#snacmc collabs
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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 {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 {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 {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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Better or Worse {18}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
A/N: Sorry for the late post! I had it queued for pm instead of am and just noticed. We’re almost to the end of Nesta and Cassian’s journey of growth, but we hope you’ve enjoyed reading this one as much as we’ve enjoyed writing it!
Almost every counseling appointment we’ve gone to, Nesta has been right there by my side. But Gwyn asked us to meet separately this week and that shouldn’t make me as nervous as it does. I know it’s common for therapists to want to talk to each person on their own, but even at the beginning, even when we weren’t speaking, having Nesta there was a balm to me. I was able to open up and talk about my thoughts, my feelings even if I wasn’t sure how I felt about them.
Now, sitting across from Gwyn, I feel like I’m back at square one. Rather than the usual couch, I’m sitting in an armchair identical to the one she’s in.
Her notepad is resting in her lap, but she doesn’t look down at it. She doesn’t even have a pen. “How are you doing this afternoon, Cass?”
“Good,” I say, but nothing more which makes her smile.
“Nervous?” She asks, not unkindly.
I sigh. “Yeah? Which is weird, right? Because we know each other fairly well by now.”
“True, but it’s not weird, it’s actually common,” she assures me. “You’re not used to doing this alone. It’s a big step.”
There was a time when her tone would piss me off, would make me feel like she thinks she’s talking to a child, but not anymore. I know she’s genuine in everything she says.
“I guess so,” I agree, and answer her question honestly. “I am good, though. Yes, nervous, but everything has been going really, really good. Great. Nesta and I are, uh, renewing our vows.”
“Oh?” Gwyn asks and she sounds happy about it, which is a good sign. “When?”
“A month. I actually asked her when we got back from our little vacation, after we left here.” I shrug. Since we’ve been doing so well in our marriage, we haven’t been coming to see Gwyn as much. “It felt like the right thing to do. I asked; she said yes.”
“I’m happy for you,” she says, and I know she means it.
My appointment goes on like that and after a few more minutes I actually start to fully relax. I told her everything, probably oversharing at some points but I can’t help it. I feel like I just fell in love again for the very first time, although this time feels much stronger than that. Nesta and I have a bond that can’t be broken, that can never be shaken again.
After telling Gwyn goodbye, I head to Nyx’s preschool to pick him up. He’s waiting for me with his backpack on and his lunchbox in hand, and the second I pull up to the curb, he’s jumping up and down.
“Hey buddy.” I hop out of the truck and give my nephew a hug while ignoring the wandering eyes of his teacher, as usual. She’s at least seventy, I swear, and I have no clue how she hasn’t retired yet.
“Uncle Cass, we learned about bugs today!”
So begins my rundown of his day, right down to his snacks and the lunch Feyre packed for him that morning.
My phone rings as I’m putting my car in park in the garage. When I see it’s Elain, my brows pull together. I love my sister-in-law, and would do anything for her at any time. But she doesn't usually call me. I answer as I round the truck to get Nyx out of his carseat.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cass.”
“Is everything okay?”
Her cheery laughter floats through the phone. “Everything is fine. I was seeing if Nesta was with you. I tried her cell but she didn’t answer and I wanted to get a final decision on the flowers for the ceremony.”
I’m a man of many talents. I pride myself on being knowledgeable about many things. Flowers sure as shit isn’t one of them.
Scratching at my beard, I head into the house, Nyx on my heels. “She had a meeting with Eris and the publishers this afternoon, but should be home around five if you can wait that long.”
I hear the telltale sounds of Nyx dropping his backpack. “Hi, Greg!”
“Alright, I’ll try her then. Thanks!”
We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone on the kitchen counter only to realize the kitchen has become far too quiet. When I turn around, Nyx is nowhere to be found.
Just before I can completely panic, Nyx comes back through the door, crying.
I frown. “What happened, buddy?”
“Greg,” he says, a sobbing mess. “Door…open…Greg.”
He can barely get the words out but I get the gist. With a sigh, I pick Nyx up and pat his back. “It’s okay. Greg gets out sometimes, I’ll find him.”
I set Nyx up on the couch with a juice box and a bowl of popcorn while he watches Bluey before finding myself going around the outside of the house, looking in all the bushes.
No Greg.
I call his name and all of my neighbors that don’t know me are probably wondering why I’m going around my house, yelling for a Greg, but I ignore any potential neighbor’s judgment. Every minute that passes that I can’t find him, I get worried. Nesta loves this cat like a child.
And I can’t find him.
When I finally head back inside, Nyx’s head pokes over the top of the couch. He’s still sniffling as he asks, “Did you find him?”
I hesitate for a second because I don’t want him to worry, I don’t want him to start crying again, and I definitely don’t want him telling Nesta about this. So I decide to go with a little white lie. “I did. He was having fun running around and asked to stay outside a little longer. I told him he could play outside until it gets dark.”
Thankfully, that perks him up and blessedly derails his toddler attention span. “Did you know that lightning bugs come out when it’s dark? And then their butts light up?”
For the rest of the afternoon, I’ve got one eye on Nyx and one on the window at the back deck. On multiple occasions, I run outside with the bag of treats and shake it as obnoxiously as I can.
The damn cat never comes back.
As the clock ticks closer and closer to five, I start to panic. How am I going to tell Nesta I let Greg get out? Better yet, how am I going to keep Nyx from saying something?
Before I can come up with a foolproof plan, the garage door opens and my beautiful wife comes strolling in. She gives me a smile and a kiss on the cheek before asking, “How was your appointment with Gwyn?”
“Fine,” I answer, and as soon as it’s out of my mouth I know that I’ve answered way too quickly. Her joyful demeanor falters and I hesitate, which makes her frown.
“What?” she asks, and there’s a bite to her voice which I know means I should tread carefully if I want to try and keep the peace.
“Look,” I say, and take a deep breath. I watch her eyes as they go from angry to concerned to confused. “I…there was...Nyx accidentally…Gre—”
Just as I’m about to say his name, the furry little bastard charges into the room and jumps up on the kitchen island to greet Nesta. My wife momentarily forgets about me and scratches the cat under his chin.
I stare, dumbfounded. “I…what the fuck?”
“Hmm?” Nesta asks, remembering I exist and crossing her arms. “Okay, what did you do?”
“Nothing,” I say, and grab her face, bringing her mouth abruptly to mine. She’s surprised for a second, but melts into me as my lips keep moving.
“Ew!”
We pull apart to look at Nyx, who is standing in the doorway and covering his eyes. When he peeks through his fingers, he gasps. “GREG! I thought we lost you forever! I was soooooooooo scared! Uncle Cass, wasn’t I scared?”
I purse my lips and slowly bring my gaze back to Nesta’s. She’s watching me with narrowed eyes full of hellfire.
“So, we lost Greg,” I confess, quietly. Nyx doesn’t seem to notice the tension as he grabs the cat off the island and carries him into the living room. I open my mouth to give a long, pathetic story about what happened, but Nesta shakes her head and puts her fingers over my mouth.
“I don’t wanna know,” she says, and her eyes soften. “He’s here, he’s safe, do better next time.”
I blink, thinking it’s a trap and not wanting to curse it. “Yeah, okay.” Now I’m suspicious. “You’re taking this too well, it’s scaring me.”
She snorts and runs her hands down my chest and bundles my t-shirt in her hands. “I want tonight to be a good night. We’ve been a little stressed lately, planning this wedding so quickly…” She shrugs. “No more stress.”
I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been married for a decade, but I feel like something’s off. “Nesta—”
She looks over my shoulder, into the living room at Nyx and Greg snuggling on the couch, then back to me.
“What?” I ask, and try not to let my worry creep in too far. “What happened? Are you okay? Did Eris piss you off? The fuck did that prick do now—”
“Eris didn’t do anything, for once,” she says, laughing quietly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just…been thinking about something, but I thought we could wait until we’re alone tonight to talk about it.”
I hate that.
I hate when someone says we need to talk, especially my wife, then doesn’t tell me what it is we need to talk about.
“Now I’m going to spend the entire afternoon worrying about whatever it is you have to say,” I say, keeping my voice low.
“It’s nothing bad,” she whispers, and leans up on her toes to kiss me. I grab her ass and squeeze for comfort. “Just something I’ve been thinking about. A lot. Come on, let’s make dinner before Feyre gets here to pick him up.”
And that’s that. I throw together a quick meal of blackened chicken, green beans, and red potatoes, which Nyx devours as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks. More than once, Nesta has to remind him to take smaller bites, but he manages to clean his plate without choking. Nyx regales Nesta with his school day, as well, telling her all about his studies but conveniently forgetting the story he told me about the little girl on the playground who held his hand.
Nesta is in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, while Nyx and I are on the couch watching Bluey when I hear the door from the garage open. Nyx, engrossed in whatever shenanigans Bluey and Bingo have gotten into, doesn’t notice the quiet greetings or the hushed whispers and murmuring.
But I do.
It sets me on edge, immediately thinking of whatever Nesta wants to talk about when we’re alone. It sends my brain straight into “overthink” mode and I don’t notice that Nyx has said something until he calls my name a second time.
“What was that, bud?”
“I said that daddy said I could get a puppy just like Bluey.”
“Did he now?” Feyre asks, breezing in from the kitchen.
“Mama!” Nyx is off the couch in a flash and crashing into her legs.
His backpack is already slung over her elbow and she lifts Nyx into her arms, hugging his close. “Hi, bub. Ready to go home?”
“Yes! Me and Uncle Cass lost Greg.” Feyre’s smile falters but Nyx charges on. “Don’t worry, mama, we found him.”
We say our goodbyes and promise to see them soon, and when it’s just me and Nesta alone, I can’t control myself any longer.
“So.”
She chuckles as she sits next to me on the couch and turns off Bluey. “So.”
I wait for her to say something but when she doesn’t go on, I throw my hands in the air. “Damn it, Nesta, please just—”
“I think we should look into adoption.” The words rush out of her, quietly. “I think we should adopt.”
Out of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t it. I’m at a loss for words.
It’s not until I notice her eyes start to line with tears that I come back, my mind catching up with me.
“You don’t want—”
“I’m just surprised,” I say, before she can worry. “I mean, adoption is…that’s a lot. That’s big.”
“I’m ready to be a mom, babe,” she says, and a tear falls as her voice breaks. “We’ve been ready for a family for so long and I’m accepting that I’m not ever going to have a baby.” I want to protest, but I can’t. “So I thought we could have a baby, or a child, through adoption.”
I’m quiet for a moment, but Nesta doesn’t push me.
Adoption had never even crossed my mind and I’m a little ashamed of myself for not considering it. Growing up in the foster system, how many years did I dream of someone finally deciding I was worth the trouble, of a family adopting me and giving me the happy home I’d always dreamed of. But Nesta wanted to be a mother and I never thought farther than giving her that dream myself, of our child growing inside of her.
Who’s to say the child we’ve been dreaming of isn’t already out there?
“Do you want to quit trying?” I ask, carefully. “To have our own?”
“Absolutely not,” she scoffs, and I can tell she’s trying not to be emotional. She knows my past more intimately than anyone else on the planet. “You think after finally having sex after months of celibacy, I’ll be able to go back?”
I swallow and huff a laugh but stay quiet for a minute, allowing my thoughts to catch up with me. My thoughts that are all over the place.
“Okay,” I say, quietly, and her tears spill over. I wipe them away, carefully. “After the wedding…we can start the process, if it’s what you truly want.”
“It is,” she says, and there is no doubt. “But is it what you want?”
“A family with you is all I have ever wanted,” I say, and it is wholly the truth.
I can’t help my own consuming emotion as she kisses me. Every day I don’t know how my marriage can get better, how I can love this woman more, but then I do. I didn’t know this love, this excitement for the future could still be so strong, so evident after ten years.
I’m so ridiculously in love with this woman that I can’t believe it. I show her as much as I lay her down on the couch and take my sweet time with every beautiful, magnificent inch of her body.
We will have our family soon enough, one way or another, and I can’t wait.
#better or worse#nessian bow#nesta x cassian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#ACOSF#nessian#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab
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Better or Worse {16}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Sera Marigold Draeven is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
I’m ninety-five percent positive I thought the same thing when Nyx was born, but it can’t be helped. I’ve got the world’s cutest niece and nephew.
It’s been a week since Sera was born and I’ve been wrapped around her finger since the moment Elain laid her in my arms. She’s awake, for once, and her eyes, hazel, just like her daddy’s, are wide open and gazing up at me.
“Was I ever that little?”
The question comes from my left, where Nyx is peering over the arm of the couch, still not quite sure what to think about his new cousin.
“You were even smaller than Sera, bub,” Rhys answers from the kitchen. Nyx drags his gaze from the baby to his dad. “You were born prematurely.”
His little dark eyebrows knit together. “What does prematchery mean?”
“It means,” Feyre jumps in, rolling her eyes at her husband, “that you were so excited to be with us that you came out of mommy’s tummy early.”
“Oh,” he says, nodding and dragging the word out. He looks back at Sera. “So she didn’t want to come out of Aunt Elain’s tummy?”
“No, she most certainly did not,” Elain replies from her seat in the recliner.
I chuckle as Nyx’s brows raise.
“She’s stubborn just like her mom and aunts,” Cassian chimes in.
I shoot him a look as Elain rolls her eyes, but I can’t help but look at him fondly. He’s watching Sera with such love and adoration that my eyes line with tears. His eyes meet mine and his smile softens even more.
“Can we take her home with us?” Nyx asks, curiously, genuinely.
“No,” Feyre laughs, “but we’re going to see her all the time. Don’t you worry.”
Rhysand tosses an arm around Cassian’s shoulders and leads him into the kitchen. I take that as a sure sign that my brother-in-law is getting hangry and wants Cassian to put the steaks on the grill as soon as possible.
Azriel stays. It seems he can’t get enough of his baby girl.
I look back down at my niece just as she gives me the biggest of yawns. It’s ridiculously adorable.
I stopped trying not to allow myself to get jealous. After meeting with Gwyn this week, we talked about how jealousy is a natural reaction and trying to reject that jealousy will only bring anxiety and depression. Sure, there is an obsessive amount of jealousy that’s important to stay away from, but the kind of longing and want and emptiness that I feel… Turns out, that’s normal.
And although there’s nothing I can do about that feeling, I must say that my niece is absolute perfection. The second I look down into her beautiful round face, all I feel is love and protection.
I’ve been talking to Feyre a lot in the last week, since I told her about our past, and she’s been an amazing listener and support. She recommended that I tell Elain, which I did, and just like Feyre, there was no judgment or condemnation, only love. Their reactions had only made me wish I had said something sooner.
Even Azriel pulled me aside and held me for a long while, crying alongside me, just like I know he had done for Cassian. Azriel may be the quietest of us all, but he loves and feels greater than us all, too.
Half of me wants to go help Cassian with dinner, but the other half of me - the half of me that refuses to give up my niece - is the one that wins.
Rhysand comes back into the room, only to whisper something in Nyx’s ear before the toddler runs toward the kitchen, giggling. I give my brother-in-law a curious look, but he only plops down next to Feyre on the couch and bites her earlobe. They’re so cute it’s sickening, but that’s nothing new.
I hear the screen door open and close, knowing that means Cassian has taken the steaks out to the grill, and settle in to get more snuggles…
Until I smell something.
Sniffing twice, I look up and catch Elain’s eye. “I think she has something for you.”
Chuckling softly, Elain begins to extract herself from her seat, but Azriel presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get her. You relax.”
“She probably needs to feed.” She presses a hand to her chest and adds with a wince, “Badly.”
Feyre chuckles knowingly and once again, I’m hit with a surge of jealousy that I’m unable to stop. Hearing my sisters talk about all aspects of their pregnancies, both good and bad, only makes me yearn for it more. Even things like engorged breasts, late night feedings, and diaper changes don’t seem so bad when I look down at the precious angel in my arms.
One day, I promise myself. It’ll happen for us one day.
Azriel scoops Sera from my arms, promising to bring her back down to feed after she’s changed. Rhys, despite the fact that Cass only took the steaks outside minutes before, goes outside to check on dinner, mumbling something about how starving he is, and to make sure Nyx is behaving. We know Cass is watching him, but you can never be too careful with a toddler and a hot grill.
When it’s just us, Elain sighs, pressing a hand to her tender breasts. “It’s only been two hours and my body is screaming at me to feed her.”
“I’ll be honest, having my supply dry up when Nyx was a few months old was frustrating, but relieving,” Feyre said, tucking her legs beneath her as she drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “I wish I could have fed him for longer, but he did fine on formula, and my boobs were screaming for a break.”
That jealousy rears its ugly head again and I do my best to ignore it as they discuss the merits of breastfeeding vs formula, unable to add to the conversation. Instead, I think about how far Cassian and I have come, how happy we are, and how relieved that I can talk about these things with my sisters once again. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until Feyre says my name.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, blinking out of a memory from our vacation. She and Elain are looking at me like they know exactly what was on my mind.
“How are yours feeling?” Elain asks, color blooming on her cheeks. Feyre is trying not to laugh as she glances down to my chest.
I feel myself blush. I’d told my sisters about my new piercings when we returned and they both didn’t believe me until I’d proved it—through a shirt, of course. “Great now. Wonderful actually.”
Elain’s cheeks turn even brighter as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did that. I walked in on Azriel the other day while he was on the phone with Cass. He is, uh, very vocal about his love for your new jewelry.”
Unable to contain her laughter any further, Feyre cackles. “I, too, have walked in on a similar conversation.” Her eyes soften, even though her grin remains. “It sounds like you two are doing really well, Nes.”
The softest joy forms in my core. “We are. Really, really well. I feel like we’re in the honeymoon stage all over again, and I know that we’re going to keep having our fair share of trials, but…” I shrug. “I feel like our relationship is stronger than it’s been in years. Since we got married.”
My sisters share a look before they look back to me.
“We’re happy for you,” Elain says, and maybe it’s the new-mom hormones, but she’s crying.
Which makes Azriel frown as he walks back down the stairs with a freshly-changed newborn. “What’s wrong? I was bringing her right back.”
She waves him off as she takes their daughter and he leans down to give her a sweet, chaste kiss before heading out on the patio with Cass, Rhys and Nyx.
Elain was just putting a milk-drunk Sera in her swing when Rhys, Az, and Nyx came in, the former carrying an aluminum foil covered platter. He grumbles, “The chef says we have to let these rest for at least twelve minutes before eating them.”
“You’ll live, you big, Illyrian baby,” Feyre says, rolling her eyes.
“Starving,” he mutters, heading into the kitchen.
Az chuckles and follows him, while Nyx hurries over to Feyre, motioning for her to lean down so he could whisper something to her. He shoots me a look as he murmurs in her ear and then shot off again, back into the kitchen.
Feyre was shaking her head as I ask, “What was that about?”
“Nothing, he’s just silly.” She smiles, but I couldn’t miss the mischief in her eyes.
I narrow my own, but realize someone was missing. Turning towards the kitchen, I holler, “Where’s Cass?”
A pause in the conversation and beat of silence follow. It was Azriel that answers. “Cleaning the grill.”
Bullshit. The man turns the heat up and lets it char the inside for an extra twenty minutes after he’s done, leaving nothing ash to scoop out. After a decade, you learn things about a person. I get up and head for the patio, wondering what he’s up to.
“Aunt Nesta, have I shown you my new Lightning McQueen?”
I turn and find Nyx right behind me, a bright red car in hand.
“Wow,” I say, trying my best to act like the tiny, red car is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. “That’s awesome, buddy.”
“Wanna see him drive?”
Well, I can’t say no to that. “Of course.”
I expect us to do a quick trial run of the toy car, but we end up sitting on the hardwood, attempting to have Lightning McQueen outrun every other toy car that Nyx brought with him.
Which is a ton.
Thinking it surely must be twelve minutes by now, I call for my sisters, but neither one of them answer. It’s Azriel that comes around the corner, cradling Sera in his arms.
“The table is set.” It’s all he says before he turns on his heels and disappears.
Before I can get to my feet, Nyx is running off, heading for the kitchen, leaving me in the dust.
Cassian has suddenly reappeared, along with Rhys and Az, and the table is indeed set, but now my sisters are nowhere to be seen.
“Elain wanted to show Feyre the vegetable garden,” Azriel offers as I look around.
Looking between them all, I ask, “Right before we eat?”
“I made a salad.” Cassian is busy cutting Nyx’s steak before plating it. “They were checking to see if anything was ripe enough to go in.”
“Oh.” My suspicions settle, but I still feel like something is off. When my sisters come back in though, everything seems normal. Elain deemed two tomatoes ready, but she’d rather save them for salsa one night this week, so Cassian continues as he planned and a few minutes later, everyone was devouring the delicious meal.
I can’t help but look around the table, that unsettled feeling remaining in the pit of my stomach. Cassian meets my eye and smiles from across the table, but he almost seems anxious.
Which makes me anxious.
“Not hungry?”
I blink, realizing I’d just been pushing my vegetables around. The sound of Cassian’s voice hardly breaks me out of it.
“I just…” I hesitate, not wanting to offend anyone, knowing this food is delicious. I clear my throat. “It’s hot. I have a sore in my mouth…don’t want to agitate it.”
Cassian lifts a brow as he takes a bite of his steak. He hums, pleased with the flavor, with the texture, and I’m amazed that that alone turns me on.
And makes me want to eat the beautiful meal he’s prepared.
And him.
However, we’re in the presence of our siblings and nephew, so I behave myself and start to eat.
Much to my culinary husband’s dismay, I don’t eat steak often and when I do, I sometimes like to add steak sauce. He considers this blasphemy, I consider it enhancing the flavor. Standing from my seat, I ask, “Az, do you have A1 in the fridge?”
“I’ll get it,” Cassian announces, standing and rounding the table, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. At the same time, he not so subtly pushes me back into my chair.
I stare after him, eyes narrowed. “Okay,” I say, quietly as I dab the sides of my mouth. “He’s acting weird.”
“I don’t think he’s acting weird,” Rhysand says, his mouth full. “And I would know. I’ve seen his weird.”
“Remember that one time,” Azriel begins, “when we all went out on a triple date in high school and he was so nervous that he sweat through his shirt and knocked over the water pitcher? That was weird.”
“Or that time, at the football banquet, when he was so nervous that he ate half of everything on the table and spent the time he was meant to be on stage in the bathroom, getting sick,” Rhysand adds.
I blink, trying my best to follow their conversation. “All you two are doing is proving me right.”
They don’t get the chance to respond. Cassian comes back into the room with a bottle of steak sauce and lovingly sets it down next to me.
I swear his hands are shaking.
My eyes remain on his massive frame until it’s plopped in the seat across from me. He picks up his fork and stabs a piece of steak, and when he looks back up at me, he frowns.
“Aren’t you going to use that?”
I hadn’t even realized I’d been gripping the steak sauce, its cap still on. Without another word, I unscrew the top and create a little puddle on my plate. I swear he’s holding his breath as I dip the meat in the sauce and take a bite.
Yes. I’m a true abomination of a chef’s wife.
We continue on eating but the air remains thick. I think I’m making it thick with my own mindless worrying, but I can’t help it. I can’t help but think that there’s something going on that I’m oblivious to, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
Nonetheless, I try not to let my mind wander. I eat, even though I taste nothing and wish to leave the room….or have a drop of alcohol.
Alcohol would be a blessing, something to ease the anxiety flooding every inch of my being.
Time goes slowly but I finish what’s on my plate, and my family that surrounds me finishes theirs with lively conversation.
I stare at my empty plate, wondering why I feel so insecure, so lost. Surely I’m not so fragile that a simple case of anxiety paralyzes me.
Fuck.
Who am I kidding?
Of course, I am.
I put my silverware on top of my plate and fold my napkin, placing it on top of it all like a bow. My eyes meet Elain’s, who is frowning, which makes my rise to my feet.
“Can I take anyone’s plate?” I ask, forcing a smile.
Apparently Azriel was in the middle of talking, because now everyone is looking at me with a frown. I take my plate and everyone who surrounds me, and head towards the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?”
I whirl around and look at my husband, who’s leaning against the threshold. I can’t read the look on his face, which is…odd. I’ve always been good at gauging what he’s feeling, even more so in the past few months. He wears his feelings for all to see. There’s a cross between nerves and something else I can’t name in his eyes, something that sets me even more on edge than before.
I hesitate, and the silence around me has me feeling like the walls are closing in. I notice Nyx shift in his seat uncomfortably and hurry out of the room before I do something even more embarrassing, like have a full on mental breakdown in front of my family.
Even though I think the breakdown has already begun.
I’m in the kitchen when his heavy footsteps sound behind me. I place my plate in the sink with shaky hands, and then his arms are around me, pulling my back against him. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, gently and soothingly.
“I did something to upset you,” he says quietly, as I close my eyes and try my best to take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth.
“I can’t read you,” I say, “and it’s making me anxious.”
I don’t deny it, don’t tell him that there’s nothing wrong and everything is fine, even though I want to, even though it’s something I once would have done without a second thought. Instead, I let out the truth, let out my emotions.
“You’re acting strange, and I feel like I did something to make you act strange,” I continue, when he says nothing.
When he continues to say nothing, I feel like I’m going to puke. When I spin around, nothing comes out, my anxiety that was turning into anger slowly starts to dissipate as I see the crease between his brows.
“I wasn’t trying to be weird,” he says, taking my hands. “I was just trying to…”
His words fade away, and he seems to be at a loss, which is also weird for Cassian. I shake my head, exasperated, “Cass, what the hell’s going on?”
He sighs, all the breath leaving him. “Look, I wanted to make tonight special, and the last thing I wanted was to get you all worked up, but now I feel like I failed in that area, and I feel bad because you’re fucking stressed, which is the last thing I wanted.”
The words rush out of him and I finally realize that my husband is anxious, too. About what? I don’t know, but I do know that something is on his mind.
Before I can say anything more, he’s pulling me towards the backdoor. “I wasn’t able to finish everything I had planned,” he says. “It’s been kinda hard sneaking out all afternoon without you knowing, but Rhys and Az have been a huge help. Nyx, too, although there were times where he did more harm than good considering, you know, he’s a toddler.” My confusion grows as he chuckles, but when he opens the backdoor and we step onto the porch, I’m suddenly speechless.
Ten years ago, at a family dinner very similar to this, Cassian asked me to marry him. The three of them lived in a shared house off campus at VU and though that house has been long gone for years, it’s like I’ve stepped back in time.
It was never the most romantic place to be, but so many of our early memories were made in that house, in that backyard. In the span of an afternoon, Elain and Azriel’s backyard has been transformed. There are string lights and candles and music playing, with the purple, silver, and black coloring of Velaris University scattered everywhere. Even a few touches from the fraternity Cassian spent a few years in, including, to my chagrin, a keg off the side of the porch. A path of candles line the walkway, leading to where a small wrought iron table and chairs sit in the corner by the fence. Atop that table is a lone red rose.
“Cassian,” I breathe, unable to find the words as I gaze around us.
Taking my hand, he leads me down the porch stairs and towards the table, just like he did all those years ago.
“I kept trying to find ways to top my marriage proposal,” he begins, stopping in front of the table, “and there are probably a million ways that are more romantic than this, but I figured… It worked out so well the first time, so we may as well relive the moment.” A sound comes out of me that falls somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but both are joyful. Cassian grins. “Nesta, I love you. I love you now, and I loved you then. Every moment that I’ve spent by your side has been a blessing and the past year has proven to me that your love isn’t something I’m willing to take for granted. I want you to know unequivocally how deeply, hopelessly in love with you I am. I can think of no better way to do that then to stand before our families and the Cauldron and declare my love for you again.”
He pulls something from his pocket and drops to one knee. A surprised laugh breaks free as I cover my mouth with my right hand. My right hand because my left is in his.
“Marry me again, Nes.”
A simple silver band, inlaid with diamonds is held between his fingers. The twin to my wedding band, save for the tiny, red stones, alternating after every few diamonds. They flash in the lights, looking like fire and catching the eye.
I nod, because I can’t say a word. I nod so hard that I nearly give myself a headache, but it’s all well worth it. He slides the ring onto my finger, and I don’t realize how hard I’m crying until he’s on his feet and his lips are on mine.
I hear cheering from the porch. I haven’t even realized everyone has been watching, but their joy consumes me, making me cry harder.
We’ve come so far.
In a matter of months, we’ve come so far. I can’t believe that we were ever in such a bad spot, that we let our marriage become so awful, but looking at us now…it’s all ancient history. Never again.
#nessian bow#better or worse#nessian#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#cassian#nesta archeron#cassian x nesta#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#sjm fanfic
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Better or Worse {15}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Nesta tastes like dark chocolate and sweet wine.
Once we got home, I made her an award winning dinner that ended with chocolate cake - made from scratch - and wine that was far too expensive. It had been worth it, though, to watch her eyes flutter shut and the sweetest of moans fall from her mouth. Those moans had led to wandering hands, which led us to now, in bed, with my mouth exploring every inch of her body.
I should be asleep. I have an early day tomorrow. We have a shipment arriving at seven-thirty and I should really put out an advertisement for a couple of new positions that have recently opened up, but sleep is the last thing on my mind. All I can think about is my wife and how perfectly she fits in my arms.
“Cass,” she breathes, and I practically whimper. I feel no shame, though. I am completely under her will, and don’t give a damn. “I need you inside of me.”
I lean back and catch her glazed gaze. We’re drunk on one another without a care in the world, and it feels so right that I can’t believe we had ever lost this feeling.
When I brush my thumb along her bottom lip, she bites down on it and I groan. “Say please.”
She does no such thing. Instead, a fire lights in her eyes and she grins, flipping me onto my back. She opens her mouth to say something, surely something sassy, but my phone begins ringing on the nightstand.
She frowns.
“Ignore it,” I breathe, thrusting my hips up into hers.
But her eyes drift to my phone. “It’s Az.”
“Ignore-”
“It’s Az.”
I know that tone. She’s worried something is wrong with Elain, so I answer. With a sigh, I grab my phone and swipe across the screen, even though my cock is so hard that it’s painful.
“Hello?”
“Elain is in labor. Baby’s coming.” The words are clipped, stressed, but I’m instantly alert. A sudden laugh comes from my brother, and I can’t help but grin as I sit up. Azriel continues, “We’re on our way to the hospital. I’ll call when she’s here, but…” Azriel breaks into a laugh, and my grin widens. “The baby is on her way, Cass.”
My eyes find Nesta’s and, despite my grin, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a look of worry on her face. Apparently obsessed with her mouth tonight, I work her lip free and l brush my thumb over it again. She presses a kiss to the pad of my thumb as I ask, “How far apart are her contractions?”
In the background, I hear my sweet sister-in-law say a word that isn’t usually prominent in her vocabulary. Az’s response is still stressed, but I can hear the amusement in his tone. “Still about seven minutes. We’re getting the car loaded up and will be leaving soon. I’ll let you know when we’re settled and how everything is going.”
“That’s awesome, man,” I say, rubbing my free hand up and down the outside of Nesta’s thigh. She hasn’t moved, still straddling me, listening intently to my half of the conversation, though I know she’s figured it out. “I can’t wait to meet her. I’m so happy for you.”
And truthfully, I was. By this time tomorrow, both of my brothers would be fathers. While I longed for what they had, I would never begrudge them their happiness, especially Azriel, who didn’t think he even deserved it before Elain came along.
When Az responded, I could hear it in his voice. “Thanks, man. I’ll text you later. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I ended the call and set the phone down on the bed next to me. My other hand found it’s place on Nesta’s thigh, my touch no longer trying to seduce, but instead to soothe. Looking up into her gorgeous face, I said, “Elain is in labor.”
She nodded, swallowing roughly. “That’s what I figured.”
“Are you okay?” There was a haunted look in her eyes and I knew where her mind was, where it had immediately gone.
“I’m okay,” she replied, voice soft, and even though I knew she was telling the truth, this wasn’t easy for her. It wasn’t easy for either of us.
All thoughts of claiming her body were gone for the moment, and I slipped my hand around the back of her neck to tug her lips down to mine in a soft kiss. She melted into me and I wrapped my arms around her as she let her head fall into the crook of my neck.
I wasn’t surprised when I felt the gentle splash of tears on my skin a moment later.
The buzz of the alcohol we’d consumed seemed to have worn off in the surprise of the call and my hand smoothed up and down her back.
A moment later, when I couldn’t contain the words any longer, I said, quietly, “Nesta—”
“I feel guilty,” she says, her voice broken, before I could continue.
My fingers, sliding across her back, did not still. “Guilty?”
“I should be happy,” she says, sniffling, “and I am, I really am, for them…but, a very selfish part of me is so…”
“Jealous?” I ask, when she can’t seem to find the word.
She nods, and I feel it in the book of my neck.
“It’s okay to be jealous,” I whisper, because if I speak normally she’d hear my own sadness. “I think jealousy is normal for people like us. We can be happy for them and sad at the same time. Jealous.”
Nesta doesn’t say anything. Instead, she clings to me as she cries. I feel useless, unable to make the situation any better. Her feelings resemble my own, but I know hers is amplified. I was heartbroken when we lost our children, especially the last so far along, but Nesta…she carried them. They were growing inside of her. I know it’s different, and it is a feeling that I cannot match.
“I love you,” I say, because I feel there is nothing more to say.
“I love you, too,” she breathes, and for some reason my heart breaks further.
There’s no getting over this. This is something that will always be with us, something that will always haunt us. We’ve lost so much, and although we have found our way back to one another, there are some things that can never be mended.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” Nesta whispers, her breath warm against my skin, “so that I don’t feel so crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.” I pull her closer on top of me. “You’re grieving. Still. And that’s okay. I am, too. I’m jealous, too. I’m happy. So damn happy. But, of course I think about us, what we’ve lost, what I wish we had.” I run my fingers through her hair. “If we never have kids, I’ll be okay. You and me, we’re more than enough, Nesta, but I do want that, want kids, just like you do. We can be sad and happy together.”
Her eyes meet mine and we stare at one another in a way that we haven’t in a long time. I see the heartbreak in her eyes, but I also see the longing, the yearning, the desperate plea for everything to be okay.
She holds me, and I cling to her, afraid that if I let her go something unimaginable will happen. I’m scared that she will break. I’m scared that I will break. I’m scared that if we part, every ounce of progress we have made will evaporate.
As time passes, neither of us speaks a word. The silence is not awkward, but telling. It’s something that I cannot put into words, something that I cannot fathom. My arms stay around her, keeping her close, as every unfathomable emotion passes between us.
What little daylight that was left fades. Night has come fully and the only light that’s left in our room is the flickering candlelight from Nesta’s nightstand. I’m not sure how long we’ve been laying here, not sure what time Azriel had called, but I know that it’s late and that we should try and get some sleep, but I can’t.
Nesta, however, is drifting. I’m glad. She needs rest. I know her well enough to know that the rush of emotions she’s been flooded with has exhausted her. I rub her back slowly, hoping it’ll soothe her enough to put her to sleep. Still clinging to me, she yawns and closes her eyes. I watch her, my mind in a whirl of chaos. I check my phone, but Azriel hasn’t texted or called anymore. They must be waiting, just like we are. We’re all waiting.
Nesta finally falls asleep and my hand stills on the small of her back. I meant what I said. If it’s only ever the two of us, I’ll be happy. She is enough — she’s more than enough. If it’s only just the two of us growing old, I’ll have everything I ever wanted.
But, I do want kids. I want a little person who is half me, half her, wholly perfect. I want that bond, that unexplainable bond that I’ve heard about. I want that feeling, where you hold your baby for the first time and just…lose it. I want to change diapers and be stressed because the baby won’t stop crying and I want to worry about my child growing up too quickly. I want that pure love that is so rare, so genuine. Nesta and I had been so close, and although the two of us are enough, I fear that we’ll never get that moment. I’m starting to settle with the fact that we’ll never get that moment.
It’s a hard pill to swallow.
I don’t realize that I’ve drifted off myself until I realize that my phone is vibrating on the nightstand. I jerk awake, scaring Nesta in the process.
“Hello?” The word is slurred from sleep as I answer my phone.
“She’s here.” I can tell Azriel has been crying, can tell he’s overjoyed. “She’s here, Cass.”
I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling a little bit lighter. “She’s here?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “She’s perfect. I know it’s early, I’m sorry.”
I glance at the time. It’s just before six. “Don’t be. I’m glad you called. You tell me when you want us there, and we’re there. We can’t wait to meet her.”
“Anytime,” he says, and I can hear his smile. I am truly happy for him. Azriel, after all he’s been though, deserves the happiness, the joy. “Just call me when you’re here.”
Nesta’s watching me expectantly, eyes lined with tears as the softest of smiles lights up her face.
“Alright, we’ll be there soon,” I say, pulling Nesta closer to me. I add, “With coffee.”
Azriel laughs as he tells me thanks, and we hang up. I look down at my wife.
“Ready to meet our niece?”
She nods, and rolls out of my arms. “Coffee and breakfast on the way?”
“For us, for them…Yes.”
We get up and shower before getting dressed. It’s almost eight by the time we leave the house. The little cafe a mile down the road has the best quick breakfast so I order a couple of omelets and coffees to go before we’re on our way to the hospital.
Nesta’s quiet, but I just let it be. I know where her mind is at and I know that if she wants to talk more about it, she will. I hold her hand, nonetheless, letting my touch say everything my words aren’t.
The hospital is pretty still once we arrive, although Feyre and Rhysand had also just arrived. We find ourselves walking towards each other near the entrance, giving each other hugs, and once a few tears have been shed, we walk inside together.
The elevator ride is short but quiet. Feyre and Rhysand are talking quietly amongst themselves, but when I glance at Nesta, tears are lining her eyes. This position is hard. I know she’s overjoyed, but she’s also mourning. Half of her heart is bursting, but the other half is breaking.
“Nes,” I whisper, but she shakes her head and a smile plasters itself on her face.
Feyre and Rhysand look our way, but I try to ignore them. Their smiles falter; their eyes grow weary.
“Are you okay?” I ask, quietly.
She nods, and her hand brushes along my arm.
The elevator dings when it reaches the fifth floor, and we all exit. I open my mouth the second the doors close behind us, but Feyre takes Nesta by the elbow and pulls her down the hall. I frown after them, watching them fade away.
Rhysand shoves his hands in his pockets as they disappear.
“There’s something you’re not telling us,” he says. When I don’t answer, he continues, “And that’s okay…but if you want to talk about it, we’re here for you.”
I don’t realize how emotional I am until my eyes line with tears. Guilt and sadness flood my core, and it’s not until we’re seated that I tell him everything.
………………..
Nesta
………………..
Feyre has looped her arm through mine, but neither of us has spoken, even though we’re winding our way through the endless halls of the hospital. I hadn’t even realized how emotional I’d become before my sister tore me away from our little group. She says nothing. She’s waiting for me to speak, but I can’t find the words, so we remain silent.
This is all wrong.
This is not the way it’s supposed to be.
I’m happy, but I’m destroyed, and I know that makes no sense but how I’m feeling makes no sense.
“I don’t want to do this today,” I say, quietly, staring at my hands that are opening and closing. “We shouldn’t do this today. I’m sorry, just ignore—”
“I’m not going to ignore anything,” Feyre says, putting her hand in mine to stop my nervous habit. “You’re not okay. What’s going on? I thought you and Cass were doing good.”
“We are.” My voice breaks. “Things between us right now are amazing.”
We’ve stopped walking and Feyre faces me. “Then what is it?”
This is the moment I have both longed for and dreaded, telling my family what happened. For so long, I kept everything bottled up. It’s different letting Cass in, it was even different telling Gwyn, but crossing this line puts our struggles, our heartbreak, out there. And once it’s out, that’s it.
I think about walking away, but just as I’m about to turn, my youngest sister reaches out and brushes my tears away.
“I’m here for you,” she says, simply, and all at once it feels like a dam is breaking inside of me.
“Eleven months, one week, and three days.”
Confusion causes Feyre’s face to pinch just a bit, but she doesn’t say anything as I exhale slowly. “That’s how long it’s been since I lost our daughter."
The breath that leaves Feyre comes out in an almost silent huff. “Nesta—”
“It’s almost been a year and I— I still grieve for her every day. Cassian, too.” I close my eyes, trying to hide from the shame of what the grief had almost caused me to lose.
And so I told Feyre everything.
I told her about the early miscarriages, when we knew we could always keep trying. I told her about the miscarriages when I started to think something was wrong. And I told her about the day we passed twelve weeks, when we truly believed we were in the clear and that we were finally going to be parents. Then I told her about the worst day of our lives, about the depression I fell into and subsequently almost destroyed my marriage.
Not once did Feyre interrupt. Not once did she give me any sign that the pain I was feeling, the hurt I’ve kept from her and Elain was a burden to take on.
When I finished telling my story, Feyre wrapped her arms around me as we both cried.
I’m not sure how long we sat there. Time seemed to stand still, but I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulders. She apologized for everything she had no control over, and thanked me for sharing my pain with her. I suddenly felt free, and although that guilt and pain lingered as it always would, I felt renewed.
When we finally break apart, I notice that Cassian and Rhysand are standing nearby. They look like the two of us, tearstained but whole, and I know without a doubt that Cassian has also made his confession, has found his peace.
We go through a series of hugs and curses and apologies and relieved laughter, considering where we are and who we are about to meet. This morning is full of sorrow and longing, but it’s also a joyous day. We’re about to meet our niece, the newest member of our little clan, and that is something that cannot go unwanted or ignored.
I dry my tears, and although my heart still feels heavy, it’s a thousand times lighter.
We won’t tell Elain and Azriel. Not today. Probably not for a while, but that’s okay. Our secret has expanded, our pain has been shared, and that in itself is growth.
#nessian bow#better or worse#nesta x cassian#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab
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Better Or Worse {Chapter One}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
A/N: We are so excited to share this one with you guys! As you know, angst is sort of our specialty and while this one will be pretty heavy, we’ve tried to sprinkle a good amount of fluff as well. We hope you love it and always, please let us what you think!
Chapter Warning: Language.
Nesta -
“I'm going to bed.”
My fingers come to a pause on my keyboard. I glance up and find Cassian leaning against the door frame of my office.
The clock in the corner of the computer screen tells me it’s 10:46. I know he’s not telling me to try and entice me to join him. No, he’d given up on that weeks ago.
My fingers go back to flying over the plastic keys, clicking as I try to pick back up the stream of consciousness I was working on when Cassian interrupted. “I want to get this draft finalized tonight. I only have a few chapters left. The publishing company will have my ass if it isn’t submitted before tomorrow afternoon.”
Excuse.
That’s all I’m full of anymore. Excuses.
Excuses as to why I’m always at my office downtown late or don’t ever want to go to dinner. Why I’m distant or never try to touch him.
“Can you at least try to make it home by six tomorrow night? Please?”
My gaze leaves the screen and lands on him again. “I’ll try. You know I’ve got deadlines I have to hit.”
He’s as handsome as always, even more so with the shadow of stubble across his jaw. He must not have shaved this morning, if the dusting of hair was any indicator. That wasn’t like him. Shaving was a part of his daily routine, quickly followed by his morning shower. My husband may be brash and blunt, but he’s a man who has and loves his routines.
Routines that often feel like they are smothering me, stifling any spark of spontaneity in my soul.
His arms are crossed over his muscular chest, his tattoos just barely peeking out over the neckline of his t-shirt. I know those tattoos intimately, can trace them with my eyes closed.
It’s been far too long since I’ve done that.
His voice pulls me from my thoughts of the ink adorning his skin. “I’ll cook. Get a bottle of your favorite wine. We don’t have to go anywhere.”
He sounds like he’s negotiating a hostage situation, not asking me to dinner. I hate it.
I stop typing, trying my best not to show my annoyance. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”
Cassian's reaction does not reflect any sort of satisfaction. “Come on, Nesta. We haven’t had a date night in months. I will literally bring date night to you—”
“I said I’ll have to see.” The moment the words come out of my mouth, I feel guilty. My tone is embarrassing, but I can’t control it, the snap.
Cassian's mouth shuts and his jaw locks. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
A beat passes between us before I start typing again. I can feel Cassian’s eyes blazing into the back of my head for a minute, then he’s turning around. “Night.”
“Goodnight,” I say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, but mostly I just sound stressed.
Which I am.
So damn stressed.
I hear him walk down the hall and close our bedroom door. I stop typing yet again, my eyes shutting as I rub my temples.
At least I’m honest. I could tell Cassian that I’d be home by dinner tomorrow, but then I would be late and he would just be disappointed and get pissed. It’s better to let him down up front rather than too late.
Being a best selling author isn’t all I was expecting it to be. Sure, seeing my book on shelves next to some of my all time favorites is awesome, but it’s daunting. My first book was self published, coming to life out of my own blood, sweat, and tears. So once it took off and I started working with a publishing company, I thought I’d made it. Things were going to get easier. All I had to do was get my words down onto paper and they’d do the rest.
Wrong.
Someone is always demanding something. Whether that’s a finalized draft, an update on an outline, or approval for cover artwork, I never have a moment to breathe.
As if the universe is laughing at me, a new text chimes on my phone, lying face down on my desk. I recognize the sound, immediately knowing it’s my agent, Eris.
I sigh, telling myself to ignore the notification. I’m already editing hours after I should be, but my eyes keep bouncing up to my phone. After reading the same sentence four times, not comprehending a single word, I snatch my phone up.
Got a phone call from the Velaris Times. They have an opening for an interview tomorrow afternoon.
An opportunity I can’t pass up.
Sounds like a plan. My office or theirs?
If I thought I would be able to focus back on my edits, I was wrong. Eris is typing back as soon as my text is received.
Over dinner, actually. Viviane Whittaker will meet you at Rita’s at 5:30.
My thumbs hover over the screen.
Can you at least try to make it home by six tomorrow night? Please?
Swallowing, I type out my reply.
I’ll be there fifteen minutes early.
I should go tell Cassian that there will be no date night tomorrow, but I think better of it. I’m already so tired and that is not a fight that I want to start so late at night. I’ll just text him about tomorrow.
I look back up at my screen and try to reset my mind, call back my concentration. Just as I begin reading, a jingling bell comes closer and a ball of fluff settles on my feet.
I look down at the chubby black cat and reach down to scratch him between the ears. “Hi, Greg.”
Greg shoots me a look full of judgment.
“Don’t try to guilt me,” I say, straightening back up in my chair. “I already feel guilty enough.”
With a huff, Greg lays his head against the carpet and closes his eyes. I’m officially the only one in the house not fast asleep.
Cassian -
I haven’t gotten mind-numbingly drunk since college, but all I want to do once I get out of work is drink to forget. I’ve never been good at handling my anger, and I was already on edge, so when Nesta texted me saying that she had dinner plans and would be home late, I was automatically seeing red.
I just want one night with my wife but I should have known that was too much to ask for. It usually is.
Already finding Rhys’ number in my phone, I hop in my truck and start the engine as he answers.
“We’re going out tonight. Drinks are on me,” I say, before he can even say hello.
“It’s a Thursday,” he replies with a laugh, but I know he’d be there regardless. Out of all of us, Rhys was the one who had ended up with a real “big boy” job. He’s one of the most respected lawyers in Velaris, and having his own practice, he basically gets to make his own hours if he isn’t in court.
“Glad you can read a calendar.” I sound like a dick but I can’t bring myself to care. “I’ll be at Windhaven in fifteen.”
“Should I call Az or is he already on the way?”
“I texted him first. Didn’t want him to leave work and have to turn around.”
Azriel works in a tattoo parlor two blocks down from our favorite spot, but lives outside of town. With Elain being pregnant, there’s only so much time we get with our brother.
I look over at the empty spot in the garage next to mine and sigh.
A hole in my chest that has been progressively growing larger aches. I’ve always been proud of Nesta. She’s always wanted to be an author since the day I met her, and she’s living her dream. And she’s really damn good at it. She has a way with words that I could never understand, that I couldn’t even come close to matching. She was meant to be a writer.
But ever since she’s found success, I’ve come in second.
It’s not that I always have to be her first priority. I want her to live for more than me, but it would be nice to be a priority sometimes. It would be nice for her to put our marriage first, to make time for me, for us. I barely even see her, and when I do, her eyes are glued to her laptop screen. She didn’t come to bed until four, then was up again at seven, barely uttering a word to me before she left for her office.
“Cass?”
I haven’t even realized that Rhys has been talking to me. “Sorry.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he says, and his tone has softened, fully aware of where my mind has gone. “Get a booth.”
“Alright.” I hang up, reading Azriel’s text on my screen once I pull the phone away from my ear.
Perfect. Had to tattoo a flower on an 80 year old woman’s ass today. I need a drink.
Despite my current mood, I chuckle and pull out of the driveway. Keeping the radio off, I drive, wondering if I should send Nesta a good luck text. In all reality, she probably won’t reply, so I toss my phone in the passenger seat and let it be.
If Nesta wants to talk to me, wants to spend time with me, she would be home for dinner for once. I know I’m being petty, but after a while, being neglected by the woman you married becomes exhausting.
And I’m so damn tired. I need booze and bad food and my brothers. I’m man enough to admit when I need to get something off my chest, but not enough to do it sober.
Rhys’s instructions to get a booth were unnecessary. Azriel unsurprisingly beat me here and is sitting in our normal booth, the one with a direct line of sight to the bartender. A pitcher of beer sits in the middle of the table as well as three glasses. I appreciate my brother’s propensity to think ahead, but I need something harder than beer tonight.
Nodding to Az, I make a beeline to the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief, I see Ace is the one behind the bar tonight, not Devlon. The old man owns the bar and has never been a fan of me, Rhys or Az.
“You look like you need a free drink,” Ace says, as I make it to the bar and lean against the cool wooden top.
“I always need a free drink.” The words sound pitiful coming out of my mouth. Ace just winks and pours me a glass of whiskey without even having to ask me what I want. “Thanks.”
“Always,” she says, patting my hand before I turn to walk to the booth. I’ll see her again shortly. I don’t expect the glass of whiskey to last too long before I need another.
Azriel watches me approach, his glass already halfway gone. I nod to it as I sit across from him. “Has the image of elderly ass been erased from your mind yet?”
“No,” Azriel says, taking another drink. “But the memory looks better and better with every drink.”
I huff a laugh as I sip from my glass of whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat and I pour a glass from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
Rhysand appears beside me and slides onto the bench. I hadn’t even realized that he’d walked in, but in my defense, I’m hardly present.
After pleasant hellos and Rhysand pouring his own glass, he asks, “So, is this when you tell us the reason you want to get plastered on a Thursday?”
Swirling my glass, I watch as the whiskey moves through the ice cubes, the color diluting as they melt slowly. Bringing my drink to my lips, I drink deeply and set the glass down, staring at the table top.
“My marriage is falling apart.”
Neither of them speak.
Neither of them do anything.
I wasn’t expecting them to fall over themselves to comfort me, but I was at least expecting a back pat or an I’m sorry, man. Glancing up from the table, they both just stare at me.
The look in their eyes tells me they knew. Everyone knows. We haven’t been ourselves in months. I can’t think of the last time we were both at a family dinner.
“I don’t know what to do,” I go on, when neither of them say a word. “I’ve been trying…but every time I try, no matter what I try, I feel like I’m pushing her further away.” I take a drink. “I’m exhausted.”
I down what’s in my glass and motion for Ace to make me another.
“I tried to give her a date night tonight,” I go on, working on my beer that’s quickly disappearing. My brothers simply watch me as I babble. “We haven’t had a date night in months. She never seems interested, so I stopped asking. Last night, I asked, for the first time in a long damn time.” I gesture around the table. “As you can see, I’m not with my wife.”
“Where is she?” Azriel asks, when it’s clear I’d paused my rambling, at last.
Another glass of whiskey is set in front of me. I give Ace a grateful look before shrugging. “With some reporter. Not sure where. They’re out to dinner and will probably be there until some ridiculous hour.”
Azriel looks away from me, his eyes locking with Rhys and then I feel both of their gazes on me. I turn to Rhys, who is usually the one who takes the lead in awkward situations. Tonight is apparently no different.
“She won’t have dinner with you, but she’ll meet some skeezy reporter for dinner?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.
Shrugging my shoulders, I start on my second drink. “So it seems.”
He folds his arms atop the table and leans towards me. “And you didn’t ask where they were going? Or when she would be home?”
“I stopped asking what time she’d be home months ago.” My voice sounds hollow, empty. I wonder how long it’s sounded like that. “And begging for answers seemed pathetic.”
They make eye contact again and Azriel clears his throat. “You don’t…think she’s having an affair, do you?”
“Absolutely not.”
He sighs. “Cass—”
“She isn’t sleeping with anyone else.”
“Cass,” Rhys begins, his tone as placating as possible, slipping into the voice of the man who can convince anyone of anything. It’s what makes him such a good defense lawyer. It makes me want to break something. Makes me feel weak. “We know you love Nesta and that she loves you.”
“She wouldn’t cheat on me,” I snap, and I mean it. We might not be on great terms right now, but Nesta is loyal to those she loves.
And despite the distance between us, I have to believe she still loves me.
“Sorry,” I say, trying to calm myself down once the silence between us stretches on for too long. The air is thick. They know they had struck a chord and are surely deciding if they want to keep the conversation going. “I just…don’t think that’s the case.”
“If she’s not cheating, then what’s the issue?” Azriel asks, tentatively. “Her work?”
“Yeah, she’s busy,” I say, staring at my empty glass. “But…I don’t know. Honestly, I have no fucking clue how we got here. We barely talk. Most nights, she doesn’t even come to bed. I can’t even tell you the last time we had sex.” That was a lie. I remember it, and it was way too long ago for me to admit. “Every time we do talk, it ends in a fight. I’m just…at the end of my rope. I don’t know what to do.”
The table is quiet for another minute before Rhys asks, “Are you saying that you want to leave her?”
It’s not that the thought has never crossed my mind. Lately, I think about it often, filing for divorce, giving up, but hearing the words out loud make me feel sick to my stomach.
I don’t answer.
I wave to Ace for another whiskey.
The table is silent until she brings the drink and returns to the bar.
“I don’t see what other options I have.” My words are whispered, as if I can’t hear them, they aren't coming out. My words are starting to slur a bit, a good sign I should probably slow down.
I ignore that sign and take a drink.
“You two fought like cats and dogs when you first met,” Rhys reminds me, as if I could somehow forget. “What’s different now?”
“Those weren’t fights, that was sexual tension,” I admit, shaking my head. “Gotta have sex for there to be sexual tension.”
Azriel refills his beer. “She hasn’t said anything to Elain, as far as I know.”
“Or Feyre,” Rhys adds.
“You both know Nesta,” I start, looking between the two of them. “She doesn’t talk about her feelings with anyone, much less me or her sisters.”
They both frown, watching me with concern, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Do you still love her?” Azriel asks.
“Of course I do,” I say, my anger fading as the alcohol calms me, consumes me. “But just because I love her doesn’t mean that it’s working anymore.”
“Don’t make any rash decisions,” Rhys says, calmly, refilling my beer for me before motioning to Ace for another pitcher. Seems I’m done with whiskey for the night. “I know you, don’t act out of anger. You have to tell Nesta how frustrated you are. You have to communicate.”
I know he’s right, know that communication has become a weakness in our marriage. I don’t want to communicate, I don’t want to work for it, I just want my marriage to right itself, to return to the way it used to be.
And I want to fucking drink.
So that’s what I do, alongside my brothers, until I’m not thinking about my crumbling marriage at all.
#better or worse#nessian better or worse#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#nesta x cassian#nesta archeron#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#snacmc collabs
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Better or Worse {12}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Warnings: I'm sorry it's a day late! Life will be hectic until the end of the month. We hope you all enjoy this chapter! x
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Cassian
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“This is absolutely gorgeous.”
It’s the thirtieth time Nesta has said that in the half an hour we’ve been in the farmer’s market, but every single time, I find myself staring at her as I agree.
I haven’t been able to string a sentence together since Nesta woke me up in the best way possible.
Having a dream that your wife has her hands on you only to wake up and find her grinding against your cock instead is not how I expected this trip to begin, but I won’t complain.
Something changed in the moment we made each other come, something fundamental that we had lost in our marriage was found again. As she ran her hand over the surface of a rug hanging in one of the stalls, I couldn’t help but imagine she was dragging it down my chest, nails digging in just enough to playfully scratch, over my abs, towards my—
“There’s no way I can fit this in my carry on, is there?”
Pulling myself from a fantasy I promised I would turn into reality tonight, I drag my eyes from my wife to the area rug she’s examining. It’s massive, nearly as tall as I am, the blues and golds and grays matching the color palate in her office.
When I look back at her face, I know she’s caught me staring— likely at her ass— and knows I don’t give a shit about a rug.
She does though. Even if she’s poking fun at me, she has stopped to look at this longer than anything else we’ve come across.
I step closer, putting a hand on her lower back, pulling her into me. I need to touch her, I can’t help it. After finally being able to again, I can’t stop, needing to have her hand in mine or a hold on her in some way. I know she feels the same.
“Definitely won’t fit in your carry on, but I’m sure we could have it shipped home.”
She grins, and I can see the wheels in her mind turning. “If we’re shipping things home, does that mean there’s no limit to what I can buy today?”
I huff a laugh. “I mean, you may wanna take shipping prices into consideration.”
She doesn’t. Not only does she pay for the rug, but she also buys three matching throw pillows. Thankfully they allow us to swing back around when we’re finished to pick them up, otherwise I’d be the one hauling them through the market.
We continue around the booths, hand in hand, refusing to let one another go. The touch of her hand in mind is the only thing grounding me. Otherwise, my thoughts of taking her back to the hotel consume me.
It’s a perfect day. The sun is out, not a cloud in sight. It’s hot, but there’s a cool breeze coming off the ocean.
“Let’s take a break.” I pull her towards a series of food trucks, but she frowns.
“But we’re not even halfway through. Let’s just go to—”
“I promise we can finish, but I’m starving. Someone made me miss breakfast at the hotel.” Whether it’s from the implication of my words or my tone, her cheeks turn pink and a hint of mischief settles in her eyes.
“Fine. A quick break, then I have to go look at those stunning wall hangers.”
I don’t know what the fuck a wall hanger is, but apparently they’re stunning, so we’ll be going home with at least two, no doubt.
A couple hours and an astoundingly high shipping bill later, we’re heading back to the hotel. I can’t even bring myself to be upset. It’s not as if the money is going to hurt us and Nesta is happy. I haven’t seen her smile this much in months. That’s what this trip is about after all, finding our happiness as a couple, relaxing, and spending time together.
Next up is dinner and while we were in the market today, I spotted a restaurant over the water, the most delectable scents reaching me and I knew that’s where we’d go. Nesta wanted a quick shower and despite this morning, I wanted her to invite me in with her. It seemed poetic to me. The last time we had sex was in a shower, we could come full circle. She doesn’t though and I check in with my brothers instead.
Greg is loving his time at Feyre and Rhysand’s, spending every second with Nyx. I save a picture Rhys sent of the two of them fast asleep in his little bed last night to show Nesta when she gets out of the shower.
I’m on the balcony, listening to the waves crash against the shore and returning a couple emails when the sliding door opens. I turn to my wife and freeze.
She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
Her hair is still slightly damp, curling slightly in the humidity. Her makeup is subtle, letting her natural beauty shine, but her body.
Cauldron, boil me, after ten years, that body is still going to be the death of me.
The black bodysuit she wears clings to every inch of her curves, the lace edges of the neckline teasing her cleavage, just begging me to drag my tongue between her breasts. Her jean shorts are short and distressed, showing off her long tan legs, leading down to strappy, little sandals.
She’s the heat of a summer night personified and I want nothing more than to let her burn me.
When I meet her eyes once more, she’s watching me with a seductive smile. “Do I look okay?”
Knowing that she already knows my answer to that, I ask, “Are you sure you want to go to dinner?”
Her grin widens as she slides her arms around my neck. “Yes, I’m starving.”
Me too, I want to say, even though food is the last thing on my mind. I kiss her softly on the lips, then her neck, along her collarbone. She lets out a breath that sends chills down my spine.
“Feed me first,” she whispers into my ear, “and I promise to make the wait worth it.”
I curse quietly before sighing and meeting her eyes, bright and joyful. “Fine. But you better eat fast.”
Her head falls back as she laughs and her beauty, once again, blows me away.
We walk along the beach to the restaurant and only have to wait a few minutes before we’re seated. Although they’re known for their seafood, I have to get a steak. Every time I go somewhere new, I have to see if they can cook a steak as well as me.
Usually, they can’t, but I’m pleasantly surprised when they can.
“Since you’re getting steak, I’m getting shrimp,” Nesta says, before she even opens her menu.
I look at her from across the table. “How do you know I’m getting steak?”
“Because they serve steak here,” she says, simply, and when the server comes to greet us she orders a sex on the beach, which has my mind happily going back to what awaits me once we get back to the hotel.
I order a whiskey and when Nesta tells the server to make it a double, I raise my eyebrows as she hurries off to get our drinks. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe,” she says, flipping her menu open and smirking as our gazes lock. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.”
She bites her lip as she turns her attention to the menu before her and it takes everything in me not to grab her across the table and bite down on that full bottom lip myself.
I let myself revel in that fantasy for a moment before letting my eyes trail over my own menu. I’m perusing the sides, when I say, “They’ve got your favorite.”
The server appears then and Nesta thanks her before taking a generous sip from her straw. She closes her eyes and lets out a happy, little moan.
That moan goes straight to my cock.
She hums contentedly as she opens her eyes and looks at me. “Favorite what?”
She nibbles on the edge of her straw and it takes me a moment to remember what I’d been talking about. “Side dish,” I say, taking a drink of my whiskey. It’s good, smooth. “They’ve got bacon wrapped asparagus.”
She hums again, flipping to the sides herself and looking over them. “Everything looks delicious.”
“I know.” For a moment, I entertain the idea of asking to meet the chef, but I’m on vacation with my wife. Another time, after I’ve had the food, to see if it lives up to the hype.
Our server returns and we order. I get the steak, medium rare, with mixed greens and mashed potatoes. Nesta, who loves seafood, but never gets it, orders seared shrimp, steamed broccoli, and, of course, the bacon wrapped asparagus.
The conversation flows easily between us as we wait. There’s no tension, no stress, no discomfort, and I know it’s not the alcohol to thank. No, we’ve come a long way, and it feels good.
Nesta’s foot slides up and down my calf beneath the table as we talk, as we flirt.
I start on the fruity drink once my whiskey is gone, although I do order another, and by the time our food comes, I’m definitely feeling a buzz.
I watch Nesta stab a piece of broccoli into her mouth before cutting into my steak. I must admit that it’s cooked to perfection, and it tastes nearly just as good.
“So?” She asks, swallowing a bite of bacon wrapped asparagus. “Does it pass your test?”
“Pretty damn good,” I admit, popping another bite into my mouth. “Yours? How’s the asparagus?”
“Not bad,” she says, but nods to my potatoes. “I’ll trade you some for some mashed potatoes, though.”
I stop, lifting a brow. “You want to trade me your favorite side for mashed potatoes?”
“I mean, they’re garlic mashed potatoes, which are by far the superior mashed potatoes.”
I’m still staring at her. “But I thought bacon wrapped asparagus is your favorite. I mean, when I make it, you’ve always told me it’s your favorite.”
Nesta laughs quietly as she shakes her head. “Alright, fine. You’re trying to pull a confession out of me, it seems, so…no, it’s not my favorite. It’s good, but not my favorite.”
I’m speechless. Do you know how many times I have purposefully made bacon wrapped asparagus for my wife, thinking it was her favorite?
An ass ton.
“Holy shit, I don’t even know you,” I say, stabbing a piece of meat. “And, my asparagus is a little offended.”
Nesta rolls her eyes. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
The server drops off our drinks, asking if we need anything else, which Nesta politely declines and turns her attention back to me.
“For real, Nes, I had no idea, I really thought that was your favorite.” I blink at her, still processing this information. “The entire foundation of our marriage has been built on a lie.”
“Okay, now I know you’re being dramatic.” She can’t hide her smile though and dabs at her mouth with her napkin. “Your turn.”
I take another bite before following it with a drink. “My turn for what?”
“For a confession,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I gave you one, now you tell me something.”
Shaking my head, I look at her. “We’ve been married for almost ten years, Nes, there’s not much you don’t know about me.”
“And until just now, you would have sworn that asparagus was my favorite thing on the planet.”
“I know it’s not your favorite thing on the planet,” I correct, feeling warm and tingly from the alcohol. “That would be my co—”
Reaching across the table, she covers my mouth with her hand, laughing. “You may be right, but I don’t think the rest of the restaurant needs to know that.”
The way she’s suddenly leaning forward, her tits have just about fallen out of her low cut top. I can see the barest hint of her nipple and I fight off a groan as she removes her hand and sits back in her chair. She follows my gaze and her cheeks flush. “Oops.”
Glancing around the restaurant, she adjusts herself, but I can tell she’s loving the attention I’m giving her.
Just as she lifts her glass to her lips, I say, my eyes still lingering on her cleavage, “Nipple piercings.”
She pauses, and one brow slowly lifts. “Seriously?”
I nod, slowly, eyes meeting hers to gauge her reaction. “Hot as hell. And I’ve always thought you could pull them off beautifully.”
Her eyes narrow as she finally takes a drink, then says, “Huh.”
“Huh?”
She nods, sucking in her bottom lip. “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, considering half your body is covered in tattoos and you had a nose ring until three years ago. You should’ve told me.” She takes a piece of shrimp into her mouth. “Maybe I would’ve tried them out for you.”
It’s my turn for my eyes to narrow. “Liar. It’s not your style, and that’s okay. Trust me, I’ve never had any issues with your tits, babe.”
An older woman at the table beside me scoffs, and I send her a quick apology her way before turning back to my wife, who’s laughing quietly.
“For a man who spends a lot of time in restaurants, you have terrible table manners,” she says.
I shrug. “I spend most my time in the kitchen, and there are zero manners in the kitchen.”
She rolls her eyes, but does it lovingly. “Seriously, though. I would’ve done it. Maybe as a wedding present, when I was young and hot.”
I snort. “You’re twenty-nine, you’re still young and hotter every damn day.”
“Hot enough to get my nipples pierced now?”
I put my fork down, giving her my full attention. “Are you serious?”
She shrugs, but I can see her cheeks heating. “I don’t…hate the idea. I’m sure it would hurt like hell, but I’ve always liked the look of them on other people.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I smirk. “You spend a lot of time looking at other women’s nipple piercings?”
Her blush deepens as she reaches for her drink. “Shut up.”
I can only attribute my overly active imagination to the fact that it's been seven months since I’ve had sex, but instantly I imagine her on top of me, riding me, the little gems dangling from the jewelry attached to her nipple moving in time with her hips. I’m transfixed on the image, though I’ve never considered it before. Nesta has her ears pierced…and that’s it. No extra piercings for fun, no tattoos. Feyre convinced her to get a second hole on her lobes about five years ago and after the list of pros and cons she made as to why she should or shouldn’t get them done, I decided to keep my dreams to myself.
I glance down at her chest again, ogling her, but who gives a fuck, because she’s my wife, and I think about how much I love her tits.
I didn’t think it was possible, but this could make me love them more.
She reaches for her phone and starts typing away. “There’s a tattoo parlor about two blocks away that has it listed as a service on their website.”
My eyes slowly trailed back up to hers. “What? Now?”
“I was thinking about finishing my shrimp first,” she says, playfully, putting her phone back into her pocket.
I call for the check anyways, and by the time it gets to us, my plate is cleared and my drink has been drained. Nesta takes her sweet time, though, loving to tease me.
I have a feeling there will be a lot more teasing before the night is done.
Half an hour later, we’re walking through town. I feel pretty light on my feet — not drunk, but buzzed. Nesta seems to be sober enough as she leads me down the two blocks to the tattoo parlor.
Once she’s inside, she tells them what she wants and is being led away. I start to follow her, but she puts up her hand.
“Oh, no,” she says, grinning. “You wait out here.”
I frown. “Why? I want to watch.”
“You only get the final product.” Her tone leaves no room for discussion and after a wink, she’s gone.
I stay standing there, arms crossed, refusing to sit down.
“Don’t worry,” the guy sketching behind the counter says. “Varian’s done it a million times, he’ll take care of her.”
There’s not one part of that sentence that I like.
I don’t want some asshole named Varian taking care of my wife.
Nonetheless, I take a seat, because if I burst through this place in a jealous rage, I’m assuming it won’t make Nesta happy.
Fifteen minutes of aimlessly scrolling Facebook later, footsteps approach and my wife beams at me. “Ready to go?”
Jumping to my feet, I shove my phone into my pocket. “Can I see?”
Both Nesta and the guy behind the counter laugh at that, but she just shakes her head and reaches for my hand. “I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel.”
So begins the longest walk of my life. I try not to be obvious but I keep glancing towards her chest, trying to see something. I can’t see anything, no indication that anything has changed, and I really hope she’s not playing a prank on me.
“You’re not fucking with me, right?” I ask as we’re approaching the hotel. “You really got them pierced?”
“Yes, Cass.” Her voice is full of laughter and god, I’ve missed the familiarity in her tone when she says my name.
“How’d it feel?” I ask, unable to keep from wondering.
“Oh, it hurt like a bitch,” she admits, and her hand tightens in my hand a bit. “He did the first one and it took a few minutes to talk myself into letting him do the second.” Once again, the idea of another man not only looking at, but touching my wife’s breasts has me seeing red. Nesta went on, barely acknowledging my sudden burst of fury. “He was telling me that his wife only has one nipple pierced cause she couldn’t go through it twice.”
Right. Dude has a wife and was only doing his job. I keep reminding myself of that as we enter the hotel and head straight for the elevator.
Nesta tugs on my hand, her smile devious. “You don’t want to go to the bar for a bit—”
I grab her by the waist and kiss her roughly. “If you don’t get your ass in that elevator, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the room.”
“Is that a promise?” She winks at me, but heads for the bay of elevators nonetheless.
We ride the elevator up to the ninth floor with thankfully nobody else joining us. I pull the key card out of my wallet before we’ve even reached the door, swipe it and hold the door open for Nesta. The room is bathed in darkness and only grows darker as I shut and lock the door behind me. “Now can I see?”
Crossing the room, Nesta flips on one of the lamps by the bed and reaches up to one of the straps of her bodysuit. “You can look but you can’t touch. They’re sensitive.”
I slowly walk to where she’s standing. “I’ll be gentle.”
She gives me a stern look, but she’s unable to hide her grin. “No touching.”
“Fine,” I agree, and I’d comply with every one of her wishes at this moment. Accepting defeat, I sit on the foot of the bed and look at her.
Slowly, that teasing of hers continuing, she keeps pulling one strap of her bodysuit down, then the other, until it’s pooled around her waist.
I stare.
Two small pearls sit on both sides of her nipples. I should’ve known she wouldn’t have gone with simple silver.
I don’t know how long I stare, but Nesta doesn’t move, she just lets me obsess over her.
“So?” She asks, at last, into the quiet.
I clear my throat. “I, uh…don’t think I have ever been this turned on.”
Nesta laughs and steps toward me, between my legs. “I think it’s the alcohol.”
My hands find her hips and pull her closer. “It’s not the alcohol,” I assure her, pressing my lips softly to her chest, between her breasts. Her hands run through my hair, and then we’re on the bed.
This morning may have been about me, my pleasure, but tonight was about her.
Her nipples were just about the only part of her body that I didn’t touch as I recklessly feasted on my wife.
#nessian#fanfic#fanfiction#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf#acofas#nesta#cassian#sjm#snacmc collabs#theladyofdeath x snelbz collab#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#modern au#angst au
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Better or Worse {Chapter Two}
Nessian. Angst. Modern au.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
A/N: Thank you for all who read chapter 1! I've been so pumped to share this one with you all. We hope you enjoy it...even the sad parts.
Warnings: depictions of child loss, language.
~Nesta~
“The last six chapters…” my editor sighs, and I know that I’m not going to like what’s coming next. “They lack depth. I feel like they’re just words on a page, there’s no real meaning there. I mean, there’s hardly any sex once they make up and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s kind of what you’re known for.”
I roll my eyes at her sarcasm, even though she can’t see my face. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shut my laptop and pick up my empty water glass. “So what. Rewrite with more fucking?”
“Rewrite with emotion,” she explains, as I leave my home office and go downstairs. I need a break from the screen. The second I got home from my office in the city, I instantly went upstairs and tucked myself away.
“Fine,” I sigh, entering the kitchen. “When do you want rewrites by?”
My list of rewrites is growing. I had barely made this deadline. My anxiety only grows as she says, “Can you have them to me by Monday?”
“Monday?” I ask, exasperated. “Are you kidding me?”
“We have to get this to the publisher soon. We’re running out of time, Nesta.”
I lean against the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Yeah. Fine. Monday.” I hear the garage door open and quickly say, before she can give me any more bad news, “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”
I hang up just before the door opens and Nyx comes barreling in, his smile wide and his backpack massive on his little, four-year-old frame.
“Aunt Nesta!”
My anxiety lessens just a little bit as he runs into my open arms and I swing him around, peppering his cheeks with kisses. “Hi, my boy. Oh, I’ve missed you.”
He takes my face into his hands and whispers, “Uncle Cass got me a milkshake. Chocolate.”
“I’m so jealous,” I whisper back, and set him down.
We’ve picked Nyx up from preschool every other Tuesday since he started a year ago. We swap every other week with Azriel and Elain, since Tuesdays are the one day that Rhys and Feyre’s work schedules clash. I cherish the time with my nephew — he’s growing way too fast.
Cassian steps through the door a minute later, holding a bag of groceries and what looks like a half empty milkshake.
“Hey,” he says, not even looking at me.
“Hey,” I reply, quietly. We’ve hardly spoken a word to each other in days.
I was home before he was on the night he wanted to cook me dinner. I was in bed before he was, too. I don’t remember the last time either of those things happened. The white flag I’d brought home in the form of a chocolate pie had long since been put in the fridge and forgotten and my feelings of mediation had been replaced with frustration at the late hour. When he got in bed and smelled like a frat house, I pretended to be asleep, stewing in my anger and sudden sense of resentment towards my husband, rather than snapping at him like I wanted to.
He was awake and gone before I even woke up the next morning.
“I got a couple of steaks and potatoes. Nyx loves the garlic mashed potatoes at the restaurant—” When he looks over his shoulder at my expression, his words fade away. “What?”
“I ordered pizza,” I say, slowly.
His body tenses, as I expected it would, and he starts putting everything he got from the grocery store into the refrigerator with a little too much force.
“Go ahead and cook,” I say, trying to ease the tension, for Nyx’s sake. “We can put the pizza in the fridge and reheat it tomorrow—”
“It’s fine.” I know that tone. It’s final.
Giving up on the conversation and letting Cassian stew in his anger, I turn to Nyx with a smile. “Why don’t you go put your backpack and your shoes by the front door, buddy?”
He looks between us before nodding and exiting the room.
“I’m sorry,” I start, carefully, when Nyx is out of the room. “I was just trying to make quick dinner plans.”
“It’s fine,” he says, closing the refrigerator door. “I should’ve called first.”
“Cass—”
“Let’s just pretend while Nyx’s here, alright?” He turns to face me, those broad, inked arms crossed.
I lift a brow. “Pretend?”
“Yeah, pretend,” he says, voice low. I hate the look in his eyes, hate the distance that’s between us. “Pretend to be happy, or whatever. Pizza is great.”
Before I can say anything more, he leaves the room. A second later, I hear Nyx’s giggling as he’s tossed over his uncle’s shoulder.
Pretend.
I hate that we have to pretend, hate that we don’t know how to simply be happy anymore. I hate that he didn’t expect to have a pleasant conversation with me, that his body tensed so quickly, that he couldn’t wait to get out of the room. At least I’m home and not at the office, or working upstairs. Even though I have a deadline to meet in less than a week.
I don’t leave the kitchen until I hear the doorbell ring a few minutes later. I meet the pizza delivery boy on the porch and pay for our extra large meat lovers pizza and breadsticks before bringing it back to the kitchen and distributing it onto plates.
The only thing that brings a smile to my face is Nyx coming into the room, thinking that a pizza night in is the best thing ever.
The three of us sit at the kitchen table and eat. At first, Nyx is the only one saying anything, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Cassian keeps glancing at me. I can feel his eyes, but fear returning his fleeting looks.
“Aunt Nesta?”
I blink, realizing that with the way Nyx is staring at me, he must have asked me a question and I completely missed it. I glance at Cassian to see if he’ll give me any assistance but his expression is…pained.
“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t hear you,” I say, painting a smile on my face.
Cassian clears his throat. “Nyx, why don’t you tell Aunt Nesta what color you worked on at school today?” From the tone of his voice, it’s clear that he hadn’t asked me about the color of the day.
“When are you and Uncle Cass gonna get me a baby to play with?”
My nephew’s big blue eyes gaze at me, full of curiosity and innocence, just like he is.
His question burns through me though, right to the core, and suddenly, I feel hollow.
Barren.
Empty.
“Aunt Lainy is getting me a baby, that’s what daddy said.” He picks up his pizza with both hands, tearing into it like a wild animal. “And that’s why her tummy is getting big. When are you getting a baby?”
I close my eyes and for a second, all I can see is blood. Blood staining bed sheets and a white, clinical examining room. Tears, and not just mine.
Fear and devastation and heartache and—
Fingertips graze my leg under the table and my eyes snap open, finding Nyx laughing at something Cassian had said. His own smile matches Nyx’s, but it’s strained, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second.
I have no idea what he’d said to derail our nephew’s curiosity, but I suddenly can’t pretend everything is alright at this moment.
Standing quickly, I pick up my plate and mumble, “I’ll be right back,” before heading for the small bathroom off the living room.
My breathing has quickened but I close my eyes and focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I grip the porcelain countertop. I convince the tears not to come — something I’m an expert of at this point in my life — and wait until my breathing is under control before I open my eyes and meet my reflection in the mirror. I can still hear Nyx’s giggles from the kitchen, and I silently thank my husband for doing what he does best…being the world’s best uncle and most obnoxious distraction.
My reflection nearly make my tears start again.
The circles beneath my eyes are dark and my eyes are distant, bloodshot. I’ve lost weight recently, I can tell, and not the good kind. There’s nothing healthy about my pale skin and the way my collarbone is perfectly on display all of the sudden. After spending so many hours working, I haven’t been the best about taking time to eat and maintain my diet, my exercise. I can’t remember the last time I had gone to yoga or done any other sort of physical activity. I haven’t been taking care of myself.
I haven’t been taking care of my husband, either.
I know it. He knows it. We all know it, and we’re dancing around it, just like we dance around everything, but I can’t help it. I have worked hard for my career, and my obsessive mind is controlled by gaining success.
A soft knock comes to the bathroom door. I clear my throat. “Yeah?”
Cassian’s soft voice comes through the other side. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Be out in a sec.”
“Okay.” There’s a beat of silence. “Feyre’s on her way.”
I take a few more deep breaths as his footsteps vanish down the hall, then I’m opening the door and going back to the living room, like nothing is wrong.
Dinner is apparently over, the plates and pizza box cleaned off the kitchen table and leftovers stored away in the fridge. Bluey is playing on the television in the corner and Nyx is hanging over the arm of the couch, watching intently.
Something brushes along my arm and I jump, swearing under my breath as I move away, as if I’d been burned.
Cassian is standing there, his hand still outstretched, something like hurt written across his face. “Really, Nes?”
“You scared me.” I’m snapping, I have absolutely no reason to snap but my emotions are rubbed raw and I feel like I have no control over them or myself. “You snuck up on me.”
His eyes, already so different from the way they used to look at me, harden as he pulls away. “I was just making sure you were okay—”
“I told you I was fine.”
He nods, face like granite, turning away from me and heading into the living room. Without a word, he scoops up Nyx and plops down onto the couch, settling in to watch his show.
I stay put, staring at the two of them. They’re so cute, so comfortable…yet, I feel like I’m a shadow, watching from a distance. An outsider in my own home.
Guilt sweeps over me, but it’s subdued. Every emotion I feel has been diminished, numbed. I debate on joining them, on sitting beside them on the couch, joining them in their peace. But in my state of numbness, I know I would be of no good to them. I go back into the kitchen and find an unopened bottle of wine. After pulling free the cork, I pour myself a glass. Just before the rim touches my lips, the doorbell rings.
I hurry to the door before Cassian can get up off the couch and welcome my youngest sister inside. She smiles at her one and only child before greeting me, wrapping me in her arms.
“I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” she says, before picking Nyx’s backpack up off the ground. “We need to get together soon. Me, you, Lainy.”
“Agreed,” I smile. At least, I smile the best that I can. “Do you want to stay for a while? Or…”
“No, that’s okay. Rhys will be home soon, and it’s almost little man’s bedtime.” As if on cue, Nyx runs into Feyre’s arms.
“Mommy! I had a milkshake and pizza!” he yells, giddily. “Can we get ice cream?”
Feyre laughs quietly and I smile, just as Cassian approaches and gives my sister a hug. “I don’t think so, buddy,” Feyre says, calmly. “Shoes, then let’s go. Come on.”
Nyx groans but does as he's asked.
“Was he good?” Feyre looks from me to Cassian.
“An angel,” Cassian says, smiling. I guess he would know more so than me. “As always.”
“Good,” she grins, and gives Cassian one last hug. After giving me a kiss on the cheek, she scoops Nyx into her arms. “Sunday, come over for lunch. Yeah?”
“Sounds good,” I say, mustering the best smile I can. We tell them both goodbye and then it’s just the two of us, standing in silence.
We used to never have uncomfortable silences, but now here we are… the tension so thick that we can cut it with a knife.
I go to take a step back into the kitchen, but Cassian blocks my path. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”
“No.” The word is short, but adamant.
Cassian, the stubborn bastard he is, isn’t accepting that answer. “Nesta, we should talk.”
“I don’t want to talk right now.”
“Know what? I don’t care what you want. I want to talk, we’re talking.”
My jaw locks but I don’t try to move again. Fine. He wants to talk, we’ll talk. “What do we have to talk about?”
Cassian takes a deep breath. “At dinner—”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“We have to.”
“No, we don’t!” I yell, my fists tightening at my sides. “We don’t have to talk about anything I don’t want to talk about. You can’t make me talk about shit that I don’t want to talk about, Cassian.”
I can see the fury in his eyes, can sense how infuriated he is by the tension of his shoulders, but he doesn’t act on it. He simply says, as calmly as he can, “Nesta, please.”
“No,” I say, and now my hands are shaking. “I’m going to bed.”
“You never go to bed this early.”
“Fine. I’m going to write.”
I take one step, and that's all it takes. He explodes. “Damn it, Nesta! Talk to me!”
I don’t flinch. In order to flinch, you have to feel something, but I feel nothing. I meet Cassian’s crazed, desperate stare. “I don’t want to talk about dinner.”
“Then talk to me about something,” he begs, pleads. “Because I feel like we haven’t had a genuine conversation in months.”
“That’s not true.”
“It isn’t?” he asks, and I can tell he’s constraining himself. “Because I can’t recall a time when we weren’t snapping at one another, or your tone isn’t begging me to back the fuck off and mind my own business.” I open my mouth to reply, but he keeps going. “I can’t even ask if my wife is okay, because she doesn’t fucking respond, she just says she’s fine when she’s clearly not. Do you know how frustrating that is?”
I swallow, looking away from him.
I’m not fine. Not even close.
But he doesn’t know that. He can’t, nobody can.
I turn and continue heading for the stairs.
“I can’t do this anymore, Nes.”
The words are so quiet that I’m not quite sure if I hear him right. Turning around to look back at him, I see his eyes are on the floor. “You can’t do what?”
“This,” he says, gesturing between us. There’s something in his hazel eyes I don’t usually see there. “This pretending that we’re doing. I’m done with it.”
“What is with you and pretending?” I demand, finally snapping, my voice raising.
His jaw locks, and a fire I don’t usually see has enveloped his eyes. “Me and pretending…” He shakes his head. “Nesta, that’s all we’ve been doing. Nothing between us has been real in a long time.”
I swallow. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I know what he’s talking about. Every word from his mouth makes perfect sense. I would never admit it, though. “I’m done,” he says, shaking his head.
I swallow. “The hell are you talking about?”
“A divorce,” he spits. “I want a divorce.”
A divorce.The words haunt me. They don’t register, don’t settle. “What?”
“I think we should separate,” he says, calmly, even though he looks anything but calm.
I try to make sense of his words, try to understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t. “What?” I repeat, a little more strongly.
Cassian’s eyes drift from mine as he looks at the floor. “This isn’t working, Nesta. Me. You. It’s not working.”
“Are you…” My words fall off as I shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No,” he begins, eyes on me. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you. Nesta, I don’t even know who you are anymore. Shit, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here, and I’m starting to think that it’s not worth it.”
“You don’t mean that,” I bite out. My chest is heaving. I might be hyperventilating, but I can’t focus on my body. Only his words. I repeat, through gritted teeth, “You don’t mean that.”
Cassian doesn’t reply, just heads to the coat closet off the living room, reaching inside and pulling out—
“You’re leaving?” I breathe, watching as he slings the duffel bag over his shoulder.
His voice is quiet, but he won’t look at me. “I think it would be best.”
He starts to leave, is heading for the kitchen, and to the garage where his truck waits.
He’d had a bag packed.
He’d planned this.
He’s serious.
“You promised!” My scream surprises even me, but Cassian freezes in the middle of the kitchen. He doesn’t turn to face me, but he pauses. I don’t waste my opportunity. “You promised, Cassian, through better or worse, that you would be here.”
Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes connect with mine, and then he speaks the words that I swear are aimed at my soul. “So did you.” He stands there for only a few more heartbeats before he turns and continues heading for the door.
As it opens and closes, I stay put, listening as the garage door does the same. When all is quiet, I wait, hoping he’d change his mind, that the door leading to the garage would open back up and he’d come back in and say this was all a stupid prank.
But he doesn’t.
And as I sink to my knees, I know that I’m the only one to blame.
#nessian#modern au#snacmc collabs#snacmc collab#nesta#cassian#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf#acofas#sjm#fanfic#fanfiction#nesta x cassian#cassian x nesta#nessian better or worse
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Better Or Worse {10}
Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Warnings: language.
We sit in Gwyn’s office, holding hands on the couch.
The last few weeks have been good. Really good. Cassian has slept with me every night, his arms around me, tucked in close to him. We’ve kissed, we’ve snuggled, but nothing more has happened, even though I’ve been tempted.
Especially when I can feel my husband’s cock against me for half the night and in the morning, long, thick, and hard.
I know it’s been trying for him, I know he’s wanted me, I know he’s been holding himself back, but he hasn’t tried anything. Even if I’ve wanted him to, not that I’ve said anything to him, but sometimes when we’re lying there all I want is for him to slip a hand in my clothes, to touch me, tease me, fuck me until I’m nothing but a puddle in his hands.
Still, he’s respected my boundaries. He always has, which is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place.
Even if I think I’m ready to take that next step, to have sex again — protected, of course. Double protection. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to try and have kids again, and if it happens by accident…
I shake the thought away before I can psych myself out. Sex, with my husband. I think I’ll bring it up soon, very soon. Either that or I’ll just try jumping him once we’re in bed.
Something tells me that he’d like that. A lot.
“Nesta?”
“Hmm?” I know my cheeks are warm as I focus my attention back on Gwyn. Apparently she had asked me something while I was lost in my lust filled daydream. I look at Cassian.
He’s grinning, like he knows perfectly well where my mind has gone.
He’s always known my tells.
“Cassian said you two have been sleeping in the same bed every night,” she says, politely, as always. “What has that meant to you?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s been great. I’ve forgotten how much more…I don’t know, secure I feel when he’s in bed with me. I’m more at ease when he’s sleeping beside me. Comforted.”
“So it’s been a good change?” she pushes.
“A great change,” I say, and when I look at Cassian again, his eyes have softened.
My knees are weak.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Gwyn says, closing her notebook and I have no idea how an hour has already passed. It always seems to go so quickly. “After reflecting on your progress, I think it’s time that you two took the next step. At this point, I usually recommend a couple’s vacation. It gives you time to ignore the real world and just focus on one another for a few days without any interruption.”
“A couples vacation?” Cassian asks, intrigued. “That sounds—”
“I can’t.” The words are out of me before I can stop them. Cassian’s smile has faltered. “I just…my new book is set to come out next month and there’s still so much to do. I have nonstop deadlines. Unless we wait until after—”
“After you’ll have to do press shit,” Cassian says, his voice quiet, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his calm. “You’ll be even busier after the release than you are now. I think getting away for a few days would be good for us. I can sneak away from the restaurant for a long weekend, at least, and if I can ignore my work for a few days, you can, too.”
Don’t snap. I take a deep breath. “You don’t understand—”
“Then bring your laptop with you,” he suggests, taking a deep breath of his own. He looks at me. “You can get some work done in the mornings, then we can be together later in the day.”
“I would recommend keeping your laptop at home,” Gwyn says, as if she was preparing for my argument. “If you bring it, it will be all you want in front of you, it will be all you’re thinking about. As Cassian said, you can even go for just a long weekend. Thursday through Monday. Find someplace you want to go, relax and reconnect for a few days, then come back and resume your work schedule.”
I nibble on my lip and I know that Cassian is looking at me, waiting for me to respond, so I don’t make eye contact. “I just…I’m sorry, I don’t think I can right now, it’s not a good time.”
Cassian drops my hand, but before he can say something out of his frustration, Gwyn says, “Why don’t the two of you think about it and talk about it? Nothing has to be decided today, but I do think it will be good for you.”
Cassian says nothing else but I nod. We wrap up our session and make our way to my car, which Cassian hates because he’s a giant and can hardly fit in the passenger seat, but the truck had a flat tire and we didn’t have time to change it before we had to leave to make our appointment. If I know Cassian at all, which I do, I bet he’ll be angry-changing the tire the second we get home.
He opens the passenger side door the second I unlock the car and shifts awkwardly into the seat until he’s comfortable enough before closing the door.
Opening my own door, I get in the car and turn the engine over, glancing in the mirrors before putting the car in reverse.
“It’s four days, Nes.”
Sighing, I shift back into park. “Four days is a lot longer than you think.” I don’t mention that I get the bulk of my writing done on Friday and Saturday nights when he’s at the restaurant. Uninterrupted time isn’t something I get often, so a long weekend is too long for me to be away. “I can’t take any time off from edits, Cassian, not if I want the book to come out on time.”
He doesn’t immediately say anything, so I shift into reverse and start heading home. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but the timing isn’t great. We can do it later, I promise, but right now isn’t good.”
“It’ll never be a good time,” he says, slumping down in his seat. It makes him look like a petulant child.
“I just said we can go after the book comes out,” I say, trying my best to keep my tone calm, but I can hear the bite in my voice.
He turns to face me in the car, his shoulder pressing against the window in the process. “I think we should go now. We’ve been doing great, Nesta, this can only help.”
I get where he’s coming from, and I’m really trying to keep my rising temper in check, but it’s challenging. “I agree, but I already have Eris up my ass—”
“I don’t give a fuck about Eris,” Cassian snaps. His calm demeanor has vanished. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His temper, even worse than mine, has always been a stumbling block.
“Well, you should, because he’s the reason I’ve been so successful,” I snap back. “He’s given me a schedule, I’m following that schedule, I have no choice but to follow the damn schedule, and there’s nowhere on that schedule that says I have time for a four day vacation.”
“Four days is nothing!” He shouts.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Cassian,” I hiss, “but I didn’t get to where I’m at because I neglected to do what’s necessary. I have fucking deadlines, and I’ve told you that I can’t fucking go, so I can’t fucking go.”
His jaw snaps shut and there’s a storm in his eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks. He stares at me for a moment, and even though I look back to the road, I can feel his eyes lingering. We ride like that, him staring at me, pissed; the silence overwhelming until we pull onto our street.
Once I pull into the driveway, he’s already got the door open before I can even put the car in park, as if he can’t stand to be within a confined space with me for a second longer.
Good.
I can’t stand him at the moment, either.
He’s being unreasonable, refusing to see where I’m coming from.
As I expected, he’s storming toward his truck in the garage, opening the hatch to grab the spare tire. Without another look in his direction, I go inside.
Greg greets me, and I curse Cassian outloud to my furbaby before going straight for the wine cabinet. I pour a glass but don’t drink it. Instead, I lean on the counter, letting my face fall into my hands.
What the hell is happening?
I went into Gwyn’s office today excited to talk about our progress, and now I feel like we’ve made no progress at all.
Or maybe we have made progress and that’s the issue.
I know there are worse things than my husband wanting to spend time with me, but he just doesn’t get it. He has no idea what it takes to be a published author, and I know I’ve subjected myself to my job too much in the past few years, but I don’t want to let my readers down.
I stay leaning against the counter, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths. I don’t want this to get out of hand. I can’t let this get out of hand.
Cassian’s right. We’ve been doing really well. And a little couple’s vacation would be good for us. Great, in fact, especially now that I’m ready to be intimate again. We don’t need to be having these stupid little fights. Even if I feel passionately about what I’m fighting for, I know he does, too.
I try to think of a compromise.
After taking a sip from my wine glass, I wander to the backdoor, where I can see through the little window into the garage. Cassian, with his jacket now off, is tightening the spare. His brow is set, his lips thinned, and he’s tightening the bolts probably way more than he should.
Cauldron help him next time he has to change that tire.
I watch as he finishes up, but rather than come inside, he continues around to each tire, checking them out one by one. Rolling my eyes, I take another drink of my wine and retrieve my laptop before settling in at the kitchen counter. Clearly, Cassian isn't interested in coming inside yet, so I’ll just sit and wait until he is.
It’s nearly twenty minutes later before the back door opens, my husband entering with grease on his hands and his hair tied back. When his eyes fall on my computer open before me, I can almost feel the ire radiating off of him. He doesn’t speak to me, goes straight to the sink and begins washing his hands.
Plopping my chin in my hand, I ask, “Do you think Skull’s Bay is nicer this time of year or the Coronal Islands?”
He’s in the process of trying to get the grease out from under his nails when he freezes and looks at me.
When he doesn’t say anything, I hum. “Or maybe Adriata. We’ve been there before, but who says it has to be somewhere new.”
Cassian turns off the tap, wiping his hands off on one of the kitchen towels. Turning to face me, he leans a hip on the counter and slings the towel over his shoulder. “When?”
I clear my throat. “I was looking at flights for next weekend.”
He’s moving before the words are fully out of my mouth, crossing the kitchen. “I promise, baby, this is going to be worth it.”
“I have some conditions though.” I push my laptop to the side, the travel sites half forgotten. “I know Gwyn said I should leave my computer. I can’t, Cass. There physically isn’t enough time for me to take four full days off.”
“That’s fine,” he agrees, his eyes bright.
Toying with the stem of my wine glass, I add, “I’m also probably going to be…distant in the days leading up to the flight.”
That grants him pause. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to try and get as much done as I possibly can before we leave, so I can ignore my laptop as much as I can while we’re there.”
Cassian stares at me.
I stare back.
“If you can’t go—”
“Are you seriously trying to persuade me not to go now that I’ve made up my mind that I’m going?” I scold. “Cassian—”
“I was pressuring you,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pressure you.”
It only occurs to me now that I’ve put him in a tough position. Since we’ve been distant with one another, since things have been weird, he’s probably extra cautious about pressuring me into things.
I hesitate.
He picks up on it.
“Cassian—”
“If you can’t go—”
“I want to go—”
“But if you really can’t—”
“I want to go!” I laugh, unable to control the countless emotions running through me. I’m frustrated, but also excited and vulnerable. I stare at him, shaking my head. “I want to go. I just need you to meet me halfway. I know it’s not ideal—”
“You’ll go?” He asks, interrupting me.
I nod, taking a step towards him. “You were right. This will be good for us. I owe us this.”
Cassian is looking at me like he doesn’t believe a damn word that comes out of my mouth, and it hurts. Yet, he nods. “Okay.”
I haven’t realized how close we’re standing, how near he is to me. His eyes are still searching mine, his disbelief and suspicion on full display.
“It’s almost as if you’re the one that no longer wants to go,” I say, quietly, and I mean it as a joke, to try and ease the tension, but it doesn’t come out like one.
Cassian doesn’t disagree. He says, “I’ve learned not to get my hopes up. I’ll believe we’re going when we’re on the plane. Until then…” he shrugs and takes another step closer.
He’s close enough that I can breathe him in. I want to reach up and run my hands down his chest, but I don’t. I just meet his gaze. “Aren’t we supposed to be working on trust? Trust me a little, Cass.”
“I trust you,” he says, and I note how his eyes dart to my lips for a split second. “But I also know you. You’re saying you want to go because you feel guilty, not because you’d rather be on vacation than here, working. I also know that when you’re stressed, it’s impossible for you to enjoy yourself or, you know, be pleasant.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “Promise me that we’re going, and that we’re going because it’s what you want to do, and that you won’t get sucked into work while we’re there.”
“I promise,” I say, and I allow myself to touch him now, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck. “I promise I want to go and have this time with you.”
He searches my eyes for another minute before nodding, and his eyes are back to being bright and filled with excitement as a small smile twists his lips. His arms snake around my waist as he says, “Good.”
Making my promise more convincing, I kiss him.
Whatever tenuous hold my husband had on his self-control snapped, just like I expected it to.
He crushed me against his chest, his lips devouring mine. I wasn’t surprised when I felt his tongue against the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I parted for him, relishing in the feel of his kiss.
It had been so damn long since he kissed me like this.
My nails dug into his back as I kissed him back and before I knew it, he was cupping my ass, lifting me up and setting me down atop the counter. He no longer had to hunch over to kiss me, nearly the same height now and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders.
Cassian stepped between my legs, tugging me toward the edge of the counter, his mouth still ravaging mine.
This passion, this heat between us was what had drawn us together in the first place. He was my match, my equal, as ravenous for me as I was for him. In ten years, that fire had never gone out.
Until it did. And that’s something I will never let happen again.
I gasped as Cassian ground himself against me, his length thick and hard, telling me that this was affecting him as much as it was me. The second I broke the kiss, his lips found my neck, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin there.
I moan, quietly, and his hands on my upper thighs tighten. My head falls to the side, giving him better access and he licks his way up the side of my neck until he’s nibbling at my jaw, then trailing back down until his mouth is sucking at my collarbone. My hands can’t stay still, can’t stay off of him, and I don’t even realize that they’re slipping beneath his shirt until he growls against my skin. I don’t give it a second thought. I pull his t-shirt up and he leans back, meeting my gaze as I pull it over his head and toss it aside. His lips are swollen and he’s breathing heavily, his eyes wild and full of lust. I lay my palms flat against his chest and run them down his stomach, my fingers running over every hard, defined muscle before I grab him by the waistband of his jeans and pull him back to me.
My legs wrap around him, getting him as close to me as possible, as our mouths clash. There’s nothing holding us back, not anymore, not now. He’s kissing me like he needs me to breathe, and the throbbing between my thighs has become nearly unbearable. Needing any sort of friction, I rock my hips against him and he groans into my mouth as he pushes off my sweater and grabs my breasts through my t-shirt.
Apparently not finding that good enough, my shirt is quickly removed, and it’s only then that Cassian’s mouth leaves mine. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra. I’ve always known that my breasts were one of my husband’s favorite assets of mine, and I can’t even remember the last time he’s seen them.
He makes a show of it, dropping my bra, releasing the hook and letting it fall. I sit still, letting him admire me. As he does, I glance down where I can see him perfectly outlined in his jeans, doing a little admiring myself.
His eyes, impossibly dark, rove over me, his hand clasping the back of my neck as he kisses me again. Then he’s lowering me back, down against cool marble of the countertop. My gasp as the shock of the cold surface presses into my skin has me throwing my head back and his lips are no longer near mine.
I feel his warm breath against my stomach, just beneath my belly button, and I freeze. He presses the gentlest, most unexpectedly sweet kiss to the slight dip there, before trailing upward with another and another.
I was so focused on his mouth that I didn’t notice his hands until one was cupping the swell of one full breast. Arching into him, I whimper softly when his fingers brush over my nipple, the sensitive bud tightening almost immediately under his touch. His thumb sweeps it the other way before his forefinger joins in, rolling it between them. I’m unable to stop my groan as I look down to find his eyes w bb already on mine.
And his lips hovering over my other breast.
With slow, restrained movements, Cassian lowers his mouth, letting his tongue drag over my nipple. Fighting to keep my eyes open, my hand dives into his hair, his own hand working my other breast in time with his tongue.
I curse, which only encourages him. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer as his teeth graze my nipple.
I shift beneath him, a curse on the tip of my tongue, but then my phone is vibrating on the counter a few feet away. Unable to help it, I glance over and see Eris’s name flashing across the screen.
Every thought I have leaves my mind.
My first instinct is to reach for it, but I hesitate. Then again, if it’s something important, I need to know now. Especially considering we’re now going on this vacation and I have to get as much shit done as possible before we go.
He must sense the fact that I’m distracted, because he looks up at me. “Ignore it.”
I should ignore it.
I know I should ignore it.
But whatever the hell Eris has to say is all I can think about. He rarely calls after my office hours, only with important news to relay.
Cassian sucks my nipple between his lips once more as I say, “Cass.”
He freezes, his body tensing, and looks up at me again.
“Just…it’ll only be a minute.”
His brows furrow but then the recognition hits as I reach across the counter and grab my phone, just as it stops ringing. I sit up, moving Cassian away from me as I do. When I unlock my phone to call Eris back, Cassian speaks up.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is quiet, his breathing still ragged. “Can’t this wait until we’re done?”
“It’ll only be a minute,” I say, pleadingly. “I promise. Then we’ll pick up where we left off—”
“No.”
My thumb stills where it hovers above Eris’s contact information. His voice is still quiet, but there’s an edge to it. “No?”
“Don’t, not right now,” he says, and steps between my legs again. He palms my breasts as his lips find my neck.
“Cass, it’ll only be a minute.” The words barely leave me before my phone starts ringing again. Apparently Eris isn’t waiting for me to call him back.
Against my better judgment, I answer the call.
The warmth of Cassian’s body on mine is gone immediately and he’s scooped his shirt off the floor and is headed for the living room before I can speak.
But that’s mostly because Eris doesn’t give me the chance.
“Checked your email lately?”
I blink. My email? What about my email could be so important he’s calling me so late? “No, I’ve been busy this evening. Why, what’s—?”
“Your extension has been approved.”
My entire being goes still. “Oh.”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I quickly skimmed over the email sitting in my inbox.
I had emailed one of the reps for the publishing company earlier, asking about an extension on the release. Although Eris is usually the go-between between the company and I, I’ve always had a good relationship with them. I’ve never missed any major deadlines or had a delayed release, but only because Eris would never allow it. I wasn’t even sure what the process to officially request for one was.
So I sent an email asking for information.
Apparently, all I’d needed to do was inquire, with my stellar reputation with them.
I hadn’t mentioned it to Cassian because, like he said, I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up.
“We don’t have time for an extension, Nesta.” He sounded calm, but I knew he was anything but. He was likely pacing, AirPod in one ear, his fingers steepled together. It was his standard not happy pose. “You are not pushing back this release.”
“I have to,” I argue. “I have too much on my plate right now. I need more time.”
“Do you know what I need, Nes?” Unlike when Cassian shortened my name, I hated when Eris did it. It sounded condescending and it infuriated me. “I need the final ten chapters emailed to the editors by Tuesday. I need you to respond to the email I sent you about cover artwork for the special edition we’re releasing later this year. I need you to get to work and leave the publishers to me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And if I say I can’t do that?”
“You will,” he says, tone final, and hangs up.
I sigh, dropping my phone on the counter. My hands rub down my face before I look back up, expecting to see my husband there.
But he’s not.
I didn’t even notice that he had left the room.
“Cassian?”
He doesn’t respond.
And later that night, he never comes to bed.
#better or worse#nessian#nessian bow#acotar#acomaf#acowar#nesta x cassian#nesta acotar#cassian#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab
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‘Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Eighteen}
Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab.
‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist
A/N: Sorry for the long wait between chapters. Tara and I dove headfirst into Zodiac Academy, reading every single book back to back to back, and then she came to town and we spent time together instead of writing. On top of that, I no longer have a desktop to post off of, so I have to do so at work once all of my other responsibilities have been completed. Enjoy and please let us know what you think!
This chapter is 18+.
WC: 4506
Elide —
I wake up to a barbaric elbow digging into my side. Apparently I found Lorcan’s shoulder a lot more comfortable than I had originally intended because I notice the airplane is descending. He’s looking down at me, grinning, and pointing to the side of my mouth.
“You, uh…got a little drool…”
My hand flies up to my mouth but it’s perfectly dry and I narrow my eyes as I shove him and lift my head from his shoulder. He laughs quietly, his hand coming to rest on my thigh.
We left a little after ten this morning and I honestly have no idea what to expect. Since everything had been going amazingly between us for the last month, we decided we should finally take our honeymoon.
Lorcan suggested Skull’s Bay, which is apparently some boujee island resort but I was kind of put off by the name. Lorcan, of all people, would try to scare his wife by bringing her to some horror themed island or amusement park for our honeymoon.
I prayed to the gods that this was not the case.
I’m not a fan of flying so I took something to calm me down just before we boarded. Apparently it worked too well because I didn’t remember a damn thing from the flight in.
“We’ll land in about ten minutes,” Lorcan promised, his voice now gentle. “I promise the long plane ride will be worth it.”
I smile as I rest my head against his shoulder once again. He holds onto me until the airplane touches the ground.
There are certainly advantages to being married to a rockstar. One of those advantages is first class seats on a six hour flight. I would’ve had no problem fitting in one of the economy class seats, but my six-foot-four husband? His knees would have been in his chest the whole time. Instead, we’re stretched out in our pod, his long legs comfortable crossed at the ankle.
As soon as we get off the plane, I can feel the heat settle into me in a way it hadn’t in Orynth. Our bags take a bit to come out, but then we’re being greeted by a man holding a sign that says Salvaterre.
“This actually happens,” I ask, squeezing Lorcan’s hand as we approach our driver. “I thought that was just in movies. You must be super important.”
He gives me an exasperated look, one he’s started using when I drag him for being too rich and needing to come back down to earth.
He shakes our driver’s hand and introduces himself and then we’re on our way. It’s about a thirty minute drive to the resort and as soon as we see the entrance, I’m glaring at Lorcan.
“It looks scary,” I say, pointing to the skulls decorating the sign.
“Baby, it’s called Skull’s Bay,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “There’s going to be some skulls.”
“It’s zombie pirates, isn’t it?” I chance a look out the window, but see nothing but the ocean and white sand. “That’s what the theme is. It’s gonna be like that Scooby Doo movie from the nineties.”
He laughs quietly as he shakes his head. “Pirates maybe, not sure about the zombie part.” He meets my eye. “I promise nothing will jump out at you, alright? Not intentionally, anyway.”
Well that’s not exactly comforting.
As we pull up to the massive hotel I must admit that it’s beautiful. Situated right on the beach, it has multiple pools and spas and bars. It’s a mile walk away from all the touristy spots which, even though I’m still slightly scared of the island, I really wanna visit.
If I thought the outside of the hotel was beautiful, the inside is spectacular. I’ve never stayed somewhere so nice. My travels usually include a sketchy motel, not a five star island resort. I’m suddenly nervous, which seems silly.
“What do you think?” Lorcan asks when we step into the elevator.
“I’m anxious to know what our room looks like,” i confess. “I’m suddenly scared to touch anything.”
He chuckles before correcting, “Suite.”
I blink. “What?”
“We booked a suite, not a room. If you’re going to be traveling like the rich and famous, like myself, you have to have the terminology right. Come on now.”
He’s teasing me.
I roll my eyes and jab him in the side but he catches my hand and pulls me closer to him.
The past month has been one of the best of my life. It seems that Yrene was right and sex really was the piece that was missing from our relationship. Lorcan has been…insatiable. His desire for me was something I attributed to his need for the physical, but it’s less about him and more about me every time we’re together. I’ve had more orgasms in the past few weeks than I have in my entire life, and most of the time, he doesn’t even get inside me.
We’ve only had sex twice since then, and both times were amazing, but Lorcan’s main priority has been me. Whether it’s his fingers, tongue, or teeth on me, I always plan to touch him after he’s finished, only to be swept away in a mind-blowing orgasm.
But we’re on our honeymoon. This is a trip that’s meant for sex and I plan on having a lot of it. Right now, for instance, as soon as we get to our rooms.
If my girl parts aren’t crying for a break by the end of this week, something is wrong.
Lorcan unlocks our door after we’ve reached our suite on the top floor of the hotel. He opens the door and my jaw drops.
While the rest of the hotel is decorated like a pirate’s paradise, this room looks like the inside of a treasure chest. Everything is decorated in rich, jewel tones, silver and gold accents are peppered throughout the room, and it’s absolutely gorgeous.
Our bags are already waiting in the bedroom and Lorcan goes straight for his, digging out his vape, thanking the gods for portable tobacco. I ignore him and take a walk around the rest of the suite. There’s a rustic feel to the room, despite its opulence, thanks to the distressed wood on the walls.
This place is practically a second home. It has multiple televisions, a washer and dryer, and a fully stocked bar. There’s a full kitchen, a fireplace, two love seats in the living room, a jacuzzi in the corner of the bathroom, plus a massive walk-in shower. It has a bench and suddenly, I have the urge to ride Lorcan under the spraying water. I’ve never been on top during sex, so I don’t know why it’s my first thought when I see it.
By the time I exit the bathroom, my husband is nowhere to be found. “Lor?”
The suite is massive, but I couldn’t have lost him in here.
I start having flashbacks to the day after our wedding. He hadn’t left then, and I highly doubt he’d leave me now. We were in Orynth then, twenty minutes from home. Now? We’re on an island, hours from home, away from the mainland.
I finally find him on the private balcony off our bedroom, facing the ocean. His phone is pressed to his ear, his hand on his hip, and he looks tense. I want to go out and rub his shoulders, to help him relax, but I don’t want to interrupt.
So instead, I decide to surprise him.
Aelin helped me shop for this trip, since my first try at lingerie was a dismal failure. The scratchy, white number I’d bought for the wedding had been cheap and it showed. It also hadn’t really been my style. I skipped on the white this time, despite knowing it was bridal lingerie. Something told me Lorcan would prefer black or red. Both colors ooze sex and sinful seduction. Armed with my husband’s gold card, I bought a few new sets that were much softer, much nicer, and fit my body a hell of a lot better.
I really hope Lorcan likes them.
I also bought a couple swimsuits, seeing as I’d owned the same one since high school, and I pull one out of my bag and toss it on the dresser, knowing we’ll end up at the beach sooner rather than later.
Looking at the doors to the balcony, I see that Lorcan has started pacing. I reach back down into my bag, gently running a finger over the black lace of one of the bra and panty sets I bought.
I could put it in now. After his phone call, I could be ready and waiting for him, like a gift to be unwrapped.
Or I could already be unwrapped.
The sliding glass door opens and I drop the lingerie as Lorcan steps in.
So much for my sexy surprise.
“Sorry, that was our manager. Ro and I sent what we’ve written for the new album to the record label last week and things are kind of in limbo right now.” He sees my suit on the dresser and claps his hands, rubbing them together. “But fuck that and fuck anymore phone calls, because we’re on our honeymoon. Hell, yeah, baby, let’s go to the beach.”
Beach…not bed.
I try not to let my disappointment show but he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy undressing and searching for his swim shorts. I can’t help but admire his ass as I put on my own suit. He turns as I’m tying my top and he grins as he walks toward me. “Here, let me help.” I drop my hands as he takes the ties and ties a bow at my back. “You look sexy as hell in this.”
My cheeks still heat when he tells me things like that. I turn, fingers brushing his lower abdomen, just above the band of his shorts. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”
His eyes flare and he leans down to kiss me. For a moment I think he’ll toss me on the bed and ravage me, but then he pulls back, smacks my ass and says, “Let’s go.”
He’s taking my hand and we’re out the door.
The beach is beautiful and we have our own little secluded spot. The sand is soft and warm beneath my toes and the sound of the waves brings me peace. I’ve never gone swimming in the ocean but the idea of sharks terrifies me. It would be kind of a shitty honeymoon if I become shark food.
Lorcan, always reading my mind, asks, “Wanna go for a swim?”
I hesitate. “In the water?”
A humored brow lifts. “That’s the general idea, yeah.”
My bottom lip somehow gets sucked between my teeth. “I don’t know, Lor, it seems dangerous.”
This time he flat out laughs. “We’re staying in shallow water, nothing will get you. And I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Come on. Live a little. Let that beautiful hair of yours down.”
Ugh. I can’t say no to that.
He takes my hand and leads me down the sand towards the water. I stop just before the waves can brush my toes.
“Is it cold?” I ask.
“One way to find out.” He winks and runs into the water like he’s five before diving beneath the surface. When he comes up, he shakes his hair, sending water everywhere. “Fuck! Yeah…yeah, it’s cold.”
I laugh, thinking he’s completely adorable and idiotic all at once. Shaking my head, I turn back towards our towels. “I think I’ll pass if it’s cold. Maybe if it—”
I scream as Lorcan grabs me from behind, water dripping off him, and carries me towards the waves. “Oh, no, you’re getting in with me.”
I squirm and squeal until he drops me in the water, just as unceremoniously as he’d gone in, and I push my long hair out of my face as I come back up. It’s not nearly as cold as he made it out to be, though the wind does chill the parts not submerged.
Glaring up at him, I put my hands on my hips, which is completely ineffective at showing off my sass since I’m under water from them waist down.
Something tells me Lorcan picks up on it though, as he takes my hand and pulls me deeper into the water. I hesitate and he reminds me, “Nothing is going to get you.” To prove it, he tugs on my hand until he’s lifting me, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I’ve got you.”
“I trust you,” I whisper, my lips inches from his as he goes out farther and farther into the water.
He smirks, kissing me. “Good girl.”
It’s up over his chest now, so I know I wouldn’t be able to touch the bottom at this point. There’s also no one else out this far, everyone else is farther down the beach, nowhere near us, and—
One of Lorcan’s fingers slips under the edge of my bikini bottom, brushing the lips of my sex. Gasping softly, I look up at him, eyes bright. His gaze is already on me and his finger is teasing my entrance. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look in that little bikini?”
I shake my head, trying not to whimper as he pushes in to his first knuckle. He pulls it out, sliding it back in, repeating the shallow motion over and over.
“Really?” His lips are by my ear and I’ve got my arms wrapped around his head in a vice lock. “‘Cause you’re soaked for me already, so I think you do.”
“We’re in the ocean,” I say, trying to keep my voice even as he slips his finger in deeper. “Everything is soaked.”
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs and his tongue traces the shell of my ear. “If you think I can’t tell the difference between the water and how wet your pussy is, you’re wrong.” His lips trail down my neck. “You’re so wet, I bet you could take all of my cock in one stroke.”
“Then do it,” I murmur, tipping my head to the side to give him better access. Please, gods, do it.
He adds a second finger, no longer teasing me, pumping them in and out. My hips move of their own accord. His mouth is back at my ear and I can hear the smile on his lips. “Not yet, baby. You think I can’t see how bad you want it?”
“Lorcan…” My voice is strained, my orgasm building far quicker than I expected it to. We may not be close to anyone, but we’re on a packed beach, at a resort, and my husband is finger fucking me in the ocean.
It turns me on in a way I was not expecting.
“Tease,” I mutter and his laugh is deep and sensual. My fingers weave their way into his hair and tug. His moans, the sound muffled against my neck. He adds a third finger and my legs began to shake around him.
“Yeah, baby,” he breathes and nips at my neck. “Cum for me.”
It’s a demand that I have no problem fulfilling.
My body grows tense as I cum, but he helps me ride it out until I’m breathing heavily and going limp in his arms. I can feel how hard he’s become in his shorts and all I can think about is getting him inside of me.
I lean back and kiss him.
It’s reckless, it’s rough and he instantly melts into it. His hands are gripping my ass, his tongue sliding into my mouth. With the slightest of movements, his hips thrust into mine.
“Lor,” I whisper, although it can hardly be heard above the waves crashing against the shore, he hears me. His eyes meet mine and his pupils are so big that they’re nearly all I can see. “Fuck me.”
He lets out a long, loose breath before reaching beneath the water. I can feel his hardened length beneath me as it comes free of his shorts, and then he’s moving my bottoms aside once more. This time, he wastes no time pushing into me.
True to his word, he thrusts into me with one quick snap of his hips. I take him all in effortlessly.
He swallows my groan in a savage kiss, the pace he’s setting relentless from the get go. I whimper against him as he slams into me over and over.
One of his hands cups one of my breasts, tugging the fabric of my top to the side. I pull my lips from his as I cover his hand with mine. “What if someone sees?” I ask, breathlessly, looking towards the beach behind us.
“What if they do?” His lips are on my throat.
“They’ll take pictures. You’re famous, remember,” I gasp as he keeps pounding his cock into. “Post them online. Being a porn star isn’t one of my life aspirations.”
“You’ve got such a smart mouth,” he says, nipping at my lips. “No one can see what we’re doing. It looks like we’re floating in the water.”
I want to respond, want to tell him that’s bullshit, but he’s changed angles and is hitting a spot I didn’t know existed and suddenly, I’m seeing stars. My eyes go wide and my lips part.
“That’s right, baby.” He snaps his hips into mine again and again and I’m not able to stop myself from crying out. “Cum for me, let everyone know who makes you feel so good.”
I bite his shoulder as my orgasm slams into me, obeying his command.
He’s close behind me, falling over the edge and he doesn’t stop until we’re both clinging to one another as we attempt to catch our breaths. He stays in me for a few minutes, pressing soft kisses to my shoulder, my neck. He always does this when we’re done having sex. He becomes gentle, as if he’s trying to remind me that there’s so much more to us, to him, to me than this physical attraction. Even though the physical stuff is so, so good. He’s trying to remind me that he cherishes me. Sometimes I’m still surprised at how sweet he can really be.
We readjust ourselves before going back up to the beach where we lay down together, both tired from traveling and making love. At one point, Lorcan falls asleep and I snap a picture because I think it’s cute as hell.
He asks me about all the things I want to do while we’re on the island. I tell him I want to do all the touristy stuff and he can’t tell me no, even though it means we’ll be around dominantly old people, other couples, and families with small children. He agrees, though, and that’s a testament in itself in regards to how much he likes me.
We agree to spend tomorrow at all the local shops, then the next day we’ll take a tour of the island. Later in the week will be dedicated to horseback riding on the beach, spending a day in the hotel’s spas, experiencing the local clubs, and, to my terror, snorkeling. Of course, we agree that we’ll carve out time every day to come down to the beach.
It sounds like a dream. I never thought I would be able to have a vacation like this. I have a feeling I’m going to be geeking out all week but I also have a feeling that Lorcan likes it when I “geek out” so I don’t feel too bad about it.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
The question makes me jump. I was so at peace listening to the waves that I didn’t even realize that Lorcan had woken up. “That’s a very interview-like question.”
He chuckles, shifting so that he’s facing me underneath our umbrella. “I realize we don’t talk about the future very much…and I think we’re pretty damn good right now in our marriage so I thought it was about time we started talking about the future.”
My stomach explodes with excitement about the thought of my future, especially with Lorcan. “I agree with that.” I take a minute to think about my answer and am disappointed. “Honestly, I’ve never really spent a lot of time thinking about the future. I spent so many years just worrying about tomorrow that I never let myself think beyond that.”
He frowns but nods, understandingly. “Surely you’ve thought about some things, though. Like having kids. Do you want kids in the next few years?”
My eyebrows raise. “I can barely take care of myself, I’m not sure I’m qualified to be a parent.”
Laughing, he pushes his damp hair back off his face. The salt in the water has made his hair wavier than normal and I want to reach out and run my fingers through it. “Pretty sure I’m even less qualified than you are, but I think we could probably figure it out.”
And then I realize that he means our children. He means having a child with me. He’s talking about me having his babies.
I had only been considering myself as a parent, not the two of us, but…we are married. If I was going to have babies with anyone on the planet, it would be the man lying next to me.
I’m not able to stop the image before it conjures in my head. A little girl, with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, a familiar mischievous glint sparkling there, helping a baby boy learn to walk, his full lips so similar to mine. And there’s Lorcan, smiling from where he sits on the floor with them, making sure everyone is safe.
My heart physically strains at the scene my brain conjures up for me and maybe the idea isn’t so ridiculous after all.
“It would be nice to have a couple,” I admit and then quickly add, “when we’re both ready,” as a light begins to fill his eyes that I can only call hope.
It’s his turn to raise an eyebrow. It’s the one with the sexy scar going through it. Wait, when did I start thinking facial scars were sexy?
“You’re telling me you don’t think it’s a good idea to have a baby with a stranger you married less than two months ago?”
My cheeks heat and I shove him. “I wasn’t saying right now.” He catches my hand and pulls me on top of him. My leg automatically hitches over his, just like it does when we’re sleeping, and his hand, of course, goes right to my ass. I’m not complaining. “Maybe in a couple years. I’m only twenty-five, there are still things I need to do before I start having babies.”
“Like what?” The words are muffled, because he’s leaned down and buried his face in my chest.
“Lorcan!” I grab his face and pull it back up to mine. He’s grin is breathtaking and it fries my brain for a moment. I finally remember how to speak. “You can’t do that.”
“I just did.” He rolls us so that he’s on top of me. Since my leg was hitched over his, one of his thighs is pressed snugly between mine. “What kind of things do you still want to do before having my babies?”
My babies. The butterflies return.
It takes me much longer than it should to answer the question. “Wow.”
“Hmm?” he hums, kissing my nose.
“I guess I don’t know,” I confess. “I want to be…successful, I guess. I’d like my business to grow.” Even as I say it, I feel pathetic for that being the only thing I can think of. I’m still young. I should have a long list of things I want to do before I have kids, but I don’t. “If I’m being honest, I guess I don’t really know what my purpose is.”
His eyes study mine. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “You have your music. That’s your purpose, right? You feel whole when you write, when you play.” He nods. “I don’t mind what I do. I like being creative, but I wouldn’t really say it’s my purpose.”
I’m not sure how he’s going to react. It’s an embarrassing thing to admit, that at twenty-five I’m still not sure what to do with my life. But then he says, “That’s okay. Maybe now that you don’t have so much stress, you can start to experiment with new things, you know? Do some trial and error. Try new things.” He leans down to kiss me. “And I’ll help you in any way that I can. I’ll support you in everything you want to invest your time in.”
My heart feels so light I feel that it’s going to fly out of my chest. I have no idea how I got matched with someone so supportive, so caring. It nearly makes me cry. I nod, running my fingers up and down his back. “What about you? Do you ever think you’ll be done making music?”
He nods. “Touring, yeah. I don’t wanna tour forever.”
“What will you do after that?” I ask.
“Write.” He shrugs, then hesitates. “Actually, you know, I’ve never told anyone this but I think it would be really fun to start a little school for young musicians. A place where they can come to sing and record and learn to play whatever the fuck they want.”
I stare at him for a second. “Why have you never told anyone that? Lorcan, that would be amazing.”
He shrugs. “Because it’s not a reality right now. There’s too much going on to try and get that going. This is the longest break we’ve ever had and that’s not something I’m going to be able to give part of myself to.” He rests his hand on my neck and his thumb brushes over the hollow of my throat. It’s surprisingly intimate. “That’s something I’m going to pour my heart and soul into. Playing is my passion, not the fame, and I want to pass that feeling on to whoever wants to learn.”
I have to blink away the moisture in my eyes. “I think that’s a great idea, baby.”
He notices what I’ve said before I do, not even meaning for the pet name to slip out, and the smile he gives me is liable to just melt my bikini bottoms off.
He kisses me and it’s so soft and sweet that my heart swells. I pull him closer to me and wrap him in my arms as his face nuzzles into my neck. We stay there for a while, tangled up together as the sun begins to set.
We go back to the hotel early, spending the first night of our honeymoon happily in bed, bodies intertwined and talking more about the future.
#‘til death do us part#tddup#elorcan tddup#elorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#lord lorcan lochan#throne of glass fanfiction#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#rockstar au
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‘Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Eleven}
Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist
A/N: Sorry about the unexpectedly long break between chapters. Now that the holidays are over and life is settling back into normalcy, I’m hoping we’ll get back into the groove of writing this one! Hope you guys enjoy it!
Lorcan -
We ditch my truck and get into my Camaro due to Elide’s ridiculously cute, short legs.
I’ve spent most of a decade in that condo. Part of me should be sad that I’m leaving but I’m not, not too much anyway. Although it’s the end of an era, I’m looking forward to this next phase of life.
With Elide.
As soon as we’re in the car, I ask, “Address?”
She looks at me for a moment before asking, “What?”
I chuckle, unable to help myself when seeing her pinched brows. “I need your address. Or, you need to tell me where to go. I have no clue where you live.”
It’s weird as hell, not knowing where my wife lives but it’s even weirder when her face pales.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…why don’t we go get something to eat?” She suggests. “I’m starving.”
I give her a glance before looking back out over the road. “We just ate.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “So? I could use dessert.”
“Dessert?” I ask, and laugh quietly. “Who has dessert after breakfast?”
“I need shampoo,” she says, and she’s fiddling with the hem of her tank top. My eyes narrow. “Can we stop by the store?”
I don’t answer. I let a few seconds pass as I stop at a red light, then I look at her. “You’re trying to distract me. Why?”
“I’m not, I just…” She groans and looks out the window. “I can tell you now that we aren’t going to want to live at my place, so there’s really no reason to go there.”
The light changes and I turn because I have no clue where the hell I’m going.
“Aside from the fact that it’s a part of the guidelines that we go to both of our homes before making the decision on where to live,” I remind her.
I can feel her eyes on me. “Not having sex with groupies was part of the guidelines, too.”
Ouch. But fair.
“Exactly, I want to make sure I’m following the rules now.” I wink at her and she smiles a little bit. “So where am I going?”
“Lorcan, we really don’t have to—”
“You don’t want me to see your house, do you?” I ask, glancing over at her.
She mumbles, “It’s an apartment.”
“House, apartment, whatever. Why don’t you want me there?”
“That’s not what I said.” Her voice is all high pitched and panicky.
“You don’t have to, it’s pretty damn clear.” It’s like she’s hiding something from me. I don’t like it.
With a resigned sigh, she gives me directions on how to get there, and the closer we get the more I understand her hesitation. This isn’t a great part of town. Like the kind of place I would have bought drugs when I was in high school, it's that kind of shitty neighborhood.
I park outside of the apartment building, glancing over at Elide. She’s staring at the dash and is white-knuckling the arm rest. Reaching across the console, I take her hand in mine. “Elide.”
She pulls her hand from mine and says, “Let’s get this over with,” before opening her door and climbing out of the car.
She slams it shut and I sit in the silence for a moment and sigh. This is not going well.
I get out as well, ensuring that it’s locked and the alarm is set, cause there’s a very good chance we could come back out to a busted window and find my entire sound system missing.
Elide waits for me on the sidewalk and she looks less like she’s about to show me where she lives and more like I’m walking her to her death.
I don’t say anything because I have a feeling if I do she’s just going to snap at me again. Married for twenty-four hours and I can already tell when my wife wants my mouth to stay shut. That’s got to be a good thing.
We walk up to the third floor and she stops at a door and just stares at it. I stand behind her, patiently, and I expect her to open it but then she turns to look at me.
“Look—”
“You don’t have to explain—”
“My entire apartment can fit in one room of your place,” she says, and her cheeks are red. “I’ve lived here since I moved out on my own and—”
“Elide,” I say, and her lips snap shut. “Just open the door.”
Her jaw clenches as she does so. After turning the key in the lock, she pushes the door open and steps inside. She doesn’t invite me in but I follow anyway and take a look around.
It’s cute.
Unlike the outside of the building, the inside of Elide’s apartment is neat and organized. None of her furniture matches which I find I like for some reason. Even her kitchen table has four different chairs surrounding it. Art hangs from the wall, along with pictures of her and her friends, most of them including Aelin. She has plants lining her window, each of them thriving as if she’s made it her mission to care for them.
Her living room and kitchen take up the same space while her bedroom sits down the short hall and a bathroom is off to the side. I can make it from one side of the apartment to the other in less than ten strides, I have no doubt. I get that I have long legs, but it’s still not much.
Her question from the wedding comes back to me, about our marriage being a set up and it’s just now that I realize what she had been implying. She obviously has very little money. I have more than I know what to do with. I’m not sure what to think of it right now. Maybe it was a set up, and if it was, I can’t tell if it bothers me or not. Maybe if it was anyone else I’d be offended, but this woman…
I take a slow circle in the center of the room before facing Elide, who is leaning against the wall, chewing on her bottom lip with her arms crossed.
A black ball of fluff sits by her feet.
I blink. “You have a cat.”
Elide hesitates. “That’s what you have to say right now?”
I lift a brow. “I mean, I’m more of a dog person—”
“Lorcan.”
I laugh, quietly. “Do you want me to say something else? I like your place. It’s cute.”
“Cute?” she repeats.
I scratch the back of my neck, unsure of what exactly it is she wants me to say at this moment.
As if she can read my thoughts, she says, “You can be honest with me.”
I sigh and look around her apartment again. There’s no use for a tour. I can see everything from this one spot. “Alright. I can’t exactly live here. I feel like a giant.” Elide laughs but she’s embarrassed, I can tell. I feel my eyes soften as I approach her and tip her chin up so that she meets my gaze. “I like your style, though. It’s cozy. Feels homey.”
It’s the complete opposite of the place I share with Fenrys and Connall. Everything there is sleek and dark, each room looking like it’s been taken directly out of a catalog, mostly because it was. Here, I can see Elide’s personality on display everywhere I look.
“You’re just saying that to be nice,” she mutters.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” I promise, then I jump as the black cat at my feet brushes along my shin.
Elide laughs, her embarrassment having faded, just a little bit. “Anneith likes you, which shocks me.”
“I’ll try not to be offended by that statement,” I say, trying not to move as the cat circles my legs.
She laughs, again. “She just doesn’t like that many people, that’s all.”
“Me either,” I tell the cat. Although she looks pretty young, hardly more than a baby. A kitten, then. I guess I can get used to her. Maybe. We’ll see. I’ve never had a pet. As long as she keeps to herself, I won’t mind her existence too much.
I give her small home one more look. We can’t live here, there’s physically not enough room for all the shit I own. It isn’t lost on me that while I have almost an entire condo’s worth of stuff, and a storage unit with things in it that wouldn’t fit in the eighteen hundred square foot condo, everything my wife owns is right in front of me. It’s suddenly painfully clear to me—my new wife does not have much of anything. I feel kind of bad now for taking her to my huge condo in a gated community.
What is it they say about humility? Humble pie is a dish best served cold?
Elide leans down and scoops the cat up. I reach out and tentatively scratch behind her ear.
The cat’s, not Elide.
Though I wouldn’t be opposed to touching her either.
“It’s old enough not to scratch my shit up, right?” I ask, looking at Elide.
She shakes her head, chuckling at me. “Yes, she’s almost two years old. I have no idea why she’s so tiny, she just never got any bigger. And don’t worry.” She holds one the cat’s paws out and extends her claws, which are covered in tiny, red, sparkly…things. “She has claw covers that I replace every week.”
“Got it. Good.” I don’t know what else to say, because a cat definitely wasn’t in the deal when I signed on. “So. My roommates are dicks and I don’t think my dick would even fit in here—” She snorts at that, so I consider it a win. “So I think we should get a place of our own.”
She hesitates. “Lorcan, I don’t know if you noticed, but I can’t afford—”
“Money isn’t an issue,” I interrupt and I see her about to protest, so I shut her up with my mouth on hers. At first she tenses, clearly wanting to have had an argument about money instead, but then she leans into me.
I like kissing Elide.
She’s a good kisser.
It actually makes me feel something.
I’m the one to break it, leaving her looking up at me with flushed cheeks.
“Money means nothing to me,” I explain, and she opens her mouth but I brush my thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “I want to take care of you. Let me take care of you.”
She swallows and her eyes grow misty. “We still hardly know each other. Why would you want to take care of me?”
“You’re my wife,” I say, and although I’ve messed up in the past, I hope that she knows how loyal I am to her. She’s my wife now, and that means something to me. “It’s my job as your husband to take care of you. We take care of each other.” I shrug. “We’re both bringing different things to the table. You bring beauty and creativity and sophistication, and I bring money and asshole-ish tendencies and snide remarks.” She chuckles and shakes her head at my attempt at humor. I let it fade and get serious again. I repeat, “You’re my wife. I want to take care of you. I have a feeling not many people have taken care of you and you deserve to have someone give you the world. Let it be me.”
She has a look in her eye that suggests she doesn’t quite believe me and I fucking hate it.
“I want to take care of you, Elide,” I breathe, a promise, as my fingertips slide up her arm. She shudders beneath my touch and a newfound thrill floods every damn inch of me. “And I want you to take care of me.”
Her gaze meets mine and I swear, her eyes are somehow darker than normal.
She wants to take care of me, too.
I just need to get her to admit it.
…………………….
“What is this place?”
Her eyes are wide as she climbs out of the car. I get it. The cabin is awesome.
A few years back, the five of us all decided we needed somewhere to relax during our time off the road. This cabin in the mountains outside of Orynth was just the ticket. It’s big enough that all of us can be here at once, but not so big that it feels empty.
We’ve always had one rule: no groupies. This place is our safe haven from the road, the fame, and the fans. Friends and family only. I like that about it. There’s no history or bad memories here. Or things for Elide to find out that will inevitably make her hate me even more.
Rowan had actually been staying here after a run of shows when he met Aelin. Seems fitting that Elide and I spend our first few nights here until we get our own living arrangements figured out.
Maybe this cabin is magic.
Before we left Elide’s, she packed a bag for a few nights away, and a box with food, litter, and toys for the munchkin, which I grab out of the trunk before walking with her up to the front door. That damn cat is in a sparkly, blue carrier, hanging on Elide’s shoulder.
“I share it with the guys,” I explain. “It’s an escape from reality. We usually don’t let other people come, but my wife is the exception.” I give her a grin. “And Aelin. She’s been here a time or two.”
“Well, I feel very lucky to be welcomed,” she says, and I almost believe her.
“I thought we could stay here for a few days while we house hunt,” I say, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “No one will bother us here either. We can get to know each other a little better.”
Elide nods as she walks inside and slows. “It’s beautiful.”
I think so, too. Always have. Everything is made of polished wood. The main room that corners into the kitchen has high vaulted ceilings and plenty of natural light. There’s a winding staircase that goes to the second floor where all of our bedrooms are.
“You like it?” I ask, and I realize that I hope she does more than I originally thought I would.
I want her to feel comfortable and safe.
“I do,” she breathes as she looks around. This time, I do believe her. I’m about to offer to give her a tour when she whispers, “I bet you could fit a massive Christmas tree in here.”
It’s so quiet that I don’t know if she meant to say it out loud or if I was meant to hear it, so I don’t say anything for now. It’s also random enough that it could be nothing, but the way she said it… Something tells me that may be important to remember.
I do some quick mental math. It’s August now, so no matter what, we’ll still be married in December. I’ll need to ask Rowan to ask Aelin if—
I just need to get Aelin’s number from Rowan so I can text her if I have a question. Like why Elide’s first thought was a massive Christmas tree.
My watch buzzes and I look down. A reminder is going off and I look at the time. “Shit, we’ve got video chats with Dr. Towers in 15 minutes.”
“I need to get Anneith settled,” she replies, carrying the bedazzled carrier over to the couch.
Does that cat own anything that isn’t sparkly?
“You do that, I’ll get the laptop set up in one of the guys’ bedrooms,” I say, and she nods, bending down to release the cat into the house.
I hope none of the guys are allergic. Shit, I hope I’m not allergic, I’ve never had a cat before. Guess we’ll find out.
I run out to the car and get my backpack. I ditched the duffle from the wedding at the condo and grabbed this instead. Inside is my laptop, tablet, the journal we’re supposed to keeping track of our experience in, and the object I’m wanting the most at this moment. Fishing my hand in one of the side pockets, I pull out an e-cig and take a pull of it. Blowing out the vapor, I frown. Nothing like a cigarette, but I told her I’ll quit, so I’m going to try. Vaughn used a vape to quit a while back, and I’d rather not have to wear a patch or chew that shitty, metallic gum. So a vape it is.
Taking another hit of it, I head up the stairs and back into the cabin. Elide is sitting on the floor, a stick in her hand with a feather, a bell, and about ten other things hanging off of it. The cat is going insane for it. And the smile on Elide’s face is breathtaking. When she looks up at me, I’m rooted in place.
Her face falls as she sees me. “What?”
I hate that she immediately gets suspicious when I’m looking at her. I start moving towards the stairs and say, “Just making sure she’s not already terrorizing the house.”
Elide must pick up on my teasing tone, cause her eyes narrow. I love when she does that. It means she’s about to get feisty. She doesn’t back down from a fight and I like that.
You know what that means?
We're going to have some fucking awesome angry sex someday.
I can't wait.
But before she can put me in my place, I glance at my watch again. Time is ticking and we probably shouldn’t be late for our first video chats with the head of the program.
“I’m gonna get this set up, but you get to go first,” I call as I top the stairs.
“What?” She jumps up. “How is that fair?”
“You brought a cat, you go first,” I holler back as I go into Gavriel’s room and get the laptop set up on his desk.
Thankfully, it automatically connects to the wifi, so I don’t have to worry about that. It boots up and I pull up the software we’re supposed to use for the call. I leave it so all Elide has to do is press call and she should be greeted with Dr. Towers’ face.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous but I am. Not so much for my call but for what might be said during Elide’s call.
Part of me wants to lurk outside and listen through the door but I have more sense than that. As soon as Elide shuts herself inside, giving me another pointed look for making her go first, I disappear to the very end of the hall where my room is.
I fall back on my bed and close my eyes, trying to think of anything else other than what is going on in that room, but I fail completely.
I’m hoping it’s a short call.
————————————
Elide -
Anneith sits on my lap as Yrene’s face shows up on Lorcan’s laptop. It took every ounce of self control not to go through his browser history when I sat down. I feel like that would have just set me up for failure.
“Elide!” Dr. Towers smiles. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too,” I say, smiling back, trying not to rush into all the questions and complaints I have. “How are you?”
“Great, but the better question is how are you?”
I hesitate and she notes it.
“Is something wrong?” She asks, leaning back in the chair in her office.
There’s no point in lying. “I don’t want to offend you, but I think there might have been a mistake. Lorcan is the complete opposite of what I said I was looking for.”
Yrene’s brows rose. “Oh? How so?”
I can’t help the harsh laugh that escapes me. “Clean cut? Stable job? Minds his manners? No substance abuse? Lorcan is the complete opposite of what I said I wanted.”
Yrene listens to me patiently and waits until I’m done to hum. “During our interviews, you told me that you wanted the perfect man, Elide. Unfortunately, I can assure you, there’s no such thing as the perfect man. I can also assure you that there’s no mistake. Lorcan, we truly believe, is the perfect match for you.”
Hearing the words said out loud by the woman who created the whole program nearly has me gaping. “I’m sorry, but how?”
She laughs quietly. “Well, studies have shown that there is a certain balance that must be maintained when it comes to being a successful couple. You have to have similarities, of course, but you also have to have a certain level of differences to balance it out, to keep it exciting. Now, I promise you that Lorcan’s similarities match yours when it comes to what actually matters. When you begin to figure that out, I’m sure you’ll start to see why we paired you two together.”
Anneith hops off my lap when I start talking again, surely tired of hearing me whine. “Really? Because we haven’t seemed to agree on anything yet.”
“Have you talked about what it is you want out of a marriage? Have you talked about where you see yourselves in the future? Have you talked about what you want when starting a family? What matters most to you both?” She’s not talking down to me at all but her voice is firm. I don’t answer because the answer is, of course, no. I listen. I feel her passion for this project, for finding others their match. “Having a clean cut, perfect man is surface level stuff, Elide. The surface level stuff is insignificant. It’s all about the deeper level that truly matters, that you’ll truly connect with.”
I look down at my hands. It makes sense, of course, and I have to admit that in the last twenty four hours I found that Lorcan is different than I thought he would be…even if some things about him truly has pissed me off.
“Tell me about your wedding night,” Yrene says, her voice softening.
I release my breath in a puff. “Gods. It was…awkward.”
“I’m sure it was,” she laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, we had our first fight, so check that off the list.” I expect her to reprimand us, but she says nothing. “Isn’t that bad? That we’re already fighting?”
“Elide, I was more surprised when couples told me they didn’t get in a fight in the first twenty-four hours,” she replies. “You two went through a stressful, life-changing day. Emotions were running high.”
I nod. “Well, we traded insults a bit. Then he took a shower and I couldn’t get out of my dress. He helped me once he was out of the shower and then I went to bed. I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open.”
Dr. Towers is taking delivery notes, her pen flying over her notepad, but I’m positive she hasn’t missed a single word I’ve said. “When you said I went to bed, you mean individually?”
Swallowing, I nod again. It seems that was unexpected. “Yes, he let me have the bed and he slept on the couch.”
She’s still looking down at her notepad, scribbling away. “So you didn't sleep together? Is it safe to assume you did not have sexual relations?”
Oh, my god, why did I agree to do this again? This is more awkward than a visit with my gyno.
“No. I don't feel comfortable having sex with him yet. I need there to be some feelings first. I thought there might be, but it's just not there right now.”
She nods, finally looking up, giving me an encouraging smile. “And that’s completely understandable. You two opted to postpone the honeymoon?”
“Yes.”
She takes a few more notes and then looks up at me, placing her pen down atop her notepad.
I don’t know why the move gives me anxiety, but I’m instantly on edge, already dreading whatever she’s going to say.
“There can be no more separate sleeping. You're married, not roommates. You can wait to have intercourse until you’re ready, but I'm going to insist you sleep in the same bed. It helps build a bond.”
I cringe. “Not even for one more night?”
There’s so many extra beds here. It’s perfect.
She shakes her head, her curls shaking along with the movement. “I’m afraid not, Elide. It’s a part of the program.”
“Alright,” I sigh, petting Anneith as she curls back up into my laugh. “I will do my best.”
“That’s all we can ask for.” Her smile is genuine and I feel like she really does think Lorcan and I are a good match. She looks over her notes and then back up at the camera. “How about living arrangements? Where did we settle on that?”
“We’re going to buy a house,” I tell her, the words still feeling insane. He’d called a realtor on the way to the cabin and she was already scouring all of Orynth for the perfect home. “But for now we’re staying at his vacation home in the mountains.”
“That's a positive step, and it shows he’s taking this seriously. I can tell you're stressed out, Elide. Just try to relax and let things happen, okay? This is all part of the process. We really didn't expect the couples to fall in love at first sight.”
Letting out a deep breath, I nod. “You're right. It's just harder than we thought it would be.”
“Stay positive—and open-minded. Remember to write in your journal, and we'll chat next week. If you're feeling extra stressed, you can text or call me at any time. I don't want you to feel alone or be too overwhelmed, but I also want you to talk to him about your feelings as much as possible.”
Talking to Lorcan about my feelings. I bet that will go over well.
“Okay, I'll do my best. Should I send him in?”
“Yes.”
I get up, cradling Anneith to my chest and enter the hallway. I don’t hear anything in the cabin, save for the ceiling fan rotating in the living room. Listening for him, I pause. “Lorcan?”
A door at the other end of the hall opens. “Yeah?”
I awkwardly toss my thumb over my shoulder. “Dr. Towers is waiting for you.”
“Great.” As he heads for me, I appreciate just how…big he is. He’s so much taller than me. He scratches Anneith on the head as he goes and she immediately purrs.
Traitor.
As soon as the door shuts, I make my way down the hallway to the door he'd just come out of. Judging by the fact that our bags are on the floor, I assume it’s his room.
Our room, I correct myself, knowing I’ll be sleeping with him tonight.
I go downstairs. My stomach decides it’s going to cave in on itself if I don’t eat soon so I rummage through the pantry. There’s nothing in the fridge so I assume it’s been a while since anyone has been here for an extended period of time, but there’s a couple of cans of soup that haven’t expired. Yes, a grocery store run will be crucial first thing in the morning.
Luckily, there’s a wine cabinet with numerous unopened bottles. I select one and put it in the freezer to chill before I rummage through the cabinets and find a couple of pots. After putting them on the stove to simmer the soup, I go to the sliding door and look outside.
There’s a huge back patio with a hot tub and I almost moan. I haven’t been in one of those in ages. It’s the perfect night for it, not too hot. It sounds so relaxing.
Maybe I’ll ask Lorcan if I can sit in it. Or, if we can, considering I’ve promised Yrene that I’ll try a little harder. I shouldn’t distance myself when we just got here.
The soup is hot and I’m filling up two bowls by the time the door opens upstairs. Lorcan comes down a minute later and sees me bringing our bowls to the table. He slowly comes to a stop. “You made dinner?”
I chuckle. “If this can be considered dinner, then yes. There weren't a lot of options.”
“There’s a market about fifteen minutes down the road,” he says, and sits opposite of me. “We can head there as soon as we wake up tomorrow. I think they’re already closed for the night. They close pretty early.” He twirls his soup around with his spoon. “Thank you. For the soup.”
I awkwardly look down into my bowl. “You’re welcome.”
I’ve never cooked for anyone before. I can barely cook for myself, so I really hope he doesn’t think this is an every night thing yet. I can try, I just… There’s only so many ways you can spruce up ramen.
“Your chat with Yrene went okay?” I ask, and then instantly wonder if I’m even allowed to know what they talk about. I’m sure it’s confidential. “Nevermind, I’m sure you can’t—”
“I don’t mind, it went fine,” he says, taking a bite. He cringes as he looks back at me. “I didn’t tell her about my secret from earlier though, and I’m hoping you didn’t either.”
My lips quirk up. I have blackmail. As soon as the thought hits me, I know I’d never do that.
“I didn’t say a word, and I don’t plan to.” I set my spoon down and meet his gaze. “You’ve told me you can be faithful and I trust you.”
His eyes soften. “I can be. It’s more than just a promise, Elide, I made a vow to you.”
I smile, pleased that he really does seem to mean it.
We eat in silence for a moment, but it’s not as tense as I expected it to be.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and immediately, I start freaking out about who could be texting him. He’d told me that the groupies were a love ‘em and leave ‘em thing. Groupies wouldn’t have his number. Right?
He glances down at his watch, reading a text, and goes rigid, the tension that wasn’t there a minute ago is now.
I wait as long as I physically can before asking, “Is everything okay?”
Swiping the notification away, he gives me a forced smile. “Yeah, just my manager. The band is on a break, so she’s supposed to be giving us all some space.”
“Oh…” I don’t know what any of that means. “When do you go on tour again?”
His eyes leave mine and go to his bowl. He’s agitated. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about this. I don’t either, but I don’t want to be blindsided.
Shaking his head, Lorcan doesn’t look up at me as he answers. “We don’t have anything booked. We’ve been having a…writing issue.”
“The band?” I should just let it drop. He clearly wants me to.
“Yeah.” He takes a bite and I know that’s all he’s willing to give me right now.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “What do you want to do after dinner?”
It’s clear he wasn’t expecting my question. He blinks. “Uh, I’m good with whatever.”
The confidence I felt earlier wanes. “I saw the hot tub on the back porch and—”
“Absolutely,” he breathes. “Yeah.”
I smile and it falters as I realize, after making the request, I don’t have a swim suit.
When I voice as much, he rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “Go naked.” My mouth falls open and I go to yell at the audacity of his suggestion, but then he starts laughing. “Relax, I’m kidding. I’ll go snoop in Rowan’s room to see if I can find one of Aelin’s. Do you think she’d mind?”
“No.” My eyes narrow on him but I can’t help my little smile. I have to admit, I like when he jokes around with me, even if those jokes are usually inappropriate. But, Aelin wouldn’t mind.
We finish eating and he disappears upstairs. I clean the bowls in the sink and put them away before remembering the bottle of wine in the freezer and taking it out, perfectly chilled. After I find two glasses, Lorcan is coming back down the stairs with a little black two piece in his hand.
He’s already wearing his swim shorts.
My mouth dries up at the sight of him and every time I see what’s under this man’s shirt I have no idea how it’s humanly possible to look so sculpted.
I hardly hear him when he says, “I see you found Aelin and Rowan’s wine. Before she came, all we had was whiskey.”
When I finally meet his eye to reply, he’s grinning that stupid little grin of his, the one that says he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Clearing my throat, I turn to pour the wine into glasses. “It was certainly unexpected, but a good surprise.”
I don’t hear him approach, but suddenly, he’s next to me at the island, setting the swimsuit atop the counter. “How about you go change and I’ll get some towels and meet you outside?” As he speaks, he brushes my hair off my shoulder, his calloused finger tip brushing my skin.
I pray he didn’t hear my breathing hitch, but I nod. “Is there a bathroom downstairs or should I just go to…” My tongue trips up on the word our and I panic. “To the room?”
It’s like he’s enjoying my discomfort, his grin grows. He nods his head in the direction of the living room. “Down the hallway, first door on the left.”
Before I can further embarrass myself, I snatch the swimsuit and hurry out of the kitchen. I hear his deep rumbling laughter and then the back door open and close as I cut through the living room. Anneith is dozing on one of the couches and I resist the urge to run my finger along her soft ear. She’d be up and want to play and that’s not what I want to do right now.
What I want to do is go get in the hot tub with my husband.
Right?
I close myself in the bathroom and undress, thankful that, despite our lack of sexy times, I decided to go visit Aelin’s waxer earlier this week. Hurt like a bitch, but I don’t have to worry about my bikini line. Or anything else down there.
I step into the bottoms, finding they fit perfectly, but the top…
I take a look in the mirror and the only word that comes to mind is obscene.
Aelin has a beautiful body. It’s even and symmetrical and all of her parts look like they belong. She’s worn somewhere between a B- and C-cup since we were juniors in high school.
I, on the other hand, am not even and symmetrical. I’m the height of a twelve-year old, have absolutely no hips or ass, but my boobs? They’re ridiculous. D’s are hard enough to deal with, but add a second D and it can just be uncomfortable.
Everything is covered, despite my cleavage spilling out, literally, but I suck it up and head back for the kitchen. I pause to tie my hair up in a bun, noticing he’s already taken my wine out. Walking to the door, I grip the knob and take a deep breath.
When I step onto the back porch, he’s sitting on the edge of the hot tub with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. He completely stills when he sees me and I suddenly feel like I’m not wearing a damn thing.
I get nervous, my anxiety thrumming with my body being on display, but I also feel a strange sense of power as his eyes darken and his jaw locks. He doesn’t bother to hide the way he’s checking me out, and I don’t deny that I like it.
Inwardly, at least. I don’t tell him a damn thing.
He doesn’t say a word as I approach the hot tub and descend the stairs, into the steaming water. He has the jets going and I lean towards where he is and pick up the second filled wine glass.
He put the rest of the bottle in a bucket filled with ice. It’s strangely and surprisingly romantic.
It isn’t until I sit down and my breasts mostly disappear beneath the water that he says, “So you found the bathroom then.”
I may have been staring when I first saw him in his swimsuit, but at least my pause wasn’t as long and the first thing I said wasn’t that lame. The thought makes me smile.
And makes me feel pretty damn powerful.
I take a sip from the wine and it’s deliciously sweet and fruity. “I did but it seems the suit doesn’t quite fit.”
“I think it fits just fine,” he says, and I feel it’s taking him a lot of effort to keep his eyes on mine.
I roll my eyes and ignore the strange feeling in my stomach. “How often do you come out here?”
He looks up at the starry night sky and shrugs. “A couple of times a year. We used to come out more, all of us together, but then we got too damn busy.” There’s a wistfulness in his eye that makes me curious. “I love it here, though. It’s nice to get out of the city. Find solitude.”
I follow his gaze. The city isn’t too far off, but out here, the lights aren’t as bright and the sounds aren’t as loud. You can actually appreciate your surroundings. “I wouldn’t be opposed to living somewhere like this.”
“I’d be okay with that, too.” He turns toward me and smiles. “Orynth isn’t too far if we needed something. Rowan’s place is outside the city, too, so they wouldn’t be far.”
“I’d like that, to get away from the city,” I sigh, taking another drink of my wine. “I’ve been in that apartment so long, it’ll be nice to have something outside my window that isn’t bricks.”
“I’ll text the realtor in the morning,” he promises, a sparkle in his dark eyes.
We both take a drink before he says, “So. Dr. Towers said we should get to know each other better before we try to judge the system.”
Laughing, I nod. “She told me something similar.”
Draping his arm across the back of the seat, Lorcan asks, “Ever played Truth or Drink?”
My eyebrows raise. “I can’t say I have, but I think I can figure out the premise. Either answer the question or drink?”
“That would be it,” he replies, nodding to the bottle. “I figured we’d need refills.”
Romantic and a planner. Huh.
I sit up, holding my wine glass in my hand. “Okay, fine, you got first.”
His head tilts to the side. “How long exactly has it been since you’ve had sex?”
Groaning, I drop my head back. “Are we back to this?”
“Baby, we’re going to keep coming back to this until you tell me.”
The way he says baby makes me clench my thighs together, but I relent. “Just over two years.”
He doesn’t mock me. Instead his eyes widen a little but then he nods, slowly. “Why has it been so long? What happened?”
For a second I’m tempted to tell him that he’s already asked his question, then I’m tempted to take a drink, but then I sigh and say, “To keep it short, that was the last real relationship I was in.”
He waits for me to go on but when I don’t he simply says, “That makes sense.”
His response surprises me. Half of me expected him to tell me that I’m ridiculous and all of me expected him to make some sort of inappropriate comment. He does neither.
And then I get curious. “When was your last real relationship?”
The question seems to shock him as his body tenses and he breaks my stare. “Fuck,” he mumbles, rubbing his jaw. “Honestly? High school.” I raise a brow and he goes on. “After high school we started touring and I haven’t been in a steady relationship since.” He frowns as if he’s just realizing this for himself, as if he’s never truly thought about it. He’s been out of high school for a decade. No real relationship for ten years.
“What’s made you want a relationship now?” I ask, and his eyes find mine. He smiles but the light isn’t there anymore.
“That’s two questions,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes. “You asked me a follow up question. I get one too.”
He chuckles. “Fine.” He shifts on the bench, then looks me dead in the eye and takes a drink.
I gape. “Already? That’s not even that edeep of a question!”
He laughs and shakes his head, a little of that light returning. He reaches for me and pokes me in the side, which makes me yelp, as he says, “I’m just kidding.” He shrugs and keeps his answer simple, but real. “I was tired of everything being meaningless.”
“I can’t imagine that…” My words trailing off as I realize what I’m saying could be offensive. I look at him with a wince. “Sorry.”
“Why?” He takes another drink of his wine. “I come with a reputation. I did it to myself. Girls only ever wanted me for one thing and one thing only and eventually, I ran with it.”
I nod, cradling my own glass in my hands. I turn his words over in his head until I realize something. My head snaps up and I look at him. “Lorcan, I think I may have figured out one reason they put us together.”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to go on. “Okay…”
“Sex is clearly a big deal to you,” I start, hoping to be able to articulate the thoughts in my head. “I mean, we’ve been married for…” I don’t have my phone, so I have to guess based on the sun. It’s nearly set, almost completely swallowed by the horizon. “A little over a day, and you’ve tried to have sex with me, what, three times?”
Shrugging, Lorcan nods. “Give or take.”
“And sex is important to me, too, but in a different way. I can’t have sex without feelings being there.” I shake my head, realizing I’m just telling him things I already know. “What I’m trying to say is, maybe they put us together because of that. “I can’t have sex without there already being a bond formed. You can’t have feelings without building a bond via sex. I think… I think we’re supposed to find a middle ground.”
He stares at me for a moment, the wine glass in his hand long forgotten. “And how do we find a middle ground on sex?”
It was a valid question, one that took me a minute to find an answer to. “I think our time on the couch was a pretty good start to finding a middle ground.”
His eyes lit up and I watch as a series of thoughts filter through his mind. “So I can kiss you anytime I want?”
I laugh, quietly. “More or less.”
He nods slowly and I wonder how inappropriate his next question will be. “Can I touch your ass?”
This time I flat out laugh. “I think we should get back to our game.”
He grins. “So that’s a yes, then?”
“How about this,” I say, and notice that he’s scooted closer to me. “In those…moments, I’ll just let you know when to stop.”
When I asked him to stop earlier, he had. I had been surprised then by his willingness to stop with no questions asked. I felt respected. Maybe that’s why this “middle ground” was something I wasn’t afraid of.
That grin softens. “I think that’s fair.”
I take a sip of my wine. I need it when he’s looking at me like that. “Now, the game.”
We go back and forth until the sun has sunk far below the horizon. We talk about everything, from the mundane, like our favorite subjects in school (his, is surprisingly enough, history. Or math. He said he enjoyed both, while I fall firmly in the literature loving group), to the formative, like when we first got drunk. You can learn a lot about a person by what the first thing they got drunk on was. We even talked about deeper things I wasn’t expecting, like religion, faith, and our beliefs. Apparently I wasn't the only one who wasn’t a fan of a traditional church wedding and opted for another venue.
With everything we have in common, it seems we end up closer and closer. By the time the wine bottle is empty, my legs are kicked up on the bench, across his lap. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I like being close to him. I’m also quite tipsy. Lorcan’s hand is on my thigh, but he doesn’t act like he has any intention of moving it higher.
I’m the first one to yawn and Lorcan checks his watch. “It’s pretty late. Want to get some rest?”
I nod and we get out of the hot tub. I’ve forgotten all about my improperly sized top until Lorcan clears his throat, holding open a towel for me. Cursing and blushing just as furiously, I wrap the towel around my upper body, thanking him.
“You know, you’ve got a filthy mouth,” he chuckles as we enter.
My eyebrows raise. “Like you have any room to talk?”
Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, Lorcan laughs. “I wasn’t trying to say I don’t. I just wasn’t expecting that from you, I guess.”
“With a best friend like Aelin, it rubs off on you.”
He laughs and every time he laughs I can’t help my own smile. It suits him.
As he’s cleaning out our wine glasses, I go upstairs to his room and grab my bag before going into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I take a long shower, careful not to get my hair wet, and let my thoughts run wild.
We won’t be having sex. That’s been made clear but still…it’s been two years since I’ve been in the same bed as a man. Although I trust Lorcan, an uncontrollable sense of nervousness fills my body. Sharing the same bed is almost as intimate as sex, just in a different way.
I stay in the shower until it goes cold, giving me that extra time I need to breathe.
It isn’t until there’s a knock on the door sometime later that I snap out of my dwindling thoughts.
“Elide? Everything okay?” I wonder how long he’s been concerned about me. I wonder what he thinks it is that I’m doing in here.
“Yes!” I call back, turning off the faucet. “I’ll be out soon. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice is calm, soothing. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t pass out or something. We were in the hot tub longer than we should’ve been.”
Damn, I must’ve been in here longer than I thought.
I step out of the shower and put on my pajamas, a tank top and comfy bottoms, before brushing my hair and my teeth. When I look in the mirror, I don’t look confident at all. I’m pale and I swear the worry lines on my forehead are permanent.
Is he worried? Nervous? Probably not.
Then again, when was the last time he’d shared a bed with someone? Surely none of his…hookups…stayed the night.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before making my way back down the hall. Lorcan is laying in his bed, on top of the blankets, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. Apparently, that’s all he ever wears to bed. His hair is wet and hanging loose, so he must’ve showered downstairs. He’s holding the remote in one hand and his other arm is tossed behind his head as he leans against his headboard. The tv is playing quietly from his dresser.
As soon as I stop in the doorway, he’s looking at me. When he meets my eye, there’s that look again that I can’t quite place.
We stare at each other for a moment in silence. I can see him suppressing his smile as he reaches to the other side of the bed and pats the mattress, beckoning me to come to him.
I swallow, nodding and cross the room. As I round the bed, I notice he has something paused on the television. Turning towards him, I see his eyes on my legs. The shorts I’m wearing are comfortable, but aren’t the most conservative sleeping attire I own. I hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed with him when I was packing, but it is what it is. He’s my husband. Eventually, he’ll see far more than just my bare legs.
The thought simultaneously terrifies me and runs an excited chill up my spine.
“What are you watching?” I ask, climbing into the bed and getting under the covers, despite the fact that he lays atop them.
Rather than answer, he leans over to his nightstand, pressing play and turning the lamp off.
As the room is plunged into near darkness, the familiar beeps of an old school video game greet me. My head tilts. “Is this—?”
Coughing joins the beeping and I swivel towards him. He’s grinning, pulling his legs up to slip under the sheets and blanket with me. “Thought we’d watch an old classic.”
As The Princess Bride starts, my own smile grows. “Okay.”
We sit in that comfortable silence I’m starting to realize is normal for us. I’ve never been one to fill the air with idle chit chat and I get the feeling Lorcan isn’t either. I risk a glance over at him.
His back is up against the headboard and his head is tipped back, as well. His eyes are heavy lidded, as if he’s just as tired as I am. It’s been a long, emotional day, just like yesterday. He’s firmly on his side of the bed, keeping to his word, and I’m on mine.
Wow. We have sides of the bed now. That’s so…domestic.
On screen, they’ve just reached the Cliffs of Insanity when I make a move that makes me question my own sanity.
I scoot over, curling into Lorcan’s side, laying my head on his chest. He’s warm, despite not wearing a shirt and I feel him go still as I rest my hand on his abdomen. I don’t move either, not knowing if he’ll ask me to move back to my side or if he even likes to cuddle. Maybe he hates it and we’ll never—
A warm strong arm wraps around me, pulling me closer into him. My leg automatically covers his. He practically pulls me on top of him.
I like it.
A strange sense of security eases my nervousness as we meld together. After a few minutes his fingers start tracing lazy circles in the middle of my back. It makes yawn, makes me struggle to stay awake. At one point my eyes can’t take it anymore. They slowly close and I know Lorcan is just behind me as his fingers move slower and slower against my back.
Then Lorcan yelps.
Like…he actually yelps in the most unmanly way possible which is ridiculous coming from this behemoth of a man.
As I sit up he’s looking under the covers and muttering, “Damn cat.”
Anneith emerges from beneath the blankets, crawling over his legs and settling against me. I can’t help but laugh, even though I’m completely exhausted.
Lorcan shakes his head and settles back against the bed. “Dont laugh, she scared the shit out of me.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, refusing not to laugh. “She’s terrifying.”
Even in the dark I can feel him give me a look but I settle back against him and his arm is around me once more. Anneith changes her mind, crawling back over me and settling on Lorcan’s stomach, just above my arm. She peeks her head out of the blanket, snuggles into a ball and closes her eyes.
He sighs and says, “When I was signing up for this six months ago, I never thought a cat would be part of the deal.”
“Well, we’re a package deal.” I sit up, careful not to disturb Anneith, and turn to face him. “You want one of us, you get both of us.”
His hand leaves my back where it’s been for the better part of the movie and suddenly comes back down on my ass. He grabs it, smirking at me. “I definitely want one of you, so I guess I’ve got both.”
“Lorcan!” I push off his chest, but his arm is still wrapped around me, so I don’t get very far.
I’m smiling so he knows I’m not too mad. I wasn’t expecting that, but I probably should have been. Just hours ago he was asking if he was allowed to touch my ass, and I hadn’t explicitly said no.
Anneith, who escaped to the end of the bed, is glaring up at us as she settles back in to go to sleep.
His other hand comes up to brush my stray hairs out of my face. It seems more intimate than the hand still on my ass and my smile fades. His smirk is gone but the smallest of smiles remains on his mouth, making it hard for me to breathe.
Lorcan is interesting. I never know if he’s going to be crass or grumpy or sweet as hell. I realize that I don’t mind any of those traits coming from him. One makes me laugh, one challenges me, and one makes my heart beat twice as fast.
We’re close enough that I can easily close the space between us, so I do. I push myself up that extra inch and kiss him, softly. The hand that’s not still on my ass cups my cheek as he kisses me back once, twice, and then I snuggle myself into his side again and we fall into a deep sleep.
#‘til death do us part#elorcan tddup#elorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#lord lorcan lochan#elide x lorcan#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#snacmc collabs#snelbz x the lady of death collab
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‘Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Twelve}
Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist
Elide -
I wake up far less disoriented than I do the day before. I know exactly where I am and I know that I slept better last night than I have in a very long time.
I have to give it to Dr. Towers. She’s the relationship expert for a reason.
I roll over, expecting to find Lorcan still asleep, likely adorable with bedhead.
But he’s not there.
His side of the bed is empty, the covers folded back, but his bag is still open on top of the dresser where he’d left it last night.
My throat immediately goes dry.
Oh gods, not again.
He promised he wouldn’t leave. We’re in this together.
For better or worse.
It’s then that I smell it.
I’m out of bed and hurrying downstairs before I can think it through. I have enough control to at least slow myself before I enter the kitchen. It doesn’t matter though, because his back is to me.
And good gods, it’s a great back. I give myself a moment to appreciate it, the way his broad shoulders taper down into slim waist, which leads to his firm, tight—
“You know that I know you’re there, right?”
Busted.
Despite the flush in my cheeks, I clear my throat. “You're my husband, am I not allowed to look at you?”
He looks back, flashing me a grin. “Looking and ogling are two very different things, wife.”
Oh, sweet mother, this man is going to eat me alive.
“I woke up early and didn’t want to wake you,” he says, leaving the stove and heading for the fridge. “I went ahead and ran to the market.”
The fridge was filled with food, forcing me to wonder just how long we’d be staying in this temporary residence.
“That was sweet of you,” I confess, and I’m once again amazed how he goes from sweet to crass in a matter of seconds. “And you cook?”
“I try,” he says, but he’s smug. He pulls out a carton of orange juice and a couple of kiwis alongside a tub of strawberries. I look to the stovetop where it looks like he’s making omelets.
“I hope you like bacon,” he says, his back to me once more as he starts to cut up the fruit. “I’ve been told I put too much bacon in my omelets.”
I raise a brow. “Is there such a thing as too much bacon?”
He stills and looks over his shoulder at me once more. His eyes graze my body, making me feel naked and I realize I should have probably looked in the mirror before hurrying down the stairs. Judging by the way his eyes darken, I assume he doesn’t mind. “Good woman.”
He’s practically purring.
My heart does weird things inside of my chest.
“Need any help?” I offer as I come up beside him. Gods, it smells delicious. I can get used to this.
“If you want to get out some cups and plates I think it’s almost ready,” he says, and my stomach growls right on cue.
“Sounds great,” I reply, taking two steps and pausing. I look at the cabinets around us. “And where can I find those?”
He laughs and comes closer, stopping right in front me and reaching into one of the cabinets behind me. After retrieving two plates, he holds them out for me. Just as I take them, he leans down to kiss me.
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I back up, clutching the plates to my chest.
Cocking his head sideways, Lorcan asks, “Is something wrong?”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth.” My words are muffled, thanks to my hand, but he hears me loud and clear.
His hand wraps around my wrist. “I don’t give a shit, Elide, I want to kiss you.”
“I give a shit,” I shoot back. “I have morning breath.”
One side of his mouth kicks up. “Don’t make me tickle you.”
My eyes widen, because he absolutely will. I know it. “Lorcan, don’t—”
He reaches for my sides and I drop my hand. “Fine!”
Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me to him, kissing me fiercely. It’s not like any other kiss we’ve shared. I lean into it until the plates clatter in my arms and I jump back.
He’s looking down at me, wholly amused. Cocky bastard.
Before I can move, he takes the plates from me and says, “Sit down, let me make you a plate.”
Half of me wants to tell him not to tell me what to do, and the other half of me wants to listen and let him take care of me. I listen to that half.
“Have you seen Anneith this morning?”
Lorcan nods as he turns off the stovetop and takes the omelets out of the skillet with a spatula. “I gave her breakfast. She’s sleeping in the window in the hallway upstairs.”
My heart melts at that. I know he’s not the biggest fan of my greatest pride and joy, but still….he gave her breakfast. After loading the plate with fruits for a side and filling our glasses, he brings it all to the table and sets a beautiful display in front of me.
It’s delicious.
I’m tempted to moan with every bite of my omelet but I refrain, just barely. It’s filled with different meats and cheeses and peppers and spices, and when I’m done with it I wish I had another. Lorcan’s a way eyes keep darting up to see my reaction and I can tell he’s pleased.
A man that can cook.
I consider myself lucky.
When we’re done with breakfast I offer to do the dishes. At first, he protests, but then when he sees he’s not winning that argument, he says he’ll go for a run.
When he comes back, he’s drenched in sweat and I’m sitting on the couch watching reality tv with my cat. It’s a sight to behold.
He catches me watching him, yet again, and my cheeks burn as he comes to the couch and threatens to tackle me.
“You’re disgusting! Take a shower!” Even as I laugh, I’m holding him back from the couch with my foot against his bare, damp abdomen.
His eyes trail up my leg, my thigh, and eventually land on my own eyes. “Care to join me?”
My cheeks heat and that muted throbbing between my legs intensifies. “Shut up.”
I can’t say that I’m not tempted and he knows it.
That cocky grin returns as he jogs upstairs and out of sight. Anneith is giving me a judgemental look like I should have jumped on that opportunity in a heartbeat.
“You just like him cause he fed you,” I murmur to my cat, realizing I should get ready, too. Lorcan had mentioned over breakfast that the realtor had messaged him and told him she’d found three potential houses for us to look at, with a few more on the back burner.
I can’t believe we’re doing this, that we’re actually buying a house. Technically, Lorcan is buying a house, but my name would be on it, as well. I honestly figured I’d never be able to say that.
Thirty minutes and one mouth watering glimpse of Lorcan in—gods, help me—just a towel wrapped around his waist later, we were in the car, heading down the mountain. Lorcan had typed the address into the gps on his phone and frowned at what he saw. “It’s pretty much in the city,” he says, a scowl on his face. “Seems nice though. Close to a lot of places we might want to go, but it’s half an hour from Rowan’s. It’s gated though, so there’d be no question of safety, even when I’m on the road.”
I don’t want to think about that last part, so I say, “ I guess it’s nice that it’s in the city, that means I won’t have to walk too far to get anywhere.“
Lorcan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean walk?’
I look over at him. It’s not that he’s oblivious, but I guess he really didn’t put two and two together. I live in a shoebox, make a lot of my own clothes, and ramen noodles are my main source of nutrition. My laugh sounds sad. “I don’t have a car.”
He’s staring at me, when his eyes should be firmly on the road. “How do you not have a car?”
I shrug. “I just told you. I walk everywhere or I take the bus, if I need to get across the city.”
“You’re telling me you walked everywhere? Living in that part of the city?” His eyes finally land back on the road. “We’re fixing that as soon as possible.”
Blinking, I whip my head to face him. “What? Lorcan, I don’t need a car—”
“Yes, you do.” His tone left no room for debate. “My wife sure as shit isn’t going to be walking all over the city.”
I lift a brow and cross my arms. “And if I want to walk all over the city?”
He snorts, eyes sliding back to me. “Gods, you’re stubborn. I’m offering to buy you a damn car.”
He says that like it turns him on. “I’m not stubborn, I just only need the necessities.”
“You getting places safely instead of walking through the city at night is a necessity to me.”
If I’m stubborn, he’s more so. So I say, “Fine, but if you get me anything flashy, I’ll be causing damage to your balls.”
He mumbles something about me at least being near his balls which makes me shove him in the shoulder, but he catches my hand before I can pull it back to my side of the car.
We hold hands all the way to the house and I like how he rubs the back of my hand with his thumb.
We pull into the gated community and I feel a mix of nerves and awe and something that’s close to being appalled. They’re mansions, there’s no doubting it. I have no idea what we’d need with so much space and I don’t even know which one it is we’ll be walking through. I can feel Lorcan peeking at me to gauge my reaction but I give him nothing. I just keep looking out the window until we pull into a driveway that looks like it’s just been poured.
Perfect landscaping lines the cement and runs up to the house that’s perfect, white, and bigger than my entire apartment building. Flowers that I would surely kill line the front of the house. There are just too many, but they’re beautiful and I suddenly remember my plants back in my apartment. I should stop by and water them.
Lorcan and I get out of the car and head for the front door. It’s cracked and Lorcan opens it wider, letting us in.
It’s…clean. Everything is white. White walls, white floors, white brick comprising the fireplace, white trim around the windows and walls.
It reminds me of a hospital.
“What do you think?”
I nearly jump out of my skin as the realtor appears from nowhere behind us, but I manage not to scream.
“Ansel, hey.” Lorcan reaches out, shaking her hand. “This is my wife, Elide.”
It’s the first time he’s referred to me as his wife and my heart does funny things.
We do the small talk thing for a few minutes. She asks how we met, we avoid the question completely, and finally, conversation returns to the item at hand.
“So,” she begins, clapping her hands together. That, coupled with the bouncy ponytail her red hair is tied up in, reminds me of a cheerleader. She gestures around the house. “I know you haven’t gotten to take a look at the entire house, but what are your first thoughts? It’s got seven bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, an in-ground pool, and a guest house, complete with a theater.”
She looks from Lorcan to me, her mahogany eyes bright. They both seem to be waiting for me to say something. Always elegantly, I say the only thing I can think of. “Wow.”
They both laugh, and I get the feeling Ansel might be laughing at me.
“Seven bedrooms?” I ask, turning to Lorcan. “What would we even do with all that space?”
He shrugs. “Whatever we wanted. An office, a studio, a room for you to work in, the kids’ rooms—”
“Kids?” My voice comes out in a squeak. “How many kids are we planning to have? Enough to fill seven bedrooms?”
I’ve always planned on becoming a mom, but just how many times does he plan on having me get pregnant?
“Excuse us a minute,” Lorcan says to Ansel, giving her a brilliant smile.
She gives him one of her own. “Take your time, look around, I’ll be right out front if you have any questions.” I can hear her high heels as she heads for the front door.
“We don’t need all this space,” I say, holding my arms up and gesturing to the open living room around us. I know I’ve said it a few times, but my entire apartment would fit in this room alone.
“We don’t have to get a house this big, this is just the first one she’s shown us.” His hands are resting on my shoulders. “And three or four, by the way.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What?”
“Kids.” I stop breathing and I can feel his thumbs brush over my skin. “I’ve always imagined having three or four kids.”
I didn’t peg him as the type that wants kids, and having multiples? I must look shocked because I 100% am. Yrene’s words about matching us on the things that matter most come back to me. Yeah, I’ve always wanted multiple kids because I was an only child and being an only child sucks. I longed for siblings when I was young.
“I see,” I say at last, once I feel him staring at me for far too long. His thumbs are still brushing along my skin, giving me comfort. I agree, quietly. “I wouldn’t mind three children.”
“Or four?” He asks, lips quirking up.
“Ask my vagina after the first three,” I mutter. At the mention of my vagina his eyes light up and I snort, shaking my head. “There’s no way I’m raising kids or even Anneith in a house that’s completely white, though.”
“When house hunting it’s important to find what you know you don’t like just as much as it’s important to find what you do like,” he says, and I wonder just how many times he’s gone looking for houses. He seems to know Ansel pretty well.
“I just want it to feel like home,” I say, and I feel vulnerable but I’m unsure why. It’s not just a house, though. This will be our home…for at least six months, anyway.
I tell myself I have to quit thinking that way, that this study may be temporary, but I didn’t sign up for a temporary husband. I signed up for life.
“I thought we were going to look outside of the city,” I remind him.
He gives me a look. “If we move outside the city, you’re definitely getting a car.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove him lightly. “I’ll take the car, you ass. But I don’t want to live in the city anymore, and I don’t want to live in a gated community. I want trees and the stars and a big porch with a swing.” I’m rambling by the end, but I look around. “This place is nice but it’s…cold. Empty. Institutional. It feels more like a museum than a home.”
“Institutional, huh?” He asks. Doing the same and taking the house in. “I can’t argue with that, it reminds me of an office building. Let’s go talk to Ansel, make sure she got my text last night, and knows to look for something in a different direction.”
As soon as we step onto the front steps, Ansel is there. “That was quick! Do you have any questions?”
Lorcan shakes his head. “We don’t like it,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “It’s too big, too contemporary. We want something cozier, more homey. Something closer to the mountains than the city. Somewhere we can raise a family.”
His hand squeezes mine and I’m not sure if he knows he subconsciously did it.
“We’d like to be in the woods,” I add, glad that Lorcan and I agree on this. Living here would be miserable.
“Oh, and we need a porch with a swing,” he advises. “Or a porch big enough for a swing. And a hot tub.” He grabs my hand as Ansel shuffles through her folder of papers.
She raises an eyebrow at his sudden laundry list. “Well, all right then. But this house is in a wonderful location. I really thought it would be perfect for you.”
“It's just not us,” he says. “Let's move on to the next one.”
Us. What is us?
The next house is almost as bad, and I'm starting to feel like this entire day is going to be spent viewing mansion after cold mansion, until we follow Ansel up a long, uphill driveway surrounded by trees. We can't even see the house from the street, but when we finally pull in front of it, my heart leaps.
I can't get out of the car fast enough to see the house up close. It's simply magical, with a big oak and white banister porch off the front of the house, surrounded by lots of flowers all in hues of blue and purple, and a stone birdbath that I'm sure Anneith would love to watch from the living room window. The house itself is sage green with all-white trim, and the view from the porch is amazing. The house is so far up on the hill that we can see the tops of the trees below us and the mountains not too far off. It's breathtaking.
Lorcan laughs as he leans an arm on the roof of the car. “There’s even a swing.”
I nod excitedly as he rounds the front of the car and takes my hand. “Look at this view,” I breathe. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I love how quiet it is, too,” he says as we walk up the porch stairs. “No annoying neighbors or traffic.”
“This house is the smallest on our list,” Ansel says, unlocking the front door. “It only has four bedrooms, but there is a finished basement with a small suite that would be great for a guest or just extra living space.”
As soon as we walk inside, I fall even further in love with its light, earth-tone painted walls, vaulted ceilings, lots of windows and natural light, another porch on the back of the house, and a small balcony off the master bedroom. It's gorgeous but comfy and doesn't scream, Hey, I'm rich and obnoxious like the other houses we looked at did.
We tour the house in silence except for the occasional gasps and quiet laughs between Lorcan and me. It’s absolute perfection.
I don’t hesitate when we’re back on the front porch. “This is the one.”
Lorcan’s looking at me in that way that makes it hard to breathe when he nods. “Agreed.”
Ansel closes up her folder with a big smile. “Okay, then. It's a beautiful home, I agree. The owners are not currently living here. They had it built as a vacation home but rarely had the time to stay, so they are open to you renting it until the close can be completed, which could happen quickly. They’re also including all window and floor treatments and will entertain offers for all of the furniture, except the bedroom sets. If you'd like, we can go back to my office now to draw up all the paperwork and contact their agent. If all goes well, you could be moved in pretty quickly.”
I’m excited. I haven’t been so excited in a long time and for once since the morning of my wedding, I’m not nervous. All I feel is a rush of energy and hope for the future.
Lorcan can feel it too, I know he does as I look at him.
“Sounds great,” Lorcan says, and he pulls me close to him and into his arms as Ansel walks to her car. He kisses my forehead and then I lean up on my toes to capture his lips with mine. When he pulls back, his next words make my excitement grow. “Welcome home.”
#‘til death do us part#tddup#elorcan#elorcan tddup#elide x lorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#lord lorcan lochan#snelbz x tacmc collab#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab#throne of glass#sjm fanfic
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Better or Worse {4}
Nessian. Angst. Modern au.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! x
Warnings: language.
~ Nesta ~
I haven’t said a word to my husband since I caught him fucking his hand in the shower, and he hasn’t said a word to me, either. In fact, when he came out of the bathroom two days ago, he barely even looked in my direction before getting dressed, stuffing clean clothes into a bag, and leaving. Apparently he never intended to come home, he had only intended to get more of his things then go back to Feyre and Rhysand’s.
Which is where I am now, sitting in the driveway, trying to gain enough nerve to make my way inside.
I want to ask him to come home.
I want to ask him to go to marriage counseling.
I want him to not give up, not yet, not until we try to see if we can fix this.
I’ve spent two days trying to come up with the right words to say, two days barely sleeping and picking up my phone to text him, only to delete every word that I’d typed.
This wasn’t something to text about. I had to do this face-to-face.
It’s Wednesday, so I know that he’s here because he has every Wednesday off. I did text Feyre though, just in case, and worried that he was off living his best life until I got my sister’s reply. He’s here and making us dinner. If you’re going to piss each other off….please wait until he’s done with the steaks…
It was a fair enough request.
I wouldn’t want to piss off the chef. Then no one’s happy.
Once I get out of my car, I walk through the garage and in through the door that leads to the kitchen. I open the door to see Feyre at the sink, rinsing off dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. She gives me a smile as I close the door behind me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say, quietly. Cassian is nowhere to be seen. “How was dinner?”
“So good,” she said, practically drooling. “I can’t say that I mind having a professional chef at my beck and call.”
I snort, completely understanding. Over the last week, I’ve been living off of frozen meals and takeout. Nothing compared to Cassian’s cooking.
“They’re downstairs,” Feyre says, turning off the faucet and turning around to lean against the countertop. “He, uh…has been in rare form the last few days.”
Well, I did catch him in the shower with his cock in his hand, then he got pissed at me for existing and stormed off into the night, so…I can imagine.
“I’m going to ask him to come home,” I say, fiddling with my keys. “I don’t think he’ll even say yes, but I need him to know that that’s what I want.”
Feyre’s eyes softened as she nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
I follow Feyre down the hall and into the basement, where Cassian and Rhysand are playing Call of Duty. Nyx is on the floor, building something with Legos, and the second he spots me, he’s running toward me and flinging himself into my arms. I catch him with a hug and a kiss, and when I set him back on the floor, the game on the TV is paused and both men are looking at me.
Rhysand gives me a wan smile.
Cassian’s expression is emotionless.
Feyre clears her throat. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Nyx frowns. “But Aunt Nesta just got here.”
“I know, but it’s late,” she says, picking him up. “Rhys, come on. We need you to read in your wild things voice.”
“Of course,” he says, and gives Cassian a pat on the shoulder before following his wife and son up the stairs and out of sight.
Cassian is still staring at me.
My pathetic self gives him a little wave.
Looking exhausted, he exits out of he and Rhysand’s game before starting a round by himself. “What are you doing here?”
No hi. No how’s it going? Just a what are you doing here?
I rock back on my heels. “I thought we could talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about. It’s late.”
“It’s seven.”
“I’m tired.”
“Please, Cass.” I must’ve sounded tragic, because he glances at me over his shoulder and sighs.
When he turns back to the TV, his focus on his game, he says, “Fine.”
I walk to the couch and sit on the opposite end, far from him. “Smelled good upstairs. I heard you made steak. Did you make your garlic butter?”
“Yup.”
“And mashed potatoes? It’s always so good with mashed potatoes.”
He doesn’t answer, he just takes a deep breath. “What is it you want to talk about, Nesta?”
I have to remind myself not to get pissed. I’m here to fix things, not make them worse. Getting pissed, yelling at him, would just make things worse.
I wait a few seconds to see if he gives me his attention again. When he doesn’t, I say, “I want you to come home.”
His thumbs continue to fly over the sticks. “Why?”
“Because I miss you.” I hate that my voice breaks. We just started talking and already I’m on the brink of crying.
But that break, that show of emotion, draws my husband’s eye.
I push, taking advantage of his attention. “I miss you, Cassian. I don’t know what happened to us, but I want to fix whatever it is.”
I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes leaving mine and landing on the controller still in his hands. “You want to fix us, but you don’t know what the problem is?”
I know. I know what part of the problem is, but I’m not ready to dive headfirst into my own faults tonight. “I want to try, Cass. I tried to give you space, but I miss you. I need you home.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I know it’s only a few seconds but it feels like so much longer. The silence stretches on for an eternity, and my tears start falling.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he says, at last, still staring at his controller laying limp in his hand.
“We don’t have to stay in the same bed,” I say, wiping at my cheeks. “One of us can stay on the couch, and I’ll give you all the space you need, I just want you home. I need you home. Nothing will be fixed if you’re here, if we’re not talking.” I take a breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “If we’re not trying. We need to try.”
“I was trying.” Although his voice remains soft, he’s angry. “I have been trying, Nesta.”
“I know,” I breathe. “And now I’m ready to try too.”
His fingers flex. His body is tense. I know he’s trying to stay in control.
He shakes his head and tosses the controller on the coffee table in front of us before dropping his face into his hands.
I don’t say anything while he processes.
I sit quietly, wiping my tears that won’t seem to stop falling. He drops his hands a moment later and now he just looks exhausted.
“This isn’t fair.” He refuses to look at me. “It’s not fair that we have to do this on your terms. All of the sudden, you're ready to try, but why now? Because I finally put my fucking foot down? I left, Nesta, because I was fucking tired. I was tired of trying to be a good husband and you not giving a damn. I’m still tired. But now that you’re finally ready to work on our marriage, you just expect me to keep trying? I’m tired of trying! I’m tired of working on this and getting nowhere!”
I try not to flinch at his raised voice, but my hands find one another and clasp together, helping ground me.
“I understand,” I say, even though it hurts. “I get it. I do. And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t feel that way. I’m just…selfishly…asking you to come home.”
“And what then?” He still won’t look at me. “We go back to ignoring each other and being the most miserable roommates of all time?”
“I thought it might be a good idea to talk to someone.”
He scoffs. “Like who? My brothers? Your sisters?”
Reminding myself not to let his anger affect mine, I take a deep breath. “A professional, a marriage counselor.” The sound of my husband’s laughter was not the response I was expecting and my voice was like ice when I went on. “What's so funny?”
“You won’t talk to me about our fucked up marriage, but you’re willing to talk to someone else?”
Grinding my teeth together, I took a deep breath. “It’s not just me, Cassian, I want us both to talk to her.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t have to. I’m not going.”
“I’ve already contacted a woman who has come highly recommended to me, and she can get us in already next week. Monday, ten a.m.”
“Call and cancel.”
“No.” The hold I have on my anger is fading, and he can tell from that one word alone.
He finally looks at me and his eyes are ablaze. “No?”
“No. I’m not canceling. We are going, and we’re going to fix this, because the idea of you leaving me, of you not being my husband anymore, makes me sick, Cassian.” The words rush out of me. My tone matches his. “So you can be stubborn, and you can be an asshole, because I know I deserve it, but I’m not canceling. If you’re going to leave me, it’s not going to be because we didn’t try.”
I have no clue what’s going on inside of his head. All I see is his frustration as he stares at me, his stubborn nature mirroring my own. He doesn’t back down. Neither do I. We just sit there, staring at one another, waiting for the other to break.
“And if counseling doesn’t work?” He asks, at last, his gaze hard.
It will. It has to. “Then that will be that.”
He swallows, gaze breaking from mine and drifting to where his controller sat. “I’ll sleep on the couch—”
I release the breath I’d been holding since I walked into Feyre’s house. “Thank you, Cass—”
“I didn’t finish.” It doesn’t escape my notice that he won’t look at me. “I’ll sleep on the couch when I come home. I’m not coming home before we talk to whoever you found.”
“Cassian, that’s days from now—”
“And I need time to think, Nes.”
I didn’t let the familiar nickname affect me. I could grant him that, even if I wanted to beg him to come home tonight. “And when will you come home?”
“Monday.”
I nod. “Monday, then.”
He picks up his controller, all but telling me our conversation is over. Accepting his dismissal, I get to my feet and head for the stairs. Just before I reach them, I turn and look at where he sits on the couch, not moving. He hasn’t started a new game yet, still just staring at his controller.
“I love you,” I say, not giving myself time to reconsider the words.
I don't wait to hear if he says it back.
#nessian#nesta#cassian#fanfic#fanfiction#modern au#angst#a snacmc collab#snacmc collabs#snelbz x theladyofdeath collab
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