Emerie: You know that voice in your head that tells you what you're doing is wrong?
Gwyn, Nesta and Cassian: You mean the one that sounds like Az?
185 notes · View notes
Nesta: There are no snacks left in the kitchen.
Cassian: I'm literally right here.
121 notes · View notes
pls write this canon divergence if you can
"cassian finds out that nesta went to find feyre when she was still a human. that's how strong and brave her mate is"
Ok so I’m going to call this like a mini slice of life. Just a quick headcannon that spilled out from the prompt. Enjoy!
“Do you believe in fate?” Cassian asked his mate offhandedly one lazy morning. His fingers trailed slowly down the curve of her waist, skin glistening with an incredibly thin sheen of sweat from the activities they had just finished.
Cassian wasn’t exactly sure why he asked the question. She had him pondering the divine, he supposed. Nesta was always beautiful, but holding her hips as the sun started to rise behind her, golden light dancing through strands of honey brown hair while her head fell back in pleasure… that was an experience Cassian would not soon forget. He wanted to capture every moment with her. Not in a painting like Feyre did, but a living, breathing memory that he could pluck out of his mind and relive at a second’s notice.
Nesta lifted her head up off of his chest for a second, brows drawn together. “Isn’t that what being mates is?”
Cassian shook his head. “I’ve never thought of it that way. It’s a magical bond, and I suppose it is pre determined, but I don’t think that it is fate on its own. Fate, I suppose, is when 2 people who are mated were actually made for each other, beyond a power-hungry cauldron’s desire to create stronger Fae.”
Nesta scrunched up her nose. She still had a strong reaction to any mention of the cauldron. He still didn’t blame her.
“I suppose I have to believe in fate then,” Nesta said quietly. In a soft, careful voice that only he ever heard.
Cassian tightened his grip on her waist, pulling his mate even tighter against his chest. As if he could drag her into him, wrap them both entirely and inseparably between those golden threads that sung between their souls.
“I do believe in fate,” Nesta repeated, more awake and sure now. “When I was human, the wall wouldn’t let me in to Prythian even though I found the gaps. I Could physically see them, but there was still a barrier. Not magic, but something… more visceral. Like it was telling me it wasn’t time yet.” Nesta shrugged. “I probably would have died if I’d made it through and then who knows… maybe the whole war would be different.”
Cassian turned quickly to properly look at his mate, shifting her ever so slightly. His muscles tensed up at her words, the very idea that he might have lost his mate before he ever met her. But something more pressing needled at him. “Why would you have tried to enter Prythian as a human? You hated the Fae.”
Nesta rose a brow. “Feyre didn’t tell you?” Cassian shook his head. “I hired a mercenary and went the morning after Feyre did.” Nesta shook her head. “I should have gone right away. I lost my sister over a few hours of cowardice.”
“What changed in those hours?” Cassian blinked, still not entirely over his shock.
Nesta shifted her gaze over his shoulder. “I knew Tamlin was a beast, but Feyre… she was used to beasts. She’d never met one she couldn’t take down. But then my father and Elain were completely enchanted. And that… pretty words and the power to make things seem better than they were. That has always been Feyre’s weakness.”
“And the one thing that would never fool you,” Cassian’s fingers returned their soft caressing of Nesta’s body, this time focusing on her lower back.
Nesta keened into his touch. He loved to see her like this, the way she only was with him. A sated lioness purring into his touch.
“I wasn’t even surprised when Feyre came back and told me she had fallen in love with the beast. She was always optimistic like that. Not like Elain, openly sighing and dreaming about glittering ballrooms and handsome princes. Feyre craved a whirlwind, magical, experience, but she would never admit it.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Cassian murmured.
“I have never craved a magical whirlwind,” Nesta scoffed lightly. “My resistance was genuine. Feyre’s never was.”
“Lucky me,” Cassian bumped her nose with his own.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t love the challenge.”
“I loved every second of it,” Cassian smiled against her skin, lips trailing down the curve of her neck.
“Alright,” Cassian acquiesced, “I loved most of it.”
“Hmm,” Nesta hummed.
Cassian’s hands moved up to tangle in the still-mussed strands of Nesta’s hair. “You’re incredible.” He could feel her tense under his palms, lips about to part in protest. Cassian quickly moved his mouth forward to kiss her before she could do so. “You are incredible, Nes. I’m more in awe of you every day. You are beautiful,” he kissed her. “You are brilliant,” another kiss. “You are powerful.” Nesta laughed a little against his lips this time. “Compassionate.” Cassian moved to simply speaking against her lips instead of separating. “Brave.”
“Can I get you a dictionary?” Nesta smiled.
“I’m serious. I didn’t know… I was wrong. What I said to you when we first met. You went into the woods, fully prepared to face Prythian alone, armed with nothing but an iron will and a stare that could kill-”
“It was enough to scare an entire Illyrian camp,” Nesta gave him a little taste of her signature glare.
“Those Spring Court idiots wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Cassian agreed. “But my point is that every time I think you can’t possibly amaze me more, you prove me wrong.”
“You should be used to being wrong at this point,” Nesta buried here head in Cassian’s chest.
He just smiled, running his hand through her hair. She was trying to avoid his compliments, and that was ok. He’d just have to keep finding new things to praise her for until she learned how to accept how incredible she was.
101 notes · View notes
I have a holiday prompt for Nessian, if you're still taking them 🥰 In ACOFAS we get a flashback to Cassian's first Solstice with Rhys and his mom, getting his first gift ever in his whole life 🥺 but what about Nessian's first family Solstice, where he gets a gift "from the baby" that Nesta picked out 🥺 or even when their kids get older, and make him homemade gifts haphazardly wrapped with bundles of love 🥺 our batboy deserves the WORLD
so I don’t write in canon most of the time, but I agree that our batboy deserves the world so here’s your prompt but a modern au version of it. hope that’s ok 🥰
Nesta could tell that Cassian suspected she and the girls were up to something, but thankfully for them, he didn’t pry.
“I can’t get a hint?” he whined as Nesta pushed him out of the kitchen. “Please?”
“Your present is…” Seraphina began, grinning, “A present.”
“It’s a gift,” Nasima chimed in. The girls took one look at each other and practically collapsed into giggles, their little frames shaking with laughter at their father’s expense.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Cassian replied, but he looked so happy to have made the girls laugh that he obviously wasn’t mad. He always got this pleased look on his face when he made them happy that made Nesta absolutely melt. “You two are comedians.”
“I wonder who taught them that,” Nesta said, still pushing Cassian out of the way. He was so huge that the only reason she was moving him at all was because he was allowing it, but that was neither here nor there. “Let us have our girl time, baby.”
“Fine,” he relented with a huff. He let her push him all the way out of the kitchen. “When am I allowed to come back?”
“When I say so,” she answered with a smirk. “Now get out of here.”
With a large and dramatic sigh, Cassian finally made his way upstairs. Nesta turned back to the girls and clapped her hands together. “Okay. Show me what you’ve got.”
They’d scrolled for hours on Pinterest the day before to try and figure out what to make as Cassian’s Christmas gift. He loved handmade gifts, especially when they weren’t perfect, and Sera had pointed out an absolutely adorable idea of gluing rocks to a picture frame and writing My Dad Rocks! on the glass. With Christmas only a few days away, this was the only chance they’d get to make Cassian something.
At Nesta’s request, the girls gleefully dumped a large pile of rocks onto the kitchen table. They’d been collecting rocks and pebbles of various sizes for the last few days while Nesta had gotten all the supplies they’d need to make their gift come together. Michael’s had everything they needed — craft frames, a glue gun, and cute markers — and she carefully laid everything out on the table.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Nesta began. “You each have your own frames. You should write My Dad Rocks at the bottom of the glass before we put the rocks on, and I can help you glue them on to make sure nobody gets burned. If you need help writing, let me know. Okay?”
“Okay, Mommy,” her daughters chorused back at her.
Sera didn’t need any help with her handwriting — or at least, she didn’t ask for any — so Nesta helped her younger daughter hold the marker steady enough to write on the glass. Nas’ little hands were soft and thankfully not sticky, and Nesta inhaled the scent of her strawberry shampoo as they worked. She knew there’d be a time where Nas would be too big to sit in Nesta’s lap and ask for help with her handwriting, so she had to treasure the little moments where she could.
It didn’t take long to move on to the next step, and Nesta had the girls arrange the rocks on their frames while she set up the glue gun. It was absolutely adorable to hear them babble with one another about their latest obsession (Peppa Pig), what they wanted for dinner (dinosaur chicken nuggets), and who had the best plié in ballet classes (their cousin Melodie).
Within the next fifteen minutes, their arts and crafts project was complete. They weren’t perfect by any means, but they were made with love, and Nesta knew Cassian would think they were the greatest gifts he’d ever received.
“They look amazing,” Nesta complimented, earning a small smile from Nas and a loud giggle from Sera. “Now let’s wrap them and stick them under the tree, yeah?”
When Christmas morning came around, Nesta found herself downstairs at the crack of dawn to start opening presents. The girls had been patient enough to at least allow Cassian to make some coffee before the shenanigans began, and Nesta gratefully sipped on hers from her spot on the couch next to Cassian.
“Daddy, Daddy, open ours first,” Sera demanded, practically shoving her poorly-wrapped package in his lap. Nas just sighed before gently handing Cassian her equally poorly-wrapped present, rolling her gray-blue eyes at her older sister before turning her attention to their father.
“Hmm,” Cassian mused. He shook the lumpy presents next to his ears to try and guess what was inside, and Nesta held back a laugh at how ridiculous he looked. “I wonder what’s in here…”
“Open them!” Sera shrieked. The eight-year-old was so excited to see his reaction that she was vibrating with glee. “Hurry up, Daddy.”
When he finally unwrapped his gifts, Nesta swore she saw her husband’s hazel eyes fill with tears. If anyone asked, she would take Cassian’s little sniffle to the grave. “You made these for me?”
“Mommy helped,” Nas answered bashfully.
“Mommy supervised,” Nesta clarified, wanting the credit to remain where it belonged. “They’re the arts and crafts queens, not me.”
Sera poked Cassian in the knee. “Do you like them?”
“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” Cassian declared, grinning widely at Sera and Nas. “I have the best daughters in the whole wide world.”
“You say that every year,” Sera retorted, even though she looked pleased as punch.
“Because it’s true every year, princess.” He pretended to glare at her before turning his attention to Nesta. “Stop teaching them to be such smart-alecks, Nes.”
“Then stop giving them opportunities to be smart-alecks, my love,” Nesta fired back, an amused smile gracing her lips. It quickly turned into a true smile once Cassian hauled her into his lap for a kiss.
“Mommy, when you’re done sharing cooties with Daddy, can we open the rest of our presents?” Sera asked loudly.
“For the record, I blame you for making them smartasses,” Nesta mumbled against Cassian’s mouth. He pulled away to laugh while she turned to give her daughter a Mom Look. “I will never, ever, ever stop sharing cooties with your father, but go ahead.”
“Be neat!” Cassian said, but his words fell on deaf ears as the girls started ripping their presents open.
“Rascals,” he muttered. Nesta snorted as she rested her head on his shoulder, content to watch her daughters have the time of their lives opening their presents.
“Our rascals,” she corrected. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replied, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
tag list: @iddragyouwithme | @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @nestaspegasus | @a-court-of-valkyries | @angelic-voice-1997 | @rowaelinismyotp | @live-the-fangirl-life | @sv0430 | @brieq | @positivewitch | @sayosdreams | @confusedfandomslut | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @vidalinav | @swankii-art-teacher | @still-looking-for-wonderland | @that-little-red-head | @secretlovelybeauty | @hellasblessed | @starksravings | @dustjacketmusings | @katekatpattywack | @the-red-reading-hood | @claralady | @hellasblessed | @duskandstarlight | @arinbelle | @gwynberdara | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @houseofcalores | @imsointobooks | @silvernesta | @planet-faerie | @teagoddess99 | @champanheandluxxury | @catplayinvioline | @flora-shadowshine | @nerdperson524 | @story-scribbler | @vasudharaghavan | @dealfea | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @charming-butt-insane | @highqueenofelfhame | @julemmaes | @oversizedbats | @spoilersteph | @readingismyonlyhobby
101 notes · View notes
For your request for holiday prompts, how about something inspired by I saw mommy kissing Santa Clause? Like Cassian dressing up as Santa and kissing Nesta but their kids see
And another one that's been lowkey sitting in my ask box because I haven't had time. So sorry! But this was super fun to write, and I hope you enjoy :) Also, big shout-out to my best friend who's a teacher and always gives me student’s names that I can use in fics.
"You look ridiculous."
Cassian glances down at himself, at the bright red jacket and matching pants, each trimmed in white. The movement causes the ball of his hat to go flying forward, knocking against his cheek, and he reaches his hands up to straighten out where the hat sits atop his dark tangle of hair.
He looks up to where his wife is perched on their sofa, half the cookies on the plate in front of her already gone and a piece of tape for wrapping the last gift poised between her fingers. She's wearing her unimpressed face, an eyebrow raised in Cassian's direction, but he doesn't miss the fondness swimming in those blue grey eyes or the slight uptick at the corners of her lips. Gods, he loves her so much. All these years later and she still has his heart thundering in his chest every time their eyes meet. Still has that warm feeling flooding through him until his fingers are tingling.
"You don't think I look hot, Nes?" Cassian teases, throwing in a wink for good measure.
That just earns him an eye roll, and Cassian steps forward, taking Nesta's hand and pulling her to her feet. An arm around her waist, and he's tugging her even closer still. He presses a kiss to his favorite spot behind her ear, reveling in the shudder that takes over Nesta.
"Don't I make a hot Santa?" Cassian whispers hotly in her ear.
Nesta snorts softly, but her grip is still tight where her hands are buried in the fabric at his waist, she still leans into him. Cassian opens his mouth, ready to make another dirty joke, when they both feel a distinct kick. Cassian pulls back with a wide smile, only to find Nesta's just as soft, as bright, as they both reach their hands for the spot.
"See?" Cassian points out. "Someone agrees with me."
"That's because you spoil her, so she's a Daddy's girl."
Cassian ignores her, leaning down to press a kiss to Nesta's rounded belly. Satisfied when their baby girl kicks again, Cassian straightens up, cupping Nesta's face with his hands. He leans close until their noses brush, until he can see every shade of blue in her eyes, every sun kissed freckle on her cheeks.
"Do you want Santa to spoil you, Nes?"
"I hate you so much."
"You can't lie on Christmas, sweetheart."
Before Nesta can make any more protests, Cassian closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers.
~ * * * ~
When Cassian wakes in the morning, it's to the sun reflecting off the crisp, white snow blanketing the world outside and right into their bedroom. He smiles softly as he takes in Nesta's still sleeping form beside him, one hand delicately resting on her stomach. It takes Cassian's sleep-addled mind a few minutes to realize what's missing from this picture. Particularly, the excited little feet jumping on the mattress, the high pitch squeal declaring it's Christmas.
Cassian takes a moment to listen, wondering if those little feet have snuck downstairs without him, but the house is quiet. Cassian leans over, pressing a kiss to Nesta's temple, before sliding out of their bed and out of their room. He pads down the hall to the room at the end, carefully opening the door.
He expects to find Kylynn still fast asleep, the only logical explanation for the lack of her waking him up, but instead his daughter is awake and sitting on her bed. Cassian notes the way her arms are crossed, her eyebrows pinched together, and the little pout pushing out her lips. It has him frowning as he steps fully into her room.
"Aren't you supposed to be the one waking me up for Christmas morning, not the other way around?" He teases lightly, moving to sit beside his daughter on her bed.
"I don't want any presents from Santa," Kylynn declares, huffing softly.
The quiet determination, the annoyed look marring her face, is so like her mother that Cassian has to bite his lip around a smile. He reaches it up to run a soothing hand through her hair instead. Those dark curls from him.
"You don't?" Cassian asks gently. "But you were so excited before."
"I don't want them. Send them back."
"Send them back? We can't do that."
"We have to. I hate Santa now."
"Ky, why do you hate Santa?"
Cassian isn't sure what explanation he expects to get from Kylynn. Honestly, this whole conversation has been a whirlwind. Last night, they could barely get Kylynn to bed she was so ramped up on excitement for Christmas morning. And now this one-eighty? Maybe, he should wake Nesta. She would definitely be better at handling this than him.
But then Kylynn's whole face shatters, a pained wail pulling deep from her chest and big, fat tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I saw Santa kissing Mommy last night," Kylynn sobs.
Cassian bundles up his daughter into his arms, holding her close to his chest as she continues to cry. He rocks them gently and runs a smoothing hand up and down her spine. He hates seeing her like this. Every sob like a sharp knife right to the heart. He curses himself for not hearing her sneak down the stairs last night.
“Are you and Mommy going to break up like Eleanor’s parents?” Kylynn gets out between hiccups.
Cassian sighs softly, thinking of Kylynn’s classmate whose parents are divorcing. He pulls Kylynn away from him, just enough that he can wipe the tears from her cheeks with gentle fingers. She sniffles softly as he does it, looking up at him with wide blue eyes still lined with unshed tears. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“Mommy and I aren’t breaking up,” Cassian tells her. “We love each other so much, just like we love you.”
“Then why did Santa kiss her?”
Cassian tries to think of what to tell her. On the one hand, telling her the truth, that it was him the whole time kissing Nesta, would assure her that he and Nesta were definitely not breaking up because Santa of all people was coming between them. But he also doesn’t want to ruin the magic of Christmas and Santa so young for Kylynn. She’s only four years old after. But keeping up the belief in Santa clearly is going to do more harm than good in this situation. It’s a lose-lose.
“Well, Ky,” Cassian starts gently. “Because it wasn’t actually Santa kissing Mommy.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was Daddy, wearing a Santa costume.”
“Why were you wearing a Santa costume? Wouldn’t that confuse Santa?”
“You see, sweetie—”
“Because Daddy is one of Santa’s helpers.”
Cassian glances toward the bedroom door to find Nesta leaning against the door frame there. She shoots Cassian a look that he knows means they’ll be talking about this later, but then she’s offering Kylynn a soft smile. She walks over and joins them on the bed, Kylynn scrambling into her mother’s arms without any encouragement, curling up against Nesta’s chest. The sight has Cassian’s heart squeezing with the amount of love he feels. His two favorite girls, soon to be three, tucked up together like this.
“One of Santa’s helpers?” Kylynn asks quietly, blinking up at Nesta.
“That’s right,” Nesta explains, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Kylynn’s hair. “There are so many good little girls and boys that need presents, that sometimes Santa can’t get to all the houses in time. So he has helpers, and Daddy’s the helper for our neighborhood.”
“You are?” Kylynn asks, turning her attention back to Cassian.
“I am,” Cassian assures her.
Kylynn nods sagely. “That makes sense.”
“Now, how about some hot chocolate?” Nesta offers.
“With extra marshmallows?” Kylynn pleads.
Nesta presses a kiss to Kylynn’s cheek before standing up from the bed. Cassian holds his own lips out in a pout, and Nesta rolls her eyes teasingly but leans forward to press a kiss to them before heading toward the door and downstairs. He smiles as he watches her go before turning his attention back to their daughter.
“And how about those presents from Santa?” he asks.
Cassian is glad to see the wide smile return to Kylynn’s face as she nods excitedly at him, those bright, blue eyes free of any more tears. He scoops her up into his arms and settles her on his hip as they make their way out of the room and to the stairs.
“So, Daddy, how did you meet Santa?”
Taglist: @moodymelanist @hellogoodbye14 @nestaspegasus @confusedfandomslut @sv0430 @angelic-voice-1997 @talkfantasytome @secretlovelybeauty @azreilsblade
101 notes · View notes
AU where Eris gifts Nesta a smoke hound and they go for walkies on bonfire night (this AU exists and @theladyofbloodshed wrote it and it’s the best).
100 notes · View notes
My Sister's Keeper
ao3 - master post
so basically i was inspired by @dustjacketmusings marveling at the poor plot of a/cosf and thus this was born. au, starts right after nesta tells feyre that they've all been keeping the fact that her pregnancy's terminal from her.
Her words hang in the air like a thick, choking smog. Amren snarls something at her, but Nesta doesn't pay her any mind. She stares only at her sister.
Feyre's hand goes to her belly. Tears drip down her face, downcast, as she says, "Rhys knew? About the threat to our lives?"
And it breaks Nesta, shatters her into a million little pieces on the floor. Even though he's wronged her monstrously, even though he's condemned both her and her child to die, even though he's got all her friends and her healer involved...her first thought is still of him. Not anger on her own behalf, but...of him.
Nesta steels herself, making the decision. If Feyre will not act on her own behalf, then Nesta will for her.
Amren switches her tone, makes herself gentle to address her. Tells her she should speak to Rhysand. So he can explain it all away, wipe Feyre's tears, spin more false promises.
"Listen to her," Nesta says, unable to keep the disgust from her voice. "Feyre, she's not even sorry. She's known this whole time and she never intended to tell you--"
"We are going to find a way!"
"You took away her choice," Nesta hisses. Composes herself. Rage like this...it will not do, not now. "They made your choice for you, Feyre. And it's your body and your future. Their heartbreak, maybe, but...your life. It should've been your choice--it can still be your choice."
At this Feyre looks up. Broken, hopeless. It's as though she is already dead. "What do I even do?" she asks.
Nesta reaches a hand outward. "Come with me."
She hesitates for a moment, wiping at her eyes. But it's only a moment, and she nods before she draws her hands away, then takes Nesta's arm.
Nesta moves her sister around quickly. She's familiar with Velaris' alleyways, good at getting around without being seen. Feyre doesn't stop her crying the whole rushed walk, but Nesta doesn't blame her. She's been hurt. She can cry. Nesta will keep angry enough for both of them in the meantime.
The townhouse has been left unlocked, but still furnished. Nesta sits Feyre down at the kitchen table and turns around to make tea. She heads over to the liquor cabinet, intending to add some brandy, before she remembers Feyre probably isn't drinking any alcohol.
The tea is ready too soon, and then it is poured, and handed, and there is nothing else to busy herself with. Nesta is faced with a sobbing Feyre. She takes a spot next to her and, unsure of what to do, puts a hand on her shoulder.
"It'll be all right," she says, then repeats herself, more determined. "I promise."
"How c-can you s-say that?" Feyre manages in between gasps.
"I promise," she insists. "Is he..." she taps the side of her forehead.
Feyre nods, still crying. "But I told him I don't want to talk to him." Her sobs grow louder. "He's mad at you! I can't believe he's mad at you!"
Nesta blinks. Her cheeks flush with a pleasant warmth. This is good news, then. Not that Rhysand wants to kill her--although, really, that isn't quite news at all. But good news that Feyre has not entirely lost herself that she doesn't know who's in the wrong here. And good news that Feyre is, well, offended on her behalf. She had not thought...at their intervention, it had not seemed to bother her that Rhsyand and Amren--but this isn't about her.
After some more awkward pats and encouraging Feyre to drink tea, when she is calmer, Nesta admits, "I should have told you earlier." Once the confession is spoken aloud it is easier to formalize it. "I'm sorry." It's not so miserable to say the words, actually. It feels...not good, but right. A bit of right in this fucked-up massacre that is her life. "I thought it was wrong, and I..." she trails off. Rhysand hadn't threatened her in words, just a look, and it seems inapt to seek blame elsewhere.
But perhaps Feyre knows her husband as well as she thinks she does. She straightens, and says quite brusquely, "He told you not to."
Nesta doesn't answer. She might've liked to half an hour ago, but...it'll only serve to further hurt Feyre. And she's wickedly furious with her, but there's no use kicking her sister when she's down. This is to help her, after all. To aid her where she has been wronged
"I think you should rest--"
"I don't have any time to rest," Feyre interrupts, a righteous anger fueling her. From her heartbreak, perhaps. "He's wasted my time." She looks down at her belly. "And I'm on a clock."
Ah. A mother's rage, then.
Nesta clears her throat. "I don't...take any pleasure in telling you this, Feyre, but...they said they can't find a healer who can remove the--fetus. And that when non-Illyrian females deliver Illyrian births...they both die."
"I can shift."
"You can," Nesta agrees. "But you should know your healer says that might hurt the baby."
No good options. But still; Feyre should have been allowed to make a choice. She could've chosen to end it early. It would have hurt, yes, but not as much as this, when she's felt it move inside her, when she's painted out their future, when it's wrapped up in this betrayal.
And it doesn't matter whose fault it is, Nesta knows right away. It's Feyre who will bear the cost on her own flesh.
"I'm sorry," she says again. And then again, and again, more miserable each time, and before she knows it, she is crying too.
Later, when they have carried each other to the bed that was Nesta's, and they lie there, still in their clothes, Feyre whispers, "I want to have my child."
Nesta closes her eyes. What is worse? Having to help her sister, alone, through a stillbirth? Or facing the unknown like this?
It doesn't matter. Because the choice is only Feyre's, and she has made it.
"You will," she says. Then adds, once more, "I promise."
72 notes · View notes
Nesta stands in front of the mirror in baby blue.
Her hair is down when it hadn’t been this morning. The long length curls down her back, and the way the light of the window plays with her hair, has him wanting to kneel.
He’s always singing praises when he’s near her. Cassian can’t seem to help it. Of course, Nesta doesn’t help him when she’s always so beautiful. But now?
Now, she’s wearing his gift... the gift given to him by Mor that they kept high on one of the closet shelves because it’s somehow more scandalous than bare skin. It hugs her frame in the way his body wants to touch her. The baby doll hits at the top of her thighs and Nesta rubs her hands along the length of her abdomen, where the intricate lace makes her look princess-like. Regal and poised.
Cassian can’t get out words as he looks her over. He hasn’t come home expecting her in lingerie, but here she is. Mouthwatering and gorgeous and infinitely untouchable.
“What do you think?” She asks, turning towards him.
His mouth suddenly feels dry and he drops the bag in his hands, trying to form words... Syllables... Sounds.
Nesta raises a brow, “I hope that wasn’t our dinner you just dropped.”
Her haughty words have him wanting to beg.
67 notes · View notes
"Her face veiled in shadows beneath her pale hood, Clotho sat in silence, as if she'd seen the thoughts blare through Nesta, as if she knew how often the memory of that day in Hybern woke her." (ACOSF pg. 77)
"Clotho considered her again. Like she could see the churning, roaring sea inside her, that refused to leave her alone for so much as a moment, that refused to grant her a second of peace." (ACOSF pg. 78)
Makes me wonder what Clotho saw in Az. Why she was willing to give Gwyn the necklace from him. Can she sense that they're mates? Can she sense that Az might be falling for Gwyn even if he's not conscious of it?
84 notes · View notes
(nearly) a year of acotar pieces | redraw of this piece
just an exercise to get back into it rlly
80 notes · View notes
Nesta: Cassian and I made a promise to never go to bed angry with each other.
Cassian: We’ve been awake for two days.
Nesta: If you would just admit to being wrong-
76 notes · View notes
Gwyn: I've been eating peanut butter M&Ms in hope that if a cannibal eats me and is allergic to peanuts, I get my revenge
Emerie: Cauldron bless, that started out so normal...
127 notes · View notes
Nesta & Cassian
art: magsi_art [instagram]
71 notes · View notes
Winter Sports Headcanon
I'm not saying he competes or is super insane about it, but he (or Rhys) probably has a ski lodge and would go up at least a few weekends a year to the mountains
I could go either way with Az or Rhys, and make skiing or boarding work for either of them (likely using stereotypes not everyone likes, but that's writing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
But Cassian boards, hands down, he's just not a skier
And he enjoys it
But he enjoys the whole experience - the boarding, meeting others at the mountain's lodge, going back to their place at the end of the day and goofing off or playing games or making s'mores in the fireplace
So, obviously, he would be so excited about brining Nesta up to their cabin for a weekend
I feel like she likely has never going skiing or snowboarding - if she has, she probably tried skiing
Cassian, thus, decides to teach Nesta how to snowboard
She never really learns to love it, and would just as gladly stay in the lodge, saving their table and reading
But she'll try it, for him
And would likely crash into him every time they get off the lift
Cassian doesn't mind that at all
He also takes the days he has Nesta up in the mountains with him far easier than he typically does, to preserve energy 😉
On those nights, back at the cabin, it's a lot of snuggling in front of the fire, Cassian watching Nesta as she reads, pretending he's got his own book he's focused on
Until Nesta gets to a scene that turns her on, or Cassian decides to start kissing her neck until she puts her book down
Eventually, it just becomes commonplace that Nesta will join him on the weekends he goes up - whether or not his brothers are coming, too
And even though Feyre and Gwyn will join the boys on the slopes, Nesta is happy to situate herself in the lodge and just see them after runs or for lunch
Cassian always comes in to say hi after every run, instead of going back up right away
His skills take a hit because of it, but he doesn't care, because it's a thousand times better when Nesta is there with him
67 notes · View notes
I’m loving your ts drabbles. Would you do one for begin again w nessian where she previously had a bad relationship and cas finds out and is there for her?
Thank you so much for enjoying my previous Taylor Swift inspired drabbles and for sending this! I’m sorry that it took me forever and a day to actually reply. Life, ya know? Since there’s the line about Christmas movies in Begin Again, I decided to make this a bit holiday themed. And fun fact, the penny in the train wish tradition is a very real thing if you ever go to see the National Christmas Tree here in DC. Although, it’s actually quite hard, and I’ve only ever succeeded in landing a penny like twice. But anywho! I hope that you enjoy! :) TW: implied past abusive relationship
Nesta takes a deep breath, checking herself over again in the mirror. She fiddles with the strands of hair framing her face then tugs on the hem of her sweater, turning left and right to look at herself from all angles subconsciously. Another deep breath and she turns to sit back on her bed, hand reaching for a pair of heeled boots. She slips her feet into the shoes, but her hand pauses for a moment on the zipper, her mind replaying harsh words about being too tall, replaying sneers anytime she even thought about wearing heels.
Nesta quickly shakes her head of those thoughts and zips her boots up, but she stays sitting on her bed. She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. In. Out. Gods, what was she thinking agreeing to this?
There had just been something about seeing Cassian again at Feyre's engagement party, somehow the same yet looking so different all these years later. Nesta wasn't sure how many drinks he'd had when he jokingly told her he'd been halfway in love with her most of college. She wasn't sure how many drinks she'd had for her to boldly ask him if he still felt that way. She didn't know what she had been expecting in reply. An awkward laugh. An embarrassed cringe. A look of pity. Definitely not Cassian telling her she'd have to find out over coffee with him.
Nesta has to take yet another deep breath as she pushes open the doors to the cafe, the sweet scent of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries hitting her. Her eyes scan for an open table to sit and wait for Cassian at, but instead she finds Cassian already at a table. Her eyes catch on hazel and Cassian stands, sending Nesta a soft smile and a wave. Nesta gives herself just a moment to blink in confusion at him not being late before walking over toward the table.
“Hi,” Cassian breathes once Nesta’s close enough. “You look great.”
“Thanks,” Nesta replies, ducking her head to hide the heat she can feel creeping up her neck to settle onto her cheeks as she removes her scarf and jacket.
Nesta moves to take the empty seat at the table, but Cassian is there, pulling out her chair. Nesta freezes up slightly at the gesture, but she lets Cassian push her chair in for her. Once she’s settled, Cassian moves back to his seat, sliding a cup of coffee across the table.
“You still take your coffee with extra sugar, right?”
Nesta takes a sip of her coffee, letting the warmth wash through her as the silence settles around them. She wraps her hands tightly around the cup, tracing her thumb along the holiday design printed across it, glad for something to do with her hands as she sits there across from Cassian. She’s not sure what to say, what to do. She’s a long way from the girl who used to go back and forth with jabs and teases during their study groups.
After taking a few breaths to try and soothe the nerves burning to life within her, Nesta lifts her gaze to meet Cassian’s again. The smile he offers her is small but genuine, and it has some of the knots twisting in Nesta’s gut releasing their brutal hold slightly. Even under the fluorescent lights of the cafe, Cassian’s hazel eyes seem to glow. There’s always been a soft warmth there, even back when they were in college, but Nesta doesn’t miss another emotion buried amongst the greens and golds. One she can’t quite put her finger on.
“So,” Cassian starts, taking a sip of his own drink. “Do you still own too many books?”
“Pretty sure there’s no such thing as too many books,” Nesta replies.
Nesta’s not sure what she expected Cassian to say to that, but she hadn’t expected him to throw his head back like a little kid and laugh. The sound is booming and gruff, startling in the quiet of the cafe, but there’s also a gentle fondness there that has a smile pulling up the corners of Nesta’s own lips. Especially at the sight of the crinkles the laugh leaves beside his eyes, the faint dimple appearing in his left cheek.
“You would say that,” Cassian teases lightly once his laughter has subsided. “I remember when we came over to your place junior year before winter formal, and it was like walking into an actual library. I bet you have ten overflowing bookcases now.”
“I don’t have that many,” Nesta defends, dropping her gaze back to her coffee.
“Someone will just have to build you more then.”
“Are you offering?”
“I am pretty good at reading Ikea directions,” Cassian offers with a soft chuckle. “You know, the big Christmas tree display is only a few blocks away. Did you want to check it out?”
Nesta nods and makes to grab her jacket and scarf, Cassian turning to pull back on his own winter gear. He holds the door open for her as they walk out of the cafe, and the cold, winter air hits Nesta like a wave, sending the stray strands of her hair flying. She can already feel her nose and ears turning pink at the onslaught, and she crosses her arms to try and hold in as much warmth as she can.
“You’re always cold, and you didn’t even bring a hat?”
Nesta turns just in time to watch Cassian grab the pom-pom of his patterned, knit hat, tugging it off his dark curls. His hands reach up toward Nesta’s face, and her whole body seizes up, the flinch taking hold before she can even think about stopping it. It’s too ingrained in her. No matter how much time passes, her skin will forever prickle with the memory of what happens when large hands come near her face. There’s a tense moment, and then Cassian’s hands are dropping back down to his sides, the hat still clutched between his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Nesta mutters, squeezing her eyes shut to try and stave off the embarrassment flooding through her veins.
“It’s okay,” Cassian offers, his voice calm, soothing.
“It’s just—um… I—” Nesta flounders, desperate to find the right words. But it’s hard to think around those dark swirling thoughts she can already feel creeping back to life from where she’s buried them deep in the back of her mind. Hard to think around the thundering beat of her heart as it threatens to crack her chest in two.
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”
When Nesta looks up at him again, Cassian’s eyes are so earnest. Slowly, like he wants Nesta to be able to watch the whole movements, Cassian reaches his hands up again and tugs his hat onto Nesta’s head, making sure it covers her ears. Once the hat is situated, he holds out his arm for her, and Nesta tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow as they continue down the block toward the Christmas trees.
The tree at the center of the display is massive, multi-colored lights strung all around it’s branches and a star poised at the top. Along the grassy area between the tree and the fence surrounding it are various houses and toy people, made to look like a Christmas village, and a railroad track circles the whole bottom of the tree, a little toy train making endless circles.
“You know,” Cassian says, using his free hand to dig around his pocket. “They say if you make a wish on a penny and land it in one of the train cars, it will come true.”
Cassian holds out his hand toward Nesta, and she takes one of the pennies from his palm, sliding the coin between her fingers. She knows it’s just a silly tradition, but she can’t help but wonder what she would wish for. When she glances back up at Cassian, she finds him already staring at her.
“What will you wish for?” She asks.
“A second date.”
The words startle Nesta, and she hopes the cold will help hide the blush she feels settle across her cheeks. “Toss the penny then.”
Cassian leans against the fence, waiting for the train to come back around to where they’re standing before tossing it. It arcs through the air before landing in one of the little red cars with a soft clink. Cassian turns back to her with a wide grin, and for once, Nesta’s heart doesn’t feel heavy and cracked in her chest. For once, she doesn’t feel her hackles raised, every nerve ending in her body ready and on the defensive. Instead, her heart flutters, and she just feels content, happy even. It has a smile blooming across her own face, and in that moment, she knows she doesn’t have to make a wish or toss a penny to begin again.
Taglist: @moodymelanist @hellogoodbye14 @nestaspegasus @confusedfandomslut @sv0430 @angelic-voice-1997 @talkfantasytome @azreilsblade
75 notes · View notes
We do not give Nesta enough credit for what Feyre pulled on her ACoMaF
"Hi I broke up with the boyfriend you thought I was dead for all this time before and now I'm at a different place and it's very obvious this new guy in my life is going to be the next boyfriend and oh yeah I'm Fae now and btw I need the house to conduct meetings where if ppl were to find out, they would definitely ostracize you from society. Oh and this hot man with shoulder length hair that stands behind me with many weapons and too many innuendos has made you fall in love with him while simultaneously pissing you off."
Like...hello? How are you? I'm alive btw?!?
64 notes · View notes
Inside Feyre Archeron's Phone 📱
Social Media Masterlist
Feyre: Barbara Palvin
61 notes · View notes
I just love writing things I don’t have to commit to.
Nesta smiles at Cassian. A grin so soft and sweet that she looks younger somehow, an entirely new person from the one who carries rage as if it weighs nothing at all.
Cassian’s answering smirk says his brother is all too happy to be teasing his mate, joking with her while they bask in the sun, lying with her in the grass while he distracts her from her book. He keeps pulling at her hair and Rhys watches as she hits him with hardcovers. Cassian howls his laughter and it rings in his ears. It’s a sound he hasn’t heard truly, in a long time.
They paint a soft image. The two of them. Unencumbered by life’s mistakes and trivialities. They’re happy to enjoy their time together.
Cassian promises her that, Rhys knows.
He makes good due on his promises, and Nesta lays on top of him as she does so now, pecking him on the lips because it’s only the two of them in their own little world. It will only be the two of them the rest of their lives. No one else is more suited.
But Rhys... Rhys prefers the angrier one—wants her back. He keeps waiting as if the hands of a clock will count down the moment where he’ll see that the vile temper's never left. The hateful words will rip and tear with sharp teeth and sharp talons, and he’ll have known it all long. Could hear it in the ticking clock.
But Nesta beams brightly, tugs her hat to her head when Cassian tries to pull it off. She frowns with her brows and then her mouth, and Cassian appeases her with a kiss to her sun-kissed shoulder.
What if it doesn’t return, Rhys often wonders. What if that anger never bleeds or roars or terrorizes?
What if it never has?
That’s what his thoughts keep leading him to. What if she’s never as vile as he makes her, never as mean?
If the old Nesta never returns, will he ever feel justified for doing what he’s done?
She should be angrier, he knows, should yell at him for his thoughts which are much worse than anything he’s said, any look he’s given her. She has every right to cast him aside, spit rationalities and arguments, because he wanted to kill her. He wants her to suffer even now.
62 notes · View notes
My Sister's Keeper - Chapter Two
ao3 - master post
hello my loves!! so thrilled at the response to this, thank you so much<3<3
hope you enjoy this!
The next morning, Azriel knocks on the door. Nesta knows it is him by his footsteps--when had she grown so accustomed to him? Feyre nods at her to open it.
"But I don't want to talk to him," she says.
Being Feyre's errand girl is easier than delivering her the child she promised, so Nesta doesn't even roll her eyes.
"She doesn't want to talk to you," Nesta says, swinging the door open in lieu of greeting. "And you can't come in," she adds. Not what Feyre said, but she doesn't think she'll mind.
"Are you all right?" he asks. His face is drawn, serious. He means it, which gives her pause.
"I'm fine," she says carefully.
Of course not. "She's not ill or anything. She's not crying anymore. But...no. She's angry. At him. At all of you." As am I. On Feyre's behalf...and on her own, too.
"That's understandable," he says, nodding once. "Rhys wanted me to make sure she's okay. I thought that was stupid."
"Cassian too. About you, I mean."
She doesn't want to think about him. "That's stupid too."
"But...he did...I know it was wrong, Nesta, and I'm sorry, but he did tell you..."
"Very generous," she snaps, before she can stop herself, "that you voted in my favor when you discussed my fate amongst yourselves. A shame that my sister was not offered the same kindness." But this isn't the time for that. "This isn't about that. This is about Feyre."
He nods, and they stand in silence for a minute. That's what she likes about Azriel. He doesn't speak if there isn't anything to say.
Eventually, he says, "Has she...made up her mind?"
He'll report to Rhysand, Nesta knows. And if Feyre wants to tell him, she can do that herself. So she feels no qualms about answering, "That's none of your business. If she wants to see you we'll let you know." And she shuts the door.
Hours later, when Nesta opens her mouth for the umpteenth time to request something of the townhouse before remembering there's only one House that responds to her requests with affection, she says, "Suppose we did get him to take us up to the House?" And as she says it, she curses herself for not realizing it sooner. "The priestesses will help."
Feyre nods slowly. "That's a good idea."
So Feyre summons him, and shortly thereafter, they are at the House. It is happy to see Nesta, she can tell, and her heart lightens as she crosses the threshold. She's home. This is her home.
How many times had her home been taken from her, or she from it? Too many times.
This one won't let that happen. It loves her too much. It'll keep her safe. Soldiers and creditors can't rip her from it; and her sister can't take it away from her. It's Rhysand's name on the deed, true, but the House is a living thing. Deeds do not matter when powerful beings have wills of their own--and Nesta and the House have more than their fair share each.
Feyre watches her talk to the House, as it offers them both food and drink, but she doesn't say anything. Remains silent as Nesta leads them down to the library, to find Clotho.
"I don't know if you've heard," Nesta says when they walk in, Feyre trailing behind her. "But we need to find a way to safely deliver my sister's Illyrian child."
The healer-priestesses are summoned soon after, and after quick, formal bows and murmurings, they turn professional. Nesta fills Clotho in under her breath on the other details; how Feyre's right to choose was taken away by her husband. How she's a female who deserves to be her, too if she likes.
Nesta is also such a female. She was violated, was she not? More than anyone knows. So why wasn't she granted stay here, why does she alone have to earn her keep?
They had wanted her to do it in Illyria, in front of all those horrible males--why? Why?
But now is not the time for that. So she sits with her sister, listens to the faeries discuss pregnancies and labors and lets her squeeze her hand tightly as they draw her blood and ask her to lie back and lift up her skirt, please.
Gwyn finds her eventually. "I've only heard rumors," she says, voice low. "And I saw Cassian--he's a wreck, but he wouldn't say. What happened?"
And so Nesta tells her, sharing more than she did with Clotho, why her sister is here.
Gwyn is enraged. Tears prickle in her eyes, and Nesta thinks Feyre should know that good, kind, smart Gwyn is crying at the injustices done to her, when she says, "I can't believe he made you keep that from your sister." She throws her arms around her. "Good that you found the strength to tell her," she says in her ear, through slight sobs. "She's lucky to have such a sister."
This is praise that Nesta does not deserve, and it makes her uncomfortable and guilty to receive it, so she searches for a way to deflect. "If nymphs and High Fae are able to procreate--"
"Not the same," Gwyn says, drawing back and shaking her head. "Infants are the same build. Besides, I told you, it'll always be easier for nymph females. Pliable bones, remember?"
"Perhaps that's something, then," Nesta offers. "Could there be a way for her to shift nymph for the birth?"
Gwyn hums. "I think any sort of magic could be strenuous...but perhaps...that is an idea..."
Nesta's heart flickers. An idea to offer the healers. There. Twice more than anything Rhysand has done for her.
She won't break this promise. She couldn't rescue her from Spring, couldn't spare Elain, couldn't save Father--she will keep this promise. She will see this child born.
A few weeks pass by and Nesta is proud of Feyre's resolve. She doesn't give in to Rhysand, doesn't see him. Elain doesn't try to enter the House, which is good, because Nesta still doesn't want to see her. Only Azriel swoops in, and only to bring Emerie to and from. There are still training lessons, but Cassian doesn't attend. Nesta didn't tell him to stay away, but she's glad she doesn't have to. She doesn't want to have to make the decision.
Feyre doesn't cry anymore. She's too focused. The bone theory is toyed around by the healers, discussed, then approved for testing. They begin with birds and rats, modifying their skeletons to be like each other. It isn't the transformation that's the problem, though, it's how quickly they die afterwards.
But Feyre's body is built for transformation, Nesta argues.
But her own, not someone else's, the priestesses respond patiently.
So the experiments continue.
One of their quiet evenings in the House--the priestesses say it's important for Feyre to rest and relax, and the House is eager to comply, playing them soft music, serving them fruit and confections, pouring basins of hot water to rest their feet in--Feyre says, "I just can't believe he would do this to us."
It's eerie to hear her sister refer to herself and her unborn child, but she does it often. Nesta nods. "I know."
"No, you don't even understand the half of it."
Because she's never been in love, she guesses. Still, she can imagine the betrayal. Doesn't quite need to imagine it, gone through it herself. More than once. More than she cares to think about.
"You don't even have the full story," Feyre continues. "Neither do the others. If they did...they never would have agreed to it. I guess that's why he didn't...it was overprotective and stupid."
There's some piece Nesta is missing. "What don't we know?" she asks.
Feyre sighs. Looks down, over her belly, at her feet in the sudsy water. "I don't know if you noticed," she said, holding her left arm up. "This tattoo."
She'd had it after becoming faerie, Nesta remembers. It had disappeared after that night the world ended, the night with the Cauldron, but after the war it appeared again. A sleeve of miniscule flowers and decals, twin to the one on the right.
"I noticed." It had horrified Elain more than her being a faerie. Nesta hadn't been too thrilled about it either. Especially when it was obvious whom she had received it from.
"Well...you know where they come from, don't you?"
Nesta nods once. "Bargains." Is that how marriages, matings, are signed in the Night Court, then? Daunting, she thinks, to bear the mark of your devotion on your body forever. What if devotion fades? She shifts, feeling the eight-pointed star on her back burn, Cassian's favor inked onto her skin. What if it were a favor of a different sort?
"Well, when it all ended...you remember how R-Rhys...how he--how he--"
Died. Yes, she remembers. Should've stayed dead, Nesta thinks bitterly. Saved them all a world of trouble. There would be no terminal pregnancy.
"I remember," she says.
Feyre draws a shaky breath. "Well...I hope you never have to experience pain like that, Nesta."
She has. She will again. She knows this well. Nesta was born into pain, it is the only skin that has ever suited her, the only thing she's ever been allowed to feel. Pain and rage, turning into one another, the lines blurring so she can't tell where one starts and the other ends. Mother dying and Feyre leaving and Elain turning her back on her and Tomas shoving her against a barn wall like an animal and Cassian never choosing her, not even once--pain and rage, molded together into a perfect sphere. There are no sides, there is one side, it is all she can see, and the other side--it is the same.
"And I knew that I couldn't," Feyre says, pulling her back to the present. "Neither of us could."
Nesta waits for a beat, but Feyre doesn't continue. "Couldn't what?"
"Couldn't...go through that. Again. Not again."
"You mean..." Nesta searches for the correct term. "Lose him?" Is that what she's feeling? It's not as though he's dead. Or is she mourning losing him in losing her life?
Feyre nods, mute.
"Well...I told you, you'll be fine. The priestesses are already making more progress than Madja has." Nesta can't entirely keep the smugness out of her voice. She'd like to never see Rhysand again, but she'd also like to tell him--look what I did. Look how I succeeded where you failed.
"No, no, it's not that. It's...the deal we made...it was so that we would never have to go through it again." She looks up, meaningfully. "Either of us."
Nesta keeps her sister's gaze, nodding--and then she understands.
"What," she says, flat.
"I just...I don't think you'd be able to understand--"
"Your lives are tied. You tied...he tied his life to yours."
Feyre nods. "Yes." As though it's simple, obvious. "You can't imagine--"
"You should get to bed." Nesta stands. The good thing about being born in rage, in pain, is that one learns how to act despite it. There's only ever been one person who makes her freeze in ire, renders her speechless and paralyzed.
"Nesta, where are you--"
"Bed, Feyre. I'll be back soon."
"Back--where are you going? Nesta?"
But Nesta has already made it to the veranda, and her stride doesn't stop as she reaches the stairs, and not once as she descends, for the second time, all the way to the bottom. Not until she reaches the riverfront manor, rips open the door, and finds him sitting in one of the living rooms.
There was a time--well, every time except now, actually--that Nesta's attention when she entered a room automatically focused on Cassian. So she modified it, angling her body towards Elain or perhaps Amren, when they were...friends. But now, though they are all in the room, she barely even sees them. She goes straight to Rhysand and his face is the only one she sees. She doesn't pay any mind to the words spoken around her, barely even hears them.
"You," she snarls. And deep within her, for the first time in a long time, too long, she can't even remember--she feels her magic stir within her.
Like on the battlefield, it comes when she calls.
Like on the battlefield, she wields it.
Like she hadn't had the chance then, she attacks.
62 notes · View notes
azriel acting surprised when he finds out about nesta and cassian:
63 notes · View notes