#snacmc

[snelbz]

New chapter! Only one left! ❤️💚

The Holiday {9}

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @snelbz

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers, New Year's

Summary: Nesta has just been dumped. Aelin hates her job. Both women need an escape from reality and with Christmas quickly approaching, it's the perfect time for a getaway. After discovering a trend where people can swap houses for a non-traditional vacation experience, these two women decide to spend the holidays in each other's homes. With their houses comes a series of unique experiences and a couple of handsome suitors. It's time to see just how much a change of scenery and two weeks of Christmas solitude and romance can change a person.

A/N: One more chapter! x

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

It was Christmas and Nesta sat alone on a stranger’s couch, drinking wine.

Well, she wanted to be drinking wine. She had a glass full of wine. Yet, her heart wasn’t really in it. Since Cassian disappeared that morning, leaving her on the stairs, Nesta felt…off. 

Yes, she had gone on vacation to get away from everyone — men especially. Her intention was to spend her vacation in solitude, having some sort of peaceful womanhood journey, but she found some hot guitar player that knew his way around a mattress instead. 

Worst of all? He was a good guy.

The words he spoke before he disappeared had been running through her mind all day. 

It wasn’t just meaningless sex.

I like you, Nesta.

She had no idea what he saw in her, considering she had been a bitch to him for a week then kicked him out after their night of mind-blowing sex, but he saw something.

And she didn’t deserve that.

She didn’t deserve his kindness, not after the words she had spat at him. Yet, she couldn’t help those words. She felt the way she felt, and after all that she had been through in the last year, she had a right to her feelings.

Even if those feelings were guarded. 

Tomas had destroyed her. It was stupid, and she knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She had given everything to him, had loved him unconditionally and wanted to build a life with him, but then she found him in bed with a girl that lived down the hall from them. Before him, she had never been cheated on. She had heard of people being cheated on and had seen it in the movies, but the reality of it was worse than she could have ever imagined. The second she had caught him in bed with someone else, her heart had broken. Shattered. She had never felt as lonely and unloved, uncherished, as she did in that moment. 

She never wanted to feel like that again. 

When Cassian had made his confession that morning, it had terrified her. When she woke up next to him still there, it had terrified her. Every time she had been mean to him and he didn’t disappear, it had terrified her.

Cassian scared the hell out of her. 

But what scared her more was how she felt when she was around him. Once she let her guard down, she could tell what a genuine person he was.

With a groan, Nesta fell back on the couch. She probably owed him an apology. No, she knew she owed him an apology. Did it really matter, though? Perhaps it was better this way. She would be gone in a day, and maybe it would be best if their last interaction was so heartbreakingly cruel on her part. Maybe it would be easier that way.

It would be better if he remembered her that way. She would remember him at his best, he would remember her at her worst.

A knock on the front door of the townhouse had Nesta sitting up, one hand braced on the back of the couch. There were still only a few people who knew where she was. Barring another inappropriate delivery from her sisters, there was only one person it could really be. As she looked towards the door, she could tell from the silhouette who it was.

For a moment, she hesitated, debating on answering it. Even with her doubts, she pulled herself up off the couch and meandered toward the door.

When she opened it, she was greeted by Cassian, who held up a series of plastic containers, filled with food.

“Before you say anything,” Cassian began, just as Nesta opened her mouth, “I promise not to intrude. I only wanted to bring some leftovers. We get a little excited on holidays and make way too much food.”

Nesta couldn’t help but chuckle as she observed everything in his arms. “I see that.”

He nodded, his eyes on hers as they softened. “Well, I just wanted to drop these off. Even if you don’t eat it, we still have enough to last all three of us at least a week, so don’t feel too bad about brushing it aside.”

He held out the containers and Nesta blinked at them.

“It’s just food,” Cassian said when she didn’t take it. “I promise I didn’t poison it.”

Nesta huffed a laugh again. He said the most ridiculous things. “Would you mind putting them on the table?”

She had barely gotten through the question when Cassian stepped inside and went to the kitchen, placing it all on the table. He unstacked them and laid them out before turning back to Nesta, hands in his pockets. “You leave tomorrow?”

Nesta nodded, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

“Well, travel safe,” he said, and she knew he meant it more than a simple pleasantry. 

They stared at each other for a minute before Cassian gave her an awkward nod and headed for the door.

“Do you want to stay?” Nesta blurted, staring at his back. Cassian stilled and slowly turned to face her. “I know you’re probably stuffed, but—“

“I could eat.” That cocky grin made its return.

His cocky grins and his smirks were so similar yet elicited such a different reaction in her. When he grinned at her like that, she wasn’t able to breathe properly. She forgot how to speak and couldn’t look away. When he smirked… Well, it was pretty much the same reaction, but it also irritated her in the best way.

She pulled out two plates and set them down at the table. While he started scooping and spooning foods onto their plates, Nesta retrieved her glass of wine and poured one for Cassian.

She smiled as she sat down across from him. This was an olive branch of sorts. It was nice. They had barely spoken yet, but there was something different in the atmosphere of the night. The sexual tension of the night before was gone, but there was also a somber note.

She would be leaving tomorrow, likely to never see him again.

They ate in a peaceful quiet, and Nesta had to admit that she liked it. She liked how casual it was, how the awkwardness faded. 

Cassian cleaned his plate quickly and leaned back, watching Nesta politely cut up her turkey. 

“Don’t watch me when I eat,” she murmured, taking a bite.

Cassian chuckled. “I want to look at you while I can.”

Nesta could feel her cheeks warm and she set down her fork. “Always the flirt.”

“Sorry,” he said, in a way that told her he was very much not sorry. 

Another moment of silence passed before Nesta said, “I’m sorry. About this morning.”

Cassian shook his head. “I’m sorry if I made it weird.”

“You didn’t,” she promised. “You just…surprised me.”

“Surprised you?”

“By being kind.” She shrugged. “By wanting to stay.”

Cassian studied her for a long moment. She hated the intensity of his gaze. She tried not to squirm beneath his stare. “I hate that there’s a guy out there that’s made you surprised by that.”

Although Tomas’s face flashed through her mind, Nesta had had plenty of one night stands with less than charming men who weren’t so kind, either. 

And none of them had ever wanted to stay in the morning.

Cassian had no idea how different he was, how good of a heart he had. 

Nesta thought she would meet him halfway. “Would you like to know why I came here?”

“I thought it was to be alone at Christmas,” Cassian said, prompting her further.

“Yes,” Nesta began, slowly, “but the reason that I wanted to be alone was because it was the first year in a long time that I wasn’t spending a holiday with my boyfriend. I’d been with a guy for a while and it ended…poorly earlier this year. Then the thought of being around my sisters, both who have more Christmas spirit than anyone I’ve ever met, just seemed overwhelming when I wasn’t feeling very cheery myself.”

Cassian sat patiently, listening. “What happened? With the guy.”

Nesta took a deep breath before meeting Cassian’s eye. “Found him in bed with someone else.” 

The townhouse was quiet around them, the sound of the fireplace crackling from the living room. She’d looked down at her plate as soon as she’d admitted the truth and she didn’t know what expression she’d find when she looked back up at him. She wasn’t expecting to see fire blazing in his hazel eyes. It was a different fire than that of last night. That was a low simmer, something that had been waiting under the surface. All it needed was a spark. This fire needed no spark to consume her.

“He was a fucking idiot.”

Nesta didn’t know why but his blunt words made her laugh out loud.

Cassian, clearly not expecting her fit of giggles, raised his eyebrows.

Once she regained her composure, dabbing under her eyes, she nodded. “He was a fucking idiot.”

A smile, genuine and sweet, broke across Cassian’s face. She hasn’t seen that smile often and if she had to choose between that, his cocky grin, and his smirk, there was no real decision.

She didn’t realize she was staring until his smile softened and he cocked his head. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“Even after all I put you through?” She whispered.

“Because of all you put me through,” he said, and leaned across the table to take her hand. 

“Well,” Nesta said, weaving her fingers through his, “if you ever find yourself in the mountains of Terrasen, give me a call.”

That smile returned as he nodded. “Okay.”

They sat at the table, talking and laughing until late into the night. Their hands never left one another’s.

<.>.<.>.<.>

Rowan was spending the day with his daughter, which Aelin knew he would and expected nothing less. Still, when he had left early that morning before the sun rose, it was hard to see him go. Their night together had been nothing short of perfection and she would do anything to relive it.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t a possibility, so Aelin tossed a few logs in the stove and started her Christmas the way she did every year: a huge breakfast that she would never finish. Crispy bacon and cheesy eggs, fresh fruit and sweet yogurt, delicious sausage and fluffy biscuits. By the time Aelin had finished cooking, she was hungry enough to eat all of the bacon and most of the fruit. She was lounging on the couch with a mimosa in one hand and a romance novel by her favorite author in the other when her phone rang.

She held her breath as she reached toward where it sat on the coffee table. There was no denying that she wanted it to be Rowan and that only made her impending flight home tomorrow more harrowing. When she flipped the phone over and saw her best friend’s name, she released the breath in a whoosh of air.

“Merry Christmas, Lys,” she greeted, before the phone was even to her ear. It had been days since she’d spoken to her best friend and while she was enjoying her escape from reality, it didn’t mean she didn’t miss certain pieces of it.

“Merry Christmas,” she sang, and Aelin knew without even asking that her best friend had loved every second of her day.

Since Lysandra and Aedion had gotten married, they’d gone all out for Christmas. That only amplified when Lysandra got pregnant. Now, as Lysandra was seven months along, it was their last Christmas as a party of two.

“Was your holiday in solitude everything you hoped it would be?” She asked, as Aelin plopped back down on the couch.

With a sigh, Aelin said, “Yeah.” She wasn’t really sure how to answer that question. It was more loaded that Lysandra even realized.

On the other end, Lysandra snorted. “That sounded promising. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aelin said, a little too quickly. “Tell me about your day.”

Just to humor her, Lysandra went on and on about her Christmas with her husband. She was certain to be detailed so that Aelin wouldn’t have any follow up questions before she finished her story and said, “Tell me about yours.”

Aelin wasn’t sure where to begin. With Rowan making love to her in the middle of the night or with the breakfast that she made for herself that could have fed ten people?

“It was…good.”

Silence rang from the other end before Lysandra asked, “Good? That’s all I get?”

Sighing, Aelin decided she could only keep Lysandra in the dark for so long. “I haven’t exactly spent it in solitude.”

“What does that mean?” She could practically see Lysandra pacing. For someone who looked like she was smuggling a volleyball under her shirt, she was still getting around wonderfully. Aelin only hoped she’d be as graceful as Lysandra was when she was pregnant one day.

Rowan’s smiling face flashed in her mind unbidden and Aelin was momentarily stunned into silence at the direction of her own thoughts.

“I mean, I haven’t been alone all that often,” she admitted, taking a sip of her coffee, hiding behind her cup, despite the fact that her best friend was two-thousand miles away.

Lysandra’s reply was much louder than Aelin expected. “You hooked up with a hot, foreign dude?!”

“She what?!” Aedion’s voice was faint, but Aelin still let her head fall into her hand.

“Ignore him, he’s putting together a swing for the baby,” she went on. “I need details.”

Aelin heard Aedion say something that sounded a lot like I don’t.

With a groan, Aelin shook her head. “Go into a different room, please. My cousin doesn’t need to be scarred.”

Lysandra snorted but Aelin heard her panting as she hurried down the hall. “Fine. In my bedroom. Spill.”

Aelin sighed, eyes falling shut. Rowan’s face appeared in her mind once more. “Yeah…I met someone.”

“And?” Lysandra pushed.

Aelin didn’t know how to describe Rowan. He was indescribable. Perfection didn’t begin to cover it, and just when Aelin was about to start with their first awkward interaction, she smiled to herself. “His name is Rowan.”

“Rowan.” The way Lysandra said it was like a secret that was begging to be set free. “Okay. Tell me about Rowan.”

Aelin did.

She told Lysandra about his kindness and all he had done to help Aelin have a nice, warm stay. She told her about their dates at the diner, and about how Aelin showed up at his house, thinking he was on a date, only to find out that he had a super amazing kid. She told her about the tree lot, and about their night together, and the countless orgasms that followed.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” Aelin said, finishing up her story. “I came here for solitude, and now I’m…”

“Smitten?” Lysandra offered, and Aelin knew she was grinning.

She offered one more kernel of truth, one that even she was struggling to believe. “I’m more than smitten, Lys. The idea of coming home tomorrow, of never seeing him again… I don’t like it.”

“And what about him?” Lysandra asked, slipping into therapist mode. “Do you think he feels the same way?”

She recalled the reverent look he gave her after they’d finished the night before. Neither of them had said anything, but his eyes said what his lips couldn’t. “I think so.”

“Then I think you need to go tell him.”

Her voice was so matter of fact that Aelin’s eyebrows lowered and she pulled the phone away to look at it. Shaking her head, she fit the phone between her ear and shoulder again. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is if you let it be,” Lysandra explained. “Who cares if you’ve only known him for two weeks? Who cares if you live in different time zones? You deserve to be happy, Ace, and this is the happiest I’ve heard you in years.”

Aelin let her words sink in. This was the happiest she’d been in years and it wasn’t just because of Rowan. This was the longest she’d gone without hearing from Arrobyn in years and it was freeing. Her vision clouded as she blinked away tears.

Clearing her throat, Aelin said, “I can’t very well go bust in and interrupt Christmas morning with his daughter.”

“Maybe not,” Lysandra agreed, “but you do have plenty of day left. Let him have his time with the kid, then drive your pretty little ass on over and tell him how you feel. You can’t let a good one get away.” 

Aelin wiped a tear from her cheek. She felt ridiculous for crying but she couldn’t help it, didn’t want to help it. They were tears of joy, tears of longing. Tears of hope.

“And if he doesn’t feel the same?” Aelin asked, quietly.

“Then you went for it anyway,” Lysandra said, matching her tone. “But something tells me he feels the same way, babe. A man does not make love to you like that without feeling a certain sort of way.”

Aelin knew she was right.

She had no doubt how Rowan felt.

“I love you,” Aelin said, taking a deep breath.

“Love you more,” Lysandra promised. “Merry Christmas.”

After they hung up, Aelin spent some time cleaning the cottage and packing up her belongings. After an afternoon shower, she got ready and changed her outfit twice before deeming a pair of jeans and a sweater acceptable life-altering clothing.

One last time, just as the sun was starting to set over the Staghorn Mountains, she swiped the keys to Nesta’s little, blue car and blasted the heat before backing out of the drive and heading up the mountain. The sun had come out today and despite it still being colder than any Velaris winter she could remember, the road was finally clearing up. It only took her a few minutes before the rustic cabin was coming into view and Aelin parked next to the truck in the driveway. She sat in the car, debating if this was a bad idea, if she should put it in reverse, go back to the cottage and pretend she’d never met Rowan Whitethorn.

But then the door flung open and all Aelin could see was shining silver hair and an adorable grin. “Miss Aelin!”

Aelin smiled as she got out of the car and Sutton bounded down the stairs. She crashed into her, wrapping her arms around Aelin’s waist. She hadn't been expecting such a forceful greeting, but she wasn’t able to stop the smile from growing on her face or her arms from going around the girl before her.

“Merry Christmas,” Sutton said, beaming up at Aelin. “I asked daddy if you were going to come see us, but he said you were probably busy. He’s going to be so surprised you’re here.”

The girl began to pull Aelin towards the house and up the porch stairs, but Aelin hesitated only briefly before crossing the threshold. “You didn’t tell him I was here?”

She shrugged, little shoulders rising and falling beneath her silver locks. “I was too excited.”

Trying not to focus on the rush of nerves that had just flooded her body, Aelin let Sutton drag her inside and shut the door behind them.

“Daddy!”

A door upstairs opened and closed, and then Rowan was hurrying down the stairs, coming to a slow halt when he saw Aelin standing just inside the doorway. He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Aelin decided that she liked him casual.

A light came into his eyes as he looked from Aelin to Sutton and crossed his arms. “What have I said about answering the door?”

“Not to,” Sutton muttered, looking at the floor.

“Next time you come get me,” he said, then looked back to Aelin. “Although I’m glad we have a guest.”

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced,” Aelin said, hurriedly. “I just…I leave tomorrow and was worried I wouldn’t be able to see you again before I go.”

Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but Sutton said, “Can Miss Aelin stay for Christmas movie night, daddy?”

Aelin hesitated but Rowan only smiled. “If she wants to.”

“Oh, please!” Sutton yelled, jumping up and down. “We’re watching the Grinch.”

Well, she couldn’t say no to that, even if she wanted to. “I’d love to.”

Sutton ran through the house excitedly as Rowan finally finished descending the stairs. He stepped closer to Aelin and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Aelin whispered, as a cabinet in the kitchen slammed shut and the sound of out of tune Christmas carols carried to them.

Rowan tugged on her sleeve, closing the distance between them as he gave her a soft kiss. It was sweet and innocent and over as quickly as it began, yet it woke something up inside of Aelin. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him, couldn’t deny that she loved him.

They stepped apart as Sutton’s little footsteps hurried back down the hall. “Daddy, the soup is done!”

Rowan gestured towards the kitchen. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“We do this every year,” Sutton explained to Aelin, pushing her step stool around the kitchen and pulling out everything they would need for dinner. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Sounds delicious,” Aelin replied, sitting down in the spot she’d sat the night she’d joined them for pizza. As Sutton brought her a napkin and spoon, she asked, “What did Santa bring you, Sutton?”

Her eyes went wide and the entire time Rowan was making grilled cheese sandwiches, Sutton regaled Aelin with an in-depth breakdown of each and every present she received. It spilled over into dinner itself and Aelin couldn’t help but smile at the young girl as she tore off a chunk of her sandwich and dipped it into her soup.

Every few seconds, Aelin could feel Rowan’s eyes lingering on her and she would look up and share a secret moment with him. It felt right. All of it felt right, being there with Rowan, with Sutton, eating soup in the kitchen on a cold, snowy Christmas night.

After dinner, they all snuggled up on the couch to watch The Grinch. Rowan and Sutton knew nearly every word, which Aelin typically would find annoying but now found charming and cute as hell. They had almost made it to the end when Sutton fell asleep on the couch and Rowan carried her to bed.

He was only gone for about ten minutes but Aelin found those ten minutes daunting. When he came back, she would tell him, would confess her feelings before going back to Nesta’s and leaving in the morning.

When Rowan came back, he found Aelin frowning on the couch and his joyous demeanor faltered. “What’s wrong?”

Aelin blinked, not even realizing he had come back into the room. As he sat down next to her, she shook her head. “Just lost in thought. I had fun tonight.”

“I did, too,” he said, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” she admitted, settling closer to him. “But before I left, I had to…”

The words got stuck in her throat. I had to tell you that I love you. She hesitated for a second, not wanting him to notice her lapse and instead said, “I had to see you one last time.”

“I’m glad you did.” The movie played on in the background, the exciting conclusion to a heartwarming story, and as he leaned in to press his lips to hers, Aelin thought it was fitting. She’d come all this way to get away from her everyday life. She expected rest and relaxation and a chance to take a break. Falling in love hadn’t been in the plans.

Rowan pulled away, just enough to speak. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Nine,” she breathed. “I have to be at Orynth International at seven-thirty.”

That was pushing it, knowing she was far from the only one traveling after the holidays, but any earlier might kill her.

His eyes found the clock on the mantle. It was just after nine.

“Twelve hours,” he whispered, brushing hair off her face. “Twelve hours until you leave and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

“I love you.”

The words burst out and for a second, Aelin wasn’t even sure she’d said them. As she took in the look on Rowan’s face, she knew she had.

For a moment, he said nothing. She couldn’t quite place the series of emotions that ran across his face. Her heart was racing and she had the sudden need to puke, but she would stand her ground. She said her piece, her truth. Swallowing, she watched and waited.

Until she couldn’t wait any longer.

“I know that’s sudden, and we haven’t known each other long.” She had a feeling this was the start to endless nervous rambling, but it couldn’t be stopped. “And I know we may never see each other again, but I have been happier in the last couple of weeks than I have been in a long, long time…and last night was perfect. I’m sorry if—”

“I love you too.” His words were soft, but there was a fierceness in his gaze that told Aelin the whole truth. He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “All I’ve been able to think about is you leaving and it’s been tearing me apart.”

Dropping her forehead to his chest, Aelin tried to will the tears forming in her eyes away. “I didn’t mean to fall for you. I wasn’t even expecting you.”

“And you think I was?” Rowan’s voice was full of laughter. “I was very content to continue the single dad lifestyle for a few more years.” He tilted her face up to his again. “But then this headstrong, brash girl from the city shows up and turns my entire world on its axis. And I know I should be thinking of Sutton before all else, but all I can focus on is that I don’t want you to get on that plane tomorrow.”

Aelin closed her eyes, but not fast enough to stop those traitorous tears. “I don’t want to go,” she breathed. “But I have to.”

His thumbs swiped over her cheeks, catching the tears in their tracks. “I know you do. We’ll figure something out, even if it’s not the easiest solution.”

Her eyes opened and found his, even as his thumb traced her bottom lip. “We will? You don’t want to…let this go?”

Rowan leaned in, just barely brushing his lips over hers. “Now that I’ve found you, fireheart, I don’t ever want to let you go.”

He kissed her then and for just a little while, they pretended she wasn’t flying home tomorrow. That the perfect couple weeks they’d had together wasn't about to end and fling them both back into the real world.

But they still had tonight.

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {8}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

Every session with Gwyn is easier.

I’m still tense as hell when we arrive, but as Cassian and I leave our most recent appointment with her, I actually feel like we might actually be getting back on the right track.

His hand is in mine, which has been a much more common occurrence in the past few days than it had in the last year.

Gwyn knows what she’s talking about, that’s for sure. As a relationship therapist, I would really hope she’s good at what she does, but I didn’t realize just how much I missed Cassian’s touch, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.

Nothing past PG has happened, but every time he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear or takes my hand in his, my stomach does a little flip and I feel like a teenager with a crush.

Except this isn’t just a silly crush.

He’s the love of my life. I knew it, even in my darkest hour, even when we rarely spoke, even when it felt like we did not exist within the same space. I have never doubted that Cassian is the one and only man I am meant to be with, which is somehow even more terrifying than having a simple teenage crush. I wasn’t even this scared when we were engaged, when we were about to be married. Then, I felt like I had nothing to lose, there was no question about it, about us. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose. Even though things are getting better, we aren’t back to being us, and even though I feel like we’ll get there, that we’re on the right track, the fact that we’re not still leaves me scared shitless. 

“You’re quiet,” Cassian says, as he pulls us out of the parking lot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s an honest response, even though he looks unsure. “Just reflecting.”

He nods, looking both ways before pulling out onto the main street. “I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “I think we should go out tonight.”

I look at him, brow raised, instantly thinking about the last time we tried to go out a few weeks ago. “Really?”

He shrugs, fingers dancing on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’d kind of like to erase the last date we had. Thought we should try again.” Another beat of silence passes. “But, if you’re not ready, that’s fine—”

“I think that sounds nice,” I interrupt, afraid I was giving off the wrong vibes. I’m more surprised that he wanted to try date night again after I messed the last one up so badly, but he gives me a smile that I know is genuine, and slightly full of mischief, which reminds me of the old him, the one that didn’t want to leave me.

I miss him.

And even though I see glimpses of that old Cassian lately, I know he’s still holding back. 

“Good,” he says, and we spend the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence. 

We agreed we’d leave at six-thirty, which allows me two hours to respond to some emails before I have to start getting ready. While I’m in my office, Cassian’s downstairs going over a few new menu items for the restaurant. Half of my inbox is nasty emails from Eris, which tries to dampen my mood but I won’t let it. If I got pissed and upset everytime Eris told me something I don’t want to hear, I’d never feel a single ounce of joy. I send him one email as a response to all, letting him know that everything is on track and I’ll send him an update at the end of the day tomorrow. 

It’s just after five-thirty when a soft knock comes to the office door and Cassian peeks in. He’s shirtless, yet again, and I’m starting to think that he’s coming around shirtless more and more just to watch me ogle, which I do, with no shame. Especially when he’s sweating, looking like he’s just conquered a thousand pushups. “Red or blue?”

I lift a brow. “What?”

He smiles. “Red or blue?”

I snort. “Blue?” 

“Seafood or steak?”

I cock my head to the side. “Is this how you're planning our night? Twenty questions?”

His grin widens. My eyes fall to his chest, his abs, back up to his lips, then his eyes as he asks, “Seafood or steak?”

I think about it for a second. “Steak.” 

“Inside or outside?”

Thinking about the warm, clear day we’ve had, I say, “Outside.”

“I’m getting in the shower.” With a wink, he’s gone.

I decide I should probably start getting ready too and close my laptop, deciding to ignore all work related bullshit for the rest of the night. Tonight is about me and Cassian, and everything else officially doesn’t exist. 

When I enter our bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked and I can see the inside getting steamy from the shower. Gray pants and a navy blue button down are sitting on the bed. 

I’m glad I went with blue.

I grab a brush from my nightstand before sitting at my vanity and setting out what makeup I’m going to use. I need to wash my face first, and glance towards the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. Surely if he left it open, he doesn’t mind if I go in.

Right?

After debating it for far too long, I walk to the bathroom door and softly knock, nudging it open an inch or two more as I do so.

“Yeah?”

“I need to wash my face,” I say, peeking my head in.

The shower door opens just a bit and out pops his arm, my bottle of face wash in his hand.

I take the bottle, doing my best not to look at the expanse of toned skin and dark ink on display, but failing miserably.

Gods, he’s mouthwatering.

Heading straight for the sink, I turn it on and wet my face. As I squeeze a good amount of the product onto my fingers and form a lather, I clear my throat. “So is our game of twenty questions over or will there be more?”

Cassian chuckles and the sound makes my nipples tighten. A husky laugh shouldn’t undo me so easily, but gods, it’s been so long. “There are a few more,” he says, as I scrub. “But I was going to wait until we were on the way to ask.”

After rinsing my face and drying it off with a hand towel, I turn to lean against the bathroom counter. “And if I have one for you?”

The water shuts off and the bathroom becomes unnervingly quiet for a moment as Cassian towels off. The shower door opens and he’s once again wearing nothing but that towel slung low on his hips. The well defined muscles leading down into the towel may as well be an arrow pointing at his cock because it’s all I can focus on.

“Nesta?”

Right, I said I was going to ask him a question.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Legs or breasts?”

The only sound is the shower head slowly dripping water onto the tile floor. Cassian blinks, likely making sure he heard me right. “What?”

“Legs or breasts,” I repeat, heading for my closet.

“Are we going to KFC on the way home?” He asks, shaking his head.

I can’t help my own laugh as I look at him. “Just pick one, you ass.”

“Breasts.” His eyes are focused on my face, trying his hardest not to let his gaze dip to the aforementioned part of my body.

“Okay,” I smirk, stepping into my closet.

I can still feel him watching me as I disappear into my chaos of clothing, searching for a dress that shows off my best assets. A few come to mind, but there’s one in particular that I’m hoping to dig out for tonight’s occasion. It takes me a minute to find it, and when I take it out of the closet, my face now clean, Cassian’s still standing there in the bathroom, that fucking towel still barely hiding all that’s beneath. 

I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Without warning, if I just grabbed his face and kissed him, I wonder how he would react. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to kiss your own husband, but I am. His eyes dart to the dress that’s hanging on the hanger in my hand. His eyes darken. He knows exactly what dress this is. 

“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” I say, as I go by him, into the bedroom. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are on my ass.

They snap up to mine and he clears his throat. I try to ignore the fact that I can see something happening beneath that towel of his, even though it causes a longing throughout my body that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “Sounds good. Yeah, me too.”

I leave him in the bathroom and sit at my vanity, getting to work on my appearance. Cassian’s voice comes from the bathroom. “Twenty questions — clean shave or no?”

I laugh quietly to myself. I like this little game we’re playing. As I dab on my foundation, I say, “Keep the scruff.” 

He comes out a few minutes later, his long, wavy hair brushed and dried and loose above his shoulders. He notices me looking and smiles as he takes his clothes off the bed and goes back to the bathroom. I suddenly realize how much I wanted him to drop that towel, right here, right now.

I focus on my eyeshadow. 

Once I’m done with my makeup, I brush through my hair and add a few more curls since some had fallen loose before spraying it. 

I’m halfway into my dress when the bathroom door opens again, and Cassian is dressed to perfection. He smells phenomenal, like my favorite cologne. When he sees me, he stops.

“Perfect timing,” I say, although I find it hard to find my voice. “Help me zip?”

I turn around and move my hair out of the way. For a moment, he doesn’t come, but then he’s moving toward me, silently. 

He finds the zipper that’s just above my waist, and my breath catches as his fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. He takes his time, and every time his fingers make contact with my skin, an ache that’s newly been awakened throbs between my thighs. 

I never thought zipping up my dress would be erotic. I was wrong.

“Ready?” He asks, hands still lingering on my waist.

Ready to throw you down on the bed and say to hell with our date.

I smile at him in the mirror and shake my head. “Almost.”

He steps back, letting me cross the room to my jewelry box. I retrieve a necklace he gave me for our anniversary a few years back. I don’t wear it often, despite loving it, because of the length of the chain. The diamond pendant fell right between breast and as I fluff my hair out around me, I turn and face my husband.

“Now I’m ready,” I say and I don’t know why I sound so breathless.

Okay, I do. If Cassian’s gaze could set something on fire, my dress would be ashes.

Silently, he holds out his hand. I take it, loving the feel of his rough callouses against my skin. I don’t let myself think about how those hands feel on other parts of my body, despite it having been months since I felt them.

Once downstairs, he swipes his keys and wallet, and then we’re headed to the restaurant.

He takes me to one of the best steakhouses in Velaris and we sit on the roof, where string lights and live music surrounds our candlelit table. The conversation is easy, nothing is forced, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

We talk about our most memorable dates, once Cassian mentioned that one time we skipped a group date because we saw a new taco stand on the way and ate there instead, just the two of us. We sat on the steps of the art museum, dressed in some of our finest, eating a heap of messy tacos. That had been about eight years ago, and I hadn’t realized just how much time has passed between the two of us.

Nearly ten years of marriage.

A decade since we swore our lives to one another.

And I almost let it all go. Looking at my husband across the table, I don’t know how I could have ever been so foolish, so selfish.

He sees me watching him and smiles, setting his fork down, his plate now cleared. I take a sip of my wine. He refills it once it’s almost empty, until the bottle that the waiter left us is almost gone.

After calling for the check, Cassian looks up at me. “Should we head home or walk around for a bit?”

I set down my empty wine glass. “Is this a part of twenty questions?”

He chuckles. “I haven’t exceeded twenty questions yet?”

I shake my head.

“Then yes,” he says, quietly, the toe of his boot nudging the toe of my stiletto. 

“A little walk sounds nice,” I say, afraid that when we get back home we’ll fall back into our polite small talk. Small talk isn’t bad, but this easy conversation we’ve had between us today… I like it.

We walk along the Sidra, the warm, clear day making way for a beautiful night, and I listen as Cassian regales me with tales of a new chef at the restaurant. She’s young and has never had an official kitchen job before, only graduating from culinary school the year before. I glance over at him, with lips pursed. He usually isn’t willing to put his restaurant’s reputation on the line like that. His chefs and sous chefs all have long lists of accomplishments and recognition, upholding the notoriety he’s earned.

We walk on, pausing at an ice cream stand to get to two cones.

“What?”

I look over at him and he’s already watching me as we walk.

I repeat his question. “What?”

He reached out and skims a thumb over my brow. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

I push him away, rolling my eyes, but he catches my hand and we’re heading back towards the car.

“What’s on your mind, Nes?” He pushes, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand.

For a brief second, I consider lying to him. I could tell him it’s nothing, tell him there really isn’t anything on my mind. But we haven’t gone through four weeks of marriage counseling for nothing.

“I just… This new girl, Emerie,” I start, hoping he doesn’t see my question as a sign of jealousy. “What exactly made you bring her on? She’s pretty green, as far as your assistant chefs go.”

I don’t think there’s any nefarious reasoning behind his hiring her. I just don’t understand his sudden change in pace.

He’s quiet a minute, which only makes my nerves ratchet higher. When he finally speaks, his words are low, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the city around us. “She’s from the same small town as I am. Similar upbringing, no dad, single mom that worked way too much.”

My heart fractured a bit inside my chest.

I stop, tugging on his hand to make him stop, too. I look at him. Really look at him. My husband is a damn good man. I’ve always known it, and I know that he’s proud of his past, although a lot of it is tragic. He loved his mother, before she passed, considering she had raised him on her own and fought tooth and nail for everything they had. It would make sense he would be sympathetic for someone of a very similar life. 

When it’s clear I’m not saying anything, because I truly cannot find the words, his brows furrow. Before he can ask me what’s wrong, I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his cheek. He inhales, as if he’s shocked, and I let the kiss linger against his warm, stubbled cheek. Our hands remain clasped together and when I lean back, his eyes are searching mine.

“You’re a good man,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And a good boss.”

He swallows, but he nods as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

I want to yank his mouth down to mine, but this moment is cherished and I don’t want to overstep, don’t want to ruin what we’ve built here. I give him a smile and we resume our walk. 

I make a note to stop by the restaurant this week and meet Emerie as we find our way back to the truck. Cassian helps me inside the cab and his hand lingers on mine, even after I’ve sat, before he closes the door and finds his way behind the wheel. 

We listen to music on the way home and he makes me laugh when he sings along to some nineties R&B song that definitely should’ve been left in the nineties. He catches me watching him on more than one occasion, and his smile softens every time he does. 

When we’ve made it home and witnessed Greg sprawled out next to the fruit bowl on the island, Cassian says, “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Yeah,” I say, setting my clutch on the counter. “It was a good night.”

He nods, and for a moment we just stand in the silence, staring at one another. He’s the one to break it.

“I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow,” he says, but he’s stepped closer to me. “I should get ready for bed.”

“Right.” I clear my throat, not sure what to say, as I edge around the island, closer to him. “I have to go in early, too.”

Meetings with my manager and the publishing company start tomorrow. I have no idea where the future of my books are with this company, but they have to understand that I can’t keep putting out the same volume of content out. Not if I have any hope of salvaging my marriage.

He sets his keys in the center of the island, which puts him right in front of me. Staring up at him, I watch as his eyes dip down to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I…kiss you?”

I nod, not trusting my voice, holding my breath. He leans in and my eyes fall closed.

After a second, his lips press against mine and I’m lost. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me. I’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how heady his cologne made me feel, the feel of his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I melt into him, losing myself in the feel of his kiss, clinging to his shirt with both hands.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are bright and he’s breathing heavily. I want to pull his face back to mine, want to grab him and drag him upstairs with me.

But Gwyn told us to hold off on sex.

Reaching up, I caress his stubbled cheek. “We should get to bed.”

He nods and swallows, not making a move to let me go any more than I’m making a move to let him go. I can tell his self control is on a short leash, just as mine is. So I step back and make my way upstairs.

He’s just behind me.

When we’ve reached our bedroom, Cassian quickly brushes his teeth before getting a pair of sweatpants. I’m watching him on the bed the entire time, suddenly not trusting myself to be too close to him. Before he leaves to go downstairs, he kisses my forehead, quickly. “Night, Nes.”

“Goodnight,” I say, but barely anything is audible as the word leaves my mouth. He leaves, and I feel empty once I’m alone. 

After stripping out of my dress and pulling on an old t-shirt, I wash my face and brush my teeth, and bury myself beneath the blankets of our bed. I miss Cassian sleeping next to me. Tonight, more than ever, the bed feels lonely. 

My heart is racing and I’m not tired in the slightest, despite the fact that I know I need to go to bed. I need to be well rested to deal with Eris’ shit in the morning.

But I can’t stop thinking about my husband, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I wonder if he wants to come up here, wants to climb into bed with me, wants to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

I want his body pressed up against me.

I want to feel his skin on mine.

Fuck, the throbbing between my thighs is unbearable. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to run downstairs and have him touch me, taste me, fuck me until I can’t think straight. I’m not thinking straight now, I’m too horny, too needy.

It’s been too damn long.

But Gwyn is right. Nothing should be rushed. We need to wait until we’re good again, until we’re back to being Nesta and Cassian.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t sleep in his own bed, though.

Sex may be off the table, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t share the same bed.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed before I can think better of it. The house is quiet as I make my way to the door and push it open. Everything’s dark, and I try to be as quiet as possible as I make my way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stop, making out Cassian’s massive figure on the couch. There’s no way he’s comfortable. Half of him is nearly hanging off of it. 

But he’s asleep.

At least, I think he’s asleep. The living room is dark, silent. He’s not moving. I think about walking down the stairs anyway, to brush his hair off his face and ask if he wants to join me, but I can’t seem to convince my feet to move. If he’s already asleep, he’s apparently not having the same internal crisis that I am. 

Silently, I turn around and go back to bed, careful not to make any noise, careful not to wake him. 

When I’m back beneath the blankets, I slip my hand beneath my panties and rub one out until that throbbing ache between my thighs is no more. 

[go-follow-snacmc]

Welcome to @snacmc.

After many, many requests for a side blog where we only post our stories, your wish has been granted.

This is blog run by @snelbz and @tacmc. All of our fanfics will be reblogged here, as well as a link to both of our masterlists.

As this is a side blog for both of us, please direct all asks and questions to one of our main blogs! We will not be checking asks or messages on here regularly!

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[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {7}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! I'm sorry there was no new chapter last week - I was on vacation! x

Warnings: language.

“You like Gwyn?”

I’m laying on the bench, lifting, while Azriel spots me and Rhys stands near my feet, downing half a bottle of water.

“Seems nice enough,” I say, through clenched teeth. “Genuine.” 

Azriel grabs the bar and guides it back to its resting place. It’s Rhysand that asks, “How’ve things been at home?”

I sit up, running a hand through my sweaty hair before pulling it back. “Weird. Not bad, but different, I guess. It feels like we’re just tiptoeing around each other all the time.”

“You need to fuck,” Rhys says, and Azriel snorts but Rhys is dead serious as he completely contradicts Gwyn’s earlier words. 

Although I understand where Gwyn is coming from, I don’t think Rhys is wrong. Trying not to think of my wife’s naked body, I get a towel to clean off the bench before heading to one of the many treadmills for a run. I figure I’d get a mile in before joining my brothers in the steam room, then it’s home to make dinner for Nesta.

Hopefully we can find something substantial to talk about while we eat. I’m tired of smalltalk, it feels forced and I hate it. Not that it’s bad, it’s just…empty. I miss joking around and not being afraid to say exactly what’s on my mind, but I don’t feel like I can do that now. We’re not there yet. 

“Hey, Cass.”

I look up from the treadmill I’ve just stepped onto to find a familiar face. I give her a lazy smile. “Hey.”

I’ve known Justine for a couple months now, since she’s joined the gym. We’re often here at the same time, both on similar schedules. She’s nice enough, although Rhys and Az think that her showing up when I’m here is no coincidence.

Maybe they’re not wrong.

“Haven’t seen you much this week,” she says, leaning against the equipment. 

“Been busy.” I shrug. “Why? Miss me?”

She rolls her eyes in that way that girls have always rolled their eyes at me, that tells me they’re not really annoyed by anything I say or do. The only woman that’s ever truly been annoyed by me is the one that I married. Maybe that’s one of the things that drew me to Nesta, the fact that I could get under her skin. The tension it created that led to life altering sex.

“Just starting to think that you’re ignoring me,” she says, sweetly, leaning a little closer on the arm of the treadmill. Yeah, I know that move. Her breasts are suddenly a little more on display for only me to see. 

I keep my eyes on hers. Try to, anyway. I mostly succeed. “I would never.”

The smile she gives me is sensual, and it’s all playful fun until she slides a finger up my forearm. I should ask her to stop, but it’s nice to be touched like that. It’s a simple touch, nothing too forward, but behind that touch lies a promise of something more. Rhys is right. I need to fuck. I’m a man, and I’m horny as hell, and my hand has only gotten me so far.

“You almost done here?” Justine asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Why don’t we…get some dinner?”

Her hand is on mine. The reality of what’s before me finally hits me. She doesn’t want dinner. I know what she wants. It’s obvious that food is the last thing on her mind. I pull my hand away and step off the treadmill, despite the fact that I never turned it on. 

“I can’t,” I say, as politely as I can. “I’m sorry.”

She grabs my arm to stop me so I face her, and there’s hardly any room to breathe between us. “Can’t?”

“I’m married,” I say, as if that explains it all.

She looks down at the hand she was just holding. “I’ve never seen a ring.”

“I don’t wear it when I workout,” I say, simply, “but I can go get it from my bag and you can watch me put it back on, if you want.”

The words come out a little hostile and Justine’s eyes narrow. I blame it on the sexual frustration. 

She says, “You’ve been married all this time and flirting with me for months? That’s a dick move, Cass.”

“I haven’t been flirting with you.” I know the words are a lie before they even leave my mouth. 

She knows. “Liar,” she croons, and lays a hand against my chest. “I know you want me, Cass, married or not, I don’t care. Come on. Dinner. At my place.”

I take her hand and push it away, back down to her side. “No, thank you. I—”

I don’t get another word out before an obnoxiously loud smack sounds and my cheek starts stinging.

She fucking slaps me.

People around us all turn to stare as Justine says cocky jackass and storms off. 

My brothers are nowhere to be found, so they must already be hiding in the steam room, which I’m glad of. Otherwise they would never let me live this not-so-proud moment down. 

I send a text to our group chat, letting them know that I’m going to go ahead and go home. In the locker room mirror, there’s a red splotch on my cheek, barely seen beneath my scruff, but I’m hoping it fades quickly. 

No, I don’t want to sleep with Justine.

I would never cheat on my wife, I never have, even at our worst.

But it was really fucking nice to be wanted.

By the time I walk into the house, I have been in my own head for far too long. The house is quiet as I walk in, only setting my nerves on edge. Greg is asleep on the couch in a shaft of late afternoon sun. I scratch his head as I walk by, but he doesn’t even stir and I chuckle under my breath.

Spoiled little shit.

As I ascend the stairs, I see the door to Nesta’s office is closed. For a second, I hesitate as I reach the top stair.

Before I left for the gym, we agreed that we’d have dinner and spend the evening together. Her edits would be done before I got home. She’s been better about limiting the amount of time she spends on her computer, whether that’s writing, editing, planning, or responding to her overflowing inbox. I’ve tried to be more open with my thoughts and feelings. It’s been an awkward few days, but we’re trying. It actually feels like we’re making progress, even after our disaster of a date.

Seeing her office door shut feels like a slap in the face and this one hurts a hell of a lot worse than Justine’s physical one.

My jaw is locked and I’m doing my best not to grit my teeth as I walk by, heading for the shower when I hear her voice through the door.

“They didn’t exactly give me the easiest turn around. They wanted rewrites on multiple chapters in days, Eris. I’ve got a lot going on right now and—”

She was cut off as her absolute dickwad of a manager interrupted her.

I have no clue what he says, but I know it must be bad when Nesta says, “I’m. Trying.”

I know that tone.

People fear that tone. 

Another few seconds of silence goes by, then she says, “I’ll have it done. Alright?...Yeah. Yeah, no, I know, Eris, for fuck’s sake.” Her chair scoots back, and I take that as my cue to keep walking. Yeah, I want to know what’s going on, but if Nesta opens the door to find me while she’s already pissed, I don’t think she’ll like my prying. If she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk about it. 

I take my time in the shower, but by the time I’m down in the kitchen, taking ingredients out of the fridge in my sweatpants, Nesta’s still on the damn phone. I can hear her pacing upstairs. 

After cleaning a heap of green beans, I toss them with salt, olive oil, garlic powder, and parmesan before dropping them into a pan to roast alongside my marinated chicken. I’ve just opened a beer when I hear her office door open and she comes downstairs.

I don’t know what to say in greeting, so I raise my brow. She gives me an apologetic look, that quickly turns into her eyes wandering my body. Yeah, I didn’t wear a shirt for a reason. I want to know if my wife still finds me attractive, and it seems she does.

And I get hot when I cook.

Shirts are irrelevant. 

“I thought I heard you come in.” Her eyes come back to mine. “Sorry, I know I said I’d be done—”

“Is everything okay?” I ask, saving her the trouble of explaining herself. 

“Just, Eris…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll just get pissed. How was the gym?”

Well, I got slapped in the face. “Good. I think I went a little too hard, though. A little sore. You sure you don’t want to talk about Eris?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth but shakes her head. “I don’t want to ruin the night with my work issues.”

I set my beer down on the table and walk towards her. She doesn’t move. Even in leggings and an oversized tee, she’s stunning. “Nes, it’s okay to talk to me about your work, especially if that asshole’s being a dick to you.” 

I want to hug her but I don’t.

I want to touch her, to kiss her, but I won’t. 

Gwyn suggested we start with touches, physical contact, anything as long as it isn’t sex, of course, but Nesta hasn’t indicated she’s ready for that.

Hearing that your wife doesn’t want to have sex with you because she’s terrified to get pregnant and miscarry again is hard to hear. I don’t want to push her into anything she isn’t ready for, even if I’m desperate for her touch.

She swallows, looking at my chest, but I’m not sure she’s actually aware that she’s staring at me. “The publishing company asked for two chapters to be completely re-written for one book and four for another. Meanwhile, I’ve got edits I’m still working on for previous submissions and I just…” Shaking her head, she finally meets my gaze. “The timelines they give me aren’t realistic for one woman.”

I don’t hesitate before I speak, knowing my words could set her off, but needing to voice my thoughts.

Time to see if therapy really has taught us anything.

“To be fair, Nes, you set yourself up with some unrealistic expectations. You’ve released what? Three books already this year? And you’ve got how many in the editing process?”

It wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t meant to point out that it was her own fault. It was the truth.

Something I would have said to her before everything went to shit.

With a sigh, Nesta closes her eyes and drops her forehead to my chest. “I know. That’s what he and I have been fighting about. I told him I can’t keep up with this kind of demand and he told me I did it to myself.”

I'm frozen in place. I heard what she said, but I’m floored by the feel of her skin on mine, by the contact that she initiated. I wrap my arms around her before I can second guess myself and rub a hand up and down her back.

“You have to do what’s best for you,” I say, processing what she said. “If he can’t understand that, if he can’t get the publishing company to understand, then fuck him.”

It’s the shittiest advice I’ve ever given, but honestly? My brain is shorting out, feeling Nesta’s body pressed against mine. She fits so perfectly against me, like she was made just for me.

“Easier said than done,” she murmurs, and looks up at me.

I could easily close the distance between us, could easily lean down and kiss her, and I really fucking want to but I contain myself.

At least until her hand comes up to rest on my chest. I brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and rub my thumb along her cheek. It feels so good to touch her but I’m nervous, worried that I’ll go too far, that I’ll do something wrong and mess up this progress we’ve seemed to make.

I remember now that we’ve been having a conversation but I can hardly remember what it was about much less how to respond. All I can focus on is her hand against my chest. Her being this close is driving me insane to the point that it’s nearly unbearable. I hope she doesn’t look down, doesn’t come closer, doesn’t feel how much such simple contact is affecting me.

Her eyes never leave mine.

Her lips part.

And I open my mouth to say her name, but then the smoke alarm is going off and I’m spewing every foul word in the English language. 

I have no idea how long the food has been in the oven. At this point, I don’t even remember putting it in there.

I turn the oven off, clear the smoke, and reset the smoke alarm while standing on a chair in the kitchen.

And while I do this, Nesta is leaning against the counter, laughing hysterically. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard her laugh, but hearing it now makes every ounce of anger and embarrassment at ruining dinner disappear.

She’s laughing.

She’s happy.

Even if it’s all while making fun of me, the chef that nearly set the kitchen on fire.

Once her laughter finally dies down, she orders takeout, and we sit on the couch and eat it together, side by side. 

[mariamuses]

SHUT UP ILY

This made my day because I was NOT expecting it 😭 @snacmc

I made some marble wallpapers for your guys!!! Leave a comment or show me if you like them and use them!! @stardustsroses @highqueenofelfhame @illyrianbeauty @darklesmylove @tacmc @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

[theladyofdeath]

Back to Orynth {Rowan x Aelin}

Written with @snelbz

Rowaelin. Canon. The castle in Orynth. NSFW.

Based on prompt: Rowaelin mutual masturbation fic, but then they just can’t keep their hands off each other and they fuck. But in canon. Not AU. by anonymous.

Word Count: 4,166

A/N: We've decided to take a little bit of time and post more OS! We have a very long list that we're set on tackling, and although we do a lot of AUs, I like that we started with one in canon. We hope you enjoy!

WARNING: NSFW. 18+ ONLY. The following story contains descriptions of sex. No one under 18 should continue past the link.

Aelin stood on the balcony outside of her bedchamber and watched as snowflakes drifted toward the ground. It had been a fairly mild winter for Orynth, but she still couldn’t imagine that flying through the snowy winter was all that pleasant, no matter how much snow fell. Yet, she kept her eye on the horizon, expecting to see a familiar white-tailed hawk soaring through the falling flakes at any given moment. 

Aelin was growing impatient. He'd better hurry.

It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her Mate, her husband. There had been suspicious activity along the northern border and Rowan had led the charge in the investigation, then went on to make sure that the entirety of Terrasen’s border was secured. 

Which was all fine and good, but it did mean that Aelin’s bed was cold and her heart was only half present. 

The grandfather clock in her sitting room chimed six, and knowing that the sun would soon be setting, Aelin was growing impatient. She wondered if she screamed, as loudly as she possibly could, if that would make him come faster. Surely he would hear her, he’d have to be close enough, and nothing worried Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius more than his wife in danger.

Even if he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself. 

Territorial, over-protective fae bastard. 

Just as she was about to give up and go back inside, she could see him, the tiniest hint of his animal form in the distance. 

He flew directly towards her, without having to even think about it. It was not his first homecoming, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. As he grew nearer, there was a flash of light, then he was landing on the stone ledge with a thump. His boots were filthy and he had a new scratch on his cheek that hadn’t fully healed, which Aelin knew meant that the original gash must have been pretty deep.

Yet, the moment he changed, his eyes were soft as he smiled at Aelin. “Nothing better to do than wait for me to arrive?”

“Well, I have a kingdom to run, but your impending arrival was distracting me,” she said, watching him fondly as he approached. 

“Glad to know I’m more important than your meetings,” he crooned, pausing before her. “I do hope you gave Lord Darrow the respect he deserves.”

“Absolutely,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “After he interrupted me for the third time, I called the meeting and spent the rest of the day in our private library.”

Save for the threat at the border, things had been prosperous since Aelin’s rule began. Trade was booming, the rebuild of the land was tedious, but created jobs the territory needed. The meeting on foreign affairs was more for pomp and circumstance than it was for a specific need.

“Our private library, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, finally bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but full of promise for later. “Surely you weren’t reading the texts on ancient battle strategies like I’ve suggested?”

Aelin hummed as she slid her palms up his chest and around his neck. “I assure you the strategies that I indulged in were far more…useful than any ancient battle strategy.” 

Rowan chuckled as he shook his head. “If any member of our court were to wander into our library and stumble upon a book of yours, they would be appalled at such filth.”

“And that is why I keep all the good ones in our private library.” She kissed him again, and he groaned quietly against her mouth. “You smell atrocious.” 

Rowan let go of his wife and stepped inside. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper bath, I’m not sure what you were expecting.” 

“I was expecting you to at least take some soap with you in your pack. You’re a king, for the gods’ sake,” Aelin teased, following him into their sitting room and closing the double doors that led out onto the balcony. 

Rowan snorted as he took off his pack and tossed it on the couch, then began unhooking his weapons, one by one. “Who do I have to thank for putting up with your sarcastic ass while I’m away?” 

“Oh, the list is long,” Aelin crooned, watching the show he was now putting on. Once his weapons were gone, he began unbuttoning his dusty jacket. “If you’re going to thank them all, it’s going to be all you’re doing this week.”

Rowan shook his head, but she could see the slight twist of his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, adding it to the pile. “Maybe I’ll thank them by taking you off their hands for a few days.”

“Ah, I am a burden,” Aelin said, meandering over to Rowan and fisting her hands into the fabric of his thin tunic. “Are you sure you want to take on that task?” 

“I think I’ll manage,” he muttered, before kissing her once more. Aelin reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, which was growing longer once again. She loved it. 

“Take a bath,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Don’t we have people for that?”

“I find doing things for myself keeps me humble.”

Rowan huffed a laugh before disappearing into the washroom. 

As the water ran, Aelin hurried down to the kitchens, smiling politely and greeting everyone she passed. After collecting a platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and berries, Aelin was finding her way back to her rooms. The water was still sloshing around from the washroom, so Aelin placed the platter on their table before finding her way back into her bedchamber and her wardrobe. After slipping off her gown, she pulled on a thin, golden nightgown and a knee length robe, leaving it open. She pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing that her duties for the day were complete and she would not be leaving this room any more tonight.

Collecting the book she’d been reading earlier, Aelin curled up on the couch in the sitting room, filling a glass with wine from a bottle brought straight from the personal stores of the King of Adarlan. She sipped the wine with an appreciative hum before opening her book and picking up where she’d left off.

The love interests had finally just given into their attraction for each other, desecrating every surface in the mountain side cabin in the best way. The kitchen table, the wall, the bath, the bed, Aelin couldn’t get enough as she turned page after page—

The next thing she knew, she heard the door to their bathroom opening wide and she glanced up to where her husband stood, taking up most of the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a pair of loose linen pants and…that was it. No shirt and from how low the pants hung on his hips, from what she could tell, no undershorts either.

His eyes took in where she sat on the couch, on the glass of wine on the side table and book in her hands and he smirked as he headed for the platter of food laid out on the table.

As he passed in front of the couch she sat on, Rowan froze, nostrils flaring delicately as he scented the air. Raising her eyebrows, Aelin cradled the book to her chest. “Yes?”

“What exactly are you reading?” He asked, continuing to the table the food was laid out on and leaning against it. He plucked a bunch of grapes up before picking them off one by one and popping them into his mouth.

“Nothing of your concern.” Aelin let the book fall back open in front of her, her eyes scanning the page. Rowan watched her for a moment, slowly eating his grapes, before grabbing a slice of bread and walking toward the couch. He plopped down next to her and read over her shoulder with a curse. “I repeat my earlier sentiment. Your court would be appalled if they knew of your reading material.” 

“My court should admire how in touch and confident I am with the idea of romance,” Aelin crooned, nudging her husband in the chest with her shoulder.

Rowan snorted as he bit off a piece of bread. “This is not romance. This is animalistic fucking.” 

A satisfied sensation flooded Aelin’s body as she looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve had to have some sort of companion in your absence.”

His green eyes were bright as he shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and swallowed. “Surely this doesn’t compare.”

“No?” Aelin asked, teasingly, as Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I don’t know. Me and my books have had some remarkable nights since you've been away.” 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, and although humored, they darkened slightly. “So you’ve been well taken care of, then?”

“Don’t you admire how I can take care of myself?” Aelin asked, setting her book on the table beside the couch before giving her Mate her full attention. 

“Always have,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Although I feel it defeats my purpose.” 

She loved it when he teased her, when he was playful. To the rest of the world, he was a nightmare come to life, a warrior with one intent, an ancient, powerful male who had the hands of death and the heart of a soldier. Aelin knew better. He was all of that, of course, but he was also a male who sat on the couch with her and flirted, who teased her and made her laugh.

Who made her toes curl and her most delicate parts throb uncontrollably. 

“Is that all you’re good for?” Aelin asked, shifting on the couch to straddle his lap. Rowan’s arms went around her waist, the most handsomely seductive little smile twisting his lips. “Pleasure?”

“As the husband of a queen?” he asked, one brow raised. “Yes. Yes, I’m fairly sure my only duty is to bring undeniable pleasure to Her Majesty.” 

“Hmm.” Aelin pursed her lips. “That’s quite the claim. And if I can pleasure myself just as well as you can?”

A low growl came out of Rowan. Even in their playful state, she could sense his jealousy brewing. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.”

Aelin’s heart began beating just a little bit faster, and she hadn’t even realized that her hips had begun to move, slowly rolling over his, until she asked, “Oh?”

As Rowan nodded, his lips brushed her neck. “Show me how you’ve pleasured yourself in my absence, my Queen.” 

Aelin’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. Beneath her, she knew exactly where Rowan’s mind was at. Between the hard thickness she rocked against and his scent, excitement and need bloomed in her core. 

“I don’t think you can handle such a sight,” Aelin said, her grin wild and devious. “A month and a half of travel has surely left you needy. Handsy. Possessive.” 

“I think you forget how patient I am,” he said, quietly, fingers teasing the hem of her nightgown. 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re not patient. You just like to pretend you are.”

Rowan took her chin between his fingers and made her meet his gaze. “Try me.”

There was something about his tone that filled her body with fire and chaos. His eyes were bright, crazed, full of lust and longing. Aelin was sure that hers mirrored his. Every night that she had spent alone in his absence was full of wishing he was there beside her, holding her, loving her until her knees shook and every thought from her mind had evaporated. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to have him inside of her, but she would play his game. 

She would give him a show until he was begging.

Still straddling his lap, Aelin shook off her robe and took the hem of her silk nightgown, slowly pulling it over her head until it was sitting behind her on the carpet. Rowan’s hands found her waist but she shook her head, smirking as she pushed them away, back down to the couch cushions. “No touching.”

His eyes blazed as they swept from hers, to her bare breasts, then back up again. Although his breathing had increased, he didn’t protest. Instead, his cock twitched beneath her as he gripped the couch cushions on both sides of his thighs. 

Aelin took her time pulling her hair back until it was held snugly by a ribbon, and Rowan was practically growling by the time she slid her hands down her abdomen, to the band of her undergarment. 

“Is that patience of yours thinning?” she teased. 

“No,” he said, but the word was clipped, his jaw hard as his eyes trailed down her body and rested on her fingers, where they began to slide down the thin fabric of her panties. A slow, heavy breath left Rowan and his eyes darkened as the fabric swept down her thighs and every inch of her was bared before him. 

He didn’t even try to hide his lingering gaze. A gaze that Aelin felt powerful under. As Aelin ran a finger through her slick folds, Rowan cursed, low and filthy. His fingers flexed beside him, but his hands did not move. He obeyed the command of his Queen, even as Aelin moaned into the quiet space.

Even the thought of her husband had left her wet and wanting. She could slide down on him to the hilt, effortlessly, but she wouldn’t. No— she wanted to see how long this game would go, how far she could tease him without him pouncing. 

How long he could go without completely losing his shit. 

She wanted him completely unleashed.

Their joinings after time apart were already nearly cataclysmic, neither of them leaving their bed chamber for a day or two. It reminded Aelin of the true mating frenzy they’d been robbed of when Maeve stole her off that beach. As if the time they spent apart built up until it blew, until it wasn’t safe for anyone but the other to be around them.

That suited her just fine.

Dipping her finger into the well of her center, Aelin gasped softly, watching Rowan as he watched her. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her, dying to bury himself in her arousal. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers up her toned stomach to her breast, cupping one. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, rolling it and teasing it until the sensitive bud was tight and peaked.

Rowan’s tongue darted out as he wet his lips, the only sign that he was struggling. His features were still set in stone, as if he were unfazed by her ministrations, but those eyes were locked on her.

Aelin removed her hand from her sex, fingers still glistening and reached up to touch Rowan’s chest.

Faster than she could blink, his own hand had captured her wrist. Her fingers were inches from his skin.

“What is it?” Her voice was husky, yet dripping with innocence, as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him.

Rowan sounded like he was in pain. Only a few moments and she’d already worked him up. “You said no touching.” 

She clucked her tongue, leaning in so her chest pressed into his. It pinned their hands between them. “I said you couldn’t touch me.”

“Then you can’t touch me.”

And before she knew what was happening, Aelin found her self on one end of the couch, her back to the plush, rolled arm, while Rowan sat on the other end.

Much too far for her liking.

He didn’t move. His eyes never left her. They trailed after her fingers as she settled against the couch cushions, her legs stretching out, her toes nudging Rowan’s thigh. His breathing was shallow as his eyes locked on the hand that palmed her breast. 

His hands didn’t stay still, though. Instead, Rowan untied his linen pants before slipping them down his thighs, his hardened length springing free. Aelin’s bottom lip was pulled between her teeth to keep from moaning at the sight of him, completely ready for her. She throbbed between her thighs and every thought from her mind vanished as Rowan fisted his cock and stroked. 

Aelin could practically feel him thrusting into her as the image flooded her mind. This time, she let a moan free as she began circling the throbbing ache of her clit that was begging for relief. 

Rowan’s rhythm matched hers, and for a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for their heavy, disoriented breaths.

“Your books don’t seem to be of much use now,” he teased her, not bothering to look at the object behind her she claimed gave her so much pleasure.

Smirking, Aelin spread her legs wider, baring herself further to him. There wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, hadn’t tasted, and she could see the raw hunger in his eyes. “They’re only necessary when I lack the imagination needed to—”

Her words fell off with a soft moan as she circled her clit, watching as Rowan worked himself. The muscles of his abdomen were straining and his hips would buck off the cushions every so often. Her mouth watered as he teased his cock, stroking the head slowly as beads of wetness appeared. Aelin wanted to lick him clean, to taste the unadulterated essence of her Mate after such a long time apart, but this game between them was first and foremost in her mind. What had started as a way to tease him had backfired in the most glorious way, and as Aelin watched her husband pump his cock in time to the plunge of her fingers into her core, she knew there was no way she would break first.

She breathed his name as that familiar sensation built in her core and Rowan’s jaw locked as he watched her body writhe beneath the power of her own fingers. Suddenly, Rowan’s hand worked himself faster, and a curse of his own left his mouth while Aelin cursed.

“Is this what you do in my absence?” Rowan hissed, his tone half teasing, half undone. His shoulders tensed as his wife cursed again, a string of profanity falling from her lips.

“Jealous?” she asked, but the word was nothing more than a whisper. She could hardly get it out as her hips rolled into her hands.

“How can I be jealous?” Rowan asked, his tone only pushing her further towards her release. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours.” 

Aelin’s fingers slowed to a tantalizing speed. “And what is it that I’m thinking?”

Rowan grinned, and the sight had a whimper sounding from Aelin’s closed lips.  “You’re thinking how good it’s going to feel when I finally bury myself deep inside of you.”

Aelin scoffed, although it was clear that it was nothing more than an act. “I thought I made it clear…I get by perfectly well in your absence. All by myself.”

Rowan’s hand slowed, until his hand wrapped around his cock but it did not move. “Your soul is mine. You are never alone.”

There was certainly some romantic notion in that statement, but it was mostly an animalistic declaration. No, as her Mate, their souls were connected. There was never a second that Aelin pleasured herself that she was not thinking about Rowan, even when he was thousands of miles away.

That thought alone had Aelin breathing, “Touch me.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth that Rowan grabbed her across the couch, dragging her body over his, and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands was in her hair, the other on her ass and Aelin adjusted herself until she felt him pressing against her center, thick and hard and ready.

Gods, she needed him and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t, no matter what game they were playing. He was not weaker for needing her, not as he’d once believed, and she wasn’t either. As he ravaged her with his kiss, Aelin rose up on her knees, lining him up with her entrance and sank down in one stroke that had both of them gasping.

Rowan’s mouth found her neck as she rode him, kisses alternating from long, languid sweeps of his tongue that made her squirm, to biting nips of the sweetest pain that had her quivering around him. His lips continued down her neck and shoulders, over her chest, until he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

Throwing her head back, Aelin moaned, writhing atop him, threading her fingers through his hair.

Rowan’s fingers kneaded her ass as he sucked and praised. He thrusted up as she rocked and bounced, and they did not even try to hide the noises that were shamelessly filling the space between them, around them. Aelin hoped the entire castle could hear, hoped that they all knew her Mate was home and her soul was complete yet again. 

Rowan’s lips found hers, hungrily, his tongue diving into her open mouth. Their bodies were pressed up firmly against one another’s but it still wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough. Aelin would always long to be closer, even if they were as close as two people could be. She whispered his name and came crashing down upon him yet again, drawing a deep moan from the back of Rowan’s throat. His head fell back and he cursed before throwing her back against the couch and claiming her with a primal relentlessness that had Aelin seeing stars.

She loved him like this.

Completely unhinged.

Lost in all she had to offer, unable to control his needs and desires. 

All of it, only for her. 

The room filled with Aelin’s gasps and screams and cries of his name as Rowan fell into her again and again, urgently and meticulously. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other fell in that little space between them and his thumb rolled her clit until she was falling into oblivion, drowning in her sweet release. Her knees shook and her chest heaved as she swore, her nails digging into his skin. 

Rowan’s eyes were bright as she clenched and spilled out around him. 

It was only a few more frantic thrusts before he was following her over the edge, groaning her name as he came.

His head fell into the crook of her neck, both of them breathing heavily as they came back down. Aelin was the first to move, dragging her nails up and down his back in slow, languid strokes.

A quiet groan rumbled in his chest and she laughed softly as her fingers found her way into his hair.

“Your hair will need a trim before we hold any official court business,” she mused with a smirk as he worked to settle his breathing.

“Your court can take me as I am.” His response was muffled by her skin, but she could hear the exhaustion in his words.

She hummed as she finger combed through the tangles. “I guess you're right. I am queen, after all. What I say goes.”

Rowan snorted, knowing she’d never use her power for something so vain, but didn’t reply.

“We should clean up,” she said, glancing down. His body still completely covered hers, right down to where he was still buried inside her, their mixed releases making a mess on the couch.

“We can clean up tomorrow.” He still hadn’t raised his head, his warm breath on her skin. “Sleep now.”

“We have a bedchamber for that, you know,” she teased and he finally pulled back to look at her.

She had only seen her mate look so exhausted a few times, so completely and utterly drained that she knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be asleep, so she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Every day and every night.”

Without warning, he stood, carrying her into the washroom, making quick work of cleaning them both off before heading for their bed.

Aelin clung to him, refusing to let go even for a second. She had to soak up every minute before he was called away again to fulfill yet another duty in honor of the beautiful country that they had brought back from the ashes. 

They never redressed before snuggling closely together beneath the heap of blankets on their bed, dwelling in the heat and comfort of one another’s bare body. 

They remained in that bed together all night, intertwined and connected, and stayed there until the following night came.

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {6}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! Please note this chapter's warning. x

Warnings: child loss.

We sit in Gwyn’s office in nothing but silence. I had high expectations for our date, but since then, things have been…tense. 

Cassian left me on the streets outside of Sea and Vine, which is exactly what I wanted. I made it two blocks before calling an Uber to drive me around the city before dropping me off at home. Cassian had been waiting up, but didn’t say a word to me once I had gotten home and climbed into bed. He simply made his way to the couch for the night after locking up.

I know I have to talk about what happened, but I wasn’t ready in that first session and I didn’t want to be shamed for not being ready. As I sit here now, however, I know that I’m going to have to face it sooner rather than later.

Especially when she starts the session by asking, “How did your date go?”

Cassian snorts beside me. I want to smack him. Gwyn just lifts a brow.

“Nesta wanted to leave halfway through because she didn’t like our topic of conversation, then decided to Uber home instead of getting in the car with me,” Cassian says, bitterly. I don’t blame him. Even though we’ve continued our small talk around the house for the last few days, I know that he’s still pissed about our date gone wrong. 

“I see,” Gwyn says, and looks at me. “What was this conversation that you didn’t like?”

I open my mouth to respond, but it’s Cassian that says, “I told her that we need to be truthful when we’re here. We need to get everything out in the open.”

Gwyn is still looking at me. “I will agree that honesty is key when in counseling. It’s usually the parts of us that we are afraid to face head on that are the things that need to be discussed. Even if it’s difficult.”

Cassian looks at me as he leans his forearms on his thighs. He’s a little too big for this tiny couch. That’s what I’m focusing on as he says, “I want to talk about it.”

I know what it he’s referring to. I don’t have to ask. “I don’t.”

“We need to.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re never going to be ready.” This time, his tone changes. It makes me look at him. His eyes are pleading and something within me sways and breaks. “I need to talk about it. I need for us to talk about it.”

I’ve been ignoring his needs for a long time. Ignoring them for so long that it led us here, to this, to him wanting to leave me. I know I need to grant him this, to open up, to talk about it, but the thought already has me in tears and I haven’t even said the words out loud yet. 

But then he turns to me and takes my hand. He brushes his thumb over mine, and it comforts me, if only a little. 

I find a place on the carpet and stare at it, cling to it, as I say, “Last time you had asked if anything had happened a year ago, when we started growing distant with one another, and I said no.” Cassian’s thumb continues to soothe me. “I lied, and asked Cassian to lie, too. There was no cheating, nothing like that, but���” I swallow and wipe my eyes with my free hand. “Cass and I tried starting a family about two years after we were married, once we had graduated and found jobs. It took a while, but I finally got pregnant and then I miscarried. The same thing happened about a year later, so we waited a few years before trying again. When we did try again, I got pregnant right away.” I look up at Gwyn, who is watching me patiently. I’m not sure if therapists are supposed to show any emotion, but I see the sorrow in her eyes that mirror my own. “I made it about halfway through my pregnancy, thinking that this would finally happen for me, for us, but then we lost her.” Her. There they were. The words laid bare. The words I have not spoken or confessed in a year, since the night that it happened, when I cried and screamed as my husband held me in the hospital. “That was about a year ago now.” I take a minute to try and compose myself, to overcome the sob that snuck its way out. Cassian's hand on mine is tight, and when I glance at him, he’s crying too, but his tears are silent. He says nothing, but he watches me, he comforts me, he grounds me. “I know that that’s when I started becoming distant. I wanted to mourn alone. That alone time eventually just became a wall that I had built up too high that I’m still having trouble tearing down. I started working more because it distracted me, and now it’s what everyone expects of me, to get out new content quickly. And I didn’t want to have any sort of intimacy because I didn’t want to go through that again.” I look at Cassian. “I don’t want to go through that again. I can’t go through that again.”

“First of all, Nesta, I want to thank you for trusting me — and Cassian — enough to open up about that.” The notepad is open before her, but for once, her pen isn’t in her hand. Her eyes are on me, on both of us, as she regards us with sympathy. “I had a feeling there was something you weren’t being completely forthright about when we spoke last, but I will never push you into speaking about something you haven’t begun to come to terms with yourself. Infertility can often be a silent battle, one that you feel like you’re going through alone, but I can assure you that you two are not the only ones fighting it.” She turned her attention on Cassian and I tensed. “Cassian, if I may, you lied for Nesta when we talked last, yet it seems like this is something you’re needing to talk about, too. Why is that?”

He released a breath, his fingers tightening in mine. “Because…no one knew. No one knows.” My eyes shut before I could see Cassian’s fresh tears, but I’m unable to stop my own tears that continue to fall. “We kept the pregnancy a secret, after the two miscarriages before. Nesta wanted to wait to tell our family and friends. We didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, to get our hopes up, if something went wrong. And then it did.” His voice was quiet and broken. “My brothers never even knew that I was going to be a dad. And then she was just gone, before we even got to hold her. To know her. To love her.”

Suddenly, I can only see the blood. I see blood on our sheets and hear the beeps of machines at the hospital, meant to read her heart rate and mine. I remember the emptiness I felt, empty from the shock until the reality hit me, that my baby was gone. Again. Everything after that was a blur but that emptiness had returned, had remained. The bloodstained sheets and the steady beeping of the heart monitor remained in my mind, in my memory. The monitor only picked up one heartbeat, and it wasn’t the one I had wanted to hear.

Guilt consumes me, yet again. I had never asked Cassian how he was after that. I had never wanted to talk about it. He had to heal, all alone. I want to apologize, but I can’t seem to open my mouth and form the words, so I reach up and wipe his tears with my free hand. 

Our eyes meet and hold, and a wordless conversation passes between us. Gwyn remains quiet, letting a moment pass, then another. 

“I encourage you both to talk about this beyond these walls.” Gwyn spoke quietly. “And when you’re mourning this loss, let the other know so that they can be there for you and comfort you. We are not meant to grieve alone and it seems that the two of you have been grieving alone for far too long.” 

I nod, as does Cassian. 

“Is that honest communication something you can vow to work on?”

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat, and Cassian repeats my answer. 

Gwyn smiles kindly, and I have to admit that I'm feeling lighter. At least until she asks, “Was it before this experience that the two of you were last intimate?”

Ah. The other topic I’ve been dreading.

“No,” Cassian begins, slowly. His grip on mine has lessened, but he keeps holding my hand. “There was a time about six months ago, but that’s been it.”

The time when he came into the shower with me. It had been good, amazing, as it always had been. But that was it. One time in a year. I’m embarrassed. I look at the floor to try and hide it.

Gwyn jots something down. “And how do you feel about that lack of intimacy?”

“I understand it,” he said, calmly. “Especially now that she’s told me why…but, I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t bother me.”

“How would you describe your sex life, before everything happened?” She asks, as if it’s a totally normal thing to ask about. Which, in this instance, I guess it is.

“Very healthy,” I admit, clearing my throat. I’ve never been uncomfortable talking about my sexuality, but intimacy is a very different case.

She writes down something else. “And how often were you having sex to consider it very healthy? A few times a week?”

Meeting Cassian’s gaze, it feels like my face is on fire. Beneath the tears that are still drying on his face is a smirk. A hint of the man I married.

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my smile, and he takes the lead. “At least once a day, sometimes more.”

Gwyn’s eyebrows raise, just enough that I know his words shocked her, and hums. “Very healthy, indeed.” She scribbles something down before looking between us. “How often do you touch?”

Again, my cheeks hea for no reason. “We just told you, it’s been a while.”

“I don’t mean intimately. I mean, how often do you physically touch?” She gestures to Cassian. “When she touched your face a few moments ago, were you aware that you moved closer to her?”

Trying not to be obvious, I look down to where we’re sitting on the small couch. When we first sat down, we were both leaning against our respective sides, but now…

Our thighs are pressed against each other, Cassian’s hand resting on his own lap, but poised to take mine again at any time.

“I hadn’t, no.” His voice is low and I can’t sense the emotion there.

“Ultimately, our sessions are to get the two of you back where you started, yes? This is a journey I take with couples all the time, but no one reaches the destination the same way.” She closes her notepad, indicating our time today is almost over. “For some, sex is a hurdle that needs to be crossed. For some, it’s a crutch and there are even others that use it as a weapon against their significant other. For you two, I think sex is a wall.”

Cassian hesitated, his brows furrowed.

“For this wall to come down, I think you should take things slowly,” Gwyn suggested, carefully. “Start small. Little gestures of intimacy. Hold hands. Try a hug. Even just a little, random touch, like when you touched Cassian’s face, Nesta, or when you, Cassian, were rubbing Nesta’s hand. These little touches will serve as a foundation for everything else. Before jumping into sex, I recommend that you rebuild your foundation. What do you think about that?”

“I think that sounds nice,” I say, honestly. 

“I agree,” Cassian says, quietly.

“Good.” Gwyn smiles, and before we are dismissed, we set up our next session for two weeks from now. After we say our goodbyes, me and Cassian make our way to the truck.

The ride home is quiet but not uncomfortable. We spend our time absorbing, reflecting. We’re about halfway there before he takes my hand. He doesn’t let go until we’re parked in the garage.

“Dinner tonight?” he asks, once we’re in the kitchen and Greg greets us.

“What’re you thinking?”

He opens the fridge and takes a look around. “Roasted chicken? I can make it with corn or asparagus, maybe some rice.”

“That sounds good.” 

When he turns back around, he sees that I’m watching him and gives me a small smile. “So, uh, how do you feel?”

“Overwhelmed,” I say, honestly, “but relieved, if that makes sense.”

He nods. “It does. I feel about the same.” He rubs the back of his neck, which serves as a sign that he’s nervous or uncomfortable with whatever he’s about to say next. “I’m glad you wanted to do this. Counseling. I think it’s going to be good for us.”

We have a long way to go.

I know this, he knows this, it can be felt in the air between us. To get back to the people we were, the people so madly in love that such a love shouldn’t exist, it would be no easy journey, but that was okay, because we were working towards it.

I had to believe that we could make it back to that place again. 

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Masterlist}

A @snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Ship: Nesta x Cassian

Summary: As they approach ten years of marriage, Cassian asks Nesta for a divorce, forcing Nesta to confront past demons in order for their relationship to heal. With the help of marriage counseling and their four-year-old nephew being the voice of reason, they try to find their way back to one another, even if it's proven to be far more difficult than simply calling it quits.

Warning: this fanfic is rated M for mature. 18+ only.

Chapters will be posted on Mondays, starting on Monday, February 20.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Epilogue

[snelbz]

Better Or Worse {Chapter Five}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Cassian —

True to my word, I’ve continued to sleep in Feyre and Rhysand’s basement. Now that it’s Monday, I have my bags in the backseat of my truck as I drive to this damn counseling session. As long as this doesn’t completely blow up in my face, I’ll be going back home with Nesta. 

I was surprised when she showed up at Feyre and Rhys’s, begging me to come home, to go to marriage counseling. A year ago, even months ago, I would’ve agreed to marriage counseling without any hesitation. But I meant what I’d said. I’m tired, and I’m past trying. 

At least that’s what I keep telling myself, but yet I’m here, pulling into the parking lot of some fancy little office on the far end of town. 

Nesta’s already here.

I see her car parked right next to the door. She’s still inside, but her car is off, and I find myself wondering if she’s just as nervous and unsure as I am about this whole ordeal.

After cutting the engine, I grab my wallet out of the cup holder and make my way to Nesta’s car. At first, she doesn’t see me, so I knock on her window and make her jump. She greets me with a scowl. 

Even when she’s mad, even when I’m pissed at her, she’s gorgeous.

“Come on,” I say, as she throws open her door. “We’re about to be late.”

I turn and walk towards the front door of the office building, knowing she’ll be a step behind me. Sure enough, I hear the clipping of her high heels on the pavement a second later. “I’ve been here since 9:45. You’re the one showing up one minute until ten.”

“You said our appointment was at ten,” I said, opening the door and holding it open for her. “So I’m here at ten.”

She glared at me as she walked into the building, but the waiting room was not a conducive place for the type of conversation we were prone to having recently, so she let it drop.

For now.

She headed right for the young woman at the receptionist’s desk, leaving me at the door, giving me a minute to appreciate her. The sweater she wore was loose and baggy, hiding her full breasts, but it was tucked into a pencil skirt that showed off her round ass. It was made of lace, with a shorter skirt beneath, showing off her long, toned legs.It was the kind of obscene balance that Nesta brought to everything in life.

I could barely tear my eyes off her ass, off those legs that hadn’t been wrapped around my waist in far too long, but once I did, I noticed the sweater was an old one of mine.

A knot of emotion caught in my throat that I cleared away before joining my wife.

“Dr. Berdara will be with you shortly, if you’d like to take a seat.”

Nesta gave a curt nod and swiveled to a set of chairs by the window. I quietly followed after a kind smile toward the receptionist. 

Nesta and I sat in silence for five awkward minutes before a door opened and our names were called. The therapist was around our age, maybe a year or two younger, which I thought was strange. Surely she had never been married, and if she had, she couldn’t have been married long enough to know all of the answers.

She seemed nice enough though.

Her and Nesta made small talk as they walked ahead of me down the long hallway and into an office overlooking the parking lot.

She gestured to a small leather couch for us to sit on opposite of her desk, which we did before she sat herself and smiled.

“It’s so nice to meet the two of you,” she said, sweetly. “I’m Gwyn.”

Wants us to call her by her first name? Another red flag.

“Not a fan of going by your title, Doc?” I asked, and I admit that my hostility may have been showing a little too much. I can practically feel Nesta’s eyes on me.

“I prefer a more casual approach when I’m first meeting new clients,” she explained. “Start us all out on even ground, rather than anyone above the other.”

Before I could reply, Nesta jumped in. “I think that’s a wonderful way to start out. I’m Nesta.”

The two of them looked at me, waiting. I started drumming my fingers on the arm of the couch. “And I’m Cassian.”

“As I said, it’s wonderful to meet you both.” Gwyn gave us another sparkling smile. “Cassian, why don’t you fill me in on why you two are here today?”

My fingers froze. “Why me?”

“Because Nesta made the appointment,” she said, nodding to my wife. At the same time, she nonchalantly flipped open a notebook and reached for a pen. “So since she took the first step by reaching out, I’d like to hear from you.”

“Pretty sure I took the first step when I told her I wanted a divorce,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I can feel her go rigid next to me.

Gwyn jots something down in her notebook, either oblivious to the tension between us or used to the uncomfortable situation thanks to her line of work. 

“And what led you to that point?” She pushed, her voice gentle, which only makes me more agitated. “What made you ask her for a divorce?”

Alright. I guess we’re jumping right into this fucking train wreck.

“Nesta stopped caring about our marriage,” I answer, shrugging. “So now I have, too.”

“I didn’t stop caring,” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn gives her a smile. “You’ll have your time to respond, but let’s let Cassian finish.”

Well, shit. Maybe I don’t hate her.

Gwyn turns back to me. “What makes you think that she’s stopped caring?”

“In the last year, we’ve barely spoken to one another. We’ve barely spent any time together. When we do talk, it’s about bills or our schedules or her work, which I think is great, she’s great at what she does, but we don’t need to be constantly talking about deadlines and edits. Every time we’re in the same room together, she gets annoyed and snappy. Every time I ask her for a night off, where we can just be together, she refuses.”

Gwyn nods thoughtfully. “So you feel the root of your issues lies in her work?”

“I think she’s addicted to her work. It’s clear she cares more about it than she does me,” I answer honestly. “She definitely puts more work into her career than she ever has in our marriage.”

Anger is radiating off of Nesta, but she doesn’t say a word. 

“I hear you.” Gwyn writes something else down. “How long have the two of you been married?”

“A little over nine years.” Nesta worked on the night of our anniversary, but I don’t bring that up.

“And your issues just began a year ago?” Gwyn asks.

I hesitate. “I guess I don’t really know exactly when our issues started, but about then, yeah.”

“This may seem like an obvious question, but I’d like as much background as you're willing to offer.” She folds her hands over one another on her desk and looks between us. “Did anything happen around the time things changed? Was there a catalyst or an incident that led to what you both see as a deterioration in your marriage?”

Before I can even decide how much I want to divulge, seeing as I met this woman less than five minutes ago, Nesta answers for us both. “No, nothing.”

And then Gwyn is writing again. “No infidelity or skeletons in closets that came to light?”

When I look over at Nesta, I find her eyes already on me, her gaze pleading.

I wanted to be pissed that our marriage counselor was almost accusing me of cheating on my wife, despite knowing she was asking an innocent question. I wanted to be pissed that Nesta had lied to her face, despite being the one who suggested we come here to work on our issues. This was where she’d finally open up about what had happened that night, when our world had gone dark, after pleading with her so long to just talk to me.

But it wouldn’t be today. Nesta wasn’t ready, the panic in her eyes was evident enough.

I turned back to Gwyn just as she looked up from her notebook and lied, just like Nesta had. “No cheating. No skeletons. Nothing happened.”

Gwyn looked back and forth between us, skeptically, but nodded. “Alright. Well, finding a turning point is a crucial part of this process, so let’s start from the beginning. How did the two of you meet?”

“Freshman year of college,” Nesta says, and I don’t care that she’s suddenly taken control of the conversation.

“And you started dating?”

Nesta nods.

“And what was it that drew you to Cassian?”

The question throws me off guard and I hate how much I want to hear the answer.

Nesta clears his throat. “He was…wild. Confident. Sarcastic. And frustrating as hell.”

Gwyn smiled. “And you found that attractive?”

“I found him intriguing,” Nesta said, wistfully. “He could piss me off and make me swoon within a matter of seconds. I’d say that it was his passion that drew me to him, at first.” 

“And Cassian?” Gwyn asks. “What drew you to Nesta?”

I stare at my outstretched feet. “She challenged me. Captivated me. I was used to dating…girls with low self esteem who just wanted me to prove that they could have me, but Nesta was smart. Confident, too. I don’t know. I guess that I liked that she was different.” 

“Different how?”

It was a much more difficult question to answer than I would have thought. Not because I didn’t have an answer, but because it was hard to put it into words. “She pushed me. She made me dig deeper. There was substance, not just a pretty face, she helped me grow, I guess.” 

Nesta sits silently beside me, staring at her hands, and I tried not to notice that her eyes line with tears. 

“And when did you get married?” Gwyn asks, still watching me.

“A little over a year later. We married young. Both just turned twenty.”

“And did anyone oppose your marriage? Considering you were both so young.”

“My father,” Nesta answers, quietly, “but we’ve never had a great relationship so I didn’t really care what he thought. He came around afterwards.” 

She didn’t mention that he died a few years ago, but I can hear the pain in her voice as I often do when she talks about her dad, although rare. 

“Tell me about your wedding day.”

“It was small,” Nesta says, and it nearly sounds like she’s smiling, although her face remains neutral. “Just our closest friends, and my sisters. Our friend Rhys got ordained online and married us on the beach.” Unable to help myself, I chuckle. Rhys was the worst officiant of all time. He was drunk, which did make the awful speech he had concocted a little bit better. “I wore a dress that I found online for thirty dollars and we were barefoot. It was nice.”

She made that thirty dollar dress look a million bucks. I still remember exactly how she looked, with her hair braided like a crown around her head. I remember how I felt. It had been the best day of my life and I couldn’t believe that I was so lucky to marry someone I was so in love with, my best friend.

“You look lost in thought. What are you thinking?”

It takes me a second to realize that she’s talking to me. Nesta is watching me, expectantly. I clear my throat. “It was a good day.”

I’ve somehow said the right thing and the wrong thing, all at the same time. Gwyn gives me a smile and looks poised to jump onto her next question when Nesta speaks. “That’s it?”

I don’t respond immediately and neither does Gwyn, which leads me to believe she’s going to let this one play out, rather than intervene.

Thanks, Doc.

I turn towards her, unsurprised to find her eyes already on me, storm clouds brewing within. “I said it was a good day, Nes.”

“But that’s all you have to say? It was a good day?” She genuinely looks offended and my short fuse is getting incrementally shorter by the minute. “Meeting your brothers for a drink after work is a good day. When you find a twenty on the street, it’s a good day. And all you have to say is that it was a good day?”

My jaw locks and my fingers flex. “What do you want me to say?”

Pure rage flashes across her eyes. “I want you to say something meaningful.”

Something meaningful. Jokes on her. She’s the one that hasn’t said something meaningful in months, years, who can’t recall how to have a meaningful conversation if her life depended on it. I take a deep breath, then another. Those deep breaths are the only thing keeping me stable, keeping me grounded. “Something meaningful?” I repeat. 

“Yes,” she snaps.

Gwyn remains quiet.

My lips snap shut and I bristle, eyes planted on a pen sitting on Gwyn’s desk. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Just talk, Cassian!”

My eyes snap to hers, and the second we make eye contact, I’m gone. I can see the emotion, the rage and sadness and hope, and that’s rare for Nesta. Especially lately. Lately, I’ve barely gotten anything from her, but now…she’s listening. She’s waiting. She’s hopeful.

“You want to talk about our wedding day?”

“Yes.” A tear falls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away.

“The day I married you was the best fucking day of my life,” I say, looking away from her. “I loved you, Nesta. You were so damn beautiful, walking towards me with that overpriced bouquet. I had no doubt that you were the woman I was supposed to marry. All I wanted was you. I didn’t give a fuck when or where I married you. All I cared about was that you were mine. I meant every word I said in our vows. I’ll always love you, always protect you, always be there for you…” I shake my head. “I meant my vows, Nesta. But your vows were shit. Over the last year, you’ve proven that you didn’t mean a damn word you said that day.”

The room is silent, save for the occasional sniffle from my wife. She doesn’t respond and I’m sure as hell done talking for now.

Gwyn lightly taps the end of her pen against her notepad. “Can you tell me what you mean by that, Cassian?”

“I mean she hasn’t stood behind her vows, the promises we made to each other.” My voice is quiet now, all anger sapped from me as Nesta dabs at her eyes with tissue she produced from somewhere. I’m just tired now.

Reading through her notes, Gwyn says, “You’ve told me there’s been no infidelity, so in what way do you feel that Nesta hasn’t upheld her vows?”

“She’s never there.” I hate explaining this. It’s the same shit I’ve explained to my brothers for the past six months and nothing ever changes. “It’s like I don’t exist. All that matters is her books and her deadlines. She doesn’t put any effort into our marriage or even into our relationship.”

Nesta is noticeably silent now. Good.

Gwyn pushes. “Nesta, would you like to respond to that?”

Angrily, she swipes at a tear. “My books are my livelihood.”

“And you were my whole life.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken the words aloud until both Gwyn and Nesta look at me.

I sigh, rubbing at my temples. Trying to move past the fact that I’m letting feelings I want to suppress out, I say, “Look, I’m proud of Nesta. Okay? She’s a damn good writer, and she’s living her dream. I get that. But since her career has taken off, she’s either working or stressed, and wants nothing to do with me, because I’m just another thing on her plate that’s already overflowing.”

Nesta doesn’t bother saying that I’m wrong.

“So you’re saying that Nesta needs to focus more on you,” Gwyn says.

“I’m saying that as long as she’s too busy working, our marriage is nonexistent.” Gods, I didn’t even want to come and now I can’t shut up. I lock my jaw and stare at my hands.

I feel Nesta looking at me but I don’t care to look back at the moment. 

“And how do you feel about what Cassian has said, Nesta?”

My wife is quiet for a moment, then she says, “I don’t know.”

I scoff and Nesta glares at me, but Gwyn is patient. “Do you not know, or are you unsure how to put your emotions into words?” 

Nesta shrugs, and I know she’s frustrated but I can’t find it in me to care much. “I guess I didn’t realize I was working so much, at first, but now I’m just used to it. I’m used to waking up and working until I go to bed. Ignoring Cassian was not my intention, I just wanted to be successful.”

“And now it’s a habit?” Gwyn asks.

Nesta nods.

“Would you say that you’re addicted to your work?”

Nesta hesitates. “I guess so. I guess it’s all I think about, yes.”

“Do you still enjoy being an author?” Gwyn asks, and I find myself intrigued by this question. For the first time in a while, I look at Nesta.

She’s staring at her wedding rings. “I don’t know. I love to write, but it definitely feels more like a chore than it ever has before. I don’t like the editing process. And sometimes I’m so stressed that I have writer's block and I go insane trying to write anything worthwhile, only for it to get torn apart during editing. My deadlines are getting closer and closer together and I struggle to meet them, because I’m always so stressed. And I know it affects Cassian. Then I feel guilty, but if I’m being honest, that guilt just makes me more stressed and withdrawn and frustrated and miserable to be around.”

The words rush out of her; her eyes never leave her rings.

“There may be a conversation that needs to be had with your publisher about the amount of work your putting out,” Gwyn muses, never one to give orders, just suggestions. “But as of right now, Nesta, I want you to think about how you used to balance work and your time with Cassian before. We’re nearly out of time today, but I want that to be what you consider until we meet again. Cassian, I want you to think about the amount of work Nesta does and how you can help.” I immediately want to protest that I know little about the written word, not like Nesta does, but she shakes her head. “I don’t mean in a literal sense, but to alleviate her stress. How can you help?”

I nodded. If we were here, I was willing to try.

“I want you two to go on a date before our next session.”

I blink at her, not sure that I’ve heard her right. “A date?”

“Yes,” she replies, closing her notepad and smiling at us both. Nesta’s expression is as confused as mine. “Dinner, maybe a movie or some dancing, the activity doesn’t matter. As long as the two of you spend uninterrupted time together, without work or deadlines, cell phones or emails, that’s our goal.”

Uninterrupted time with my wife.

The idea terrified me.

I hesitate, but it’s Nesta that says, “Okay.”

I don’t know why I’m so shocked by this, by her quick acceptance, considering this was all her idea, but I am. I’ve been trying to spend alone time with her for months, and I’ve gotten shot down every time. As soon as someone else mentions it, she says okay.

I tell myself not to be pissed about it, but I am.

Still, I say, “Okay.”

Nesta —

It’s been three days since Cassian has been back home, and it’s been…okay. Quiet, and there’s still not a lot of interaction between the two of us, but we haven’t been fighting. Although I guess it’s hard to fight when you barely speak. 

It hasn’t helped that he’s been working a lot this week. He’s a few men down at his restaurant so he’s picking up the extra slack, as you do when you’re the head chef, until they return. 

Still, when he’s gotten home we’ve had a small conversation about our days then we tell each other goodnight before Cassian makes his way down to the couch to sleep.

I hate being in our big ass bed without him, but I don’t mention it, not yet. 

Cassian got off earlier today, so we decided to take up Gwyn’s challenge. We’re going on a date. I’m nervous as hell, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I want it to go well but I feel like I have to tiptoe around everything to avoid another screaming match.

I can hear Cassian humming to himself in the shower as I slip into a little black dress, one I haven’t worn in a really long time, and look in the mirror. I’m hot, I can’t deny it. I curled my hair and did a full face of makeup, which I also haven’t done in a while, and honestly? I feel confident looking at my reflection, more confident than I’ve felt in…shit, too long.

After clasping a simple diamond pendant around my neck and closing my jewelry box, my eyes fell on the cracked bathroom door in the mirror behind me, a bit of steam billowing out. The only thing I lacked to be completely ready were my heels, but seeing what occurred last time I walked in on Cassian in the shower, I respected his privacy and waited. I sat down on our bed — the bed I’d been sleeping in alone — and waited.

It was absurd, giving my husband privacy and space after being together for a decade. We were the couple no one shared their secrets with, because what one of us knew, the other did as well. We didn’t do it to gossip. 

We just didn’t keep secrets from each other.

I didn’t know at what point that changed, but I knew I was the cause. It all seemed to be my fault lately.

“You ready?”

My head snapped up. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t heard the shower shut off or the door open completely.

And my husband stood before me in nothing but a dark blue towel, water dripping off his hair and running down his muscular body.

I watched as one particular droplet trailed down his neck, over his broad chest and well-defined abdomen, before absorbing into the towel wrapped around his hips.

“Nesta?”

Cauldron, boil me, I was ogling my own husband.

Tearing my eyes from his body, I met his gaze. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find heat there, simmering beneath the wall he’d put up between us. It had been a long time since I’d taken a moment to appreciate his body, a body he works hard to maintain, and I know he was as affected by our distance as I was.

Once I’d looked my fill, I cleared my throat, completely forgetting what he’d asked. “What?”

“Are you ready to go?”

I shook my head. “Almost. Just need to grab my shoes.”

He nodded, heading for his dresser, opening the top drawer, where his socks and underwear had always been tossed in with no rhyme or reason. As he began to rifle through it, I hurried into the bathroom, the steam already dissipating, and into my closet. Finding my heels was a matter of a few seconds and I was back into the bedroom before Cassian had even found a matching pair of socks.

“I’ll be downstairs,” I called, the straps of my shoes dangling from my fingers.

I only got two steps down the hall before I heard his voice call out behind me. “Nes?”

I turned, finding him standing in the bathroom doorway, a pair of black boxer briefs clutched in his hands. “Yes?”

“You look beautiful.”

A sudden pang of nausea swept through my stomach, fueled by excitement and longing at his words. I knew I was blushing. “Thank you.”

His smile almost reached his eyes as he disappeared into our bathroom and I hurried downstairs, Greg on my heels. 

My beautiful, fat cat hopped onto the couch next to me in the living room as I put on my shoes, trying to control my shaking fingers. 

My mind wanders back to my husband in a towel, as well as what lies beneath as I stand, my heels securely fastened. I take one last look at myself in the hallway mirror and take a deep breath as I hear Cassian coming down the stairs. 

When he comes into view, I want to run up to him and kiss him deeply, but I stay where I am. He’s wearing black pants and a dark crimson button down, both of which are perfectly fitted to his gloriously sculpted body. The top few buttons are undone, and I can see glimpses of his chest tattoo. But the best part? His hair hangs loose. 

“Ready?”

“Yes,” I say, nearly breathless, which makes him arch a brow. I clear my throat. “I’m starving.”

“Me too.” He comes near me, where his wallet and keys sit and snatch them up. He smells delicious, like that cologne I got him last Solstice. Once everything is in his pockets, he holds out his hand.

I blink before realizing what it is he wants.

Cassian is nothing short of a gentleman when it comes to a date.

I slip my hand in his and realize just how long it’s been since we’ve touched.

His fingers curl around mine as pulls me to my feet and we turn to head for the kitchen and the garage beyond. He drops my hand as he locks the door behind us and I’m surprised when he takes it again as we walk to his truck. It’s a short walk, but he’s apparently decided it’s been too long since we touched as well.

After closing me in the passenger side of the truck, he circles around until he’s sitting in the cab with me and starts it up. It roars to life and he backs out of the garage and the driveway.

As soon as he’s on the main road, he reaches over and threads my fingers in his.

I don’t say anything about it and neither does he, both of us silently enjoying the contact we’ve been denied for months.

“I made reservations at Sea and Vine,” he said, once the quiet in the cab was starting to feel less comfortable and more stifling. “I know how much you like their wine selection.”

The soft snort leaves me before I can stop it. “The wine selection, eh?” When I glance over at him, his ears are red. “Nothing to do with their cannolis?”

“Don’t hate on their cannolis,” he mutters, and I catch the hint of a smile. 

The rest of the car ride isn’t bad. We make smalltalk, which feels strange and unnatural, but not awful. We make our way to Sea and Vine, and park at a parking meter a few streets over. As soon as we’re out of the truck, he takes my hand again and pulls me close.

The heat radiates off his body, and now that his hair is completely dry, I admire the thick waves. He hasn’t shaved in a week or so, and a steady scruff has captured his cheeks, his chin. I love it when he’s not clean shaven. I think it’s sexy.  

Part of me wants to pull him into an alley and have him pin me up against the bricks. I want to revisit that heat we had when we were dating, when we were engaged, when we were newly married. There was a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, when we would sneak away no matter where we were and fuck each other senseless. 

I’m just now realizing how long it’s been since we’ve even been on a date. The whole concept feels foreign, and I’m almost unsure of what to do.

It’s all so ridiculous.

When we make it to the restaurant, we’re ushered to our table and Cassian pulls out my chair. Once he’s seated across from me, we fall back into our small talk. We share about our days, and how things have been going at work. I order my favorite wine and nearly melt in the deliciousness of it. Cassian asks them for a cannoli before we even order dinner. 

To my delight, I’m enjoying myself. And, I’m hardly thinking about work, which is rare. I feel like I’m thinking about work every waking moment. It’s a nice change of pace.

“Gwyn seems nice,” Cassian says, once our food is placed in front of us. He has a plate of steak and pasta, while I have shrimp scampi. 

“She does,” I agree. “I like her approach. Very casual.”

Cassian nods and pops a bite of steak into his mouth. “I have to admit that I wasn’t so sure about counseling…but, I didn’t mind it.”

“It’s nice, having someone there to play the mediator,” I say, jumping right in. We can tiptoe around our problems or we can face them head on. After months of awkwardness and half-assed conversations, I was ready to get back to who we were. I just had no idea where to start. “Someone to let us finish our thoughts when the other wants to jump in.”

He says nothing, just takes another bite of his exquisite steak and raises an eyebrow, indicating I’m the one who needed the reminder more than he did.

Which, to be fair, was true.

I can’t help but chuckle as I eat, swallowing my food before I speak. “I’m just saying, having an outside party is helpful.”

“I don’t disagree,” he says, twirling his fork in his pasta, not looking at me. “Especially when it comes to shit we don’t want to talk about.”

Immediately, my walls started to go up, not liking where he was leading the conversation. I swallowed harshly, but there was no food in my mouth.

Clearing my throat, I started, “I’m going to make an effort to be home more, Cass—”

“I’m not talking about your work, Nesta,” he pushed.

My jaw clenched and I stared at my plate, still full of food. Cassian’s chewing slowed as he watched me. 

“I thought my work was the biggest part of our issues,” I began, slowly.

Cassian continued to eat, apparently able to eat through any sort of tension. “I think it’s a part of our issues. It’s not the only part of our issues, although it’s apparently the only part of our issues that you want to talk about.”

I’m quiet for a moment, pushing around my pasta on my plate. “Can we not? I want to enjoy my night.”

“I’m not trying to ruin our night,” Cassian says, his fork halting. “I’m just saying—”

“Well stop,” I snap, and instantly regret it. My eyes wander back to my plate. “I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”

“You don’t ever want to talk about it,” he mutters, and drops his fork. “It wouldn’t hurt to talk about it, Nesta.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We have to.”

“Not now.” The tone of my voice is final, and I see the hurt in his eyes. I know that what happened didn’t only affect me. It affected him, too, and we never had closure. I get that…but I can’t talk about it. I’m not ready. Even after all this time. I’m not ready. 

We’re quiet for a moment, and I wonder if anyone at the tables surrounding us have picked up on our awkward choice of dinner conversation. 

“I’ve lost my appetite,” I say, at last.

“Yeah.” Cassian’s not looking at me. All of the sudden, the mood has changed and we’re strangers again. “Me too.”

“Call for the check.”

His jaw locks but he gives me a stiff nod. With barely any of his food eaten, he motions for the server to come our way and asks for the check.

I feel guilty.

I also feel angry.

Uncomfortable.

Sad.

We sit in complete silence as our check is retrieved and we’re brought to-go boxes. I dump my shrimp scampi into one, and he pushes his steak into another. 

We barely make it out of the restaurant before he says, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” I ask, as if I don’t know, which seems to make him mad.

“Don’t do that,” he says, stopping under a streetlight to glare at me.

“Don’t do what?” I ask, unable to stop my act, not knowing why. 

I can tell he’s frustrated, can tell he’s getting pissed. I notice he’s not reaching for my hand this time. 

“Act like you never have any fucking clue what I’m talking about,” he hisses. “I need you to communicate, Nesta. I need you to talk to me, to be open to me, to give me something of substance. I’m tired of these surface, meaningless conversations, and I’m tired of you avoiding everything we have to get out in the open. Therapy only goes so far.”

“Why couldn’t we just have a nice night?” I cry, and I hate myself for getting emotional. “We haven’t had a date in forever. This was supposed to be good for us.” And now we’re fighting on the fucking street.

Cassian just shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh, right, it’s mine! It’s always my fault. It’s my fault we drifted apart, it’s my fault that you want a divorce, it’s my fault that we can’t—” the words fade away from me, stuck on my tongue. A tear falls that I wish kept itself hidden. 

He stiffens. “Nesta—”

“Go home, Cassian.” I start to walk away, but he quickly follows me.

“Come on. Let’s just go to the truck—”

“I’ll find my own way home,” I snap, trying my best to hurry ahead of him. I don’t look at him. I hardly acknowledge his presence. I need to be alone.

“Nes—”

“Please, Cassian!” I spin around, meeting his eyes. I can’t stop the tears from falling, can’t stop the feeling of utterly falling apart. “Leave me alone! Go home.”

I hate the angst in his eyes, the confusion, the loss. “Where are you going?”

I shake my head, backing up slowly. “I’ll see you at home.”

This time, when I walk away from him, he doesn’t chase after me. 

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {13}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language, s e x

This chapter is NSFW. 18+.

I feel like everyone can see my nipples.

Realistically, I know that nobody but Cassian even knows that I have my nipples pierced, but my subconscious brain is yelling that everyone knows.

My husband, ever the overgrown child, is currently making a sand castle. A huge sand castle at that and he looks like he’s having a blast.

Turning back to the pages of the new romance I’d brought with me, he wasn’t the only one. With my earbuds in, I blocked out the sounds of the people around us and lost myself in the story before me. It wasn’t anything like the stories I wrote, but that didn’t make it bad. I loved reading books in different styles, always allowing my craft to evolve.

I was just getting to a scene where the male main character was on her front porch in the pouring rain, ready to tell the female main character his true feelings— and hopefully get some slow burn smut— when a shadow blocked my book.

Glancing up to look at my husband, I pulled one of my earbuds out. “What’s up?”

“I’m covered in sand and need to rinse off,” he said, holding out a hand that was, indeed, white and sandy. “Let’s get in the water.”

Curling my lip, I settled further back into my lounge chair. “I’m okay. I can’t anyways, remember?”

His eyes flicker to my breasts as he purses his lips as I use my new piercings as my excuse to avoid the cold ocean water. “Just come in up to your waist.”

I place a finger in my book as I cock my head. “Just go in by yourself. I’ll watch you.”

He frowns, and I can’t believe that I find it cute when he pouts. “What if I drown?”

“You’re an excellent swimmer.”

“What if a shark comes at me?”

“Punch it in the nose.”

“What if I drift off with the waves and I lose you?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Then I’ll send out the Coast Guard until you’re found.”

His shoulders sag. “I don’t want to go by myself. Please?”

I sigh, and even I will admit that it’s dramatic as fuck. “But it’s cold.”

“It’s not that bad,” he says, having already been in once. He holds out his hand, again. “Please?”

I stare at him for a moment, but he stares back with the same intensity.

“Fine, up to my waist, no more than ten minutes,” I say, and bookmark my page before taking his hand and letting him pull me out of my lounge chair. 

If it were just because I didn’t want to get in, I would not be letting him lead me into the water. There is no way in hell that he wouldn’t drag me under, splash me, or do whatever he could to poke at me.

But thanks to his new favorite jewelry I own, I can’t get in the water for another eight hours or so. I’m not risking an infection from any piercing, but sure as hell not on my nipples.

True to his word, the water isn’t as cold as I feared and I even went out a little past my waist, careful to keep my breasts from bobbing into the water. Cassian stayed with me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me sweetly. This was a public beach, families and couples and kids everywhere, so it wasn’t like we could get hot and heavy anyways. But still, I could feel the heat simmering just below the surface in that kiss.

The memory of Cassian’s mouth on me the night before had all of my nerves lighting up. He hadn’t let me touch him, had said it was about my pleasure not his, and I had come not once, but twice, all without him touching my overly sensitive nipples.

I told him I wanted to do something we’d never done while we were on vacation. We went to bars and restaurants with our family, but we never went out and did anything else.

I wanted to go to a club. I wanted to dance and feel the music pounding through my body and lose myself in the lights. Cassian was not nearly as excited as I was.

Still, when we got back to the beach, we each started getting ready. I packed a little black dress just for this occasion, along with a pair of strappy heels. My hair was curled, free of its usual updo, hanging loosely down my back which was mostly bare, thanks to the dress I had on, which was open-backed and showed off my ass magnificently.

When I walked out of the bathroom, I stilled.

Cassian is sitting on the foot of the bed, watching a soccer game in his underwear. Although he had showered, he hasn’t done much since then, when I took over the bathroom and he went to “get dressed”. 

Apparently, getting dressed means getting rid of his towel and pulling on his underwear.

And socks.

“Babe, there’s only fifteen minutes left and Illyria is down by one,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “Let me watch the rest and I promise to dance with you all night.” 

I think that’s fair enough. “Can you at least finish getting ready while you watch?”

Something exciting happens on the screen and Cassian jumps to his feet. “THAT’S RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

I suddenly hope our neighbors are currently out of their rooms. Letting him watch his game, I go to his suitcase and pull out a pair of black jeans, along with a black, long sleeve tee that I shake the wrinkles out of. 

As he sits back down, he glances over at me, and stills. I’ll never get tired of that, watching him look at me for the first time. His eyes go soft, then fill with lust, and his lips part as he lets out a breath. 

He motions for me to turn around, so I give him a little show, turning slowly. When I face him again, it’s clear his eyes were lingering on my ass. “Good?”

“Why do you always have to look so damn good while trying to make me leave this room?” he asks, the game long forgotten. “It’s torture.”

“It’s my specialty,” I say, blowing him a kiss and laying his clothes out on the bed. “We’re not staying if it goes to overtime.”

It didn’t. Illyria scored one more time with forty seconds to spare and the game ended. True to his word, Cassian dressed, brushed his teeth, and we were out the door within five more minutes.

The club, called the Pleasure Barge, was just a few buildings down from our hotel. It had pleasure cruises that left the beach every half an hour, but that was not my focus for the night. After showing our ID’s at the door, our hands were stamped and we were let into the club. The music was loud and I could feel the bass thrumming through my entire body. I turned to Cassian, to see if my excitement was mirrored on his expression.

He couldn’t have looked more miserable if he tried.

“Smile,” I said, pulling on his hand and finding a table along the edge of the dance floor. “Go get us a couple drinks and then we’ll dance.”

He mumbled something I didn’t catch, but headed to the bar regardless. A few minute later, he returned with a vodka cranberry for me and neat whiskey for himself.

I sipped through my straw and watched him. “You could try to have fun, you know?”

“There are far too many people here for me to have fun,” he replied, bringing his glass to his lips and looking around. 

“Finish your drink and I’ll make it fun for you,” I promised and his eyes landed on me.

It’s ridiculous how he can look at me and make me feel completely nude. It’s a talent that he’s always had, one that’s always made my heart beat a little faster and my knees shake. 

He downs his whiskey in a few gulps, surely hoping to make sure I quickly act on my statement. I try to keep up, hasilty making my vodka cranberry disappear before dragging my husband onto the dance floor. 

The music was loud with a heavy bass, and as soon as we were out in the mass of people, his hands were around my waist and my body was sliding up against his.

We haven’t gone clubbing since our early twenties, but I’ve always loved to dance. There’s something freeing about it, once you decide to not give a damn what anyone else thinks. 

I throw my hands in the air as I shamelessly rub my ass all over my husband’s groin. My back is pressed against his abdomen, and I can feel his heart beating erratically. It seems that he doesn’t mind dancing with me, after all. 

At least, that’s what I can assume from the way he palms my breast.

I swat his hand away as I laugh, turning to face him and sliding my arms around his neck. “We’re in public!”

“There’s at least twenty couples fucking in the bathroom right now!” He yells back. “I think me grabbing your boob is the most innocent thing going on here!”

I laugh again before getting lost in the music. Cassian must really love me, because I lose track of how many songs we dance to before he leans close to my ear and says, “Break? I need a drink!”

I nod so I don’t have to yell over the music and we find an unoccupied table across the dance floor.

“Stay here, I’ll get our drinks,” he says, giving me a chaste kiss and grabbing my ass.

I bite my lips as he goes, watching the way his muscles move beneath his shirt.

I pull my phone from the hidden pocket in my dress, checking my texts.

Elain has texted our group chat with pictures of a soft pink and gray nursery. She’s officially begun nesting, starting to put away the tiny clothes she’d received at her baby shower. This baby wouldn’t be here for another few weeks, yet she already has a larger wardrobe than I do.

I'm beyond happy for my sister and Azriel, just as happy as I was for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant with Nyx. But it also felt like a shot to the heart every time I thought about the pregnancies we’d lost. Gwyn had suggested that we tell our families, to open our grief up to those that loved us. I want to and so does Cassian, but neither of us are ready.

Soon, we keep promising ourselves, and we will, but not yet.

I sense someone pause at the table next to me and I lean into him, smiling up at him, before I realize it’s not my husband. Jumping back, I put a hand to my chest. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

He lifts a brow, and he does it in a way that tells me he’s used to flirting. “No worries. I’m Justin.”

I blink. It’s been a long time since I’ve been single, and Cassian and I got together so young that I almost don’t catch what’s happening here. “Hi, Justin. I’m married.”

He laughs, and I can’t deny that he’s attractive. A few years younger than me, I’m sure, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. His hair is a chestnut brown and his eyes are blue, and they’re scanning my body from the top of my head to my toes. “I don’t mind that. A lot of married women vacation here. Girls trip, right? I’m known to make a girls trip a little more worth while.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh until I’m snorting. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “I just…does that line typically work on women?”

He flashes me a grin. “You tell me.”

“Oh, Cauldron boil me, no—”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

I stare at him, nearly dumbfounded. “I just told you—”

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” he says. “By far the most beautiful woman in this place.”

I hesitate. “Thank you, but—”

“Would you like to dance?”

This guy just isn’t getting the hint. He takes my hand, but before I can pull it away and tell him hell no, I hear my husband’s voice.

…………

Cassian

………….

I know I have anger issues.

I know my anger comes quickly and takes a while to fade, and I know that sometimes I get pissed over ridiculous shit, but there is nothing ridiculous about this prick taking my wife’s hand.

With both drinks in my hands, I stop behind Nesta and ask, filter long gone, “What the fuck are you doing?”

His stupid, smug grin melts away the instant he sees me. “Hey, man, I was just telling your wife how beautiful she is—”

“You were just leaving,” I say to him, interrupting.

“I’ve got this, Cass,” Nesta says, snatching up her drink as soon as I set it down on the table.

Nesta wasn’t going to dance with him, I know that, I could see the look on her face as I approached, but my fuse is short and I’m about to blow. My higher reasoning is gone and I’m pissed at this asshole who had the gall to touch my wife, at the club for existing, and at Nesta for dragging me here.

“Seemed to be doing real well while I was gone,” I snap, not tearing my eyes from the prick who’s still standing at our table.

“Excuse you?” I can hear the righteous indignation in her voice as she turns in place to glare up at me, the jackass behind us forgotten.

“I’m gonna go,” he mumbles, backing away. “You two have a good night.”

I want to say something, to have the final word, but Nesta beats me to it. “Go fuck yourself, Justin.”

Whirling back on me, her eyes are blazing. “Do you really think I was flirting with that asshole?”

“I don’t know what the hell was happening,” I say, losing the tenuous hold on my anger. “I walk up and he’s holding your hand and asking you to dance. What else did he say?”

“He hit on me and I told him I was married.” She emphasizes the word by holding up her left hand and pointing at her wedding rings. “But he wouldn’t take the hint.”

I know if I say something right now, it’s going to get me in trouble, so instead, I toss back the double shot of Gentleman Jack I ordered, feeling it burn all the way down. “I’m ready to go.”

“I’m not,” she seethes. “I want to dance, I’m having fun.”

I gesture towards the crowd on the dance floor, empty glass still in my hand. “I’m sure if you can find your friend in there, he’d love to dance with you.”

Her mouth snaps shut and she’s seething. “Wow.”

I shake my head. My hands are shaking and I feel like punching a wall, flipping a table. “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“No, you’re not.”

I turn to leave.

I know it’s a dick move. I know I’m being an asshole. But it’s better than causing a scene and I’m right on the edge of doing just that.

It’s taken me months to get to the point of being able to casually reach for Nesta’s hand, to flirt with her again, to be the guy that she needs and then there’s this guy…who comes out of nowhere and has the audacity to touch my wife like she’s not a goddamn masterpiece.

He has no right.

I crash through the doors of the club and into the fresh air, taking a deep breath.

Nesta’s night behind me. “I should’ve known.”

“Known what?” I ask, not stopping. I keep trekking ahead in the direction of our hotel.

I’m seeing red.

I can’t make it stop. 

“Known that you would make a mess of this,” she says, heels clacking on the sidewalk behind me. “You didn’t want to go in the first place. I should’ve known.”

Her words hurt me but I can’t stop. I’m too blinded by jealous rage. “Go back inside. I’ll see you later.”

She barks a laugh but there’s no humor in it. “You’re a dick.”

I don’t answer. She’s right and I can’t deny it.

I also keep replaying that asshole taking her hand over and over again in my head. Nesta wouldn’t cheat, I know that. There’s not a single doubt in my head that she’s loyal to me. That doesn’t stop the scenarios from playing out one by one.

He takes her hand and they dance and she has fun with him, instead of her boring husband who would rather be watching a soccer match in the hotel room. She laughs at his jokes and he smiles at her in that douche bag way he did.

It fucking infuriates me.

I spend the entire walk back to the hotel playing out stupid scenarios that would never happen and by the time we make it to the elevator, I want to turn around and go back to the club and break that asshole’s jaw.

Nesta angrily punches the button to call the elevator and in the back of my mind, I know I’m ruining our vacation. I’m overreacting and I need to apologize, but I can’t. She’s my fucking wife and no one other man will put his hands on her.

We don’t talk until we make it to our room, when I push open the door with far too much force and she follows me inside.

“Are you happy?” She snaps, plopping onto the bed and taking off her shoes with shaky hands. 

“Fucking ecstatic,” I say, kicking off my own shoes. “Can’t wait for what you have in store for tomorrow.”

Her back straightens as a newfound fury brews in her eyes. “You know, you’ve always been a jealous asshole, Cassian, but you’ve reached a new level tonight. Congratulations.”

“Don’t,” I warn, yanking at my belt, feeling like my clothes are suffocating me.

“Don’t what?” She yells. “Tell you that you’re being a dick when you’re being a dick?! I was having fun, Cass, and you ruined it! We were having fun! And then you started overreacting out of nowhere! All of the trust that we’ve built? Gone! Because you couldn’t even trust me to warn off some prepubescent twat without your help!”

“You don’t get it,” I hiss, and I know my tone is cruel, but I can’t control it.

“Of course.” She laughs, but humor is obsolete. “Of course, I don’t understand.”

“You don’t!” I yell, and she nearly flinches which hurts me more than it hurts her. “I didn’t touch you for almost a year, Nesta! Then this guy shows up out of nowhere and touches you without a second fucking thought!”

She stops then, the tension in her shoulders fading, if only a little. The anger in her eyes turns to concern. Sadness. “Cassi—“ 

“Do you know how many days I spent wanting to just reach over and take your hand? But I couldn’t.” My anger is dissipating, and now I’m just tired. Now, I just feel foolish for my outburst, but I shake my head. “And this random fucking stranger just…does it.”

She takes a step towards me, but then stops. “You have to trust me to take care of shit like that on my own, Cass—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” I say, crossing the space between us and cradling her face in my hands. “As your husband, it’s my fucking job to take care of you, to protect you, and that includes someone putting their hands on you.”

“Doesn’t give you free reign to be an asshole yourself,” she murmurs, voice softer than it was before. Her eyes are on my lips, heavy lidded, lined with thick dark lashes. Her makeup is smudged just a bit from our time on the dance floor.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole, but seeing him touch you, even just taking your hand, when you’re the most precious thing on the whole, godsdamned planet?” I shake my head, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “I lost it.”

“You’ve always had a short fuse.” Her voice is whisper soft now and at some point, her hand ended up bunched up in the front of my shirt. “It only takes a spark to set you off.”

“And there you were holding a match and some kerosene.”

I’m not sure which one of us moved first, if it was conscious thought from either of us, but her hands were in my hair and her mouth on mine a second later. I had no idea where her phone was and I didn’t care. Nothing would interrupt us tonight.

She gasped as I picked her up, cradling her ass, her legs quickly wrapping around my waist. Then I was laying her down, covering her with my body, refusing to waste another second.

She clings to me, her dress hiked up and I grind into her, already making her moan. She reaches for my shirt and pulls it off, her lips only leaving mine for a second to pull it over my head.

If I felt out of control before, it’s nothing to what I feel now. I’m no longer in control of myself, my being. She has me in the palms of her hands, ready to do whatever the hell she wants. I need it, I need her. It’s been too damn long.

I slip her dress down her body and throw it away. She lays before me in nothing but a little lace thong, and those damn nipple piercings are staring up at me.

My cock is so hard it’s agonizing. Unbearable. I’m fumbling with the button of my jeans, but Nesta rolls me over and pins my arms above my head, kissing me fiercely. 

A year of lust and want and need, of longing and heartache and distance, has all been building up to this moment. 

Nesta leans back, breathing heavily, her eyes searching mine. “I need you. Now. Don’t be gentle.”

Without a word of warning, I roll us back, grinning down at her. “As you wish.”

I claim her mouth in another savage kiss, tugging on her bottom lip as she works on getting my pants off. For a moment, she seems to be having as hard a time as I was, but then I feel them go loose around my hips and we’re both shoving them down until my cock is free pressing against her thigh.

As I grab the waistband of her thong, Nesta lifts her hips but instead I rip them off her body, the shreds of lace landing on the floor by the bed.

She gasps and leans back to look at me, but anger isn’t lighting her eyes. Arousal is. “Those were expensive.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist and scooting us both farther up the bed, until her head rests on a pillow. My lips are on her neck, finding the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and sucking. 

“Gods, yes,” she groans and I smile against her skin.

One of my hands skims down her body, pausing to tease the swell of her breasts, then the heavy underside, careful to give her nipples a wide berth. I drag it down her toned stomach, pausing as she shivers beneath me. I glance up at her. “Are you okay?”

She nods, eyes burning. “I need you, please, Cass.”

My fingers skim over her sex, making her jump, which brings a smirk to my face, and then I slide them between her folds. She’s already so wet, slick and warm, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for me. It’s been months since I’ve been inside her, but hurting her is the last thing I want to do.

I slowly slide my middle finger inside of her, watching her face as I do. She gasps, and her back arches, and her legs spread wider for me. 

I give a couple of slow, taunting pumps inside of her before adding another finger. She moans quietly, and I can’t help the fact that I’m getting a little more rough.

Which she seems to enjoy. 

“Cass,” she breathes, and her hips are writhing, moving in time with my fingers, now slick and glistening as they pump. 

She gasps again as she reaches down between us, fisting my cock. I groan as she squeezes, and then my mouth finds hers once more. 

Adding a third finger, it’s now more of just a tease. She’s ready for me, undoubtedly, but I can’t seem to stop. I look down between us, watching as the sheets get wet beneath us while her hips sway and grind against my hand. Her breathing is hitched, her chest heaving, the sounds escaping her mouth echoing throughout our room. When her knees begin to shake, as her fingers dig into my back, I know she’s close. 

“Come for me,” I breathe. 

Her body tenses as she yells out a curse, and I feel her clench around my fingers. I thrust them back in one last time, deeply, loving the way she feels as she comes around me, and circle her clit as she rides out her orgasm.

The grip she has on my cock is nearing the point of painful, but feels so damn good that I almost don’t want to remove it.

Almost.

But I need to be inside her. I need to feel her, everywhere. To become one with her again after so long.

As she comes down from her high, I kiss her neck softly, sucking and licking, and pry her hand free from where she still held me. Stroking my cock, I climb over her, listening as her breathing evens out, before planting my free hand beside her head and meeting her gaze. There’s so much I want to tell her, so much I want to say, but I don’t need to. I see all of it and more reflected back in her eyes.

Lining myself up, I slide between her folds, coating myself in her slick heat and teasing her clit with the head of my cock. She gasps every time and my grin grows.

Her eyes narrow and she grabs my hips while lifting her own, trying to position me at her entrance. I keep just out of reach, teasing her, and watching as she becomes increasingly needy by the second.

“Cassian,” she whines, throwing her head back and I love it. I’ve got her in the palm of my hand, just like she has me in hers.

Leaning down, I drag my teeth along the graceful column of her throat. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She grabs a handful of my hair, tugging my face up to hers and crashes my lips to hers. We break for only a second, just long enough for her to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

And then I’m plunging into her, heeding her request to not be gentle, as I push in to the hilt in one hard thrust. She tears her lips from mine in a moan and I watch as her breasts bounce and those piercings flash in the low lighting.

I wait there, deep inside of her, dwelling in the feeling. After such a long time apart, this feels so right, so perfect. My hands roam her skin and cup her face as I give her one gentle kiss before completely unleashing myself on her. 

I pull myself out to the tip and thrust into her once more, gaining the same reaction. I can’t stop watching her. After pulling myself up on my knees, I bring her legs up over my shoulders and grab onto her waist. She doesn’t want me to be gentle, so I won’t be. I know what she likes.

I wait for her eyes to open up, wait for them to connect with me, before pounding into her quickly, aggressively, relentlessly. 

She doesn’t give a damn that we’re not in the privacy of our own home, that these walls are paper thin. She moans, screams, curses my name, and it consumes me.

I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of this, reliving the memories of our sex life, but those fantasies didn’t compare to how she sounds, how she feels. I watch her chest heave, her breasts bounce with every thrust of my hips. I watch her eyes roll back, watch how her brows are pinched and her lips remain open. She reaches up to the headboard behind her and lays her palms flat against it, grounding her.

A burning sensation is growing low in my spine and I groan as I grip her waist hard enough to leave bruises. I’m not going to last much longer, I know that. It’s been way too long since I was inside of her, but I need Nesta to come one more time. I can tell she’s on the edge, can tell by the way her hips are starting to quiver and my name is falling from her lips like a prayer. I fucking love it.

I hold her legs to my chest with one arm while my free hand dips to our joined bodies. Swirling my thumb around her clit, I grit out, “Look at me, Nes.”

With great effort, Nesta’s eyes open, locking onto mine. She reaches for me and I let her legs fall apart, settling in each side of my body as I drive into her, my fingers rolling her clit.

Her fingernails bite into my back as she wraps herself around me. “S-so close, Cass.”

I murmur, my lips next to her ear, “Come for me, sweetheart,” and bite down on her neck.

As if she was powerless to defy my words, her orgasm slams into her, making her back arch, pressing her breasts into my chest, as she calls out my name. I fall over the edge right behind her, pumping into her in erratic strokes until I go rigid, eyes rolling in the back of my head, my cock buried deep inside of her.

The room is silent save for our heavy breathing. Falling to the side, I grab Nesta and roll her half on top of me, kissing her until I feel like I’m going to pass out.

When the kiss breaks, Nesta laughs quietly and buries her face into my neck. “Holy shit,” she whispers, “I missed that.”

“Me too.” I brush her hair back and kiss the side of her head. “We’ll have to do it more often so that you don’t start missing it again.”

“We can do it every damn day and I’m still going to want more.” She leans up and looks at me. The love in her eyes is overwhelming. 

“Good.” My eyes never leave hers. “Me too.”

When she kisses me this time, it’s gentle, slow. We kiss like that until we finally fall asleep. 

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Epilogue}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: The end. :) Thank you for reading! We've appreciated all the love and support. I'm hoping to start posting a new project soon. Stay tuned!

~ Cassian ~

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I freeze, blinking, and slowly slide my eyes to where Nesta is standing at the kitchen’s threshold, gaping at me.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.” 

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead. 

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed. 

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly. 

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner. 

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix. 

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm. 

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work. 

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together. 

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person. 

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee. 

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.” 

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her. 

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears. 

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek. 

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy. 

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.” 

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.” 

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud. 

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay. 

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness. 

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return. 

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom. 

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

And I am whole. 

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {20}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: I apologize for the long wait! Life got busy and we have a few other things we've been working on. Nonetheless, here is the final chapter! We hope you enjoyed this story and thank you for reading it, each week, and giving us such sweet comments, likes, and reblogs. The epilogue will be posted soon. x

~ Cass ~

Nesta was beautiful.

I spent the entire morning getting ready, so excited that I was making myself nauseous. I’ve never been one for waiting. Patience and I are mortal enemies. It was well worth it, though, the second that I saw my wife. She walked towards me with a bouquet of lilies, smiling brightly, and I could hardly contain myself.

And her dress.

The dress that Nesta chose for this perfect day was a garment made by the gods. Made nearly entirely of lace and covered in intricate beading, parts of it are damn near painted on. It perfectly magnifies her breasts and her ass, and although it’s not gentlemanly to focus on those two things, I don’t give a fuck. I can’t stop staring at either and I know damn well that that was Nesta’s intention. 

After I got past the dress and was able to think clearly, I delivered the most heartfelt vows I could possibly come up with. I’ve spent the last month working on them and had Azriel, Rhys, and both of my sister-in-laws proofread them. Nesta is obviously a fantastic writer and I was nervous that they wouldn’t live up to her level of perfection, but by the time I was done reading them, she was crying.

She kissed me right then and there, before she had even read her vows, not caring that we were surrounded by all of our friends and family and coworkers. It was a hell of a kiss, too. Her tongue met mine and it took every ounce of self control not to sweep her into my arms and carry her into a closed space. 

Especially in that dress.

I’m watching her now, dancing with her sisters with a drink in her hand. I can’t take my eyes off of her, I haven’t been able to since the moment she came into view a few hours ago. She’s been my wife for ten years and I can’t believe it. I’m so in love with her, more in love with her every day.

My feet are moving before my mind catches up with me. I’m close enough to touch her before she turns around and jumps, apparently not expecting me to sneak up on her. Or, judging by the slight glaze of her eyes, she’s just a little tipsy.

“Hi,” I say, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her close to me. ”Can we go now?”

She throws her head back and laughs which is one of the most beautiful sights known to man. “No. We just got here. Besides, we haven’t had dessert yet, and we all know that’s the best part.” 

I cock a brow. “I think dinner is the best part, but I see the appeal.” 

“Spoken like a chef,” she says, finishing off her drink and running her arms around my neck.

I’ve never been one to make dessert. It’s not my strength, at all, but damn it, I can cook a hell of a meal. 

“I think he’s enjoying himself, don’t you?”

I follow Nesta’s line of sight and snort. Eris is standing by the bar, drink in hand, scowling at the bartender as he flirts with one of my coworkers further down the line. “To be honest, I’m surprised you wanted to invite him.” 

Nesta shrugs. “We’ve been trying to get along better lately.”

“And how’s that going?”

She rolls her eyes. “About as you’d expect it to. Come on. Dance with me.”

I can’t say no to that. We make our way to the middle of the dance floor just as a slow song begins. Without any hesitation, I pull Nesta into my arms and begin swaying to the beat. 

Suddenly, it’s just the two of us. No one else matters, no one else exists. We are in our own little world, just as we were on the dancefloor ten years ago, just like we are whenever we are alone, as one. 

As she rests her head on my chest, I take a deep breath and think about everything we’ve been through, the highs and the lows, about how far we’ve come in a year. A year ago, our marriage was in shambles. Nesta was hurting in ways I couldn’t imagine, and while my heart was broken, too, we both let ourselves fall into our own brands of darkness. I wasn’t sure we would be able to pull out of it.

But here we are.

Here we are and I have never been so in love with my wife.

Lifting her head, Nesta gazes up at me. Her eyes are filled with tears, but they have been all day, so I don’t think anything of it until she says, “So I got a phone call earlier today.”

My eyebrows raise. “About?”

Gnawing on her lip, I can see she’s about to burst with the news. Whatever it is, the fact that she’s kept it from me until now is impressive. And when she speaks, my heart stops.

“About a possible placement coming up in a couple months.”

We stop swaying. We stop moving and I stare at her. “A couple of months?”

Nodding, she’s unable to stop the tears from finally spilling over. “There’s a young mother who just entered the program. She’s six months pregnant and wants her baby to have the best life possible, but knows that isn’t possible for her right now. We’re going to meet her next week.”

I’m speechless.

I’m rarely speechless, but right now, I have no words. I can’t stop staring at Nesta, with my mouth hanging open, as tears of joy run down her cheeks. She laughs, quietly, and cups my face in her hands. 

“Next week?” I ask, at last, and it’s nothing more than a whisper.

She nods, and her smile is so pure that it makes me weak. “Wednesday, ten o’clock.” 

“Wednesday,” I repeat, and swallow hard. I have so many emotions running through my body that I can’t contain, that can’t be deciphered, so all I let out is an eloquent, “Holy fuck.”

Nesta laughs as she nods once more, and then she’s kissing me. I take her into my arms and spin her around, not caring who sees. This is our night, and I don’t give a damn that anyone is watching. 

By Wednesday, we may be on the right track to having what we’ve wanted for so long. A baby. A family. The thought alone has me feeling more joy than I ever thought imaginable. Just when I think the night can’t get any better, it does.

When I let her feet touch the floor, I pull back to look at her and the smile on her face is breathtaking. She’s so damn beautiful and for a second, I can’t believe she’s mine. I don’t realize that I’m crying until she reaches up to wipe the tears from my face. She whispers, “I love you so much.”

There’s no hesitation in my answer. “I love you more.”

With a roll of her eyes, Nesta is rising up on her toes and pressing another kiss to my lips. “I haven’t even told my sisters. I told them the phone call was a business call.”

“We can wait,” I promise her. “Wait until we see where this goes. That way we don’t get anyone’s hopes up.” What I don’t have to mention is that I don’t just mean our family’s. I also mean our own. “Now come on,” I say, stepping back after I kiss her one last time. “Let’s go smash cake onto each other’s faces.”

We do just that and the rest of the night goes on with the same joy and celebration that has been present all day. After I shove cake into Nesta’s mouth, and all up the side of her face, we eat and drink and dance the night away. By the time midnight rolls around, Rhysand and Azriel are plastered and dancing with one another in the middle of a vacant dancefloor. Our guests have begun to leave and now very few of us remain. 

I sit between Elain and Feyre, finishing what’s left in our glasses, watching the two fools sway and sing obnoxiously for all to see. 

“I can’t believe I’m in love with that man,” Feyre mutters, although her voice is full of admiration.

“I can’t believe we procreated with them,” Elain adds.

I laugh, shaking my head. If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d probably be out there with them, but I am. It was a long day, and I’m still not completely recovered from my drinking binge last night. It was all worth it, though. Every bit of it has been worth it.

My eyes wander over to Nesta, who is saying goodbye to some of our guests. All I’ve wanted since the moment I saw her earlier today was to take her away and have her all to myself. I’m tempted to drown myself in coffee so I have enough energy to do just that, now that it’s almost time to go home. 

Before I get the chance, Nesta turns and catches me staring. With one look at her raised eyebrow, I’m on my feet, crossing the room and wrapping her up in my arms. “Ready to go?”

Chucking, she asks, “How many more times are you going to ask me that?” Rising up on her toes, she leans up to kiss me.

I meet her halfway and answer with my lips still on hers. “Until you relent and let me take you home so I can ravish you.”

The way her eyes roll tells me that was exactly the answer she was expecting, but she says, “Let me say goodbye to my sisters and grab my stuff.”

“I’ll do the same.” She steps back, but I’ve got a hold of her hand. Bringing it to my lips, I press a kiss to the new band sitting alongside her original wedding set. “I love you.”

Her eyes soften and she pulls back into my body. “I love you more.”

I kiss her again, slowly, and she sinks into it. Before I can get too carried away, though, I break it off and step back with a groan. “Grab your shit. Quickly.”

She grins and her eyes light up, even as she rolls them. I force my own feet to go back to the dressing room and start throwing my stuff into my duffel bag. The door opens and closes behind me and I know it’s my brothers before I even turn to see them, practically carrying one another into the room.

“Cassssssss,” Rhysand grins, and throws himself into my arms, followed by Azriel. For a moment, we just stand there, drunkenly embracing, but then they pull back and Rhysand claps me on the shoulder. “We love you. We’re happy for you. We’re proud of you.”

He hiccups halfway through the word proud and there’s a good chance neither of them will remember this in the morning, but I have no doubt that he means every word.

And it means everything to me.

I drag them back into the reception hall with me, thinking they’d lose their way if I didn’t, and once they’re safely delivered to their wives, I find mine.

We didn’t announce that we were leaving. There were no sentimental parents waiting to see us off. Hell, we aren’t even taking a honeymoon, just taking two days off to fuck like animals at home and then get back to real life. So we don’t tell anyone as we meet in the front room and I take her bag, carrying it to the truck as we walk hand in hand. I chuck our bags in the back then make a dramatic show of opening the passenger door, before scooping her up and setting her in seat. She’s laughing by the end of it, so no matter how stupid I may look, it’s worth it. I hop in the front seat, the engine roars to life, and we’re out of there.

We’re passing through the main square when Nesta gasps. “You know what sounds so good, Cass? Fried pickles, we should stop at the diner and pick some up.”

It’s a damn good thing I know this town like the back of my hand because I’m staring at my wife, despite needing to have my eyes on the road. Blinking, I look forward. “We’re on the way home from our renewal—”

“And I want some fried pickles,” she interrupts, turning in her seat to face me. Her dress is a cloud of fabric on the floorboard, more dress than there is room at her feet.

“You know, I can make you—”

“No, no,” she begins, fully knowing that she has me wrapped around her finger and I’m going to do whatever she asks, despite my protests. “Fried pickles from the diner.”

I blink. “It’s almost one—”

“The diner is open twenty four hours, lucky us.”

With a reluctant sigh, and a laugh I can’t help, I turn right at the next set of lights and less than five minutes later, we’re walking into the diner. Every person in here — and there’s not many — looks at us in surprise and I suddenly feel on full display.

And I also don’t love how the guy behind the counter is staring at my wife.

We’re seated instead of getting takeout, although Nesta orders one basket of fried pickles for now and the other to go. Seeing how I’m apparently going to be up all night, I order a coffee and a breakfast special that consists of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and we eat our strange middle of the night meal, sitting on the same side of the booth. 

By the time I’m full, all of my plates cleaned, Nesta is still munching on her fried pickles. She’s asked for more ranch twice, and completely drained them all, licking her fingers absentmindedly like she’s not wearing a stunning, expensive wedding gown. 

They give us our meal for free, as a wedding present. 

By the time we’re home, it’s three-thirty and her eyelids are heavy in the passenger seat, where she holds my hand while I pull into the driveway. I, however, am wide awake, thanks to my coffee refills while I waited for her to finish her basket of grease. 

After cutting the engine, I round the truck and open her door. Her head lulls in my direction and she smiles at me, sleepily. “Is there when you carry me across the threshold?”

I do. I lift her up, cradle her in my arms and carry her through the garage door, into the kitchen where Greg is sprawled out on the table, snoring softly. 

After kicking the door shut, I keep carrying her upstairs, through the dark, silent house. Our house, our home that’s full of love and will hopefully, one day, be filled with children. 

Maybe even one day soon. 

In our bedroom, I set her down and start unbuttoning the back of her dress. 

There are a lot of fucking buttons. 

She chuckles quietly as I work and when the band of her ivory lace thong she’s adorned starts to show, my fingers are nearly sore and I stop, muttering, “Surely you can get out of it without me doing the rest, damn.” 

“You weren’t having fun?” she asks, humored, as she lets the dress fall down to a pool around her feet.

“Who puts that many buttons on a dress? How long did it take you to get into that damn thing?”

She turns to me slowly and my eyes drift to her full breasts, bare and on display for me, nipples peaked. “I thought you liked the dress.”

“I loved the dress,” I say, and I did, even if I spent most the night dreaming of getting her out of it.

She stifles a yawn as she steps toward me and lays her hands against my chest. “There was a promise of you ravishing me once we got home, if I remember correctly.”

I huff a laugh and pull her waist closer towards me. “It can wait until tomorrow. You’re tired.”

She groans and runs her hands up my shoulders, her fingers into my hair. “I don’t think so.”

My grin barely has time to widen before her mouth is on mine, hungrily, and I’m carrying her to bed. My clothes end up in a heap by her dress and we make love, slowly, then we fuck like animals like we’ve done a million times before. It’s full of passion, longing, lust and love, wholly reverent. It’s two souls connecting, reminding each other of our past and promising each other our futures.

We have risen from the ashes. We’ve taken what was ruined, shattered, and made it whole once again. We fixed what was broken and made it stronger than it was before.

We lay awake, staring at one another in the quiet of the early morning, tangled in bare limbs. Her hair is a mess, her makeup is smudged, but I made true on my promise to ravish. She’s beautiful. She’s perfect, my wife, who is a mess of a woman. She feels more than anyone else feels, loves more powerfully because she gives that love away so rarely, keeps that love for so few. She is full of grief and trauma, and some days, self-loathing. But she is healing, has healed, has helped me heal, both alone and alongside her. Some days she makes me so angry that I want to rip off my face and throw it at her, but then she makes me so enraptured by love and adoration that I can’t even think straight. 

There is no other woman for me. She is it, my one and only, the other half of my very being, this woman that I married at nineteen. 

My soulmate.

My wife.

The mother of any children we may be blessed to have, biologically or not. 

And I am really fucking lucky. 

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {18}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the late post! I had it queued for pm instead of am and just noticed. We’re almost to the end of Nesta and Cassian’s journey of growth, but we hope you’ve enjoyed reading this one as much as we’ve enjoyed writing it!

Almost every counseling appointment we’ve gone to, Nesta has been right there by my side. But Gwyn asked us to meet separately this week and that shouldn’t make me as nervous as it does. I know it’s common for therapists to want to talk to each person on their own, but even at the beginning, even when we weren’t speaking, having Nesta there was a balm to me. I was able to open up and talk about my thoughts, my feelings even if I wasn’t sure how I felt about them.

Now, sitting across from Gwyn, I feel like I’m back at square one. Rather than the usual couch, I’m sitting in an armchair identical to the one she’s in.

Her notepad is resting in her lap, but she doesn’t look down at it. She doesn’t even have a pen. “How are you doing this afternoon, Cass?”

“Good,” I say, but nothing more which makes her smile.

“Nervous?” She asks, not unkindly.

I sigh. “Yeah? Which is weird, right? Because we know each other fairly well by now.”

“True, but it’s not weird, it’s actually common,” she assures me. “You’re not used to doing this alone. It’s a big step.”

There was a time when her tone would piss me off, would make me feel like she thinks she’s talking to a child, but not anymore. I know she’s genuine in everything she says. 

“I guess so,” I agree, and answer her question honestly. “I am good, though. Yes, nervous, but everything has been going really, really good. Great. Nesta and I are, uh, renewing our vows.”

“Oh?” Gwyn asks and she sounds happy about it, which is a good sign. “When?”

“A month. I actually asked her when we got back from our little vacation, after we left here.” I shrug. Since we’ve been doing so well in our marriage, we haven’t been coming to see Gwyn as much. “It felt like the right thing to do. I asked; she said yes.”

“I’m happy for you,” she says, and I know she means it. 

My appointment goes on like that and after a few more minutes I actually start to fully relax. I told her everything, probably oversharing at some points but I can’t help it. I feel like I just fell in love again for the very first time, although this time feels much stronger than that. Nesta and I have a bond that can’t be broken, that can never be shaken again. 

After telling Gwyn goodbye, I head to Nyx’s preschool to pick him up. He’s waiting for me with his backpack on and his lunchbox in hand, and the second I pull up to the curb, he’s jumping up and down. 

“Hey buddy.” I hop out of the truck and give my nephew a hug while ignoring the wandering eyes of his teacher, as usual. She’s at least seventy, I swear, and I have no clue how she hasn’t retired yet.

“Uncle Cass, we learned about bugs today!”

So begins my rundown of his day, right down to his snacks and the lunch Feyre packed for him that morning.

My phone rings as I’m putting my car in park in the garage. When I see it’s Elain, my brows pull together. I love my sister-in-law, and would do anything for her at any time. But she doesn't usually call me. I answer as I round the truck to get Nyx out of his carseat.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cass.”

“Is everything okay?”

Her cheery laughter floats through the phone. “Everything is fine. I was seeing if Nesta was with you. I tried her cell but she didn’t answer and I wanted to get a final decision on the flowers for the ceremony.”

I’m a man of many talents. I pride myself on being knowledgeable about many things. Flowers sure as shit isn’t one of them.

Scratching at my beard, I head into the house, Nyx on my heels. “She had a meeting with Eris and the publishers this afternoon, but should be home around five if you can wait that long.”

I hear the telltale sounds of Nyx dropping his backpack. “Hi, Greg!”

“Alright, I’ll try her then. Thanks!”

We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone on the kitchen counter only to realize the kitchen has become far too quiet. When I turn around, Nyx is nowhere to be found.

Just before I can completely panic, Nyx comes back through the door, crying.

I frown. “What happened, buddy?”

“Greg,” he says, a sobbing mess. “Door…open…Greg.”

He can barely get the words out but I get the gist. With a sigh, I pick Nyx up and pat his back. “It’s okay. Greg gets out sometimes, I’ll find him.”

I set Nyx up on the couch with a juice box and a bowl of popcorn while he watches Bluey before finding myself going around the outside of the house, looking in all the bushes. 

No Greg.

I call his name and all of my neighbors that don’t know me are probably wondering why I’m going around my house, yelling for a Greg, but I ignore any potential neighbor’s judgment. Every minute that passes that I can’t find him, I get worried. Nesta loves this cat like a child. 

And I can’t find him. 

When I finally head back inside, Nyx’s head pokes over the top of the couch. He’s still sniffling as he asks, “Did you find him?”

I hesitate for a second because I don’t want him to worry, I don’t want him to start crying again, and I definitely don’t want him telling Nesta about this. So I decide to go with a little white lie. “I did. He was having fun running around and asked to stay outside a little longer. I told him he could play outside until it gets dark.”

Thankfully, that perks him up and blessedly derails his toddler attention span. “Did you know that lightning bugs come out when it’s dark? And then their butts light up?”

For the rest of the afternoon, I’ve got one eye on Nyx and one on the window at the back deck. On multiple occasions, I run outside with the bag of treats and shake it as obnoxiously as I can.

The damn cat never comes back.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to five, I start to panic. How am I going to tell Nesta I let Greg get out? Better yet, how am I going to keep Nyx from saying something?

Before I can come up with a foolproof plan, the garage door opens and my beautiful wife comes strolling in. She gives me a smile and a kiss on the cheek before asking, “How was your appointment with Gwyn?”

“Fine,” I answer, and as soon as it’s out of my mouth I know that I’ve answered way too quickly. Her joyful demeanor falters and I hesitate, which makes her frown. 

“What?” she asks, and there’s a bite to her voice which I know means I should tread carefully if I want to try and keep the peace. 

“Look,” I say, and take a deep breath. I watch her eyes as they go from angry to concerned to confused. “I…there was...Nyx accidentally…Gre—”

Just as I’m about to say his name, the furry little bastard charges into the room and jumps up on the kitchen island to greet Nesta. My wife momentarily forgets about me and scratches the cat under his chin.

I stare, dumbfounded. “I…what the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Nesta asks, remembering I exist and crossing her arms. “Okay, what did you do?” “Nothing,” I say, and grab her face, bringing her mouth abruptly to mine. She’s surprised for a second, but melts into me as my lips keep moving. 

“Ew!”

We pull apart to look at Nyx, who is standing in the doorway and covering his eyes. When he peeks through his fingers, he gasps. “GREG! I thought we lost you forever! I was soooooooooo scared! Uncle Cass, wasn’t I scared?”

I purse my lips and slowly bring my gaze back to Nesta’s. She’s watching me with narrowed eyes full of hellfire. 

“So, we lost Greg,” I confess, quietly. Nyx doesn’t seem to notice the tension as he grabs the cat off the island and carries him into the living room. I open my mouth to give a long, pathetic story about what happened, but Nesta shakes her head and puts her fingers over my mouth.

“I don’t wanna know,” she says, and her eyes soften. “He’s here, he’s safe, do better next time.” 

I blink, thinking it’s a trap and not wanting to curse it. “Yeah, okay.” Now I’m suspicious. “You’re taking this too well, it’s scaring me.”

She snorts and runs her hands down my chest and bundles my t-shirt in her hands. “I want tonight to be a good night. We’ve been a little stressed lately, planning this wedding so quickly…” She shrugs. “No more stress.”

I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been married for a decade, but I feel like something’s off. “Nesta—”

She looks over my shoulder, into the living room at Nyx and Greg snuggling on the couch, then back to me. 

“What?” I ask, and try not to let my worry creep in too far. “What happened? Are you okay? Did Eris piss you off? The fuck did that prick do now—”

“Eris didn’t do anything, for once,” she says, laughing quietly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just…been thinking about something, but I thought we could wait until we’re alone tonight to talk about it.”

I hate that.

I hate when someone says we need to talk, especially my wife, then doesn’t tell me what it is we need to talk about. 

“Now I’m going to spend the entire afternoon worrying about whatever it is you have to say,” I say, keeping my voice low. 

“It’s nothing bad,” she whispers, and leans up on her toes to kiss me. I grab her ass and squeeze for comfort. “Just something I’ve been thinking about. A lot. Come on, let’s make dinner before Feyre gets here to pick him up.” 

And that’s that. I throw together a quick meal of blackened chicken, green beans, and red potatoes, which Nyx devours as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks. More than once, Nesta has to remind him to take smaller bites, but he manages to clean his plate without choking. Nyx regales Nesta with his school day, as well, telling her all about his studies but conveniently forgetting the story he told me about the little girl on the playground who held his hand.

Nesta is in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, while Nyx and I are on the couch watching Bluey when I hear the door from the garage open. Nyx, engrossed in whatever shenanigans Bluey and Bingo have gotten into, doesn’t notice the quiet greetings or the hushed whispers and murmuring.

But I do.

It sets me on edge, immediately thinking of whatever Nesta wants to talk about when we’re alone. It sends my brain straight into “overthink” mode and I don’t notice that Nyx has said something until he calls my name a second time.

“What was that, bud?”

“I said that daddy said I could get a puppy just like Bluey.”

“Did he now?” Feyre asks, breezing in from the kitchen.

“Mama!” Nyx is off the couch in a flash and crashing into her legs.

His backpack is already slung over her elbow and she lifts Nyx into her arms, hugging his close. “Hi, bub. Ready to go home?”

“Yes! Me and Uncle Cass lost Greg.” Feyre’s smile falters but Nyx charges on. “Don’t worry, mama, we found him.”

We say our goodbyes and promise to see them soon, and when it’s just me and Nesta alone, I can’t control myself any longer.

“So.”

She chuckles as she sits next to me on the couch and turns off Bluey. “So.”

I wait for her to say something but when she doesn’t go on, I throw my hands in the air. “Damn it, Nesta, please just—”

“I think we should look into adoption.” The words rush out of her, quietly. “I think we should adopt.”

Out of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t it. I’m at a loss for words.

It’s not until I notice her eyes start to line with tears that I come back, my mind catching up with me.

“You don’t want—”

“I’m just surprised,” I say, before she can worry. “I mean, adoption is…that’s a lot. That’s big.”

“I’m ready to be a mom, babe,” she says, and a tear falls as her voice breaks. “We’ve been ready for a family for so long and I’m accepting that I’m not ever going to have a baby.” I want to protest, but I can’t. “So I thought we could have a baby, or a child, through adoption.”

I’m quiet for a moment, but Nesta doesn’t push me.

Adoption had never even crossed my mind and I’m a little ashamed of myself for not considering it. Growing up in the foster system, how many years did I dream of someone finally deciding I was worth the trouble, of a family adopting me and giving me the happy home I’d always dreamed of. But Nesta wanted to be a mother and I never thought farther than giving her that dream myself, of our child growing inside of her.

Who’s to say the child we’ve been dreaming of isn’t already out there?

“Do you want to quit trying?” I ask, carefully. “To have our own?”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffs, and I can tell she’s trying not to be emotional. She knows my past more intimately than anyone else on the planet. “You think after finally having sex after months of celibacy, I’ll be able to go back?”

I swallow and huff a laugh but stay quiet for a minute, allowing my thoughts to catch up with me. My thoughts that are all over the place. 

“Okay,” I say, quietly, and her tears spill over. I wipe them away, carefully. “After the wedding…we can start the process, if it’s what you truly want.”

“It is,” she says, and there is no doubt. “But is it what you want?”

“A family with you is all I have ever wanted,” I say, and it is wholly the truth. 

I can’t help my own consuming emotion as she kisses me. Every day I don’t know how my marriage can get better, how I can love this woman more, but then I do. I didn’t know this love, this excitement for the future could still be so strong, so evident after ten years.

I’m so ridiculously in love with this woman that I can’t believe it. I show her as much as I lay her down on the couch and take my sweet time with every beautiful, magnificent inch of her body.

We will have our family soon enough, one way or another, and I can’t wait.

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {16}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Sera Marigold Draeven is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

I’m ninety-five percent positive I thought the same thing when Nyx was born, but it can’t be helped. I’ve got the world’s cutest niece and nephew.

It’s been a week since Sera was born and I’ve been wrapped around her finger since the moment Elain laid her in my arms. She’s awake, for once, and her eyes, hazel, just like her daddy’s, are wide open and gazing up at me.

“Was I ever that little?”

The question comes from my left, where Nyx is peering over the arm of the couch, still not quite sure what to think about his new cousin.

“You were even smaller than Sera, bub,” Rhys answers from the kitchen. Nyx drags his gaze from the baby to his dad. “You were born prematurely.”

His little dark eyebrows knit together. “What does prematchery mean?”

“It means,” Feyre jumps in, rolling her eyes at her husband, “that you were so excited to be with us that you came out of mommy’s tummy early.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding and dragging the word out. He looks back at Sera. “So she didn’t want to come out of Aunt Elain’s tummy?”

“No, she most certainly did not,” Elain replies from her seat in the recliner.

I chuckle as Nyx’s brows raise. 

“She’s stubborn just like her mom and aunts,” Cassian chimes in.

I shoot him a look as Elain rolls her eyes, but I can’t help but look at him fondly. He’s watching Sera with such love and adoration that my eyes line with tears. His eyes meet mine and his smile softens even more.

“Can we take her home with us?” Nyx asks, curiously, genuinely. 

“No,” Feyre laughs, “but we’re going to see her all the time. Don’t you worry.”

Rhysand tosses an arm around Cassian’s shoulders and leads him into the kitchen. I take that as a sure sign that my brother-in-law is getting hangry and wants Cassian to put the steaks on the grill as soon as possible. 

Azriel stays. It seems he can’t get enough of his baby girl.

I look back down at my niece just as she gives me the biggest of yawns. It’s ridiculously adorable.  

I stopped trying not to allow myself to get jealous. After meeting with Gwyn this week, we talked about how jealousy is a natural reaction and trying to reject that jealousy will only bring anxiety and depression. Sure, there is an obsessive amount of jealousy that’s important to stay away from, but the kind of longing and want and emptiness that I feel… Turns out, that’s normal.

And although there’s nothing I can do about that feeling, I must say that my niece is absolute perfection. The second I look down into her beautiful round face, all I feel is love and protection. 

I’ve been talking to Feyre a lot in the last week, since I told her about our past, and she’s been an amazing listener and support. She recommended that I tell Elain, which I did, and just like Feyre, there was no judgment or condemnation, only love. Their reactions had only made me wish I had said something sooner. 

Even Azriel pulled me aside and held me for a long while, crying alongside me, just like I know he had done for Cassian. Azriel may be the quietest of us all, but he loves and feels greater than us all, too. 

Half of me wants to go help Cassian with dinner, but the other half of me - the half of me that refuses to give up my niece - is the one that wins. 

Rhysand comes back into the room, only to whisper something in Nyx’s ear before the toddler runs toward the kitchen, giggling. I give my brother-in-law a curious look, but he only plops down next to Feyre on the couch and bites her earlobe. They’re so cute it’s sickening, but that’s nothing new.  

I hear the screen door open and close, knowing that means Cassian has taken the steaks out to the grill, and settle in to get more snuggles…

Until I smell something.

Sniffing twice, I look up and catch Elain’s eye. “I think she has something for you.”

Chuckling softly, Elain begins to extract herself from her seat, but Azriel presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get her. You relax.”

“She probably needs to feed.” She presses a hand to her chest and adds with a wince, “Badly.”

Feyre chuckles knowingly and once again, I’m hit with a surge of jealousy that I’m unable to stop. Hearing my sisters talk about all aspects of their pregnancies, both good and bad, only makes me yearn for it more. Even things like engorged breasts, late night feedings, and diaper changes don’t seem so bad when I look down at the precious angel in my arms.

One day, I promise myself. It’ll happen for us one day.

Azriel scoops Sera from my arms, promising to bring her back down to feed after she’s changed. Rhys, despite the fact that Cass only took the steaks outside minutes before, goes outside to check on dinner, mumbling something about how starving he is, and to make sure Nyx is behaving. We know Cass is watching him, but you can never be too careful with a toddler and a hot grill.

When it’s just us, Elain sighs, pressing a hand to her tender breasts. “It’s only been two hours and my body is screaming at me to feed her.”

“I’ll be honest, having my supply dry up when Nyx was a few months old was frustrating, but relieving,” Feyre said, tucking her legs beneath her as she drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “I wish I could have fed him for longer, but he did fine on formula, and my boobs were screaming for a break.”

That jealousy rears its ugly head again and I do my best to ignore it as they discuss the merits of breastfeeding vs formula, unable to add to the conversation. Instead, I think about how far Cassian and I have come, how happy we are, and how relieved that I can talk about these things with my sisters once again. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until Feyre says my name.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, blinking out of a memory from our vacation. She and Elain are looking at me like they know exactly what was on my mind.

“How are yours feeling?” Elain asks, color blooming on her cheeks. Feyre is trying not to laugh as she glances down to my chest.

I feel myself blush. I’d told my sisters about my new piercings when we returned and they both didn’t believe me until I’d proved it—through a shirt, of course. “Great now. Wonderful actually.”

Elain’s cheeks turn even brighter as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did that. I walked in on Azriel the other day while he was on the phone with Cass. He is, uh, very vocal about his love for your new jewelry.”

Unable to contain her laughter any further, Feyre cackles. “I, too, have walked in on a similar conversation.” Her eyes soften, even though her grin remains. “It sounds like you two are doing really well, Nes.”

The softest joy forms in my core. “We are. Really, really well. I feel like we’re in the honeymoon stage all over again, and I know that we’re going to keep having our fair share of trials, but…” I shrug. “I feel like our relationship is stronger than it’s been in years. Since we got married.”

My sisters share a look before they look back to me. 

“We’re happy for you,” Elain says, and maybe it’s the new-mom hormones, but she’s crying.

Which makes Azriel frown as he walks back down the stairs with a freshly-changed newborn. “What’s wrong? I was bringing her right back.”

She waves him off as she takes their daughter and he leans down to give her a sweet, chaste kiss before heading out on the patio with Cass, Rhys and Nyx.

Elain was just putting a milk-drunk Sera in her swing when Rhys, Az, and Nyx came in, the former carrying an aluminum foil covered platter. He grumbles, “The chef says we have to let these rest for at least twelve minutes before eating them.”

“You’ll live, you big, Illyrian baby,” Feyre says, rolling her eyes.

“Starving,” he mutters, heading into the kitchen.

Az chuckles and follows him, while Nyx hurries over to Feyre, motioning for her to lean down so he could whisper something to her. He shoots me a look as he murmurs in her ear and then shot off again, back into the kitchen.

Feyre was shaking her head as I ask, “What was that about?”

“Nothing, he’s just silly.” She smiles, but I couldn’t miss the mischief in her eyes.

I narrow my own, but realize someone was missing. Turning towards the kitchen, I holler, “Where’s Cass?”

A pause in the conversation and beat of silence follow. It was Azriel that answers. “Cleaning the grill.”

Bullshit. The man turns the heat up and lets it char the inside for an extra twenty minutes after he’s done, leaving nothing ash to scoop out. After a decade, you learn things about a person. I get up and head for the patio, wondering what he’s up to.

“Aunt Nesta, have I shown you my new Lightning McQueen?”

I turn and find Nyx right behind me, a bright red car in hand.

“Wow,” I say, trying my best to act like the tiny, red  car is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. “That’s awesome, buddy.”

“Wanna see him drive?”

Well, I can’t say no to that. “Of course.”

I expect us to do a quick trial run of the toy car, but we end up sitting on the hardwood, attempting to have Lightning McQueen outrun every other toy car that Nyx brought with him.

Which is a ton.

Thinking it surely must be twelve minutes by now, I call for my sisters, but neither one of them answer.  It’s Azriel that comes around the corner, cradling Sera in his arms.

“The table is set.” It’s all he says before he turns on his heels and disappears.

Before I can get to my feet, Nyx is running off, heading for the kitchen, leaving me in the dust.

Cassian has suddenly reappeared, along with Rhys and Az, and the table is indeed set, but now my sisters are nowhere to be seen.

“Elain wanted to show Feyre the vegetable garden,” Azriel offers as I look around.

Looking between them all, I ask, “Right before we eat?”

“I made a salad.” Cassian is busy cutting Nyx’s steak before plating it. “They were checking to see if anything was ripe enough to go in.”

“Oh.” My suspicions settle, but I still feel like something is off. When my sisters come back in though, everything seems normal. Elain deemed two tomatoes ready, but she’d rather save them for salsa one night this week, so Cassian continues as he planned and a few minutes later, everyone was devouring the delicious meal.

I can’t help but look around the table, that unsettled feeling remaining in the pit of my stomach. Cassian meets my eye and smiles from across the table, but he almost seems anxious.

Which makes me anxious. 

“Not hungry?”

I blink, realizing I’d just been pushing my vegetables around. The sound of Cassian’s voice hardly breaks me out of it. 

“I just…” I hesitate, not wanting to offend anyone, knowing this food is delicious. I clear my throat. “It’s hot. I have a sore in my mouth…don’t want to agitate it.”

Cassian lifts a brow as he takes a bite of his steak. He hums, pleased with the flavor, with the texture, and I’m amazed that that alone turns me on.

And makes me want to eat the beautiful meal he’s prepared.

And him.

However, we’re in the presence of our siblings and nephew, so I behave myself and start to eat.

Much to my culinary husband’s dismay, I don’t eat steak often and when I do, I sometimes like to add steak sauce. He considers this blasphemy, I consider it enhancing the flavor. Standing from my seat, I ask, “Az, do you have A1 in the fridge?”

“I’ll get it,” Cassian announces, standing and rounding the table, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. At the same time, he not so subtly pushes me back into my chair.

I stare after him, eyes narrowed. “Okay,” I say, quietly as I dab the sides of my mouth. “He’s acting weird.”

“I don’t think he’s acting weird,” Rhysand says, his mouth full. “And I would know. I’ve seen his weird.”

“Remember that one time,” Azriel begins, “when we all went out on a triple date in high school and he was so nervous that he sweat through his shirt and knocked over the water pitcher? That was weird.” 

“Or that time, at the football banquet, when he was so nervous that he ate half of everything on the table and spent the time he was meant to be on stage in the bathroom, getting sick,” Rhysand adds.

I blink, trying my best to follow their conversation. “All you two are doing is proving me right.”

They don’t get the chance to respond. Cassian comes back into the room with a bottle of steak sauce and lovingly sets it down next to me.

I swear his hands are shaking.

My eyes remain on his massive frame until it’s plopped in the seat across from me. He picks up his fork and stabs a piece of steak, and when he looks back up at me, he frowns. 

“Aren’t you going to use that?”

I hadn’t even realized I’d been gripping the steak sauce, its cap still on. Without another word, I unscrew the top and create a little puddle on my plate. I swear he’s holding his breath as I dip the meat in the sauce and take a bite. 

Yes. I’m a true abomination of a chef’s wife. 

We continue on eating but the air remains thick. I think I’m making it thick with my own mindless worrying, but I can’t help it. I can’t help but think that there’s something going on that I’m oblivious to, and that doesn’t sit well with me. 

Nonetheless, I try not to let my mind wander. I eat, even though I taste nothing and wish to leave the room….or have a drop of alcohol. 

Alcohol would be a blessing, something to ease the anxiety flooding every inch of my being. 

Time goes slowly but I finish what’s on my plate, and my family that surrounds me finishes theirs with lively conversation. 

I stare at my empty plate, wondering why I feel so insecure, so lost. Surely I’m not so fragile that a simple case of anxiety paralyzes me. 

Fuck.

Who am I kidding?

Of course, I am. 

I put my silverware on top of my plate and fold my napkin, placing it on top of it all like a bow. My eyes meet Elain’s, who is frowning, which makes my rise to my feet. 

“Can I take anyone’s plate?” I ask, forcing a smile.

Apparently Azriel was in the middle of talking, because now everyone is looking at me with a frown. I take my plate and everyone who surrounds me, and head towards the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

I whirl around and look at my husband, who’s leaning against the threshold. I can’t read the look on his face, which is…odd. I’ve always been good at gauging what he’s feeling, even more so in the past few months. He wears his feelings for all to see. There’s a cross between nerves and something else I can’t name in his eyes, something that sets me even more on edge than before.

I hesitate, and the silence around me has me feeling like the walls are closing in. I notice Nyx shift in his seat uncomfortably and hurry out of the room before I do something even more embarrassing, like have a full on mental breakdown in front of my family.

Even though I think the breakdown has already begun.

I’m in the kitchen when his heavy footsteps sound behind me. I place my plate in the sink with shaky hands, and then his arms are around me, pulling my back against him. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, gently and soothingly. 

“I did something to upset you,” he says quietly, as I close my eyes and try my best to take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. 

“I can’t read you,” I say, “and it’s making me anxious.”

I don’t deny it, don’t tell him that there’s nothing wrong and everything is fine, even though I want to, even though it’s something I once would have done without a second thought. Instead, I let out the truth, let out my emotions. 

“You’re acting strange, and I feel like I did something to make you act strange,” I continue, when he says nothing. 

When he continues to say nothing, I feel like I’m going to puke. When I spin around, nothing comes out, my anxiety that was turning into anger slowly starts to dissipate as I see the crease between his brows. 

“I wasn’t trying to be weird,” he says, taking my hands. “I was just trying to…”

His words fade away, and he seems to be at a loss, which is also weird for Cassian. I shake my head, exasperated, “Cass, what the hell’s going on?” 

He sighs, all the breath leaving him. “Look, I wanted to make tonight special, and the last thing I wanted was to get you all worked up, but now I feel like I failed in that area, and I feel bad because you’re fucking stressed, which is the last thing I wanted.”

The words rush out of him and I finally realize that my husband is anxious, too. About what? I don’t know, but I do know that something is on his mind. 

Before I can say anything more, he’s pulling me towards the backdoor. “I wasn’t able to finish everything I had planned,” he says. “It’s been kinda hard sneaking out all afternoon without you knowing, but Rhys and Az have been a huge help. Nyx, too, although there were times where he did more harm than good considering, you know, he’s a toddler.” My confusion grows as he chuckles, but when he opens the backdoor and we step onto the porch, I’m suddenly speechless.

Ten years ago, at a family dinner very similar to this, Cassian asked me to marry him. The three of them lived in a shared house off campus at VU and though that house has been long gone for years, it’s like I’ve stepped back in time.

It was never the most romantic place to be, but so many of our early memories were made in that house, in that backyard. In the span of an afternoon, Elain and Azriel’s backyard has been transformed. There are string lights and candles and music playing, with the purple, silver, and black coloring of Velaris University scattered everywhere. Even a few touches from the fraternity Cassian spent a few years in, including, to my chagrin, a keg off the side of the porch. A path of candles line the walkway, leading to where a small wrought iron table and chairs sit in the corner by the fence. Atop that table is a lone red rose.

“Cassian,” I breathe, unable to find the words as I gaze around us.

Taking my hand, he leads me down the porch stairs and towards the table, just like he did all those years ago.

“I kept trying to find ways to top my marriage proposal,” he begins, stopping in front of the table, “and there are probably a million ways that are more romantic than this, but I figured… It worked out so well the first time, so we may as well relive the moment.” A sound comes out of me that falls somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but both are joyful. Cassian grins. “Nesta, I love you. I love you now, and I loved you then. Every moment that I’ve spent by your side has been a blessing and the past year has proven to me that your love isn’t something I’m willing to take for granted. I want you to know unequivocally how deeply, hopelessly in love with you I am. I can think of no better way to do that then to stand before our families and the Cauldron and declare my love for you again.”

He pulls something from his pocket and drops to one knee. A surprised laugh breaks free as I cover my mouth with my right hand. My right hand because my left is in his.

“Marry me again, Nes.”

A simple silver band, inlaid with diamonds is held between his fingers. The twin to my wedding band, save for the tiny, red stones, alternating after every few diamonds. They flash in the lights, looking like fire and catching the eye.

I nod, because I can’t say a word. I nod so hard that I nearly give myself a headache, but it’s all well worth it. He slides the ring onto my finger, and I don’t realize how hard I’m crying until he’s on his feet and his lips are on mine. 

I hear cheering from the porch. I haven’t even realized everyone has been watching, but their joy consumes me, making me cry harder. 

We’ve come so far.

In a matter of months, we’ve come so far. I can’t believe that we were ever in such a bad spot, that we let our marriage become so awful, but looking at us now…it’s all ancient history. Never again.

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {15}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Nesta tastes like dark chocolate and sweet wine.

Once we got home, I made her an award winning dinner that ended with chocolate cake - made from scratch - and wine that was far too expensive. It had been worth it, though, to watch her eyes flutter shut and the sweetest of moans fall from her mouth. Those moans had led to wandering hands, which led us to now, in bed, with my mouth exploring every inch of her body. 

I should be asleep. I have an early day tomorrow. We have a shipment arriving at seven-thirty and I should really put out an advertisement for a couple of new positions that have recently opened up, but sleep is the last thing on my mind. All I can think about is my wife and how perfectly she fits in my arms. 

“Cass,” she breathes, and I practically whimper. I feel no shame, though. I am completely under her will, and don’t give a damn. “I need you inside of me.”

I lean back and catch her glazed gaze. We’re drunk on one another without a care in the world, and it feels so right that I can’t believe we had ever lost this feeling. 

When I brush my thumb along her bottom lip, she bites down on it and I groan. “Say please.”

She does no such thing. Instead, a fire lights in her eyes and she grins, flipping me onto my back. She opens her mouth to say something, surely something sassy, but my phone begins ringing on the nightstand.

She frowns.

“Ignore it,” I breathe, thrusting my hips up into hers.

But her eyes drift to my phone. “It’s Az.”

“Ignore-”

“It’s Az.”

I know that tone. She’s worried something is wrong with Elain, so I answer. With a sigh, I grab my phone and swipe across the screen, even though my cock is so hard that it’s painful.

“Hello?”

“Elain is in labor. Baby’s coming.” The words are clipped, stressed, but I’m instantly alert.  A sudden laugh comes from my brother, and I can’t help but grin as I sit up. Azriel continues, “We’re on our way to the hospital. I’ll call when she’s here, but…” Azriel breaks into a laugh, and my grin widens. “The baby is on her way, Cass.”

My eyes find Nesta’s and, despite my grin, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a look of worry on her face. Apparently obsessed with her mouth tonight, I work her lip free and l brush my thumb over it again. She presses a kiss to the pad of my thumb as I ask, “How far apart are her contractions?”

In the background, I hear my sweet sister-in-law say a word that isn’t usually prominent in her vocabulary. Az’s response is still stressed, but I can hear the amusement in his tone. “Still about seven minutes. We’re getting the car loaded up and will be leaving soon. I’ll let you know when we’re settled and how everything is going.”

“That’s awesome, man,” I say, rubbing my free hand up and down the outside of Nesta’s thigh. She hasn’t moved, still straddling me, listening intently to my half of the conversation, though I know she’s figured it out. “I can’t wait to meet her. I’m so happy for you.”

And truthfully, I was. By this time tomorrow, both of my brothers would be fathers. While I longed for what they had, I would never begrudge them their happiness, especially Azriel, who didn’t think he even deserved it before Elain came along.

When Az responded, I could hear it in his voice. “Thanks, man. I’ll text you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I ended the call and set the phone down on the bed next to me. My other hand found it’s place on Nesta’s thigh, my touch no longer trying to seduce, but instead to soothe. Looking up into her gorgeous face, I said, “Elain is in labor.”

She nodded, swallowing roughly. “That’s what I figured.”

“Are you okay?” There was a haunted look in her eyes and I knew where her mind was, where it had immediately gone.

“I’m okay,” she replied, voice soft, and even though I knew she was telling the truth, this wasn’t easy for her. It wasn’t easy for either of us.

All thoughts of claiming her body were gone for the moment, and I slipped my hand around the back of her neck to tug her lips down to mine in a soft kiss. She melted into me and I wrapped my arms around her as she let her head fall into the crook of my neck.

I wasn’t surprised when I felt the gentle splash of tears on my skin a moment later.

The buzz of the alcohol we’d consumed seemed to have worn off in the surprise of the call and my hand smoothed up and down her back.

A moment later, when I couldn’t contain the words any longer, I said, quietly, “Nesta—”

“I feel guilty,” she says, her voice broken, before I could continue.

My fingers, sliding across her back, did not still. “Guilty?”

“I should be happy,” she says, sniffling, “and I am, I really am, for them…but, a very selfish part of me is so…”

“Jealous?” I ask, when she can’t seem to find the word.

She nods, and I feel it in the book of my neck.

“It’s okay to be jealous,” I whisper, because if I speak normally she’d hear my own sadness. “I think jealousy is normal for people like us. We can be happy for them and sad at the same time. Jealous.”

Nesta doesn’t say anything. Instead, she clings to me as she cries. I feel useless, unable to make the situation any better. Her feelings resemble my own, but I know hers is amplified. I was heartbroken when we lost our children, especially the last so far along, but Nesta…she carried them. They were growing inside of her. I know it’s different, and it is a feeling that I cannot match. 

“I love you,” I say, because I feel there is nothing more to say.

“I love you, too,” she breathes, and for some reason my heart breaks further. 

There’s no getting over this. This is something that will always be with us, something that will always haunt us. We’ve lost so much, and although we have found our way back to one another, there are some things that can never be mended. 

“Tell me what you are thinking,” Nesta whispers, her breath warm against my skin, “so that I don’t feel so crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.” I pull her closer on top of me. “You’re grieving. Still. And that’s okay. I am, too. I’m jealous, too. I’m happy. So damn happy. But, of course I think about us, what we’ve lost, what I wish we had.” I run my fingers through her hair. “If we never have kids, I’ll be okay. You and me, we’re more than enough, Nesta, but I do want that, want kids, just like you do. We can be sad and happy together.” 

Her eyes meet mine and we stare at one another in a way that we haven’t in a long time. I see the heartbreak in her eyes, but I also see the longing, the yearning, the desperate plea for everything to be okay. 

She holds me, and I cling to her, afraid that if I let her go something unimaginable will happen. I’m scared that she will break. I’m scared that I will break. I’m scared that if we part, every ounce of progress we have made will evaporate. 

As time passes, neither of us speaks a word. The silence is not awkward, but telling. It’s something that I cannot put into words, something that I cannot fathom. My arms stay around her, keeping her close, as every unfathomable emotion passes between us. 

What little daylight that was left fades. Night has come fully and the only light that’s left in our room is the flickering candlelight from Nesta’s nightstand. I’m not sure how long we’ve been laying here, not sure what time Azriel had called, but I know that it’s late and that we should try and get some sleep, but I can’t.

Nesta, however, is drifting. I’m glad. She needs rest. I know her well enough to know that the rush of emotions she’s been flooded with has exhausted her. I rub her back slowly, hoping it’ll soothe her enough to put her to sleep. Still clinging to me, she yawns and closes her eyes. I watch her, my mind in a whirl of chaos. I check my phone, but Azriel hasn’t texted or called anymore. They must be waiting, just like we are. We’re all waiting. 

Nesta finally falls asleep and my hand stills on the small of her back. I meant what I said. If it’s only ever the two of us, I’ll be happy. She is enough — she’s more than enough. If it’s only just the two of us growing old, I’ll have everything I ever wanted.

But, I do want kids. I want a little person who is half me, half her, wholly perfect. I want that bond, that unexplainable bond that I’ve heard about. I want that feeling, where you hold your baby for the first time and just…lose it. I want to change diapers and be stressed because the baby won’t stop crying and I want to worry about my child growing up too quickly. I want that pure love that is so rare, so genuine. Nesta and I had been so close, and although the two of us are enough, I fear that we’ll never get that moment. I’m starting to settle with the fact that we’ll never get that moment. 

It’s a hard pill to swallow. 

I don’t realize that I’ve drifted off myself until I realize that my phone is vibrating on the nightstand. I jerk awake, scaring Nesta in the process.

“Hello?” The word is slurred from sleep as I answer my phone.

“She’s here.” I can tell Azriel has been crying, can tell he’s overjoyed. “She’s here, Cass.”

I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling a little bit lighter. “She’s here?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “She’s perfect. I know it’s early, I’m sorry.”

I glance at the time. It’s just before six. “Don’t be. I’m glad you called. You tell me when you want us there, and we’re there. We can’t wait to meet her.” 

“Anytime,” he says, and I can hear his smile. I am truly happy for him. Azriel, after all he’s been though, deserves the happiness, the joy. “Just call me when you’re here.”

Nesta’s watching me expectantly, eyes lined with tears as the softest of smiles lights up her face. 

“Alright, we’ll be there soon,” I say, pulling Nesta closer to me. I add, “With coffee.”

Azriel laughs as he tells me thanks, and we hang up. I look down at my wife.

“Ready to meet our niece?” 

She nods, and rolls out of my arms. “Coffee and breakfast on the way?”

“For us, for them…Yes.”

We get up and shower before getting dressed. It’s almost eight by the time we leave the house. The little cafe a mile down the road has the best quick breakfast so I order a couple of omelets and coffees to go before we’re on our way to the hospital.

Nesta’s quiet, but I just let it be. I know where her mind is at and I know that if she wants to talk more about it, she will. I hold her hand, nonetheless, letting my touch say everything my words aren’t. 

The hospital is pretty still once we arrive, although Feyre and Rhysand had also just arrived. We find ourselves walking towards each other near the entrance, giving each other hugs, and once a few tears have been shed, we walk inside together. 

The elevator ride is short but quiet. Feyre and Rhysand are talking quietly amongst themselves, but when I glance at Nesta, tears are lining her eyes. This position is hard. I know she’s overjoyed, but she’s also mourning. Half of her heart is bursting, but the other half is breaking. 

“Nes,” I whisper, but she shakes her head and a smile plasters itself on her face.

Feyre and Rhysand look our way, but I try to ignore them. Their smiles falter; their eyes grow weary. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, quietly.

She nods, and her hand brushes along my arm. 

The elevator dings when it reaches the fifth floor, and we all exit. I open my mouth the second the doors close behind us, but Feyre takes Nesta by the elbow and pulls her down the hall. I frown after them, watching them fade away.

Rhysand shoves his hands in his pockets as they disappear. 

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” he says. When I don’t answer, he continues, “And that’s okay…but if you want to talk about it, we’re here for you.” 

I don’t realize how emotional I am until my eyes line with tears. Guilt and sadness flood my core, and it’s not until we’re seated that I tell him everything.

………………..

Nesta

………………..

Feyre has looped her arm through mine, but neither of us has spoken, even though we’re winding our way through the endless halls of the hospital. I hadn’t even realized how emotional I’d become before my sister tore me away from our little group. She says nothing. She’s waiting for me to speak, but I can’t find the words, so we remain silent. 

This is all wrong.

This is not the way it’s supposed to be.

I’m happy, but I’m destroyed, and I know that makes no sense but how I’m feeling makes no sense. 

“I don’t want to do this today,” I say, quietly, staring at my hands that are opening and closing. “We shouldn’t do this today. I’m sorry, just ignore—”

“I’m not going to ignore anything,” Feyre says, putting her hand in mine to stop my nervous habit. “You’re not okay. What’s going on? I thought you and Cass were doing good.”

“We are.” My voice breaks. “Things between us right now are amazing.”

We’ve stopped walking and Feyre faces me. “Then what is it?”

This is the moment I have both longed for and dreaded, telling my family what happened. For so long, I kept everything bottled up. It’s different letting Cass in, it was even different telling Gwyn, but crossing this line puts our struggles, our heartbreak, out there. And once it’s out, that’s it.

I think about walking away, but just as I’m about to turn, my youngest sister reaches out and brushes my tears away. 

“I’m here for you,” she says, simply, and all at once it feels like a dam is breaking inside of me.

“Eleven months, one week, and three days.”

Confusion causes Feyre’s face to pinch just a bit, but she doesn’t say anything as I exhale slowly. “That’s how long it’s been since I lost our daughter."

The breath that leaves Feyre comes out in an almost silent huff. “Nesta—”

“It’s almost been a year and I— I still grieve for her every day. Cassian, too.” I close my eyes, trying to hide from the shame of what the grief had almost caused me to lose.

And so I told Feyre everything.

I told her about the early miscarriages, when we knew we could always keep trying. I told her about the miscarriages when I started to think something was wrong. And I told her about the day we passed twelve weeks, when we truly believed we were in the clear and that we were finally going to be parents. Then I told her about the worst day of our lives, about the depression I fell into and subsequently almost destroyed my marriage.

Not once did Feyre interrupt. Not once did she give me any sign that the pain I was feeling, the hurt I’ve kept from her and Elain was a burden to take on.

When I finished telling my story, Feyre wrapped her arms around me as we both cried. 

I’m not sure how long we sat there. Time seemed to stand still, but I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulders. She apologized for everything she had no control over, and thanked me for sharing my pain with her. I suddenly felt free, and although that guilt and pain lingered as it always would, I felt renewed. 

When we finally break apart, I notice that Cassian and Rhysand are standing nearby. They look like the two of us, tearstained but whole, and I know without a doubt that Cassian has also made his confession, has found his peace. 

We go through a series of hugs and curses and apologies and relieved laughter, considering where we are and who we are about to meet. This morning is full of sorrow and longing, but it’s also a joyous day. We’re about to meet our niece, the newest member of our little clan, and that is something that cannot go unwanted or ignored.

I dry my tears, and although my heart still feels heavy, it’s a thousand times lighter. 

We won’t tell Elain and Azriel. Not today. Probably not for a while, but that’s okay. Our secret has expanded, our pain has been shared, and that in itself is growth.

[snelbz]

Better Or Worse {Chapter One}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: We are so excited to share this one with you guys! As you know, angst is sort of our specialty and while this one will be pretty heavy, we’ve tried to sprinkle a good amount of fluff as well. We hope you love it and always, please let us what you think!

Chapter Warning: Language.

Nesta -

“I'm going to bed.”

My fingers come to a pause on my keyboard. I glance up and find Cassian leaning against the door frame of my office.

The clock in the corner of the computer screen tells me it’s 10:46. I know he’s not telling me to try and entice me to join him. No, he’d given up on that weeks ago.

My fingers go back to flying over the plastic keys, clicking as I try to pick back up the stream of consciousness I was working on when Cassian interrupted. “I want to get this draft finalized tonight. I only have a few chapters left. The publishing company will have my ass if it isn’t submitted before tomorrow afternoon.”

Excuse.

That’s all I’m full of anymore. Excuses.

Excuses as to why I’m always at my office downtown late or don’t ever want to go to dinner. Why I’m distant or never try to touch him.

“Can you at least try to make it home by six tomorrow night? Please?”

My gaze leaves the screen and lands on him again. “I’ll try. You know I’ve got deadlines I have to hit.”

He’s as handsome as always, even more so with the shadow of stubble across his jaw. He must not have shaved this morning, if the dusting of hair was any indicator. That wasn’t like him. Shaving was a part of his daily routine, quickly followed by his morning shower. My husband may be brash and blunt, but he’s a man who has and loves his routines.

Routines that often feel like they are smothering me, stifling any spark of spontaneity in my soul.

His arms are crossed over his muscular chest, his tattoos just barely peeking out over the neckline of his t-shirt. I know those tattoos intimately, can trace them with my eyes closed.

It’s been far too long since I’ve done that.

His voice pulls me from my thoughts of the ink adorning his skin. “I’ll cook. Get a bottle of your favorite wine. We don’t have to go anywhere.”

He sounds like he’s negotiating a hostage situation, not asking me to dinner. I hate it.

I stop typing, trying my best not to show my annoyance. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”

Cassian's reaction does not reflect any sort of satisfaction. “Come on, Nesta. We haven’t had a date night in months. I will literally bring date night to you—”

“I said I’ll have to see.” The moment the words come out of my mouth, I feel guilty. My tone is embarrassing, but I can’t control it, the snap. 

Cassian's mouth shuts and his jaw locks. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

A beat passes between us before I start typing again. I can feel Cassian’s eyes blazing into the back of my head for a minute, then he’s turning around. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” I say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, but mostly I just sound stressed.

Which I am.

So damn stressed. 

I hear him walk down the hall and close our bedroom door. I stop typing yet again, my eyes shutting as I rub my temples. 

At least I’m honest. I could tell Cassian that I’d be home by dinner tomorrow, but then I would be late and he would just be disappointed and get pissed. It’s better to let him down up front rather than too late.

Being a best selling author isn’t all I was expecting it to be. Sure, seeing my book on shelves next to some of my all time favorites is awesome, but it’s daunting. My first book was self published, coming to life out of my own blood, sweat, and tears. So once it took off and I started working with a publishing company, I thought I’d made it. Things were going to get easier. All I had to do was get my words down onto paper and they’d do the rest.

Wrong.

Someone is always demanding something. Whether that’s a finalized draft, an update on an outline, or approval for cover artwork, I never have a moment to breathe.

As if the universe is laughing at me, a new text chimes on my phone, lying face down on my desk. I recognize the sound, immediately knowing it’s my agent, Eris.

I sigh, telling myself to ignore the notification. I’m already editing hours after I should be, but my eyes keep bouncing up to my phone. After reading the same sentence four times, not comprehending a single word, I snatch my phone up.

Got a phone call from the Velaris Times. They have an opening for an interview tomorrow afternoon.

An opportunity I can’t pass up.

Sounds like a plan. My office or theirs?

If I thought I would be able to focus back on my edits, I was wrong. Eris is typing back as soon as my text is received.

Over dinner, actually. Viviane Whittaker will meet you at Rita’s at 5:30.

My thumbs hover over the screen.

Can you at least try to make it home by six tomorrow night? Please?

Swallowing, I type out my reply.

I’ll be there fifteen minutes early.

I should go tell Cassian that there will be no date night tomorrow, but I think better of it. I’m already so tired and that is not a fight that I want to start so late at night. I’ll just text him about tomorrow.

I look back up at my screen and try to reset my mind, call back my concentration. Just as I begin reading, a jingling bell comes closer and a ball of fluff settles on my feet.

I look down at the chubby black cat and reach down to scratch him between the ears. “Hi, Greg.”

Greg shoots me a look full of judgment. 

“Don’t try to guilt me,” I say, straightening back up in my chair. “I already feel guilty enough.”

With a huff, Greg lays his head against the carpet and closes his eyes. I’m officially the only one in the house not fast asleep.

Cassian -

I haven’t gotten mind-numbingly drunk since college, but all I want to do once I get out of work is drink to forget. I’ve never been good at handling my anger, and I was already on edge, so when Nesta texted me saying that she had dinner plans and would be home late, I was automatically seeing red.

I just want one night with my wife but I should have known that was too much to ask for. It usually is. 

Already finding Rhys’ number in my phone, I hop in my truck and start the engine as he answers.

“We’re going out tonight. Drinks are on me,” I say, before he can even say hello. 

“It’s a Thursday,” he replies with a laugh, but I know he’d be there regardless. Out of all of us, Rhys was the one who had ended up with a real “big boy” job. He’s one of the most respected lawyers in Velaris, and having his own practice, he basically gets to make his own hours if he isn’t in court.

“Glad you can read a calendar.” I sound like a dick but I can’t bring myself to care. “I’ll be at Windhaven in fifteen.”

“Should I call Az or is he already on the way?”

“I texted him first. Didn’t want him to leave work and have to turn around.”

Azriel works in a tattoo parlor two blocks down from our favorite spot, but lives outside of town. With Elain being pregnant, there’s only so much time we get with our brother.

I look over at the empty spot in the garage next to mine and sigh.

A hole in my chest that has been progressively growing larger aches. I’ve always been proud of Nesta. She’s always wanted to be an author since the day I met her, and she’s living her dream. And she’s really damn good at it. She has a way with words that I could never understand, that I couldn’t even come close to matching. She was meant to be a writer.

But ever since she’s found success, I’ve come in second.

It’s not that I always have to be her first priority. I want her to live for more than me, but it would be nice to be a priority sometimes. It would be nice for her to put our marriage first, to make time for me, for us. I barely even see her, and when I do, her eyes are glued to her laptop screen. She didn’t come to bed until four, then was up again at seven, barely uttering a word to me before she left for her office. 

“Cass?”

I haven’t even realized that Rhys has been talking to me. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he says, and his tone has softened, fully aware of where my mind has gone. “Get a booth.” 

“Alright.” I hang up, reading Azriel’s text on my screen once I pull the phone away from my ear.

Perfect. Had to tattoo a flower on an 80 year old woman’s ass today. I need a drink. 

Despite my current mood, I chuckle and pull out of the driveway. Keeping the radio off, I drive, wondering if I should send Nesta a good luck text. In all reality, she probably won’t reply, so I toss my phone in the passenger seat and let it be. 

If Nesta wants to talk to me, wants to spend time with me, she would be home for dinner for once. I know I’m being petty, but after a while, being neglected by the woman you married becomes exhausting. 

And I’m so damn tired. I need booze and bad food and my brothers. I’m man enough to admit when I need to get something off my chest, but not enough to do it sober.

Rhys’s instructions to get a booth were unnecessary. Azriel unsurprisingly beat me here and is sitting in our normal booth, the one with a direct line of sight to the bartender. A pitcher of beer sits in the middle of the table as well as three glasses. I appreciate my brother’s propensity to think ahead, but I need something harder than beer tonight.

Nodding to Az, I make a beeline to the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief, I see Ace is the one behind the bar tonight, not Devlon. The old man owns the bar and has never been a fan of me, Rhys or Az.

“You look like you need a free drink,” Ace says, as I make it to the bar and lean against the cool wooden top. 

“I always need a free drink.” The words sound pitiful coming out of my mouth. Ace just winks and pours me a glass of whiskey without even having to ask me what I want. “Thanks.”

“Always,” she says, patting my hand before I turn to walk to the booth. I’ll see her again shortly. I don’t expect the glass of whiskey to last too long before I need another. 

Azriel watches me approach, his glass already halfway gone. I nod to it as I sit across from him. “Has the image of elderly ass been erased from your mind yet?”

“No,” Azriel says, taking another drink. “But the memory looks better and better with every drink.”

I huff a laugh as I sip from my glass of whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat and I pour a glass from the pitcher in the middle of the table. 

Rhysand appears beside me and slides onto the bench. I hadn’t even realized that he’d walked in, but in my defense, I’m hardly present. 

After pleasant hellos and Rhysand pouring his own glass, he asks, “So, is this when you tell us the reason you want to get plastered on a Thursday?” 

Swirling my glass, I watch as the whiskey moves through the ice cubes, the color diluting as they melt slowly. Bringing my drink to my lips, I drink deeply and set the glass down, staring at the table top.

“My marriage is falling apart.”

Neither of them speak.

Neither of them do anything.

I wasn’t expecting them to fall over themselves to comfort me, but I was at least expecting a back pat or an I’m sorry, man. Glancing up from the table, they both just stare at me.

The look in their eyes tells me they knew. Everyone knows. We haven’t been ourselves in months. I can’t think of the last time we were both at a family dinner.

“I don’t know what to do,” I go on, when neither of them say a word. “I’ve been trying…but every time I try, no matter what I try, I feel like I’m pushing her further away.” I take a drink. “I’m exhausted.”

I down what’s in my glass and motion for Ace to make me another. 

“I tried to give her a date night tonight,” I go on, working on my beer that’s quickly disappearing. My brothers simply watch me as I babble. “We haven’t had a date night in months. She never seems interested, so I stopped asking. Last night, I asked, for the first time in a long damn time.” I gesture around the table. “As you can see, I’m not with my wife.” 

“Where is she?” Azriel asks, when it’s clear I’d paused my rambling, at last. 

Another glass of whiskey is set in front of me. I give Ace a grateful look before shrugging. “With some reporter. Not sure where. They’re out to dinner and will probably be there until some ridiculous hour.” 

Azriel looks away from me, his eyes locking with Rhys and then I feel both of their gazes on me. I turn to Rhys, who is usually the one who takes the lead in awkward situations. Tonight is apparently no different.

“She won’t have dinner with you, but she’ll meet some skeezy reporter for dinner?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

Shrugging my shoulders, I start on my second drink. “So it seems.”

He folds his arms atop the table and leans towards me. “And you didn’t ask where they were going? Or when she would be home?”

“I stopped asking what time she’d be home months ago.” My voice sounds hollow, empty. I wonder how long it’s sounded like that. “And begging for answers seemed pathetic.”

They make eye contact again and Azriel clears his throat. “You don’t…think she’s having an affair, do you?”

“Absolutely not.”

He sighs. “Cass—”

“She isn’t sleeping with anyone else.”

“Cass,” Rhys begins, his tone as placating as possible, slipping into the voice of the man who can convince anyone of anything. It’s what makes him such a good defense lawyer. It makes me want to break something. Makes me feel weak. “We know you love Nesta and that she loves you.”

“She wouldn’t cheat on me,” I snap, and I mean it. We might not be on great terms right now, but Nesta is loyal to those she loves.

And despite the distance between us, I have to believe she still loves me.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to calm myself down once the silence between us stretches on for too long. The air is thick. They know they had struck a chord and are surely deciding if they want to keep the conversation going. “I just…don’t think that’s the case.”

“If she’s not cheating, then what’s the issue?” Azriel asks, tentatively. “Her work?”

“Yeah, she’s busy,” I say, staring at my empty glass. “But…I don’t know. Honestly, I have no fucking clue how we got here. We barely talk. Most nights, she doesn’t even come to bed. I can’t even tell you the last time we had sex.” That was a lie. I remember it, and it was way too long ago for me to admit. “Every time we do talk, it ends in a fight. I’m just…at the end of my rope. I don’t know what to do.”

The table is quiet for another minute before Rhys asks, “Are you saying that you want to leave her?”

It’s not that the thought has never crossed my mind. Lately, I think about it often, filing for divorce, giving up, but hearing the words out loud make me feel sick to my stomach.

I don’t answer.

I wave to Ace for another whiskey.

The table is silent until she brings the drink and returns to the bar.

“I don’t see what other options I have.” My words are whispered, as if I can’t hear them, they aren't coming out. My words are starting to slur a bit, a good sign I should probably slow down.

I ignore that sign and take a drink.

“You two fought like cats and dogs when you first met,” Rhys reminds me, as if I could somehow forget. “What’s different now?”

“Those weren’t fights, that was sexual tension,” I admit, shaking my head. “Gotta have sex for there to be sexual tension.”

Azriel refills his beer. “She hasn’t said anything to Elain, as far as I know.”

“Or Feyre,” Rhys adds.

“You both know Nesta,” I start, looking between the two of them. “She doesn’t talk about her feelings with anyone, much less me or her sisters.”

They both frown, watching me with concern, seemingly at a loss for words. 

“Do you still love her?” Azriel asks.

“Of course I do,” I say, my anger fading as the alcohol calms me, consumes me. “But just because I love her doesn’t mean that it’s working anymore.”

“Don’t make any rash decisions,” Rhys says, calmly, refilling my beer for me before motioning to Ace for another pitcher. Seems I’m done with whiskey for the night. “I know you, don’t act out of anger. You have to tell Nesta how frustrated you are. You have to communicate.”

I know he’s right, know that communication has become a weakness in our marriage. I don’t  want to communicate, I don’t want to work for it, I just want my marriage to right itself, to return to the way it used to be.

And I want to fucking drink.

So that’s what I do, alongside my brothers, until I’m not thinking about my crumbling marriage at all.