#snacmc

[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. 

[go-follow-snacmc]

Welcome to @snacmc.

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

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

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

Tara’s Masterlist

(aka @tacmc)

Shelby’s Masterlist

(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]

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. 

[swankii-art-teacher]

The elephant in the room is in the open. There seems to be progress being made...

With angst queens in charge, I wonder how long before there is some back sliding begins.

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. 

[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.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}

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 Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta’s time for mourning was up.

As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.

She wasn’t ready

But, she had no choice.

Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”

“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.

Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”

Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”

“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”

Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”

For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.

To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.

“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”

Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”

The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.

Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”

Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.

Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.

With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.

Her first day back had officially begun.

*

Cassian was exhausted.

For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.

He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.

He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.

Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.

10:37

He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.

His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.

Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”

He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”

Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”

Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.

And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.

It wasn’t an attractive sight.

After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.

It was just after five.

The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.

He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.

“It’s fine.”

He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.

Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”

“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”

He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.

“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.

Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”

“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.

Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.

“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.

Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.

“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.

“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.

Nesta’s shoulders tensed.

Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.

“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.

Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”

She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.

He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.

He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.

“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.

He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.

As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.

It smelled delicious.

He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.

“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.

Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”

Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.

“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.

“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”

Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”

Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”

Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”

“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.

Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.

“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.

Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”

Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”

“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.

He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.

It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.

He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.

He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.

Maybe Nesta was right.

Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.

As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.

[snelbz]

Why don’t you write anything without theladyofdeath?

If you go back through my masterlist, I have quite a few oneshots that I wrote on my own, but recently, I don’t have a lot of spare time to write. I’m a new mom, with a full time job, who’s husband travels for a living. My spare time to write is on my breaks at work and after my son goes to bed, but before he wakes up for his late night bottle. In that same spare time, I’ve got laundry and dishes to do, plus I have to take care of all of our animals. And when my husband is home, I’m spending as much time with him and my son as I can.

There’s no one reason everything I write is with @theladyofdeath. It’s partially because of my hectic schedule, but also because writing together is our favorite thing to do. We’ve been writing together for over 15 years. Most people assume that I use Tara as a crutch in some way, but in reality, when we write together, we play off of everything the other does.

Yes, I can write fics on my own, I have absolutely no problem doing so. But if given the chance, I’d take writing with my best friend over writing solo anyday.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter One}

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 Tara's blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby's Masterlist

Tara's Masterlist

5 years later….

Nyx looked at his birthday cake and the lone candle that was lit atop the icing before looking up at Feyre with a confused expression on his beautiful, little face.

His mother laughed, quietly, before leaning forward and taking out the candle. She had just blown out the flame when Rhys barely pushed the cake closer to Nyx, who put his chubby, little hands smack-dab in the middle of the icing and dug in.

Everyone had come to celebrate, and even Nesta couldn’t stop her smile from showing. At least, she let it show when she was on the opposite end of the house from the one and only, and massively self-centered, Cassian Nazari.

Of course, he would be at Nyx’s first birthday party. He was Nyx’s uncle - maybe not by blood, not that blood mattered when it came to Cassian, Rhysand, and their other lifelong friend, Azriel.

He, too, stood across the kitchen, watching as Elain snapped picture after picture of the jubilant baby, the mess atop his high chair the largest Nesta had ever seen. She knew Elain was taking notes for their own daughter’s birthday party, though she was barely three months old.

Rhysand’s smile was as big as Feyre’s as they watched their son, listening as his giggles filled the kitchen. Nyx realized quickly that the cake was for him alone and after smashing it for a few moments, he lifted a large handful to his chubby face and took a bite. His eyes lit up and that started the giggling anew.

Nesta loved her nephew and niece, had loved him since the day they were born, but she didn’t envy her sisters and their happy families. Unlike them, she had remained perfectly content on her own, especially after the endless string of disaster dates she had been forced to sit through throughout the years.

And children? It wasn’t that Nesta disliked kids. Not all kids, at least. She loved her nephew and niece, anyway. Having one of her own, though? Having to be around one every day? Every night? Having to constantly try and make a tiny person content?

No, thank you. That was a challenge she had little interest in.

A deep rumbling laugh came from across the house and Nesta looked up to find Cassian entering the kitchen, still chuckling at something Mor had said.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her lip from curling slightly as she looked at him. It only infuriated her more when he caught sight of her as he raised his beer to his lips and winked.

He was absolutely insufferable.

After their catastrophe of a date years ago, which Nesta had made Feyre promise was a stunt she’d never pull again, she had only been forced to be around Cassian Nazari a handful of times.

One of which was during Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, only months after their date.

“You only have to walk with him for thirty seconds,” Feyre had sighed, while Mor continued to pin and curl her hair into place. “You don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Good,” Nesta said, draining the glass of champagne in her hand. “Because I’m not.”

As Feyre’s maid-of-honor, it was customary that she was supposed to walk out of the wedding arm in arm with Rhysand’s best man. She wished that he’d picked Azriel, but since it seemed the Cauldron hated her, it had to be Cassian.

Elain, who was harboring the world’s most obvious crush on Azriel at the time, was thrilled with how they’d be exiting the wedding. Nevertheless, she said to Nesta, “I think you two got off on the wrong foot. He’s a really good guy, Nes.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister a look of pure annoyance through the mirror’s reflection. “Have any of you ever been on a date with the guy? And not only a date, but the worst date of your life?”

Feyre snorted, fully aware of where this conversation was headed. “No.”

“Then you have no room to talk,” Nesta snapped, admiring herself in the mirror. “Mother’s tits, Feyre, he wore jeans to the nicest restaurant in Velaris!”

“At least he didn’t wear his boots,” Mor muttered, then she caught Nesta’s glare in the mirror. “Really? He wore his boots?”

“He was dressed for an all-night, summer bonfire,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “And he’s completely full of himself. And, he forgot his wallet!”

“Not like you can’t afford dinner,” Feyre said, and Nesta’s lips snapped shut. She was fully aware that the conversation had somehow become a let’s-pick-on-Nesta session.

Feyre added, “You have to walk back down the aisle with him, share an entire table during dinner, and that’s it. No one is asking you to dance with him, but be nice.” Nesta met Feyre’s eyes, her jaw set. Feyre sighed, “Fine, be civil.”

She scoffed, but nodded. “Fine.”

The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. It was beautiful and elegant and the perfect wedding Rhys and Feyre had always wanted.

She ignored Cassian’s unending looks the whole night, managed to give her maid-of-honor speech without snarling at him, and after that, took advantage of the open bar her sister and new brother had so kindly provided.

She was coming out of the bathroom, a glass of wine still clutched in her hand, doing her best not to trip over her own feet when she walked into a wall.

A wall of solid muscle that turned out to be Cassian’s back.

When he turned around and she looked up at him, his eyes were nearly as glazed as hers.

“Hello, Nes,” he said, smirking down at her.

She bit out, “Don’t call me that.”

“That was a pretty, little speech you gave,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I know true love exists cause I’ve seen it first hand. Poetic.”

Nesta scoffed, brushing off the skirt of her dress as if he had tainted it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t referring to you. I was talking about Feyre and Rhys, in case you thought otherwise.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he promised. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were talking about anyone. Just some fluffy shit that sounded sweet. Unless it’s that guy that showed up at the restaurant and ruined our date. Oh, wait,” he began, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, “You dumped him though, right? Poor bastard.”

“You’re a prick,” Nesta bit out. She refrained from saying that Tomas hadn’t ruined their date. It was sad that seeing her ex was one the bright points of her night, rather than seeing the Greek god standing before her. The pretentious, cocky asshole of a Greek god.

He only grinned. “But am I a liar?”

Nesta’s jaw locked. She eyed his tux. “I’m just glad you decided to clean up for your own brother’s wedding. No jeans?”

He scoffed. “Is that the worst you’ve got?”

“Do you prefer me to give you my worst?” she asked, brows furrowing. “If so, you may want to be careful what you wish for.”

Cassian said nothing, just lifted the beer she hadn’t noticed in his hands to his lips.

Nesta rolled her eyes, brushing past him, and made a move to head back into the reception.

His voice called out behind her, “You don’t have to be such a miserable bitch, you know?”

She froze, looking back at him. He was no longer smirking at her. Instead, his eyes were intense. “Excuse you?”

“You’re so miserable that you won’t allow anyone else to have any fun, won’t allow yourself to either,” he said, still leaning against that damn wall. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his dress shirt tight and loose in all the right places. “You want everyone else to suffer, just because you’re forcing yourself to, for whatever reason.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she bit out, stalking back over to him. She was so close she had to look up into his face.

“I don’t,” he said, words clipped. “I tried, but you didn’t seem very inclined to let me get to know you during our date. You were more concerned with my attire and your ex than you were with me. You thought all I wanted to do was fuck you.” His eyes, still glassy and glazed, dragged down her body and back up again. “Besides, you’ve got that damn stick shoved so far up your ass, there wouldn’t have been room for my cock even if I’d really even tried.”

A blink was Nesta’s only reaction. Then her hand was moving of its own accord, splashing her full glass of wine directly in his face and all over that pretty, white shirt.

“Go fuck yourself,” was all she’d said before she walked back into the ceremony, leaving him there to drip on the venue’s fancy carpet.

“Nesta!”

She blinked, Feyre’s voice drawing Nesta out of her memories, looking over at her sister. She stood next to Rhys and Elain, who had her camera in her hands, and Cassian stood behind Nyx’s high chair.

“I want a picture of him with his godparents, come here,” she beamed and Nesta tried not to cringe.

She had been so proud, her heart feeling like it would burst when Feyre and Rhys had asked her to be Nyx’s godmother. There was no hesitation when she said yes, tears lining her eyes as she’d hugged both her sister and brother-in-law.

She tried not to think about the fact that when they’d told her Cassian was his godfather, she nearly asked them to give the distinction to Elain.

But she hadn’t, wouldn’t. Despite what others, especially Cassian, thought of her… Nesta loved her nephew.

She loved her family.

With a sigh, Nesta meandered over to Nyx’s high chair. “Alright.”

“Closer,” Feyre ordered, gesturing Nesta to move in closer beside Cassian behind the high chair.

Nesta’s lips pursed but she took another step toward the boys for her sister’s sake.

“I’m not poisonous, Nesta,” Cassian muttered, smiling at the camera as he spoke. “You won’t burst into flames if we brush arms.”

“You’d be so lucky to brush arms with me,” she muttered back, hoping the smile she was giving her sister was convincing - and knowing full well that it wasn’t.

Without another word, Cassian tossed his arm around Nesta and said, “Cheeeeese!”

Nyx was giggling, looking up at his godparents behind him. There was so much joy and adoration in those big, beautiful eyes that Nesta didn’t have the heart to storm off, leaving Cassian in her dust, no matter how much she wanted to.

The camera’s flash went off and Nesta pushed Cassian’s arm off her shoulder.

The rest of the party was perfect. Feyre took Nyx up to the bathroom to clean him off, while Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian hauled his many gifts out into the living room. Feyre opened them one by one, despite everyone knowing Nyx had no clue what was going on, though he did clap his chubby little hands and giggle at a few particular items. Nesta stood off to the side with Elain, holding a milk-drunk, sleepy Seph in her arms.

Azriel and Elain’s little girl had been a surprise, neither of them planning on Elain getting pregnant so soon after they got married. They both fell into the role of parents so seamlessly though, that Nesta knew another baby would be in their near future. They adored the baby girl, and she was the most perfect baby Nesta had ever seen.

Persephone hardly cried, only doing so when she was hungry or needed to be changed, and once whatever wrong was taken care of, she became a happy, smiley baby again.

Nyx, on the other hand, had been a hellion as a baby.

Which was to be expected, considering who his father was. Although responsible when necessary, Rhysand was just as much of a madman as Cassian...especially when infused with alcohol.

“You look good with a baby,” Elain crooned from beside her sister.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You can keep trying to push me down the marriage-baby road, but I just won’t take it. Wasting your time.”

Elain sighed, dramatically, with that little grin remaining on her soft pink lips. “As long as you stay such a good auntie, I suppose I can’t complain.”

Nesta looked down at the sweet, sleeping infant in her arms. She didn’t mind those little snuggles.

She did mind the diaper blowouts, constant spit-ups, and loud crying, though. That’s usually when she gave Seph back to her parents and blissfully enjoyed her independent life.

Feyre gasped and Nesta looked up. She was holding a little guitar that had Nyx’s name and the night sky engraved into the dark-stained wood.

Nesta’s eyes snapped to Cassian.

Cassian smiled, fondly, at Feyre. “I know he won’t be able to start messing with it for another few years, but I couldn't help myself.”

“He made that himself, you know.” Nesta’s eyes shot to Elain, who was watching the scene before them. She whispered again, “He doesn’t do it for a living, of course, but it’s a hobby of his, making guitars. He’s really good.”

She blinked, the information catching her off guard for whatever reason. But all she said was, “That’s nice.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the man as much as she could, as she always did. But as the guests began to dwindle, as Nyx and Seph went down for their naps, the three sisters gathered in the living room, while Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian went out back to inspect the small jungle gym Rhys was building for Nyx. Again, he was too young to use most of it, but the tiny swing and slide would be hours of fun for the little man.

Feyre brought two cups of coffee out to her sisters before collapsing next to Elain on the couch. “That could not have gone better if we tried.”

Nesta leveled her a look and raised an eyebrow.. “If we tried? You had a minute-by-minute itinerary for a one-year-old’s birthday.”

“Everything was perfect,” Elain smiled, cutting off Nesta, blowing on her coffee gently. “Nyx had a good time, neither he nor Seph had a blow-up, Cassian and Nesta managed to be in the same room without stabbing each other. All in all, a good day.”

Nesta rolled her eyes before throwing a vulgar gesture towards her sisters, who were both laughing.

“Fine, new subject,” Feyre grinned. “Oh! Before I forget, Rhys and I are going out of town for our anniversary in a few weeks. I was hoping you could watch Nyx for a few days.”

It took Nesta a moment to realize that Feyre was talking to her. She froze, having been blowing on her own hot coffee. “I’m sorry, what?”

Feyre laughed, quietly. “I was hoping that you could watch Nyx while Rhys and I go away for a long weekend. We’re going to the mountains for our anniversary. To his family’s cabin.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Elain said, looking at Nesta.

Who blinked, having only unfrozen to set her coffee down on the table between them. “You want me…to watch Nyx…for the weekend? Alone? By myself? Just me and him?”

“That’s what I was hoping for, yeah,” Feyre said, nodding as she sipped from her cup. “You can come here, where all of his stuff is in one place, and make yourself at home.” She shrugged. “I’ll leave money for takeout and the key to the wine cabinet.”

Nesta hesitated. “I’ve only babysat Nyx a couple of times…all for, like, an hour each.”

“It will be fine,” she said, a genuine smile on her face. “It will only be three nights, really. We’ll leave after work on Thursday and be home Sunday evening.”

Nesta stammered and shook her head. “I have to work on Friday, the restaurant-.”

“I’ll keep him during the day on Friday,” Elain offered. “I don’t have any shoots that day, so he can spend the day with me and Seph.”

“You could keep him the whole weekend,” Nesta tried, looking at her younger sister hopefully.

“Seph is enough of a handful,” she chuckled, glancing at Feyre, who was nodding as well. “I don’t think I can handle two at once for an entire weekend.”

“Please, Nes,” Feyre said, drawing her eldest sister’s eyes to her. “I know you can do it and it would be nice for you to spend some time together, just you two.”

“And you can call me, if you need anything,” Elain added.

Nesta looked from Feyre to Elain. “You two already planned this.” They at least had the wherewithal to look guilty. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Fine. But I’ll probably end up calling both of you every thirty seconds.”

“I can work with that,” Feyre said, just as Elain said, “Then it’s settled!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “But, I hope you know that I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”

“Oh, I know,” Feyre grinned, “which is what makes you such a wonderful, wonderful big sister.”

“I am pretty damn wonderful,” Nesta agreed, grinning as she sipped from her mug.

As she drank, she peeked out the window, where the boys were putting together the playset. Once she did, only one thing caught her eye.

Cassian was already watching her.

And when he caught her gaze, that stupid little, cocky-ass grin appeared.

She hated that grin, hated it with every ounce of her being.

And she wouldn’t feel bad for it, no matter how much her sisters adored the guy.

She hated him, hated Cassian Nazari.

And she always would.

[snelbz]

Aisle Twenty-Two

A/N: A short fluffy Elorcan piece @tacmc and I wrote a few weeks back, based on the following tweet. Enjoy!

It had been a long day and to top it off, Elide was not looking forward to stopping at the grocery store. But she was out of milk, needed to buy cat food, and was almost out of wine.

If it weren’t for the wine, she would have waited until tomorrow, but that was the only thing that would keep her going for the rest of the week. If she had any hope of making it to Friday, she’d need to go tonight.

She was halfway down the chip aisle when she heard a familiar laugh that had her halting in place.

The sound alone had chills creeping down the back of her neck, her palms starting to sweat on the bar of the cart.

“Elide Lochan?”

That voice. She loathed that voice.

Ignore, ignore, ignore. Elide turned to the long shelf of bagged chips, looking as if her only thoughts were on the bags and the labels that covered them.

Chips.

The only decision she had to make was of chips.

“Hey, Elide?”

The voice grew closer and she grabbed the first bag she could get her hands on and moved her cart along, hurrying for the aisle that housed her favorite beverages.

She didn’t hear him approach until there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned and found blonde hair, the bluest of eyes and a dashing smile staring down at her.

“I thought that was you,” he said, that grin growing. “It’s been a while.”

Not nearly long enough, she thought, but forced an awkward smile. “Roland, hey. Sorry, I’ve got…a lot on my mind.”

There was nothing but horrible memories from her short relationship with Roland Haviliard. He was a pompous, stuck up prick. He was all about appearances and his reputation, which Elide had apparently not fit into.

And yet, the smile on his face told her otherwise. “You look great.”

“So do you.” The lie rolled off her tongue too easily.

“Shopping?” he asked, as Elide went to roll her cart off to the next aisle.

Are you kidding me? She wanted to say. Obviously, she was shopping. What else would she be doing in a grocery store?

“Have to eat,” she said, matter-of-factly. But then she added, “We have to eat.”

Roland blinked, obviously catching the hint she was dishing out. We. “You’re with someone?”

“Yeah,” she said, smoothly, hoping he didn’t notice the way her eyes flicked behind him, searching for someone, anyone. “He’s grabbing a few things for himself and meeting me before we check out.”

It was clear from the look in his eyes that Roland didn’t believe her. He glanced down at her cart.

Cat food, chips, ice cream.

The most quintessential single girl shopping list.

“I’ve been meaning to call you, but didn’t know if you had the same number,” he said, placing a hand on her cart, effectively keeping her where she stood. “Things kind of…went to shit for us. I hate how things ended.”

You mean, how you dumped me and then left me with the bill for our very expensive dinner, she thought, eyes narrowing slightly.

“No, new number,” she lied, smoothly. She’d had the same number since she was sixteen. “Lost all of my contacts, too.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied. “You could text me sometime.”

“I said I’m with someone, Roland,” she snapped, an edge to her tone.

Roland snorted. “Really, Elide? Come on, just let me have your number.”

Before she could say anything more, a tall, muscular figure rounded the corner. His shoulders were broad, his arms covered in tattoos. His shoulder-length hair was tied back, his jaw set hard as he pushed his cart through the aisle.

Elain lost all control of her impulsive decision making skills. “Babe! Hey, grab me a bottle of...that moscato, please?”

His dark eyebrows raised as he realized she was talking to him. Roland’s did as well, especially as he turned to see the hulking, mass of a man she’d spoken to.

The man’s dark eyes connected with hers and she tried to convey her panic and desperation in just a few seconds, with no words, before Roland turned back to her.

The smile that split the handsome man’s features was terrifying. She couldn’t tell if he was about to go along with her plan or rat her out, and she held her breath as he began to walk closer.

But then he grabbed the big bottle of white wine and she let out a quiet, relieved sigh.

“Here you go, babe,” he said, setting the bottle in her basket. She expected that to be that, and to be left to her own devices again, when the man surprised her by extending his hand towards Roland. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Lorcan.”

“Yeah, this is Lorcan,” Elide repeated, turning to Roland.

Roland looked back and forth between Lorcan and Elide before clearing his throat. “Hey, I’m Roland.”

“Roland and I used to be…friends,” Elide said, looking up at the handsome brute of a man.

He truly was handsome.

“We used to date,” Roland clarified, his words clipped.

The man - Lorcan, Elide amended in her head - sucked on a tooth and nodded. “I think used to are the operative words here, so if you’ll excuse us, we need to finish our grocery shopping so we can grab dinner.”

Elide could have sworn she saw Roland’s face change three shades, but compared to Lorcan, he was scrawny.

Lorcan turned to her and asked, “Ready, babe?”

“Definitely,” she sighed, and turned to Roland. “Nice to see you.”

She pushed her cart away and turned, walking down a few more aisles, before pausing and letting out a deep breath.

She heard another cart stop behind her and turned to find Lorcan there.

Her cheeks burned red. “I’m so sorry for roping you into that, but I needed an escape. He had me cornered and I couldn’t get away.”

“I get it,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “He looked like an asshole, anyway.”

“He is,” Elide said, before she could think better of it.

Lorcan chuckled. “That’s fair. Glad I could help. I’m Lorcan, by the way.”

“Elide,” she said, holding out her hand.

Lorcan shook it, that little, conniving smile remaining. “Wine is on me, by the way.”

“What?” Elide asked, brow raised.

“Moscato,” he said, nodding toward the bottle of white wine. “It’s on me.”

She blinked. “You…don’t have to do that.”

“What if I want to? I think you owe me,” he said, crossing her arms across his broad chest.

“I owe you so you want to buy me wine?” She asked, laughing quietly.

He shrugged. “I could buy you dinner instead. Since we just told your douchey ex we were getting dinner anyways.”

Elide was stunned into silence. “You want to buy me dinner?”

“Most people would call it a date,” he replied, smirking. The smirk faded. “Unless you have a boyfriend and we’re just looking for a momentary escape.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she replied, far too quickly, if the smirk returning to his handsome face was any indication.

“So, dinner then?” he asked, that grin remaining. “Or, just the wine?”

Elide nibbled on her lip.

This was insane. She had just met this man. She knew nothing about this man. This man, this random man, who was asking her to dinner.

This random, handsome man.

“How do I know that you’re not a serial killer?” Elide asked, at last.

Lorcan snorted. “You’re the one that came onto me, remember? How do I know that you’re not a serial killer?”

“I’m fairly sure you could overpower me if I tried to kill you,” she said, chuckling.

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, his eyebrows raising. Elide laughed, which made Lorcan smile.

“Dinner sounds nice,” she admitted, tucking her loose hair behind her ear.

“So it’s a date?” He asked, smirking down at her.

She smiled, feeling butterflies in her stomach for the first time in a long time. “It’s a date.”