ACOSF 78.5

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome home,” he whispered against her ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That didn’t stop you before.”

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

“What took you so long?” She grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Safe in her mate’s arms, Nesta slept.

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian snickered, “Still so impatient, Archeron.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian grinned, happy to oblige.

More Posts from Alinajrml and Others

alinajrml

3 years ago

Since you asked... Soft Nessian headcanon: Nesta is absolutely the type to read through the night and Cassian will be passed out asleep curled up next to her but periodically there will be a sleepy mumble of "go to sleep" but Nesta will just keep saying "one more chapter"

This technically was just a really good headcanon, but I am so sleepy that I wrote a fic about sleep. This is my second fic about sleep... being half awake must inspire me or something.

Nesta’s chest is a beautiful thing. Not just because her breasts mold perfectly in his hands and she becomes pliant as he tugs and bites, but because when Cassian lays his head there, he can hear her life like trickles of water. Her heart is the pitter-patter of rain.

There’s nothing quite like music than the sounds that Nesta Archeron makes. From her moans, to her yells, to her quick snapping fingers when she’s frustrated. There’s nothing much that can compare to the sound of her breathing. Even the symphonia can’t rival her heartbeat.

So Cassian finds Nesta’s chest most agreeable. It’s the best place to sleep, where he can wrap his arms around her while she reads. It’s the best position for his wings.

He worries about his weight hurting her at first, but Nesta assures him that she’s comfortable. She’s always cold, Nesta reminds him.

You keep me warm, she says.

Cassian swears he blushes at her words but he buries his burning cheeks in her blue nightgown and she burrows her fingers into his hair.

It’s easy to sleep with her heartbeat in his ears. It’s like his soul calms at the thump it makes and she reads the night away, absent-mindedly stroking his hair. He wants to cry at first... at the touch. What it means. She, the female of his dreams, in his arms.

More than that, Nesta loves him. He’s never felt more loved in all his life so it’s easy to drift, to float down still waters where sleep awaits. He has never felt more safe than in her arms.

And sometime in the night, she laughs. A soft bell rings in his ears and the movement of her chest has him grasping her tighter.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbles.

“Shhh,” Nesta whispers as if his interruption disturbs her. “It’s night already, you should be sleeping.”

He merely gives her a slow blink and when she raises a brow as if to say of course, she’s right, Cassian can’t seem to argue when he’s only half-awake.

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles, when he hears the shift of a page.

“There’s only one more chapter,” Nesta says.

“That’s a long chapter,” Cassian muses as he closes his eyes.. He can still see the chuck of more than a few chapters under her hands, but he’s too tired to argue and Nesta’s much too soft and warm to resist.

And when Cassian awakens for the third time that night, he can only frown at the book still in her hands. The light is still on and the heavy glow makes him want to shield them both with his wings.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“There’s only a few more chapters,” Nesta pleads, showing him the pages as proof. “I’m not lying this time.”

Cassian concedes, tucking himself into her chest as he grumbles about sleep. He drifts off to dreams thinking of rain.

When Cassian wakes for the fourth time, it’s to a heavy book thumping on his back. Her thumb is still stuck in-between pages and Cassian reaches for her bookmark first.

Her chest moves languidly like ships rocking on the sea, and Cassian thinks he’ll dream of waves tonight. He'll hear siren songs as he sleeps.

But first, he reaches for the light and tucks her closer.

@arinbelle

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alinajrml

2 years ago

Ok ok so hear me out

Prompt- basically one where Nesta and Cassian didn’t mate at the end of of ACOSF, never even slept together. Nesta just ends up giving in and agreeing to train or work in the lib and eventually becomes ‘apart’ of the inner circle and does magic and shit for them or whatever.

And cassian of course is overjoyed because nesta is part of the fam now and he keeps trying to play with her or rile her up (like the old Cassian did) back to his old self now that she’s doing what they want but because nesta was forced to submit she’s just a shell of a person, doesn’t want to argue with him or anyone, just does what she’s told. And now cassians beginning to really panic (as he should) because he just wants her to be happy

Love your work btw <3

Did someone ask for ✨Angst✨

Nesta learned young that the world wanted silence from women.

Yes, she had been a woman then. A girl and then a woman and now … a female. Pretty dresses and panting creatures who thought with the parts between their legs and a list of rules she never wanted to follow. The only difference in this life was that it would never end.

The Fae claimed to be different, well, the hypocrites she was surrounded by claimed to be different.

The humans rapped her knucles with hard wooden switches and pulled her spine up straight and sat her on the shelf like a pretty little doll to be silent decoration. They demanded silence and a pretty smile.

Feyre and Rhysand and their merry little court put a sword in her hand and sent her to war even as they demanded the same thing. She was allowed to speak and sweat and curse as much as she pleased. She was allowed to be wild as Feyre always had been, but still they expected silence.

Silence where it mattered.

Nesta found her spot in this court when she started to learn from Elain. When she noticed that no one bothered her no matter how far she fell, how depressed she clearly was, how haunted her eyes looked. No one yelled or locked her away or claimed to hate her. You could not hate a person who never said what they thought.

It was a different kind of freedom, Nesta supposed, to be completely numb. To watch your own too long, too graceful fingers slip past this beautiful, hazy possibility you once clung to with battered knuckles and a warrior’s spirit.

They never commented on her drinking now, though it was worse than it had ever been. Feyre giggled and set bottle after bottle between them on a coffee table as she prattled on about her mate and her baby and whatever new way the world was set to end this time. Nesta smiled now as she never had before. Smiled and nodded and made a well timed joke between sips of pink spiked summer water and Feyre never noticed.

How proud she was of herself, of the warrior sister she plucked from the slums and gave a purpose.

Nesta wore the dresses Rhysand gifted her even though the softest silk felt like sandpaper against her skin. She ate at their table and fought all of their battles and it was almost tolerable.

Living like a tiger in one of those roaming circuses. Not free, not allowed to be what it was born to be, not allowed to revel in its pouncing nature, but … secure. Fed and managed and perfectly fine.

She was perfectly fine.

“Nes is going to kick your ass pretty soon if you don’t get back in the ring, Rhys,” Cassian joked one night as he peeled sweat-soaked leathers from his toned body. Tossing them to the floor, treating the House like his maid the way he always had. The way he would have no reason not to.

“I could kick his ass now,” Nesta said on cue and without inflection. That was her line. Cassian baited Rhys and she flexed the muscles she let him train into her body and agreed with whatever he said.

“It would be a waste for Nesta and I to ever spar with fists.”

Nesta swallowed. She had no line for that. No witty response for mention of her party trick power that was only allowed out on Rhys and Feyre’s command. Cassian swooped in, convinced it was a lasting sensitivity he must save her from. “As long as none of us play her in cards,” he joked.

Nesta rolled her eyes and laughed how she was supposed to.

It wasn’t until later that night, long after the sun had set, when she was drinking her way through Rhys’ rapidly declining supply of good whiskey, that she realized her mistake.

The numbness only worked when no one looked too close. And no one ever cared to … except for him. He always looked too close.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Of course.” Maybe that was where she went wrong. Being too amicable. Somewhere, in a deep echo chamber where she kept all her true thoughts locked away, Nesta knew that she would never acquiesce without a snarky comment. She didn’t have the energy to find that line. And why should she? Everyone but him was fine with this.

Cassian sat too close on purpose, pressed his knee against hers and took a long drag from her glass rather than getting his own. He refilled it and licked the side before giving it back to her.

Nesta took a sip from the other side. His eyebrows knitted together.

“Still insisting on all this fabric I see,” he grinned lecherously, picking up the gauzy end of her nightgown. “Feyre and Mor don’t take you to that fun shop by the rainbow?”

“They do,” Nesta nodded, eyes fixed on a spot in the distance.

“Maybe you would let me join you next time?” He smirked, bicep brushing up against her shoulder.

“If you would like.”

“And you can try some things on for me?” Nesta nodded as she took another sip of her drink.

“If you would like.”

“And then we can go behind the store and fuck like animals in plain sight?”

“If you-“ Nesta paused, mind catching up to the words she had been tuning out.

“There we go,” he sighed, moving back and sinking into the chair beside her. “There was actually life in your eyes for a second there.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Talk to me, Nes.” She hated when he called her that, hated the softness he insisted on cloaking her with in his own mind. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. “Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit!” Nesta winced, because the last time Cassian said those words to her …

“I’m fine,” she forced a smile. “Really!” She couldn’t go back. Couldn’t go back to being locked away and cut off and terrified. She couldn’t go back to being desperate and under their control all the time.

“You aren’t fine,” he whispered. “You barely even seem like yourself, Nes.”

“Exactly,” she felt her eyes spark for just a second before dousing them in cold water. “I am better now.”

Cassian only blinked. “Better?”

“Just like you all wanted.”

“We didn’t want a shell, Nesta!” His voice rose, cracking at the top in a way she had never heard.

“Of course you did,” she shrugged. “Everyone is happy this way, Cassian.”

“I’m not,” he shook his head, eyes going wide with the realization of just how empty she was now.

Typical Cassian to change his mind just when she gave him everything he wanted.

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Nesta what the fuck?” He nearly toppled out of his chair, falling to his knees with an audible crack. Nesta raised her legs up and hugged them to her chest to avoid contact. “Nesta this isn’t … where did you go?”

“I am right here,” she smiled her new smile. The one that danced like a reluctant spirit on her lips and would never reach her eyes.

“No,” he shook his head. “No this isn’t … this isn’t you, Nes.”

“Of course it is,” she shrugged. “It is exactly the me you told me to be.” Even her accusations sounded like sleepy sighs. “Train or go to the human lands. I trained. Live here or go to the human lands. I lived here. Play nice or be cut off. I played nice.” Nesta looked up, past his eyes instead of into them. “I followed all your rules, Cassian. You don’t get to change them now just because your favourite toy is broken.”

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alinajrml

3 years ago

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

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

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

A scary though just came to me rn

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

I-

No that would never happen hopefully

My manifestations for today

Cassian and nests are mates

Az ends up with someone who deserves him

Az does not die

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

Freysands child is born and lives

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

And everything is perfect

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alinajrml

3 years ago

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

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

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

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

Seguir leyendo

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alinajrml

2 years ago

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

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

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

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alinajrml

1 year ago

New Song Fic: Bejewelled

Me: What song from midnights do people want a song fic for?

Everyone: ANTI-HERO! VIGILANTE SHIT!

Me: Cool, cool, um actually I’m gonna do Bejewelled tho

*Sorry guys I was in a Nesta fucking shining away from the Night Court mood rather than a depression fic mood so here you go*

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30357864/chapters/106906422

Snippet:

Nesta had gripped a sword that never belonged to her and trained her body into a weapon she never wanted to be. She wrung the plum red wine from her brain and confused a soldier doing his duty with a prince come to save her. She trusted even the beast that raged beneath her skin to be tamed by this male. This person who was … who was supposed to be her person.

Cassian was a broken promise. A great, cosmic joke. Just hers enough to fool her.

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alinajrml

1 year ago

Warning: Toxic Relationship

I

It takes weeks before Cassian begins to understand why she left. And if that isn't symbolic of their relationship he doesn't know what is.

Nesta knowing better, being better, as he trots behind. Coated in the arrogance of ignorance, always righteous until he's not, always catching the rhythm a beat too late.

He is a goner from their first meeting, leaning against the bedecked wall, grin growing as he watches her rip apart Rhysand's familiar monologue bemoaning the generous Christmas holidays he offers his workers (mostly under pressure from himself and Azriel).

She takes apart his brother's feeble justifications with the precision of a surgeon, irate expression contrasting beautifully with the festive and absolutely horrendous confection of lights and yarn she is wearing.

She is bewitching.

He waits, nursing his drink, quiet for once, eager for a chance to introduce himself.

He is enthralled.

It takes three encounters to get her number and an embarrassingly sincere drunk confession to obtain a date.

Then in pieces, in the compounding fragments of the trust he earns, they become a pair.

Their relationship, his life's great love affair had always been loud. Screaming, fighting, laughing, fucking. Always wild, careless in their abandon, in their feckless behaviour as they jumped off the cliff, intertwined.

So why was Nesta's departure so quiet?

The muted rolling of a suitcase on carpet barely disturbing him from sleep. The ring left to catch morning light on the side table until he'd copped it on his way to work and rolled his eyes. Nesta is in a huff and he is indignant, ready to whinge to Azriel.

It's six months later, on their anniversary, that he sees Nesta's ending wasn't quiet.

He just wasn't listening.

It takes three days for him to realise she isn't coming back.

Convinced she'll return with the bang of a door, with sharp words he'll take and worse ones he'll offer in return. That after some makeup sex the ring will be home on her finger and he'll be thumbing through a wedding magazine before bed.

This misplaced confidence keeps him from calling. To let her cool off. Leads him to saunter to the apartment door Saturday morning only donning grey joggers. Wanting the upper hand, wanting to see Nesta flush so prettily and clench her jaw tightly, seeing right through his feeble tactics.

Gwyn and Emerie, stony faces and empty cardboard boxes in hand, become a live audience to the destruction of his world.

He stands stunned, head reeling as Nesta is removed from their apartment. He finds himself carrying out boxes of her books. All he wants is to take it all back - slam the door in their faces like a child - because she can't just do this. But more importantly he needs to find Nesta. So a willing pack horse he becomes, trying to wheedle information from Gwyn.

His voice shaking, tears gathering, bile rising in his throat.

"Do you know where she is?"

A nod.

"Will you tell me please Gwyn?"

Her red curls shake, a strong refusal.

"I didn't realise she was being serious, I swear."

Gwyn stops in her tracks, head turning sharply to bestow a look that calls him an idiot in five languages.

When his house is emptied of anything that is her, anything he could not save, he returns to the ring still on the sidetable despite him begging Gwyn and Emerie to return it to Nesta.

It is the only time they look upon him with an ounce of pity which only makes it worse. Pity is for those who have lost. He cannot lose Nesta. There is not a universe he can fathom where he does not belong to her.

The ring he cradles in battered hands amidst shattered glass and splintered oak.

His blood an artful, awful, Pollackesque smattering over the mess.

Flimsy furnishings seeming a small casualty when his heart is now a necrotic organ burning in his chest.

The ring he picked,

with a white dress,

a honeymoon in Paris,

the rest of their life, in mind.

A silent killing blow.

One last blazing row the night before.

Cuts landing too deep this time.

The final fragment of a trust he'd once treasured sacredly, spent so terribly,

"Who the fuck could stand you Nesta when I can't?"

It makes his stomach turn with sickening guilt. He would stitch those words into his skin with wire rather than say them to her now.

He'd like to think he's a different man, maybe a better one, but that's up to her.

She's the only deity he wants to weigh his soul.

He'll come up wanting.

But maybe...

Maybe she'd look at him.

Face him.

Let him burn alive in the grey fire of her glare.

He would delight in his damnation to have her look at him once more.

Saturday is a haze. Rhys and Az try to coax him out to no avail. His pain is raw. Anger, frustration, desperation a tumour growing unchecked in his chest. The broken sidetable now possessing a broken vase, two pictures frames and three tumblers to match it.

She isn't answering his calls, vision blurry from tears and drink, the blue light of his phone is the only thing he can focus on in a world that is swimming. Her contact, Nes 🖤, a beacon, a wavering light, keeping him from going under.

She isn't answering his calls and so the voicemails begin.

"I have your ring. Sweetheart I'm not taking that back. It's yours. I'm yours... Nesta please just talk to me. I'm sorry about Wednesday night. Come back and we can talk."

Beep.

"What is this about Nes? We fight rough, always have baby. I'll do anything, say anything, get you anything you want just please Nes don't do this. We can get a fucking dog. I swear. We'll move to a different apartment. We can open a fucking dog hotel if that is what you want just.."

Beep.

"Tell me you're safe. Please. I'm going out of my mind here. I love you. More than anything."

Beep.

"Mor was right, you know you're such a fucking bitch sometimes. I'm trying to apologise when you left without a word. Fuck you sweetheart."

Beep.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That came out wrong, I didn't mean it, just I..I'm beginning to think you're not coming back to me. This isn't goodbye Nes right? Right?"

Beep.

"Just punish me in person, I'll grovel for you Nes, you know that..........It's just a break. It's just a break. That's okay sweetheart you can have it all. Anything you want. Just talk to me first. Talk to me."

Beep.

"I love you. More than anyone else ever has, will or can. Just. If you're going to shred my heart. Do it in person. Do it in person and I'll walk away. Otherwise I'm going to fight you tooth and fucking nail love."

Beep.

The last voicemail a gauntlet thrown by a drunk fool. A sealing of their fate.

She arrives on Sunday. Suitable for it to be a holy day if this is one last visit from his god.

He is relieved to see her.

Drunken promises of walking away temporarily forgotten. She had texted him an hour before to let him know she was on her way. Giving him time to put the house back in order, air out the smell of alcohol, sweat and despair. He's in his nicest jeans, hair tied in a low bun just how she likes. In the bedroom he has candles and rose petals, ready to worship her.

He wants to remind her she loves him, or she at least she did once.

Purple is painted in the hollows under her eyes, a slight tremor in her hand, greasy hair falling limply around her drawn face.

She looks terrible. Still the most stunning person he knows.

This is his doing.

He'd rather Az pummel him in the ring than see her like this. The aching in his chest makes it hard to breathe. He's made a mistake forcing her hand.

She looks around, avoiding his gaze, eyebrows raising slightly at the very absent sidetable. She'd been so happy when they found that at old flea market off Washington St. when they first moved in together.

He should have thought of that before he left it in splinters.

"There was an accident. I fell, you know how clumsy I get Nes. The table never stood a chance."

Her eyes land on him, and now it's him that can't bear to look, hand rubbing on his neck nervously, focusing on his white socks.

The silence is choking him.

"It's okay. It's okay. We'll get one just like it. I'll check Ebay. I'll ask Amren, she prowls around all the good antique shops. I'll make a replica if I have to. Lucien knows an excellent carpenter. I can fix it Nes. I promise."

He can fix it. He can fix this.

He meets her gaze and wants to vomit.

She looking at him with care, tears running down her face, voice barely audible.

"Cassian. We can't be fixed."

He can't think, he can't breathe, the world is on its axis and she's going to leave. The distance between them has vanished, he's on his knees, soft carpet beneath them a luxury he does not deserve, burying his face in the cotton of her tshirt hands wrapped around her waist.

"No. Nes, no. You can't do that. You can't leave. I'm going to convince you to stay. That's why you're here. You want to stay. I love you. I love you. I love you. I can't be without you."

Pulling his hands from her waist she kneels beside him, caressing his face.

"I'm here to end it in person like you asked."

Her voice and his heart break simultaneously.

'I love you too Cassian... I...I can't live like this anymore. I cannot be both your Madonna and your whore. And we know exactly which one your friends think I am."

The words friends is spat out.

'It's either worship or war. So much fighting...a ren't you tired? '

A breath that holds a future.

'I'm so tired Cassian. I need more. I need to be by myself for a while. I need someone you're not Cas."

And on the exhale he sees all his plans dissipate amidst the dust motes that hang in the air.

This is what hell feels like. He's being excommunicated for his sins. She's even doing it in person.

His god, so cruel and alluring.

"I'm leaving now Cas. I'm moving away for a while. A clean break will be good for us. You'll thank me for doing this one day."

She let's out something that an alien might count as a laugh. Nervous and watery, choked and uncertain.

"I'll never thank you for this Nes."

His voice is dark and maybe he knows sin better than he once thought because her flinch in response feels better than he'd like it to.

They are one. No matter what she says. They should hurt as one too.

She leaves.

He's still kneeling hours later her words a painful, unending echo in his mind.

He doesn't go out much now and drinking himself numb in this empty apartment is not who he is anymore.

But on their anniversary he let's himself drown in rum, in albums, in the box of her stuff he managed to keep after Gwyn and Emerie cleared house.

He cries into that stupid fucking Christmas jumper.

He sprays her bottle of perfume, letting the vanilla, blackberry, sage sink into the air, a ghostly embrace. Sitting amidst his shrine to her he allows himself to reflect.

Regret every overlooked sneer and snide comment. He doesn't see any of his friends, his brothers anymore. Nesta doesn't like them.

Rue every time he came home late, missed a date, was too tired to talk. He has a new job now, remote with flexible hours. It pays less but he still has his stocks and the nest egg he built breaking his back working for over a decade.

Rhys was frantic to keep him on. Bullshit talk about how he was spiralling, how she wasn't worth it. Punching that remark from his mouth, in front of the board, forced his termination quite effectively.

He has enough for Nesta to retire in the morning. He has enough to buy that fancy brie she likes, and handpainted books, and enough jewellery to fill a small store. He has enough to stay beside her so she won't have to miss him.

He's even bigger now, all his free time spent in the gym, ignoring how eating so much protein makes him feel. She always liked feeling safe in his arms.

He's read all her books. Found her Goodreads and follows it like his gospel. Has watched every show, every podcast she consumed on their accounts.

He'll share all her likes. He'll never fight her on anything.

Once he earns her forgiveness they can be happy again.

She's coming back to town next month. A flying visit apparently. He's going to change that.

His chance is coming to show her how much better is.

The type of man she needs. The type she'll never leave.

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