classes were skipped and assignments were left forgotten and incomplete.

Although, there was a ton of grumbling and groaning and cursing when everyone finally came to. Especially from the two who were miserably hungover and regretting their life choices. They did get quite an earful and a few particular choice words each from the others who did not take it easy on them for fucking up their sleep with their drunken escapades.

~~~~~

Wanted to try writing about all three couples and not just elriel tho this is still kinda elriel centric I just can't seem to help myself 🫠

[shadowisles-writes]

ACOTAR Writing Circle 3 Masterlist

The Syren, part 2, part 3 @headcanonheadcase @secret-third-thing

I Choose Who. I Choose You., part 2, part 3 @hlizr50 @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship​ @headcanonheadcase​

The Great Escape, part 2, part 3 @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship, @aldbooks​ @starfall-spirit​

Blindsided, part 2, part 3 @bennylavasbuns, @azrielshadowssing

Peer Pressure, part 2, part 3 @azrielshadowssing @mercarimari​ @foreverinelysian​

Tangled Cable Car Wires, part 2, part 3 @thelovelymadone, @bennylavasbuns​ @thehaemanthus​

On the Edge of Losing You, part 2 @starfall-spirit, @thegloweringcastle

Right There Beside Him All Summer Long, part 2, part 3 @rosanna-writer​ @sideralwriting​ @hlizr50​​

Grounded, part 2 @writtenonreceipts, @thehaemanthus​

Fictional, part 2, part 3 @mercarimari @rosanna-writer

Sailing Ships, part 2, part 3 @foreverinelysian, @writtenonreceipts​ @sideralwriting​

Down This Road, part 2, part 3 @thegloweringcastle, @headcanonheadcase​ @thelovelymadone​

Heatwave, part 2, part 3 @secret-third-thing, @starfall-spirit​ @azrielshadowssing​

Someday, Today, part 2, part 3 @thehaemanthus, @hlizr50​ @vikingmagic33​

A Sunshine from the Ocean, part 2, part 3 @sideralwriting @thelovelymadone @sunshinebingo​

Cool for the Summer, part 2, part 3 @aldbooks, @vikingmagic33​ @rosanna-writer​

I Hate You Too, part 2, part 3 @sunshinebingo @foreverinelysian​ @bennylavasbuns​

This One Even Blooms, part 2, part 3 @vikingmagic33 @sunshinebingo​ @thegloweringcastle​