#vidalinav fic

[vidalinav]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: Post acosf fic from a very long time ago. Nesta leaves the house basically.

22k words and I posted it all on here.

I'm going to edit this later... so if there are errors ignore them for now. It was a long fic.

~

There is a storm raging outside her window and a cloud of darkness settles upon the city. Most have been called inside, blocking off their windows and doors, while the wind whips and rages its whirring music. Residents pray to their gods, the priestesses pray to the Mother, and Nesta sits by the window reading a book about storms. She hums a violent nursery rhyme as it rains.   

It’s the only thing she can do since she’s not unused to being inside. She’s already combed through the rooms the House reveals for her today.  

Mere hours ago, it opens a door to a room filled with plants. The walls are glassy, the air’s strangely wet and Nesta needs only a moment to decide it’s not her favorite room she’s seen.  

When she closes the door, the House eagerly opens another.   

The floor, in this room, is colored like a chess board. Nesta spends hours here entertained, where massive pieces move to counter her pawn to e4. The House is a skilled player, she finds, and it doesn’t let her win easily. Nesta must think about each move before she makes them. She begins to picture battlefields where the ash squares meet the cherry oak. Her queen moves across the board as if she conquered the land and Nesta imagines herself as that queen triumphant. A crown on her head, an army at her back, but the pure strength of her intellect winning against her foe.   

Even so, Nesta spends the rest of the day winning as equally as she loses. 

There is no rain to contend to, then. No aching limbs from thundering storms. In fact, the sky in the morning looks as if birds sing somewhere in the trees below even if Nesta can’t hear their sweet song.   

But in the evening, when Nesta can neither remember what time it is nor how many games they’ve played, when the House says enough is enough, the door opens wide when she insists on another game and Nesta can see shadows blooming in the hall.   

The door moves back and forth as if the House wants to wave her forward. Fine, she thinks, even as she crosses her arms.  

She can hear distant rumbling and wonders if the mountain’s purring. Some lazy cat that has decided to lounge as much as it listens. But Nesta knows the House to be more of a nursemaid than a cat, and she thinks on the book the House leaves her in the private library this morning. The tea might have gone cold, but the book is just getting good and so Nesta weaves through the halls to the only other place that offers dreams beyond her wildest imagination. 

She’s always liked this place. The expansive shelves that reach to the ceiling in a dark, smoky wood. The windows that peak through, overlooking Velaris.   

It’s one of the only rooms that hasn’t changed, say for a few more armchairs in a warm cream, big enough that when they first appeared Cassian and her could both sit in one without a fuss and still be tucked between the arms. He’d read as she read, and occasionally she would catch him looking at her, feel his hand tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Nesta would lean into him and all the while, the window let them know that there was a city out there—dazzling lights and quite possibly music—but all Nesta wanted was him.   

All Nesta ever wants is him.   

Now the city drips, the color bleeding into beads of rain that race down the window. The chair seems too large for her alone, and so she lies across it, her knees bending off the arm. The quiet thrumming rain that hits the window reminds her of a rhyme she’d heard as a child. Something about floods and starvation if she really thinks about it. Nesta can barely remember the words now, but the tune sits in her mouth like a canary caught in her throat. It’s not the only bird that flutters in her lungs—her stomach.   

Sometimes Nesta thinks she almost has too much to say and one day she’ll open her mouth only to hear tittering bird calls because she can’t say it in words. Not that she has anyone around her now to whistle to.   

But she has the House at least... 

And Nesta remembers that as a steaming cup of tea appears on the table to her side—to replace the one that disappears as if it has never been there at all. Nesta sinks into the chair with lullabies and bird calls in her ears.  She flicks at the pages of her book, where a strong male with wings meets a woman without.  

Nesta can only sigh.   

But before she can get too lost in her text, a heavy voice calls out her name. “Nesta!”  

At the sound, she feels herself ready to fling herself out of the room, run to him as he bursts through the door. She isn’t expecting him home this early. He must have flown all this way.  

Nesta can hear her name again and she tells herself to calm down. Even now she can hear her grandmother’s voice. That's no way a lady should behave. But her grandmother didn’t know love... or mating bonds... or how to be a comfort to someone else’s existence, and Nesta doesn’t care what that old witch would think.   

She feels herself moving at the thought, the anticipation clinging to her skin like his sopping wet clothes. They’ll drip on her pretty blue rug.  

Nesta frowns at the pool that begins to puddle around him because it’s not Cassian who bursts in beams, but Azriel whose hair and clothes are soaked. 

A towel appears on the table beside him, in what Nesta assumes is the House reaching out a huffing hand, saying here... stop leaking all over my floors. She watches as the House stacks up another one. Two and then three, still Azriel doesn’t reach out for one. 

A fourth appears on the table.   

Nesta sinks into the pale cream chair.   

“Where have you been?” He implores, his voice raging and light. She almost feels like a child being scolded for the way he looks at her, all anger in those hazel eyes. Not the ones she wants to see.  

She wonders briefly if they’re actually friends for the discomfort settles in her stomach at the look. It angers her enough that she merely flips a page of her book, reading the first line.  

He grasped her neck, pulling her closer as he tugged her mouth to his lips.   

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”   

Nesta glances back to him as nonchalant as she can make herself. His voice, however, makes her want to stand up straight, lift her chin, and glare. “Where else would I be?”  

Azriel’s frown deepens, irritation filling the lines between his brows. “You were here?” 

Nesta gives him a look that must say obviously, but Azriel tilts his head as if he doesn’t understand.   

“I sent my shadows searching for you. I went around this mountain. I was afraid you were climbing down the stairs. I almost sent out a search party!” Azriel huffs, winded. His face is a blooming red—an unnatural color that makes her wonder if she’s ever seen him so irate. Nesta supposes she hasn’t seen him at all. He’s been gone for three weeks.   

She doesn’t have the heart to ask if it’s because of her.   

“Why would you do that?” Nesta asks. 

“Why? Because I couldn’t find you!” Azriel places his hand between his brows, taking a breath. “There’s a storm coming in. The entire city has spent all day boarding up their windows, gathering food—” 

“Is everyone okay?” Nesta interrupts. She feels her chest start to thrum with worry. For her sisters. For the residents... For Cassian who’s miles away. “Feyre? Elain?” 

“They’re fine. Worried about you, but that’s to be— 

“And Cassian?” 

Nesta can feel her heart beating fast as she says his name.   

“The storm is going to barely miss him.”   

Nesta lets out a breath, nodding as she takes inventory of names. If Cassian is okay, Emerie is okay. If Feyre is okay, Nyx is okay. Elain is fine. If Nesta is safe in the mountain, so is Gwyn, so are the priestess. Everyone accounted for. Everyone safe.   

Azriel takes a step towards her chair, his wings flapping away the water. Nesta looks to the carpet. He’s going to leave mud on the wool if he keeps at it. His boots are caked in it. The carpet already notes dark stains.   

“Where were you? Feyre says she’s been trying to reach you. Rhys tried—I barely made it back before they were screaming in my ear. Rhys tried to come... The House wouldn’t let him in.”   

Nesta wants to ask why Rhys of all people would go to such lengths, but she knows the answer to that already. Perhaps that’s why Azriel stands here now. Not for her sake, but for her sisters—whichever one. Both, maybe. She has seldom heard about them inquiring about her before. In fact, when Cassian is gone, the house is silent.   

Maybe they do it for Cassian, too, so they can tell him she’s fine when he asks. Out of all powers she’s gained and lost, Nesta’s most bitter about that one—that she can’t speak to him whenever she wants. That she can’t hear his voice interrupting her thoughts, her dreams.   

“I was exploring,” she says simply and Azriel takes a step closer. She thinks he might sit at the table at the center of the room that makes the library seem like one of those colleges Nesta read about when she was young. A foreboding place reserved for the studious and the elite to study under the dim lamps as the voices of a thousand books whispered their secrets. Azriel looks like a scholar in this room, and he will fit even more in the shadowed corners of each bookshelf, roaming through the stacks.   

Nesta may be a reader, but she’s never been so studious, and she never sits at that table aiming to uncover all the enigmas of the universe that are twisted in riddles. She hasn’t deemed any subject important enough to sit there--none that fascinates her to do more than just collect knowledge in dust.   

“I went to the library, too,” Nesta adds as an afterthought. Not this one of course, but the one below. The one that gives her purpose. “Your shadows couldn’t find me?”   

Azriel shrugs, an act that should look casual, but almost looks concerned. Nesta wonders what about her is so concerning.   

“It's been a long week,” he dismisses.   

“Where did you go?” She asks.  

Azriel doesn’t answer, instead he offers up his own question.  Nesta pauses at the words—the tone. “Have you been here by yourself?” 

Nesta doesn’t answer that either.   

“You’ve been gone for a long time,” she remarks.   

“You didn’t want to go with him?” He inquires. His shadows stand at attention, swarming around her and Nesta pokes at one absentmindedly. They don’t scare her. In fact, they remind her of shadowed pups, and she gently weaves her hand through the tendrils as if it were soft fur. The shadows dance at her feet.   

Azriel taps his foot from her lack of answer and Nesta wants to scoff at his impatience.   

It’s not like she hasn’t been alone before, though maybe he knows well enough what happened before that he assumes she’ll show up one day inebriated, hurtling headfirst towards the city because she never could keep her balance on the stairs. 

Yes, Cassian is away, but she’s fine.   

She’s fine with the fact that there is no one to winnow him back as per usual. She's fine with the fact that half a month has gone by and she’s not even sure when he’ll appear. She’s fine that Mor is gone to Vallahan, and he is gone to who-knows-where, and Feyre and Rhys are busy with the baby. She’s fine that even when Cassian returns, he will inevitably leave as he has done eight times before.   

It is his job of course.   

Azriel’s shadows pool on the ground like a puddle of water, and bubble back up to her hand. They wish to entertain and distract her. Like the house, she supposes.   

“Where do your shadows come from?” she asks curiously.   

Azriel pauses at that, frowning at her question. Nesta just pokes another as they weave in and out of her fingers. They’re like the House’s heart, she thinks. Alive, but in a way that they shouldn’t be... at least to those who’ve not found comfort in their shadows.   

“You’re evasive.” 

Nesta huffs. “I don’t hear you answering my questions.”   

“And tricky.”   

Nesta rolls her eyes and watches Azriel move towards the door. She’s almost ashamed to say that her stomach twists at the image of him leaving. He just got back...  

Maybe she’s not entertaining enough for him. 

Screw him then.   

But Azriel turns at the last moment towards a bookcase and Nesta cranes her neck to see. He meanders behind the dark wood, sticking his hand behind until he hums his satisfaction, and like a work of magic, he pulls a bottle out of the shadows. “You won’t believe how many bottles I’ve hidden throughout the years.” 

“Of wine?” Nesta eyes the sloshing liquid.   

Azriel nods, smirking. “When you live with enough people who take your things, you learn to be creative about hiding places.”   

Unconsciously, Nesta thinks of Elain.   

When they had nothing but a few dresses and some boots, she would always find her little sister stealing them. Why do you get all the good things, she’d say. Good things? Nesta would screech. These are the only things I own.   

“Do you want some?” he asks, grasping at a glass that appears on that studious table. He pours the deep burgundy and Nesta can imagine the smell already. Her stomach twists and guilt bubbles up her chest.   

“I think the house will just take it away from me.”   

“Then tell the House to look somewhere else.”   

He nods towards the chair at the table, and Nesta never imagines the table for wine tasting. It almost seems blasphemous to be drunk in a library. Still, she goes to it, grasps the glass in her hands and swirls the sweet red.   

“It’s old,” Azriel remarks, as if it might offer some explanation.   

“Human old? Or Fae old?”   

“Amren old.” 

Nesta hums her satisfaction, but she doesn’t take a sip. She only smells the fragrant bouquet. Azriel takes a swish of his own until the entire glass is empty.   

“I won it in a card game. The male nearly cried when I took it.”   

“And you decided today you’d open it?”   

“It’s tradition,” he shrugs. “When there’s a storm you drink.”   

Azriel refills his glass and Nesta sets her own on the table. It doesn’t switch to water and Nesta wonders if the House is indeed turning a blind eye. “Sounds made-up.”   

“It is.” Azriel raises his glass. “How about a new tradition Nesta?”   

It takes a moment for her to reach out her own, and when she does Azriel clinks it against his. He nods his head towards the drink, and she does drink, though she only takes a tiny sip.   

“Where did you go?” She asks again, “You were gone before Cassian left this time.”   

“Here and there.”   

“You didn't...” Nesta can’t help her cheeks warming and Azriel gives her a curious look. She supposes it isn’t like her to be bashful. “You didn’t leave because of us, did you?”   

He chuckles and Nesta nearly races to cover her flushed cheeks with her hand. She is not a shy person by any means, and heaven knows they’re not secretive about their affection. Still, she’s horrified of the thought of being loud enough that Azriel is forced to move out.   

“No. It’s not because of you and Cassian.” Azriel rolls his eyes and Nesta grimacing, wishing the floor would split below her and swallow her mortification. “You’ll be happy to know that I don’t hear anything. No whispers, no conversations, no noise… of any kind.”   

His eyes are bright with humor and Nesta scoffs the embarrassment away, anger roaring up her chest at the feeling.  “Not good for Cassian then,” She dismisses with a shake of her head. “If he screams bloody murder one day, no one will be able to hear him.”   

“You’d never hurt him.”   

Azriel says it like he knows, but Nesta’s not so convinced. She tilts her head, like a sloshing red in a bottle. “How are you so sure?” 

“Because I know you.”   

He thinks he does anyways. Nesta has her doubts. She’s not even sure they’re really friends and Azriel thinks he knows her?   

She takes a big gulp of her wine, and Azriel watches as she sets the glass down. He passes no judgmental looks her way as he refills her glass. Some part of her, the most rational, fearful part of her, thinks he must want her drunk... or loose lipped where wine slips past her defenses. Why should she ever trust a spy?  

“It’s quiet here,” Azriel remarks, looking to those studiously tall bookshelves standing about the room like giants. “Do you ever get lonely?”   

Yes.   

“No,” Nesta answers casually. She takes a sip of her drink as Azriel squints. A slight movement that she tracks like a hunter. 

She feels more like the prey—has always felt a little too easily caught.  

But Nesta has never been hunted for long without snapping her teeth and Azriel should know that by now. She taps her nails against the glass as if she’s summoning storms and Azriel looks to the Velaris skyline where it rains and rains and rains.  

“There’s an old saying that a day that storms is a good day for gambling.”  

Nesta huffs a laugh. “Do they now? And what do you have that I want, Shadow Singer?” 

Azriel raises a brow, and he pulls out a deck of cards seemingly out of thin air. “The real question you should be asking, Nesta Archeron, is what do you have to lose?” 

~ 

She has lost count on how many books she’s read this month, but she is only a quarter through the A’s. A for subject, she finds, not title or author and Nesta wades her way through alphabet soup for it is a chaotic system. No wonder Gwyn is always running around this place. 

A book labeled The History of Monsterre, for example, is not housed in a section for History or a section dedicated to the countries of the continent. It is not even organized alphabetically in T, H, or M. It is placed where the rest of A’s live. A for Ancient History, because the kingdom had been founded during the rule of the Ancient fae or at least that’s what Clotho tells her when she asks what exactly is considered ancient when fae live into their thousands.  

“Isn’t ancient a subjective term?” 

She watches as the priestess’s pen swishes swirling letters. The High Lords have deemed it ancient, so it is ancient history. 

“But doesn’t ancient imply that it is not relevant to today? Montessere is a country that still exists.”  

Clotho sighs and crosses her arms as she so often does to Nesta’s protests. The history contained in that book does not. 

“It does not exist?” Nesta loudly implores. “Then is every book that has some reference of ancient fae going to be housed in ancient history? Five thousand years will pass and soon everyone is ancient fae and the library only has one section? I mean how does anyone find anything if they are looking for abstract concepts?”   

The priestess merely raises an impatient brow and points to the large book that turns a swift page when another priestess asks where to find The Literary Works of Dio Djembe.   

Probably not in the D’s, Nesta grumbles. Maybe not even under a category for subjects pertaining to literature, because Nesta knows there is no such thing.  

It is all categorized there and if you need help locating a book, please consult the Table of Contents.  

Nesta rolls her eyes as she sees that the “Table of Contents” is merely a table with a book titled Contents, clearly not shelved with the C’s… maybe the O’s for organizational systems, she thinks. L for lists.  

She’ll just have to guess her way through, never mind that her goal to finish all the books in the first section means that she can learn anything from architecture to abandonment issues. Abstracts and abnormalities. Accessorizing wool during the winter. Acronym accommodations in library systems.  

She supposes she can forget the goal altogether and spend some time with Gwyn instead, but when Nesta searches for her friend, the priestess is flushed with anxiety. Another subject she can look forward to in the A’s.  

“Do you want to eat lunch together?” She asks, even so.  

“Cassian’s still not back?” Gwyn grabs a book on the shelf as she asks, crossing out something on the paper she carries. The fine script looks almost as neat as Clotho’s and Nesta can tell it has Merrill written all over it. 

Nesta swallows down the annoyed remark, ignoring the mention of her mate. “I thought Merrill might have let you off early since her project ended last week?”  

Gwyn groans, “She’s decided that she’s now going to research the unexplainable disappearances of the creatures on the island.”  

Nesta leans against a shelf as Gwyn shuffles through the stacks. How she can remember where every book is Nesta will never know. “What for?” 

“Why does Merrill research anything?” Gwyn shrugs, “I personally think she has a fetish for seeing me run across this library—gets a sweet thrill out of it.”  

“Fetish?” Nesta can’t help the sweet upturn of her lips. “That’s a new word.”  

Gwyn rolls her eyes, sighing as she says, “Don’t laugh. You and Emerie gave me that book.”  

Nesta snorts at her friend’s face turns a pretty shade of pink. “It’s the book that keeps on giving.” 

“Yeah, well it’s giving me nightmares.”  

“Liar, you like that book.” 

Gwyn raises her chin, shrugging dismissively. “It’s… funny I guess.”  

Nesta laughs outright at that, and the blooming shade of red on Gwyn's face almost matches her hair.  

“Okay, fine it’s not the worst book I’ve ever read. It’s got… some substance.”  

“Substance coming out of certain somethings. Sure.”  

“Aren’t you supposed to be shelving?” Gwyn asks, giving her a sidelong glance.  

Nesta tries to hold her laugh, raising a brow at the change of subject. “I was asking about lunch.”  

She’s already instructed the House on what she’d like it to prepare today. For lunch, she suggests a couple of sandwiches and a few cakes. Chocolate for her and a cheesecake for Gwyn, which she knows is her favorite.  

But Gwyn shakes her head, grasping a book from the shelf as she sighs. One more off the list. “How about tomorrow maybe? Or the next day? I’m not sure.” The look she gives her friend is a somber one, and Nesta resists the feel of that heavy weight. Her shoulders already feel like sinking and her body seems to shake from how forcibly she tries to keep it from moving. “I want to, I’m just...”  

Busy.  

Nesta understands even if Gwyn doesn’t say the word. Gwyn is busy with duties and Nesta shelves books that she doesn’t really have to shelve.  

“I have to get back” the priestess says cautiously and Nesta gives her a reassuring smile. The one that says no hard feelings. “See you later?”  

“Of course,” Nesta agrees, raising a hand in farewell.  

With the absence of her friend, her sweet swishing robes no longer gliding across the floor, the level is quiet once more. Only the books keep her company. They might ramble printed words on their pages, but Nesta can seldom hear them speak or joke or laugh... A pity, she thinks.  

Nesta sighs her dismay, but when she looks over to the table, a feast fit for a picnic is spread out before her.  

Nesta smiles somberly, thanking the house for coming once more to her aid, hoping that the contents are enough to fill that burdening hunger that’s made a home in the pit of her stomach. 

~ 

One card. Two Card. Three Card. Four. Nesta sets the fifth where it lays gently as the floor of two others. Triangles are the strongest structure for building she reads, and this tower already houses two levels.  

She stares at a half-finished pyramid of playing cards with all the focus of a person building the tallest structure in the world. At the height of 233 feet, she knows, the tallest structure is a statue of the Mother carved out in sandstone located in Lakovash, a city outside of Rask. It takes two hundred years to carve out the rock, but Nesta is not so ambitious, and she does not wield the cards like clay, instead she eyes the structure. Do not fall.   

To lay them right is to complete her task. A solid structure that resists tension on all sides.  

What she wouldn’t give to be so unyielding. To push but never crash. To bear the heavy weight of its structure without fault.  

But playing cards are not so easy to wield, and when the lightning flashes Nesta jumps at the sound. The two cards she holds bend in her hands, and Nesta closes her eyes, trying to breathe through that frustration.  

She could yell. No one would hear her, and the sound would get captured with the wet, clapping thunder, but Nesta only looks down at the table, scoffing at the strength of triangles.  

All the cards have fallen, scattered along the wood in hearts and spades.  

Nesta curses the rain, the sky, stupid Velaris weather that keeps changing in temperamental tides. The window is large, and she sees the glittering fae lights get lost in the waterfall downpour, the view blurring until she can’t see a thing.  

She is tired of being stuck in this place.  

It’s a thought that strikes her like a flash of lightning.  

She is tired of being stuck in this place, but it’s raining hard. Nesta sighs, collecting the deck until she can feel their weight in her hand.  

She misses Cassian. He’s gone and all the sky has done is rain.  

She will wait for him until it stops.  

Nesta will build the cards again.  

She will build it again and this time it will resist collapse as triangles should.  

And when it stops raining, Nesta will go outside, and she’ll look for triangles in structures. In all those buildings drowning in a city below, she’ll look for strength.  

~ 

The House is a mothering hen, and her wounds don’t seem to heal quick enough as she stares at the blistering rouge that tells her she shouldn’t be climbing stairs when the rain is pouring. Her ankle is swollen, and no amount of ice has taken the sharp pain away. It throbs a sweet reminder.  

Dumb, it says. You’re dumb for leaving during a storm.  

Nesta pays no mind. She simply sighs as she eyes her book on the dining room table. She wonders if the House might move it for her or punish her for leaving when she decided she wouldn’t.  

But the House is not cruel even if it’s pushy and perturbed, and it knows her far too well. It knows that she’ll slump in her chair, until she gets irritated enough to reach out for the book. What trouble might she get into, if it doesn’t move it for her? How much pain will it cause?   

Rain would have never stopped her anyways.   

So, when Nesta begins to shift, her lips already set in a fine wince, the book vanishes from the table and appears in her lap.  

“Thank you, House,” she says when Nesta can’t help the satisfied grin. “I always knew you took my side on things.”  

“Are you talking to yourself again?”  

Nesta jumps at the sound of his voice, as she always does because she can never hear him sneaking through the House. She mutters her complaints, flipping to the page in her book where’d she’d set a torn piece of paper.  

She spares a glance to Azriel, answering haughtily, “I thought you’d be at the estate.”  

But Azriel never answers her queries or her questions, and Nesta watches as he sits at the expansive dining table. He doesn’t ask why she has a reading chair here, but it should be obvious... Nesta has a reading chair everywhere, and there’s no one here to tell her it isn’t proper décor. If she had it her way, every wall would be filled to the brim with books and every room would be a library of itself.  

A roast chicken appears on a plate for him. The House takes care of its guests, of course, but Azriel waves it away with a cautious thanks to the walls.  

He pulls up a chair right beside her instead. “What happened to your ankle?”  

“I tripped,” she said without a thought, shrugging as if that might play off the pain. Trust Azriel to zero in on her stupidity.  

“On the stairs?”  

“Running through the halls,” Nesta lies. Azriel’s gaze shifts to her wet hair, and Nesta wrinkles her nose in distaste. “No one likes a busybody.”  

Azriel doesn’t even give her a hint of a smile. Instead, he puffs up like she’s seen Cassian do on occasion, when she’s particularly stubborn and he won’t give into her whims.  

“You need to ice it,” he says. “Stay off it. At least until morning. Can you move it? Did you have someone check to see if it’s broken?”  

Nesta snorts. “Unless the House is also a doctor—which would not be surprising in the least—no. No one has checked on it.” Nesta looks to her foot and silently chastises the bitter thing for slipping across a step and putting her in this predicament in the first place. “Doubt it’s broken.” 

“Have you ever broken anything?”  

“Have you ever fallen down the stairs?” Nesta raises a brow, at his uncompromising will. “Exactly.”  

Azriel, though despite her words, is already moving towards the door. Nesta frowns at his retreating steps. “I’m getting a healer,” he calls.  

“I don’t need a healer.” 

“And you didn’t need to be doing whatever you were doing to hurt your ankle.”  

Nesta huffs, rolling her eyes as the tone of his voice and once more she thinks back on how Azriel’s become utterly irritating ever since her and Cassian's bond became official. Maybe even before then when he first started helping them train.  

It’s that orderly tone of his voice, that I’m older and know better tone of his voice.  

“You don’t have to care for me, just because Cassian’s not here!”  

Azriel stops in his way, giving her a look filled with audacity. “Are you going to get Madja, yourself?”  

Nesta wrinkles her nose in disgust at that female’s name and that must be enough of an answer, since Azriel marches towards the door in the way of his.  

“You’d think you were going to war,” Nesta grumbles under her breath, but she calls out before he can reach the door.  

“It will heal by itself,” she calls to him, “besides the House doesn’t like visitors.” Nesta shrugs, smirking lightly at the grumpy lines that creased his forehead. “I can’t guarantee you’ll be let back in.”   

As if by a summoning, a great chime rings. Nesta’s only just discovered means that there’s someone at the door. She’s tested it with Gwyn one day—it doesn’t matter if they knock or if they twist the knob. If a presence is there, a great bell rings.  

Nesta has yet to find where the sound comes from.  

“I’ll get it,” Azriel says in a rush.  

“It’s my house,” Nesta scoffs. “I’ll get it.”  

In truth, she can already feel the excitement building. Maybe Cassian has come home early, she thinks. Nesta stands in a rush intent on running to him. Who cares about a twisted ankle? Who cares if Azriel will see? Her mate has been gone for far too long and her heart lurches out of her chest at just the thought of him.  

“Nesta,” Azriel warns. “You stand on that ankle and you're going to make it worse. Didn’t we teach you this in training?”  

“Who cares about training? We haven’t trained in weeks!” Nesta doesn’t look back at him as she moves past him, and through the halls. Her ankle does hurt, but it means little to her. Her body is filled with glee. She can barely suppress her grin.  

That is...  

Until she races up the stairs to the upper most level, and the door swings open for her view.  

It’s only Feyre and the babe.  

Nesta tries to hold back her sigh.  

“What are you doing here?” She asks.  

Feyre raises a brow, “well hello to you too.”  

She shifts to one foot, posing in that I’m tired of you way. That motherly disappointed look of someone much older and wiser. As if, Feyre is wiser. “You’ve been ignoring me. I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Nesta.” 

Nesta rolls her eyes at the tone. She can’t help it. Being lectured in her own home. “I’m here,” she shrugs, a little too much aggravation in her voice. “Where else would I be?” 

“Are you going to invite me inside?” 

Nesta wants to say no, but instead the door opens widely.  

~ 

The midnight red velvet reminds her of playing cards. The utter calamity of a spilled deck. She runs her hand down the front and even if it’s one of the prettiest dresses she owns, Nesta hates the feel of it. The soft velvet scratches against her skin.  

The thunder shouts but Nesta doesn’t flinch. It only aggravates her. The others jump and look to the windows, because it’s not just four of them now, it’s six. The yellow begins to bloom in the sky, cracks like broken glass leaking out light. How temperamental the sky seems to be today.   

“Elain stayed behind… well, she’s with Nuala and Cerridwen if you want to know.” Nesta doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop Feyre from speaking. “She says she wants to save whatever plant she can. The storms have wiped out so many.”  

Velaris has had an unusual amount of storms this season. The people are calling it strange, she hears. Amren calls it an omen.  

She sits at the head of the table, a knife in her hands that cuts through the steak as easy as butter. The tender meat leaks out blood. Cassian always jokes that she might as well be eating it raw, that perhaps she has developed a blood drinking habit. Nesta tells him that if she wanted it tough, she would sooner eat rocks. Cassian, as different as he is from her, likes his steak like cement. Gods forbid, it even has a little pink.  

She cuts it into tiny pieces. Another thing that Cassian notes. He cuts and eats a piece, cuts and eats a piece. Nesta cuts the entire thing before she takes even one bite. It’s strange how much she remembers when he’s gone.  

Nesta looks around the table, but her sister opts for a stew instead and the House obliges. Nyx has a bowl of smashed peas. A green so putrid she almost feels sorry for the babe, but as Rhys spoons the food into his mouth, Nyx eats without a fuss.  

“Are your dinners always like this?” Mor remarks, taking in the grand centerpieces and the candles that float in clear water. The linens that are pressed into crisp triangles. The napkins in the shape of swans.  

“Like what?”  

Mor looks to Azriel and Nesta catches the look as Mor grimaces to her friend. Nesta has the sudden urge to spill her water in her lap, the glass knocked over by accident…  

But she’d never be so petty.  

“It’s just so formal.” 

“The House likes to entertain,” Nesta answers, taking a sip from her glass and once more she wishes it was wine. Wishes for wine or… Cassian. But neither are here.  

“And yet you never invite anyone over,” voices Amren, who picks at her lamb as if it might bleat back at her.  

Seemingly by the words, the thunder crashes, the mountain shaking the chandelier. Nesta pays no mind as the lights begin to flicker, the clinking of crystals reminding her of rain. Nyx cries and the others reach for their glasses that shake with the sound.  

Nesta only continues cutting her steak.  

~ 

After dinner, the bulk of them stand around the table as if waiting for her word, but Nesta doesn’t care what they do, she only wants them to leave her alone. She misses the quiet solitude, the House bringing her a cup of tea as she reads another book. She’s still working on the A section of the library, but the House gifts her a new book. One of its favorites, she assumes at how excited the House seems. It makes her a reading corner out of pillows and brings her a cup of steaming milk sweetened with honey. It’s been too good to set down, but she’s only made it to the middle.  

Nesta grabs the book again and makes her way to the library. She’ll let them decide what they want to do in her house. She doesn’t care.  

But her sister seems to take her action as a cue to follow her.  

Nesta grits her teeth.  

“How have you been?” Feyre asks, making chittering small talk. Her voice is bright in a way that scratches at her skin and she can feel a twinge in her head from an ache beginning to form.  

Will this night never end?  

“I mean with Cassian being away and all.”  

“Same as always.”  

“What do you while he’s away?” 

Nesta shrugs, “what I always do.”  

She knows Feyre won’t be happy with that response and Nesta debates whether she should give a more definitive answer, if only to save herself the trouble later.  

Feyre blinks at that, hiking up Nyx who falls slightly at her waist. He’s gotten bigger. Nearly in his seventh month. His eyes are the same blue as theirs, but his hair is as dark as his father’s. As dark as Cassian’s. An Illyrian trait, maybe, because most of the Illyrians she knows have pitch black hair. Nesta wonders if her children will also have their father’s hair, the rich golden hue of his skin, maybe his eyes too. She wonders how much of them will seem like her at all.  

“He’s been gone a lot lately,” Feyre says, her voice light.  

It sounds like casual chit-chat, but the more Feyre stammers for another sentence, her feet shuffling through the halls, Nesta thinks the words sound increasingly different. He’s been gone a lot lately reads like what have you done? Did you have a fight? Is he tired of you?  

Nesta wonders the same often enough; she can’t hold it against her sister for thinking it, too. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. Nesta thinks that absence makes the stomach grow sick.  

He’s sick of her.  

Cassian goes back to Illyria—to Windhaven—stays without a thought, because she is too much for more than a few days. There is nothing about her that can be stomached for that long.  

“He’s been—what—gone for two weeks now? And he was gone before that.”  

And before that. And before that. On and off.  

It’s his job of course. She can’t expect to give it up when he commands a legion. She can’t expect him to train her when he also must train the Illyrians. Warriors already prepared for wars that Nesta doesn’t even want to think of, even though she knows one is lurking outside her door—an unwelcomed guest prepared to knock, to move in, to stay.  

“He’ll be back soon,” she says, walking into the brightly lit library. The sight of the books is a sigh of relief.  

“How soon?”  

“Soon enough,” Nesta says, eyeing what the House has done. The House already prepares her space. There’s a corner waiting for her. A blanket of wool dyed in burgundy. A steaming cup of what smells like tea. Her book already opened to her page.  

“Why don’t you go with him?” Feyre asks as the others settle in the room. Nesta wishes her sister wouldn’t ask these questions in front of them. They avoid her gaze, but they look like they want to know also why she stays.  

Nesta ignores them.  

“There are games in the closet,” she answers, pointing to a corner, where a door suddenly appears in the wall. “The kitchen is now on the fourth floor, but if you need anything, just ask the House. It will show you to your rooms when you’re ready.”  

Feyre opens her mouth to speak, but Nesta goes to her reading corner and picks up that book. Her back is rigid and there is nothing comfortable about the way she sinks in the chair. She wishes the back was taller, so they couldn’t see her from behind—wishes it was sturdier, so she didn’t have to try to sit straight.  

She grips the bindings as if it might keep her still. Nesta can feel them resume behind her, their voices hushed as if courteous of the fact that they’re in a library. She can hear Nyx’s baby babbles and Nesta holds onto that sound, holds onto it too, to keep her grounded.  

But the words float in the blank spaces in her book and no amount of reading will make them disappear from her mind.  

Why don’t you go with him?  

Because I can’t leave.  

“Why don’t you want to go then?” Feyre asks, sidling up to the chair across from her. Her sister makes a great show of moving the chair closer as if their conversation can remain intimate between the two of them—as if to show Nesta will be having this conversation whether she likes it or not.  

It comes as no surprise that Feyre doesn’t leave her alone. It seems that saving one’s life and a proclamation of love is all it takes for her little sister to hold on tightly to her leg no matter how much she tries to shake her off.  

Nesta purses her lips as she turns a page. “It’s rude to interrupt someone while they’re reading.”  

Feyre only stares, waiting for her answer. When Nesta doesn’t even glance her way, Feyre sighs. That deep sigh Nesta knows well. “I don’t understand; I thought things were going good with you two. Are you two... well?”  

Are we well?  

“We’re fine,” she grits out.  

“Are you fighting?”  

“Not that I’m aware of.”  

 “Then, what is it? You two were inseparable and now...”  

Now, he works, Nesta thinks. Now he works and she’s fine, and no one cares about the girl in the tower who causes no problems. Who cares about a person who’s healed? What type of warrior cares about a princess already saved?  

“I thought you wanted me in this house.” She says spitefully, hoping that it will hit that part of her sister that always seems to feel guilty about something. Leave me alone, she thinks. “You wanted me in this house and now you’re complaining that I’m not leaving.”  

“That is not why we put you in this House.” 

Feyre crosses her arms as stubborn as her, and Nesta thinks she might get up and leave, go to the other part of the House where she doesn’t have to see her any longer, but Feyre doesn’t leave. Nesta again can’t shake her off, so she waves a dismissive hand.  

“Regardless,” she remarks, her own guilt welling up in her chest, “I’m here now. What are you complaining about?”  

“It’s quiet here,” Feyre says, “That’s why I ask.”  

Nesta tries not to remark that it was quiet until her and her gaggle of family showed up at her door.   

But it is quiet. She can hear her thoughts run circles in her head. Even the symphonia doesn’t drown it out.  

“I was thinking that I might… visit you more often… if you’re free. If you will have me.”  

Nesta only keeps her expression straight, her limbs aching and tired from standing so still.    

“Do whatever you’d like.”  

~ 

Nesta can’t sleep. She shifts in her bed, moving to Cassian’s side that doesn’t smell like him anymore. She’s begun to wonder if it ever did at all.  

Perhaps, she’s being dramatic, but that’s what a lack of sleep does. She can barely rest with all those thoughts racing in her mind.  

So Nesta paces, and she moves, and she thinks on a harp and it’s notorious first string. Light movements and leaping. What of its final string? What of eons and space and time?  

But where would she go, who would she be, why would she leave when everything she has is right here? What stories would they tell about her, she wonders. The girl who made the mountain come to life disappears without a trace. What would Cassian say?  

It’s seems inconsequential to think of those things, but she wonders... what would Cassian feel? Somehow, she can imagine him relieved, but most times, in her dreams, he doesn’t even notice she’s gone and Nesta’s left pondering why she ever waits for a male who doesn’t care. 

But Cassian does care, he’s just away.  

He’s just away and the sky still weeps and Nesta tries to listen to voices that are still awake and rumbling, but the House is silent.  

It’s only her that hasn’t learned to sleep through things. Try as she might.  

She thinks of Feyre’s words.  

Why don’t you want to go? 

“Who’s going to take care of the house?” she says to the night.  

But the house hasn’t felt like a house when he's gone, and guilt racks her stomach at the thought. This place... leave the place that has loved her better than often she could love herself—loved her better than anyone, really.  

But Nesta doesn’t want to speak of it. Let them think what they must and she will continue climbing those stairs. She can already taste the sweat on her skin like wine on her lips.  

Take it from me. Take it from me. Take it from me.  

Take one more thing away from me, I dare you.  

Nesta can’t help but imagine her house of cards falling, decorating the table with ruby, onyx, and quartz. Lovely shades of catastrophe that will inevitably fall once more when she starts again. 

She doesn’t even realize she has left the room, but she walks through the house in her white slip of a dress.  

The door opens and the House reveals another room.  

It is made up of walls. White, bright walls.  

There is padding on the floor and along the walls and that is all. When the door closes all that is left is a blinding lack of color. She wades to the center, plopping into cotton as if she is floating through clouds.  

Clouds or... something else. The shade of white reminds her of teeth. Blinding and bighting where she sits at the center.  

But it’s better than sleeping out there.  

~ 

“Have you seen Nesta?” 

A rumble of commotion disturbs her from sleep, and yet when she wakes there is nothing but a peak of sunshine. Here, in this room, there is nothing but sunshine.  

There are no white walls, no suffocating brightness that cushions the dark parts of her soul that claw and rip. Underneath her there is only hardwood and her hands smooth over the surface as if willing the room to look as it did, where all her straight jacket dreams dreamed no more.  

A voice drips in concern, “She’s not in her room. I’ve looked everywhere.” 

But evidently not here, Nesta thinks. Thought may not be fair. She is unsure what the house makes this door look like. If it blends into the wall as sure as any paint or picture.   

She supposes she must make herself known. “I’m here,” she speaks with an open door.   

“You slept on the floor?” Feyre asks as she peers into her space.  

“No, I slept—” But she turns and the room is empty and there’s no way to explain what the house has conjured. Hardwood on the floor and walls of cream. A simple empty room that was something else if they managed to leave her alone.  

Her head aches and she clenches her eyes shut, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.  

Why can’t they leave her alone?  

“Are you okay? Do you want to get you some medicine? Nesta, stop walking.”  

“Stop asking questions!” She says, irritation leaking from her voice.   

“It feels like someone died in here,” Amren notes, rubbing at her arms at the chill in the house.  

“Nesta?”  

And it’s his voice.  

Sweet familiarity.  

Cassian looks at her and she breaths a sigh of relief.   

He goes to her quickly, his hands going to her face, but she reaches for his torso. Nesta wants to be engulfed by him and his scent. The only one who truly belongs to her.  

He tucks her in his arms, kissing her on the forehead. “You, okay?” 

“I’m fine.”  

“What is everyone doing here?” 

Nesta shakes her head, “There was a storm yesterday.” As an afterthought, she looks him over, his wings, “Did you fly through the storm?” 

He grins at her perusal and settles his arm around her and her head is tucked to his chest.  

“I am honestly better than the last two weeks.”  

“Were the camps bad?” 

She hopes he says yes.  

Nesta almost wants to hear it, so she can say that he should stay home.  

“How was your weeks without me?” 

“They were—” 

“Cassian! You’re back.” Rhys calls, sleepiness settling on his frame.  

“Cassian, it’s good to see you!” Mor announces excitedly. “Did you fly through the rain?”  

“It already seems to be letting up,” He says going to the window and flicking at the curtains. Indeed, the clouds part and sun begins peaking thorugh the clouds.  

The others look to her, but Nesta doesn’t care about what they’re thinking.  

“I don’t remember it raining this much last year,” Mor notes.  

“Almost like someone’s unhappy with us,” Amren remarks, blinking up at her and raising a brow, but Nesta only looks to Cassian. There’s very little that can irritate her now that he’s home. Her mate. Her love.  

Still, she can hear whispered words in the back of her mind replay itself like her favorite song.  

He’s only obligated to love you. He’s not obligated to stay. 

~ 

“The others invited us to Sevenda’s for dinner,” Cassian calls from their bedroom. Nesta doesn’t say a thing. Instead, she sits in the bathtub and sinks into the water as it comes up to her chin. “I know you don’t like going out to the city, but I thought it might be a good idea. To get it over with, you know?”  

Nesta doesn’t know, and she refuses to focus on the words. Instead, she breathes deeply, and contemplates the bath. She hated it once, and now it offers her solace. Rose petals and lavender float in the water—light green from the herbs the House puts in. It smells like a concoction of tea, but it does nothing to dim the roaring in her chest as Nesta folds her knees up, picking off the flowers that stick to her wet skin.  

Why are they hogging you, she wants to ask. You just got back.  

“I figure if we get it out of the way now, we’ll have the next week all to ourselves.” 

Nesta mulls that phrase over.  

The next week? 

She knows the bath is supposed to relax her when the House draws it in the morning, but the calm heat only reminds her that there’s irritation thrumming through her chest. It feels good against her ankle though, that’s still red and swollen. Nesta tries to hide it from them—Cassian… and Feyre, but both find out soon enough when the House offers her ice and salve.  

It seems that the House only sometimes listens to her wants.  

It hasn’t gone away—the wound. Her family, yes, but not before her youngest sister makes a great fuss about calling the healer. Nothing about that female brings Nesta relief, though, and so she puts up a great fight about having Madja visit. Cassian, too, argues and Azriel, helpfully, chimes in that it has been three days and the wound should already be gone.   

It’s better, she says, pretending as she’s done days prior that it brings her no pain. Good as new.  

But it’s not good or new, and this news from Cassian is not good or new. She should expect it by now. The inevitability of his absence.  

You’re never there when I need you.  

“What do you think?” He speaks. His voice is louder as he makes his way, and she can feel the plop of a kiss on her head. He unclips her hair, taking great care to comb his fingers through her scalp. Nesta leans her head back, but she doesn’t relax as he picks up a comb and starts brushing her hair. He wants to take care of her, it seems, for he has not stopped touching her.  

If he really cared... he’d stay.   

“Are you leaving again?” She asks.  

Cassian doesn’t answer, instead he looks at her from above where she tilts her head back. He kisses her lips, and it’s an odd feeling, being kissed upside down. It’s not unwelcomed… just odd. But as he pulls away, Nesta wants to tug him into the bath with her, soak him in like the scent of lavender.  

“You missed me?” 

“Why do you say?”  

“Because I missed you,” he says, leaning into her and kissing her neck, biting at the soft skin there. “Every day, I missed you.”  

“But not enough to stay.”  

Her voice drips with bitterness… she can hear that plain as day and she clenches her fist, holding out for his biting remark.  

It never comes, instead she hears that bell like whisper. 

“Come with me.”  

Nesta is surprised by the words. He’s never really suggested it and the idea almost seems too late. She thinks of one thousand and one replies. Of course, I will. Why haven’t you asked sooner? I’ve only ever wanted to be near you. But Nesta thinks they sound like someone else, so she refrains.  

“What time are we meeting the others?” She says instead, distracting herself by picking up the soap at her side. It’s white as milk and makes her skin luxuriously soft. Cassian always runs his hands down her arms, her legs, her face after she uses it. He tells her that if the House ever runs out of it, he’ll go searching the whole of Prythrian for more.  

It’s strange... The memory of him seems more comforting now.  

Cassian pulls his hands away, and the warmth of his body grows cold as does the water of the bath. Maybe he’ll leave her this time for good, she thinks, decide it’s not worth the pain it takes to keep her. But Nesta feels something soft wrap around her shoulders, and she turns just as he gestures for her to stand.  

When the warm towel is fully wrapped around her, Cassian lifts her into his arms to pull her from the tub. He cradles her to him as he walks to their bed, and she doesn’t care that she’s still not dry and she’ll probably get their sheets wet. Nesta can’t care about anything but that he’s holding her.  

Cassian kisses the side of her head as he sits on the heavy cushion, and Nesta listens to his heartbeat. She hears that expression as clearly as music. I love you. I love you. Beat after beat.  

Don’t let go, she wants to tell him.  

Don’t let go, the canary sings.  

“You’re leaving again,” Nesta mumbles into his chest. A confirmation. An inevitable truth.  

“It’s my job,” he replies simply, and she sinks further into his arms.   

He smells of fresh air and Nesta wonders how he can keep that scent even after flying. He smells of fresh air and pine. All things that reach towards the sky—space—the stars. All things that are free and unencumbered. Nesta wonders if she smells like the house. All the walls and empty spaces waiting to be filled.  

“You can come with me,” Cassian encourages once more, and his voice seems to reach for her, yearns to pull her out of depths. 

Nesta shakes her head. “You know I can’t.”  

Cassian doesn’t ask her why. Maybe he thinks it’s a lost cause�� she’s a lost cause.  

But he holds her. He holds her until she’s dry, holds her as his stomach rumbles, holds her even when the shadows crawl up the walls and blend into evening. Still Cassian holds her and all the while she can hear twittering bird calls from a window that is open to a city below.   

Whistles instead of words.  

~  

The other half of the battle is deciding if her house is a prison or a home.  

It’s hard to tell when she awakens and there’s tea on her bedside table. Steaming and hot. Cassian is no longer at her side, no longer pressing himself closer where she can wrap her arms around his torso and tuck her head to his chest... but there’s tea and Nesta wraps her hands around the base of the cup and sniffs the heady scent of mint instead of pine and snow. She lets the tea comfort her as she drinks, ignoring the bite of pain on her tongue. She will drink until she is filled with it, until she is warm to her toes.  

He will be gone for three days this time, and the thought comforts her, because when Cassian returns, he will stay for a week. A week of him to chase away the days without.  

Still, three days seem endless and Nesta fills the time rifling through each room. The House likes to entertain her, she finds, and it opens more doors for her to discover. There is a drawing room that holds only the bluest of things. Blue walls. Blue sofas. Blue pillows. Nesta makes a note to store the few Rhys has gifted her in this room where the ultramarine hides the tedium of these days in its shade.  

The House opens another when she had flitted through each closet, each cabinet, each drawer. Nesta wonders how the house never runs out of ideas. Surely, she’s never been this creative. But sure enough, behind the next door the floor lowers into a pool of crystal-clear water, the floors speckled in opal hues.  

Her mother always dreamt she’d live in a castle and Nesta imagines the kind built from sand. She is not on the beach, the shore crashing and going, but soon enough the pool starts bubbling and kicking up waves. She can smell the sea as she dips in a toe.  

She is alone, Nesta knows, so she can strip off her clothes and enter the water or swim in the cotton fabric—a nice summer dress that she feels pretty in when she slips it on this morning. Nesta opts for keeping the clothes on because she wants to know what it feels like on her skin. It floats in the water, ballooning around her and Nesta pats it down to see what it might do. It only floats back around her like she imagines one of those fish might—one she’s read about in a book about the Summer Court.  

These creatures move by beating their combs rhythmically to push themselves forward. Though many species can be hard to find, they can be easily seen during the eleventh through the third month when the warm tropical waters of the Summer Court shores have cooled. Residents are often seen paddling on the shores of the Lagoona, where the night allows onlookers to see pulsating light in rainbow colors.  

As the words form in her mind, light begins to pool at the bottom, fae lights or another, changing its hues. Red to green to blue. Blue to green to red and back again until Nesta feels as though she is in Summer too.  

But Nesta remembers the cushioned room, the one that disappears back to hardwood.  

Like the others, this room doesn’t have windows and she is glad for that because she doesn’t know how she might feel if she could hear the tittering sound of birds or the city alight with song. She sighs as the pool begins to sink into hickory.   

Nesta is not in Summer.  

Nesta has never been to the sea.  

~ 

It takes her nearly three hours to make it down the mountain by stairs and it must be the most inconvenient part of living in the House. Never mind that its height used to make her want to puke, her thoughts running wild about how she could fall at any moment. It’s not even that her legs will inevitably hurt when she reaches the bottom, and more so when she climbs back up again. No, it’s the amount time it takes to walk down each step as she holds onto the twisted railing. She hopes that she won’t slide all the way down, but who really knows—who will really find her if she does?  

All Nesta knows is that she won’t twist her ankle again and that she promises as she carefully takes a step lower. It’s not raining today or at least not yet. The storm clouds gather in the sky, but they have yet to release their racking sobs that might drown the city in its sorrow and wash her out to sea.  

The last time, the stairs were painted in waterfall rains and this time there is no rain. There is no lightning followed by its angry roars. She will not crash and fall like a tumbling tree, with its bitter bruises and its twisted, gnarled limbs.  

For now, the sky only waits and watches as she climbs down and down.  

But she can hear the thunder rumbling in the distance, anticipates the sound. Six seconds and she think she’ll see the flash of something cosmic in the sky. Six seconds more and she’ll hear the crash like symbols.  

Nesta urges her feet to move faster, grips the rail and slides her hand down the metal, until she is practically leaping. The city is below, with all its lights and grandeur. The city will catch her, she thinks. So, Nesta runs faster, fumbling down as she reaches the bottom.  

The last step feels like a reckoning, and a rumble of thunder sounds from above. Her feet pound against the cement, and she doesn’t know where she goes, but her body knows the way. She feels the tug of something pull her to it. A knot tied to her heart and squeezing.  

She rounds the corners, taking up the city streets that wind around and around like those twisting, tumbling stairs, taking the backstreets where the familiar fae lights illuminate her path. She feels her chest pound to the chaotic symphony of the heavens and the houses turn to brick and mortar. Burnished apartment buildings stand tall over closing shops, but they’re not the ones she’s looking for. And when Nesta turns the corner, she’s there.  

The apartment is there, too.  

Its horrid yellow awnings and its chipped white paint. Nesta smiles—laughs as she sees it. Something maniacal and loud.  

It stands.  

It has not fallen. It is not newly rebuilt or closed for construction. It looks the same. Untouchably similar to the apartment she once knew. Nesta barely breathes as she takes it all in.  

The lightning rips through the sky, multiple strikes. One for every wound. One for every lie. The light weaves together and Nesta imagines roots. Nesta imagines the apartment falling then, split in the middle or cut off at the trunk, but it does not fall. It does not burn. It does not make honest people out of them.  

Nesta hears a crash and the buildings rattle with the sound. The apartment looms over her as the light flashes, and the rain begins to pour. It is a wide mouth. The windows are teeth. The door is a bottomless stomach. The porch is a flickering tongue and Nesta swears she sees it smiling as if she had Made that house, too. She can almost hear its voice. 

I still stand, it speaks, and so do you.  

Nesta runs.  

The building laughs. She can hear it in the thunder, in the swallowing rain.  

So do you.  

Nesta sprints.  

So do you.  

Nesta climbs stairs of waterfall rains.  

So. Do. You.   

~ 

Later when Nesta is up on the mountain, safely ensconced in walls and rock, happily drying by the fire, she remembers that place.  

Cassian gets home late, and she hears him opening the door, but it’s harder to make herself excited to see him. She pretends to be busily reading a book, engrossed in words that pass her by like heavy brick houses and winding streets as she runs.  

She thinks of the apartment standing erect in the city. Not like a fallen deck of cards that splay pretty reds and whites and blacks. That tower has already been torn apart and the cards lay softly on the table because they can't make it past the first rumble and strike.  

He walks to her, methodically, by routine, and he kisses her temple like usual.  

But Cassian must notice how quiet she seems, because he picks her up from her cream-colored couch, and he sets her on top of him in a way she’s familiar with—how she likes. 

“Do you want to go to the city tomorrow?” He asks and she thinks of a mouth taking shape in her mind. Her once-maybe never was home chomping its windowed teeth.  

Nesta says yes, but what she really means is that she wants to go home. She thinks of the words to say, rehearses them over and over. They sit on the tip of her tongue.  

But she does not say them.  

Nesta is home.  

~ 

“Where are we going?” she asks as they walk through the city. People greet them as they pass, and Nesta wonders if they know what she’s done. Never mind who she is, Nesta wants to know what they see. What title accompanies her when she walks? Arrogant queen. Haughty witch. Sister of the High Lady. A lady and her lord.  

Hero, drunk, or saint?  

I am Nesta Archeron, she wants to tell them—anyone who asks. I am Nesta and no one and nobody else.  

But she is barely even Nesta some days, and so no amount of smiling will convince them that it isn’t a grimace. She nods politely instead, while Cassian laughs a boisterous roar. He has no problem living with people.  

“I’ll take two, please,” he says to the fae at the stall, whose stand proudly displays two hundred vibrant colors. A flag for his country, though she doesn’t recognize which one. A sign that is written in childish font. In crayon, she thinks… happy crayon by happy little hands.  

The fae eyes her as she gleans. “My children made that sign years ago,” he shrugs with a smile on his face. “They’re older now but I can’t seem to part with it.”  

“It’s a nice sign,” she responds politely. The fae seems proud of her acknowledgment.  

Cassian seems proud that she speaks to the fae and Nesta remembers that look. Nesta has seen that look before. When he’s surprised that she’s polite. When he’s surprised that she’s not mean. When he’s surprised that she can blend in as easily as them.  

The male hands her a stick of cotton candy and she rips away the clouded pink. It’s sweet on her bitter tongue. Cassian carries a bag of popcorn, red and white stripes covering the outside, and in his other hand is an apple. Ruby and glaringly bright. All the colors make her think of the last romance she reads.  

A date, she remembers, is something that the characters do to get to know each other. Usually before love has had a chance to embed itself so deeply in their sternums. Love is a worm wiggling through the core of an apple as it feasts. Cassian takes a great big bite.  

But Nesta already knows Cassian and love has already had its fill. He’s her mate after all. Her one and only. Her forever. Her home. But... what does she really know?  

Who is he really if he’s never there?   

The day is warm, and the sun shines brightly and Nesta doesn’t know who Cassian is. 

It seems sinful somehow to already love him.  

When he’s done with the apple, he takes up her hand and soon enough they’re walking through a quieter part of the city. Shops turn into parks and streets wind through tall, sturdy homes. They pass street signs and bulletin boards and the sweet song of birds chirping in trees.  

This is a place you abhor, they sing. Because she does. Only resentment fills her lungs when she breathes in fresh air. This is not what her mother imagined when she dreamt of castles. This is not what Nesta yearns for when she peers out windows.  

Nevertheless, this is somewhere she should be. Nesta knows it in her heart of hearts. A dainty cottage with the love of her life. Children laughing in the yard. To be surrounded by boisterous life. Loud enough that’ll seep into her skin, stuff cotton in her mouth, silence her when she inevitably tries to speak.  

This place is quiet in a way the House isn’t.  

This place is somewhere she can live and not speak to animacy.  

“Where are we going?” Nesta asks. She resists the urge to tug her hand out of his and run the other way. She knows her way back to the House.  

Cassian hums, leading her forward and Nesta is greeted with stone and grey brick.  

A female, all blonde sunshine and praise, sweeps down the porch, offering them her hand. “Aren’t you two the loveliest couple I’ve ever seen?”  

“Barbs, this is my mate, Nesta.”  

Cassian gestures towards her and she wonders if he's proud of that fact. She wouldn’t be.  

"She’s gorgeous just as you said.”  

Nesta shirks back at the tone of her voice. High pitched and squealing.  

“There’s no one in the house, just as we’ve discussed. So, you two can look to your hearts content!” The female, Barbs, waves her hand to the melancholic thing. A two-story painted grey. She almost seems proud of that, too.  

Cassian tugs on her hand and Nesta moves through that open doorway. Right into its mouth.  

“Well look around! Look around!” The fae calls, smiling with her teeth. It reminds her of a drawing she’s seen in a book in the library.  

The book is called Serrasalmidae. It is housed with the A’s... For Aquatic, she learns.  

It has no author as many of the books in the library don’t. Too old, maybe, or perhaps names don’t matter at the time. Sometimes there are symbols pasted in the inward corners of the cover page and Nesta thinks that might be a name, but she has yet to learn the language of stamps and dyes. Some identity in pigmented hues. She looks for it, too, in this one but finds none.  

Inside the dark burgundy cover, however, is a detailed account of the discovery of a species of fish. They reside in a lake somewhere near the borders of Scythia, where the wall has once split the land. A team of traders happen upon it while traveling the Golden Road—a route that’s said to weave through the human and fae lands when the wall stopped all trade. It used cracks—weaknesses in the magical foundation—where creatures were said to be able to squeeze through… or at least that’s the rumor.  

All these traders find is a system of rivers that connect at a large, murky lake.  

Thinking that the water’s safe, two of the tradesmen go in, fishing. They use a technique, Nesta remembers, referred to as noodling. She thinks she’ll suggest it when Cassian comes home—an activity that he might like as well as her—but when she turns the page, Nesta thinks better of it. 

The male dips his hand in for that catch and... the author describes the scream.  

His hand is chewed upon. There are bite marks up his wrist and it seems the ruckus the two males make trying to get out of the water, the fear that the serrasalmidae must smell, brings out a swarm.  

Barbs’ grin reminds her of the serrasalmidae.  

Nesta imagines sharp points in lieu of pearly whites. There must be more of her waiting behind each closet door, she thinks. If she opens one, she might lose a hand.  

“Please, please. Look through everything.” Barbs reaches for the closet, swinging it wide open, “See, how much storage!” 

Nesta turns to Cassian, but he only gives her a small grimace—a look reserved only for her—a funny sort of look to say he’s as frightened as much as she is by the female who smiles with her teeth.  

When Barbs turns her back, Cassian chomps down mockingly. Nesta pretends to laugh, even as she feels breathless and strange.  

“This house is suited for a growing family, like yourselves,” she remarks cheerily, “unless of course you’d rather a bigger house. I have some of those available too!”  

She already lives in a house, Nesta wants to say, but Cassian squeezes her hand. “We’re just looking at our options.” 

Options.  

Nesta looks to Cassian, and she swears he can feel her shaking from where their hands meet. Permanently entwined. A comfort... if she wasn’t already bursting at the seams.  

We have a home, her scowl seems to say.  

Cassian’s gaze softens, and he squeezes her palm.  

You are my home, his look answers. 

“New mates are always so proficient! Any chance Velaris will be hearing some exciting news soon?” The female pauses as if waiting for one of them to jump for joy, raise banners, yell across rooftops.  

Nesta shirks back, wishing to see another one of those closets. Hand, be damned.  

Cassian answers for them, “We’re taking our time.”  

Barbs winks, though Nesta can see the disappointment practically seep into her eyes. It doesn’t deter the female from smiling, though. Oh no. “Well, I wouldn’t wait too long. This house has only been on the market for a few days, and I suspect we’ll have a lot of offers.”  

Barbs leads them to the backyard where an oak tree sways from gentle winds. It’s large enough for a treehouse, Nesta thinks. A treehouse or a swing tied to a branch. It would be a golden life for a child.  

“As you’ve seen, this house has four bedrooms. A beau-tiful, large master suite. Two and half baths. The neighborhood is quiet, safe... and it's located by one of the best schools in town. It’s a real steal for a couple like you.” The female clasps her hands together, getting teary eyed. “Oh, I do hope you put in an offer. You too would be lovely addition to this neighborhood.”  

Nesta opens her mouth, ready to tell the female to go sell this nonsense to someone else. But Cassian beats her to it. “Can you give us a minute?”  

Barbs smiles impossibly wider. “Of course! I'll be waiting in the kitchen right over there if you need anything—anything at all.”  

Nesta needs nothing from her.  

When she’s gone, Nesta doesn’t speak first even if her lips yearn to open as wide as that female’s grin. She thinks she might say something awful if she does.  

“Do you like this house?” Cassian asks.  

“Do you like the house?” Nesta roars, “I wasn’t aware you wanted to buy another one. Is this for your other family then?”  

Cassian sighs and Nesta tries not to shirk back at the sound. Everyone is always sighing when she's near. As if she’s tiring.  

Tire of me, then.  

“We live in the House,” she says like a well-known rhyme.  

“We can live anywhere.”  

Anywhere. As in, here, where this house is quiet and quaint and… normal. There is nothing unique about it. There are four rooms and two and a half bathrooms, and a beautiful yard with an oak tree in the back. It’s a family home. One that they can grow into and Nesta can see it. She can imagine the boy with wings that will be the spitting image of his father. She can imagine the girl who will have all the fire of her mother. Both will have her eyes and their father’s laugh. She will want to hear them laugh—smile when they do.  

But Nesta shakes that picture away as Cassian gestures for her.  

That life was never meant for her. How does he not know this already?  

“I don’t want to live here,” Nesta hisses, stepping out into the sun.  

~ 

Nesta doesn’t know why she does it, but she slams the door when they make it back to the House of Wind. Cassian isn’t far behind, following her as he watches her kick off her shoes and head straight for the private library.  

She topples onto the armchair, taking up the entirety of the space—every space that can be covered by her small frame and her lilac-colored dress, because she doesn’t need him to take up room.   

Nesta grabs the book she’d left on the table and opens it to a page—any page, she doesn’t care.  

“You’re upset,” Cassian states as if he doesn’t already know.  

“No,” she says, but they both know she’s lying.  

“It's just a house, Nesta.”  

“It’s my life, Cassian!” This time she roars it. She can’t keep it in. If the House has a heart, then her lungs have a chimney, and smoke is pouring out of mouth. Fire rages in her gut and he doesn’t know that he’s feeding the flames. He wants to burn her, wants the whole house to crumble to ash.  

Cassian shuffles and Nesta thinks of matches. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says as if she should care. As if she should cater to him because he’ll be gone for who knows how long this time.  

“Go then.”  

But Cassian doesn’t listen. Cassian pulls up a seat, and he places his hands gently where she grasps the book open. He lowers them to her lap, and Nesta wants him to touch her even now. Even when she feels the bitterness sweet on her tongue like a poison, she gladly swallows.  

“When I get back, I’m going to take some time off and I want us to have some time together.” Cassian tucks her hair behind her pointed ear, “If you aren’t busy that it.”  

She untucks it from him. “You know I’m not.”  

Cassian frowns at the words, and she knows what he’s thinking—it's what they’re all thinking. Nesta who has nothing. Nesta who does nothing. Nesta who feels nothing.  

“I'm happy here,” she says, but it sounds too empty. Unconvincing. Like she’s trying too hard.  

“I’m not good at knowing what you need.” She can feel his hand graze her hand with his thumb. “But I know something is... off.” 

“I don’t like you leaving so often.”  

“I have to. I’m a soldier, Nesta.”   

I’m a soldier, too, she wants to say. But that’s not true. Nesta doesn’t know what she is. She cannot be wife if her husband isn’t there. Not a mother because she has no children. Not a lady because she holds no court. Not a soldier if she’s not willing to lose her life or her soul.  

She is a toppled deck of cards. Empty rooms waiting to be filled. A house she can’t leave.   

What is she but wasted wishes on frivolous dreams? 

“I’m worried every time I leave you,” he admits. It’s only a whisper of words, but she hears them clearly. Her eyes sting and his are a burning, brash red.   

“What for?” She asks cruelly, “That I’ll go to a bar and drown myself while you’re away. I’m allowed to. Remember? If I make it down the stairs, I might even deserve it.”  

“You don’t have to live here,” he pleads.   

“Where else will I go?”  

Who else will I be?  

“You can go anywhere.”  

You are magic made flesh.  

Cassian shakes his head and takes her hand and Nesta wants to pull it away, but he clenches it tight in his own. “You get... quieter every time I come back.” 

You don't leave the house, she sees in that look. The silent words are a question Nesta won't claim are true or false. Say it with words if you want to know, she thinks. If she doesn't hear them, they don’t exist.  

“I’m fine.”  

She can tell she’s infuriating him. His nostrils flare and he looks like he might sigh but thinks better of displaying that impatience. Get tired of me, she thinks.  

Tire of me, so that I might be free.  

Nesta doesn’t know where that thought comes from, but she swallows it down. Her eyes stinging on their own. Nesta blinks it away, but the thought aches and it screams.  

Would she be free? If Cassian no longer loved her, would she be free?  

Say it, she demands, say it so it may be so.    

“I am trying to right a wrong. To do right by you.”   

“I am not a wrong you can fix whenever you feel the need,” she gasps, her eyes stinging and bleeding and bright. “You are not even here most days.”  

“Then go with me.”  

“I can’t!”  

“Nothing you throw at me will make me stop loving you, Nesta.” Cassian pleads as if that is the problem all along. She is pushing him away, he thinks, but what has been doing but holding out her arms. “I’m here to stay.”  

“Go,” she croaks.  

“I can’t.”  

“Just leave me here,” she begs and angry tears stream down her face. Nesta doesn’t mean to cry. She isn’t even sure sadness is what sits there, thrumming in her chest, yet it leaks out of her eyes. One moment of blue skies and a second later, there is only grey, and it pours and it’s heavy and it drowns. 

“I’m so sorry,” he pleads, and she can feel the wetness on her skin, where he places his head on her hands, kissing them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving and expecting you to be okay. I’m sorry that you love this house, when you can’t leave.”  

“The House loves me.” 

“I love you. I love you more than anything. Anyone.”  

“But you left me here,” she says. Nesta shakes her head, willing the blasted, cumbersome tears to stop falling, “You don’t leave things you love.”  

And she’s right.  

Cassian stares at her for a long moment, a rain cloud parked over his expression until she only sees resigned contemplation. A resolve that seems to defy all logic. “Then I’m staying here with you... I’m staying. If you won’t come with me, then I’m staying, and we’ll live in this house, and I won’t take you from here. But I’m not going to let you become a ghost in your home, Nesta.”  

Nesta wonders what book she’ll find ghosts in as she wipes fists across her eyes. Is she a ghost, like those faint spirits? Does she float through these shelves, pale and ghastly?  

Or does she haunt those who live here? Vengeful and terrifying.  

Trapped.  

But this house is not a trap. This house is a home, and she made the House come to life. So Nesta shakes her head and his words away, for she knows she can't be dead.  

She is only ever empty...  

Nothing to fill her but cobwebs and sunlight.   

So Nesta raises her shoulder, opening her book once more and sitting in that chair that fit the two of them better. “Do what you want,” she mocks casually, “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all this time?”  

~ 

Nesta sits on that training field above the house, so high she can see the vastness of the sky and nothing down below, and for some reason it doesn’t rain.  

She thinks it should be, but the sky is blue... and it’s odd to see the world so calm when it had been raging for days—for months now. There are no clouds. It’s just blue... like the sea she’s never been to. One she can just about swim in, if she’d been born lucky enough to have wings.  

But if she’s magic made flesh and the only thing she does is float through walls, hoping someone will hear her when she rages, what would she do with wings?  

Is she even that creative?  

Nesta reaches up and there’s nothing she can grasp. The wind doesn’t mock her for trying and there’s nothing really punishing about it, so it doesn’t feel foolish to reach, but still... there’s embarrassment.  

It sits in her chest and it fills her with disgust, but the judgment isn’t coming from the sky looking down at her. There is nothing particularly animate about it. No mouth to deceive, no eyes to glare, no tongue to swipe a taste, no throat to swallow.  

It’s just blue.  

It’s not even easy to drown in for she cannot reach high enough, and yet when she reaches up, she feels too young.  

Nesta has to wonder if the strange emotions are not because of Cassian.  

Perhaps it’s because he leaves this morning. He promises, with a soft peck to her lips and run of his hands down her cheeks, that he’ll be back before sundown, and he’ll be here to stay. And he’d been gentle with her in a way she almost forgot.  

He’d been gentle all last evening, too, even after all that’d been said.   

This morning he cooks her breakfast, kissing her forehead when she looks at the dish as if not understanding why he’s being so nice, and he repeats what he says in the evening when they lie in their enormous bed never quite getting too close.  

I love you. I love you. I love you.  

I love you so much.  

So yes, Nesta reaches, and she feels too young and too naïve and a little stupid.  

What are you even reaching for, she thinks. What could you achieve by raising your hand up into the air as if you can capture a cloud in your fingertips?  

Such frivolous dreams...  

She reaches up and expects nothing, but the wind gently swipes across her hand as if shaking it hello. For everything is alive if she dreams it... and Nesta wonders if Cassian will become a ghost, too.   

Trapped... like she is.  

Because she is a ghost, isn’t she? What is a spirit but what was once alive? She’d never thought of herself as such, yet it keeps turning in her mind over and over and she’s not supposed to feel like this.  

I love you, he says.  

but you’re a ghost, she hears.  

“I’m a ghost,” Nesta says, and it hurts to say aloud. The words sound something like propaganda and betrayal and naivety. Foolishness for she’s about to be tricked again, even if she’s gotten her way.  

But she’s not certain how she’s been tricked, when the sky is so blue, and the anger isn’t spitting fire in her lungs. So Nesta lays back on the tile of an unused training field and says the only other words she can voice without choking.  

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she repeats and in the depths of a lonely room with no walls and a fathomless sky, if Nesta only says the words to herself, so be it.  

~ 

The bookshelves are lined up like dominoes and they might fall if one tips over. Nesta never does finish the A’s.  

“Do you think you’ll ever leave this place?” she asks.  

Gwyn’s smile is a sure thing. Beautiful and bright and at peace with a decision Nesta doesn’t even want to discuss. “I will.”  

Nesta can only count on one hand when she’s ever been sure of anything. Laying across Cassian’s body made her sure. Giving her powers away to Feyre took away the guilt. Screaming at the top of her lungs for Elain gave her purpose. Accepting the mate bond made her nauseous, but at the end it calmed her more than she could comprehend.  

Gwyn clears her throat, setting the book back into its slot.  

“You’re leaving,” she says, and it isn’t a question.  

Nesta doesn’t know what to say. So, she moves to the railing, peers below to level seven where the House greets her in inky darkness.  

Gwyn lets out a breath and Nesta thinks of the desperate gasp of air someone takes when they’re drowning. “You knew this day was coming... Someday we all have to leave.”  

Nesta shrugs noncommittedly, “I’m not a priestess.”  

“But you’re here for the same reason we are.”  

Because I make homes out of prisons.  

“I thought priestesses were allowed to stay here forever.” 

“The beautiful thing about forever is that it doesn’t last long.” Gwyn steps to the edge, gripping the railing as if she can keep it from falling and she shrugs as if she’s read all these books and she knows all these answers. There is nothing she doesn’t know here, in the depths of the library.  

Nesta shakes her head, the thought unbearable. Is nothing constant? Will nothing ever stand still? “But the library is a safe haven.”  

Why would anyone want to leave?   

“The library is bubble. It keeps us protected, because we think all the harm is outside. But you know what I learned? The torment is in here.” Gwyn beats at her chest, “and it’s not going to go away. Nesta, you survived. You lived. I lived. Forever will not be forever for us.”  

“I used to think that was a horrible thing,” Nesta shakes her head. “Survival, I mean... I hurt so many people.”  

“They hurt you, too,” Gwyn says, giving her a somber smile. “You’ve been screaming without a saying word, haven't you?”  

“How do you know?”  

“I’m surrounded by books, and you walk around with open pages.” Gwyn shrugs, but hums to herself as if thinking better. “I know you Nesta. How can I notice? I know I’ve said that we’re the rock in which the surf crashes. But even the rock changes. Even the sea.” 

“I feel like I’m drowning,” Nesta admits, suddenly feeling small... and guilty for the House had shown her its pain, too. “I keep trying to fight, to stay above water, but I’m drowning.”  

“Maybe... it’s time to stop fighting.”  

Nesta scrunches up her brows, as if not having to fight seems blasphemous.  

“Hear me out,” Gwyn says diplomatically. “The thing about drowning is that the more we struggle, the more we fight, the more the tide pulls us down. We get water in our lungs, and we choke on it. We get weak... but the sea isn’t trying to kill us. The sea does what seas do. Float. Stop fighting and float.”  

Gwyn reaches a handout to the darkness, unafraid of its depths. Its fury. No wonder they’d become friends, after all. “You said you met the heart of the House, that the House showed you all its darkness.”  

“It was unwanted,” Nesta says as nonchalantly as she can. She drifts her hands through the shadows, and she can feel it thrum, the little tendrils like a hand that clasps her own.  

Friend. Companion. Home.  

That is what the House is to her.  

Gwyn lays a hand on the railing, and the movement is soft. Gentle as she says, “but do you like living here?”  

“I love every part of this house.”  

All its cold hallways, all its empty rooms, the soft echoing lament of loneliness that follows her with every door opened and every door closed. She has to love it all. It helped her when no one else would.  

“But if the House had no heart,” Gwyn shrugs, “if it was just a house... would you like it here?”  

Nesta scrunches her brows at the question. She can feel her heart thump in her chest as if it wishes to escape. “Of course! I—” 

“Why?” Gwyn goads.  

“Because it has a library... It overlooks the city." Nesta can feel the unspoken words sit in her chest, and they crawl up her throat, “It takes care of me.” 

“The heart takes care of you... with the power you gave it.”  

Same thing, she thinks.  

Nesta shakes her head. She feels dizzy from all these words. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t leave it.”  

“But you want to,” Gwyn says and it’s not a question. Gwyn says the words like they’re true. Like she knows.  

“Yes,” Nesta admits. The word sounds like a gasp. Yes. “But I can’t.” 

“Why not?”  

“I made it come to life. Shouldn’t I be responsible for it?” 

Even as she says the words, Nesta knows that’s not the reason. Responsibility has never been something she grasps like an outstretched hand and Gwyn knows her too well to believe her.  

“What are you afraid might happen if you leave? That it’ll be lonely? It has us. All the priestesses are here. You’ve seen them talk to the shadows.”  

All manners of truth sit in her throat and still she can’t say it. So Nesta says the simple version, “it loves me.”  

Gwyn smiles softly. So soft it hurts to look at her. “But I love you... and I want you to do what you feel is right. I won’t resent you if you go.” 

“Why not?”  

“Because you don’t have to give up even a tiny ounce of who you are or what makes you happy, Nesta. You don’t have to do that for the people you love.” 

“But that’s what I do. I don’t know how to show it any other way.”  

Suffering is love. Enduring suffering is love.  

When she laid on Cassian’s body, when she laid on Feyre’s. When she dug her own grave to make her mother happy. When she used that soil to help Elain plant gardens. When she stayed at the bottom so her friends could climb.  

“Nesta... We don’t have to become martyrs for the people we love, and the people who love us won’t ask us to do that.” 

But she thinks of them all. Feyre and Elain and Cassian and Gwyn and Emerie and the House. All of them people she’d live and die for. All of them she owes.  

“It loves me,” Nesta repeats, and the words sound like a broken record. The symphonia that keeps replaying the same songs.  

“I love you.”  

“It loved me when I was unlovable.” 

“You’re not unlovable,” she sings and Nesta hears the words like the pop of a soap bubble. A rumbling, bottle of champagne. Gwyn takes her in her arms, and Nesta lays her head on her friend’s shoulder. One of the only shoulders she’s ever been offered. “You have never been unlovable. Not in your entire life and it’s a shame that anyone’s ever made you feel so. You never will be.”  

In her friend’s arm, Nesta sniffles. She can feel the wetness on her lashes, and she blinks it away. But all things fall eventually... all things collapse.  

“I wish you could come with me,” Nesta says.  

“I’ll be out there before you know it. We’re fighters and we didn’t need a sword or a ribbon or a Rite to tell us that.” 

“What if it’s not like I imagined?”  

“It’s going to be nothing like you imagined.” Gwyn laughs and Nesta thinks of unencumbered blue skies, so wide and vast it should have been frightening. “Isn’t it wonderful?”  

Yes, she supposes it is.  

“I love you,” Nesta says, the gasping out of her lungs.  

Gwyn offers her a big, warm hug that speaks of possibilites.  

“I'm so proud of you.”  

~ 

It’s sunny when Nesta decides to leave.  

The sky is clear, and she sees the entire city below. All the stairs. All the people she used to be, the different faces she dawned like masks.  

She's not going to climb down them. She’s not going to climb back up.  

Nesta is through climbing mountains. 

But right now she’s sitting on top of one, and there should be some sort of reckoning, a clearer view... but Nesta’s seen enough of this view. She turns her back to it and squares her shoulders as she searches for Cassian through the house, the House opening doors leading the way.  

She finds him in the kitchen, where he’s been practically every day now, busying himself with cooking since he promises not to leave again for war or whatever it resembles now that the world has held its breath for so long.  

He must hear her, she knows, but he doesn’t turn back to look at her and Nesta needs no invitation. She wraps her arms around him from behind, his wings already raising to fit her between. Nesta holds onto his waist tightly, willing his body to give her strength and hoping that the House doesn’t feel betrayed.  

“I want to leave,” she gasps out, panting even if it’s like taking a breath for the first time. Cassian pauses his stirring and rests his large palms where they wrap around him so tightly. “I don’t want to go. I love this House so much but I’m not happy.”  

“I love the House,” she repeats. “I love you and Gwyn and Feyre and Elain and Nyx, but I love me too.”  

Cassian disentangles himself but as he peeks at her face, and there isn’t a moment he spares as  he merely wraps her once more in his arms—his wings, so close that they might as well have been hers. He runs his hands down her hair and Nesta can’t even feel ashamed for staining his shirt with the wetness of her face.  

How many tears can one person hold, she thinks. She hopes not so much more.  

“I am afraid,” she blurts. Doesn’t mean to. Doesn’t even know if she is trying to manipulate him or because it comes from a deep well in her chest that has not spoken but aches to rip and tear and roar.  

Today, it only whispers. I am afraid. I am afraid. I am afraid. I will never not be afraid.  

“I am too,” Cassian takes her face in his hands, “It’s scary to feel so much... but I have you and you have me. So, where do you want to go?”  

Nesta doesn’t know. She thinks about that city, and she thinks about the world. She thinks about her father and the world of books. It’s too large. She wants to go but it’s too large, and it will swallow her.  

“We have forever, you and I.” 

“I don’t want promises of forever. I want a now.”  

~ 

They pack very little. Just some clothes. Most everything belongs to the House anyways.  

“Are you ready?” Azriel asks. He’s there to winnow them or however he travels through shadows.  

But Nesta peers out of windows once more, gripping the curtains as if she is a child and she holds her mother’s hand.  

“I have to do something first,” she says, and she offers no explanation to Azriel or Cassian as she grabs the first container she sees.  

Nesta has practiced this she thinks.  

Running up and down stairs all the way to the seventh level—where darkness makes a home beneath books.  

“What am I?” She whispers to the dark. The only one who’d listened to her whistling song.  

You are magic made flesh.  

Nesta remembers Gwyn's words. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice an ounce of who you are. 

Why couldn’t she have it all, she wonders. She wades in the in between.  

You brought it to life, now make it move.  

Make it move, she hears. A soft voice like a reckoning. 

Make it move, make it tumble, make it crash.  

Chaos is something she fears, but her life is chaotic. Life is chaotic.   

The house is alive when it was just walls and rock. She made it live. She made it beat. She gave it a piece of her heart. All her ugly pieces, all her shadowed parts.  

“I’m leaving,” Nesta says to the darkness, “I’m leaving, and I might not return... I don’t think I want to return even if I can… but I might… I’m—I’m not sure.  

“You were unwanted and unloved, but you're wanted and loved by me. I won’t leave you behind. If you can’t go, I’ll come back.... but if you can go, I promise I’ll keep you--”  

Safe? The world was not safe.  

“I will love you to the best of my ability,” she says instead. “I will love you as you are, who you once were, and as you will be.”  

She sets the jar on the floor and wonders if it can contain all its heart.  

The shadow settles right in.  

When she closes the door, the house is as it always was. Red walls, and empty rooms waiting to be filled.  

~ 

~ 

~ 

“What do you think of it?” He asks, his feet shuffling against the hardwood. Cassian can’t help the nervous movement as he watches Nesta take everything in. It’s her eyes, he decides. He loves the brightness of them, the lur and temptation, but they see too clearly, scrutinize every wall. 

Cassian understands, though. He must. This is not her home. She is not familiar here. She clenches that jar, tucked in her arms like a well-behaved cat, and as Nesta holds it to her chest, he thinks about how small she looks. Queenly arrogance aside, he sometimes forgets she is not all raging limbs and war cries. Cassian wonders too if that doesn’t make him worthy of the trenches, as if he thought she was above such things as feelings.  

Nesta doesn’t say a word as she takes a step forward, running a hand along the cream-colored paint of the entry hall. It’s not nearly as modern as the House and not as open. The kitchen is to the right, closed off from the living room but with a view of the porch and the snow outside. He can cook and look back and see visitors coming in. He can clean and see the forest across...  but Nesta doesn’t cook... at least he doesn’t think so. He’s never seen her do it. And the House cleans. Cassian supposes she might not find any use for it at all.  

Through the kitchen, he can see the dining room table. Nesta takes note of it too, and Cassian watches for any shift of her expression. She merely looks across, her face stoic and unchanged.  

The house is smaller than the House of Wind and it doesn’t have nearly enough rooms for hosting large gatherings. Right now, it only has a small table fit for four. It’s in need of sanding and a fresh coat of varnish and Cassian makes a note of it. Even if Nesta chooses to throw it out and move in a new one that is more suited to her taste, it’s a good table, he thinks. It can be re-housed—go to another home where it’s well-loved. Cassian can make it loved... He can fix it into something usable.   

It’s a thought that doesn’t sit well with him and Cassian doesn't know why, but Nesta is moving to the living room before he can process where his mind has wandered.  

There is barely a couch...  

Well, there is one, but it's covered in a fine layer of dust and a cloth to keep it clean and protected. Cassian doesn’t remember who tells him to do that, but he follows their advice and has since never taken it off. Mostly, because he’s never here long enough to lounge on the cushion in front of a fire and leisurely kick back. This place is usually not where he wants to get home to.  

Cassian laughs, but it comes out nervous, and Nesta doesn’t turn towards him as she looks to the fireplace. "I’m building bookshelves to go on the walls. Or... we can put them somewhere else, but there will be bookshelves for all those romances of yours.”  

“And your war texts,” she adds. Cassian can’t tell what it means, the sound of her voice. It barely gives anything away, but he clears his throat and smiles, hopes that it somehow translates to his voice. She wants to live in a library, she once says. It’s always been a dream of hers, and there is no library like the House, so he will build her one. Cover every wall if she likes.  

“Yes, my war texts, too. We can mix them together and make a game of what we read for the night.”  

Her lips raise slightly as she turns to him, and Cassian can’t help but want to sigh in relief. “I’m positive I have more books than you, so the odds are in my favor.”  

“I think you’ll enjoy me reading your books.”  

Cassian takes a gentle step closer, but she clenches that blasted jar in her arms and he stops before he can sweep her to him. Still, he reaches for a stray piece of hair that’s fallen out of her braid and tucks it behind her ear. “I’ll leave notes for you to find, my personal anecdotes of course... highlight my favorite parts... mark the pages, we can try later.”  

Her eyes narrow and Cassian grins. “Dog ear my books and I’ll make you pay.” 

It’s that haughty look that has him tracing her lips with his thumb—has him leaning forward to close the distance that sits like miles between them. But Cassian can feel that jar hitting his stomach and he looks where the shadow moves in swirls. Some rabid beast in a cage.  

Cassian looks back to Nesta, her eyes a tepid bluish grey.  

There's a table for her to set the little beast down, next to that couch he is very eagerly awaiting to rip the sheet off, but Nesta doesn’t set it down.  

Nesta doesn’t want to set it down, he thinks. She merely tucks her hands across it and stares as if daring him to take it from her. He can hear her heart start to pound, and he hopes it is from the anticipation of their coupling and not because she thinks he will actually grab it from her.  

What male does she think he is?  

All males, he thinks, and Cassian chastises himself for forgetting as he so often does.  

It’s easy to forget when he’s not there for weeks and he seldom sees her shaking, her eyes wary without a cause, because some prick decided Nesta belonged to him... because another prick decided she was to be fae against her will... because some monster dragged her into the depths of still water. He feels the rage already beginning to bloom, his fists wanting to clench and pummel and hit, but Cassian leans down to place a kiss on her forehead. Today he will forget of past crimes suited for closed doors, a badly drawn picture, and some darts for him to throw despite his wish to maim.  

Today, he will not be jealous of a shadow that has given his love comfort.  

Still... it’s another reason Cassian marks down, for when he wants to remember why he belongs with the lowest of low. Reason number thirty-seven, because he forgets all things he should be remembering. Reason number thirty-eight, because he can’t love Nesta in any way that’s good enough.  

“Come on,” He calls softly, pointing his chin to the rest of the house, “my tour isn’t finished.”  

Nesta nods and as her shoulders relax, and Cassian brushes off the berating thought of himself that makes a home in his mind.  

“We don’t have to turn on the fireplace,” he says as an afterthought. “Yesterday, I brought down every blanket I could find. Stole them from every person I could think of, though Amren gave me a fight for hers. I swear she nearly chased me through the streets. Who knew there would be a wool shortage this year?” 

He chuckles casually, hoping that Nesta might chime in, but she only glances to the large windows at the back overlooking the other half of the forest.  

“The House can make it warm,” she remarks, looking to the snow that sprinkles down until it settles like billows of cotton.  

Softer, he thinks, I need to be softer.  

The problem is that Cassian doesn’t know how to be soft. It’s different, he knows, than being casual or funny, which he has mastered easily. It’s different than being serious, though he struggles with that still. It’s being loving, he imagines, but slower... Not a raging fire that burns without care, but a warmth that’s tamed to provide comfort.  

A bit less like himself, he ponders, because Nesta is a bit less like herself, too.  

Or maybe, she’s more like herself, he doesn’t know.  

He’s spent so much time thinking he’s wanted the old her back, the one with fire in her lungs and fresh vitriol on her tongue, that he never stops to consider that maybe this is who she is. Shy and soft and often uncomfortable... But Cassian has seen her with that outlandish courage, a voice that doesn’t shake, a chin raised so high he might have bowed right then and there, and he contemplates how both can exist in the same person.  

“When I bought this house, I bought it for the windows,” he explains, settling next to her and that jar tucked tightly in her arms. Cassian wonders if the reason she holds onto it is because it’s the only thing that’s familiar. “Never mind that it’s freezing here, and windows are probably not the best idea for the cold, I wanted to see outside.” 

“You don’t live here though.”  

“I wanted to be with you,” Cassian shrugs, “and before that I wanted to be near the others. It was too quiet here...” 

It is too quiet.  

Nesta is too quiet, too. She’s not usually like this. He figures the fact should make him feel privileged, that she shows him the most vulnerable parts of herself, but it only makes him feel scared because she still won’t look at him with the same willful ire.  

Say something. Yell at me. You’ll grow to like this house; he wants to remark.  

Like you grew into the other one? His mind replies.  

“Show me the rest of the house?” She suggests. 

Cassian obliges, distracting himself from his fear by leading her to a room tucked away by the staircase. It’s a smaller space. A sunroom he thinks they’re called, but before he shows her the rest, he turns toward her, stopping her in her tracks. Because this is the most important part, isn’t it?  

“I can fly you to Illyria if you want to visit Emerie,” but Cassian thinks about that, too. “But there’s also carriages that come through her every hour. We’re at the intersection between three cities and there’s a road nearby. It will lead you into the city or into Windhaven. Otherwise, it’s about an hour walk to Emerie.” 

“That’s quicker than the stairs.” 

Cassian shrugs a shoulder, “but if you’d prefer horses, we can get horses. There’s plenty of room to build a stable.”  

He trails off... He doesn’t even know if they’ll stay here for that long, but the idea of waiting seems... off. Every ounce of time is in their palms and it’s the only time they’re allotted.  

So he does, he takes her back downstairs, where the rooms are still mostly bare, “I thought you might like this place the best,  

“What about you? 

“You have shown me places where I could fit, but what about you? What space is yours?” 

“Whichever. I don’t care. I just want you.”  

“Do you--” Cassian nods encouraging towards her, “Do you have hobbies?”  

Ah. That’s another thing, Cassian forgets.  

It hasn’t been that long since they mated... not even that long since they acknowledged each other. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when he wakes up and she’s in his arms, he can’t possibly think of a time before when they didn’t love one another. But that’s not true... it’s an awful truth, but  

Talking to her, the way she makes him laugh loudly, makes him want to hold her so close, as loved as he is... she hasn’t been with him his whole life. Seems strange somehow. He’s comfortable with her. 

“I build things, but there’s a shed for that... “ 

“What else do you do?” 

It takes him a moment to think about it, “I like to cook sometimes. Ice fishing.”  

“Both of us live here.”  

“Yes.”  

“I would like both of us to live here.” And Cassian understands.  

“And I would like to dream small for a while. Enjoy this right here.”  

“There’s a basement, too. I made sure I made one for the House’s heart. It’s pretty empty, and pretty small, but I figured we could decorate it even and the House might like it. It's warm. The furnace is there in case you didn’t want the fire. But there’s a fireplace,” he points to the one in the living room, “and there’s one in our room upstairs. I can show you.”  

And he does he takes her upstairs, and he shows her their room. The cabin is a loft of a sort. The stairs lead up a singular room with another fireplace and a room for a small reading nook, there too or any hobby she picks up later. He’ll fill it with music, too, and he already can imagine the symphonia sitting on a table in the living room or up in that reading nook while the windows are open in the spring or shut tight in the winter, where the bumbling snow drifts on clouded grounds.  

“It’s mostly secluded. There isn’t another house for a few miles so this forested area is ours, and there’s some space if you want to have a stable later, or even we need to expand the House.”  

“Of course, this doesn’t have to be a permanent home,” he reminds himself, “it can be temporary—or a vacation home, something that we just come back to or... we don’t have to come back at all if you don’t want. It’s--it’s up to you.”  

Nesta smiles slightly, still clenching that jar taking a turn of the room.  

“Where would we get all the stuff?”  

“I’ll build our bed. I’m building bookshelves right now. They’re in the shed in the back. But if you want to buy some, we can have it winnowed from Velaris or there’s some Illyrian craftsman in a town a flight away. I thought you might like some cataglogues, so I got Emerie to get me some for you. They’re on the table downstairs.”  

But Nesta’s brows furrow.  

 So, Cassian continues. His mouth running beyond him.  

“I chose this place because I wanted to be reminded that at any moment I could leave and join the world again, where the forest was right across from me.” He peers out the window to the world beyond. “There are dangerous creatures in those woods, so I guess you can’t get too far if you don’t want to wield a sword, but you can step out into the sun and smell the pine all around you—”  

“Homes are not prisons,” she says.  

“That’s not what I meant. I mean that—”  

“You mean that the House was something I could never leave, and this house is something I am given a choice to leave if I want to. An apartment. A cabin. A house. The House of Wind. They’re all the same. I can leave anytime that I want to. I can leave without ever looking back. I can leave everything behind at a moment’s notice. I choose to be here. I chose to be in the House, and I chose to leave, and I choose to be here with you. Homes are not prisons that I am trapped in and... and poor Nesta, she doesn’t want to go outside. Poor Nesta, she has to climb stairs. I have climbed feats taller than 10,000 steps and I will do it again. Stop trying to sell on this house. I’m here aren’t I?”  

Cassian blinks, “Have you been waiting to say that?”  

“For weeks.”  

He smiles for he doesn’t know what else to do, when she seems so... relieved. He belongs to the lowest of low.  

~ 

Later that night, when the House is safely tucked in the basement and when they can feel the warmth of its life through the house, Cassian asks Nesta a question. “Are you as nervous as I am?” 

She only blinks up at him and tilts her head. Her hair is stark against the white of the pillow and she looks beautiful in nothing but her nightgown with her hair tucked between her head and the cushion. She always looks like magic, he thinks, and he wants to reach out a tuck her close but he can’t.  

He can’t when there’s a wedge between them that feels tangible. As if he can run his finger through it, a dark cloud as permeable as the night. “It feels different than being up in the House. I keep thinking at any moment I might combust.”  

“Why?” She asks, her voice a sweet song.  

Cassian shakes his head. “I just—I want you to like this house. I didn’t buy it thinking that I was going to have you here. I haven’t even lived in it for more than a few nights. I keep thinking you might say you hate it, or we’ll live here and it’ll turn out awful for us and we just wasted all that time.” 

Perhaps it’s this truth which swats the ugliness away—that sick feeling rumbling through his chest. Nesta crosses the threshold of his maybe-maybe nots, and it doesn’t seem to bother her as it did him when he wanted to reach for her. There’s nothing holding her back.  

He will always want her.  

Nesta reaches for him, tucks herself between his arm and lays her head on his chest. Cassian can smell the lavender of her hair and he breathes it in. He hopes this whole house smells like her.  

“When you were away it felt like time was slipping by. But now that you’re here… I think that time could pass me by, and I wouldn’t notice.”  

“I’m afraid,” he admits. It feels like a heavy weight on his chest and it doesn’t make him any freer my admitting it, it makes it well up inside until he swears it makes a knot in his lungs. He wants to clear it away but it feels like revealing something too intimate. Something too close to his soul.  

“Do you think the honeymoon phase is over then?” She says as she plays with his fingers.  

“I hope not. It ended so soon, otherwise.”  

Nesta peers up at him, raising a shoulder and smiling lightly.  

“I would be okay if it was over.” 

“Why?” He’s afraid of the answer.  

Nesta shrugs simply, her voice soft. “Because it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t love you less.”  

“I’m comfortable with you.”  

Nesta smiles, “It’s cold here.”  

He pauses as if it might be the first of many complaints, but Nesta doesn’t continue, only grasps him closer. Cassian doesn’t think they can be anymore entwined.  

“You’ll keep me warm?” She asks.  

He smiles, tucking her closer even still.   

“I’ll keep you warm,” Cassian promises.  

~

Fin

~

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430 @unhealthyfanobsession @simpingfornestaarcheron @talkfantasytome @sayosdreams

[nessianweek]

✷ Announcing Nessian Week 2023! ✷

❤️‍🔥 Join us in celebrating Prythian's hottest couple for the third year in a row! ❤️‍🔥

Come celebrate Nesta and Cassian with us from September 10 through September 16, 2023! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, playlists, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Nessian is welcome! Please note this event will be happening on Tumblr, AO3, and Instagram (fanarts) only.

Please tag @nessianweek and use the tag #nessianweek2023 to spread the word!

Nessian Week 2022's masterlist can be found here, and Nessian Week 2021's masterlist can be found here!

This year's prompts are as follows:

Day One: What Happened Next? ✷ What do you think happened after the end of A Court of Silver Flames? Did Nesta and Cassian have their ornate mating ceremony, settle down with children, or something else altogether? We want to hear your interpretations of canon!

Day Two: Rivalry ✷ Nesta and Cassian weren’t quite enemies when they first met, but they certainly weren’t friends. How do you imagine them handling all that frustration with one another?

Day Three: Song Association ✷ What songs remind you of Nesta and Cassian?

Day Four: Alternate Universe ✷ What do you think Nesta and Cassian's lives would look like outside of canon? How would they live in the modern world, a completely different fantasy world, or within the plot of your favorite book or movie? [Non-Canon AUs requested]

Day Five: Home ✷ Home doesn’t always have to be a place — it can be a person, too. What do you think home means for Nesta and Cassian?

Day Six: Warriors ✷ As Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed, Nesta and Cassian are two of the most powerful characters we’ve seen, especially when they’re together. How do you see their powerful nature playing out both on and off the battlefield?

Day Seven: Free Day ✷ Any topic of your choosing!

We look forward to seeing everything that you create for this event, and make sure to tag @nessianweek once the event starts! Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed to planning this event, with special shoutouts to @talkfantasytome, @c-e-d-dreamer, @vidalinav, @melphss, @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk, @separatist-apologist, @the-lonelybarricade, @dustjacketmusings, and @isterofimias! Fanart credit to Aiphos!

Please contact this page if you have any questions about the event. We can't wait to see what you create to celebrate Nessian for the THIRD YEAR RUNNING!

[moodymelanist]

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck) — Epilogue

I can’t believe this story has finally come to a close!! Thank you so much to everyone who followed along with me on this fic, I had so much fun writing it and trying my hand at slow burn for the first time 🩷

Also, a very big and special shoutout to the GC for motivating me every month to write this and helping me come up with fun little ideas to sneak in. Y’all kept me going and I couldn’t have done it without you!!

I hope this ties up everything nicely!!! until next time and happy 2024 everyone :’)

✷✷✷✷✷

Cassian

Cassian had been enjoying his dream when he was abruptly yanked into consciousness by the sound of his daughter screaming her head off in excitement.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Sera yelled at the top of her lungs, her little feet just narrowly missing crushing Cassian’s hand as she jumped up and down on the bed. How she’d managed to even climb up without shaking him awake was beyond him, but she’d certainly accomplished her goal now. “Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

“Jesus Christ, what time is it,” Nesta muttered under her breath. She looked adorably grumpy as always, and Cassian fought the urge to tug where her hair pulled into two loose braids for sleep like he was the little kid here. “Okay, okay, Sera. We’re up, I promise, just give us a second.”

“Too goddamn early,” Cassian mumbled right back. He was usually an early riser, but he’d been pulling a lot of long nights leading up to the actual holiday. Sue him for wanting to sleep in a little later than six thirty in the morning. “Sera, mijita, calm down a little, okay?”

Sera had just turned four last month, so they were much more concerned about making an effort for the holidays these days now that the chances of her remembering it were so much higher. She’d been talking about Santa and wondering aloud about her presents for weeks now, and if Cassian hadn’t been so worried about making the day good for her, he would’ve been able to focus on just how adorable she was.

Keep reading on AO3 here!

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing | @avidromancereader | @a-little-disguised | @kale-theteaqueen

[nestasgalpal]

Can't think straight when we are together Pt. 2 [Nessian smut]

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

Tagging:@zoyaslai@champanheandluxxury@pataytayo@nessiantrashh@dustjacketmusings@saltydreamcollector@generalnesta@simpingfornestaarcheron@arinbelle@a-court-of-valkyries@azrielsgirl@swoopingoccamy@vasudharaghavan@vidalinav@sv0430@nessianforlife@claralady@sayosdreams@malluzia@dealfea@kylosmomm

A/N: Don't mind me, I'm just posting a second part to this a year after because I think I know what I want to do with this fic. It's been a year, so if you want to be removed or added to the tagging list, let me know, I just copied the one I had.

He had played well enough to celebrate the victory and mean it. It had been a great game. Tense, to say the least, but in a good way. The type of tense that pushed Cassian to do better. He was not the captain of the football team, Rhy was, but Cassian had been named MVP of the college league the last two seasons, and he planned on keeping the title this year as well now that graduation time was approaching and the draft peaked on the horizon. Preassure to give his all on the field was always welcomed. And if a certain pretty brunette showed up to watch, even if she was accompanied by some other dude, then his teammates could count on Cassian pushing himself to the limit.

Cassian slurred each syllable when he spoke, even if he wasn't drunk yet. "It's too hot in here, I need some air." Az only nodded. Not that the music being blasted through the speakers would have allowed him to be heard anyway. 

The crowd dancing in Feyre's basement, drinking and making out in the darkest corners of the room, forced him to use his elbows to push people in reaching for the stairs. Circumventing these college students proved as challenging as dodging some of his rivals hours earlier. Cassian tightly secured his red cup as he made his way up. Although Feyre's house was not their most frequent meetup place, Cassian had been in there enough times to know where each room was. To know the basement had a door to the garden behind the house, but if he instead used the stairs, he would find himself in the entry hall at the top.

So he went up, and just as he emerged in the predicted space, the front door was being opened by one of his best friends. Mor gave a squeak and jumped to hug him. "Congrats on the win, big boy!" Cassian hugged her back, and she had to go on her tiptoes so her arms could reach around his neck. He thanked her with a shit-eating grin. Both knew this had been one of his best games this season.

"Where were you? I was starting to think I would have to drain the keg all by myself." He joked, momentarily postponing his planned trip for this quick chat. 

"The cheer team had a pre-party I couldn't miss." Mor explained. Cassian didn't believed her, though, as most of the cheer team had arrived before him at the party.

"Excuse me." The soft voice behind them was followed by an even softer touch as Gwyneth Berdara slightly pushed his arm.

Only then did Cassian realize Mor and he were blocking the front door. He quickly let go of his friend's waist and took a step back, leaving enough room between the blond cheerleader and himself for Gwyneth to walk out. She did so without a word or a second look at them. The sudden panic taking over Cassian was enough to block the shame he should have felt instead. He saw the redhead reach for her phone as soon as she stepped outside, right before the door closed behind her. His widen his eyes went back to his friend, who seemed oblivious to the gravity of what had just happened. Only then did he notice who the varsity jacket Mor was wearing belonged to. A siren went off inside his head. Shit. Cassian hadn't noticed she was wearing his name and number. He had assumed it belonged to whatever player she had been screwing before coming to the party.

Surely Gwyn had noticed as well.

Shit.

"It that my jacket?" Obviously, it was. 

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I was cold and kept it. Do you want it back?" She offered it, but didn't take it off. She pouted, knowing he would let her keep it. It would be useless to ask for it now, anyway.

"I thought you gave it to Nesta. Like I asked you to." 

How tight had he and Mor been hugging when Gwyn appeared out of thin air? He wasn't sure. He tried to remember if his name on the back of the jacket had been visible to the girl, but soon discovered that he couldn't. A message had probably been sent from Gwyn's phone to Nesta's describing what she thought she had seen. She would be wrong in her assumption, but it kind of made his planned trip to the second floor redundant now, nevertheless.

"She didn't want it, Cass. I promise I offered it to her, and she said she already had a jacket. Now, I don't know if she meant hers or the jacket that guy besides her was wearing."

Cassian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit Mor, you should have told me. I thought she had taken it."

"Hey, don't be upset with me. It's not my fault." She protested, her pouting lips now more exaggerated. "To be honest, I think this was for the best. Please, Cass, I am begging you to put two and two together and realize that she didn't want your name on her back because she simply doesn't want you. Or else, she wouldn't have gone to the game with a date."

His head snapped at that. "So it was a date? How would you know?" Cassian had always trusted Mor's intuition in this area. She understood girls' behavior way better than he did.

Taking the red cup from his hand and sipping from it, Mor rolled her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to hurt your feelings, especially not tonight, but Nesta Archeron doesn't give a fuck about football, so if her pretty ass was there, it had to be that guy's idea. And she must like him a lot to agree to the plan. Did she tell you she would be there?" He said no with his head. "And why is that? Because she..." Mor pushed a finger against his chest. "Doesn't. Care. About. You."

Cassian just stood there, unconvinced. He wished Mor had insisted more.

"But I still went up there to their seats and offered, like you asked me to, because I do care about you." She kept going. "As does Rhys. Do you think he would like to find out you are trying to get into Nesta's pants?" She arched an eyebrow. "You know he is not precisely fond of her."

The silence, Cassian hoped, let Mor know he was not in the mood to get deeper into that conversation right now. "Yeah, you are right." He considered taking his cup back, but decided not to. Mor could keep his cup and take it downstairs with her advice and opinions. He had to go up, he was now determined. "Az was asking for you down there." The cheerleader's face lightened when he changed the subject, suddenly reminded that there was, in fact, a party waiting for her in the basement.

"Shall we go?" She offered.

"I was actually looking for a bathroom." Cassian excused himself. "I don't trust the one downstairs." He joked. She didn't push it, she simply gave him another quick hug and headed towards the music.

He gave himself a second to clear his head. To mentally curse himself, Mor and this night that had seemed so full of potential until five minutes ago. The stairs to the second floor of the Archeron's house were right there. I should go to her room, Cassian told himself. To explain myself. And so, with the confidence only a guy like him could have, he resumed his original route towards Nesta Archeron's bedroom.

Unknown territory.

It would be easy for him to pitch himself tonight. Pitching both of them, actually, presents Nesta with the idea of what they could become. In a perfect scenario, Nesta would listen. In the case that Gwyneth had misinformed her of what she thought she had seen in the hall, it might require a little more convincing. But Cassian made his way up, truly believing this would be the night he told Nesta what he wanted.

Loud and clear.

The hallway he ended up in was silent, as if there was no party happening in the basement at that very moment. It was pitch dark, and wanting to be as sneaky as possible, instead of turning on the lights, Cassian used his phone's flashlight to find Nesta's bedroom door. A decorative piece of wood in the shape of a perfect "N" hang from the door. Knowing all the residents of the house except Feyre —downstairs— and Nesta herself —at the other side of the wooden panel— were away, he knocked, not allowing his confidence to slip away.

Yes, Nesta had refused to take his jacket when Mor offered it in his name, but not once had she said no to fucking him. If she knew he was on the other side of the door, she would open it for him. When she didn't answer, Cassian knocked again. "Nes, it's me." He had to wait again, but this time he heard the muffled footsteps getting closer. Then, the door opened, and Cassian's grin returned to his face. "Hey." He leaned on the door, knowing from experience that women found the way his muscles flexed to be sexy.

Nesta's half-closed eyes didn't really react, though. "What do you want?" She asked bluntly.

"Were you sleeping?" The question was a courtesy. He could smell in the thick air of the room what she had been up to, despite the open window by the bed. The red eyes were proof as well.

"Yes." She lied. "Did you get lost?" Her sexy lack of patience was amusing and just what he had wanted to be greeted by.

There was soft music playing from her phone on the bed. "I'm almost where I want to be, actually." Cassian said, his eyes wandering through the room behind his girl.

The eye contact that followed was intense. Cassian wouldn't break it, he could stare at her annoyed frown for ages and never get tired. And Nesta wouldn't either, as she simply couldn't stand to lose. She had her hair up in a ponytail that had been perfectly neat maybe an hour ago and now struggled to contain a few pieces of hair that were too short in the front and framed her face. Although Cassian was sure there were a pair of shorts on her legs, they weren't visible under the big t-shirt she used as pajamas. The band logo was unrecognizable after so many trips to the washing machine over the years.

Knowing very few people were allowed to see the perfect Nesta Archeron looking this disheveled, but he was, only filled his chest with excitement. Because not only was he allowed to see it, he was also allowed to take her out of those clothes and make an even bigger mess of her.

"Are you going to stand there forever?"

"Until you invite me in." He retorted.

She rolled her eyes, but stepped to the side and opened the door enough for him to enter. He walked to the middle of the room and heard the door close behind him. "I don't think I've ever seen your bedroom." She didn't answer, nor did she address his presence when she walked back to her bed and jumped in. Cassian just stood there, taking in the empty white walls, the blue stripes of her sheets, and the fluffy rug in the middle of the room.

"I hate shoes inside the house." Cassian needn't be told twice. His socks were stark white, and Nesta took notice. Hers were as well. "Matching," she mumbled distractedly.

The only light came from a round lamp by her bed. It was warm and threw yellowy shades across the walls, the bed and her face. She looked relaxed, and Cassian wondered if he had ever seen her like this. So calm and comfortable. He absolutely hadn't. He would remember. Like he remembered the first and only time he had made her laugh out loud —and actually chuckle. Cassian felt like he should have, though. Hadn't he made her feel good in his arms? He had. Six times, no less.

But Nesta hadn't looked this at ease. Almost the opposite, he realized. She had wanted to get out of his embrace as soon as they were done. She always ran from him.

Well, not anymore. Tonight, he would demand she give him more —at least a chance—, or else they would be done forever.

Please, prove them wrong, he begged her. Prove you do care about me.

From the bed, Nesta stretched her arm to open a drawer. "Do you want some?" An untouched joint was offered to him.

"I've been told I am insufferable when I am drunk and high." He joked. Nesta's lips curled up, remembering the moment she spoke those words.

"You really are." She scouted to the side, leaving room for him on the bed. "But you are not drunk, though."

Absolutely not. He needed his mind to be clear for this. Nesta's parted lips were distracting enough. Her smell. The skin of her thigh hot against the back of his hand when he sat down. Their eyes met, and Cassian cursed himself for accepting the silent offer and getting in her bed. This was not what he had come up here for.

Had she not leaned in, Cassian might had found in him the strength to get up again. But she did lean in, and his body followed suit. She kissed him. He kissed her back, and Nesta was quick to make it deeper, to make it hungry and needy. His hand cupping her face was meant to steady them, as surely were Nesta's on his hair. And his arm finding its place around her waist, or her legs now straddling him.

Yes, when his hand left her pretty face and met its double on Nesta's other hip, his goal was to make sure she was comfortably sitting on top of him. The grinding it caused was collateral damage. The seam of his jeans rubbed the right inch on her body, and soon Nesta was moaning in his mouth.

Hadn't she leaned in, Cassian would be standing on the fluffy carpet, pouring his heart out for her. But she did. And so he was now stripping her of her t-shirt and delighting himself in the realization that Nesta had not been wearing any kind of shorts under it. Just some lovely black panties he was quick to pull aside.

"Fuck!" She let out when his fingers pushed inside her. She was soaking wet just from making out.

There was no excuse for that.

"Tell me what you want." He demanded.

With her mouth open in a silent exclamation, Nesta rode his hand like she should be riding his cock. He curled his two fingers inside her, making her tremble. To keep her balance, Nesta's palms came to rest on his chest, supporting her weight. With her arms at her sides and her back arched, Nesta's tits were pushed right to his face. Not wanting to disrespect his host, Cassian's mouth was on them in an instant.

Hadn't she leaned in...

Nesta tried her best to contain her whimpers, and he did his best to steal new ones from her lips. "Tell me what you want." He repeated, now that Nesta was approaching her climax.

"I just want to come." She pleaded. Her gray eyes found his and gave him that look that almost had him coming in his pants. "Please, Cassian, make me come."

"And what do I get?" He teased, freeing her nipples from the pleasure and torture of his tongue on them. She shuddered, probably feeling the cold now that they were wet with his saliva.

Nesta didn't answer, so he had to be tougher on her. She was lost in her thoughts, bouncing on his hand and enjoying the feeling of his thumb on her clit. With his left hand, Cassian halted her movement just so he could slip his right from under her. Nesta whimpered again, but this time it was unsatisfaction what lingered on her pouting lips. An unexpected swat across her butcheeks made her jump slightly. It had taken her by surprise, although it shouldn't have. She knew what would come when she didn't answer him the first time. "What do I get, Nes?" Cassian was getting tired of repeating himself. She knew better. He spanked her again, just because he wanted to see her tits bounce in his face when she felt it and reacted.

Like a cat, Nesta stretched her body and rested it flat on top of his, gaining access to his neck and covering it in kisses. It was Cassian's turn to groan, more so when she nibbled his earlobe, and he practically melted when Nesta's plump lips sought his again. She was such a smooth kisser, so good at it, Cassian almost forgot she was the one supposed to be begging for his touch, not the other way around. He rolled over, pressing her against the bed now, and grabbed her tits with perhaps more force than needed. Not that Nesta ever complained about sex getting a bit rough. He kneaded them and pulled her nipples to his will, enjoying how hard they got against his palms and how she arched her back for more. When her tongue entered his mouth, Cassian knew she was desperate.

"Anything you want." She promised, thinking she knew exactly what he would take as compensation. "You can have me any way you want, but please," A pause to let out a moan right by his ear, "please, make me come."

Cassian was quick enough in taking down his jeans that Nesta didn't complain about his warm body leaving hers. He wasn't quick enough to put on the condom she handed him from the bedside table, though, so Nesta got on her knees in front of him, matching his pose, and started kissing him again whilst he opened the silver square and wrapped himself in the rubber. When he was done, Cassian wasn't able to tell who was hornier. He only knew one second his hands were in Nesta's ass, taking her in the air, so she could wrap her legs around him, and the next he had slammed their bodies against the mattress again and was fucking her for all he was worth.

It would have been great to say she came quickly and repaid the favor by sucking him, but after all that grinding, Cassian was as close to coming as she was. She squeezed him so tightly he stood no chance, and soon they were both panting, Cassian all the way in and Nesta holding on to him like her life depended on it, needing him even closer. When the climax ran through them, Cassian didn't pull out, nor did she urge him to. Instead, her fingertips started dancing through his back. Making circles at first, then more complicated shapes. Something like triangles, then curves, and more sharp angles right after.

Cassian thanked his past self for staying sober tonight, so he was conscious enough to understand the meaning of the lines she drew.

"Come on a date with me." He whispered against her ear.

"No." Her answer came immediately. Not harshly, at least not with the intention to be harsh. She said the wordas a matter of fact. Empty of feeling.

He closed his eyes. Why? Wasn't this what she wanted? For him to be blunt with his expectations? "You said anything I wanted." Cassian reminded her. He didn't move. Their bodies were still tangled over her bed: him inside her, her legs caging his waist, and her arms hugging his neck. How could Nesta reject him while holding him with such care? 

As if she had read his mind, Nesta let go of him completely, and he had no choice but to sit up. Somehow quicker than Cassian had been when he took them out, Nesta gave him his underwear and jeans back for him to put them on. "I meant something like a blowjob and to swallow." Her coarse words hurt his ego more than his feelings. He didn't answer.

Cassian got up and pulled up his pants, then seated himself again and stared at her, a question in his eyes. She could read it—she in fact did—, but didn't answer. Cassian wondered, had she not leaned in, would he have been brave enough to ask her out with the words he had carried from the football field? Would the result have been the same, or was the fact that they always fucked first, talked later what made them go in circles?

"It was a good game. You did good." Her suddenly bringing that up only made things more awkward. 

"Yeah." Cassian would rather leave now than sit through the silence that followed. He stayed, though, waiting for who knows what to happen and fix the atmosphere, to turn it into... what, exactly? She must have felt it too —the lack of appropriate words to end this night.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. Nesta fixed it, her touch a ghost. He looked at her and demanded an explanation with just a stare. Nesta didn't give him that either.

"You should go down." She told him. There was no sharpness in her tone, and maybe that was her way of saying she was sorry.

Accepting his fate and just wanting to leave on a good note, Cassian raised a teasing eyebrow and eyed what was between her legs.

"Not that." There it was: the eye rolling, the cute annoyance. "I meant downstairs, to the party. They are probably looking for you."

Indeed.

"You are saying a lot of things you don't mean tonight, Nes. It's kind of confusing."

The accusation finally woke her up from the post-orgasm haze. She jumped out of bed, leaving her t-shirt behind, and going for the door. "You are confusing." Her voice told Cassian she meant it.

"I think I've made myself pretty clear, though. Haven't I?" He took his shoes in one hand and followed her.

"Haven't I?" She retorted, turning around to face him. The defiance in her eyes burned bright, giving her an intimidating glow that compensated her lack of a top. Cassian didn't even look at her tits.

She opened the door for him. He closed it before the gap was wide enough for him to go through.

"Would it kill you to give me a chance?" He finally spat. 

"A chance for what, Cassian? What exactly do you expect? To continue with the fucking, but once a week, grab dinner together?" 

"Well, yeah." Cassian still couldn't understand what was so awful about spending time with him outside their bedroom, a small bathroom or an empty classroom. Be seen out in the open, grab her hand and kiss it just because he feels like it. For Nesta to wear his jersey to his games and celebrate with him and his friends afterward. Grab dinner when their schedules allow, and then go home together.

Nesta held his stare, and this time he couldn't read it. Which could only mean she didn't want him to. Cassian sighed.

"Okay, so whatever I want?" He brought up Nesta's sex-induced promise again. "Just give me a reason I can understand." When she opened her mouth, Cassian's finger sealed it again. "If you want a guy to get you drinks at a party, why can't it be me? If you want to hang out with a guy on a Friday night and go watch a game together,  why won't you let it be me? And don't give me an I don't like you, because you clearly do. What is so awful about me that you don't want to even try?"

When she closed her eyes, unable to look into his, Cassian's heart sank, understanding that there was a reason after all.

"I've tried." She confessed. "I've seen what spending time with you is like, and I don't want it." Not only didn't Cassian interrupt her, but he urged her to keep going, curious to see where she was going. "I've been in a room with you and your friends and remember what was said to me for even looking in your direction a little too long." She started counting with her fingers. "I've spent the afternoon with you guys and been completely ignored by every single one, including you, although I was invited to be there. We've had lunch, I've been trapped at one of your dinner parties and on Feyre's birthday, and there is nothing you can possibly offer me in a relationship to make up for how awful I've been treated every single time and how you did nothing to stop it from happening. How stupid do you think I am to sign up for that again?"

Cassian was equal parts offended on his friend's behalf and his own. Had it been anyone else in front of him, he wouldn't have bitten his tongue at the insult to his friends. They had never spoken ill of her to her face or purposefully tried to exclude her. She simply didn't fit in with the group, and that was okay. They could spend time alone.

"If that is what I'm getting myself into..." She corrected herself, saying, "If that is what you can offer me, then I don't want it."

"Don't you think a relationship is a little more complicated than liking my friends or not?"

"I am in Pre-Med, Cassian, I don't have the time for complicated. I want easy. This..." She signaled between the two, "This is easy. And I like it a lot."

It was his time to be cold. "Sorry, but this won't do it for me." Cassian took a step back, putting much-needed physical space between them. "Obviously, I can't be with someone who thinks that about my friends."

She agreed and stepped to the side, making room to open the door for him. "And I can't be with someone who would let their friends say exactly the same things about me." It was the brief silence as the words sank in what pushed her to keep going. "To be honest, and I am not saying this to be hurtful, you don't deserve more."

Cassian only nodded, not necessarily in agreement, not fully differing either. He understood.

"Have a good life, Nes." He just walked away.

[sayosdreams]

Picture Us (Together Forever)

Word Count: 26,115

ACOTAR masterlist

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TW: mentioned past homelessness, mentioned past abuse, referenced death & suicide

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A/N: For @simpingfornestaarcheron, one year late. A huge thank you to @bookstantrash for all your help with everything from brainstorming to beta reading and editing! You're the reason I actually managed to complete this fic. Credit @vidalinav for the 'Cassian's love is loud' concept, which is so ingrained in his character for me that I always end up including it.

I know I haven't posted anything for over a year and a half — I've been busy with college and have gotten into other fandoms — but I hope this long, fluffy fic makes up for my absence. Honestly, it's probably the fluffiest thing I'll ever write of this length. Also, the number of blocks in this post exceeded the Tumblr post limit, so I edited the paragraph layout to fit. The original version is posted on ao3. Please enjoy!

Present day

“Hey, sorry I got a little late,” Nesta announced as she stepped into the apartment she shared with her boyfriend, Cassian. “I got held up at work because some people apparently think my job is to do everything,” she explained as she took off her coat and undid her scarf. “Eris now seems to believe that I’m a secretary and that it’s my job to deal with all the parents who want to sign their kids up for lessons or have questions about our hours. Can you believe that Vassa expects me to cover Eris’ class next Tuesday during my lunch break because he ‘has to be out of town to go apple picking’? And then, to top it off, Briallyn came to talk to me about how some people want the rehearsals for The Firebird to be at a different time. Just because I’m one of the principal dancers doesn’t mean I coordinate the rehearsal times! I don’t know why she doesn’t just talk to the director or choreographer, honestly. It’s so-”

Nesta turned around and fell silent, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. The living room was decorated with candles and flowers. Rose petals were lined up on the floor, creating a walkway that led to the coffee table, which was covered in a white tablecloth. Behind the table stood Cassian, wearing a wine-red colored button-down shirt, black pants, and a soft smile. 

“Cassian?” she asked, her confusion evident in her tone. Had she forgotten some important occasion? Nesta quickly ran through the list in her head. But, no, it wasn’t either of their birthdays, or their anniversary, or Valentine’s Day… So why had Cassian done all this? Sure, he had given her flowers ‘just because’ or organized impromptu date nights before, but this was on a whole different level. “What’s going on?”

Cassian’s grin split into an open-toothed smile, even as intensity and slight nervousness swam in his eyes. “Nesta, we met five years ago in the line for tickets to the Bone Carver concert, when you yelled at me for letting my friends cut the line. I turned around to yell right back, and the moment I did, my life changed. You’ve made my life so much better, in so many ways I can’t even find the words to describe. Every day with you is like a dream come true. We’ve made so many fantastic memories together over the years.”

He pulled the tablecloth off the coffee table in a sweeping motion. Nesta inhaled sharply as she took in the collection of polaroid pictures, recalling different special moments in their relationship. The collection was decorated with small doodles that Cassian had clearly drawn himself. 

She sank down to her knees in front of the table. 

“Cassian…” Nesta whispered, “This is beautiful.” 

Her eyes drifted across the paper, until they came to rest on a single photo. Her hand reached out as if she wanted to caress the image, but floated just a hair’s breadth away from it like it was too precious to bear her touch. 

Cassian kneeled down too, and glanced down at the photo she was looking at. He laughed, “Oh, yes. The bookstore date, where you used me as a human bookshelf.”

The corners of Nesta’s lips turned up. “Listen, I just wanted you to know what you were really signing up for.”

Cassian chuckled.

__________

Five years ago

“Where are you taking me?” Nesta asked for the sixth time. 

Cassian once again responded by shushing her, his eyes fixed on the road. 

Nesta sighed. Cassian had somehow managed to drive without using a GPS (a novel feat for him) so she couldn’t even peek at it to figure out their destination. Cassian clearly hadn’t considered how impatient Nesta was when he’d decided to plan a surprise for her. 

Nesta knew she should just sit back in her seat, relax, and enjoy whatever Cassian wanted to surprise her with, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t that she wasn’t excited — of course she was, and she was touched that Cassian had gone through all this effort just to plan a surprise for her. But Nesta couldn’t help but be filled with anxiety. She didn’t always react well to situations she was thrust into unexpectedly, and she wished she at least had a hint about where they were going so that she could prepare accordingly. She didn’t want to start freaking out and push Cassian away, destroying the tentative relationship they had just started to build. 

She trusted Cassian and knew he’d never intentionally put her in a situation that made her uncomfortable. They had met about three months ago and he’d asked her out soon after. Although they hadn’t made anything official yet, Cassian was always so caring and kind to her, more than any of her exes. He always made her laugh and brought her Earl Grey tea with just the right amount of 2% milk. He’d given her his scarf when he’d noticed that she was cold and had never asked for it back. He loved to play with her hair, creating intricate braids as his hands tenderly massaged her head. His body was honed from ice hockey training and he towered over her, and yet he had never once made her nervous or uncomfortable, even when they had been two strangers arguing in line. 

Still, there were many things that Nesta had yet to tell Cassian about. While his gentle sweetness was making her walls come down, bit by bit, she was struggling to open up fully. She didn’t want to risk scaring him away and ruining everything they’d created. 

All in all, she knew Cassian would never try to make her uncomfortable, but there were many things that could set her off that he didn’t know about. If she started freaking out, and she lost him… It was stupid of her to get so attached to someone so quickly. He wasn’t even her boyfriend, for gods’ sake! Only her closest friends knew they were together. They weren’t keeping their relationship a secret, exactly, but telling everyone would put pressure on their relationship that they weren’t ready for. 

Cassian’s best friend, Rhysand, was dating Nesta’s youngest sister, Feyre. The two of them had met on a dating app called Bond a couple weeks after Nesta and Cassian’s encounter. They’d fallen head over heels in love with each other, and had moved in together after just one month. Feyre kept texting the Archeron sisters’ group chat about how much she loved Rhys and how she wanted to marry him. 

Nesta and Cassian needed to take their relationship at their own pace — meaning much, much slower than Feyre and Rhys. If Nesta and Cassian made it official and then broke up later… well, Nesta didn’t want to have to deal with gossip and pitying glances whenever they were at the same place together on top of everything else. Plus, she knew her sisters were nosy romantics who would start asking about going on double dates, planning Nesta and Cassian’s wedding, and making lists of their future babies’ names. 

She couldn’t deal with all of that right now. When her last serious relationship had ended, she’d been left with bruises, a mountain of trust issues, and not much else. It had taken her a long time to put herself back out there again — to trust others with her body, much less her heart. Cassian had proved himself a worthy candidate, willing to be patient with her and put her at ease to help her let her guard down.

What it boiled down to was that she cared about him, far more than she probably should, and it scared the crap out of her. But she was even more afraid of losing him.

“Alright, we’re here!” Cassian’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Close your eyes.”

Nesta took off her seatbelt and did as he asked. Her heart beat erratically in her chest. She listened to the click of Cassian unbuckling his seatbelt and the boom of his car door shutting. A cold breeze hit her as her door opened. She felt Cassian’s large, calloused hand slide into hers, guiding her as she stepped out of the car. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” she replied vaguely. 

A boom sounded, followed by a quick beep beep, indicating Cassian had locked the car.

“We’re almost there, I promise.”

He stood behind her and his hands came to rest on her shoulders, gently turning her to the right and then guiding her path. They walked in silence. Nesta was glad she’d thought to put on a sweater and a jacket as the chilly autumn wind swept past them again. 

Cassian suddenly stopped her and turned her body to the left. 

“Okay,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. His breath was hot against her neck. She shivered. “We’re here.” 

She opened her eyes, and gasped. 

A blue sign with the words “Pegasus Book Company” hung above a blue-framed door. A bell chimed as she entered the shop. Pegasus Book Company was one of the hidden gems of Prythian. Despite being an independent bookstore, it was quite large and well-stocked in many different genres. They also displayed artwork from local artists, which they changed every season. Most of all, the owner, Helion Spell-Cleaver, was said to be amazing at giving book recommendations. Nesta had always wanted to visit Pegasus, but she’d never found the time to drive all the way to Hemera District just to visit one store. She had only mentioned it to Cassian once in the passing. She couldn’t believe that he’d remembered and done this for her. 

“Cassian…” She whispered, her voice full of awe and gratitude. She turned to find him with an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face. 

“Surprise,” he said softly. “Sorry that I made you wait to know where we were going. I wanted to surprise you, but I know I made you kind of nervous when I didn’t tell you where I was driving to. Is it ok? I’m sorry if it felt like I was abducting you. I just wanted to, uh, not ruin the surprise.”

Nesta couldn’t find the words to explain how happy his surprise had made her. Instead, she pressed her lips to his and let the kiss express her feelings. 

When they finally pulled apart, her lips formed a smile that she couldn’t suppress if she tried and she added a quiet and genuine “Thank you.” 

She hoped he could read the emotions in her voice and her eyes to understand how much the thoughtful gesture meant to her. His nervous ramble, while unnecessary given how fantastic the surprise was, just showed how much he cared about her. She didn’t know how to handle such affection and kindness. She felt as though she’d cry or melt or burst with everything he made her feel. He treated her as though she were precious and beautiful, worthy of compassion and care, like her company was a gift. As though she mattered.

Later, as he carried the numerous books she selected and listened attentively to her rants about different characters, books, and authors, she was overwhelmed by the pure joy she felt and some other emotion that it was far too soon for her to name. 

Cassian was special — she’d known it since the moment they’d met, when her sharpness had intrigued him rather than pushed him away. He was so perfect and amazing, and yet cared about her so much that she was still in disbelief. The dread that he would wake up one day and realize that she wasn’t worth the trouble was constantly present, and made her hesitant to give him her all for fear of him shattering her completely. 

But it was already too late. 

She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself, by not putting a label on things. It didn’t change how much she cared about him or how she didn’t want to think about him ever leaving her life. It was only hurting her, and more importantly, him. Nesta knew that her fears and her trauma often made her struggle to express her emotions. She never wanted Cassian to doubt how much he meant to her. Yet, it always felt like Cassian was the one doing things for her: he was the one who had asked for her number, the one who usually texted first and planned their dates, and the one who gave her meaningful gifts and surprises. He never hesitated to show or tell her how much he cared. 

What if he didn’t know? She wondered suddenly. What if he genuinely thought that Nesta didn’t care as much — that their relationship didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him? The despair that the thought brought her was shocking in its intensity. 

So as Cassian sat down in the driver’s seat, ready to turn on the car, Nesta blurted out, “Wait!” 

He turned towards her, his face showing his surprise and concern. She acted instinctively, reaching over to pull his hands towards hers and then interlacing their fingers. She took a deep breath as she steeled her resolve. Cassian’s thumb slowly moved back and forth over her hand in a soothing gesture. He’d evidently noticed her nerves. His soft, silent support served to strengthen her determination that she had to do this. 

“Cassian, thank you so much for today,” she began. “It was such an amazing, thoughtful surprise. I really, really enjoyed it.” 

She paused, considering her next words.

“The past few months have been incredible. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. And I-”

“Wait! Nesta, please don’t,” Cassian interrupted. His body had gone tense and his eyes were dull in a way she’d never seen before. His hands had grown sweaty in hers. 

Nesta felt her heart drop. It was too soon, wasn’t it? Oh, gods, what had she been thinking? She’d misread the whole situation. If Cassian had wanted to put a label on their relationship, he would have asked. It was incredibly selfish of her to assume that she was the only one who’d had hangups about it. He would also be put in an awkward situation with Rhys and Feyre. And really, she and Cassian had only known each other for three months. Why had she thought that she should do this? As usual, she was ruining everything by moving too fast and being too intense. 

Cassian continued, his voice choking up slightly, “I know I can be- it can be too much, but I promise, I’ll- we can- this can be whatever you want. We can talk about it and I’ll- I can reel it in. I mean, I’ll respect your boundaries and, uh, wishes and, just. Please, we don’t need to end this completely, just- I-”

He cut himself off as Nesta untangled one of her hands from his. 

“No, wait,” he rushed, his eyes widening in alarm, “if that’s what you really want, then of course I’ll respect it, I just wanted- but- I mean, can we at least stay fr-”

He was cut off again, this time by Nesta’s pointer finger pressing into his lips. 

“Cassian,” she said, in a strong, confident, and reassuring voice, “will you be my boyfriend?” 

His expression morphed instantly, shock and joy flitting over his face.

Nesta waited patiently, sitting in silence, awaiting his answer. She watched as Cassian’s free hand moved to his thigh, which he pinched more than once. Finally, he met her eyes. His mouth was barely curved upwards, as if he was too astonished and emotional to form a smile. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

Cassian’s hand came up to rest ever-so-gently on her cheek as their lips met for a kiss. As they continued to get lost in each other, kissing in the middle of the day in a car parked on the side of a street, Nesta knew that this was what all those fairytales and romance novels were made of.

__________

Present day

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was going to break up with you,” Nesta laughed, shaking her head. “Right after I complimented you, too.”

Cassian shrugged. “It’s a foster kid thing,” he said lightly. “If someone’s being too nice, it just feels like they’re trying to let you down gently.” 

Nesta leaned across the table to press a kiss to his cheek in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. 

“I’m never going to leave you, stupid,” she said. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

Cassian smirked. “I sure hope so.” 

His eyes moved left to the next polaroid and his hand followed suit, coming to rest right above the image. 

“Do you remember that day?” he asked, tapping his pointer finger on the table. “I was so nervous.”

“What? Why were you nervous? I was the one performing!”

__________

Five years ago

“Do you think the tie is too tight?” Cassian asked, pacing in front of the bathroom mirror. “Did I do it wrong? Fuck, do you think it’s too colorful for a formal event? Maybe I should change it to black?”

“Breath, Cassian, breath,” Azriel replied, half-serious. 

Cassian rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Az,” he pleaded.

“You look fine, Cassian. It’s going to go great. Don’t worry.”

Cassian was still fiddling with his tie. “And you don’t think the color is too much?” 

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “It’s burgundy.” 

Cassian continued to questioningly stare at Azriel.

Az sighed. “The color is fine. The tie is perfect.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “Let’s get going.” 

“Oh, shit, are we late?” Cassian scrambled to grab his suit jacket, his keys, and his wallet. Where were those flowers he’d bought? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spent so much time worrying about my fucking tie.” He could have sworn he’d left them on the dining table, but that was empty save for the collection of books, papers, and notebooks that Azriel had organized into neat piles. Cassian checked the kitchen counters, only to find them empty, too. Had he put them in his room? He really needed to get more organized. They were already getting late, and he was going to further delay them. “You know what, just let me- You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later, once I find the bouquet.” 

“Cassian. Cassian!” Azriel snapped his fingers. Cassian paused his frantic search to look at Azriel, who was carrying Cassian’s bouquet in his arms along with two others. “I’ve got it, see? Now, let’s go.” 

Before Cassian could open his mouth, Az added, “We’re not late, don’t worry.” 

As they entered Bryaxis Hall, where the performance was being held, Cassian expected to feel the last of his nerves disappear. 

As soon as he stepped inside, he realized how wrong he was. 

The hall was decadent. The ceiling was higher than a three-story house, the floor was marble with a simple yet elegant carpet running down the center, and Greco-roman pillars with intricate designs lined the hall. A chandelier hung above the grand staircase. The walls were decorated with high relief panels, each portraying a distinct myth or story. 

He followed Azriel up the stairs in silence. He was too consumed by the message every piece of architecture and decoration seemed to be yelling at him: he didn’t belong here. 

It wasn’t like he’d never been to a fancy party before: the NHL had plenty of galas, but even when he was surrounded by his teammates and friends, he always felt like a fraud in a suit. 

Cassian wasn’t meant for luxuries and refinement. He’d grown up dirt poor, even when his mother had still been around. After her death, he’d essentially lived out of a backpack. He’d even spent a few nights out on the streets when he’d been placed in particularly bad foster homes. Until he’d met Shirina, Rhysand’s mother, he had never even eaten chocolate — at least that he could remember. 

He’d only been to watch ballet once before. Shirina had insisted that they see the Nutcracker for Yule, as that had been a tradition in her family. Rhys, being the eleven-year-old that he was, had complained the whole way about being dragged there against his will. Ayla, Rhys’ younger sister, had grumbled about having to watch the Nutcracker again, instead of seeing something different like Swan Lake. Cassian had remained silent. At twelve, he didn’t want to admit that he was interested and excited, for fear of appearing uncool. Still, he was curious and was glad that Shirina had remained insistent despite her children’s protests. 

The ballet had enraptured him. He sat there, amazed by the graceful movements, the silent jumps, the whip-fast pirouettes, and the perfectly synchronized motions. 

Now, as he glanced down at the playbill, he felt completely unqualified to be here. He had no idea what La Bayadère was about — quite frankly, he wouldn’t even know how to pronounce it if Nesta hadn’t told him. He didn’t know any of the ballet terminology, either. How was he going to tell Nesta what he thought of the performance if he didn’t even know how to verbalize it? 

He glanced over at Azriel, hoping to gain some insight. Azriel was close friends with Nesta and two of Nesta’s ballerina friends, Gwyn and Emerie, who were also in tonight’s ballet. Right as Cassian was about to ask, the lights dimmed and the audience fell silent. 

Cassian worried whether he would be able to focus on the performance with all of his anxieties swirling around his head. Nesta deserved his full attention — she had been practicing for this for so long, and had poured her heart and soul into her ballet. There were so many times when she’d been late to dates, staying back in her studio to practice a move that she wanted to perfect. 

But Cassian needn’t have worried. The moment the ballet began, he was completely in its thrall. All his thoughts fled. He sat there, mesmerized, as the ballerinas danced. When Nesta entered, his breath caught in his throat. She was radiant on stage, looking like a goddess, a queen, and a warrior-princess all wrapped up in one. 

After the show, when he handed her the bouquet and told her how incredible she’d been on stage, her expression made it all worth it. Her cheeks, flushed with exhaustion, were rounded as her mouth split into a jubilant smile. Her eyes were awed, as if she was so grateful for his words and presence but couldn’t quite believe he was here. Despite all of his anxieties, he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. 

And as Cassian drove home, he realized he couldn’t wait to see Nesta’s next ballet performance. 

__________

Present day

“It really did mean the world to me that you came, you know,” Nesta admitted. “And I was so nervous about what you’d think.”

“Of course I was impressed! Anyone in their right mind would be.” His comment was light. There was no need to mention that Nesta’s ex, Tomas, had considered her job to be a ‘useless passion’ that ‘should only be a hobby’. Both of them knew Tomas was a hateful piece of shit who had done his best to drag Nesta down, and were infinitely grateful that she’d gotten away from him. 

Nesta shot Cassian a small smile before turning back to the pictures.

“Oh! The snowball fight!” She snorted. “Don’t show this to Rhys and Az, we don’t want to remind them.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, grinning. “They’re big babies.”

__________

Five years ago

Nesta turned around, startled, as someone tapped her shoulder. 

She had been shoveling snow for the last thirty minutes in the dim light of the rising sun. Normally, she loved lying around in bed on snowy days. She was content to sit inside, drinking hot chocolate, watching the world through the window and feeling as though she had been transported inside a snow globe. One of the few perks of living in an apartment was that she didn’t need to shovel snow. 

Last night, however, she had stayed over at Cassian’s townhouse. Cassian’s roommate, Azriel, had gone out, presumably to spend the night with someone. Nesta considered Az to be a friend, but he was extremely private; she had no idea if he was seeing someone, let alone who that someone might be.

Nesta turned around. 

Cassian was standing there, arms crossed, with one eyebrow raised. “Nesta, why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Nesta rolled her eyes and turned back around to keep shoveling. “You’re sore.”

She hadn’t expected to wake up to snow piled up almost five centimeters on the ground. It was the first snow of the winter, and she wanted nothing more than to watch the snow fall from the warmth of Cassian’s bed, curled up against her boyfriend. 

Then, she recalled the numerous bruises and cuts on Cassian’s body that she’d tended to yesterday. He had gotten thoroughly roughed up at his game, though when she’d remarked on it, he’d just laughed and replied that this didn’t even count as getting injured in ice hockey. Still, she’d seen him wincing as he reached to the left when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

So when she’d seen the snow this morning, she’d decided that, instead of going back to sleep, she would shovel the entire walkway and driveway before Cassian woke up. 

Clearly, she’d failed. 

“I’m fine!” Cassian replied, just as Nesta had anticipated. “I’m not-”

Nesta cut him off by shushing him. 

She had a little less than half the driveway left to shovel. She was adept at the art of ignoring someone trying to talk to you: after all, she’d grown up with two little sisters. So as Cassian continued to complain that he was not actually hurt and tried to convince her to hand over the shovel, she just tuned him out and focused on her task. She was making pretty good progress, in her opinion. Sure, her fingers were a little cold even in her gloves, but the desire to keep going and not let Cassian help at all motivated her. The spite kept her warm. 

She was almost a third way done when she heard coughing. She stopped abruptly and turned to Cassian, who was wiping snow off of his face.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my gods! I’m so sorry!” 

Cassian just laughed. “What, you didn’t mean to cover me in snow?”

He leaned down and grabbed a fist full of snow. “Let me show you a faster way to get rid of all this snow, sweetheart.” Nesta barely had time to duck before the snowball flew in her direction.

Abandoning the shovel, she ran away from him. Then, she made her own snowball, which she hid in her hand as she smiled at Cassian innocently. He smiled back and walked towards her until- Wham! Her snowball hit him square in the chest.

Nesta cheered. 

He gasped “Betrayal!” 

As she dodged his next snowball by a hair’s breadth, she stuck her tongue out at him. 

Her cold dissipated as their snowball fight continued. The progress she’d made on the driveway and walkway had definitely been ruined, but she found that she couldn’t care less. Twenty minutes later, when they went back inside, covered in snow, both of them were grinning ear to ear. 

It wasn’t until after they’d showered, changed, and were sipping hot chocolate that Cassian exclaimed, “Shit!” 

His drink sloshed, spilling out of his mug. Nesta took a large sip of her hot chocolate — it really did taste divine with marshmallows — and looked at him questioningly over the rim of her mug.

“You can’t tell Rhys,” Cassian pleaded. “He wouldn’t understand. We need to keep this a secret.”

“What, that I had a snowball fight with my boyfriend?” Nesta answered incredulously. 

Cassian’s face, however, was completely serious. “Yes.” 

“I wasn’t planning on telling him,” Nesta said, struggling not to laugh, “but now I’m curious to see what’ll happen, so…”

“No!” Cassian’s eyes went wide. “You see, every year, when it first snows, Rhys, Az, and I have a snowball fight. It’s a tradition we’ve had for years. If they find out that I had a snowball fight with you first…” Cassian shook his head, as if the possibilities were too horrific to even consider.

“So basically, you cheated on them with me?” A drop of hot chocolate spilled over and ran down the side of Nesta’s mug. She caught it with her finger, which she then brought to her lips.

Cassian’s eyes followed her finger. His Adam's apple bobbed as her finger left her mouth with a pop.

“I, uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. 

She smirked. “Well, I haven’t told them, but I did tell Gwyn and Emerie in our group chat when they asked what I was up to, so Az is definitely going to find out.”

Cassian groaned, putting his face in his hands. Nesta just continued sipping her hot chocolate, laughing quietly.

__________

Present day

“They’re definitely going to hold that against us forever,” Cassian sighed. “They were so mad. That whole winter, I had to watch my back. They just kept pelting me with snowballs whenever they got the chance.” 

“It was hilarious,” Nesta grinned. Then, catching Cassian’s look, she corrected herself. “I mean, it was very terrifying.” She tried for a serious expression but failed, erupting into laughter.

Cassian rolled his eyes, but she could see the smile he was trying to suppress.

“You know what else they’re going to hold against me forever?” Nesta pointed at the polaroid right under the one they’d been looking at. “This. I think I almost gave them heart attacks.”

“Oh, yes. Now, that was hilarious,” Cassian agreed.

__________

Four years ago

Vroom.

Nesta pulled up to the front of the lane, right as the light turned red. Sighing, she raised her face shield. 

She turned to the right, glancing absently at the car in the lane next to her. It was a black Mercedes-Benz, the same car Rhysand owned. As she looked through the rolled-down driver’s seat window, she realized that it was literally the same car, because Rhys was the one driving.

She called out to him, and he turned towards her — then did a double take.

“You- wha- how are you driving Cassian’s motorcycle?” Rhys spluttered. 

Azriel’s head peeked out behind Rhys’. They sported matching shocked expressions, complete with comically wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and parted lips. 

Nesta smirked. “It’s quite easy, actually. I wasn’t sure how I’d do, since I’d never driven a motorcycle before but,” Nesta patted the handles, “she’s a smooth ride.”

That was not what they’d meant by their question. 

Cassian had always dreamed of owning a motorcycle. After going through his finances and realizing that he could afford one now without stretching himself out too thin, he’d finally bought one last week. 

The motorcycle was his prized possession and he was fiercely protective of it. He took the time to polish it after each ride, checking to make sure there wasn’t a single scratch on his treasure. Rhys and Az had been begging to ride it ever since he’d gotten it, but he’d starkly refused, claiming they were both too irresponsible. It was laughable, because Azriel was easily the most responsible member of their trio, but even he wasn’t allowed to do more than look at it. When Az had run a single finger across the paint, Cassian had pulled him away, declaring that Azriel was being too rough and that he clearly hadn’t thought about how the oils from his fingers would interact with the materials on the bike to shorten its lifespan. Azriel had pointed out that the motorcycle was meant to be ridden, but Cassian had ignored him. 

Of course it made sense that Cassian would be so overprotective of his motorcycle. He had never had many possessions. He hadn’t ever owned more than one pair of shoes until he was thirteen, when Shirina insisted on getting him snow boots and dress shoes. He’d replied, “But my sneakers still fit,” confused, and grew even more confused when Shirina wrapped him in a hug in response. 

A motorcycle was something he’d never realistically imagined being able to afford. He’d look at magazines and at the seniors who’d pull up to high school in the Harvey-Davidsons that their fathers had bought them, thinking about what kind of motorcycle he would have wanted if he’d been born to rich parents who were still alive. Now that his wildest dream had become reality, he would guard it to the best of his ability.

He knew that Rhys and Azriel would treasure it as well. They knew that he loved the bike and would never do anything to intentionally harm it. Yet, they had both grown up with money. They didn’t understand the instinct Cassian had to protect the little that was his, because they had grown up with so much to claim as their own. To them, possessions were replaceable. Despite the wealth Cassian had gained, he could never shake off the memory of being a child curled around a backpack as he slept on the street instead of covering himself with it for warmth because he was afraid it would get stolen. 

So when Cassian had casually offered to let Nesta try riding it, she was shocked to say the least. 

“Are you sure?” she’d asked about a hundred times, but his answer never changed. When she’d admitted that she had never ridden a motorcycle before, he had just replied, “I’m honored to be your first,” with a wink. He then took Nesta, who was blushing and rolling her eyes, outside to teach her the basics. 

“Alright,” he said with a clap, twenty minutes later. 

Nesta got off the bike, assuming he wanted to return it to its position in the garage. 

“Want to take it for a whirl?” he said instead.

She spun around to face him. “Really? But I… I wouldn’t want to damage your motorcycle. I know how important it is to you and, well, are you sure you want me to ride it?”

Cassian just shrugged, smiling. “No pressure, of course, if you’d rather not ride a motorcycle, but I’d love for you to try.” Something shifted in his eyes as he said, “I’d love to share it with you.”

Nesta blinked. She had grown up very differently from Cassian. She’d been born into a wealthy, upper-class family that later lost its wealth when her father got laid off and her mother fell ill. The medical bills piled up as her father searched in vain for work during a recession, and once her mother passed away, her father fell into the arms of alcoholic depression. Luckily, Nesta had enough training and experience by that point to gain a scholarship to her ballet school. 

So while Nesta had experienced poverty, it was never in the way that Cassian had. She could only understand Cassian’s desperation to hold on to his possession on an intellectual level. 

She didn’t know why he would trust her with something so precious.

“Of course I trust you,” Cassian added, as though he’d read her mind. He kissed her on the forehead, as if to say ‘you’re precious to me’. Nesta closed her eyes. 

“Um,” she whispered, then cleared her throat to continue in a stronger voice, “I’d be honored.” Then, she glanced down at the dress she was wearing. “Maybe tomorrow?” she added.

Cassian laughed that hearty, deep laugh that always made her heart clench. “Can’t wait, sweetheart.”

So here she was, the next day, riding Cassian’s motorcycle. She’d been sure to dress more appropriately in her leather pants, jacket, and boots. She asked Cassian to confirm that her outfit was ok, just to make sure. He hummed approvingly as she spun around.

He then sat her down, and put on her elbow pads and knee pads on her. If it had been anyone else, she would have complained incessantly about being treated like a child; because it was Cassian, who touched her so tenderly as he adjusted the straps, she couldn’t feel anything except gratitude and joy. 

“Ready?” He asked as she sat down on the bike. She gave him a thumbs up as he took a step back, gazing as though he was an artist who was looking at the tableau he’d painted. Dressed all in black, atop a black motorcycle, Nesta felt like she cut quite the figure. She felt powerful, as though she could do anything. 

She turned on the engine and was about to get going when Cassian shouted, “Wait!” and ran over to her. She paused, looking up at Cassian as he ran over to her and lifted her face shield. 

He kissed her, hard, and she melted into it. When he pulled away, she sat there for a moment, dazed. She brought a hand to her lips and continued to stare at Cassian. His parted lips were dark red, stained with her lipstick. 

She took a deep breath, blinking a few times to regain her focus and dispel all the images of a naked Cassian from her mind. She pulled down her face shield, revved the motorcycle, and set off. 

“But- how did you get Cass to agree to let you ride his bike?” Azriel asked, astounded.

Nesta shrugged, grinning. “What, like it’s hard?”

She zoomed off as the light turned green, leaving Rhys and Az in the dust with their mouths hanging wide open. 

__________

Present day

“I’ll cherish that moment forever,” Nesta laughed. 

Cassian grinned back at her, then pointed to a picture in the bottom row. 

“You know what I’ll cherish forever? This one.”

Nesta looked at it and sighed. “Great, now mine seems shallow. Why do you have to be so kind and thoughtful?”

“I’ll try to stop.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

__________

Four years ago

Cheers filled the rink.

“GO DRAKON!” yelled the girl sitting right next to Nesta.

Emerie, who was sitting on her other side, held back a hissing Nesta by grabbing both her shoulders. 

“That was ridiculous,” Nesta said through clenched teeth. “Why isn’t the ref saying anything? That was definitely a foul!” 

“It was a beautiful goal,” Rhysand corrected.

Nesta’s fiery glare turned to him and he withered as she snapped, “Whose side are you on?”

It was Nesta’s first time being at Cassian’s game. Of course, she’d seen his games on TV before, but both of them had agreed that she should wait before attending a game and being in the presence of all his fans and the media. Now that they had been officially dating for over a year, they’d both felt it was time. Nesta’s best friends, Gwyn and Emerie, had decided to accompany her. They had both claimed that they just wanted to watch the game, but she knew that they really were there to provide her with moral support.

Sadly, Cassian’s team — the Velaris Ghost Leopards — was currently losing 4-2 to the Adriata Sirens. Nesta, who never followed ice hockey closely until meeting Cassian, had been yelling up a storm as passionately as any long-time die-hard Ghost Leopards fan. They were about halfway through the third period and any hope that the Ghost Leopards could win was slowly disappearing. Especially as Jurian Zbirak, the Sirens’ center, passed discreetly to Varian Ulwandle, the left winger who was famously good at scoring. 

“I can’t watch,” Gwyn grimaced as Varian got past the Ghost Leopards’ defenceman, Andras Lupo. The crowd held their breath as Varian took the shot and- 

“Saved!” Emerie yelled as Rhysand let out a whoop. 

Thesan Vu, the Ghost Leopards’ goalie, had managed to save it beautifully.

Nesta gasped loudly as Kallias Neve, the Ghost Leopards’ center, took the puck and skated forward. Unfortunately, the other team’s defense was extremely strong, and caught sight of him almost immediately. Kallias cut sharply to the left, but the defenseman Eris Vanserra quickly shifted positions to block him. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Nesta chanted. Emerie was biting her nails anxiously next to her and Azriel was covering his mouth with his hands.

Kallias tried to deke Eris by feigning left and then cutting right, but Eris had seen through his tricks and was about to steal the puck when- 

Nesta jumped out of her seat. “Look!”

Kallias had managed to trick Eris after all. He’d drop passed the puck to Cassian, who was now zooming towards the goal. By the time Eris and Devlon Lyons, the other Sirens defenseman, realized and headed for Cassian, it was already too late. 

Nesta held her breath as Cassian got into position, took the shot and- 

“He scored!” Nesta cheered at the top of her lungs. 

Her throat was definitely going to be sore tomorrow but she didn’t even care. 

She watched as Cassian lit up with glee and his teammates congratulated him. This was why she cheered so hard, why she cared so much about the sport. It wasn’t as though she’d magically become obsessed with ice hockey when she’d met Cassian. No, it was the joy that the sport brought him and the way he put his heart and soul into it — giving it his all at every game, every training, every play — that made her passionate about it. Cassian worked so incredibly hard at hockey and it was such a big part of his life. How could something so important to him not be important to her, too? 

Cassian’s eyes locked on hers. Nesta froze. 

He brought his left hand to his lips and blew her a kiss. 

The crowd went wild as Cassian’s fans assumed he’d blown it to them. But Nesta could only sit down, dazed. She didn’t know why she felt so shocked that her boyfriend had blown her a kiss. They’d done far more than kiss, for gods’ sake. Perhaps it was because it had been in front of everyone, like Cassian was declaring his affection for her publicly and showing that he wasn’t ashamed of being with her. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d thought of her in the middle of a game, as though he never stopped thinking about her, even when he was singularly focused on ice hockey.

Emerie elbowed Nesta in the ribs and stage-whispered, “Your face is red, you know.” 

“Shut up,” was Nesta’s dignified response.

With five minutes left in the period, the Sirens held control of the puck.

“Are they just wasting time, trying to run out the clock?” Nesta huffed. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

Drakon Aliyev — the Sirens’ right winger — kept passing back and forth with the Jurian and Varian, barely moving forward. 

“C’mon!” Rhysand jeered. 

Suddenly, with thirty seconds left on the clock, Jurian sped forward. He weaved between Ghost Leopards’ players, dodging and deking them. 

Twenty seconds. 

Andras closed in on Jurian, but Jurian back passed to Drakon right before Andras caught up to him. Drakon skated past them, zigzagging to avoid the other players who attempted to catch up to him. 

Ten seconds.

As Lucien — the Ghost Leopards’ other defenseman — moved in to body-check him, Drakon made eye contact with Varian, who had skated forward and was completely open. Drakon turned towards Varian, leaning his left shoulder down to pass to him.

Five seconds. 

Lucien shifted to guard Drakon’s right side, blocking him from passing to Varian. 

Four.

Drakon turned his hockey stick, which was on the left of the puck, to position it behind the puck, and aimed at the goal. Lucien scrambled to move back to his previous position in front of Drakon. 

Three. 

Drakon’s stick hit the puck, taking a strong shot. It flew through the middle of Lucien’s legs, headed straight towards the goal.

Two. 

Thesan shifted his stick and crouched down, moving into position to block the puck. 

One.

The puck landed on the ice a hair’s breadth in front of Thesan and slid through the small gap between his stick and his foot, straight into the goal.

Zero.

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts. 

Nesta was chief among them. “What? That’s crazy! The puck was not completely over the line before the buzzer! Why the fuck are they counting it?” 

“It actually was,” Rhysand replied. “Wasn’t it an amazing buzzer beater, Az?”

Nesta was fuming. “What? Were you even watching the game? About a third of the puck hadn’t crossed the line! Don’t you agree, Az?” 

Az looked between them with wide eyes and then wisely chose to say, “Hey, why don’t we try to go catch Cassian before he has to go to the changing room?” 

Nesta was still grumbling as they walked up to where Cassian was talking to his teammates.

Azriel tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around, his disappointed frown turning into a friendly smile. Then, his eyes landed on Nesta and his expression softened. 

Nesta peered up at him and sent him a small smile. But a second later, she resumed her muttering, hissing under her breath, “I can’t fucking believe the refs don’t give a shit about the Sirens’ blatant cheating.”

Rhysand, who was standing right next to Nesta, groaned loudly. Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. “This one,” Rhys began, tilting his head towards Nesta, “hasn’t stopped complaining about the Sirens and the refs.” He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “They didn’t fucking cheat, Nesta. They won. Just accept it and move on.” He turned to Cassian with a glance that said ‘urg, can you believe her?’ 

Unfortunately for Rhysand, he was not met with the sympathetic backup he’d anticipated from Cassian. Instead, Cassian’s face split into a huge grin that only widened when Nesta retorted, “Well, it’s true! I swear the puck wasn’t fully over the line when I heard the buzzer. The refs were definitely biased, because they called the Ghost Leopards’ offsides in period 1 but not any of the Sirens’ fouls!” 

He let out a breathy laugh as wonder and joy lit up his eyes. He enveloped Nesta with his arms, burying his smile in her hair. 

Time froze.

Their eyes closed like camera shutters as they stood still, taking in the moment and committing it to memory. They were both silent, too overwhelmed by the intensity of their emotions.

An eternity later, Cassian broke the silence, whispering “Thank you” into Nesta’s neck. He let her go, but not before pressing a kiss against her cheek.

__________

Present day

“You know, it meant the world to me to see that you defended me so fiercely.” Cassian’s tone was sincere but still light, as one could only be with those whom they’d been vulnerable with many times before. “To know that you cared so much about me… well. It’s not like no one cared about me before, you know, obviously I had Rhys and Az and stuff, but I still struggled with really believing that people could care about me — that I could matter to people. That moment… Of course it didn’t completely ‘fix’ me,” Cassian made air quotes with his fingers, “but I think that’s when it really clicked and I realized that you felt the same way about me that I felt about you — that I mattered to you, too.”

Nesta swallowed, realizing that she was choking up, which was extremely uncharacteristic of her. The closest she usually got to crying was when she read about fictional characters, and even then she almost never felt tears welling up as they were now. 

“I love you,” Nesta answered quietly. It was the truth, plain and simple. “You matter to me, and you always have.”

“I love you too,” Cassian answered. His hand reached out to cover hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

A moment later, he pointed to another polaroid in the bottom row. 

“This one was next, right?”

“Yeah,” Nesta said, her eyes twinkling as she reminisced. “Those views were so worth it, but damn, I don’t think I’ve ever been as tired and sore.”

Cassian smirked. “Oh really? Not even-”

“Nope,” Nesta interrupted with a smirk of her own.

Cassian blinked, as though her reply had genuinely shocked him. Once he recovered, he answered, “Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” 

He winked. 

Nesta rolled her eyes, but brought a hand to cheek to cover what she assumed was her rather obvious blush. 

__________

Four years ago

“Are you sure you don’t need to drink more water?” Cassian asked again.

“Yes, Cassian, I’m just as sure as I was when you asked me two seconds ago,” Nesta replied, a small smile on her lips despite her slight irritation at his repetitive questioning. Nesta would never in a million years admit that she liked Cassian’s coddling, but in truth she did enjoy knowing how much he cared. 

They’d decided to get away from the city for a week to go on the backpacking trip they’d been talking about for months now. Miraculously, Cassian’s off-season had aligned perfectly with Nesta’s and they intended to make full use of it. 

Initially, they had considered inviting some of their friends and family to join them on a hike to a different location, but after Nesta’s argument with Rhysand over reproductive freedoms dissolved into an intense shouting match with personal attacks, Cassian had decided to limit the trip to just the two of them. He’d hoped to give them some space from each other to help them cool off. 

There was also an additional reason he had decided not to invite anyone else — most notably Rhysand — that he hadn’t told Nesta. The day after the row, Cassian had gone to see Rhysand, hoping to help clear the air. Instead of being regretful and guilty, Rhysand had been stubborn, claiming that Nesta was the only one who needed to apologize. He called Nesta a “vicious bitch”, saying that he didn’t know why Cassian would want to be with such a “fucked up person who clearly had way too many issues” and “only wanted Cassian for the money and fame”. When he laughed, “The sex must be really good for you to put up with her,” spitting out the last word as though Nesta was the scum of the Earth who wasn’t even worthy of being named by Rhysand, Cassian had exploded. 

He’d completely lost it, snarling and hurling insults at Rhys. He’d yelled that Rhys was clearly so insecure that he couldn’t accept when he was wrong and had to tear others down to try to fix his fragile ego. 

“Maybe you want to pretend you’re perfect because you don’t know how to love people, flaws and all,” Cassian had hissed. “So yeah, Nesta might have some ‘issues’ but so do I. And guess what? That’s fine. We still care about each other, for real. Unlike you, we don’t feel the need to lie about who we are. At least our relationship is real and is based on honesty and truth.” 

It had been a low blow, to allude to his previous relationships. Rhys had dated Amarantha, a wealthy actress and politician’s daughter, at his parents’ request back when Rhys’ dad, Hadrian, was still running the conglomerate called Night Court Corporations which was later passed down to Rhys. This had been both a PR stunt, which showed rivals just how strong and influential their family was and distracted the media from Ayla’s underage drunk driving, and a way to gain Amarantha’s father’s support in giving Night Court Corporations a tax break. Their relationship had been faker than Amarantha’s tan. 

His only real relationship before Feyre had been with Carmella, a girl who worked at a coffee shop he used to frequent, although calling it ‘real’ was a stretch, as Rhysand had lied to her about his family and his past. They had dated for almost a year, and Az and Cassian had met the poor girl numerous times, but Rhysand had insisted that he would keep being ‘Reese, son of an office worker’ when he was with her in order to avoid ‘getting used’. 

So yes, the comment had been mean and Cassian had felt slightly guilty about it, despite it being true. 

But then, Rhys had retorted, “Real? Please, Cassian, I can’t believe that you can’t see through her! She doesn’t ‘care about you’ or whatever, she only cares about the money, just like everybody else like her!”

Cassian’s eyes had narrowed and he’d slowly bit out, “Like her? What do you mean by that?”

His eyes had flashed with rage and pain, because he’d known exactly what Rhysand meant. 

His suspicions were confirmed when Rhys’ expression had twitched. He’d meant people who weren’t as famous, as well-to-do, as wealthy. People who didn’t have a trust fund or a summer house or extra cars. People who couldn’t take vacations or make big purchases without saving up first. People who couldn’t say ‘money isn’t a problem’. People like Nesta who had to have side jobs in addition to their main one just to be able to afford rent in a city like Velaris. And people like Cassian, for whom even food and housing and safety had never been a guarantee, let alone new clothing or vacations. 

Rhysand had just implied that Cassian had never cared about Rhysand or Shirina or Ayla or Hadrian. That Cassian had only been with them for the money and that all the love he had for them was fake. 

Rhysand stayed silent.

Cassian repeated, “What do you mean, Rhys?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. It wasn’t about- I’m just trying to help you! She doesn’t actually care.” At Cassian’s murderous glare, he amended, “And even if she does, she doesn’t deserve you! I’m just trying to rescue you, man.”

“Rescue me?” Cassian laughed, coldly. “I’m not some semi-homeless kid anymore. I don’t need a fucking hero to save me. Maybe you want to think I’m some helpless victim because you can’t stand the fact that I’m finally happy and I don’t need you anymore. How are you going to feed your savior complex now?”

Rhysand scoffed, glaring down at him as though Cassian were a peasant and he were a god. It only served to fuel the cold flames of Cassian’s anger.

“Or maybe you don’t like that I’m succeeding,” Cassian said, his voice quiet and dangerous. “You don’t like that I’m rich and famous and I did it all on my own. I worked hard and got here and I’m only gonna keep rising. Who are you gonna look down at now to remind yourself just what a special little boy you are?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Rich? Please, Cassian, you’re doing okay, but you could never be as rich as me. And all on your own? Need I remind you that I gave you a house and food and clothes? I paid for your hockey gear and for chauffeurs to drive you to games. You worked hard, sure, but so did I. We’re the same, so stop trying to act like you’re any better than me.”

“Aww, did I hurt your fragile little ego?” Cassian pouted mockingly. “You know that you didn’t do any of that, right? Shirina and Hadrian paid for all those things. And yes, they helped me, but at least I got my job because of skill and hard work. You got yours because you were born a boy. We’re not the same and we’ll never be.”

“You’re right,” Rhysand replied coolly. “We’re not the same. I don’t know why I ever bothered to pretend otherwise.”

Cassian had stormed out, tossing a “By the way, it’s called a taxi, not a chauffeur!” over his shoulder as he exited.

Admittedly, it had not been his best comeback.

After that incident, Cassian had decided not to speak to Rhys for a while, let alone invite him on any trips.

As they hiked up the hilly landscape, Cassian was grateful he’d decided to spend this time alone with Nesta instead. Somehow, the whole trip felt so much more meaningful with her by his side, like this was a glimpse at the life they were building together. 

“Gods, my legs are definitely going to hurt after today,” Nesta mumbled as they hiked up an especially steep section.

“Are you okay? Do you want to take a break- or should I carry you?” Cassian hurriedly replied. 

Nesta just laughed, staring pointedly at his backpack. “Literally how?”

Cassian gestured to his front. “You doubt my strength?”

“Yes,” Nesta teased, sticking her tongue out at him before speed walking ahead. 

“Wait up!”

Each night, they shared a tent. Despite starting out in sleeping bags on separate mattress pads, they always ended up cuddling together, supposedly for warmth. A couple nights in, Nesta figured out how to zip their sleeping bags together to create a single larger sleeping bag, whispering “Oh no, there’s only one bed!” as she did so. 

Every morning, Cassian would wake Nesta up with a kiss to her cheek. She’d always scrunch her face and groggily mutter, “No, don’t do that, I’m disgusting.”

“You could never be disgusting, sweetheart,” Cassian would reply, prompting Nesta to open her eyes only to roll them at him. 

When they finally arrived at Windhaven Overlook, their destination, they spent a day admiring the views and having a small picnic. 

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Nesta said, resting her head on Cassian’s shoulder. “It means a lot that you’d want to share this with me.”

Cassian kissed her forehead in response. 

He had been to this spot only twice before, but it was still one of the most important locations for him. 

The first time, Enalius had brought him here. Enalius was a man close to Cassian’s heart. They’d first met when Enalius approached Cassian, whose face was glued to a window, watching an ice hockey team practice. Cassian had snuck into the skating rink for warmth and to use the vending machines and the water fountains, but had let his guard down, enthralled by the skaters. 

“Are you spying on them?” were the first words out of Enalius’ mouth. 

“What? NO!” Cassian had tried to run, but Enalius clasped his shoulder with a strong arm. 

“Really? What team do you play for?”

“I don’t play hockey!” 

At that, Enalius had frowned. “Really? That’s a shame. I think you might be good at it. Why don’t you ask your parents to sign you up for a class sometime?” 

Cassian’s eyes had dropped to the floor. “No, that’s okay.”

“C’mon, now,” Enalius had tried again. “I’m sure you could be better than those boys in no time.”

“I’ve never even skated before.”

Enalius raised an eyebrow as Cassian furiously backtracked, realizing that he’d basically admitted he’d snuck in. 

“Uh, I mean, I’ve never skated in, uh, hockey rinks with, uh-”

Enalius smiled. “Don’t worry, kid.” He looked Cassian up and down once more and sighed, “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a try? You’ll never know what it’s like until you give it a go.”

Cassian shrugged.

“Well, if you ever think you want to, just tell the lady at the counter over there that Enalius Ramiel told you to sign up for a lesson with him, okay? And get your parents to sign all the release forms and stuff.”

“Oh, they, uh, can’t do that.”

Enalius cocked his head. “Should I talk to them? Don’t worry, lessons aren’t actually that expensive, and I’ll give you a little discount.”

“No, um, you can’t talk to them,” Cassian mumbled uncomfortably.

Enalius took a step back. “Sorry kid, didn’t mean to pressure you. Lemme know if you ever want me to talk to your parents or anything.”

As Enalius started to turn around, Cassian was suddenly caught by a panic and blurted, “You can’t talk to them ’cause they’re dead.” 

Enalius froze. 

“Oh,” he said after a moment. “I see.” 

He studied Cassian’s face for a moment and then grabbed his hand, power-walking towards the check-in counter. They cut to the front of a long line of people as Enalius flashed a badge.

“Hey, Val, can we book rink 3 for a private lesson?” Enalius asked the lady at the counter with a grin. 

“Sure, when do you want to schedule it for?” 

“Now.” 

Val raised her eyebrows. “Now? Are you joking?” 

Enalius shook his head. 

Val just sighed. “Fine, but I don’t think the ice has been refreshed in a while. Also, it’s booked after 5:30, so you’ve got a little less than an hour.”

“Thanks, Val, you’re the best.” Then, he turned to Cassian. “What size are your feet?” 

“Um… 6?” Cassian guessed, rounding up a size from his current too-small sneakers. 

“A pair of size 6 hockey skate rentals, too,” Enalius added. “Put it all on my tab.”

Then, he leaned in to whisper something Cassian couldn’t hear, which made Val sigh, “Oh, Ali, I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

The next hour had changed Cassian's life. He’d started out wobbling, barely staying vertical and walking instead of skating on the ice. By the end, he was gliding effortlessly, skating around and in between the cones Enalius set up. He fell in love with ice skating. 

So Cassian returned, day after day, getting free private lessons from Enalius, and he soon became enamored by ice hockey, too.

Enalius became Cassian’s mentor, not only teaching him hockey but also buying Cassian snacks or dinner and making sure he got back safely. It was Enalius who later introduced Shirina, his childhood friend, to Cassian, further changing his life.

It wasn’t until much later that Cassian learned what a famous and successful hockey player Enalius was. Enalius remained Cassian’s coach right until he joined the NHL himself.

There were few people who were as important to Cassian as Enalius. And that was why this place that Enalius had brought him to years ago was so special to Cassian. 

Shirina, Hadrian, Rhysand, and Ayla had decided to go abroad and travel alongside some cousins during fall break. Enalius had overheard Shirina hesitating about leaving Cassian home alone for the week and had offered to take him on a trip of their own. Cassian, who had never been on a trip as far as he was aware of, was ecstatic and it did not disappoint. It became one of Cassian’s best memories.

The second time he came to this spot was after Shirina’s death. Rhysand and Ayla had been inconsolable, each grieving in their own way: Rhysand never spent a moment alone, as though he could bury his feelings in the high of socializing and parties, while Ayla barely spoke or even left her room. Hadrian was trying his best to keep it together, but was clearly in way over his head — managing the children and their emotions had always been Shirina’s department, not his. Luckily, their extended family had flown into town to help them all. Friends and acquaintances had reached out, trying to find ways to support them through all the grief. 

Cassian, who couldn’t really be classified as a friend or family to Shirina, had been overlooked. It wasn’t like he expected anything different, but watching everyone comforting each other and ignoring him hurt. It was as though he had no right to grieve — to be this hurt by her death — and maybe he didn’t, but she had been the closest thing he’d had to a parent since he’d been 5 years old. He’d loved her, too. No, he wasn’t her child, but he was something to her, even if it couldn’t be labeled so easily. 

Now she was gone and whatever they had been was erased. It didn’t matter that he’d used his first paycheck to buy her a birthday present, or that she had attended all his home NHL games, or that they’d often go on walks together. It didn’t matter that she always knew when he needed a hug or that she’d taught him how to cook. 

Cassian had decided to hike to Windhaven Overpass to get out of his own head. 

The journey had helped him to process his emotions. The sunsets and the plant life around him had seemed far more beautiful that time, reminding him of how much Shirina had loved nature. At night, the stars seemed brighter than normal, and he recalled Shirina explaining to him that in her culture, stars were considered to be ancestral and guardian spirits looking down at you and guiding you. 

Cassian felt like Shirina had been there, watching him from the sky and reaching out with a comforting hand as he struggled. That trip, he had gotten angry and laughed joylessly and sobbed. He’d felt empty and about to explode at the same time. He had gotten to be something different from the strong, smiling version of himself that he usually presented to the public. In the end, the trip had helped him find some sort of closure and peace with Shirina’s death.

Now, Cassian had brought Nesta here.

He had told her about his prior trips with Windhaven and what the location meant to him, but actually bringing her here was a sign that Cassian was willing to be vulnerable with her. 

He had always feared people would leave him and that he was replaceable, and worried about tainting such a special place with memories of someone who would later leave his life. 

And yet, Cassian had brought her here.

“This spot is important to me, Nes, and so are you,” Cassian said. “Thank you for coming. It’s my honor to be here, with you.”

He didn’t say: ‘I’m not worried about bringing you here because what we have is different — it’s meant to last.’

He didn’t say: ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever cared about enough to let myself be vulnerable like this with — you could destroy me, but I’m willing to take that chance.’

He didn’t say: ‘I love you.’

And yet, that was what they both heard.

__________

Present day

“I knew you were in love with me the second you invited me on that trip,” Nesta smirked. 

“Sweetheart, I was gone for you way before then,” Cassian laughed. 

“That’s true,” she grinned. “You had an embarrassingly massive crush on me for the longest time. And you must’ve loved me a whole lot to let me get away with making Rhys grovel like that.”

“First of all, get your facts straight: I still have an embarrassingly massive crush on you,” he replied. “And secondly, well, Rhys deserved it and also it was really entertaining to watch.”

The day after they’d gotten back, Rhysand had sent Cassian and Nesta a long message, asking them to meet up so that he could apologize in person. Nesta decided that they should talk to Rhys separately. 

Cassian went first. Rhys apologized profusely for all the names he’d called Nesta, for all the things he’d implied about Cassian, and for all the insults. Cassian in turn apologized for his part, and the two of them had a chat in which Rhys admitted that he’d acted like an entitled prick and that he was genuinely sorry. They made up and quickly forgave each other, like the pseudo-brothers they were.

Nesta and Rhysand were an altogether different story. Rhysand apologized to her as well, but she answered that while she accepted his apology, she could not forgive him so easily. 

She understood that he didn’t like her, and that was his right, but she also felt that he couldn’t try to make claims about her character when he barely knew her. She told him that she was perfectly fine with having a tepid relationship with him where they would only speak when strictly necessary or that they could try to get to know each other better. Rhysand went with the second option. From there, they went on to have many long discussions. Once they’d gotten a bit closer, Nesta returned to their original point of contention: reproductive freedoms. She made Rhys listen to podcasts and read articles and watch videos about what reproductive freedom really was and why it was so important. “You don’t have to change your opinion,” she’d said, over and over. “You just need to be informed before you try to make claims about what others should or shouldn’t do with their bodies and their lives.”

It was only months later that Nesta finally stopped putting him through the wringer and told him that she’d forgiven him. 

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Cass. It definitely was all for your entertainment, no other reason at all for us to argue,” Nesta replied dryly.

Her eyes drifted to the polaroid in the bottom right corner. “Now that,” she pointed, “that was entertainment. What a show!” She licked her lips and batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly. 

“It was completely staged, of course,” Cassian joked. “The whole thing was just for your pleasure.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “My ‘pleasure’?” 

“My, my, what a dirty mind you have, Nesta!” Cassian fake-gasped. “A proper gentleman would never imply something so improper to a lady like yourself.”

“A proper gentleman? Where?” she retorted without missing a beat. 

He clutched his chest. “You wound me, m’lady.” He shook his head. “And to think, I was your knight in shining armor that day…”

“More like knight in very little armor.”

__________

Three years ago

Plunk.

They watched, immobilized by shock, as the necklace drifted below the water’s surface. 

It fell slowly, until it became only a vague shadow in the water.

“Nesta?” “Nesta, are you ok?” 

Voices faded in and out of Nesta’s awareness. She tried to force herself to smile, to nod that she was completely, totally fine. Unfortunately, she seemed to have lost the ability to control her body. 

It was so, so stupid. She’d been having such a wonderful day. And now, she’d ruined it.

Cassian and Azriel had prepared a group trip to Ravennia Park, complete with a lovely picnic lunch in the field of blooming daffodils. Cassian had even made sure to include all her favorite foods in the lunch. Afterward, they walked around the park, stopping occasionally to take pictures or listen to birds. 

They had stopped on this small bridge so that Feyre could take pictures of the glistening lake and the paddling of ducks that had just entered the water. Nesta had leaned over the railing, chatting with Cassian as she watched the colorful koi fish swim.

Her necklace had snapped suddenly, tumbling into the water before anyone could react. 

Her silver necklace, which her father had given her for her eighth birthday, disappeared under the surface of the lake. Gone, just like her middle school best friend, Clare Beddor, who had drowned herself in a pool. Gone, just like her father.

Until her mother got sick, Nesta had had an amazing relationship with her father. She would sit next to him, listening intently as he explained how trading and shipbuilding worked. She was always the one to run and open the door when he came home from work, enveloping him in a hug. She loved it when he read her bedtime stories and watched her dance around the living room.

Then, everything changed. Her illusion that he could do no wrong broke when her mother told her that the reason she wasn’t getting better from her illness was that they couldn’t afford good doctors and medicine since her father had lost his job. After that, Nesta’s resentment only grew as the misfortunes piled up. Her mother died and they couldn’t afford the funeral that she’d wanted. Her sisters had to change schools. They moved into a smaller house, with a bedroom that all three sisters shared. They struggled to put food on the table. 

When her father decided to sell art instead of looking for another job, saying he couldn’t rely on others to give him work, Nesta fumed. How could he sit there, carving wood and drinking beer, while Feyre worked overtime at her job in addition to school and she and Elain did all the cooking and cleaning? Nesta had vowed to leave as soon as she could, and, it turned out, that ballet allowed her to leave the nest sooner than expected. 

Still, she’d felt guilty leaving her sisters to fend for themselves in that house, and then felt even angrier at her father for not taking care of them and putting Nesta in a position where she felt guilty for following her dreams. 

Suffice to say, Nesta had a difficult relationship with him — one that was made all the more complex when he died of a sudden heart attack. 

It had taken Nesta a long time to process and make peace with his death. 

She’d decided to wear the necklace her father had given her today, in honor of his birthday. Once upon a time, she had worn this necklace all the time, showing off the token of her father’s affection. By putting it back on, she felt like she was healing a teenage Nesta, who had violently taken off her necklace at her mother’s funeral and shoved it into the drawer of her bedside table. 

And now, it was lost forever. 

“Nesta?” 

Cassian’s voice cut through her haze and she lifted her eyes to see his worried expression. He brought a finger to her cheek, caressing it softly. It grounded her, bringing her back to the present, but she didn’t react — couldn’t react — more than just blinking at him dazedly. 

Cassian took a deep breath. He grabbed the back of his t-shirt and removed it in one smooth motion, his pants quickly following suit. Before Nesta could process what was happening, he climbed over the railing and plunged into the lake. 

Nesta could only cling to the railing, shocked silent for a new reason as she waited, praying to all the gods she barely believed in that his head would emerge from the water. 

She tried to dispel all the fears that swam around in her mind, taunting her about the dangers of the lake. The water plants that could ensnare even experienced swimmers’ feet and drown them, the animals that could bite and eat him, the sharp rocks that could injure him, the current that could pull him under — the possibilities were endless.

Cassian’s head emerged from the water and she felt her heart unclench, just for a second, until he disappeared once more. 

This jerked Nesta out of her stupor. 

“Cassian,” she called out. “Cass! What the fuck are you doing? Get back here! ” Her voice grew increasingly panicked as there was no response. 

“It’s dangerous, are you insane? Cassian? Cassian!”

Her shouts only stopped when Cassian surfaced. His broad shoulders and defined abs glistened in the sunlight as drops of water rolled down his chest. The bun his hair had been in had come upon, and now his dark, wavy-curly mane was streaming down his back. His brown skin was slick with water and drops clung to his long eyelashes. She couldn’t stop herself from noticing that he looked exactly how she’d imagined a merman to be. 

Her lips parted as he stepped out of the water. She forced her eyes away from his soaking wet underwear that clung to his body, defining every inch of it. Her gaze fixed on his chest instead. She knew she should be focusing on Cassian’s face or the necklace in his hand but he was so fucking distracting. Soaked Cassian was criminally delectable. 

“Nesta?” 

Cassian’s voice was worried, probably since Nesta still wasn’t speaking.

“Nes,” he whispered, gently tilting her head upwards with a finger under her chin. 

Their eyes met. Cassian’s concern was wiped off his face and was instantly replaced by a smirk.

“Lost your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased.

Though she had indeed lost the ability to speak, she would not give him the satisfaction of admitting it. No, she would play his game and beat him at it. 

She licked her lips slowly. She tilted her head back to expose the column of her throat while she swallowed sharply, knowing how it drove him crazy. Cassian made a low noise in the back of his throat, as though he was trying and failing to suppress a groan. Then, he put his arms on her shoulders, turning her around. 

“Lift up your hair,” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers across her body. 

She did as he requested. He put the necklace back on her neck, patiently working the tiny clasp. His fingers brushed her neck, and even the cold silver of the necklace couldn’t cool the heat that spread within her. When the necklace was securely fastened, she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She took a moment to look deep within his eyes. 

She would have to yell at him later for risking his life for a piece of jewelry, but nonetheless she appreciated what he had done. He was one of the only people who knew that she had a fear of deep water due to its association with Clare, and was also the only person who knew what putting this necklace back on meant for her. Yes, it was only a necklace, but he had also saved her from reopening the wounds of her complex relationship with her father and her past self. 

So she kissed him, knowing he would understand every conflicting thought and emotion that she pressed against his lips. And when his hand came up to support her neck, she knew that he was answering ‘I’m here for you, always.’

__________

Present day

“I knew you were objectifying me,” Cassian pouted mockingly.

Nesta nodded. “Oh, for sure. You’re nothing but a sexy hunk to me.” 

She leaned closer to him. “That’s why I said I love you first.” She tapped the picture in the top left corner. 

Cassian rolled his eyes. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

Nesta hummed as though she were seriously contemplating the issue. “How about… forever?” 

Cassian’s eyes sparkled and his mouth twisted around, as though he were trying to hold back a grin. 

“Urg, fine,” he said. His attempt to appear annoyed failed completely as he sounded more amused than anything else. “As long as you know I loved you first.”

It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes in mock annoyance, despite knowing that he was likely correct. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

__________

Three years ago

It was the final match of the Alfheim Ice Hockey Championships. If the Velaris Ghost Leopards managed to beat the Hybern Hydras, they would win the Fionn Cup for the first time in history. 

The game was extremely close, with both teams tied at 2-2, though not for lack of trying. The Hydras were playing atrociously dirty by anyone’s standards. They had already received numerous green and yellow cards, but it didn’t seem to deter them from continuing to foul the Ghost Leopards. 

Nesta cheered as Andras blocked Keir Hewn’s attack. Lucien swept in, stealing the puck from Keir, and passed it across the ice to Cassian. Cassian bluffed and wove his way through the Hydras’ defensemen. 

“C’mon, Cass, c’mon,” she chanted, her hands clasped together. 

Beron Falls raced to block Cassian, but Cassian passed the puck to Kallias just in time. Kallias dribbled the puck expertly. 

“Please, Kallias, make this shot,” Rhys implored from the seat behind Nesta’s. 

Kallias skated towards the goals, and lifted his stick to shoot. 

Then, the ice erupted in shouts, the umpire blowing the whistle continuously. 

“What just happened?” Gwyn asked but no one had an answer to give her. Nesta just sighed, dropping her face into her hands until she felt Elain tugging at her shoulder. Her eyes followed Elain’s pointed finger to see the jumbotron showing a replay. Andrew Amaranth, the Hydras’ left winger, had come up to Kallias from behind. He grabbed his stick and kicked the back of his calf with the blade of his skates, causing Kallias to fall. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Nesta shouted.

“He’s actually unhinged,” Azriel agreed. 

The umpire called for a yellow and a ten-minute time out.

“It should be a red card,” Gwyn hissed and Nesta loudly agreed. 

The game continued in such a fashion, with the Hydras playing as dirty as possible without getting red cards. 

The game was still tied with five minutes remaining in the third period. 

“We can’t go into overtime,” Azriel muttered to himself, “All our players are getting tired and they’re bound to actually get injured from these fouls.”

“Better overtime than a loss,” Rhys replied.

Nesta looked down at her hands. Her nails had been bitten down to the nub over the course of this game. 

Winning the Fionn Cup was a lifelong dream of Cassian’s. He had worked hard for this. He’d given his life to this sport for years, training every day for hours on end, no matter how tired he was. He studied strategy, honed his body, and worked with his team to figure out how to play into everyone’s individual strengths.

But it was more than that. 

In many ways, the sport had also saved Cassian. It had given him direction and a sense of purpose at a time when he’d felt lost. It had given him a team, when he’d only ever felt alone. It had provided him an alternative to the path he’d thought he was destined for — a path that led to nothing but more despair, where he would just get by, numbly passing through every day and surviving by the skin of his teeth. Ice hockey had opened up a whole new world for him and allowed him to dream of a different future for himself. It had given him hope, showing him a way out of the cycle of sadness that he’d imagined he would be trapped in forever. 

The world had once branded him as useless, as broken, as less than nothing. As he was tossed around from foster home to foster home, sleeping on the street among the trash, the word worthless sank deeper and deeper into his skin. 

Ice hockey was the hand that had reached out and pulled him to his feet, getting him off the ground, out of the shadows and the litter and the endless despair. It had dusted him off and pulled him into the light, where he could get warm and grow and sparkle as he was meant to. 

Now, Nesta wanted the world to acknowledge that Cassian was a champion. She wanted the world to know they’d been wrong to ever dismiss him as anything less than magnificent. She wanted him to win the Fionn Cup and stand proudly in the spotlight, knowing the world now looked up to him. More than anything, she wanted him to know that he was worthy, that he was precious, that he was important. 

“Oh, fuck, yes!” Azriel shouted. Nesta would have raised an eyebrow at him — the ever-brooding, silent and mysterious Azriel — shouting so enthusiastically, if she hadn’t been so caught up in the game.  

Kallias had stolen the puck from Dagdan Maeve and was racing towards the goal. Just as he crossed the center line, the Hydra’s defensemen, Beron and Nolan, closed in on him. Nesta watched as Kallias attempted to fake them out, then made a sharp turn to get away from them, all to no avail. Beron finally caught up to him and moved to steal the puck. With Nolan guarding Kallias’ other side, there was nowhere for him to move, no space for him to pass.

“Oh, I can’t watch,” Rhys hissed, wincing. 

Nesta pressed her lips together, hoping for a miracle, when suddenly the puck disappeared. Kallias had somehow managed to pass it through the narrow gap between Beron and Nolan’s sticks and had hit the puck with such strength that neither of them could move to stop it in time. Cassian received the pass and skated towards the goal. Beron, Nolan, and even some of the forwards moved to stop him, but Nesta knew they wouldn’t make it in time. Not when Cassian was speeding forward, moving like the wind as he skated across the ice. 

Nesta leaned forward in her seat as a feeling swelled up inside her. It was a mix of anticipation, nervousness, hope, fear, pride, and something else — something that made her feel like her heart was in her throat and made her pray that Cassian would score but know she would be there by his side no matter what happened. She had been feeling it for so long now, but had never voiced it — never put words to the feeling for fear that it would shatter the precious thing they’d built. But now Nesta knew it wasn’t something that could be so easily destroyed. No, it didn’t matter if Cassian won or lost, or even got injured. It didn’t matter if Cassian got traded to a team in a different city or Nesta had to switch ballet companies. No matter what, through the ups and the downs, they would be there for each other, helping to shoulder the emotional load. 

As Cassian's hockey stick hit the puck, Nesta wondered why she had been waiting so long when it was so clear what this feeling was. If she was being honest, she’d known it when Cassian dove into the water for her necklace, had known it when he’d brought her to Windhaven, had known it even the first time she’d sat in these seats, cheering Cassian on as he played. 

Cassian’s love was loud. It was in the romantic dates he planned, the surprises and gifts and hugs he showered her with, the weekends when he could sleep in but woke up anyway to make her pancakes. No, he hadn’t said the words either, but his protective arm around her during dinner with his friends and the vulnerable look in his eyes as he prepared a fusion meal that combined their cultural cuisines said all that was needed. 

Nesta’s love was quiet. It was in the fridge restocked with Cassian’s favorite foods, the ways she tended to his injuries after a match, and carefully planned meaningful gifts for his birthday. No, she hadn’t said the words, but she knew that he knew how she felt. 

But now, as the puck flew towards the goal, Nesta wanted to love just as boldly as Cassian. She wanted to show the world how lucky she was to be with him, but more importantly, she wanted Cassian to feel how much she cared about him. She wanted him to know that she was proud to be his. For him, she’d shout their love from the rooftops. She’d give him the whole universe if she could, because the world had been so unkind to him and yet he’d still managed to become the most incredible person in it. She could only offer him her heart, however, and hope that he would find it worthy of keeping. 

The puck grazed the goalie’s glove and Nesta held her breath. The goalie stretched out his fingers to grab it but it flew past him. 

“GOAL!” 

The entire stadium erupted into screams. Cheers of pure joy came from the Ghost Leopards’ side, louder than ever before. Nesta watched as Gwyn, Azriel, Elain, and Rhys jumped up and hugged each other.

Nesta could only stand up in silence, too consumed with her feelings to utter a single sound. For what sound could encapsulate this all-encompassing joy and pride? She looked down at the rink. Cassian’s teammates were all piled up around him in a massive group hug. And in the middle of it all, Cassian was there, beaming. His eyes lifted and met hers. She was grinning, wider than ever before in her life, and lifted her hands to make a heart. 

Cassian’s eyes turned huge. He took a deep breath. 

Perhaps he would have responded in kind, but he was obstructed from Nesta’s view as another teammate jumped to hug him and then the coach yelled at them that the game was restarting. Cassian shot Nesta one last, loaded glance before skating back to his position.

It was all a blur after that. The last few minutes of the match passed without any change.  Both teams’ offenses and defenses were equally matched, and the puck passed between them with no chances to score. When the buzzer rang out, everyone sprung to their feet. 

Nesta cheered, not giving a shit that her voice would be hoarse the next day with how loudly she was screaming. Azriel was jumping up and down like a child — she’d never seen him so overtly joyous. Rhys had tears of joy pouring down his cheeks. Gwyn and Elain were hugging. 

After the awards ceremony, all the interviews, and a rowdy celebration with the team, Cassian finally joined them. 

The second they caught sight of him, they rushed towards him. All five of them reached him at the same time and jumped on him, crushing him as they hugged him and showered him with compliments and congratulations.  

Cassian laughed boisterously. 

“I can’t believe it! I’m friends with a Fionn Cup Champion,” Gwyn gushed.

“Oh, so now we’re friends?” Cassian teased.

Gwyn answered with a playful shove that pushed Cassian back toward Azriel. Az wrapped his arms around Cassian, trapping him.

He pressed a kiss to the side of Cassian’s head as the latter squirmed. 

“Sorry Nes, I’m keeping him,” Azriel joked, tightening his grip as Cassian tried to shake him off. 

“Take him,” Nesta grinned. “He snores.” 

“I do not!” 

Cassian’s protest went ignored.

“Hmm,” Azriel pretended to muse. “But then I could have a real-life Fionn Cup Champion in my room. The price of the noise-canceling headphones will be worth it.”

Nesta shrugged. “I’d be surprised if he fit through your door, now that his ego is going to get even bigger.” 

“True, true. I’d hate for his massive head to break my roof.”

“Hello? I thought you’re supposed to be nice to Fionn Cup winners,” Cassian pouted.

Gwyn laughed. “Nice? Cassian, it’s like you don’t even know us.”

“I can be nice,” Rhys protested.

Everyone proceeded to burst out laughing.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesced. “I’m a demon just like the rest of you.” 

“That’s right,” Nesta grinned. “Accept your true nature and join our pit of darkness.”

Gwyn laughed evilly, “Mwahahaha!”

Nesta lifted her left hand, which Gwyn promptly high-fived. 

“Okay, anyway,” Elain interrupted, “Cassian, are you hungry? You must be tired after that amazing game.”

“Wow, thank you for being so considerate, Elain,” he said, extending her name pointedly. “I am actually pretty hungry and tired and sore after the game.” 

He turned his head to glare at Azriel, who was still holding him.

Az merely rolled his eyes. “Aw, poor baby. Does the little Fionn Cup Champion have a boo-boo?”

“Maybe he needs Nesta to kiss them better,” Gwyn suggested, not bothering to hide her smirk.

“Are you gonna tend to his wounds?”  Rhysand asked. “Nurse him to health?”

“I guess that depends on what it is that he’s hungry for,” Nesta replied with a wink.

They all burst out laughing a second later.

“Wow, you’re all so immature,” Cassian sniffed. “Elain is the only person fit for polite company.”

Rhysand glanced around. “What polite company?”

“Oh, no,” Azriel exclaimed. “We’re blaspheming! Now that Cassian’s won the Cup, we have to refer to him by his proper title: His Highness Sir Cassian of Illyrian.”

“I’m so sorry, my Lord,” Nesta added with a curtsey. “Please, forgive our disrespect.”

“Regency romance,” Gwyn fake-coughed into her elbow. 

“Of course, m’lady,” Cassian winked, “you’re forgiven. Although you may have to be punished for your transgressions.” 

Azriel pretended to gag. “Please, save the foreplay for the bedroom.”

“My poor, innocent ears,” Rhysand groaned. “I’ll never recover.”

Nesta turned to him. “Right, because you’ve never made out with my baby sister in public.” Then, she smirked. “Although, maybe you are innocent if that was too much for you. I mean, how vanilla are you?”

“Cassian,” Elain interrupted. “Do you want to go eat dinner at a restaurant or something?”

“That sounds amazing! How about the Greek place on 10th Avenue?” Cassian replied.

“Oh fine,” Rhys rolled his eyes playfully, “We’ll get food.” 

“I am actually really hungry, too,” Gwyn agreed.

“Well, if Gwyn is hungry, then we gotta go eat now!” Nesta declared.

Azriel nodded, his expression serious.

Cassian sighed. 

“I’ll meet you guys there,” Cassian called out as he walked towards his car with Nesta, “Or not. It’s also fine if you get lost on the way.” 

Azriel responded by raising a choice finger. 

The mirth was still in the air as Nesta closed the car door on the passenger’s side. 

“I can drive if you want,” she joked as Cassian slammed his door shut. Nesta was a notoriously reckless driver. She hated driving unless she had to, and Cassian loved driving, so it usually worked out perfectly. 

He laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to live.” 

The car got quiet as the laughter faded. It filled instead with an intimate intensity.

Cassian turned slightly to buckle his seatbelt. 

Nesta reached over and placed a hand on his cheek. Cassian inhaled sharply and lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her thumb caressed his cheek. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. She knew the look in her eyes said it all already, but it had said it for so long and she’d never once let her tongue speak it. But Cassian — brilliant, beautiful, splendid Cassian who had been hurt far too much by the world — deserved to hear them aloud. It scared her for too many reasons to count, but if ever there was anyone worth confronting that fear for, it was this man who sat next to her in all his marvelous glory. 

His eyes were open — vulnerable, in a way he always was with her. Sometimes she wondered whether she deserved to be allowed to handle his precious heart that too many had tried to shatter. What if she dropped it or dented it with her harshness? But he entrusted her with it anyway. 

She took a deep breath. Then, she let it out, alongside the words she’d been holding in for so long.

“I love you.”

Cassian’s eyes filled with tears. He opened his mouth to reply, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Not a single word escaped despite his attempts, but Nesta understood and just smiled, her eyes shining with joy. 

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to respond.”

Cassian looked frustrated at himself as a tear rolled down his cheek. “But I- I do. I-” He screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. 

Nesta knew that those three words were not ones Cassian had heard very much in his life. Shirina had likely been the first to say those words to him in his memory, and that hadn’t been til his teen years. Cassian’s mother had most likely loved him, but Cassian’s memories of her were sparse. 

Enalius certainly loved Cassian, but Nesta was just as certain that he would not say it out aloud. Enalius showed his love through his coaching, his cheering, and the letters he’d send from all over the world. 

Ayla, Rhysand, and Azriel also loved Cassian and weren’t shy about it these days, although none of them were particularly vocal about it either. They preferred to show it through gifts and hugs and jokes and advice. When they had met, however, they had all been preteens who wouldn’t have been caught dead saying the words ‘I love you’.

Cassian had certainly had flings and girlfriends in the past. Nesta didn’t know the details of all of his past relationships, but she could easily guess that those words had seldom or, more likely, never been exchanged.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t need to say anything right now.” 

And then, just because she could — because she now had the freedom to say it without being caged by fear — she added, “I love you, Cassian.” 

Cassian answered with a kiss that said, ‘I love you more than words can ever express.’

__________

Present day

“I was such a mess,” Cassian recalled fondly. “Rhys and Az laughed at me for bawling so much.” 

“I remember Gwyn saying that she could take the trophy if it was making you so sad,” Nesta added. 

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it,” he laughed. Then, he added, “I love you.” 

“Are you talking to me or the trophy?” 

“Oh, the trophy, for sure.”

“Oh, good, just wanted to make sure.”

They grinned at each other.

“You have no idea how I felt when I saw you make that heart that day,” he said. “I mean, I was already elated because of the goal I’d just scored, but that couldn’t even compare to how I felt when I looked up at you. I think my heart literally skipped a beat.” 

“Better visit a cardiologist then,” Nesta answered lightly.

Cassian flicked her nose. She shrieked loudly in return.

“You know what you sound like?” Cassian tapped a photo in the middle, which was surrounded by doodles of musical notes.

Nesta mock-gasped. “Excuse you, I wasn’t that bad.”

“You’re right, you were worse.”

__________

Three years ago

“What’s that?” 

Nesta pointed towards a large, lumpy black bag resting against Cassian’s bedroom wall. 

“Oh, sorry, I was practicing earlier and forgot to put it away.” Cassian moved the bag to his closet. “It’s my guitar.”

Nesta placed her hand on Cassian’s wrist before he could shut the closet. 

“You play guitar?” 

“Yeah, it’s something I picked up when living with Shirina. I’m not a pro or anything, but it’s a fun hobby, you know.” 

“Wow, would you… could you play something for me?”  

Cassian seemed surprised but nodded, pulling the guitar back out of the closet. 

He sat down on the floor, his back resting against the bed. “What do you want me to play?”

Nesta sat down beside him. “Anything you want. Just play me something you enjoy playing.”

Cassian absently strummed the guitar a few times, deep in thought.

“Alright, sweetheart. Here we go. This song is called la rosa del principe.” Cassian closed his eyes and started playing. 

Nesta watched him with bright eyes, mesmerized. 

After a while, he started singing. His deep voice complemented the melody he was strumming. His singing was nice, but it was the passion in his voice that warmed Nesta’s insides. 

“Wow,” Nesta whispered when the song ended. 

Cassian chuckled. “Shirina loved that song. She’s the one that signed me up for some guitar lessons, you know. She taught me the lyrics to la rosa del principe when I told her I didn’t know them. She was always humming the melody when she was cooking or doing chores or whatever. I think it was a song her mom liked, so it reminded her of her childhood.”

“Does it remind you of your childhood?”

Cassian took a moment to contemplate his answer. “It reminds me of Shirina, and how kindly and lovingly she treated me. That wasn’t really a common theme in my childhood, you know, but I suppose you could say it reminds me of some of the best parts of my childhood.”

Nesta nudged his shoulder with hers comfortingly. He gently pushed back against her in a silent gesture of gratitude. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. 

Then, Nesta pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, “Could you teach me?” 

Cassian swallowed roughly and nodded. 

“The lyrics are kind of complicated, since it’s not in English, but I can just teach you the chorus for now if you want.”

“Sure,” she smiled.

Cassian spoke the lyrics slowly. Nesta tried to repeat after him, though she didn’t do the best job judging by Cassian’s chuckles. 

“Close. It’s tramonto, not tremare,” he corrected. 

“What do the lyrics mean?” Nesta asked. 

“The song is a love letter to a rose. It’s a metaphor for loving something so delicate and impermanent,” he explained. “The song is from the point of view of this guy who is so powerful — he’s a prince, he can travel across galaxies, he can do whatever he wants — but he feels so powerless because he knows he can’t control what happens to this rose that he loves. And even though he’s rich and powerful, he gets lonely a lot and his rose is his only companion so he dreads the thought of leaving it or having it disappear.”

“That sounds kind of tragic.”

“I guess so, but it’s not sad per se. It’s more like a reminder of the importance of love rather than materialistic things, and not taking your loved ones for granted.” 

He kissed her cheek. 

Nesta smiled. “That’s beautiful.”

Cassian hummed in agreement. “It’s such a Shirina song. She loved songs with morals like that, that remind you to appreciate what you have. She was so down-to-Earth, even though her husband was one of the richest, most powerful people around here. It’s…” He trailed off with a sigh. 

“I’m glad you met her,” Nesta said quietly after a moment. “She sounds like a great person and I’m so happy you had her in your life.”

“Yeah, me too.” He took a deep breath. “I wish you could’ve met her. I think… I think she would have loved you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They sat quietly for a moment. Then, Cassian grinned mischievously. 

“Cas! What the fu-” yelped Nesta as he lifted her up. 

He placed her between his legs with a huff of laughter. She leaned back into him, her back pressing against his front. 

Cassian placed the guitar in her lap. 

“Alright, it’s time for you to learn how to play this magnificent instrument,” he declared. 

“Okay, but I’m just warning you, I don’t really have experience playing instruments.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m just here to help you learn some basics. Besides, you’re a dancer so you have some experience with rhymes and stuff. How bad could you be?”

Holding her hands in his, he demonstrated how to hold the guitar and how to strum a basic chord. 

“You got it!” Cassian cheered as Nesta played a C chord that didn’t sound half bad. 

“Ok, so then,” Cassian moved their hands to a different position. “Use your pointer finger to hold down this string. Good! Your middle finger holds this one and your ring finger holds this one.” 

He continued his explanation of different chords and strumming patterns. 

“So, basically, you just hold down different strings and strum up and down for different notes, right?” Nesta asked as he finished.

Cassian chuckled. “Basically, yeah.”

“Alright.” Nesta wiggled her hands free from Cassian’s grasp and took a dramatic deep breath. “It’s time. I’m going to play.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to play? I haven’t taught you how to play la rosa del principe yet.”

She shrugged. “I’m just going to let my imagination and inspiration guide me.” 

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s going to turn out-”

A jumbled chord cut him off. 

“Um-” 

What followed next was the most chaotic, screechy minute of guitar playing Cassian had ever heard. The torture likely would have continued for longer, since he didn’t have the heart to stop Nesta, if they hadn’t been interrupted by the Cassian’s bedroom door slamming open.

Azriel yelled, “Cassian! I think a cat is dying in your ro- oh, hey Nesta.”

“Hey Az!” she replied, beaming at Cassian’s roommate until she registered his words. “Wait, what? You think I sound like a dying cat?” 

Azriel took a step back, prepared to run away, as Nesta stood up and placed the guitar in Cassian’s lap. 

“Well, you know, uh, it’s good to practice and all, but we don’t want noise complaints from our neighbors, or allegations of animal abuse so…” Az smirked.

“Wha- animal- Get back here you little-” Nesta sprinted down the hallway, chasing after a cackling Azriel. 

Cassian was still sitting there, laughing, when the two of them ran back into the room. 

“Save me, Cass!” Azriel pleaded as he tried to hide behind his friend. 

Nesta smirked. “You really think you can use my boyfriend against me like this?”

“He was my friend first!” Azriel gripped his sleeve.

Nesta rolled her eyes. 

“Please Cassian,” she said in an airy voice. She looked up at him through her lashes and gently tugged on his sleeve. 

He followed her lead without even thinking, until Azriel muttered, “Traitor.”

“Hey, wait-” Cassian interjected, coming to his senses.

Nesta stuck her tongue out at Az. “He loves me.” 

Whatever Cassian could have said on Azriel’s behalf dissipated when her eyes softened as they met his. 

Even Azriel’s over-the-top gagging noises couldn’t ruin the moment as Nesta smiled at him and murmured, “Can you teach me how to play la rosa del principe later?” 

“We’ll see,” Cassian replied with a smile, knowing full well that he’d cave into her demands, no matter the cost to his ears.

__________

Present day

“I love that you wanted to learn how to play guitar for me.” Cassian’s eyes were warm and full of mirth. “Even if playing music isn’t exactly your strong suit.” 

Nesta placed a hand over her heart. “How dare you suggest such a thing.” 

Her stern demeanor gave way to playfulness as she winked, “I guess you’ll just have to sing and play music for me while I dance.”

“Exactly. You see, Nes, we complement each other perfectly.”

“A match made in heaven,” she agreed with a laugh. 

“Honestly, though, it meant a lot to me that you wanted to hear me play,” Cassian said when they stopped laughing, “and that you wanted to learn.”

“It meant a lot to me that you were willing to share such a personal song with me,” Nesta answered, “and that you were willing to be so open with me without prompting. It was like a sign, you know, that our relationship was actually real and meaningful to you, too. Of course I already knew that but, like, I guess it just hit home right then.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. In that moment, I also felt how easy it was to be open and talk about anything and everything with you.”

“You see?” Nesta winked, gesturing between them. “We’re made for each other.”

She glanced down at the pictures between them. 

“At least I don’t need to put up with Az insulting my musical talents anymore, now that you don’t live together.”

“Talents?” Cassian coughed. 

Nesta shot him a warning glare before continuing, “I’m so glad I don’t need to hear him complaining or interrupting us anymore. That was the real reason I asked you to live with me, you know — so I wouldn’t have to hear his whining.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he replied. He leaned closer to her. “It was all part of my plan, Sweetheart.”

__________

Two years ago

“Don’t mind me, I just need to get to the kettle.”

Nesta and Cassian sprung apart at Azriel’s words. 

Azriel, with a bored expression, walked past the couple into the kitchen and filled water in the kettle. 

Cassian hastily redid his fly, clearing his throat a few times. Nesta, blushing furiously, scrambled to hook her bra and do up the buttons on her shirt. 

Azriel turned back around, leaning back against the counter as he waited for the water to boil. He reached into his back pocket for his phone, but noticed Nesta’s expression and rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, Nesta, chill. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” he growled. 

Azriel shook his head in exasperation. “How many times have I walked in on you two making out — hell, how many times have I walked in on you two fucking in common spaces? At this point, I’m immune to all this.” He waved his hand at Nesta’s half-open shirt and Cassian’s bare chest. 

Cassian slipped his shirt over his head. 

“Really?” Nesta asked, arching a perfectly angled eyebrow and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Cassian elbowed her and she giggled, buttoning up the rest of her shirt. 

“Az-” Cassian began, annoyance coloring his tone.

“No,” Azriel interrupted firmly. “If you don’t want me to walk in or interrupt you or whatever, go do whatever you want in your room. I’ve never once complained about the noise, even when I have to put up with your loud-ass moans and screams. But I have the right to make tea in my own house if I want to.” 

Cassian narrowed his eyes. His stance changed unconsciously, gearing up for a fight. He opened his mouth to deliver a biting retort. 

“You’re right, Az,” Nesta interjected before the situation could escalate any further. “We’re sorry.”

Azriel was silent, his eyes fixed on Cassian. The latter let Nesta pull him towards his bedroom. 

About a week later, Cassian and Nesta were once again interrupted. This time, Azriel crunched loudly on his popcorn as he walked into the living room.

Cassian sent him a questioning glare as Nesta scrambled to cover herself.

“What?” Azriel replied, unfazed. “I was gonna watch TV, but, well, it seems like there’s a show right here.”

“Look-”

“C’mon, Cass.” Nesta sprung up from the couch, dressed in Cassian’s shirt, and took her boyfriend’s hand. “I needed to talk to you about something, anyway.” She winked at him and whispered, “I got a little side-tracked and forgot.”

Cassian shot Az a dirty look as he exited the room. 

“Did you actually need to talk about something,” Cassian asked with a smile as he sat down on his bed and placed Nesta on his lap, “or did you just want to distract me?”

He leaned his forehead against hers. 

Nesta laughed lightly. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t always lie to manipulate you.” 

He widened his eyes in false disbelief. “Really?”

She shook her head with a grin. “Why would I when I can manipulate you just as well with the truth?”

“Ooh, you saucy witch,” Cassian joked.  

They both laughed.

Nesta pressed a hand to Cassian’s cheek to stop him as he leaned in to kiss her.

“I do actually want to talk about something.”

He leaned back and cocked his head. “What’s up?”

The twinkle in Nesta’s eyes dimmed.

“It’s my apartment.” She swallowed. “My landlord is raising the rent.” 

“Again?” he replied, alarmed. It had only been four months since the last time her rent had increased.

She nodded. “Yeah. And it’s not… I mean, it would be ridiculous for me to stay there, even if I managed to afford it. It’s definitely not worth the new rent.”

“So you want to move?” 

“Yeah.” 

Cassian seemed confused by her nervous tone. “Alright, well, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll help you with all your stuff, and I know a guy with a moving truck. It’ll all be okay. We’ll find you a way better place to live.” 

He gave her an encouraging squeeze and smile that she didn’t return.

“Uh, well, um. Actually, I was wondering if…” Nesta rolled her lips.

Cassian frowned, concerned by Nesta’s hesitant tone.

“Could I- I mean, I already spend so much time at your place,” she continued, “and I stay here a lot and we- um. Since I have to get a new place…”

“Of course you can stay here while you look for a new place!” Cassian replied.

“Oh!” Nesta sounded surprised. “No, I- I mean, thank you. But, uh, that’s not really what I was gonna…” She shook her head, annoyed at her own incoherence. “That’s really sweet of you, Cass.”

Cassian gave her a long look, trying to decipher her thoughts. “Are you trying to find a place on this block? I can try to get the inside scoop if that’s what you were asking.”

“No, no, that’s not what I-” She took a deep breath and then looked into Cassian's eyes. “Would you want to live with me?”

Cassian blinked. “Oh! Oh, I-” He started to grin. Then, he blinked again, and his face fell. “Oh, uh, I…”

“It’s totally fine if not!” Nesta quickly backtracked. “I know you already signed this lease and stuff, and I can definitely just move-”

“No, it’s- I-” It was Cassian’s turn to take a deep breath. “Nesta, I would love to live with you and I’m honored that you asked me and I’m- I’m so, so happy that you want to live with me. But, well, I just don’t know if it will work out, considering.” He shot a glance towards the door. 

Nesta got up from Cassian’s lap. “Oh.” She looked away from him as she gathered her clothes off the floor, trying to disguise her hurt. “Um, okay. Yeah. I get it.” Her thoughts spiraled as she changed out of Cassian’s shirt.

“Nes! Nesta, I…” Cassian seemed to be at a loss for words. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied half-heartedly after a beat. 

“Nes, I just…” he sounded frustrated. “You know how things have been lately, with Az. As much as I… I don’t think it’s realistic to think that he’d be okay with it, and of course I’d talk to him beforehand but, like, it is his place too and…”

She gave a noncommittal hum in reply.

The room was drenched in tense silence.

“Can you just be honest?” Nesta said finally, puncturing the tension. “If you don’t want to move in with me, just say it. I understand you’re renting this place with Az, but he isn’t unreasonable. We both know that if you talked about it, he’d be cool with it. Maybe he’d ask you to wait for a bit, until the end of this lease or whatever, but he wouldn’t stop you. So just tell me why you don’t want to live with me, because I- I thought we were… that this was…”

“I am being honest,” Cassian frowned. 

She gave an irritated sigh. 

“No, really, I am,” he insisted. “You were there with me in the living room, weren’t you? Didn’t you see how pissed he was? I guess maybe it wasn’t- Az isn’t the type to yell or anything. That quiet, passive-aggressive type shit is how he expresses his annoyance.”

“So?” Nesta bit back. “If anything, I would have thought he’d be glad if we weren’t here as often.”

“Exactly! I don’t think we should spend more time here.”

Nesta paused. “What?”

“I know you and Az do get along,” he said, “but I really don’t think he’d be fine with you moving in here.”

“Here? Wait, you thought- Oh. Oh!” Nesta brightened visibly.

“What?” Cassian seemed bewildered by her sudden change in mood. 

“Cassian, I wasn’t asking to move in here,” she laughed. “I was asking you to move in with me at a new place we’ll find together.”

Cassian’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Yes, of course, I’d love that! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I thought- but- yes!”

Nesta grinned. “I should’ve been clearer, sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s on me.” His face slowly spread into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to work on communicating better if we’re gonna live together, huh?”

“I guess so,” she beamed.

Nesta embraced Cassian tightly. 

“We’re living together!” she whispered excitedly.

He hugged her back. “Yes, we are,” he replied just as thrilled.

__________

Present day

“I can’t believe we were so stupid,” Nesta laughed.

“I know right?” Cassian looked down at the photo once more. “No, but seriously, I was so elated when we moved into this place.”

Nesta smiled fondly. “Yeah, me too. I smiled for, like, 48 hours straight, even though we had to carry all those boxes and,” she paused dramatically, “unpack.” She shuddered. 

“Ah, yes, unpacking — the harshest of struggles.”

“I’m so glad you understand.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind unpacking, but well,” Cassian ran a hand through his hair suavely, “some people are just built different.”

Nesta flipped him off playfully.

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t be jealous,” he replied consolingly, “I have my own weaknesses. Like, I hate packing.”

She huffed. “Cass-”

“What? Oh, c’mon, what’s the point of my trauma if I can’t joke about it?” 

She shook her head with a chuckle. “So you’re saying that all that trauma was just character development so you could increase your humor stats?”

Cassian pointed finger guns at her. “Cha-ching! Now you get it.” 

Nesta laughed. 

She looked around, still awed by the beautiful display Cassian had set up for her. She picked up a rose petal and admired its color and scent. As she fiddled with it, she was suddenly struck by a thought. 

“Where are Ara and Lina?” 

“They’re with Em,” Cassian said reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean all this stuff up before they get back.”

“Oh, they love being at Emerie’s place. They get along so well with Siph, it’s crazy.” Nesta paused, struck by another thought. “Wait, but why did you ask her to watch them? I mean, why did you organize this whole-”

“Remember when we got them?” Cassian interrupted, pointing to another polaroid. “They used to be so tiny! It’s crazy how much they’ve grown.”

Nesta cocked her head, confused by Cassian ignoring her question. Before she could continue her line of questioning, however, her eyes landed on the photo he was indicating and she got sidetracked. 

“Oh my gosh, yeah,” she breathed as she reminisced. “I can’t believe we thought we were going to walk into the shelter without adopting a pet.”

“I can’t believe we told the landlord that we didn’t care about the pet policy because we were never going to get one,” he answered. 

“We’re so lucky we accidentally got an apartment that allows pets,” she agreed. 

“I’ll never forget the look on Cresseida’s face when we told her,” Cassian added. 

She replied, “She made sure we’d never forget. She was saying ‘I told you so’ for months.”

__________

One year ago

 “We’ll stop by for a bit, but we’re not adopting any pets,” Nesta repeated for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“Okay,” Cresseida answered with a knowing smirk, “but it’s also okay if you change your mind.”

Cresseida, Emerie’s girlfriend, ran a pet shelter with her best friend, Nuala. She had invited all of Emerie’s friends to stop by anytime, saying that she and the animals enjoyed having company. 

Nesta and Cassian had resisted at first, since they weren’t looking for pets and, in Nesta’s words, “weren’t the pet type”. Neither of them had ever owned a pet before. While they respected people who loved their pets, they also enjoyed making fun of those who dressed up in matching outfits with their pets for Halloween and talked about their pets as though they were their children. Also, while Nesta didn’t dislike animals per se, she also didn’t like them enough to feel any desire to live with one 24/7, let alone take care of one. Cassian liked animals well enough but he’d had some bad experiences with stray dogs when he was a kid. When they visited friends who owned big dogs who would greet visitors by pouncing on them or barking excitedly, Cassian would always plaster a fake smile on his face, but she’d feel him flinch.  

However, when Emerie used her puppy-dog eyes and pleaded with Nesta to just go once to support her girlfriend’s work, she’d caved and agreed to visit. Cassian and Gwyn — both of whom had yet to visit the shelter — came along with her, saying they should all just get it over with together. 

“This side of the shelter has dogs,” Cresseida said as they walked in, “and this side has cats. There are also some other animals in the back section. Feel free to walk around and ask me if you have any questions. Right now, most of the animals are in their individual kennels and the kennel doors are locked but let me know if you want to play with any of them.” 

“Alright, thanks,” Nesta replied.

She and Cassian shared a look. Both of them wanted to humor Cresseida, who was a great person and also the best girlfriend Emerie had (at least in Nesta’s opinion), but they both knew they wouldn’t be interested in any animals. They would just wander around the shelter until an appropriate amount of time had passed and they could politely leave. 

“Ooh, a kitten!” Gwyn exclaimed, grabbing Nesta’s hand and pulling her into the cat section.

Meanwhile, Cassian followed Cresseida into a different area.

 “Oh my gosh, this baby is only 12 weeks old,” Gwyn cooed at the striped tabby cat. “Isn’t she adorable?”

“She is cute,” Nesta admitted, but Gwyn had already moved on.

“Wow, this cat has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen! Oh, and look at this one! Do you see the face he’s making?”

Nesta laughed and followed her friend, nodding along to Gwyn’s excited commentary. 

Finally, Gwyn came to a halt with a gasp. She kneeled down wordlessly in front of an orange kitten, who blinked back at her sleepily. Nesta kneeled down next to Gwyn. She looked at the kennel in front of her. A jet-black cat was at the other corner of the kennel, hissing and growling at the young boy who was trying to attract its attention. His mother pulled him away just as the cat attempted to scratch the child through the glass. 

“Crazy feral cat,” Nesta heard the mother grumble under her breath as they walked away. 

Nesta raised an eyebrow at the cat, who regarded her with an equally judgemental expression. Nesta took a step closer to the glass. The cat did the same. 

She tuned out Gwyn mumbling something. Instead, she turned her focus to the tag on the kennel.

“Oh, wow, you still don’t have a name even though you’re eight months old, huh,” Nesta said. She had always thought it was a bit silly how pet owners talked to animals as though they could really answer, but now she found it to be the most natural thing in the world. Especially when the cat meowed in response.

Nesta cocked her head. The cat studied her for a few seconds. It stared intensely with its yellow eyes. Then, it tilted its head, copying her. 

She couldn’t help but melt. How was it possible that such a sweet cat had yet to find a home?

“Nesta! There you are!” 

Nesta jolted as Cresseida’s voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“I see you found little Miss Onyx over here,” Cresseida smiled. “I’ve never seen her be so friendly with any customers before.”

“Is her name Onyx, then?”

“Oh, no. We have tried to name her before, but she seems to hate every name we’ve tried, so we kind of gave up,” Cresseida explained. “We couldn’t keep calling her ‘the unnamed black cat’, though, so now we just refer to her by black object names.” Cresseida turned towards the cat. “Isn’t that right, Blackberry?” 

The cat hissed and retreated to the corner of her kennel closest to Nesta. 

Cresseida laughed. “See?” Then, she sent Nesta a knowing glance. “She seems to adore you.”

Nesta glanced back at the cat, who was now sitting with a paw on the glass.

“She is very cute,” she admitted. 

“She is,” Cresseida agreed. “Sadly, she’s fierce enough that she scares away most customers.”

“It’s like she’s made for Nesta!” Gwyn piped up. “I mean, look at her spunky attitude, her fierceness, her witchy vibes — since, you know, she’s a black cat.”

“I don’t have witchy vibes,” Nesta muttered.

Gwyn ignored her. “Not to mention, she’s right next to Mer,” she pointed to the orange cat, “who is my soulmate cat so our cats are destined to be best friends, just like us!”

“Wow, I didn’t- I haven’t said I’m adopting her yet,” Nesta protested.

“Yet,” Gwyn repeated, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

Cresseida laughed. “Well, let me know if you are seriously interested in adopting Miss Obsidian. There’s a few things you would need to keep in mind for her that we should talk about.”

Nesta nodded.

“What about Mer?” Gwyn asked. “Any special care she needs that I should know about?”

“Not really. We did have her on a special diet for a bit because she was slightly malnourished when we found her but she’s at a healthy weight now.”

Nesta walked away as Gwyn and Cresseida continued their animated discussion. How was she going to convince Cassian to adopt a cat? Actually, Nesta knew that wouldn’t be an issue — Cassian would surely jump at any opportunity to make her happy. The real question was how she was going to put aside her pride and admit that she wanted to adopt the cat. She would also have to see if Cassian wanted to adopt the cat, too, and not just for her sake. It would be unfair to both Cassian and the cat to bring her into a home where only one person truly loved her. Not that Cassian wouldn’t be kind to the cat, regardless — it was just that Nesta wanted Cassian to adopt the cat because it made him happy, instead of doing it for Nesta’s sake. 

Nesta was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she walked right into someone. 

“Excuse me,” Nesta apologized. The man turned around.

“You’re excused, Nes,” Cassian replied with a wink. 

“Oh, fuck you,” she groaned, holding back a smile. 

“I know I’m hot, but you’re gonna have to wait til we get home.” 

She replied with a soft punch to his shoulder. Cassian fell to the floor dramatically. 

A bark sounded from the kennel right in front of Cassian. Nesta quickly examined Cassian for any signs of fear, but he wasn’t flinching. Instead, he tugged gently on her arm. 

“Nes,” he said with a grin as she sat down beside him, “Let me introduce you to my new friend, Lina.” 

Nesta turned to find a large golden retriever wagging her tail energetically. She was beautiful and friendly, but she also definitely weighed more than twenty kilograms and had a full set of sharp teeth. In short, she was exactly the type of dog that Cassian would usually be uncomfortable around. 

Yet, here he was, saying, “Look, I know we agreed that we were just looking around and we weren’t going to adopt any pets but look at her! Her cute paws, that gorgeous fur, and those eyes! And she’s so happy to see me! Doesn’t it just make you want to keep her forever?”

His expression said it all: he’d fallen completely in love with this dog. 

“Cassian…” 

His expression dropped. “I know taking care of a pet is a lot of work. If we did adopt her, I would walk her and figure out her food and vet stuff, but she would be living with both of us, so I would never want to adopt her if you weren’t completely on board. And having a pet would affect our lifestyle and our day-to-day lives a lot, so I understand if you’d rather not adopt her.”

“Do you want to adopt her?” Nesta blurted out. 

Cassian looked confused. 

“I mean, she’s obviously a beautiful and friendly dog, but she’s in a kennel right now,” Nesta explained. “If we adopt her, she could jump on you or bite you or scratch you. Won’t you be on edge having a dog in our apartment all the time, even if you’re tired or having a rough day?” 

“All the other dogs I’ve met make me nervous, either when they bark or pant or just by being close to me. They remind me of rough times in my childhood, when I was scared and in danger. But for some reason, Lina is different. I don’t get any of that fear or anxiety around her. In fact, it’s the opposite. She makes me feel relaxed and happy. I think she actually makes me feel safe.” Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Weird, huh?”

Nesta smiled. “I’m glad you found her. I still want you to take her for a walk before we sign anything if we’re going to adopt her.”

“Wait, but- We don’t need to adopt her just because I want to. If you don’t want a pet, you shouldn’t agree just for my sake,” he added hurriedly. Still, Nesta could see the corners of his mouth tilting up. 

“Yes, I want to adopt her! And,” Nesta continued, seeing Cassian opening his mouth to argue, “do you really think that I would ever agree to something I didn’t want to do, just for someone else’s sake?”

“Yeah, I do. I know you’re a big softie,” Cassian teased. 

She laughed. “Well, trust me, I do want to adopt a pet.”

“Of course she wants to!” Gwyn interjected, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “You should have seen her with that cat. It was like she’d found her twin flame! No offense, Cassian.”

“Wait, what cat?” he replied, befuddled. 

Nesta attempted to wave him off. “It’s nothing-”

“It’s not nothing!” Gwyn interrupted animatedly. “It’s her cat soulmate! A little ball of anger and adorable-ness, just like our little Nesta here.”

Nesta sent her friend a flat look. “Thanks a lot for that description.”

Gwyn just shrugged. “What? You know I’m right.” 

“Where can I find this cat?” Cassian asked. 

Gwyn pointed him in the right direction, telling him about all the ways in which the cat represented Nesta while pointedly ignoring Nesta’s calls of “No, it’s fine” and “You don’t need to go look at the cat” and “I don’t have spooky evil vibes!”. 

“Aww, look at her,” Cassian smiled as he crouched in front of the black cat’s kennel. 

The cat hissed in return.  

“You’re so beautiful, aren’t you? Yes, you are! Good girl!” cooed Cassian. 

The cat abruptly stopped hissing. She stared at him unblinkingly before purring quietly.

Gwyn erupted with laughter. “Wow, she really is just like Nesta, huh? Everything down to the praise ki-”

Her words were cut off as Nesta covered Gwyn’s mouth with her hand. 

“What the fuck, Gwyn! She’s a cat! That’s disgusting,” Nesta hissed in her ear. 

Gwyn licked Nesta’s palm, and used the moment Nesta recoiled as a distraction to pull her hand off. 

“I just tell it how I see it,” Gwyn declared. “And I have never once been disgusting.”

“Oh really?” Nesta replied, bringing the hand Gwyn had licked close to Gwyn’s face. 

Gwyn screeched and ran down to hide behind Cassian.

Cassian remained focused on the cat. “Oh, you’re such a sweetheart. What’s your name, baby?”

“She doesn’t have a name yet,” Nesta supplied, before bringing her licked hand around Cassian to reach for Gwyn. The redhead let out another shriek and ran. 

Nesta could see the moment Cassian melted. His posture seemed to go soft as his expression turned even more tender. 

“You don’t have a name yet, huh?” he murmured. “I guess you need a family to give you a name and a home and some love.”

She placed her non-licked hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t need to ask to know that he was thinking of his own childhood — when he’d needed a home and a family, too. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered, “me and your mom are going to give you so much love.”

“Cass, are you sure?” she questioned gently. She ignored how it made her feel to hear him refer to her as ‘mom’. There was too much to unpack there, and she would save it for later, after they’d finished making important decisions. 

“Look at her, Nes,” he replied. “It’s like she was made for us.”

Nesta knew it was more than just about the resemblances between her and the cat that Gwyn had pointed out. It was about how this cat hissed and growled at strangers, putting her guard up, but really was just a sweet kitten who needed some love. Both of them could relate to putting on a tough face to hide how vulnerable and hurt they really were. She knew Cassian was thinking that this cat would be a perfect addition to their lives.

“But what about Lina?” Nesta insisted. 

“You love this cat. Don’t try to deny it, I can tell.”

“That’s not an answer.” 

“I think,” Cassian said carefully, “we both love this cat and we should adopt her.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “And what are we doing about the fact that we both love Lina?” 

This wasn’t just about the animals, and they both knew that. 

It wasn’t that Nesta didn’t think Cassian wanted to adopt the cat — she knew he really, truly did. But she also knew that he wanted to adopt Lina. She wouldn’t let him give up on his wishes and always put her needs above his. While she appreciated the sentiment, she also knew he had a tendency to discount his own desires. She needed him to know that what he wanted mattered just as much.

Cassian let out a big breath like a deflating mattress, the fight going out of him. 

“I love Lina, I do. And I know it’s so special that I feel so safe around her — around a big dog with sharp teeth. But Nes,” his voice took on a different tone, “at the end of the day, she’s a friendly golden retriever. I’m sure a million families with white picket fences are lining up to adopt her. And this cat… I mean, she doesn’t even have a name.” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“I know we could love either of them, and they’d be incredible. But at least with Lina, I know she’ll find someone else to take care of her. I don’t know if this cat will find that, and she’s too…” Cassian paused to search for a word. His nose scrunched in frustration as his vocabulary failed him. “She’s too precious for me to take that chance.” 

He needed his kitten to find a home. He couldn’t risk her never finding a family — not when he had so much love he could give her. 

Nesta contemplated silently. 

“Okay,” she finally said, her eyes piercing through him as though she intended to read his heart. “If you’re sure that’s what you want to do, we’ll get this cat.”

Cassian smiled. “Look at us, being real adults. Can you believe we’re going to be parenting this cutie?”

“Parenting,” repeated Nesta with a snort. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds like we’re having a baby or something. People are going to think I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my god, you’re pregnant?” Gwyn exclaimed, reappearing next to Nesta from wherever she’d run off to. She had clearly only caught the tail end of Nesta’s sentence. 

“Wow, I’m so excited to be an aunt! Do you know the sex yet? Wait, how far along do you need to be to know that? How many months are you, by the way?” Gwyn spoke too rapidly for anyone to get a word in. “I had no idea about this! How have you been hiding the morning sickness? Or does everyone know about this already? Oh, gosh, this is so exciting!” 

Nesta stayed silent, trying to hold in her smile. Cassian just looked bewildered. 

Gwyn gave Nesta a light hug. “Oh, wow, this is crazy! Am I the first one to know? Wait, is it ok if I tell people? You can tell me if it’s still a secret, don’t worry.” 

Cassian blinked. “No, that’s-”

“Oh, perfect!” Gwyn squealed. She reached over to hug Cassian, too. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Emerie! Oh my god, and Az! His reaction is going to be insane!” 

She practically skipped down the hallway, her fingers already tapping away on her phone.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at Nesta. “What just happened?”

Nesta finally let out a laugh. “Just Gwyn being Gwyn, I suppose.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’m actually curious to see how far this goes.” She leaned forward, pressing her side against him. “Do you think they’ll throw me a surprise baby shower?”

“Rhys is going to be so pissed I’m having a baby before him,” Cassian grinned. “It’ll be hilarious.”

“We could tell them we’re having a daughter,” Nesta added, jerking her head towards the kitten.

Cassian laughed. He stood up and stretched out his body, likely feeling a slight ache because he’d been crouching for several minutes. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This is why I love you, you mastermind.”

His lips brought with them a wave of warmth that spread through her veins.

“Time to go tell Cresseida that we are going to adopt a pet after all,” Nesta chirped. 

Cassian groaned. “How about you go tell her, since you’re the one who was looking at this cat first,” he suggested.

“But you made the final decision,” she countered. 

“Well, no, I,” Cassian wracked his brain to find an excuse, “I think you would, uh, be better at filling out the paperwork.”

“Hmm,” Nesta tapped a finger to her chin and pretended to consider his offer, “How about… you do it?”

They were saved from their squabble when Gwyn reappeared with Cresseida in tow.

“So, can I take Mer home with me today or should I set up my place to be cat-ready first?” Gwyn was saying. 

“Ah, Cresseida! Just the person we were looking for!” Cassian interjected. “Nesta wanted to ask you something.”

Nesta sent him a frigid side eye that would have sent anyone else running for the hills, but only made Cassian grin. 

“We were thinking about adopting her,” Nesta said, pointing at the cat in question, “and were wondering what we need to do to make that happen? Is there just paperwork or something else we need to do?”

Cresseida’s expression changed completely. “I knew you would all walk out of here with pets!” she exclaimed triumphantly. Then she sobered slightly. “I’m so glad you’re interested in this cat, but like I mentioned earlier, there is something you should know.” 

Nesta nodded sharply. The anticipation and anxiety started to creep up on her. Was the cat sick? Or disabled in some way? Perhaps she and Cassian, as first time pet owners, weren’t equipped to give her the care she needed. 

“When we found her, she was only about two months old,” Cresseida explained. “We’re not quite sure what happened to her mother, since she didn’t seem to be with her family. But she had already bonded to another animal. They’re still quite close. Even though they’re generally kept in separate kennels, we usually let them play with each other once or twice a day, or she’ll start to get antsy. If at all possible, it would be best not to separate them. It may be possible for her to get used to living without her bonded friend, especially if she’s in an environment where she’s well-loved and taken care of, but it would be very difficult on both of them. So if you would consider adopting both of them, that would really be for the best.”

“Like, another cat?” Nesta inquired.

“It’s not Mer, is it?” Gwyn asked, looking worried. “If it is, I guess I’m going to have to move in with Nesta and Cassian.” Her face suddenly brightened. “I can be like a live-in nanny!”

“No, it’s not Mer,” Cresseida replied, “and it’s actually not another cat. It’s quite a unique situation. We’re still not sure how these two found each other and came to be bonded, but the other animal is actually a dog.”

“Oh.” Nesta felt her heart sink. She would hate to separate the cat from the one other animal that had been with her since she was a baby, but she also couldn’t adopt a dog. She wouldn’t allow Cassian to feel unsafe in his own home. 

“We could adopt both-” Cassian began, just as she knew he would.

“No,” she cut in. She didn’t care if it made her seem like the villain in Cresseida’s eyes. “I’m sorry, we can’t.”

Her eyes shifted to the kitten once more. The cat truly was adorable. Nesta would miss her tremendously, even though they’d only just met. Still, she couldn’t separate her from the friend who’d become her family. She would have to let her go. It hurt, but she knew it was for the best.

“I don’t think we’ll adopt her after all,” Nesta said. Though she had once prided herself on hiding her true emotions from the world, she could tell that both Gwyn and Cassian instantly read the meaning behind her aloof tone. 

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s probably the right decision,” Gwyn supplied. “Adopting pets and having a baby at the same time would be really hard.”

Cassian kept silent. She knew he was itching to deny it, to demand that she adopt the cat anyway, his feelings be damned. She was glad that he knew her well enough that she would not be swayed, and that his well-being mattered more to her than anything else. 

Cresseida sighed, disappointed. “I understand,” she said, resigned. “Dogs aren’t for everyone, especially if you have a lot on your plate. This dog really is the sweetest, although if you are allergic, a golden retriever wouldn’t be the right breed.”

“Hold on, did you say a golden retriever?” Cassian interjected. “You’re not talking about Lina, are you?”

Cresseida looked surprised. “I am, actually. I assume you’ve already made her acquaintance, then?”

“Wait, you’re saying we can adopt both Lina and this cat? And they wouldn’t fight or hurt each other?” Cassian repeated, as though he couldn’t believe his ears. It sounded too good to be true.

“They do play-fight occasionally, but no, they don’t hurt each other and they get along great. But, I understand that you can’t adopt a dog,” Cresseida answered, slightly confused. 

Cassian turned to Nesta. 

“Did you hear that, Nes? We can adopt them both.” 

He was beaming. 

“They’re so perfect,” he repeated as they brought Lina and the cat home a week later, after they’d made all the necessary preparations. “It’s like we were made to find them.”

She felt like she was floating, swept up by the exuberance in his eyes.

When she watched the kitten curl up in Cassian’s lap while Lina sat beside them, a paw resting against the cat’s back, she couldn’t find a name for the feeling that bubbled up inside her. The only viable contenders — love and contentment — seemed too small to capture it all.

When Cassian later asked her what she wanted to name the cat, she looked at the life they’d built together — the bookshelves lined with hockey history books and romance novels, the kitchen counter where Cassian’s favorite chocolate lay beside her mountainous tea collection, the polaroid pictures of them stuck to the fridge with magnets, and the pets filling their home with affection — and replied, “Ataraxia.”

Peace. 

__________

Present day

“I can’t even bring Ara and Lina around Cresseida anymore,” Cassian grumbled. “She always just talks about how incredible it was that we actually believed we’d leave her shelter without a pet.”

“She’s a menace,” Nesta agreed, though her words lacked any real bite. 

They both adored Cresseida, and were delighted at how happy she made Emerie. It was only that Cresseida shared their friend group’s penchant for teasing their friend mercilessly. 

“Her cooking is amazing though, so she makes up for it,” Nesta continued. “I had no idea vegan food could taste that good until I met her.”

“Speaking of cooking…” Cassian pointed to the last photo. It was labeled ‘cooking breakfast’.

Nesta leaned in closer to inspect the image. “When was this?”

“What? You don’t remember?” Cassian gasped in mock offense.

Then, he took her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.”

__________

Three months ago

Cassian awoke to the birds chirping and the smell of pancakes permeating the air. He rolled over in bed, reaching out for Nesta, only to find her side of the bed empty. 

He let out a small sigh. 

It was a Saturday morning, and his favorite thing to do on weekends when they didn’t have anything planned was to spend lazy mornings in bed with her. During the week, both of them were too busy to linger in bed. Snoozing their alarms once was the extent of their indulgence. 

But on weekends, Cassian liked to savor the feeling of Nesta lying beside him. He would lay in silence, taking it all in — the blankets warmed by their body heat, the way Nesta’s hair glowed in the morning light, the gentle pressuring of her body laying against his. Eyes half-open, he would breathe deeply and allow the peaceful contentment to fill his lungs. When Nesta woke up, there would be time for slow kisses, quiet conversations, and tender lovemaking. Their room would fill with soft but unbound laughter and playful quips. Later, they would make their way to the kitchen. One of them (usually Cassian) would cook brunch while the other did the dishes, swept the floor, or started a load of laundry. 

This morning, it seemed that Nesta had broken their usual routine. 

As Cassian rolled out of bed, his eyes caught the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was 10:05 am, far later than he usually woke up on weekends. Cassian was almost always the first to wake, generally around 8 or 9 am, and he’d lay patiently until Nesta gained consciousness around 9:30. 

Clearly, he’d been exhausted last night. It had been a long day of training, and then they’d gone out for dinner with his friends. After coming home, he and Nesta had watched a movie and then spent an hour tussling in their sheets. He’d fallen asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. 

Cassian pulled on a pair of dark jeans and strolled out of the bedroom without bothering to find a shirt. 

He found Nesta at the stove, flipping a pancake. She looked ethereal with her long hair down and shimmering in the light that flowed through the window. 

“Morning, Nes,” he said after taking a moment to appreciate the view. 

Nesta’s long legs were bare. She was dressed only in his striped button-up shirt which ended right below her butt. As she turned towards him, he could see that she hadn’t bothered to do up all the buttons on his shirt. The V dipped deep enough that, had she been wearing a bra, lacy bits would have peeked out, but she’d clearly thrown the shirt on without it. Was she wearing any underwear?

She sent him a small smile in greeting. 

“Can’t believe you didn’t bother to wake me up,” he teased as he pulled one of the hair ties off his wrist and put his probably messy hair into a neat bun. 

“Well, it seems like I tired you out last night and you clearly needed your beauty sleep,” she shot back. 

“Are you trying to imply that I didn’t tire you out?” 

She shot him a smirk. “Well, I was up first, wasn’t I?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, even as he held back a smile. He loved this easy back-and-forth, joking banter. “I’ll have to remedy that tonight,” he declared. 

“Aww, did I bruise your little ego?” 

She moved the pancake to a plate, and poured more batter into the pan. 

“There’s nothing little about me,” he joked before walking up behind her and gently wrapping his arms around her. He was careful to steer clear of her arms, so that they wouldn’t accidentally touch the pan or the stove and get burned. 

He rested his head in the crook of her neck. “I missed you this morning,” he whispered. 

“Couldn’t survive a few minutes without me?” she answered. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her smile in the warmth of her tone. 

“You know I’d be lost without you,” he answered. His tone was light and humorous, but his words were no less sincere.

She let out a small, fond chuckle. “Good thing I was only making breakfast then.”

He inhaled deeply. The smell of her vanilla and jasmine conditioner mixed with the sandalwood scent that lingered on his shirt. His neck was at a slightly awkward angle, bent down to accommodate Nesta’s forward-leaning posture as she cooked, but Cassian knew he’d be happy standing like this forever. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, until Nesta stilled in his arms. He knew she needed to move in order to put the pancake on a plate and couldn’t do so with Cassian wrapped around her, but she also didn’t want him to let go. 

He waited for a heartbeat, then gave her a slight squeeze before unwinding his arms. Before pulling away completely, he pressed a light kiss to the back of her neck.

Then, he walked over to the utensil drawer to start setting the table. 

When he sat down, his eyes flickered to Nesta’s figure, waiting for her to join him. He was itching to serve himself one of the pancakes in the middle of the table and bite into deliciousness. They smelled absolutely incredible. 

However, Nesta walked over with the pan still in her hand. She plopped the pancake from her pan straight onto his plate. Unlike the other pancakes, it wasn’t shaped like a circle.

“It was misshapen, so it reminded me of your face,” she quipped as she sat down after putting her pan in the sink. 

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his smile. The pancake was shaped like a perfect heart. 

As they dug into their food, Cassian felt the domesticity seep into him. He knew how the rest of the day would likely go. They’d wash up together, and then Cassian would head out for a run with Lina while Nesta curled up on the couch with a book. He’d come home and shower, then make her a cup of tea. Later, they’d change the bedsheets, make a list of the groceries they needed to pick up, and chat, before watching a movie or ordering takeout. They’d end up having sex on the couch or in the shower — anywhere but on their freshly changed sheets — and then fall asleep curled around each other with Cassian’s arm slung over Nesta’s waist. 

Their lives had fallen into a routine. And Cassian loved it. This peaceful life they’d built together could never be boring — not when they always filled it with so much playfulness and their jobs were filled with drama by necessity. The regularity was a blessing, not a curse. When Cassian walked through the doors to this apartment, he felt the tension of the outside world fade away. He felt at home.

He loved the life they had created together, and couldn’t imagine anything better than having mornings like this one for the rest of his life. 

The thought should have shocked him, but it did not. He’d known for a long time that this was coming, but it was only now that it had fully sunk in.

He looked across the table at Nesta and caught her eye.

“What?” she asked with a grin.

He reached over and laced his pinky with hers. 

“Nothing.” He smiled. “I love you.”

She shook her head fondly at his cheesiness, but still replied, “I love you.” 

He wanted to declare his love for her in front of the whole world, and then spend the rest of his life with her. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his life than dedicating it to loving her. 

That day, he started researching rings. 

__________

Present day

“I love you,” said Cassian. His eyes shone brightly. “I love all the moments we’ve spent together and the memories we’ve made.”

He walked around the table where the pictures lay and grasped her hands. 

“I do too.” Nesta, although still confused by their impromptu outpour of emotion, was always eager to remind Cassian of just how much she adored him. “I love you so much.”

Cassian smiled. She could see that a million thoughts were swirling in his mind, but he took a breath to focus himself.

“I love you,” he said once more, as though he couldn’t help himself, just like he had after he’d first said the words. He’d been like a child who’d never been allowed sweets who had just been given a box of chocolates — he marveled at the fact that he had love in his grasp and he gorged himself on it, basking in the delight that he could say the words whenever he wished. 

“Every minute, every second I get to spend with you is precious to me,” he continued. “Whether we’re at a party, a restaurant, a vacation, a match, or doing chores at home, every moment with you turns to gold. You made my life so beautiful and meaningful and happy, Nesta, in a way I never even imagined was possible. Even in the harshest moments, I know I’ll be okay because I get to come home to you every night. You’ve helped me learn how to live, not just survive. Because of you, I can love openly. Because of you, I can be myself without worrying that I’m too much. Because of you, I can let myself feel joy, instead of constantly worrying that it’s going to be ripped away from me. I can only hope that I can make you half as happy as you make me.”

“You make me happier than I ever thought possible,” Nesta answered. She was certain there were tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind. There were so many things that she could say — how the world had appeared cold and cruel, just like her reflection in the mirror, until she’d seen it all through his eyes. She would never stop being inspired by him — how was it possible for him to be so kind when the world had been so awful to him? How was it that he got wholeheartedly excited when it snowed, despite knowing the stinging pain of a cold night on the streets? His joy was infectious, and now she couldn’t help but admire the beauty in every little thing — children skipping down the sidewalk, the leaves changing color, and the birds chirping in the morning. 

Yet, she couldn’t find the words. How could she express the magnitude of her emotions for him, and just how much he’d changed her life? All she could do was look at him. 

He squeezed her hands gently and she knew he understood.

“You’ve made me a better man.” His voice was slightly raspy as emotion clogged his throat. “My life is so much fuller with you in it. We’ve made so many beautiful memories,” he said, gesturing to the pictures with one hand, “and I want to dedicate the rest of my life to making more. It would be the greatest honor to spend my life by your side. I want to fill that table with a million — a billion — more memories.”

“So, Nesta Archeron,” He released her hands. She blinked in surprise and found him kneeling before her, a small box open in his hands with something sparkling inside. “Will you marry me?”

Her gaze had gotten blurred with tears, but she blinked them away now. 

Cassian cut a stunning figure as he looked up at her, rose petals and candles glowing around him. His outfit flattered his body — the wine-red shirt showed off his muscular arms without being too tight and contrasted his skin tone well, bringing attention to his soft blush and curved lips to highlight his joy. His long hair was as glorious as usual, half of it pulled into a bun. 

Still, it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention. His beautiful hazel eyes, framed by his long, dark lashes, sparkled not only with love and joy, but also with breathtaking certainty. Unlike during that bookstore date so long ago, Cassian was secure in their love. She could see in his eyes that, even if she said no, he would not doubt their relationship for a moment. 

But of course, there was only one answer she would give to this wondrous man. He had come into her life like a fire, warming her and brightening her life in innumerable ways. 

“Yes.”

__________

Please tell me if you would like to be added or removed from a tag list! I haven't posted in a while so I'm sorry if the taglist isn't up to date.

Permanent taglist: @maastrash // @cass-nes // @notmewrongbitch // @verypaleninja // @courtofjurdan // @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter // @stardelia // @laylaameersworld // @thewayshedreamed // @thatsowlmazing // @meanceclosetohell // @jungtaekwoonie-is-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @bakingandbooks3 // @grandma-noob-lord // @awesomelena555 // @ bookstantrash // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @illyrianshadowhunter // @swankii-art-teacher // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @moodymelanist // @letstakethedawn // @nestaspegasus // @superspiritfestival // @perseusannabeth // @my-fan-side // @that-golden-lyre // @emily-gsh // @champanheandluxxury // @ simpingfornestaarcheron // @duskandstarlight // @ladynestaarcheron // @sv0430 // @nesquik-arccheron // @friendswithkevin // @dontgetsalmonella // @inkedstarlight // @arinbelle // @thegreyj Nessian taglist: @makainight // @nahthanks // @cupcakey00 // @nessiantrashh // @audreycressworth // @lady-winter-sunrise // @wannawriteyouabook // @shamelessdonutkryptonite // @julemmaes

[perseusannabeth]

Hi guys, long time no see! I've no been very active bc of some real life stuff, but I'm here with a snippet of smut from a fic I'm writing for elucien. It was inspired by @krem-does-stuff's wonderful art of a glorious, naked Lucien. Please go to her page to see it, because it was truly a blessing.

As you can imagine, the snippet of writing I have is nsfw so read at your own risk!

“Well Elain, I’m not sure the dreams you’re having about me are so lady-like. Why don’t you tell me what you dream of so I can assess it for myself?” She shook her head at that, so he took another step towards her. “You won’t tell me, but I think I can guess something. The material your dreams are based on might be scandalous for your human standards, but I bet they’re nothing compared to what I’d actually do to you.”

“What would you do?”

Lucien smirked. “That question is enough for me to know you’re not a good girl Elain.” He took another step towards her, caging her in against the work surface in the kitchen as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I would first spend time getting to know your body. I want to know which parts of your body make you gasp when I touch them, which parts make you shudder in pleasure and which parts make you cry out. It would be easy to touch your pussy during my explorations, and you’d be begging me to touch you properly, but I know that I have to pay your body enough proper attention. Once I get to your pussy, I know I won’t be able to come up for air.”

Tags list (lmk if anyone's @ has changed or they wanna be removed):

@sannelovesreading​ @bookstantrash​ @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan​​ @thewayshedreamed​ @sayosdreams @letstakethedawn​​ @and-she-burns-with-it​ @nahthanks​ @arinbelle​​ @gracie-rosee​ @julemmaes @claralady​ @rowaelinismyotp​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @tswaney17​ @duskandstarlight​​ @the-regal-warrior​ @live-the-fangirl-life​ @oversizedbats​ @nestaisgod @vidalinav @gwynberdara @moodymelanist @emily-gsh @lady-winter-sunrise @dread3r @starryblueskies7 @simpingfornestaarcheron @mis-lil-red @catplayinvioline @vinylcryes @starksravings @vasudharaghavan @a-court-of-valkyries @nestaspegasus @sv0430 @champanheandluxxury @nesquick-arccheron @a-little-disguised @nestable @illyrianshadowhunter @readiajin @lordof-bloodshed @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @rachmkerch123456

[duskandstarlight]

The Girl (Nessian fanfic)

Notes: I needed angst and raw Nessian so... here we are. I have no idea if this is a prologue or a one-shot at this moment in time ( I think it's a prologue...) But here you are, a gift to you all because I am so shit at posting / writing these days...

And because it's not my jam writing-wise, now is the time to highlight that this will not be a pregnancy fic.

Prologue Cassian

It’s winter when he meets The Girl. Solstice lights are strung around the city and the music playing in the cramped bar is essentially a questionable mix of eighties, garage music and festive bangers that people scream along to until they’re hoarse.

Amongst the writhing bodies, Cassian spots her. Scarlet cami, hair like honey. He watches her for too long, the way her hips move to a rhythm nobody else quite seems to get like she does, the length of her ponytail as it swings to and fro. 

When she turns and meets his eyes, he’s a goner. And at the end of night, when he backs her into his apartment, he realises quickly that whoever this girl is, she takes what she wants and he’ll take what he can get.  

None of it takes long. 

It’s electric. It’s fire. It’s as if alone, they are both embers - but together they are the wind that ignites the spark, burning up a frenzy. His mouth on hers, the length of her hair wrapped around his palm whilst her fingers bite at his scalp. Her legs clamped around his hips as she unzips him and sinks down. 

It’s obscene that Cassian doesn’t think about protection. It’s there in the back of his mind, this small niggle. But he bats it away, marvelling instead at the pull and push of this primal attraction he’s never had before, relentless as the tide as it rushes back only to curl over inside of him again and hook him right back in.

When it’s over, Cassian has the distinct impression that he’s lost something, so he keeps his head buried in the crook of her neck a little too long. She smells like jasmine and vanilla and salt. Cassian feels as if he’s been shattered from some great height.

And then she’s untangling herself from him and tugging up her leather-look leggings over her hips, tucking her breasts back into her bra and pulling the scarlet satin cami back over her head. 

Cassian is still not quite back in the room when she grabs for her bag. Her voice is scratchy and thick with what they’ve just done. “It’s been fun.” 

The words have him scrambling up from the couch but his jeans are caught around his ankles.

“Hey,” he says as he manages to stand. The zipper jams in his shirt and he mutters a series of curses under his breath.

By the time he’s turned, the front door is shutting. 

She’s let herself out.

In all Cassian’s time sleeping around, he’s never seen such a quick exit. 

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @fanboy7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @valkyriesupremacy @vidalinav @onceupona-chaos @inardour @thesunremembersyourface @teagoddess99 @misswonderflower @miamorganvel18 @kawaiteacup @nestaa-stan @castielspelvis @haigrr @dont-take-life-to-seriously @dontgetsalmonella

[sayosdreams]

Ah tysm for reccing my fic!

Honored to be on this list with @vidalinav whose fics I adore 🫶

I’m so glad you liked it bc Too is one of my fav fics I’ve ever written <3

Justice for Nesta recs (Tumblr)

Most, if not all, of these recs are in the Justice for Nesta/ ACOSF rewrite/fix-it vein. It will be updates as I find more fics, but feel free to send any recs you have.

TRIGGER WARNING! Some of these fics will be very dark, with references to suicide, ptsd, misogyny, and IC BS. However, I'll be sure to add specifics where applicable.

Too by @sayosdreams A quiet conversation with Elain over dinner inspires Cassian to man up and visit Nesta with a genuine attempt to help her. Said visit leads to him making some startling discoveries about how she's been living/coping since the cauldron. Nesta x Cassian. TW for depression, suicidal thoughts, self deprecating words, eating disorders, body dysmorphia, bad parenting.

Because You're an Asshole by @vvidalinai Nesta has given up fighting, and at this point, is just silently going along with IC demands. At one such dinner, Cassian decides to ask her out publicly, only for Nesta to reject him, publicly (and quite spectacularly, might I add). Anti Nessian/Nesta rejects Cassian.

Letting things get too far by @vvidalinai Nesta puts the IC in their place, spectacularly. (No ship)

Nesta's smile is the sun by @vvidalinai Nesta has a bad mental health day so Cassian stands up for her to the IC (as he should have a whole two books ago).

House vs. Cassian by @vvidalinai A funny little fic where the HOW is sad Nesta is gone, so it decides to put Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Mor in their place. I wish it did this in the book, honestly.

Personally, I'd recommend looking through @vvidalinai 's entire masterlist.

Standing up for her by @dreamersinthedaylightinspo Cassian, for once, does what's best or Nesta, and stands up for his mate. Plus a smidge of spoiled Feyre.

[vidalinav]

Part 2 of the Nesta gets sick, acofas re-write thing

This is not my best work honestly. It's more of my quick writing. But you know what? It is what it is. Not everything can be a masterpiece and I should post things even when I don't think it's perfect. Keeps me humble and keeps me brave. This was a pep talk for me.

Part 1

~

The icy wind scars his face, but it's a small form of torture. Her name sits on his tongue, but he has yet to see if the mountains will hear him or if the people of Velaris will point the way.

Which tavern? Which music hall? Which book store? Which person's bedroom will he find her in?

How drunk will she be?

Cassian wishes he was drunk right now, but...

Has he ever been sober since he's seen her face?

Cassian sees her and the words spill out his mouth. Nothing honest--no. If he were telling the truth, he'd have sunk to his knees. Human, fae, or... death.

She breathed life back into him.

Now Nesta's being haunted by her thoughts, drinking them away, so they may be silenced, so the ice on his face--the piercing slice of winter, is a small price to pay. A small sacrifice. A small revenge for he deserves more than this.

"Nesta!" he yells, but Cassian's sure the wind swallows his call, howling like a wolf to the moon.

Cassian doesn't like the thought of her traveling in this. The city is bright, but he's unsurprised that many of the businesses are closed. It is a holiday after all. Thankfully, the taverns are alight with patrons and noise. He's almost glad it's open if only to offer Nesta reprieve.

Because she isn't at home when he knocks on her door. He can't sense her at all. Cauldron knows her apartment must not have good heating, or at least the door felt as cold as ice. Quiet and mocking. For that alone, Cassian's sure she'd be somewhere here.

So which tavern will it be?

He clenches his fist, but he tells himself it's to warm them and not because the thought of her uncared for goads on his nerves. Not because the thought of her cared for in another's bed makes him want to gut someone brutally.

"We haven't seen her, my lord," the barkeeper says.

"Cassian," he quickly corrects, though he knows none of the workers will do as he asks, formality running heavy throughout town.

"We haven't seen her in a couple of days actually," a younger fae, who offers to pour him a drink, notes. "She usually sits right over there, nearest to the musicians. They've been traveling, you see, so perhaps she's tried another tavern."

"We hope she comes back, my lord. Our high lady's sister is always welcome."

Cassian is sure she is, since he's seen the bills collected on her behalf. "Do you know where she might be?"

The barkeeper shrugs, "maybe Blue Mill? Have you tried the Wolf's den?"

"She's not there," he says, though Cassian offers his thanks and moves on to another tavern down the way, much tamer than the last.

Nesta's not at that one either. The snow sprinkles down and it packs the ground in deep white. He can feel it in his boots.

Where can Nesta be?

Perhaps, he should have told Azriel to send his shadows, but he does what he knows, so he shoots to the sky, not bothering to think about how much his wings will ache from this weather.

He doesn't know how long he searches, before something starts eating at his gut. Something pokes and prods at his chest. Something is not right.

Something is terribly wrong, and it is not this storm or the sting against his wings. It's not the fact that the city sings even from above, as if nothing but him can sense this.

Nesta is nowhere in sight.

She's not at the bridge, the taverns, the trail to her house, the walk to the bookstores, along the Sidra. There is nothing that says that Nesta lives here, all he sees is white.

White is the color of death, he finds, and something morbid calls him forth.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

He thinks the wind calls her name, an echo of his voice. A chant. Cassian thinks of death gods. Of monsters. Of villainous people.

What is happening to her?

Why can't he find her?

Cassian circles the mountain, pulling at his hair.

There.

A scarf circles around a lamp post and it looks like the one Elain gifts to Nesta for her birthday last spring. Light blue and waving hello, come find me, I need you. When he grasps it, Cassian can catch the slightest whiff of her scent.

"Nesta," he calls, peering at the space as if she'll come out of hiding. He sees piles of snow, no footprints in sight. All he can smell is wind and winter and cold. "Nesta!"

He finds a shroud near the stairs, her head lying against the stone. Touches of brass and pale skin. Snow has already begun to pile on her body. A blanket of white. A funeral.

"Nesta," he gasps. "Nesta. Nesta!"

She is so perfectly silent, it fills him with dread.

"Talk to me, Nesta," he demands as he grasps her shoulders, and then her hands, blowing into them as if that my warm her from the inside out.

Her cheeks are a budding pink and her lips are tinged in blue. Cassian thinks of death, corpses, and pale flesh. He can't help it. Nesta lays so still, he wants to throw up.

Her heart beat is faint, but Cassian thinks it might just be the wind drowning out any noise. At least he keeps repeating that to himself, because pulling out his own won't help hers beat louder or stronger.

"I'm going to take you to the house," he says, though she doesn't make a sound. Nesta's head lulls into his neck as he holds her to his chest. Cassian's surprised to find a touch of warmth at her skin and for that he sends a thousand thanks to the Mother.

"I've got you Nesta," he says, kissing at the top of her head without thinking. "I've got you."

I'm never leaving you alone, again.

~

You see I have a very good memory, so I had this book series memorized like the back of my mind. But then I went into a PhD program, and brain dumped it all. SO I cannot remember some details or at least I can't remember which things happened in what book... just like SJM ( LOL ). So if this is not bookly accurate, just ignore it. Nothing about this is bookly accurate anyway.

Also this is hella dramatic. I should have really just started off with... he found her with no explanation... which is what I usually do. But I tried to give explanation. And... it's dramatic. But whateva.

You'll see her actually sick in the next part.

[moodymelanist]

general taglist refresh

hello friends!! i wanted to refresh my tag list before I get back into the swing of updating fics and preparing for other event weeks. please interact with this post (like, comment, etc) if you want to stay on my tags or get added to the list! I'll put out a new list after a few days xoxo <3

current tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing | @avidromancereader | @a-little-disguised | @kale-theteaqueen | @talibunny30

[nestasgalpal]

Can't think straight when we are together [Nessian smut]

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

A/N: I KNOW I'M LATE but here is my Nessian Haloween fic, which I didn't have time to post yesterday

Tagging: @zoyaslai @champanheandluxxury @pataytayo @nessiantrashh @dustjacketmusings @saltydreamcollector @generalnesta @simpingfornestaarcheron @arinbelle @a-court-of-valkyries @azrielsgirl @swoopingoccamy @vasudharaghavan @vidalinav @sv0430 @nessianforlife @claralady @sayosdreams @malluzia @dealfea @kylosmomm

In a failed attempt to escape from the uproar of the party, Nesta sneaked into the small bathroom upstairs. The first floor of the town house was "off limits", but neither her nor the few couples already inside the bedrooms took the sign seriously.

Nesta pushed the door behind her to close it, but he got in before it did. Cassian wasn't smooth in his drunken state, but he was definitely still faster than her. The door did close behind him.

Ignoring him entirely, Nesta opened the faucet and splashed some fresh water on her neck to cool down. The alcohol was starting to have an effect on her. In the meantime, Cassian's arms wrapped around her waist, he kissed her neck, and it felt too damn good.

"Finally" he mustered, hot lips against her skin. "Your friends are like bodyguards, I couldn't come near you down there."

The townhouse was overcrowded, yes, but Nesta wasn't sure the fact that Cassian hadn't been able to reach her sooner was a drawback. She needed the booze to deal with him tonight.

Reaching over to the side, she grabbed a towel and dried her hands. Cassian's were exploring her ribs and wandering up her Selkie black dress, his lips now kissing the thin skin behind her ear.

"They were doing a good job, then."

Cassian tilted his head to the side, leaving her neck exposed to the cold. Their eyes met on the mirror, and she saw the frown in his face.

"Wash your hands." She commanded, avoiding his silent request to elaborate on that last comment.

The tips of his fingers were brushing the bottom of her breasts over the black fabric, and lingered there for a second too long, as if doubtful. But he freed her from his roaming hands and washed them she as she had done, still keeping her trapped between his strong arms.

She was a witch for the night, wearing a black dress short enough to cover her ass and not an inch longer, with several layers of tulle adding volume. The puffy, short sleeves of the dress were made of tulle as well. Cute, sexy and dark, just like her make up. She was wearing a pointy hat as well, that she took off and left on the counter with little care.

Cassian was dressed as Hercules, probably the best costume to show off his body. Not that she had any complaints... it was a great body. One that Nesta knew well by now. As he closed the faucet he pressed himself even tighter against her, just in case his hardness wasn't obvious enough already. With now cold and wet hands, he went straight for her boobs and squeezed hard, pushing them upwards and almost out of the neckline of her dress.

Moaning softly, she let Cassian do as he pleased, resting her head back on his naked shoulder. The bathroom felt smaller now, almost claustrophobic, as his fingers kept playing with her and Nesta's brain battled between letting go and enjoying the pleasure, or keeping her focus and finally voicing what she had been wanting to tell him tonight. To cut ties with Cassian once and for all.

"Were you avoiding me?" He whispered in her ear.

"I've been busy these last couple of... weeks." Nesta had come here tonight confident in her decision, sure of what she wanted and what she had to tell him in order to get it. But Cassian's presence always made her lose her focus. Nesta wanted him too bad.

Behind her, her hands were now fighting for some room to lift his costume. His underware met the floor, and as soon as Cassian's hands did the same with her panties, she could finally feel him, skin against skin.

Knowing she would regret it as soon as they were done, Nesta magically took a condom out of her bra. The smirk was wide on his face as he took the silver plastic and opened it. Cassian put it on. She closed her eyes hard and cursed herself for being so needy it turned her stupid.

The sex was as fast and as good as always. He thrust in all the way, and she was immediately moaning and asking him to go harder. Cassian gripped her hips for balance and gave Nesta everything she had been wanting down on the first floor as she searched for him in the crowd and gave him that look across the room.

Nesta pushed back to meet his thrusts, and her knuckles went white as she held on to the marble sink. Cassian was relentlessly driving himself inside of her tightness, and his fingers dug on her body as he took what he wanted as well.

Apparently, he wanted her badly, too. Neither would last long if he kept pounding her like that. Not while being so drunk and horny. The revealing clothing had only made it worse throughout the night for both.

The slapping sound was obscene, it filled the room. Weren't it for the loud music entering the space, she might have worried they could be heard from the hallway. Nesta closed her eyes, tipsy and not fully able to keep her balance. Not when all the noise got mixed with the sound escaping her lips, and Cassian's, and the symphony of their bodies giving in into the pleasure of being so close to each other, for a moment they were one.

Nesta's toes curled inside her boots when his pounding became erratic. He was close, maybe even closer than her, but his cock hit that perfect spot that almost pushed her over the edge.

A hand gripped her hair and tugged, "Is this what you wanted?" He asked, out of breath.

"Yes!"

"Did you miss my cock, Nes?" Just calling her that was a power play on its own, but that fact that he was making her confess such a thing...

She still complied. "Yes. I've missed it so bad."

And his cock she had missed. The problem was everything else. But right now, Nesta wanted every inch of him, that annoying ego and all. "Make me come." She begged.

The supplicant voice was it for Cassian, a trick that worked every time. He came and rolled his eyes for a second, the climax hitting him like a wave. His free hand, though, travelled down from her hip to her folds and found the most sensitive spot in her body. He circled her button once, twice, and a moment later he was rubbing it just as she liked it. Nesta came with the same force he had, and, exhausted, had to lean over the sink so she wouldn't fall. She was out of breath.

As Nesta bent forward, Cassian stepped back and put his weight against the bathroom wall. His cheeks were flustered, his black hair a mess. Through the mirror, Nesta saw his eyes closing and his hand running through his hair, spent and sweaty.

She didn't expect him to talk right then, but he did.

"You could have come see me at the game on Friday, I thought you liked sports."

A huff, "I told you, I've been busy."

"On a Friday night?" His eyebrow was raised.

"Yes. And you never invited me to go, anyway. I didn't know you wanted me there." She immediately regretted her words.

Because she could have taken the chance to tell him she wasn't interested in him. She could have made it clear she hadn't made space for him in her schedule because she didn't want to waste her time on him, but now he would think there was an actual responsibility getting between them.

"I don't want you there. But I also don't want you not there."

Drunk or not, his lack of verbosity deserved Nesta rolling her eyes at it. "Okay, so you basically don't care if I go or not. You came up here to tell me that? You could have sent me a text and we could have enjoyed the party separately."

It was his time to huff. "Yeah, I saw you having a blast down there." She must have stung a nerve because suddenly Cassian straightened his posture. She turned to face him, curious and slightly annoyed.

"Now, Nes..." Cassian tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "Nes, Nes, Nes." Now his movements seemed restrained, and he didn't sound that drunk anymore.

"Don't call me that."

He spoke over her, not really listening to her very old complaint, "You know I'm not the jealous type, but who was that motherfucker getting you drinks down there in the kitchen?"

"Just a very kind gentleman quenching my thirst." She was way too tight on money at the end of the month to reject free drinks.

His snort didn't surprise her, but it did irritate her a pinch more.

"I would have accepted drinks from you as well, had you offered." Nesta clicked her tongue, "But you didn't." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Again, a moment too late, she regretted it. It was body language for defensiveness, and she wasn't trying to be defensive. She was trying to be chill. And what do chill people do? Nesta let her arms fall to her sides and tried to lean back until her spine met the wall, as if she was casual. Relaxed. Not tense. No, not tense at all.

Without trying, Cassian's body looked like everything she was trying to be at the moment. Easy, yet controlled. As if the proximity didn't affect him. His face, though, had not gotten the memo. Oh, boy, was he mad.

His hand found hers, and gently took it, once again the gesture not matching his expression. His gaze followed the movement of their arms, and Nesta's eyes remained pinned to his, as he tugged and very slowly slid their hands up, brushing the wall until her wrist was pressed to the tile next to her head. His grip on her wasn't even tight, she wouldn't try freeing her from it, anyway.

Then he put his forehead against hers, and both closed their eyes at the proximity. She was still climbing down from her climax. That was probably why Cassian had waited until now to bring it up, anyway.

"Yeah, you are right." He said. "Let's go back down, then. I'll get you a drink." His voice was calculatedly smooth, and it sent shivers down her spine. Down and all the way to the spot between her legs that was getting wet again. Cassian took the forgotten witch hat and put it on her head. "We cannot have people thinking others can just talk to my girl."

She didn't contain her small laugh at the thought. "Your girl?" Nesta snapped out of her trance and tug her hand to get rid of his fingers around her wrist.

She pressed the black layers of tulle of her skirt down and pulled the neckline of the dress up. She fixed her hat. "I'm not your girl. We fucked like three times and pretend we don't know each other in public. That hardly even counts as a situation."

"It was five fitme."

Pushing him aside, she stepped out of the corner he had put her in. Nesta knew her face was red, partially because of the alcohol, but mostly because of the orgasm this idiot had just given her. If the sex wasn't this good it might be easier to cut him out of her life once and for all.

"Who cares." She brusted out.

But she wanted more, so much more of what his body could do for hers.

"Who cares." She brusted out.

"Are you for real?"

Lacking a better answer, she hummed.

"Nesta." Cassian put his hands on either side of her over the sink. She just watched.

The art of acting had never been her forté, but she wore her best version of a lost face. "What?" And it really sounded like she had no idea what he was so worked up about.

He stayed in silence, jaw clenched. "Lets go on a date." He didn't sound serious nor joking, his voice only sounded... angry. Frustrated, maybe.

It was cruel, but it was the right thing to do. She said, "No."

"Why?" Cassian was now in the way between her and the bathroom door.

Because I don't want to be seen as your girl. I refuse to deal with everything that comes with it.

Her chest clashed against his before she could notice him once again shortening the distance between them. There was no time for her to react to his movement, so Nesta just accepted the proximity, and the fact that she would not be exiting the bathroom until she gave him an honest answer.

"The sex is good, right? Why wouldn't you want more?"

"Because I don't think a date with you is worth putting up with your friends."

No matter how close that whole little group were, even Cassian had to admit how toxic they could get. How much shit Nesta had gotten just based on stories told by her sister, and the type of comment she had gotten from certain members of the group the one time she allowed herself to show interest in Cassian, all those months ago.

"So you won't go on a date with me because you don't like my friends?"

Nesta put her hands on his chest a final time, feeling his heartbeat under her palm, and pushed. Softly, just enough to make room for herself and open the door.

"I won't go on a date with you because I don't like you."

And I don't think you like me enough to do anything about them. Or anything for me that is not acualy about yourself.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Thanks so much for tagging me @writtenonreceipts

The last line I wrote is actually part of the next chapter of my OMG Roommates fic!

Cassian tries to keep his tone light, his words teasing, but it falls short even to his own ears, and he's glad Nesta's back is to him, that she won't see him grimace.

33 words (oof I am not tagging that many people lol)

Tagging: @moodymelanist @vidalinav @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @dustjacketmusings @theladyofbloodshed @isterofimias

Last Line Word Count >>Count the words in the last line you wrote and tag that many people to do the same<<

Thanks for the tag @the-fae-are-taking-over!! i’ll not clutter your original post, lol…

Last line I wrote:     >> There was caution in his eyes as he regarded her, as though he were expecting her to lash out and burn him again.

23 words, 23 tags feel free to join in, no pressure :)

tagging: @morganofthewildfire @talkfantasytome @hlizr50 @c-e-d-dreamer @reverie-tales @the-lonelybarricade @darling-archeron @shyvioletcat @leiawritesstories

[nessianweek]

✷ Announcing Nessian Week 2022! ✷

💜 It's that time of year to celebrate Prythian's hottest couple! 💜

Join us in celebrating Nesta and Cassian from September 11 through September 17! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Nessian is welcome! Please note this event will be happening on Tumblr, AO3, and Instagram (fanarts) only.

Please tag @nessianweek and use the tag #nessianweek2022 to spread the word!

If you're posting on AO3, make sure to post to our Nessian Week 2022 collection here! Either click the "post to collection" button on the collection's profile page, or search Nessian Week 2022 when filling out the information for a new work on AO3. There's no need to join the collection -- it will open for anyone to post (pending mod approval) once the event begins on September 11, and will close on September 18, 2022.

Last year's masterlist can be found here!

This year's prompts are as follows:

Day One: What Happened Next? ✷ What do you think happened after the end of A Court of Silver Flames? Did Nesta and Cassian have their ornate mating ceremony, settle down with children, or something else altogether? We want to hear your interpretations of canon!

Day Two: Food ✷ Food has always been an important part of Nesta and Cassian's relationship. What does that look like to you?

Day Three: Magic ✷ Nesta and Cassian are some of the most powerful Fae we've seen in Prythian. What does their magic look like to you?

Day Four: Alternate Universe ✷ What do you think Nesta and Cassian's lives would look like outside of canon? How would they live in the modern world, a completely different fantasy world, or within the plot of your favorite book or movie? [Non-Canon AUs requested]

Day Five: Music ✷ Music has played a vital role in Nesta and Cassian's relationship. What does that mean to you?

Day Six: What If? ✷ Nesta and Cassian have been involved in some of the most pivotal moments in the ACOTAR world. What's your take on if some of those key moments had gone differently? [Canon Universe Requested]

Day Seven: Free Day ✷ Any topic of your choosing!

We look forward to seeing everything that you create for this event, and make sure to tag @nessianweek once the event starts! Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed to planning this event, with special shoutouts to @talkfantasytome, @c-e-d-dreamer, @vidalinav, @tangledinmysoul, @dustjacketmusings, @arinbelle and many others!

Thank you to @talkfantasytome for designing the banner 💜💖🤍

Please contact this page or @moodymelanist if you have any questions about the event!

[nestaarcheronweek]

♕ Announcing Nesta Archeron Appreciation Week 2022 ♕

♡ Join us in celebrating Prythian’s most powerful woman! ♡

Join us in celebrating Nesta Archeron from November 27 through December 3! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Nesta is welcome! Please note this event will be happening on Tumblr only. 

Please tag @nestaarcheronweek and use the tag #NestaWeek2022 to spread the word!

This year’s prompts are as follows:

Day One: Dance ♕ Nesta is an extremely skilled dancer, well-known for her ability to bring anyone to their knees with a performance. How do you see her skills as a part of her life?

Day Two: Books ♕ Reading has long been one of Nesta's escapes, and we learned more about her tastes in A Court of Silver Flames. How do you see books playing a role in her life?

Day Three: Witch ♕ Nesta is one of the most powerful fae in Prythian, and many of us have theorized she's actually a witch... what's your take on her powers?

Day Four: Romance ♕ Nesta has had many opportunities for love across Prythain — who do you ship her with? Cassian? Emerie? Eris? Gwyn? Azriel? Cresseida? All ships are welcome!

Day Five: Body Positivity ♕ Nesta has canonically struggled with her body, especially after being Made. How do you see her becoming more comfortable in her own skin?

Day Six: Family Found & Refound ♕ There are many definitions of family, and Nesta has found and refound many versions of her family throughout the years. What does Nesta's family look like to you?

Day Seven: Free Day ♕ Any topic of your choosing!

We look forward to seeing everything that you create for this event, and make sure to tag @nestaarcheronweek once the event starts! Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed to planning this event, with special shoutouts to @talkfantasytome, @c-e-d-dreamer , @vidalinav, @dustjacketmusings, @arinbelle!

Please contact this page or @moodymelanist if you have any questions about the event!

[ncssian]

doing the @vidalinav thing is so much easier than doing the writing a whole fic thing, so here’s a vague continuation from this valentine’s day snippet

context: in which nesta receives the love she never had from the man she least expected it from

***

What do you want for dinner today? Nesta’s phone buzzes at 5:15 on the dot.

After a brief period of discomfort at Cassian’s daily texts about meals, she’s learned how to respond as easily as if she were giving her restaurant order to a waiter. She’ll never admit it out loud, but his pre-dinner texts have become the highlight of her day. Mostly because she loves having free food provided at her every whim.

At a red light on the way home from work, Nesta types out a quick reply to Cassian: Carbs. Every kind of carb. Had a rough day.

Whatever awkwardness Nesta feels at sharing an apartment with her ex-not-boyfriend is outweighed by the fact that he cooks and cleans for free. Nesta has no business harboring resentment at someone who makes a killer filet mignon and does the dishes afterward, so she treats Cassian with casual friendliness instead. As if he’s a stranger she picked up off the street and offered to let live with her.

A new start, Cassian called it.

Nesta is surprisingly okay with this. She hasn’t at all forgotten the ancient, unhealed wounds that lie between her and Cassian, but…she’s more than willing to let go of the memories and the pain. She knows better now, and that’s the only comfort she needs.

When she gets home, she’s greeted by the smell of rose oil instead of the smell of cooking.

From the hallway leading away from the living area and kitchen, Cassian pokes his head out of the bathroom door, his hazel eyes searching the apartment until they land on Nesta at the entryway. A small smile makes his eyes crinkle up at the sight of her, but the look quickly turns apologetic as he says, “Change of plans. I didn’t want to make you wait for home-cooked food, so I ordered takeout.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, setting her purse and coat down. A bit of a disappointment, but she’s relieved not to have to wait for dinner. She’s starved after skipping lunch today. “What are you doing in the bathroom?”

“I had free time since I wasn’t cooking and I drew up a hot bath for you.” He waves her over to the hallway, and Nesta warily pads over to their shared bathroom. A blast of steamy air infused with roses hits her at the door.

Nesta never gapes, but what she’s doing now is dangerously close to gaping. “What is this for?”

“You said you had a hard day,” Cassian says. He shoves her lightly toward the fresh bath overflowing with bubbles. “Get undressed. I’ll make bread rolls while we wait for the food.”

Nesta stumbles into the bathroom and Cassian half-shuts the door for privacy as he leaves.

Too stunned to do much other than follow Cassian’s instructions, she slips out of her dress and stockings and cautiously approaches the bath. Dipping a toe in, she has to repress a full-bodied shudder at the perfect warmth of the water. The smell of bath salts and essential oils invades her nose and runs all the way down to her last frayed nerves, soothing away the stresses of the day.

Nesta makes quick work of climbing into the tub and fully submerging under the water. She doesn’t know how long she’s in there for, playing with the bubbles and swirling the water around, when a knock sounds and Cassian reappears at the doorway. “Got the rolls in the oven.”

Nesta’s ears perk up at that. She fucking loves his bread rolls.

“Can I?” Cassian gestures to the tub, one foot hovering over the bathroom threshold in hesitation.

Nesta has no idea what he means or what he wants, but the tub is high enough to cover her up to her neck, so she lets him approach her with a careful nod. She watches him out of the corner of her eye as he wanders in and takes a seat on the low stool beside the tub, but her body remains oddly relaxed at his presence. Even if this situation is weird and unexpected, being with Cassian these last several weeks has become almost as easy as being with Gwyn or Emerie— just two friends content to share each other’s company, with familiarity and comfort taking the place of tension.

“Wanna talk about your day?” Cassian offers.

The question eases the cautiousness slinking around Nesta’s body like a cat. She huffs, “Don’t get me started,” before kicking one leg up onto the rim of the tub, then the other. “I’m dealing with the worst case right now.” Just thinking about her current client makes her feel heavy; she reminds Nesta so much of her younger self.

“I can tell,” he chuckles in a low tone. “It’s all over you.”

“Thanks so much,” she drawls.

Cassian scoots his stool over so he’s positioned right behind Nesta and asks smoothly, “Can I? You look like you need it.”

Before she can think on it, Nesta nods. She doesn’t even realize what she’s nodding to until Cassian’s broad hands come down on her shoulders and squeeze firmly. Her breath catches in her throat and her spine straightens.

“Relax,” he orders in a gentle tone she’s never heard before these last few months. “You’ll make new knots before I get these ones out.” He emphasizes one knot in her back by digging his thumb into her shoulder blade.

Nesta presses her lips together until they turn white—not at the pain in her too-tense muscles, but at the utter shock that Cassian is giving her a shoulder massage. In a bath that he drew for her.

A thousand questions and concerns spring to her mind. Cassian rubs into a spot near the top of her spine that has her head falling forward onto her chest, and she breathes the deep scent of roses and pomegranate seed into her lungs. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice comes out in a croak she doesn’t intend.

She thinks he’ll play dumb, but he thinks over his answer as he massages her shoulders instead. “I just felt bad that you were feeling bad,” he eventually says.

That answers nothing for Nesta. Is he overcompensating for all the shit that happened between them in the past? Has he been feeling more guilty than usual lately, and this is his way of apologizing? Or—Nesta feels the old slither of distrust snake through her bones—he’s doing all this to manipulate her back into his bed before he hurts her yet again. He’s trying to gain her trust before twisting it into a weapon for his own use.

No—even if that were true, Nesta knows better now. She’ll never fall for that trap again, whether Cassian tries to seduce her or not.

She bites back a groan as Cassian works out a particularly tough knot between her shoulder blades, refusing to make a sound while she stews over these thoughts in the bath.

“You should let others take care of you more,” Cassian says when she doesn’t respond to him. “Even after all these years, you still carry too much by yourself.”

Tears prick Nesta’s eyes at his words. No one’s ever said that about her. No one’s ever done this for her, period, and even if it’s fake, it’s nice to experience.

She takes a stupid risk and decides to be honest to Cassian in return.

“You’ve changed,” she admits, twisting her head to look him in the eyes. “You’re so much… easier to talk to now. You’re a lot calmer when you have no one to answer to.”

Everything was always so tense between them in their past relationship, and not always in a good way. It was a relationship between her and him and five other people—his friends and family. Nesta always had her back stiffened and chin tilted in defense of an incoming attack, in case Cassian or one of his loved ones decided they wanted to pick a fight on whatever given day. It was an exhausting way to be in love.

“So I’m less of a volatile asshole, is what you’re saying?” Cassian says, his own eyes soft and teasing and…mournful.

Nesta turns back around, facing away from him. “Among other things, yes.”

A moment passes before he continues rubbing her neck. “Thank you,” he finally murmurs. “I really am doing my best.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nesta murmurs half-heartedly. She honestly isn’t paying much attention to the conversation anymore, because his hands feel so good on her back and the water is so warm and she feels so sleepy.

Her guard drops, and when Cassian runs a firm hand up her spine that lands at the base of her skull and squeezes, she lets an embarrassing sound of pleasure escape her.

She stiffens at the same time that she hears Cassian inhale a sharp breath behind her. All of a sudden, cold air replaces where his hands were massaging her skin. “I should go,” Cassian fumbles a bit breathlessly, knocking the stool back as he gets up. “I’m sorry, this was inappropriate.”

Before Nesta can even comprehend what just happened, Cassian is out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him in a hurry.

***

@rarephloxes

@moodymelanist

@arinbelle

@sayosdreams

@bridgertononmymind

@live-the-fangirl-life

@a-court-of-valkyries

@secretlovelybeauty

@humanexile

@helion-ism

@my-fan-side

@royaltykxx

@xoblivisci

@planet-faerie

@katekatpattywack

@imagine-me

@meridainthedisneyland

@jungtaekwoonie-is-life

@rainbowcheetah512

@valkyriewarriors

@loosingdreams

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

@perseusannabeth

@swankii-art-teacher

@laylaameer01

@angelic-voice-1997

@awesomelena555

@claralady

@ghostlyrose2

@thewayshedreamed

@drielecarla

@superspiritfestival

@aliveahaahahafuck

@thebluemartini

@nessiantho

@missing-merlin

@duskandstarlight

@lucy617

@sleeping-and-books

@cassianscool

@wannawriteyouabook

@everything-that-i-love

[talkfantasytome]

Thank you so much for the tags! @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk and @c-e-d-dreamer! 🤗

Here is a selection of my WIPs. 👀 (If it's not labeled, it's ACOTAR)

We're Not Monsters

Lady Death

Roman/Gladiator AU

I Can Still Make Cheyenne

Sisters United Concept

Stay

To Protect a Princess

It Would've Been So Right (Crescent City)

I'm Here (ToG)

Staghorn Slopes (ToG)

Jurdan Drabble (Folk of the Air)

Jurdan College Fic (Folk of the Air)

Arranged Marriage Idea (To Kill a Kingdom)

And we wonder why I struggle. 🙈

Tagging, but 0 pressure: @charliespringsleftconverse @vidalinav @dustjacketmusings @athenniene

WIP Game 🎏

Thank you so much for the tags, @dharmasharks @dontcallmebree and @xoxobuckybarnes!! This is always a fun one when it rolls around :D

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP list, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPS!

It's a lot, I grant you, and it isnt even everything, but here's some newer stevebucky ones/ones I'm currently working on ���

Alpine Barnes

Another Song sequels because I am bad #2 and #3

Baseball and Bruises

Bucky's bodega life

Farm therapy, ws style

for you for me for evermore

Frankie the dog fic

guardian angel steve

Hold that summer breath tight etc.

no winter soldier au

Steve, a mixture of maladies

Wartime confessions and confusion

Workdays and weekend teas

You're the only 10 I see

And a few newsies: 🌈

modern newsies au

ANOTHER MODERN AU (Ariel)

A prayer becomes a vow

Tomorrow's News

disaster dinner party

I know some of you have already been tagged and others haven't, so no pressure tags for @voylitscope @hipsterdiva @its-tortle @t4tstevebucky @not-withoutyou @moodymelanist @emmedoesntdomath @spookyklaine @turtle-steverogers @sparkagrace and also anyone else who'd like to join and share what they're workin' on!