#nessian vibes

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

Nessian vibes where Cassian wants to dance with Nesta but isn't very good at it, so he uses his wings.

[tsunami-of-tears]

Cassian: *cooking Nesta breakfast*

Cassian: Hey Nes, how do you like your eggs?

Nesta:

Nesta: 😏

Nesta: Fertilised

Cassian: *drops the pan and forgets about breakfast*

[jmoonjones]

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Idc how much you hate nessian and think that nesta deserves better and blah blah blah

acosf they will NEVER make me hate u

[paatuhod]

fun lil gwynriel hc (duet)

so i'm imagining gwyn putting a little something together for nessian's mating ceremony right? she knows nesta loves music and to hear her sing and she wanted to do this for her sister and her mate.

she goes up in front of everyone, nervous, saying she found an old illyrian lullaby (something cassian would have grown up hearing fr rhys' mom) and a human lullaby (something nesta would have grown up hearing from.. well not her mom but someone maybe her sisters or her dad). she put them together, and it's inspired by nessian!! she's excited! nesta and cassian are so touched!

but she looks at all the people and balks--she's never sang in public before except in services with other priestesses.

she stands there frustrated and unsure what to do because she's rehearsed this a thousand times so why can't her body just cooperate!! she starts panicking, when she feels someone shuffle close beside her and she looks up to see azriel, looking at her, urging her to look only at him and ignore everyone else. she is able to take a deep breath and smiles, and az, who has been helping her practice the songs secretly, sings the first verse of the illyrian lullaby.

everyone is just (did you know he could sing wtf)

[separatist-apologist]

A Fragile Little Flame

I know places we won't be found

Summary: Cassian has survived two wars and knows a thing or two about going up against a powerful adversary.

Nothing can prepare him for Nesta Archeron

Read more: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| AO3

Nesta wrapped a scarf around her neck and hid her face beneath her hooded cloak as she made her way into town. Emerie had brought her, well aware Cassian would never agree. He’d left that night to see Rhysand and returned to bed smug—though he wouldn’t say why. He’d merely made love to her until he was certain he’d exhausted her, and then crept out to see Azriel. 

 

Nesta had done the same—though she’d gone to see Emerie. She couldn’t marry Tomas and had to get Feyre out, too. All she’d thought about those last few days was Feyre’s hollow stare—and that bruise. 

If Feyre didn’t want Rhysand, well. Nesta couldn’t blame her for that. There were more than two options, and way, way at the bottom was Nesta’s current plan.

Drug Feyre. Take her to Elain. 

It wasn’t elegant or particularly well-thought out, in retrospect. It merely solved two of Nesta’s most pressing problems. It freed Nesta from Tomas and Feyre from Tamlin. She trusted Elain would have better luck talking sense into Feyre, and Lucien seemed on the outskirts—and was, perhaps, feral enough to keep Rhysand from banging down their door. 

Nesta fidgeted with the bottle in her cloak pocket, her fingers slippery from her nerves. Nesta turned it over and over, letting the slosh of liquid settle her. Dawn had just slipped over the sleepy city, letting her slip through the streets without drawing too much attention. The last thing she needed was to be intercepted by someone who knew her—who might tell Tomas she was around.

The manor was in worse shape than before. Nesta drank in the dead garden, left unattended when Elain had been dragged off before being wholly abandoned when Elain had returned, marked in gold. The front door was splintered and the little glass panes above it broken. When Nesta pulled open the door, her boots crunched against broken stones and more glass. 

“Feyre?” she called. Every light was on, burning so bright Nesta could see dust motes hanging in the air. 

Wood creaked above her. Cold slithered down Nesta’s spine as she turned for the spiraling staircase and carefully began making her way up. Having grown up in the crumbling estate, she knew exactly where to put her feet so she didn’t make a sound. As a girl, she’d done this when her parents had one of their screaming fights, tiptoeing down so she could listen. 

As she came closer to the landing, she could hear the soft sound of crying. Mouth open, Nesta was about to call for Feyre again when she heard another voice.

“Who did you tell?”

Her blood turned to ice. Sliding her hands over her body, Nesta fumbled for the dagger hidden in her boot. She’d left the sword Cassian had given her at home, certain traipsing through her old home armed to the teeth would betray her far more than the red scales ribboning her body. 

She regretted that decision now. 

“No one,” Feyre whispered. Nesta gripped the handle of her weapon, creeping down the hall. The hall branched and Nesta darted down the fork, back to the wood when Feyre’s door flung open. Pine green eyes set in a haughty, handsome face swept through the space, missing Nesta by sheer luck. Her heart pounded wildly in her throat, a near match for the heavy pound of Tamlin’s boots on the wood floors. And it was Tamlin, if his finely tailored jacket was any indication. No scales, no pointed ears. Just a human man bent on tormenting her youngest sister. 

He was Graysen, and yet somehow much, much worse. 

Feyre appeared a moment later looking so much worse than she had before. Months looked as if they’d passed between their last vision. Nesta pressed her hand against her mouth to keep herself from saying something. 

“It’s probably just Elain,” Feyre said, wiping her eyes on the back of her frail hand. She looked sick. Bruises ringed around her throat, mocking what Feyre might have had if she cared even a little for Rhys. 

Tamlin’s boots thudded down the stairs. “Why is she here?”

“She checks in,” Feyre warbled, shaking out her hands like they burned. “Both of my sisters do.”

“Whores,” he spat, his voice echoing off the walls. Feyre’s eyes slid to the floor, her bottom lip trembling. Nesta waited for his shoes to fade before scrambling from her hiding place. 

Feyre’s eyes widened when she realized it was Nesta who’d come. Nesta winced—she deserved that, she supposed, given how bad their last meeting had gone.

“Come on,” she whispered, reaching for Feyre’s wrist. Her fingers spanned the entirety of it and gods, how was Feyre standing? “We need to leave.”

If they ran, they’d be outside in broad daylight before Tamlin could intercept them. Feyre looked up at her and for a moment, Nesta was certain she was going to tell her no. That she’d demand she stay and Nesta would have to drag her out kicking and screaming. 

Her hands were cold when they slipped into Nestas. “Take me away from this place,” she said. Feyre’s moonbright eyes filled with tears and Nesta had to swallow the urge to fling herself around her sister's body.

Nesta nodded, well aware she was wasting time. There would be time to debate the merits of Windhaven or Elain—for now, all they had to do was get through the front door. Feyre’s head tilted toward the stairs, listening like a rabbit searching for prey. They hadn’t always been like this, Nesta thought. 

Though, they’d never really been safe, either. The one thing they’d always had was each other and they’d lost that, too. If Feyre was willing, she’d take her to Windhaven and beg Emerie to let her stay, too. Emerie was already housing one human.

Or, if Feyre wanted, she could stay with Nesta and Cassian. As long as Cassian agreed his loyalty was still to her and not his king, Feyre wouldn’t have to see Rhys. 

Nesta was so lost in her planning that she forgot to remind Feyre about the creaky steps. Unlike Nesta, who had never wanted to be caught by their furious mother, Feyre hadn’t cared. It had been almost a dare.

Notice me, notice me.

So different from Elain who never wanted to be noticed at all, and Nesta who felt like she had no choice but to be seen, and so she tried very hard to make it so people saw only what she allowed. Feyre merely stepped in her haste to escape, still clutching Nesta’s hand. The groaning wood might as well have been a lightning crack for how loud it seemed to fill Nesta’s hand. They both frozen, gripping the other tighter.

No Tamlin. Nesta forced herself to breathe, tugging Feyre to come with her. Emboldened, they both crossed the steps for the landing. 

“That doesn’t look like Elain,” Tamlin commented from the hall. He’d watched them creep down wordlessly, waiting for them to arrive before announcing his presence. “That looks like Nesta.”

Nesta kept her grip on Feyre’s hand. He wasn’t married to her yet. He had no claim to her time, her home, her anything. 

Nesta lifted her chin and adopted her haughtiest stare. “And?”

His expression flattened. He didn’t like women, which meant he didn’t like Nesta or her willingness to look him right in the eye. She still held that dagger in her other hand and it hadn’t escaped his notice. Still, Tamlin kept his spot leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Should I ring for tea?” he asked, looking around with raised eyebrows. It was meant to shame Feyre and perhaps remind her of her place. She needed him. He was, Nesta assumed, unaware his king would have gladly crawled at her sister's feet if she ordered him to. 

“I’m taking her out,” Nesta informed him, which was more courtesy than he deserved.

She turned, heart thudding against her ribcage. They took one step to the door before Tamlin asked, “Does Tomas know you’re here?”

Nesta’s head whipped around. She hated these men. “How is that any of your concern?”

He shrugged, pushing off his perch to walk toward her. “My fiance’s family is my family, after all.”

“Tamlin,” Ferye whispered, squeezing Nesta’s hand so tightly Nesta thought she was constricting blood flow. 

The fury in his gaze silenced Feyre’s protest. 

“Feyre and I were in the middle of something. Why don’t you go visit your beloved, and visit us at my estate later this afternoon. I’ll be better able to receive you.”

“No.”

Feyre tugged on Nesta’s hand, pulling her for the door, but Nesta didn’t budge. Tamlin’s anger rippled over his features. “No?”

Nesta wasn’t afraid of him—or any of them. “I told you. I’m taking her out. You have overstayed your welcome and you impose your presence on a lady. Get out of my house.”

“Women can’t own property,” Tamlin reminded her, advancing toward them. Nesta let Feyre pull her toward the door, thinking of Emerie, who would be waiting in the woods. 

“Evict me, then,” Nesta dared. It wouldn’t matter. Let Tamlin have this rotting piece of land. They wouldn’t be here to challenge him. “Marry Feyre, if you want to order her around. Until then—”

Tamlin lunged for Feyre. Nesta reacted, dropping Feyre’s hand and raising her dagger. She only meant to scare him—to wave it in front of his face until he backed off. She was more scared than she was angry and Nesta just wanted to get back to Windhaven before Cassian realized she wasn’t in bed.

Warm blood sprayed against her face, pulling Nesta from her fantasy. Tamlin’s eyes had gone wide and somewhere she could feel the way muscle and tendons gave way beneath the sharpened edge of her blade. He stumbled backward while Nesta released the handle.

Feyre pulled again. “We need to go,” she whispered. Fear slithered through Nesta at the sight of Tamlin—a lord—bloodied as he sank to his knees. If they stayed, they’d be put to death. Nesta yielded a step, and then another before she turned her back to him, keeping pace as Feyre began to run.

“How did you get here?” Feyre asked, squinting against the golden light of the rising sun. 

How had she gotten here? Nesta blinked, but couldn’t clear her head. Feyre repeated her question with more urgency.

“Emerie,” Nesta choked. “In the woods, Emerie is in the woods.”

“Oh, thank the heavens,” Feyre muttered. Color had returned to her cheeks—though it might have been faint splatters of blood. It seemed only one of them could fall to pieces at once, and now it was Nesta’s turn. She only made it to the treeline because Feyre refused to drop her hand or slow down long enough for Nesta to start panicking.

“What happened to her?” Emeries voice cut through Nesta’s frantic thoughts. 

“Nothing that was her fault,” Feyre said softly, eyeing the iridescent scales gilding Emerie’s skin. 

“We should go,” Emerie said, shifting into her scaled form. Feyre took a healthy step backwards while Nesta nearly crumbled at the sight. 

“Take me—take me home,” she said, scrambling to climb atop Emerie’s back. Feyre came with her, letting Nesta secure her with her arms. Emeries glanced up, snout huffing with what Nesta thought might have been amusement. 

How long before someone found Tamlin? How long before—

“Thank you,” Feyre whispered, twisting around to throw her own arms around Nesta’s neck. Emerie took off, wind whipping their hair. Nesta held her back, burying her face in the crook of Feyre’s neck.

“You don’t have to go back,” Nesta told her, praying Feyre didn’t want to. The truth was, Feyre couldn’t go back. Nesta had gotten what she’d wanted, even if it hadn’t been exactly the way she’d planned. Feyre wasn’t going to marry Tamlin—because he was dead.

And she had to come to Windhaven, at least long enough to get to Elain. Life as she knew it was over. More of Nesta’s guilt crashed over her until she was suffocating, drowning in the realization that everything she touched, she ruined.

Nesta didn’t realize she was shaking until Emerie brought them to Windhaven. Nesta had never been so happy to be anywhere than when she saw those steepled rooftops come into view. Snow capped mountains loomed in the distance, and somewhere up ahead was where she and Cassian had been sleeping. 

And Cassian—Cassian was standing just outside Emerie’s shop, hazel eyes burning with fury as he faced off with Gwyn and Morrigan. Nesta would have given anything to know what they were talking about, even if that argument had clearly concluded. 

Feyre came down first, taking in Windhaven with new eyes while Nesta stumbled after her.

“What happened to her?” Cassian demanded, striding toward Nesta before her legs could give out. “Who did this to you?” he demanded, hands on her face looking for the source of the blood.

Nesta was shaking so hard she could hear her teeth chattering. 

“I did it,” she told him, leaning into the warmth of his calloused hands. “I killed him.”

The hands on her face slid around her body. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“But—”

“You let me handle it, now.”

Nesta pressed her head into Cassian’s chest. Trust. He was asking her for trust.

And so she nodded. “Okay.”

CASSIAN: 

Cassian had to fight to keep still. Behind him, Azriel paced back and forth while they waited. He should have been on his way to find the missing human princess—this was more important.

This was about Nesta. 

Rhys was late, which didn’t bode well as far as Cassian was concerned. Feyre had come up to the House of Wind with them, looking as if she’d just barely escaped a war prison. Cassian had been tempted to demand she strip, if only to catalog every bruise on her body. She was underfed and exhausted.

He’d put them both to bed after ordering them into the bath, and when he’d returned intending on holding Nesta, he’d found her and Feyre curled up around each other. Emerie had left to retrieve Elain, and Cassian was here, a floor away from his mate, waiting on Rhys to tell him just how important that lord was.

Very important, if Rhys’s prolonged absence was any indication. They were already treading dangerous water, given the missing princess and Azriel slaughtering that male from the village weeks before. Cassian rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“How fucked do you think we are?”

“Very fucked,” Rhys intoned, striding into the room. Azriel quirked his eyebrows up silently, stilling as they waited for Rhys to sit. He tossed a blade to the table, causing all three of them to wince as it clattered against the wood. An Illyrian blade, still coated in blood, damned them all. Nesta, in her panic, hadn’t pulled the blade from Tamlin’s neck. 

“Fuck,” Azriel whispered. 

“She did me a favor,” Rhys told Cassian, reclining in his chair casually, fingers drumming over the arms. “Is Feyre—”

“She’s safe,” Cassian said curtly. “Sleeping with her sister.”

“And—”

“Elain will be here before nightfall,” Cassian continued while Rhys rolled his eyes. They both knew Feyre didn’t want to spend her time working in Elain’s vegetable patch or running after however many kids she and Lucien had now. It was an empty threat, and still polite enough to remind Rhys that until Feyre invited him, he was, technically, supposed to leave her alone.

While ignoring that neither he, Azriel, or Lucien had done the same. 

Cassian doubted Rhys would, either.

“Good,” Rhys said flippantly. “Keep her here.”

“And Velaris?”

“Rioting,” Rhys said with a heavy sigh. “It’s been bubbling since that first attack on the city—since they realized we were numerous, and their women might prefer us.”

“This was how it started last time,” Azriel reminded Rhys, his eyes darkening. He had his own mate to think about—and a child that would be coming by the end of the year. No one wanted a repeat of before. Of leaving for war only to return to find their mates and children hunted and killed. 

“We need allies,” Rhys said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t…I don’t want to wipe out humans but waiting costs us.”

“Eris?” Azriel asked, making his way toward the door.

“Yes,” Rhys agreed. “But given the state of the streets, I think for tonight, we need harsher enforcement. I want to lock the city down with a curfew.”

“What happens if someone breaks it?” Cassian asked casually.

Rhys’s eyes flicked to his face wordlessly, earning a savage smile from Cassian. It was to be like that, then. 

“I’ll round up my best.”

“I want you in Windhaven,” Rhys told Cassian. “Run your soldiers through drills, put them in the air and on the streets. No one comes within five hundred feet of the city without my express permission. Execute anyone without it.”

“Done.” Cassian would have agreed to far worse. 

“No one leaves,” he added pointedly. “Not without my permission.”

Cassian understood that perfectly well—Feyre was to remain in Windhaven. Rhys always got his way, and Cassian imagined it was merely a matter of time before he got Feyre, too. Cassian vowed to stay out of it, so long as it didn’t harm Nesta. 

With their orders well-established, Cassian brought Rhys to the barracks and allowed him to handpick a unit of fifty. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” Cassian asked, only a little disappointed he’d miss killing the same humans who’d scared his mate. He was imagining hunting down Nesta’s former betrothed and ripping his throat out with Cassian’s teeth.

Someday, perhaps. Maybe Tomas would get stupid.

Maybe Cassian would get lucky. 

Well—luckier than he already was. Because when he came back home, his thoughts still tinged bloody, Nesta was waiting in his favorite chair, curled up beneath a blanket. She had a mug of tea curled between her hands, her pretty lips puckered as she blew steam away from her face.

He wasn’t being theatrical when he gripped one side of the doorframe so hard the wood groaned, the other pressed to his heart. “Look at you,” he murmured while Nesta rolled her eyes. It was half hearted at best, and, in his opinion, an invitation.

“How mad was Rhys?” she asked when Cassian propped himself up on the arm of her chair.

“Delighted,” Cassian replied with a smile. “He owes you a favor and if I were you, I would milk it for all its worth.”

She took a sip of her tea. “And the…” 

He considered lying to her, if only to spare her any more guilt. Nesta carried so much and sometimes, Cassian didn’t know how she managed to stand, burdened as she was. His silence was damning, and before he could come up with anything convincing, Nesta sighed.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s been brewing for months, sweetheart,” Cassian assured her gently. 

“But I—”

“What would have happened if you hadn’t?” he interrupted, trying not to let himself imagine that scenario. “If you’d let him…get that close to you. Would you still be here?”

She looked down at her mug. 

No.

“I know you’re berating yourself for this, but consider several things,” Cassian began softly. “He should never have been so close to you that you could jam that blade into his throat, to start with. And had he touched you, I would have set that cursed city ablaze. I would have made each and every one of them feel my wrath. I would have hunted them down one by one and I would have enjoyed every second of it.”

Nesta shivered. “Okay, Cassian. Calm down.”

“You did them a favor. One dead human for your life—or your life for every single one of them.”

“Would you really?”

Cassian scoffed. “You doubt me?”

That, he thought, hurt more than anything. Nesta shook her head, tucking thick strands of her long hair behind her ear. He so rarely got to see her like this—Nesta was so carefully controlled, so immaculate in her presentation. He loved that about her.

And he loved her like this. The side only he was allowed to see. 

He loved her.

The words were sticky in his throat. Cassian blinked, trying to figure out how to tell her before he lost his nerve. He’d been telling her, in his way, and it wasn’t enough. 

“Nesta, I–”

“Will you trade me places?” she asked almost shyly. Cassian nodded dumbly, watching as she rose from her chair in nothing but a little slip that offered him a more than perfect view of her ass.

He all but fell in that chair, reaching for her waist and pulling her into his lap before she could sit on the arm of the chair. Only when he had her curled against his body did he realize this was exactly what she’d wanted. 

“You look better,” he said, kissing her forehead. One hand had come to her neck, fingers stroking the red scales burned against her skin. Nesta arched into his touch, her lashes fluttering shut. 

“It wasn’t what I wanted,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing beneath his touch. “But Feyre is here and I…”

Cassian pressed his lips behind her ear. “And you’re mine.”

Nesta could never return to Velaris, and with her sisters tucked away safely she’d never have to. She scoffed, but she couldn’t deny he was right. Not with his scales branded on her neck. Still, he had to ask.

“Are you happy?”

Nesta nuzzled into his neck. “It feels wrong to admit I am. I’m so relieved I don’t have to go back, even if I…”

Even if she’d killed that male. Cassian wondered if this was the wrong moment to admit how the image of Nesta bloodsoaked made his whole body tight. He’d been scared at first, so afraid she’d been hurt, but now? Knowing his mate was just as vicious as him?

Cassian shifted in an attempt to hide his erection. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with his cock, though he desperately hoped she might touch him. 

“Saving your sister was more important than him. Don’t spend a second grieving him—he would not have offered you the same.”

Nesta took a steadying breath. “He would have killed her, too. Slowly, Cassian, her face—”

Cassian’s growl silenced her. “He should be grateful it was you offering him a quick death instead of Rhys.”

“I suppose,” she agreed softly. “I’m glad she’s safe.”

Cassian was glad they all were, though mostly glad for Nesta. And maybe it was foolish of him, but with his nose buried in her hair, he whispered, “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Nesta pressed closer, nuzzling against his chest.

“I know, Cass. I…I love you, too.”

Cassian would hold those words forever. He knew all too well that Nesta didn’t say them freely, nor did they come lightly. He’d earned them, much like he’d earned his scars in battle or his status among his men. 

And Cassian wore her love like a badge of honor. 

He might have taken her to bed, if only to spend one last night before he was dragged into another war, but a soft knock at the door pulled him away. Nesta, too, looked up as her younger sister stepped in, mate walking just behind. The scent of a new pregnancy made the hair stand on the back of Cassian’s neck, and judging from the wildness on Lucien’s face, the other male didn’t like it, either.

The Archeron’s couldn’t be stopped. He knew that well.

“She’s upstairs,” Nesta told Elain, unaware of Lucien’s discomfort. Elain swatted her mate away when he tried to join her, leaving him standing awkwardly in ill-fitting clothes. Cassian never knew what to say to Lucien. The male was just unusual, raised alone out in the woods and tormented by the humans for so long. The fact that he’d managed to convince someone to love him was, Cassian supposed, a testament to a female’s willingness to overlook obvious oddities.

Cassian cleared his throat. “Ah…congrats?”

Lucien nodded curtly. “Thank you.”

“I uh…I hope that’s me, soon.”

Lucien’s nostrils flared. “I’m sure it will be.”

Cassian scrambled to think of something else to say—anything that would make the tense silence  bearable. He was spared by a scream of fury, followed by the soothing sounds of Elain.

Nesta’s furious feet on the stairs drew Lucien, and then Cassian who bared his teeth at the male.

“Not in my fucking house,” he warned. Lucien snapped in response, but stood down just in time for their mates to flood back into the room.

“She’s gone!” Nesta said, looking at Cassian with accusation. “And I know Rhysand took her!”

Lucien frowned. “So?”

Elain pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lucien, remember, we’ve talked about stealing women–”

“It’s wrong,” Lucien finished, though he didn’t sound like he believed it. Cassian, too, wasn’t surprised. 

“If Rhys has her, she’s safe,” Cassian assured Nesta, reaching for her gently. “He wouldn’t harm her.”

“But–”

“You know she didn’t want to go with Elain. No offense,” he added as Lucien’s lips peeled away from his teeth again. Mother spare him from territorial males with pregnant mates. “Maybe she went willingly.”

“I want her back,” Nesta hissed, but Cassian knew Rhys wouldn’t return with her until she wore his scales. He didn’t blame his brother, either, even if it enraged Nesta. There was simply too much to worry about. 

“We’ll find her,” he promised, cutting a glance at Lucien to get out. 

“I’m sure she’s safe,” Elain added gently. “If he took her against her will, Feyre will live to make him regret it. You know that, Nes.”

Nesta took a breath, nodding her head. “I hope she gives him hell.”

Cassian had no doubt she would.

It wasn’t until later, when they were alone again—sitting, this time, atop the roof overlooking the Illyrian Mountains, that Nesta seemed to relax a little.

“He wouldn’t force her—”

“No,” Cassian assured her, reaching for her hand. “There are laws, even for kings.”

“Elain is right. If she didn’t want to go, she’ll punish him for it. I just…I was hoping she’d have more time to adjust before he came looking for her.”

“Maybe he panicked,” Cassian murmured, thinking he might have done the same. Certain he’d done the same. Hell, he still dreamt of killing Tomas, who lurked in the village below, likely whipping up the humans into the same murderous frenzy they’d already once endured. Cassian would take his revenge eventually, even if it meant standing behind Nesta while she drove that knife through his heart. 

“Are we safe here, Cassian?” Nesta asked him, twisting to look at his face. Cassian thought she could see the truth of him even in the dark, which made lying utterly useless.

“As safe as anywhere else. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, drawing her closer, until her back was pressed to his chest and his thighs were tight around her. 

“And who protects you?” she demanded. Cassian smiled.

“My mate protects me.”

Of that, Cassian had no doubts.

[asnowfern]

Just A Little Closer

First drabble of the year! A modern Nessian inspired by this music video (RADWIMPS😍) because the yearning and longing just called out to me.

I hope I managed to capture some of that beautiful longing💜

A still from Sokkenai by RADWIMPS

Cassian closed the toilet door behind him, heaving a sigh, breathing in the stale scent of alcohol that permeated the house. He wrinkled his nose as he stepped back into the now silent living room.

Used plastic red cups, empty bottles of beer and half eaten bags of chips were strewn all over the room. A place that was teeming with dancing college students just a few hours ago was now quiet in the dead of night. Azriel was sprawled on the sofa, his arm clutching what looked to be Gwyn’s bag tightly into his chest. The redhead was curled up with Emerie, the two leaning into each other in the loveseat.

Cassian crossed the space, eyes zeroing on a familiar blonde curled up in a bean bag chair in the corner. He paused just a step away before squatting down to take in the beautiful face that lingered in the back of his mind during the day and haunted his dreams at night. Her usually neat and tight braided crown had unravelled somewhat over the night. Strands fell out, brushing the tip of her nose. Edges of his lips quirked upwards as he lifted a large hand to tuck them behind her hand.

His attention so wholly focused on tracing the gentle slope of her nose, moving to the curve of graceful cheekbones and long eyelashes that clumped together slightly, that he didn’t notice slender fingers reaching out to grab his retreating hand and brought it to rest against soft breasts. He started slightly, eyes round as they darted between her still closed eyes and their now joined hands.

He leaned in just slightly. The faint lingering scent of her perfume, of rose and bergamot, wrapped around him in a teasing embrace. His eyes fell close as he breathed in deeply, greedy for more. After seconds or minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure, he opened them once more to crystal blue grey eyes staring right back at him.

He couldn’t move a muscle, every fibre of him entranced by her.

Then her gaze shifted downward slightly to his lips, her own parted. Her heart quickened beneath the still interlaced hands. He tracked the movement of her eyes, registering the exact moment they moved back to him and locked gazes. Her lips curled slightly, almost in challenge.

A phone shrilled in the background, shattering the fragile spell.

Cassian surged forward to slot his lips against hers, placing just the slightest pressure. She remained still, stiff.

One. Two. Three.

He pulled back just an inch, digging hazel deep into the bottomless depths of silvery blue, searching.

For nothing.

He swallowed thickly, his hand dropped as he took it back. His heart was a heavy rock in his chest.

But just as the last of his fingers dragged away from hers, those slender fingers tore themselves away to fist his shirt, pulling him in to crash their mouths together.

Teeth collided, tongues surging. Cheeks hollowed as the kiss deepened until there was no more her or him. Just them, just this kiss, just this moment.

Seconds, minutes or a heavenly eternity later, the kiss broke.

Nesta stood up abruptly, her hand rubbed her neck as she rotated her head. Without a single word, she picked up her bag from the floor and walked away from him towards the door.

His heart was a damn heavy thing once more.

The door swung open and she tilted her head at him, eyebrows raised in question.

With a small grin, Cassian ran forward.

[lucienarcheron]

911 by teddy swims is my new nessian song and I just 😩🤌🏼

[duskandcobalt]

my personal fave little headcanon for the nesta bonus chapter in CC3 involves bryce teaching nesta a sexy little dance routine which she then goes back to the house of wind and performs for cassian and he just kinda… shortcircuits

[talkfantasytome]

Autumn Leaves

Nesta watches leaves from her favorite spot in the cabin as she and Cassian settle in for their weekend away.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 713 | Nessian Masterlist

The Cabin Masterlist | Read on AO3

a/n: I wrote three drabbles in a notebook while I was concussed. Idk if I'll write more in this AU, or when, after those first three. But it was a nice little escape, and a way to not just be bored and twiddling my thumbs while I was supposed to avoid "stimulating my brain".

The forest was on fire.

Not in a dangerous, smoking, terrifying way. It was a calming, comforting fire. The kind that only appeared in the height of autumn, before death extinguished it with the cold of winter.

Treetops blazed in hues of crimson, mustard, and amber. They surrounded Nesta on all visible sides, alternating chaotically. No pattern or symmetry could be seen, yet it was perfect.

Green was a foreign concept here, in the valley below the mountains. Nesta knew that, above the cabin, evergreens flourished, leading you up to the mountain's very peak. But below them, it was all fire.

She held her mug of warm cider in both hands, close to her chest. It heated her skin as much as a sip did her organs. Necessary on a day like today, a nip in the air that followed them inside. She inhaled the steam, savoring the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon.

It was a treat from their favorite orchard. Always their first stop when they came up to the cabin. An hour of apple picking to stock up for the weekend, and then they'd add a half-gallon of spiced cider and a case of apple cider donuts to round out the purchase. Calories didn't count in the cabin.

That's what Nesta told Cassian, that first time she added donuts to their little cart. He gave her a toothy grin and agreed wholeheartedly. The next year he even surprised her with a sign, painted by her artist-sister, with the saying on it. The sign now hung above the entrance to the cabin's kitchen.

Taking a sip, she let the warmth of the drink flow through her as she continued to stare out the window. In the light of the afternoon, the view was so clear through the glass she could barely make out her own reflection. She couldn't see the oversized, burnt sienna sweater she was wearing, or the mahogany and ginger flannel blanket her legs were curled under. It was just trees and leaves as far as the eye could see.

It was her favorite spot in the house. The large window jutted out a bit, leaving enough room for a cushioned bench seat. She'd added some throw pillows for aesthetic and comfort when Cassian started bringing her up here, which she now leaned on, propped up against the wall.

It maybe her favorite spot in the whole world. It was impossible for the serenity of the trees to not take her over when she sat there. All of her worries and anxieties, her stresses and disappointments just faded away when she was there. Whether by some magic in the cabin or a natural effect of nature, Nesta was at peace. And she always savored the feeling.

"Got it!"

Her husband's voice flowed through the air, followed by the soft crackling of a flame recently born.

"Give it a few minutes and we'll have quite the roaring fire," he added, walking backwards toward her. His eyes remained on the fireplace, as if even a blink could destroy his work.

Nesta sighed softly, "It will be perfect."

Finally turning, Cassian beamed at her. He closed the gap between them and then lifted Nesta slightly, moving her so he could slide into the seat behind her. Once he was situated, she leaned back again, this time against his chest. Nesta adjusted the blanket to cover the legs that were now stretched across the seat on either side of her.

"It always is, with you here," he breathed. Cassian pressed a gentle kiss to her head before grabbing his own mug from the end table by them. "How are the leaves this year?"

Nesta's gaze followed a particularly bright red leaf as it fluttered to the ground. "Wonderful." She rested her head against his shoulder. "Even better now that you've joined me."

He was the true magic of the cabin. And not just because it was his long before they'd ever met.

Cassian smiled against her temple as his free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling Nesta closer to him.

No. The magic was Cassian himself - his strength, his confidence, his unfailing optimism - that brought peace to Nesta's life. It was his very essence in the cabin that enveloped her with it here.

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @lady-winter-sunrise @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @aks18 @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list! 😄

[oversizedbats]

Something about Azriel preferring the company of Nesta and Cassian that is just *mwah*

[turesti]

Doing Something Unholy

Nessian assassin AU. Unedited rough draft & preview. Wrote this super quickly on my phone, but just wanted to at least get a preview of it out before I try writing more

Present

It’s been 457 days since they last saw her. The last time there was a confirmed sighting left 49 dead, 123 injured, and the person that they were detailed to protect spewing blood all over the carpet. The amount of money spent by whoever bought such a massacre made bile rise up Cassian’s throat. Even worse was remembering how easily she had slipped out of his fingers.

Lady Death

The Hellcat

For a while he and the team believed that they were separate people, apparently she answered to both names easily. He had punched a wall so hard it left a dent coming back from that disaster of a peace summit that almost started a second war between the two polarized countries,. He was so close. And yet she would always be just out of his reach.

Three Years Ago

The base of nightclub’s song reverberated in his ears even as he breathed in the cold air as he stood outside the building. His head was already somewhere else when Cassian first entered the club, now it was still nowhere to be found but with a migraine too. The deep breaths had lingered in the chill in front of him. Of all the times he had actually stuck to his resolution to quit smoking. He was supposed to be clearing his head tonight, blowing off steam from another failure. His failure. None of his friends would ever say that to him, but it was the truth. It was his lead. He lost the targets. They got away.

The anger had him clenching his jaw so hard, it worsened the already skull splitting ache in his temples. He needed a better distraction. He needed to be alone from the people he loved, but honestly couldn’t help him in this moment at all. Cassian did enjoy going out dancing with friends, his family, but tonight wasn’t working. It had been the five year anniversary of when Feyre’s sister had went off the radar, Cassian knew that they had a fraught relationship to begin with, but Feyre and Elain had taken it hard when the eldest Archeron just slipped out when night and never came back home. Apparently it’s what she was good at, disappearing without leaving a trace. Rhys did everything money could buy to find her, even though he cared more about a snail than the sister who caused Feyre’s sadness, he would find her for Feyre. Nothing ever came up. Not even Azriel could find a hint of a trail that could lead up to her. She was just gone. A ghost was all that was left of Nesta Archeron.

Tensions were fraught tonight. The main two reasons being the reminder of a missing sister and a failed operation. It seemed like going out and carrying on how they usually did was the bandaid that was supposed to ease everyone. Cassian just didn’t have it in him to pretend to be jovial. He was frustrated and angry at himself, faking a smile in strobe lights was the last thing he wanted to do. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Az asking to rely the message not to wait up for him, he knew out of everyone Az would understand that he needed to find peace of mind on his own tonight, without being talked out of it. Pocketing his phone back into his jeans and hands inside the worn leather jacket that kept even the dampest colds out, he made his way down the street.

The dive bar where he was currently occupying a bar stool was not the most welcoming place to be. It was also not a huge deterrent either. A perfect in between nice enough and seedy to be comfortable in. The seats didn’t have some unknown sticky residue, but it wasn’t nearly nice enough for it to be a date night spot. There was a decent enough amount of people here. He felt like goldy locks, a bar that was just right. He was nursing a simple liquor drink, he doubt this place would even honor the request a mixed cocktail no matter how much you wanted a margarita, when he saw a flash of brilliant and cold blue.

If part of him was being honest, a large he wanted to ignore, Cassian in part couldn’t stop thinking about this morning because of how beautiful those cold eyes were. It coated his stomach in an oily feeling, but it was bare truth. The girl’s eyes were stunning. She had taken off the outer mask she normally wore, leaving a solid black half mask that covered just over her nose and conceal the rest of her face. The black mask just enhanced the brilliance of her eyes, making it difficult to look away. It was also one of the only identifiers he had of the assassin that was part the group that royally kicked their asses. He had seen her in various scuffles before, but never fully close enough for him. He wanted to take her down. Lady Death. The Hellcat. Two hours before the first bomb went off at the museum, Az was able to finally prove that Lady Death and The Hellcat were one and the same. An assassin and a thief. Whatever paid the exuberant bills he supposed. She wore a uniform at every sighting, kept virtually every noticeable feature of hers hidden, even layered masks for fucks sake. Her new nickname should have something involving ghost in it, since there was nothing tangible about her. No DNA traces, no finer details to describe her; all they had to reference her was her build, her signature masks, the hood that covered her hair, and her damn eyes. Those eyes were looking at him from across the other side of the bar now.

[annaskareninas]

tarquin/gwyn randomly came out of nowhere as a side pairing in the nessian fic i’m writing and i’m kinda obsessed

[rhysands-rightknee]

If this isn't nessian

[melphss]

@nessianweek | Day 01: Banter

Meet Nestor & Cassandra in this Nessian gender bender art.

It doesn't matter which universe they are in, Nessian banter would always give the same black cat x golden retriever vibes. 😌✨️ Thank you @rebecaleiteart for bringing this art to life, I had a lot of fun commissioning it!

Art by: @rebecaleiteart

Commissioned by: @melphss

Characters belong to: Sarah J. Maas

[violetasteracademic]

I saw someone say they don't like Elriel simply because Azriel and Elain don't do it for them as a couple. They just aren't into the emo boy/flower girl dynamic. And truth be told? That's the most respectable anti take I've ever heard. Because there is no right or wrong, there's no points to argue. It's just like, hey, I see it, and I don't like it. Which is kind of how I feel about G*wynriel and E*lucien as well. So it's genuinely just a really fair and uncomplicated take.

I simply *don't like* forced proximity with the person that has already been assigned to you and eventually falling in love with them, then realizing it's for the best anyways because it will solve a bunch of conflicts as much as I *like* fuck fate and fuck politics and fuck the Gods, you are the person I want and I will burn the whole world down to be with you. If it goes against every rule, if it puts us in the front line of every danger, and tears at the very fabric of society, it still will be you for me and I'll do whatever it takes.

And that's just vibes, there's really not much more to say!

I *don't like* I was completely obsessed with two different women, but after being rejected by both of them I finally realized, thank goodness! I've had a mate this whole time! And I saved her from being r*ped by a bunch more men than just one years ago and then trained with her every day and now that I'm finally free of being in love with other women, I finally have noticed what is right in front of me as much as I *like* your mate is sleeping upstairs and if he catches us he will have every right to demand I fight to the death over you but I literally can't stop wanting you and needing you and questioning fate because I don't understand how we aren't meant to be together.

I know for a fact I won't like a G*wynriel or E*lucien book *as much* as Elriel because I have read those sorts of similar vibes or comparable plot points before, and it's just like, meh. Not for me. My least favorite trope is the guy who suddenly realizes his best gal pal is the one he should have been into all along after only going for beautiful women he thought were way out of his league. That's not romantic to me at all. But I respect that it is to others. I think it's perfectly okay to simply vibe with different things.

Do I think the books are quite clearly headed towards Elriel? Absolutely. But I think even if they weren't, I'd be crack shipping them anyways because I absolutely love what they have to offer plot, story, tone, aesthetic, style, and romance wise. They are the full package for me. Feysand was a full package for me. Nessian isn't my usual style or favorite trope or vibe, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

I think Sarah has given the sisters really distinct personalities and completely individual storylines. I personally still love every book. I adored ACOSF. Buuuuut I don't really need it rewritten a second time in a different font, which is what I think G*wynriel would be. Minus all of the "it's been you since the moment I laid eyes on you" swoon worthiness that I loved for Nesta and Cassian and introducing the "I can't believe I didn't notice my own mate standing right next to me and being harmed and put in mortal danger repeatedly for three years because I was in love with other women" element.

But ACOSF is polarizing. I've seen people say it is either objectively the best book Sarah has ever written, or objectively the worst.

Elain is a unique sister, with a personality and powers that could not be more different from Feyre and Nesta. Everything about her book is not going to match what we have seen in the series so far. And I think that's a GOOD thing. ACOSF was a tone shift, and I think Elain's book will be a tone shift. But I think her book is probably going to be polarizing as well. And it will likely be my favorite.

Although the fandom has gotten a bit aggressive, I think it's really cool that people found their favorite in Nesta and ACOSF in a way that is really kind of deep and specific. I think Elain and Elriel will be that for me. That's what books are supposed to do. Humanity is not one size fits all. It makes perfect sense that people locked into Nessian (or just Nesta) in a way they didn't with Feyre/Feysand. And although there's a crop of anti ic people out there now, Feysand will always be a crowd pleaser. So I'm just hoping the girlies who get it will have their chance to connect that deeply with Elriel too!

I love each Archeron sister, and I for one love how different they are. I appreciate their stories for different reasons. But I am ACHING for Elain and Azriel to lean into their vibes and continue on their journey of questioning the system and deconstructing religion and battling the obstacles in their way. That will always be more interesting and way sexier and peak romance to me and will undoubtedly take spot number 1 in my heart.