#cassianappreciationweek

[c-e-d-dreamer]

“I know all of your secrets, Nesta,” the gargoyle tells her, the sound of her name falling past his lips leaving goosebumps pebbling across her skin. “You whispered them to me every day.”

— My Heart of Stone

I seriously cannot thank @krem-does-stuff enough for taking my silly little monster fic idea and turning it into this absolutely GORGEOUS piece that just screams romance novel cover. Do you see it? Do you see him? Do you see the lines in his wings that look like stone? I'm obsessed, and I hope everyone else is too. A very happy @cassianappreciationweek to us all! (cropped of just Cassian below the cut)

[jmoonjones]

If @cassianappreciationweek thought they’d be safe from my bullshit then oooh do I have news (and drawings) for them

Cassian is invited to a tea party (a Shadowbaby tagged along too) and then I went overboard and decided to give Nessian twins and Nesta has a silver Pegasus (called Peggy) because July was rough and I needed extra cuteness.

[asnowfern]

For Day 2 of @cassianappreciationweek : Gentle

He let his lips linger for far too long against her skin. Far too long to have been considered proper or polite. She was so soft against him, the brush of her divine— something reverential, and gods, he had only kissed her hand. The pulling in his chest had turned frantic, frenetic, as though it were rejoicing, celebrating, worshipping the press of his lips against her skin.

And it was just her hand.

Chapter 8: Begged and Borrowed Time by the incredibly brilliant @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk

Because this scene was so beautiful that I knew I had to see this immortalised into art the moment I read it (right after I scooped my melted brain off the floor🫠).

Thank you to the amazing @lomakes for bringing my dream to life.

No repost, aside from the event organisers, allowed. Reblogs are welcomed. Characters belong to Sarah J Maas.

[itsthedoodle]

Luckiest Male Alive

Summary: After the birth of his daughter, Cassian reminisces over the lucky moments in his life.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: none

Read on AO3

@cassianappreciationweek

Day Two: Gentle

Cassian could count his lucky moments on one hand. 

His father had raped his mother, so his start in life had been less than ideal. Ripped away from her at a young age, he’d had to fend for himself—survival of the fittest was the life for bastards in the Illyrian camps, kill or be killed. So Cassian had taken care of earning the clothes on his back, making sure people knew he was not to be messed with, and then he had met his brothers. That was the first time he considered himself lucky. 

They’d conquered Ramiel together, dropped on opposite sides of it with no powers or weapons to aid them other than what they made for themselves on the go. Still, they’d found each other, and they’d mastered the sacred peak at the same time, inseparable and invincible together. 

They’d been sent to war, separated from each other because their high lord feared their combined powers. During the seven years the war lasted, Cassian had dreaded every casualties list, fearing he would read their names. Every time he hadn’t, and when the war had ended and they’d all made it out alive, he had considered himself lucky again. 

He’d been aware that things didn’t come easy to bastards like him, so he had worked hard for every single thing he had achieved, partly because he had drive, but also because he’d always held out hope he’d one day be accepted by the Illyrians, seen as more than just a bastard. He’d expected resistance when Rhys made him general, and while he’d found none, he knew better than to read into it. Acceptance was not something he had, but Illyrians respected genuine power and strength, and that was something no one could deny he had. 

Still, Cassian had always been a bastard, and he’d owned it so no one could use it against him. But it had always bothered him, the festering root of all his insecurities, which he hid so well behind a veil of sarcasm and playfulness that only those he let get close knew what truly lay in his heart. 

He had fought against the love he had for his brother when Rhys had been trapped under the mountain, and had nearly lost it by the end of the longest fifty years of his life, when Feyre had freed Rhys and the rest of Prythian. When Rhys had come back, Cassian had considered himself lucky for the single fact that his brother had come back alive. He had quickly learned that Rhys had returned half broken, had hidden it behind the same façade Cassian himself had used his whole life, and had gotten back to work as if nothing had happened. So Cassian hadn’t forced him to talk about it and had stood on the sidelines as Feyre slowly brought Rhys back to life. 

Feyre was another person Cassian considered himself lucky to know, not just because what meeting her represented for him personally, but because he saw himself in her. Forced to fend for herself at a young age, Feyre had known desperation and hunger, just like he had. They had become fast friends, and she was someone he could talk freely to, more so than the rest of his family, simply because she knew. He considered himself lucky to know her, not just because of what she meant to his brother, or the fact that she was his High Lady, but because through Feyre, he had met the one person that had made him feel  beyond lucky. 

Nesta had been another less than stellar start. She had been volatile and angry, with words able to cut deeper than a knife, and more often than not he had been on the receiving end of that viciousness. He’d taken one look at her, however, and had fallen in love. He'd suspected she was his mate from the beginning, but Nesta hadn’t been ready for the truth so he had kept his suspicions to himself. He had known from the start that winning her over would be a hard, long battle, one he’d been more than willing to fight. He’d known she wouldn’t make it easy for him but he’d fought, and when it had looked like she was finally warming up to him, when he’d been on the verge of death, he had poured his heart out to her on the battlefield. 

Everything after that had been a giant mess, a dark tunnel with no end in sight. Watching her waste away day by day, refuse help, and throw herself in the path of destruction had been the hardest thing to witness. He’d forced himself to keep out of it until he had no longer been able to, and when she’d finally been ready, Nesta had gotten back up all on her own.

It hadn’t been thanks to her friends, though they’d helped. It certainly hadn’t been thanks to his family, he could admit that. It hadn’t been because of him either, though he’d have handed the universe over on a silver platter to help her. Nesta’s road to self discovery had been because of her, her hard work, and relentless drive. That, he knew, they shared. 

It was her whisper that brought him out of his thoughts, her voice so soft and loving he could feel his heart expanding in his chest. He looked at her, as beautiful as the day he had met her, as confident and resilient, if not more. 

“I can take over, you know that, don’t you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, trying to keep a straight face lest she thought he was joking. He could see the exhaustion on her face, but he could also see the Archeron stubbornness, the unwillingness to ask for help. 

“I know,” she said, giving him the kind of soft smile she reserved just for him. “I’m just, you know… scared somehow. Like-” she gestured vaguely with one hand. 

“Like you’ll blink and she’ll disappear into thin air?” 

“Yeah. Exactly like that.”

Cassian took a seat on the bed next to her and she carefully inched closer. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and she positioned herself so that her back was resting against his side. 

“Can you believe we made her?”

No, Cassian almost said. I can’t believe we did. 

After they’d been mated in a ceremony which, thanks to a very grateful Rhys, had been extremely lavish, Cassian and Nesta had thrown themselves into reviving the Valkyries. They had, together with Gwyn, Emerie, and Az, trained new recruits, mostly made up of priestesses that had braved the outside world again and any Illyrian females that had wanted to join. That had been another thing for which Cassian felt particularly lucky. 

Devlon and the rest of the Illyrians had been forced, albeit begrudgingly, to accept the fact that females were just as good (if not better, in Cassian’s completely unbiased opinion) at fighting as males were. Rhys liked to tease Nesta that she had worked her “witch magic”, and the Illyrians hadn’t had any choice but to accept if they didn’t want to run the risk of her being hexed. The Illyrian females had laughed themselves hoarse when they’d realized she was no witch and had no magic, and had made sure to keep it to themselves. Thus, Nesta had become the most feared female to an entire camp of Illyrians. 

Azriel had cracked a big smile at that. 

They had both put in a lot of hard work, and after a few years they’d had a solid Valkyrie unit. The day they’d reached one hundred of them, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie had all cried tears of joy, and Cassian had been so proud. 

A few months after that, lying in bed sweaty and spent, Nesta had told him she was ready. He had understood right away what she meant, and they’d eagerly gotten to work. 

Now, half-sitting in bed, Nesta curled up against him, Cassian looked down at their infant daughter. Aoife had been alive for exactly one week and there wasn’t a single soul she didn’t already have wrapped around her tiny finger. Elain and Feyre had lost it, squealing in delight when they learned Nesta was having a girl, Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Rhys had cried, Amren had cracked a smile, and Az had clapped his back, telling him he couldn’t imagine Cassian as a father to anything but a daughter. 

Cassian himself had simply never thought he’d be here, with a mate and a daughter, had never considered himself good enough for it. He’d been a nervous wreck the entire pregnancy, hiding it from Nesta as well as he could. Madja had told them the baby had wings and, while it wouldn’t have mattered to him if she hadn’t, he had still felt an indescribable amount of joy at learning their daughter would get to experience the freedom of flight. 

The moment Aoife was born had been one he would never forget in a million lifetimes. His heart felt like it resided in both his own body and the small infant in her mother’s arms, his entire being attuned to her breathing and heartbeat. He had cried from the sheer force of love that filled his heart, and he had thanked the Mother for the blessing. 

He snapped out of his thoughts again and found Nesta looking up at him. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Dropping a kiss to her forehead, he smiled. “Sorry. I still haven’t wrapped my head around it to be honest.”

Nesta was looking at him in that way of hers that left him feeling utterly naked and exposed, that brought all his walls crashing down. It was too soon to tell, but he prayed day and night that their daughter had Nesta’s eyes. 

“I’m suddenly feeling very tired,” she said. He eagerly took over, Nesta transferring Aoife to his waiting arms. “Can you wake me up in an hour so I can feed her?”

He was glad for all the practice he had gotten holding Nyx. The old him would have pissed himself at the thought of holding a baby. The new, fun uncle version of him had thanked Rhys and Feyre for letting him use their son as a test subject. 

That had earned him a glare from Feyre. 

He nodded, waiting until Nesta was fully lying in bed. “Rest,” he said, pulling the covers over her, and dropping a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll be fine.”

Closing the door behind him, he headed to Aoife’s bedroom, the House turning the lights on and preparing her a bath. He mentally calculated the time since her last feeding, muttered a sorry to the House for doubting it and, deeming it safe, he washed his daughter, changed her into a fresh set of clothes, then sat on the reclining chair with her in his arms. 

She was so small and vulnerable, yet so quiet in his arms, as if she felt safe. 

Lord of Bloodshed. He snorted. More like Lord of Diapers these days. He wasn’t remotely bothered by it, however. This was the happiest he’d ever been. 

“You know, I hope you’ll end up taking after your mother. She’s beautiful, and perfect, and loves fiercely. She’s brave, and she is strong, and she really won’t take anyone’s shit.”

The lights flickered, the House scolding him for using that language in front of the baby. 

“Lighten up, she doesn’t understand,” he said, and the lights flickered again. 

Aoife yawned and he nearly melted at the sight of it. “I can’t wait to teach you how to fly. You’re going to love it. There’s just something about the freedom of it that makes you feel invincible, like there is nothing you couldn’t do. When you’re old enough, you can join the Valkyries, if you want to. Or you can go into politics. Or you can paint, like Feyre, or grow beautiful gardens like Elain. You could end up loving dancing like your mother. Or you could end up doing none of those things and doing something else, something purely you. I hope your whole life ends up being a big, beautiful dance. I’ll make sure there’s never a day where the sun doesn’t shine for you, I swear it.”

Aoife’s eyes closed softly, her breathing evening out. 

“You’ll always feel loved, and appreciated, and have our support in anything you choose to do. There will never be a day I won’t tell you how much I love you, and how much you and your mother mean to me. You’ll have the freedom to be whoever you want to be, because you’re you, and you’re special, and you can do anything you set your mind to. And I’ll always hold your hand every step of the way.”

He kissed the top of her head, the hair there impossibly soft, her baby scent something he would never tire of. 

Yes, he could count his lucky moments in single digits. But this, right here. This was the happiest he’d ever been. 

He was the luckiest male alive. 

[moodymelanist]

What Happens in Vegas

Happy @cassianappreciationweek everyone! I had a lot of fun with this one and major shoutout to @c-e-d-dreamer for giving me the plot idea for this ❤️‍🔥

Summary: Cassian and the guys spend a weekend in Vegas to celebrate his upcoming marriage to Nesta.

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Cassian 

When Cassian had agreed to let Rhys take him to Vegas for an all-expenses-paid bachelor party weekend, he’d been so excited that he hadn’t been able to stop talking about it for days. 

He just hadn’t factored in how much he’d miss Nesta.

“You have everything?” Nesta asked, leaning against one of their living room walls as Cassian wheeled his suitcase to the door. 

“I think so,” Cassian answered. He did a last-minute check that he had his phone, wallet, and keys, along with a light jacket for the flight. “If not, I can just buy it there.”

“Assuming you’ll be sober enough to think straight,” she teased, following him as he walked to the front of their home. 

When they’d been throwing around bachelor party ideas, originally Cassian had wanted to do something chill. He wasn’t into the stereotypical strip club party — especially not when he had Nesta at home waiting for him — but Rhys, Azriel, and Lucien had managed to convince him to visit Vegas for the weekend. Cassian wasn’t a huge gambler, but there were lots of things to do other than throw money away at the casinos, and he’d always wanted to go to Vegas. So he’d agreed to make the trip, and now the moment of truth had finally come. 

Cassian wheeled his suitcase outside to see that Rhys’ familiar black Range Rover was sitting in front of their townhouse, the trunk already open for Cassian to add his suitcase to the mix. He waved toward the car and turned back to Nesta so he could give her a proper goodbye, leaning in and pulling her into his arms in a fierce hug. He buried his face into the side of her neck and inhaled the familiar smell of her perfume while she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his embrace. Maybe he was being a little dramatic, but who cared? She was the love of his life. He could be a little dramatic if he wanted. 

“I’ll miss you,” Cassian murmured. He pulled back from the hug to fix her with what was probably one of the dopiest looks he’d given her yet. “So much.”

“I’ll miss you too, Cassian,” Nesta replied, the hint of a pleased smile making the corners of her lips turn up. “Have a safe flight.”

“Let’s go, lover boy!” Rhys called out from the car. He honked the horn like an asshole and Cassian whirled around to flip him off. “We’re gonna be late for our flight!”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys, I’m saying goodbye to my wife,” Cassian yelled back. “Who I love very much!”

Nesta laughed, pulling Cassian’s attention back to her. “I love you too. Now hurry up, I have to keep packing for my trip.”

Nesta had decided on taking a beach trip for her bachelorette party, her and the rest of the ladies deciding to drive down to Myrtle Beach to spend a few days relaxing by the water. She and her sisters – along with Emerie and Gwyn – had rented out a beach house for a long weekend, and Cassian couldn’t wait to see just how many freckles would appear on her skin.

“Have fun at the beach,” Cassian said. He leaned in for a goodbye kiss and forced himself to eventually pull away, but not before he cupped her face and ran his thumb across her cheek. “Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, baby,” Nesta said back. She waited until he’d put his suitcase in the trunk and got in the car before she turned around and went back inside, though not before blowing him one last kiss. 

God, he loved her.

“Fucking finally,” Rhys muttered once Cassian had strapped himself into the passenger seat. “You’re leaving for a few days, not going off to war.”

“I’m not going to apologize for giving the love of my life the goodbye she deserves,” Cassian said primly. 

“Cut him a break, you know he can’t help it,” Azriel chimed in from the backseat. “We might as well get used to it. He’ll probably call her every night for a bedtime story.”

“If you got the kind of bedtime stories I did, you’d be calling every night too,” Cassian fired back with a smirk. 

“I don’t think any of us want that level of trauma,” Lucien teased, pulling 

Thankfully, once they made it to the airport, the rest of their traveling went smoothly. They made it through security without any problems, their flight left on time, and Cassian even got to take a nap in first class, all while he was texting Nesta about how nice it was to have real legroom. By the time they touched down in Vegas and made it to their hotel, Cassian was more than ready to walk around and see all that Vegas had to offer. 

Rhys had gotten them some super fancy suite that had a loft and room for everyone to have their own bed, and Cassian could hardly believe the view when they got upstairs. They were so high up that all of Vegas was spread out below them, and Cassian couldn’t stop gaping at how expensive everything must have been. 

“Rhys—” Cassian tried to thank him once Rhys had emerged from putting his stuff away, but he only waved Cassian off. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys replied. “Come on, we have reservations in an hour.”

Cassian obliged and went to get changed, the four of them eventually making their way downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant. The food was amazing and the service was impeccable, and by the time they made it back upstairs, Cassian’s stomach was pleasantly full and was more than ready to pass out. 

“You’re getting an hour, and then we’re going back downstairs,” Azriel told him, waggling his phone at Cassian to show him the timer. “Chop chop.”

“Fine,” Cassian huffed. Once he reached his bed, he kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear before flopping on top of the comforter. “Good night.”

When Lucien came to shake him awake, Cassian was abruptly pulled out of his dream and nearly rolled off the bed. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Fuck off,” Cassian replied good-naturedly. 

Lucien just laughed and left him to get dressed, and once Cassian was presentable, he left the warmth of his bed to find Rhys pouring out a round of shots. 

“Look who’s finally back to the land of the living,” Rhys said as he put the cap back on. “Nice of you to join us, lover boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian said back, flipping him off. “What are we drinking?”

“Tequila,” Azriel answered. He pushed everyone’s shots toward them before moving a little bowl of limes to where the glasses had just been. “If you want one.”

Cassian took one and turned toward Rhys expectantly, since he tended to lead their toasts. His brother was already holding his little shot glass up in the air and waited for the rest of them to follow suit before saying, “To Cassian, who I still can’t believe managed to convince Nesta Archeron to let him follow her around for the rest of their lives. Salud.”

“Trust me, I can’t believe it either,” Cassian joked once he’d tossed back his shot and sucked down on his lime. He’d hardly believed it when she’d said yes to a date, let alone to spending the rest of their lives together, but he wasn’t about to question any of it. “Hit me again.”

By the time they all made it downstairs, they were three shots down and ready for more. Cassian had never really been much of a gambler, but it was cool to see so many different games spread out across the casino floor. There were slot machines and card tables and people cheering or booing depending on how things were going, and Cassian was feeling just enough of a buzz for it to all be exciting. 

Of course, it didn’t take long for the buzz to turn into being full-on drunk. Lucien got him one of those enormous daiquiris while Azriel showed him how to use the slot machines, and Cassian felt like a kid in a candy store. He wanted to try everything at least once no matter how much money he won or lost, and his friends were more than willing to encourage him. There were also plenty of women willing to help him out, but Cassian was far too quick to mention Nesta for any of them to get too close. 

“You want another one?” Azriel asked once Cassian hit the bottom of his daiquiri. It was so loud inside the casino that it was almost hard to hear him. 

“Yeeeeeeeah,” Cassian answered, grinning widely for no reason. Well, not for no reason. He had the greatest friends in the world. “I love you so much, man.”

“Likewise,” Azriel replied. He looked only a little alarmed when Cassian leaned over and threw his arm around him. 

“Nooooo,” Cassian whined. “You gotta say it back. Stop being so repressed. And depressed.”

“Yeah, Az,” Rhys chimed in, laughing. “Tell the man you love him, for God’s sake. It’s not healthy to keep everything inside.”

“He knows that I care about him,” Azriel responded with a heavy sigh. 

“Just say it,” Lucien told him. “He’s not gonna let it go until you do.”

“Fine.” Azriel turned to Cassian and awkwardly patted the side of his face. “I love you too, Cassian. Now can you please let go of me?”

“Yes,” Cassian replied with a big grin. “You’re the best.”

Azriel patted him again before extracting himself from Cassian’s grip, muttering about how he preferred sober Cassian before he and Lucien headed off to the bar. 

“You’re a mess,” Rhys told Cassian fondly. 

“I’m your mess,” Cassian replied just as happily. “Well. Mostly Nesta’s mess now.”

“And isn’t that something,” Rhys said, chuckling. He let Cassian lead him over to another slot machine and made a disappointed noise when he didn’t win. “Let me try.”

Halfway through the game, Rhys frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Cassian saw Feyre’s photo lighting up the screen and he couldn’t help but pout. He wished Nesta would call him. 

“I’m gonna talk to Feyre for a few minutes,” Rhys said, leaning over to poke his finger into Cassian’s chest. “ You better stay right here. Do you hear me?”

“Yup,” Cassian said back. “Stay right here. Got it.”

Naturally, the moment Rhys walked away to call Feyre, Cassian couldn’t help but wander a little too. He didn’t go far, he just wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t as loud as their corner of the casino was, but that was basically impossible. So he just ended up at one of the smaller bars, sighing as he fiddled with his phone and wished Nesta’s photo would show up on his screen.   

Cassian wished Nesta was here. He’d wanted her here with him the entire time, of course, but he was really feeling her absence now. 

Maybe he should call her. 

Yeah. Yeah. He really wanted to hear her voice, and tell her how much he loved her in case she forgot, which she definitely wouldn’t, but it never hurt. Just in case. And if she wouldn’t call him, then he could always call her to remind her. The perfect compromise.

He dialed her number from memory just because he could, and pressed the phone to his ear while the line rang. He hoped she picked up because he really missed her and wanted to talk to her about Vegas and hear her laugh. God, she had the best laugh. The best everything, really. She was so perfect it was almost too much to handle. But he could manage. For her, he’d do anything. 

Nesta didn’t answer, which — Cassian was not going to cry about it. He was not. She was having a good time with her friends, and between the time difference and her being on a well-deserved girls' trip, no way she was picking up the phone right now. 

Still. He could be a little sad about it. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Nesta Archeron,” came the start of her very professional voicemail. “I’m not available right now, but please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

“After the tone, please record your message,” the automated voice told him. Cassian blinked away the not-tears in his eyes as he waited for it to finish. “When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

“Heeeeeeey, sweetheart,” Cassian began once he heard the beep. “Nes. Nesta. Babe. I don’t wanna be annoying or anything. But. I miss you. So, so much. I know it hasn’t even been a day but I wish you were here. I lost all the money Rhys gave me and I wanted to buy you something good but you’re not even here to make me feel better and I hate it.”

Wait. Fuck. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better. 

“Not that that’s your responsibility because I am a grown man.” He made sure to stress those last two words so she knew he was being serious. “I just. I’m having fun, but I know I’d have a lot more fun if you were here too.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Not that I’m not having fun. I hope you’re having fun. You work so fucking hard and you never do nice things for yourself even though you deserve it. You deserve all the nice things because you are the best fucking person I know.”

God, he was so drunk. Nesta was definitely going to laugh at him about this later, but then she’d kiss him and it would all be worth the embarrassment. 

“I just love you so much,” Cassian said, a distressing sniffle making its way out of his nose before he pulled himself together. “Okay. Okay. I’m okay. I’ll see you when you get back. I love you, sweetheart. Okay. Bye.”

Cassian forced himself to hang up and then released a heavy sigh, putting his head in his hands for a few moments to collect himself. 

“You alright, man?” someone asked. 

Cassian pulled his head out of his hands to see the bartender giving him a semi-worried look. “Yeah. I just really miss my fiancée.”

“Bachelor weekend?” the bartender asked with a sigh. At Cassian’s nod, he added, “You should be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” Cassian insisted. “I just. Really miss her.”

The guy’s name tag read Kallon, and he looked distinctly unimpressed. “Aren’t you going to see her in a few days?”

“Yeah,” Cassian answered slowly. “So?”

“So?” Kallon repeated. “So? So you’ll see her in a few days, man. You gotta get it together.”

“I’m trying,” Cassian told him. 

“Maybe you could order a drink and that would make you feel better,” Kallon suggested pointedly. “Or maybe you could go mope upstairs in your room?”

“Trust me, you’d be moping too if you had a fiancée like mine and she wasn’t here,” Cassian promised. 

“Oh yeah?” Kallon replied, sounding extremely skeptical. “Sure, buddy.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are, man.”

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“You really don’t need to do that.”

“No, I think I do.” Cassian fumbled with his phone before pulling up some of their engagement photos, his heart squeezing all over again at how gorgeous Nesta looked in them. “Here.”

“Huh,” Kallon said, surprised. “Would you look at that.”

“See?” Cassian said back smugly. He accepted his phone and slid it into his pocket so he wouldn’t lose it. “I told you so.”

“Yeah, alright,” Kallon replied. “You can have that one. She’s beautiful. You two look great together. Now are you gonna order a drink, or are you gonna keep moping?”

Cassian was just about to pull up some more photos and keep being snarky when he felt someone’s hand roughly spin the back of his barstool around. “What the fuck — Rhys?”

“Where the fuck have you been,” Rhys hissed into his ear. 

“Right… here?” Cassian replied, confused. He hadn’t gone that far. “I just went to sit down somewhere else.”

“We have been looking for you for the last fucking half hour,” Rhys continued. “We thought we lost you!”

“How the fuck could you lose me? I’ve been here the whole time,” Cassian told him. He turned toward the bartender and made a flapping motion with his hands that he hoped got his point across. “Tell him!”

“It’s true,” Kallon replied resignedly. “He’s been here the whole time, moping about missing his fiancée and not ordering anything .”

“My gorgeous fiancée,” Cassian corrected automatically.

“Yeah, yeah, the sun shines out of Nesta’s ass, we get it,” Azriel chimed in, sounding exhausted. 

“Let’s just be grateful nobody had to tell her we lost him,” Lucien muttered. He exchanged a relieved look with Rhys and Azriel before turning his attention back to Cassian, pulling one of Cassian’s arms over his shoulder so he could bodily haul Cassian out of his seat. “Come on, lover boy. That’s enough shenanigans for one night.”

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

[arinbelle]

Gentle

A/N: Happy Cassian Appreciation Week! It has been so long since I’ve posted anything and this fic sort of came to me unexpectedly. I really miss Nessian and I super, super miss the concept of them in Illyria with Nesta going with Cassian after ACOFAS. I guess this is an AU to ACOSF, and it’s a little angsty, a little smutty, and a lot of Nessian, which of course I love and live for.

Thank you @cassianappreciationweek for putting this amazing week together. I’m so excited!!!

                                                            ~*~

Nesta was curled up on the couch, a cup of tea steaming besides her and a thick novel held in her hands which she promptly laid down once she saw him.

She didn’t say hello, or ask how he was, not that he expected her to. And apart from a quick nod of acknowledgement on her part and a grunt from him, that was it for them.

Cassian was tired. Bone-deep tired and he worried he may not have the energy to speak for the rest of the week, let alone do anything else. The rain he’d been caught in on the way home hadn’t helped his mood either. And definitely not as he’d trudged upstairs and peeled off the sodden clothes and leather that stuck to him like glue.

But a quick, heated bath restored some of his energy and he made his way back down to Nesta, still on the couch, and still reading as he towel-dried his hair.

“Good book?”

A hum. Yes.

“Did you eat?”

Another hum. Lower. It could be yes or no, he’d learned.

“Come eat with me.”

A click of her tongue. He was interrupting her reading and it was his cue to stop bothering her. So he did.

He made his way to their small kitchen, following the smell of freshly warmed up food. He opened up the pots on the stove, taking in the rice, lentils and chicken. The smell was heavenly and after surviving on stale bread and hard cheese for the past week, he was relieved to eat a hot meal that required a plate and cooking.

Nesta didn’t move away when he joined her on the empty side of the couch, nor did she prompt him to eat somewhere else. Not that there was anywhere else to go eat. It was either down here with her, or upstairs shut away in his bedroom.

He opted for company, however silent it may be.

“It’s good.” He said after getting a second serving for himself.

“Emerie’s recipe.” She flipped the page, eyes never once wavering from scanning the lines in front of her.

He finished the remainder of the meal quietly, peeking glances to the female across him, not even two feet away, every so often. She’d opted for a loose knot at the back of her head, as opposed to the tight coronet braid it was usually in. And the nightgown she had on covered her from shoulders to toes.

Last he’d seen her, the week before, she’d looked much different. Her hair had been loose, falling down her back in silky ripples. He’d wrapped his hand around the length of it once, twice, until he’d had enough to tug her head gently backwards and meet him for a kiss. His hips had snapped into her own, pounding deeper and deeper and she’d pulled away with a moan, burying her head into the pillows as he tightened his grip on her hips. The thin scrap of lace that she’d come to him wearing, a barely there nightgown, was sitting discarded besides him on the floor besides the couch. He had been too close and he would have pushed her over the edge soon enough had there not been a sharp rap on the door a few feet from them.

Nesta had quieted immediately while Cassian had stopped altogether. The knock had come again a few moments later and Cassian had flipped her over onto her back while yelling out at whoever was at the door.

A message had come from a northern kingdom in the mountains that he was needed for some sort of emergency. Cassian had discussed the details for a few minutes more while continuing to fuck Nesta slowly, covering just her mouth as she came hard around him, back arched and eyes rolling back in her head.

It wasn’t until the messenger told him goodbye and that he’d be waiting at the training barracks for him that Cassian had properly extricated himself from Nesta, and propped himself into a sitting position on the couch.

Nesta was still catching her breath besides him and the swift peek he’d gotten between her slightly spread legs, of her swollen sex, had almost tempted him to taste her one last time before he had to be off. Almost, because before he could do anything, Nesta had reached down and dressed herself in that damned gown again.

Before he could rise as well, and cool down to get rid of his hardness, Nesta had gotten on her knees between his open legs, sucking him down her throat. It hadn’t taken him very long to explode in her mouth, his hands holding her hair back while he fucked it with a frenzy. She’d taken every thrust, and swallowed his release while continuing to work her mouth around him.

Her eyes had looked up at him wickedly as her tongue had chased him from the side of pleasure to overstimulation and he had twitched against her hold.

They hadn’t shared a goodbye but Nesta had kissed him swiftly, brutally, with the taste of himself still on her tongue before walking away.

“What?,” she snapped, pulling him from his lewd thoughts.

“Nothing,” he said, scraping his dish clean. He picked up the bag he’d brought with him and made his way to the kitchen to clean up.

It was only after he’d washed his dishes and placed the leftover food in the icebox did he call out to Nesta to join him. She hadn’t moved right away but after a few breaths he’d heard a shuffle, the closing of a book and she’d soon appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“What?” Clipped. And a hint of annoyance if he’d read the rest of her posture correctly.

“Aren’t you charming? Is the book getting good? Did I interrupt an upcoming smut scene?”

He opened the white box’s packaging and Nesta took a seat opposite him from the center island.

“It already happened. They were going at it again.”

“How refreshing,” he chuckled with a wink. Nesta rolled her eyes.

“So I know how you are about your chocolate cake, but you have to try this one. I picked it up from a bakery up north and trust me, you’ve never had anything like it before.” He placed a generous slide onto the cake plate and pushed it towards her, handing her the fork she always favored.

Nesta didn’t eat it. She only surveyed the white cream and strawberry jam in between the large cake layers with barely concealed disdain. Strange. To his knowledge, she liked strawberries fine enough. And cake was always a welcome dessert for her.

“Where is it from?”

“Erm, Miyola. It’s a small town between these two hills in the northern Steppes. I know the baker there. I haven't had a chance to go in a while but I was nearby for the work I was doing with that Illyrian king, so I decided to drop by on the way home.”

She picked up her fork, spearing the center of the cake, but still not eating it.

“This baker is your…friend.”

She stated it but Cassian heard the question in her voice.

“Yes,” he answered, confused. A sort of friend that he’d known for a couple decades. Nothing like Azriel or Rhys, which were more family than friends at this point. But still, a good friend who made great pastries. And always gave him some extra for free when he left.

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Just friends? It’s a very nice cake.”

“Yes,” he answered again, irritation beginning to spike in him. Gods but he was tired.

Nesta reached down to her lap before procuring a small piece of paper, all but throwing it at him.

“It fell from your bag when you came home.”

Cassian read it in silence, quickly realizing what Nesta was probably thinking.

“It’s not…”

“She doesn’t seem to be very set on being just friends, don’t you think?”

Nesta’s glare was murderous.

Layla, the baker he’d met a century ago had been a fun, heated tryst that had quickly fizzled out. Or so he’d thought. And when he had dropped by this past week, his thoughts of their past nights had been a fleeting memory. Perhaps he should have explained the cake was for Nesta, his…

Well she wasn't really his anything. Not between them or amongst the rest of the world. She’d made that much clear the first time they’d slept together. A very formidable  line had been drawn, by her, making it known to him that it was just sex. Just for fun. And only while she was staying with him in Illyria. That it had nothing to do with romance, or care, or anything outside of base lust and desire. Which he could understand if it was any other female besides Nesta. If it had been any other female, he would have gladly accepted the agreement, and while he still had, a large part of him had felt empty at the thought. That it was all they would ever be. So for her to question this situation, question them when there really wasn’t a them - well it clawed at some already fraying part of him.

“Is that a problem?” He couldn’t help the snap in his words, the teeth he had to keep himself from baring.

If she wanted to play games, he could too. Nesta didn’t expect that and her spine stiffened, practically begging her to fight back. Bite back even. But he knew she wouldn’t answer truthfully. Because to do so would mean admitting that this thing between them was something real, something more than what she was lying to herself about. And the best thing she always did was run from the truth.

“Of course not. Why should I have a problem who you invite to your bed? I was just curious since you said- no, you lied, about who she was.”

“I didn’t-,” Cassian caught himself, taking in a ragged breath. So that’s what they would do tonight. Fight. He was in no mood for it.

“She’s a friend. I didn’t lie about it. And even if she wasn't, why do you care?”

Her spine went ramrod straight and she took in a quick breath, eyes blazing with simmering fury.

“I don’t,” came her strained reply.

Sure.

“So eat the cake.”

She waved her hand, ignoring him. “I don’t care. I don’t control you. I’m not stopping you from whatever you want with her. If you’d like to even bring her here and fuck her, why should I care?” Nesta got up, getting shriller and shriller with each passing word. “I don’t care one bit Cassian. Don’t stop on my account. While you’re at it, why not become reacquainted with all of your old friends? Females just seem to throw themselves at you left and right, don’t they?”

“They do, actually,” Cassian retorted. “I didn’t think you’d give a shit though. You don't about anything else.”

Nesta seemed to startle at his sudden outburst, but she quickly recovered.

“Well how great that’ll be then. You can go to one of them now and stop panting after me.”

“I wasn’t aware you were so miserable,” he deadpanned.

She smirked, crooning. “Males’ egos are truly a thing of wonder. You aren’t doing anything for me that I can’t do for myself with my own hand.”

Cassian laughed darkly. “Let’s not get into all the things I do to you. With my hands or otherwise.”

A faint blush stained her cheeks at that but she didn’t back down. She opened her mouth, readying for her next attack, but Cassian interrupted it.

He tried softer this time. “Don’t be cruel, it doesn't suit you.”

“Doesn’t it?,” she snapped.

Cassian shrugged then. “Jealousy definitely doesn’t. You would know if there were any other females around me in that way. You’d smell it on me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not jealous. I already told you, I don’t-.”

“Yes I got it the first time. You don’t care. Are you done now?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian had to laugh at that. “Are you done, Nesta? Have you had enough?”

Eyes narrowed in contempt, arms crossed over her chest in lovely defiance, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

Cassian took a bite of the cake. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. And you don’t quit. I’d admire it if I wasn’t so tired. And I’d encourage it if I wasn’t already in a piss poor mood. Gods know I don’t need any excitement for a while.”

She blinked, unmoving, but quiet. So he continued, finishing up his dessert.

“But we do this, don’t we? You pick a fight with something that isn’t really an issue. I say something, you say something worse, I say something back, you get upset. You cry and then I’m the asshole that has to apologize for something you started. Or did I miss something?”

She knew he was right, but Nesta wouldn’t say it. Nesta wouldn’t say a lot of things. So instead he reached across the table, and pushed her plate further towards her.

“Eat the damn cake, Nesta. I brought it for you.”

She did. With just enough contempt that she might have scratched the plate with her fork from her first bite. But she did it. And eventually she had a second slice too, Cassian noted with a small feeling of victory.

“What’s her name?”

Gods save him, not this again.

“Nesta, I don’t-.”

She held up a hand, almost placating him. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I just wanted to know her name.”

Cassian hesitated for a moment. “Layla.”

“Pretty,” she noted quietly, moving the fork around her empty plate.

“Yes,” he murmured, cleaning up, and trying his best not to stare too much at Nesta, in case she spooked and ran from him again.

“Is she? Pretty, I mean.” Nesta’s voice was soft and too fragile for his liking. She wouldn’t look at him as she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted slowly. And she was. He couldn’t deny it. And even if he lied, Nesta would know. She always knew when he lied.

Nesta left then.

He argued with himself the entire way up the stairs and to her door. To talk to her, soothe her worries, and reassure her that there was no one else for him. But to do that would mean acknowledging that there was something here of enough substance where another female might present a problem.

Nesta would never accept that.

Still he knocked, and even though she didn’t and wouldn’t respond, he let himself in.

“New book?”

She didn’t look up once, sprawled out on her stomach, with her feet to the head of the bed.

“Old book. Rereading it.”

At least she spoke to him. He supposed they were no longer in that rough place anymore where he would have to worry about her stoic silence. She rarely iced him out since staying with him. Rarely felt the need to resort to it, even with some of their worst fights. This, he could work with.

He sat down beside her, trying his best, and failing, to keep the peace.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally said after a pregnant pause.

She clicked her tongue. “Is that why you’re here? I don’t need that from you. I’ve been told I had a face fit to marry a king since I was eight. This isn’t news for me.”

Of course it wasn’t. People had to be blind to not know that Nesta was stunning. Becoming Fae had only heightened it to being otherwordly.

“Well, then you should know that just because Layla-.” She clicked her tongue, shutting him up. She didn’t want to talk about this. But he couldn't leave it so cold and open. Especially not when he knew exactly what sorts of thoughts were probably racing in her head.

“Nesta,” he murmured, hoping she’d at least look at him before he threw his heart out in front of her, yet again. She had a habit of stomping the life out of it, but he prayed one last time, that maybe she wouldn’t.

She closed her book then, turning onto her back to look up at him. Her hair fanned out behind her and Cassian couldn’t resist carding through the tresses softly, gently, with so much hesitation it was a wonder he didn’t tremble too.

There was something about Nesta that terrified Cassian. Not the stone cold facade or the cutting words. He could take a hit or two to his ego, and with Nesta, it was more entertaining for him than anything else. But he had faced foes on battlefields for centuries, had killed and maimed without much thought, and never once had he encountered someone like her.

The brute strength and the efficiently cutting violence that he could easily execute with had always helped him as a soldier. As a general. And then as commander. Never had it been a weakness to deter from until he’d met Nesta.

Then, suddenly, all his largeness, all his brash, booming loudness had become dangerous. To her. For her. Gods knew she had the temper and fire inside to match his own, and to meet every shredding, stupid thing he said to her with her own poison. But it wasn’t the same and he knew it.

The fragility that she hid behind a beautiful, almost impenetrable mask scared him. As if he may one day, accidentally, shatter her irreversibly, if he wasn’t careful. So he tried again this time, trying and willing the words to form in the gentlest way possible to deal with this storm of a woman laid out in front of him.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t guard you from reality even though I’d like to. There will always be another Layla if you go looking hard enough. And knowing you, you tend to go looking for heartbreak just so you can swing first.”

Cassian didn’t miss the fact that her storm-grey eyes began to fill with tears, but he had to commend her grit in not letting them fall.

“Is it not enough if I tell you there is no one else? Not now, not for a very long time, and not anytime in the future as long as you wish it.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow, broken sound. “I never asked for your loyalty.”

“You have it anyhow.”

A stray tear leaked out and Cassian’s hand flexed automatically to reach over and wipe it away. He held himself back only for a moment, judging whether or not it would shatter this delicate moment. Another tear leaked out and Cassian gently wiped it off then. Nesta nuzzled against his hand and it took everything in him to not pull her towards him.

“I never asked anything of you,” she whispered into the heart of his palm. 

“I know.”

“So why do you keep giving?”

Cassian smoothed her hair, stroking her cheek. “Because I can. Because I want to. I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

She froze as he leaned down over her, before softening against him.

“I suppose so,” she whispered against his lips.

Cassian kissed her gently, even though his soul had been wholly consumed by her. Perhaps it would never be enough time in this world for him to show her how much she mattered to him, how much he cared. But for now, this would do.

~*~

Taglist:  @endlessdaydream @sleeping-and-books @purpleglitterypinecone   @sv0430   @gwynberdara @karmasworlds @bookstantrash   @duskandstarlight  @d0riansgray @perseusannabeth@vasudharaghavan   @sayosdreams   @arielle-reads   @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @nahthanks  @oversizedbats  @swankii-art-teacher  @inardour  @rowaelinismyotp  @starryblueskies7   @vidalinav @nessiantrashh   @imagine-me  @iwastoowildinthe70s @lady-winter-sunrise @vanzetanze @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @mis-lil-red @nestaisgod  @booksstorm @loosingdreams @champanheandluxxury  @18moneytoad @starksravings @tinasbookishlife @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nesquik-arccheron @readingwitches @that-golden-lyre @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @story-scribbler @readingismyonlyhobby @burningsnowleopard @pyxxie 

[cassianappreciationweek]

Announcing Cassian Appreciation Week 2023!

Join us in celebrating our favorite bat boy from July 30 through August 5, 2023!

Welcome to Cassian Appreciation Week 2023! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Cassian is welcome! 

Please tag @cassianappreciationweek and use the tag #CassianAppreciationWeek2023 so we can see all your lovely posts!

This year’s prompts are as follows:

Day One: Brother ⚔︎ Cassian has a unique bond with Rhys and Azriel, but he's always ready to slip into the big brother role with anyone who needs it. How do you see him as a brother?

Day Two: Gentle ⚔︎ When it comes to those he cares about, we all know Cassian has a big heart (and big hands). How do you think he shows his gentle nature to those around him?

Day Three: Illyrian ⚔︎ Cassian's love of his homeland is well-documented throughout the series. How do you see him celebrating his culture?

Day Four: Lover ⚔︎ Cassian has had many opportunities for love across Prythain — who do you ship him with? Nesta? Azriel? Eris? Lucien? Any and all ships are welcome!

Day Five: Lion Hearted ⚔︎ Although we don’t know Cassian’s official birthday, we know how much Fire Sign Energy he gives off. How do you see Cassian celebrating his birthday and channeling his inner Leo?

Day Six: Lord of Bloodshed ⚔︎ Cassian is one of the most powerful Illyrians in history. How do you think he earns — and continues to earn — his unofficial title?

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

Thank you to @talkfantasytome, @dustjacketmusings, @c-e-d-dreamer, @isterofimias, @melphss, @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk, and others for helping to plan this event!

We can't wait to see what you create!

[ofduskanddreams]

All That Matters

For @c-e-d-dreamer and @cassianappreciationweek day 4. The request: Nessian. Any setting of your choosing, but how about something soft and sweet?

Nessian ✦ Rated M ✦ 867 words ✦ on AO3

CW: CANON-TYPICAL DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE

They sat on the river bank until the sun was fat and low in the sky, its orange fingers slinking through the willow boughs.

There was only the steady rise and fall of Cassian’s chest at her back, the warmth of him bleeding into her veins, and the I-love-you-s murmured back and forth at the same volume as the Sidra’s soft rush.

“Are you awake?” he whispered against her temple after a longer stretch of silence.

“For now,” Nesta replied, shifting to look at him. “But I’m not sure for how much longer.”

The reality of the last two days was finally settling into her bones now that the adrenaline had evaporated. The Rite, Briallyn, Nyx’s birth… exhaustion was lead seeping into her limbs and weighing them down, trying to draw her wholly into its grasp.

“Let’s go home then.” Cassian stood, then scooped her off the grass and into his arms. He launched them skyward and Nesta closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, the world had stilled again and Cassian was saying something. “... know you’re tired, but I need you to try to eat something first.”

He sounded so gentle, so worried about her, and Nesta smiled as she opened her eyes. This male—capable of a ferocity to rival the gods, yet wearing his heart for all to see… “I love you,” Nesta told him again, just because she could and it was decadent.

The house delivered them enough food for a small army, and Nesta managed to put away a plate and a half before her yawns began arriving at a frequency that made eating inconvenient.

Cassian noticed, of course he did. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can sleep.”

Nesta considered protesting, a testament to the extent of her exhaustion considering that she hadn’t bathed in over a week, but knew she would regret going to bed layered in the residue of the Rite.

Cassian ran the bath as she sat on the edge of the counter and watched him move about the room. He helped her out of her clothes, his touch mindful of the bruises still littering her skin. He joined her in the bath, carefully maneuvering her tired limbs until she was leaning back against him again. 

With a soft cloth, he worked honey-scented soap into a lather and began to clean away the grime. It was all Nesta could do to keep from dozing off.

But her closing eyelids snapped open when her mate took a shuddering breath that turned into a bitten off sob. Nesta turned around so quickly that she sent water careering over the sides.

“I could have killed you,” Cassian whispered in horror, looking down at his hands—they were trembling. 

She took his shaking fingers in her own and squeezed. “You didn’t. You fought her.” Nesta shuddered as she remembered the sight of Cassian plunging that knife into his own chest rather than hers.

He shook his head, “I wanted to hurt you, Nes. It was…” he trailed off, looking to the side and squeezing his eyes shut. 

A crystalline droplet streaked down his stubbled cheek and Nesta caught it with her thumb, coaxing him to face her.

“You weren’t yourself. That feeling wasn’t you—it was Briallyn and the Crown.”

The pain in his hazel eyes echoed through her and she drew him into her arms, holding him as tightly as she could.

“I thought…” Cassian drew a deep breath and held it, blowing it out slowly. “I thought I might never see you again. When I arrived at Emerie’s and you were missing, the smell of those males, of the drugs…” he shivered, putting his nose to her neck and taking another controlled breath. 

“I thought I might have lost you and then to see you on that mountain, to be a puppet, forced to watch myself try to harm you without knowing if I could resist it… gods, Nesta, I was so scared.”

He lost his grip on the rhythm of his lungs, breaths turning shallow again. 

“You did resist her, Cassian. That’s the only thing that matters.” Nesta traced patterns on his back and around the base of his wings as she held him. 

The house kept the water at a steady temperature even as their fingers wrinkled. Eventually, the tide of emotion Cassian had clearly been holding back receded. They took turns helping each other wash. 

A tired yet comfortable silence settled between them as they climbed out of the bath, hastily dried off, and then collapsed into her bed. 

In the darkness, her mouth found Cassian’s, and she kissed him, pouring everything she felt into the touch: relief, gratitude, and more love than Nesta had ever imagined herself to be capable of. 

Her friends and family were safe and healthy. She had her mate, and her home. There were many unresolved problems, sure, but they would still be there in the morning. 

All Nesta cared about now was the steady beat of Cassian’s heart beneath her ear. His even breaths filled the quiet, starlit room and Nesta’s lungs slowed their pace to match as she finally allowed reality to drift as dreamless sleep embraced her. 

✦ ✦ ✦

tagging: @damedechance @itsthedoodle @moodymelanist @areyoudreaminof @octobers-veryown @krem-does-stuff @iftheshoef1tz @moonpatroclus @panicatthenightcourt @thelovelymadone @talons-and-teeth

[azsazz]

ACOTAR Appreciation Weeks

I found most of the weeks! If I'm missing any lmk and I'll update! TY! 💙 Also, idk if these are reoccurring but it's what I found.

SJM Romance Week: Feb 8-14 (@sjmromanceweek)

Gwynriel Week: Mar 10-23 (@gwynrielweeksofficial)

Feyre Week: Mar 18-24 (@feyreweekofficial)

Starfall Week: Mar 19-25 (@starfallweek)

Poly!ACOTAR Week: Apr 7-14 (@polyacotarweek)

Tamlin Week: Apr 14-20 (@tamlinweek)

Nesta Week: Apr 23-29 (@nestaarcheronweek)

Azris Week: Jun 4-10 (@azrisweek) (2024 dates TBD)

Gwyn Week: Jun 11-17 (@gwynweekofficial)

Elucien Week: July 9-15 (@elucienweekofficial)

Archeron Sisters Week: Jul 16-22 (@archeronsistersweekofficial)

Cassian Week: Jul 30-Aug 5 (@cassianappreciationweek)

Mor Week: Aug 6-12 (@morweekofficial)

Valkyrie Week: Aug 14-23 (@officialvalkyrieweek)

Feysand Week: Aug 21-27 (@officialfeysandweek2023)

Neris Week: Aug 28-Sep 3/Aug 26-Sep 1 (@nerisweek)

Elain Week: Sep 3-9 (@elainappreciationweek)

Nessian Week: Sep 10-16 (@nessianweek)

Eris Week: Sep 17-23 (@erisweekofficial)

Rhysand Week: Sep 24-30 (@officialrhysandweek)

Lucien Week: Oct 8-14 (@lucienweekofficial)

Azriel Week: Nov 5-11 (@azrielappreciationweek)

Emerie week: Nov 12-18 (@emerieweekofficial)

[c-e-d-dreamer]

“Careful, Nes,” Cassian taunts, catching her wrists and tugging her closer still while he dips his head down toward her. “Is that any way to speak to your soon-to-be husband?”

— But I'm Only Looking At You

If you didn't already think that @krem-does-stuff is one of the best things to happen to this fandom, I hope you do now that she's blessed us with this god among men! I said how about Regency Cassian for a commission, and she said alright bet, and came back with the hottest man I've ever seen. Do you see his big hands? His hair? His slutty little open shirt? It's a very happy @cassianappreciationweek indeed! 🥵

[writtenonreceipts]

@cassianappreciationweek thanks for hosting this event!  This is the only thing I have prepared for the week.

We are keeping with a mini tradition I’ve found I love with character/ship weeks--baby fics. Enjoy.

no tag list, it’s pretty short...

Cassian Week Day Two: Yvette

The babe made a small noise akin to a newborn fawn. Something soft and mewling.  Something new and fragile.

"Alright little one," Cassian murmured. He brushed a finger over her smooth, rosy cheek. "You're alright."

She gave a half-hearted yawn and wiggled in his grasp. Barely more than five hours old and the babe had already exhausted herself. 

She only had a dark tuft of hair on her head that Cassian hoped would lighten to the burnished gold over her mother.  Her eyes too were darker than his.  Maybe they would lighten too.  Lighten to that steel gaze of silver fire.  Just like her mother.

“You’re going to be so loved, you know that?” he said.  He adjusted the blanket wrapped around the babe so it was snug around her.  She was so small he could keep her balanced with just one arm, her head fitting almost perfectly in his hand.  “You’re mama’s been waiting so long to meet you.”

Scrunching her nose, the babe blinked open her eyes.  Cassian lifted his daughter up so she was eye level.  She squirmed as tears began to well in her eyes and then, too soon, she elicited a sharp cry.

“Hey, hey,” Cassian crooned.  He tucked her against his chest, keeping her tight and warm.  “We’ve gotta let mama rest.  She worked hard to get you here, you know.”

Through the blankets, Cassian could feel the small shudder of wings.  It had been easy to guess that Yvette would be born with wings.  After the events with Nyx and everything that followed with Nesta’s magic--both of their fears had remained.  It was impossible not to worry even with the comfort of knowing what the magic had granted them too.

Cassian eased Yvette against him so he could run a gentle hand along her back, soft and sure.  The babe whimpered again but not as furious.

“I’ve got you,” Cassian said.  He pressed a kiss to Yvette’s forehead, marveling at the smooth skin.

Here he was: a battleworn bastard with too many scars to count and holding a baby.  His baby.  When all his life he’d never thought he would have a mate, let alone a child.  And here she was safe and sound in his arms.

“I’ve got you sweet girl.”

Slowly, Yvette eased back to sleep.  She let out a little hiccup and burrowed against him.  Cassian knew she would need to feed soon, but Nesta was still asleep and he certainly didn’t want to wake her, not yet.

He glanced over his shoulder where Nesta was still sprawled on the bed. Thankfully it didn’t look as though Yvette’s fussing disturbed her.  Good.  He wanted Nesta to rest.  She’d been on bedrest the last three weeks of the pregnancy and the labor had been long and arduous.  But Nesta, full of that strength and power that Cassian so admired her for, had endured.

Cassian strode out onto the balcony attached to their room and overlooked the city.  It was quickly approaching dawn and pale gold and pink light scattered across the sky.  A few stars still lingered off in the distance, but they were quickly disappearing.  It was a new day full of new promises.

He dropped a kiss to Yvette’s head and stared out over his home.  He marveled at it all.  They were safe and they were together.  Just as they should be.

[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."

[dustjacketdraws]

It's cassian week somewhere.

Made for @cassianappreciationweek day 7 free day! Since I ran out of time on every other day oops

[moodymelanist]

The Better To Eat You With

Happy day 4 of @cassianappreciationweek !! Shoutout to @c-e-d-dreamer for being so adamant about monster fucking, and shoutout to @perseusannabeth for making sure I got alllll the knotting stuff in there that we deserved. And I can’t forget @dustjacketmusings for her insistence about Cassian’s large, large hands. hope you all enjoy <3

Summary: 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.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Werewolf/human smut ahead!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Nesta 

“Nesta, are you sure you don’t want company?” Elain asked for the millionth time. 

“I’m sure,” Nesta replied evenly, reaching for her travel cloak and fastening it around her neck. “I’ve done this walk a thousand times, Lainey. Besides, you know she hates me the least.”

Nesta was due to visit their aunt Ripleigh today, and the older woman lived in a remote cottage hidden deep in the woods. She’d recently fallen ill, so it had fallen to Nesta to periodically bring her food and supplies over the last few weeks. Elain and Feyre had occasionally made the journey with Nesta, but their aunt clearly despised her younger sisters so much that lately Nesta had been making the journey on her own. 

“Promise you’ll stay the night with her, then,” Elain continued. Concern swam in her brown eyes as she watched Nesta pull on her shoes. “I don’t like the idea of you walking back home in the dark.”

“Alright,” Nesta agreed with a roll of her eyes. She knew the woods were technically dangerous, but she’d never had a problem with all the trips she’d made back and forth. Still, if it made Elain feel better, she’d make the promise. “I will.”

Feyre was out at the market already, so Nesta kissed Elain on the cheek before heading toward the woods. She’d made this walk so many times she could’ve done it in her sleep, her feet easily finding the familiar path between the trees, and she enjoyed the sound of the woods alive around her as she walked. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and—

“You shouldn’t be out here in the woods by yourself,” someone suddenly said from behind her. “There’s all kinds of monsters out here, you know.” 

Keep reading on AO3 here!

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

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Through the Dark (ao3)

When the ravens attack the library, Cassian suppresses every violent instinct he has in order to give Nesta what she needs. For @cassianappreciationweek day 2. (Title taken from the Hurts song The Crow)

A frozen hand takes your breath away as she leads your soul through the dark. You know that she came to break your heart but oh, when she moves you fall in love again.

It was the stuff of nightmares— the kind that had Cassian stalling, the breath torn from his throat.

He’d heard the bell ringing - a desperate peal through the city, a strangled call for aid - and he had dropped everything and took to the skies, rushing for the library beneath the House of Wind. Each ring echoed through his skull, setting his heart pounding, and he didn’t know why, couldn’t explain the dread that pooled thick in his stomach, but as he unsheathed his sword and slipped into that quiet, calm place ready for battle, Cassian felt his every nerve stand on end, every instinct bracing for something.

It was second-nature, the battle-calm that settled over him, an instinct carved into his bones. It was a low thrum, a steady beat, the sound of the bell fading as his focus sharpened, narrowed, but even though he’d entered that library ready to fight and defend, nothing in the world could have prepared Cassian for her— for the sight of her, pale and shaking. All his centuries of training failed, every lesson learned forgotten the moment Nesta stumbled from the darkness, fear carved into the planes of her face as she reached for him, her hands outstretched in a mockery of the way he’d always dreamed she’d one day reach for him.

Terror widened those silver-blue eyes, and Cassian felt it mirrored in his own veins as he lurched forwards, her fear ratcheting through his own chest as he reached her, looking her over, searching desperately for injury as his hand curled tighter around the hilt of his sword. He’d never dropped a weapon in his life, never, but—

Nesta stumbled once more, almost crumbling, and Cassian had to keep a punishing grip on that sword in his haste to get to her, to catch her before she fell. It took everything he had, and still— Nesta gasped, and the sword slipped from his hand, clattering to the stone floor as she crashed into him, sending every instinct he had into free fall. She collided with his chest, her fingers curling into his leathers, and gods— something was wrong, so wrong, and Cassian’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, even as the length of her pressed against him, her legs shaking as she sought to stay upright.

“Nesta,” Cassian bit out, and though his voice held firm, he had to work to keep it from shaking. His hands encircled her waist, the fabric of her dress whispering through his fingers as he bunched it in his palms, gripping her as tightly as he’d held his sword. She braced her weight on him, and his heart began to pound in earnest, the sword forgotten, because mother above, he’d spend so long wanting her in his arms, but not like this— never like this. Her breath caught in her throat, a broken sob as she fought for breath, and as her hand trembled against his chest, Cassian knew his grip was the only thing keeping her standing, the only thing that made her steady.

And in that quiet place inside his mind, the battle calm he knew so well…

It splintered.

It ignited.

He burned, a wave of fury coursing through him that threatened to level the entire mountain as he heard her heart trip, as he felt her shudder. He was practically vibrating with the force of it, his siphons alight and pulsing, the breath leaving him through tightly clenched teeth. One hand slipped down to her hip, pulling her closer, and he almost snarled, almost growled because—

He couldn’t bear it.

Her fear, the way her heart beat against her ribs so hard he could hear it, like the rapid fluttering of a bird’s wings. He couldn’t stand it.

But Nesta drew in a deep breath, trying to form words, and somehow Cassian reeled in that rage, that terrible, terrifying fury. Because she needed him calm— needed him to be able to take a fucking breath and help her.

“Nes,” he said again, his voice a shade softer even as he urged her to tell him what was wrong. She only shook her head, still trying to find her voice, and though only a handful of seconds had passed since she had emerged from the darkness, it felt like hours. Felt like days.

Cassian knew then that he was going to slaughter whoever - or whatever - was at the bottom of those fucking stairs.

“Feyre,” Nesta managed at last, her voice strained, frantic. Her knuckles turned white where she gripped his jacket. “Hybern— Feyre’s down there— I—“

A chill skirted his spine, and slowly, heartbreakingly slowly, Cassian placed a hand atop hers and uncurled her fingers from where they tangled in his leathers. All he’d thought about for months was how one day he wanted Nesta to wind her hands in his clothes, and yet here he was, pulling back. But there was no time to waste, not if Feyre was down there in the darkness, but even as Cassian knew he ought to be racing down to the lowest levels, he couldn’t make his legs move. He couldn’t leave yet— couldn’t turn from her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Nesta looked behind her, at the darkness that cloaked the lower levels of the library.

“Nesta,” Cassian pushed, not letting an ounce of panic leak into his tone. He felt it though— gods, he felt it. Usually so level headed, he felt panic as he looked at her, a feral kind of urgency that had him wanting to bolt down into the darkness. Not to save Feyre. No— Rhys would fucking murder him if he found out, but no. Cassian’s urgency didn’t come from a desire to protect his High Lady. It came from a ruthless desire for vengeance, the need to spill the blood of whoever had made Nesta Archeron tremble.

Nesta pulled back, wrapping her arms around her middle. She looked down, eyelashes brushing a bloodless cheek, and she looked so fucking vulnerable that every part of Cassian’s being revolted, rioted, determined to exact a brutal revenge on whatever had made the fiercest woman he’d ever met so listless. Her shoulders curved, her lips were pressed tight together, and Cassian almost roared, the sight of her so subdued so abhorrent that he already knew it would haunt him. His lip curled, cold and unforgiving violence pulsing through his veins as—

Nesta shivered, the breath she took rattling in her throat.

And suddenly Cassian felt all of that terrifying urgency bleed away, replaced by a different need altogether now, one far less violent but no less vital. He softened, swallowing and burying every ounce of rage as gently, so gently, he curled a finger beneath her chin and urged her face up.

“Nes?” he asked, his tone softer, quiet. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, her sharp tongue buried beneath some kind of depthless terror, and as she turned her face to the winding stairs, to the gaping darkness that swallowed the bottom levels of the library, Cassian’s hand shot out, his palm catching her cheek, turning her back towards him, back to the light.

“Eyes on me sweetheart,” he murmured, holding her face between his palms. Her eyes met his, and for the first time Cassian felt like he could breathe, like he’d been suffocating all along, all these years, and now, only now, could he fill his lungs, only when his hazel met her silver blue. It was something fundamental, something elemental, and gods, as he scanned her face he felt something inside pull tight, something fall into place.

“That’s it,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone as her eyes remained fixed to his. He heard her heartbeat start to slow, his own beating in time as the rapid rising of her chest began to ease at last. “That’s it.”

He didn’t let her look behind, didn’t let her attention drift. His world suddenly seemed to centre on her, and it didn’t matter what was happening at the bottom of those stairs, didn’t matter what would happen in the moments and the seconds beyond this, beyond his next few heartbeats. All that mattered was this, her eyes on him, her hand wrapped around his wrist as his palm lay flush against her cheek, her heart starting to slow as he brought her down from the peak of her panic.

“Feyre,” she whispered after a moment that felt like forever.

Cassian nodded, his hand falling from her cheek as her heartbeat evened out, her shallow breathing growing deeper.

Feyre— right.

He should get to Feyre.

He bent to pick up his discarded sword, swallowing thickly as his hand closed on the hilt.

“Rhys is already on his way,” he said, and though he knew he should leave, should be racing for his High fucking Lady, Cassian was still unable to move. Instead, his palm once more found home against her cheek.

“Tell me you’re alright.”

“She needs help,” Nesta countered, her voice cracking.

Cassian felt his heart stutter, and it broke some kind of spell on him, had him coming back to his senses as reality came crashing back in. He nodded sharply, grimly, and even though only a matter of moments had passed since he’d entered the library, it felt like an eternity. He looked at her again, the woman who he’d once sworn to protect, and nodded once more.

“Stay here,” he said, brushing his thumb once more across her cheek.

He didn’t know why— why he needed to touch her. It wasn’t like she was… anything to him, not really. There was an attraction there, one that had him longing to know what her skin felt like beneath his hands, but beyond that? She only ever snapped at him, and he’d only ever tried to rile her.

But it didn’t matter. Something in him had begun to keen when it saw her anguish, some part of him that hadn’t been able to bear her pain, her terror.

“Right here, sweetheart,” he added as he turned from her, heading towards that darkness. Before he plunged down into the depths of the library, he gave her one last look, taking in those silver eyes that made him weak. They steeled him, strengthened him, and as he descended, delving deeper into the heart of the mountain, the only thing Cassian thought of was her, and when he swung his sword…

It was her name that echoed on his lips.

***

Rhys had ripped out the hearts of the king’s ravens.

The blood had pooled in the spaces between his fingers, slicking his palms, but when Rhys had asked Cassian to take Feyre home, the youngest Archeron had refused, drifting to Rhys’ side and curling her fingers on his forearm, on the still-pristine fabric of his jacket. Cassian had hesitated, but Feyre had shaken her head, remaining exactly where she was, holding onto Rhys as the blood of those who had attacked her dripped slowly to the floor.

Cassian looked at that blood, watched it stain the floor, and felt a part of himself grow frantic, raging, longing to rip out hearts too. He wanted to bloody his own hands, to feel his skin thick with the lifeblood of the ones who had tried to hurt Nesta, to take her away from him. Need had pulsed through his veins, more coldly livid and terrifyingly brutal than ever before, a fury thundering through him that was a rival only to Rhys’ murderous rage. His siphons were burning, all that killing power looking for an outlet, and if Rhys felt the need to shed blood, then fucking hell, so did Cassian.

He didn’t understand it, didn’t know why the thought of Nesta being chased through the dark had him suddenly willing to decimate this entire mountain, bring it crashing to the ground, but—

There was something else, too.

A counterweight.

Something softer but no less urgent, no less forceful. Something gentler, but still enough to bring him to his knees.

Beneath that maelstrom of rage, that chasm filled with fury, there was a pull, calling him back up to the top of those winding stairs, where Nesta waited alone. He wanted to feel the blood of the ravens on his hands, wanted to let loose every ounce of the mighty power that gathered inside, but it was no match for the part of him that needed to see her safe, needed to erase the fear from her eyes. There was a part of Nesta that needed him to check the urge too, needed him to be there beside her, and even as he stood in the deepest part of the library, he could swear that he could hear her heart, calling to him through the darkness.

So as as he heard the last of the ravens’ breaths die, he left his High Lord with his High Lady and flew back to the top, where Nesta was still waiting.

“Feyre,” Nesta said as soon as she glimpsed him. Cassian nodded.

“She’s alright. They’re gone, sweetheart,” he said, and as he stepped forward… She looked like was about to collapse. Her hands were shaking. Cassian took her fingers in his, and she looked… dainty, compared to him. “They’re gone.”

Still, she trembled, and it wasn’t just a need to spill blood that was tearing him apart now, it was a need to stop that trembling, to ease her pain. He offered her a weak smile as he wrapped his palm around hers.

“You need a drink,” he said softly, tugging lightly on her hand. “Come.”

“No,” she answered, looking over her shoulder. “Not without Feyre.”

Cassian’s face softened. “I know sweetheart,” he said gently. “She’s with Rhys, and as soon as they’re done down there, I imagine they’ll both need a drink too. Let me...” He trailed off, swallowed as he felt his heart pound. “Let me take care of you.”

She turned her face to look at him, blinking in surprise, but where he’d expected a barbed retort, some sharp words, there was nothing. Nesta looked at him, and her fingers started to tremble all over again.

Cassian’s soul ached, but she let him lead her to the doors, let him take her up the steps into the main House. He took her to the House library, set her down in a comfortable leather armchair, and asked the House for a glass of brandy. Two appeared on the low table set between the sofas.

Suddenly, he was filled with an overwhelming need to make sure she was alright. It was insistent, a straining in his chest that almost hurt, and Cassian somehow wasn’t thinking of anything but her. He wasn’t even thinking of the monster at the bottom of the library, too focused on the way he wanted to fall to his knees, to look into her eyes and beg her to tell him she was alright. But he didn’t know how to start— so he knocked back his own brandy, and asked, not for the first time, “Are you alright?”

Nesta was silent for a moment, and Cassian half thought she wasn’t going to answer, but she drained her glass, her face contorting as the burn eased down her throat. “You already asked me that.”

Cassian plucked up the bottle the House had left behind, and walked over to her to refill it. She looked up at him, and there was gratitude in those eyes, the ones that were usually so ferocious. He forced himself to smirk, even though every piece of him grieved.

“And I’m asking again,” he shrugged.

Nesta shook her head, and as she lifted the glass to her lips, Cassian thought he saw her hand tremble still. And he couldn’t help it then— he did sink to his knees, discarding his own glass as he knelt beside her. When she’d drained her second lot of brandy, he took her empty glass and placed it on the side, taking both of her hands in his once more.

It felt right somehow, her fingers against his, and he looked down at them, at the way her touch curled against his. She was shaken, he could tell, and it rocked him to his core.

“They wanted me,” she said quietly. “They came for me.”

Cassian’s hand closed around hers, his grip tight. “They can’t have you.”

There was a moment, a second of silence, and Cassian breathed in deep, the scent of her soothing his frayed nerves.

“I promised to protect you once. Do you remember?” he asked.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “How could I forget?”

He hummed a little, brushing a thumb over her knuckles.

“So they can’t have you,” he repeated, his voice firm. “Never.”

Her breath faltered, and she said nothing, only dropped her gaze to their entwined hands. Cassian wanted to wrap her in his arms, wanted to hold her until her tremors subsided, and it wasn’t lost on him that the last time he’d been down into the bottom of the library, the monster that lived down there had haunted him for months afterward— for years. He had vowed never to go down there again, and yet when he’d seen Nesta, he hadn’t even thought of the beast. He’d raced down to the bottom, and the only thing that had made the blood drain from his face was the sight of her, the only thing that made his heartbeat ratchet in fear was the sound of her voice, the way she’d gasped in terror.

He brushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind one perfectly pointed ear. His fingers lingered, sliding down her neck so softly that it was a touch that was barely there. He looked at her— really looked at her. Her face was pale, wan, and her eyes were distant, as though she were still down in the depths of that library. Cassian wanted nothing more than the bring her back up to the surface, so he let his hand drift down her arm until he could weave their fingers together. She blinked, but didn’t stop him.

“They can’t have you princess,” he said again. “As long as I’m alive, nobody will ever come near you again.”

She sniffed a little, and Cassian leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. Soft— chaste, warm. His lips brushed her skin in a kiss that was almost sweet in its innocence, but even though Nesta’s eyes slid closed, her breathing grew no steadier. It shuddered, her chest stuttering as she tried to keep herself together, but even he could see she was just a heartbeat from crumbling all over again. Cassian couldn’t care less. If she fell, he’d catch her. So he simply rested his brow against hers and nudged her cheek with the tip of his nose.

“It’s alright, you know,” he murmured, “if you want to fall apart.”

Nesta let out a sharp laugh, acerbic.

“I mean it,” he said before she could contradict him. “The first time I went down into the bottom of the library I didn’t sleep for weeks, and I swear I had nightmares for a decade after.” He pulled back a little, just enough to look into those eyes. “So it’s alright. Fall apart if you want. I’ll be here to hold you up.”

She faltered.

“Why?” she whispered, her voice so quiet it was as though she feared his answer, feared to ask the question.

Cassian shrugged. “I promised to protect you,” he said once more, hoping that if nothing else the look in his eyes might convince her, might somehow let her know how much of him burned for her. “I meant it, Nes.”

She shivered, like his words had hit an exposed nerve. She’d spent so long building up her walls, making them solid and strong and impenetrable, but Cassian knew what it was to suffer. Nesta had been suffering every day since she’d opened her eyes as fae, and it made something within him ache. She hid her anguish behind her sharp tongue, but he’d never been fooled— he’d seen it, seen through her every time, and as she leaned on him just a little, he brought one arm up and around her shoulders, urging her closer, silently asking her to let him take the weight, to let him hold her up just until she was strong enough to scowl again.

Cauldron fucking boil him, he’d needed to shed blood today. He had needed to slit the throats of the men who had put that fear in those mercury eyes.

But Nesta had needed him - needed this - more.

And when it came to her, there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t give, nothing he wouldn’t abandon.

As her head dropped to his shoulder and his hand cradled the back of her neck, Cassian knew there was nothing he wouldn’t face for her. Something pulled in his chest, some dim kind of bell ringing in his head as he felt himself heading somewhere so much more infinitely dangerous, but he didn’t dwell, didn’t think. All he knew was that Nesta Archeron was his to protect, and he…

He was hers.

In every way imaginable, he was hers.

[vivictory-draws]

Gym Bro Cassian (or just modern AU Cassian) for @cassianappreciationweek ft. his gray sweatpants