I Am Looking For A Fanfic Set During Acowar Where Cassian And Nesta Are Sort Of Together And They Share

guys GUYS GUYS THIS VIDEO OF THIS PERSON WHO IS RECORDING THE ACOSF AUDIOBOOK .... NESTA AND ERIS TF

@ recordedbooks on instagram

“You’re going to die,” Lucien said. “I’m aware of it every moment I’m with you.”  

At the morbid words, Nesta began to frown but Lucien held up his hands. Wait, his look answered. 

Ordinarily Nesta might have interrupted him purely out of principle. But Lucien was lucky she knew him so well. He looked at her with that same look she’d seen a million times. One for every chase. One for every tease. One for everyday they laughed. 

He sighed, some noncommittal, frustrated sound and Nesta yearned to reach for him, to comfort him, but Lucien placed a gentle palm on her cheek. She could feel them burn as he rubbed his thumb across. “Even if you could live forever, I think I’d still be afraid to lose you.” 

Seguir leyendo

I feel like Easy on me by Adele is such a Nesta song

"Go easy on me baby, I was still a child

Didn't get the chance to feel the world around me"

Her me out... Tamlin and Nesta are mates

A scary though just came to me rn

What if somehow Sarah j mass decides to ruin us and kill us by making Az and nesta mates .....

I-

No

No that would never happen hopefully

My manifestations for today

Cassian and nests are mates

Az ends up with someone who deserves him

Az does not die

Tamilin is no more a sad and feeling sorry for himself kind of person but decides to change and become a better person

Freysands child is born and lives

Elain and Az are rly close friends and NOTHING more eventho I rly rly want them to be lovers

And everything is perfect

The Full "I Will Love You." Letter. The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket

Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope.

I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it. I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear daggerproof tunics, and as a daggerproof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

You have no right💔

Someone tell me why instead of editing my thesis I’ve spent this morning writing an angsty Nessian/furious Nesta one-shot, when I haven’t written fanfiction in… six whole years?? Have I just unlocked a new level of procrastination and putting off deadlines????

(Nope I don’t know when this is set. Maybe after Eris proposed? Idk. Maybe Nesta accepted the proposal and it was the kick up the arse Cassian needed. Maybe Eris treats Nesta right from day one. Maybe Cassian has to actually work for it instead of just telling her her opinions are bullshit. Idk. It’s out of my system now so will probs never finish this. It came into my head like this and I had to get it down. That is all. It’s not even edited but… here it is anyway.)

“I fucked up.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that.

“I know. I know.” His eyes were a kind of frantic she’d never seen before. Wild. She could see the storm brewing there. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just- just tell me how to fix it. Tell me I can fix it.”

Silence.

It wasn’t often that words failed her. She was always ready with some sharp remark, some biting comment. But as he stood before her, arms outstretched and palms facing upwards almost in supplication… for the first time she didn’t know what to say.

She’d never seen him plead like this before. His face seemed bare without that smirk he always wore. His eyes empty without that gleam, that spark that said he was riling her up on purpose. His hand ran again through his dark hair, and for a moment she could have sworn his fingers trembled.

“Please.”

He was waiting. She should say something. Anything. Tell him what he wanted to hear, because there was a kind of guilt building in her stomach and clawing up her throat. Just one word from her could fix it, couldn’t it?

All she had to do was say yes. Give him what he wanted. Make him happy.

But, hell, she was far too stubborn for that. Instead she set her shoulders, stepped away from him, just barely. Enough for him to notice.

She saw his face fall even further; she hadn’t thought it was possible. He’d looked so distraught when he’d followed her out here, the door slamming behind him, and she hadn’t thought it could get worse.

That look in his eyes almost killed her.

But this wasn’t her fault.

She wasn’t good at admitting when she was wrong, that’s true. But this time, this time she was certain she wasn’t at fault. So let him grovel.

Let him suffer, just a bit.

God knows he made her suffer enough. They all had, and it made her blood boil in her veins. How blind he was. How utterly stupid.

“You seem awfully determined to right any wrongs tonight,” she said at last.

“I’ll do anything, Nes. Tell me what to do.”

She tilted her head. Kept her voice low, soft, almost gentle, as she said:

“How far back shall I go?”

Confusion flashed across his features. He wasn’t fooled by her tone. He knew her well enough to know this was a trap. That she was just waiting for him to put his foot in his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but she was done waiting. She cut him off before he could find the words to say.

“Shall we start with tonight? Or shall I start from the beginning?”

A pause. His eyes darkened, and she knew him well enough to know that he was getting annoyed. Good.

“Every time you ignored my grief. My suffering. Ignored it because it wasn’t palatable, and decided I was dealing with all of this in the wrong way. Shall we start there?”

He folded his arms across his chest. Turned his head away.

A laugh burst from her, low and bitter.

“It doesn’t matter.” She said quietly. He snapped his head back towards her so fast she almost heard it crack.

“Of course it matters.”

She raised an eyebrow. He let out a long, shaky breath.

“We didn’t know how much you were suffering before-”

“Is that what you tell yourself? To make yourself sleep at night?”

“You think I’d have stood by and-”

“Yes.” She said simply. Her interruption stunned him. She stunned him often, she knew that much, but she rarely left him speechless. His eyes widened, and she was torn between satisfaction and devastation when she caught that look of heartbreak on his face. “What was it you said? You couldn’t understand how either of my sisters could love me?”

He flinched.

The bulking, massive, warrior before her flinched.

Again, that anger inside her was satisfied.

Good.

“You know I’d walk over hot coals for you. To hell and back-”

She couldn’t stop it, the laugh that burst out of her. Sharp and biting and vicious.

“You couldn’t even walk me back from a battlefield.” Her words were soft. So soft, but they couldn’t hide the venom there. The anger she’d harboured for so long now.

Everything else she’d told him.

How she couldn’t bear to hear the crackle of a fire. How the sound of her father’s neck breaking dogged her every step, the sight of the blood - so much blood - plagued her dreams. How submerging herself under water just to bathe made her feel like she was drowning, dying, and how oblivion was starting to feel like a mighty nice concept.

But she hadn’t told him this part. That when it mattered, when it really mattered, he’d disappeared. Limped away and left her alone.

Before then… before then, he’d listened to her when nobody else had. She’d felt something off that day at the meeting, and her sister had dismissed it, but he hadn’t. She’d felt his hand on her back when they asked her to find that damned cauldron, and it was an anchor, grounding her.

She’d bandaged his wrist, and he had looked at her like she was the entire world. Like everything else faded into insignificance the moment her fingers touched his skin. And even when he’d dropped her hand like a burning coal, she hadn’t given up.

She’d laid her life down alongside his, fully prepared to die as long as she did it by his side. She’d given up everything. Everything.

And it was in those moments after the battle, when she stood alone, watching her sisters walk away arm in arm, not even noticing that she’d fallen behind, when she couldn’t catch her breath and her lungs wouldn’t work, and it was quiet but her mind was screaming, and she wanted to sob but tears wouldn’t come…

And he was nowhere to be seen.

It was then she’d decided to fuck the lot of them.

And that night, when she’d gone to bed instead of celebrating - they were fucking celebrating - she heard their sighs. The exasperation in their voices as she turned and climbed the stairs. She felt it, how they were torn between rolling their eyes at her (haven’t we all been through a lot, she imagined they’d say), and feeling some kind of relief that she’d gone away rather than burden them with her trauma.

And as she cried into her pillow, fingers clenched into the sheets and fists shaking, she knew that every single promise every single one of them had made was meaningless. She heard the corks of bottles popping. Heard their laughter.

Fuck them all.

He looked winded now. It brought her back into the present, the almost breathless gasp that escaped his lips.

She could see the words - the excuses - starting to spill from his mouth, but she was tired. Exhausted.

She held up a hand and he stopped. Considered her for a moment.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered it, and there was pain there, in his voice and behind his eyes.

It was all she had wanted to hear from him, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she told herself at night that if he’d just realise that this - all of this - was at least partly down to him, too, then she could move on. She could forgive him for every acid word he’d thrown her way, because god knows she’d thrown enough at him, too.

But when it came down to it… she couldn’t. She thought those words would be a balm. She thought that when he finally, finally, noticed how much pain she was in that she could stop being so… angry. Stop lashing out.

Instead all she felt was disappointment. Like she’d been building up this moment for months now and it just… wasn’t enough.

Because he might have apologised, but he’d never taken those words back. And she might have snarled at him and snapped at him, but he was the one who followed her when she didn’t want to be followed. Who pushed her when she didn’t want to be pushed.

Who saw her pain on that cold winter night and instead of reaching out, told her that he couldn’t understand why anyone loved her. He was the one who told her they all hated her. Told her she needed to try harder, when even breathing felt like too much.

No. It wasn’t enough.

Nesta was slow to admit when she was wrong.

She was even slower to forgive.

ACOSF 78.5

Wrote a chapter that i felt was missing, plz convey ur thoughts  plagiarized the sex scene bc that felt uncomfy to write lol

Hours later, once Feyre and Nyx were sound asleep and Rhys had some color return to his cheeks, Nesta and Cassian flew back to the house. The new family was under vigilant watch by Mor and Elain, the latter who had refused to let Madja leave without the finest bouquet made from the rarest plants in the river house garden.

Mor had winnowed Gwyn and Emerie back to the library – Emerie had no desire to return to Windhaven just yet, especially when her home had been torn apart both by their Illyrian kidnappers and later, by Cassian’s utter panic. Nesta was not quite ready to part with her sisters-in-arms just yet, but knew they all desperately needed a bath and a warm meal.

Alone in the sky, Nesta rested her head against Cassian’s shoulder. She savored his scent, taking deep, heady breaths of him as they flew under the twinkling stars in the sky. She savored the feel of his strong heartbeat alongside the steady beat of his wings. She pressed a kiss to his jaw and idly traced the veins of his neck. She had missed this feeling desperately over the past week. And for a few terrifying moments on the slopes of Ramiel, she thought would never be in his arms again; the though threatened to set free the tears she hasn’t yet shed. Cassian must have sensed the direction her thoughts had headed in and only clutched her tighter to him.

Cassian flew them higher and higher, and with each beat of his wings, Nesta allowed the bone-tired weariness to creep in. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate a full meal or got a full night’s rest. She ached to be reunited with her bed or be reacquainted with the House’s culinary creations.  

A few wingbeats later, Cassian arrived at the landing of the House. He gently lowered Nesta down to her feet, but as soon as her legs touched the ground they threatened to buckle. He wordlessly lifted her back up and carried her past the threshold of their home.

“Welcome home,” he whispered against her ear.

Nesta shuddered; her home, her friend. In response, the house brushed a calming wind against her forehead, and Nesta could smell of roast beef (or was it a steak?) wafting from her room and hear a trickle of water coming from the adjoining bath. As if the house knew exactly what she needed; an old nursemaid indeed.

Cassian carried her down to her room and cautiously set her down. Her knees wobbled but she remained upright. They both silently took in their surroundings and started; in the corner of the room stood a spiral staircase, a staircase connecting her room and Cassian’s above her.

Cassian chuckled, “Guess someone has been doing some redecorating while we’ve been away.” 

“I guess so,” Nesta mused. To the House she said, “Thank you.” Nesta could’ve sworn the air around her bowed in response.

“What should we do with my room upstairs – we can turn it into an indoor training ring. Or an auxiliary library. Or into a giant closet. The opportunities are endless,” Cassian grinned. 

Nesta blinked away the tears threatening to let loose. It was so silly – so silly to be brought to tears by something this mundane. But to have options, to have the ability to plan for the future. The future with him. This was something she would never again take for granted.

“We can do whatever we want.” She said in response. She took in a deep breath. “But right now, I think I really want a bath.” 

Cassian nodded. “I can’t say I like the scent of you in another male’s clothes. I’m looking forward to using this outfit as kindling.” 

Nesta snorted, and slowly, painfully walked into the bath chamber towards the already drawn bath. The enticing scents of lavender and lilacs drifted towards her; but she found herself too exhausted to peel off her clothes, oversized though they were. Cassian silently entered behind her and gently took off the stolen, stinking clothing. He lifted her naked body into the bath and Nesta groaned at the first touch of warm water against her aching body.

The water didn’t sting against her injuries as it should have; taking a quick glance at the bottles lined up next to her told Nesta that the House had mixed a healing salve into the water. Nesta couldn’t be more grateful.

As soon as she was settled in the bath, a tray of roast beef and vegetables appeared in front of her, resting across the tub. Next to the main course was the most beautiful slice of chocolate cake Nesta had ever seen. The sight of the steaming meat and shining dessert had Nesta ready to break down in tears again.

“Looks good enough to eat.” Cassian said, a touch too innocently. Nesta smiled up at him.

“Do you want to get in?” She asked him, echoing the question from so many months before.

The amber in his eyes darkened, his eyes scanning over her body like a brand. His gaze lingered on a cut on her shoulder; Cassian sucked in a breath, and schooled his face into neutrality. Courtier indeed. His response was the same now as it was then, and a softer type of pain slashed across his eyes, “You’re hurt.” 

“That didn’t stop you before.”

Cassian growled, low and heady in his throat, and Nesta’s blood sang in response.

Cassian pointed towards the tray of food. “Alright. Get started on your dinner. I’m going to go dispose of these godsforsaken clothes and be right back.” Cassian turned and picked up the pile of torn and dirty clothes and strode out of the bathroom.

Nesta’s tired and aching body thrummed in anticipation, creating a strange combination of exhaustion and eagerness. She turned her attention towards her food, and began to eat, counting down the seconds until her mate returned. 

*

Cassian hadn’t been gone more than four minutes when he returned to the bath. He laughed softly at his view: Nesta dozing off, in front of her a half-eaten plate of roast beef and a second plate, completely empty, where not a single crumb of chocolate cake remained. Nesta’s mouth was lined with her dessert; he had never known his mate to be an ill-mannered eater, but the residue from her meal showed him how starved she must have been.

Mate. His mate. He leaned down and helped himself to the remaining beef and vegetables on her plate. This wasn’t quite the food sharing ceremony that he wanted, but what was hers was his, and what was his was hers. They might as well start sharing now.

He lifted the empty tray off the bath and set it on the floor. He turned to grab a towel but was halted by Nesta stirring.

“What took you so long?” She grumbled.

“I was gone for less than 5 minutes. You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t care. Get in.” Nesta threw as much bite into the command as she could, but her exhaustion won out. Instead, she wound up sounding like a petulant child. Irritated, she made to scooch forward in the tub and stared up at him expectantly.

Cassian loosed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Your wish is my command, my lady.” He peeled off his clothes, keeping his eyes on hers. He wanted her – needed her – badly, but knew she needed rest. He lowered himself into the bath behind her, wings and all.

“Dunk your hair in so I can wash you.”

Nesta obeyed, and was rewarded by his fingers skillfully lathering something scented with lilacs into her hair. He massaged her temple, her hair, and behind her ears with such skill that she moaned. She felt him hard and ready behind her and made to reach for him. He flicked her hand away, his laugh a quiet grumble in his throat. Cassian leaned his mouth down against her ear to whisper, “When you’re healed and looking pretty again, then I’ll let you fuck me wherever you please in this House.” 

“Using my own words against me. You’re a quick study, Courtier.” Nesta chuckled, “You would think saving the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court would entitle me to some sort of a reward.”

Cassian felt his heart clench, and quickly forced the somber thoughts out of his mind. She had saved them; she had saved them all. He would never stop being thankful for his brave, beautiful mate. “Dunk your hair back in the water and we can get you dried up.” 

“I don’t want to leave the bath yet. I like it here.”

I like it here with you, were the words that were left unspoken, but understood, between the two of them. Cassian nodded silently against her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.

Nesta leaned more fully against him and closed her eyes, and Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist. In their home, his mate in his arms, he relished in this moment. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Nesta whispered, “You’re more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

Cassian stared down at her, but her eyelids were drooping and he knew that she needed rest. He only held her closer and began soothing strokes down her leg.

Safe in her mate’s arms, Nesta slept. 

*

Hours, or maybe even days, later, Nesta awoke in her bed. It was dark again – could she have actually slept an entire day? She rubbed her eyes awake.

Wings, she realized. She had been sleeping cocooned in her mate’s wings; they both were. She turned to face him; her beautiful, kind, and fiercely loving mate. Her love.

It was rare that she awoke before him; his Illyrian training had him up at the crack of dawn every single day. It wasn’t often that Nesta had an opportunity like this, an opportunity to stare at his perfect face. A face she hadn’t seen for a week. A face she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate in their reunion that had been cut short.

Conveniently enough, they were both naked – she peered down and laughed quietly. Even in sleep, he was ready for her.

Nesta lifted an arm to trace the velvety membrane of his wing. She traced from its outermost border toward his back, stroking determinedly where skin met wing, and pressed a kiss to his chest, trailing her mouth upwards. She reached her other hand down and began pumping him softly, and felt her own wetness begin to pool between her legs.

“Good morning,” he whispered when her mouth met his.

“Good morning,” she whispered back, smiling. She lifted her hips in silent command.

Grinning wickedly, Cassian obeyed. He nudged at her entrance but halted there, and Nesta whimpered.

Cassian snickered, “Still so impatient, Archeron.”

Nesta growled. She arched her neck in a second command digging her fingers into his shoulders, and Cassian didn’t hesitate a single second before licking up her neck and plunging into her at the same moment.

I missed this. Being drenched in you. Nesta gasped at Cassian’s voice, as clear as any words spoken aloud, in her mind. Cassian chuckled, his laugh a song to her blood. One of the many benefits of the mating bond, in case you forgot.

Cassian drew out in a long slide, leveraging Nesta’s stunned silence to his benefit. He thrust back, seating himself fully and watched her eyes roll back into her head. The sight of her so undone so quickly had him ready to come instantly, but he willed his cock to relax.

He withdrew again, and watched his cock slide out, gleaming with her wetness, and then plunged again. With every thrust, he lost himself in her, as if he hadn’t already done so weeks, months, and years ago. He lost all sense of himself, and there was her, only her.

I love you. He said into her mind with every thrust. I love you.

Nesta couldn’t stop the barrage of tears freeing themselves from her eyes. The words that had evaded her for so long, the words she knew to be true with his every action and every glance in her direction. The words she didn’t know she needed to hear until now. 

“I love you,” she choked out, “I have always loved you.”

 I love you. With everything I have ever been, with everything that I am, with everything I will ever be. I love you.

Release barreled into them both at the same moment, and he rammed up into her with such a mighty thrust that they both screamed. She clamped around him, and he spilled as much of himself as he could into her.

They clung to each other, Nesta stroking his arm and Cassian clutching her tightly to his chest on top of his thundering heart.  

“I love you,” he whispered, silver lining his eyes, “More and more with every passing moment, with every passing day.”

She kissed him deeply, letting her lips and mouth and tongue convey what words could not. Surrounded by the love of her House, the love of her mate, and her growing love for herself, she said to him, do it again.

Cassian grinned, happy to oblige.

“Hi, yes, I’m Lily Evans. I received a call?”

Lily unzipped her jacket and leaned against the edge of the receptionist’s desk, staring down at a dumpy old woman with big round glasses.

“Oh yes, dear, he’s right over there,” the woman said, leaning forward to continue in a whisper, “I would have him checked for a head injury if I were you…he seemed pretty confused when he walked in here. Poor thing even forgot how to use a telephone.”

Lily smiled and nodded at the woman, knowing good and well that her friend’s confusion was not caused by a concussion. She turned her head, staring a few feet down the hall at a figure slumped in a chair against the wall. She had to admit that even though it was a bit of a pain having to pick Sirius up from a muggle police station, him not being behind bars was a huge positive. She walked towards him, her footsteps echoing against the tile of the empty hallway. His head perked up and he looked at her, his wild curls covering half of his face. He stood, wrapping her in a hug.

“Lily, darling! Wonderful to see you!” He smiled his trademark smile, toothy and charismatic. A smile that had dodged many detentions, changed many grades, and fooled many girls over the years.

Lily, however, saw right through him.

“Sirius, what is going on? How did you get here? Why are you here?”

“Ah, I just figured I needed an adventure, that’s all,” Sirius shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, “Ernie from the Knight Bus and I are very well acquainted. Also have you tried this muggle drink? The secretary woman gave it to me. Honestly, the things you guys come up with-”

Lily put her hand firmly on Sirius’ shoulder, bringing his mindless rant to a halt. He always got like this when he was trying to hide something, or trying to convince his friends that he wasn’t upset. She gently took the can of Coca-Cola from his hand, setting it on the floor by her feet.

She reached up slowly, brushing away the mop of curls that covered the right half of his face. She winced as she saw his eye, dark purple and slightly swollen. Someone had punched him. Sirius avoided her gaze, opting to stare down at the toes of his boots instead. Lily had a feeling she knew who had given him the black eye, and she was livid.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Sirius reached into his pocket, pulling out a ripped piece of paper. Lily immediately recognized her handwriting. She had given Sirius her address before Christmas break after finding out that James was going to be on holiday for most of it. He had shrugged it off at the time, but she insisted that he take it in case something bad happened. However, it looked as though part of it had been torn away.

“Kreacher found it and tried tearing it to bits,” Sirius told her, rolling the paper between his fingers, “I had a right hard time getting it back from him. I couldn’t remember the rest and I didn’t know what to do when I got here, so I made a bit of a loon of myself asking people on the street until someone brought me here.”

Lily smiled, pulling her friend into another hug. She held him tighter this time, twirling his curls around her finger as he melted into her. She could tell he was exhausted. Her heart broke for him. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“Come on, it’s getting late. We’ll go back to my house and make some tea. My dad’s already made up the spare bed for you.”

Sirius pulled away, giving Lily a watery smile and running a quick hand over his eyes, wincing as he grazed his bruise. He picked up the can from beside their feet and Lily swung her arm around his shoulder, giving the woman behind the desk a quick nod as they left the building. As they stepped out into the cold winter air, Lily saw headlights coming up the street. She smiled and clutched Sirius’ arm.

“Ready to ride a Muggle bus for the first time?”

Look guys I wrote a whole story in my head this morning about Nesta leaving Velaris and marrying someone else, because I was upset that SJM’s version of “I don’t write first time scenes,” derailed what I would consider to be more important, as in Nesta having a serious relationship before she gets into another serious relationship that is tied by some magical unforeseen bond. 

I have thought of a lot of scenarios for this, including but not limited to a man who owns a ship, and asks Nesta to travel with him, but she gets so seasick she doesn’t go. A dancer type who she ends up having the threesome with. A serious farmer. A musician who writes her songs, etc. SO many. I could write a fic of the people she dates. 

But in this scenario, maybe after all these men, Nesta marries for money. She’s aware of the precariousness of her position, and just as she’s been raised, she husband hunts, and she marries without anyone knowing. 

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