#snacmc
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After Hours {Elriel Smut}
A/N: Tara and I have both been crazy busy this month, so we haven’t gotten to write as much as we’d like to have for @elrielmonth. This doesn’t go along with any of the specific weeks, but we can’t miss an opportunity to write about favorite babies. Enjoy.
NSFW. 18+ Only.
WC: 7244
Written with @theladyofdeath.
Azriel turned off the engine of his old, beat up Jeep and stared at the door of the bustling bar. As the clock on his dash neared 6:00, people all over Velaris were finishing up their workday and hoping for a little release.
Including himself, apparently.
It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to join his coworkers at the bar on the corner by their office, but it was the first time he’d accepted. Typically, the last thing he wanted to do at the end of the work day was socialize, but once Morrigan asked enough, she was hard to say no to. After a certain point, she no longer took no as an answer, which was how he found himself in the parking lot.
With a sigh, he hopped out of the car, having discarded his tie, releasing a few of his top buttons, and rolling up his dark sleeves.
His 9-to-5 wasn’t awful, but it sure as hell wasn’t how he planned to spend the rest of his life. He was amazing with anything and everything electronic, had been building and taking apart everything he could get his hands on from a young age. But working tech support had him asking Have you tried turning it off and back on again more times in one day than he ever thought he would have. It was a stepping stone to something bigger, something better. He just had to convince himself take that leap onto a bigger stone.
He could use a beer. Hell, he could use a shot. The bonus of his best friends working with him as well meant that both were likely sitting at the table waiting for him.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he pushed through the door of the dive bar. Looking around, he spotted Morrigan’s blonde head on the dance floor, but none of his other friends. He knew Cassian and Rhys would certainly be here, maybe Helion and Kallias if he were lucky, but—
“You actually came.”
He turned and found the real reason he’d finally relented and accepted the invitation standing in front of him. The reason why he hadn’t taken that leap to something bigger and better.
Elain Archeron was the epitome of feminine grace. Her pretty, pink dress didn’t seem like it belonged in the seedy bar, yet here she was, carrying what looked like a tray of—
“Is that Fireball?”
She laughed and shook her head. “It was Lucien’s idea and Cassian backed him up.” She pointed to one of the shot glasses up and looked at him. “And this one’s got your name on it.”
Azriel suppressed his smile as he said, “Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”
Elain gestured for him to follow her, which he did without any hesitation. She led him to a table in the back corner where a big group of them sat, hollering once they saw that Azriel had finally joined them for their Friday night outing.
“It’s about damn time,” Cassian said, scooting over so that Azriel could sit next to him. After she set the tray down on the table, Elain sat next to him. Her knee bumped his, which he fully noted.
“Blame Mor,” Azriel muttered, taking the shot that had his name on it from the tray. “She’s relentless.”
Across from them, Rhysand looked at Mor on the dance floor as she spun around with her arms spread wide. “Already drunk is what she is,” Rhys laughed and raised his shot glass. “Thank fuck it’s Friday,” he said, as a toast.
The others raised their glasses and clinked them against one another’s. Azriel downed his shot, loving the burn as it went down his throat. It didn’t burn as much as it used to, Fireball, but he liked the taste more than most.
He turned his head just in time to watch Elain’s head fall back, liquid disappearing from her shot class as her eyes lit up. She swallowed and set the glass on the table before turning to meet Azriel’s eye. Her cheeks burned.
He found it endearing, how she seemed to get embarrassed from doing something as simple as taking a shot. Although, the fact that she kept a straight face had Azriel surprised and impressed, and wondering just what else he did not know that Elain was capable of.
“Look at you,” she said, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin in her hand. “Out in the real world. I was starting to think you had a little bed hiding in that cubicle of yours and that you never left.”
Elain was the assistant to the office manager, so while he didn’t work with her as much as he’d like, he did see her in passing quite often. And, of course, when she or their boss’s computer decided to stop working.
It wasn’t his job, but whenever a pair of caramel eyes peeked over the top of his cubicle, he was powerless to tell her no. The issues he’d helped her with ranged from a piece of paper jammed in her printer to a mysterious virus that the boss had somehow downloaded.
He laughed, barely noticing their friends around them. “Not yet, but I might start keeping a sleeping bag under there, just in case.”
“Don’t do that,” she chuckled, shaking her head. Her hair, which she usually left down, loose and curled and pretty, had been piled on top of her head. Thanks to the heat of the bodies in the room, the short hairs at the nape of her neck had curled, and Azriel wanted to reach out and let one wrap around his finger.
Blinking, he realized how creepy that’d make him look and he cleared his throat.
The pitcher of beer was passed around and Azriel filled up his glass. As the hour passed on, he was surprised to find that he was enjoying himself. Most of that was due to the fact that Elain’s knee brushed his every few minutes. He swore that when it did, she would linger.
With three pitchers down, everyone went to the dance floor, all except Azriel and Elain, who remained seated. She shifted, and Azriel thought that she may want him to ask her to dance but dancing was so far out of his comfort zone that he asked something else entirely before she could take matters into her own hands.
“I’m going to step outside for a minute,” he said, words rushing from his mouth. “Care to join me?”
Elain looked around, sucking in her bottom lip as she noted each of their friends and coworkers out on the floor before turning back to Azriel and nodding. “Okay.”
They made their way through the busy bar together until they found the side door that led to the alley, rather than the packed patio around back. The second Azriel was outside, he pulled his cigarettes from a pocket and held them up. “Do you mind?”
Elain shook her head as the door closed behind her. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
Azriel hesitated, then laughed quietly as he searched his pocket for a lighter. “I guess we don’t know much about each other outside of the office.”
“I guess not,” Elain confirmed, watching as he patted all of his pockets. To his surprise, she opened the small clutch that was slung around her body and pulled out a lighter. She held it up and ignited a flame. “Need help?”
Azriel’s brows shot up but he said nothing as he put the cigarette between lips and leaned forward until it caught. In such a simple, short movement, they were close enough for him to smell the floral scent of her perfume.
Once she put it away and he took a long, peaceful drag, he asked, “What else do you have in there that will surprise me?”
The smile she gave him had him leaning against the opposite wall of the alley to keep him upright. “It’s not mine. I tend to be the carrier of everything no one wants to keep in their pockets while dancing. Thank Rhys.”
Azriel laughed, quietly. “Fair enough.”
“It’s nice, you know,” she said, and he tilted his head to the side, waiting. “Having you come out with us. I see Rhys and Cassian more than anyone else, thanks to Feyre and Nesta, but it’s nice to have you here with us.”
His throat was tight and it had nothing to do with the filthy habit he knew he needed to kick. He took another pull and blew the cloud of smoke away from her. The wind pulled it right back, and he cringed. “Sorry.”
“S’okay,” she said and shrugged her shoulder, leaning against the brick wall next to him. He was suddenly very aware of how dank and dirty the alley was and that she was in a very pretty dress. She didn’t belong out here, didn’t belong with him in his dark shirt and dark jeans and rebellious nose ring and tattoos. She was all that was good, while he was…not. But then she spoke and it caught him off guard. “What would you be doing, if you weren’t here?”
He blinked. He wasn’t sure where she’d been planning to take the conversation, but that surely wasn’t it. “In Velaris, you mean?”
Laughing, Elain looked up at the sky. The stars were phenomenal, even in this dingy alley. Her eyes were bright, taking in the beauty of the City of Starlight. She looked back at him and said, “I haven’t had nearly enough to drink to ask something that deep.”
“Then let’s get you another drink,” Azriel replied, dropping the remnant of the cigarette into a puddle of what he hoped was water, extinguishing it immediately.
“Wait,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. The slight touch rooted him in place. “What I meant is, if you weren’t out with us tonight, what would you be doing? What does a normal Friday night look like for Azriel Draeven?”
Azriel was so caught off guard by her touch that he huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He faced her fully, now aware of just how close he stood to her. She had to look up to keep her eyes locked with his.
“I don’t know,” he said, quietly. “Watch tv, play some video games, scroll on my phone.” He chuckled. “Have a drink and go to bed.”
Elain watched him for a moment, eyes bright. “That’s all?”
His eyes narrowed at her, trying to figure out if there was an underlying meaning to her question.
“What do you expect me to do at home?” He asked, well aware of the fact that her hand was still on his arm.
She shrugged again, an action that he usually thought was nonchalant, but from her, was just adorable. Looking up at him, she bit her lip. “Are those all things you usually do on your own or is there someone else you do it with?”
Her choice of words seemed to hit them both at the same time. Even in the watery light of the streetlamp at the end of the alley, Azriel could see the blush creeping up Elain’s cheeks and neck.
Choosing to ignore her unintended vernacular, he asked, “Are you asking if I have a girlfriend?”
“I guess I should learn to be more direct, huh,” Elain whispered, and Azriel’s grin spread.
He usually felt uncomfortable when he smiled but not around her. Around her, he felt worthy of smiling, of joy.
“No,” he said, at last. I’ve been waiting for someone, he nearly added, but didn’t. “And you? Anyone special?”
Elain’s hand finally fell from his arm as she shook her head. “No, no one. Not for a few months anyways.”
He nodded and took another step toward her as he asked, “Is there a reason for that?”
That crimson stain on her pale cheeks spread as she said, “Now it’s your turn to be direct, I think.”
Azriel was not known for being direct, for being outspoken. Out of all of the people in their friend group, Azriel was probably the most reserved.
He and Elain both.
Which is why he was grateful for the alcohol coursing through his body, liquid courage, as he asked, his voice low, “Can I kiss you?”
Elain’s breath hitched but she took a step closer, her palms lying flat against his chest, closing the space between them. Her eyes, bright and full of wonder, met his when she whispered, “Please.”
Azriel had had a long time to imagine what kissing Elain would be like. He’d imagined how her lips would feel, what she would taste like, how her hair would feel like silk as he threaded his fingers into it, cupping the back of her head. As he leaned down, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone, he knew his imagination would never stand a chance.
His lips met hers and he couldn’t have ignored the soft, sharp inhale as Elain gasped. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against him as her hands dove into his own hair. Without even realizing it, he’d backed her up until her back was pressed against the brick wall. He traced the seam of her lips, asking for entrance. She opened for him, but then nipped at his bottom lip.
When Azriel pulled back, her eyes were bright, full of life and joy and something else he couldn’t name.
“What were those things you like to do at home on a Friday night?” She breathed, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. He was having a hard time comprehending her words.
“TV, video games, and a drink,” he said, forehead resting against hers.
Elain caught her bottom lip between her teeth, looking down at their feet before meeting his eyes again. “And all of that, would you like to do it with me?”
He was well aware that she was aware of her words from earlier. Of the callback she was making.
Azriel laughed, quietly. “I would happily do anything with you.”
Elain pulled his face into hers, her hands knotted into his now disheveled hair. His body fell against hers, and every logical thought that was in his mind had vanished for good as his palms braced the wall behind her.
Now that he’d had even the simplest of tastes, he could not keep his mouth off of her.
He hoisted her up, her legs going around his waist as her dress hitched up her thighs, her back still resting against the brick. When his kisses trailed down her neck and she tilted her face towards the sky to give him better access, she breathed, “I can think of a couple places that would be much more comfortable to do this.”
Pulling back, Azriel looked down into her face. Breath coming quickly, he asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
“No, no,” she replied, shaking her head. “But we could…go back to my place. Or yours, whichever you’d prefer.”
He blinked and then that broad grin was back on his face. “You’re getting better about that whole direct thing.”
Elain could feel her cheeks heating but Azriel put her down. “My apartment is only a couple blocks from here.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over her mouth. “Want to get out of here?
Her lips parted and she gently took his thumb between her teeth. Everything inside of him went molten at the light sting of pain. He hadn’t been expecting it or the soft brush of her tongue that followed it.
“Let me get my purse,” she breathed, after he’d pulled his hand back. “And tell Feyre and Nesta I’m leaving.”
“Are you going to tell them we’re leaving together?” He asked. She looked up at him.
His hazel eyes had gone impossible dark, the ring of browns and golds and greens nearly swallowed up by the blown out pupil. Lust was written along every line of his body. He wanted to touch her, to feel her skin against his.
Swallowing, Elain asked, “Do you want me to tell them?”
Azriel didn’t hesitate as he nodded. Hell yeah, he did. He wanted them all to know.
Her eyes lit up. “Good.”
She disappeared from sight and once Azriel caught his breath, he was hurrying to his jeep. After tossing the few empty water bottles from his passenger seat into the back, along with the lighter he couldn’t find earlier, he was pulling around to the front of the bar, waiting.
A few minutes passed and he grew anxious, afraid he had done something wrong between the first kiss and now, but then she was walking out the front door and coming straight for him.
She opened the door and fell inside, giggling as she looked at him. “Are you okay to drive?”
He nodded and said, “Just a few beers, plus it’s a short drive.”
She buckled her seatbelt and when she looked back up, they were sharing breath. His hand slid into her hair as he softly kissed her, sweeter than any of the kisses they’d shared so far.
Pulling away, he took a deep breath as he put the car in gear and pulled out onto the main road. His right hand left the wheel and rested on the inside of Elain’s knee. Her focus and every nerve ending seemed to center on the slow circle his finger was drawing on the skin there. There was a rough patch on the tip of each finger, aside from the brutal scarring he often tried to hide. She’d felt them twice now, the first time as he cradled her face in his hands and kissed. She cleared her throat. “What are your calluses from?”
His eyes left the road for a split second, not even realizing his hand had moved up her thigh, incrementally. He was looking back ahead of him, but his thumb squeezed her thigh in time with the circling. “Guitar. I’ve played for nearly fifteen years.”
“Wow,” she breathed, fully turning to face him in the passenger seat. “I had no idea.”
“Seems there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he smirked, but added, “What’d your sisters say when you told them we were leaving together?”
Elain grinned as she turned towards the window. “Nesta’s exact words were, took you long enough. I won’t repeat Feyre’s. They were far too vulgar.”
Azriel was only intrigued more but before he could ask, Elain shifted and his hand slid further up her thigh. She leaned into it and suddenly, the five minute ride to his apartment was excruciating.
He could only imagine that her thoughts were running just as wild as his were. There were so many things he’d like to do to her, with her, but he tried not to get too ahead of himself.
She may want to take things slow, which he would if that’s what she wanted, without any complaints. Those thoughts, though, he couldn’t control.
Azriel pulled into his parking garage before finding a spot and putting his car in park. Once they were out they walked hand in hand into his building, up to his floor, and to his front door.
He had suddenly hoped it wasn’t too messy. Company was the last thing he had expected tonight, and he couldn’t remember exactly what it’d looked like when he stumbled out his door this morning, not having had his morning coffee.
Unlocking the door, he held it open for Elain, and braced himself as he flipped on the light. He wasn’t greeted by a mess, but there was the unmistakable sound of a bell chiming as it grew closer and closer. A sleek, smoky, grey cat poked its head around the corner and gave one mew! of excitement before prancing towards Azriel.
“You have a cat,” Elain beamed, bending down and holding a hand out for the creature to smell.
“This is Jeremy,” Azriel replied as the cat deemed Elain a friend and rubbed his head into her palm.
Her laughter was like windchimes on a spring morning. “Jeremy?”
“Yeah,” he replied, scratching at the back of his neck. “They asked me what I wanted to name and I sort of just blanked. So I went with Jeremy.”
Elain’s laughter was the cutest thing he’d ever heard. Tiny snort included.
Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth, blushing, and stood. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”
“You should be,” Azriel joked, scratching the cat behind his ears. “Jeremy doesn’t like to be laughed at.”
Elain’s laughter died down but it still laced her tone when she took a deep breath and said, smile blindingly brilliant, “I’m sorry, Jeremy. What other surprises am I going to find in here?”
Azriel gestured to the entryway they stood in - an open concept where they could see everything but his bedroom and bathroom down the hall. “Take a look around while I make you a drink?”
Elain’s grin softened as she nodded and began her waltz around the room. Azriel watched her tentatively while he walked behind the island and took two glasses from the cabinet, filling them each with whiskey - it was all he had.
Judging by how she handled Fireball, Azriel wasn’t worried.
When he looked up again, Elain was nowhere to be found but he came around the corner to find her near the start of the hallway, looking at his bookshelf that sat against the wall.
“Edgar Allan Poe fan?” Elain asked, fingers grazing a line of vintage collectors novels.
“A little bit,” he admitted, and was about to recite a cheesy quote when Elain started laughing quietly under her breath. She took a framed photo off the shelf of Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand in their sophomore year of high school.
“Who are these guys?” She asked, shaking her head. “You were such a cutie. I bet all the girls flocked to you.”
Azriel cringed as he handed her a glass, which she gladly took. “Yeah, I was more of a loner. Had my first girlfriend junior year and when it didn’t work out, there was just a long string of flings after that.”
“And is that still the case?” Elain asked, sipping from her glass. “Just flings?”
There it was again, that air of nonchalant that had Azriel wondering what she truly wanted to ask. He stared at her for a moment, her eyes lit with amusement, and Azriel decided that he liked Elain with a little bit of liquid courage running through her veins. They were far from drunk, but there was just enough for the playfulness to come out.
Azriel set his glass down on the bookshelf before stepping closer to her and leaning down to kiss her, slowly.
There was no rush. He wanted to take it slow, wanted to dwell in this moment with her.
His teeth bit into her lip, just hard enough for her to part her lips, allowing him to slant his mouth over hers. Elain’s tongue brushed along his and he had to fight the groan that overtook him as he shuddered. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers. Azriel obliged. Her glass was long gone and he pushed her back until she bumped into the shelf, books and knickknacks and picture frames rattling with the force. His hands we’re wrapping around her ass, the curves tempting him more than he could even fathom, and lifted her, setting her atop the ledge. All of him was lined up with all of her. Only denim and a few layers of cotton separated them and Elain moaned as he ground the growing evidence of his need into her.
Azriel pulled back slightly, just enough to breathe, “Is that what you want this to be? Just a fling?”
Her caramel eyes were wide, wild, and she shook her head. “Not if that’s not what you want it to be.”
“Once I get a taste of you, I’m not going to be able to stop,” Azriel whispered, dragging his nose along the long column of her neck. “I’m going to want to have you over and over again.”
A chill swept up her spine and when his lips found her collarbone, Elain let out a soft moan. “Then have a taste.”
Azriel cursed, words muffled by her skin beneath his lips. When he leaned back, Elain’s eyes were wild, her cheeks flushed, her chest quickly rising and falling. She meant it. She meant every word, he could tell as a lone finger trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt. She went to start unbuckling, but Azriel grabbed her wrists and pushed them back before falling to his knees before her. In acceptance, Elain spread her legs wider and then Azriel was hiking up the skirt of her dress.
She wore lilac lace panties that were already soaked. Before he pulled them slowly down her legs, he ran his thumb down her covered sex. The feeling of that alone had Elain gasping, scooting closer to the edge.
She was ready for him and Azriel loved the sight of it.
On his knees, he pulled down her thong and threw it aside without any care of where it would end up.
He traced her divide with a lone finger, letting it linger over her clit. He was gazing between her legs, staring. Elain felt the need to squirm, to make him look away, anywhere else. But that gaze was heavy and needy, like a starving man who’d been sat down in front of a feast.
“Beautiful.” His words were whisper soft and Elain could barely hear them over her own panting breaths. “The most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.” Her heart skipped a beat and her cheeks heated at his unexpected praise.
She’d never had anyone call her sex beautiful before.
His thumb took the place of his finger, circling her clit slowly. As Elain’s breathing hitched, higher and higher, he slowly, gently pushed a finger inside of her.
Tight and hot and wet.
He slid another finger in and Azriel groaned as she clenched around him.
Suddenly, his fingers were gone and she forgot all about the tender words he’d whispered before. She forgot her name, who she was, as he wound his arms under her legs and gripped her by the thighs and dove right the hell in.
Azriel’s tongue plunged into her and the moan that Elain released was the most erotic, beautiful noise he’d ever heard. He licked her up and down before he set to lapping at her clit and his fingers returned to sliding deep.
Azriel looked up at her through his thick, dark lashes, admiring her raw and unfiltered beauty. Her head was tossed back, her mouth wide open, her entire body rigid as she absentmindedly, gently rocked her hips up into his mouth.
His lips sucked her clit between them, working in time with his tongue, and Elain let out a curse so filthy that he almost paused, having no idea such words lived inside of her vocabulary.
When her knees began to shake around his head, his fingers dug into her ass, holding her in place. The little moans coming from her mouth intensified and those sounds alone were nearly enough for Azriel to get off. She breathed his name and gasped as her fingers dove into his thick, tangled hair.
She came, and Azriel kept going, kept working his fingers, his tongue, his mouth until those little moans stopped, until his name no longer fell from her lips.
When he looked up, he slowly pulled his fingers out of her sex and put them into his mouth, licking them clean. Elain, panting heavily, watched in awe.
“What now?” She asked, legs still spread, dress still hiked up, baring her to him. Pink and pretty and gleaming with the evidence of her release. She was so wet for him, had been soaked before he’d even put his hands on her.
“Now?” He asked, bracing his arms on either side of her, caging her in. Had he always been so much bigger than her? He was all around her, consuming her every thought. Everything she saw, tasted, smelled, it was all Azriel.
“Now that you’ve had a taste,” she asked, tilting her head up, aching for his kiss. “What’s next?”
The devilish smile was the only warning she had before she was suddenly upside down, tossing her over his shoulder. Her laughter broke the tension as he carried her down the hall and opened a door, his hand firmly planted on her ass.
And then she was being tossed onto his bed, the expanse of rumpled grey sheets and soft black blankets warm and welcoming. Her fingers toyed with the soft fabric as Azriel crawled onto the bed and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her knee and then farther up her thigh.
Instinct had her drawing both knees up, spreading her legs for him again. She hadn’t been expecting him to go down on her again, but she certainly wouldn’t complain about it. The orgasm had been earth shattering, one of the best she’d ever had. If he was this talented with his mouth, she couldn’t wait to see what he could do with other parts.
Those kisses trailed up, from one side to the other, and though he pressed one gentle, sweet kiss to her pussy, that was it. He didn’t stop to suck or bite or lick. Just the one kiss and then he’d continued on, kissing the top of her mound and each hip bone. His lips trailed higher, his hands pulling her dress up as well, until he gazed up at her as he reached her abdomen. “Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at the dress.
“Only if you take off yours as well.” She was panting, her voice needy.
Him. She needed him.
Azriel saw that as an even compromise. He pulled himself off the bed and unbuttoned his shirt before slipping it off and dropping it to the floor. Elain pushed herself up onto her elbows as she watched him unbuckle his belt and kick off his pants. In nothing but his underwear, where his need was on full display, Azriel climbed back up over Elain, slipping her dress up as he went until it was over her head. She laid before him in nothing but her bra and Azriel’s hands freely explored every bare inch.
“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he whispered, his body fitting snugly against hers as he leaned down to kiss her softly.
Elain swallowed, hands trailing down his back. “I feel like I’m dreaming right now.”
“Is that a good thing?” He asked, his breath warm against her lips.
She nodded, the tips of her fingers disappearing beneath the band of his boxer briefs. He pulled back, giving her room between their bodies.
Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as she slipped her hand in and palmed him. He was frozen, not daring to move as he watched her hand move, obscured by the fabric and then he felt her hand wrap around his length.
She squeezed once, her fingers not quite able to touch each other, and Az’s head dropped into the
crook of her neck. He swore, voice husky and deep and it had Elain arching up into him.
She started to stroke him, slowly, and his lips found her neck, sucking and biting, teasing and taunting each other in the most sinful way.
“I want to see you.” Elain’s voice was desperate, pleading.
He couldn’t have denied her anything at that moment.
Azriel rolled to the side, begrudgingly losing the silken touch of her hand on him. He lifted his hips and removed his boxer briefs, tossing them to the side. As he was about to climb over her again, a hand pressed to his chest and pushed him back on the bed. He willingly laid down, eyes on her face. But she wasn’t looking at him.
She was looking at his cock. Staring, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.
Azriel didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare disrupt what was going on inside of her mind. He held his breath, watching, waiting until she took hold of him and slowly pumped once and then twice before leaning down. When she licked the tip of his cock, her eyes finally met his.
The display before him put to shame every dream he’d ever had of this exact moment.
Her mouth slid over his head and down his hardened length until she took in as much of him as she could. With her tongue sliding freely against him, her head began to bob, her hands joining in, one fisting his cock and the other cradling his balls.
Azriel’s head fell back against his pillows, one hand gripping his sheets and the other weaving its way into her long hair.
Every time she went down, a quiet noise came from the back of Azriel’s throat. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t care, either. He wanted to know all the sounds she could make him make.
Letting her hand take over for her mouth, she looked up at him. “Is this okay?”
Okay? It was better than okay, it was phenomenal, probably of the best head he’d ever had.
How was she the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, even while she played with his cock?
“Amazing,” he breathed.
She smiled then, looking so cute and sexy all at once and everything he’d ever let himself dream of.
Azriel couldn’t stop himself as he hauled her up the length of his body and crashed his lips against hers. Pulling away for a frantic breath, he whispered, “I need to be inside of you.”
Elain sat up, straddling his hips, reaching between them. His hands rested on her hips and he looked up at her.
“I can wear a condom, if you want.” He didn’t mind. He was clean, rarely went without one. But with her…
He didn’t know why, but he wanted her raw. Wanted to feel everything as her orgasm slammed into her and that delicious pussy came around him.
She shook her head. “I’m on the pill.”
There was silence for a moment, but then Azriel swallowed. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeated, voice soft.
Rising up on her knees, she gripped him, leading him to her center. Positioning him at her entrance, she placed her hands on his chest and sank down.
Azriel cursed, soft and vicious, fingers digging into the soft curves of her hips.
For a moment, she did nothing. When she was seated snugly upon him, her eyelids fluttered shut and she breathed, evenly, adjusting to his size, his length, inside of her. Then she began to rock, slowly, palms laid out flat against the ink on his chest. She sucked in her bottom lip and Azriel couldn’t stop staring.
It was erotic, sure, but it was also beautiful, so beautiful that Azriel didn’t think anything or anyone else would ever even compare to this moment, this vision of Elain, completely bare, slowly riding him in complete and utter ecstasy.
His hands moved along with her hips, not guiding, she had that covered. He could hear their ragged breaths in the quiet and stillness of his bedroom.
She felt so incredibly good.
And then her eyes opened.
Eyes that were bright with pleasure and ecstasy and something else he couldn’t name, yet knew was written across his own face. Her hips rose suddenly, rather than rocking, and when she dropped back down, they both gasped.
“Does that feel good?” He asked, reaching up and cupping the back of her head in his hand.
Elain nodded, leaning down towards him, still so full of his cock that words were impossible. His mouth was on hers as soon as she was close enough and he wrapped one of his strong arms around her waist.
He released her lips and breathed, “Do it again.”
She didn’t sit all the way up this time, just enough to lift her hips, but did as she was told. Again and again and again, until she was clawing at his chest, a moaning, quivering mess, right on the edge of release.
The hand that was still woven into her hair tightened, pulling her mouth back down to his, and he snapped his hips up into hers. She cried out, the sound muffled by the savage kiss, and he thrust up into her again, eliciting the same reaction. Only two more hard, deep thrusts was all it took.
Elain shattered around him, crying out as she did so, her nails digging into his skin to keep herself grounded.
Azriel continued to thrust himself up inside of her, a little slower, a little gentler each time until she was nothing more than a quivering pool lying against his chest.
He gave her a moment to breathe, gave her a moment to piece herself back together before he pulled on those beautiful golden-brown locks until she met his gaze.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and she had no words but she nodded in perfect agreement.
He was still buried deep inside of her when she sat up and pulled on his hips, not wanting him to take himself out for even a second. Azriel rolled them over until he was on top and framed her face in his hands before he kissed her.
It wasn’t hot and hungry like it had been before, but slow and sensual.
He kissed her until her hands left his chest, started roaming over his body. Kissed her until her legs wrapped around his waist, begging for more without having to say a word. Grinding his hips into hers, pushing her into the bed.
Wrenching her mouth from his, Elain moaned and Azriel’s kisses continued on her neck, her throat. He kissed down to the valley of her breasts, still contained in her bra, and he slid his scarred hands beneath her and unclasped it. As he sat up, giving her room, Elain removed her bra straps one by and tossed it aside, both of them completely bare to the other at last, his hard, thick cock still inside her.
She could have sworn she felt him throbbing deep inside as his eyes took in her breasts, hands cupping each. His mouth covered one, tongue swirling around her rosy, pink nipple, and sucked as he palmed the other. His teeth bit down and Elain moaned his name, the word tumbling from her lips like a prayer.
It snapped whatever tether he had on his restraint.
Sitting up on his knees, Azriel gripped Elain by the hips, pulling nearly all the way out, and slammed back in.
Elain cried out, her back bowing off the bed, not in pain, but overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure.
He set an unrelenting pace, fucking her as hard and deep as he could, watching as she fell to pieces beneath him. Elain gripped her breast with one hand, her other circling her clit frantically.
“You close, baby?” He asked, lips right by her ear. His voice was lower and deeper than she’d ever heard it. The sound of it and the unexpected use of a pet name alone nearly threw her over the edge, starlight and fireworks and ecstasy shimmering around her vision.
She met his gaze and nodded, reaching for him. Azriel covered her body with his, his mouth slanting over hers. His thrusts were relentless, driving home hard and fast and deep, and Elain’s release slammed into her. She moaned, loud and slow, and Azriel fell over the edge right alongside her, pulling out and spilling himself on the creamy skin of her stomach.
Azriel’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head, his body fully rigid as he came. Elain watched, chest heaving, utterly in awe of the sight before her. He was beautiful, and for a moment Elain thought that it was strange to think so. She had never thought that men were beautiful, at least not in the sense she felt when she looked at Azriel, just then, after making love to her so perfectly.
He collapsed onto her body, careful not to crush her as rested his forehead in the crook of her neck, but rolled them onto their sides. The softest of touches brushed along her arm, along the column of her neck until she squirmed.
Azriel’s fingers froze as he chuckled. “Ticklish, too? Look at all the things I’m learning about you tonight.”
His voice remained low, rough, tired but carefree. She smiled as she started running her fingertips up and down his muscular back. “I’m not ticklish,” she muttered, but they both knew it was a total lie.
They laid in contentment, both of them with their hands on one another as they caught their breaths.
Then they heard a growling, grumbling noise, and Azriel pulled back to look at Elain.
She was blushing, looking like she wanted to melt into the mattress.
“Hungry?” he asked, grinning down at her.
“I didn't get dinner,” she admitted, biting her lip. “Sorry, that was so loud.”
“You let me get inside of you,” Azriel teased, burying his face in her neck, biting the sensitive skin there. “You’ll moan my name as you cum, tear at my back, but you get embarrassed when your stomach growls a little too loudly post sex?”
“It’s not lady-like,” she laughed, playfully pushing him away.
He did as she bade him, rolling away from her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He returned from the attached bathroom a minute later, a warm washcloth in his hand, still gloriously naked. Shamelessly, Elain watched as he approached, taking in every inch of sculpted muscle and inked skin. He smirked, not saying anything about her blatant ogling, but he hadn’t failed to notice the way her eyes caught on certain parts of his body, lingering just a longer than others. Azriel quietly cleaned her up, then tugged her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. As he leaned down to kiss her, her stomach made another room-deafening growl and she buried her face into his bare chest as he began to laugh. Grabbing a t-shirt from his dresser, he pressed a kiss to her head. “Let’s get you something to eat before you decide to eat me.”
Elain took his shirt, which swallowed her as she put it on. She left him standing in the middle of his bedroom as she paused in the doorway to the hallway and the kitchen beyond, looking back at him. “Oh don’t worry. I’ll do that again later.”
Without another word, she padded towards the kitchen on bare feet.
His eyes darkened as he watched her go, long, tan legs tempting him from beneath his t-shirt.
When he’d decided to go out with his friends after work, this was the last thing Azriel had ever expected to happen. He’d left his comfort zone, taking a chance on a night of fun rather than spending another night home alone.
As he followed her into the kitchen, picking her up and setting her on the counter to watch as he made his infamous microwaved ramen, he was sure as hell glad that he had.
#snelbz x the lady of death collab#elriel#elriel supremacy#elain archeron#elain x azriel#azriel#azriel x elain#pro elriel#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#elriel month#snacmc#snacmc collabs
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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.
#cc hoeab#cc#fanfic#fanfiction#sjm#hunt#bryce#quinlar#brunt#hunt athalar#bryce quinlan#the dilf series#snacmc
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Welcome to @snacmc.
After many, many requests for a side blog where we only post our stories, your wish has been granted.
This is blog run by @snelbz and @tacmc. All of our fanfics will be reblogged here, as well as a link to both of our masterlists.
As this is a side blog for both of us, please direct all asks and questions to one of our main blogs! We will not be checking asks or messages on here regularly!
Tara’s Masterlist
(aka @tacmc)
Shelby’s Masterlist
(aka @snelbz)
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When We Were Young {Masterlist}
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.
A @snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Chapter One - Then
Chapter Two - Now
Chapter Three - Then
Chapter Four - Now
Chapter Five - Then
Chapter Six - Now
Chapter Seven - Then
Chapter Eight - Now
Chapter Nine - Then
Chapter Ten - Now
#house of earth and bone#house of sky and breath#quinlar#bryce quinlan#hunt athalar#bryce x hunt#hunt x bryce#hoeab#hosab#crescent city#cc hoeab#cc hosab#snacmc#snacmc collabs#snacmc wwyw#when we were young#snelbz x the lady of death collab
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Every Other Weekend {9}
Summary: Rowan was just looking for a night of fun after his divorce. Aelin was looking for one last reckless moment before selling her soul to her everyday grind of 9-5. Neither had any idea of just how much one night could change somebody’s life.
Warnings: Mature content throughout. Language, sex, drinking, etc. Explicitly NSFW will be labelled at the beginning of chapters containing NSFW content.
A collab with @theladyofdeath
TW: Trauma, death, grief.
It had taken nearly an hour for Oliver to settle after Rowan had left with Maeve. Aelin explained to him as best she could that his mommy was okay, she just needed help getting home. It was so much worse than that, but she didn’t let herself think about that, not as she tucked him back into bed, staying with him until his breathing evened out. She cracked his door and tiptoed back downstairs, retrieving her phone from the bedroom. With a sigh, she saw that Rowan’s own phone was still on his nightstand, forgotten there as he was leaving with Maeve.
It was almost three in the morning as she made her way back out into the living room, the sparkling tree in the corner shining in multicolored hues. Peeking out the window, she saw that the snow had begun to pile up. If it kept up through the following day, Aelin knew there was a good chance she’d be out of school on Monday. She silently urged it to keep snowing, wanting nothing more than a day to be snowed in with her boys.
Curling up on the couch with a blanket, Aelin turned the television on, turning on a movie and aimlessly scrolling through her social media pages.
Before she knew it, she awoke with a jolt, not having realized she dozed off. Aelin sat up, looking around the house. “Rowan?”
She didn’t hear an answer, but she got up regardless and headed into the bedroom. The bed was empty, the sheets exactly how’d they’d been left when Maeve had interrupted the most amazing orgasm Aelin had had in a while.
But that was the last thing on her mind currently.
Rushing to the bathroom, she flipped on the light switch, finding the room empty as well.
Panic began to build as Aelin glimpsed the clock and saw that it was fifteen minutes until five.
Rowan should have been back a long time ago.
With a curse, Aelin began to pace the floor.
It wasn’t that she was worried about his devotion tonher. She wasn’t worried about cheating, wasn’t worried about him making a move on Maeve. She was however worried about the snow, worried about the slick roads, worried about the chaos that could occur when a winter storm hit. She was worried about his anger, worried about his mindset when he had a left, when he had begun to drive her home. She did not know a lot about their past relationship, but she knew Rowan. She knew that he felt with his whole heart and nothing more. With Oliver asleep, she was left to drown in her thoughts alone.
Half an hour passed, then another.
She called Lorcan.
Four rings passed before he answered, and when he did, his voice was sleepy. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Aelin. I’m sorry to bother you, but… Rowan took Maeve home and hasn’t come back,” She said, without a breath. “I’m getting worried.”
She heard a soft voice in the background and Lorcan murmured, “No, I’ll be right back,” before he addressed Aelin again. “Let me guess. She was drunk off her ass?”
Aelin nodded and then remembered she actually needed to respond for him to hear her. “Yeah, she had passed out before they even left.” She gnawed on her lip. “He forgot his phone here. I’m worried.”
“If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a hundred times. He needs to get a restraining order for her on the house.” He sighed and added, “I’ve got a buddy on patrol in that area tonight. I’ll have him stop by and make sure everything is okay.”
“Thank you, Lorcan,” she replied, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Where is Oliver?” He asked, and his voice had taken on a slightly panicked tone.
“He’s here, with me. Sound asleep in his bed.”
“Good. Good.” It was quiet for a second. “Give me a few minutes, Aelin. I’ll call you back after I talk to the officer in that area.”
They hung up and Aelin sat back down on the couch. There was no going back to sleep, not until she knew Rowan was okay, not until he was safe and sound next to her.
She waited for Lorcan to call her back in the dead silence. As the time passed, Aelin meandered back into Rowan’s bedroom.
She sat on the bed and wondered about the horror that was going on.
Rowan had acted like it wasn’t a big deal, like it had happened a hundred times before. She knew Rowan was the kind of man that would take a woman home that couldn’t drive herself. She loved him for that but it didn’t make it any easier.
When Aelin was drifting away, her phone finally vibrated.
“Hello?” She answered.
“Aelin,” Lorcan responded, and his voice was broken.
It instantly had Aelin sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
There was a beat of silence. “There… I need you to meet me at the hospital.”
No.
“What happened?” She was up, shoving her feet into the first pair of shoes she found.
Another heavy silence and Aelin could have sworn she heard the man on the other sniffling. As if he were…crying.
“Lorcan, what happened?” Aelin pushed, hurrying through the living room, heading for her purse by the door.
He said, “He’s- There was an accident.”
Aelin froze. She was instantly transported back to another place, another time, but a sinking feeling all the same. “Is he dead?”
Her voice sounded hollow, far away.
“No, thank the gods,” he breathed and Aelin heard genuine relief there, though it was still edged in fear. “He’s in surgery. He’s…in bad shape.”
She continued the path to her purse but froze at the door. “Ollie. Lorcan, I can’t leave Ollie.”
“Elide is on the way there, she should be there any minute.”
Aelin nodded and continued to hold the phone up to her ear, although she didn’t say anything. Neither did Lorcan, although his shaky breaths continued to come through the line. He stayed with her, though, on the phone in the silence until Aelin saw Elide’s car pull into the snowy driveway. She kept it running and hurried up the front porch steps.
“She’s here,” Aelin said, quietly. “See you soon.”
They said their goodbyes as Aelin opened the door. Elide had been crying, her eyes were red, and Aelin hadn’t even realized that she had been crying until Elide pulled her into a tight hug.
“Take my car,” she said. “It’s already warm and my tires are new.”
Aelin didn’t protest. She told her new friend thank you before getting behind the wheel and slowly driving the two miles in the snow storm to the hospital. When she arrived, Lorcan was waiting for her just inside the door.
They walked through the halls together and Lorcan filled her in on what he had been told. Once the ambulances arrived on the scene, they rushed Rowan and Maeve to the emergency room and they were both quickly rushed into surgery. Lorcan didn’t know a lot about Maeve’s current condition, but he knew Rowan was fighting for his life.
Rowan hadn’t been the one to lose control of the car, but a truck had been coming the opposite direction. The truck hit a slick spot and hit Maeve’s car head on. Rowan had suffered a shattered brow bone that left him with not only unbearable pain, Aelin was certain, but a concussion. His shoulder was broken, too, according to the doctor Lorcan had spoken with, but they weren’t too worried about that. Broken bones would heal with time.
He was currently undergoing surgery for the bleeding in his brain.
“They won’t know the severity of how it will affect him until he wakes up, but if the surgery is successful, the doctor said he would hopefully be waking up soon after.”
“And if it’s not successful?” Aelin had asked.
Lorcan didn’t answer, but his grim expression was enough.
And so they sat in silence in the waiting room. At one point, Lorcan left without saying much, returning a few moments later with coffee from the hospital cafeteria. When Aelin softly began to cry, Lorcan put a comforting arm around her. There was nothing romantic in the gesture, just two people sharing strength in the face of a devastating tragedy.
A doctor in a pair of dark scrubs, mask still over his face, stepped out into the waiting area and Aelin’s entire body filled with dread as his eyes searched the room, landing on them.
“Stay here,” Lorcan whispered and stood, crossing the room and pausing in front of the man.
They spoke in hushed tones, the doctor nodding his head as he responded to Lorcan’s questions. After a few moments, Lorcan shook the man’s hand and he went back through the swinging double doors behind them.
Yet Lorcan didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the closed door, as if he could see all the way to wherever Rowan was. She heard him clear his throat before he headed across the room back to her.
His face was unreadable, wearing the mask of the officer who had to give and receive bad news all day long. She opened her mouth to try and speak, but found her voice was gone.
Sitting down, Lorcan finally said, “Rowan is still in surgery. They were able to relieve the pressure on his brain and staunch the bleeding. They’re finishing up the procedure now and he’ll be moving to a recovery room shortly.”
A whoosh of air left Aelin. “Thank god.” She looked at him then and noticed Lorcan was still tense, still had the haunted look in his eye he was trying so hard to hide. “What’s wrong? I thought that was good news.”
“It is, he’s…he’s going to be fine,” Lorcan said, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “Maeve’s injuries were too severe. They did everything they could, but…she’s gone, Aelin.”
Aelin blinked. “She’s…dead?”
Lorcan nodded.
“Oh, gods,” she breathed, tears welling in her eyes.
They never would have been in this situation, she and Rowan would have been in bed asleep right now, had Maeve not shown up drunk on the front porch. Rowan would have never had to take her home. All of this was a product of what Maeve had done.
Yet Aelin couldn't stop the tears as they ran down her face.
Her own feelings of Maeve aside, the anger and resentment she had towards the woman, she had been a mother. Oliver had loved her as a son should love his mother. She prayed that his memory of the night before would be forgotten, that he was too tired to absorb the situation. That was not the way that a child should remember his mother for the last time.
Aelin had lost her mom. Oliver was too young to bear such pain.
She’d also lost her dad, too. She lost them both, in the same way Ollie had almost his. But by the grace of the gods, Rowan was going to be okay.
Lorcan remained silent, staring at his hands in his lap. She knew he was having all the same thoughts, there was no need to voice them.
So they sat, and they waited, and when Aelin felt like she was going to explode from the way that time was moving agonizingly slow, she stood and paced around the waiting room. Lorcan went to refill his coffee twice, talking to Elide as he came back the second time. He hung up when he reached Aelin, who was now leaning against one of the far walls.
“Oliver’s awake, eating breakfast,” he said, quietly. “Wondered where you two were this morning.”
“What did Elide tell him?” Aelin asked.
“The truth,” Lorcan admitted, sighing. “Although, she didn’t get into how bad it really is. Just let him know that Ro is here, and a doctor is helping him feel better.”
Aelin frowned, wondering if Oliver had asked about Maeve at all, wondered if he remembered that she had been present the night before. If not, that was a blessing in itself.
It was a little after nine when the same doctor as before appeared and began walking towards where the pair was waiting. As he did so, Aelin swore she wasn’t breathing.
“He’s out of surgery and has been put in a recovery room,” he explained, gently. “He’s still asleep, but all of his vitals are exactly where they should be.”
Aelin let out a breath and a sob all at once, and Lorcan’s hand reached for hers to give her balance.
“You may go see him now,” the doctor continued. “If you’re ready, I’ll show you to his room.”
Aelin was moving before he finished his sentence.
He paused before a closed door, explaining to them what they were about to see.
It still didn’t prepare Aelin as he quietly pushed the door open and let them inside.
The soft sob that tore from her was as much as she allowed as she looked at Rowan lying in the hospital bed. She was thankful for Lorcan’s hand still in hers, because she was fairly certain she would have fallen to her knees if he weren’t there beside her.
There was little of the handsome face she loved visible beneath the bruising, stitches, and swelling. He was nearly unrecognizable, a bandage wrapping around his head and down over his left eye.
The doctor excused himself and Aelin slowly walked in and sat in a chair by the window, afraid to get too close. She hadn’t been in a hospital in years, and the last time she had still haunted her, just as she knew this experience would.
Lorcan walked to the foot of the bed, though, and crossed his arms.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and swallowed before walking around to Rowan’s side. He took Rowan’s limp hand in his and stood there for a moment before gently laying it back down on top of Rowan’s abdomen. “Will you, uh, keep me posted? If anything changes, I’ll come right back. I’m gonna go see Oliver and El.”
Aelin nodded. “Of course.”
Lorcan watched Rowan for another minute before patting Aelin on the shoulder and leaving.
When it was just the two of them, the monitor beeping in the background, Aelin got the courage to move her chair to his bedside.
As she took his hand in hers, Aelin suppressed the urge to cry again. She knew they were far from being the last tears she cried over everything happening.
“I doubt you can hear me,” she breathed, rubbing her thumb back and forth along the back of his hand. “But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Ollie is-.” Her voice broke as she imagined the news Lorcan and Elide were going to have to break to Oliver. Selfishly, she was glad she wasn’t the one to tell him about Maeve’s death.
In the back of her mind, she wondered who would be the one to tell Cairn, then she realized she had too much else to worry about. He wasn’t her concern.
“You’re going to be fine,” she whispered, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince his unconscious form or herself. With shaking fingers, she reached out and skimmed her fingers along his cheekbone. It was bruised, like every other part of him. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us, but I’ll be there all the way. I love you.”
She was crying again, but she knew there was no shame in her tears. The more she thought about it, about how close she came to losing Rowan, her sobs grew heavier and heavier until her face was buried in the mattress next to his sleeping body.
She must have fallen asleep there, because the next thing she knew, her shoulder was being shaken gently and she was up on her feet.
The nurse held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just need to check his blood pressure and other vitals.”
Trying to calm her racing heart, she nodded and moved back to a chair by the window. The nurse moved around his bed, checking charts and monitors, adjusting his IV’s and dosing out more new medicine.
Aelin realized the nurse was talking to her just in time to have no idea what she’d said. She shook her head, trying to clear it, to make room for some clarity in her jumbled mess of thoughts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
She smiled softly. “I said that my name was Sorscha, and if you need anything, to ask for me personally. I’ll be sending a cot up so you have somewhere to sleep if you need it.”
The gratitude Aelin felt was nearly overwhelming. “Thank you, I-.” She swallowed roughly. “Thank you.”
Sorscha gave her another smile and was gone.
Aelin looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearing three in the afternoon.
She realized she’d never called Lysandra or Aedion, or even Principal Spindlehead, to let them know what was going on.
She did that as she waited, calling them all one by one. First Principal Spindlehead, then Aedion, and lastly Lysandra, who talked with her for half an hour and listened as she sobbed. Lastly, she called Lorcan, just to check in. It was almost four by the time Aelin finished making her calls. She took a seat next to Rowan, yet again, and took his hand in hers. She leaned down and pressed her lips softly to the back of his hand, then to each of his fingers.
“Aelin.”
It was hardly a whisper and for a moment, Aelin just thought she was sleep deprived and imagined it.
When she looked up, though, she met Rowan’s tired gaze through his one swollen eye.
Aelin’s hand went over her mouth and she sobbed. He watched her, his breathing still shallow but even.
“Ro,” she cried, and kissed his hand again and again. His fingers tightened around hers.
“I heard you,” he whispered. “I love you, too.”
She hurriedly pressed the button to alert Sorscha that he had woken, but she didn’t take her eyes off of him. After helping him to a few sips of water, she was holding his hand once again.
“What happened?” He asked, voice still quiet, scratchy, as if every word hurt.
“You don’t remember?” She asked, brushing his hair off his forehead.
For a moment, he didn’t reply but then she saw the recognition in his eye.
“Maeve?” He asked.
Aelin swallowed hard as she shook her head.
A thousand emotions rushed through Rowan’s eye, and Aelin reached up to gently brush away the tear that had fallen down his cheek.
“Is Ollie-?” He frantically tried to look around the room.
“He’s at home,” Aelin said, bringing his gaze back to her. “Lorcan and Elide are with him.”
His next words were heavier. “Does he know?”
She closed her eyes against the tears threatening to spill over again. “Elide told him what happened when he woke up this morning and we weren’t there.” She paused to collect herself and her eyes dropped to their joined hands. “Lorcan was going to tell him about Maeve when he got to the house.”
Rowan’s lips pressed firmly together as he closed his eyes. “I want to see him.”
Aelin was about to tell him that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, but before she could, Sorscha came in.
“Glad to see you awake,” she said, smiling in way of greeting. “I’m just going to do a quick check up then I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Rowan didn’t say anything as she checked his vitals and when she was done, he answered her questions as plainly as possible.
It was still another full day before Rowan was able to have any more visitors. He still was battered and bruised, but he thankfully looked more normal than he had when Aelin had first seen him by the time a soft knock sounded on his door just before dinner time. Rowan looked towards the door as Aelin hurried to the door and slipped out.
She was met with Lorcan, Elide, and a teary-eyed Oliver. Before she could stop herself, Aelin dropped to her knees and wrapped him up. His tiny arms wrapped around her and she felt him bury his face in her neck.
After a minute, he pulled away, those dark eyes full of tears, he asked, “Is my daddy okay?”
Aelin gave him a sad smile. “He’s okay, buddy. He’s hurt pretty bad, so we have to be careful with him, but he’ll be okay.”
Oliver sniffled and nodded as Aelin opened the door and carried him inside. The second they walked in, Rowan was smiling.
“Hey, buddy.”
Aelin set him on the floor but Oliver moved toward the bed hesitantly, looking around at the machines that were beeping around Rowan.
“It’s okay,” Rowan said, softly, and held out his hand.
Another tear slid down Oliver’s cheek as he approached the bed and hugged his father. Rowan softly rubbed his back, even though Aelin could tell every movement hurt him.
The sight broke Aelin’s heart and she could hardly bear watching it, but she did nonetheless. Elide and Lorcan stood just inside the doorway, his arm around her.
Oliver cried about his mom, and Rowan had told him that it was okay to be sad, to miss her. He walked Oliver through all of his injuries, and told him how long each of them would take to heal. As time went on, Oliver’s tears dried and he eventually fell asleep on the bed next to Rowan. Neither of them had the heart to move him, not when he needed strength only his father could give him.
It wasn’t much longer that Lorcan and Elide left, the latter having brought Aelin a bag of clothes and toiletries. She thanked her and hugged both she and Lorcan, not expecting the bond that had formed between herself and Rowan’s stoic best friend. They’d been through hell together that night though, had been each other’s support system as they both waited.
And then it was just Aelin and Rowan, Oliver still out cold tucked against his father’s side. Neither of them knew what to say, neither of them knew what to do.
But nonetheless, Aelin took Rowan’s free hand, careful of the IV taped to the back, and pressed a kiss to it.
The next few months would be hard, there was no doubt about that. Rowan had a long road to recovery and Oliver had a grieving process he’d have to go down, and they’d help him every step of the way.
They didn’t know what the future might hold, but they were certain of one thing.
They would have each other.
#every other weekend#rowaelin eow#rowan x aelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin galythinius#snacmc#snacmc eow#snacmc every other weekend#snacmc collabs#throne of glass
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When We Were Young {4}
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 @theladyofdeath
NOW.
Hunt hadn’t slept at all the night before. Baxian’s apartment in the city was as nice as the one he kept in the Eternal City, the bed just as plush and comfortable as the one in his spare room that he’d slept in hundreds of times there.
Usually his sleepless nights were thanks to the shit he’d seen in the conflict in Pangera, of the months he’d spent captive in rebel camps. His therapist was helping him work through that though, helping teach him ways to breathe through the memories that were so real they threatened to swallow him whole.
No, last night, he had been wide awake for an altogether different reason.
He’d been sitting in Baxian’s living room, watching the pregame for a sunball game when his phone rang. Snatching it off the coffee table, he looked at the screen, the name Bryce Quinlan lighting up the screen.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever had her saved in his phone with just her first and last name. It had always been some joke between them, which more often than not had ended up getting him in trouble when Micah picked his phone up by mistake.
“Bryce Sucks My Dick Like A Champ wants to know what time you’re picking her up for dinner,” he’d said with a sneer the first time it happened.
Hunt had been mortified.
It certainly wasn’t the last time it happened and it wasn’t even the worst thing she’d saved her contact name as in the two and a half years they were together.
He was about to answer when he started to panic slightly. Did he answer and immediately let her know that he knew it was her? Should he go full professional and answer like he had in the Army? Nonchalant and cool?
Why the fuck was he overthinking this? It was a phone call with…with his baby mama.
Hunt hated that thought. Clearing his throat, he answered, “This is Athalar.”
Her responding snort as she heard what he said told him he’d picked wrong when it came to the greeting.
“Hey, Athalar,” she said, breathless. “Quinlan here.”
His cheeks burned. He felt like a dumbass. Why hadn’t he just answered with a natural Hello? and called it good.
Because he was a dumbass.
He cleared his throat again, trying to ignore the thrill hearing her voice did to him. “Hey.”
It had been nearly a week since Hunt had come back to town and he still hadn’t seen Lennox. She had previous engagements, Bryce had said, when she’d called him last week to let him know she was bringing the situation up to her at dinner that night.
Hunt didn’t know what they were, wasn’t sure if it was school or sports or some sort of extracurricular activity. All he knew is that he was ready to see his daughter. After years of pictures and videos, of occasional stilted phone calls and presents awkwardly shipped at the holidays, he was ready to finally meet the daughter he’d never expected.
“Busy tomorrow?” She asked, cutting straight to the point. Hunt shot to his feet and he wasn’t sure why.
“No,” he replied. “Are you…busy?”
That snort again. It was like he had forgotten how to talk to her, how to talk to anyone. He supposed after nearly a decade in the military he had forgotten how to do a lot of things.
“I’m taking Lennox to the zoo,” Bryce replied, nonchalantly. “I’d-.” She cleared her throat. “We’d like for you to join us.”
“Of course, yes, absolutely.” He didn’t care that he had sounded too eager, not when his daughter was involved.
She gave him the time and that had been that. The conversation hadn’t lasted even two minutes.
Now, even though he was dragging, he filled up his coffee cup and changed his clothes three times after nearly having a panic attack in the shower.
Would she even care that he was going? She had done just fine with one parent for eight years. Their relationship was about to forever change.
Hunt just prayed it would be for the better.
After settling on a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, he grabbed his wallet and keys and was out the door.
He remembered where the Crescent City Zoo was, even though he hadn’t been there since before he’d joined the Army. It occupied the eastern most point of the city, in Moonwood, and was home to some of the most beautiful and carefully cared for creatures in the world. He hadn’t accounted for traffic across the city and was almost ten minutes late by the time he pulled his rental car into the parking spot, slamming it into park and hopping out before the engine had even quieted.
He swiped the ball cap he’d tossed onto the dash, putting it on and hurried towards the main entrance. Bryce had texted him a few minutes before, letting him know they’d gone ahead and would be waiting for him at the info center. He bought his ticket and found a map just inside, and after locating the info center, walked to them as calmly as he could.
He spotted Bryce’s vibrant hair as soon as the building was in sight. It was tied up in a high ponytail, still as long as he’d remembered. Longer even. He paused, watching as she crouched by a bench, pulling out a water bottle and drinking deeply. He tried not to stare, but seeing Bryce, after all this time…
She was still just as beautiful as she’d been the day he left. She was captivating, that glorious smile and those bright eyes that sparkled.
He felt eyes on him though, and looked away from Bryce to find a near identical set watching him.
Hunt had been about to approach, but he froze as he took in Lennox, at the same time she looked at him.
She had gotten so big. He’d seen her a handful of times in person when he was able to visit for a weekend here and there, but it had been a while and she had grown more than a couple feet since the last time he had taken her into his arms.
He was worried of how she would react, worried of how this first interaction between the two of them would go, but when that realization finally lit up her eyes, Lennox was giving him a gap-toothed grin. “Dad!”
That single word had him hauling his ass into motion. He took a few steps her way but she was already sprinting towards him and throwing her little arms around his neck. He picked her up and swung her around, holding on tight. He breathed into her hair, “Hey, kiddo.”
“Hi, dad,” she said, voice muffled in his shirt.
“You’re getting so big,” he said, looking down at her.
When he set her feet back on the pavement, that smile remained. Hunt wanted to say something more, but no words came to mind and he hoped it wasn’t awkward. The only kids Hunt had been around in years were the refugees he was escorting out of the war zone.
“Hey.”
Hunt’s eyes snapped up at the voice from behind him, and he turned, connecting with Bryce’s as she approached them, adjusting the backpack on her back.
“Hey,” Hunt replied, letting loose a breath.
They stared at one another and Lennox, in between them, was looking back and forth between her parents. “Can we go now?”
Bryce’s eyes darted to her daughter and for a second she looked shaken up. “Sure. Yes.” She chuckled. “Lead the way, babe. It’s been a while since your dad has been here, I’m sure, and you know this place better than anyone. Be the leader.”
“Can I have my book?” She asked, reaching an arm out toward Bryce. She turned, allowing Lennox to reach up on her tiptoes and grab a large pad and a small silver box out of the backpack. She re-zipped it and turned to Hunt. “Do you want to see the giraffes first or the bears?”
Hunt considered for a second and said, “Bears.”
Grinning, Lennox started down the path behind the info center, letting her parents trail behind her. They walked in comfortable silence as Lennox expertly navigated the park.
Trying to work up the courage to say something, Hunt kept glancing over at where Bryce walked beside him. She caught him and smiled as his cheeks heated.
She looked back toward where Lennox had found a bench overlooking the bear enclosure and said, “You look good.” She made no move to follow their daughter, instead pausing beneath a small awning far enough away to grant her a bit of privacy, but still close enough that they knew she was safe.
Releasing a breath, he watched as Lennox sat cross legged on the bench, opened the pad on her lap, and started sketching. He pulled the hat off, smoothing those stray hairs that never quite stayed in place back and putting it back on. When he looked over at Bryce, her eyes were on that backwards hat. “Thanks,” he said, drawing her attention back to his face. He gestured towards Lennox. “So she likes to draw, huh?”
Bryce let out a mirthful laugh. “Draw, paint, color. You name it, she loves it. She’s pretty good, too.”
“Wow,” Hunt whispered, watching Lennox study the animals before her. “I never knew.” He felt a pang of guilt, but he quickly pushed it away. He could go on and on and on about everything he felt guilty for, everything he had missed while he was in the Army. It wouldn’t do any good, though. He had signed his life away at eighteen and if he hadn’t gone, there would have been Hel to pay. He went, he did his duty, and now he was back. All he could focus on now was the present.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” There was nothing hard in Bryce’s voice, it remained light. She was simply stating a fact. When Hunt looked back her way, she was watching him. “You’ll have the time to get to know them all now. You’ll be able to get to know her, Hunt.”
He nodded and went back to watching Lennox. He was talking to Bryce, though, when he said, “How have you been?”
There was a pause. “Good. Busy. Had the day off, though. Doesn’t happen often. Usually I just have Sundays off.”
“You work Saturdays?” Hunt asked.
“Most of them, but only in the mornings. Sometimes Nox goes with me, sometimes she hangs out with Ruhn, sometimes my mom and Randal, when they’re in town.”
“How are they?” Hunt asked. “Your parents.”
“Oh, good,” Bryce said, laughing quietly. “I talked to them last night. Told them you were back in town.”
Hunt was about to ask how that conversation had gone, but he felt that he didn’t have the right to. Instead, he asked, “Ruhn didn’t want to come today?”
Bryce looked up at him with raised brows. “Want to spend quality time with my brother, do you?”
Hunt couldn’t help but grin. “Ten bucks says you didn’t even tell him that I was meeting you two here today.”
Bryce scoffed. “I did, actually.” And when Hunt’s grin grew, she added, “He had a lot to say about it.”
“I’m sure,” Hunt grumbled. “Can’t say I blame him, though.”
She grew contemplative and she shrugged. “There’s a lot that Ruhn doesn't know about us, or anyone else for that matter.” She crossed one of those long, lean legs over a knee. The leggings she wore did wonderful things to highlight them. And her ass. He wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t noticed. Cause he had. And it looked great, too.
He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant, but also having no clue what life was like for her for the past eight years. “We should…talk about that at some point.” As she looked over at him, eyebrow raised in question, he clarified, “Us, Quinlan. We should talk about us.”
“Us?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. “I didn’t realize there was an us.”
Her tone was light, but she was right. There wasn’t, hadn’t been since she broke his heart over eight years ago. Still, there was enough defense in her words that he asked, “You aren’t seeing anyone, right?”
She didn’t say anything at first and a pit began to grow in Hunt’s stomach. Just because she lived with Danaan didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend. Single mom or not, Bryce was perfect in every way. There was bound to be someone out there who didn’t mind helping raise the kid he hadn’t been there for.
After pursing her lips, Bryce finally put him out of his misery. “No, I’m not. I haven’t had a serious boyfriend in…a long time.”
Holstrom, no doubt, he thought and then immediately chastised himself for it. He wouldn’t speak ill of the man, no matter how he’d felt about the man.
“I see,” Hunt said, then felt like it was a ridiculous thing to say. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know why he had asked in the first place, but he had to know.
“But just because I haven’t had a serious relationship in a long time, Hunt, doesn’t mean that we-.”
“I just want to catch up,” Hunt said, turning to face her. “I want to be involved and to do that I feel like there needs to be…” He wanted to say closure, but that seemed too final. “We should talk it all out first, you know? I don’t want there to be any bad blood or anything.”
“There’s no bad blood,” Bryce said, but she was no longer looking at him.
“Bryce,” he began, voice low. “I’m not asking for anything except a civil conversation. A lot has happened that we’ve never talked about. I plan on being around. A lot. I meant it when I said I was here to stay. We need to recreate our foundation. Please.”
With a weary sigh, Bryce met Hunt’s eyes, once again. “On Friday, Nox has a sleepover with a friend. Why don’t you come over for dinner? I’ll make sure Ruhn is out for a couple hours. We can…talk.”
He didn’t want to wait until Friday. He wanted to hash it all out right now, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t bring any of it up, not today. Today would be a joyful occasion. It was all about Lennox. He didn’t want any tears being shed today.
“I’ll plan on it, then,” he said, and he realized during some part of their conversation that he had taken a step closer to her.
Quick footsteps hurried over to them and they looked up to find Lennox approaching. She pointed at a sign behind them they’d overlooked when they had started talking. “They have a new exhibit on otters.”
Bryce’s eyes flared and he watched as she tried to contain her excitement, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Let’s go,” she said, coolly, but Hunt could see the happiness radiating off of her.
The second they entered the exhibit, Bryce was off, Lennox giggling as she followed her mother. Hunt stayed in the back and watched the two of them, hands in one another’s, pointing excitedly as the otters jumped off their perches into the water below. At one point, Bryce’s head fell back and she laughed, and Hunt’s stomach tightened.
She had been beautiful at eighteen, but now? She was gorgeous. Fully confident in her own glorious skin, she emanated beauty. Hunt couldn’t help but stare, especially when she smiled, when she laughed. It brightened her entire face, lit up her entire being.
Hunt used to make her laugh like that.
But that had been so long ago.
It seemed that Lennox got her mother’s otter-loving gene. She giggled as an otter came up to the glass and they watched one another. She soon had her sketchbook out and was sketching away.
“This one is for you, mommy,” she said, smiling up at Bryce before turning her attention back to the mass of otters in front of her.
Bryce just smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, my love.”
They were so close, the two of them, two peas in a pod. Hunt envied their relationship, but he wasn’t surprised by it, was grateful that Lennox had such an incredible mother.
It made her even more beautiful to him.
“Dad!” Lennox called, and Hunt started. “Come look at the otters up close! They’re sooooo cute.”
Hunt chuckled and obeyed the command. She was right. They were adorable. Bryce was practically bouncing out of her shoes.
When they left the otter exhibit, which was the exhibit they spent the longest in all day, they went on to see the penguins, then the meerkats, the monkeys, and the giraffes.
They were on their way to the elephants when a loud bang sounded in the near distance. Hunt stopped in his tracks and jumped, his body tensing, his jaw tightening as he looked around him. He could hardly contain the pounding in his chest, could hardly contain his racing thoughts, but he quickly calmed himself, remembering where he was, remembering who he was with.
Lennox was ahead of them, going up to the fence of the exhibit.
Hunt took a step to follow Lennox but a hand reached out and grabbed his.
He hadn’t realized his hands had been shaking.
“Hey,” Bryce asked, voice low. “You okay? It was just one of the truck’s backfiring.”
Sure enough, a little pickup truck with the zoo’s logo on it was driving from one exhibit to the next.
Closing his eyes, Hunt nodded, trying to calm his shallow breathing.
I’m here. I’m now. This is not then.
It was a stupid mantra, but when his therapist had told him to come up with something to ground himself on the fly, it was the best he could come up with. Now, the eight words were what kept him from bolting from bed, hurling his guts up, or having a full breakdown in front of his daughter in a public place.
I’m here. I’m now. This is not then.
When he was able to take a breath and let it out without shaking, he opened his eyes. He didn’t want to see what he beheld in her stare.
She was looking up at him with concern, but…but not pity. Instead, there was something else he saw that he hadn’t expected. Pride.
He’d become so used to the pity that he accepted it, but seeing Bryce look at him like that, like he was worth something…
“You’re here,” she breathed, as if she could read his thoughts. “You’re with…me, Hunt. You’re with me and Nox and we’re here. All of us.”
He took another deep breath and nodded.
Words were beyond him at the moment, more energy than he could expend until he had a chance to collect his thoughts. Somehow, Bryce knew that, and could tell as she squeezed his hand and said, “I’ll go see if she wants to stop for a snack. Why don’t you take a minute and meet us over there?”
He found a bench to sit on and closed his eyes again, listening to the sounds around him. Sure, the sounds of monkeys chittering and exotic birds calling weren’t exactly the sounds of normal life moving around him, but the squeal and laughter of children were. The sounds of everyday chatter, even of a baby crying somewhere nearby. It settled him, brought him back.
I’m here. I’m now. This is not then.
When he opened his eyes, Hunt felt like he could breathe again.
Even then, he took one more minute alone, listening, waiting, before getting to his feet and walking toward the nearest snack shack. Lennox sat at a table with a giant soft pretzel as he approached, but Bryce spotted him right away.
He didn’t say anything as he sat next to Lennox, across from Bryce.
Bryce didn’t ask him again if he was okay, didn’t bring it up at all.
Lennox, oblivious to it all, tore off a piece of her pretzel and held it up to Hunt with a soft smile. He gave her one in return as he took it and popped it into his mouth.
“Thank you for letting me come today,” Hunt said, looking down at Lennox then up at Bryce.
“Will I see you again soon?” Lennox asked, mouth full of food.
“Whenever you want,” Hunt said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. You tell me when and where you want me, and I’ll be there.”
Lennox leaned into his chest as she said, “Good.”
Hunt met Bryce’s eyes, gentle as she watched her daughter and Hunt together. She repeated Lennox’s words quietly as she looked up at Hunt. “Good.”
#cc hoeab#cc hosab#crescent city#snacmc#snacmc collabs#when we were young#snacmc WWYW#quinlar#bryce quinlan#hunt athalar#hunt x bryce
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When We Were Young {2}
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 @theladyofdeath
Now.
Bryce was exhausted but it’s not like that was anything out of the ordinary. She had been working long hours at the gallery. Her boss was adamant that she wanted local artists represented and finding local artists with a lick of talent proved to be more difficult than she thought.
Good thing she had her brother.
When Bryce got home, Ruhn was sitting on the balcony, smoking a cigarette with his hair braided down his back.
With a chuckle, she pushed open the sliding glass door and said, “Looks like her braiding skills are improving.”
Ruhn looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Only ripped half my hair out this time. She tried to stay up until you got home but she crashed on the couch. I just carried her to bed.”
After the birth of her daughter eight years before, Bryce had no one. Her mom would’ve helped, of course, but if she moved in with Ember she would have only tried to control every aspect of her granddaughter’s life. She couldn’t help it. Ember was controlling by nature, and she meant well, but Bryce hadn’t wanted that.
Instead, she’d moved in with Ruhn and they had lived together ever since. He was the world's best uncle, and that was something she tried to remind him of often. She had no idea what she would do without him.
“Thanks,” she said, and plopped down in the chair next to him. “I promise work will calm down soon.”
Ruhn shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air. “Hey, you’re making good money. Can’t say no to that.”
He was right. Though Ruhn had a job making good money heading up the Auxiliary units in town, the bulk of his money came from the trust fund attached to his father’s bank account.
Their father’s bank account.
Ember, and by extension, Bryce had been steadfast in their word that Bryce would grow up as normal as possible. As a child, she had little to no contact with the man who’d sired her and had only met Ruhn when he was old enough to search her out on his own.
Ruhn was gloriously well adjusted for the upbringing he had, and even though he detested it, he’d spend his father’s money however he wished. It was a bonus if the way he chose to spend his money pissed the asshole off. It was for that reason that he paid all of the rent for the apartment off the Old Square on Central Avenue they shared.
“I made pasta,” Ruhn went on, yawning. “It’s in the fridge if you want some.”
“I’m so tired I’m not even hungry,” Bryce confessed.
“No worries, Nox helped make the sauce,” Ruhn said, and Bryce caught the softest of smiles from her brother. “It’s very…salty. So much salt.”
Bryce laughed. “But you ate it anyway, didn’t you?”
Ruhn nodded as he took a long drag from his cigarette. “Yes. Yes I did.”
She stood and patted his shoulder as she started back into the apartment. “Uncle of the Year. Drink some water.”
He reached down to where a brown bottle was sitting by the leg of his chair and held it up before putting it to his lips. It clinked quietly against his lip ring. “There’s water in beer.”
She shook her head, sliding the door shut behind her. Her first order of business was taking her heels off, which she did as she stalked for her bedroom, and her bra, which was gone as soon as her door clicked shut. She pulled on a tank top and a baggy hoodie before her sleep shorts and then she was sitting down on her bed, wanting nothing more than to lay back on the comfortable surface. She didn’t let herself, because she knew the moment she did, she’d be asleep, and there was too much she needed to do before bed.
Bryce left her phone on her bed and headed back into the kitchen, heating up some of the leftover pasta. She decided to pass on the super sodium sauce, but would be sure to tell Lennox she was proud of her nonetheless. Bryce was a tragedy in the kitchen, it was no surprise that her daughter was, too. Any and every effort had to be praised for even trying.
After her noodles, Bryce grabbed Lennox’s backpack and walked into the living room right as Ruhn was coming inside.
“You have patrol tonight?” She asked, sitting on the couch and pulling the folder out her teacher sent notes to parents in.
He fell on the couch next to her and yawned. “Nope. No night patrols until next weekend.”
Bryce hummed in response, but she was distracted by the note Lennox’s teacher had sent home with her. “Did you check her backpack after school today?”
He looked over at her, game controller in hand. “No, I thought you’d be home before she passed out.” That was concern lacing his tone. “Why, what’s up?”
Holding out the note, Bryce read, “After multiple requests to cease her doodling in the margin of worksheets and homework, Lennox Quinlan will receive silent lunch for the remainder of the week.”
“That’s fucked up,” he murmured, taking the piece of paper and reading it in its entirety. “They’re making her sit by herself during lunch because she drew some pictures on the edges of her homework?”
“I hate that fucking school,” Bryce seethed.
If Bryce hadn’t wanted Ember too involved in Lennox’s life, she wanted Einar Danaan in it even less. Lennox loved and adored her Mimi and Pop, as she lovingly referred to her mother and Randall, but she’d only met Bryce’s father a handful of times. They all preferred it be kept that way, save for the man himself, but Ruhn wouldn’t budge. So long as he was in Lennox's life, Einar wouldn’t be.
But just before Lennox had turned five, when Bryce had been deciding what schools to send her to, he’d given her a proposition. He would pay for her to attend Lunathion Prep, for her entire academic career, if Bryce would allow him to claim Lennox as a member of the Danaan bloodline.
Although she hated the man, Bryce couldn’t deny that the school would help set Lennox up for whatever she may face in her future. She’d relented, and Lennox had been enrolled in their kindergarten program the following Autumn. Now, in 3rd grade, she loved her friends and teachers and school.
Even if Bryce despised it. They looked down on her for being a single mother, even though It was none of their concern.
“She’d do just as well at Crescent City Elementar,” Ruhn said, shaking his head. “She’d do great anywhere.”
Bryce agreed but frowned nonetheless. “I just don’t understand-.”
A knock came to the door and Bryce’s words faded. She looked at Ruhn, brow raised. “Booty call?”
“None that I’m aware of,” Ruhn replied, setting down his beer and walking to the door anyway.
She let him. Bryce was too tired to deal with whatever salesperson had clearly landed on their doorstep.
Bryce continued to go through Lennox’s folder, appreciating every worksheet and work of art she passed as Ruhn opened the door.
There was silence.
Then, Ruhn said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
That alone made her pause. Her brother rarely used that tone.
She put Lennox’s folder down and took a step toward the foyer when she heard, “Where’s Bryce?”
That voice.
She knew that voice better than her own, even though it had been a while since she had heard it in person. It had her feet stopping in place.
“I assume she didn’t know you were stopping by,” Ruhn shot back. “Or that you were in town.”
“How do you know?” He replied, and she could hear that cocky attitude of his.
“She would’ve told me.”
This was ridiculous. Bryce should go interrupt but she just couldn’t force herself to.
“Are you going to invite me in or do I have to be an ass and let myself in?”
“This is my house,” Ruhn growled. ��You’ll come in when I say you can come in.”
That voice she knew so well turned a shade darker. “If my daughter’s inside, I can do what I damn well please.”
The hint of possessiveness in his tone had Bryce coming back to life and before she could stop herself, she’d ripped the door out of Ruhn’s hand and thrown it open.
She didn’t let him see the stumble, not in her words or her body, as she took in the man before her. The Hunt who had left nine years ago, her Hunt, had been no more than a teenager. Bryce hardly recognized the mountain of a man standing in front of her, his muscles corded with strength, even the way he stood emanated power. His hair was longer, not nearly as long as it’d been, but those eyes…
Those dark eyes were they same ones she’d stared into after she’d kissed him goodbye.
She steeled herself against the emotions that slammed into her after all these years. “It’s almost ten o’clock at night,” she said, the first words she’d spoken to him in person in so long. “She’s eight. She’s asleep.”
Ruhn didn’t move. He took a step closer to Bryce and she found herself in between the two men, both pissed, towering over her.
Hunt's eyes slowly shifted from Bryce to Ruhn, then back to Bryce again. He was looking at her as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. He swallowed hard, and Bryce knew that was a sign of his nerves.
The only sign they would see.
“I would’ve come earlier but I just got in,” he said, every word clipped.
He tossed another quick glance at Ruhn.
Bryce sighed and whispered, “I’m fine. Go relax.”
Ruhn waited a moment before granting her wish. He went into the living room and plopped down on the couch before Bryce dared to say anything else.
She said, “I didn’t know you were coming at all.”
“Neither did I,” he confessed, and crossed his arms. “Can I come in?”
“Lennox is asleep,” Bryce replied.
“We can’t talk?” He asked.
Bryce closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but she nodded. “We can talk. I just got home from work, so just… Give me a minute.”
He nodded and she stepped aside, letting him in. He surveyed the apartment as she shut the door behind him. It was nice, really nice, if he was being honest. But that was to be expected. Bryce had always liked nice things.
“Do you want something to drink?”
He turned to look at her, but she was already moving towards the kitchen. “No, I’m okay.”
She came back with a glass of whiskey and he raised his eyebrows. If she noticed his look, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she turned to Ruhn and said, “We’ll be outside. If she wakes up—.”
“You’ll be right outside, I’ll come get you,” he finished for her, waving her off. He gave Hunt one last scathing look before they stepped out onto the chilly balcony.
Bryce was still only wearing her sleep shorts.
With the way Hunt was looking at her legs, it seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
“Still living with Danaan?” Hunt asked, nodding towards the door.
Bryce sat in one of the patio chairs. “Yes.”
He waited a moment to see if she would say more but she didn’t.
“You look good,” he said, at last.
Bryce snorted and shook her head. “Why are you here, Hunt?”
He merely looked confused. “To see my daughter.”
“No,” she began, closing her eyes. “I mean, why are you here? In town? Why aren’t you still…wherever the Hel it is you were?”
Hunt nodded as he slowly sat down in the seat beside her. “I’m moving back.”
Bryce stilled. “How is that possible? You still have a year left in your ten year-.”
“I’ve been discharged,” he said, quietly.
Bryce looked at him. He didn’t meet her gaze.
“Why?” She asked.
He didn’t answer right away and for a moment she didn’t think that he would. When he did he spoke quietly. “I was caught in an…accident. Spent some time in the hospital, then some time in physical therapy. I’m in no shape to go back on the field, though, so they released me from my contract early because of it.”
She wouldn’t press him on what had happened, not tonight. She could see it now, the more that she looked at him. How tired he was. How drained he was in not only body, but spirit.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bryce murmured, just as softly as he had. “I—I had no idea.”
A huff of breath that resembled a laugh. “No, how could you? It’d been years since you contacted me at that point. How could you have known where I was stationed?”
Bryce closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s not fight tonight, Hunt, okay? It’s been…a long time since we’ve seen each other and that’s not how this should go.”
His jaw was set, those dark eyes blazing, ready for a fight, but he nodded. “Fine. You’re right.”
“You sound like you don’t mean that,” she said.
“For someone not wanting a fight, that’s not-.”
“You’re right,” she sighed, sipping from her glass. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
Hunt's set jaw remained but he was looking out at the horizon. “Look, all I know is that when I landed, all I wanted to do was come see Nox.”
It had been years.
He had held her once after she was born but he hadn’t been home after that. His job was an important one, but a busy one. His life as a father had consisted of phone calls and FaceTime.
“I want to be a part of her life,” Hunt said, still not looking in her direction. “I need to be a part of her life.”
“You have no idea what being a parent means.” Bryce’s voice held no hostility, just simple honesty.
“I know,” he admitted, looking down at his hands. “I’m aware. Doesn’t mean I can’t learn, though. I…admire Ruhn for being here. It’s not his job, though. It’s mine.”
Bryce sipped from her glass again, but she nodded. “Let me tell her you’re here. Explain that you’re home, that you’re here for good.” She paused and asked, a bit quieter than before, “You are here to stay, right? In Lunathion?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want to live the life here I’ve missed out on.”
Bryce didn’t have the nerve to ask whether that just included Lennox or if it included her as well.
She asked, instead, “Where are you staying?”
“Baxian is out of the country,” Hunt replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll be staying at his place until I find somewhere of my own.”
The sound of Baxian’s name after so long was jarring and Bryce was barely able to hide her recoil at it. “How is he?”
Hunt shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. We check in a couple times a week.”
Bryce nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment but it wasn’t awkward at all. There was no room for awkwardness, not when both of their minds were wandering.
“Will you call me?” Hunt asked. “After you tell her.”
Bryce watched him for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”
“Alright. Thanks.” He stood so abruptly that it made Bryce jump. He didn’t walk away though. He simply turned to face her. “I hope you’re doing okay.”
“I am,” she said, looking up at him. “Better than okay, actually. I have a good job. Lennox goes to a great school. She’s incredibly bright, very talented. She’s amazing, Hunt.”
Hunt nodded slowly. “And you?”
Bryce blinked. “What do you mean and you?”
“All you told me about yourself is that you have a good job,” Hunt said. “Not a thing about whether you're happy or not.”
“I’m happy when Nox is happy,” Bryce replied and she tried to keep the bite out of her voice but failed. “I spend all my time making sure she’s happy, so that’s where I find my joy, Hunt.”
He ignored the change in her tone, holding her to his promise not to fight. He reached for the handle of the sliding door. “My number is still the same. You know where to find me.”
He was about to push it open when she stood and turned to face him. It made him pause and he glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’m glad you’re okay, Hunt, for what it’s worth. And Nox will be excited to see you. I—.” Bryce hesitated but sighed and stepped around the chair to stand in front of him. “It’s—it’s good to see you, Hunt. Safe and in one piece.”
Because she would never admit it, but every time she saw footage of the war still raging in Pangera, Bryce got sick to her stomach, knowing her daughter’s father very well could have been lost in the fighting she saw. Her nightmares were full of folded flags and distant memories, coming back to haunt her.
His words were rough. “Thank you.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow, after school,” she promised, when he still hadn’t turned around. “I’ll let Jesiba know—.”
“You’re still working for Jesiba?” He asked, interrupting.
She stood up a little straighter. “Yes. What’s wrong with that?”
Hunt just shook his head and said, “You could be so much more.”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he slid open the door and gave Ruhn a nod in farewell, and was out the front door.
#crescent city#cc hoeab#cc hosab#bryce quinlan#hunt athalar#bryce x hunt#hunt x bryce#quinlar#brunt#cc#hoeab#hosab#house of earth and bone#house of sky and breath#snacmc dilf series#snacmc#snacmc collabs#snelbz x the lady of death collab#shelby and tara write
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The Dilf Series
Co-written with @theladyofdeath
*Isn’t She Lovely - Nessian
*Every Other Weekend - Rowaelin
*When We Were Young - Quinlar
More to come soon!
* - Completed.
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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.
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Back to Orynth {Rowan x Aelin}
Written with @snelbz
Rowaelin. Canon. The castle in Orynth. NSFW.
Based on prompt: Rowaelin mutual masturbation fic, but then they just can’t keep their hands off each other and they fuck. But in canon. Not AU. by anonymous.
Word Count: 4,166
A/N: We've decided to take a little bit of time and post more OS! We have a very long list that we're set on tackling, and although we do a lot of AUs, I like that we started with one in canon. We hope you enjoy!
WARNING: NSFW. 18+ ONLY. The following story contains descriptions of sex. No one under 18 should continue past the link.
Aelin stood on the balcony outside of her bedchamber and watched as snowflakes drifted toward the ground. It had been a fairly mild winter for Orynth, but she still couldn’t imagine that flying through the snowy winter was all that pleasant, no matter how much snow fell. Yet, she kept her eye on the horizon, expecting to see a familiar white-tailed hawk soaring through the falling flakes at any given moment.
Aelin was growing impatient. He'd better hurry.
It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her Mate, her husband. There had been suspicious activity along the northern border and Rowan had led the charge in the investigation, then went on to make sure that the entirety of Terrasen’s border was secured.
Which was all fine and good, but it did mean that Aelin’s bed was cold and her heart was only half present.
The grandfather clock in her sitting room chimed six, and knowing that the sun would soon be setting, Aelin was growing impatient. She wondered if she screamed, as loudly as she possibly could, if that would make him come faster. Surely he would hear her, he’d have to be close enough, and nothing worried Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius more than his wife in danger.
Even if he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself.
Territorial, over-protective fae bastard.
Just as she was about to give up and go back inside, she could see him, the tiniest hint of his animal form in the distance.
He flew directly towards her, without having to even think about it. It was not his first homecoming, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. As he grew nearer, there was a flash of light, then he was landing on the stone ledge with a thump. His boots were filthy and he had a new scratch on his cheek that hadn’t fully healed, which Aelin knew meant that the original gash must have been pretty deep.
Yet, the moment he changed, his eyes were soft as he smiled at Aelin. “Nothing better to do than wait for me to arrive?”
“Well, I have a kingdom to run, but your impending arrival was distracting me,” she said, watching him fondly as he approached.
“Glad to know I’m more important than your meetings,” he crooned, pausing before her. “I do hope you gave Lord Darrow the respect he deserves.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “After he interrupted me for the third time, I called the meeting and spent the rest of the day in our private library.”
Save for the threat at the border, things had been prosperous since Aelin’s rule began. Trade was booming, the rebuild of the land was tedious, but created jobs the territory needed. The meeting on foreign affairs was more for pomp and circumstance than it was for a specific need.
“Our private library, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, finally bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but full of promise for later. “Surely you weren’t reading the texts on ancient battle strategies like I’ve suggested?”
Aelin hummed as she slid her palms up his chest and around his neck. “I assure you the strategies that I indulged in were far more…useful than any ancient battle strategy.”
Rowan chuckled as he shook his head. “If any member of our court were to wander into our library and stumble upon a book of yours, they would be appalled at such filth.”
“And that is why I keep all the good ones in our private library.” She kissed him again, and he groaned quietly against her mouth. “You smell atrocious.”
Rowan let go of his wife and stepped inside. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper bath, I’m not sure what you were expecting.”
“I was expecting you to at least take some soap with you in your pack. You’re a king, for the gods’ sake,” Aelin teased, following him into their sitting room and closing the double doors that led out onto the balcony.
Rowan snorted as he took off his pack and tossed it on the couch, then began unhooking his weapons, one by one. “Who do I have to thank for putting up with your sarcastic ass while I’m away?”
“Oh, the list is long,” Aelin crooned, watching the show he was now putting on. Once his weapons were gone, he began unbuttoning his dusty jacket. “If you’re going to thank them all, it’s going to be all you’re doing this week.”
Rowan shook his head, but she could see the slight twist of his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, adding it to the pile. “Maybe I’ll thank them by taking you off their hands for a few days.”
“Ah, I am a burden,” Aelin said, meandering over to Rowan and fisting her hands into the fabric of his thin tunic. “Are you sure you want to take on that task?”
“I think I’ll manage,” he muttered, before kissing her once more. Aelin reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, which was growing longer once again. She loved it.
“Take a bath,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Don’t we have people for that?”
“I find doing things for myself keeps me humble.”
Rowan huffed a laugh before disappearing into the washroom.
As the water ran, Aelin hurried down to the kitchens, smiling politely and greeting everyone she passed. After collecting a platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and berries, Aelin was finding her way back to her rooms. The water was still sloshing around from the washroom, so Aelin placed the platter on their table before finding her way back into her bedchamber and her wardrobe. After slipping off her gown, she pulled on a thin, golden nightgown and a knee length robe, leaving it open. She pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing that her duties for the day were complete and she would not be leaving this room any more tonight.
Collecting the book she’d been reading earlier, Aelin curled up on the couch in the sitting room, filling a glass with wine from a bottle brought straight from the personal stores of the King of Adarlan. She sipped the wine with an appreciative hum before opening her book and picking up where she’d left off.
The love interests had finally just given into their attraction for each other, desecrating every surface in the mountain side cabin in the best way. The kitchen table, the wall, the bath, the bed, Aelin couldn’t get enough as she turned page after page—
The next thing she knew, she heard the door to their bathroom opening wide and she glanced up to where her husband stood, taking up most of the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a pair of loose linen pants and…that was it. No shirt and from how low the pants hung on his hips, from what she could tell, no undershorts either.
His eyes took in where she sat on the couch, on the glass of wine on the side table and book in her hands and he smirked as he headed for the platter of food laid out on the table.
As he passed in front of the couch she sat on, Rowan froze, nostrils flaring delicately as he scented the air. Raising her eyebrows, Aelin cradled the book to her chest. “Yes?”
“What exactly are you reading?” He asked, continuing to the table the food was laid out on and leaning against it. He plucked a bunch of grapes up before picking them off one by one and popping them into his mouth.
“Nothing of your concern.” Aelin let the book fall back open in front of her, her eyes scanning the page. Rowan watched her for a moment, slowly eating his grapes, before grabbing a slice of bread and walking toward the couch. He plopped down next to her and read over her shoulder with a curse. “I repeat my earlier sentiment. Your court would be appalled if they knew of your reading material.”
“My court should admire how in touch and confident I am with the idea of romance,” Aelin crooned, nudging her husband in the chest with her shoulder.
Rowan snorted as he bit off a piece of bread. “This is not romance. This is animalistic fucking.”
A satisfied sensation flooded Aelin’s body as she looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve had to have some sort of companion in your absence.”
His green eyes were bright as he shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and swallowed. “Surely this doesn’t compare.”
“No?” Aelin asked, teasingly, as Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I don’t know. Me and my books have had some remarkable nights since you've been away.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed, and although humored, they darkened slightly. “So you’ve been well taken care of, then?”
“Don’t you admire how I can take care of myself?” Aelin asked, setting her book on the table beside the couch before giving her Mate her full attention.
“Always have,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Although I feel it defeats my purpose.”
She loved it when he teased her, when he was playful. To the rest of the world, he was a nightmare come to life, a warrior with one intent, an ancient, powerful male who had the hands of death and the heart of a soldier. Aelin knew better. He was all of that, of course, but he was also a male who sat on the couch with her and flirted, who teased her and made her laugh.
Who made her toes curl and her most delicate parts throb uncontrollably.
“Is that all you’re good for?” Aelin asked, shifting on the couch to straddle his lap. Rowan’s arms went around her waist, the most handsomely seductive little smile twisting his lips. “Pleasure?”
“As the husband of a queen?” he asked, one brow raised. “Yes. Yes, I’m fairly sure my only duty is to bring undeniable pleasure to Her Majesty.”
“Hmm.” Aelin pursed her lips. “That’s quite the claim. And if I can pleasure myself just as well as you can?”
A low growl came out of Rowan. Even in their playful state, she could sense his jealousy brewing. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.”
Aelin’s heart began beating just a little bit faster, and she hadn’t even realized that her hips had begun to move, slowly rolling over his, until she asked, “Oh?”
As Rowan nodded, his lips brushed her neck. “Show me how you’ve pleasured yourself in my absence, my Queen.”
Aelin’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. Beneath her, she knew exactly where Rowan’s mind was at. Between the hard thickness she rocked against and his scent, excitement and need bloomed in her core.
“I don’t think you can handle such a sight,” Aelin said, her grin wild and devious. “A month and a half of travel has surely left you needy. Handsy. Possessive.”
“I think you forget how patient I am,” he said, quietly, fingers teasing the hem of her nightgown.
Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re not patient. You just like to pretend you are.”
Rowan took her chin between his fingers and made her meet his gaze. “Try me.”
There was something about his tone that filled her body with fire and chaos. His eyes were bright, crazed, full of lust and longing. Aelin was sure that hers mirrored his. Every night that she had spent alone in his absence was full of wishing he was there beside her, holding her, loving her until her knees shook and every thought from her mind had evaporated. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to have him inside of her, but she would play his game.
She would give him a show until he was begging.
Still straddling his lap, Aelin shook off her robe and took the hem of her silk nightgown, slowly pulling it over her head until it was sitting behind her on the carpet. Rowan’s hands found her waist but she shook her head, smirking as she pushed them away, back down to the couch cushions. “No touching.”
His eyes blazed as they swept from hers, to her bare breasts, then back up again. Although his breathing had increased, he didn’t protest. Instead, his cock twitched beneath her as he gripped the couch cushions on both sides of his thighs.
Aelin took her time pulling her hair back until it was held snugly by a ribbon, and Rowan was practically growling by the time she slid her hands down her abdomen, to the band of her undergarment.
“Is that patience of yours thinning?” she teased.
“No,” he said, but the word was clipped, his jaw hard as his eyes trailed down her body and rested on her fingers, where they began to slide down the thin fabric of her panties. A slow, heavy breath left Rowan and his eyes darkened as the fabric swept down her thighs and every inch of her was bared before him.
He didn’t even try to hide his lingering gaze. A gaze that Aelin felt powerful under. As Aelin ran a finger through her slick folds, Rowan cursed, low and filthy. His fingers flexed beside him, but his hands did not move. He obeyed the command of his Queen, even as Aelin moaned into the quiet space.
Even the thought of her husband had left her wet and wanting. She could slide down on him to the hilt, effortlessly, but she wouldn’t. No— she wanted to see how long this game would go, how far she could tease him without him pouncing.
How long he could go without completely losing his shit.
She wanted him completely unleashed.
Their joinings after time apart were already nearly cataclysmic, neither of them leaving their bed chamber for a day or two. It reminded Aelin of the true mating frenzy they’d been robbed of when Maeve stole her off that beach. As if the time they spent apart built up until it blew, until it wasn’t safe for anyone but the other to be around them.
That suited her just fine.
Dipping her finger into the well of her center, Aelin gasped softly, watching Rowan as he watched her. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her, dying to bury himself in her arousal. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers up her toned stomach to her breast, cupping one. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, rolling it and teasing it until the sensitive bud was tight and peaked.
Rowan’s tongue darted out as he wet his lips, the only sign that he was struggling. His features were still set in stone, as if he were unfazed by her ministrations, but those eyes were locked on her.
Aelin removed her hand from her sex, fingers still glistening and reached up to touch Rowan’s chest.
Faster than she could blink, his own hand had captured her wrist. Her fingers were inches from his skin.
“What is it?” Her voice was husky, yet dripping with innocence, as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him.
Rowan sounded like he was in pain. Only a few moments and she’d already worked him up. “You said no touching.”
She clucked her tongue, leaning in so her chest pressed into his. It pinned their hands between them. “I said you couldn’t touch me.”
“Then you can’t touch me.”
And before she knew what was happening, Aelin found her self on one end of the couch, her back to the plush, rolled arm, while Rowan sat on the other end.
Much too far for her liking.
He didn’t move. His eyes never left her. They trailed after her fingers as she settled against the couch cushions, her legs stretching out, her toes nudging Rowan’s thigh. His breathing was shallow as his eyes locked on the hand that palmed her breast.
His hands didn’t stay still, though. Instead, Rowan untied his linen pants before slipping them down his thighs, his hardened length springing free. Aelin’s bottom lip was pulled between her teeth to keep from moaning at the sight of him, completely ready for her. She throbbed between her thighs and every thought from her mind vanished as Rowan fisted his cock and stroked.
Aelin could practically feel him thrusting into her as the image flooded her mind. This time, she let a moan free as she began circling the throbbing ache of her clit that was begging for relief.
Rowan’s rhythm matched hers, and for a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for their heavy, disoriented breaths.
“Your books don’t seem to be of much use now,” he teased her, not bothering to look at the object behind her she claimed gave her so much pleasure.
Smirking, Aelin spread her legs wider, baring herself further to him. There wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, hadn’t tasted, and she could see the raw hunger in his eyes. “They’re only necessary when I lack the imagination needed to—”
Her words fell off with a soft moan as she circled her clit, watching as Rowan worked himself. The muscles of his abdomen were straining and his hips would buck off the cushions every so often. Her mouth watered as he teased his cock, stroking the head slowly as beads of wetness appeared. Aelin wanted to lick him clean, to taste the unadulterated essence of her Mate after such a long time apart, but this game between them was first and foremost in her mind. What had started as a way to tease him had backfired in the most glorious way, and as Aelin watched her husband pump his cock in time to the plunge of her fingers into her core, she knew there was no way she would break first.
She breathed his name as that familiar sensation built in her core and Rowan’s jaw locked as he watched her body writhe beneath the power of her own fingers. Suddenly, Rowan’s hand worked himself faster, and a curse of his own left his mouth while Aelin cursed.
“Is this what you do in my absence?” Rowan hissed, his tone half teasing, half undone. His shoulders tensed as his wife cursed again, a string of profanity falling from her lips.
“Jealous?” she asked, but the word was nothing more than a whisper. She could hardly get it out as her hips rolled into her hands.
“How can I be jealous?” Rowan asked, his tone only pushing her further towards her release. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours.”
Aelin’s fingers slowed to a tantalizing speed. “And what is it that I’m thinking?”
Rowan grinned, and the sight had a whimper sounding from Aelin’s closed lips. “You’re thinking how good it’s going to feel when I finally bury myself deep inside of you.”
Aelin scoffed, although it was clear that it was nothing more than an act. “I thought I made it clear…I get by perfectly well in your absence. All by myself.”
Rowan’s hand slowed, until his hand wrapped around his cock but it did not move. “Your soul is mine. You are never alone.”
There was certainly some romantic notion in that statement, but it was mostly an animalistic declaration. No, as her Mate, their souls were connected. There was never a second that Aelin pleasured herself that she was not thinking about Rowan, even when he was thousands of miles away.
That thought alone had Aelin breathing, “Touch me.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth that Rowan grabbed her across the couch, dragging her body over his, and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands was in her hair, the other on her ass and Aelin adjusted herself until she felt him pressing against her center, thick and hard and ready.
Gods, she needed him and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t, no matter what game they were playing. He was not weaker for needing her, not as he’d once believed, and she wasn’t either. As he ravaged her with his kiss, Aelin rose up on her knees, lining him up with her entrance and sank down in one stroke that had both of them gasping.
Rowan’s mouth found her neck as she rode him, kisses alternating from long, languid sweeps of his tongue that made her squirm, to biting nips of the sweetest pain that had her quivering around him. His lips continued down her neck and shoulders, over her chest, until he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.
Throwing her head back, Aelin moaned, writhing atop him, threading her fingers through his hair.
Rowan’s fingers kneaded her ass as he sucked and praised. He thrusted up as she rocked and bounced, and they did not even try to hide the noises that were shamelessly filling the space between them, around them. Aelin hoped the entire castle could hear, hoped that they all knew her Mate was home and her soul was complete yet again.
Rowan’s lips found hers, hungrily, his tongue diving into her open mouth. Their bodies were pressed up firmly against one another’s but it still wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough. Aelin would always long to be closer, even if they were as close as two people could be. She whispered his name and came crashing down upon him yet again, drawing a deep moan from the back of Rowan’s throat. His head fell back and he cursed before throwing her back against the couch and claiming her with a primal relentlessness that had Aelin seeing stars.
She loved him like this.
Completely unhinged.
Lost in all she had to offer, unable to control his needs and desires.
All of it, only for her.
The room filled with Aelin’s gasps and screams and cries of his name as Rowan fell into her again and again, urgently and meticulously. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other fell in that little space between them and his thumb rolled her clit until she was falling into oblivion, drowning in her sweet release. Her knees shook and her chest heaved as she swore, her nails digging into his skin.
Rowan’s eyes were bright as she clenched and spilled out around him.
It was only a few more frantic thrusts before he was following her over the edge, groaning her name as he came.
His head fell into the crook of her neck, both of them breathing heavily as they came back down. Aelin was the first to move, dragging her nails up and down his back in slow, languid strokes.
A quiet groan rumbled in his chest and she laughed softly as her fingers found her way into his hair.
“Your hair will need a trim before we hold any official court business,” she mused with a smirk as he worked to settle his breathing.
“Your court can take me as I am.” His response was muffled by her skin, but she could hear the exhaustion in his words.
She hummed as she finger combed through the tangles. “I guess you're right. I am queen, after all. What I say goes.”
Rowan snorted, knowing she’d never use her power for something so vain, but didn’t reply.
“We should clean up,” she said, glancing down. His body still completely covered hers, right down to where he was still buried inside her, their mixed releases making a mess on the couch.
“We can clean up tomorrow.” He still hadn’t raised his head, his warm breath on her skin. “Sleep now.”
“We have a bedchamber for that, you know,” she teased and he finally pulled back to look at her.
She had only seen her mate look so exhausted a few times, so completely and utterly drained that she knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be asleep, so she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Every day and every night.”
Without warning, he stood, carrying her into the washroom, making quick work of cleaning them both off before heading for their bed.
Aelin clung to him, refusing to let go even for a second. She had to soak up every minute before he was called away again to fulfill yet another duty in honor of the beautiful country that they had brought back from the ashes.
They never redressed before snuggling closely together beneath the heap of blankets on their bed, dwelling in the heat and comfort of one another’s bare body.
They remained in that bed together all night, intertwined and connected, and stayed there until the following night came.
#rowaelin#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rowaelin fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#sjm#sjm fanfiction#snacmc collab#oneshot#tog#tog fanfic#throne of glass#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#canon#fanfics#snacmc answers prompts
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Better or Worse {7}
Nessian. Angst. Modern au.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! I'm sorry there was no new chapter last week - I was on vacation! x
Warnings: language.
“You like Gwyn?”
I’m laying on the bench, lifting, while Azriel spots me and Rhys stands near my feet, downing half a bottle of water.
“Seems nice enough,” I say, through clenched teeth. “Genuine.”
Azriel grabs the bar and guides it back to its resting place. It’s Rhysand that asks, “How’ve things been at home?”
I sit up, running a hand through my sweaty hair before pulling it back. “Weird. Not bad, but different, I guess. It feels like we’re just tiptoeing around each other all the time.”
“You need to fuck,” Rhys says, and Azriel snorts but Rhys is dead serious as he completely contradicts Gwyn’s earlier words.
Although I understand where Gwyn is coming from, I don’t think Rhys is wrong. Trying not to think of my wife’s naked body, I get a towel to clean off the bench before heading to one of the many treadmills for a run. I figure I’d get a mile in before joining my brothers in the steam room, then it’s home to make dinner for Nesta.
Hopefully we can find something substantial to talk about while we eat. I’m tired of smalltalk, it feels forced and I hate it. Not that it’s bad, it’s just…empty. I miss joking around and not being afraid to say exactly what’s on my mind, but I don’t feel like I can do that now. We’re not there yet.
“Hey, Cass.”
I look up from the treadmill I’ve just stepped onto to find a familiar face. I give her a lazy smile. “Hey.”
I’ve known Justine for a couple months now, since she’s joined the gym. We’re often here at the same time, both on similar schedules. She’s nice enough, although Rhys and Az think that her showing up when I’m here is no coincidence.
Maybe they’re not wrong.
“Haven’t seen you much this week,” she says, leaning against the equipment.
“Been busy.” I shrug. “Why? Miss me?”
She rolls her eyes in that way that girls have always rolled their eyes at me, that tells me they’re not really annoyed by anything I say or do. The only woman that’s ever truly been annoyed by me is the one that I married. Maybe that’s one of the things that drew me to Nesta, the fact that I could get under her skin. The tension it created that led to life altering sex.
“Just starting to think that you’re ignoring me,” she says, sweetly, leaning a little closer on the arm of the treadmill. Yeah, I know that move. Her breasts are suddenly a little more on display for only me to see.
I keep my eyes on hers. Try to, anyway. I mostly succeed. “I would never.”
The smile she gives me is sensual, and it’s all playful fun until she slides a finger up my forearm. I should ask her to stop, but it’s nice to be touched like that. It’s a simple touch, nothing too forward, but behind that touch lies a promise of something more. Rhys is right. I need to fuck. I’m a man, and I’m horny as hell, and my hand has only gotten me so far.
“You almost done here?” Justine asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Why don’t we…get some dinner?”
Her hand is on mine. The reality of what’s before me finally hits me. She doesn’t want dinner. I know what she wants. It’s obvious that food is the last thing on her mind. I pull my hand away and step off the treadmill, despite the fact that I never turned it on.
“I can’t,” I say, as politely as I can. “I’m sorry.”
She grabs my arm to stop me so I face her, and there’s hardly any room to breathe between us. “Can’t?”
“I’m married,” I say, as if that explains it all.
She looks down at the hand she was just holding. “I’ve never seen a ring.”
“I don’t wear it when I workout,” I say, simply, “but I can go get it from my bag and you can watch me put it back on, if you want.”
The words come out a little hostile and Justine’s eyes narrow. I blame it on the sexual frustration.
She says, “You’ve been married all this time and flirting with me for months? That’s a dick move, Cass.”
“I haven’t been flirting with you.” I know the words are a lie before they even leave my mouth.
She knows. “Liar,” she croons, and lays a hand against my chest. “I know you want me, Cass, married or not, I don’t care. Come on. Dinner. At my place.”
I take her hand and push it away, back down to her side. “No, thank you. I—”
I don’t get another word out before an obnoxiously loud smack sounds and my cheek starts stinging.
She fucking slaps me.
People around us all turn to stare as Justine says cocky jackass and storms off.
My brothers are nowhere to be found, so they must already be hiding in the steam room, which I’m glad of. Otherwise they would never let me live this not-so-proud moment down.
I send a text to our group chat, letting them know that I’m going to go ahead and go home. In the locker room mirror, there’s a red splotch on my cheek, barely seen beneath my scruff, but I’m hoping it fades quickly.
No, I don’t want to sleep with Justine.
I would never cheat on my wife, I never have, even at our worst.
But it was really fucking nice to be wanted.
By the time I walk into the house, I have been in my own head for far too long. The house is quiet as I walk in, only setting my nerves on edge. Greg is asleep on the couch in a shaft of late afternoon sun. I scratch his head as I walk by, but he doesn’t even stir and I chuckle under my breath.
Spoiled little shit.
As I ascend the stairs, I see the door to Nesta’s office is closed. For a second, I hesitate as I reach the top stair.
Before I left for the gym, we agreed that we’d have dinner and spend the evening together. Her edits would be done before I got home. She’s been better about limiting the amount of time she spends on her computer, whether that’s writing, editing, planning, or responding to her overflowing inbox. I’ve tried to be more open with my thoughts and feelings. It’s been an awkward few days, but we’re trying. It actually feels like we’re making progress, even after our disaster of a date.
Seeing her office door shut feels like a slap in the face and this one hurts a hell of a lot worse than Justine’s physical one.
My jaw is locked and I’m doing my best not to grit my teeth as I walk by, heading for the shower when I hear her voice through the door.
“They didn’t exactly give me the easiest turn around. They wanted rewrites on multiple chapters in days, Eris. I’ve got a lot going on right now and—”
She was cut off as her absolute dickwad of a manager interrupted her.
I have no clue what he says, but I know it must be bad when Nesta says, “I’m. Trying.”
I know that tone.
People fear that tone.
Another few seconds of silence goes by, then she says, “I’ll have it done. Alright?...Yeah. Yeah, no, I know, Eris, for fuck’s sake.” Her chair scoots back, and I take that as my cue to keep walking. Yeah, I want to know what’s going on, but if Nesta opens the door to find me while she’s already pissed, I don’t think she’ll like my prying. If she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk about it.
I take my time in the shower, but by the time I’m down in the kitchen, taking ingredients out of the fridge in my sweatpants, Nesta’s still on the damn phone. I can hear her pacing upstairs.
After cleaning a heap of green beans, I toss them with salt, olive oil, garlic powder, and parmesan before dropping them into a pan to roast alongside my marinated chicken. I’ve just opened a beer when I hear her office door open and she comes downstairs.
I don’t know what to say in greeting, so I raise my brow. She gives me an apologetic look, that quickly turns into her eyes wandering my body. Yeah, I didn’t wear a shirt for a reason. I want to know if my wife still finds me attractive, and it seems she does.
And I get hot when I cook.
Shirts are irrelevant.
“I thought I heard you come in.” Her eyes come back to mine. “Sorry, I know I said I’d be done—”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, saving her the trouble of explaining herself.
“Just, Eris…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll just get pissed. How was the gym?”
Well, I got slapped in the face. “Good. I think I went a little too hard, though. A little sore. You sure you don’t want to talk about Eris?”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth but shakes her head. “I don’t want to ruin the night with my work issues.”
I set my beer down on the table and walk towards her. She doesn’t move. Even in leggings and an oversized tee, she’s stunning. “Nes, it’s okay to talk to me about your work, especially if that asshole’s being a dick to you.”
I want to hug her but I don’t.
I want to touch her, to kiss her, but I won’t.
Gwyn suggested we start with touches, physical contact, anything as long as it isn’t sex, of course, but Nesta hasn’t indicated she’s ready for that.
Hearing that your wife doesn’t want to have sex with you because she’s terrified to get pregnant and miscarry again is hard to hear. I don’t want to push her into anything she isn’t ready for, even if I’m desperate for her touch.
She swallows, looking at my chest, but I’m not sure she’s actually aware that she’s staring at me. “The publishing company asked for two chapters to be completely re-written for one book and four for another. Meanwhile, I’ve got edits I’m still working on for previous submissions and I just…” Shaking her head, she finally meets my gaze. “The timelines they give me aren’t realistic for one woman.”
I don’t hesitate before I speak, knowing my words could set her off, but needing to voice my thoughts.
Time to see if therapy really has taught us anything.
“To be fair, Nes, you set yourself up with some unrealistic expectations. You’ve released what? Three books already this year? And you’ve got how many in the editing process?”
It wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t meant to point out that it was her own fault. It was the truth.
Something I would have said to her before everything went to shit.
With a sigh, Nesta closes her eyes and drops her forehead to my chest. “I know. That’s what he and I have been fighting about. I told him I can’t keep up with this kind of demand and he told me I did it to myself.”
I'm frozen in place. I heard what she said, but I’m floored by the feel of her skin on mine, by the contact that she initiated. I wrap my arms around her before I can second guess myself and rub a hand up and down her back.
“You have to do what’s best for you,” I say, processing what she said. “If he can’t understand that, if he can’t get the publishing company to understand, then fuck him.”
It’s the shittiest advice I’ve ever given, but honestly? My brain is shorting out, feeling Nesta’s body pressed against mine. She fits so perfectly against me, like she was made just for me.
“Easier said than done,” she murmurs, and looks up at me.
I could easily close the distance between us, could easily lean down and kiss her, and I really fucking want to but I contain myself.
At least until her hand comes up to rest on my chest. I brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and rub my thumb along her cheek. It feels so good to touch her but I’m nervous, worried that I’ll go too far, that I’ll do something wrong and mess up this progress we’ve seemed to make.
I remember now that we’ve been having a conversation but I can hardly remember what it was about much less how to respond. All I can focus on is her hand against my chest. Her being this close is driving me insane to the point that it’s nearly unbearable. I hope she doesn’t look down, doesn’t come closer, doesn’t feel how much such simple contact is affecting me.
Her eyes never leave mine.
Her lips part.
And I open my mouth to say her name, but then the smoke alarm is going off and I’m spewing every foul word in the English language.
I have no idea how long the food has been in the oven. At this point, I don’t even remember putting it in there.
I turn the oven off, clear the smoke, and reset the smoke alarm while standing on a chair in the kitchen.
And while I do this, Nesta is leaning against the counter, laughing hysterically. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard her laugh, but hearing it now makes every ounce of anger and embarrassment at ruining dinner disappear.
She’s laughing.
She’s happy.
Even if it’s all while making fun of me, the chef that nearly set the kitchen on fire.
Once her laughter finally dies down, she orders takeout, and we sit on the couch and eat it together, side by side.
#nessia#better or worse#bow#a snacmc collab#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#fanfic#acotar#fanfiction#nessian#acowar#acomaf#sjm#tog#angst#fluff#romance#nessian fanfiction#modern au#snacmc collabs
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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.
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Better or Worse {Masterlist}
A @snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Ship: Nesta x Cassian
Summary: As they approach ten years of marriage, Cassian asks Nesta for a divorce, forcing Nesta to confront past demons in order for their relationship to heal. With the help of marriage counseling and their four-year-old nephew being the voice of reason, they try to find their way back to one another, even if it's proven to be far more difficult than simply calling it quits.
Warning: this fanfic is rated M for mature. 18+ only.
Chapters will be posted on Mondays, starting on Monday, February 20.
Chapter Index:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf#acofas#nessian#nesta x cassian#cassian x nesta#modern au#fanfic#fanfiction#sjm#sjm fanfiction#snacmc collabs
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Better or Worse {8}
Nessian. Angst. Modern au.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Warnings: language.
Every session with Gwyn is easier.
I’m still tense as hell when we arrive, but as Cassian and I leave our most recent appointment with her, I actually feel like we might actually be getting back on the right track.
His hand is in mine, which has been a much more common occurrence in the past few days than it had in the last year.
Gwyn knows what she’s talking about, that’s for sure. As a relationship therapist, I would really hope she’s good at what she does, but I didn’t realize just how much I missed Cassian’s touch, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.
Nothing past PG has happened, but every time he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear or takes my hand in his, my stomach does a little flip and I feel like a teenager with a crush.
Except this isn’t just a silly crush.
He’s the love of my life. I knew it, even in my darkest hour, even when we rarely spoke, even when it felt like we did not exist within the same space. I have never doubted that Cassian is the one and only man I am meant to be with, which is somehow even more terrifying than having a simple teenage crush. I wasn’t even this scared when we were engaged, when we were about to be married. Then, I felt like I had nothing to lose, there was no question about it, about us. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose. Even though things are getting better, we aren’t back to being us, and even though I feel like we’ll get there, that we’re on the right track, the fact that we’re not still leaves me scared shitless.
“You’re quiet,” Cassian says, as he pulls us out of the parking lot. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I say, and it’s an honest response, even though he looks unsure. “Just reflecting.”
He nods, looking both ways before pulling out onto the main street. “I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “I think we should go out tonight.”
I look at him, brow raised, instantly thinking about the last time we tried to go out a few weeks ago. “Really?”
He shrugs, fingers dancing on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’d kind of like to erase the last date we had. Thought we should try again.” Another beat of silence passes. “But, if you’re not ready, that’s fine—”
“I think that sounds nice,” I interrupt, afraid I was giving off the wrong vibes. I’m more surprised that he wanted to try date night again after I messed the last one up so badly, but he gives me a smile that I know is genuine, and slightly full of mischief, which reminds me of the old him, the one that didn’t want to leave me.
I miss him.
And even though I see glimpses of that old Cassian lately, I know he’s still holding back.
“Good,” he says, and we spend the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence.
We agreed we’d leave at six-thirty, which allows me two hours to respond to some emails before I have to start getting ready. While I’m in my office, Cassian’s downstairs going over a few new menu items for the restaurant. Half of my inbox is nasty emails from Eris, which tries to dampen my mood but I won’t let it. If I got pissed and upset everytime Eris told me something I don’t want to hear, I’d never feel a single ounce of joy. I send him one email as a response to all, letting him know that everything is on track and I’ll send him an update at the end of the day tomorrow.
It’s just after five-thirty when a soft knock comes to the office door and Cassian peeks in. He’s shirtless, yet again, and I’m starting to think that he’s coming around shirtless more and more just to watch me ogle, which I do, with no shame. Especially when he’s sweating, looking like he’s just conquered a thousand pushups. “Red or blue?”
I lift a brow. “What?”
He smiles. “Red or blue?”
I snort. “Blue?”
“Seafood or steak?”
I cock my head to the side. “Is this how you're planning our night? Twenty questions?”
His grin widens. My eyes fall to his chest, his abs, back up to his lips, then his eyes as he asks, “Seafood or steak?”
I think about it for a second. “Steak.”
“Inside or outside?”
Thinking about the warm, clear day we’ve had, I say, “Outside.”
“I’m getting in the shower.” With a wink, he’s gone.
I decide I should probably start getting ready too and close my laptop, deciding to ignore all work related bullshit for the rest of the night. Tonight is about me and Cassian, and everything else officially doesn’t exist.
When I enter our bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked and I can see the inside getting steamy from the shower. Gray pants and a navy blue button down are sitting on the bed.
I’m glad I went with blue.
I grab a brush from my nightstand before sitting at my vanity and setting out what makeup I’m going to use. I need to wash my face first, and glance towards the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. Surely if he left it open, he doesn’t mind if I go in.
Right?
After debating it for far too long, I walk to the bathroom door and softly knock, nudging it open an inch or two more as I do so.
“Yeah?”
“I need to wash my face,” I say, peeking my head in.
The shower door opens just a bit and out pops his arm, my bottle of face wash in his hand.
I take the bottle, doing my best not to look at the expanse of toned skin and dark ink on display, but failing miserably.
Gods, he’s mouthwatering.
Heading straight for the sink, I turn it on and wet my face. As I squeeze a good amount of the product onto my fingers and form a lather, I clear my throat. “So is our game of twenty questions over or will there be more?”
Cassian chuckles and the sound makes my nipples tighten. A husky laugh shouldn’t undo me so easily, but gods, it’s been so long. “There are a few more,” he says, as I scrub. “But I was going to wait until we were on the way to ask.”
After rinsing my face and drying it off with a hand towel, I turn to lean against the bathroom counter. “And if I have one for you?”
The water shuts off and the bathroom becomes unnervingly quiet for a moment as Cassian towels off. The shower door opens and he’s once again wearing nothing but that towel slung low on his hips. The well defined muscles leading down into the towel may as well be an arrow pointing at his cock because it’s all I can focus on.
“Nesta?”
Right, I said I was going to ask him a question.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Legs or breasts?”
The only sound is the shower head slowly dripping water onto the tile floor. Cassian blinks, likely making sure he heard me right. “What?”
“Legs or breasts,” I repeat, heading for my closet.
“Are we going to KFC on the way home?” He asks, shaking his head.
I can’t help my own laugh as I look at him. “Just pick one, you ass.”
“Breasts.” His eyes are focused on my face, trying his hardest not to let his gaze dip to the aforementioned part of my body.
“Okay,” I smirk, stepping into my closet.
I can still feel him watching me as I disappear into my chaos of clothing, searching for a dress that shows off my best assets. A few come to mind, but there’s one in particular that I’m hoping to dig out for tonight’s occasion. It takes me a minute to find it, and when I take it out of the closet, my face now clean, Cassian’s still standing there in the bathroom, that fucking towel still barely hiding all that’s beneath.
I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Without warning, if I just grabbed his face and kissed him, I wonder how he would react. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to kiss your own husband, but I am. His eyes dart to the dress that’s hanging on the hanger in my hand. His eyes darken. He knows exactly what dress this is.
“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” I say, as I go by him, into the bedroom. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are on my ass.
They snap up to mine and he clears his throat. I try to ignore the fact that I can see something happening beneath that towel of his, even though it causes a longing throughout my body that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “Sounds good. Yeah, me too.”
I leave him in the bathroom and sit at my vanity, getting to work on my appearance. Cassian’s voice comes from the bathroom. “Twenty questions — clean shave or no?”
I laugh quietly to myself. I like this little game we’re playing. As I dab on my foundation, I say, “Keep the scruff.”
He comes out a few minutes later, his long, wavy hair brushed and dried and loose above his shoulders. He notices me looking and smiles as he takes his clothes off the bed and goes back to the bathroom. I suddenly realize how much I wanted him to drop that towel, right here, right now.
I focus on my eyeshadow.
Once I’m done with my makeup, I brush through my hair and add a few more curls since some had fallen loose before spraying it.
I’m halfway into my dress when the bathroom door opens again, and Cassian is dressed to perfection. He smells phenomenal, like my favorite cologne. When he sees me, he stops.
“Perfect timing,” I say, although I find it hard to find my voice. “Help me zip?”
I turn around and move my hair out of the way. For a moment, he doesn’t come, but then he’s moving toward me, silently.
He finds the zipper that’s just above my waist, and my breath catches as his fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. He takes his time, and every time his fingers make contact with my skin, an ache that’s newly been awakened throbs between my thighs.
I never thought zipping up my dress would be erotic. I was wrong.
“Ready?” He asks, hands still lingering on my waist.
Ready to throw you down on the bed and say to hell with our date.
I smile at him in the mirror and shake my head. “Almost.”
He steps back, letting me cross the room to my jewelry box. I retrieve a necklace he gave me for our anniversary a few years back. I don’t wear it often, despite loving it, because of the length of the chain. The diamond pendant fell right between breast and as I fluff my hair out around me, I turn and face my husband.
“Now I’m ready,” I say and I don’t know why I sound so breathless.
Okay, I do. If Cassian’s gaze could set something on fire, my dress would be ashes.
Silently, he holds out his hand. I take it, loving the feel of his rough callouses against my skin. I don’t let myself think about how those hands feel on other parts of my body, despite it having been months since I felt them.
Once downstairs, he swipes his keys and wallet, and then we’re headed to the restaurant.
He takes me to one of the best steakhouses in Velaris and we sit on the roof, where string lights and live music surrounds our candlelit table. The conversation is easy, nothing is forced, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.
We talk about our most memorable dates, once Cassian mentioned that one time we skipped a group date because we saw a new taco stand on the way and ate there instead, just the two of us. We sat on the steps of the art museum, dressed in some of our finest, eating a heap of messy tacos. That had been about eight years ago, and I hadn’t realized just how much time has passed between the two of us.
Nearly ten years of marriage.
A decade since we swore our lives to one another.
And I almost let it all go. Looking at my husband across the table, I don’t know how I could have ever been so foolish, so selfish.
He sees me watching him and smiles, setting his fork down, his plate now cleared. I take a sip of my wine. He refills it once it’s almost empty, until the bottle that the waiter left us is almost gone.
After calling for the check, Cassian looks up at me. “Should we head home or walk around for a bit?”
I set down my empty wine glass. “Is this a part of twenty questions?”
He chuckles. “I haven’t exceeded twenty questions yet?”
I shake my head.
“Then yes,” he says, quietly, the toe of his boot nudging the toe of my stiletto.
“A little walk sounds nice,” I say, afraid that when we get back home we’ll fall back into our polite small talk. Small talk isn’t bad, but this easy conversation we’ve had between us today… I like it.
We walk along the Sidra, the warm, clear day making way for a beautiful night, and I listen as Cassian regales me with tales of a new chef at the restaurant. She’s young and has never had an official kitchen job before, only graduating from culinary school the year before. I glance over at him, with lips pursed. He usually isn’t willing to put his restaurant’s reputation on the line like that. His chefs and sous chefs all have long lists of accomplishments and recognition, upholding the notoriety he’s earned.
We walk on, pausing at an ice cream stand to get to two cones.
“What?”
I look over at him and he’s already watching me as we walk.
I repeat his question. “What?”
He reached out and skims a thumb over my brow. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”
I push him away, rolling my eyes, but he catches my hand and we’re heading back towards the car.
“What’s on your mind, Nes?” He pushes, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand.
For a brief second, I consider lying to him. I could tell him it’s nothing, tell him there really isn’t anything on my mind. But we haven’t gone through four weeks of marriage counseling for nothing.
“I just… This new girl, Emerie,” I start, hoping he doesn’t see my question as a sign of jealousy. “What exactly made you bring her on? She’s pretty green, as far as your assistant chefs go.”
I don’t think there’s any nefarious reasoning behind his hiring her. I just don’t understand his sudden change in pace.
He’s quiet a minute, which only makes my nerves ratchet higher. When he finally speaks, his words are low, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the city around us. “She’s from the same small town as I am. Similar upbringing, no dad, single mom that worked way too much.”
My heart fractured a bit inside my chest.
I stop, tugging on his hand to make him stop, too. I look at him. Really look at him. My husband is a damn good man. I’ve always known it, and I know that he’s proud of his past, although a lot of it is tragic. He loved his mother, before she passed, considering she had raised him on her own and fought tooth and nail for everything they had. It would make sense he would be sympathetic for someone of a very similar life.
When it’s clear I’m not saying anything, because I truly cannot find the words, his brows furrow. Before he can ask me what’s wrong, I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his cheek. He inhales, as if he’s shocked, and I let the kiss linger against his warm, stubbled cheek. Our hands remain clasped together and when I lean back, his eyes are searching mine.
“You’re a good man,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And a good boss.”
He swallows, but he nods as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
I want to yank his mouth down to mine, but this moment is cherished and I don’t want to overstep, don’t want to ruin what we’ve built here. I give him a smile and we resume our walk.
I make a note to stop by the restaurant this week and meet Emerie as we find our way back to the truck. Cassian helps me inside the cab and his hand lingers on mine, even after I’ve sat, before he closes the door and finds his way behind the wheel.
We listen to music on the way home and he makes me laugh when he sings along to some nineties R&B song that definitely should’ve been left in the nineties. He catches me watching him on more than one occasion, and his smile softens every time he does.
When we’ve made it home and witnessed Greg sprawled out next to the fruit bowl on the island, Cassian says, “I had a really good time tonight.”
“Yeah,” I say, setting my clutch on the counter. “It was a good night.”
He nods, and for a moment we just stand in the silence, staring at one another. He’s the one to break it.
“I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow,” he says, but he’s stepped closer to me. “I should get ready for bed.”
“Right.” I clear my throat, not sure what to say, as I edge around the island, closer to him. “I have to go in early, too.”
Meetings with my manager and the publishing company start tomorrow. I have no idea where the future of my books are with this company, but they have to understand that I can’t keep putting out the same volume of content out. Not if I have any hope of salvaging my marriage.
He sets his keys in the center of the island, which puts him right in front of me. Staring up at him, I watch as his eyes dip down to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I…kiss you?”
I nod, not trusting my voice, holding my breath. He leans in and my eyes fall closed.
After a second, his lips press against mine and I’m lost. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me. I’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how heady his cologne made me feel, the feel of his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.
I melt into him, losing myself in the feel of his kiss, clinging to his shirt with both hands.
It’s over as quickly as it began.
When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are bright and he’s breathing heavily. I want to pull his face back to mine, want to grab him and drag him upstairs with me.
But Gwyn told us to hold off on sex.
Reaching up, I caress his stubbled cheek. “We should get to bed.”
He nods and swallows, not making a move to let me go any more than I’m making a move to let him go. I can tell his self control is on a short leash, just as mine is. So I step back and make my way upstairs.
He’s just behind me.
When we’ve reached our bedroom, Cassian quickly brushes his teeth before getting a pair of sweatpants. I’m watching him on the bed the entire time, suddenly not trusting myself to be too close to him. Before he leaves to go downstairs, he kisses my forehead, quickly. “Night, Nes.”
“Goodnight,” I say, but barely anything is audible as the word leaves my mouth. He leaves, and I feel empty once I’m alone.
After stripping out of my dress and pulling on an old t-shirt, I wash my face and brush my teeth, and bury myself beneath the blankets of our bed. I miss Cassian sleeping next to me. Tonight, more than ever, the bed feels lonely.
My heart is racing and I’m not tired in the slightest, despite the fact that I know I need to go to bed. I need to be well rested to deal with Eris’ shit in the morning.
But I can’t stop thinking about my husband, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I wonder if he wants to come up here, wants to climb into bed with me, wants to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.
I want his body pressed up against me.
I want to feel his skin on mine.
Fuck, the throbbing between my thighs is unbearable. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to run downstairs and have him touch me, taste me, fuck me until I can’t think straight. I’m not thinking straight now, I’m too horny, too needy.
It’s been too damn long.
But Gwyn is right. Nothing should be rushed. We need to wait until we’re good again, until we’re back to being Nesta and Cassian.
That doesn’t mean that he can’t sleep in his own bed, though.
Sex may be off the table, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t share the same bed.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed before I can think better of it. The house is quiet as I make my way to the door and push it open. Everything’s dark, and I try to be as quiet as possible as I make my way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stop, making out Cassian’s massive figure on the couch. There’s no way he’s comfortable. Half of him is nearly hanging off of it.
But he’s asleep.
At least, I think he’s asleep. The living room is dark, silent. He’s not moving. I think about walking down the stairs anyway, to brush his hair off his face and ask if he wants to join me, but I can’t seem to convince my feet to move. If he’s already asleep, he’s apparently not having the same internal crisis that I am.
Silently, I turn around and go back to bed, careful not to make any noise, careful not to wake him.
When I’m back beneath the blankets, I slip my hand beneath my panties and rub one out until that throbbing ache between my thighs is no more.
#better or worse#nessian#nessian bow#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#snacmc collabs#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#sjm fanfic
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Better Or Worse {Chapter Five}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Cassian —
True to my word, I’ve continued to sleep in Feyre and Rhysand’s basement. Now that it’s Monday, I have my bags in the backseat of my truck as I drive to this damn counseling session. As long as this doesn’t completely blow up in my face, I’ll be going back home with Nesta.
I was surprised when she showed up at Feyre and Rhys’s, begging me to come home, to go to marriage counseling. A year ago, even months ago, I would’ve agreed to marriage counseling without any hesitation. But I meant what I’d said. I’m tired, and I’m past trying.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself, but yet I’m here, pulling into the parking lot of some fancy little office on the far end of town.
Nesta’s already here.
I see her car parked right next to the door. She’s still inside, but her car is off, and I find myself wondering if she’s just as nervous and unsure as I am about this whole ordeal.
After cutting the engine, I grab my wallet out of the cup holder and make my way to Nesta’s car. At first, she doesn’t see me, so I knock on her window and make her jump. She greets me with a scowl.
Even when she’s mad, even when I’m pissed at her, she’s gorgeous.
“Come on,” I say, as she throws open her door. “We’re about to be late.”
I turn and walk towards the front door of the office building, knowing she’ll be a step behind me. Sure enough, I hear the clipping of her high heels on the pavement a second later. “I’ve been here since 9:45. You’re the one showing up one minute until ten.”
“You said our appointment was at ten,” I said, opening the door and holding it open for her. “So I’m here at ten.”
She glared at me as she walked into the building, but the waiting room was not a conducive place for the type of conversation we were prone to having recently, so she let it drop.
For now.
She headed right for the young woman at the receptionist’s desk, leaving me at the door, giving me a minute to appreciate her. The sweater she wore was loose and baggy, hiding her full breasts, but it was tucked into a pencil skirt that showed off her round ass. It was made of lace, with a shorter skirt beneath, showing off her long, toned legs.It was the kind of obscene balance that Nesta brought to everything in life.
I could barely tear my eyes off her ass, off those legs that hadn’t been wrapped around my waist in far too long, but once I did, I noticed the sweater was an old one of mine.
A knot of emotion caught in my throat that I cleared away before joining my wife.
“Dr. Berdara will be with you shortly, if you’d like to take a seat.”
Nesta gave a curt nod and swiveled to a set of chairs by the window. I quietly followed after a kind smile toward the receptionist.
Nesta and I sat in silence for five awkward minutes before a door opened and our names were called. The therapist was around our age, maybe a year or two younger, which I thought was strange. Surely she had never been married, and if she had, she couldn’t have been married long enough to know all of the answers.
She seemed nice enough though.
Her and Nesta made small talk as they walked ahead of me down the long hallway and into an office overlooking the parking lot.
She gestured to a small leather couch for us to sit on opposite of her desk, which we did before she sat herself and smiled.
“It’s so nice to meet the two of you,” she said, sweetly. “I’m Gwyn.”
Wants us to call her by her first name? Another red flag.
“Not a fan of going by your title, Doc?” I asked, and I admit that my hostility may have been showing a little too much. I can practically feel Nesta’s eyes on me.
“I prefer a more casual approach when I’m first meeting new clients,” she explained. “Start us all out on even ground, rather than anyone above the other.”
Before I could reply, Nesta jumped in. “I think that’s a wonderful way to start out. I’m Nesta.”
The two of them looked at me, waiting. I started drumming my fingers on the arm of the couch. “And I’m Cassian.”
“As I said, it’s wonderful to meet you both.” Gwyn gave us another sparkling smile. “Cassian, why don’t you fill me in on why you two are here today?”
My fingers froze. “Why me?”
“Because Nesta made the appointment,” she said, nodding to my wife. At the same time, she nonchalantly flipped open a notebook and reached for a pen. “So since she took the first step by reaching out, I’d like to hear from you.”
“Pretty sure I took the first step when I told her I wanted a divorce,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I can feel her go rigid next to me.
Gwyn jots something down in her notebook, either oblivious to the tension between us or used to the uncomfortable situation thanks to her line of work.
“And what led you to that point?” She pushed, her voice gentle, which only makes me more agitated. “What made you ask her for a divorce?”
Alright. I guess we’re jumping right into this fucking train wreck.
“Nesta stopped caring about our marriage,” I answer, shrugging. “So now I have, too.”
“I didn’t stop caring,” Nesta snaps.
Gwyn gives her a smile. “You’ll have your time to respond, but let’s let Cassian finish.”
Well, shit. Maybe I don’t hate her.
Gwyn turns back to me. “What makes you think that she’s stopped caring?”
“In the last year, we’ve barely spoken to one another. We’ve barely spent any time together. When we do talk, it’s about bills or our schedules or her work, which I think is great, she’s great at what she does, but we don’t need to be constantly talking about deadlines and edits. Every time we’re in the same room together, she gets annoyed and snappy. Every time I ask her for a night off, where we can just be together, she refuses.”
Gwyn nods thoughtfully. “So you feel the root of your issues lies in her work?”
“I think she’s addicted to her work. It’s clear she cares more about it than she does me,” I answer honestly. “She definitely puts more work into her career than she ever has in our marriage.”
Anger is radiating off of Nesta, but she doesn’t say a word.
“I hear you.” Gwyn writes something else down. “How long have the two of you been married?”
“A little over nine years.” Nesta worked on the night of our anniversary, but I don’t bring that up.
“And your issues just began a year ago?” Gwyn asks.
I hesitate. “I guess I don’t really know exactly when our issues started, but about then, yeah.”
“This may seem like an obvious question, but I’d like as much background as you're willing to offer.” She folds her hands over one another on her desk and looks between us. “Did anything happen around the time things changed? Was there a catalyst or an incident that led to what you both see as a deterioration in your marriage?”
Before I can even decide how much I want to divulge, seeing as I met this woman less than five minutes ago, Nesta answers for us both. “No, nothing.”
And then Gwyn is writing again. “No infidelity or skeletons in closets that came to light?”
When I look over at Nesta, I find her eyes already on me, her gaze pleading.
I wanted to be pissed that our marriage counselor was almost accusing me of cheating on my wife, despite knowing she was asking an innocent question. I wanted to be pissed that Nesta had lied to her face, despite being the one who suggested we come here to work on our issues. This was where she’d finally open up about what had happened that night, when our world had gone dark, after pleading with her so long to just talk to me.
But it wouldn’t be today. Nesta wasn’t ready, the panic in her eyes was evident enough.
I turned back to Gwyn just as she looked up from her notebook and lied, just like Nesta had. “No cheating. No skeletons. Nothing happened.”
Gwyn looked back and forth between us, skeptically, but nodded. “Alright. Well, finding a turning point is a crucial part of this process, so let’s start from the beginning. How did the two of you meet?”
“Freshman year of college,” Nesta says, and I don’t care that she’s suddenly taken control of the conversation.
“And you started dating?”
Nesta nods.
“And what was it that drew you to Cassian?”
The question throws me off guard and I hate how much I want to hear the answer.
Nesta clears his throat. “He was…wild. Confident. Sarcastic. And frustrating as hell.”
Gwyn smiled. “And you found that attractive?”
“I found him intriguing,” Nesta said, wistfully. “He could piss me off and make me swoon within a matter of seconds. I’d say that it was his passion that drew me to him, at first.”
“And Cassian?” Gwyn asks. “What drew you to Nesta?”
I stare at my outstretched feet. “She challenged me. Captivated me. I was used to dating…girls with low self esteem who just wanted me to prove that they could have me, but Nesta was smart. Confident, too. I don’t know. I guess that I liked that she was different.”
“Different how?”
It was a much more difficult question to answer than I would have thought. Not because I didn’t have an answer, but because it was hard to put it into words. “She pushed me. She made me dig deeper. There was substance, not just a pretty face, she helped me grow, I guess.”
Nesta sits silently beside me, staring at her hands, and I tried not to notice that her eyes line with tears.
“And when did you get married?” Gwyn asks, still watching me.
“A little over a year later. We married young. Both just turned twenty.”
“And did anyone oppose your marriage? Considering you were both so young.”
“My father,” Nesta answers, quietly, “but we’ve never had a great relationship so I didn’t really care what he thought. He came around afterwards.”
She didn’t mention that he died a few years ago, but I can hear the pain in her voice as I often do when she talks about her dad, although rare.
“Tell me about your wedding day.”
“It was small,” Nesta says, and it nearly sounds like she’s smiling, although her face remains neutral. “Just our closest friends, and my sisters. Our friend Rhys got ordained online and married us on the beach.” Unable to help myself, I chuckle. Rhys was the worst officiant of all time. He was drunk, which did make the awful speech he had concocted a little bit better. “I wore a dress that I found online for thirty dollars and we were barefoot. It was nice.”
She made that thirty dollar dress look a million bucks. I still remember exactly how she looked, with her hair braided like a crown around her head. I remember how I felt. It had been the best day of my life and I couldn’t believe that I was so lucky to marry someone I was so in love with, my best friend.
“You look lost in thought. What are you thinking?”
It takes me a second to realize that she’s talking to me. Nesta is watching me, expectantly. I clear my throat. “It was a good day.”
I’ve somehow said the right thing and the wrong thing, all at the same time. Gwyn gives me a smile and looks poised to jump onto her next question when Nesta speaks. “That’s it?”
I don’t respond immediately and neither does Gwyn, which leads me to believe she’s going to let this one play out, rather than intervene.
Thanks, Doc.
I turn towards her, unsurprised to find her eyes already on me, storm clouds brewing within. “I said it was a good day, Nes.”
“But that’s all you have to say? It was a good day?” She genuinely looks offended and my short fuse is getting incrementally shorter by the minute. “Meeting your brothers for a drink after work is a good day. When you find a twenty on the street, it’s a good day. And all you have to say is that it was a good day?”
My jaw locks and my fingers flex. “What do you want me to say?”
Pure rage flashes across her eyes. “I want you to say something meaningful.”
Something meaningful. Jokes on her. She’s the one that hasn’t said something meaningful in months, years, who can’t recall how to have a meaningful conversation if her life depended on it. I take a deep breath, then another. Those deep breaths are the only thing keeping me stable, keeping me grounded. “Something meaningful?” I repeat.
“Yes,” she snaps.
Gwyn remains quiet.
My lips snap shut and I bristle, eyes planted on a pen sitting on Gwyn’s desk. “This is stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Just talk, Cassian!”
My eyes snap to hers, and the second we make eye contact, I’m gone. I can see the emotion, the rage and sadness and hope, and that’s rare for Nesta. Especially lately. Lately, I’ve barely gotten anything from her, but now…she’s listening. She’s waiting. She’s hopeful.
“You want to talk about our wedding day?”
“Yes.” A tear falls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away.
“The day I married you was the best fucking day of my life,” I say, looking away from her. “I loved you, Nesta. You were so damn beautiful, walking towards me with that overpriced bouquet. I had no doubt that you were the woman I was supposed to marry. All I wanted was you. I didn’t give a fuck when or where I married you. All I cared about was that you were mine. I meant every word I said in our vows. I’ll always love you, always protect you, always be there for you…” I shake my head. “I meant my vows, Nesta. But your vows were shit. Over the last year, you’ve proven that you didn’t mean a damn word you said that day.”
The room is silent, save for the occasional sniffle from my wife. She doesn’t respond and I’m sure as hell done talking for now.
Gwyn lightly taps the end of her pen against her notepad. “Can you tell me what you mean by that, Cassian?”
“I mean she hasn’t stood behind her vows, the promises we made to each other.” My voice is quiet now, all anger sapped from me as Nesta dabs at her eyes with tissue she produced from somewhere. I’m just tired now.
Reading through her notes, Gwyn says, “You’ve told me there’s been no infidelity, so in what way do you feel that Nesta hasn’t upheld her vows?”
“She’s never there.” I hate explaining this. It’s the same shit I’ve explained to my brothers for the past six months and nothing ever changes. “It’s like I don’t exist. All that matters is her books and her deadlines. She doesn’t put any effort into our marriage or even into our relationship.”
Nesta is noticeably silent now. Good.
Gwyn pushes. “Nesta, would you like to respond to that?”
Angrily, she swipes at a tear. “My books are my livelihood.”
“And you were my whole life.”
I don’t realize I’ve spoken the words aloud until both Gwyn and Nesta look at me.
I sigh, rubbing at my temples. Trying to move past the fact that I’m letting feelings I want to suppress out, I say, “Look, I’m proud of Nesta. Okay? She’s a damn good writer, and she’s living her dream. I get that. But since her career has taken off, she’s either working or stressed, and wants nothing to do with me, because I’m just another thing on her plate that’s already overflowing.”
Nesta doesn’t bother saying that I’m wrong.
“So you’re saying that Nesta needs to focus more on you,” Gwyn says.
“I’m saying that as long as she’s too busy working, our marriage is nonexistent.” Gods, I didn’t even want to come and now I can’t shut up. I lock my jaw and stare at my hands.
I feel Nesta looking at me but I don’t care to look back at the moment.
“And how do you feel about what Cassian has said, Nesta?”
My wife is quiet for a moment, then she says, “I don’t know.”
I scoff and Nesta glares at me, but Gwyn is patient. “Do you not know, or are you unsure how to put your emotions into words?”
Nesta shrugs, and I know she’s frustrated but I can’t find it in me to care much. “I guess I didn’t realize I was working so much, at first, but now I’m just used to it. I’m used to waking up and working until I go to bed. Ignoring Cassian was not my intention, I just wanted to be successful.”
“And now it’s a habit?” Gwyn asks.
Nesta nods.
“Would you say that you’re addicted to your work?”
Nesta hesitates. “I guess so. I guess it’s all I think about, yes.”
“Do you still enjoy being an author?” Gwyn asks, and I find myself intrigued by this question. For the first time in a while, I look at Nesta.
She’s staring at her wedding rings. “I don’t know. I love to write, but it definitely feels more like a chore than it ever has before. I don’t like the editing process. And sometimes I’m so stressed that I have writer's block and I go insane trying to write anything worthwhile, only for it to get torn apart during editing. My deadlines are getting closer and closer together and I struggle to meet them, because I’m always so stressed. And I know it affects Cassian. Then I feel guilty, but if I’m being honest, that guilt just makes me more stressed and withdrawn and frustrated and miserable to be around.”
The words rush out of her; her eyes never leave her rings.
“There may be a conversation that needs to be had with your publisher about the amount of work your putting out,” Gwyn muses, never one to give orders, just suggestions. “But as of right now, Nesta, I want you to think about how you used to balance work and your time with Cassian before. We’re nearly out of time today, but I want that to be what you consider until we meet again. Cassian, I want you to think about the amount of work Nesta does and how you can help.” I immediately want to protest that I know little about the written word, not like Nesta does, but she shakes her head. “I don’t mean in a literal sense, but to alleviate her stress. How can you help?”
I nodded. If we were here, I was willing to try.
“I want you two to go on a date before our next session.”
I blink at her, not sure that I’ve heard her right. “A date?”
“Yes,” she replies, closing her notepad and smiling at us both. Nesta’s expression is as confused as mine. “Dinner, maybe a movie or some dancing, the activity doesn’t matter. As long as the two of you spend uninterrupted time together, without work or deadlines, cell phones or emails, that’s our goal.”
Uninterrupted time with my wife.
The idea terrified me.
I hesitate, but it’s Nesta that says, “Okay.”
I don’t know why I’m so shocked by this, by her quick acceptance, considering this was all her idea, but I am. I’ve been trying to spend alone time with her for months, and I’ve gotten shot down every time. As soon as someone else mentions it, she says okay.
I tell myself not to be pissed about it, but I am.
Still, I say, “Okay.”
Nesta —
It’s been three days since Cassian has been back home, and it’s been…okay. Quiet, and there’s still not a lot of interaction between the two of us, but we haven’t been fighting. Although I guess it’s hard to fight when you barely speak.
It hasn’t helped that he’s been working a lot this week. He’s a few men down at his restaurant so he’s picking up the extra slack, as you do when you’re the head chef, until they return.
Still, when he’s gotten home we’ve had a small conversation about our days then we tell each other goodnight before Cassian makes his way down to the couch to sleep.
I hate being in our big ass bed without him, but I don’t mention it, not yet.
Cassian got off earlier today, so we decided to take up Gwyn’s challenge. We’re going on a date. I’m nervous as hell, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I want it to go well but I feel like I have to tiptoe around everything to avoid another screaming match.
I can hear Cassian humming to himself in the shower as I slip into a little black dress, one I haven’t worn in a really long time, and look in the mirror. I’m hot, I can’t deny it. I curled my hair and did a full face of makeup, which I also haven’t done in a while, and honestly? I feel confident looking at my reflection, more confident than I’ve felt in…shit, too long.
After clasping a simple diamond pendant around my neck and closing my jewelry box, my eyes fell on the cracked bathroom door in the mirror behind me, a bit of steam billowing out. The only thing I lacked to be completely ready were my heels, but seeing what occurred last time I walked in on Cassian in the shower, I respected his privacy and waited. I sat down on our bed — the bed I’d been sleeping in alone — and waited.
It was absurd, giving my husband privacy and space after being together for a decade. We were the couple no one shared their secrets with, because what one of us knew, the other did as well. We didn’t do it to gossip.
We just didn’t keep secrets from each other.
I didn’t know at what point that changed, but I knew I was the cause. It all seemed to be my fault lately.
“You ready?”
My head snapped up. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t heard the shower shut off or the door open completely.
And my husband stood before me in nothing but a dark blue towel, water dripping off his hair and running down his muscular body.
I watched as one particular droplet trailed down his neck, over his broad chest and well-defined abdomen, before absorbing into the towel wrapped around his hips.
“Nesta?”
Cauldron, boil me, I was ogling my own husband.
Tearing my eyes from his body, I met his gaze. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find heat there, simmering beneath the wall he’d put up between us. It had been a long time since I’d taken a moment to appreciate his body, a body he works hard to maintain, and I know he was as affected by our distance as I was.
Once I’d looked my fill, I cleared my throat, completely forgetting what he’d asked. “What?”
“Are you ready to go?”
I shook my head. “Almost. Just need to grab my shoes.”
He nodded, heading for his dresser, opening the top drawer, where his socks and underwear had always been tossed in with no rhyme or reason. As he began to rifle through it, I hurried into the bathroom, the steam already dissipating, and into my closet. Finding my heels was a matter of a few seconds and I was back into the bedroom before Cassian had even found a matching pair of socks.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I called, the straps of my shoes dangling from my fingers.
I only got two steps down the hall before I heard his voice call out behind me. “Nes?”
I turned, finding him standing in the bathroom doorway, a pair of black boxer briefs clutched in his hands. “Yes?”
“You look beautiful.”
A sudden pang of nausea swept through my stomach, fueled by excitement and longing at his words. I knew I was blushing. “Thank you.”
His smile almost reached his eyes as he disappeared into our bathroom and I hurried downstairs, Greg on my heels.
My beautiful, fat cat hopped onto the couch next to me in the living room as I put on my shoes, trying to control my shaking fingers.
My mind wanders back to my husband in a towel, as well as what lies beneath as I stand, my heels securely fastened. I take one last look at myself in the hallway mirror and take a deep breath as I hear Cassian coming down the stairs.
When he comes into view, I want to run up to him and kiss him deeply, but I stay where I am. He’s wearing black pants and a dark crimson button down, both of which are perfectly fitted to his gloriously sculpted body. The top few buttons are undone, and I can see glimpses of his chest tattoo. But the best part? His hair hangs loose.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” I say, nearly breathless, which makes him arch a brow. I clear my throat. “I’m starving.”
“Me too.” He comes near me, where his wallet and keys sit and snatch them up. He smells delicious, like that cologne I got him last Solstice. Once everything is in his pockets, he holds out his hand.
I blink before realizing what it is he wants.
Cassian is nothing short of a gentleman when it comes to a date.
I slip my hand in his and realize just how long it’s been since we’ve touched.
His fingers curl around mine as pulls me to my feet and we turn to head for the kitchen and the garage beyond. He drops my hand as he locks the door behind us and I’m surprised when he takes it again as we walk to his truck. It’s a short walk, but he’s apparently decided it’s been too long since we touched as well.
After closing me in the passenger side of the truck, he circles around until he’s sitting in the cab with me and starts it up. It roars to life and he backs out of the garage and the driveway.
As soon as he’s on the main road, he reaches over and threads my fingers in his.
I don’t say anything about it and neither does he, both of us silently enjoying the contact we’ve been denied for months.
“I made reservations at Sea and Vine,” he said, once the quiet in the cab was starting to feel less comfortable and more stifling. “I know how much you like their wine selection.”
The soft snort leaves me before I can stop it. “The wine selection, eh?” When I glance over at him, his ears are red. “Nothing to do with their cannolis?”
“Don’t hate on their cannolis,” he mutters, and I catch the hint of a smile.
The rest of the car ride isn’t bad. We make smalltalk, which feels strange and unnatural, but not awful. We make our way to Sea and Vine, and park at a parking meter a few streets over. As soon as we’re out of the truck, he takes my hand again and pulls me close.
The heat radiates off his body, and now that his hair is completely dry, I admire the thick waves. He hasn’t shaved in a week or so, and a steady scruff has captured his cheeks, his chin. I love it when he’s not clean shaven. I think it’s sexy.
Part of me wants to pull him into an alley and have him pin me up against the bricks. I want to revisit that heat we had when we were dating, when we were engaged, when we were newly married. There was a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, when we would sneak away no matter where we were and fuck each other senseless.
I’m just now realizing how long it’s been since we’ve even been on a date. The whole concept feels foreign, and I’m almost unsure of what to do.
It’s all so ridiculous.
When we make it to the restaurant, we’re ushered to our table and Cassian pulls out my chair. Once he’s seated across from me, we fall back into our small talk. We share about our days, and how things have been going at work. I order my favorite wine and nearly melt in the deliciousness of it. Cassian asks them for a cannoli before we even order dinner.
To my delight, I’m enjoying myself. And, I’m hardly thinking about work, which is rare. I feel like I’m thinking about work every waking moment. It’s a nice change of pace.
“Gwyn seems nice,” Cassian says, once our food is placed in front of us. He has a plate of steak and pasta, while I have shrimp scampi.
“She does,” I agree. “I like her approach. Very casual.”
Cassian nods and pops a bite of steak into his mouth. “I have to admit that I wasn’t so sure about counseling…but, I didn’t mind it.”
“It’s nice, having someone there to play the mediator,” I say, jumping right in. We can tiptoe around our problems or we can face them head on. After months of awkwardness and half-assed conversations, I was ready to get back to who we were. I just had no idea where to start. “Someone to let us finish our thoughts when the other wants to jump in.”
He says nothing, just takes another bite of his exquisite steak and raises an eyebrow, indicating I’m the one who needed the reminder more than he did.
Which, to be fair, was true.
I can’t help but chuckle as I eat, swallowing my food before I speak. “I’m just saying, having an outside party is helpful.”
“I don’t disagree,” he says, twirling his fork in his pasta, not looking at me. “Especially when it comes to shit we don’t want to talk about.”
Immediately, my walls started to go up, not liking where he was leading the conversation. I swallowed harshly, but there was no food in my mouth.
Clearing my throat, I started, “I’m going to make an effort to be home more, Cass—”
“I’m not talking about your work, Nesta,” he pushed.
My jaw clenched and I stared at my plate, still full of food. Cassian’s chewing slowed as he watched me.
“I thought my work was the biggest part of our issues,” I began, slowly.
Cassian continued to eat, apparently able to eat through any sort of tension. “I think it’s a part of our issues. It’s not the only part of our issues, although it’s apparently the only part of our issues that you want to talk about.”
I’m quiet for a moment, pushing around my pasta on my plate. “Can we not? I want to enjoy my night.”
“I’m not trying to ruin our night,” Cassian says, his fork halting. “I’m just saying—”
“Well stop,” I snap, and instantly regret it. My eyes wander back to my plate. “I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”
“You don’t ever want to talk about it,” he mutters, and drops his fork. “It wouldn’t hurt to talk about it, Nesta.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We have to.”
“Not now.” The tone of my voice is final, and I see the hurt in his eyes. I know that what happened didn’t only affect me. It affected him, too, and we never had closure. I get that…but I can’t talk about it. I’m not ready. Even after all this time. I’m not ready.
We’re quiet for a moment, and I wonder if anyone at the tables surrounding us have picked up on our awkward choice of dinner conversation.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” I say, at last.
“Yeah.” Cassian’s not looking at me. All of the sudden, the mood has changed and we’re strangers again. “Me too.”
“Call for the check.”
His jaw locks but he gives me a stiff nod. With barely any of his food eaten, he motions for the server to come our way and asks for the check.
I feel guilty.
I also feel angry.
Uncomfortable.
Sad.
We sit in complete silence as our check is retrieved and we’re brought to-go boxes. I dump my shrimp scampi into one, and he pushes his steak into another.
We barely make it out of the restaurant before he says, “I’m sorry.”
“About what?” I ask, as if I don’t know, which seems to make him mad.
“Don’t do that,” he says, stopping under a streetlight to glare at me.
“Don’t do what?” I ask, unable to stop my act, not knowing why.
I can tell he’s frustrated, can tell he’s getting pissed. I notice he’s not reaching for my hand this time.
“Act like you never have any fucking clue what I’m talking about,” he hisses. “I need you to communicate, Nesta. I need you to talk to me, to be open to me, to give me something of substance. I’m tired of these surface, meaningless conversations, and I’m tired of you avoiding everything we have to get out in the open. Therapy only goes so far.”
“Why couldn’t we just have a nice night?” I cry, and I hate myself for getting emotional. “We haven’t had a date in forever. This was supposed to be good for us.” And now we’re fighting on the fucking street.
Cassian just shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s not my fault.”
“Oh, right, it’s mine! It’s always my fault. It’s my fault we drifted apart, it’s my fault that you want a divorce, it’s my fault that we can’t—” the words fade away from me, stuck on my tongue. A tear falls that I wish kept itself hidden.
He stiffens. “Nesta—”
“Go home, Cassian.” I start to walk away, but he quickly follows me.
“Come on. Let’s just go to the truck—”
“I’ll find my own way home,” I snap, trying my best to hurry ahead of him. I don’t look at him. I hardly acknowledge his presence. I need to be alone.
“Nes—”
“Please, Cassian!” I spin around, meeting his eyes. I can’t stop the tears from falling, can’t stop the feeling of utterly falling apart. “Leave me alone! Go home.”
I hate the angst in his eyes, the confusion, the loss. “Where are you going?”
I shake my head, backing up slowly. “I’ll see you at home.”
This time, when I walk away from him, he doesn’t chase after me.
#better or worse#nessian bow#nesta archeron#cassian#nesta x cassian#nessian#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#sjm fanfic#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#angst#modern au
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Better or Worse {13}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Warnings: language, s e x
This chapter is NSFW. 18+.
I feel like everyone can see my nipples.
Realistically, I know that nobody but Cassian even knows that I have my nipples pierced, but my subconscious brain is yelling that everyone knows.
My husband, ever the overgrown child, is currently making a sand castle. A huge sand castle at that and he looks like he’s having a blast.
Turning back to the pages of the new romance I’d brought with me, he wasn’t the only one. With my earbuds in, I blocked out the sounds of the people around us and lost myself in the story before me. It wasn’t anything like the stories I wrote, but that didn’t make it bad. I loved reading books in different styles, always allowing my craft to evolve.
I was just getting to a scene where the male main character was on her front porch in the pouring rain, ready to tell the female main character his true feelings— and hopefully get some slow burn smut— when a shadow blocked my book.
Glancing up to look at my husband, I pulled one of my earbuds out. “What’s up?”
“I’m covered in sand and need to rinse off,” he said, holding out a hand that was, indeed, white and sandy. “Let’s get in the water.”
Curling my lip, I settled further back into my lounge chair. “I’m okay. I can’t anyways, remember?”
His eyes flicker to my breasts as he purses his lips as I use my new piercings as my excuse to avoid the cold ocean water. “Just come in up to your waist.”
I place a finger in my book as I cock my head. “Just go in by yourself. I’ll watch you.”
He frowns, and I can’t believe that I find it cute when he pouts. “What if I drown?”
“You’re an excellent swimmer.”
“What if a shark comes at me?”
“Punch it in the nose.”
“What if I drift off with the waves and I lose you?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Then I’ll send out the Coast Guard until you’re found.”
His shoulders sag. “I don’t want to go by myself. Please?”
I sigh, and even I will admit that it’s dramatic as fuck. “But it’s cold.”
“It’s not that bad,” he says, having already been in once. He holds out his hand, again. “Please?”
I stare at him for a moment, but he stares back with the same intensity.
“Fine, up to my waist, no more than ten minutes,” I say, and bookmark my page before taking his hand and letting him pull me out of my lounge chair.
If it were just because I didn’t want to get in, I would not be letting him lead me into the water. There is no way in hell that he wouldn’t drag me under, splash me, or do whatever he could to poke at me.
But thanks to his new favorite jewelry I own, I can’t get in the water for another eight hours or so. I’m not risking an infection from any piercing, but sure as hell not on my nipples.
True to his word, the water isn’t as cold as I feared and I even went out a little past my waist, careful to keep my breasts from bobbing into the water. Cassian stayed with me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me sweetly. This was a public beach, families and couples and kids everywhere, so it wasn’t like we could get hot and heavy anyways. But still, I could feel the heat simmering just below the surface in that kiss.
The memory of Cassian’s mouth on me the night before had all of my nerves lighting up. He hadn’t let me touch him, had said it was about my pleasure not his, and I had come not once, but twice, all without him touching my overly sensitive nipples.
I told him I wanted to do something we’d never done while we were on vacation. We went to bars and restaurants with our family, but we never went out and did anything else.
I wanted to go to a club. I wanted to dance and feel the music pounding through my body and lose myself in the lights. Cassian was not nearly as excited as I was.
Still, when we got back to the beach, we each started getting ready. I packed a little black dress just for this occasion, along with a pair of strappy heels. My hair was curled, free of its usual updo, hanging loosely down my back which was mostly bare, thanks to the dress I had on, which was open-backed and showed off my ass magnificently.
When I walked out of the bathroom, I stilled.
Cassian is sitting on the foot of the bed, watching a soccer game in his underwear. Although he had showered, he hasn’t done much since then, when I took over the bathroom and he went to “get dressed”.
Apparently, getting dressed means getting rid of his towel and pulling on his underwear.
And socks.
“Babe, there’s only fifteen minutes left and Illyria is down by one,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “Let me watch the rest and I promise to dance with you all night.”
I think that’s fair enough. “Can you at least finish getting ready while you watch?”
Something exciting happens on the screen and Cassian jumps to his feet. “THAT’S RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKERS!”
I suddenly hope our neighbors are currently out of their rooms. Letting him watch his game, I go to his suitcase and pull out a pair of black jeans, along with a black, long sleeve tee that I shake the wrinkles out of.
As he sits back down, he glances over at me, and stills. I’ll never get tired of that, watching him look at me for the first time. His eyes go soft, then fill with lust, and his lips part as he lets out a breath.
He motions for me to turn around, so I give him a little show, turning slowly. When I face him again, it’s clear his eyes were lingering on my ass. “Good?”
“Why do you always have to look so damn good while trying to make me leave this room?” he asks, the game long forgotten. “It’s torture.”
“It’s my specialty,” I say, blowing him a kiss and laying his clothes out on the bed. “We’re not staying if it goes to overtime.”
It didn’t. Illyria scored one more time with forty seconds to spare and the game ended. True to his word, Cassian dressed, brushed his teeth, and we were out the door within five more minutes.
The club, called the Pleasure Barge, was just a few buildings down from our hotel. It had pleasure cruises that left the beach every half an hour, but that was not my focus for the night. After showing our ID’s at the door, our hands were stamped and we were let into the club. The music was loud and I could feel the bass thrumming through my entire body. I turned to Cassian, to see if my excitement was mirrored on his expression.
He couldn’t have looked more miserable if he tried.
“Smile,” I said, pulling on his hand and finding a table along the edge of the dance floor. “Go get us a couple drinks and then we’ll dance.”
He mumbled something I didn’t catch, but headed to the bar regardless. A few minute later, he returned with a vodka cranberry for me and neat whiskey for himself.
I sipped through my straw and watched him. “You could try to have fun, you know?”
“There are far too many people here for me to have fun,” he replied, bringing his glass to his lips and looking around.
“Finish your drink and I’ll make it fun for you,” I promised and his eyes landed on me.
It’s ridiculous how he can look at me and make me feel completely nude. It’s a talent that he’s always had, one that’s always made my heart beat a little faster and my knees shake.
He downs his whiskey in a few gulps, surely hoping to make sure I quickly act on my statement. I try to keep up, hasilty making my vodka cranberry disappear before dragging my husband onto the dance floor.
The music was loud with a heavy bass, and as soon as we were out in the mass of people, his hands were around my waist and my body was sliding up against his.
We haven’t gone clubbing since our early twenties, but I’ve always loved to dance. There’s something freeing about it, once you decide to not give a damn what anyone else thinks.
I throw my hands in the air as I shamelessly rub my ass all over my husband’s groin. My back is pressed against his abdomen, and I can feel his heart beating erratically. It seems that he doesn’t mind dancing with me, after all.
At least, that’s what I can assume from the way he palms my breast.
I swat his hand away as I laugh, turning to face him and sliding my arms around his neck. “We’re in public!”
“There’s at least twenty couples fucking in the bathroom right now!” He yells back. “I think me grabbing your boob is the most innocent thing going on here!”
I laugh again before getting lost in the music. Cassian must really love me, because I lose track of how many songs we dance to before he leans close to my ear and says, “Break? I need a drink!”
I nod so I don’t have to yell over the music and we find an unoccupied table across the dance floor.
“Stay here, I’ll get our drinks,” he says, giving me a chaste kiss and grabbing my ass.
I bite my lips as he goes, watching the way his muscles move beneath his shirt.
I pull my phone from the hidden pocket in my dress, checking my texts.
Elain has texted our group chat with pictures of a soft pink and gray nursery. She’s officially begun nesting, starting to put away the tiny clothes she’d received at her baby shower. This baby wouldn’t be here for another few weeks, yet she already has a larger wardrobe than I do.
I'm beyond happy for my sister and Azriel, just as happy as I was for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant with Nyx. But it also felt like a shot to the heart every time I thought about the pregnancies we’d lost. Gwyn had suggested that we tell our families, to open our grief up to those that loved us. I want to and so does Cassian, but neither of us are ready.
Soon, we keep promising ourselves, and we will, but not yet.
I sense someone pause at the table next to me and I lean into him, smiling up at him, before I realize it’s not my husband. Jumping back, I put a hand to my chest. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
He lifts a brow, and he does it in a way that tells me he’s used to flirting. “No worries. I’m Justin.”
I blink. It’s been a long time since I’ve been single, and Cassian and I got together so young that I almost don’t catch what’s happening here. “Hi, Justin. I’m married.”
He laughs, and I can’t deny that he’s attractive. A few years younger than me, I’m sure, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. His hair is a chestnut brown and his eyes are blue, and they’re scanning my body from the top of my head to my toes. “I don’t mind that. A lot of married women vacation here. Girls trip, right? I’m known to make a girls trip a little more worth while.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh until I’m snorting. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “I just…does that line typically work on women?”
He flashes me a grin. “You tell me.”
“Oh, Cauldron boil me, no—”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I stare at him, nearly dumbfounded. “I just told you—”
“You’re incredibly beautiful,” he says. “By far the most beautiful woman in this place.”
I hesitate. “Thank you, but—”
“Would you like to dance?”
This guy just isn’t getting the hint. He takes my hand, but before I can pull it away and tell him hell no, I hear my husband’s voice.
…………
Cassian
………….
I know I have anger issues.
I know my anger comes quickly and takes a while to fade, and I know that sometimes I get pissed over ridiculous shit, but there is nothing ridiculous about this prick taking my wife’s hand.
With both drinks in my hands, I stop behind Nesta and ask, filter long gone, “What the fuck are you doing?”
His stupid, smug grin melts away the instant he sees me. “Hey, man, I was just telling your wife how beautiful she is—”
“You were just leaving,” I say to him, interrupting.
“I’ve got this, Cass,” Nesta says, snatching up her drink as soon as I set it down on the table.
Nesta wasn’t going to dance with him, I know that, I could see the look on her face as I approached, but my fuse is short and I’m about to blow. My higher reasoning is gone and I’m pissed at this asshole who had the gall to touch my wife, at the club for existing, and at Nesta for dragging me here.
“Seemed to be doing real well while I was gone,” I snap, not tearing my eyes from the prick who’s still standing at our table.
“Excuse you?” I can hear the righteous indignation in her voice as she turns in place to glare up at me, the jackass behind us forgotten.
“I’m gonna go,” he mumbles, backing away. “You two have a good night.”
I want to say something, to have the final word, but Nesta beats me to it. “Go fuck yourself, Justin.”
Whirling back on me, her eyes are blazing. “Do you really think I was flirting with that asshole?”
“I don’t know what the hell was happening,” I say, losing the tenuous hold on my anger. “I walk up and he’s holding your hand and asking you to dance. What else did he say?”
“He hit on me and I told him I was married.” She emphasizes the word by holding up her left hand and pointing at her wedding rings. “But he wouldn’t take the hint.”
I know if I say something right now, it’s going to get me in trouble, so instead, I toss back the double shot of Gentleman Jack I ordered, feeling it burn all the way down. “I’m ready to go.”
“I’m not,” she seethes. “I want to dance, I’m having fun.”
I gesture towards the crowd on the dance floor, empty glass still in my hand. “I’m sure if you can find your friend in there, he’d love to dance with you.”
Her mouth snaps shut and she’s seething. “Wow.”
I shake my head. My hands are shaking and I feel like punching a wall, flipping a table. “I’m going back to the hotel.”
“No, you’re not.”
I turn to leave.
I know it’s a dick move. I know I’m being an asshole. But it’s better than causing a scene and I’m right on the edge of doing just that.
It’s taken me months to get to the point of being able to casually reach for Nesta’s hand, to flirt with her again, to be the guy that she needs and then there’s this guy…who comes out of nowhere and has the audacity to touch my wife like she’s not a goddamn masterpiece.
He has no right.
I crash through the doors of the club and into the fresh air, taking a deep breath.
Nesta’s night behind me. “I should’ve known.”
“Known what?” I ask, not stopping. I keep trekking ahead in the direction of our hotel.
I’m seeing red.
I can’t make it stop.
“Known that you would make a mess of this,” she says, heels clacking on the sidewalk behind me. “You didn’t want to go in the first place. I should’ve known.”
Her words hurt me but I can’t stop. I’m too blinded by jealous rage. “Go back inside. I’ll see you later.”
She barks a laugh but there’s no humor in it. “You’re a dick.”
I don’t answer. She’s right and I can’t deny it.
I also keep replaying that asshole taking her hand over and over again in my head. Nesta wouldn’t cheat, I know that. There’s not a single doubt in my head that she’s loyal to me. That doesn’t stop the scenarios from playing out one by one.
He takes her hand and they dance and she has fun with him, instead of her boring husband who would rather be watching a soccer match in the hotel room. She laughs at his jokes and he smiles at her in that douche bag way he did.
It fucking infuriates me.
I spend the entire walk back to the hotel playing out stupid scenarios that would never happen and by the time we make it to the elevator, I want to turn around and go back to the club and break that asshole’s jaw.
Nesta angrily punches the button to call the elevator and in the back of my mind, I know I’m ruining our vacation. I’m overreacting and I need to apologize, but I can’t. She’s my fucking wife and no one other man will put his hands on her.
We don’t talk until we make it to our room, when I push open the door with far too much force and she follows me inside.
“Are you happy?” She snaps, plopping onto the bed and taking off her shoes with shaky hands.
“Fucking ecstatic,” I say, kicking off my own shoes. “Can’t wait for what you have in store for tomorrow.”
Her back straightens as a newfound fury brews in her eyes. “You know, you’ve always been a jealous asshole, Cassian, but you’ve reached a new level tonight. Congratulations.”
“Don’t,” I warn, yanking at my belt, feeling like my clothes are suffocating me.
“Don’t what?” She yells. “Tell you that you’re being a dick when you’re being a dick?! I was having fun, Cass, and you ruined it! We were having fun! And then you started overreacting out of nowhere! All of the trust that we’ve built? Gone! Because you couldn’t even trust me to warn off some prepubescent twat without your help!”
“You don’t get it,” I hiss, and I know my tone is cruel, but I can’t control it.
“Of course.” She laughs, but humor is obsolete. “Of course, I don’t understand.”
“You don’t!” I yell, and she nearly flinches which hurts me more than it hurts her. “I didn’t touch you for almost a year, Nesta! Then this guy shows up out of nowhere and touches you without a second fucking thought!”
She stops then, the tension in her shoulders fading, if only a little. The anger in her eyes turns to concern. Sadness. “Cassi—“
“Do you know how many days I spent wanting to just reach over and take your hand? But I couldn’t.” My anger is dissipating, and now I’m just tired. Now, I just feel foolish for my outburst, but I shake my head. “And this random fucking stranger just…does it.”
She takes a step towards me, but then stops. “You have to trust me to take care of shit like that on my own, Cass—”
“You shouldn’t have to,” I say, crossing the space between us and cradling her face in my hands. “As your husband, it’s my fucking job to take care of you, to protect you, and that includes someone putting their hands on you.”
“Doesn’t give you free reign to be an asshole yourself,” she murmurs, voice softer than it was before. Her eyes are on my lips, heavy lidded, lined with thick dark lashes. Her makeup is smudged just a bit from our time on the dance floor.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole, but seeing him touch you, even just taking your hand, when you’re the most precious thing on the whole, godsdamned planet?” I shake my head, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “I lost it.”
“You’ve always had a short fuse.” Her voice is whisper soft now and at some point, her hand ended up bunched up in the front of my shirt. “It only takes a spark to set you off.”
“And there you were holding a match and some kerosene.”
I’m not sure which one of us moved first, if it was conscious thought from either of us, but her hands were in my hair and her mouth on mine a second later. I had no idea where her phone was and I didn’t care. Nothing would interrupt us tonight.
She gasped as I picked her up, cradling her ass, her legs quickly wrapping around my waist. Then I was laying her down, covering her with my body, refusing to waste another second.
She clings to me, her dress hiked up and I grind into her, already making her moan. She reaches for my shirt and pulls it off, her lips only leaving mine for a second to pull it over my head.
If I felt out of control before, it’s nothing to what I feel now. I’m no longer in control of myself, my being. She has me in the palms of her hands, ready to do whatever the hell she wants. I need it, I need her. It’s been too damn long.
I slip her dress down her body and throw it away. She lays before me in nothing but a little lace thong, and those damn nipple piercings are staring up at me.
My cock is so hard it’s agonizing. Unbearable. I’m fumbling with the button of my jeans, but Nesta rolls me over and pins my arms above my head, kissing me fiercely.
A year of lust and want and need, of longing and heartache and distance, has all been building up to this moment.
Nesta leans back, breathing heavily, her eyes searching mine. “I need you. Now. Don’t be gentle.”
Without a word of warning, I roll us back, grinning down at her. “As you wish.”
I claim her mouth in another savage kiss, tugging on her bottom lip as she works on getting my pants off. For a moment, she seems to be having as hard a time as I was, but then I feel them go loose around my hips and we’re both shoving them down until my cock is free pressing against her thigh.
As I grab the waistband of her thong, Nesta lifts her hips but instead I rip them off her body, the shreds of lace landing on the floor by the bed.
She gasps and leans back to look at me, but anger isn’t lighting her eyes. Arousal is. “Those were expensive.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist and scooting us both farther up the bed, until her head rests on a pillow. My lips are on her neck, finding the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and sucking.
“Gods, yes,” she groans and I smile against her skin.
One of my hands skims down her body, pausing to tease the swell of her breasts, then the heavy underside, careful to give her nipples a wide berth. I drag it down her toned stomach, pausing as she shivers beneath me. I glance up at her. “Are you okay?”
She nods, eyes burning. “I need you, please, Cass.”
My fingers skim over her sex, making her jump, which brings a smirk to my face, and then I slide them between her folds. She’s already so wet, slick and warm, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for me. It’s been months since I’ve been inside her, but hurting her is the last thing I want to do.
I slowly slide my middle finger inside of her, watching her face as I do. She gasps, and her back arches, and her legs spread wider for me.
I give a couple of slow, taunting pumps inside of her before adding another finger. She moans quietly, and I can’t help the fact that I’m getting a little more rough.
Which she seems to enjoy.
“Cass,” she breathes, and her hips are writhing, moving in time with my fingers, now slick and glistening as they pump.
She gasps again as she reaches down between us, fisting my cock. I groan as she squeezes, and then my mouth finds hers once more.
Adding a third finger, it’s now more of just a tease. She’s ready for me, undoubtedly, but I can’t seem to stop. I look down between us, watching as the sheets get wet beneath us while her hips sway and grind against my hand. Her breathing is hitched, her chest heaving, the sounds escaping her mouth echoing throughout our room. When her knees begin to shake, as her fingers dig into my back, I know she’s close.
“Come for me,” I breathe.
Her body tenses as she yells out a curse, and I feel her clench around my fingers. I thrust them back in one last time, deeply, loving the way she feels as she comes around me, and circle her clit as she rides out her orgasm.
The grip she has on my cock is nearing the point of painful, but feels so damn good that I almost don’t want to remove it.
Almost.
But I need to be inside her. I need to feel her, everywhere. To become one with her again after so long.
As she comes down from her high, I kiss her neck softly, sucking and licking, and pry her hand free from where she still held me. Stroking my cock, I climb over her, listening as her breathing evens out, before planting my free hand beside her head and meeting her gaze. There’s so much I want to tell her, so much I want to say, but I don’t need to. I see all of it and more reflected back in her eyes.
Lining myself up, I slide between her folds, coating myself in her slick heat and teasing her clit with the head of my cock. She gasps every time and my grin grows.
Her eyes narrow and she grabs my hips while lifting her own, trying to position me at her entrance. I keep just out of reach, teasing her, and watching as she becomes increasingly needy by the second.
“Cassian,” she whines, throwing her head back and I love it. I’ve got her in the palm of my hand, just like she has me in hers.
Leaning down, I drag my teeth along the graceful column of her throat. “What do you want, sweetheart?”
She grabs a handful of my hair, tugging my face up to hers and crashes my lips to hers. We break for only a second, just long enough for her to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”
And then I’m plunging into her, heeding her request to not be gentle, as I push in to the hilt in one hard thrust. She tears her lips from mine in a moan and I watch as her breasts bounce and those piercings flash in the low lighting.
I wait there, deep inside of her, dwelling in the feeling. After such a long time apart, this feels so right, so perfect. My hands roam her skin and cup her face as I give her one gentle kiss before completely unleashing myself on her.
I pull myself out to the tip and thrust into her once more, gaining the same reaction. I can’t stop watching her. After pulling myself up on my knees, I bring her legs up over my shoulders and grab onto her waist. She doesn’t want me to be gentle, so I won’t be. I know what she likes.
I wait for her eyes to open up, wait for them to connect with me, before pounding into her quickly, aggressively, relentlessly.
She doesn’t give a damn that we’re not in the privacy of our own home, that these walls are paper thin. She moans, screams, curses my name, and it consumes me.
I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of this, reliving the memories of our sex life, but those fantasies didn’t compare to how she sounds, how she feels. I watch her chest heave, her breasts bounce with every thrust of my hips. I watch her eyes roll back, watch how her brows are pinched and her lips remain open. She reaches up to the headboard behind her and lays her palms flat against it, grounding her.
A burning sensation is growing low in my spine and I groan as I grip her waist hard enough to leave bruises. I’m not going to last much longer, I know that. It’s been way too long since I was inside of her, but I need Nesta to come one more time. I can tell she’s on the edge, can tell by the way her hips are starting to quiver and my name is falling from her lips like a prayer. I fucking love it.
I hold her legs to my chest with one arm while my free hand dips to our joined bodies. Swirling my thumb around her clit, I grit out, “Look at me, Nes.”
With great effort, Nesta’s eyes open, locking onto mine. She reaches for me and I let her legs fall apart, settling in each side of my body as I drive into her, my fingers rolling her clit.
Her fingernails bite into my back as she wraps herself around me. “S-so close, Cass.”
I murmur, my lips next to her ear, “Come for me, sweetheart,” and bite down on her neck.
As if she was powerless to defy my words, her orgasm slams into her, making her back arch, pressing her breasts into my chest, as she calls out my name. I fall over the edge right behind her, pumping into her in erratic strokes until I go rigid, eyes rolling in the back of my head, my cock buried deep inside of her.
The room is silent save for our heavy breathing. Falling to the side, I grab Nesta and roll her half on top of me, kissing her until I feel like I’m going to pass out.
When the kiss breaks, Nesta laughs quietly and buries her face into my neck. “Holy shit,” she whispers, “I missed that.”
“Me too.” I brush her hair back and kiss the side of her head. “We’ll have to do it more often so that you don’t start missing it again.”
“We can do it every damn day and I’m still going to want more.” She leans up and looks at me. The love in her eyes is overwhelming.
“Good.” My eyes never leave hers. “Me too.”
When she kisses me this time, it’s gentle, slow. We kiss like that until we finally fall asleep.
#better or worse#nessian bow#nessian#nesta x cassian#nesta archeron#cassian#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#sjm fanfic#sarah j maas
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