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bookstantrash · 8 months ago

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“I’m not having a witch in the room when we discuss pack business.”

“I am your wife,” Nesta reminds him, words cold and clipped. — Listen, I understand both sides. Cassian’s annoyed he had to marry her and no doubt he’s very suspicious of Nesta and what pack informations she might give to her mom. However, Nesta also did not ask for this marriage and she’s resigned to being his wife and trying to get used to the pack life and be part of something. They have to reach a middle ground somehow

Cassian leans down until they’re eye to eye, offering a glare of his own. “I didn’t choose you.”

This close together, Cassian catches it, the way her mask slips for just a moment. He almost thinks he imagined it, that flash of emotion in her eyes, before the fury returns. He doesn't dare look down, look away from her gaze, but he can feel the sparks of silver flames prickling across his skin where their hands hang a hairsbreadth apart. He resets his stance, shifting his feet and preparing for the impact of her magic. — Oh flak that hit Nesta a little too close to home given her difficult relationship with her family. Can’t wait to see Cassian regret saying this and apologising

“Did you forget that she didn’t choose this either?” Emerie demands, smacking him hard in the chest. “You were there. Her mother practically sold her and her sisters like cattle. I thought I already told your dumbass you need to respect her.” — YES EMERIE GO OFF QUEEN! I love how Emerie is always read to knock some sense into Cassian

“A temple,” Emerie whispers, almost to herself. “What kind of evil do you have to be to attack and destroy a temple?” — NOT GWYN PLEASE I KNOW SHE IS NOT IN THE STORY (yet) BUT I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT HER

She’s put a ward around the cabin, locking him out. — LMAO CASSIAN HAS NOT SEEN HOW PETTY AND VINDICTIVE NESTA CAN BE YET

Cassian is curled up on his side, his back to the door. One arm is tucked up beneath his head, cheek pillowed on his bicep, and his hair is a tangled mess all around his face. For a moment, Nesta can do nothing but gape, nothing but blink in surprise at the sight of him here in front of the door. When she’d warded the cabin last night, she assumed that he’d find somewhere else to sleep, perhaps crash with Baz wherever the third’s cabin is.

Guilt begins to spool in Nesta’s gut, but then she remembers everything that happened yesterday. She remembers how Cassian seems set on locking her out of everything involving this pack. As if being isolated from her family through this farce of a marriage wasn’t bad enough, she’s stuck being just as isolated here thanks to her dear husband. As if Hybern and its king aren’t as much of a threat to her as they are to Cassian and the pack. — I felt so bad for Cassian but this also makes me feel so bad for Nesta, she’s truly so alone. I JUST WANT MY BABIES TO BECOME FRIENDS AND THEN LOVERS 😭😭

It feels almost strange to be back at the Archeron manor, to peer up at the dark red brick, the spires, and the climbing ivy through the carriage window. Almost subconsciously, her thumb slides across the slightly raised skin on the back of her left hand, tracing the scar back and forth. A deep breath in and out, and Nesta opens the carriage door, stepping out and into the misty morning light. — I will also be needing a scene of Cassian learning everything that Nesta suffered on the hands of her mother and grandmother and have him kiss her scar, thank you very much

Elinor sighs, and Nesta tries to brace for whatever is coming. “I give you girls everything that you need, set you and this family up, and this is what you offer me?” — Hybern can have Elinor and torture and kill her for all I care

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Elain whispers, wincing when Elinor’s fingers curl around her wrist in a tight grip. “It was Eris. He insisted that Lucien and I do it.” — WHY DO I KNOW THIS IS UNTRUE AND ERIS MOST PROBABLY GOT ANNOYED THAT ELUCIEN MADE THIS LMAOOO now I need an elucien spin off

Emerie shrugs like it’s easy, like it doesn’t mean anything, but it does to Nesta. It makes her feel like she may be less alone in the pack after all. She’s about to ask Emerie if she likes to read, to see if they may share any interests, but the carriage pulls to a stop. Emerie is quick to hop out, holding the door open for Nesta to step down as well. — YES WE ARE GETTING CRUMBS OF EMERIE AND NESTA FRIENDSHIP PLEASE YES

“So pretty flushed like this,” Cassian comments idly, using those same two fingers to toy with the waistband of her undergarments. “Good enough to eat.”

Cassian gathers up his hair in his hands, tugging it away from his face and securing it with a leather band, before he slowly drops down to his knees. His fingers curl around Nesta’s ankles, calluses along his palms sliding up her calves, over her knees, up her thighs. He pries her legs further apart, leaning in until even through the fabric separating them still, Nesta can feel the ghost of his hot breath against her cunt, until he can lick a thick line over the dampness that’s already gathered there. — oh Cassian tying his hair back so he can pleasure Nesta this will always be so fucking hot. Also I love he’s like “yeah I didn’t want this marriage and I hate witches but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognise a GODDESS and smoking hot woman when I see one and it’s my DUTY to make her come”

She and Cassian may never be the sort of husband and wife Nesta often dreamt of as a girl, will certainly never have the sort of love she read about in books, but at least they can have this. — I am sat for when they turn out to be exactly the kind of married couple and have the sort of love Nesta always wanted and read about. I can wait.

When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower: Chapter 4

A/N: I'd say I'm sorry this chapter is so long, but I feel like no one actually wants to hear that. We've got a little bit of everything! Cassian getting his ass handed to him. Nessian banter. Mama A being the worst. And SMUT! Anyways, hope everyone enjoys

Additional note: I'm really sorry to everyone on my tag list. Tumblr won't let me tag any accounts for some reason. It won't let me select when I paste it in and it keeps saying "no blogs found" when I try typing manually which I know is a damn lie 😭

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Cassian

Cassian watches as Nesta works through the combination, fists hitting against Cresseida’s raised palms. Her hair is tied back in a braid that runs down her back, the strands swishing across her shoulder blades with each movement and glinting beneath the rays of the afternoon sun. She’s been at it for a while, pink coloring the apples of her cheeks and stretching down her throat to her collarbones, and even from where he’s standing, Cassian can see the beads of sweat speckled across her skin.

Before he can stop them, his thoughts start to spiral down and down. He still remembers the last time he saw that sheen along her skin. Still remembers exactly how far down that flush can go. His body still too keyed-up after sleeping beside her the night before. He has to tilt his head up toward the sky with a sigh, determined to cool the heat sparking and simmering in his veins.

When Cassian focuses his attention back down, Nesta and Cresseida have moved on to sword practice. Wooden sword in hand, Nesta moves first slowly then with more speed through the steps Cresseida directs. Cassian keeps waiting for Cresseida to correct Nesta’s stance, but after the fourth repetition, he can’t take it any longer, striding across the training rings.

“Watch your foot.”

Nesta sighs at the sound of his voice, dropping her wooden sword to her side and turning to him with an unimpressed expression. “What?”

“Your foot. You’re turning it inward each time you lunge,” Cassian explains, gesturing down toward the foot in question. “You’ll lose strength and control doing that.”

Nesta glances down to her own feet, and Cassian wonders briefly if she intends to ignore the advice out of pure stubbornness, out of pure, witchy spite. Another way for her to pull one over on him while they’re trapped in this blazing wildfire burning around them, between them. But instead, surprisingly, Nesta readjusts her stance, shifting her foot so it faces forward.

“Thanks,” Nesta mutters, raising her sword again to work through the same sequence. “Did you need something else then?”

“Just trying to help, sweetheart.”

“And yet, I don’t recall ever asking for it.”

“Cassian!”

Cassian turns at the call of his name, finding Baz just outside the training rings. For once, there’s no smile on his third’s face, his brown eyes missing their usual, playful spark. It has cold dread flooding through Cassian’s limbs, crystalizing between his ribs until the weight twists and presses in. He breathes through the churning in his gut, but his muscles feel tense, his lips pressed into a grim line by the time Baz reaches him.

“What’s happened?” Cassian demands, skipping right past pleasantries.

“Alistair and Cormac have returned,” Baz explains.

Cassian sighs softly, squinting back toward the village and the rows of cabins, his mind reeling over this news. There’s no denying the relief that floods through him, the way it soothes the fear that always sparks within him every time they send out scouts. But what did they see? What information are they bringing back? It’s a stark reminder of the storm clouds looming just over the horizon, of the thunder shaking the ground beneath Cassian’s feet, beneath the pack’s security.

Nodding to himself, Cassian turns his attention back to Baz. “Gather the elders. We’ll meet immediately.”

“Already on it.”

Baz turns on his heels, jogging away, and Cassian watches him go before making his way toward the meeting hall with another sigh. Anxiety prickles across his skin at what they’ll learn, what will be discussed. He makes it a few steps outside of the training rings when the sound of a second set of footsteps reaches his ears, Cassian stopping short. He turns to find Nesta walking beside him, her brows furrowing at their sudden halt.

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks, gesturing back toward the training rings. “Go back to training with Cresseida.”

“It sounds like there’s important news, clearly an important meeting,” Nesta offers, peering up at him as if it’s obvious.

“And?”

“And? And I’m joining you.”

Cassian scoffs, crossing his arms. “You’re not attending this meeting.”

“What,” Nesta snaps dryly, her tone low and incredulous. “Why not?”

“I’m not having a witch in the room when we discuss pack business.”

Cassian is certain that the glare Nesta settles him with would cut down a lesser man where he stands. The blue of her eyes is pure ice, a fire burning in them and promising to swallow him whole in a blazing storm. She steps closer to him, her chest brushing against his own with every annoyed, heaving breath, lip pulled back in a sneer.

“I am your wife,” Nesta reminds him, words cold and clipped.

Cassian leans down until they’re eye to eye, offering a glare of his own. “I didn’t choose you.”

“You’re a godsdamned bastard,” Nesta seethes.

She doesn’t say anything else, surprisingly keeping a leash on her magic and her rage. Instead, she turns on her heel, stalking back toward Cresseida on the other side of the training rings. Cresseida meets Cassian’s gaze briefly, shaking her head, before holding out the wooden sword for Nesta to take again. But Cassian doesn’t have time for disappointment or other’s opinions on what he should or shouldn’t do.

On how he should or shouldn’t run his pack.

He winds his way through the village until he reaches the meeting hall. Baz and Emerie are already standing outside, and he offers them both a nod in greeting.

“Are all the elders gathered?”

“Everyone’s gathered and ready, yeah,” Baz explains, glancing behind him to the open doorway.

“Where's Nesta?” Emerie asks, looking pointedly over Cassian’s shoulder as though she expects the witch to appear.

“Hell if I know,” Cassian shrugs, moving to step forward into the meeting hall but Emerie is quick to step directly into his path, blocking him. He rolls his eyes. “Last I left her, she was at the training rings with Cresseida.”

“Should we wait for her before we start, then? One of us can go grab her,” Baz offers.

Cassian lets out a derisive snort. “Why would we wait for her? She’s not attending a pack meeting.”

The cold look Emerie settles him with rivals Nesta’s. “She’s your wife.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that? Did everyone forget that I didn’t choose her?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Cassian growls, side stepping around Emerie and into the meeting hall. “Let’s go.”

“Fucking idiot…”

~ * * * ~

The sigh that tumbles past Cassian’s lips is heavy, icy claws sinking into his lungs and drawing blood with the exhale. He digs his fingers through his hair, the strands already starting to knot with how many times he’s repeated the gesture. The map continues to lay splayed out across the wood of the table in front of him, and all he can do is stare at it, blink at it.

“We’ll have to inform the vamps and the Vanserras,” Baz’s voice draws Cassian from his quickly spiraling thoughts. “We can’t keep this information to ourselves.”

“A temple,” Emerie whispers, almost to herself. “What kind of evil do you have to be to attack and destroy a temple?”

“If Cormac is right, they got whatever they were looking for,” Cassian comments, leaning forward over the map and sliding his finger along the parchment, along the ink of the lines, the trees and the mountains. “Hybern’s even more dangerous now, and we need to be ready. We need to up our defenses along the western lines, make sure our warning system gives us as much time as possible.”

“You really think Hybern would try something? Attack the pack directly?” Baz asks, a hollowness taking over his usual sunny expression.

“Mother knows what Hybern is thinking or planning,” Cassian says, pushing back up to his feet. “But I’m not willing to risk it. Not willing to risk our pack.”

Emerie nods in agreement, the weight of what Cormac and Alistair described finding at the temple clearly still pressing on her even as she defiantly holds her chin up high. “I’ll make sure the new orders are delivered and implemented.”

“Tomorrow,” Cassian offers, giving Emerie’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “We’ll worry about implementing everything tomorrow. I think we all could use a night off after that.”

“And maybe a drink,” Baz mutters, the barest hint of a smile starting to return.

Cassian chuckles softly, unable to deny the idea sounds appealing. He has a bottle of whiskey back at his cabin that’s smooth and aged, and it might just be calling his name. “And maybe that too.”

Cassian rolls up the map and returns it the rightful place, following his second and third out the door the elders vacated what feels like hours ago. True to his teasing words, Baz heads for the pack’s favorite watering hole, Emerie vanishing toward her cabin to find her wife. It leaves Cassian to make the trek back to his own cabin alone.

The meeting lasted for hours, darkness having now blanketed across the village. The clouds shimmer and shift across the face of the moon, the silver light rippling like waves across the grass where it bleeds through, casting shadows over the trees and cabins. He just hopes it means that Nesta may have already retired for the night. The last thing he wants after that meeting is to rehash an argument with her.

He’s already dreaming of a tall glass of whiskey, of settling before the fire and relaxing at least for one night, as he makes his way up the steps to his cabin. He reaches forward for the handle of the front door, but a shock jolts through his fingertips, skittering up his arm and through his entire body. His eyebrows pinch, and he shakes out the pins and needles before trying again, only to earn the same reaction, his every muscle tensing in response.

“What the fuck…”

Cassian raises his hand, carefully, slowly, pressing his palm forward. The magic glimmers around his touch, spreading outward in silver swirls that Cassian suspects must be some sort of runes. They stretch all the way up and around the cabin like a shield.

A ward.

She’s put a ward around the cabin, locking him out.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Nesta?” Cassian shouts, loud enough she can hear him from wherever she is inside. “Let me in!”

Only silence answers Cassian, mocks him.

“Nesta, I know you can hear me! This isn’t fucking funny.”

Cassian growls in frustration when there’s still no response. He slams a fist against the ward, but the magic seems to give back whatever impact thrown at it, silver flaring around him and the force sending him stumbling back a few steps. He scrubs a hand through his hair and down his face, sending a silent prayer up to the Mother. He doesn’t know how long his stubborn witch of a wife intends to let him stew, but it’s clear that it’s going to be a long night.

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta tugs on the strands of her hair, shifting them until they sit how she wants. She holds them steady in place, plucking the pin from between her teeth and sliding it between the strands. Examining her work in the mirror, she hums quietly in approval, finally stepping back and toward the door. She winds her way through the cabin and to the front door, but her steps stop short when she pulls it open.

All of the anger and rage from yesterday blazes back through Nesta’s veins like a wildfire, and she raises her chin, stepping right over Cassian’s still sleeping form. Hopefully, now, the alpha has learned his lesson. He wants to play games and shut her out of everything, then he can enjoy sleeping outside in the cold and being shut out of his own cabin.

“Nesta.”

Nesta sighs, pausing just two steps down from the cabin. She turns around just in time to watch Cassian scramble up to his feet. Despite not being in his wolf form, his eyes still glow golden, furious in the way they spark and blaze. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, brows pinched down low as he glares at her.

Nesta raises a sardonic brow, not giving him an inch with her cool expression. “Sleep well? Who knew you took your inner wolf so seriously that you take to sleeping outside now.”

“Do you think this is a fucking joke?” Cassian growls, fists clenching at his sides.

“I don’t know. Did you think yesterday was a fucking joke?”

Cassian scoffs, but Nesta has heard enough. She spins on her heel and continues down the steps that lead away from the cabin and back toward the village.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Emerie is waiting for me with a carriage,” Nesta explains, not stopping or turning around. “I don’t want to be late for tea with my sisters.”

She can feel Cassian’s ire following her the whole way, burning a brand into her spine. The low sound of his growl practically echoes in her ears. It has a self-satisfied smirk tugging up Nesta’s lips the whole rest of the way, and if Emerie notices her expression, she thankfully doesn’t comment on it as Nesta climbs inside the carriage, as it carries them away from the village.

She walks up the front steps, the front door swinging open right before she reaches it. At least, the magic imbued within the wood and brick of the house still recognizes her. Nesta steps inside, instantly greeted by the familiar smells of fresh lavender, ginger, and basil, and follows the halls all the way to the sunroom at the back of the manor.

The round table in the room is already covered in a white, lace tablecloth, a steaming teapot placed at the center. Elinor sits primly in the seat directly across from the doorway back into the main house, hair neatly and harshly tugged back away from her face and chin raised high. As soon as Nesta steps inside, her mother’s cool eyes are pinning her in place.

“Mama,” Nesta greets quietly.

Feyre is already settled in the seat directly to Elinor’s right, so Nesta takes the seat across from their mother. She chances a glance toward her youngest sister, but Feyre has her eyes cast downward, staring intently at her plate. Nesta doesn’t miss the way Feyre chews on her bottom lip, the way she aimlessly pushes around her eggs, even as her grip on her fork is white knuckled.

Giving her hands something to do, Nesta reaches forward for the teapot, pouring herself a cup. Thankfully, just as she’s taking a sip, Elain steps inside the sunroom, brown eyes wide and almost nervous as they flit around the table. She’s quick to settle into the final seat beside Nesta, fingers twisting and fisting into the skirts of her dress.

“My girls,” Elinor begins, taking the time to look at all three of them. “Back together again. Have you all been well?”

Feyre’s eyes flash up at the question, but Nesta is quick to jump in. “I’m sure we’re all still adjusting, Mama.”

Elinor hums, Nesta’s fingers twitching and tensing in response to the disapproving sound. She has to shake the urge to trace that scar on the back of her hand again, that sound and what typically followed it still haunting and prickling in the back of Nesta’s mind.

“And what have we learned, hm?” Elinor continues, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “The rumors say that Rhysand’s numbers are beyond what we’ve been led to believe. Is it true? Are there more vampires than we know?”

“How would I know that, Mama?” Feyre sighs softly.

“You’re his wife now, are you not? And what about the wolves?” Elinor asks, her attention snapping to Nesta. “There’s long been stories of their training, of their strength.”

“I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary with the pack,” Nesta explains, trying to hold her mother’s gaze but dropping her eyes to the dark swirls of her tea.

“And how about the Vanserras? And their coven’s spellbook?”

“I… I haven’t seen any spellbook, Mama,” Elain murmurs, her voice quiet.

Elinor sighs, and Nesta tries to brace for whatever is coming. “I give you girls everything that you need, set you and this family up, and this is what you offer me?”

“Mama…” Nesta starts, prepared to place herself in front of her sisters and in the line of fire with their mother if need be.

“You all have to be better. You’re Archeron women for the Mother’s sake.”

“Are we? Since you married us off,” Feyre mutters under her breath, but not quiet enough that their mother doesn’t hear.

“You insolent child,” Elinor seethes, turning her ire on her youngest daughter. “I am making you all stronger, ensuring you can take your birthright. And you’re ungrateful?” She takes a calming breath, smoothing out the lines of her skirts. “I expect you all to be better than this moving forward. At least I see you haven’t allowed the vampire bite, nor the wolf mating bite. That’s good. Elain?”

Elain’s grip on her skirts is near white-knuckled beneath the table, pink beginning to spill through her cheeks. With each second of silence that stretches around them, Nesta frowns in confusion, trying to surreptitiously reach toward her sister in comfort without their mother noticing.

“Elain,” Elinor repeats, her voice clipped.

Another tense moment passes, but then Elain slowly lifts her hands, placing them palm up on the table. The pink line across her left palm is unmistakable, still slightly puckered and not fully healed. A bonding spell, a witch’s equivalent of tying two souls together through blood and magic.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Elain whispers, wincing when Elinor’s fingers curl around her wrist in a tight grip. “It was Eris. He insisted that Lucien and I do it.”

The response has Nesta even more confused. Elain has never been a particularly good liar, neither when they were girls and she was stealing cookies and sweets from the kitchen nor when they were teens and she was sneaking out to meet Graysen Nolan in town. And Nesta knows that Elain is lying now; although, she has no idea why.

“What were you thinking, Elain? This type of stupidity is beneath you.”

“Please, Mama. You’re hurting me.”

“Do you have any idea what this means? What you’ve done? You’re an Archeron, dammit, not some Vanserra’s tramp. Marriage or not, I will not have you tarnishing this family’s name.”

Elinor releases Elain’s wrist, crescent shaped indentations embedded in the skin from her nails. Elain clutches her hand back to her chest, cradling her wrist. Anger sparks and flares in Nesta’s chest in her sister’s defense. She glares across the table at their mother, but Elinor’s focus stays glued on Elain. The biting words sit heavy on the tip of Nesta’s tongue, poised and ready to fire without a second thought for the consequences, for what she knows it would mean to bring Elinor’s ire back her way.

As long as it’s off Elain and Feyre.

But before Nesta can say anything, Elinor pushes up to her feet. She looks down her nose at all three of her daughters, a cruel queen and her subjects. “Remember your place, remember what is expected of you as an Archeron, and do not fail me again.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta is quiet the entire carriage ride back to the pack’s village. She can feel Emerie’s curious gaze watching her from the seat across from her, but Nesta keeps her eyes firmly out the window. She watches the leaves and the trees shift and morph as they move past, her mother’s words, the whole morning, still playing over and over in her mind.

She’s an Archeron woman. A witch who comes from a long line of proud, powerful women. One of three sisters said to be blessed by the Mother herself. No matter that she’s a married woman now. No matter that she and Cassian may one day be amicable. No matter what the pack might one day mean to her. An Archeron is what her mother expects her to be, and Nesta will not fail her.

She will not be a failure again.

“Are you alright?” Emerie finally dares to break the quiet to ask. “You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine,” Nesta dismisses curtly. “Besides, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“You’re the alpha’s wife. You might be surprised, but that actually means something to me.”

The words take Nesta by surprise, and she turns her attention to the second, blinking a few times before remembering herself. “Thanks.”

“I promised Cresseida I’d relieve her from shop duty as soon as I got back,” Emerie explains, waving off the carriage. “You’ll be alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Emerie’s gaze sweeps over Nesta, like she doesn’t quite believe the words, but she doesn’t comment or say anything else. With a nod of her head, she heads toward the market square. Left alone, Nesta takes a moment for herself. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in, allowing the scent of the trees and the moss around her to fill her senses. The peace this deep into the forest licks at her wounds in a soothing way she doesn’t expect, has that magic within her settling like a beast returning home.

Home.

Is that what this place is now? Between her grandmother and her mother, the Archeron manor certainly never truly felt like a home. Nesta has never really felt like she had a home, not a true one,at least. When she was younger, she used to read stories of sweeping romances and believed that she could find one just like the women between those pages. Her mother always said they were nothing more than fairytale dreams, always chastised her when she had her nose in those books.

Maybe that was one thing Elinor was right about.

Sighing softly to herself, Nesta rolls her shoulders and starts along the winding path through the village, back toward the alpha cabin on the top of the hill. When she pushes through the front door, she’s surprised to find Cassian standing in the kitchen. He looks just as surprised to see her, but then his expression changes, morphs into rage with the way his lips pull back in a snarl, the way his hazel eyes flare and narrow.

Nesta had almost forgotten about Cassian, certainly forgotten about their previous argument and the ward she’d placed around the cabin last night. She’d been too caught up in her mother and her sisters, between the disaster that was tea this morning. But it’s clear that Cassian hasn’t, and it all comes crashing back to Nesta as she takes in the way he’s glaring at her.

It’s the perfect distraction.

“I see you got yourself back inside after all,” Nesta comments idly, turning her back on him and removing her shoes and her cloak.

“We need to talk about last night.”

“What’s there to talk about? I thought it was rather fitting. Perhaps, we should build you a dog house.”

Nesta turns back around, offering her best saccharine smile, knowing it’s exactly the thing to get under his skin and fuel the fire. To draw out the pull to her push until they’re burning together and everything else fades away with those flames. But Cassian merely tilts his head, watching her in that unnerving way of his as though he can see right through her. It has Nesta’s hackles raising.

“Do you want to play, Nes?” Cassian drawls, taking slow, measured steps closer to her.

“Play? There’s no playing. You’re insufferable.”

“Insufferable? That’s weak, even for you.”

Nesta scowls up at him, daring to close that final step between them until they’re toe to toe. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. Is that the worst you’ve got? I’ve been called much worse than that, sweetheart.”

“Like what?” Nesta asks, any other cutting words dying on her tongue.

“Offended on my behalf?” Cassian fires back, reaching a hand up between them to cradle her jaw, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip.

The teasing tone has the scowl returning in an instant, Nesta smacking his hand away. “Perhaps, I want to shake the person’s hand. Exchange ideas.”

“Ideas?” Cassian continues to tease, walking Nesta back until her back hits the wall.

“Yes. Ideas I could have shared in the pack meeting yesterday.”

Any teasing drops away completely from Cassian’s expression as he rolls his eyes. “Back to that, are we? It’s my pack, remember? Did you forget who the alpha is?”

“Did you forget I’m your wife? I should have been in that meeting.”

“Oh, you want to be my wife, now? How about you be a good little wife and get on your knees and suck my cock?”

The words are crude, all but snarled in her face, but that doesn’t seem to stop the way Nesta’s body responds. She still remembers that cock all too well. Remembers the way it had felt fucking into her. Remembers the way his knot had stretched her. Remembers the delicious ache between her thighs that remained for the entire next day.

But she’ll be damned if she lets Cassian know all that.

“Fuck you,” she snarls instead, shoving at his chest, but of course his large frame in unmoving.

“You’ve certainly forgotten how good a wolf’s sense of smell is,” Cassian tells her, leaning down over her with a cocksure smirk. “You think I can’t notice the sweet scent of your arousal? Do you want to suck my cock, sweetheart?”

“It’s clear you certainly want me to.”

Nesta shifts her hand, reaching down to grip Cassian’s cock through his pants. He hisses at the contact, but she can feel how he’s already half hard, can feel the way he twitches against her palm. It’s clear he’s getting off on their back and forth just as much as she is. She rubs her hand up and down, squeezing when she reaches the head of his cock.

Cassian continues to swell beneath her ministrations, and Nesta can’t help but lick her lips. How would the weight of him on her tongue feel? How would he taste? Just the thought has her clenching her thighs, desperate for friction, for relief, beneath the skirts of her dress. There’s a hunger yawning in the space between her ribs, clawing and gnawing at her chest, and she sees that same hunger echoes in Cassian’s own burning gaze, in his darkening hazel eyes.

“The no kissing rule still applies,” Nesta tells him, pulling her hand away so she can focus on the laces of her dress. “This is just sex.”

“Just sex,” Cassian agrees, reaching a hand back to fist in his shirt, tugging it up and off.

Nesta’s dress has barely hit the floor in a crumple of fabric before Cassian is pressing fully into her space. His hands find her thighs, fingers spread wide and digging into her skin, and he hauls her up off the ground with ease. He turns on his heel, only taking a few long strides before he deposits Nesta on the kitchen table, the wood pressing against her back.

Cassian takes his time roving his eyes over her, tracing down her throat and collarbones, lingering on her heaving chest and her peaked nipples, following down her stomach and between her spread legs. He dares to reach his hand forward, shadowing that same path with two fingers. It’s a spark catching, goosebumps erupting across Nesta’s skin as she arches up against that touch.

“So pretty flushed like this,” Cassian comments idly, using those same two fingers to toy with the waistband of her undergarments. “Good enough to eat.”

Cassian groans softly, giving her cunt another lick. “And oh so sweet too. Who knew just the thought of sucking my cock would have you dripping already?”

His hands slide up over her hips, and Nesta can feel the heat of them scorching her skin. She can feel the hint of claws too, teasing and drawing a shudder up her spine. Would he fuck her with those claws? What would that feel like?

The sound of tearing fabric is almost too loud, even over Nesta’s panting breaths. She snaps her attention down just in time to watch what remains of her undergarments fall away. That cocksure grin of his is out in full force, hazel eyes glinting from between her thighs. Normally, Nesta would want to wipe that smirk clean off his face, but right now, all she can think about is the sight of him on his knees before her, about the blissful release that sight promises.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines instead, trying to buck her hips up against his hold. “Please.”

“What a good girl,” Cassian praises, mouthing along Nesta’s inner thigh and drawing a soft whimper from her lips. “Now, keep those eyes on me and keep moaning my name.”

The first slide of Cassian’s tongue against her cunt has Nesta gasping, thighs squeezing instinctively around the alpha’s head. Cassian groans against her, his mouth moving to her clit and tracing slow, tortuous circles over it. Nesta tries to keep her gaze firmly on him, but it feels almost unfair. His wide shoulders bracketed between her thighs, the shorter strands of hair falling out of his updo and along his temples, and his eyes…

His eyes glow golden as though the wolf within him has decided to join as well. As though Nesta truly is the prey caught in the predator’s trap. But she’s not sure she’d rather be anywhere else.

Cassian groans again, and then he really starts to devour her. He fucks his tongue up into her, curling and flicking it along her walls. Nesta feels like she’s burning, every nerve ending blazing and focused on where Cassian’s mouth works her higher and higher. Her feet scrabble desperately for some sort of purchase, against Cassian’s shoulders, against the edge of the table.

“Cass… Cassian… fuck.”

Nesta knows that she’s babbling, knows he’s turned her into a puddle of moans and canting hips, but she can’t find it within herself to care, not with the way he plays her body so well. She slides a hand down to Cassian’s head, holding him right where he is, the other finding her own breast to pinch and tweak her nipple in time with the movements of Cassian’s tongue.

Cassian focuses his attention back on her clit, and that fire blazes hotter until it swallows Nesta whole. Her back arches up fully off the kitchen table, fingers curling tight enough in Cassian’s hair that her nails bite into his scalp. She moans loudly as her release carries her right over the edge, trailing off into a whimper when Cassian continues to lap at her still fluttering cunt until he’s had his fill.

When Cassian finally pulls back, Nesta is forced to release her grip on his hair, her hand falling back to the table with a soft knock. His lips and chin glisten, and he makes a big show of sliding his tongue around his mouth and gathering up the excess. Nesta watches from beneath hooded eyes, that heat in her blood still simmering.

She pulls herself up into a seated position, reaching for the laces of Cassian’s pants. She makes quick work of the knot, pushing the fabric down until it slips from his hips and falls to his feet. Just the sight of his cock bobbing free has her thighs clenching again, has her swallowing hard and licking her lips. She eyes the vein that runs along the underside, the already weeping head, remembering exactly it’ll feel when she sinks back onto it.

Her legs are shaky as she slips off the kitchen table, but she’s able to guide Cassian back until he’s falling into one of the kitchen chairs. She sinks down onto her knees between his spread legs, sliding her hands up over his knees and along his thighs. She drags her nails along the skin, through the coarse hair lining his strong thighs, before finally curling her fingers around his cock, squeezing the base.

“Now this is a sight I could get used to,” Cassian comments, his hips bucking up against her grip. “A good girl on her knees before her husband, ready to take his cock so well.”

Nesta wants to roll her eyes at the words, but there’s no stopping the way her body responds to the praise. She decides to focus on the task at hand, leaning in and licking at the arousal dribbling from Cassian’s cockhead. She moans softly at the salty taste blooming across her tongue, opening her mouth wider to swallow him down. She slides her tongue along the underside, relaxing her throat to take as much as she can and working what she can’t with her hand. The weight of him in her mouth is exactly as unparalleled as Nesta imagined, and she moans around his cock as she starts to bob her head.

Tears start to prickle Nesta’s eyes, but she doesn’t let it deter her, blinking and peering up at Cassian through her eyelashes. His gaze is already pinned on her, lips parted and expression nothing short of enraptured. His dirty mouth is silent now. Nesta almost wishes she could smirk around the way her mouth is stuffed full. She may be the one on her knees, but it’s the pack alpha rendered powerless.

It goes right to her head and right to her cunt.

She widens her stance and dips her free hand between her own thighs. Her fingers slip through the wetness, and she teases her clit briefly before sinking two fingers into her cunt. She tries to match the pace of her fingers with the movements of her mouth, curling her fingers every time she swirls her tongue over the head of Cassian’s cock.

“Gods, look at you,” Cassian’s voice draws her attention back to him. “Go on, sweetheart. Add a third finger. Get yourself nice and ready to take my knot.”

Nesta whines around Cassian’s cock, but she does as she’s told. She presses in a third finger, fucking her cunt hard and desperately. Heat coils low in her gut, her thighs beginning to tremble, and when she dares to press her thumb against her clit, Nesta has to finally pull back from Cassian’s cock. She drops her forehead to his thigh, letting out a high pitched cry as her walls clench around her own fingers, her release making a mess of her own hand.

But still she wants more.

She’s not sure how she manages it, but she pushes back up to her feet. She moves to straddle Cassian’s lap, to finally take what she wants, but she barely gets a single knee up onto the kitchen chair. Cassian’s hand snaps to her throat, fingers pressed hard against her thundering pulse. Her cunt echoes the squeeze of his fingers, clenching around nothing desperately.

“Nice try, Nes,” Cassian leers up at her, keeping his hold of her as he stands up. “But I’m still the one in control here.”

He tightens his grip around her throat briefly, Nesta’s breath catching with the squeeze, before releasing it entirely. He spins her around, her back pressed firmly to his front and her hips digging into the edge of the kitchen table. She can feel his cock still hard and waiting, and Cassian shifts his own hips so that it slips between her thighs, dragging teasingly through the mess of wetness there, along her clit.

Cassian presses his lips to her ear, hot breath skittering across her skin. “Beg for it.”

“Please. Fuck me, please.”

Cassian groans at her words, but still, he doesn’t give her what she wants. His hand slides down her stomach, down between her thighs. He sinks two fingers into her dripping cunt, spreading them and stretching her wide, but it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. It’s nothing compared to the real stretch she knows he can give her.

“Do you want my cock, Nes?”

“Yes,” Nesta moans, tilting her hips back to grind more firmly against his cock. “And your knot. Please.”

Cassian’s teeth snag on her earlobe. “Good girl.”

Cassian pulls his fingers free, but Nesta barely has time to whine at the loss before he’s replacing them with his cock. Already, just the stretch of him has stars popping in Nesta’s vision, her cunt fluttering and clenching down around him as though desperate to draw him deeper still, to keep him right there. She feels so incredibly full, her toes curling against the hardwood of the cabin floor.

“Two orgasms already and you’re still so tight around me,” Cassian sighs, pressing between Nesta’s shoulder blades until she’s bent in half over the table. His hands find her ass, fingers digging in against the flesh. “But Mother save me, look at the way you take me so well.”

Nesta whimpers as Cassian pulls his hips back, the slow drag of his cock, but then Cassian is snapping his hips back forward. Again and again he drives into her, setting a hard and fast pace. It’s everything that Nesta needs. Every thrust that has him pressing deeper still, every slap of his hips against her ass, has Nesta keening. She claws at the kitchen table, desperate just for something to hold onto.

As that heat starts to lick up her spine again, her body coiling tighter and tighter like a bow string, Nesta reaches a hand between her hips and the table edge, fingertips trying to catch on her clit despite the jostling. A growl sounds from behind her, fingers curling around her wrist. Cassian yanks her hand away, pressing it to the table and holding it firmly there.

“You’ll come on my knot or not at all.”

It’s a threat and a promise.

Her entire body feels wrung out, but she doesn’t want him to stop. She hopes that he doesn’t stop. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knows she should feel embarrassed at this hunger that cloys in her gut, that flares through her chest, but she can’t find it within herself to care. She wants this. Wants him. Wants his knot.

Her throat feels hoarse with how much the male behind her has made her scream, but there’s no stopping the litany of moans that tumble past her lips. Especially when she starts to feel the swell of Cassian’s knot, feels it catching against the lips of her cunt with every forward thrust.

But he only seems to keep teasing her with it.

The next time that Cassian snaps his hips, Nesta presses her own back to meet him, forcing his knot to sink into her, to properly notch and lock them together.

“Fucking shit,” Cassian groans, dropping his head to her shoulder.

His hands grip Nesta’s hips hard enough to bruise, his cock twitching and flooding her core with warmth. The stretch of his knot, the feeling of being so completely and utterly full, is indescribable, and Nesta clenches down, milking his knot and his cock with a soft moan.

“Still want to be a good little wife, Nes?” Cassian asks, grasping her jaw and pulling her head back against his chest. “Then come all over your husband’s knot.”

His free hand slips down between her thighs, pressing hard against her clit. It’s all it takes for Nesta’s third release of the afternoon to tear through her. She all but screams Cassian’s name, her body trembling through the way his knot still presses against the walls of her cunt, the way she can still feel his cock twitching and filling her deep, the way he doesn’t relent with the rough circles he traces against her clit.

When Cassian releases his hold on her, Nesta is like a marionette with her strings cut, slumping down against the kitchen table with a soft whimper. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, tries to calm her thundering heart and come down from her high. With her cheek pressed to the table, breath puffing against the wood, Nesta allows her eyes to fall shut.

She and Cassian may never be the sort of husband and wife Nesta often dreamt of as a girl, will certainly never have the sort of love she read about in books, but at least they can have this.

—

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blainesebastian · 2 years ago

Text

hitting a nerve

words: 1,729 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (request from anon): angst bc austin is stressed & accidentally takes it out on the reader while she's trying to make sure he’s taking care of himself and then it all ends in fluff notes: this could be in the same universe as ‘take care’ but can be read alone warning: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell,

The past few days between you and Austin have been chilly at best—you know that he’s under an extreme amount of stress while on the set of Elvis, so you’ve done your best to give him distance and support as much as you could at the same time. It’s definitely not easy. While it appears simple to offer him a kind word or a thoughtful touch, you can tell that there’s this ivy of tension wrapping around his body, thorns included. It’s a barrier to keep you out even though there’s been promises on his end that he wouldn’t do things like that anymore, not since the two-year span of cutting people off to dedicate himself to his craft in adopting Elvis. You’ve been understanding and willing but there’s also a limit in what you’re willing to take.

It's just not about you at this point, Austin is going to run himself right into the ground if he doesn’t slow down. You know that part of what makes him so wonderful is that he works tirelessly at one-hundred and ten percent with things he cares about, where there’s passion, but he often forgets that he can’t do that all the time.

No one can keep up that kind of energy and momentum—he’s only human.

The problem, other than that? It’s difficult to remind him to take that time, especially when something is going awry on set. You suppose you shouldn’t say that, you’re getting half-baked information from Austin when he comes home and the rest is from Oliva texting you (she’s worried about him too). Apparently Baz is riding him extra hard on one of the fifties songs, though you’re not sure if it has to do with his voice, his moves or both.

Regardless, you know he’s working his ass off to make it right, to make it damn near perfect because he feels responsible in representing Elvis’s legacy. But…you feel like he often forgets that he’s already giving so much of himself, that he’s already doing that, and taking a moment to breathe will not completely derail progress.

When he comes home late one night, tossing your apartment keys on the side table, you can tell he’s already wound as tight as a drum. There’s this straight line through his shoulders, as if there’s rebar there keeping them in place, and you slowly put down the cup of tea to look him over. Jeans, faded blue sweatshirt, sneakers, black hair hanging in a few strands over his forehead.

Austin looks up and sees you, blinking as if he didn’t expect you to be sitting on the couch, “It’s late, you didn’t need to stay up.”

You shrug lightly, “I wanted to—haven’t seen you for a few nights in a row. I missed you.”

He hums, running a hand through his hair. Even though he doesn’t say it back, you know he feels the same way. His energy levels are dipped so low when he comes home sometimes that he can’t get the words out that he wants from underneath his tongue. You don’t take offense. With some decent sleep? He bounces back completely; it’s just getting him there that’s the hard part.

Austin toes off his shoes, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose,

“Do you have a headache? I can make you some tea.”

He sighs, “Don’t worry about it, just need to sleep.”

You bite your tongue as you stand from the couch…this is where you should have known better. To just let him move around the apartment, do what he needed to do, grab a shower and some sleep and just ask him things tomorrow morning when he’s more approachable. Except you don’t do that, you push—

Turns out it’s right on a nerve of his.

“Did you eat on set? Because if you’re not eating that might explain—”

The tension that was laying along his shoulders suddenly snap like a rubber band and Austin turns, sharply, to bite, “I don’t need you to baby me, alright? I can take care of myself.”

And that—that honestly feels like a slap to the face, far too sudden, his tone sharp like a knife. You straighten your back, and usually you’re not the argumentative type but just because he’s in a bad mood? Does not mean he’s going to walk all over you.

“Look, I get it’s been hard—”

“You do not get it.”

You ignore that jab completely, low hanging fruit, “—but you do not get to come home and speak to me like this, okay? I’m your girlfriend and I care about you,” You don’t mean for your voice to become slightly shrill, but you’re upset and despite the fact you know Austin doesn’t intend to hurt you? it still does. “I’m just trying to help.”

He takes in a short breath, that muscle working in his jaw as he clamps his mouth shut. “Girlfriend, right—which is different than actin’ like my mother, don’t you think?”

Staring at him a long moment, you let his words settle in the air, fizzling out like a fire that has water thrown onto it, doused. It takes Austin maybe a second to look right back at you before something loosens in his shoulders, eyes a touch softer, swallowing as he can’t hold your gaze. You tell yourself not to take it so seriously, that he obviously looks apologetic, but at the same time you can’t let him expect that it’s okay to treat you like this when he’s upset. You’ve already had a boyfriend who didn’t appreciate you, who stepped all over you, and you don’t need that again—especially when you know that’s not who Austin is.

“Y/N—”

“You’re bein’ a jerk.” You inform him, picking up the tea left behind on the table near the couch and go into the bedroom, shutting the door.

He’s not invited into this space tonight.

You hate to self-identify as ‘one of those couples’ that have trouble sleeping without your significant other? But you kinda do. It’s been off and on since Austin started his role for Elvis, not always as difficult to fall asleep some nights. Last night though? Consistent tossing and turning and you know it has everything to do with the argument you had. Commentary laces its way back through your ears and pounds against your eardrums, things you shouldn’t have said, annoyance at the words that came out of Austin’s mouth—like pinpricks in your skin. Ugh. You know that people never say to go to bed angry but it’s just a fact of life, you know that Austin will still be there the next day.

You both can get through this.

Turning onto your stomach, you sigh into your pillow, allowing your eyes to close again in that sort of half-awake daze that happens upon first waking up. Or well, you suppose Austin would be here, if he hadn’t needed to get to set. Shaking your head, you don’t check the time, but you know it’s early. Maybe you can still get a few more hours if you—

There’s a knock on your bedroom door. For a moment you’re sure you’re hearing things but then it happens again, the knob turning and opening up a small crack, “Y/N? Can I come in?”

Part of you wonders if you’re dreaming because…you don’t need to look at the clock to know that Austin should already be halfway back to set by now, or on it, and you turn lightly to look over your shoulder. He looks slightly disheveled as he pushes the door open a bit further, obviously slept on the couch, his cheeks gently pink and his hair mussed.

And yet he still looks attractive, which seems unfair—probably not the best to think about right now.

You nod and turn to sit up, propping up some pillows against the headboard as Austin makes his way inside. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and comes to sit next to you, quiet for a few moments as he collects his thoughts. He looks like he didn’t sleep well either, your couch isn’t exactly forgiving…it works in a pinch. Some part of you wants to feel bad about that because you already know he’s stressed and frustrated, that he needs good night’s sleep, and yet you also know he definitely deserved to be alone last night on semi-uncomfortable cushions.

“Sorry just doesn’t really cut it,” Austin says, shaking his head, “You were right—I should never be speakin’ to you like that.”

Curling your hair around your ear, you reach for one of Austin’s hands on his lap, holding it between both of yours. You run your thumb over his knuckles and appreciate the apology—honestly, you don’t need anything else.

“Thank you,” You whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss. There’s a soft, tired smile tugging the corners of your mouth, “I really don’t mean to sound like I’m nagging, okay? I’m just—I just worry about you? I love you.”

“I know,” The emphasis there is warm, his other hand moving to cup your cheek. Tilting your head into his touch, you press a kiss to his palm, “I love you too, so much. I probably wouldn’t be half as good as what I do if it wasn’t for you lookin’ out for me.”

There’s a small eyeroll but it’s touching nonetheless, you don’t think you’re that integral in Austin’s process—especially given everything he’s done and proven so far. But he swipes his thumb along your cheekbone, gaining your attention,

“I’m serious—I mean that. I’m gonna work on talkin’ to you when I need instead of shuttin’ you out.”

Moving to run a hand through his jet-black hair, you smile and hum, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He draws you closer and into an embrace, holding you tightly against him. Hands move up and down your spine, Austin’s face dips into your shoulder and neck, slightly tickling you with his nose but worth it as he breathes you in. It makes you feel just as wanted as you want and need him.

Closing your eyes, you hold onto that promise, memorizing his words and the way his lips press against the skin of your collarbone.

i am feeling sICK so hopefully this turned out okay, pray me for ya’ll haha ya girl is struggling, thanks for reading!!

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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