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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 5 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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~Cassian~

A week later, I’m exceptionally proud to say I haven’t given in yet. No matter how much I want to.

Tensions the past seven days have been... high, to say the least.

Both of us are doing our absolute best to drive the other insane.

She’s doing it so I either sign the deed and give in or turn to someone else, both which would give her Sera back.

I’m doing it because if I have to suffer, she can bet her pretty ass she does, too.

Ironically, tonight’s our engagement party. A celebration of our undying love and an announcement to the world the Russians and Italians of New York should no longer hate and murder each other.

They’re allowed to be sexually frustrated as hell, but no, they can’t kill each other.

I’m waiting for the little minx who’s spent the week making me regret ever even asking for the club, drinking bourbon so I’m too drunk to even be tempted by her--which is likely enough to kill me--when she finally deigns to grace me with her presence.

I take one look at her, starting at the high blonde ponytail that would wrap around my fist at least twice and ending at the very high, very red shoes I immediately want by my shoulders.

“Fuck.”

Obviously the reaction she was looking for, she smiles.

Her dress is a cream color thing that clings to her curves and is short enough to showcase her long legs. It’s somehow classy, while low enough to draw my eyes to her breasts as she comes down the stairs towards me.

Nesta stops right before me, close enough I smell the jasmine and vanilla of her skin, and looks at me through her lashes.

I turn my gaze to the ceiling, vowing to keep it there until I trust myself to not do something stupid like tell her she’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.

“I’m so fucked,” I mutter hopelessly.

If possible, she comes closer, sliding all the interesting, female parts of her against me. “You would be if you just gave me back my shit.”

I glare down at her. “I don’t like to lose.”

“Would you really be losing?”

I keep my mouth shut, because the answer to that question is a big fat no. God, she’s good.

“Tell me again why you refuse to put us out of our misery?” I ask in return, trying to remind myself who the fuck I am.

Even though I wonder if it is our misery. I can’t read her, can’t tell if this is affecting her like it is me.

She gives me a cold look. “What do you see happening after we get married, exactly? You think you’ll work a few hours at the club I spent three years building from the ground up, come home and eat a home cooked meal, then fuck your complacent little wife however you want?”

I have no idea what to say, because when she puts it like that, I sound like the biggest douche in the world.

Nesta sees the hesitation in my eyes and rolls hers. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow you to disrespect me like that, stronzo.”

“I respect you,” I say immediately, meaning the words.

“Just not enough to value my career.”

“Nesta-”

“Deal with it. If you somehow keep the board from voting you out in the next two weeks and manage to not sleep with me--which is unlikely, considering the way you look at me--the club will be yours.” She takes a step back, steeling her spin. “But I will not.”

I’m conflicted as hell, torn between wondering if she’s just playing me or being sincere.

Apparently done with the verbal smackdown, Nesta spins towards the door.

Hand on the handle, she turns back around and cocks her head. And then she answers the questions I hadn’t realized I’d been too scared to ask.

“No and yes.”

My brows raise. “What?”

“No, it hasn’t all been just me trying to mess with you. Yes, I want you as much as you want me. But I respect myself too much to allow someone who blazes into my life and steals something from me without a care or even a real negotiation to have my body, too.”

She walks out the door, leaving me standing in the living room stunned.

I eventually follower her down to the garage and we leave for the party Rhys is hosting for us downtown. But even though I go through the motions once we arrive, my mind is on the woman next to me the entire night.

I hate admitting it, but she’s right.

I took something that belonged to her, didn’t even question talking to her first, then acted like she was in the wrong for doing whatever she could to get it back.

I’ve said I like how strong and independent she is, but I tried to take that independence and turn her into something else. I bulldozed my way into her life, then acted like I was the one inconvenienced by it.

And seriously, why am I even fighting for this place? Yeah, I like it and think it’s unique, but the place is above board. Which to me translates as boring.

The past two weeks, I’ve had to go to investment meetings, deal with sending out the nightly invitations for entrance, and plan events for upcoming holidays. Things I never do with my other properties.

I hate managing things--I hire people to do that kind of thing for me. But I know I can’t hire someone, because who the hell besides my fiancé would do the job right?

No one.

I realize that on the drive home, and it gets me thinking. By the time we’re inside the apartment, I’m already mentally finalizing the details.

I tell her I have to take care of something, go to my office, and close the door.

Then I pull up the marriage contract, along with the deed to Sera, and hit print.

~Nesta~

A week after our engagement party, I realized I’ve started to lose hope.

Cassian’s managed to wrangle or bribe or threaten the board into not voting him out, and the employees have stopped calling me to ask when I’m coming back. He hasn’t touched me or tried to seduce me in six days--probably a record for him--and I start to feel like I’ve lost.

My club will be his in a week, and after we’re married, only him signing the deed over will get it back. Something that will never happen, considering it’d be a serious hit to his pride to do something as weak as give me what’s rightfully mine.

My club will be his, but like I said, I won’t.

Which honestly is just as upsetting.

Even though he’s a stubborn, boneheaded stronzo with a big enough ego for us both, it’s hard for me to overlook the moments of the past three weeks that haven’t revolved around Sera.

Little moments that have made it harder for me to pull away from him.

He’s made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met, whether with his foul sense of humor or stories about his violent, wild childhood. He stopped leaving the toilet seat up when I pointed it out. He hasn’t said a word about me ordering take-out all the time or working in bed while he tries to sleep.

He even dealt with one of Alexei’s buyers for me when they tried to renegotiate the price originally agreed upon.

And he hasn’t really pressed the celibacy thing. Sure, he’s complained about it enough for me to want to smack him, but I don’t know any other Made Men, Russian or Italian, that would’ve respected my wish after how much I’ve teased him.

If he would just-

I cut that train of thought off and focus on the report in front of me, because at this point, it’s obvious he won’t.

I sip my wine, which is starting to grow on me, and look over shipment records from one of Alexei’s yards, flagging crates that need to be smuggled instead of brought in through the main channels. Repressing a groan at the thought, I realize I’ll have to go down one night this week and make sure they arrive without problem.

I take another long pull from my glass.

“Drinking to forget?” Cassian asks, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom and looking me over.

I shrug, not much in the mood for banter.

“I got you something.”

Sighing, I reply, “Yeah, me too. It’s on the nightstand.”

His brow furrows as he walks over and picks up the ring box, opening it to look at the titanium band inside.

Just another symbol of our lifelong, happy, sexless marriage.

He puts the ring back in the box and extends a hand. “It isn’t a ring.”

“What is it?”

“Get your ass out of bed and find out.”

I would, except I don’t want to. And I don’t really want whatever stupid, materialistic thing he’s bought me-

He closes my laptop and pulls the cover back, ducking when I swing a fist towards his head. “Violent little wolf,” he teases.

“Stop calling me that,” I demand, trying in vain to keep the blanket on me so he can’t tell I’m not wearing anything underneath the t-shirt I stole from him.

He pauses, sighs, and scoops me up, blanket and all. “I love watching you fight how much you love me calling you that.”

“I don’t have to fight anything except he overwhelming urge to smack you.”

Cassian just huffs, walking us out of the room, through the living room, and into his office. Then he puts me down, smacks my butt to get me moving, and grunts when I elbow him in the ribs.

“Maybe this will fix your bad mood,” he mutters, flipping the light switch on and bathing the office in golden light.

I take an involuntary step forward, eyebrows going high on my forehead.

I’ve only been in here once before, just long enough to notice the obnoxiously big desk and wall of windows behind it. I’d taken in the black leather couch and wing-backed chairs, determined it was a typical male office for a typical male, and vowed to work somewhere else.

But that was a while ago, and it’s obvious he’s done some home improvement.

There are decidedly now two desks in the corners near the windows, angled in to the middle of the room where two cream-colored leather chairs sit. The desks are identical, mahogany and classic without being ostentatious.

A rug covers the hardwood floors, a deep maroon color that matches small details throughout the room.

It’s beautiful.

Cassian leads me with his hands on my shoulders to one of the desks, and I let him guide me around to the chair and push me down in the soft leather.

I look up to ask him what this is about, but he jerks his chin to the desk where to two papers lie.

One is the deed to Sera.

A rush of surprise goes through me as I see he’s transferred the building back over to me, even going so far as to deem the process irreversible. It’s signed and dated a week ago, the night of our engagement party.

My eyes are shiny as I look at the other document and read through it.

“What is this?”

“A partnership, of sorts,” Cassian explains, leaning a hip on the- my desk like he did in his Capo’s office. “You’re now a partner at my businesses, and if you sign, I’ll be yours.”

My eyes find his, and I see that he’s serious but still choke out, “What?”

He smiles and shrugs, like signing over half of your life’s work is easy. “You had me pegged when you first saw me and figured out I’m a fighter. I hate everything about running a business except the in-person negotiating and knitty gritty shit. It’s boring to me, and while I can do it, I’m not nearly as good at it as you are.”

“Cassian-”

“So run them both. I’ll do the day to day shit I know you hate, and you’ll do the rest.”

I can’t hardly process what he’s saying.

“What if we disagree?” It’s a valid question, considering we’ve basically been fighting the entire time we’ve been engaged.

“We talk about it and try to figure it out. And if we can’t, the original owner has the final call and veto power in all situations.” His eyes say he knows how important it is to me as he says, “You’ll still be in control of your property, and I’ll still be in control of mine.”

I don’t know why I’m still asking questions, because it sounds great, but there’s one more thing I want to know.

“Why?”

He sighs, sitting on the desk fully and looking down at me with open, honest eyes. “Because I’m tired of doing this shit alone. I’m tired of going to work and dealing with every single thing and then coming home and having no one who understands.”

He looks out the window, shoulders tight. “I thought you’d be like my friends’ wives, which is why I was such an ass. I thought you’d be just another thing for me to take care of, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize you could be my partner, not just my wife.”

His eyes are back on mine, the heat in them making my heart pound. “I’m sorry, Nesta. I’m sorry I stole Sera in the first place, then refused to hear you out and give it back. I have a tendency to be a little stubborn.”

My lips twitch, and his eyes soften at the sight.

“But what you said about respecting yourself stuck. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t respect you, because I do. You’re smarter than me, cool when I’m rash, and have the mind for business I never have.” He smiles softly. “I know you’re just as alone as me, and just as tired of it. So say yes.”

I feel a smile on my face as I get to my feet, moving to stand between his thighs. “Are you just doing this so I’ll sleep with you?”

He sighs, dropping his head in shame to rest against my chest. “You caught me.”

My arms wrap around his shoulders, his going around my waist, and I use the opportunity to play in his hair. It’s so soft and curly, and he makes a content sound as I run my hands through it.

“Are you saying yes, little wolf?” he murmurs against my collarbone, dropping his head to rub his face across my breasts.

I roll and tug his hair to keep the randy bastard away. “Yes, pervert, I’m saying yes.”

Cassian smiles a big, goofy smile so ridiculously charming I lean in and kiss him.

His hands lock at my waist, resting on the curve of my back, and for a moment, he just lets me kiss him.

It isn’t our first kiss by any means, but it’s the first one where neither of us have ulterior motives, so I take my time.

I kiss his top lip, his bottom lip. Find I like them both equally.

My hands work across his shoulders, the thick muscles contracting under my hands, and I sigh his name.

Cassian’s hands fist in the fabric of my pajamas--which happen to still be his shirt--and draws me closer. He kisses my neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, biting down softly and making me gasp. “It drives me crazy.”

His hands slip to the back of my thighs, then I’m on his lap, knees on the desk next to his hips. “You drive me crazy,” he clarifies.

He kisses me again, hands sliding up my thighs to my ass to grind me against him. Callouses scrape against my skin as he sweeps the shirt off and tosses it behind me.

“Shit,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to take me in.

The fact that he’s still fully dressed while I’m in nothing but my underwear makes me feel even more exposed, doing strange things to my mind. I start unbuttoning his shirt while he kisses down my chest.

He teases one with his hand while he takes the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak. I squirm, pressing my hips more fully against is, but he holds me still, kissing and teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.

“Cassian,” I murmur, tugging his hair to pull his gaze to mine. “Thank you for the desk. I love it.”

His brows furrow, and I can see him start to think about how much I’ve teased him, but before he can worry that’s what I’m doing, I whisper, “Now fuck me on it. Please.”

A muscle in his jaw flickers, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.

Before I can say another word, he stands and spins us around, sliding me on the desk. He holds my thighs around his hips, and then an idea seems to dawn.

“Wait right here.”

“Seriously?” I ask, even though he’s already half-way out of the room.

“Don’t you dare fucking move!” is the shouted response.

I roll my eyes, but he’s back quickly, holding the red stilettos I wore to our engagement party. I howl with laughter, and a faint blush colors his cheeks, but he stays firm in his desire and puts them on the floor beside my feet.

Then he leans against the window and watches while I slip them on.

His golden eyes blaze as I lean back on my elbows and slowly spread my thighs, in nothing but lace panties and heels.

“I’ll buy you all the desks you want, if you sit on them like that.”

Laughter bubbles out of me, and he’s suddenly on me, leaning over me to kiss me in a frenzy.

I rip his shirt open, and he doesn’t even break the kiss as he throws it to the floor. I hear the telltale clink of a belt, and then he stands up to slide my panties down, grab my legs, and guide them up.

I feel him brush over the center of me, instinctively lifting my hips to give him a better angle.

But he doesn’t give me what I want.

Cassian just stands there, gaze gliding from the hells on his shoulders to the apex of my thighs.

“Hold that thought,” he mutters, dropping to his knees and putting his mouth on me before I can even blink.

My back leaves the desk, a gasp escaping me.

“Cassian.”

“I want you to come on my tongue, then you get to come on my cock.”

“Cassian.”

He hums, the sensation sending shivers down my spin. He kisses me like he’s doing it for him, not me, mouth on every part of me it can reach.

I can see the lines of his tattoos on his shoulders, the top of his curly hair. It’s too much to handle, so I just lay back down on the desk and throw my hands above my head to hold on to the edge of the desk.

The only time he stops is to tell me things that apparently can’t wait five minutes, but I don’t even care because every word out of that sinful mouth makes me burn hotter.

“Come for me,” he demands breathlessly a few minutes later.

“Don’t boss me around,” I groan, even as I do exactly what he wants.

He lets me ride it out, dropping kisses to my thighs and stomach and hips.

As soon as I catch my breath, he’s on his feet, putting me in the exact position I was in earlier.

And then he’s pushing inside me, and I honestly almost come again from the feel alone. “Thank God,” I groan, the past three reminding me of the misery teasing him put me through.

“Fucking hell, you’re perfect.”

Hands on my thighs, he holds me in place as he starts to move. But as he picks up speed, going harder with each thrust, his hands have to slip to my thighs to keep me still.

I say his name, sounding like I’m begging him for something, and he groans. His head’s thrown back, bare skin shining and making him look likesome sort of beautiful devil.

“Hurry up, little wolf,” he almost pleads.

The sound of that stupid fucking nickname does me in, and I come with a loud moan. I would’ve kicked him in the head if he hadn’t immediately dropped down on top of me to kiss me without abandon.

His hips still but he keeps kissing me until he has to break for air.

I’m boneless and limp beneath him, and he looks me over with male satisfaction.

Then his mouth drops open, betrayal in his eyes, and he says, “I just realized you didn’t speak even French! All these weeks of me fucking fantasizing about that... well, I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Accorde moi un instant,” I pant in French, asking for a moment.

He grins down at me. “Take your time. We have a lifetime.”

My lips twitch, and I don’t stifle the urge to smile.

I’m about to say something, but then his expression turns serious. “You realize I have to fuck you on my desk now. Equality and whatnot.”

I laugh and pull his mouth to mine. “As long as you know I’m still not giving you my side of the bed.”

He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “We can share.”

We get married seven days later, surrounded by a crowd of family, dirty politicians, thieves, drug and arms dealers, and friends.

In the past week, we’ve solidified our business model to a thing of perfection. I handle public relations, real estate and development, and negotiations for the shipping business. Cassian handles both the Bratva and Cosa Nostra soldiers in New York, training new recruits, drug distribution, and negotiations for the arms business.

Basically, I do what I’m good at, and he does what he’s good at.

I know it’s ridiculous to trust someone with half my business after only a month of knowing them, but like Cassian said, I was tired of doing this shit alone.

I’d been dreading the future, dreading taking over and doing everything myself. And now I don’t have to.

I have him to lean on, him to trust.

Looking up, I notice him watching me as we dance, not at all paying attention to the crowd. “What are you thinking about, little wolf?”

“I’m thinking how I thought of this marriage as nothing but an alliance at first. I guess it still is that, but... it’s also more.” He spins us around to the music, watching me with a knowing expression. “You’re more to me than that. And I’m... I’m happy. Working with you and the thought of our future makes me happy.”

He smiles.

“You love me,” he states with quiet confidence.

My heart starts pounding, because I’ve never told a living person that before.

But it’s never been true before, and it is now, so I respond steadily, “I do.”

“I love you, too, Nesta Orlov. Have since the moment I saw you.” He sounds so relaxed about it, the words falling from his lips so easily.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” I ask, not understanding how he’s the calm one all of a sudden.

“Anything you love something, there’s the risk you could lose it or it could hurt you.” Cassian brushes a thumb over my cheek. “But I could never be scared to love you.”

I shake my head and start to say something, but he cuts me off.

“Every morning, when you wake up, there’s this little moment where you look around, confused. And then you look at me, and that hesitation in your eyes just... melts.” He dips me, wrapping his arms tight around me. “You look at me like you trust me, and love me, and want me.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “That look is worth every risk and hardship and whatever else loving someone entails.”

I kiss him back as he brings us to standing. “Italians are such saps.”

He shows off the smile I’ve realized he only gives me, and I say the words I know he needs to hear just as badly as I did. “I love you, Cassian. You’re worth the risk, too.”

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THANK U FOR READINGGG soft ending for the win

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acosf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #nessian archeron

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ritamordio19 · 6 years

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The Idea of a Love Triangle in ACOTAR 4.0 vs. Nessian

So I’ve been much more active in the last two days on my Tumblr than I have since like....well, ever, to be honest (considering this is my first post), and I’ve been seeing a lot of mentions of a possible love triangle between Cassian and Nesta/Emerie, which I heavily disagree with, so I wanted to dissect Cassian’s character quite a bit in this post. I won’t touch Nesta’s character since, as much as I love her, I don’t think I could possibly do a better job than rhysand-vs-rowan did on the one reblog I have on my wall (seriously, read that one too; it’s amazing!!). But Cassian is just as important (and real) to me as Nesta, and I think people don’t realize quite how large his main character trait drives his actions, which is to say: He has to help every female character in distress. And it’s true. He literally cannot help himself whenever there is a woman in any type of problematic situation, which I factor largely due to how his own mother was treated when he was a young child and the helplessness he felt at that time when he couldn’t stop her from being killed. Now I’m not saying this is a character “flaw” per se-- he certainly does quite extraordinary deeds at times, sometimes at great personal cost, to help out these various women in his life -- but it isn’t really a choice for him and can cause serious emotional exhaustion for him when he’s overburdened (often the case when dealing with the Illyrian camps). I see a helper’s complex in him where he can’t feel complete or satisfied as long as he knows a woman is burdened, causing emotional drainage until he’s fixed the issue. The reason I bring this up is because people are looking at how Azriel or [especially] Rhysand treat women they love/have romantic interest in and saying “Cassian treats X girl this way too, therefore there might be a love triangle.” But they’re not comparable situations. Rhysand --only-- put in the amount of effort he put in with Feyre because she was Feyre. You do not see him draining himself to the bone to help Nesta now, and you did not see him draining himself to the bone to help Elain earlier either. At best, he offered them positions in his court, a very low-energy offering, and he left almost all of the grunt work to Cassian, Azriel, and Feyre. This is not to say he doesn’t -care- about their pain, but he is not the type to go out of his way to help while he’s busy being High Lord. He is much more of a passive resource, available to help if asked for, which Elain only uses to a small extent and Nesta is incapable of using (as it would require her to ask for help, something she is currently not capable of and possibly/probably does not believe she deserves at the moment, with the amount of trauma she is dealing with). Azriel we have less information on, but he puts exactly zero work into helping Nesta, while putting in a noticeably larger effort with Elain. And were Morrigan to ever have another traumatic event, it is almost assured that Azriel would be there for her as well. Cassian, on the other hand, has been like this with every woman he has encountered in the story who has been hurt, regardless of [lack of] romantic interest. He put in emotional work with Feyre during their initial training, and he constantly, CONSTANTLY fights for the rights of Illyrian women to remain unclipped and holds these rights and their rights to be trained as his #1 and #2 priorities when in Illyrian camps during non-war times. In addition, while he admits doing so due to jealousy and claims he regrets it, I don’t think he truly would reverse his decision to sleep with Morrigan if that decision had come five years ago instead of 500 years ago. I do strongly believe that, even with age/wisdom/”maturity”, he would’ve risked sacrificing his friendship with Azriel to save her from a life in the Autumn Court with who he believed Eris to be (who Eris truly is?), not having advance knowledge of what her parents would do to her. Yes, he has gone overboard emotionally with Nesta as a result of his interest in her, mainly in terms of their mutual verbal jabbing, but remember this really crucial line, when Cassian realizes she’d been sexually assaulted, from their small story in the back covers of ACOMAF:

“She hadn’t answered him. ‘Would it change anything if someone had? Would it make you see me differently, treat me differently?’

‘It’d make me hunt them down and shatter every bone in their body.’ A shiver went down her spine -- not at the fear of him, but at the truth in the promise. The sincerity. ‘You don’t know me,’ she said. ‘Why bother?’ Cassian snarled, inching closer, his hand gripping hers -- then paused. As if the question sunk in. As if reality sunk in. He blinked. ‘I’d do it for anyone.’ She knew he meant it -- and that he would.”

In terms of him acting as the protector/helper figure that he is, he would go to the ends of the earth for anyone. So the pain he feels at Emerie’s wings being clipped, the anger he feels that the entire village is ignoring her store because a female Illyrian is running it -- that would’ve been the same for any female he encountered. In fact, he demonstrates the same exact internal dialogue/speech with Emerie that he does with literally any female character in the cast other than Nesta. While he may make comparisons to Nesta, these are still passive thoughts from his first impression of a new face (and daughter of an old friend), and they have no emotional baggage or romantic obsessiveness behind them. I want you to compare this to his attitude towards Nesta, far different than with any other member of the cast. In their first and second meetings, he has a very low view of her due to her treatment of Feyre and insults her [protecting Feyre], earning a fairly large backlash from her as well. Importantly, at no point does he see her in any way as vulnerable or burdened until he finds out her past trauma from sexual assault in their second meeting. He doesn’t know about her starving herself (and by proxy her other sisters) in order to try to force her father to do something and the subsequent guilt she faces. He doesn’t know about the trauma she faced watching her mother die. He doesn’t know about Tomas until mid-second meeting. He doesn’t even know about her loneliness/feeling of madness at being the only one to know the truth in their entire household in the midst of Tamlin’s glimmer on their household. He doesn’t know how she braved the forest for weeks in order to try to rescue Feyre. Yet, importantly, he says this in his inner monologue before meeting her the second time to deliver Rhysand’s message:

“Cassian surveyed the estate, the muddy, thawing grounds, the distant village, and looming, budding forest. He’d left their first encounter not entirely sure where he’d stood, or who’d had the upper hand. And, Mother damn him, in the past few weeks, he’d found himself turning over every word and look he’d exchanged with her, over and over.

None of it had been pleasant, every syllable from her mouth barbed and vicious, and...Cassian huffed a breath, hot tendrils ripping away in the wind. He couldn’t tell what was worse: that he’d thought so much about it, or that he’d run here so damn fast. And was now...dawdling.

The thought sent him into a swift, reckless dive for the green-roofed estate.

Nesta is the only character in the entire series that Cassian feels this way towards. She is the only character who gets under his skin -- Emerie included. And remember, this started from their first meeting, whereas his meeting with Emerie was the very definition of platonic, even as he felt the need to solve her shop’s financial crisis. Seriously, could you imagine the following:

He’d had lovers, some for a night and some for months, and Mor had never cared, but...

This woman standing before him like a pillar of steel and flame...Cassian didn’t want to tell Mor about her. About how he’d touched her neck.

...being said about any other female character in the series, even Emerie? Cassian would likely help any woman in distress the way he helps Nesta, but would he freak out about them, constantly replaying their conversations in his head? Would he find himself drawn, time and time again, to any other woman that he views with as much disdain as he did Nesta in their early days? He literally calls her a bitch at least three times in their second meeting alone, and that’s not counting the large number of other insults he sends her way, whether stated out loud or not, all with full intent.

Conclusion

Now, I will temper my comments to a small degree at the end here, which is that, despite being a huge Nessian shipper, I do think it is possible that they do not end up together despite believing, without a doubt in my mind, that they are mates. I just do not think that this would ever be due to Cassian’s end, which is what an Emerie love triangle would entail.

On the other hand, Nesta is dealing with quite heavy emotional trauma post-war, and she is [very understandably] pissed off that literally everyone sees her as Cassian’s. She is free to do whatever she wants, and she may choose to take her own path as Cassian (and the rest of the Court) reminds her too much of the reasoning for various aspects of her trauma (the Cauldron, the war, her father dying). And that is absolutely okay -- she has the right to make her own choice, even if it isn’t Cassian, even if the person she chooses isn’t her mate (are you hearing me Feyre about Elain?????).

But I 100,000% believe with my entire heart that Cassian would rather go single another 500 years than ever give his heart to anyone but her. Thanks for reading my way-too-long comments on Cassian. Let me know if you agree/disagree -- I’d be interested to know why the love triangle theorists believe Emerie to be in play for Cassian’s emotions and am open to having my mind changed. Until then, I’m straight Nessian trash though~~.

#acotar #nessian #nesta #cassian #acotar theory #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight

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imprecisemagic · 6 years

Text

Things That Will Last (ACOTAR/Nessian fic)

*deep breath*

i just wrote my first chapter of fanfiction since... since... i don’t even know! probably my first in the last decade!

“I think I’d like to see what else is out there, what a woman might do with a fortune and a good name.” After the war against Hyburn, Nesta finally begins to build a life for herself. Now living in Velaris, she learns for the first time what it means to work, to be strong, to be in control of her own life. And of course, she must learn to accept the love of her friends - and a certain oversized bat who she once accused of throwing temper tantrums.

Ao3 link if that’s where you like to read stuff.

Mostly Nesta Archeron and her relationships with Feyre/Elain/Amren to start off with, fluff, but there will be Nessian <3

Chapter 1: Almost Home

Nesta looked up from the worn pages of her novel, the echoing of booted feet in the hallway disturbing her reverie. Deep voices rumbled as Rhys greeted his Illyrian brothers before the sitting room door swung open, pushed slightly too hard by a muscled arm inked with swirling black lines. Cassian was two-thirds of the way into the room before he stopped short, becoming aware of Nesta’s presence in a sudden, obvious instant. She almost felt guilty: from the advice he’d given her, she knew Cassian made a point of being hyper-aware of his surroundings, and the town house was one of the few places he felt he could let his guard down. But the slapstick of Azriel halting just short of crashing into the bulkier male’s wings buried her guilt in a wry humour she kept hidden from her expression. Instead, her blue-grey eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and held them for a moment.

“Sorry to disturb your… studying,” Cassian apologised, smirking as his eyes dropped away to the title of her book. She knew he’d picked the word to imply that he knew exactly how far from an academic text her reading material was. Azriel’s face appeared over the commander’s shoulder, as if he were curious as to what she was learning, before he understood the joke and looked out of the window instead, smiling faintly. Behind him Rhys could be heard. “Are you afraid of something, Cassian? Get out of the doorway.”

The three males seemed to fill the room as they traipsed in, even if moments before it had seemed luxuriously sizable. Nesta unfolded her slender legs from the couch, smoothing the silver-grey dress as she stood. It had taken her weeks to stop ignoring her newfound companions when they came into her presence, longer still to take the measure of them and start entering into short conversations here and there. Sharing her reading space with the three of them was still a way off. Besides, they probably want to have… a war council. Or a tactical meeting. Or something.

Rhys was on the point of sweeping his companions back out of the room. Nesta met his eyes for a moment before she shook her head once, resolutely. “I’ll go check on Elain,” she said simply, resisting the urge to glance back at Cassian as she closed the oaken door behind her.

~~~

Outside, Elain stood under the twisty boughs of a small tree, drinking cordial from a dusky blue glass. “Nesta!” she exclaimed, pushing her golden hair back with the heels of her hands, avoiding touching it properly. The movement drew Nesta’s attention to Elain’s fingers – dirtied with brown crumbs of soil – Elain’s face – flushed and showing a slight sheen of sweat – and finally Elain’s feet – clad in work boots, which were a contrast even to the simple cotton dress she wore to work in the garden.

Beside her, the morning sun seeming to shine through her somehow, Nuala was laying out seedlings from a basket, ready for Elain to plant into the newly dug flowerbed before her.

Well, this was a major improvement: both on the company of overgrown bats and her sister’s condition only a few weeks before. There were still plenty of evenings when Elain retired to her room, eyes swimming with tears; still innumerable times she fell silent and melancholy. But it seemed Lucien and the healers had been right, at least this once. The sunshine and the breeze were a strong medicine for the middle Archeron sister.

Nesta seated herself on an ornate wooden bench and listened contentedly to her sister explaining the conditions her latest plants would need and the flowers they would bloom with. Contentedness was a new feeling for Nesta and one it had taken a while to recognise. It was still a novelty, like the feel of new clothes or bedsheets as it slipped over her in the morning light. As a child her mother had pushed her this way and that, insisting she learn an instrument or practice her embroidery before rushing away and leaving her in the hands of equally forceful nannies. Later, contentedness had been entirely absent from their rundown cottage, although sometimes when it was warm and she slept besides her sisters in their heirloom bed, she’d glimpsed what it might be like. And after Feyre left the knowledge that her sister was somewhere in lethal Prythian – the not knowing whether Feyre was safe, or if her remaining family could really expect to be either – as well as that heavy untruth laid on Elain and their father about a sick aunt and a recovered fortune had thoroughly ruled out the possibility of being content.

She reopened her book, picking up her place and slipping back into that imaginary world of handsome knights and chivalrous deeds. For several hours that was how she remained, drinking the cordial that Nuala had brought out, glancing up to watch Elain struggle with a heavy iron shovel and stain the knees of her dress green planting seeds along the border of the grass.

Around midday the three women moved into the cool shade of the kitchen, a welcome relief from the rising temperature outside. Cold meat, cheese and bread was brought out, a simple lunch to keep them going through a relaxed day at – well, she supposed at home. Nesta looked down at the fresh bread in her hand, then out through the open door, sunlight illuminating motes of pollen and dust drifting across the threshold. Was that was this had become? Her home?

Almost. The thought came to her, unbidden. Velaris was beautiful, safe, a home to these Illyrian and High Fae misfits she’d formed – somehow, without meaning to – the beginnings of an attachment to. More so than the manors or the cottage. But Nesta had long been a creature who desired control: an iron will ruling deeply buried emotions, a cold lady who did not react or rise or, often, even look. And while Feyre and Rhysand’s house was beautiful, while her sister and her partner – mate, she had to remind herself still – were so incredibly welcoming, it wasn’t an environment she really controlled. She didn’t need to be in charge of everything, just some small collection of decisions, some choices that she got to make because they were hers, not because Feyre and Rhys offered them to her. The food on her plate was someone else’s, in a way; her bedroom an oasis of Nesta in a broader environment of – well, that morning was a good example, a chaotic diary of Illyiran meetings and preparations for important Court appearances and hushed voices bringing Azriel’s spies’ updates to the High Lord and Lady.

And then there were only so many times you could cope with your baby sister’s mate telling you all to be gone, anywhere else, so they could bed each other whenever they felt like it. And no-one even had the grace to be horrified or embarrassed, just rolling their eyes and begging to be spared from mates.

To complete this feeling of contentedness, to make whole her new experience of home, what Nesta realised she was going to need – and, glancing at her sister as Elain raised berries to her lips, eyes still focused on the garden outside, what she believed her sister would need – was a home of their own. And Nesta knew just the person to help her execute her plan.

#ACOTAR #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #cassian #nesta archeron #nesta #nessian #elain archeron #feyre archeron #feyre #rhysand #ACOTAR fanfic #ACOTAR fanfiction #fanfiction #sarah j maas #imprecisemagic fanfiction #things that will last

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