scatteredthoughtsproductions

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

You’re A Cowboy Like Me

A/N: Imma be real honest, I just wanted an excuse to write Cassian being hot in a cowboy hat, and I don't think anyone should fault me for that. Also, I really wanted to write a fic that uses the unofficial Cowboy Hat rules. Anywho! Enjoy! And happy Day 4 of @nessianweek :)

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It’s like driving into a Hallmark movie. Or a western. Various small shops and cafes line either side of Main Street, each with quaint looking window displays and what appear to be hand painted signs declaring their store names. The tall branches of pine trees can be seen stretching above the roofs, and mountains reaching up to the sky almost perfectly align with the road, as though you can reach the peak if you simply keep going.

“Oh, this is so cute.”

Nesta snorts softly at the comment, but when she tears her attention away from the window and toward where Gwyn sits in the driver seat, the redhead has a wide smile on her face as she leans forward over the steering wheel to peer at the town around them.

“Eyes on the road, Gwyneth.”

Gwyn shakes her head fondly, but she leans back in her seat, readjusting her hands on the wheel. They continue down the road until Gwyn’s phone directs them to turn right, taking them off Main Street and along a neighborhood road filled with row houses of pretty, painted brick. 828 is on the end, right on the corner, and Gwyn pulls the car into one of the spots right out front. They both slip out of the car, but when they knock on the front door, there’s no answer.

“She must already be at the shop,” Gwyn offers with an easy shrug of her shoulders before grabbing Nesta’s hand in hers. “Come on.”

She all but drags Nesta back toward Main Street, continuing to gush about the charm of the town. They pass chalkboard displays along the sidewalk, looping colorful letters declaring sales and specials alike. They even pass an open door and a series of small tables that Nesta fully intends to revisit at some point during this trip to find out the source of the sugary sweet and chocolate scent wafting on the breeze.

But soon they’re arriving at their intended destination: Windhaven Farmhouse Market.

A striped red awning stretches over the door, wooden flower boxes beneath the large, display windows on either side. And when they step inside the shop, rustic looking wooden shelves line almost every wall and weave through the center of the shop to create a series of aisles.

“Hey, Em!” Gwyn calls out, stepping deeper into the shop. “We’re here.”

Even as Gwyn disappears from view amongst the shelves, Nesta takes a chance to really take everything in, slowly spinning in place. There’s jars of honey and baskets of apples to her left and what appears to be gardening gloves and tools to her right. It’s certainly an odd assortment of items to be sold together, and that sentiment only seems to grow as Nesta starts to wander between the shelves, spotting hats and scarves along with a small assortment of books.

She turns around another corner, just barely stopping short before she walks straight into a man standing in the center of the aisle. She has to tilt her head up to really take him in, the man standing a whole head taller than her, but it’s not just the height he has on her. His shoulders and chest are wide, stretching the flannel fabric he’s currently wearing, and the denim of his jeans clings to the thick lines of his thighs. Even with just seeing his profile, even with the curly strands of hair that hang down to his shoulders, Nesta can see the hard cut of his jawline, the stubble along the skin there.

For a moment, her mouth goes dry watching the man reach forward for a bag of some sort of farm feed. The large span of his hands somehow make the bag look small, and with the sleeves of his flannel pushed up to his elbows, Nesta has the perfect view of the muscles in forearm flexing as he hefts the bag off the shelf and over his shoulder. She’s sure the farm feed must be heavy, but he makes it look as though it weighs nothing.

He turns at that exact moment, practically starting when he notices Nesta standing there. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t see you there.”

He has exactly the sort of drawling accent that Nesta would expect from a town like this, his voice warm and deep. It pours from his lips like a glass of whiskey, practically curling around her limbs. Those same lips curve up into an easy, cocksure smirk, bright hazel eyes drinking her in.

“You’re certainly not from around here, are you?”

Nesta scoffs, crossing her arms. “That’s a bit presumptuous.”

She settles him with her most unimpressed look, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a scowl. It’s a cool and cutting look that’s certainly sent plenty of men in the bars of Adriata turning and fleeing. But not this man. His smile only seems to grow, the greens and golds of his eyes sparking like sizzling embers.

“I think I know a city girl when I see one. What are you doing here in Windhaven?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“And what about your name? Can that be my business?”

“You wish.”

The man chuckles, the sound just as low and warm as his voice, and Nesta has to press her lips together tighter against the reaction that laugh threatens to draw out of her, straightening her spine against the shiver threatening to skitter up it. She won’t allow him to disarm her so easily, refuses to be affected by his drawl and his charm and those hazel eyes. Refuses to be affected by him.

“Nesta!” Nesta turns just in time to watch Emerie bound around the corner and into the aisle, Gwyn hot on her tail. “There you are.”

“Nesta,” the man repeats, as though he’s tasting her name, testing the weight of it on his tongue.

Nesta wants to hate how good it sounds, how his lips and his drawl curl around each syllable.

“Did you need something, Cassian?” Emerie asks, raising an eyebrow as her eyes flit back and forth between the two standing in front of her.

The man–Cassian–continues to wear that wide, teasing smile as he focuses his attention on Emerie, giving the bag of farm feed on his shoulder an almost loving tap. “Just this.” He dares to glance back toward Nesta. “For now.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the blatant flirting, the clear implication, and pointedly ignores the way Gwyn stifles a laugh behind her hand. For some reason, the reaction has Cassian looking like he’s won, like getting Nesta to roll her eyes was exactly what he intended. What he wanted. She’s not sure what to make of that.

He follows Emerie toward the shop counter, chatting easily, and when the transaction is finished, he readjusts the bag of farm feed on his shoulder. He dips his head forward in the mock salute of a hat tip, those hazel eyes never leaving Nesta’s for a moment. “Ladies. Hopefully, I’ll see you around.”

Nesta snorts softly. Only if he’s lucky.

~ * * * ~

Emerie slams the glass down against the wood, letting out a soft sigh as she pushes her hair away from her face. “What if I sold the place?”

“Would anyone buy it?” Nesta asks, swirling her own glass and the deep red liquid within.

Emerie shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe?”

“But will you regret it?” Gwyn points out, reaching forward and squeezing Emerie’s hand. “This is your father’s shop after all. And you already put so much work into it.”

“Exactly. This place was his dream. Maybe I should burn it to the ground. That will definitely have him rolling in his grave.”

Nesta grabs the wine bottle, emptying what remains into Emerie’s glass. “You know if you ever need accomplices for arson, we’re down. You can claim the insurance money.”

“And if the police question us?” Gwyn adds, her teal eyes alight with mischief as she presses a solemn hand to her chest and puts on a faux innocent voice. “We don’t know anything, officer.”

Emerie laughs, the sound bright even with the still lingering sadness tinging it, and she throws an arm around each of her friends. “I don’t know what I’d do without you bitches.”

“Probably have more wine,” Nesta answers dryly, shaking the now empty wine bottle in emphasis.

“We definitely need more wine.”

“There’s a tavern down the road!” Emerie exclaims, already stumbling up to her feet. “They’ll have wine. And shots.”

Nesta and Gwyn push to their feet as well, and all three of them go stumbling out of Windhaven Farmhouse Market and into the crisp night air. The sky above is a blanket of inky blue, and with how far the town is from the city, more stars than Nesta thinks she’s ever seen twinkle amongst it. A cool breeze seems to float down from the mountains, kissing her cheeks and tickling across her skin, and Nesta crosses her arms to help fight off the chill.

It doesn’t last long, though, Gwyn pulling one of Nesta’s arms free so she can link their elbows, doing the same to Emerie with her other arm. “Lead the way, Em.”

By the time they’re pushing through the doors of the tavern on Main Street, all three of them are breathless from laughing. They’re hit with music as soon as they step inside, some sort of country song heavy on guitar and twang and lyrics of heartbreak. Fairy lights hang in lines against the wooden slats of the ceiling, various neon beer signs covering three of the walls while a row of televisions line the fourth wall behind the bar.

It’s exactly what Nesta expects from a bar in a town like this, complete even with a large mechanical bull.

And currently atop the mechanical bull is none other than the man from the shop, Cassian.

His hair hangs in soft curls beneath his cowboy hat, the strands swaying and tickling that sharp jawline of his with his movements. He has one hand raised up by his head, but the other is curled around the leather of reins, fingers and forearms flexing almost rhythmically. His hips rock in time with the bull, thighs working and tightening beneath the fabric of his jeans to help keep his balance. And with the buttons of his flannel undone, fabric left to flutter at his sides, Nesta has the perfect view of the black lines and swirls of ink that curl across his pectorals, of the lines of his abs tensing and rolling to match the bull.

The sight is unholy.

“Nesta!”

Nesta clears her throat awkwardly, blinking rapidly and clearing her mind of the dangerous places her thoughts had begun to stray. She turns toward her friends, Gwyn’s eyebrow raised in exasperation making clear she had been saying Nesta’s name a few times. But it’s Emerie’s face twisted with that knowing smirk of hers that has Nesta rolling her eyes with a huff.

“Are we doing shots or not?”

She drags her friends toward the bartop, Emerie raising her arm in hopes of flagging down the bartender. Shouts echo up from the crowd, and Nesta turns around just in time to watch Cassian go sailing off the mechanical bull, landing against the inflatable cushions positioned in a ring around the space. He jumps back to his feet, the warm boom of his laughter reaching Nesta’s ears even over the music and distance. He flips off the operator of the mechanical bull, another dark haired man who looks more than pleased with himself based on the smirk, but that doesn’t seem to deter Cassian’s grin.

He tugs his hat from his head, dragging his fingers through his hair and pushing the curly strands off his face. The movement has his stomach stretching, drawing further emphasis to the cutting v-lines that disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. As though he can feel Nesta’s attention on him, his gaze dances over to her, but Nesta is quick to snap her head back around, focusing on the shot glass now being placed in front of her.

She doesn’t even wait for Emerie and Gwyn, quickly knocking back the clear liquid. She’s quite confident that she’s going to need it tonight.

She keeps her focus resolutely on her friends as they claim one of the high-top tables, but she can still feel Cassian’s attention on her. It scrapes across her shoulder blades, prickling the back of her neck. It’s like a caress, warm fingertips skating up her spine. And with each passing moment, it gets harder to ignore. So when it’s time, Nesta offers to get the next round of drinks, peeling away from her friends and stepping back up to the bartop.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Nesta takes a moment, allowing that slow, warm drawl to wash over her before she finally turns. Cassian has re-buttoned his flannel, but the sleeves are still rolled up to his elbows, his forearm resting casually against the bartop as he leans against it. As soon as Nesta’s gaze meets his, golden sparks flare through his hazel eyes, his lips twisting into a wide, cocksure grin. She refuses to acknowledge the answering flames simmering low in her gut.

“I enjoyed watching you fall on your face,” Nesta tells him cooly, making a big show of tilting her head and pursing her lips. “Wasn’t much of a show otherwise.”

Cassian laughs easily, not even being subtle about his attention dropping to her lips. “I’d be more than happy to give you a repeat show, then. Maybe a private show?”

“In your dreams, cowboy.”

“Is that a promise?”

Nesta rolls her eyes. This man is clearly too confident and cocky for his own good. Just because she can, she reaches forward, plucking the cowboy hat right off of his head and placing it on her own. Cassian’s expression slackens, and pride swells between Nesta’s ribs at drawing out such a reaction, at finally knocking him off his axis. She doesn’t bother biting back her own smirk as she turns back to the bar, gathering up the drinks there and sauntering back toward her friends, leaving him to watch her walk away.

“Where’d you get the hat?” Emerie asks when Nesta returns to their table.

“I stole it from Cassian,” Nesta explains, setting down their drinks and sliding back into her seat. When she looks back up again, Emerie’s brown eyes are wide, and Nesta blinks a few times in confusion. “What?”

“You took Cassian’s cowboy hat? To wear yourself?”

“He could do with being knocked down a peg or two, don’t you think?”

Emerie presses her lips together, clearly trying to hold back laughter, but not in the way Nesta is expecting. She’s all too familiar with the amusement dancing in her friend’s brown eyes, knows exactly what it means. And it’s never good for her. It has Nesta shifting in her seat, has her hackles raising as she settles Emerie with an unimpressed look of her own.

“What.”

“You can’t just go around taking cowboy hats off men like that,” Emerie offers with a laugh, leaning across the table and giving a pointed look. “Don’t you know what that means?”

Nesta huffs, crossing her arms. “Well, excuse me for not knowing Windhaven has some weird rule, apparently.”

“It’s not a Windhaven rule.”

“It’s a cowboy rule,” Gwyn jumps in to add, nodding solemnly around the straw of her drink. “Wearing his hat means you're his.”

“And taking it off him means you want to take some other attire off him,” Emerie adds with a shit eating smirk.

There’s no stopping Nesta’s incredulous laugh. “That is not a real thing.”

“Sure it is!” Gwyn continues. “Wrangled My Heart, that cowboy romance I was telling you about? It was a whole plot point.”

“That is not helping your case that this is an actual rule.”

“Trust me, Nesta. The ranch hands of Windhaven take the etiquette and rules of cowboy hats very seriously.”

Nesta scoffs at Emerie’s words, but the sound is half hearted at best. She dares to look around the tavern, too easy to spot Cassian where he’s leaning against the wall. His eyes are pinned fully on her, and even with the space between them, there’s no denying the heat in them. She quickly turns away again, but she can already feel heat creeping up her neck and threatening to spill across her cheeks.

No point putting it off.

Nesta quickly downs the rest of her drink, pushing out of her seat and away from the table. She strides over to Cassian, already removing his hat from her head as she gets closer.

“I didn’t know the rule,” Nesta explains, holding Cassian’s hat out to him.

Cassian looks down toward his hat, but he makes no move to take it. “It looked better on you anyway.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

“Trust me, Nes. There’s no one as beautiful as you.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say with the way Cassian’s grin only seems to grow. He finally takes the hat from Nesta’s hands, the tips of his fingers brushing across her skin as he does so. He steps closer to her, close enough that she can feel the heat that seems to radiate off his person, that every breath in has her chest pressing against his own. Close enough that Nesta has to tilt her chin up to hold his gaze. That she can count every green vine and golden fleck of his hazel eyes.

Her breath catches in her throat as Cassian raises his hand up above them, slow and purposeful. He settles his hat back on Nesta’s head, adjusting it until it sits how he likes.

“Much better, Nes,” Cassian tells her, tracing the backs of his fingers down her temple, her cheek, the side of her throat. “It’s important to always wear your hat straight. That’s another of the rules.”

Nesta swallows hard, trying to focus around her heart skipping in her chest. “How many rules are there?”

“More than you think.”

Cassian turns his hand, his palm pressing against her skin. The large span of it is enough to cradle her jaw and throat, and Nesta is sure that he must be able to feel the way her pulse flutters beneath his touch. His thumb drags across her bottom lip, Nesta’s lips parting with the movement. She lets her eyes fall closed, already leaning forward in anticipation, but nothing ever comes. When she snaps her eyes back open, Cassian is smirking again, and she rolls her eyes with a scowl.

“Don’t give me that look,” Cassian teases, even as he leans down enough for his nose to nearly bump against her. “You were the one who tried to give me my hat back, remember?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Nesta buries a hand in Cassian’s hair, tugging him down and finally closing that distance between them until his mouth crashes over hers. He kisses with the same sort of slow sensuality of that drawling accent of his, lips sliding against her own. He spins them around with ease, pressing Nesta back against the tavern wall. When he steps fully into her space, their bodies flush together, there’s no stifling the way Nesta moans into his mouth. She can feel every hard line of his body slotted perfectly against her own.

He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, curling and flicking at her own. When he finally breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go far, dragging his lips across her jaw and throat. He finds that spot just behind her ear, and Nesta is puddy in his arms. His teeth scrape against the skin there, and she tosses her head back with a whine.

“If you keep making sounds like that,” Cassian breathes against her ear. “I’m going to have to take you right here in front of everyone.”

“On the mechanical bull?”

Cassian chuckles, pulling back fully, his eyes heavy lidded and pupils blown wide. “Another time.”

He kisses her again, holding her jaw just the way he wants her. Nesta feels dazed in the best way, only half registering the way he grabs her hand, leading her out of the tavern and back into the night. His truck is exactly what Nesta expects, beat up and red beneath the lights pouring out from the tavern.

It’s a short drive to Cassian’s farm, and despite the way she squints out the passenger window, Nesta can’t make out much in the darkness beyond a fence line and a looming building that she’s quite confident is a barn. The truck pulls to a stop in front of a gorgeous ranch style house with a wrap around porch. She’s so busy gaping at the house, that she doesn’t even register the passenger door being pulled open, not until Cassian’s arms wrap around her body, tugging her out of his truck and over his shoulder.

“Cassian!” Nesta exclaims, banging her fist against his shoulder blades. “Put me down. What are you doing?”

Cassian doesn’t say anything, instead continuing up the front steps and inside the house. When Nesta starts to squirm too much, Cassian’s hand comes down against her ass in reprimand, Nesta letting out a quiet yelp in surprise.

“Are you kidding me? I said put me–”

Nesta doesn’t even get a chance to finish her demand before her back is hitting a soft mattress and blankets. She sits up enough to take in the room around her, clearly the master bedroom. The furnishings are simple and rustic, all dark wood and a deep red bedspread.

“Beautiful.”

Nesta snaps her attention back toward Cassian, where he stands at the bottom of the bed, kicking his boots to the side. She can feel everywhere his eyes travel over her frame, goosebumps cascading across her skin at that caress. A shiver skates up her spine in response to the flames flickering amongst the hazel, and she stretches out more comfortably against the bed, really putting on a display. Cassian groans softly.

“You haven’t even gotten me out of my clothes yet,” Nesta comments, kicking off her shoes.

“I meant the sight of you in my bed,” Cassian explains, kneeling up onto the bed. “I might keep it.”

He settles between her spread thighs, leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss. Nesta moans into his mouth as his body presses against her, his hips rocking down against her own. She cards her fingers through the dark, curly strands of his hair, using her grip to tug him closer still and deepen the kiss. Cassian’s own hands slide up beneath the hem of her dress, along her thighs, the warmth of his grip seeping into her skin.

It’s a bit awkward with the hat still poised on Nesta’s head, so she shifts enough that she can pull it free and set it aside. Cassian merely uses the opportunity to latch his lips back to her neck, each hot press of his mouth leaving an echoing heat simmering through Nesta’s veins. His teeth sink into the skin over her pulse point, and Nesta gasps, the sound quickly morphing into a moan when his tongue laves over the hurt.

She reaches for the buttons of Cassian’s flannel, but she only succeeds in undoing the first few before his fingers curl around her wrists, tugging her hands away and pinning them against the mattress by her head.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines, bucking her hips against him desperately.

“Patience is a virtue, Nes.”

He switches his grip to just one hand, using the free one to tuck his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face back toward him and kissing her again, slow and deep. Nesta melts back against the bed as his tongue slides against her own, moaning softly when his teeth nip at her bottom lip, tugging it as he pulls back. He sits back on his haunches, gaze trailing over her again.

“Flushed so pretty.” Cassian’s hands push the hem of her dress up higher until it’s bunched around her waist. “But let’s see where else I can make that pretty pink spread.”

He continues to push her dress up and up, and Nesta sits up enough that he can tug it fully off, tossing it aside. He drags two fingers over her still clothed center and Nesta whimpers at the pressure, her hips jumping in response.

“And already so wet for me? Sweetheart, we’ve barely started.”

He traces a teasing circle across her clit, leaning down and swallowing Nesta’s moan with another searing kiss. He doesn’t break the contact as his hands slip behind her back, her bra quickly joining her dress on his bedroom floor. His hands slide to her breasts, fingers kneading the flesh and thumbs toying with her nipples.

He breaks the kiss, lips tracing a path down her throat, her collarbones. Nesta tosses her head back when his mouth’s attention turns to her breast. Her skin is already so sensitive there, and the drag of the stubble along Cassian’s jawline only adds to the sensation, sends electricity ricocheting down her spine.

“Cassian,” Nesta moans when his tongue swirls around her nipple, gripping his hair and holding him there.

“Keep moaning my name like that,” Cassian murmurs softly, switching to her other breast.

Nesta is a panting, squirming mess by the time Cassian finally pulls back again, by the time he’s pressing kisses down her sternum, down her stomach. He slides further down the bed until his shoulders are cradled between her thighs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties.

“You know, it’s a bit unfair that you’re still fully dressed.”

Cassian chuckles, but he still pushes back up to his knees, fisting the back of his shirt and tugging it off. Nesta licks her lips at all that golden brown skin being on display again. The dim lighting of the bedroom cuts shadows across the lines of muscles, only seeming to add emphasis to the dark swirls of tattoos that Nesta now realizes curl all the way down to his elbows.

“Better?”

“Closer,” Nesta concedes, sitting up and reaching for the buckle of Cassian’s jeans.

But Cassian grips Nesta’s hips, tugging forward until she falls back again, splayed across the blankets. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He shifts his grip to the waistband of her panties again, pulling them down her legs and off. His fingers dig into her thighs, spreading them wide and exposing her cunt to him. The appreciative groan that tumbles past his lips goes right to Nesta’s head, and she revels in drawing out such a reaction.

“Look at this pretty cunt,” Cassian tells her, fingers flexing. “And it’s all for me.”

Cassian settles back on his stomach, Nesta’s toes curling in anticipation, at the warm breath fanning across her cunt, but then nothing ever comes. An unfortunate tendency with this man. She whines, squirming against Cassian’s hold, desperate for that pressure, for that delicious friction.

“Please… Cassian, please.”

“What a good girl, begging for it.”

Nesta keens at the praise, and then Cassian really rewards her. He presses the flat of his tongue against her, licking a long, thick stripe all the way up to her clit. He repeats the same motion, and Nesta can feel the vibrations of his answering groan, only adding to the pleasure building inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” Nesta gasps when Cassian’s tongue finds her clit and traces tantalizing circles there.

She buries a hand in his hair, nails dragging against his scalp as she holds him there, holds him right where she needs him. It draws another groan from the man between her thighs, his grip on them holding them open tight enough to bruise. Nesta tries to buck against it, tries to rock against his face, but he truly seems intent on taking his time.

Truly seems intent on undoing her and turning her into a whimpering, moaning mess.

It’s almost unfair the way he works his mouth over her and eats her out. The way he presses his tongue into her cunt and curls it. The way he sucks her clit between his lips. It’s almost unfair how attractive he looks doing it, dark curls tangled and unruly from Nesta’s fingers, hazel eyes swallowed whole by his blown pupils and pinned right on her face.

He releases his hold on one of her thighs, his hand sliding up to join his mouth. He sinks two fingers into her cunt, and Nesta arches up off the bed at the stretch. He quickly builds up a steady rhythm, pumping and curling his fingers, and Nesta’s cunt clenches and flutters around them, drawing them deeper still.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Cassian praises, pulling another long moan from Nesta’s throat. “Are you going to squeeze my cock the way you’re squeezing my fingers?”

Nesta is barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone speak one. All she can do is moan again in response. All she can do is give herself over to the familiar heat coiling tighter and tighter in her gut, the pleasure singing in her veins.

“How about you be my good girl and come all over my fingers.”

Cassian leans back down, his mouth working over her clit in time with his fingers, and Nesta can do nothing but obey. She moans Cassian’s name as her release tears through her, thighs shaking around his ears and cunt clenching down hard around his fingers. He works her through it, continues to rock his fingers and elongate her orgasm until the pleasure starts to melt into pain, and Nesta reaches her hand down, squeezing at Cassian’s wrist.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” Cassian breathes, carefully pulling his fingers free and pressing soothing kisses to the inside of her thigh. “You’re beautiful.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere, cowboy.”

Cassian’s smirk is wide and cocksure as he slides back up Nesta’s body. He wastes no time sealing their lips together again, Nesta able to taste herself on his tongue when he presses it into her mouth. She slides her hands down Cassian’s chest, over the hard muscles, through the downy hair leading her to exactly what she wants.

He doesn’t stop her this time when she reaches for the buckle of his pants, shoving the waistband down his hips. He pushes up off the bed and to his feet, pulling his jeans and his boxers the rest of the way down and stepping out of them, and Nesta’s mouth practically goes dry.

She’d known from the stretch of his jeans that his thighs were thick, but seeing them like this is another thing all together. And then there’s his cock, hanging hard between them. He’s certainly larger than any of the men Nesta has been with back in Adriata, the girth of him wide. She can already imagine how the thick head will feel sinking into her, how the veins running along the side will feel dragging against the walls of her cunt.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” Cassian asks, fisting his cock and stroking lazily.

“And what if I am?”

“You should see my view.”

Nesta smirks at his words, preening at the implication of them. She makes a big show of spreading her legs wider, tilting her hips up, to really give Cassian a view. She can hear the way his breath hitches, see the way his grip on his cock tightens, but she doesn’t stop there. She slides her fingers slowly down her chest, down her stomach, to the mess they’ve already made.

Cassian’s answering groan goes right to her head. Right to her cunt, already fluttering and desperate to be filled.

“Look at my good girl,” Cassian breathes, kneeling back up onto the bed. “Legs spread wide and ready for me.”

He reaches past her toward the bedside table, rooting around in the drawer until he pulls back with a condom between his fingers. Nesta watches through lidded eyes as he tears the wrapper open, sliding the condom on and down his cock. When he’s finished, he drags the head of his cock along her cunt, all the way to her clit, and Nesta whimpers, hips bucking up against him.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” Cassian asks, repeating the motion again. “Want to be full and stretched on my cock?”

“You have no idea,” Nesta tells him, shoving at his shoulders until he falls flat on his back on the bed. She throws one leg over his hips and settles astride him, gripping his jaw and forcing his head back enough that she can lean down and whisper in his ear, “but maybe I want to hear you beg for it.”

Cassian groans, his hands finding her hips and squeezing. “Trust me. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Nesta hums, satisfied with the answer, and sits back up. She spies where she discarded Cassian’s cowboy hat earlier, grabbing it and settling it back on her head before she starts to rock her hips, reveling in the slide of Cassian’s cock against her, the way it twitches and jumps in response to her movements.

“Mother save me, you’re a dream,” Cassian sighs, his hands sliding down her thighs and back up to her hips again.

“Didn’t I tell you compliments would get you everywhere?”

She reaches a hand down between them, gripping Cassian’s cock, reveling in the warm weight of it against her palm. She raises up onto her knees, lining his cock up and sinking down inch by slow inch. She was right about how amazing the wide girth of him would feel, already feeling keyed-up by the time she bottoms out, her cunt already clenching hard around him.

“Oh fuck,” Cassian gasps, throwing his head back. “That’s it, Nes.”

Nesta tries to respond, but all that tumbles past her lips is a low moan, especially when she dares to rock her hips, Cassian’s cock sliding against the walls of her cunt, her clit dragging across his pelvis. She settles her hands on Cassian’s chest, using it for balance as she presses up onto her knees and sinks back down again, building up a steady rhythm that has her nerve endings sparking, her blood simmering with delicious pleasure.

“Gods, look at how you take me, how your sweet cunt squeezes me.”

Nesta whimpers, picking up the pace of her movements, circling her hips every time she sinks down and trying to get Cassian’s cock to press deeper still. She feels so full of him, but the need for more still claws up her throat. Still has her chasing that high, that precipice.

“Such a good girl, riding my cock so perfect.”

“Please,” Nesta whispers, reaching one of her hands to her own chest, squeezing her breast in hopes of finding that edge she needs. “Please.”

She doesn’t know how Cassian somehow knows what she’s asking, how he knows exactly what she needs, but with a growl, he grips her hips, flipping them over again, his hat tumbling somewhere off her head and the bed. He hikes her leg up high, spreading her open completely for him as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again. Nesta cries out as he sets a brutal pace, driving into her hard and just how she likes it.

“This is what you need, isn’t it?” Cassian breathes right against Nesta’s ear. “Need my cock right where it belongs, fucking you deep and hard?”

“Yes! Don’t stop. Gods, don’t stop.”

Nesta grapples for purchase in Cassian’s hair, on his shoulders, unable to do anything but hold on. It’s almost unfair, the way he plays her body so well, the way every drag of his cock, every slam of his hips, has her melting into little more than a puddle of moans and whimpers of his name.

But she can’t find it within herself to care.

Not when her entire body feels ablaze. Not when Cassian continues to snap his hips, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with her breathy pleas and his answering groans. Not when his hand slips between their bodies, fingers finding her swollen clit.

“We’re gentlemen here in Windhaven, you know. That means ladies first.”

Cassian continues to trace tight circles across her clit in time with his thrusts, and Nesta’s unable to deny his request even if she wanted to. She arches up off the bed, clenching hard and shouting Cassian’s name as she barrels through her second orgasm of the night. She’s half aware of Cassian groaning in her ear, of the way he continues to snap his hips a few more times before he shudders above her.

He pulls out and settles beside her with a soft sigh, Nesta taking a moment to catch her breath before she rolls over onto her side to face him. She finds herself tracing his dark lashes and the way they flutter, the pink that clings beneath the golden brown of his cheeks. Finds herself stuck on the pink of his lips, the way they tug up into a smile as though he can feel her attention on him.

He turns his head toward her, Nesta getting an up close look at the bright colds and twisting greens of his hazel eyes, the way they flare and simmer as his gaze dances over her face.

“Have I told you you’re beautiful?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she pushes herself up enough that she can lean over him, Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way. She dips her head, pressing her mouth against Cassian’s in the barest brush of a kiss, reveling in the way Cassian tries to chase her lips when she pulls away again.

“Careful, cowboy. If you keep up all these compliments, you’ll end up stuck with me.”

—

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

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man: Prequel

A/N: Sometimes, family is... (checks notes)... being in a band with your brothers? That counts, right? @cassianappreciationweek Listen, I just wanted an excuse to bring back Drummer Cassian! Time to find out how Cassian and Nesta met and how Cassian got that first date 😉 If you've read the first part, there are some fun easter eggs in here like Cassian writing the song and a callback to “I can’t wait for you to be mean to me for the rest of our lives.”

Part One // Read on AO3

“I think the end of the queue is this way.”

“I can’t believe there’s already so many people here.”

Nesta allows herself to be led down the sidewalk by her linked arm with Elain, the middle Archeron following the path carved by Feyre forging ahead. As they walk, Nesta can’t help but eye the crowds around them. Elain is right, there are more people than Nesta expected, almost all of them dressed up in some way. Some have face paint scrawled across their cheeks, some have handmade signs clasped in their hands. And Nesta even spies a trio of girls dressed as cows, some sort of band inside joke that she’s clearly not privy to.

Although, she’s not really privy to anything when it comes to the band.

She still can’t believe she allowed Feyre to talk her into attending this concert in the first place. Sure, she’s always had a deep love of music, ever since she was a little girl. Something about the way a lilting melody can carve and embed itself within her very bones, about the way a harmony can flood and warm her veins, about the way a simple string of notes can somehow sing to her very soul, plucking at strings within her until only peace remains.

But she has no knowledge of what type of music she can expect to hear tonight.

And when the choices are curling up beneath a pile of blankets with a glass of wine and her latest Sellyn Drake novel or standing all night while dealing with screaming girls and songs she doesn’t even know? Well, Feyre and Elain are lucky that Nesta loves them.

“What time do the doors open?” Elain asks, drawing Nesta out of her thoughts.

“They should have already opened,” Feyre explains, trying to peer around the bodies in front of them. “Either way, we don’t have to worry. Our tickets are for one of those fancy boxes.”

“Really?”

“We could get one of those fancy boxes but not a special entrance that doesn’t require standing in line?” Nesta asks dryly.

“Alright, grumpy,” Feyre teases with a roll of her eyes. “I’m sure it’ll move quickly.”

At least, Feyre’s assumption is correct. They continue to shuffle forward and forward until the line of doors is in full view, workers making quick work of checking bags and scanning tickets. Wristbands are secured around all three sisters’ wrists, and then they’re stepping inside the venue. Upbeat music from a playlist blares through the sound system, fans excitedly rushing forward toward the general admission crowd gathering along the floor in front of the stage.

“Come on. I want to get a t-shirt,” Feyre declares, wrapping a hand around each of her sisters’ wrists and dragging them toward the large table to the right.

While she and Elain wait for Feyre to make her purchase, Nesta eyes a pair of girls also waiting to buy merch. One of the girls has a sign, looping red letters declaring, Won’t you be my Van-Daddy? The request has Nesta snorting softly to herself. She still remembers when Lucien Vanserra first hit his growth spurt, when he was all middle school gangly limbs in their kitchen while he and Feyre worked on a school project. And that nerdy boy with unruly red hair is meant to be “daddy?”

“Got it,” Feyre announces, stepping back over to them and holding her shirt up for them to see.

“Isn’t it a bit weird to have a shirt with your childhood friend’s face on it?” Nesta asks, tilting her head as she takes in the design of the front of the shirt.

“More like hilarious,” Feyre argues, folding the shirt and tossing it over her arm. “When we get up to our seats, you have to take a picture of me in it, so I can send it to Lucien.”

They make another pit stop at one of the venue bars, each ordering a drink, and then finally, they make it to their seats. Nesta has to admit, the view is pretty amazing. She steps right up to the low wall meant to act as a railing for their box, peering down at the throngs of bodies excitedly awaiting the start of the show along the floor. Her eyes trail up and to the stage, skating over the setup for the opening act. It’s simple, just a drum set and two microphone stands set in front of it, but despite the good view of the stage, Nesta can’t quite make out the white script on the front of the drums.

“Who’s the opener?” Nesta asks, turning toward where Feyre is posing with her new shirt thrown over her dress while Elain takes her photo.

“Um…” Feyre hums, taking her phone back from Elain and typing away at the screen. “Some band called the Bat Boys.”

Nesta snorts softly. “What a stupid name for a band.”

As though the Mother herself is laughing at Nesta, the lights dim as soon as she’s made the comment, an echo of cheers ringing out all around them. Three men step out and onto the stage, each of them with dark hair and dressed in all black. They take up their spots, the guitarist speaking into the microphone and to the crowd, but Nesta finds her gaze instantly drawn to the drummer.

He’s certainly larger than his bandmates, all wide shoulders and chest. The black tank he’s wearing stretches against his size and his skin, the swell of muscle of his arms and the ink swirling along the golden brown skin on full display, and those very arms and muscles flex with every swing of his arms against the drum kit as he plays the opening song of the band’s set. His hair hangs loose around his face and down to his shoulders, dark curly strands practically swaying along with the beat of the music he’s creating. And even from her vantage point, Nesta can tell he’s got a wide, cocksure smirk plastered across his face, even as he leans forward to sing into his own microphone.

“For a band with a stupid name,” Feyre leans over to shout in Nesta’s ear over the music. “They’re pretty good.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the almost smug tone of her youngest sister, but she can’t quite disagree. She finds herself tapping her foot and nodding along with each song that the Bat Boys play, humming appreciatively when they slow it down to a more stripped back song.

But when the song ends, the drummer jumps to his feet, peeling off his tank and tossing it into the crowd, showing off every hard line of muscle and every line of tattoo ink. A clamor of screams rings out from the crowd in response, making the drummer’s grin widen as he makes a big show of flexing.

“One two three four!” he shouts, banging his drum sticks together and jumping into the next song of their set, another upbeat one.

Nesta shakes her head. “What a fucking show off…”

~ * * * ~

Nesta’s ears are still ringing, an ache pressing against the balls of her feet, as she follows her sisters down the steps and out of the venue. The cool, night air is a welcome reprieve after the heat inside, and Nesta takes a deep breath, allowing it to prickle across the skin of her cheeks. She can still feel the music humming through her veins, still hear the last song the Band of Exiles played winding around her mind, her soul.

“Should we split an Uber?” Nesta turns to ask her sisters.

“Actually, Lucien sent me the bar they’ve gone to for post gig drinks,” Feyre offers with a sly smile. “He said we’re welcome to join.”

“Really?” Elain asks, the clear excitement coloring her tone leaving both sisters blinking in surprise for a moment, but Elain doesn’t say anything more. She merely turns away as though the night will hide the blush flooding her cheeks.

“Then you two go,” Nesta says. “I’d rather just go home.”

“Oh, come on, Nesta,” Feyre pouts, looping her arm through Nesta’s as if that will physically keep her from leaving. “It’s just one drink. It’s not going to kill you.”

Feyre continues to pout at Nesta, making a big show of blinking her eyes as if she’s seven years old again and that look will make Nesta give her an extra cookie for dessert. Still, it has Nesta sighing with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Fine. One drink and then I’m going home.”

“That’s the spirit! And just think of the money you’ll save on an Uber by waiting out these crowds.”

Nesta rolls her eyes again, but it doesn’t deter either of her sisters. Feyre doesn’t even bother dropping Nesta’s arm, using their linked arms to tug Nesta along the sidewalk in what she assumes is the direction of the bar. At least, it’s not a far walk. A small consolation, Nesta supposes.

The bar itself isn’t one that Nesta has ever been to before, but she can admit it’s quite nice. Pendant lights hang above the dark wood of the bartop, painting the whole space in golden light that bounces off the colorful bottles lining the shelves behind the bar. With the moody green wallpaper and the dark tiled floors, it’s as though the space has stepped directly out of an elegant speakeasy.

Unsurprisingly, there’s already a large crowd enjoying the drinks and ambience and their respective Friday nights, but Feyre leads the way up a set of stairs and to what appears to be some sort of private event space. Nesta glances around at the smaller secondary bar along the left side of the wall, the people gathered around it and the various high top tables lining the railing to the right.

“Feyre Archeron.”

Nesta turns just in time to find Lucien Vanserra now standing in front of her sisters. He’s certainly had another growth spurt since Nesta last saw him all those years ago, Lucien now standing a head above them all. He seems to have grown into his red hair too, the strands hanging around his face and framing the high cheekbones and strong jawline of his features.

“Lucien Vanserra.”

Feyre and Lucien continue to stare at one another for a moment, but then, Feyre is letting out an excited squeal, all but leaping into Lucien’s arms. He hugs her back tightly, lifting her off her feet in the process and laughing into the golden brown strands of her hair.

“Did you get shorter?” Lucien asks, setting Feyre back down on her feet.

“Fuck you,” Feyre gasps out on a laugh, punching him in the arm. “It’s not my fault you went and became a giant after going away to fancy private school. You know, I still remember when I had to defend you on the playground as kids.”

Lucien laughs easily, shaking his head. “We remember those days very differently clearly.”

Nesta clears her throat loudly, finally drawing back Feyre’s attention. “Sorry. You remember my two older sisters, Nesta and Elain.”

“Of course, I…” Lucien begins, his voice trailing off when he meets Elain’s brown eyes. “Elain.”

Elain smiles sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I really liked you and your band’s songs.”

“You did?” Lucien asks, his voice practically breathless.

“Especially that one song about losing a love, but still dancing with the ghost of them in the kitchen.”

Lucien’s smile is slow, russet eyes bright and only on Elain. “I wrote that one myself actually.”

“It just really spoke to me,” Elain tells him, stepping forward as though tugged by some invisible golden thread. “Right to my heart.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Please.”

They don’t even say anything else, don’t even bother looking back before Elain and Lucien vanish toward the bar. It takes everything within Nesta not to snort in amusement at the whole thing, at the way they’re both so clearly staring at one another with stars in their eyes. At least, one Archeron is ending their night happy.

“Is she serious?” Feyre asks, affronted. “Lucien is my friend.”

“Can I go home now?” Nesta asks in response instead.

“Only if you’re going home with me.”

The deep timbre prickles along the back of Nesta’s neck, and when she whirls around, she comes face to face with the drummer of the Bat Boys. He has that same cocksure smile that he wore up on stage, and he seemingly found a fresh black shirt to pull on, the fabric clinging just as tightly as the tank did.

Nesta had known he was large when she saw him on stage, but face to face, she realizes she still may have underestimated. This close, she realizes that his eyes are hazel, a burning maze of greens and flickering gold, that there’s a scar through his eyebrow of the right one. This close, she realizes he smells of pine and leather and that sweet scent that twists on the breeze right before it snows.

This close, she realizes he is unfairly attractive, and she just might hate him for it.

“Did you really think that line was going to work?” Nesta asks dryly.

“Can you blame me for trying? A woman as beautiful as you, I had to shoot my shot.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow, settling the drummer with a look cold enough to send any man scampering back to his table. “Compliments will get you nowhere.”

In a surprising twist, rather than cut his losses, the drummer throws his head back and laughs, the sound deep and warm. It seems to come straight from within his chest, seems to curl around Nesta’s limbs. When he meets Nesta’s gaze again, there’s a fire blazing in his eyes, a challenge, and his smirk has morphed into one of pure amusement. The reaction sparks the embers in Nesta’s own chest, but she’s quick to douse them, quick to keep her face perfectly cool and neutral.

“So it’s a no for pickup lines. A no for compliments,” the drummer notes, daring to lean in closer into Nesta’s space until she gets a lungful of pine and a crackling fire. “How about bribery then, sweetheart? Can I buy you a drink? Your choice.”

“And what if I order the most expensive drink I can get? Top shelf.”

The drummer hums as though he’s actually considering it. “Alright. But you have to chat with me until you finish the drink.”

“Deal.”

The drummer holds his hand out expectantly, and Nesta has to blink a few times at just how large his hand is. But she refuses to be fazed. Raising her chin, she slides her hand into his. His calluses slide against her palm, fingers curling around almost her entire hand and threatening to send a shiver skittering up her spine. His touch is surprisingly warm, his entire body and presence seeming to resonate heat.

Before the handshake can last too long, Nesta yanks her hand away again. She turns on her heel and strides toward the bar, heavy footfalls behind her and the gaze burning into her back informing her that the drummer is following. She leans against the dark wood of the bar top, quickly grabbing the bartender’s attention with a simple raise of her hand.

“Can I get a shot of your best, most expensive vodka? On his tab,” Nesta requests, gesturing with her head to where the drummer now leans against the bar beside her.

The drummer laughs again, an easy chuckle. “Now that’s just cheating.”

Nesta turns toward him properly, finally giving in to the smirk she’d been biting back. “Guess you better talk fast.”

“How about we start with names? I’m Cassian, and you are…?”

The bartender returns at that exact moment, setting the small shot glass full of clear liquid down in front of Nesta. She swipes it up and tosses it back. The vodka is smooth, but it still burns on the way down, mixing and coaxing the burn of satisfaction low in her gut. Slamming the now empty shot glass back on the bar top, Nesta spins around toward the door.

“Time’s up. Better luck next time.”

She keeps her chin raised high, keeps that smirk firmly in place. She revels in the prickle across her skin at that gaze she can still feel pinned to her, and if she sways her hips a bit more than she normally would, well, no one but her has to know.

~ * * * ~

When Nesta checks her phone while enjoying her morning coffee, she’s surprised to find a new follower and a new DM request on her Instagram. She clicks on the account and almost rolls her eyes at the hazel eyed, curly haired man smirking back at her in the profile photo. He’s certainly dedicated, she’ll have to give him that. She knows that she should ignore him, maybe even block him, but curiosity has her clicking back over to the DM.

@BatBoyCass Hello, Nes 😏

@LadyNesta Stalking me on Instagram? Really?

Nesta’s surprise only grows when almost instantly the three small dots appear at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Cassian is typing. Was he waiting by his phone for her response? Didn’t he have band practice or something? According to Elain, the tour was moving on to a new city today, much to her younger sister’s apparent disappointment.

@BatBoyCass Actually, your sister gave me your handle. She refused to give me your number and decided this was safer. Quite protective. Rhys was into it But that’s not important. How’s your morning going, Nes?

@LadyNesta It’s Nesta. Not Nes

@BatBoyCass Guess you should’ve stuck around last night. Could have told me that yourself. It’s too late now. Nes 😜

@LadyNesta Is this your next tactic? Bribery didn’t work so now you just plan to annoy me?

@BatBoyCass Actually, my next tactic is this

Nesta frowns down at her phone screen, at the message, but then a moment later, a photo comes through in the chat. It’s a mirror selfie, but Nesta can’t tell where it was taken from the background. Although, it’s hard to focus on anything other than the large body taking up the frame. Cassian is shirtless, black fabric draped over his shoulder presumably the remnants of his shirt.

Nesta can do nothing but stare at the hard cut of his jaw where his head is tilted to look at the phone in his hand. At each swirl and loop of black ink across the golden brown skin of his chest and arms. At every hard line of muscle that makes up his stomach. At the waistband of what looks like gray sweatpants hanging low enough that his v lines are on full display.

The whole sight is enough for Nesta’s mouth to go dry, for heat to creep up her neck and spill across her cheeks. Before she even realizes, her bottom lip has found home between her teeth, eyes tracing over the photo again and again. What would it feel like, getting her hands on that body, feeling each hard line and curve beneath her fingers? What would it feel like to have his hands on her? She still remembers just how large they were compared to her own.

“Fuck,” Nesta whispers to herself, mentally chastising herself and shaking her head of any of those sorts of thoughts. Instead, her fingers tap across the screen of her phone.

@LadyNesta What’s next? A dick pic?

@BatBoyCass That goes against Instagram’s guidelines. You’ll have to give me your actual number for that Or I’d be more than happy to give you a show in person😏

@LadyNesta You’re not even in Velaris anymore

@BatBoyCass Did you look up our tour, Nes? I’m touched 🥹

Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, setting her phone face down on the table. She goes back to finishing her coffee, but she barely lasts a minute before she’s swiping her phone back up. She refuses to let him have the last word, refuses to let him continue to believe she would ever look up his tour dates.

@LadyNesta You wish. My sister mentioned it

@BatBoyCass Don’t worry. There’s only a few weeks left of the tour. Then, I’ll be back in Velaris. Maybe we can get dinner then?

@LadyNesta Pass

@BatBoyCass How about another bargain? You have to send me a message every day, just one. Unless my irresistible charm has you wanting to send more 😉 But one message, that’s the deal. Maybe a fun fact about yourself? One every day until I’m back in Velaris. And then if you still don’t want to get dinner with me, then I’ll leave you alone

@LadyNesta Fine. Here’s my first “fun fact” about me. I’m incredibly stubborn and I hate not winning. So hope you’re prepared for the crushing disappointment of rejection

With a satisfied hum, Nesta sets her phone down for good. The man clearly needs to learn how to phrase his bargains better. One message a day. Easy. It will be the easiest thing Nesta has ever done. And in a few weeks time, this stupid drummer with his stupid chiseled body and his stupid easy smile and warm laugh and pretty hazel eyes will be out of her life for good.

But when Nesta finally dares to check her phone later that night, she finds a new message from Cassian waiting for her. He’s shared an Instagram Reel with her, and when Nesta clicks it, Jake Johnson’s voice blares from her speakers, ‘Stop being so mean to me or I swear to God I’m going to fall in love with you,’ and there, in the quiet and dark in her bedroom, where no one else can see her, Nesta laughs.

~ * * * ~

Nesta wakes to another photo in her Instagram DMs, but this time, Cassian is nowhere to be seen in it. Instead, the photo is of a beach. The waves crashing against the sandy shore look almost silver, the silhouettes of birds flying just above. The horizon is a line of purple that gives way to pinks and yellows before fading into the deep blue of night still clinging to the top of the frame.

Sunrise. It’s the beach right before the sun rises, Nesta realizes. She finds herself wondering what he was doing awake so early, almost going so far as to type out that very question and ask before she catches herself. She holds down the backspace, focusing on Cassian’s message below the photo instead.

@BatBoyCass Good morning, Nes! We’re in sunny Adriata today. I bet you’d look gorgeous in a bikini 😍 Definitely wish you were here. I could rub sunscreen on your shoulders. You could rub sunscreen onto mine. Sounds like a dream…

@LadyNesta Sounds more like a nightmare

Nesta continues with the rest of her morning, getting ready and heading to one of her favorite brunch spots in town to meet with Emerie and Gwyn. It isn’t until she’s settled at the table, thanking the waitress who sets down three waters while she waits, that Nesta finally looks at her phone again.

@BatBoyCass Not a fan of the beach, sweetheart?

@LadyNesta Oh, I love the beach, but I much prefer a cold drink and a good book on the beach rather than obnoxious drummers

@BatBoyCass You like to read? What kind of books do you like?

Instinctively, Nesta starts to type out a response, always more than happy to talk about her love of books, about her current read, but then she remembers their bargain. And she’s already shared her ‘fun fact’ about herself for the day, already met her quota, and she still refuses to lose. She quickly deletes the message she had typed out, but Cassian must be watching for her reply, must have seen the three dots to show that she was typing appear and then disappear.

@BatBoyCass That’s alright. We can save that question for tomorrow. I’ve always preferred historical fiction. I actually just finished reading Hatfield 1677 while on tour and really enjoyed it I think if the band didn’t work out, I’d end up a history teacher. I’d be good at being a history teacher. Maybe in another life

@LadyNesta Another life? I didn’t take you as the type of person to believe in that sort of thing.

@BatBoyCass I hope I meet you in every life

“Who has you smiling and blushing at your phone?”

Nesta snaps her head up to find Emerie now standing at their table, her brown eyes alight with amusement and a small smirk tugging up her lips. She scowls fondly at her friend, setting her phone face down on the table and willing the heat prickling her cheeks to dissipate.

“No one.”

~ * * * ~

@LadyNesta Do you ever get nervous up on stage?

Loathe as she is to admit it, over the last couple of weeks, Nesta has come to enjoy her messages with Cassian. There’s something easy about it, about their back and forth. Something about the way her teasing and jabs only leave him laughing, the way he gives back as good as he gets. Something about the way he genuinely cares about what she has to say, about her ‘fun facts.’ Something about how he doesn’t balk when she dares to share a deeper piece of herself.

It’s surprisingly comfortable, as though she’s known Cassian much longer than she actually has. As though she’s known him her whole life, as though her very soul somehow recognizes him. As though there’s music entwining them like golden threads.

@BatBoyCass Actually, I love it. It’s exhilarating being up there. I can feel the music all the way down to my bones. And to hear a crowd sing back a song you wrote? There’s nothing like it

@LadyNesta You write songs?

@BatBoyCass That’s right, Nes. I’m more than just a pretty face 😎 I even started writing a new song just yesterday

@LadyNesta Let me guess. You’re going to play it for me?

@BatBoyCass Not until it’s finished. I still need that last bit of inspiration Hoping to find it tomorrow 👀

@LadyNesta What’s tomorrow?

Nesta stares at the screen of her phone, waiting. She watches the three dots appear and then disappear. They appear and then they disappear again. It has Nesta tilting her head curiously, eyebrows dipping in confusion. She knows that she hasn’t known Cassian particularly long, but this certainly doesn’t seem like him. He’s usually so quick to respond to her messages, so quick to turn on the teasing and the charm without a second thought. What could it mean that he’s typing and retyping his answer? Is he… nervous?

@BatBoyCass Tonight’s the last show of our tour. In Scythia. I’ll be back in Velaris by tomorrow afternoon

Nesta’s heart skips a beat in her chest. This is it, the moment of truth, the end of their bargain. She could tell him that she’s still not interested, and that will be the end of their interactions. She’ll never receive another message from Cassian. She could tell him that his charm and his kind heart and good looks has had no effect on her.

But she’d be lying to him just as much as herself.

Only a few weeks, and already Nesta can’t imagine a day without talking to Cassian. Just the very idea has ice bleeding between her ribs and threatening to crystalize in her chest. She wants to see that fire blaze in his hazel eyes and push back to meet it until he’s smirking in amusement. She wants to hear his crazy stories from tour and his teasing innuendos. She wants him to make her laugh. And if she’s really being honest with herself, she wants to see and feel that body and those hands outside of a mere photo.

@LadyNesta 7pm. Don’t be late

~ * * * ~

The knock on her front door sounds through the apartment just as Nesta is finishing up the last touch ups to her makeup. She glances toward the clock, the red digital numbers declaring the time to be 6:58. Punctual. One last look over herself in the mirror, and Nesta steps out of her bedroom.

When she pulls open the front door, Cassian is standing on the other side. His hair is scraped back away from his face, piled into a bun at the back of his head, and a comfortably worn leather jacket hangs on his frame. His hazel eyes in person spark that same way Nesta remembers, a slow smirk tugging up his lips as he leans casually against the door frame.

“Hello, Nes.” His eyes sweep over her, his jaw slackening. “Mother save me. You look amazing.”

“I thought we already established that compliments will get you nowhere.”

“Can you blame me when you look this beautiful?”

Nesta has to swallow down a blush at his words, at the sincerity burning in his gaze. She rolls her eyes and shoves lightly at Cassian’s chest, enough to get him to move back so she can step out of her apartment.

“Are we going to dinner or not?”

“Of course,” Cassian confirms, holding his hand out until Nesta threads her fingers through his own larger ones. “I got us a reservation at Carmichael’s.”

Nesta’s steps stutter for a moment and she peers up at Cassian in surprise. “Carmichael’s? Don’t you need to make reservations weeks in advance there?”

“Oh, you do. I made the reservation as soon as we agreed on our bargain.”

Nesta comes fully to a stop at that. She blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around this new information, and she can’t help it. She laughs. Cassian’s eyes light up at the sound, the gold flecks within the hazel practically glinting beneath the lights of the hallway. His smirk morphs into a wide, genuine smile, and the sight is enough to leave Nesta feeling breathless.

“Feeling confident, were you?” Nesta teases, trying and failing to fight back her own grin.

“I’m confident about plenty of things, sweetheart,” Cassian tells her, stepping closer into her space. He uses his free hand to twist one of the strands of Nesta’s hair framing her face, the tips of his fingers skimming along her temple.

“Is that so? And what else are you confident about?”

“That I’m going to marry you one day.”

—

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

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

We can all agree that there's only one birthday gift that Cassian wants this year 😏 @cassianappreciationweek

Click that read more if you want to see what Cassian does with his gift because I think that to celebrate his birthday, Cassian deserves to have his cake and eat it too 😉

Cannot thank @/the_megabee33 (IG) for bringing both of these pieces to life to help celebrate Cassian's birthday! 🎂 So hot, so sexy

Do not repost without credit and do not feed into AI programs.

To view the full NSFW version, check out her Patreon or simply CLICK HERE!

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

I Can Take the Upper Hand and Touch Your Body: Epilogue

A/N: So I meant to post this yesterday for @acotar-omegaverse-week's Day Four because hoo boy are they "Getting Knotty" in this, but then I had to actually do my job? And didn't have time to finish and edit. Booooo. So now I'm posting this today! Hope everyone enjoys this once again very smutty ending.

Read on AO3 // Previous Part

Six Months Later

Nesta is already sweating when she opens her eyes. Her whole body feels like it’s on fire, molten lava pounding through her veins in time with the heart beating between her ribs, in time with the beat of her heart rushing and echoing in her ears. Her skin feels stretched uncomfortably over her bones, and Nesta clenches her fists to keep down the desire to scratch at her arms, to claw at her throat. She shoves at the blankets tangled around her legs, but the slide of the fabric against her skin only seems to make matters worse, the relief Nesta is desperate for still so far out of reach.

With a whimper, Nesta rolls over, pressing her face into her pillow. She tries to focus on her breathing, on taking slow, deep breaths in and out to calm her heaving chest. Each inhale draws out more of the scent that clings to the fabric, and that at least helps to soothe Nesta’s quickly fraying nerves enough that she can think a bit clearer.

Nesta has always been meticulous in her tracking, in her planning. She always knows exactly when to stock up on supplies, when to take off from work. She always knows exactly what to expect, and this is not it.

It’s too early.

But Nesta knows that denial won’t help or get her anywhere. Because there’s no denying the slick already sticky and coating the inside of her thighs. There’s no denying the cramping low in her gut and the way her cunt clenches in desperation to be filled. There’s no denying that her heat has started.

Keeping her face pressed firmly into the pillow, Nesta reaches a hand down between her thighs, pressing the heel of her hand against her clit. The too long sleeve of the hoodie she’s wearing catches slightly around her fingers, and Nesta whines, trying to rock her hips down and chasing some sort of relief.

Perhaps, she shouldn’t really be surprised at her heat coming on. She’s been wearing the hoodie for two days now after all. She had also swapped the pillow she used with the one from the other side of the bed. And just yesterday, she had gathered up more of the blankets onto the bed. The perfect nest, and it hadn’t even registered in Nesta’s mind. She just thought she missed Cassian and the heat he always radiated to keep her warm while he was off with his brothers to some family cabin they visit annually.

Cassian. Her alpha.

Just thinking about him has another whine pulled right from Nesta’s chest. She reaches blindly toward the bedside table, fingers fumbling to find her phone. Another cramp spasms low in her gut, a fresh rush of slick dripping between her thighs, and Nesta lets out a frustrated sob, nails scraping against wood as her fingers curl. She continues to lay there, breaths panting out, when the soft sound of tinkling keys reaches her ears, the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Nes, I’m home. And we stopped for pastries on the way.”

The sound of that deep timbre draws out another whimper from her even as it slinks along her skin like a cool, soothing balm. It takes all of her willpower to push herself up off the bed, her steps wobbling beneath her as she pads out of the bedroom.

She finds Cassian standing in the kitchen, his back currently to her where he stands at the island. He looks so good with his dark curls pulled back into a bun, a soft looking cable knit sweater stretched over his wide shoulders, and his forearms on display where the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. Just the sight of him has Nesta’s cunt clenching again, has a moan tumbling past her lips.

“Alpha,” Nesta sighs softly, pressing her thighs together.

Cassian whirls around, and Nesta moans again at finally having that hazel gaze on her again. Especially when those eyes flare, a flickering flame that echoes the fire in Nesta’s own veins. His nostrils flare, and even with the distance between them, Nesta can see the groan that reverberates in his chest as he takes in her scent.

“Oh shit.”

Nesta finally tears her attention away from Cassian at the new voice, surprised to find Azriel also standing in their kitchen. Cassian’s groan morphs into a growl, and he spins back toward his brother, fisting clenching at his sides as he firmly places his body between Azriel and Nesta. An alpha zeroing in on a threat, ready to do whatever it takes to protect what’s his.

“I’m going. I’m going,” Azriel assures him, holding his hands up in a surrender.

Nesta is sure that Azriel must be moving, that the front door must be opening and closing with his exit, but Nesta is no longer paying attention to him. All she cares about is Cassian’s attention returning to her, that darkened gaze of his pinning her in place. All she cares about is how strong his scent is having him this close again, how it floods her senses in the best way. All she cares about is the way he steps into her space, his large hands finding her jawline and lifting her face to his.

Cassian leans down, his breath skating across her lips, across the skin of her cheeks, and Nesta’s knees almost give out. She fists her fingers into the fabric of Cassian’s sweater, pressing her hips forward against his own and tilting her chin up higher still, trying to catch his lips with her own.

“Please. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Cassian kisses her sweetly, humming as he trails his lips along her jaw and down her throat. “Let me take care of you.”

Nesta keens when Cassian’s teeth scrape over the scar on her neck, the remnant of his claiming of her, the mark of their accepted mating. His hands slide down to her thighs, hoisting her up and against him, and Nesta wraps her legs tightly around his waist. She tugs at the hair tie in Cassian’s hair until his hair tumbles free back down to his shoulders again, burying her fingers in the dark strands of his hair and using her grip to draw his mouth back to hers.

She sighs into the kiss when her back meets the pile of blankets she intricately arranged on the bed. Cassian presses her deeper into the softness of it all, his hips rocking against hers. She can feel the hard line of his cock through the fabric of his pants, and her hands reach desperately for the buckle of his pants. She slips her hand beneath the waistband, her fingers just barely grazing against his cock before Cassian pulls her hand away, pinning it back by her head.

“I thought I told you to let me take care of you,” Cassian tells her, grabbing her other wrist and pinning both her hands above her head with the grip of just one of his. “Now be my good girl and lie still.”

Cassian sits back on his haunches, Nesta legs splayed out over his thighs. His hands slide over her ankles, up her calves, along her thighs, but once he reaches the hem of the hoodie she’s wearing, they trace right back down. It’s a tantalizing tease of calluses against skin, Nesta biting her lip while she tries not to squirm, determined to be good for her alpha and keep still.

“And look at this nest my good girl made,” Cassian continues, squeezing her thighs on the next pass. “Did you make this just for me, sweetheart?”

Nesta nods her head before remembering herself. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Cassian reaches one of his hands behind his back, fisting in the fabric of his sweater and tugging it off. He tosses it aside and leans back down over Nesta. This time, his hands find the hem of the hoodie, sliding it up over her hip until it’s bunched at her waist.

“Nothing underneath? How naughty,” Cassian teases, shifting until he’s settled on his stomach between Nesta’s thighs.

Nesta whines even as one of her hands snaps down to bury amongst the dark strands of Cassian’s hair. It’s unfair, the sight of him. How far her legs have to spread to fit the wide berth of his shoulders and chest. How large his hands are where they grip her thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he holds her open. The one curly strand of hair that falls forward and along his temple. That cocksure smirk and simmering gaze as he peers up at her and licks her lips.

Her hips try to buck up, her body keyed-up and desperate with every second that goes by without his touch where she really wants it, but Cassian’s hold is too firm. Just that display of strength has more slick dripping from her cunt, and Nesta is sure she’s already made a mess of herself and their bed.

But she doesn’t care.

All she cares about is the need thrumming beneath her skin. It writhes in her veins and begs. Begs for pleasure. Begs to be filled. Begs for her alpha.

“Want your knot,” Nesta pants, tugging at Cassian’s hair like that will get him to move. “Need it.”

“I know,” Cassian hums, nosing along Nesta’s inner thigh. “Let me take the edge off first.”

Nesta wants to protest again, but before she can, Cassian presses his mouth to her cunt, any words dying in the back of Nesta’s throat. His tongue is hot where it slides against her, his groan reverberating all the way down to her toes. Nesta tosses her head back with a moan when he slides his tongue over her again, tracing all the way up to her clit, but it morphs into a frustrated huff when Cassian pulls away.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to watch the way you fall apart on my tongue.”

Nesta whimpers, and she needs to take a few breaths before she’s able to tilt her head back down, to meet Cassian’s gaze, the hazel of his eyes already swallowed by his blown out pupils.

“That’s my good girl.”

Cassian leans back in again, and this time, he devours her with a fervor. His mouth moves over her cunt like he’s a man starved, like she’s the last meal he’ll ever taste. Each circle his tongue traces over her clit has Nesta’s toes curling, and each time he fucks his tongue into her, her cunt clenches at the promise of the way she knows he’ll match that movement with his cock. She can do nothing but moan Cassian’s name, nothing but hold onto his hair, at the mercy of the way Cassian’s grip keeps her pinned, keeps her just the way he wants to have his way with her.

With her heat in full swing, it doesn’t take long before embers start to pool and burn low in her gut. She can feel herself climbing higher and higher, the blissful fog of pleasure starting to cloud her brain, as Cassian continues to eat her out. It takes everything within her to keep her eyes open, to keep watching Cassian. But when Cassian sucks her clits between his lips, she can’t hold out any longer. Her eyes squeeze shut, thighs snapping around Cassian’s head as her release tears through her, more slick rushing into Cassian’s mouth to swallow down with a groan.

She slumps back against the bed, sighing at the feel of Cassian pressing sweet kisses along the inside of her thigh. Those kisses trace upward, up over Nesta’s hip bone and stomach. He pushes the hoodie she’s wearing further up until he can tug it off completely, all without breaking his mouth’s contact from her skin.

“Cassian…”

Cassian hums rather than responding, his mouth closing over one of her breasts. Nesta cries out, arching up into him as Cassian’s tongue slides and swirls over her nipple. Those embers still burn low in her gut, stoked by the scrape of Cassian’s teeth over the sensitive skin of her breast. But despite the pleasure his mouth continues to build, it’s not enough. Still she needs more, wants more.

“Please. Cassian, please. I need–”

Nesta’s plea cuts off into a loud moan when Cassian sinks two fingers into her cunt. The long, thick line of them drag along the walls of her cunt, drawing out more slick with every thrust of them. Nesta’s entire body feels like it’s on pins and needles, her heat only adding to the intense pleasure of it all. And when Cassian curls his fingers, her every muscle tenses, cunt clenching down around Cassian’s fingers.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Can’t wait to have you squeezing my cock the way you’re squeezing my fingers.”

He switches his mouth’s attention to her other breast, his fingers continuing to drive into her cunt and stretch her. It’s almost unfair the way he knows her body so well, the way he’s able to work her exactly the way she likes, the way she needs. Everywhere his mouth touches, everywhere his fingers reach, has sparks ricocheting through Nesta’s whole body. And when Cassian turns his hand enough that he can press his thumb against her clit, adding to the pleasure, those sparks turn into a blaze as she goes tumbling right over the edge again.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful when you come,” Cassian tells her, sliding up her body enough that he can drag his mouth across her throat.

Nesta tilts her head to give him better access, her eyes fluttering when he finds that spot behind her ear. She whines when Cassian pulls his fingers free, hating that empty feeling, that ache that starts right back up again despite two orgasms already. But then Cassian is raising his hand toward Nesta’s face, dragging his fingers across her lips and smearing her own slick there.

“Now be a good girl and clean her alpha’s fingers for him.”

Nesta is all too happy to oblige. She sticks her tongue out, eagerly sliding it over the pad of Cassian’s fingers before sucking them into her mouth. She moans softly at the taste of her own slick blooming across her tongue, dragging and curling her tongue over Cassian’s skin as she swallows down every last drop. He presses his fingers deeper still, until Nesta's gagging around them, but still, she doesn't stop, desperate to please her alpha.

It’s all she can think about, that single thought fogging her mind, and she panics when Cassian pulls back, when he clambers off the bed and out of her perfectly good nest. Her hands reach out toward him frantically, a whine building in the back of her throat, but Cassian merely catches her wrist in his grasp, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm.

He focuses his attention on the buckle of his pants, quickly shoving them and his boxers down his legs, and any and all other thoughts eddy from Nesta’s mind once his cock finally bobs free. It’s already hard where it rests against one of Cassian’s strong thighs, and Nesta can already see where his knot has started to swell at the base, see where a bead of arousal glistens against the head. Just the sight has Nesta moaning again, has her cunt clenching and aching to be filled. She spreads her legs wider against the bed, raising her hips in open invitation.

Cassian chuckles softly at the display, fisting his cock lazily. “Do you need my knot, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Please, alpha. It hurts.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

Cassian kneels back up onto the bed, between Nesta’s spread thighs. His calluses slide against her skin as he lifts her leg, hooking it around his hips as he settles. He drags the head of his cock across Nesta’s cunt, through the mess of slick pooled there, and Nesta’s entire body shudders. She can feel more slick rush from her, feel it coating Cassian’s cock, and she throws her head back with a moan when his cock presses teasingly against her entrance.

“Cass–”

She doesn’t even have to finish her plea, her voice choking off as Cassian snaps his hips forward and buries his cock. Everything within Nesta zeros to where they’re joined, the omega part of her keening at finally being so full, at having her alpha’s cock right where it belongs. But still, it’s not enough, still she wants more.

But if there’s one that Nesta has learned in her time together with Cassian’s, it’s that he always knows. Always knows how to play her body. Always knows exactly what she needs. He pulls his hips back just to snap them back again, grinding and pressing his cock deep with every forward thrust.

“Fuck you’re always so tight wrapped around my cock,” Cassian tells her, building up his pace. “But you were made to take it, weren’t you?”

Nesta can do nothing but moan, wrapping her legs tighter around Cassian’s waist and rocking her hips to meet each thrust. Every drag of his cock has her cunt clenching. Every deep press has her toes curling. Every stroke of his body working over hers has those flames burning through her veins cresting higher and higher.

“And you take me so well,” Cassian continues to praise, Nesta keening and arching at his words. “That’s it, Nes. Gods, nothing feels like your sweet cunt.”

Nesta claws desperately at Cassian’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer still. She can feel the tease of his knot, the stretch that it promises. The promise of being so completely filled of Cassian. And she wants.

“Please. Cassian, please,” Nesta begs, digging her heels into Cassian’s back. “Want your knot.”

“So pretty when you beg. Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need.”

A few more thrusts and Cassian keeps true to his word. He slams his hips forward until his knot breaches and locks them together. Nesta screams, her entire body seizing up with her orgasm. She clenches down hard around Cassian’s cock and knot, her thighs shaking, as the warmth of Cassian’s seed floods her deep, adding to the pleasure and dragging out her release.

Cassian groans, rocking his hips shallowly and pressing deeper still. “What a good girl milking my knot. We’re not going to waste a single drop, are we?”

Nesta shakes her head, locking her legs tighter around Cassian, keeping him, his cock, his seed, right where it belongs. She sighs happily as she sinks back into the mattress, reveling and all but purring at the fullness, the warmth, the comfort that settles in her veins. Cassian focuses his attention on her throat, pressing gentle kisses along her skin. Nesta cards her own fingers through the dark strands of Cassian’s hair, humming when his lips trace over the mating scar. She feels like she’s floating, feels like she could fall back asleep just like this.

But her eyes snap back open again when Cassian pulls his hips back, his cock slipping free. That desperation claws back up her throat, tumbling past her lips as a whine. She can feel tears beginning to prickle at the corner of her eyes, and she tightens her grip on Cassian’s hair, trying to keep him there.

“No no no. Need your knot.”

“Fuck,” Cassian mutters under his breath.

One of Cassian’s large hands settles on her cheek, thumb stroking gently, and Nesta turns her head enough that she can lean into the touch, the way it soothes some of her desperation. She can hear rummaging to her left, what sounds like their bedside table opening and closing. Then something cool glides along the inside of her thigh, and when Nesta looks down, she finds one of her knotting toys now in Cassian’s hand.

He drags the toy over her cunt, coating the silicone in her slick. When he reaches her clit, he turns the toy on, Nesta tossing her head back and gasping at the vibrations. He traces a few circles before bringing the toy lower, sinking it into her cunt. Nesta moans at the intrusion, at now feeling those vibrations along the walls of her cunt, but Cassian doesn’t move. With a huff, she decides to take matters into her own hands, moving her hips and fucking herself down on the toy.

“Gods, look at you. So fucking beautiful, Nes.”

Nesta moans at the praise, and she tries to work her hips faster, squeezing down around the toy. She tilts her head back down again only to find Cassian now stroking his cock, his gaze pinned on where the toy disappears into Nesta’s cunt over and over. She whimpers, her bottom lip finding home between her teeth, and Cassian must be able to feel her attention, his lips twitching up into that tell tale smirk of his.

“See what you do to me, sweetheart? I’m already hard again.”

“Want the real thing. Want your knot.”

Cassian groans at her words. He pulls the toy free, tossing it aside, but Nesta doesn’t even get a chance to see where it lands, Cassian’s hands gripping her waist and flipping her over roughly. He raises her hips and leans forward, plastering his chest along her spine and pressing his lips against her ear.

“Hands on the headboard.”

Nesta moans as she obeys the command, fingers curling against the wood. Cassian’s knees kick her legs further apart, really spreading her wide. He slams his cock back into her cunt, quickly setting a rough and brutal pace before Nesta can adjust again to the girth of him, to the way he stretches her. Her fingers scrabble at the wood of the headboard, trying to hold herself up against the pleasure of it all, sparked by every snap of Cassian’s hips against her own.

“Pretty mate taking her alpha’s cock so well. One day I’ll work you up to taking my cock and that toy.”

The imagery is enough to have Nesta clenching down hard around Cassian’s cock, and she drops her head down between her shoulders with a choked off moan. It just mixes with the groans and grunts of Cassian behind her, with the obscene sound of his cock sliding through her slick, of skin against skin.

She tries to move her hips against the iron grip Cassian has on them, tries to meet his thrusts and his knot. “Cassian…”

“Fuck, keep moaning my name. You know that’s my favorite sound.”

“I need… I need…”

He continues to fuck into her hard, turning Nesta into little more than a delirious mess of moans and whimpers of his name. She can feel him everywhere. Feel where his fingers leave brands across her hips. Feel where his cock spears deep within her. Feel where his knot teases and catches but never breaches. It has her cunt fluttering and clenching around him, has her heart pounding in her chest in time with every knock of his hips against her ass.

“Need my knot again? Need to be filled again?”

“Yes!” Nesta cries out, that desperation clawing up her throat.

Cassian groans, the movements of his hips becoming more erratic. “I’ll make sure you’re absolutely dripping. Make sure my seed really takes. But first, I need you to come for me. Come all over my cock.”

One of his hands reaches under Nesta’s hip, finding her swollen clit and tracing tight circles over the bud. It’s all it takes for another orgasm to wash over Nesta like a crashing wave, the force of it leaving spots dancing behind her eyelids. Her back bows, Cassian’s grip the only thing holding her up as she convulses and shouts Cassian’s name.

With a groan of his own, Cassian sinks his knot into Nesta’s cunt, only adding to the pleasure blazing through her. She clenches around Cassian’s knot, moaning at the feel of Cassian’s cock twitching in response, more of his release filling her. The stretch and fullness is everything, aftershocks still rocking through her body until just bliss remains.

Nesta slumps back down against the bed, panting against the sheets as she catches her breath. She feels sated for the first time all morning, the ache in her body giving way to a pleasant buzz. She doesn’t even whine when Cassian pulls his cock free again, settling beside her on the bed. Instead she merely sighs softly when Cassian’s hand finds her hair, fingers softly carding through the sweaty strands and pushing them away from her face.

“You back with me, Nes?”

Nesta hums, turning her head enough that she can blink at Cassian properly. “For now.”

Cassian chuckles softly, the hazel of his eyes bright in the light that pours into their bedroom. He shifts close enough that he can press a sweet kiss into Nesta’s hair before clambering back off the bed. Nesta can’t find it within herself to move, just following him with her eyes as he goes over to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and tugging them on.

He digs around in another of the drawers, and when he steps back over to the bed, his hands reach for her and gently tug her up into a seated position. He pulls an oversized t-shirt over her head, and once Nesta has pushed her arms through the sleeves, his hands shift under her thighs, gathering her up into his arms. He carries her with ease out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, setting her down on the kitchen counter.

“How was your trip?” Nesta asks, watching as Cassian grabs a glass, filling it with water.

“Drink,” Cassian tells her instead, holding out the glass expectantly.

Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, but she takes the glass from him, allowing the cool liquid to soothe her throat. Satisfied she’s staying hydrated, Cassian turns his attention toward the fridge, but he pauses his rummaging, turning back toward Nesta and squinting toward her. It’s almost adorable the way his eyebrows pinch, the way his lips quirk as he hums quietly, seemingly to himself.

But Nesta still huffs and crosses her arms. “And what’s that look for?”

“Trying to determine how long we have until the next wave hits. That will decide what exactly I can make for us.”

Heat floods Nesta’s cheeks, especially at that smirk of his now painted across Cassian’s face. It’s all alpha, male bravado and pride. She scowls at him, but that only seems to make his grin widen, hazel eyes sparking with amusement, with fondness. With love.

“I hate you,” Nesta tells him, even though there’s no bite behind the words.

“Love me,” Cassian corrects, grinning widely.

“Fine. That too.”

—

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

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

"Who is the best twisted series ma-"

Rhys Fucking Larsen.

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

same taylor who do I have to speak to about changing the prophecy my secretly hopeless romantic ass is close to begging on her knees

Let's all kill ourselves

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

nesta being recognized/feared as a death god while her goals in life are to eat chocolate cake and read smut with her girls is hilarious to me

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

𝙰𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙰𝚕𝚕 18+ 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢

(*) 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝

𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 - 𝟷𝟽𝚝𝚑 𝙵𝚎𝚋 𝟸𝟹

~~~

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚖𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚖!𝚍𝚞𝚘* 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘*

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢*

𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢!𝚏𝚎𝚢𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚑𝚢𝚜*

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚎𝚢𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢*

𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔!𝚊𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜

𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐* 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜!𝚊𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞*

𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚜*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚝𝚑����𝚐𝚑*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜*

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚁𝚑𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔*

𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜 - 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖*

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢*

𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝚂𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢*

𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗*

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕

𝙼𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜*

𝙷𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚠 𝙰𝚣*

𝙶𝚠𝚢𝚗𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛*

𝙰𝚣 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜*

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔*

𝚍𝚘𝚖!𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚡 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛*

𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔*

𝚃*𝚖𝚕𝚒𝚗'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜*

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎!𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚁𝚑𝚢𝚜*

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢/𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐*

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚜*

𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜'𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞*

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚗𝚘 𝚠 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗*

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚗𝚘 𝚠 𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜*

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚗𝚘 𝚠 𝙽𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊*

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜*

𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜*

𝙰𝚖𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔*

𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠 𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕*

𝙰𝚣𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜...*

𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠 𝙼𝚘𝚛*

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚣*

𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝚛𝚑𝚢𝚜*

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠 𝙰𝚣*

𝙵𝚎𝚢𝚛𝚎*

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔*

𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝚊𝚣*

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

(*) contains smut

Last updated - 21st May 23

~~~

azriel + amren dom!duo* part two*

helion’s high lady*

mommy!feyre x rhys*

calling feyre mommy*

dark!azriel keeping you as his

couple of azriel’s kinks*

azriel + pussy spanking* the sequel*

azriel fluff

jealous!azriel punishing you*

kiss it better*

azriel riding series* - abs , face , thigh , fingers , cock

eris riding series* - face , thigh , fingers

cassian riding series* - abs

calling rhys daddy*

azriel breeding kink*

edge or overstim w eris*

calling azriel daddy*

azriel + choking*

azriel + size kink*

azriel + knife kink*

Eris and Kallias + temperature play*

sub!lucien*

azriel + aftercare

mor letting azriel join*

azriel x reader with nipple piercings*

azriel + hatefucking*

gwynriel x reader*

azriel overstimulating reader with nip piercings*

helion + breeding kink*

mean!lucien x human!reader*

eris + breeding kink*

tamlin’s kinks*

pleasure!dom rhys*

cockwarming as punishment w azriel*

azriel + wing play/overstim*

azriel + scratching*

eris using his magic to restrain you*

helion + somno*

eris + somno*

nesta + somno*

cassian*

azriel using his shadows*

eris gagging you with his fingers*

amren + blood kink*

azriel + squirting*

azriel + public sex hcs*

azriel’s balls…*

mor + face sitting*

sub!rhys*

azriel + morning sex*

feyre’s distracted*

cassian + size kink*

sub!azriel*

eris and his bunny*

mommy!mor riding your face*

running from dark!azriel*

jealous!eris + overstimulation*

feyre’s strap*

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

I saw you last week @taylorswift ily forever and always

please give me a chance to see taylor plsssss plssss plssss I cant do this anymore she's been my girl since I was 9 I really need to see her @taylornation

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

All’s fair in love and poetry… New album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. Out April 19 🤍

store.taylorswift.com

📷: Beth Garrabrant

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

I love u angry female characters. I love u deeply misunderstood and problematic female characters. I love u cold hearted and sharp female characters. I love you prideful and reckless female characters. I love u unbeautifly destructive female characters. I love u prickly and snarky female characters. not everyone understands u but I do and I'm listening

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

Romanticizing reading fanfiction with 100 hits. Romanticizing commenting on fics from seven years ago. Romanticizing giving kudos to a fic with three hits. Romanticizing reblogging someone’s fanfiction post from two years ago, giving them the first note on that post. Romanticizing saying in the comments “I hope there’s a chapter two, this was so good!” On a fic posted in 2013

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

Cassian: You’re so cute when you’re irritated

Nesta: I’m going to slit your throat

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man

A/N: listen. Look at me. Does this make sense? Is it technically logical? No. It's horny vibes only here, and I need you to roll with it. Anyways! This was all inspired by this beautiful piece of art, and then I was enabled and encouraged and basically wrote this whole thing in like 48 hours... Enjoy? NSFW warning!

Read on AO3

“Hey, Nes, have you seen—”

Cassian's voice trails off, and Nesta hears the distinct sound of keys jangling. She rolls her eyes fondly as she goes back to her book, burrowing deeper against the stack of pillows at her back. She doesn't look up, even as she listens to his boots against the hardwood coming closer, even as that familiar scent of smoke and pine washes over her, even as a sweet kiss is pressed to her hair.

Only when she's finished the page does she slide her bookmark into place and tilt her head back, meeting a pair of bright hazel eyes and a wide, soft smile meant only for her. Cassian is dressed in his usual all black show attire, ripped jeans clinging to his thighs and the low cut of his tank showing off the thick muscles of his arms, the wide breadth of his shoulders and chest, the lines of black ink winding across his golden skin.

“I left your pass on the hook by the door,” Cassian explains, scraping his hair back and out of his face before securing it with a hair-tie. “Are you thinking you'll drive? I can make sure they open the lot for you.”

“No, I'll just get an Uber, and then drive home with you after.”

“Perfect.”

Cassian leans down, slotting their lips together, and Nesta practically melts against him, sighing into the kiss. Too soon, he's pulling away, stealing one last peck to her lips before murmuring his goodbyes and heading for the door. Nesta slumps back against the pillows, closing her eyes and giving herself just one more moment. With a soft sigh, she tosses the blanket off her legs and heaves herself up, padding down the hall to their bedroom to shower and start getting ready.

Nesta’s phone dings where it’s sitting on her vanity, letting her know that her Uber driver is approaching. She takes a moment to straighten out her skirt, to tug up the strap of her lacy, red top. She grabs her phone and her purse, rushing toward the front door. Thankfully, her pass really is right where Cassian left it, and it’s easy enough to toss it on, easy enough to tug on her shoes and her leather jacket, zipping it up to fight off the late October chill.

There’s more traffic than Nesta anticipates, and by the time her Uber driver is dropping her off in front of the venue, they’ve already opened the doors, the queue shuffling forward and people moving about the sidewalk with excitement. It still blows Nesta’s mind seeing the way the queue stretches all the way down the block and around the corner, seeing all these people in tour shirts and with wide grins, all to see the Bat Boys.

“Excuse me,” Nesta says to one of the venue workers directing people. “Which way is the stage door?”

The worker turns his attention to her fully, not even hiding the way he sweeps his eyes over her. When his gaze raises to her eyes again, his face is unimpressed, and he lets out a near derisive snort. “Nice try. Keep dreaming those Wattpad dreams.”

Nesta doesn’t bother biting back her scowl or her eyeroll, practically glaring daggers at the worker as he turns away.

“Guess I’ll find it myself,” she mutters to herself, weaving her way toward the side of the venue building.

“Oh my gosh! Imagine if Cassian points right at you tonight!”

The words give Nesta pause, and she turns to find a couple of girls in the queue. They have their hair and makeup done up, one clad jeans and the other in a short, leather skirt. And both of them have handmade, matching tees declaring ‘Cassian’s Future Wife.’

It had started as a bit. Cassian had informed Nesta that he would be dedicating a song to her on their last tour, a sweet more acoustic number he had penned himself, but when he introduced it to the crowd, he’d instead declared it was for his future wife. Nesta had been pink the entire rest of the night, cheeks and ears burning, but the reaction only seemed to spur Cassian on until he was making the same announcement every night, every show where she was in the audience.

“Imagine if he pulls me out of the crowd and invites me back to his place after the show,” the girl in the skirt offers to her friend.

“Once he sees you, he totally would.”

“I bet he’s amazing in bed too. He’d rock my world, and then I’d be like no need to look any further. You found your future wife.”

The girls laugh and practically squeal in agreement, but Nesta has to swallow down a scoff. She doesn’t know why the conversation scrapes across her skin, why it grates against her nerves. She knows that Cassian and his brothers have a large female following for their band. She knows that she’s the one who asked to keep their relationship more private. She knows that it’s their bed he comes home to each night, that she’s the one he wakes with soft kisses and quiet good mornings, that she gets the ‘I love you’s and the smiles just for her.

But there’s no denying the anger that starts to lick through Nesta’s veins, fire crackling and flaring beneath her skin. There’s no denying the annoyance that twists through her stomach, tightening like vines in her chest. It takes everything within her to bite her tongue around the words she wants to sneer, instead shouldering past the girls and through the crowds to continue her trek toward the side of the building.

When she reaches the back of the building, she spots Cassian's truck in the lot. The pair of stagehands smoking and the big, burly security guard standing near an otherwise nondescript metal door let her know she's found what she's looking for. She unzips her jacket enough that she can pull free her pass, flashing it, but rather than letting her in, the security guard holds out his arm to stop her. His eyes narrow suspiciously, sweeping over her and squinting at her pass.

It has Nesta's anger burning into full-blown rage, into a living, writhing thing that digs its claws into her chest and begs to be released. Her boyfriend is in there. Her boyfriend. And she won't have these people looking at her like she's just some groupie. Won't have these girls thinking they're going home with Cassian.

She's about to give in to the fire, to give in to the cool words poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, when the stage door swings open. Nesta just barely steps back in time before Balthazar goes barreling into her, and she watches as the photographer all but runs to where his SUV is parked, rooting around in his back seat. He jogs back toward the door, pausing when he realizes who's standing there.

“Hey, Nesta,” Balthazar greets with an easy grin, holding up the small case now in his hands. “Need a new SD card already.”

“You know her?” the security guard asks.

Balthazar lets out a quiet laugh. “Seriously?”

He doesn't say anything more, merely shakes his head and vanishes back inside, but at least it's enough to have the security guard look sheepish. At least, he holds the door open and finally allows Nesta to step inside. The steady thrum of bass and drums pulses beneath Nesta's feet, a raspy, feminine voice floating on the air to her, and she knows that the supporting act has already gone on and started the show.

With determined steps, Nesta weaves her way around stagehands and equipment, making her way toward the back of the stage. She slips behind the black curtain splitting the stage in two and hiding the Bat Boys' setup until it's their time, finding Cassian right where she expects him: sitting at his drum kit, casually twirling a drumstick between his fingers while he nods along to the band playing in front of the curtain. Nesta doesn't know if he hears or if he's just always able to sense where she is in a room, but his eyes snap to hers in an instant, that slow, soft grin tugging its way across his face.

“I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up,” Cassian teases lightly when she's close enough.

“I just had to deal with a bunch of shit,” Nesta grumbles, dropping her purse to the ground.

Because she can, she tosses her leg over Cassian's own, straddling his hips. The seat is small but she makes it work, pressing close to him and looping her arms across his shoulders. Cassian's own hands find her hips with ease, holding her steady.

“What kind of shit?”

“Just stupid people.”

Cassian hums, dropping his head so his forehead rests against her collarbones, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against her hip bones. “At least you're here now.”

Nesta hums her own agreement, trying to let the feel of him pressed against her soothe her still sparking nerves. She reaches a hand up, tugging free the hair-tie from Cassian's hair and slipping it onto her wrist for safe keeping. She runs her fingers through the dark, curly strands, scraping her nails against his scalp in the way she knows he loves.

“I had to deal with getting past your little fan club,” Nesta continues, pressing a bit harder with her nails until she feels Cassian sigh against her.

“What can I say? I'm an expert at stealing hearts,” Cassian offers, his voice muffled against her skin, as his hands slide down to the backs of her thighs, teasing just beneath the hem of her skirt.

“There's even a group of girls in the audience with shirts that say 'Cassian's future wife.'”

Cassian pulls his head back, his eyes practically glinting even in the low light of this part of the stage. “Are there?”

Nesta yanks hard on his hair, tugging his head back enough that his entire throat is on display for her. It gives her the perfect view for the way he swallows hard, the way his eyelashes flutter around his darkening hazel eyes.

“But they don't stand a chance, do they?” Nesta snaps, her tone cold and demanding.

Cassian's already shaking his head despite her grip, his expression dazed, before she even finishes speaking. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart. No one compares to you.”

“Because you're all mine, aren't you?”

“All yours,” Cassian groans, his hips bucking up against her own, pressing his growing hardness against her ass. “Fuck, you're so hot, baby.”

“And you're going to prove it.” It's a statement, not a question, nor a request, and Nesta grinds and circles her hips down against him, chasing the friction, the heat already building between her thighs.

Cassian's hands tighten, sliding further up until he's grasping her ass fully beneath her skirt. “I'll do whatever you want me to.”

“That's what I like to hear,” Nesta tells him, dragging her nail down his temple and cheek and relishing in the full body shudder that takes over Cassian's body. “You're going to touch me, make me come, and then I'm going to fuck you until I'm the only thing you'll think about for the rest of the night, until no other woman will be able to get close to you without smelling sex and my perfume all over you.”

“We only have forty minutes until the show.”

“Better hurry then.”

Rather than let Cassian say anything more, Nesta crashes her mouth against his, nipping and biting at his lips and pressing her tongue into his mouth. Cassian groans as he kisses her back just as hungrily, using his grip on her to move and rock their hips together. One of his hands reaches between them, sliding two fingers over her still clothed center, and Nesta has to pull back to gasp, her hips stuttering at the pressure.

“Fuck, I love how you're always so wet for me,” Cassian whispers against her lips, tracing a teasing circle across her clit. “Absolutely soaked, sweetheart.”

“Less talking, more following directions,” Nesta chastises, canting her hips more firmly against his hand. “We're on a time limit, remember?”

Cassian hums his agreement, slotting their lips back together. At the same moment, he tugs her panties to the side, wasting no time and sinking two fingers inside her. Nesta practically whimpers into his mouth at the stretch, a sound Cassian greedily swallows. He holds his fingers still, and Nesta clenches down around them, hoping to encourage him to move.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines high in the back of her throat, trying to shift her hips against him.

But Cassian uses his free hand to hold her firmly in place, to hold her still against him. He slowly pulls his fingers out, dragging against her walls, before pressing them deep again, just as slow.

“You're just as much mine, you know,” Cassian breathes hotly, repeating the same motion. “You think I don't see every guy and girl staring at you every time we go out?”

“I don't even notice them,” Nesta promises, sliding her hands down to Cassian's shoulders and digging her nails into the skin there. “Besides, at least none of them think they're going to be my future spouse.”

“I bet they want to be.”

“I bet they want to see what I look like when I come too. Maybe, I should ask them to help me instead, since you'd clearly rather take your sweet time.”

Cassian growls, curling his fingers, and Nesta knows that she's won. He starts to work his fingers in earnest, pressing in deep and hard the way he knows she loves. When his thumb joins in, pressing at her clit in tandem, Nesta slumps forward against him. She drops her forehead to his shoulder and bites hard at her bottom lip to quiet the moans and whimpers threatening to spill from her throat. Already, her blood sings, pleasure firing from her every nerve ending, and it's all focused where Cassian's fingers sink into her over and over again.

“Is this what you want, Nes?” He whispers right against her ear. “Is this how I prove it to you?”

“Yes. Fuck, don't stop,” Nesta gasps, turning her head enough that she can dig her teeth into his pulse point, sucking the skin between her lips until she's sure she left a mark.

Cassian's fingers stutter for a moment, and Nesta feels more than she hears the groan trapped in his throat. But since the moment she met him, Cassian has never backed down from a challenge, never allowed himself to be out done. And Nesta has never been more thankful. He squeezes in a third finger, curling all three and pressing against her clit, Nesta's whole body lighting up at the sensation.

He plays her body the way nobody else can, the way that only comes from learning each other's bodies over the years. Every slide, every curl, every press of his fingers sends Nesta cresting higher and higher. Heat pools low in her gut, her whole body tightening and pulling taut as her cunt flutters around Cassian's fingers.

“Come for me, baby. I can feel you're close. Be my good girl and come all over my fingers.”

The praise is all Nesta needs to go crashing head first through her orgasm. She bites at Cassian's shoulder to keep quiet, clenching hard and practically shaking against him. Cassian continues to work her through it, his fingers unrelenting and dragging her orgasm out.

Only when Nesta reaches down and squeezes his wrist, the overstimulation too much, does Cassian slip his fingers free. He brings his hand up to his face, sticking his tongue out and lapping at the pads of his fingers with a soft groan. Nesta is quick to grab his wrist, guiding his hand closer and sucking his fingers into her own mouth. She keeps her eyes on his, not breaking eye contact as she slowly glides and swirls her tongue over each digit.

“Fuck,” Cassian mutters, his hips bucking up as if of their own accord.

The movement reminds Nesta of what's still to come, of the hard length practically waiting for her. It has her blood heating again already, has her feeling empty and clenching around nothing. She pulls her mouth away with a quiet pop, reaching her hands eagerly toward his belt.

“I need you,” Nesta whines, all but yanking the button open and tugging Cassian's jeans and boxers down enough that she can free his cock.

She fists it tightly in her grip, squeezing at the base before sliding her hand up and down, spreading the precum already weeping from the tip. It takes some awkward maneuvering on the too small seat, but Nesta is able to raise herself up enough that she can line him up with her entrance, that she can sink down. No matter how many times they do this, Nesta doesn't think she'll ever get used to the feel of him, the stretch. There's no biting back her moan once he's finally seated to the hilt.

“Mother, save me,” Cassian groans, clearly just as affected. “You take me so well, baby. Nothing feels like you.”

“That's right,” Nesta tells him, clenching around him. “No other cunt will ever squeeze you like this.”

“Good.” Cassian buries a hand in her hair and kisses her hard, tugging her bottom lip between his teeth. “Because no other cock can fill you like mine can.”

Despite Nesta's words earlier, her promise to fuck him until she's all he thinks about, it's Cassian that takes control. His hands grip her hips, guiding her up and down his cock, while he uses his planted feet to thrust up into her hard and fast. Nesta loves it. She loves the way he presses deep with every slap of their hips together. She loves the way she knows she'll have bruises for days across her hip bones.

She buries her hands in Cassian's hair and slams their mouths back together, breathing every moan and whimper past his lips and swallowing his every answering groan. Every snap of his hips, every drag of his cock has Nesta's toes curling in her shoes. Her cunt flutters and clenches around him, desperate to pull him in deeper, to keep him here right where he belongs, keeping her full and stretched.

She knows Cassian is close from the way his hips start to stutter, so she drops a hand between their bodies, finding her clit with ease and working it in time with their movements. It's almost too much. The sensation and feel of their bodies coming together. The sight of Cassian with a flush clinging to his cheeks, with his hazel eyes nearly swallowed whole by his blown out pupils, with his hair a mess from her fingers. He's beautiful and he's hers, and she can feel herself teetering closer and closer to that ledge.

“Come on, Nes,” Cassian pants, pressing their forehead together. “Ladies first. Want to feel you squeezing me. Want to be drenched with you. Come all over my cock.”

Like a marionette on his strings, Nesta's body gives in to his request. She comes hard enough that spots dance in her vision, and she just barely has the foresight to press her free hand to her mouth, biting into her palm to quiet her shout.

Cassian's hips are unrelenting as he chases his own high, as is his still rambling mouth. “That's my good girl. That's it, baby. Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful.”

A few more thrusts, and Cassian buries his face against Nesta's shoulder and groans her name. He practically shakes as he finds his own release, hips still moving shallowly as he spills inside her.

Nesta slumps forward against his chest with a blissful sigh, her body wrung out in the best way. Cassian's arms curl tight around her, holding her close to him, and he turns his head enough that he can press a kiss into her hair.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Cassian murmurs against her hair. “You should get jealous over crazy fangirls more often.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the comment, nipping at his skin in retaliation. She sits up enough that she can reach over and grab her discarded purse on the floor, rooting around until she finds the tube of lipstick buried there. She makes quick work swiping the bright red color across her lips, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Cassian's chest, right above the neckline of his tank, right above his heart.

She tilts her head and hums appreciatively, admiring her work, but then Cassian's hands are sliding along her jaw, cradling her face and pulling her into a deep, languid kiss. When they break apart, his mouth is smeared with red. Nesta drags her thumb across his lips to try and help, but it only seems to make it worse, only seems to further emphasize the swollen and kiss-bitten state of them.

“Sorry,” Nesta offers with a wince. “We seem to have made a mess.”

“Good,” Cassian tells her, not even bothering to bite back his smirk.

“You are insufferable.”

“Says the woman still sitting on my cock.”

Nesta scoffs, but she shifts off his lap and to her feet, keeping her thighs pressed tightly together until they can get to the bathroom and clean up properly. It's a slow and awkward walk, especially with Cassian all but plastered along her back, unable to let her go just yet.

When they step out of the bathroom, his brothers are already there and waiting. Between the disheveled state of Cassian's hair and clothes, the lipstick stains and nail marks on his skin, and his wide, shit eating grin, there's no mistaking what happened. Nesta awkwardly clears her throat, tucking a strand of hair that came loose back behind her ear.

“I don't even want to know,” Rhysand mutters. “But we're on, so let's go.”

Cassian leans down, pressing one last kiss to Nesta's cheek. “Stay backstage tonight.”

Nesta frowns at the strange request. She and Feyre always claim one of the balcony boxes for their shows. “Why?”

“Just stay backstage,” is all Cassian offers as he backs away toward the stage lights, toward the screaming fans beyond.

A wink in her direction and he spins around, jogging the rest of the way onto the stage. Nesta can do nothing but continue to frown in confusion, nothing but watch as Cassian and his brothers play the opening song of their set. Only when there's a quiet, surprised laugh from her left does Nesta finally pull her attention away, finding Feyre now standing beside her. At Nesta's questioning look, Feyre holds out her phone, showing off the tweet she has pulled up. It's a photo, clearly taken from the audience, zoomed in and cropped so it shows Cassian behind his drum kit.

To whoever fucked this man's brains out before the concert, I want to say thank you for this look, but also I wish that was ME!!!

The replies to the tweet aren't much better, and already Nesta can feel heat creeping up her neck and threatening to spill across her cheeks.

Hate to see someone else living MY dream

Someone get the FBI on the phone to analyze and find the owner of that lipstick mark! Whose lips are those?

Wordlessly, Nesta hands Feyre's phone back to her, keeping her focus on the stage, on the Bat Boys as they continue their set. It's not long before Nesta knows what song is coming next, her eyes automatically snapping to Cassian's in anticipation, but for once, he pulls his microphone free from its stand and stands up, stepping out from behind his drum kit.

“Velaris, how are we doing tonight?” Cassian greets, earning an echo of screams in response. “Now, you may not know this, but this venue holds a very special place in my heart. You see, a few years back we played here, opening for a little band you might know called The Band of Exiles.”

More screams from the audience at that mention. It has Nesta shaking her head fondly. She still remembers that night, remembers Feyre dragging her and Elain along to see her old school friend's Lucien's band. One night and now all three of them are with musicians. Nesta is sure if their mother was still alive, she'd hate it.

“Great show,” Rhysand comments idly into his own microphone.

“Great tour,” Cassian agrees with a nod. “But you see, what really made that night special was that there was someone in the audience. Someone I wrote this next song about. Someone who for once isn't in the audience but backstage.”

Cassian gestures with his arm to where Nesta's standing, and she can do nothing but stare in shock. She feels like a deer in headlights, her eyes wide and jaw slackened, as Cassian gestures for her with his head. A hard shove in the back from Feyre has Nesta stumbling forward out onto the stage and bright lights.

“What are you doing?” Nesta seethes quietly, walking over to Cassian awkwardly.

“Just remember, Nes,” Cassian tells her, holding a hand over his microphone so it won't pick up their voices. “If you kill me, you'd miss me too much.”

“Cassian.”

“Nesta, I love you so much, it clearly makes me stupid,” Cassian begins, speaking into his microphone again. “It makes me want to shout it from the rooftops, but I suppose this is the next best thing. Since the day that I met you, I knew that you were it for me, that you were going to be my future wife, but what do you say we make it official?” There's no stopping Nesta's gasp as Cassian drops to one knee. “Nesta Archeron, will you marry me?”

In that moment, everything else fades away, the stage, the band, the lights, the crowd. All there is Cassian. Cassian with his bright hazel eyes and his warm, easy laugh. Cassian with his teasing remarks and a fire to twine and match with her own. Cassian with his quiet comfort and the strength and safety in his embrace. Cassian who looked at her nicked and bruised heart and told her it was perfect. Cassian who carved out a place in his chest for her just as surely as she did for him.

“Yes,” Nesta somehow pushes out around the emotions clogging her throat, around the tears prickling in her eyes.

Cassian's answering grin is radiant. He slides the ring onto Nesta's finger, jumping to his feet and pulling her into a kiss. The crowd erupting into loud cheers around them pulls Nesta firmly back to the present. She tries to slip away backstage again, but Cassian catches her hand in his, tugging her to his drum kit and onto his lap, her back pressed firmly to his chest.

“This next song,” Cassian announces into his microphone, picking up his drumsticks again. “Is dedicated to my wife!”

Thankfully, Nesta is able to scurry away after the song. She's pulled into a bone crushing hug by Feyre as soon as she steps backstage, a squealing Elain on FaceTime from whatever city she and Lucien are in today. Various members of the crew offer their own congratulations, Balthazar promising he got some great photos of the whole thing, and Nesta thanks them all quietly. Her heart still pounds between her ribs, the anxiety of being on the stage still swirling in her gut, but as she looks at the ring now glinting on her finger, there’s no fighting the smile that tugs up her lips. No denying the happiness bubbling within her at the future now before her. No denying the warmth that blooms in her chest, tying as securely around her heart as a golden thread.

Nesta lets out a squeal of surprise when strong arms wrapped around her waist suddenly, spinning her around and walking her back until her back is pressed against the wall. Cassian’s eyes are especially bright, sweat still clinging to his face and his skin from their set, further smearing the lipstick stains she left on him.

“Hello, wife,” Cassian greets with a wide grin, caging her in and leaning down and brushing his nose against hers.

“You know just because you proposed, that doesn't actually mean we're married yet.”

“Semantics.”

Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, even as she slips her own arms around Cassian’s waist, keeping him pressed close. “And how long have you been planning this?”

“Like a month? Maybe two?” Cassian offers, shrugging easily.

“And yet you didn't want to stop me when I was being mean earlier?”

“I love it when you're mean,” Cassian tells her, his hands reaching up between them to cradle her jaw. He tilts her face up to him, kissing her sweetly. “I can’t wait for you to be mean to me for the rest of our lives.”

—

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 @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy

[scatteredthoughtsproductions]

Kinktober time: semi public sex for nessian

this is 5 million years late but happy kinktober 2023 my fellow freaks 😏😏 feel free to send in more prompts I’ll be here all month!

TW: smut, pool sex, dirty talk, name calling, degradation

“Cassian,” Nesta panted, her body trembling under Cassian’s touch. “Cassian, someone’s going to see us—”

“Everyone’s asleep, sweetheart,” Cassian replied from where he was standing behind her. He was so hard his dick was practically throbbing, and the way his girlfriend was rocking back and forth against him wasn’t exactly helping the situation. “The only way we’re getting caught is if you can’t stay quiet.”

Cassian and Nesta had gotten roped into their friends’ annual couples trip as per usual, and they were making the most of the empty pool and warm weather. Everyone else had gone to bed over an hour ago, so when Nesta hadn’t been able to sleep, Cassian had suggested a late night swim to help her relax a little.

If only she hadn’t looked so good in that tiny string bikini.

It had only taken a few minutes for Cassian to crowd Nesta against the edge of the pool, spin her around, and shove a hand between her legs. She’d gasped and hissed at him to stop fucking around, but it certainly hadn’t stopped her from spreading her legs wider for him.

“God, I hate you,” Nesta moaned, leaning forward to brace herself against the pool wall as Cassian sped up his pace. “So much.”

Cassian just chuckled lowly and slipped a hand under her bikini top, rolling a hard nipple between his fingers with one hand while he rubbed circles into her clit with the other. “Yeah, it really seems like it.”

“Fuck you,” she gasped.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he replied, leaning down to press a series of wet kisses to the side of her neck. “Right where anyone could see you begging for my dick like the little slut you are.”

Bingo. Nesta tensed as she finally came, leaning forward into her folded arms and muffling her moans. Cassian didn’t stop until she shakily reached down and pulled at his arm, silently telling him that she’d reached the point of oversensitivity.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Cassian said. He moved the arm that had been between her legs so he could give her a little break. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have an idea,” Nesta said back, raising her head so she could turn and look over her shoulder at him. She smirked and ground back hard onto him, reminding him of how badly he wanted her. “Unless that’s something else in your pants.”

“Just me,” he replied with a smirk of his own. He rocked his hips forward in a promise of what was to come before he stepped away from her altogether, motioning for her to follow him. “Come on.”

She frowned but followed him through the water anyway. “Where are we going?”

“You didn’t think we’d actually fuck in the water, did you?” he answered, stopping and turning to look at her with both eyebrows raised. “Come on, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but even you can use your brain.”

Just like Cassian knew would happen, Nesta’s face went a pretty shade of pink. She could run circles around most people, but she not-so-secretly loved when he called her names and acted like she was too horny to think straight.

Cassian smirked and turned back around, continuing his path to the pool steps. He walked almost completely out of the pool and settled on the highest step so the water just barely touched his thighs, leaning back on his heads and spreading his legs with an expectant look in Nesta’s direction. She hurried over and settled between his legs, making quick work of the minimal clothes between them so she could straddle him and sink down on his cock.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned, digging his nails into his thigh so he wouldn’t come right there. Nesta was hot and tight and perfect around him, and even after two years he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the feel of her squeezing his cock for everything it was worth. “Fuck, that’s it. Put on a show for me.”

Nesta steadied herself on Cassian’s shoulders, her slow start eventually giving way to a steady rhythm that felt like heaven. She looked so gorgeous under the moonlight that he couldn’t help but pull her in close for a kiss, messy and open-mouthed and perfect. When he reached down and grabbed a handful of her ass, she moaned right into his mouth, and the knowledge that he was the one making her feel this good had him rearranging his hold on her so he could fuck her as hard as he dared.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she begged as quietly as she could, burying her face into the side of his neck. She’d given up on trying to match his pace, more than happy to let him lift her up and down on his dick as hard and fast as he wanted, and the sounds of her moaning right into his ear was the greatest thing he’d ever heard. “God, Cassian…”

“Yeah,” he groaned, starting to drown in how good she felt around him. They were slapping together so loudly it was a miracle nobody had woken up yet, and the thrill of getting caught only grew with every thrust. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Yours, I’m yours,” she panted. She shifted her arms so she could dig her nails into his back, and the sharp pain brought him that much closer to the edge. “Always.”

“That’s right,” he growled, their rhythm getting a little off-pace as his orgasm started building low in his stomach. “This perfect pussy is mine.”

Nesta gasped and grazed her teeth against the side of Cassian’s neck, and that tiny jolt of pain was enough to finish him off. He yanked her hips flush to his as he came, digging his hands into her skin as he held on for dear life. She clenched around him to milk every last drop out of him, and he nearly bit his tongue off trying to stop himself from shouting at how good it felt.

When he came back down to Earth, Cassian couldn’t help but pull back just enough to study Nesta, who looked the very definition of thoroughly fucked. At some point her hair had slipped out of the loose braid she put it in to sleep, her cheeks were flushed from all the physical exertion, and her tiny bikini top had given out from how hard he’d fucked her. Her eyes looked silver in the moonlight and they were completely focused on him, a little wide from what they’d just done, but no less full of adoration just for him.

God, he loved her.

“Come on,” Cassian said once he could form a coherent sentence, managing to stand without dropping Nesta. He knew how much she loved random displays of his strength, and judging from the way her breath caught, he knew this one had hit its mark. “We need to get cleaned up.”

“If that’s your way of saying round two will be in the shower,” Nesta said back, laughing softly, “then I accept.”

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