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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!

Tara’s Masterlist

(aka @tacmc)

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(aka @snelbz)

[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 {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 {Chapter Three}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Chapter Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of sexual acts and is NSFW. 18+ ONLY.

Cassian -

Knowing that my loving wife is at Az and Elain’s, I make my way home after the gym. I’ve spent the last two nights with Feyre and Rhysand with no contact with Nesta. I should feel guilty for just walking out, but I don’t. If anything, I’m still pissed. 

The worst part is that she hasn’t even tried reaching out. I know I was the one to leave, but she hasn’t called, hasn’t sent a text, hasn’t scoped me out. It’s almost like unwelcome validation, further proving my point and fears. 

Once I’m home, I unlock the kitchen door and make my way in from the garage. The house is quiet and perfectly clean as if no one had been living there in my absence. If I were to guess, Nesta had been spending long hours at her office in the city. She hasn’t had anyone bitching at her to come home on time and I’m sure she’s been taking advantage of that. 

The bed is perfectly made and a basket of clean laundry sits on top of the blankets, none of it mine. Greg, our cat, is sprawled out on my pillow, sound asleep. 

I raid my closet, pulling together a new heap of clean clothes that I toss in a bag. It doesn’t feel right, but I ignore that feeling. I have to ultimately do what’s best for me and my happiness, even if joy is the last thing I’m feeling right now.

After getting my shit together, I take a look at the time and start stripping down, tossing my sweaty workout clothes in the hamper. I wonder if she’ll toss them in with the next load of laundry or just let them rot as I walk into the master bathroom and start the shower.

I missed my walk-in shower. It was my only request when remodeling our bathroom a few years back. I’m bigger than the average man and our previous shower never let me forget it. In this shower, I was never cramped and it relaxes the hell out of me.

I stepped beneath the hot water and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, then another.

It wasn’t that long ago that Nesta’s eyes shone when she first saw the shower. She hadn’t fought me hard on its design, only bemoaning the cost once or twice, before realizing just how worthwhile it was. It was big enough for not only myself, but room for someone to join me as well, something she’d taken advantage of often.

If I had a particularly early morning, Nesta would almost always get up with me. While I’d get in the shower, she would go downstairs and start the coffee pot, refill Greg’s food bowl, and check her email, reading over them, but never replying. Sometimes, it took two minutes, sometimes, it took ten, but without fail, before my shower was over, I’d feel her arms wrap around my waist and she’d join me.

It wasn’t always sexual. Sometimes, her emails frustrated her and she needed to vent. Listening and rinsing her hair was something I became good at. Even when I wasn’t inside of her, being with her in such an intimate setting, nothing but our souls, naked bodies, and the water running around us, there was nothing to distract and take away from each other.

But then she started to take longer and longer in the mornings. An email needed an immediate reply or she had to read through some quick edits. Those excuses made sense, they were related to her work, the only thing she loved as much as she loved me. I understood.

Then coffee pot wasn’t working, until I got downstairs and then it worked perfectly. She had been watching a news story and got distracted, but could tell me nothing about it. She had a migraine, four days in a row, that only affected her when I touched her.

By the time she stopped joining me in the shower, I’d stopped hoping she would.

I’m not sure when it all started changing. When I stood with Nesta on our wedding day and said our vows, I never expected to end up here. She was the love of my life, and still is, I think, but it’s…different. Every time I look at her now I feel a sense of sadness, pure loss, like looking at an old memory of when I used to feel alive and invincible, but realizing that it ended in heartbreak. 

We had a hell of a love story, though, while it lasted. We’re too much alike in all the right ways, which resulted in sexual tension that almost always ended in mind blowing fucking.

It wasn’t just the sex. Nesta understood me, and I understood her. We had a bond that I had always thought was too good to be true, and maybe it was. 

I miss her. 

I miss the woman that I had fallen in love with, and even though we were married young, I had no doubt of my love for her, and hers for me.

I miss joking around with her, hearing her laugh because I said something stupid and profane. 

I miss just talking with her about nothing and everything, comforting her, having her comfort me. I miss waking up in the morning to her watching me, still gloriously nude from the night before, with messy hair and a soft smile. I miss the little things that I took for granted, like holding her hand or laying with her on the couch while we watched a stupid movie.

I miss the sex. Not just because the lack of it has me horny and aggressive, but I miss the connection. I miss getting lost in her body that was completely in my possession. Sometimes I still let my eyes linger on her body, and I’m not sure if she doesn’t notice or just pretends not to, but I can’t deny that my wife is gorgeous. A beautiful face, of course, but her body…

Strong and curvaceous, her skin so light that even my fingerprints left soft pink tracks behind them. Her ass was one of my favorite places to grab, to smack, to hold onto while she rocked her hips, while she bounced on my cock, but nothing compares to her breasts. I still catch myself looking at them, catching her peaked nipples through those little tanktops she wears around the house. No bra, never at home, not since we started dating, and I sure as hell never complained. Even now, when she hates me for some unknown reason, it’s still no bra, and my eyes can’t help but drift to how they bounce with every step she takes.

Thinking of those showers we used to take together, of the feel of her skin, of tight tank tops with no bras, sent my imagination into overdrive and suddenly, in my mind, I’m not alone under the spray anymore.

I’m remembering one of the last times we had sex, when I’d come home and found her in the shower. Deciding that surprising her was a good idea considering how tense she’d been, I undressed and slipped into the bathroom without making a sound. I’d startled her and she yelled at me for a solid ninety seconds before I had her back pressed against the cool tile and was balls deep inside her.

The decision to take my cock into my hand wasn’t one I made on my own, but as I remember how good she’d felt, how tight and wet, her nails digging into my shoulders, I’m powerless to stop myself.

The sounds she made, the sounds she always made, the gasps and moans and yelling of my name strung with curses. I swear in the quiet as I pump myself, faster and faster, as I lean my forehead against the cool tile. The image of her head leaned back in ecstasy is all I see behind my closed eyes, the way her brows furrowed as that sensation in her core kept building. 

Fuck.

I’d kill to make her react like that again, to make her feel good, to give her exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. I know her. I know what she likes. I know what makes her scream, what makes her knees shake. 

I can’t help but groan as I near my release. It’s embarrassing how quickly it’s approaching. It’s been too damn long since I’ve orgasmed, too damn long since I’ve been touched. So long that I’ve settled for myself, but I’m feeling too good to care.

I imagine it’s Nesta’s lips wrapped around my cock, her tongue exploring as I fuck her mouth with no hesitation. She shows no resistance, she never has. She loves it, loves the taste, loves the tease, loves sucking me dry.

At least she used to.

I ignore the fact that she won’t be down on her knees before me again and relive the memory of it. I groan and my hand finds the wall beside my head, grounding me as I jack off to the lust of something that no longer exists. 

I breathe her name, or maybe I yell it, I don’t know. 

All I know is that all I can think about is her name, her body, her eyes on mine, the love and desperation in them as we fucked. It’s been months since this day, months since this memory, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of anguish and guilt as my release comes.

Nesta -

It’s hard to enjoy time with my sisters when my heart isn’t in it.

I feel guilty. I haven’t seen either of them in forever, save for when Feyre has come to pick up Nyx on the days that we watch him, and now that we’re all finally together, I can’t keep my mind in the conversation. 

I tell myself to focus, but I can’t. It’s been days since I’ve seen my husband, days since I’ve talked to him. I know he’s staying with Feyre, but I can’t convince myself to ask her about him. Even though I want to.

I want to know if he’s as miserable as I am.

I pop a strawberry in my mouth before taking a sip of my wine. “Oh, that reminds me,” I begin, even though I’m pretty sure they had moved the conversation along a few minutes ago, when I started to tune out, “I ordered two swings so I can keep one at my place. Because, you know, I’m going to steal this baby as much as possible.”

Elain chuckled, rubbing her growing bump lovingly. “I’m sure she’ll love spending time at her Aunt Nesta’s…and I’m sure me and daddy won’t mind having an afternoon or two to nap.”

“Why do I feel like you call him daddy way too often?” Feyre asks, and Elain nudges her with a scowl, which makes me chuckle. 

My sisters fall back into a comfortable, lighthearted conversation, but I don’t hear much of it. My mind is elsewhere. I wonder what Cassian is doing, what he’s been up to, what he’s been thinking, what he’s been saying about me. I doubt any of it has been good. I’m sure he’s been cursing my name and wishing I was nothing more than a woman of his past. 

“Nesta?”

I blink, unaware of how long I’ve been staring at my wine glass. I look up at Elain and clear my throat. “Hmm?”

Her eyes were soft, full of worry. “You can talk to us, you know.” 

I look to Feyre to try and gauge where her thoughts are at. After all, she’s the one that’s been talking to my husband. Yet, her eyes are just as full of worry, which I hate.

“I’m fine,” I say, and they know it’s a lie the second it slips off my tongue. The room drops into silence, and I close my eyes. “Has he…said anything?”

My sisters remain silent until I open my eyes, but then Feyre says, “He misses you.”

“He has an odd way of showing it.” The hostility in my tone isn’t directed at her, but I can’t help it. 

“He’s sad.” Feyre shrugs. “He hasn’t said much in detail, and I haven’t pried, but I can tell that he’s sad.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. I sip from my wine. I didn’t think that it was possible to feel any more guilty, but now I’m drowning in it. It doesn’t help that my sisters stay completely silent, letting me dwell in my misery. 

“Has he…mentioned when he’s coming home?” I ask, ashamed of how small my voice sounds.

It’s quiet for another moment longer and when I drag my gaze from my glass, I regret it. They’re both looking at me with pity.

I hate it. I hate feeling weak, but the sadness in their eyes isn’t just for me. Cassian has been a staple in their lives as long as he’s been in mine. He’s family to them both, but he and Feyre have always been close, almost stepping into the role of the older brother for her that none of us ever had.

I wasn’t surprised when she was the one who took the lead on this particular conversation.

Clearing her throat, she adjusted her seat on the couch, wrapping her arms around a throw pillow. I couldn’t get the image out of my head that she was putting a shield between us. That made me all the more worried for whatever she was going to say.

“I don’t know that he plans to,” Feyre finally admitted.

I waited for her to go on, not wanting to push, but her silence, and Elain’s, continued. “But that doesn’t— Why wouldn’t he?”

“He asked for a divorce, Nes,” she said, voice gratingly gentle, as if she were speaking to Nyx or one of her students. “That’s a pretty big indication that something is wrong.”

“I don’t need you telling me that something’s wrong.” Neither of them flinch at my sudden fury. They continue to watch me, carefully. I take a deep breath. “He’ll come back. He’s just pissed off and needs to cool down.”

Even as I say the words, I taste the lie.

“He’s given up, Nesta. He’s unhappy,” Feyre said, not unkindly. “And so are you.”

Such simple words, a secret that we tried to hide for so long, but here it is laid out bare: the truth. 

“I know,” I say, quietly, because my anger has faded and now I’m at a loss for words. 

“What about you?” Elain asked, and at my confused expression, she says, “Have you given up?”

If I were to tell the truth, I would say that I had given up a long time ago, I just didn’t realize it. Instead, I shrug. 

“Have you two ever talked about marriage counseling?” Elain asks, adjusting herself on the couch with a cringe. Deep into her last trimester, I can tell that she’s constantly uncomfortable. An annoyance, but a luxury. 

I shake my head. “I can’t remember the last time we had a meaningful conversation, much less a conversation that’s involved any sort of reconciliation.”

The confession flows out of me and my sister's frown deepens. “Well, remember Az and I did couples therapy when we were engaged. It helped so much.”

Azriel used to have a difficult time opening up, talking about his past, and it had created separation between the two of them in the beginning. I remember them doing couples therapy for a few months and only being happier and closer together because of it.

“I don’t really see Cass as…the therapy type,” I say, staring at a loose thread on the blanket thrown across my lap.

“Az was opposed to it at first,” Elain says, “but as soon as our first session wrapped, he already wanted to continue with it. Maybe suggest it. If you want to find your way back to him…” She shrugs and her eyes line with tears. I know it’s her hormones, but I still feel guilty for making Elain cry. She quickly shakes her head. “Don’t mind me. You know I’m an emotional mess.”

Feyre chuckles but I lean over and squeeze Elain’s hand. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ve cried so much the last few days that I don’t think it’s possible for me to cry anymore. Greg has gone into hiding, surely scared shitless that every time he sees me I’m going to be bawling.”

I try to make it a joke, but it’s just pathetic.

“We know you love him,” Feyre says, sipping from her glass. “And he loves you. He really does. He’s just…tired. You know?”

Yeah. I know.

“Do you want to save your marriage?” Feyre asks.

I don’t have the energy for anger anymore. “Of course I do. But I feel like…” Apparently I lied. I do still have tears left to cry, and they come now, appearing so quickly that I can’t even try to stop them. “I feel like so much damage has been done. We’ve drifted too far apart and I have no fucking clue how we’re going to find our way back to one another. I don’t think love is enough anymore. And I feel like I’ve made one too many mistakes.”

“No such thing,” Elain said, dabbing at her eyes. “There’s no such thing as too many mistakes. I’m telling you, marriage counseling works wonders. If you want, I can give you the information of the woman we saw. Suggest it to Cass. See what he thinks.”

My eyes drift back down to that loose thread, although my vision is now blurry. I’m scared of suggesting such a thing and having him laugh in my face.

“What if he doesn’t want to?” I ask, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. “What if he’s just done? For good?”

This time both of my sisters spoke at once. Elain, trying to comfort as she always did, and Feyre, unafraid to speak the truth, no matter how much it hurt, their words jumbled as they spoke over each other. They gave each other an apologetic smile before turning back to me.

“He won’t be,” Elain promised, taking my hand. “He loves you and he misses you. I’m sure he’d be willing to do anything to get back to how you were.”

“But…” Feyre took my other hand, squeezing once. “If he doesn’t, if this is the beginning of a different chapter of your life, we’re here. You aren’t alone.”

The smile I gave them didn’t reach my eyes, nor do I think it fooled them. I’d been alone for months, but no one said anything, no one noticed.

What would make this any different?

After another hour of talking, clearing my head, and making sure I was good to drive, I headed home. I was avoiding it now, far more intentionally than I had before Cassian left.

Before, I hadn’t been there because I was busy. I came home late, but I always knew the porch light would be on, that my husband was waiting inside, despite our distance.

Now, when I come home, it’s empty. It’s dark and every sound, day or night, makes me jump.

I hate being alone.

But as I approach the house, I see the porch light is on and my breath catches in my throat. When I raise the garage door, it isn’t empty, as I’d expected.

There’s a familiar black truck parked in the spot opposite mine.

He…came home.

For a moment I just sit in my car, surprised and uncertain, not because I’m not happy he’s here, but because I wasn’t prepared.

After a deep breath, trying to calm my newfound nerves, I open the door and head inside. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to see my own husband, but we haven’t spoken in days and our last conversation left too much unsaid. I don’t know if I should be expecting a gentle reunion or preparing for a fight. 

“Cassian?”

The house is quiet. Greg is nearly asleep on the kitchen table, looking like he’d just gotten there and isn’t quite comfortable yet. 

Cassian's keys and wallet are sitting next to his phone on the island. It’s not where he usually puts them when he comes home. I’m finding it much stranger than I probably should.

When he doesn’t respond to me, I start making my way through the house, calling his name once more. I take to the stairs and hear the shower running as I approach our bedroom. 

It must be a good sign, right? That he’s making himself at home?

It looks like he came here right after the gym. His shoes are discarded on the floor, his sweaty clothes sitting on top of mine in the hamper. I drop my purse on the bed and slip out of my boots. I’m just about to sit, to wait for him, to take a few minutes to think about what I’m going to say, but then I hear my husband moan and my entire body locks up.

It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve heard him moan.

He’s having sex in there.

He may be pissed, but to bring some slut into our house— 

My entire body is shaking and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I feel a panic attack coming on, feel my face burning in embarrassment. We’ve had our issues, but I never imagined Cassian to be the cheating one, never imagined he could be unfaithful. 

And then to rub it in my face like this?

Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m storming towards the bathroom and throwing open the door.

A room filled with steam greets me, and before I can start screaming and cursing his name, I freeze.

Cassian’s alone. His back is to me, one palm opened flat against the tile wall, his head thrown back as his body starts to tense. The glass is fogged up, but I can still see enough of the body that I used to explore and pleasure. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him naked, since I’ve let him touch me in any sort of way, since I’ve touched him.

Which seems to be why he’s touching himself now.

He hasn’t heard me come in, and I should walk out, but my feet are stuck just across the threshold, my hand clinging to the doorknob.

He works himself quickly as he moans again, and curses low.

He says my name as he comes.

I must have gasped, must have made some noise as the shock of hearing him groan my name in ecstasy flooded my body, because he turned on his heel, staring at me through the fogged glass. His hand was still around his cock, his chest heaving with each breath that rasped from his lungs.

If I hadn’t been expecting him to say my name, I surely hadn’t been expecting the ire in his eyes when his gaze landed on me. Any heat at what I’d walked in on dissipated as he looked at me.

He may have been thinking of me, but clearly he didn’t want to see me.

My chest felt cold and hollow and empty.

Without a word, I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and walked into the bedroom.

[theladyofdeath]

HOSAB spoilers

Ruhn doing Lidia’s hair cause he obviously has the most luscious locks

Written with @snelbz

A/N: Enjoy the fluff! x

Warnings: none.

As Lidia climbed out of her car and gazed up at the salon before her, she took a deep breath. Tonight was important, like life-changing important, and she needed to look her best. She just wished she would have thought of this plan before the day of, but there was nothing to do now but hope for the best.

As she entered the salon, she waved to the girl working the front desk and made her way to a familiar station towards the front. The seat was occupied by a gorgeous brunette, but she wasn’t concerned about the person sitting. She cared more about the man behind it.

When Ruhn’s violet eyes met hers, they were lit with surprise. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She gave the brunette in the chair a polite smile before turning back to Ruhn. “I need a favor.”

He continued running the heated barrel of a curling iron through the woman’s hair, but asked, “Okay?”

“So I’ve got this date tonight…” She began and his eyes snapped to hers. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you think you’ve got time to squeeze me into your books?”

The woman looked at Lidia like she was insane, and to be honest, she was. There was a month-long wait list to even sit in Ruhn Danaan’s chair for a consultation and the fact that she was turning up and asking for a walk in? Even if she was already one of his clients, she knew it was a few weeks out for a trim.

He frowned, almost completely ignoring the woman in his chair as he turned to face Lidia. He searched her eyes for a minute, and she wondered what it was he was thinking. At last, he said, “A date?”

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “If not, it’s fine, but I thought I’d—”

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll work you into my lunch break,” he said, and turned back toward his client. “If you wanted to get me a coffee in that ten minutes, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He shot her a subtle grin as she fought the urge to jump on him. He got back to work, and she ran across the street to a little cafe to get him a coffee. She knew he liked it black most of the time — an obvious guess based on the rest of his appearance and demeanor — but knew he occasionally wanted something more than just the bitter drink. She grabbed a handful of sugar and creamer just to be safe. The thought had her chuckling to herself as she made her way back across the street to the salon. 

Ruhn was wrapping up with his client so Lidia took a seat to wait. He was handsome in a completely non-traditional way. His hair was long, except for the part that was shaved, and he had more piercings than she could count. She knew many more laid beneath his clothes and couldn’t help as her eyes trailed along the tattoos that disappeared beneath his black t-shirt. He was dressed more casually than anyone else in the upscale salon. In fact, he looked like he didn’t fit in much, in his jeans and old black boots, but he surely brought in more clients than anyone else. One of the magazines did a spread on him a few years back and his career had skyrocketed, thanks to the unique cuts and colors he was now known for. Lidia had asked him about it once, about how he had gotten into his field, and he just shrugged and said that his mother was a hair stylist and his father, who was a dick, hated the idea of him getting into any sort of cosmetology once he had expressed interest in it in high school. 

So that’s exactly what he did, just to smite his old man.

And he ended up loving it. 

She hadn’t even noticed the woman leaving until the coffee was plucked from her hands and she looked up at him with a start.

He was smirking and inclined his head towards his now unoccupied station. “Ready?”

Jumping to her feet, Lidia smiled at him. “You really are the best.”

He led the way to the station and finished sweeping up the last of the hair from his last client. “If this date is really as important as you’re making it out to be, you’ve got to be looking your best.”

After sitting her down, Ruhn put the cape on her, despite only styling her hair. As he pulled the clip from it and let her blonde locks fall loose around her shoulders, he asked, “So tell me about this date. Who is he?”

She blushed as she met his gaze in the mirror as he dragged a brush through her hair, working the tangles free. “Well, we’ve known each other a while. He’s extremely creative and has a great work ethic. He’s funny and makes me smile and—”

“Is he hot?”

Lidia laughed, trying not to move her head so much and he sectioned her hair out and reached for the hot curling iron. “That’s not all that matters.”

“Bullshit,” he said, an eyebrow quirked in a way that told her he was the one full of a shit and was messing with her.

“Maybe to you,” she joked, but then added, “but yes, to answer your question, he is.”

“Hmmm.” He wrapped a section of her hair around the barrel. “Lucky you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d say he’s the lucky one. I’m a hell of a date.”

Ruhn chuckled, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “I’m sure. Where’s he taking you?”

Lidia chewed on her bottom lip. “Don’t know. He won’t tell me. Wants it to be a surprise.”

“Sounds like a dick move,” Ruhn muttered.

Lidia laughed. “I don’t know. I think it’s kind of romantic.” 

“What if he takes you somewhere shitty?” Ruhn pushed, meeting her eyes in their reflection once more. 

“Then I guess he’s not as good of a catch as I thought,” Lidia said, trying to keep still as he grabbed another section to curl. 

Ruhn raised a brow. She liked it when he did that. It suited him. “Sounds like you have high expectations.” 

She shrugged as he continued to make his way around her head. “Should I not?”

“Oh no, you should,” he said, with a small smile. “Don’t settle for anything or anyone. Let’s just hope this guy brings his A-game.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Lidia asked, humored. “Should I kick his ass to the curb?” 

“Absolutely,” he said, with no hesitation. “He’d better show up with flowers and a night planned to perfection. If he doesn’t impress you, doesn’t blow your mind, then he’s gone.”

“Noted,” she responded, doing her best not to smirk. “Anything else I should remember?”

“Hmm,” he mused, reaching for the hairspray to lock in the work he’d done. “Don’t sleep with him.”

Lidia’s mouth popped open as he adjusted her hair, tossing her a wink, and she looked around to see if anyone else had heard him. “Excuse me?”

“Make him work for it,” he said, setting down his curling iron and taking off the cape. With one more wink, he said, “Have a good time tonight.”

She was still shocked by what he’d told her that she could only stare at him. 

“My next appointment is in five minutes,” Ruhn added when she didn’t get up.

Lidia’s back straightened as she stood. “How much do I owe you?”

“Consider the coffee payment,” he said, eyes bright, and Lidia eyed him for another minute suspiciously before nodding.

“Thank you,” she said, turning towards the door.

“Welcome,” he grinned. “See you for your trim in a couple of weeks.”

Her eyes narrowed but Lidia said no more before leaving the salon. She drove back to her apartment with the radio playing quietly in the background, thinking about all of the so-called advice that Ruhn had given her. It was all she could think about as her afternoon went on. She still had a few hours before her date came to pick her up, so she spent half that time reading. After she felt enough time had gone by, she cleaned her face and reapplied her makeup a little more dramatically. Her hair looked phenomenal, and the little black dress that she slipped on completed the look. 

Ruhn was right. Her date better bring his A-game, because she looked hot as shit. She checked the time — she only had twenty more minutes before he arrived. He better not be late.

He wasn’t.

He was five minutes early. 

Lidia decided to let him wait out there a minute. Ruhn’s words came back to her: Make him work for it. She may as well start now. After looking at her reflection for another minute, Lidia took her time getting her clutch and opened it up, making sure all of the contents were there. Lipstick, money, I.D., hand sanitizer, a small pack of tissues. It’s what was always in her clutch. Nothing had changed. But she still took the time to count the contents and make sure she didn’t need anything more. 

After that, she took another long look at herself in the mirror.

Her date knocked once more.

After a deep breath, she smoothed out her dress that didn’t need smoothing out and strode towards the door. Excitement brewed in the pit of her stomach and she could hardly contain herself, although she would never let it show, as she opened the door. 

The jeans and black t-shirt were gone and in their place were a pair of slacks and a button down and blazer. The boots were still firmly in place, but as Lidia dragged her gaze over him top to bottom, she couldn’t miss the smirk on his face as he toyed with that damn lip ring.

Ruhn Danaan was something straight out of a magazine and by the stars, she was a lucky bitch.

“You’re early,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her and stepping closer.

“Wouldn’t want you to think I’m not bringing my A-game,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her towards him. She melted into his touch, turning her face up to him just as his lips met hers, unable to stop the smile blooming. After a moment, he pulled away. “You look absolutely beautiful. Ready?”

She nodded, but as he stepped back, she didn’t move. He glanced back at her with an eyebrow raised, finding a similar expression on her face. “What?”

“Where are my flowers?”

“Where are—?” His violet eyes lit up as he remembered what he’d said earlier. His grip on her hand tightened and he admitted, “On my kitchen counter. I sort of forgot them when I decided to come early.”

Lidia shook her head as she clicked her tongue. “I was told if I’m not impressed—” 

“I think you should wait to test that theory,” Ruhn interjected, and Lidia could help but laugh. “I promise you’ll get your flowers, but first…just wait to see what the rest of the night entails.” 

LIdia pretended to think on it. “I don’t know. Went to the salon. Got some pretty good advice. Pretty sure I’m supposed to leave you in the dust.”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmured and stepped closer, capturing her lips with his. Lidia sank into that kiss, not caring that he was currently ruining her lipstick. He broke that kiss a minute later but kept his arms around her waist as he asked, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” “Good.”

Ruhn took her across town to a new restaurant that they had never been to, but had raving reviews. It took months to get a reservation, and Lidia wanted to ask Ruhn how he made it possible, but she kind of liked the mystery of it all. 

They ate steak that was way too expensive and drank wine that had Lidia giggling - giggling - by the time that they left. She had never eaten food so good, had never tasted food so delicious. She was stuffed and tipsy, and amazed when Ruhn said their night wasn’t even close to being done. 

They took a walk through the city, hand in hand, pausing to kiss in dark corners until Lidia’s lipstick was nonexistent. 

By the time they were heading back to Ruhn’s apartment, Lidia felt a joy so overwhelming that she nearly felt like she was living in a dream and knew it had nothing to do with the wine from dinner. In fact, the wine was wearing off and she was getting tired. Nothing sounded better than slipping on one of Ruhn’s tees and snuggling up close to him in his bed until morning.

As they ascended the stairs to his door, Lidia asked, “Do you want to turn on something scary or something funny to watch?”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I thought we could do romance tonight.”

Blinking up at her boyfriend, Lidia stared. “Romance— what?”

Ruhn didn’t respond as they reached his door and he unlocked it, swinging it wide.

Lidia gasped as she took in the display before her.

Flickering tea candles sat atop every surface in the front room, illuminating the myriad of picture frames sat around, showcasing pictures, milestones and memories from their eight months together, while rose petals were on the floor. But not a scattering or a few tossed here and there.

There was an absurd amount of rose petals on the floor, so many that there were parts of the floor that seemed to be completely red.

A gentle hand in the small of her back had Lidia walking deeper into the living room, ignoring the petals in the floor to take in the rest of the scene around her.

“Ruhn…”

He said nothing and Lidia couldn’t take her eyes off of her surroundings as a million emotions swept through her mind and soul. When her vision blurred, she turned to face him.

And found him down on one knee.

“I’m not a traditional person by any means,” he began, quietly, “but I wanted to do this right.” Lidia swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. Ruhn smiled, his eyes bright. “I love you,” he said, and his voice was quiet, as if his nerves were taking away its strength. “And I know we haven’t been dating very long, not even a year, but I’ve known for a long time that you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, however long it may be. You make me happy. And you scare me a little bit, which strangely turns me on.” Lidia huffed a laugh as a tear spilled down her cheek. Ruhn pushed on. “I can’t imagine this life without you. I want you, so badly, more than anything, to be my wife. And if you say yes, then I promise to spend everyday trying my damndest to make you the happiest woman alive, to be worthy of you.” He swallowed, and Lidia felt like she was dreaming. “Marry me,” he breathed. “Please.”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t say a thing, and Ruhn’s smile faltered, but then she began to laugh. It was a quiet laugh, but one that took complete control of her body and mind as she nodded. The tension in Ruhn’s shoulders faded as she said, “Yes. Yes!”

Before Ruhn could catch his breath, before he could even comprehend what she had said, his back was against the hardwood floor and Lidia was lying on top of him, her mouth pressed to his. His tongue swept against hers before she leaned back, contentedly, and he slid the ring he’d bought onto her finger.

They both stared at it for a moment in serene appreciation before Lidia fell into his arms again. 

“I love you,” she breathed, and he replied with the same words, full of love and triumph and excitement. 

They moved from the floor to the couch to the bedroom, and by the time they were done, Lidia’s hair was an absolute mess. 

But it was fine.

Her fiancé could fix it.

[snelbz]

Nessian, please! “I’m broken and tired, and it’s your fault so please leave.”

I hope this is angsty as you were hoping it'd be!

WC: 3431

Written with @theladyofdeath. As always.

***

“I’m. Not. Going.”

Nesta Archeron sat on her bed, a book open on her lap, ignoring where her sisters stood at the end of her bed. They both stared at her.

“We’re not leaving you to sulk in the house,” Feyre said, turning to rifle through her eldest sister’s closet as Elain sat down on the edge of her bed. She pulled a gray dress out and tossed it at her on the bed. “So get up and let’s go.”

“I’m not sulking,” she bit out, her eyes going to where Feyre continued to put together an outfit she wasn’t going to wear. “But I don’t want to go out.”

She turned, a pair of black ankle boots hanging from her fingers. “You mean you don’t want to see—”

“I mean,” Nesta interrupted, her book closing with a snap, “that I want to stay home.”

“So you’re not sulking over Cassian?” Elain asked, gently.

Nesta didn’t reply.

“I’m going to take your silence as a yes, now put these on.” Feyre dropped the ankle boots by Nestas feet. “The party’s already started and you could use a drink.”

The only thing that Nesta hated more than Feyre’s pushiness was the pity in Elains eyes. 

“If I agree to this, I don’t want you two meddling in my life again any time soon. Next weekend I will be right here, sitting on my ass in peace,” Nesta said, looking back and forth between her two sisters.

After a begrudging agreement, Nesta was putting on the dress and the boots and the jewelry that Feyre had picked out. Looking in the mirror, she knew she looked fantastic, but that confidence never reached her spirits. After the events of the past few days, the last thing Nesta wanted to do was be in a crowd full of people.

The last thing she wanted was to run into him.

“Ready?” Feyre asked, the second Nesta emerged from the bathroom.

Nesta said nothing as she grabbed her phone off her dresser and headed for the door.

They walked towards campus, towards the line of houses where people were filing into and spilling out of every door. Music was loud and heavy with every house they passed, as it was every Friday night on Greek Row.

“Where are we going?” Nesta asked as they passed the Kappa and Sigma houses. Neither of them answered and Nesta knew why a moment later, her eyes falling on the largest house at the end of the street. She stopped dead in her tracks, less than a hundred yards from the Alpha house. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Nesta,” said Elain, turning towards her with pleading eyes. “It will be fun.”

If it would have been Feyre, she would have said no. If it would have been Feyre who tugged on her hand and pulled her towards the house, she would have turned around and gone back to their own. If it were Feyre who found her a semi-cold, but mostly muggy beer, she would have refused it.

But it was Elain, and Nesta had never been able to refuse Elain.

The music was so loud in the house that Nesta could barely hear herself think. The lights were dimmed, with bright flashes of color blinding her every few seconds.

Nesta detested frat parties. She was usually only in attendance for one reason and she did her best not to look towards the staircase that led up to the bedrooms on the second floor. There were six in total, all housing the males who lived in the home and their larger than life personalities.

Looking around the house, she found four of them in various rooms, doing various activities around the house. Kallias was holding court at the beer pong table, Viviane leaning on the wall and talking to her own friends, while Helion was chatting up a handsome sophomore Nesta recognized from her pathology class. Azriel and Elain were snuggled up on the couch and Tarquin, she was fairly sure, she’d seen heading out to the back yard, where a pool was just about to be covered for winter. Only two were unaccounted for, and since Feyre had gone missing, she could only assume she and Rhys had already snuck off to his bedroom.

Which only left the one.

Had he known she would be here? It wasn’t like him to miss a party. In fact, he was typically the one downing drinks and playing games and standing on furniture that shouldn’t be stood on. He was the life of the party, the life of every room he walked into. Not tonight, though. Tonight, as Nesta made her way further into the chaos, Cassian was nowhere to be found.

“Looking for someone?”

Nesta had just poured herself another drink as she turned around and found herself staring into Helion’s humored gaze. “No.”

“So cold,” he crooned. “And here I thought we were finally becoming friends.”

Nesta didn’t answer. She made a move to go around him, but the second she had started walking, he was right beside her.

“He’s upstairs.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“No, but you wanted to know the answer, I’m sure.”

Nesta stopped and spun towards him, drink sloshing and eyes ablaze. “Don't you have better things to do than bother me?” 

His grin widened as he winked and slowly walked away, grabbing a stunning junior by the waist and whispering something into her ear that made her blush.

Nesta glowered, trying to find something else, anyone else to occupy her time. She should have known her traitorous sisters would abandon her the second they arrived, but she hadn’t thought she’d be…alone.

Sighing, she looked around the party looking for another familiar face. They were plenty of attractive men looking her way, but just because she and Cassian weren’t speaking right now didn’t meant she wanted to—

Nesta gasped as something cold poured down her back.She’d been standing by one of the many bars around the house, where a couple had begun very aggressively making out. An errant elbow had knocked one of their drinks off the ledge, and right down Nesta’s back. Jumping away from the bar, Nesta swore, trying to turn and see the damage.

She was sticky and reeked of booze, regardless of only consuming two drinks.

“So— Sorry,” the guy, the less drunk of the two, stammered, eyes wide as he beheld the ire in her stormy gaze. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she’d regret, Nesta turned, grabbing her drink as she did, and headed for the stairs.

Indeed, there was a muffled thudding that came from Rhysand’s room at the top of the stairs, nearly drowned out by the music blaring from below. She just cringed and moved past it, heading for the second door on the left. Gritting her teeth, Nesta paused before the door, wondering if Viv may have something in Kallias’ she could borrow to walk home.

Because she wasn’t staying. There was no reason, if her sisters had both been commandeered by their boyfriends and her own was… She didn’t let herself finish the thought, shook her head. She hadn’t seen Amren or Gwyn around anywhere, and she knew Emerie was likely over at Mor’s place.

So she’d go home. She’d get one of her t-shirts and a pair of leggings from her drawer of Cassian’s dresser, ignoring the man himself, and she’d go home, picking back up at the good part of her book her sisters had so rudely interrupted.

Taking a deep breath, Nesta knocked on the door. She waited but there was no reply.

Blinking, she tried again. No answer.

She knew she shouldn’t but Nesta tried the knob, just in case he was in there, that something was wrong—

It turned in her hand.

What if something wasn’t wrong? What if the reason he hadn’t been down in the party proper was because he was up here, with someone else? The thought had Nesta's blood running cold, but she pushed open the door regardless.

His bedroom was empty, a lone lamp turned on the nightstand, but his sheets were clearly mussed. Her heart lurched before she noticed the pause menu on the television, the door to his bathroom closed, light pouring out from beneath it.

Alone. He was alone, and though her anxiety released its grip on her heart, she knew he would have never had another girl up here. Even if they weren’t speaking, even if they were fighting, Cassian would never.

She hurried into his room, crossing to the dresser where one of the drawers kept countless changes of clothes. Grabbing out a pair of shorts from the top, she was digging through for a shirt when she heard the bathroom door open behind her and the heady scent of his body wash hit her.

His footsteps stopped but he said nothing. Nesta’s heart started racing a little bit faster and she suddenly felt like she was going to puke as she rose to her feet, the clothes in her grip.

She slowly turned to face him, only to find him standing with a locked jaw and his arms crossed. He didn’t look mad, not at all, but weary. She tried to ignore the fact that he was in nothing but a towel slung around his waist but such a fact was damn near impossible to ignore. Yet, her stare did not waver from his.

“I got a beer dumped on me,” Nesta said, just as Cassian said, “What’re you doing?”

They fell into silence once again and it was strange because the two of them were never silent with one another. Perhaps silence only came when there was far too much to say.

“My dress is wet,” she continued, quietly, shifting on her feet. “I just…needed something dry to walk home in. You didn’t answer your door-.”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, eyes trailing away from hers. “Wet clothes are the worst.” He stepped to the side. “You can change in the bathroom.”

Nesta wanted to say something, anything, but he walked to his bed and sat down, waiting for her to enter and shut the door. She did as she was told, letting it click shut behind her.

It was still muggy in the small bathroom, as if he’d just gotten out right as she’d entered his room. No wonder he hadn’t heard her knocking. She pulled the dress off, pausing to retrieve a wash cloth from under the sink and wipe down her back and legs. The ankle boots, leather, thankfully, could be salvaged, but she’d have to wash them off before she went to bed. After she stepped into the shorts, she pulled the shirt over her head, realizing too late that it was one of Cassian’s. She groaned, but didn’t feel like putting the dress back on to get one of her own. Instead, she piled her hair into a bun on top of her head and opened the door.

He was still sitting in the same spot, but his towel hung on the back of the door she’d just opened and he wore a pair of basketball shorts. Nesta could see the waistband of his boxer-briefs beneath. His controller was in his hand and he was focused on the television opposite his bed.

His chest was still exposed and Nesta could see every inch of those glorious tattoos across of his muscled torso. His eyes met hers and she realized she’d been staring.

She quickly looked away and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’ll…let you be.”

He said nothing as she went towards the door and reached for the knob. She had just turned it, her stuff bundled up in her arms, when he said, “Keep the shirt.”

Nesta froze and for some reason his comment pissed her off. She had no idea why. It was a perfectly logical comment. Yet, something in his tone, something in those words sounded…definite. 

If she kept his shirt, there would be no reason to come back here, to his room, to him.

Her hand dropped and she turned to face him. He still clutched his controller, but his eyes were not on the screen. They rested on her, cold, sad, hesitant. 

“Fine,” she said, at last. Then, because she was unable to stop herself, she asked, “Anything else you’d like to give me so that I don’t have to make a trip back?”

Cassian let out a humorless laugh. “You’re unbelievable. You would take a nice gesture and-.”

“A nice gesture?” she repeated. “A week ago, what’s yours was mine and now, I can keep the shirt?”

“Fine. Don’t keep the shirt,” he said, voice low, his grip on the controller tightening. “Bring it back when you’re done getting drinks spilled on you by drunk pricks trying to get up on you on the dancefloor.” 

“Still jealous,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “Of course. Too bad you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Weren’t you just letting yourself out?” he snapped, that cool, calm demeanor fading. 

“You’re an asshole,” she replied, fully turning away from the door, back towards him. He set his controller down and stood, crossing his arms over his chest. A position of dominance, of power. She went on. “Don’t get pissy with me because I’m out having fun while you’ve been pouting in your room for three days.”

She had no clue what he’d been doing since they’d last spoken and he didn’t need to know that she was miserable. But from the way he flinched slightly, she knew she’d spoken true.

Cassian scoffed. “I’m broken and tired, and it’s your fault so please leave.”

Nesta blinked.

Broken.

She took a step towards him. “Cass—”

“Go,” he repeated, sitting back on the bed and grabbing the controller. “You made your feelings perfectly clear on a future with me the other night, so I don’t see why we should bother wasting anymore of each other’s time when—”

“What do you mean a future with you?” She asked, aggravated. “I never said I couldn’t see a future with you, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Then why won’t you move in with me?” He asked, tossing the controller to the side.

“Because we’ve only been dating for six months!”

“So what?” he asked, voice raising. “Is there a timeline on moving in together that I was never told?” 

“More than six months!” Nesta shot back. “Six months is nothing!”

“Six months is nothing?” Cassian repeated, his eyes growing darker and darker. “Well, shit-.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nesta interrupted, exasperated. “I just meant-.”

“I know what you meant,” Cassian said, although his tone told Nesta that he really didn’t. He was pissed, mad at her, and he would let that anger control his tongue, as he always had.

“Do you?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms. “Because you seem to be acting pretty immature about this whole situation.”

“I’m not being immature, Nesta,” he said, and it was one of the few times that he actually said her entire name. Nesta. Not Nes, not any of the little pet names she had gotten so used to from him. He said her name like a stranger saying it for the first time. “I’m saying what you’re too afraid to. If you can’t see a future with me, I can’t keep doing whatever the hell it is that we’ve been doing for the last six months.” Nesta began rubbing her temples. “You’re a stubborn pain in the ass.”

The thumping of the bass beneath them was a steady thrum. She wondered how he could stand it.

And then, she realized, he couldn’t. He’d asked her if she’d want to get an apartment with him, to move in together. Because he wanted out. The 24/7 party scene no longer appealed when he would rather spend what free time he had with her.

Her voice was thick when she spoke again. “Cassian.” He still wouldn’t look at her. “I’m sorry.”

That drew his eye.

He looked at her for a moment with a hint of surprise and doubt, surely trying to work out if she was being genuine or not. I’m sorry was not something that typically came out of Nesta’s mouth, no matter the circumstances. 

“I didn’t say no because I don’t love you, Cass,” she went on, her voice quieter. “You know that I do. At least, by now, I would hope that you know that.”

Cassian said nothing, but he didn’t look away from her. There was something in the look on his face, though, that had Nesta setting down her stuff and walking to his bed, sitting down next to him. 

“Then why did you say no?” He asked, shaking his head and turning towards her.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She’d been working this out for herself over the past few days, finding the reason that she froze when he asked her to get an apartment together, why she’d run from him and left him in that restaurant by the Sidra. “Right now, when I get to be…too much, one of us can just…go home. If we move in together, if you get sick of me, there will be nowhere to go. One of us will have to leave and I—”

“When you get to be too much?” He asked, cutting her off. “If I get sick of you?”

“Yes,” she bit out, not looking at him. “It would be humiliating if you had to come back here for a break and—”

Nesta’s words were cut off as Cassian’s lips found hers. She melted into the kiss, melted into him, into his taste and feel and smell. He gripped her chin and pulled her face from his, saying, “I never need a break from you. I love you. I want to spend every minute with you.”

Nesta hesitated, even as she relaxed in his touch. “It’s a big step. A huge step. You may think that now but-.”

“I know you think I’m impulsive, but I would never ask something of you like that that I’ve not completely thought through,” Cassian breathed. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want to build a life with you. You are my future.” He paused only to see the tears shining in her eyes. “With that being said, Nes, if you’re not ready, it’s okay. I just…need to know that one day you will be ready for that.”

She didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course I will be, I am now. It’s just..” Sighing, she knew what she was about to say was going to sound like an excuse. “My lease won’t be up for another three months and I can’t just leave Feyre and Elain to cover my ass.”

A lie. It sounded like such a lie, and Nesta hung her head, waited for him to call her out on it.

“Then we can wait until your lease is up.”

Her head snapped up and he was looking at her with a light in his eyes that it took her breath away. He had a wry smile on his face, “If you think nine months is safe on your timeline for moving in together.”

She laughed, and he reached out to wipe a tear from her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. She also reached up, brushing her thumb over his lips. “We can start looking, until then, for a place together. See what our options are.”

“As long as it’s not here, as long as it’s quiet and it’s with you,” he replied, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers, “it’ll be perfect.”

Nesta swallowed hard. “I missed you,” she breathed, resting her forehead against his. “The past three days have been—”

“Shit,'' he finished for her, gathering her up in his lap, his lips finding her neck. “They’ve been shit,” he repeated.

“We can go downstairs if you want,” she offered, dirty dress be damned. “Have some fun.”

Without any warning, Cassian turned and she was on her back, gazing up at him. His hair hung loosely around his face, curling at the ends. He was so handsome that it took her breath away. He grinned down at her. “I have zero intentions on going down stairs, but I’ve got a pretty good idea on how we can have some fun.”

Nesta’s laughter turned into moans that the music below drowned out as Cassian made love to her into the night.

[theladyofdeath]

When We Were Young {3}

The DILF series, part 3.

Ship: Hunt x Bryce

Summary: After a series of tragic events, Bryce is forced to raise her daughter alone until her ex and father of her child, Hunt, gets discharged from the military. When he comes back to town, Bryce finds that the past cannot simply be forgotten.

Warnings: Mature content throughout. Language, sex, drinking, etc. 

Written with @snelbz

 ~ then ~ 

Bryce looked around Hunt’s bedroom and frowned. It was so empty, nearly cleared of his presence entirely. Micah would be moving once Hunt left, so everything Hunt would be leaving behind had been donated to the local thrift stores.

All that was left was a bed and the desk in the corner.

She was amazed how much life could change in just a week's time. The week before, graduation had come and it had been the most joyous of occasions. They’d walked across the stage and gotten their diplomas before tossing their caps into the air and promising themselves that the future would be brighter. 

They had spent every waking moment of that past week together only to bring them here, to this moment. 

“Is it too late to ask you not to go?” She asked, quietly, sitting on his mattress.

He chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound. No happiness. “I’m afraid so.”

It was too late the second he signed the paperwork, but it was a plan he’d always had for his life. He hadn’t felt like he had belonged anywhere he went. But he knew the military could help with that, would help with that, giving him purpose and something to strive to achieve.

But it was the plan and it wasn’t one he ever intended to give up, no matter how many times Bryce begged him to. He sat next to her in the bed, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close. She went willingly,  burying her face in his neck.

“You’ll call me as often as you can, right?” She whispered, and Hunt pretended he couldn’t hear the tears in her voice.

“Of course,” he said, but she knew that he had as little idea as she did how often that would be. 

“I love you,” she breathed.

Hunt looked down at her and lifted her chin with his finger. Their eyes met.

“I love you, too,” he promised. “That will never change. Alright? I’ll come back. I'm coming back to you.”

She nodded and he wiped her tears away before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“How much time do we have?” She asked, forehead pressed against his.

“Enough,” he said, and kissed her again, pushing her back against the bare bed. 

They made love and it had been different than it ever had before. It was gentle, but not gentle in the sense that suggested fear of any kind. No- they had known each other better than they had ever known anyone else, had ever known another living soul. It had been gentle in the sense that they had taken their time. Hunt’s hands held Bryce’s as he thrust his hips into hers, slowly, praising her name as they did so. He kissed her, softly, his lips sending praises and promises that he swore he would live up to. 

She hadn’t been his first but she had been his only. No one before Bryce mattered. From the moment he had met her he had been captivated, heart and soul. Hunt imagined it would be like that until the day he made his way into the afterlife. 

When they were done, Bryce laid in his arms, not daring to move. Once she moved, it was done. Once she moved, it was over. Once she moved, time would begin again and the last hour would be nothing more than a memory.

Hunt would be leaving.

That was her reality.

And as the clock ticked by, that reality was becoming clearer and clearer. 

“Hey,” he whispered, his arms still around her as they laid on the bare mattress, naked, tangled in each other’s arms.

“Hmm?” Bryce mumbled, eyes closed, afraid to open them.

“This doesn’t change anything. I hope you know that. Me leaving…it changes nothing.” His arms around her tightened.

A tear slid down Bryce’s freckled cheek. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“Absence is an illusion,” Hunt promised. “Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean that anything will change.”

It was a lie.

She knew it.

He knew it.

But neither of them would ever confess it. 

“I’m going to call you every day,” she swore. “I’m going to write.”

“I’ll answer every chance I get,” he promised. “I’ll save every letter and write a longer one back.”

They stared at one another, neither of them saying a word. Then they rose and they dressed, making time to stop and kiss one another every few seconds.

Some would think them foolish. To those, they were just young lovers, neither of them truly knowing what was in store. But it was more than that. They both knew it. There was a bond between them that would never, could never, be broken. There was a tether that connected them, an invisible line that connected Bryce’s soul to his.

There was a time that she thought that line would never be broken, would never vanish. 

Once they were dressed, Hunt took Bryce’s hand and led her down the stairs and out the front door.  He put his bag in her backseat before sitting in the passenger seat of her little red car.

Bryce sat behind the wheel and closed her eyes, afraid to start the engine.

Once she took him to the bus station, there was no going back.

“No more putting it off, Quinlan,” he breathed, resting his hand on her thigh.

She nodded as she looked at the clock and saw he was right. If they didn’t leave now, he would miss his bus out of town. So Bryce turned the key, the engine roaring to life and backed out of the driveway.

Hunt didn’t try to hide the way his eyes welled up as they drove away from the only house he’d been able to call a home. Sure, things with Micah hadn’t always been great, but it was heaven compared to the last foster home he’d been in. So he’d been grateful to the man for welcoming him into his home, providing for him in the ways he did.

Next time he came back to Lunathion, whenever that was, he wouldn’t be coming back to this house. He was sure whatever family would be moving in would have a happy life. They deserved it.

But he wouldn’t let himself look at Bryce, thinking about the domestic, happy life they could have had, had he not signed his life away the day he turned eighteen. He was sure she was thinking the same thing, knew today was likely going to be harder on her than it was on him, so he stared out the window as they drew closer and closer to his final destination.

They pulled into the station parking lot and after Bryce put the car in park, they both just sat there for a minute. Hunt finally turned to her and took her hand, but she wouldn’t look at him. He watched as she closed her eyes, too slow for the tears that began to slide down her cheeks.

“I love you, Bryce,” he said, willing her to turn and look at him, to let him see those amber eyes he could get lost in for hours. “No matter how many miles apart we are, no matter how many days we have to go without speaking, never doubt that. I’ll be counting every single minute until I come back to you.”

She hung her head, unable to stop her quiet sob, and covered her face.

Hunt was out of the car and opening Bryce’s door a few seconds later. She unbuckled her seatbelt and let him pull her to her feet and into his arms.

Burying her face in his chest, Bryce cried softly, her arms going around his middle.

She breathed him in, burying herself in his scent. She tried her best to memorize it, afraid she would forget it the moment he was gone.

A moment that came too soon.

The bus pulled up and Hunt frowned and people began to load their luggage beneath. Bryce leaned back and caught his gaze.

He wiped away her tears.

She wiped away his. 

They kissed, softly, quickly, and after one last hug Hunt was grabbing his bag out of the backseat and walking away.

……………………..

It had been the longest ten weeks of Bryce’s life.

She’d barely gotten to talk to Hunt. One short phone call the week after he’d arrived in the Coronal Islands, and a few other letters they’d exchanged. Full immersion. Little to no contact with the people they know back home. That’s what the Asteri asked of the young men and women enlisting in their military.

Bryce had felt like she was going to explode by the end of those ten weeks. She had so much she needed to tell Hunt, so much had happened. Their letters had been brief, mostly just a check in to make sure the other was still alive and to tell them how much they loved and missed them.

Hunt’s most recent letter had a piece of new information his others hadn’t. He’d already received his orders for after basic and would fill her in when he called her at seven o’clock on the eighteenth of August.

Which was in two minutes, and Bryce had been pacing the apartment she and Danika shared right off of CCU’s campus, staring at her phone while she chewed on her thumbnail.

There’d been a sudden change in plans in the middle of the summer and the dorm room they’d been planning on sharing was no longer an option, so they’d gotten an apartment not even a block from campus, one that was a bit outside of what Bryce could afford, but Danika’s healthy trust fund helped balance things out for them. She told Danika she’d pay her back as soon as she got her “big girl job”. Danika was having none of it.

Bryce couldn’t wait to see Hunt, to hug him, smell him, feel his arms around her. She’d missed him so much the past ten weeks that it often felt like a physical pain inside of her, like a piece of her was missing. She had no clue where his orders were sending him, likely to the Pangeran front. The thought alone made her sick to her stomach, but he would hopefully be home for a week or two before having to deploy.

She crossed her fingers knowing that was the best case scenario. 

One minute passed.

Then another.

Bryce sat on the couch and stared at her phone, afraid she would miss it. She wouldn’t, though. She had great service in her apartment and a full charge. Now she just needed him to call.

Another minute passed.

She frowned.

Maybe something had happened. Maybe something had come up, something had changed since his last letter. Maybe-.

Her phone rang and she nearly burst into tears out of relief as she answered. “Hello? Hunt?”

She knew he was smiling when he said, “Hey, sweetheart.”

She choked on a sob as she fell back onto the couch. “Oh, gods, I miss you. How much time do we have?”

“About ten minutes,” he said. “I wish it was longer, but-.”

“I don’t care, I’ll take ten minutes,” Bryce said. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

“I’m so happy to hear yours,” he confessed. “I miss you, Quinlan. There’s not been a minute that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you.”

She wanted to tell him the same, wanted to let him know how she’d missed him for every single minute he’d been gone, but he knew that. She didn’t need to tell him that. Especially if they only had ten minutes.

Instead, she wanted to make him laugh. “Did you have a funeral and say a few words for your hair?”

He snorted and she knew she’d hit the mark. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was one of the off handed remarks he’d murmured to himself in his last few days in Lunathion. They’d been sitting on the banks of the Istros, having just had a picnic and were currently enjoying the sunshine of the summer day, Hunt’s head resting in Bryce’s lap. She was running her finger through the silken strands and he sighed with his eyes closed.

“I’m going to miss my hair.”

She’d thrown her head back and laughed and he’d pouted like a petulant child.

She laughed softly, the sarcastic tone like a balm to her heart. She’d missed him, everything about Hunt, she’d missed. “When will I see you?”

There was a beat of silence on the other line. “About that… Bryce, I won’t be coming home after basic.” Her heart fell into her stomach. No… “I’m going to Ydra next week and then onto Pangera from there.”

For a moment, she said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say as the one thing she had been looking forward to faded away into nothingness.

This ruined everything.

He was going to come home and she would hold him in her arms once more before he was sent into battle. She had so much to tell him, so much she needed to tell him in those few days.

Now those few days no longer existed. 

“Bryce,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. It’s outside of my control.”

“I know,” she said, even though her voice broke as she did so. 

“After I get to Pangera, though, I hope I’ll be able to call more. There’s supposed to be a phone I can use. And I should be home just after the new year for a weekend.”

A weekend. 

One year away and that’s all she would get. If he wasn’t killed in action before then. The thought made her nauseous, made her mouth start moving before she knew what she was doing.

“Hunt,” Bryce began, quietly, wiping angrily at her face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

There was a pause on his end. “Okay.”

“I wanted to tell you when you were home, before you left again, but now…”

Her words faded but he waited patiently. At least, he was patient until she didn’t continue.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, and it was fear in his voice. 

“You— Hunt, I—.”

Danika’s cheery voice filled the apartment as she opened the door, letting Bryce know she was home. She couldn’t see Bruce from where she was in the entryway, and blessedly, she went straight to her room, didn’t see Bryce on the couch, fighting back tears as she tried to get the words out.

Nothing had really changed with his news, Hunt wouldn’t be home regardless. She was still going to be on her own, still wouldn’t have him with her. It just would have—

“Bryce, you’re scaring me,” he said, his voice tight on the other end of the line. “What’s wrong?”

She heard Danika’s shower turn on and knew she would be meeting Baxian for dinner in just a bit, that she would be alone once again. As she would be for the foreseeable future, it seemed.

The words were stuck in her throat, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them out. She’d prepared a whole pretty speech, wanting him to know how much she loved him, how excited she was. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and-

Hunt’s voice was strained as he said, “Bryce, please.”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, forgetting all the lovely words she’d rehearsed all day.

She wasn’t sure how long he was silent. It could’ve been a few seconds or a minute or maybe two, but she let him process it however long he needed to.

“With a baby?“ he asked, at last. “With my baby?”

Fury suddenly settled in the pit of Bryce’s stomach. “What do you mean your baby? Who else’s baby would it be?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I just…” Hunt began, a sound between a cry and a laugh bubbling out of him. “I didn’t mean it that way, but, I mean, I just…you’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, and she couldn’t help a quiet laugh of her own. “I found out right after you left.”

“You’ve known this whole time?” He asked, and she could picture his glorious grin in her mind. He cursed. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah, Hunt, we’re having a baby.” 

He took a shuddering breath. She knew he was crying when he asked his next question. “When are you due?”

“Just after the new year,” she said, smiling softly. “Maybe she’ll be here by the time you come visit.”

His silence was heavier this time. His voice was thick when he replied. “She… It’s a girl?”

Bryce took a moment to look down at the small bump becoming more and more visible every day. She rubbed a loving hand over it. “It’s a girl. I had my appointment last week.”

“How far along are you?”

She could see him doing mental math. He had never been great with numbers, but she knew he was furiously counting the weeks since he left.

“Fourteen and a half,” she said, the information fresh in her mind. “It was—.”

“Fucking prom night,” he sighed, but she could hear the laughter in his words. “Guess we should have used a condom.”

“No going back now,” she joked, and he laughed before they fell into a comfortable silence.

“I love you.” Bryce smiled as she heard the truth in Hunt’s words. “Are you—are you scared?”

She laughed, somewhat hysterically, and admitted, “I’m terrified. Mom wants me to move to Nidaros.”

The other side of the line was quiet for a moment before Hunt breathed, “Your dad is going to kill me.”

She shook her head and scoffed. “Einar isn’t-.”

“I don’t give a shit about Einar,” he interrupted and Bryce laughed as she realized what he meant.

“Randall would like to speak with you next time you’re home,” she said, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

Whenever that will be, was what she wanted to add, but couldn’t.

Hunt must’ve understood because he went quiet, too. “I am coming back, Quinlan.”

“I know,” she said, a little too quickly. 

“Athalar, times up.” As soon as Bryce heard the words from the background on the other end of the line, her heart stopped beating.

“When will I hear from you again?” Bryce asked, quietly.

“As soon as I get to Pangera, I’ll call,” he promised. “There will be a computer at the base. I’ll video chat. I can’t wait to see your face.”

Bryce opened her mouth to respond but she felt like something was stuck in her throat.

“Come on, Athalar, we have calls to make-.”

“Give me a second,” he snapped at whoever was hounding him. At Bryce, his voice softened. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Bryce whispered, the tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

“I have to go,” he said, but it sounded like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I know,” she said, softly.

“I love you,” he repeated.

“I love you,” she replied.

A second passed and then the line went dead.

[snelbz]

Nessian - “You’re singing in our dorm shower, and I just wanted to let you know that you have a wonderful voice, also oops I’m naked."

We’re suckers for anything Nessian. Written with @theladyofdeath. 🖤

WC: 587

There wasn’t much that Nesta hated about being a bartender more than getting off work at three in the morning. She was exhausted, her feet were killing her, and she was fairly sure an entire bottle’s worth of gin had been spilled in her shoes tonight.

But the one thing Nesta loved about getting off work at three in the morning? Nearly no one else was awake in her dorm, meaning the community showers were always blissfully empty.

No one to yell that she was taking too long or bitch that she was taking all of the hot water. No, she could take however long she wanted, use as much water as she needed, and no one would tell her otherwise.

Sneaking into the dorm room she shared with Gwyn, Nesta quickly and carefully put the money she’d earned away and grabbed her bathroom bag, almost buzzing with excitement of the prospect of a hot shower after almost eight hours in that shitty bar.

After stripping down and hanging her towel outside the curtain, she hung her shower caddy on the hook in the shower and turned on the water. The second it hit her skin it was cold, but it soon warmed up and Nesta was suddenly in heaven. She didn’t rush, didn’t bother to wash herself right away. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths as the warm water turned hot.

At first, it burned her skin but she didn’t mind. It felt good after her long night tending to the college idiots and drunks of Velaris.

In the silence, she was able to focus for once.

After a moment of meditation, the softest of melodies fell from her lips, echoing off the bathroom walls.

She let it grow as she first washed her hair and body, then put conditioner in her thick hair. It built as she let the heat from the water loosen something in her tight muscles, closing her eyes and feeling the song wash over her.

She was just about to rinse her hair when strong arms wrapped around her from the back, an unmistakeably nude male body pressing up against her body. She would have jumped, would have screamed had the owner of those arms not murmured in her ear, “I love finding you in here in the middle of the night. I love hearing you sing.”

Instead, she melted into Cassian’s arms, turning so she could gaze up into his sleepy face. She rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “What are you doing up? You have a midterm at nine, you should be sleeping.”

Cassian didn’t disagree. “But this is the only time I can hop in here with you and no one’s creeping outside the curtain.”

Nesta huffed a laugh. “Fair.”

He asked her about her day and she went on rant after rant until she was yawning, leaning into his wet chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms around her.

“One more semester and we’re out of these damn dorms,” Cassian mumbled, his chin resting on the top of her head.

She wiggled back, her arms still around his waist, palms resting on his ass as she said, “Counting down the days?”

“Until I get to wake up to you every morning in our own apartment without curfew rules?” He mumbled, and kissed her softly. “Absolutely.”

Nesta completely agreed as she pulled her boyfriend close to her and made use of their rare privacy.

[snelbz]

Clue {An ACOTAR Halloween Oneshot}

A/N: This is one that @theladyofdeath and I wrote last year, but never got around to posting. Enjoy and Happy Halloween!

Elain was dressed in her finest 1950s attire. It was her first character-themed murder mystery party, and she had decided there was no better time to throw it than on Halloween. The theme? Clue. And since none of them knew their character until everyone arrived, they decided to dress in 1950s wear, due to the fact that the board game had been invented around that time.

The girls used to love playing Clue as children.

Nesta would always get pissed if she didn’t win, Feyre was usually doodling while they were playing, and Elain just loved to have fun; but, no matter how the game went, they all got excited to play together. It was one of Elain’s fondest memories of her childhood: playing board games on rainy days with her sisters.

“I look ridiculous!”

Elain rolled her eyes as she adjusted the gloves that she wore. “You look handsome!”

He stepped out of his closet. The blue ascot tied around his throat was loose, but he tugged on it as if it were a noose.

The dark blue naval uniform looked like it was made for him, but it hadn’t been. It had belonged to the girls’ papa and seeing Azriel wear it brought a huge smile to Elain’s face.

He couldn’t complain when she looked at him like that. “I’m not putting the hat on,” he grumbled.

His hair was slicked back, and Elain found herself wishing that she was born in the 50’s so she could look at Azriel like this every day.

Heading downstairs to make sure everything was ready, she paused to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, you are,” she said, with a smile.

She could hear Azriel groan as she took to the stairs, knowing full well that he’d do anything to please her.

Mor was in Elain’s kitchen, sealing the final envelope.

“No!” she yelled, clutching all the envelopes to her chest. “I haven’t hid them yet!”

Elain chuckled. “I have to take out my chicken!”

Mor narrowed her eyes but hurried away, nonetheless, taking her envelopes along with her. When Elain mentioned that she wanted to throw a murder mystery party, Mor was the first to volunteer to be the mediator of the whole thing. Mor definitely had a flare for the dramatics, but she also loved to know things others didn’t. Therefore, she offered to be the one to hide the envelopes and watch everyone else go crazy trying to figure out her riddle.

It wasn’t long before everyone arrived. Feyre and Rhysand first, having sent their three-month-old infant away with a sitter for the first time, even though the sitter was just Rhysand’s sister. Cassian and Nesta showed up next, and ten minutes late, in true Nesta fashion. Lucien was the last to arrive, bringing a plate of brownies. Unlike Nesta, Lucien’s late arrival was excused, considering he had to work until 6:45 on the opposite end of town.

“Do we get to eat first?” Cassian asked, his stomach grumbling so loud that everyone could hear. Elain had to admit that the 1950s were kind to the men in their lives.

Cassian looked like an old-time greaser in his rolled up jeans, his black Converse, his plain white tee, and his leather jacket. A cigarette rested behind his ear and his newly cropped, chin-length hair was greased back. He was the complete opposite of Nesta, who wore the cutest, knee-length circle dress. Her hair was in tight curls, and she finished her outfit with a pearl necklace and white gloves.

They were the living image of Danny and Sandy.

Elain felt the sudden urge to sing, but controlled herself.

Feyre and Rhys, however, looked like the President and CEO of a very well established business. They weren’t, obviously, but the vest, wool overcoat and thin tie Rhys wore and the very smart, but powerful sheath skirt and top Feyre wore would have fooled anyone. The red bowler hat she wore complimented the look flawlessly.

Then there was Lucien in his khakis, suspenders, plaid button down tee, and slicked back, fiery red hair.

Elain’s friends had done her proud. “Dinner is a part of the game. So, if you all would follow me to the dining room table.”

No one complained at that request. Cassian was the first to sit down, and Nesta was rolling her eyes as she joined him to his right.

“As we start our meal, I’m going to pass the basket around. There’s an envelope for boys, and an envelope for the girls. Pick your character.” As Elain sat down, she held her basket to her right, where Lucien was sitting, already filling half his plate with corn.

She adjusted the floppy, but adorable hat on her head and said, “You can tell us all who you are, but the rest of the information needs to be learned throughout the night, as you’re being asked questions.”

Nesta took the basket from Lucien and she and Cassian both removed a small piece of paper. She glanced in the basket. “Why do the guys have an extra character that the girls don’t have?”

“Someone has to be the dead guy,” Mor shrugged.

“Sweet,” Cassian said, grinning. “I hope I get to be the dead guy.” He looked at the slip in his hand and groaned. “Man. I’m Colonel Mustard. I don’t get to be the dead guy.”

Without a word, Azriel dropped to the floor, making Feyre jump.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

He looked up at her with a smirk. “My name is Mr. Boddy. And I’m the dead guy.”

Azriel was laying on his stomach and when Elain rolled her eyes and held the basket out to Feyre and Rhys, he knocked the stupid hat off of his head.

If he had been murdered, the hat never would have stayed on anyways.

“I’m Miss Scarlet,” Feyre announced. “You?”

“Professor Plum,” Rhysand snorted. “Of course.”

The basket got back to Elain, and she picked the last slip of paper from the girl’s envelope. She beamed, “I’m Mrs. White, which means Nesta must be Mrs. Peacock?”

Nesta held up the slip in her hand that proved Elain was correct.

“And Luce is Mr. Green,” Elain said, giving her best friend the side eye.

Lucien grinned, stuffing his mouth full of chicken.

Azriel reached up from the floor and stole a roll from the basket.

“So, how does this go, Mor?” Cassian asked, taking a heaping bite of mashed potatoes.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian didn’t bother swallowing. “Okay, mom.”

“Well,” Mor said, clapping her hands together as Azriel dragged his entire plate down to the rug beneath the table. “On the back of your slips is a character description. You all need to follow the character description, along with the other details noted on your paper. We’ll start ruling people out until someone realizes who the killer is. In each room, there’s an envelope, hidden. Throughout the party, when you find an envelope, there are clues that will help you rule out specific characters, weapons, and rooms. I have an envelope inside my jacket pocket. Inside that envelope is the killer, the room in which Mr. Boddy was killed, and the weapon that was used to kill him.”

“Does the killer know who the killer is?” Cassian asked.

“We just picked our characters two seconds ago, Cass,” Feyre snorted.

“No,” Elain said, politely. “The murderer was chosen at random.”

“How do we know you didn’t rig the game?” Azriel asked, voice muffled by the table.

“Because,” Mor said, eyeing Azriel under the table. He smirked as he took another huge bite of green beans. “I am nothing but an honest woman.”

“This is actually your house though,” Cassian said, pointing at Azriel. “And Mr. Boddy is the owner of the house in Clue. What if I would have been the dead guy, would we have had to be at our place? A two bedroom apartment with three cats wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”

Elain was pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing quietly.

Cassian took a drink of his wine and muttered, “It would definitely have been one of the cats.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Everyone understand the rules of the game?”

A series of nods rounded the table.

Elain smiled brightly. “Then let the game begin!”

“Can we finish eating first?” Cassian asked, his mouth still full.

Nesta just sighed, and shook her head.

“I hope so,” Azriel muttered. “No telling how long it will take you lot to figure out who killed me, and I’m starving.”

“You can eat while you play,” Elain said, pointedly toward her fiancé.

“You mean while I’m dead?” He asked. “Because I’m dead, I can’t answer any questions, so…”

He trailed off and shoved a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Professor Plum?”

“Yes, Ms. Peacock?” Rhys replied, falling into character.

She stood, picking up her wine glass. “I’ve run out of wine, will you accompany me to the kitchen? I’ve got some questions I need to ask you.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t out of wine.”

With a heavy sigh, Nesta said, “I’m trying to be in character.”

He took a drink of his own wine, but said, “Sounds like your character needs to get her story straight.”

Looking him dead in the eye, she tipped her glass back and drained it. “Okay, now I need a refill. Plum, you’re with me.”

Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she headed for the kitchen and Rhys glared at Cassian. “Now I’m not going to get any information out of her.”

Cass smirked. “I know.”

Rhysand just shook his head as he followed Nesta into the kitchen. Cassian was instantly eyeing Lucien, who was sipping from his wine glass.

“Mr. Green,” Cassian began, cordially.

Lucien blinked. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Shall we leave these ladies alone and go for a walk of our own?” Cassian asked.

Lucien lifted an auburn brow. “Sounds like you’re flirting with me, Colonel.”

Azriel snorted from his place on the rug.

Cassian grinned. “Don’t let Peacock hear you. She gets jealous.”

Lucien laughed as he pushed himself up from the table. The men, with their plates in hand, went into the living room.

Elain faced Feyre, who was already watching her with narrowed eyes.

Feyre glanced down at her card. “Where were you at five this afternoon, Mrs. White?”

Elain didn’t skip a beat. “Changing the sheets in the master bedroom, of course.”

Feyre sipped from her glass. “And why was there need to change the sheets?”

Elain’s cheeks heated. “Shut up, Miss Scarlet, goodness.”

“Can I go be dead in the living room?” Azriel asked from the floor.

“Shh, you’re dead,” Feyre said, not looking away from the face of innocence in front of her. “What I meant was…” A dramatic pause. “There wasn’t blood on the sheets from where you stabbed him with a knife was there?”

Azriel murmured from the floor, “Jesus, Feyre, bury the lead.”

“Of course not,” Elain said, a hand pressed to her heart. “I always change the sheets on Tuesday.”

From the floor, “It’s Friday, babe.”

“…on Friday,” she corrected herself.

Feyre narrowed her eyes at her sister again, standing from her chair and walking around the table to grab a roll. “Your story checks out. You’re off the hook…for now.”

“I think a better question is where were you at the time of the murder, Miss Scarlett,” Elain asked, eyeing Feyre.

“Easy,” she said, pausing with a hand on her hip. “Professor Plum was teaching me a lesson.”

“Boooo!” Clearly, the rug hadn’t liked Feyre’s innuendo.

“You know, you’re loud for a corpse,” Elain said, looking down at Azriel, and back to Feyre, who was smirking. “And could he corroborate that story?”

“Professor Plum!” Feyre called.

He poked his head in from the kitchen a moment later. “Yeah?”

Feyre gestured to Rhys. “Go ahead.”

Clearing her throat, Elain asked, “Where were you at the time of the murder, Professor?”

“Banging Miss Scarlet,” he replied, without missing a beat, smirk growing.

Feyre’s grin widened.

Elain cleared her throat. “Thank you…Professor.”

“Anytime,” he winked, before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Is that all?” Feyre crooned.

Elain cleared her throat. “How is it that you know Mr. Boddy?”

Feyre’s brows scrunched together, unsure of how to answer, but then Elain cleared her throat and gestured down at the notecard in Feyre’s hand.

“Oh,” Feyre began. “We are…having an affair, it seems.”

“My, Mr. Boddy, Professor Plum. You sure do have a long list of lovers, Miss Scarlet. Perhaps a jilted lover had found out about your affair with Mr. Boddy. Or maybe Mr. Boddy found out about Professor Plum?”

“I was open about my promiscuous lifestyle,” Feyre said, yawning dramatically. “Now if you'll excuse me, Mrs. White, I’ve grown bored of this conversation.”

Elain’s mouth fell open but she did nothing more as Feyre dramatically made her exit.

Azriel snorted. “Ouch.”

“Hush, dead man,” she whispered, harshly.

The dead man's grin only widened.

As Elain made her way into the living room and snatched Lucien from Cassian’s attentions, someone new soon filled them. Mrs. Peacock perched herself on his lap.

“Well, hello,” he said, dragging a hand up her thigh.

“Colonel,” she said, with an over exaggerated southern drawl.

Cassian snorted. “I don’t remember Mrs. Peacock being a southern bell.”

“Instead of what you don’t remember, how about we talk about what you do remember?” Nesta reached into the pocket of his jacket. “How exactly did this wrench come to be on your person?”

Cassian took a long drink out of his glass of wine — which he used as an excuse to look at his character slip — before saying, “My cat broke down today and I had to fix it. Must have accidentally brought it with me.”

Nesta blinked, then whispered, “Your…cat, Cass?”

Cassian’s brows drew together as he looked back down at his notecard. “Car. My car. I meant…car. My car broke down, hence the wrench.”

“And when did your car break down?” Nesta continued, after she rolled her eyes.

“This afternoon,” Cassian shot back.

“At what time?” Nesta asked.

Cassian looked back down at his notecard. “At four-thirty this afternoon. I then spent the rest of my afternoon working on my car, until I came here, of course.”

“For someone who’s been working on his car all afternoon you sure are clean,” she noted.

“I, uh-.” Cassian froze and glanced down at his card, for some fact of information that may help out. “I always carry a change of clothes with me. It never hurts to be prepared.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Prepared for what?”

He squeezed one of her thighs. “Prepared for anything.” He smacked her ass and asked, “What about you, Mrs. Peacock?” He enunciated the last word.

“What about me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t help but notice I missed you in the parlor for drinks,” he mused, raising a glass of whiskey to his lips. Nesta blinked. She wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten it from, the glass of wine was still sitting on the table beside him. “Mr. Boddy was also suspiciously absent.”

Nestas brows rose. “What are you implying?”

Cassian shrugged. “That Miss Scarlet wasn’t Boddy’s only lover.”

Nestas eyes narrowed with such distaste that it was hard for Cassian to stay in character. “Is that what you think, Colonel?”

Cassian cleared his throat and muttered under his breath, “Just a side note, I love it when you call me that in that damned accent.”

Nesta gave him a small, mischievous grin. “Noted.”

“I think,” he began, slipping back into character, “Mr. Boddy told you your secret tryst was over and you retaliated.”

Nesta chuckled and squeezed Cassian’s leather covered shoulder. “A good theory, but you should have done your research, Colonel.” Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed but Nesta continued. “Mr. Boddy was my brother. Estranged. I was here tonight to make amends.”

He asked, “Peacock is your married name?” She nodded. “What happened to Mr. Peacock?”

“Nothing you can prove,” she said, with a smirk. “But I wasn’t present for drinks because I was doing drugs in my room.”

Cassian blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes, I have a drug problem.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really? Or are you making that up to throw me off?”

“Heroin.” Nesta’s face was deadpan and he was about to suggest they have a talk with Elain after the game when she smirked. “No, I fell asleep

in my room. I had a long drive in and needed a nap before I was pleasant for company.”

“I see,” Cassian muttered. “Now, back to Mr. Peacock… Are you completely over him? Or…”

Nesta rolled her eyes but pressed a kiss to Cassian’s lips before pushing herself off of him and walking toward Lucien on the other side of the room.

“Finally, time alone with the colonel.” Cassian looked up to find Feyre, sipping from a glass of wine, plopping down on the couch beside his chair.

“That sounds terrifying coming from you,” Cassian mumbled.

“Don’t tell the professor,” she said with a wink.

“It’s fortuitous that you were wanting to speak with me,” Cassian said, matching Nesta’s overly dramatic southern drawl. “Cause I was wanting to speak with you, Miss Scarlet.”

“Oh?” She crossed a leg and raised an eyebrow.

“Rumor has it you were quite familiar with our late host,” he said.

“Rumors can sometimes be true, and sometimes be false,” she said, adjusting her hair. At some she’s ditched the bowler hat. Cassian was willing to bet that it had something to do with the fact that her cheeks were as red as her hat was. And her glass was nearly empty again. A year of not drinking had turned Feyre into a lightweight.

“So, which was it?” Cassian pressed. “True or false?”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed as she finished off her glass. “Butler!”

With a snort, Mor came to Feyre’s side with a bottle of white wine and refilled Feyre’s glass. Before she left, she coughed, “Under the coffee table.”

Both Feyre and Cassian blinked as she walked away.

As Feyre started sipping her new glass of wine, Cassian was reaching under the coffee table, where he pulled out a manila envelope that read Living Room.

Feyre’s brow arched as she snatched it away from him and opened it up. She pulled out a single, white feather. “What the hell is this?”

“A clue,” Cassian whispered, taking it away from her. “A white feather.” He was looking around at all the characters, trying to scope out what their notecards said about their personalities. “What does it mean?”

Feyre stared at the feather for a second before saying, “I dunno, I’m too drunk to form a thought.”

“Is it from a hat? One of those ridiculous things women wear around their necks like a scarf? From a pillow? Feather-duster?” Cassian guessed, then gasped. “What if it has to do with the color and not the feather itself?” His eyes shot to Elain. “Mrs. White is the murderer?”

Feyre shook her head. “I may be drunk, but even I know you can’t have a case based on one clue, Colonel.”

“No, but one clue can get you closer to solving it,” he replied, tucking it behind his ear.

Feyre looked at Cassian for a moment with the most serious of expressions before bursting into laughter. Cassian shot Rhysand a look from across the room, but Feyre’s husband was watching her with the utmost adoration.

And so the night went on.

There were arguments and accusations and all the while, the wine continued to flow. At some point, Azriel excused himself to open a bottle of whiskey, which he generously offered a glass of to his brothers and Nesta, before he retook his spot on the floor, bottle still in his hand.

Nearly two hours later, the entire group was back in the living room. Azriel was in a chair now, thank the Cauldron, but now there was a prop knife jammed between his arm and side, “stabbing” him. He silently continued to sip on his whiskey, watching in amusement as Nesta and Rhys yelled at each other, arguing over whether he was stabbed or beaten over the head with a pipe.

“There’s not nearly enough blood for him to have been stabbed!” Rhys said, extending his arm towards Azriel.

“It’s not real,” Nesta cried, enunciating the words. “Did you expect Elain to let Mor spray her house in fake blood?”

“If she were committed, she would have,” Azriel said, but Elain glanced over at him and he became as quiet as the dead man he was pretending to be and put his glass back to his lips.

“I’m right,” Nesta hissed.

“Uh, no, I’m right,” Rhysand argued, his arms crossed. “I know who the murderer is, I’ve figured it out.”

Nesta scoffed. “That’s shit, but okay, go ahead.”

Rhyasnd lifted one brow. “Fine. Murderer? You. Weapon? Rope. Room? Kitchen room.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but looked at Mor alongside everyone else.

Mor looked back and forth between Nesta and Rhysand before slowly shaking her head.

“Ha!” Nesta yelled, pointing her finger at Rhysand. “You failed!”

“My gods, I’ve never loved you more,” Cassian muttered, sipping from his glass.

“I win,” Nesta announced, simply.

Rhysand was not going down easily. “No, you do not win.”

“No?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms, as the rest of them watched her and Rhysand’s little display. “The killer is Miss Scarlett. Weapon? Rope. Room? Bedroom.”

The room was quiet for a moment before Mor said, “She’s right.”

“She killed him because he was going to end their affair, essentially cutting her off from the lifestyle she had grown accustomed to living,” Nesta said, not a hint of doubt on her face.

Rhys looked to Mor who shrugged. “She’s right again.”

Rhys breathed, “Damn it,” and dropped down next Miss Scarlett.

Who had been drooling on the arm of the couch since nine o’clock.

Rhysand shook his head as he looked down at his sleeping, drunk, passed out wife.

“I’m right?” Nesta repeated, and looked to Cassian with wide eyes. “What do I win?”

Mor hesitated. “What do you win?”

Nesta nodded, looking at Elain. “Yeah, I won, there’s a prize, right?”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip. “There’s…cake.”

Nesta followed Elain’s gaze to where the half-eaten cake sat on the dining room table.

“You win half a bottle of whiskey,” Az said, leaning forward and setting the bottle

and the fake knife on the table in the center of the room.

Nesta raised an eyebrow as she looked at Azriel. “That’s almost completely empty.”

He shrugged. “You got to enjoy your prize early.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled and grabbed the bottle regardless. They all couldn’t help the smiles on their faces, all except for Feyre, who Rhys had gathered in his arms, ready to take her home. More laughs and love had been shared tonight than some people got to experience in a lifetime.

None of them had a clue how they got so lucky.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story! 

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage. 

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

*

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.” 

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim. 

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?” 

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked. 

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.” 

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet. 

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back. 

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.” 

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush. 

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering. 

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead. 

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.” 

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder. 

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in. 

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?” 

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh. 

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.” 

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 9}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: SURPRISE. Enjoy this chapter a day early. I had my days wrong and legit thought it was Thursday, but since it was ready…. Y’all get to enjoy the spoils of my frazzled brain. 😘

Nesta waited with Nyx in the waiting room of the pediatric office.

His rash didn’t seem to be bothering him much, but she wanted to get ahead of it before it became a problem. He was absolutely enamored with the TV playing a bright children’s show in the corner, and Nesta couldn’t help but smile down at him as she checked her email.

The usual stuff greeted her, some open catering order invoices for the restaurant, a few wayward resumes from high school kids that had managed to get her personal email, and, of course, spam.

“Nyx?”

Nesta’s head shot up, and Nyx began looking around, wondering who had called his name. Nesta was instantly on her feet, pushing Nyx’s stroller toward the door that the nurse held open.

She smiled. “Hello, Nyx.”

Nyx babbled in greeting.

The nurse chuckled. “Such a cute little guy. You’re Nesta, I assume?”

“I am,” Nesta confirmed. “I’ve not been here before. It’s a nice office.”

The small talk went on. Nesta had never been a fan of small talk, of polite pleasantries.

It just made her feel awkward.

Nyx didn’t seem to mind. He just kept babbling and babbling and babbling, without a care in the world.

The nurse led them into a room and she checked Nyx’s height and weight before telling them that the doctor would be there shortly.

Nesta had picked Nyx up, looking around at all the educational posters on the walls, when a quick knock sounded on the door and a man cracked open the door.

Nesta blinked once as he stepped inside, not expecting the tall, muscled man that appeared in front of her.

“You must be Nesta,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Kamaras.”

This man was Nyx’s pediatrician? She had known that Nyx’s doctor was male, Feyre had mentioned him in some stories a few times, but Nesta had always pictured an elderly man.

Not this sculpted, handsome man, who could easily graced the cover of one of the ridiculous smutty books she kept well hidden in her bedroom.

She shook his hand, finally remembering how to speak. “Yes, I am, it’s nice to meet you.”

Very nice to meet you, she added in her head.

His face sombered. “I was very sorry to hear about Rhys and Feyre. They were great people.”

And just like that, Nesta was back on earth, holding her sister’s son in her arms, standing where her sister should have been. She tried to keep her smiling from dimming, but she cleared her throat. “Thank you. It’s…been an adjustment.”

As if they both remembered why they were here, Dr. Karamas blinked and said, “Yes, Nyx, right. You told the nurse he has a rash of some sort?”

“It’s just a diaper rash but it seems to be getting infected,” Nesta explained. “I’ve tried a few different things but nothing seems to be working.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Well, let’s take a look.”

Dr. Karamas took one glance and whistled. “Definitely infected. I’m going to give you a steroid cream. Put it on after every diaper change. It should clear up within the week.”

Nesta let loose a breath. “Oh, great, thank you.”

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

He had a nice smile.

He scribbled something down on his clipboard, signed it, and handed it to Nesta. “The number on the bottom is my office number. If you have any other concerns, no matter how small, give it a call.”

Nesta looked at Nyx’s prescription and the number that was beneath it, along with his name.

Balthazar Karamas.

“Thank you, Dr. Karamas,” Nesta said, and she meant it. She was still new at this, and every little medical thing concerned her.

If it wasn’t normal, she was freaking the fuck out.

“Bal, please,” he said, taking her hand again, shaking it. At the look on her face, he added, “I work with kids. They do better on a familiar name basis than with titles like doctor and mister.”

She nodded, smiling. “Bal, then.”

Nesta was getting Nyx resituated in his stroller in the waiting room, about to head back out into the bright sunlight, when she felt someone approach. She wasn’t expecting to find Balthazar standing a few feet away. She quickly checked the stroller, making sure she had her purse, the diaper bag, and, of course, Nyx himself. “Did I forget something?” She asked, finding everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said, pausing in front of her. “I just…can’t shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

It was strange, since Nesta felt the same way.

“You’re not Illyrian,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, nor was it rude. Just an assumption. She only knew of a few other Illyrians in the area, and Balthazar definitely had the same coloring as Cassian and Az. And Rhys used to have. She, pale skinned and blue eyed, certainly did not.

“I’m not,” she said, at last.

Bal chuckled.

That smile, yet again, had her toes curling.

“Interesting,” he said, that smile remaining. “Well, maybe we can figure out just where we’ve run into each other before...over lunch this weekend?”

Nesta blinked. A date?

“Not a date,” he said, quickly, reading her mind. “I would never ask the aunt of my patient on a date. That would be incredibly unprofessional.” Nesta laughed. “Just…two acquaintances figuring out where they were previously acquainted.”

“Lunch sounds nice,” Nesta said, unable to shake her own smile. “Saturday, then?”

“Saturday,” Bal agreed.

They set up a time and place and then Nesta was out the door.

*

Cassian’s day had been as long as it was the day before. It seemed that the teenagers visiting Velaris had gotten the message from their friends that Cassian’s bar was checking every single ID of every single drink that was ordered. So instead of being slammed and busy and frustrated the whole day, he had been bored out of his mind.

He’d gone through his inventory sheets twice, ordering anything they might remotely run out of in the next few weeks.

It didn’t help that Kallias had the day off, covering the evening shift tonight, leaving him alone with his thoughts all day.

And those thoughts constantly reminded him that he’d been an absolute dick to Nesta the night before.

As he drove home, he contemplated the apology he needed to make.

Although Cassian believed his intentions were typically good, apologizing wasn’t one of his strengths. He ran through what he’d say a hundred times, had come up with an unbearable amount of ways in which he could apologize, but everything he thought of wasn’t good enough.

He knew Nesta well enough to know when she would laugh in his face.

He’d come up with about fifteen different scenarios of how this could go by the time he pulled into the driveway, parking next to her little car. He took a deep breath before unlocking the front door and letting himself in.

The house was quiet, neither Nesta or Nyx were anywhere to be found. It was barely six-thirty, but he knew Nesta was taking Nyx to the doctor earlier in the day, which may have tired him out so thoroughly that he was already down for the night. A peek into his cracked bedroom door confirmed it, his little hand curled next his face as he slept.

When he finally tracked down Nesta, on the back patio, her feet propped up in a lounge chair, he definitely hadn’t expected to find her with a bottle of wine. Or what was left of it, at least.

The mostly empty bottle of wine sat next to the baby monitor.

He cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

Nesta’s sigh was the only acknowledgement she showed.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

She shrugged and took a sip from her glass.

“Bad day?” He continued.

She shrugged again.

“Is this the silent treatment?” He asked.

“I assume you’d know,” she said.

Cassian began rubbing his temples. “Look, Nesta-.”

“I’m a little busy if you don’t mind,” she continued. “I prefer to relax alone.”

“This is my house, too,” he said, shutting the sliding door behind him as he made his way onto the patio. “What if I want to sit out here with you?”

“Then I’d suggest continuing the silence,” she said, not looking at him, her face tilting back up to the sky, where it had been when he’d come outside.

So he sat down on a nearby lounge chair, and didn’t say a word.

Or he tried, but he didn’t last five minutes. The words that had building inside him all day needed to come out. He’d rehearsed different things he wanted to say, with reasons for why he was such an asshole, and promises to try and be better from now on. But as he looked over at her, the starlight on her face, all he could get out was, “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Nesta said nothing. “About?”

“The way I acted last night,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the lawn. “It was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, draining her glass.

Cassian’s eyes shot her direction. “I’m trying to apologize. You can at least accept my apology so we can move on.”

“Apologies mean nothing,” Nesta said, shrugging. “Words are meaningless.”

“Not mine,” Cassian argued. “I mean what I say.”

“Then you meant what you said last night?” Nesta pushed.

Cassian’s lips snapped shut and his jaw hardened. “No.”

“So, you’re a liar, then?” Nesta asked.

He groaned in frustration. “You’re infuriating.”

She didn’t deign to reply to that.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was an asshole last night. I was…embarrassed about how you found me the night before. I don’t… I don’t like to be seen like that.” He paused, but then he held a hand out in between them. “Not- not that that happens often. I mean, I don’t make a habit of having emotional breakdowns.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.

He cleared his throat again, remembering little things he had felt badly about through the day. “Nesta, I’m sorry I acted like an ass. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate the dinner you made me. I was rude as hell and you did nothing to deserve it.”

After a second, she glanced away, out over the pool. He figured she wasn’t going to reply, and he stood, heading back for the back door.

He had slid the door open and was halfway inside when she said, “If you’re hungry, I made lasagna for dinner. It should still be warm on the stove.”

He turned back and found a hint of a smile on her face. “Thanks, Nes.”

*

A continuation of his apology, Cassian had told Nesta he'd be on baby duty for the rest of the night, waking Nyx up for his bottle, granting her leave to do whatever she wanted. She elected to finish off the bottle of wine, open another, and relax in the bathtub with a book.

The book of choice was definitely not appropriate to read in front of Nyx.

Or Cassian, for that matter.

She had appreciated his apology, even though a part of her still wanted to be pissed. There were very few things that agitated her more than male bravado, and Cassian was the spitting image of it. Embarrassed because he was emotional? Please. Get the fuck over it.

Then again, she could say that all day, but in honesty, if the positions were reversed, she would have reacted very, very similarly.

If not worse.

Nesta had always felt too much, far more than either of her sisters. It wasn’t like they were robots, of course. Elain had a bigger heart than anyone Nesta had ever known, and Feyre had been a light to be around.

But, Nesta…

She felt it all, and she felt it far too deeply. She had learned long ago to shut those emotions off, to let them go, to not let her emotions show. They could just be used as a weakness.

And she found life worked better that way.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

Nesta sat up straight, even though the door was locked, in a sudden panic over the fact that she was nude and reading smut.

“Yeah?”

“Nyx is going to bed,” he said. “Just thought you’d want to say goodnight.”

“I- Ah- Just a minute,” she called, setting the book down and reaching down to grab for her towel. She was out and damn near opened the door in just her towel again, but remembered their agreed upon rules. She snatched her robe, wrapping it around herself, towel and all.

She opened the door, Cassian standing just by her bed, and Nyx had his head resting on his shoulder, rubbing his little eyes.

The image was so pure and innocent that Nesta couldn’t stop herself from taking a few steps towards them, reaching out to brush her fingers down Nyx’s soft cheek. “Sweet dreams, buddy,” she breathed, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

She regretted it almost immediately, as bringing herself that close in Nyx also inadvertently brought her to Cassian. His heady, nutmeg-and-campfire scent enveloping her, reminding her of the morning she’d come downstairs and found him as naked as she was now. She stepped back quickly, clearing her throat. “And goodnight to you, Cassian,” she murmured. She pointed back behind her towards the bathtub, towards her book, and said, “I’m going to read a little longer and then go to bed myself.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Nes.”

The nickname didn’t bother her as much as it previously had, she realized as he made his way back out of her room, shutting the door behind him.

She didn’t let herself think about that, did her best not to think about him, as she sunk back into the warm water.

*

Nyx had gone down easily for Cassian, for the first time ever, thanks to the frozen toy he’d gnawed on to relieve the pain of his incoming tooth. He’d decided he deserved a treat, too, after that, and had sat down to watch the hockey game, a beer in hand.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Cassian paused, glancing down at his watch, seeing that it was pushing nine o’clock. He stood, after a second knock sounded, making his way to the door. He opened it to find a woman dressed in a suit on the other side. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Nazari, I assume?” She asked, extending her hand.

He took it, on instinct, shaking it, but he blinked. He repeated, “Yeah… Can I help you?”

Her brows twitched together. “My name is Alis Birch. I’m with social services.”

Cassian continued to shake her hand, staring.

“The courts told you we’d be making random visits to check in on Nyx,” she continued.

Oh, fuck, Cassian thought. Oh, fucking hell.

They’d completely forgotten about those random visits, in the past few weeks they’d been doing this, distracted by getting used to not only being parents, but getting used to each other as well.

“I see,” Cassian said, nodding. “I… I’ll…be right back.”

“I’d like to come in-.”

Cassian shut the door, quickly set his beer on the table in the entryway, and hauled ass upstairs.

He threw open the door to Nesta’s bedroom, only to found it empty, so he continued on, throwing open the bathroom door.

Where Nesta was still in the tub, completely nude, a book in hand, one hand disappeared beneath the water. Her head was thrown back in utter ecstasy.

Until Cassian barged in, anyway.

“Shit!” he yelled, just as Nesta gasped and sent the water sloshing out of the tub, over the porcelain edges.

Cassian quickly shut the door behind him, closing them into the bathroom together, and put his face in his hands. “Sorry!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled, and he could hear her pulling the plug.

“It’s important, I swear,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“If the house isn’t on fire or Nyx isn’t dying, it’s not important,” she cried, ducking behind the walls of the tub.

“It’s pretty fucking important,” he said, turning to give her a semblance of privacy. He heard her stand up, water moving and quiet dripping, before her feet landed on the rug outside the tub. “The social worker is here.”

She froze and he dared a look back at her. Thankfully, she was wrapped in her towel again, one arm pushed through her robe. “The social worker is here? Now?” He nodded, and she looked at the nearly empty bottle of wine next to the glass on the small table by the tub. It was the second one she’d had that night. “But it’s late,” she protested.

“It’s a random, surprise visit,” he replied. “I left her outside, but-.”

“You didn’t let her in?” Nesta demanded, eyes widening. “Cauldron, Cass, that makes us look so guilty.”

He blinked. “Of what?”

“I don’t know,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “But it doesn’t make us look good.”

“Well, I didn’t know what to do,” he sighed, exasperatedly. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to come up here and find you doing that.” He gestured to the tub.

Nesta’s cheeks heated. He figured his own were going to permanently be the shade of red they were now.

No, that was the last thing he ever expected to catch Nesta doing.

“Just… Go let her in and stall her while I get dressed,” she sighed, crossing her arms, waiting for him to leave.

Cassian hesitated, then nodded, and hurried back down the stairs. When he reopened the front door, Alis Birch stood there. Her expression was hard, intimidating.

Cassian could feel himself sweat.

He prayed that Nesta somehow sobered up and got the fuck downstairs, because there was no way in hell he could do this without her.