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#the velaris ballet
serpentandlily · 5 months
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Mystique - Azriel x Reader
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Mystique - Azriel x Reader
Summary: When the whole family is dragged to the new ballet show in Velaris, Mystique, Azriel never imagined a mating bond snapping into place...but as soon as she stepped on stage, he knew his life was about to change forever.
Warnings: mention of strict dieting of a dancer
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Going to see a ballet show was not how Azriel planned to spend his Saturday night, or any night really. Arts and theater were not something he was usually interested in. But Feyre had begged the whole family to go, claiming she had bought a private booth in the gallery for them to watch their opening night show. 
Elain had been the first to agree, so he followed along. If only to spend some time with her, to watch her face light up as she watched the performance. 
Mystique. That was the name of the show they were seeing tonight. He had no idea what it was about or what to expect. But he didn’t care. Not as he snagged the seat next to Elain and brushed his fingers against hers as she gave him a secret smile. 
The lights had dimmed and the audience fell quiet. It was a full house tonight, no seat below in the orchestra empty. Even the other private booths in the gallery were filled with rich nobles. 
He understood the name of the ballet once it started. All the dancers were wearing masquerade masks. That was about the only interesting thing about it. His eyes flickered from the stage to Elain every so often, more enthralled with her than the dancers. 
But then she came on stage. The main dancer partnered with some male. Her costume was a light pink, bejeweled with gems and flowers, with a tutu that showed off her long legs. It was the gleam of the jewels that had caught his attention, shining brightly in the faelights. 
And then his eyes had drifted up, to the pink mask that matched the costume and the dancer beneath it. 
He knew she was special the moment he laid eyes on her. Not because of the elegant, graceful way she moved on stage, or how she seemed to have captured the rapt attention of the audience. No, she was special because she was her. 
His eyes didn’t leave her figure after that. Constantly following her movements as she danced around the stage alongside the male and the other dancers, always standing out. 
When the show ended and the performers came out for applause and shouts from the house, he knew his life was about to change forever.
Because when she came out holding hands with her partner, bowing before the crowd masks off, a gold thread from his chest unraveled and the mating bond snapped into place. 
If it wasn’t for his years of training, of all the time he perfected his craft as the spymaster, he wouldn’t have been able to keep such a cool demeanor. He gave no indication to his family, said nothing as the dancers disappeared behind the curtains and everyone rose to leave.
“That was beautiful!” Elain chirped from next to him and he almost jumped. He had forgotten she was there. 
All he could think about was her. The dancer. His mate. His beautiful, beautiful mate. 
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ 
Opening night had been a success and the second show had gone off without a hitch as well. Your legs and feet were so sore as you made your way back to the dressing rooms with the other gaggle of girls, already yanking the pins out of your hair. 
You rubbed at your scalp, soothing the tightness from the bun your hair had been in, as you walked up to your mirror on the long vanity table. You paused for a moment at the sight of a single rose lying beneath the mirror on the table. That had definitely not been there at the beginning of the show tonight.
You picked it up, twirling the stem in your fingers. The faintest scent still clinging to it was foreign from the sweet smell of rose. A hint of cedar and night-chilled mist, a very masculine smell. 
“What’s that?” your friend, Lena, asked, peering over your shoulder at the rose in your hand. 
“I’m not sure,” you mumbled.  
“Oooohhh,” some of the girls around you giggled and your cheeks turned pink at all the attention. “Are you hiding a male from us, y/n?”
You shook your head. “No, no. It must’ve been for one of the other girls. Probably didn’t know which mirror was hers.”
Your dismissal had the other girls turning back around, no longer interested now that there was no gossip to be shared. You wished you knew who the rose was for so you could give it to her but there was no note or anything—just that faint smell. 
The next night you were met with another rose beneath your mirror. You frowned as all the girls giggled behind you. Had the male still not realized his girlfriend had never gotten his rose?
“I think you might have a secret admirer,” Lena said, grinning at you.
“I don’t think so. Maybe we should all label our mirrors,” you suggested. “I’d hate for these roses to keep going to the wrong girl.”
“I think Lena is right,” one of the other girls said. “I think y/n has a secret admirer!”
You rolled your eyes, plopping down in your chair to start the long process of ripping the pins from your hair and taking off your stage make-up. “How would they even know where I sat? And a stranger would never be allowed back here.”
“Let’s do what you said then and write our names on the mirrors. Then we can find out who’s the true owner of the roses,” Lena said. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and wrote her name on the corner of the mirror before spreading the lipstick on her lips and kissing the spot she had just signed.
She handed the tube of lipstick over to you and you laughed, doing the same as her. 
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱
"Alright, it's official. Y/n has a secret admirer!"
Your mouth dropped open as the group of girls giggling around your mirror parted and you saw another red rose on the vanity. You picked it up carefully, glancing up at your mirror to make sure your name was still written there.
The girls around you were still giggling, some making kissy noises as your cheeks lit up with embarrassment. That scent was clinging to the rose, the cedar and night-chilled mist. You took a small inhale, finding the smell to be so tantalizing. 
"Any idea who it could be?" Lena asked from beside you.
You shook your head. "No, it's not like I've had time to go out between rehearsals and the show. I haven't met anyone new in the past few months."
It was true. Your mother, one of the ballet teachers here in Velaris, kept you on a tight leash. Between classes, rehearsals and show nights, you didn't go out. Mother always said anything else was a distraction and that ballet involved sacrifices if you wanted to be a principal dancer. A role you had finally landed this season, which meant you were even more busy.
Besides, you hadn't ever been with a male like that. You had barely just turned twenty and had spent your whole childhood in ballet studios with your mother. The males that were part of those classes usually swung for the other team and the few that were into girls were usually snatched up quickly by the others. 
"How do you think he's even getting into the dressing rooms?" you mumbled to Lena, who shrugged before a mischievous grin spread on her face.
"Maybe we should ask one of the understudies to hang around here during the next show so they can catch him in the act. I'm dying to know who it is," she said.
"Not a bad idea," one of the other girls chimed in. 
"I’ll ask Helena. She's still nursing her sore ankle from her fall,” you replied, placing the rose into your satchel to take home. Pretty soon you’d have a whole bouquet.
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱
“No one?! But how is that even possible?”
You stared at the new rose on the vanity before you. Helena had stalked out the dressing room but she claimed no one had ever entered.
“I don’t know, but I’m telling you, no one came in here,” Helena said back to Lena.
“And you stayed in here the whole time?”
Helena rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, I stepped out at one point to talk to Nicholas but I swear, my eyes were on the door the whole time! No one went in or came out!”
“Maybe they winnowed?” One of the girls suggested.
You shook your head. “This place is warded from that. Set up by our High Lord himself. There’s no way someone could break through those.”
“Perhaps we have a phantom on our hands,” one of the other girls laughed. “A romantic with a crush on y/n.”
All the girls fell into a fit of giggles as your cheeks turned bright red. You scowled at them, feeling a little embarrassed. 
Maybe someone was pulling a prank on you? But who would do that? You didn’t think any of the girls would be that cruel but…
Your mind was not going to rest until you found out who was putting these roses here. 
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱
The next day you were rushing through the very busy streets of Velaris, trying to get to the ballet studio. You had slept in on accident and you were going to be late for rehearsal, something that might lead to your understudy taking over your role. Ballet teachers were strict like that, would see being late as a lack of self discipline and an uncaring attitude.
You sprinted around a corner only to smack right into the chest of someone. You let out a gasp, your ballet bag falling to the floor along with your folder full of sheet music for the pianist. 
“Watch where you’re going!” The Fae you had run into hissed, stepping over the strewn papers on the floor.
You were definitely going to be late now. You bit your lip, trying to fight back tears as you bent down and started to collect everything. You were so in your head that you didn’t notice the person kneeling in front of you until they were holding out a stack of the music sheets for you. 
“Thank you so much!” You said quickly, grabbing the papers and looking up to see who had stopped to help you.
Your eyes widened at the sight of the most beautiful male you had ever laid eyes on. His piercing hazel eyes bore into yours, his dark hair brushing against his forehead as he looked down at you, despite both of you kneeling on the ground. Giant wings sprouted from his back, hiding the sight of the bustling crowd. 
“Are you okay?” 
His voice was dark, just like the shadows that were now curling around his shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized who he was. The shadowsinger. One of the fae in Rhysand’s inner court. 
You cleared your throat when you realized you had been staring at him for a minute too long, your cheeks turning pink.
You shoved the papers back into the folder and grabbed your bag off the ground, standing back up. “Yes, thank you, I’m fine. It was my fault anyways. I was rushing because I’m late for rehearsal and my mother is going to kill me if I lose my role and—”
You shut your mouth as you realized you had started rambling. To his credit, Azriel didn’t seem annoyed. No, he looked more concerned as he stared down at you and Gods, now you were realizing how tall he was. 
“Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m y/n,” you said, hugging your folder against your chest. “You’re Azriel, right, the spymaster?”
He nodded in answer, his shadows dancing on his shoulders. 
“Would you like me to take you wherever it is you need to go? I can get you there faster.”
You were still mesmerized by his elegant beauty; he was so devastating to look at. You hadn’t even heard a word he had just said. Gods, you were absolutely embarrassing yourself. “Huh?”
He seemed amused now, faint color on his cheeks. “I asked if you would like me to take you wherever you need to go. My shadows let me travel faster than most fae.”
“Oh please, if you could! I just need to get to the ballet studio.”
You didn’t have time to deny his request, didn’t think twice of it through the panic of running late. He held out his arm for you and you placed your hand in the crevice of his elbow. His shadows surrounded you both until you were in complete darkness. 
It was a different feeling than winnowing, something you still had yet to learn how to do. But the feeling of traveling through Azriel’s shadows was slightly calming. 
Not a second later, the two of you appeared in front of the ballet studio, saving you the ten minute walk. You let out a breath of relief knowing that you weren’t going to be late anymore.
“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” you chimed, untangling your arm from his. 
He gave you a small dip of the head when suddenly a familiar scent washed over you. It took you a second to place it but…No, it couldn’t be, right? It wasn’t the same smell as the one that lingered on the roses?
But that cedar and night-chilled mist smell was unmistakable.
Azriel was disappearing in a swarm of shadows when you waved a hand at him, shouting at him to wait so you could ask him about the roses but he vanished from view, leaving you standing on the side of the street alone with a million questions running through your head.
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱
Another week went by and still every night after the show, a rose was waiting for you at your vanity. The same scent of cedar and night-chilled mist still faintly clinging to them. You hadn’t seen Azriel again since that day and part of you was certain you had mistakenly thought he smelled like the mysterious stranger leaving you roses. 
You were stretching your feet out, getting ready to do your warm-up before the show when the Head Teacher walked in, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Listen up, girls!” she shouted so everyone could hear her. “I have an important announcement to make. The High Lady loved our show so much she’s inviting the entirety of the Royal Ballet to a dinner at The House of Wind to celebrate our hard work. This is an honor and I expect you all to treat it as such. Next rehearsal, you all need to bring a dress that you plan to wear to the dinner so they can be approved by me. Now, back to work, girls!” 
As soon as she left the room, the chattering began. Everyone was excited about the news, mostly to have an excuse to dress up but your thoughts were stuck on the shadowsinger, at the chance to see him again and as weird as it sounded, see if his scent matched the stranger who was leaving you roses. 
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱
You stared at yourself in the mirror, twirling around. Your mother had picked your dress like the controlling person she was, but for once, you actually liked her choice. It was a light pink gown, with a long A line tulle skirt and a corseted bodice with off the shoulder straps. The fabric was covered with stars that shined like diamonds and some pearl detailing. 
“Come, y/n,” your mother called out from the living room of the apartment you both lived in. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.” 
You met the rest of the girls at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the House of Wind. The High Lord and Lady had assured you guys that transportation up to the House would be provided. The girls were all giggling with anticipation, gossiping together about what to expect. 
Four winged figures swept down in front of your group. The High Lord was one of them, dressed finely in all black with his huge wings held high behind him. The High Lady was next to him, dressed in dark blue harem pants with a matching crop top, both decorated with sparkling jewels. The General, Cassian, stood behind them wearing his Illyrian leathers, arms crossed with a friendly smile on his face.
And lastly, the Spymaster. He stood next to his fellow Illyrian, also in his leathers, and looked just as devastatingly beautiful as that day he had taken you to the ballet studio. His wings were giant, even more so than the other three, making him look like a dark angel. Your cheeks turned pink as his gaze met yours and you bit your lip, looking away. 
“Ladies,” the High Lord purred in greeting. “We are pleased that you accepted our invitation. The House of Wind is warded against winnowing, so we are here to fly you up. It is a short flight, but if any of you are uncomfortable with the idea, we will try to accommodate you.” 
You watched as the girls exchanged looks with each other, giggling and turning a bit red at the idea. You found your eyes going back to the shadowsinger, jolting as you realized he was still staring at you. Something jumped in your chest, causing your pulse to spike. 
“Now, who wants to be the first to go?” The High Lord stepped forward and held out his hand. 
Lena winked at you and was the first to volunteer. The High Lady also held out her hand with a smile. “I can also fly some of you up. I promise I’m just as strong as the boys.” 
Slowly, one by one, the girls from your company paired with the four winged faes, letting them fly them up to the House. It was a quick process; Rhysand hadn’t lied when he said it was a short flight. You hung around in the back of the group, feeling a bit nervous as you watched them disappear into the sky each time. 
You had never been that high up in the air before, a bit of anxiety curling in your stomach. 
“Lady,” the General was in front of you now and you realized you were one of the only girls left to go. “Are you ready to be flown up?”
He held out a hand to you but you bit your lip, looking up at the House of Wind again. “I-I’m just a bit nervous.” 
“It’ll be over quick, I promise,” he grinned, trying to settle your nerves. 
You hesitated again and suddenly the Spymaster was there, gently nudging his brother to the side. Cassian glanced at him in question. 
“I’ll take her, Cass,” Azriel said, looking at you. Something about his hazel eyes had your shoulders falling. “I can use my shadows so she doesn’t have to fly.” 
That seemed like enough of an explanation for Cassian because he stepped aside and moved on to the next girl who was still waiting. 
“Your shadows can get past the wards?” you asked, curiously. You glanced at the shadows that seemed to be dancing around his shoulders. 
“Yes, they can,” he answered simply. Azriel held out his arm to you, just as he had that day. You took it gently and waited for the shadows to cover you.
If his shadows could get past the wards of one of the High Lord’s residences, then they could absolutely get past the ones around the theater’s dressing rooms. Which could mean he really was the stranger leaving you roses. 
“I just want you to know I didn’t want to fly not because your wings scare me but because of the height,” you said, feeling the need to make that clear. Azriel glanced down at you with an unreadable expression and you suddenly felt even more nervous. “In fact, I think your wings are quite beautiful and I would never—”
You closed your mouth sharply, realizing that you were both rambling again and also that you guys were now in the dining room, where everyone else was taking a seat. You blushed and stepped away from him. “Thank you.”
He dipped his head and gestured towards the dining table without a word. You gave him a nervous smile as you scurried past him and to the seat next to where your mother was sitting, already saving you a chair. As you passed by him, you were met with that scent again. The cedar and night-chilled mist. 
This time it was so unmistakable that you whirled around to look at him. But he had disappeared already, likely helping the remaining girls down below. You let out a sigh and continued on your way to your seat. 
When everyone was accounted for, Azriel slid into the seat across from you and you had to keep your eyes glued to your plate to stop yourself from blatantly staring at him. Should you find a moment to ask him about the roses? Should you let him come to you? Or maybe he had been leaving the roses for you as a favor for a friend? That theory almost made more sense because the idea of the shadowsinger leaving you roses seemed so far-fetched. 
All throughout dinner you managed to sneak glances at Azriel as you ate. You joined in the conversations around you but noticed that the shadowsinger didn’t talk that much, seeming much more content in just observing. 
Once everyone seemed done with dinner, the High Lord snapped his fingers and it was all replaced by a huge spread of different desserts. Cakes, pastries, custards, tarts. Everything you could imagine. You didn’t get to indulge in sweets much, your mother was strict about your diet to keep you in shape as a dancer, so your eyes lit up at the sight. 
You started to reach for the closest thing to you, a tiny fruit tart, but your mother slapped your hand with a hiss under her breath, “You’ve had enough to eat tonight. You know the rule about sweets.”
Your brows furrowed, upset. You placed your hands on your lap under the table, nodding. “Sorry, mother.” 
She pressed her lips together and placed her napkin on her own empty plate. Your eyes lingered on what looked like a peach pie, longingly. You felt a ping of envy as you watched all the other girls trying everything. 
“You should try the pie.” Azriel’s voice had your head whipping up and his eyes connected with yours. “It’s the High Lady’s favorite.”
You glanced at your mother, opening your mouth to politely decline but she cut you off. 
“Well, go on,” she said, nodding towards the pie. “Don’t insult them by not eating any.” 
You ground your teeth together, turning a bit pink. As if she hadn’t been the one to literally stop you from having any just a second ago. You looked back at Azriel, noting the way a muscle in his jaw clenched, and nodded your head. 
“I will, thank you,” you said, eagerly taking a slice of the pie. 
It was delectable and you nearly moaned as you ate it. A small smile lit up your face as you tried it. 
“The High Lady has good taste,” you said to Azriel, who was still staring at you. “The pie is delicious.” 
He gave you the smallest of smiles and it warmed something in your chest. 
Once everyone was finished eating, the High Lord cleared the table and moved everyone towards the large sitting room. There were some servants walking around with champagne and wine, which kept the party going steady. It was exciting to be able to socialize like this and you were having a good time, especially now that you didn’t have to be glued to your mother’s side. 
Your eyes roamed the room, trying to find the shadowsinger. The glass of champagne you had made you feel a bit more brave. You wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him about the roses. It took you a minute of walking around to finally catch sight of him. He was resting against the railing outside on one of the many balconies. You glanced around, making sure no one was watching you, before you stepped outside.
He didn’t turn to look at you, not even as the door shut behind you, cutting off the noise that came from inside. It was like he already knew who had stepped out. You fiddled with your fingers, staring at his back. Some of the liquid courage was chased away by the cold breeze, but you refused to back down now that you were out here. 
“You are the one who has been leaving me roses every night,” you said, quietly, walking towards him. 
“I am,” he answered as you slid up next to him, grabbing the railing to keep your hands from shaking. 
You were surprised at how quickly he admitted it. You were silent for a moment, staring at his profile. Under the moonlight, he was truly a vision to be seen. Your breath caught in your throat when he finally looked at you. 
“I apologize if it has made you uncomfortable,” he said, his shadows seemed to hide behind his wings as if they were scared of what your response might be. 
“It hasn’t,” you replied, gently. You gave him a soft smile. “They are quite beautiful. But I must ask why.” 
His shadows eased, cascading down his shoulders. His lips twitched, amused by your question. 
“I cannot lie to you,” Azriel said, his voice low and dark like his shadows. It sent a shiver down your spine. “I find you very beautiful, y/n. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I watched your show.”
Your eyes widened, your cheeks turning bright red. You hadn’t been expecting him to be so forthcoming. You hadn’t had much experience with males, so you fumbled with what to say back.
“Oh,” you squeaked out. 
That only seemed to amuse him even more. 
“Has no one told you that before?”
“Perhaps not quite so… candidly.” 
His lips twitched and you felt that spark in your chest again. He shook his head a bit, tousling his hair as he turned his body fully towards you, still leaning on the railing. 
“Well, now that my identity has been exposed,” Azriel said. “May I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?” 
“Y-yes,” you managed to stutter out, butterflies exploding in your stomach. Never in your dreams would you have imagined being courted by the Night Court’s spymaster. 
He smiled this time and the sight of it almost knocked you off your feet. 
“Good,” he said, then his hand flicked into his shadows and he pulled out a single, red rose. “For you. Since I wasn’t able to leave one tonight.”
Your heart was thumping in your chest as you reached out and took the flower from his hands. He dipped his head at you before disappearing into his shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony, twirling the rose in your hand with red cheeks and a warm feeling in your heart. 
꒰ა❤︎໒꒱
A month had passed since that night on the balcony. Azriel had continued leaving you roses after each show, something the girls all cooed over. You had also found out that he had charmed them to make sure they never died. So now you had a beautiful bouquet of never-ending roses in a vase on your vanity in the dressing room and even one in your room at home. 
Your first date went very well. You were surprised by how much the two of you had in common. And soon he had taken you on a second, a third, a fourth…and so on. 
You found yourself falling for him….hard. He was different around you than he was with most others. More talkative, more charming and funny. His wit never failed to impress you. 
Your mother wasn’t very pleased at first, especially since you hadn’t consulted her before agreeing to that first date. But once she found out it was Azriel who had asked you, she seemed pleased considering he was a high-ranking member of your court. You hated how superficial your mother was, but was happy she didn’t try to prevent you from seeing him. 
You hadn’t told him just how inexperienced you were, but he was a polite and kind male. He hadn’t even tried to kiss you yet. It was like he knew your hesitations and the need to take things slow with you despite you ever telling him that. But then again, he seemed to know everything you felt, at all times. Sometimes you even wondered if he was a daemati like the High Lord, but he had only laughed when you accused him of it. 
Today, Azriel had taken you out for some coffee and a small lunch after your morning rehearsal. Now the two of you were pushing through the bustling crowds on the streets, taking in the sights of the city. Your eyes lingered on a flower shop you passed by often, at the lovely moonflowers they had on display outside. 
Azriel noticed what had drawn your attention and pulled you over to the shop. You took a sniff of the moonflowers, basking in their sweet scent. “So beautiful.” 
“Would you like one?” Azriel asked in that voice of his that still sent shivers down your spine. 
You smiled up at him, nodding your head. 
“Azriel?”
You pulled your eyes away from him to look at the person who had just called out his name. The High Lady’s sister stood on the small steps leading up into the shop, a large pot in her arms and a bag full of seeds. 
Her doe eyes flickered between you and Azriel, until they dropped to something below. You followed her gaze to look at your conjoined hands. You quickly let go, face turning a bit pink. You had no idea why you suddenly felt as though you had been caught doing something wrong. 
“Hello Elain,” Azriel said, his voice polite but flat. 
She studied him and then turned that gaze on you, her eyes narrowing a bit. You looked between her and Azriel, not really sure what was going on.
“Oh, you’re that ballerina,” she said. “I remember you, from the show.”
“This is y/n. She is my…” He paused and you shifted from foot to foot. “She is my…friend.”
Friend.
His Friend.
Something about that sentence made your heart crack into two. A weird, unpleasant feeling curled in your stomach and your smile dropped.
Friends.
Elain seemed to ignore your presence, her gaze still stuck on Azriel. “I haven’t seen you in three weeks. Where have you been?”
Azriel went to answer but you tuned the conversation out, your thoughts whirling in your mind. Friends. He said you were his friend. 
Were…were you not something more? 
Had you completely misjudged his intentions? 
Or maybe he was tired of waiting for you to be ready for more? 
Maybe he was like all the males your mother warned you about. Only interested in females if they knew they could get sex out of it. 
Your heart dropped into your stomach, your breath catching in your throat. Suddenly, being here with him seemed so suffocating. Especially as he stood talking to some other girl that clearly knew him…clearly had feelings for him. 
You felt like you were going to vomit. You needed to leave. Needed to catch your breath. 
“Sorry to interrupt,” you managed to get out, causing the two of them to look at you. “I’m just going to go look in the shop while you guys catch up.” 
You darted away before either of them could say anything, only letting out a breath when the door closed behind you.  You rushed through the aisles, past the shopkeeper who was busy with another customer, until you spotted the door along the back wall. You slipped through it, into the small alleyway behind the shop. 
You felt bad for ditching Azriel but he had just crushed your heart, even if he didn’t know he had it. You wiped at a tear that spilled from your eye, almost laughing at how awful you felt. You had only known him for a short period of time. Maybe it was never his intention to make you fall for him, but you did and what had been a beautiful, all-consuming joy in your chest was now suddenly an ache that made it hard to even breath. 
You walked down the alleyway until you were back in the streets, sweeping through the crowd as quickly as you could to make it back to your apartment. You just wanted to get home. Just get home and then you could wallow in your own self-pity. Could cry as much as you wanted. 
The crowd thinned out the closer you got to the residential area until the street was empty. 
You let out a sigh, wiping yet another tear, just as your apartment building came into view. You hoisted your dance bag further up your shoulder and began the last few feet home. But a flapping of wings above you made you still, your heart lurching in your chest. 
Azriel landed in front of you with a small thud, his brows furrowed with confusion and his eyes unreadable. In his hand, he held a small bunching of moonflowers. 
“Y/n? Why did you leave like that?” he asked. 
You bit your lip, looking away from his face.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing your chin and turning your face back to him. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?” 
You wiped at your tears, frustrated that you couldn’t keep it together long enough to make him leave. You shook your head, staring at the ground. “No, nothing happened. I-I just don’t…feel good.” 
Azriel studied you, his thumb swiping your cheek. You hated how much the small gesture soothed you. 
“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “I know something upset you. I can feel it. What happened? Please, tell me.” 
“It’s n-nothing,” you stuttered. 
“Please,” he repeated, his arms falling limp at his sides. “It pains me to see you cry. What happened? You can tell me.”
You looked away from him again, rubbing your arm in discomfort. “It’s stupid. Seriously, Azriel, I’m fine. Just…just leave. Please.” 
He stood up fully, his wings stretching out behind him. He crossed his arms, his expression stern. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what’s wrong. Did I…Did I do something?” 
Another tear slipped down your cheek and you took a deep breath. “You called me your friend.”
Azriel blinked a few times. “What?”
“To that girl you were talking to. The one you clearly have some sort of history with,” you said, begrudgingly. “You told her I was your friend and I thought…well, maybe I’m an idiot. But I thought we were more than that.” 
Realization dawned over Azriel’s face and then to your surprise, the tension in his body dropped and he let out a small laugh. Your eyes narrowed at him. Was he truly going to laugh in your face after your admittance of feelings for him?
“I don’t understand what’s so funny. You’ve been taking me out on dates, leaving me roses. What else was I supposed to think—”
“No, it’s not funny,” Azriel cut you off, but he was still smiling which only pissed you off. “I mean, it is. Just not in the way you’re thinking.” 
More tears slipped down your cheeks and Azriel lurched forward, placing a hand on the side of your face. “Don’t cry, please. Let me explain. You're right, y/n, you are not my friend. You are so much more than that. You have been since the day I laid eyes on you. You consume my every single thought, y/n, truly. I am relieved to hear that you share my feelings. You have no idea how much I’ve prayed to the Mother that you would feel for me, what I feel for you.”
You took a moment to fully soak in his words, the pressure in your chest easing a bit. 
“Then why did you call me your friend? Who was that girl to you?”
“She’s no one, I promise you that,” he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “And I called you my friend because I almost slipped up and called you my—”
He stopped suddenly and you looked up at him in questions. “Called me your what?” 
It was his turn to let out a long breath, his cheeks coloring. “My mate. My mate, y/n. You are my mate.”
Your eyes went wide, your heart frantically beating in your chest. Mate? You were his mate?
Something snapped in you then. Something that had been with you since the moment you could remember, unraveled in your chest. Your mouth dropped open as a gold thread shot out between the two of you, linking you together. You looked back up at him, at those beautiful hazel eyes that were full of joy, love and apprehension. Such vulnerability that you weren’t used to when it came to the shadowsinger. 
“Mate,” you whispered. “You’re my…mate.”
He nodded, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, waiting for your reaction. That warm feeling in your chest spread throughout your whole body and you couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your face. 
Mate. 
Azriel was your mate!
You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a crushing hug. Azriel let out a breath of relief, his arms grabbing you around the waist and pulling you even closer. It felt so right being in his arms. Your heart sang at your connection, at the feeling he sent down the bond. 
Everything made sense now. The way he was able to always know how you were feeling, the accelerated feelings between the two of you, how right it felt to be with him—like he had been made for you and you for him. 
He pulled back, holding you at arm's length so he could stare down at you. 
“I have wanted you from the minute I saw you, even before the bond snapped into place,” Azriel said. “I have been searching for you my whole life, y/n. I never thought I would be blessed with a mate, and especially not you. You are so beautiful and so much more than I was expecting. There will be no one else, even if you decide you don’t want this bond. All I see is you, all I want is you. I’m sorry I made you doubt that, even for a second.” 
“I want it! Of course I want it, Azriel!” You were smiling so hard, your cheeks were beginning to ache. “I…I am already falling in love with you and it has only been a month. I can’t even imagine what a lifetime might bring us.”
Azriel was smiling now too, a rare sight that had the bond in your chest glowing. He rested his forehead against yours, shutting his eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I will thank the Mother every single day I get to call you mine.”
You placed a hand on his chest, smiling up at him as he opened his eyes again to stare at you. Butterflies swarmed your stomach, your heart was pounding drums in your chest. 
You needed him so much closer now. You needed to hold him, to kiss him, to hear him call you his. You were ready for that next step, ready to jump right into it. 
“Kiss me,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering to his lips. “Please.”
Azriel let out a small growl. “Do you mean it?”
You nodded, shyly, staring up at him from under your lashes. 
Azriel didn’t waste one more second, he leaned in and captured your lips with his. His lips were softer than you imagined, warm and tantalizing. The world seemed to fade away as you shared your first kiss with him, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind buzzing with need. 
His kiss was soft and tender, making you feel at ease with him. His arm wrapped around your waist and he yanked you even closer, deepening the kiss. Time slowed down. The bond between the two of you glowed. 
Finally, Azriel pulled back, locking eyes with you. He held up the moonflowers he was still holding, letting you take them as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“Flowers for the pretty lady,” he teased, causing you to giggle. 
He was still holding you around the waist, his other hand now slipping up into your hair. His hard body was pressed against yours, the flowers nearly crushed. He kissed you again and you felt it then, the promise he was making. 
You were his mate. 
And he would make sure you were his to have and to hold for the rest of eternity.
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shadowdaddies · 2 months
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Pas de Deux
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Azriel x Reader
Summary: As the principal ballerina at Starlight Ballet Theatre, you never expected to enter into a romantic relationship with the Spymaster of the Night Court, or how it would change your life.
Word Count: 2.6k
Based on this ask. 🩶
Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood
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You hissed at the pain of peeling off your pointe shoes, feet bloodied and aching from tonight’s performance. The holiday season leading up to Solstice was always a popular time for the people of Velaris to visit the ballet. As principal dancer of the Starlight Ballet Theatre, you’d been dancing two shows a day during this season, your aching muscles protesting your every step as you bid everyone a good night.
Shoving through the back door, you stumbled into the snowy street. The icy cold against your sore feet sent a jolt of pain through your body, and you stumbled, slipping along the icy cobblestone street. Your feet flew in the air, your back headed for the pavement when strong, warm arms caught you.
You huffed a nervous breath, trying to register what had just happened when you looked up to see the most beautiful male you had ever seen. Hazel eyes focused on you in concern, onyx waves of hair falling in the winged male’s face as he held you.
You blushed under his intense gaze, interrupting the trance the both of you seemed to be in in that moment. Clearing his throat, the male returned your blush as he set you back on your feet.
“Thank you, for that,” you laughed nervously, glancing up through your lashes at the intimidating male before you, his kind eyes at contrast with his guarded demeanor, the dark shadows that seemed to follow him. With a startling realization, you recognized him as the Spymaster of the Night Court.
He cracked a small smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “My name is Azriel. You were wonderful tonight,” he admitted, the blush deepening on his cheeks as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
“You watched the show?” you asked, surprised that the famed shadowsinger would visit the ballet.
A small laugh left his lips, a sound more beautiful than any music you had danced to in your life. “I did. I quite enjoy the symphony and the ballet as well.” 
Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words, the thought of commanding Azriel’s attention like this. The thought was apparently too distracting, a gasp escaping you as your feet slipped on the ice once more. Azriel’s arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, holding you up as you regained your footing. Only this time, he didn’t let go. 
You allowed Azriel to walk you home, falling into easy conversation as you found his company to be that of a soft breeze, calm and refreshing. 
Months passed as you got to know Azriel better, growing more attached and drawn to his presence every day. You enjoyed the excitement and stories he brought from his role as Spymaster, and he enjoyed your calm, relaxed personality, which always brought him peace after a trying day. You looked forward to seeing his face in the crowd at your shows, those hazel eyes keeping you grounded and secure.
Today was the weekend matinee for the Spring show, and you inhaled a shaky breath - your nerves growing as the time until curtain call shrank. Peering around the curtain, you looked to Azriel’s regular seat towards the front in search of his comforting presence, but your eyes locked with a different pair that made your heartbeat stutter.
The violet eyes of High Lord of the Night Court met yours, Rhysand lounged comfortably in his seat next to a tense looking Azriel. Your High Lord gave you a small, encouraging nod that soothed your nerves slightly. With a curtsy, you hid back behind the curtains, wondering what this could mean. 
Azriel was yet to introduce you to his family, and now was one Hel of a time to do so. The orchestra struck up their tune, drawing you from your spiraling thoughts as they signaled the beginning of the show. 
As the show came to a close, you mentally thanked the Mother that you miraculously made it through the performance without a mistake. What was Azriel thinking, bringing Rhysand here without a warning?
Gritting your teeth as you bandaged your hurting feet, you shrugged on pants and scowled as you stormed out the side door with a huff. Two faces greeted you, once with an amused smile and glittering violet eyes, the other grinding his jaw as Azriel glanced between you and Rhysand, anger and shame written on his face.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Rhysand purred, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he watched you with a feline grin. “Azriel said that we are going for dinner now?”
A low growl sounded in Azriel’s throat, the spymaster practically shaking in anger, fists clenched at his sides. “I said that we,” he paused, gesturing between you and himself, “were going to dinner, Rhys.”
Rhys seemed completely unbothered by Azriel’s ire, shrugging as he picked a piece of lint from his jacket. “Well, Azriel, as you know, I have important matters to discuss with your lovely lady here.”
Your eyes widened in shock, swallowing as you turned to Azriel. He simply sighed in defeat, sending you an apologetic look. “I am sorry that I didn’t have the opportunity to tell you earlier. Rhys has something to ask of you. But you can say no.” Azriel ground out the last words with a near-threatening tone, looking at Rhys as he spoke them.
Again, Rhys maintained his casual composure as he led you into a small restaurant. The space might have felt cozy, with its small interior and green and gold decoration, but as you looked around to find yourselves the only ones inside, worry twisted in your stomach.
Rhys looked over your shoulder, flashing an impossibly charming smile at the female behind you. “Hello, Sevenda. Thank you again for allowing us to dine here this evening.” 
The woman blushed slightly, nodding as she sang her praises to the High Lord, how grateful she was for the honor to serve him. Plates of food were brought out for all of you, the inviting smell at odds with the unease in your stomach.
Azriel’s hand reached for yours under the table, giving a reassuring squeeze before his focus turned to Rhysand. “Alright Rhys, get on with it. Tell her what you want from her, and we’ll be on our way.”
Rhys breathed out a low chuckle, his posture as casual as ever while he scooped generous helpings of food onto his plate, and yours. He leaned back in his seat, swirling a goblet of wine in his hand, studying you for a brief moment.
“The Night Court would like your assistance with an upcoming meeting of the High Lords,” he drawled, carefully watching your reaction. You were frozen in your chair, mind reeling with the possibilities of what place you would have in a High Lords’ meeting.
Rhys continued, setting down his drink as his tone shifted to one more serious. “I will leave it to Azriel’s discretion to fill you in on any details that I decide to leave out of my proposition, but I would like to use your extraordinary talent. You are, arguably, the most talented dancer in Prythian, and I need someone to provide a... distraction, at a gathering soon in the Day Court.”
You nodded, willing your heart to calm as you tried to focus on Rhysand’s words. “A distraction?” you repeated.
The High Lord nodded, taking a sip of his wine. He set it down, swirling his finger along the edge of the glass as he continued. “If you would agree to be the evening’s entertainment for a night, I believe that your talent would captivate our guests while we attend to... other responsibilities.” 
That didn’t sound terrible. It would be considered an honor by many to be able to perform for all the High Lords and Ladies, but the unusual request still made you uncertain. 
You swirled your own wine glass by the stem, making a show of contemplating his proposal. “And why me? Surely, there are many other possible entertainers, or forms of distraction,” you mused.
Rhys gave you a conspiratorial smirk, eyes shining with approval at your questioning. Leaning back in his seat, the male crossed his arms as he nodded to the Spymaster next to you. “Simple. Azriel trusts you. I have seen your skill, how captivating you can be, and that appeals to the person we need to distract. You are the best option for us to accomplish our goal without rousing suspicion. And you are one of very few whom my spymaster trusts.”
Azriel’s shadows swirled protectively around you, the tension visible in his shoulders as the male merely nodded. Turning to you, Azriel held your hand tightly in his. “Please do not feel pressured at all. You do not need to do anything that you do not want to.”
Azriel’s words and the tenderness with which he spoke them were all you needed to hear. Turning to Rhys, you gave a firm nod. “I’m in.”
Two days later, you found yourself in a private room at the Day Court Palace, slipping on your shoes as Azriel paced anxiously by the door. 
“Beron will be seated front and center during your performance. The Autumn Court has an affinity for dance, so he should be especially interested in you.” Azriel practically growled those last words, his temper rising at the mere mention of the High Lord of Autumn. 
Hazel eyes turned towards you, long legs striding towards where you sat on the floor. Azriel crouched down, a scarred hand brushing the side of your cheek, his soft touch at odds with the visible tension he carried. “You just need to distract Beron long enough for Eris to leave the room unnoticed so that he can meet Cassian for the exchange.”
You nodded, giving Azriel an encouraging smile as he helped you to your feet. “I will never let anyone harm you,” he swore, his voice sharp enough that he might as well have carved the promise in stone. 
You leaned up, kissing him softly as you swore, “I’ll be fine.” A knock sounded on the door, interrupting the moment as Rhysand and Feyre passed through the threshold. 
“Are you ready?” Rhys asked, the pure authority in his tone as he addressed you so different from how he’d been the night you met. Smoothing your skirts, you gestured for him to lead the way.
The setup was simple, but the semicircle of chairs in which the High Lords and Ladies were seated so close to you had your heart pumping. Taking your spot on the dance floor in front of them, you gave Beron a shy, alluring smile as you curtsied.
The orchestra began to play, and your body moved effortlessly to the music. Soft wisps of air twirled with you, giving you comfort that Azriel was close by and watching. Your flowing layers of skirts twirled through the air, flaring out like blooming flower petals as you glowed underneath the faelights. 
The entire room was enraptured by your grace, the siren call of your dance. The musical crescendo built, and with it so did your movements, tears building in the eyes of many in the room as you embodied the emotions of the music through movement. 
You had not even noticed Eris’s departure, a realization that brought a slight smile to your face as the plan seemed to be working. Then the violinist struck a wrong chord, the musicians suddenly in disarray as the melody was lost to the wind. 
You continued to push through, dancing in the silence, but as the audience turned to see what was amiss in the orchestra, the air quickly grew thick with tension. Before you could blink, fire encased your ankles, your wrists, your neck, restraining you in place on the floor.
Beron appeared in front of you, a curious look on his face, as the fire grew hotter around your neck. “Would you happen to know where my son is, Little Diversion?” 
Tears stung your eyes at the burn only for a moment before a blast of blue light knocked Beron halfway across the room. 
“Do not touch my mate,” Azriel growled, siphons glowing as he stalked towards the High Lord. You hardly had time to register Az’s words before an Autumn Court guard stepped out from the side, drawing his sword as it cut through the air towards Azriel.
Finding the slit in your skirt, you drew a throwing knife, piercing directly through the center of the male’s wrist. He dropped his sword with a hiss, the male crumbling to the ground as Azriel turned. The Illyrian’s mouth was ajar as he watched you remove another knife from your thigh holster, flicking it into the throat of another approaching guard. 
Hysteria broke out, High Lords and Ladies fighting alongside their allies, Prythian’s political leaders at each others’ throats in front of your eyes. You picked up the sword from the male you’d cut down, standing back to back with Azriel as you battled off the remaining attackers.
As you tried to catch your breath, strong hands spun you around, Azriel’s eyes intense as they searched your blood-stained outfit for any signs of damage. You let the sword drop to the ground - blood splattering as it clinked against the cold floor - and wrapped your arms around Azriel as you pulled him in for a kiss. 
He held you there, arms wound tightly around you as Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “When did you learn to fight like that?” he breathed.
Laughing softly against his lips, you gave him an incredulous look. “You think I could spend my life with a Spymaster without learning how to defend myself?”
Azriel gasped at your words, drawing back as his brow narrowed in confusion. “You knew we were mates?”
You shook your head, the peacefulness you felt at odds with the chaos surrounding you. “I didn’t have to know that we were mates, to know that I am yours. Always.”
Azriel’s eyes lined with tears, your mate pulling you in for another heated kiss when the sound of a throat clearing beside you interrupted the moment. 
Rhysand stood there with Helion, the two High Lords of Day and Night exuding an intimidating amount of power before you. 
“Beron did initiate an attack during an agreed time of peace by his interruption during this meeting, so he will be dealt with accordingly,” Helion announced, granting Azriel a small, reassuring nod. 
“Cassian confirmed the missive exchange went smoothly,” Rhys paused, looking around the wreckage of the room. “Well, it went smoothly on their end.” Violet eyes flicked to you, approval and kindness clear within them. Rhys took Feyre’s hand, his other coming to lightly clap your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “good night, sister.”
You blushed, bidding Rhys and Feyre good night before turning back to Helion and Azriel. Helion took your hand in his, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles, his eyes sparkling. “Azriel knows where my room is, if the two of you find yourselves in need... of anything,” he purred with a wink before striding through the doors.
Azriel groaned, pulling you into his chest. Laying your head there, you allowed yourself to savor his warmth for a moment before taking his hand in yours. With a sly smile, you guided Az out the door. Gesturing to your soiled attire, you winked at Azriel. “I think I could use a bath, if you care to join me, mate.”
In a blink, Azriel had scooped you up bridal style, peppering kisses to your face while he raced to the bath. You laughed, clinging tightly to him as you looked forward to your life with the Spymaster.
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c-e-d-dreamer · 8 months
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Baby, Now We Got Bad Blood
A/N: So, we're told in ACOMAF and ACOWAR that mating instincts ride the males hard and that you should never come between a male and his mate, but one of my biggest gripes with ACOSF is that we never really see that from Cassian. Like come on, SJM! I want to see the Lord of Bloodshed go into Mate Mode(tm)! And so, I decided to write this. I recognize it may not be everyone's cup of tea, so remember that the back button is free, but for everyone else, enjoy! :)
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The tug between Cassian’s ribs is so sudden, so harsh, that he almost drops to his knees right then and there. That golden thread securely tucked there squeezes tight enough that it steals the breath straight from his lungs, twisting and writhing in his chest until he can do nothing except press a palm against his side in hopes of alleviating the pain, until he's sure that he must be bruised. He’s half aware of Devlon watching him curiously, of the other camp lords still sitting around the table, but all Cassian can focus on is the way his blood has run cold, on the ringing that’s taken up home in his ears all from that one tug.
Tentatively, he reaches for the golden thread within himself, sending his confusion and concern down the bond. He skates a finger along it, keeping his touch featherlight, before he plucks, a small, urging question. And then, with bated breath, he waits. Waits for the tug in response. Waits for the soothing feeling that’s not his own to rush through him and calm his worry.
But it never comes.
In fact, there’s almost nothing on the other end of the bond. Just silence. Just an empty, yawning void that has the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck standing up, that has the pounding in his ears turning into a deafening roar. Genuine fear sparks through his veins, ice cold where it digs its claws into his mind and sends his heart stuttering. He reaches for that golden thread again, tugging more urgently this time, but still nothing.
Something’s wrong.
Cassian knows that Rhys had sent Nesta and Mor to the human lands on some sort of reconnaissance mission. Azriel’s network had gotten some concerning information through the vine, so the High Lord sent Nesta and Mor to blend in with the women of some village and see if they could get more details. It was supposed to be an easy in, easy out mission. He’d even arranged this war meeting in Illyria for when she was gone so he’d be back in time to welcome her home, even had tickets ready for them for the Velaris ballet.
But now, all he has is a silent bond, that single moment of fear twined in that hard tug that festers and burns with his own.
Without a backward glance, Cassian storms out of the room, ignoring Devlon calling after him. As soon as he steps outside into the biting snow of Illyria, Cassian unfurls his wings wide behind his back and takes to the skies. He keeps a hard and fast pace as he tears through the clouds, pushing himself and pushing himself and pushing himself. His back and wings ache with the exertion, but it’s nothing compared to the ache that throbs in his chest like an open wound. Nothing compared to the bloodied and bruised shreds of his heart at the thought of something happening to Nesta.
His mind keeps playing an endless loop of possibilities, each one worse than the last. He tries to imagine a scenario where it’s all a big misunderstanding, where he arrives back in Velaris and Nesta is there with that softness that takes over her stormy blue eyes when she sees him, with that sweet smile meant only for him, and they’ll laugh about this whole thing. But there’s no denying that niggling doubt, those whispers in the back of his mind. They fuel his fear, taunt him, and soon all Cassian can see each time he blinks is the sight of Nesta’s eyes open but unseeing, the color completely leached from her face, seared on the back of his eyelids.
It drives Cassian to push himself even harder, to fly even faster. Each beat of his wings, each thunderous hammer of his heart, it all pounds in time with that twisting thread between his ribs, in time with that call that blazes through his soul.
Nesta Nesta Nesta
He lands hard enough that his knees groan and ache, but he doesn’t care. He presses his hand against the wards, an incessant flash of red sparking in front of him, and steps inside the River House. Rhys steps into the view at the top of the stairs almost as soon as he’s through the front door, as though he was expecting him. The wariness pinching the corner of his brother’s eyes, the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, it confirms all of Cassian’s worst fears. Bile claws up the back of his throat, tangling with the lump already lodged firmly there.
“Where’s Nesta?” Cassian forces out.
“Cass…” Rhys starts slowly, holding his hands up placatingly. Cassian doesn’t miss the way his brother shifts his feet, resetting his stance like he’s expecting a fight.
Cassian is about to ask his question again when Madja comes bustling into the River House behind him, rushing up the stairs and past Rhys. The sight of the healer jolts Cassian into action, and he follows hot on her heels down the hall and into one of the bedrooms, but his steps stutter to a stop when he realizes it’s Mor sprawled across the blankets, holding her hand against a wound in her side.
Cassian whirls back around, ready to check every other bedroom until he finds his mate, but he comes face to face with Rhys again. His brother is still wearing that cautious expression, face still pinched and body still tense like Cassian is some sort of wounded animal he needs to treat with care.
“Where is Nesta?” Cassian demands again.
Rhys holds his ground and raises his chin, his eyes glancing over Cassian’s shoulder only briefly before landing back on Cassian’s face. “There was an ambush. I don’t know how the mortals knew we’d be there, knew who Mor and Nesta were, but there were two dozen of them… with ash arrows.”
“That didn’t answer my question. Where is she?”
“When I got there, Mor was already badly injured. She was going to bleed out if I didn’t get her out of there and to a healer.”
Cassian can feel his patience hanging on by a thread, stepping closer to Rhy and growling out, “where is my mate?”
Cassian feels the press of Rhys’s magic against him, the darkness that begins to creep and rumble from the corners of the room, as Cassian stares his brother down, but Rhys is unmoving, undeterred. He continues to meet Cassian’s blazing gaze, his face and voice an even calm that grates against the last shreds of Cassian’s nerve endings, the last of his sanity.
“I had to make a choice, and I made it.”
It takes a moment for the words to really sink in, to understand exactly what Rhys is telling him, and when it does, it’s a bucket of ice water over his head. He stumbles back a step in his shock. His stomach roils and drops all the way to his shoes, his blood crystalizing into ice, as he chokes out, “what?”
Rhys looks away then, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I used too much of my magic winnowing there already, and Nesta was too far away. I couldn’t get to her without risking Mor, without risking both of us, so I did what I had to do and winnowed us out of there.”
Cassian doesn’t think he’s breathing. He’s sure that his heart isn’t beating because it’s lost somewhere in the human lands, lost with Nesta. “You…” Cassian swallows hard, finding his voice again. “You left her there? In the middle of an ambush?”
“I’m sorry, Cass. I really am.”
“No, you’re not.”
And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Cassian has always known that Rhys isn’t exactly Nesta’s biggest fan. From the moment they met the sisters, from that first meeting at the manor in the mortal lands, Rhys has always held a certain animosity for the eldest Archeron. He’s always held onto that cool resentment on Feyre’s behalf for what happened when the sisters were young. And despite what happened with the human queens, despite what Nesta did during the War, despite what she did for Feyre and Nyx, that tension has never quite dissipated, that contempt is still there.
“If you were really sorry, why didn’t you go back for her?” Cassian continues, shaking his head in disbelief. “After you got Mor back to Velaris, why didn’t you go back?”
Rhys sighs as if this whole conversation is exhausting. “I just told you. My magic was depleted by winnowing that far, and they had ash arrows. I couldn’t risk it.”
“But you could risk Nesta, right?”
Cassian can feel his disbelief at this whole situation quickly morphing into anger. He can feel the heat of it just beneath his skin where it blazes through his veins. The beast deep within his soul thrashes against its restraints, hackles raised at the idea of any harm coming to Nesta. That rage burns and roars as it twists in dark, crackling tendrils in his chest. It urges him to fight, to raze the whole world to the ground until the debt is paid, until all of Prythian understands the mistake of risking the Lord of Bloodshed’s mate.
“It’s what she would have wanted,” Rhys continues, still using that too calm voice. “You know that. Nesta understood the mission, the importance.”
“Don’t you dare!” Cassian snaps, stepping forward again until he and Rhys are toe to toe, glowering down at him. “Don’t you dare speak of her when you left her to die.”
“Calm down,” Rhys speaks slowly, violet eyes flickering in warning.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What if it was Feyre? What if I left Feyre in the middle of an ambush surrounded by ash arrows? What if I left your mate for dead?”
“Don’t.”
The low tone of Rhys’s voice lets Cassian know he’s hit his mark. That magic and darkness presses a little bit harder, those violet eyes turning cold, clearly unimpressed with the underlying threat toward his mate. Cassian almost wants to laugh hysterically, seeing his own feelings mirrored back to him. It’s a sickening type of vindication.
“That’s the difference, isn’t it?” Cassian continues to drawl, not backing down, the red of his siphons flickering in time with Rhys’s own magic. “I would risk it for Feyre. I would go back for her because I know how much she means to you, but you don’t care. You’ve never forgiven Nesta, not really, and now, you finally got the chance to wash your hands clean of her.”
“Cassian—”
“Where?” Cassian interrupts, taking a step back finally and adjusting the straps of his leathers and preparing for a long flight. “Give me the coordinates. I’ll go get Nesta myself.”
Cassian side-steps around Rhys and heads for the stairs, but Rhys is hot on his heels. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you fly all the way to the mortal lands and potentially walk head first into an attack.”
“Try and stop me,” Cassian dares, whirling around with a snarl of warning. “Being mated and a father has made you soft, Rhysand. Do you really think you could take me?”
The temperature in the room starts to drop, Cassian’s siphons flaring brighter in response as magic scrapes along his spine. He’s been itching for a fight since the moment he stepped through the doors, instincts gnawing at his every nerve ending and riding him hard until his hands are clenching into fists, his fingers twitching with the urge to drive into Rhys’s face.
But he doesn’t have time for this.
Nesta is gods know where in the mortal lands, in the Mother knows what state, and he needs to get to her. He waited five hundred years for her. Five hundred years to hold her. Five hundred years to love her. And he’ll be damned if he loses her now. Damned if he fails her again. Damned if he doesn’t save her when he wasn’t there to protect her in the first place.
He turns back around and storms down the stairs, striding toward the door without looking back. His blood has already started to thunder again, that same beat of Nesta Nesta Nesta as he stretches his wings to warm them up.
“Cassian, stop,” Rhys calls after him, but Cassian merely rolls his eyes. “I am ordering you as your High Lord.”
Cassian can feel the magic of the order as it slinks across his skin, taste it on the back of his tongue, but he’s quick to shake it off with a scoff, yanking open the front door. “Fuck off.”
“You step out that door, you won’t be welcome back in this Court.”
Cassian turns over his shoulder, settling Rhys with a deathly cold look. “Good luck finding a new General then.”
Rhys looks genuinely taken aback by that, blinking a few times in surprise. “You’d really throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for? Everything you’ve ever wanted?”
“Nesta is everything I’ve ever wanted. And you knew that. And you still—” Cassian can’t choke the word out, can’t fathom a world where Nesta, his Nesta, his beautiful, smart, amazing mate is gone.
A world where Rhys killed her.
With one last shake of his head, Cassian steps out of the River House and onto the streets of Velaris, the door slamming behind him. It feels strange and wrong to step onto these streets knowing Nesta isn’t here. Knowing that her quiet steps won’t fill the bookshop in the Rainbow. Knowing that her soft laughter won’t fill her favorite bakery by the river. That fear from before grips Cassian tight enough that his steps almost stumble, but he stretches his wings out wide behind him nonetheless, siphons flaring in anticipation.
He’s going to get her back. Even if it’s the last thing he does.
Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head
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itsphoenix0724 · 3 months
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Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x reader)~Chapter 2
Warnings: None!
Word Count: 1.3k
MMOTI masterlist
A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! I've been working on this series for a while, and I'm glad people are excited to read it! I've decided to make a tag list for this series because so many people asked for it last time. I've never done one before so I hope I do it right <3
DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!
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You find Azriel on the ice at five pm sharp, his hands tucked in the pockets of a Velaris Univeristy hoodie. His eyes flick over you, almost with disgust, as you approach with a box tucked under your arm. 
“We’re not going on the ice today. Even if we were you can’t wear those.” You gesture to the well-loved hockey skates on his feet, and mark how his eyes narrow. 
“What’s wrong with my skates?” He asks, immediately on the defense, crossing his arms. 
It makes him seem impossibly bigger.  
“Nothing Azriel, if you’re playing a hockey game, but we’re not playing a hockey game.” You shake the box in your hands once before handing it over to him. The pair of shiny black figure skates sit in the box and Azriel takes one skate out running his scarred hand gently over the blade with a musician’s grace. “You should break them in before we actually get on the ice.” 
“They’re heavier than I thought they would be,” Az tucks the skates gently back in the box and moves past you to get off the ice. He sits down on the bench, leaning down to undo his laces. “Where are we practicing then, if we’re not going on the ice?’ He looks up at you from under the dark fringe of his hair, and you’re struck with his beauty for a moment. 
“We’re going to the studio in the back.” You make a gesture with your head as he stands, crowding your space. You have to crane your neck to look up at him, and you can’t even see around the expanse of his shoulders. Leading back him to the studio you walk in tense silence. Your coach, a beloved old lady named Alis, waiting infront of the mirror examines Azriel like a piece of meat. 
“So, this is who you’re finishing the season with?” She looks him up and down with mild interest as you dip your chin in confirmation, setting your bag down to start warming up. Alis circles like a predator as Azriel watches with confused disinterest. “Nice build at least, looks strong if a little bulky for my taste,” she mutters. Azriel whips his head back at you in defense, but all you can do is breathe a sigh of relief. Getting Alis to agree to train someone other than Lucien was half the battle. “Alright, stretch, then I’ll see what I’m working with. Hopefully, we can piece together some semblance of a routine,” She shakes her head as you turn to Azriel. 
“Do you want me to help you stretch?” You question and Azriel’s brows raise high, a smirk across his lips for just a moment at an insinuation you didn’t imply. Your cheeks tinge with 
pink, and his eyes dip to your cheeks, satisfaction from rattling you dances in his eyes. “Not like that obviously,” You scoff, rolling your eyes and busying yourself with digging out your water bottle so you have an excuse to turn away from him. 
“I don’t think I need to stretch like this is a ballet class, I can stretch myself” He shakes his head and you roll your eyes. 
“Fine, suit yourself.” Let him dig his grave. You know he’s doing you a favor, but he doesn’t have to be so condescending about it. You fall into a spilt to stretch your legs and Azriel looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You finish your warm-up, and Az remains leaning against the wall, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He stretched his arms out a little and nothing else, so it’s his fault if he’s sore tomorrow. 
“Alright,” Alis claps her hands together once, and both your attention’s snap to her like a knee-jerk reaction. You guess being coached vigorously for years can do that to a person. “Let’s see if we can get something together. Young man, stand here please.” She gestures to a spot on the floor and then calls your name, telling you to stand infront of Azriel. 
You’ve never been so close to him before.
Your entire back pressed against his front, the sight in the mirror sends you a strange feeling in your stomach. His frame dwarfs you easily, the broad planes of his shoulders and the muscles of his arms strain against the compression shirt he had on for practice. 
You could climb him like a tree
The thought hits you so suddenly that you feel the heat flood your cheeks as you finally meet hazel eyes in the mirror. If he noticed you ogling him, he thankfully says nothing. 
You go over some transition moves which go shockingly okay, Az picks up on the rhythm surprisingly quickly body flowing like a river easily through the steps. You make a mental note to ask Rhys if Az plays an instrument. Alis looks impressed for a first practice, and you two were so concentrated you haven’t bitten each other’s heads off yet. 
Until you start to try a couple of lifts. 
Everything goes downhill from there. Az manages to get you in the air a couple of times, but it’s never stable. Either you’re too tense or his grip is all wrong, and you’ve hit the ground and Azriel’s shoulder too many times to count. You both are frustrated and then the harsh words start. 
“Can you just fucking relax already so we can get this over with? Aren’t you supposed to know what you’re doing?” he growls out after Alis calls for a water break. 
“Maybe if you could just get your stupid hands in the right position I could fucking relax,” You glower down at Azriel’s scarred hands and he shoves them in the pockets of his sweats angrily. You feel a wave of guilt instantly because that was possibly the worst thing you could say. 
“It’s not working because you don’t trust each other,” Alis mutters, rolling her eyes as she tries to figure out something on her cellphone. “I’m going to suggest maybe spending some time together outside of this. To build some trust between the two of you.” You and Azriel eye each other with equal distaste. “Think about it, we’re done here for the day.” You’re frustrated, you’re sweating, and you’ve hit your hip enough times you think it’s been permanently bruised. You pack up your bag slinging the duffel over your shoulder, he copies your actions putting his new skates to the bottom of his hockey bag. You leave the rink together in silence, breathing in the chill of the night's dark air, letting it calm the flames of your ever-growing temper. You want to go home, you want to bury yourself under mountains of pillows and ice cream and scream at the unfairness of the world. The last thing you need is a group of drunk hockey players rallying after a loss. 
And of fucking course they’re right next to your car. 
Azriel’s about to walk in the other direction to his car, but you in a blind panic grab his arm. 
“Walk me to my car.” You plead, eyes widening at the sound of a bottle smashing against the ground. “Please.” Azriel's eyes narrow in confusion before they flick over to the crowd of rowdy men. He nods once and you begin the trek across the parking lot with a sizeable distance between the two of you. They still stop and look at you, eyeing you like a piece of meat. Azriel notices, in a quiet observant way of his. He moves closer to you slinging one arm around your waist, it burns through your clothes like a brand. They wisely back off then with all of Az’s towering physique wrapped around you like a guard dog. He opens your door for you and shoves his phone in your hand, still eyeing the group like he’s about to pounce. 
“Put your number in my phone, it’ll be easier for the future.” He’s still looking at the guys out of the corner of his eyes as you type your number. “Drive home safely,” Az mutters. 
“You too,” you respond. You settle into your car, and Azriel waits patiently for you to back out and drive away before walking to his own car.
Taglist:
sidthedollface2, bionic-donut, lyinginameadow, feyretopia, natashachelsea, going-through-shit, mika-no-sekai-blog, hijabi-desi-bookworm, brandywineeeee
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snelbz · 2 years
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Isn’t She Lovely {10}
Summary: Cassian, a single father, tries online dating for a one night stand and gets more than he bargains for. Nesta, a former professional ballet dancer, opens her own studio in her new hometown of Velaris and finds that she knows one of her students’ fathers from a night of utter regret.
Warnings: Mature content throughout. Language, sex, drinking, etc. NSFW.
A collab with @theladyofdeath.
A/N: THE END! We loved writing this story for you! From an idea for a HC that we had to the full-fledged series this has become, Tara and I have loved watching this story grow. We can’t wait for you to read the next two stories in this series!
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Arya peeked her head around the corner of the doorway leading into the kitchen. The few adults that were around were all in very important conversations and she slipped in as sneakily as possible. Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawled around the bar and under the table, careful not to bump into any of the chairs. She poked her head above the table, her objective in sight. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she was just about to grab a cookie, decorated with pale blue and white icing, and-
Suddenly, she was lifted into the air, over a shoulder and she was upside down looking at a familiar face. “Put me down, Uncle Az!”
“What are you doing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re compromising my mission!” She replied, squirming.
Snorting, he put her right side up and said, “Compromising? What are you, six or sixteen?”
“Six and a half,” she replied, peeking back at the table. “I learned it from mommy.”
He chuckled, “Of course you did. No cookies before the ceremony.” He grabbed the entire plate and put it up on the counter where she couldn’t reach. “You heard your dad.”
Arya crossed her arms. “Daddy said I could have one.”
“Liar,” Azriel muttered. “I’ve been told specifically to keep you away from sugar.”
Arya frowned, crossing her arms. “Where’s daddy?”
“Getting ready,” Azriel said, simply. “I think he’s a little bit nervous.”
Arya frowned. “Why?”
“Well, it’s a big day for him,” Azriel said simply. “Actually, it would probably make him feel better if you went to talk to him.”
Arya kicked her feet down until she was placed on the ground. “I want daddy.”
Azriel took her hand and led her through the house without a word. When he stopped, they were standing outside of Cassian's door. 
They knocked.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Daddy!” Arya said and pushed open the door.
The slacks he wore were cut to just his size, yet we’re still far too tight for his liking. But wasn’t dressed for himself today.
Neither was Arya, for that fact.
Except she was wearing her sparkly blue competition leotard from gymnastics last summer, not the gauzy, white dress that was hopefully still laid out neatly on her bed and not in a heap somewhere on her floor.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet, baby?” Cassian asked, raising an eyebrow at her attire. She had paired the onesie with some yellow shorts, her soccer socks, and the tiny combat boots Nesta had found thrift shopping the week before. At least her hair was still nearly perfect in the coronet it had been braided into earlier that morning.
“I didn’t want to get it dirty,” she defended, as if not wearing her dress was noble.
Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “While doing what?”
“Crawling through the kitchen to unsuccessfully steal a cookie,” Azriel answered for her. He bowed and began backing away from the door. “If you need me, I’m going to have a cookie.”
Arya gasped. “Traitor!”
Cassian just shook his head and said, “Don’t let Feyre catch you, she’s planned everything to the tiniest detail.”
Azriel waved him off as he went and he turned to his daughter. He bent down in front of her. “Time to go get dressed, baby.”
He held out his hands flat out and she laid her tiny hands on top of them. “Okay, daddy.”
“And no more crawling around the kitchen, okay?” He brought her hands to his lips one at a time and kissed the back of each.
She couldn’t help but smile and repeat, “Okay, daddy.” She stepped between his bent legs and wrapped her little arms around him. They barely made it around his sides.
He hugged her back tightly, before pulling back to look into her face. “I love you, you know that? You’ll always be my number one girl.”
Arya nodded. “I know, but I can share you with mommy.”
Cassian’s face softened and he pressed a kiss to the top of her neatly braided hair.
Resting a hand on his stubbled cheek, Arya said, “You look handsome, daddy.”
“Do I?” He asked, and stood to face the mirror. He tried, even if it wasn’t him who had picked out his clothes. His hair hung loose, which he had debated on, but Nesta loved his long hair so he brushed it through and thought he’d leave it in its natural state.
Arya nodded excitedly. “And mommy looks very pretty.”
Cassian caught his daughter's eye in his reflection. “Is that so?”
Arya said, “She looks like a princess.”
Cassian laughed softly as he picked her up. “You’re going to look like a princess too once you get dressed. Although,” he looked down at her outfit and then back up at her face. “I like the outfit, kid.”
“Thanks daddy,” she said quietly, and laid her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re getting married.”
“Me too,” he said, and kissed her cheek before setting her down. “Alright, go get your dress on. Aunt Elain will help you.”
Arya nodded before skipping out of the room and down the hall to where Nesta and her bridal party were getting ready. 
She made a beeline to where Elain was sitting on the floor in front of a full length mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. “Can you help me get my dress on, Aunt Lainy?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, standing up and following Arya to the bedroom she’d stayed in last night. Her dress still laid on the bed, clean and pristine. After helping her step into it, Elain started on the hidden zipper beneath the multitude of buttons along the back. She asked, “Did you pack your tights and your shoes?”
“Yes!” She was hurrying across the room, pulling out a pair of pale pink tights and sparkling flats to match. After helping her put them on and securing the clasp around her ankle, Arya was hurrying over to the mirror in the corner. “I look like a princess now, too!”
Elain couldn’t help but smile as she watched her niece. “Yes, you do.”
“I wanna show mommy,” Arya beamed, turning towards Elain and clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Please, please, please.”
Nesta had been locked in the bathroom with the hair and makeup team for nearly two hours, and she’d asked for that time alone, to reflect on how much her life had changed in the past two years. How perfect it was now, compared to what she thought was her dream come true.
But Arya had been patient and hadn’t asked to see Nesta all morning, despite wanting to. So Elain brought her back into the master bedroom where Feyre sat with Nyx asleep against her chest. They’d all agreed that his tiny tuxedo was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. Mor was braiding Emerie’s hair, who was talking to Gwyn as she finished her makeup. Arya blew past all of them, not even giving her baby cousin a second glance as she rushed for the door, pulling Elain along by the hand. She paused before the door, practically bouncing.
Elain chuckled as she knocked on the door softly. “Princess Arya requests to see the bride.”
She could hear laughter in her sister’s voice as she answered. “Well, I can’t deny her that, can I?”
The door opened and Arya bounced in, instantly gasping when she saw Nesta. Her golden-brown hair was in a braid that crowned her head. Her makeup was soft, nothing crazy, but extraordinarily beautiful. A string of pearls was around her neck and she had earrings to match. A soft, dusty pink had been painted on her fingers and toes.
All that was missing was her dress.
“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” Nesta said, catching Arya as the six-year-old threw herself into Nesta’s arms. 
“Thank you,” Arya said, and patted down her dress as she stepped back. “Why aren’t you in your dress?”
“I’m waiting until the very last minute to put it on,” Nesta said and leaned in to whisper into Arya’s ear, “otherwise, I can’t eat.”
Arya scoffed. “I tried getting a cookie but Uncle Azzie caught me and then told on me to daddy.”
Nesta frowned. “Well, here.” She turned and broke off a piece of a chocolate chip cookie before popping it into Arya’s mouth. “There. Our little secret.”
Arya swooned and went on to be completely over dramatic about how delicious the cookie really was. Then, she said, “I’m happy daddy is marrying you.”
Nesta’s eyes softened as she said, “Me too.”
“Can I stay to see you in your pretty dress?” she asked.
“I’m sure that would be fine,” Nesta said. “Maybe you can help put on my veil.”
Her eyes lit up, but there was another knock at the door.
Elain peeked in, Feyre right behind her. The large dress bag they carried was taller than both of them and Elain smiled softly. “It’s time.”
The photographer wasn’t far behind and after she’d put her dress on the majority of the way, there were some beautiful shots taken of her sisters cinching it up in the back while Nesta watched from the mirror. It was a sweet moment, one Nesta was thankful she had with her sisters. And she was thankful she’d come to Velaris two years ago, not only because it brought Cassian into her life, but it allowed her a relationship with her sisters she never thought she’d have.
“Arya?”
She’d been sitting on the bench Nesta had vacated, watching everything that happened quietly. She hopped up at the sound of her name though, and hurried over to where Nesta had bent down to her level. She handed her the little comb her veil was attached to.
“Put it right here,” Nesta smiled, turning and pointing to the spot where the braid blended seamlessly into her hair. She reminded her, “Carefully.”
Arya nodded and stood on her tip toes, sliding the combs almost exactly where they needed to be.
Nesta turned around and gave her a bright smile. “There. Now I’m ready.”
Arya wrapped her arms around Nesta’s neck. “You look pretty, mommy.”
Mommy. The name never failed to make Nesta’s heart feel like it was going to burst. Arya had begun using it right around her fifth birthday, and neither Cassian or Nesta had stopped her. Sometimes, she had still called her Miss Nesta, but eventually she became Mommy for good.
She’d never been so happy.
“Thank you, baby,” Nesta breathed, hugging her back. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she said, and Nesta never thought she would grow tired of saying those words, hearing those words, after spending so much of her life avoiding them. 
Before she could fully collect her thoughts, could fully emerge herself in the moment, Nesta was being left alone. 
Arya was pulled to the front to walk down the aisle pulling Nyx in a wagon, then there was Mor walking down the aisle with her bouquet, followed by Emerie, then Gwyn. Amren went next. Cassian had been right two years ago when he said she would get along well with one of Cassian’s oldest, most sarcastic friends.
The men were already waiting at the end of the aisle, although Nesta wouldn’t be able to see them until she went through the doors.
The music inside went out, the melodious sound of the string quartet sending chills down Nesta’s spine. Elain took one of her arms, and Feyre took the other.
“Ready?” her youngest sister whispered.
Nesta nodded, and the doors swung open.
She met Cassian’s eyes as his mouth fell open as his eyes lined with tears. Rhysand and Azriel stood to his side, each of them giving one another a smile.
Nesta’s sisters walked her down the aisle and it took every ounce of willpower in Nesta not to run down the walkway and into Cassian’s arms. 
The space was beautiful. Feyre had been in charge and Nesta had left it solely in her hands. She did not disappoint. The high ceilings allowed light in from the floor length windows, the snow covered hills beautiful displayed beyond them. Billows of white silk fell from the ceiling and fairy lights twinkled among them. Bouquets were strewn about, thanks to Elain, white lilies and blue irises. It was perfect.
Arya went to stand with her Uncle Rhys, while Feyre took Nyx and she and Elain took their places to the opposite side of their husbands and the rest of Cassian’s groomsmen. Nesta stepped up to where Cassian stood and he murmured, “Hello, sweetheart,” as he took her hand and they stood before the officiant. Nesta had never been one for religion, instead focusing on her own personal faith, regardless of what a church said she could or couldn’t do. But she was one for tradition, so they would exchange the traditional vows of holy matrimony, as well as an Illyrian ceremony at another date. That was more for Cassian, for his mother and the wedding she always dreamed he’d have, but after this, legally, she would be his wife.
Mrs. Nesta Nazari
She pretended she hadn’t been obsessing over how perfect it sounded since Cassian had proposed six months before.
Who was she kidding, she’d been thinking about how perfect it was since she realized she was falling in love with him.
When Cassian was asked to read the vows he had written, Nesta swore his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink beneath his stubble.
With a deep breath, he took a folded up letter out of his breast pocket and cleared his throat. “This is intimidating,” he murmured, looking out at the crowd. Nesta laughed quietly, and waited patiently. Cassian began, “There was a time when I swore that I would never marry. Even after I became a father, something else I swore I’d never be, I didn’t see myself as the husband type. And, for those of you who have known me a long time, I’m sure you thought that about me too.” A few chuckles came from the bridal party, but Cassian looked up at Nesta. “But then I met you. I met you in the least traditional way, and our first date…was also not very traditional, but it woke me up from a slump that I had been in for a long, long time. I fell in love with you so quickly, and it was because you were so undoubtedly yourself. You were headstrong. Stubborn. Pretty damn rude.” Nesta rolled her eyes. Behind her, her sisters laughed. “And you still are all those things, by the way.” He grinned, and took her hand. “But, you’re also passionate. Incredibly talented. So beautiful, inside and out. You love more fiercely than anyone I’ve ever known. Not only me, but Arya, too.” Cassian’s voice cracked as he was overcome with emotion. He cleared his throat again. “There was never a time when I wasn’t drawn to you. As soon as I met you, you consumed me. Now, I can’t imagine what life would be like without you in it, and I’m so damn glad that I don’t have to. Nes, I love you. I’m so in love with you and I hope to spend every day for the rest of my life loving you with all that I am.”
There were tears running down Nesta’s face before he finished speaking and when the priest turned towards her, she cleared her throat. Once. Twice.
“I tried to write you pretty vows, but everything sounded too cliché, and I know how much you hate clichés in happily ever afters.” Cassian chuckled, knowing she was talking about his hatred of cheesy romance movies. “I decided I would just tell you how I feel instead. I spent years chasing my dreams, thinking that they were the only thing that could make me happy. I’d achieve one after the other, waiting for the validation and happiness that came with success. It never did. And then, right when I was at the cusp of accomplishing everything I’d ever wanted, I lost it all.” She squeezed his hands and smiled up at him, but turned her eyes to Arya. “I had no idea what I was about to gain. You two are the best things that ever happened to me, the most precious things in my life. I’m so blessed that you both accepted me into your family and I love you both so much.” She looked back to Cassian, at the shameless tears spilling over. “From the first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were something different, that you weren’t just going to pass in and out of my life and let me be on my way. I knew you were confident and cocky and arrogant and full of yourself-.”
“Is that all?” He asked, chuckling, as were a few others.
“Absolutely not, but I guess I do need to wrap this up. But you love harder than anyone else I’ve ever met. You would do anything for those you love and I count myself lucky that I’m one of them.” She brought her hand up to his face, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re my entire world, my best friend, the love of my life. I am so in love with you and I can’t wait to spend our forever together.”
Cassian didn’t speak.
He didn’t trust himself to.
Instead he nodded and smiled and took her face into his hands and kissed her softly. 
The officiant chuckled and said, “I haven’t said to kiss the bride yet.”
Cassian backed away and whispered, “I just couldn’t help myself.”
They said their I do's, simple words that held more meaning than either of them had ever said or heard. And when Cassian was asked to kiss the bride, he took Nesta into his arms and didn’t hold back.
Arya’s hands flew to her face to cover her eyes as the room erupted into cheers. After a few seconds passed, Cassian pulled back, grinning wildly, and lifted his hand in the air, being held by Nesta’s, in sweet victory.
“Now announcing for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Cassian Nazari.”
They walked back down the aisle, together, between their closest friends.
They celebrated and danced and drank until the sun had long set beneath the mountains around them. Cassian was gently swaying back and forth on the dance floor, Nesta in his arms, when he caught Feyre waving to him from across the large hall their reception was held in.
“I think someone is ready to go to bed,” he murmured, seeing how Arya was resting her head on Feyre’s shoulder.
Nesta looked up and smiled. “I guess we need to give her her present, don’t we?”
Cassian’s eyes softened. “Yes, we do.
They left the dance floor and met Feyre. Before either of them could say anything, Arya was reaching for Cassian and he took her.
“She wanted to say goodnight before we go to bed,” Feyre smiled, and Nesta could tell she was tired. Nyx was only a few months old, so she knew she hadn’t been sleeping great. Even though it was still relatively early by party standards, Feyre looked as tired as their six-year-old.
“We’ll meet you by the stairs up to the rooms,” Nesta promised, and Feyre nodded. The sisters hugged, Feyre giving the two of them her congratulations again, and she headed to wait in the great room. Cassian was willing to bet they’d find her asleep on one of the couches when they brought Arya back to her.
Cassian carried Arya into a room off to the side of the hall and set her on the couch. She was sleepy, but grinned up at them. “Aunt Emmie said we could turn in Shrek.”
She’d lost two of her teeth the week before, and her toothless smile was beaming.
“Did you have fun today?” Cassian asked, kneeling down in front of her, while Nesta sat on the couch next to her.
She nodded her head excitedly. “I wish everyday was your wedding.”
Nesta couldn’t stop her smile then, too, and she said, “Me too, sweet girl.”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but mommy and daddy got a lot of presents since they got married,” he said, pointing behind him at the table stacked high with gifts.
She had seen them earlier and her eyes were as big then as they were now. “That’s more presents than I got on my birthday.”
Nesta chuckled, while Cassian turned around and grabbed a Manila envelope off the table the pile of gifts sat upon. “There were a lot more people here than there were at your birthday party last year,” she explained. “But daddy and I wanted to get you something today. It was a big day for you, too.”
Arya’s eyes widened as Cassian opened the flat and handed her the envelope. She looked at it before flipping it over in her hands. “This is boring, it’s not even wrapped!”
Nesta laughed then, while Cassian shook his head and said, “Just open it, kid.”
He had debated on whether it was the right move or not, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Tanwyn was amazing. She had been one of Cassian's best friends and always would be. But, Arya didn’t remember her at all. She died when Arya was months old. She would always be Arya’s mother, her birth mom, but she needed a mom who was there, too.
A mom who was present. 
A mom who wasn’t going anywhere.
A mom who would be there day in and day out.
Arya frowned at the papers she pulled out of the envelope.
Cassian took them and began to explain, “These papers say that Nesta is your official mom. I know you call her your mommy, but now Nesta is legally your mom.”
Arya’s eyes lit up and she looked up at Nesta. “Like, you’re really my mommy?”
She nodded and said, “Really,” and caught her as she jumped into her lap.
Cassian, pretending the moment wasn’t affecting him as much as it was, said, “As recognized by Velaris and all seven territories in Prythian.”
Nesta threw him an exasperated glance, but hugged Arya a little tighter as she held her daughter.
A few minutes and several hugs later, Arya was headed up to her bedroom, telling Emerie about how Nesta was her real mommy now.
Nesta and Cassian stayed in the blessedly empty main room of the large cabin they’d booked for the wedding and reception.
He took her in his arms and she rested her head on his chest, releasing a sigh. Chuckling, he rubbed his hand up and down her arms. “Tired, sweetheart?”
“No,” she laughed, glancing up at him. “Just enjoying the silence.”
“Too much socializing for one day?” He asked.
She chuckled. “And then some.”
He hummed and after a moment of silence, he said, “You know the days not over yet.”
Nesta leaned back to look up at him. “Oh no?”
He slowly shook his head. “Pretty sure we have a room to ourselves calling our name.”
“Oh?” Nesta asked, brows raised. “And what would we do in there?”
“I’ll be happy to show you,” he muttered, and swept her into his arms. Nesta’s laughter filled the quiet cabin as she held onto him. Together they made their way down the hall to the biggest room in the cabin.
Inside wasn’t anything special, not that the room itself wasn’t lovely in itself. There were no decorations, though, nothing but it’s size making it any different from anyone else’s rooms.
They didn’t need anything else though.
The day had been perfect.
More than enough.
And when Cassian nudged the door shut with his foot, Nesta knew it would only be getting better.
“Have I mentioned,” he murmured in Nesta’s ear, sending goosebumps along her skin, “how breathtakingly gorgeous you look today?”
“Once or twice,” she breathed, arching her neck to give him better access. It had been nearly a week since she’d had him inside her - Illyrian traditions, he’d explained when she’d nearly thrown a fit - and even his lips by her ear had her feeling like she may combust.
“Good,” he replied, following her silent directions and letting his lips trail along her throat. “I’m going to keep reminding you though.” A kiss to her pulse point. “Every day.” A kiss to the spot beneath her ear. “For the rest of our lives.” A kiss to her lips.
Nesta’s gaze softened as she looked at him. Her husband.
“I love you,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek. “Until the world dissolves into darkness one day, my heart will be yours.”
His eyes met hers and for a moment neither of them said a word, but the look they shared could have moved mountains. 
“How the hell did I find you?” He breathed and kissed her slowly. She instantly responded, but just as Cassian was about to lay her down on their bed, he froze. And frowned at her dress. “And how the hell do I remove this beautiful gown?”
Nesta’s head fell back as she laughed, and then she was pushing on Cassian's chest to let her down. He did so, and the second her feet hit the floorboards she was hurrying into the bathroom.
As he began to protest, she was locking the door between them and reaching for the bag beneath the sink.
She had never been one for lingerie, preferred gracing Cassian with her utter nakedness, but their wedding called for a special occasion. 
Careful not to snag the scraps of lace, she placed them on the countertop before reaching behind her back. It wasn’t complicated, just a tie that came loose and eventually loosened enough for her to slip out of the floor-length, slim ivory gown.
Which is exactly what she did.
Keeping her heels on, she pulled on a lace thong that could hardly qualify as underwear, and the incandescent teddy that matched.
She looked in the mirror, but still hesitated before going out into their bedroom. She knew that she looked good, better than good, actually. She kept herself in impeccable shape, thanks to dance, and she and Cassian went to the gym together at least once a week. So she looked phenomenal in the tight lace that did little to hide her body. But there was something about the ensemble that required a confidence Nesta found herself lacking.
Regardless, she brushed her teeth and touched her makeup up just a bit, and took a deep breath before opening the door to the bedroom.
Cassian was nowhere to be found.
She looked around and called, “Cass?”
“Balcony,” she heard, and saw that the door was just slightly ajar.
Glancing down at the complete lack of appropriate clothes she was wearing, she said, “Why don’t you come inside?”
There was a pause before he said, “Why don’t you come outside? There’s a hot tub.”
Nesta rolled her eyes. “Just come inside, please.”
There was a pause then Cassian’s heavy footsteps could be heard atop the wooden balcony before he rounded the corner, gloriously nude.
His body glistened in the outside light, no doubt from said hot tub. 
He took one look at Nesta, his eyes sweeping down her body, and his eyes went dark.
Even though Nesta’s toes curled, she said, “Seems like we both had our own ideas of how to surprise one another tonight.”
Cassian grinned, crossing his broad arms across his chest. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid to go outside naked.”
Nesta glanced down at her incandescent attire. “It’s a little chilly out to be in the nude.”
“Hot tub,” he reminded her.
Nesta laughed quietly and shook her head as she approached him, reaching out to brush her fingertips down his arms as she reached him.
“We can go to the hot tub,” she promised, voice low. “After I do to you what I had planned in here.”
“That’s a fair compromise,” he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers.
His cock bumped her stomach, grazing over the soft lace and he murmured, “I like this, by the way.” He popped one of the straps of the thong and Nesta wrapped her hand around him and squeezed. “I do, too. So don’t tear it.”
Her hand tightened for emphasis and he grinned down at her. Far too many of Nesta’s panties, leggings, and the few pieces of lingerie she’d owned had been destroyed when Cassian just couldn’t wait to have her. She really did prefer to keep this one intact.
“If I don’t, will you wear it for me again?” He asked, running his hands up her body, careful to not let his calluses snag on any of the intricate lace.
As his hands cupped her breasts, she began to stroke him. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he repeated, his voice breaking, hitched as that familiar feeling began to brew in the pit of his stomach, like a beast cracking open an eye.
“Maybe,” she crooned, and Cassian’s fingers trailed along the straps of her lingerie. 
“Maybe doesn’t convince me not to tear this thing to shreds so that I can see you bare,” he said, voice low, that growl coming out that made Nesta want to combust. 
“You’re insufferable,” she huffed, and kissed him. 
She stroked him a little faster as their tongues brushed against one another’s. To know that this would be their forever had them both wanting to ignore that foreplay altogether. Cassian couldn’t bear having her hand enveloping him when it should be something else entirely.
“I need to be inside of you,” Cassian muttered against her mouth. “Now.”
“Then get this off of me and make it happen,” she replied, rubbing her thumb over the head of his cock.
“Careful how you say that,” he hissed through his teeth. “I’ll get it off of you real quick.”
Rolling her eyes, Nesta released his length and stepped back, pulling each strap down slowly. She knew that if she left it on while they fucked, it would either get destroyed intentionally or by Cassian’s hands snagging on something. Shimmying it down her body, she revealed each glorious inch of her bare skin and Cassian’s mouth was basically watering.
“Would you like to continue this in the hot tub?” She asked, smirking at him.
Cassian didn’t need to be convinced. He held out his hand and Nesta took it. They walked out onto the balcony together and sunk into the hot, steamy water. 
As soon as they were settled, Nesta crawled onto his lap and straddled his waist. She ran her fingers through his hair before sinking down onto his cock.
He let out a long breath as their lips met as she rose and fell, slowly, carefully. 
“I will never get tired of this,” Cassian said, quietly. “Of you. I love you. I love you, so much.”
Nesta leaned back and met his eye, her hips still rocking as she said, “I love you, Cass. I can’t believe I’m your wife.”
Wife.
Their lips met again and Cassian took hold of her waist in his hands, guiding her even though she didn’t need such guidance. 
Their joining was like a song by this point, something beautiful that flowed between them, knowing each other’s bodies as well as their own. The way Nesta was beginning to buck her hips, the high-pitched moan that was beginning to fall from her lips with every inch of his cock that filled her. Cassian knew she was close, knew it would be a matter of minutes before he watched her fall to pieces before him. He loved to watch her cum, whether that was by her own hand or his, loved how beautifully broken she became as she shattered around him. She would give herself over to the pleasure, letting go of her inhibitions, letting go of all thoughts that weren’t related to him and the feeling of him inside of her.
Her head fell against his shoulder and she moaned as his hips lifted to meet hers.
“Please, Cassian.”
It wasn’t often that Nesta used that word —please —especially during sex, so Cassian obliged her, his lips finding the spot on her neck he knew drove her wild, and fucked her with no abandon. Nesta screamed, the sound reverberating off the snow and mountains around them, and Cassian covered her mouth with a wet hand. She continued to moan, heard muffled versions of his name and various curses as his hips met hers, and suddenly she went rigid, her body stiffening as she found release. Her pussy gripped him, so warm and wet and tight that he was unable to stop himself as he fell over the edge behind her and groaned her name as he came.
Nesta’s forehead rested against his shoulder again and Cassian traced long lines up and down her spine. When her breathing settled, he crooned, “You okay, sweetheart?”
She nodded, exhaustion filling her body.
It had been an exceptionally long day for both of them. They had a flight to catch to Adriata at four in the morning, so getting some sleep probably wasn’t a horrible idea.
Cassian stood, his cock still nestled inside of Nesta, and her legs tightened around his waist. Carrying her back inside, he was about to drop her onto the bed, still dripping from the hot tub, when Nesta stopped him. He put her down and grabbed two towels for them from the attached bathroom, while she hurried to where her purse was sitting with their bags on the couch. She rifled through it before pulling something out and holding it behind her back. Cassian narrowed his eyes at her as he gave her a towel.
“I have one more gift for you,” she said, wrapping the towel around her body, blocking the sight of her beautiful breasts from him. Probably for the best since he likely would have been staring at them anyways. She held out a small card, no larger than a business card and he took it. A date from the week before had been scrawled on it and he flipped it over. He didn’t recognize the doctor’s name.
“What’s this?” He asked, knowing nothing could be wrong, not with Nesta’s smile as soft as it was.
“I went to see my gynecologist last week,” she said, fiddling with the edge of her towel. “I…had my IUD removed.”
They’d been discussing growing their family, giving Arya a sibling.
Cassian blinked. “You did?”
Nesta nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought it was time. Figured you’d have no objections.”
“Oh, I don’t,” he said quickly, his smile growing. “I don’t.”
He was so madly in love with this woman, his wife, mother of his children. He kissed her then and he could see it: the future they would have together.
He knew without a doubt that it would be lovely.
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theladyofdeath · 2 years
Text
Isn’t She Lovely {9}
Summary: Cassian, a single father, tries online dating for a one night stand and gets more than he bargains for. Nesta, a former professional ballet dancer, opens her own studio in her new hometown of Velaris and finds that she knows one of her students’ fathers from a night of utter regret.
Warnings: Mature content throughout. Language, sex, drinking, etc. NSFW.
A collab with@snelbz
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Nesta rode in the passenger seat of her own car, Cassian’s hand resting on the inside of her thigh. Old rock and roll played softly in the background but neither of them said a word. They sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying one another’s company. 
Nesta had learned not to ask where they were going fairly quickly because Cassian was as stubborn as he was gorgeous.
The man wouldn’t break.
He just kept smiling at her with that stupid, cocky little grin and said, “Just you wait.”
So she did until they pulled into a parking lot along the Sidra.
“This is our day of adventure?” Nesta asked. “The Sidra? I mean, not to downplay your idea at all, but I walk by the Sidra every day.” 
Cassian chuckled. “There’s something going on along the Sidra today. Me and you will be in attendance.”
He took her hands as they walked along the paved path that ran beside the sparking river that ran through Velaris. It was a marvel to Nesta, how right it felt to interlace her fingers with his. To let people see that they were together.
She blushed as she remembered the egregiously huge hickey Cassian had left on the base of her neck. Thankfully, she had an arsenal of stage makeup that could cover anything from acne to tattoos. Cassian’s pout when she emerged from the bathroom had been laughable, but she told him she wasn’t walking around Velaris with a hickey the size of a vacuum nozzle on her neck.
He had shut up after that.
As their destination came into view, Nesta halted. “What is that?”
Cassian looked ahead of them then at Nesta. “Summer Solstice carnival.”
“We’re going to a carnival?”
Cassian nodded.
“For our first date?”
He nodded again.
Nesta shook her head, amused. “What, are you going to win me a teddy bear?”
“If you start being nice to me, maybe,” he said, and pulled on her hand until she was walking alongside him once again.
She laughed. Truth was, she hadn’t been to a carnival since she was a child. Even looking back on those memories, she couldn’t really pick one that stuck out to her.
They entered the carnival and began walking around. The entire time, his hand remained in hers.
“So,” he began, when they were in the heart of it. “What do you want to do first?”
“Well, as much as I’d love for you to win me a teddy bear, I don’t feel like carrying it around all afternoon,” she said, eyeing a massive teddy bear with a big red bow around its neck.
“That’s fair,” he laughed, releasing her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders. He promised, “Later,” and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.
“We could play skee ball,” she said, nodding in the direction of the games.
There was an air of nonchalance to her words that Cassian picked up on, especially when she refused to look up at him. “You like skee ball?”
“I think I might,” she said. “It’s the only game I remember from the carnivals I went to as a kid.”
“Then skee ball it is,” he said, tugging her onward.
They played skee ball, and moved onto the ring toss, eventually making their way to the rides. Bumper cars and swings and a small roller coaster that made Cassian far more nauseous  than he cared to admit.
Eventually, they reached the Ferris wheel.
“Would it be cliche of me to want to kiss you at the top?” He asked, sitting down and pulling the bar across both he and Nesta’s laps, securing them in.
“Yes,” Nesta said, without any hesitation. “But luckily for you, I love a good cliche.”
Cassian laughed and took her hand as the Ferris wheel began its round. Once they got stuck at the top, he kissed her, and kept kissing her until they rounded back to the top again and again.
After not being able to handle any more rides, they went and settled at a table in front of a food vendor and ordered a variety of fried goodness.
As they were digging into a funnel cake, Cassian said, “So I’ve been thinking.” 
Nesta hesitated. “Uh oh.” 
Cassian laughed. “Nothing bad.” His smile softened. “I think you should be there with me when I talk to Arya.” He paused and rephrased. “I want you to be there with me when I tell her about us, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“I…” She gnawed on her lip. “You think that isn’t a conversation by yourself? What if she doesn’t react well?”
He reached across the table and and took her hand. “She’s already asked if you were going to be her new mom, I think she’s going to react fine.”
At the repeat of Arya’s words, Nesta went rigid and Cassian’s fingers tightened in hers. “Hey. That’s not what I’m asking you to be. We’re just now figuring out ourselves, who we are together. But if you’re going to be a part of my life, we’re a package deal.”
“I know that,” she admitted. “It’s not that I don’t want to be in her life. I just… I didn’t have a great relationship with my mother before she died. I don’t…know how to be that for her.”
He was quiet for a moment, before he began to brush his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. “For being a single father, I have the most amazing support group. Arya has never questioned whether she was loved because she has Mor and Rhys and Feyre. She’s always wondered about her mom, but she’s never been…upset she wasn’t there. Someone has always been there to fill that role.” He paused and looked up at her. “I’m not asking you to do that right now either. I want you to be in my life, and by extension, Arya’s, as long as you want to be. But for right now, I just want you to be there. To be with us. Does that make sense?”
Nesta nodded. “Of course.” She had never been one for emotional conversations. Every time she had to talk about her feelings she would be met with a wave of crippling anxiety. Yet, the look in Cassians eyes calmed her, reassured her, and it was because of that that she said, “I’ll be there, when you talk to her. And I plan to be there after that, too. I don’t plan on going anywhere, Cassian.”
His gentle smile nearly brought her to her knees. Perhaps it would have if she had not already been sitting down. 
“Good,” he said, leaning across the table and bringing her hand to his lips. “Tonight, after Mor and Em drop her off, then. I’ll make her favorite and we’ll all talk then.”
Nesta raised a brow. “And what’s her favorite?“
“Spaghetti, obviously,” Cassian said.
Nesta chuckled. “Obviously.”
She was happy to say that their second first date went a whole lot better than their first. When they were on their way back to Cassian's house, she laughed as he sang along to the radio, his hand in hers, his other on the wheel.
She had felt so beautifully alive for the first time since she could remember.
There was a time when she hated the fact that someone else could have so much power over her. The thought still scared her, if she was being honest with herself, but every time she looked at Cassian, at his smile and that sparkle in his eye when he met her gaze, that fear lessened. 
Now she just had to make sure that Arya felt the same way.
Nesta was sitting on the kitchen counter, while Cassian pulled everything he’d need out of the cabinets and fridge. She was surprised to find that he was making sauce from scratch, rather store bought than from a jar. He must have caught sight of her raised eyebrows, because he chuckled and said, “Weren’t expecting that?”
He was chopping tomatoes with expert precision, making ribbons out of basil and other herbs, and Nesta was impressed to say the least. “I can’t cook,” she admitted.
It was a skill she’d never mastered. The ballet had given them such rigorous meal plans, she’d only learned the basics to follow it. And once she’d begun dating Tomas, he had hired a personal chef to make all of her meals ahead of time. She’d had no say in that either.
“You can make an egg white omelet,” he replied, smirking at her.
His attitude immediately made her forget the cloud trying to overtake her mind at the thought of Tomas. Cassian was like the sun, bright and shining and warm and…home.
He was like home.
“That’s true,” she laughed. “Maybe you can show me how to make some more of Arya’s favorites. And yours, of course.”
He laughed. “Mine’s easy, sweetheart. Grab a steak, throw it on the grill for 2 minutes on each side and I’m a happy man.”
Nesta shook her head as she laughed as well. She couldn’t help but think back to their catastrophic first date. He’d been as blunt about his love for steak then as he was now.
“I think I can figure that out,” she said, smiling.
He got the ingredients into a pot on the stove to start simmering, and rubbed his hands together. “So. I’ve never really given you the official tour.”
She snorted. “No, I guess you haven’t. We’ve always been a little bit…busy.”
“We could be busy now,” he replied with a wink, but knew he was kidding. He held out his hand. “Come on.”
She happily took it as he brought her through the living room and explained what everyone of his framed pictures were about. “This is me, Rhys, and Az the day before our high school graduation.” He pointed to a frame of the three boys by a cabin in the mountains with one of the most beautiful landscapes Nesta had ever seen. “We got so hammered that we almost didn’t make it to graduation the next day. I had a massive headache the whole time.”
Nesta chuckled. “You like such a baby.”
Cassian hummed in agreement. “Eighteen and incapable of growing facial hair.”
“Your hair was a lot shorter,” she noted. “I like it long.” 
He gave her a wink as she moved to the next picture.
“Is this your mom?”
Cassian nodded, eyes going soft. He was no older than five in the picture, sitting on his mother’s lap.
“You look like her,” Nesta said. “She's beautiful.”
“I see a lot of her in Arya,” he said, gazing at the picture. “It’s nice. I’ve got a piece of Tanwyn with me, but…it’s nice to see my mom in her, too.”
“She’d be proud of you,” Nesta said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Of the man you’ve become, the father you are.”
He scoffed. “I’m sure she’d be real proud of the college dropout that knocked his best friend up during a drunken hook up.”
“She wouldn’t care about that,” Nesta said, looking at his mother’s beautiful smile in the still shot. “She’d care about how much you love Arya. You’d do anything for her. You had to learn that from somewhere.”
Cassian was quiet for a moment and when Nesta looked up at him, she pretended she didn’t see the tears dangerously close to spilling over. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her head. “Thank you.”
He went through the rest of the pictures one by one. Arya’s first birthday, a Christmas party from a few years back, complete with ugly sweaters, and more of the whole group, at concerts, picnics, parties.
“I don’t recognize her,” Nesta said, indicating the petite girl with dark hair and angular eyes.
“That’s Amren,” Cassian explained, and pointed to the handsome, dark skinned man next to her. “She moved to Adriata with Varian when he got a job opportunity he couldn’t pass up. They met in college and Varian moved back here with her. You’d like her.”
She looked at him with raised brows. “Would I?”
He chuckled and promised, “Don’t worry. You will.”
“You’re saying that like it’s not a compliment,” she muttered, which made him grin.
They went down the hall and into Arya’s bedroom. “Now, if you’re going to be around here, there’s a few things you should know.”
Nesta chuckled as she leaned against the doorway. “Is that so?”
Cassian nodded. “One, we love dress up around here.” He opened a tiny wardrobe. One side was princess dresses, the other was superhero costumes. “You always wear what she tells you to, even if Cinderella’s dress only goes over your head and nothing else.”
Nestas head fell back as she laughed. “Know that from experience?”
“Absolutely,” he confirmed before holding up Ariel’s mermaid tail. “This is her favorite to put on me. Goes over one leg, barely.”
“Very handsome,” she said, that smile remaining on her lips. “What else do I need to know?”
“She will surely ask you to read her a bedtime story,” he said and gestured to a shelf. “Her favorite is Where the Wild Things Are.”
“They gnashed their terrible teeth and roared their terrible roar, huh?”
His eyes lit up. “That’s the one.”
She squatted down and read the titles. “Rainbow Fish, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Green Eggs and Ham.” She smiled up at Cassian. “Girl has good taste in books.”
“She gets it honest,” he shrugged, sitting on the edge of her tiny bed.
“Anything else I should know?” She asked, looking around at the rest of the room.
“She’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t do anything halfway.” Nesta laughed quietly, knowing from her own classes that that was absolutely true. Cassian smiled, sadly. “One day, it’s going to get her hurt. She’s going to love some stupid boy at some point who isn’t going love her back and I’ll have to pick up the pieces.”
“That’s a long way off, Cass,” Nesta said, sitting next to him. “For now, you have to teach her what she deserves, that she shouldn’t settle for anything less than the best.” 
Cassian nodded and for a moment they were quiet, but then he said, “Ready for the last room of our tour?”
Nesta rolled her eyes but didn’t protest as she followed Cassian down the hall to his bedroom. 
“I can’t believe you’ve never been in here before,” Cassian teased, sarcastically.
“Weird, isn’t it?” She asked, playing along. “I’ll be sure to wait until I’m alone to snoop.”
“As long as you don’t look in my bedside drawer, you’ll be fine,” he promised.
Nesta laughed as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. “I can’t imagine what would be in there.”
Cassian kissed her then, bringing her closely against his body as he did so. That kiss deepened but Cassian broke it up soon after. “I have to check on my sauce.”
Before Nesta could respond, the front door opened without warning and Mor called, “Honey, we’re home!”
“Skettie!” Arya yelled, and Cassian laughed.
“Guess that’s our cue,” he whispered, and gave her one last kiss before leaving his bedroom, Nesta close behind. 
“Hey, you two,” Emerie said, smirking as she looked between the two of them.
Arya turned from where she’d been digging through her toy box in the corner. Her eyes lit up as she saw Nesta. “Miss Nesta!”
“Hi, Arya,” she smiled, pausing beside Cassian.
“Are you here to have a dance class?” She asked, bouncing onto the couch closest to where they stood. “I can go put on my twirly skirt!”
“I invited Miss Nesta to have dinner with us tonight,” Cassian said, sitting next to her on the arm of the couch. “How does that sound?”
Arya jumped up onto her feet and gasped. “You’re having dinner with us? Do you like paskettie?”
The mispronunciation might have been the cutest thing Nesta had ever heard. “I love it.”
Not wanting to be rude, Cassian turned to Mor and Emerie who were quietly watching the exchange with knowing smiles. “Would you care to join us?”
Emerie looked like she was about to reply, but Mor beat her to it. In a voice oozing with sarcasm, she said, “Absolutely not. I’ve had your child for over 24 hours I need a break from her.”
Arya stuck out her tongue at Mor, who crouched down and opened her arms. The little girl was sprinting towards her aunt and throwing her arms around her. “Love you.”
“I love you, too, peanut,” Mor said, hugging her back.
Emerie got her hugs in and then the two were on their way, leaving Cassian, Nesta, and Arya in the apartment.
When they were alone, Cassian picked up Arya and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Missed you.”
“Missed you,” she repeated. 
“I’m gonna finish dinner. Hungry?” He asked.
Arya nodded enthusiastically. “Miss Nesta?”
“Yes?” Nesta asked, feeling nervous and unsure of why.
“Will you play with me?” She asked, hazel eyes wide with hope.
“Of course,” Nesta chuckled, holding out her hand. Once Arya’s feet were on the floor, she was dragging Nesta into her room.
Cassian took his time making the pasta, mixing the sauce, and cutting up bread to put in the toaster oven. Although he was giving the girls their own space, he kept one ear open.
He wasn’t worried, though.
Arya loved Nesta. That was clear by the constant giggling he heard.
Once he had set the table, he walked down the hall and peeked around the corner.
Arya and Nesta were lying on the floor, propped on their elbows, each holding their own dolls.
Arya held a captain America action figure while Nesta held a Barbie with a tiara.
“I like your dress,” Arya said, pretending to be the voice of Captain America. “You should wear a cape, too.”
“Princesses don’t wear capes,” Nesta replied in a regal voice. “It gets in the way when I ride my royal horse.”
She rested the Barbie atop a white horse sitting nearby and Arya “walked” Captain America over. She set him down and dropped the voice, whispering, “Not if you do it like this. See?”
“I do see, you’re right, thank you,” Nesta replied in her own voice, smiling.
“Sorry to break up this Avengers/Barbie crossover event,” Cassian interrupted. Nesta looked up at him and rolled her eyes. He was surprised - but also not at all - when Arya rolled hers, too. “But dinner is ready.”
With an excited gasp, Arya was off the floor and hurrying down the hall. She came barreling back into the room and grabbed Nesta’s hand. “Come on, Miss Nesta, it’s so yummy!”
Cassian stood back a moment, watching in pure amusement. 
They sat around the table and Cassian filled everyone’s plates with mountains of spaghetti and garlic bread.
Once Arya had eaten enough to not be inhaling her food, Cassian said, “So, Nesta is going to be visiting us more often. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” Arya said, with no hesitation, but then she asked, “Why?”
Cassian considered this question for a moment. “Because I like her.”
Arya paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, which Cassian found humorous considering that she ate most of the noodles with her hands. “Is she your friend, daddy?”
“A little more than that,” Cassian answered, taking a bite. “Miss Nesta is daddy’s girlfriend now.”
Arya took a moment to think about this, too. “Do you kiss Miss Nesta?”
Cassian chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes.” Then he added silently, a lot.
“Okay,” Arya said, continuing to eat. “I like Miss Nesta too, daddy.”
“I’m glad,” Cassian answered and snuck a glance at Nesta, who was watching the two of them with a subdued smile. 
“Are you gonna sleep over again, Miss Nesta?” Arya asked and Cassian nearly choked on his noodles but Nesta simply grinned.
“Maybe sometimes,” she answered. “If that’s okay with you.”
“I think that’d be fun,” Arya replied, and added. “We can eat ice cream and popcorn like I did with Aunt Mor and Aunt Emmie last night!”
“That sounds like a perfect night,” Nesta smiled and looked at Cassian. “Will you be joining us for ice cream and popcorn?”
Arya slipped out of her chair and hurried over to Nesta, whispering something in her ear. Nesta laughed and nodded. “Got it.”
“What?” Cassian asked, taking a huge bite out of his garlic bread.
“Apparently, it’s a girls only sleepover,” Nesta explained, but her eyes were shining as she pulled Arya into her lap. “Sorry, dad.”
“Can you braid my hair pretty like yours is for dance class, Miss Nesta?” Arya asked, craning her neck up to look at her.
“Of course.” Nesta ran her fingers through Arya’s long hair. “I can do your makeup like a ballerina’s, too.”
Arya gasped and hugged her tightly.
Nesta hesitated, but only for a split second, and wrapped her arms around her little body, hugging her, too.
When Arya pulled back, Cassian pinched her side and said, “You need to finish eating, young lady.”
With a dramatic sigh, she slid of Nesta’s lap and back into her own seat, picking her messy fork back up. “Is Miss Nesta going to be my new mommy?”
Cassian and Nesta exchanged a glance. They knew this question would be coming again, but hadn’t had a chance to discuss how they would answer it. Cassian cleared his throat, setting his fork down. “Baby, Miss Nesta-.”
“Not yet,” Nesta interrupted, her eyes soft as they caught his. “Not yet, but maybe one day.”
Cassian watched Nesta for a long moment before clearing his throat again, hoping to hide the emotion in his voice. He took Nesta’s hand in his and said, “Yeah, maybe one day.”
They stared at one another with secretive little smiles. Arya was completely oblivious that they were having a moment when she said, “I hope you’re my new mommy.”
Cassian pressed a kiss to the back of Nesta’s hand. “I hope so, too.”
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whisperingmidnights · 7 months
Note
Thank you for answering my ask about WSBM! I don’t think it was unimaginative. I like asking those questions when reading something that you write, because your aesthetic is on point! I can’t wait to read more of WSBM, Heart of Velaris & Chasing Starlight! 🖤 What are your favorite perfumes?
My favorite perfumes? Oh, anon, this is a can of worms I don't think you wanted to open...but we're going to get into it because no one ever asks me this 😄
My favorite to wear (well, some of them):
Colette
Clean
Lacrimosa
The ones I definitely can't afford (a sample goes a long way):
Replica 1 2
Imaginary Authors 1 2
Juliette Has a Gun
Some I want to try:
Swan Ballet
Magdalene
Flora Carnivora
Sheep's Clothing
Black Widow
The Decay of the Angel
This is the candle I burn in my home pretty much all the time. I'd tell you not to sell them out, but the scent is so comforting, it's a small business SO.
There are definitely more I've worn and loved that I can't think of, so this list might change if I think of them. Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to talk about perfume 🖤✨️ and for being excited about my writing, that makes me so happy.
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harperbrynne · 3 months
Text
CC1 Reread:
“Every wall was bedecked in posters of legendary performances at the Crescent City Ballet. Once, she’d imagined herself up there among the lithe Vanir, exploding across the stage in turn after turn, or making audiences weep with an agonizing death scene.” (Pg35)
1. Bryce will love Velaris if she has time to enjoy the sights
2. I forgot Bryce and Nesta have dance in common
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deathsweetblossoms · 11 months
Note
For the ask, let's do the ACOTAR fandom
Thanks for the ask!! <3
Bake cupcakes for: A few characters!! Nuala and Cerridwen, because they do so much for everyone else, seem to be loyal, good friends to those around them, and yet we know so little about them. I just want to sit down with them and ask about their entire lives. For Lucien, because I just feel like the man needs some but if it was Book 1 Lucien he would probably hate my disgusting mortal cooking :( If it was current Lucien, he might be nice about it :)
For Azriel………….because I have a crush on him. 
For Elain, because I feel like she's going through it right now.
For the Suriel, just because I want to give this creepy spook a hug so bad. 
Trust with the keys to my car: Feyre 
Put thumbtacks on the chair thereof: Kier Have a crush on: oh, I already answered this. Look, if we’re being completely candid here, if I was somehow magically transported into Velaris, I would have a MASSIVE crush on Azriel. He is just exactly my type: quiet, considerate, mysterious, generous, kind, socially awkward. Secretly a bad boy 😏
Pack up and leave if they moved next door: Nessian….because of the noise. 
Vote for President: Helion
Pick as my partner in a buddy movie: If you want a grumpy sunshine buddy movie then look no further than myself and Cassian. He would make my moody, goth girl-self laugh and go outside her traumatized comfort zone. He would do the Patrick Swayze dance airlift with me, and push me to enjoy things more and pursue joy after loss again. On the otherhand I could take him to the most hipster art shows, and the most emotionally moving ballets (and he would totally cry). I would provide an endless supply of friend hugs and all the platonic physical affection he could ask for. Also we would drive down the freeway with all the windows rolled down screaming Silver Springs and Labour (by Paris Paloma) at the top of our lungs (mostly for me, but he sings along too because he wants to be supportive).
Pair up: Tarquin and Gwyn
Vote off the island and into the volcano: Beron, purely for the fact that I’m tired of his storyline and I just want it to move forward lol. You're welcome, Autumn Court, LoA, Eris, Lucien, and literally everyone.
wheedle into fixing my MP3 player: NUAN. LOL. We didn't see a lot of her but I'm pretty sure she can fix anything....
Put a fandom in my askbox
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acourtofcouture · 3 years
Photo
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An Insider’s Guide to Velaris: Feyre Attends the Opening Night of the Velaris Ballet, 1/?
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theartfuldodgcr · 6 years
Text
Dark Swan (feysand)
Inspired by @captainluxiian post
Rhysand walked briskly through the streets of Velaris. He'd excused himself from the family dinner his mother had arranged, claiming he needed fresh air. What she hadn't known was that the air that he'd required was several blocks away in the artists square.
He turned up the collar of his heavy coat keeping his head down as he made his way towards the theatre. The last thing he wanted was to be recognized.
He walked the last few steps and slid in through the double doors. The usher inside took his coat and greeted him. "Lord Rhysand, we've been anticipating your arrival. Your usual seat is ready right this way sir."
He followed the usher up the stairs towards the viewing area in the balcony he'd reserved everyday that week. Tonight he'd timed it just right to catch the last act of Swan Lake and Feyre Archeron was the prima ballerina.
No one knew he'd been escaping here the past week. He'd always enjoyed the ballet but had never let anyone know. Not his friends and certainly not his family. His friends had all assumed he was like every other lord. Arrogant, spoiled, indulging in multiple lovers. He let them believe it all. It was the only way to keep them from finding out what he was really up to.
The curtains were drawn and his eyes widened in anticipation. The music began. Tchaikovsky. He'd always been moved by it, but seeing her dance as Odette had stirred something inside him. Something that had compelled him to come see her perform every night this week.
Feyre.
She was graceful, elegant and beautiful. Her movements so effortless they almost seemed fluid. He'd gotten so lost in his thoughts of her, the sound of applause completely took him by surprise. Jumping to his feet he clapped along and allowed himself to wonder if he should meet her.
Leaving the viewing area he found the usher and asked him to set up a private meeting for them. He hoped she would accept. She was so beautiful, he knew the number of individuals lining up to meet her after her performances would be intense.
Catching the usher by the elbow he said, "Oh and Reginald, don't let the lady know it's me wanting to meet her. You put the title 'lord' in front of your name and everyone gets jittery."
"Yes sir, " he replied with a slight bow. "And whom shall I say is requesting a meeting with her?"
He smiled before replying and said, "An old friend."
(Let me know if you'd like me to continue this. I've had writers block all week 😪)
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ncssian · 3 years
Text
A Favor: Part Twenty-Six
Nessian Modern AU
Masterlist
a/n: writing this chapter was so much fun but reading it was a train wreck so you’ll just have to find out yourself whether it’s actually good or not. hurt/comfort ahead
***
Most of Nesta’s days lately are spent holed up in her basement apartment, either studying for her finals or preparing for her move—which means that whenever Cassian wants to see her, she has to haul ass all the way to the cabin to make time for him.
Like now, on the morning of her birthday, as she stands in her pajamas and slippers in the middle of Cassian’s home gym. Staring at the reason behind his urgent phone call telling her to come over.
“It’s a pole,” she says dumbly.
“Happy birthday,” he says, looking proud of himself. “Consider it an incentive to move in faster, okay?”
“It’s a pole,” she repeats. Tall and gleaming, it stands in front of the wall of mirrors away from most of the workout equipment. “You installed a pole?”
The gift itself isn’t that surprising—Cassian could afford an entire pole dancing studio if he wanted to. What surprises her is that it’s installed here, in Cassian’s personal space. The gym is to Cassian what the reading nook is to Nesta, if not even more sacred. Nesta rarely enters it, but now… he’s extending a blatant invitation into his space.
“I know you already take classes with Gwyn and Emerie,” Cassian is saying, “but you haven’t gotten to go in a while because of school and work, so I thought it would be easier for you if I brought the dance studio over here.” He scratches his head, and Nesta’s eyes drift to the silver watch on his wrist. “You never told me you used to dance. I found out from Feyre, and she sent me videos of your old ballet recitals.”
“Did she?”
Cassian nods along. “You were good. You’re still good now, which is why you should wipe that look off your face and thank me for your gift.”
Nesta is sure she looks stupefied, but she doesn’t do anything to rein it in. She has so many thoughts, and she can only think of saying, “I don’t want to practice in front of you.”
“You don’t have to,” Cassian promises. “Other than early mornings, maybe evenings, the gym will be empty for you.”
Okay. “You—” Nesta starts, “You’re really okay with this?”
Cassian’s face drops in confusion. “Okay with what?” He looks at the pole and back at Nesta. “Do you not like it?”
“Are you okay with giving me part of the gym? Where are you going to go if you want to be alone?” She chews on her lip.
Cassian laughs. “Why would I want to be alone?”
Nesta shrugs. “I need it at least once a week. I figured everyone else was the same way.” Her alone spot in the cabin is her former bedroom from the first time she lived here. Cassian knows not to enter that room, and on days when she spends time in there he simply waits until she comes out. Nesta assumed the gym was close to being something like that for Cassian.
Realization crosses Cassian’s face. “Oh, you mean like your ‘special room’?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Nesta snipes. “I told you I don’t use it for masturbating.”
He comes over and swings a heavy arm around her shoulder. “Babe, if I wanted to be alone I wouldn’t stay in the house. I’d run the trails in the woods behind the cabin.”
“Really?” Her brows furrow. She didn’t know that.
“Look, am I gonna have to return the pole or not?” Cassian says, exasperated.
Nesta stares at him closely, and upon finding no other catch to his gift, she flings her arms around his torso. “I love it,” she declares into his chest. “I love it so much.”
His body tenses in surprise at her uncharacteristic outburst, but then she feels his strong arms wrapping around her too. “In that case, have I earned myself a private show?” he teases.
“I’ll give you so many private shows,” Nesta promises. At least, once she completes her 2L and has the time to learn how to use the pole. “Emerie and Gwyn are going to be so jealous,” she hums pridefully.
Cassian chuckles deeply, and the sound rumbles through his chest where Nesta’s head rests.
They stay holding each other in silence like that for a while, mostly because it’s too early for unnecessary conversing. When Nesta finally speaks up, it’s to say, “Did you really have to call me over at eight a.m. for this, though?”
“It’s your birthday.” Cassian strokes the hair away from her neck. “Don’t even think about sleeping,” he warns. “We’re spending the whole day together. Your sisters mailed gifts, and Gwyn and Emerie are coming over at noon.”
That works for her.
***
The week after her birthday, Nesta drops her resignation letter onto Rhysand’s desk with a heavy smack.
He looks up from the envelope to her. “What’s this?”
“I’m quitting,” she announces without flourish. “Thank you for the experience. Let’s never do it again.”
“But—you got paid more than anyone else in an assistant position ever would. And you weren’t too bad at your job for a student. What went wrong?” He picks up the letter as if he can’t believe his eyes.
Nesta’s stare is a deadpan one. “Let me guess: you thought I would take your free paychecks, use my connections to move up your nepotism ladder, and end up working at Night Court comfortably for the rest of my life?”
Rhysand sits back in his chair and raises a brow at Nesta. “This is a family business,” he says smoothly. “I thought you wanted to be part of the family?”
How funny of him. “I’m good,” she answers simply.
“You came all the way here to tell me this?” Here being Velaris, which gleams through the wall of windows behind Rhysand’s desk.
“I’m not here to see you,” Nesta says, the implication being left in the air. “I’m just stopping by.” Giving a short nod, she turns on her heel to leave.
“If you ever go looking for another job,” Rhysand calls after her, “tell me if you need a recommendation. I can get you into any position at any business.”
She pauses at the door and looks over her shoulder at Rhysand. “I already have recommendations. And a job.” Her summer clerkship at the local family law firm won’t pay a third of what she made here at Night Court, but it’s good enough for now. Combined with what she’s saved up so far, she’ll get through her final year of law school without issue.
At Rhysand’s surprised face, she takes her cue to leave.
Nesta didn’t intend on going all the way to personally meet the CEO to quit, but since Cassian has been in Velaris the whole weekend for work, she thought it would be nice to surprise Cassian with a visit and cut her ties with Night Court Inc. at the same time.
Night Court’s headquarters are huge, with the skyscraper easily being one of the tallest buildings in the city. Nesta nearly gets lost trying to find her way out of Rhysand’s offices.
When she finally spots the steel doors of the elevator, they’re about to slide shut on her. “Hold the door!” she calls out, kicking into a jog. An arm pushes out at the last second to stop the doors from closing, and Nesta slides into the elevator with a sigh of relief. The doors close after her, and she turns to thank the only other person in the elevator.
The man is already looking at her in surprise—surprise which slowly turns into a shark-like smile. “Nesta?”
Nesta’s blood goes cold. He can’t be.
“Remember me?” He points at himself, still grinning. “Keith? Keith O’Connell?”
She tries to swallow but her mouth is dry. “Yeah, I remember,” she gets out.
She remembers everyone she knew from college. She especially remembers Tomas’s closest friends.
Nesta realizes Keith is saying something to her. “What floor?” he asks.
“Uh…” Where was she going again? She can’t remember. She spits out a random number and lets Keith press the button.
Nesta turns her gaze to the flashing numbers above the doors, watching them go down and down. Why are there so many damn floors?
“Didn’t think I’d see you around here,” he goes on, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “Let me guess, you’re an intern?”
Nesta keeps her eyes glued to the floor numbers. “No.”
“Ah,” he hums. “Don’t tell me you’re still chasing that lawyer dream?”
When Nesta doesn’t respond, she finds five fingers on her jaw turning her face toward Keith’s.
She jerks out of his grip, indignant rage bubbling to the surface—rage that is almost immediately suppressed by dread and fear. She’s so small right now; she can’t remember how to be big and loud.
Keith grins, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong? I just asked a question.”
Her back bumps into the wall. She barely feels it. She might as well be back in the living room of her college apartment, sitting on the arm of the couch while Tomas makes snide remarks about her to Keith O’Connell and his other friends. She’s not allowed to leave, because then she’ll be the one who can’t take a joke.
Keith frowns disappointedly at the ground, as if he found a shiny toy just to discover that it doesn’t do any tricks. Now he’s bored. “Damn,” he says. “When you’re not busy being Tom’s bitch, I guess you’re just a bitch.”
Nesta wishes she could be a bitch right now. She wishes she could fight back. “What are you doing, Keith?”
He tilts his head at her. “I’m catching up with you. You got a boyfriend?” His beady eyes slide down her form, leaving a slimy feeling in their wake.
When her lips stay pressed in a firm line, he grabs her arm and laughs. “Come on, why’re you being so weird?” He shakes her by the elbow. “I won’t tell anyone if you do have a boyfriend, promise.”
Nesta hears a ding, and the elevator doors slide open. She doesn’t know whether it’s her floor or Keith’s floor, but she doesn’t care—she’s the first to pull away from him and make an exit. “See you,” she blurts before speedwalking out of the elevator.
Why the fuck did she say “see you”? She doesn’t want to see him ever again. He doesn’t deserve to see her ever again.
Behind her, she hears Keith chuckle again. “I’ll tell Tomas you said hi,” he calls after her.
***
Cassian finds Nesta huddled under a desk.
He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he spotted her hurrying out of the elevator on the eighteenth floor of Night Court’s headquarters, but soon enough he realized that yes, that was Nesta’s coat and Nesta’s hair. She was supposed to be back home studying for her first two finals, but instead she was here looking like she was going to be sick.
He was about to follow her when his eyes slid to the man that had gotten off the elevator after her. He didn’t like how O’Connell was staring after Nesta.
“We’re old college friends,” O’Connell shrugged dismissively when Cassian approached him. “I was just saying hi.”
Nesta doesn’t have any friends from college.
Which leads Cassian to a dim, abandoned meeting room, one that would seem fully empty if it wasn't for the sound of strained breathing coming from under the only desk.
He approaches the desk slowly, his worn sneakers coming into Nesta’s line of sight. Pushing the rolling chair away, he crouches down to get a better look at her.
Tinny music comes out of her earbuds, loud enough to drown out any other sounds. She stares past Cassian like she can’t even see him, and the hollowed out look in her eyes terrifies him for a moment. When she blinks, tears spill over onto her cheeks.
“Nes?” Carefully, Cassian reaches out to touch one of her earbuds. After a second of hesitation, he pulls it out and lets it fall.
Nesta sniffles once, then finally turns her teary gaze to Cassian. Her eyes widen a little bit as she croaks, “How did you find me?”
“I followed you. What are you doing here, baby?”
“Um—” Her voice cracks, and she swipes away her tears with the sleeve of her coat. She clears her throat and says, “I came to surprise you.”
“And how’d you end up under here?” Cassian pulls Nesta’s hand away from her face before the scratchy wool can redden her face further. Makeup is smudged around her eyes, and he tries to soothe the sensitive skin there with his thumbs.
Nesta’s other earbud drops out of her ear while he fusses, leaving her with nothing to listen to.
Cassian is quietly, studiously tucking stray hairs back into Nesta’s bun when she confesses, “I was weak.”
“How?” Concern pinches Cassian’s brow. “By crying in front of me?”
“I was completely helpless,” she goes on, her voice numb. “And I didn’t know how not to be that way. I hated it, it’s so stupid.” She tears up again. “I’m not supposed to be that stupid.”
“Tell me what happened,” Cassian demands. He can’t pretend to be patient anymore.
Nesta presses her lips together and stares down at her shoes. Nothing Cassian can think of can prepare him for when she says, “I ran into a friend of my ex.”
So that’s who he is. A frightening calmness settles over Cassian. “O’Connell?” he asks, though he already knows.
Nesta looks up. “You know him?”
He tightens his jaw but nods. “Move over.” Ducking his head, Cassian crawls under the desk to join Nesta. He has to hunch over in half to fit, but Nesta doesn’t seem to mind.
He has to give it to her—it’s not a bad hiding spot.
“What did he say to you?” He tries to sound steady, undisturbed.
“He didn’t need to say anything,” Nesta answers. “I lost my spine with one look from him. He had me under his thumb.”
“I see.” Cassian has made peace with the fact that Tomas Mandray has long since moved away, that he’ll never be able to track the shithead down and make him suffer. What he didn’t know, however, is that Mandray left his friends behind.
“Were you hurt?” is his next question. “Did he touch you?” Cassian doesn’t know what he’ll do if Nesta says yes, but he has to ask anyway.
“I’m not hurt,” she assures him. But her hands rub over her upper arms like she can feel the ghost of a touch there.
“I see,” he repeats. He watches her for a bit longer before stating, “You’re not stupid.”
Nesta’s huff is amused. “Thank you.”
“And don’t spend too much time thinking about O’Connell,” he mutters, nudging her knee with his. “I’ll get rid of him for good.” That is a promise that Cassian is happy to keep.
Nesta looks alarmed. “Like…murder him?”
Cassian laughs. “No, not like that. But you’ll never see him again, so I hope you’ve said what you needed to say to him.”
Nesta thinks for a moment, then nods. “That sounds good. I don’t have anything to say to him.” She inhales a deep breath. “I think I feel better now.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Cassian holds out a hand to her. “You wanna get out of here?”
She takes his hand and he helps her out from under the desk.
Nesta apparently booked a hotel room in Velaris to surprise Cassian with, but they both agree on the way to the parking lot that they’ve had enough of the city. Cassian chooses to leave his truck behind for Rhys to take care of, and he offers to drive Nesta’s car while she rests.
The ride home is long and quiet.
Nesta sits in silence with her earbuds in, her head leaning against the car window and one of her hands in Cassian’s. He drives with his free hand, sneaking glances over at her every so often just to make sure she really is okay.
It enrages him that someone from Nesta’s past found their way into her place of work. What if he and O’Connell weren’t working in Velaris this weekend, and Nesta bumped into O’Connell in the middle of town instead? It could have tainted any sense of safety she has with the small city she calls home.
Cassian has no plans on telling her that O’Connell is the team leader for the Milan project, or that he rents a small place on the outskirts of their town. Because soon enough neither of those things will be true, and there’s no use in unnecessarily worrying her.
He absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of Nesta’s hand.
When they finally pull up to the cabin, Nesta picks her head up from the window to look around. Spotting the other black car parked in the driveway, she makes a sound of disappointment. “Az is home.”
“We can stay in the car if you like,” Cassian offers. He’s in no rush to go inside and face other people, either.
Nesta pulls her heels off, bending over to rub her stockinged feet. “Maybe just for a little while.”
Cassian unbuckles his seatbelt, gesturing for Nesta to put her feet in his lap.
She obliges, looking too tired to refuse him. Cassian runs his hands up her legs and under her skirt, finding the waistband of her sheer black tights and tugging.
“What are you doing?” She jerks under his hands, eyes wide. “The car’s too small for this.”
He narrows his gaze at her. “Chill, horndog. I’m just making you comfortable.” He pulls the tights the rest of the way down her legs and off, freeing her skin.
Nesta gives a little sigh of relief at the feeling of air on her bare skin. She rubs her hands over her thighs in wonder, drawing Cassian’s gaze.
He meets her eyes, and she slowly curls her legs off his lap, tucking them underneath herself instead.
Elated to have Nesta’s undivided attention after two hours of silence, he leans over and slips his hand around her jaw, pulling her in for a kiss.
Her inhale is soft, surprised, before she relaxes against his mouth. Cassian kisses her once, twice, hoping it’ll remind her that she’s safe at his side. That nothing can make her weak.
He’s slow to pull away, and he opens his eyes to find that Nesta’s are still closed, her lips still parted. He stifles a smile and whispers, “I think we should head inside.”
“Mm-hm,” she nods eagerly.
They exit the car, Cassian carrying Nesta’s shoes and tights in one hand and Nesta running over to him barefoot.
He leaves little pecks along her jaw and neck as they enter the cabin, taking extra time to find any moles or beauty marks. She’s about to turn in his arms to face him when they both take notice of Azriel sitting in the living room. Cardboard boxes surround him, and he’s filling them up with books.
Cassian drops Nesta’s heels and tights onto the floor, bringing Az’s attention to him.
“Hey, bro,” Cassian says warily. “What are you doing?”
“Moving out,” Az answers.
Nesta chokes on a laugh. When no one laughs with her, her face drops. “You’re serious?”
Cassian thinks the same thing.
“I’m going back to Velaris,” Az shrugs, dropping some trinkets into a box. “I’m ready to face Elain. I’m taking accountability.” He says it like it’s the simplest decision ever, like he’s talking about bringing an umbrella to a picnic.
“Are you sure about this?” Cassian asks. Just a while ago his brother was terrified at the idea of entering a ten mile radius of Velaris.
“I’m packing, aren’t I?” Az says dryly.
“You’re packing our things,” Cassian points out.
Nesta gasps when she notices. “Hey, those are my books!” She hurries over to snatch one out of Azriel’s hand.
Azriel snatches it back with a dark look. “What goes in the box, stays in the box.”
Cassian sputters in disbelief, looking around at the scene before him. “I mean—can we ask what brought this on?”
“Maybe I did some self-reflection. Or maybe I finally got sick of you and Nesta hooking up while I’m in the same room, like you were about to do now.” Az shrugs, pulling out a roll of packing tape and tearing off a strip with his teeth. “Don’t act like you’re going to miss me,” he continues as he tapes one of the boxes shut. “You two have been waiting for this day for months, and I’m finally granting your wishes.”
Cassian and Nesta share a look, and Cassian says hesitantly, “This isn’t… a breakdown or something, right?”
Azriel narrows his hazel eyes at Cassian.
“Okay, okay.” Cassian holds his hands up in defense. He pulls his hoodie over his head and off in one swift movement and goes over to the couch to help his brother pack. He still doesn’t know what brought on this sudden change of heart, but he knows Az won’t tell unless he wants to.
Nesta remains standing where she is, confounded, before dropping down next to an open box and rifling through it. “I want compensation for anything of mine you’re taking,” she demands, pulling out various paperbacks one by one.
“So like a dime for every three trash porns,” Cassian tells Az.
“I’m upcharging,” Nesta says. Her hand stops rummaging through the box, and she pulls out a framed photo instead of a book. She turns her steely eyes to Azriel. “You can’t have this one.”
It’s a candid picture of Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel on the ski lodge trip. Cassian remembers the moment it was taken with vividness, because it was one of the rare moments on that vacation where all three of them were smiling at the same time.
“Emerie took this,” Nesta continues, “and she’s my friend, so by extent it’s mine.”
Az smiles politely at her. “You’re right, you should keep it,” he says. “You’re too ugly in that photo for me to take it.”
Nesta sneers back, but gets up to reset the photo on the fireplace mantle.
A day or two later, Cassian notices that the ski lodge picture is gone, frame and all. He sighs to himself and hopes Nesta won’t notice.
***
a/n: it’s official less than five parts left!! cassian’s revenge scene is gonna be hotter than every smut scene combined
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wildlyglittering · 3 years
Text
A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)
I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!
I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors. 
I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!
I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....
***
Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.
Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.
No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.
Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.
As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.
That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.
There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.
At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.  
Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.
That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.
Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.
The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.
When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”
Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.
The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.
No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.
Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.
“Nesta?”
“I’m here.”
“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”
Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.
Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.
“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”
Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.
Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.
She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.
“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”
Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.
Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?
She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.
The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.
When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”
“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”
Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.
“Just do the dance cultural justice.”
Nesta swore she would.
On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.
High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.
Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.
As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.
They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.
The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.
They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.
She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.
Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.
Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.
Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”
Yes, that was why.
Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”
It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.
Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.
The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.
Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.
The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.
Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.
Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.
At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.
“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”
Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.
Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.
They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.
Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.
“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”
“I don’t know, probably.”
“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”
Yes. Terrified.
“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”
Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.
At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.
Gwyn’s grin was still wide.
“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”
Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.
“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”
Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.
The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.
For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.
Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.
While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.
Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.
The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.
Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.
The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.
The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.
Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.
Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.
The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.
Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.
Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!
Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.
The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.
The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.
When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.
Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.
Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.
She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.
In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.
“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”
Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”
The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”
Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.
Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.
Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.
The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.
Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.
Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.
Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.
Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.
Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.
The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.
“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.
What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.
There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.
Must have been magic.
“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”
Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.
“Interesting performance.”
Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?
If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.
“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”
“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”
Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”
Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.
“Why didn’t Amren stay?”
“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”
The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.
For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.
The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.
“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.
“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”
“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”
Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.
“Well, that explains it!”
Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.
Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.
“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”
Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.
“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”
Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.
She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.
He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.
But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”
Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.
“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”
Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.
Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”
“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.
His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.
She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.
“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”
Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”
“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”
Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.
“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”
It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.
Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.
Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.
Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.
The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.
Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.
She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.
History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.
The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.
Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.
The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.
There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.
Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.
Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.
Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.
She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.
Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.
“What are you-? How did you-?”
Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”
“Well... yeah.”
“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”
Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”
“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”
She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.  
It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.  
“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”
“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.
Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.
Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”
Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”
“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”
“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”
Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.
Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.
As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.
Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.
“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”
Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”
Oh.
“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”
“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”
Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”
“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”
Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”
Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”
Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”
They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.
Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”
“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”
“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.
Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.
They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.
“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”
Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”
“How long have you been interested in them?”
“A while.”
“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”
Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.
Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”
They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.
“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”
“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”
“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”
“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”
Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.
The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.
They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.
“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.
He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.
“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”
Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.
He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.
Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.
“Wait!”
Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.
“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive.  I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”
Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”
Nesta nodded.
“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”
“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.
“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”
The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”
Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”
The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.
Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.
“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.
Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.
A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.
“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”
74 notes · View notes
ireneherondale24 · 3 years
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I have this headcanon in which Nesta starts to take ballet lessons in a studio of Velaris because she has the need of dancing more often and learning new choreographies and steps. Of course, she excels at it. Nesta always lets Cassian know when they're finishing a choreography, in case he wants to go and watch the last rehearsals at the studio because she thinks it's the best time to see the performance. Of course he goes whenever she recommends it, but he also goes to see (at least) the last 15 minutes of the regular lessons every now and then with the excuse of picking her up because he really enjoys watching her learn the steps from the start, appreciating the whole process of the choreography coming to life with Nesta's grace and effort. And because watching her dance is always hypnotizing.
23 notes · View notes
snelbz · 2 years
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Isn't She Lovely {8}
Summary: Cassian, a single father, tries online dating for a one night stand and gets more than he bargains for. Nesta, a former professional ballet dancer, opens her own studio in her new hometown of Velaris and finds that she knows one of her students’ fathers from a night of utter regret.
Warnings: Mature content throughout. Language, sex, drinking, etc. NSFW.
A collab with @theladyofdeath.
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It took her nearly an hour to run home from Cassian’s shop, barely stopping to breathe, not even thinking to grab her keys from him. The second he asked her to come home with him, every thought, every noise in her head eddied out.
She wanted to. She realized she wanted to go home with him, to not have to run out after he’d given her another mind-numbing orgasm, to lay there and bask in the post sex haze. She’d wanted to spend time with him, not just orgasms. It terrified her.
After the kiss they shared in Rhysand’s kitchen, after they hadn’t spoken in five days, Nesta was slowly accepting that it wasn’t just about the sex anymore. She wanted to know what it was like to fall asleep in his arms, to know what it was like to wake up to his peaceful, sleeping face. Did he snore or did he like to cuddle?
And after they’d had sex in her car, Nesta was even more lost in her own head and in her heart.
Because even if it seemed like it could be easy, even if it seemed like they could give each other a try, it wasn’t just about the two of them.
They had Arya to think about.
She was still sitting on her front porch, locked out, when Cassian pulled up in front of her house with her car thirty minutes later.
“I don’t remember giving you my address,” she said, smiling softly.
He didn’t return it as he climbed out. “Called your sisters. They were more than willing to pass it on to me.” With slow footsteps, he walked up the wooden porch stairs, his boots thudding heavily. “What’s happening here, Nes, huh? What’s going on between us?”
He didn’t sit next to her.
He stayed standing a few feet away, his arms crossed.
He didn’t look like the carefree man she’d come to know, the man that made her laugh when she didn’t want to.
He was angry.
Confused.
Hurt.
“I don’t-.”
“Don’t tell me that you don’t know,” he interrupted, eyes ablaze. “At this point, that’s an unacceptable answer. If you don’t feel the way that I do, Nesta, then tell me. Alright? Don’t string me along and make me think that there’s more happening here than there is.”
If you don’t feel the way that I do.
Nesta wanted desperately to ask what it was that he felt, but what came out instead was, “This was just supposed to be about sex.”
He laughed, a low humorless sound. He didn’t meet her eyes as he shook his head. “This stopped being about sex when you let me kiss you in the kitchen.”
For me, it was before that. She couldn’t tell him that though. Instead, Nesta dared to ask, “Why?”
Cassian just shook his head. He ignored her question and said, “I need you to tell me how you feel and what’s going on here. I need to know.”
For a moment, Nesta didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. She stared at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. It was getting difficult to breathe, difficult to hold back tears. It was only supposed to be sex, to feel good, to get off. It wasn’t supposed to turn into anything so complicated.
But it had.
When it was clear he wasn’t getting an answer, Cassian dropped her keys and huffed, making is way back down the front porch steps. Her keys clanged as they landed on the wooden boards he’d vacated before making his way toward the sidewalk with a thud.
He was going to walk back.
He’d come here with her car to have a meaningful conversation. He wanted to come see who they were, what they were, if they maybe had a future.
Nesta frowned, frustrated.
Why couldn’t she at least give him an answer?
It had never been one of her strengths.
But no one had ever made her feel like Cassian had, either.
She ran off her porch, catching up with him. “Cassian, wait.”
She gripped his hand and he stilled, standing in the middle of her little front yard.
“It’s not just about sex for me anymore either,” she said, breathlessly. “At first, it was. At first, it was just about the release, but then it became about you. I craved you, not just in the physical sense. I wanted to be near you, to talk to you. And I don’t like giving anyone that power over me. It scares me. You…” She released a shuddering breath. “You scare me. The way I feel about you terrifies me.”
“And how do you feel about me, Nesta?” He asked, turning towards her, voice as quiet as the night around them. She was quiet and apparently it was a beat too long, because he leaned down, letting his brow rest against hers. “How do you feel about me, sweetheart? Tell me.”
The gentle touch of him alone had her heart nearly about to beat out of her chest.
“I…” She began, but the words were stuck on her tongue, barricading behind her lips. “You don’t know how I feel after that confession?”
Cassian let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against her lips. “I want to hear you say it.”
She hadn’t said those words in a long time. Even now, she had only known Cassian for a couple of months, had jumped into his bed so quickly that it had surely pushed along her emotions, but was it still too early to say such earth-shifting words?
She didn’t know.
She had no idea what the timeline was on falling in love, but she knew what she felt, how she felt.
“And if I say it, then what?” she asked, quietly. What happens after I pour my heart out to you?
Cassian was quiet for a moment, his brow still pressed against hers, his fingers trailing up and down her arms. He said, “Then I’d tell you I’ve been falling in love with you, too.”
So much emotion flooded throughout Nesta that she had to blink back tears. With every word that came out of his mouth, she knew he meant it, knew he was genuine, knew he was speaking from his soul.
He was watching her eyes, surely noting every emotion that passed through them. His hands swept up her arms and cupped her face. They were so close, so intimate, she was so stripped down before him even though she was wearing far more around him now than she typically did.
“I’m falling in love with you, Cassian,” she breathed, the words feeling right as they came out, but it still sent chills down her spine. “And I don’t know what to do about that.”
“You don’t do anything about it,” he replied, voice low. His eyes had fallen shut, his lips brushing against hers, a whisper of a kiss. “You just let it happen.”
Nesta couldn’t take it, couldn’t stop herself as she leaned up on her toes, throwing his arms around his neck, and kissing him with everything she had.
He caught her, just like he always had, like she knew she could always trust him to. His tongue danced along the seam of her lips and she opened for him, nearly groaning at the taste of him, the feel of him.
His hands found her ass and he lifted her, heading back towards her house. He carried her up the porch steps, and reached for the knob, ready to ravish her, to get her naked on the first surface he saw and make love to her-
The door knob was locked and Cassian pulled away, looking at Nesta.
“My keys,” she said, panting slightly.
He put her down, letting her scoop the keys from where he’d dropped them, and realized he’d never been to her house. He had no idea where he was going or how exactly to get to her bedroom. Not that he was picky. He didn’t care where they ended up, as long as he was inside her, as long as he was making love to her at the end of the night.
She unlocked the door and he followed her inside, pausing in the softly lit entry. The rest of the house was dark, but he didn’t give a shit about what her decor looked like. She turned to face him again and he knew she felt the same.
“Arya?” Nesta asked, and he knew she wasn’t asking about the future with his daughter. They would have to take that a day at a time.
“She’s with Mor, having a girl’s night,” explained, reaching for her hand, playing with each of her finger tips. He brought that hand to his lips and kissed the pad of each of her fingers. “I called her on the way over and asked if she could stay the night with them.”
“Thinking you would be staying was a pretty big assumption,” she smirked, watching him.
“I had high hopes,” he admitted, chuckling. “But I’d also decided if you weren’t willing to talk, I’d walk my ass to the closest bar and get absolutely hammered.”
“A very mature way to handle this,” she teased, and tugged on his hand as she backed up towards the staircase leading to the second story.
“We just had sex in a car,” Cassian explained, happily being dragged away by her. “Maturity has gone out the window at this point.”
Nesta couldn’t help but laugh in full agreement as they made it to the second floor landing. He swept her into his arms, once again, and kissed her, slowly.
Nesta melted into his arms before leaning back to say, “Last room on the left.”
Cassian nodded and made his way down the hallway, holding onto Nesta, refusing to let her go. He nudged her door open with the toe of his boot and swept inside, not bothering to turn on the light. It was dark, but the moonlight through her thin curtains and the lights from the streetlamps along the sidewalk provided enough light for Cassian not to run into anything.
He laid Nesta down on top of her blankets and observed her. Her hair was a mess and her face had been practically wiped clean of her makeup, both from the rainstorm that morning and the few tears she had shed, he assumed. She was still wearing that damned shirt from his garage and the leggings she’d had in her dance bag.
Cassian had never seen her look so beautiful.
Without a word, Cassian toed off his boots one by one and pulled off his shirt before climbing on top of Nesta and kissing her. He did not kiss her with urgency, but his tongue swept between her lips as he kissed her nice and slow.
Nesta’s hands were his face, his neck, his shoulders, his back. She couldn’t settle on a place to touch him. She finally got to that perfect ass in those tight jeans and he broke the kiss to bury his face in her neck.
“I love you,” he murmured, pulling her tighter against him, despite the fact that he was lying on top of her.
She didn’t hesitate as she brought his face to hers and let him see the truth of her words in her eyes. “I love you, Cassian,” she breathed. “I’ve been in love with you for far longer than I was willing to admit to myself.”
Anything else she might have wanted to say, any other thoughts she had were lost as Cassian’s lips found hers again and he rolled them, until Nesta’s body was draped across his. He inched her shirt up, pulling it off and tossing it across the room. Her bra followed and his mouth was as back at her breasts, tongue and teeth swapping from one peaked nipple to the other.
“One day, I’m going to worship these like they deserve. I’ve got plans for them.” He tugged on her nipple with his teeth and she moaned quietly. “But tonight… Tonight, I need to be as close to you as possible.”
Nesta already felt like she was about to combust as she felt the truth of every word he spoke. She wanted that too, wanted it so desperately. She wanted to be close to him tonight, every night, wanted to know what it was like to wake up wrapped in his arms each morning.
Nesta calmly reached between them and unhooked his belt, the button of his jeans, the zipper. She pushed herself up on her knees as she helped him shimmy out of his jeans, his boxer briefs. Then, she did the same to herself, kicking off her leggings and her panties. When she laid on top of him once more, it was her skin, soft and warm, against his, rough and scarred and inked.
Utter perfection.
She kissed him then, and his hands ran up her back and into her hair. They were so close, could have easily crossed that line that they had crossed a hundred times before, but didn’t, not yet. Nesta dwelled at the comfort she felt in his arms, with her body pressed tightly up against his. Each of her hands were on his stubbled cheeks as she kissed him slowly, tenderly, and then he was rolling them over yet again, and her legs wrapped around his waist.
She wanted to say it a million times, over and over again, I love you, I love you, I love you, but she put those emotions into her actions instead and hoped he realized how much it was true.
Every time they’d been together was frenzied and rough and that beautiful type of pleasure with the slightest edge of pain. This, Nesta realized, would be different, as Cassian gently unwound her legs from his waist and let her weight settle against the mattress. They’d teased each other about foreplay, but she wouldn’t have stopped his hand’s deliberate path up her thigh no matter how long he drug it out. She whimpered as one of his long fingers slid inside of her, before he added another.
Sitting up on her elbows, she looked down at where those fingers kept disappearing inside of her. At the muscular, tattooed arm those fingers were attached to, at the man they belonged to, devastatingly beautiful above her and Nesta couldn’t wait. She couldn’t take another second without him.
His eyes trailed from his fingers up to her face, where they lingered on her eyes. His unspoken words flooded her and she whispered, “I want you now, Cass. I need you.”
He slowly pulled his fingers out of her and climbed up her body. He cradled one palm beneath her head, and his other swept up her thigh and swung her leg around his hip.
With his eyes on hers, he slowly pushed his cock inside of her.
Nesta gasped, quietly, and held onto him as he filled her.
His eyes never left hers, and that had Nesta’s stomach going wild. There was something so intimate about holding his gaze as he thrust himself in, pulled out, and did so again. He kept his pace slow, steady, even, but he filled her to the hilt with each pass.
Nesta’s lips parted and her hands shook, her body full of emotion, that intimacy consuming her soul.
She was struck again by just how different this was, how she could feel every word he’d wanted to tell her, punctuated by every thrust of his hips.
How different it was…but how utterly right it felt.
With every rock of Cassian’s hips, Nesta came closer and closer to the edge, closer to ecstasy, and he watched it build. He watched it until Nesta was panting with the need to cum, release shimmering on the other side of the ledge she was on.
Without warning, his thrusts became harder. Rather than a slow roll, he snapped his hips against hers and Nesta came, her head thrown back in sheer bliss, as she cried out, so loud the neighbors had to have heard. Cassian’s lips found her exposed neck and he sucked, hard enough to leave a mark, but he wanted everyone we saw to know she was his and he was hers.
She was still cumming when he rolled them, pussy still clenching around him as she sat up and rested her hands on his chest. Cassian’s hands gripped her hips and waited for her to come down, watched as she still quivered atop him.
She was so fucking beautiful.
Her uneven breaths faded and she looked down at him as she rocked her hips, back and forth, side to side. Her legs were still shaking, if only just a little bit, reminding him that he’d just succeeded in pleasing her and would do so again before they were finished.
But they would never be finished. There would always be a next time, Cassian would make sure of that.
Once she began to bounce, Cassian’s fingers dug into her hips a little tighter and he cursed, quietly. “You feel…so good…”
Her eyes lit up as she smiled, bouncing a little quicker. Cassian’s hands swept up to palm her breasts as they bounced.
“Come here,” he breathed, and she did, her mouth falling into his. She continued to ride him as their kiss deepened, as Cassian began to groan and Nesta responded with a little noise of her own.
His hips lifted and they met her bounce with a thrust and he swallowed the cry of pleasure she made. His arms wound around her waist and he repeated the motion, snapping his hips, his cock pulling almost all the way out before he plunged it back in over and over.
Nesta moaned, shattering around him, screaming his name, pulling him over the edge with her. He stilled with his cock buried inside her, each wave of his orgasm stronger than the last, until he had nothing left to give her and was well and truly spent.
They laid there for a moment, not saying anything, just purely existing together in their own world. Cassian’s fingers idly dragged up and down Nesta’s back. It gave her goosebumps and she turned her head to look at him. He was already smiling down at her.
“What?” she whispered.
He laughed, quietly, and all he said was, “Fuck.”
Nesta’s laughter was a little bit louder as she nodded and buried her face into the crook of his neck. “Yeah. That was…”
“Yeah,” Cassian agreed, and she knew he was thinking the same exact thing that she was thinking.
I’d never experienced anything like that. Sex had never been that phenomonal before. ‘Phenomenal’ wasn’t a good enough word. It was something beyond that, something unworldly, something that could only happen when you met your one true match.
Nesta slowly slid off his cock and Cassian frowned but didn’t protest. The look on his face, however, had her biting her bottom lip to keep from grinning.
“Where are you going?” he asked, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch her as she got off the bed.
“Just to make sure the doors are locked,” she promised. “Since you’re staying with me tonight.”
Staying.
Cassian nodded, his eyes light and his body relaxed. She left, hurried down the stairs, and locked the front door feeling lighter than she had in a long time.
——
When Cassian woke up, the first thing he noticed was how well rested he felt. He settled back into the pillows, ready to doze back off when he realized Arya hadn’t come to wake him up, like she did every Saturday morning.
But as soon as he opened his eyes, he remembered why he wasn’t at home and had gotten to sleep in an extra two hours of sleep on a Saturday morning. He remembered why he had slept so well, as he looked at Nesta’s beautiful sleeping face.
She was curled into him, the two of them having never stopped touching even in their sleep, and he couldn’t help but tighten the arm around her. She made a contented noise, settling into a deeper sleep, and Cassian was content to marvel at how truly gorgeous she was until she woke up on her own, but it seemed that his stomach had other things in mind.
It made the most god awful growl that had the cat sleeping at Cassian’s feet jumping off the bed. When he looked back up from the surprise mystery cat making its exit, he found Nesta awake, eyes on him, with an amused look on her face.
He cleared his throat and gestured towards the door and the hall beyond. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he said, awkwardly.
Her smirk had grown into a full grin and she leaned up on his chest and brought her mouth down to his. “You never asked.”
Well, she wasn’t wrong there.
“Good morning,” he murmured, lips still moving against hers.
“Good morning,” she muttered, and kissed him again. “And the cat’s name is Ember. You will call her as such.”
“Noted,” he promised, and kissed her again.
He didn’t think he would ever tire of that.
Kissing her.
Waking up next to her.
“How’d you sleep?” She asked, her cheek falling back against his chest.
“Better than I have in a long time,” he confessed.
“Me too,” she whispered, draping a leg over his.
“It seems I worked up quite the appetite last night, though,” he continued.
His stomach growled again to prove his point.
Nesta chuckled and sat up, stretching as she did so. Cassian watched in wonder.
“Stay here,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
She hurried away before he could say anything and once she came back, a TV tray of goodies in hand, still gloriously nude, he had sunk back into the comfort of her pillows.
“This is not the diet I expected you to have,” he chuckled, opening a shiny package of brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tarts.
“I don’t eat like this every day,” she defended, bumping his shoulder with hers. “This is from my cheat day cabinet. Besides, I had a very strict diet for almost ten years of my life. It’s nice to decide what I want for breakfast sometimes.”
“And what do you usually have for breakfast?” He asked, holding out his pop-tart and letting her steal a bite of it.
“An egg white omelet with turkey sausage and black coffee.” He raised his eyebrows but before he could tease her, she asked, “What about you? What’s on the Cassian Nazari breakfast menu typically?”
He snorted. “Whatever is on the Arya Nazari menu. Typically, pancakes and bacon. Sometimes sausage and cereal. Really just depends on her mood.”
Things got quiet for a minute.
Finally, Nesta asked, “What are you going to tell her about me?”
Cassian took another bite to allow himself to think before answering. “I figured that I would keep it simple for now. Let her know that you’ll be around the house more. That I care about you.” He looked at her and she watched him with a small smile. “She’ll ask questions and I’ll answer them honestly.”
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the little frown on his mouth wasn’t it. She asked, “What’s wrong? Is that a bad thing?”
Cassian shook his head and gave her a gentle smile. “I just haven’t really dated since she’s been old enough to get attached to anyone.”
Before he could say anything more, Nesta said, “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
His smile deepened as he laced his fingers through hers. “Good.”
They ate in a comfortable silence, holding one another’s hand. Afterwards, Cassian gave Arya a call while Nesta cleaned everything up and dressed.
Cassian was still in bed talking on the phone when she returned from the kitchen.
“I know you love Aunt Mor, but you have to come home some time,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Nesta chuckled. She could hear Arya’s protests on the other end of the phone. “Alright. Let me talk to Aunt Mor.”
As soon as Mor took the phone, she asked, “So did you have fun last night?”
Cassian’s eyes slowly trailed to Nesta’s. “Very much so.”
Nesta’s cheeks turned pink as she laid down on the bed next to him and rested her cheek on his bare chest.
“Me and Em were thinking about taking her to the zoo if that’s okay with you,” she said. “I’ll be sure to drop her off when she’s nice and tired so that she’ll be too exhausted to throw a fit.”
He laughed, but said, “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun!” He heard Emerie call from the other end of the phone. Nesta buried her face in Cassian’s chest as he hung up and he chuckled before he kissed the top of her head. “Looks like we’ve got quite a bit of time to kill.”
“Do we?” She smirked, leaning up to press her lips to him.
They got lost in each other’s arms again and as Cassian rolled off of her an hour later, panting, he muttered, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve cum so many times in the past 24 hours that I don’t know if I have anything left in me for a while.” He glanced down at his cock, still gleaming with their mixed releases. “I mean, look, my dick is practically raw.”
“Poor baby,” Nesta crooned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “So does that mean you don’t want to take a shower with me?”
He had let his head fall back into the pillows, but he perked up and looked at her. “That’s not what I said at all.”
“Then come on,” she smirked, heading into the small attached bathroom. “I promise, I won’t touch your poor, little-.”
She squealed as he picked her up, not having heard him jump from the bed and approach before he wrapped his arms around her. He set her on the counter and kissed her, stepping between her parted legs. “Again, I don’t remember asking you to do that.”
“But you said-.”
“Fuck what I said,” he breathed, kissing her. “I don’t ever not want your hands on me. All day, every day. I’m yours, baby.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the pet name or the tender tone of his voice, but she nodded and kissed him again. “To be honest,” she said, cringing. “I’m pretty sore down there, too.”
“I’m sure,” he chuckled. “She’s taken quite a beating in the past day.”
Nesta scrunched her nose. “It’s my pussy. It’s attached to me. It’s not a she.”
“It is a she,” he said, dropping to his knees between her legs, spreading them, and pressing a kiss to her sex. “And she loves me, and my cock, just like you do.”
He stood and turned on the shower behind them. Nesta released the breath she’d been holding and asked, “Who said I loved your cock?”
“You did, actually,” Cassian smirked, looking through her cabinets until he found a couple of towels for them. “Multiple times last night, actually.”
She scowled but didn’t correct him. It was true, she had screamed the words again and again. She did love his cock.
Nonetheless, when he came back she shoved against his chest and he laughed before trying to approach her again. This time she allowed it and let him pull her into the shower.
When they were beneath the steamy water, he said, “We can take a break. How about we spend the day out?”
Nesta arched a brow. “Out?”
He nodded. “It’s about time I took you out on a real first date. And considering last time we went to dinner and it didn’t go so great, maybe I’ll have better luck taking you somewhere…adventurous.”
“Adventurous?” Nesta asked, her other brow meeting the one that had neared her hairline. “And where would we go that’s so adventurous?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You just have to say yes.”
Nesta looked at him for a moment, pretending to weigh her options. But when he was clearly growing impatient, she laughed. “Alright. Fine.”
They washed and then Nesta got dressed and ready. Cassian made it a point that he would have to stop at his apartment considering all he had was his dirty work clothes from the day before.
He also convinced her to let him drive there. She sat in the middle of the old bench seat, leaned against him. His right hand was on her thigh where it had been since they’d started the drive.
“Have I ever told you,” he murmured, glancing over at her, “that you drive my actual dream car?”
Her eyebrows raised slightly. “When would you have ever told me that?” She chuckled. “No wonder you wanted to have sex in it.”
“Oh, I’d been planning that since I first walked you out and saw what kind of car you had,” he admitted. “But fucking in front of your house or in my parking garage didn’t seem like a good idea. Wasn’t worth the indecent exposure charge we’d both likely get slapped with.”
She laughed but then looked up at him. “Wait. Did it really take all day then or did you do that so we’d be alone in the shop?”
“It was just pure luck that it took all day to track down the part,” he replied, eyes on the road in front of them.
The smirk told her that may not have been entirely true.
“I’m convinced that you’re full of shit,” she muttered.
His smirk turned into a full on grin.
They arrived at his apartment and she began to snoop as he changed. She was looking at Arya’s pictures on the fridge as he came back in jeans and a t-shirt.
“She was a beautiful baby,” Nesta said, looking at a picture of an infant Arya. “She looked like you even then.”
“My genes are definitely dominant, but when I look at her, I see so much of Tanwyn.” He was leaning against the door frame, smiling at the picture. “But when she was a baby, she was absolutely perfect.”
“She still is,” Nesta smiled, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his middle. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “But you already knew that.”
“Yeah,” he grinned, kissing her again. “And so are you.”
He cut off any debate she may have to that claim by slipping his tongue between her lips and lifting her up onto her counter. She melted into the kiss until the incessant throbbing between her legs reminded her that they should probably stop before they didn’t leave the house for the rest of the day.
“So about this surprise,” she said, pushing on his chest lightly.
He gave her room and grinned, holding out his hand.
“I think you’re gonna like it.”
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theladyofdeath · 2 years
Text
Isn’t She Lovely {1}
Summary: Cassian, a single father, tries online dating for a one night stand and gets more than he bargains for. Nesta, a former professional ballet dancer, opens her own studio in her new hometown of Velaris and finds that she knows one of her students’ fathers from a night of utter regret.
Warnings: Mature content throughout. Language, sex, drinking, etc. NSFW.
A collab with @snelbz
A/N: Since Shelb became a mama and I started my teaching job, we hadn’t been able to write much. Now, we’re feeling good with where we are at and were able to pick up writing again not long ago - which we had missed soooo much. This is our first series since our little hiatus. I hope you all enjoy! We would love to know what you think. Chapters will be posted every Sunday and Wednesday. This is only a 10 part mini series!
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Nesta felt ridiculous, but if nothing else she needed to get laid.
To say it had been a while was an understatement and she hadn’t had the time or energy since moving to Velaris to go out and find someone the old fashioned way. It used to be easier, she swore, in high school and college to come across a cute guy and hit it off. Now, as she neared her late twenties, dating became more and more difficult.
When Feyre had suggested a dating app, Nesta thought it had been an absurd suggestion. She hadn’t let her little sister know that she downloaded said app as soon as she got back to her little house on the outskirts of town. Now, two days later, she had been matched up with and was on her way to meet a man for dinner. He was an incredibly attractive mechanic whose hobbies included restoring old cars and playing the guitar. He was twenty-eight and had abs for days, judging by his profile pictures. He seemed nice enough in the few messages they had exchanged.
For safety, though, Nesta pulled out her phone and texted her other sister, Elain.
Going on a blind date. If I go missing, we were last seen at Monelli’s.
As she parked her car in the lot behind the restaurant, Nesta’s phone vibrated.
Feyre will be pleased.
With a roll of her eyes, she was hopping out of her car and walking to the front set of doors. Monelli’s was known for their incredible Italian food and gorgeous building - a historic two story place that had been refurbished to its former glory.
It was bustling with people but for a Friday night, Nesta was not surprised. It did make it more difficult to find her date, though. She hoped she hadn’t been catfished.
That would be mortifying.
After a deep breath, Nesta entered through the front doors and walked up to the hostess.
“Good evening,” she smiled. “How many?”
Nesta hesitated. “Actually, I’m waiting for someone. Has a tall man with long, brown hair and hazel eyes come in?”
The hostess nodded over toward the bar. “He’s waiting there. I told him it’ll be about fifteen minutes for a table to open up.”
“Thanks.”
After waiting for a server carrying a tray laden down with plates piled high in delicious pastas and breads and salads, Nesta crossed the threshold into the bar. She paused, glancing down at herself. She felt absolutely ridiculous, like everyone was staring at her, which she hated unless she was on stage, lost in the music. When she danced, she couldn’t care less who watched as the rhythm flowed through her, as the beat of the song matched the beat of her heart. But right now, as she was about to go on her first normal date since she’d broken up with her piece of shit ex?
Yeah, the eyes she could feel lingering on her as she stepped into the crowded bar made her self-conscious. She never would have worn the red dress on any other occasion, never wore anything as tight or with a slit up so high on her thigh that she had to be careful how quickly she walked, lest she become a different kind of dancer entirely.
Looking around the room, ignoring the few sets of eyes she felt settle on her, she finally spotted him.
He had his back to her as he reached for his glass of whiskey, neat.
He wore fitted navy slacks with a white button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal dark ink displayed across his forearms. That long, thick hair of his was tied at the nape of his neck.
After a moment of watching, observing, she was sitting on the stool beside him. “Cassian?”
His eyes snapped to hers, then down her body before he met her gaze once more. Nesta held her chin up high, pretending that the inside of her body wasn’t going absolutely insane.
He was far more attractive in person, and his pictures were gorgeous, so that was certainly saying something.
“Nesta,” he said, his voice low.
He held out his hand.
Nesta took it.
He brought it to his lips, his eyes remaining locked on hers.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, and before she could reply, he asked, “Drink?”
“Please,” she said, as he waved the bartender over. Nesta ordered a safe glass of white wine.
“You look gorgeous,” he said, and Nesta cleared her throat.
“Oh, thank you,” she replied, and a moment passed before she even thought to tell him that he looked nice, too. Deciding that the moment had passed and it was too late to tell him as much, Nesta said, “I’m glad we got to meet on such short notice. I hated to rush our meeting but this next week was going to be a little hectic for me.”
Cassian shrugged a single shoulder as a glass of wine was set in front of Nesta. “I don’t mind. Tonight worked well.”
He was right, it was like they were meant to meet. She’d been planning to have dinner with her sisters, but both of them had made last minute plans that morning, Elain with Nuala and Cerridwen, Feyre with her fiancé. Which left Nesta with nothing to do on a Friday night.
Until she got a message from the gorgeous man she’d matched with on that ridiculous dating app the evening before.
He’d sent a cliché opening message. She’d harmlessly flirted for a minute, and when he’d asked if she had anything special planned for tonight, she asked him to dinner.
He hadn’t responded for an hour or so, but it was the middle of the day on a Friday. Most people were at their jobs, Nesta reminded herself. But when he did, he’d accepted her offer, asking her to meet him at Velaris’ most popular restaurant.
“Nazari, table for two?”
Cassian looked over his shoulder at the hostess and stood. “Looks like our table is ready.”
Nesta nodded and stood, taking the hand that was offered to her. His skin was rough but his grip was gentle. She couldn’t help but imagine for a split second what those hands would feel like on the rest of her body.
They followed the hostess to their table and Cassian pulled out her chair like the perfect gentleman. Once she was seated, he sat opposite of her and thanked the hostess for their menus before she scurried off.
After a sip of whiskey, he opened up his menu and began looking through it. Nesta did the same, although she already knew what she wanted. The shrimp scampi was to die for.
“Been here before?” Cassian asked, eyes still on the menu.
Nesta nodded. “A couple of times. You?”
“Long time ago,” he replied.
The conversation fell away so Nesta pretended to search her menu anyway.
Five minutes later, the server appeared and Nesta ordered her pasta. Cassian ordered a rare steak with a side of penne topped with Monelli’s famous, special sauce. “You like meat?” Nesta asked.
Cassian raised a brow, as if the question itself was one of the strangest he had ever heard. “I do. So do you, it seems.”
“Not so much,” Nesta said, scrunching her nose. “Especially rare? It’s practically raw.”
“Shrimp is meat,” Cassian replied, one hand gripping his glass of whiskey.
“Not really,” Nesta said. “Shrimp is protein, but it’s far different from beef. Or chicken, for that matter.”
“So you don’t eat meat?” Cassian pushed. Then grumbled, “And judge those who do, it seems.”
“I’m not judging,” Nesta snapped, then calmed herself before continuing, “And no, I eat shellfish occasionally, and chicken, but that’s it.”
“Animal rights type of thing?” Cassian asked, sipping from his glass.
Nesta watched him for a moment then shook her head. “No, not really. I just think someone ripping into a rare steak is a bit barbaric, that’s all.” He raised his eyebrows, so she explained. “I just came off of a very strict diet that I’ve been on for a while. I’m still working normal things back into my everyday routine. So, like I said, chick and shellfish, and greens mostly.”
Cassian watched her for a moment with a stupid, subtle grin on his full lips. “You eat healthy. I like that.”
Nesta arched a brow and chose to sip from her wine glass instead of making a retort.
“I can tell,” he continued, and his eyes grazed her form-fitting dress. Nesta’s jaw locked and she swore that her cheeks reddened.
“I take care of my body,” Nesta said, at last. “You seem to do the same, even with your poor intake of raw meat.”
When he spoke next, his voice was so low that if Nesta hadn’t been following the way his lips slowly moved she would have been certain that she imagined it. “It’s crucial to stay in shape. Never know when all the clothes will be coming off.”
She lifted a brow.
He grinned as he drained his glass of whiskey.
The server brought a basket of bread but neither of them touched it.
“So, you’re a mechanic?” Nesta asked a moment later. “Run my own shop,” Cassian said, as he motioned for another glass of whiskey. “And what do you do? Your profile didn’t say.”
“I’m a dancer,” Nesta said.
Something flashed in Cassian’s eyes but it disappeared as soon as it had come. “Yeah?”
Nesta nodded, and before she could stop herself, she said, “I tour with a ballet company.”
It was a lie, of course, but it hadn’t been a lie for long.
Cassian nodded but said nothing more as a newly filled glass of whiskey appeared.
Their food came a minute later and the conversation between them had died for the majority of it.
“I can barely enjoy my steak with you sneering at it like that,” he said, using his fork to mix the bowl of greens next to his plate. “I can feel it getting colder with each second that passes.”
She had just taken a bite, her mouth full of pasta and shrimp, so she rolled her eyes, continuing to chew until she could respond. His eyes lit up at the expression on her face, and she didn’t have a chance to reply before he said, “Though I’d bet that stare could heat a few things up, too.”
Nesta had just stabbed at her food when she asked, “You’re a shameless flirt, aren’t you?”
Cassian shrugged a shoulder as he covered the remainder of his steak with his greens and took a big bite. “I say what I think.”
“No, you dance around what you’re thinking,” Nesta said, deciding she was full and needing a to go box. “You think you’re clever with all these little innuendos you keep feeding me.”
“You don’t like my innuendos?” Cassian asked, brow raised, consuming his plate with a speed that would make others think he hadn’t eaten in days.
“I suppose I’m a little more blunt than most,” Nesta said, dabbing at her mouth before folding her napkin in her lap.
“I’m not sure you want me to be blunt about what’s on my mind,” Cassian said.
“Then allow me to be blunt,” Nesta said, and fiddled with the stem of her nearly-emptied wine glass. “This isn’t going great. We have absolutely nothing in common and trying to have a steady conversation with you is like pulling teeth.”
Cassian lifted an amused brow. “But you’re attracted to me.”
Nesta didn’t deny it right away. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you think every woman is attracted to you.”
“Every woman may not be, but you are,” Cassian said, setting down his fork. “I’ve been with enough women to recognize the looks you keep giving me.”
Been with enough women. Charming, Nesta thought, but she couldn’t admit that he was right. She had come on the date knowing full well that there was a good chance this would be a dud. It wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, though, if she got something out of it.
It had been so long since she had taken control of a man for the sake of pleasure.
“Maybe so,” Nesta agreed, lifting her chin. “I won’t deny that you’re attractive, even though your communication skills could use a tremendous amount of work.”
Although meant as a jab, Cassian’s head fell back as he laughed. When he met her eyes again, the gleam in them had Nesta’s toes curling. “Lucky for you I know of something we can do that requires no conversation at all…and I’m far better at it than I am trying to string together some words to impress a haughty dancer that I thought was hot on some outdated hookup app.”
Nesta should feel offended, should slap him across the face for being rude as shit, but her heart had begun to race. Is this what got her going after almost a year of no sex? Some conceited asshole that thought he was all that and then some? Some hot conceited asshole, she corrected herself. Yeah, he was full of it, but Nesta had no doubt that he was a god in bed. And if he wasn’t? At least Nesta got a break from trying to get herself off and let somebody else at it for a night.
“So what is it you propose?” Nesta asked, running her fingers through her long, loose curls.
Cassian tracked the movement.
For a moment, Nesta thought he would push everything off the table between them and ravage her right there on the tabletop.
For a moment, Nesta wanted him to.
“I live two blocks down,” he said, his tone sending shivers down her spine. “One night, no strings attached. You look like you need to be taken care of.”
She was quiet still, eyes on him, assessing him and whether he meant what he said. She never wanted to see him again, his conceited, cocky demeanor had cemented that, but his body…
She could see the strong bands of muscle on his forearms beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeve. Knew every other part of him would be just as solid, just as muscled, and it had been a hell of a long time since she ogled someone as much as she had when she saw his dating profile.
Hell, she was so sex starved she’d even gotten off to his pictures the night before when she found him, before he’d matched with her. But she would never tell him that.
“You can leave as soon as we’re done or stay as long as you like,” he said, voice dropping low as he leaned closer to the table. “I’ve got my place to myself, a king-sized bed, and about a thousand things I want to do to you.”
Nesta sucked in her bottom lip, then drained what was left of her wine glass before saying, “Call for the check.”
With a grin, he did so. The server brought the bill and after one quick glance at it, Cassian dropped a stack of bills into the portfolio and rose to his feet. He held out his hand.
“I can pay for my own meal,” Nesta said, taking his hand and standing.
“Good date or not, I pay,” Cassian murmured in her ear, and began leading her toward the exit.
That stupid little grin remained.
It made Nesta’s knees weak.
The air had grown cool as the sun had fully faded and the moon was in its rightful place for the night. Having only lived two blocks away, Nesta had assumed he had walked, but he led her to a black truck and unlocked it, pulling open the passenger side door. He helped Nesta up inside the cab before rounding the truck and getting behind the wheel.
It was surprisingly clean, not a speck of dust to be found. It looked fairly new and smelled like leather.
They kept quiet as he pulled out of the lot and headed west, away from town. Two and a half blocks later, he pulled into the parking garage for a large brick building and stopped in a spot near a door.
Without a word being spoken, the two of them entered through that door and up a set of rickety, metal steps before going through a second door and into the halls of his apartment building.
With every step, Nesta’s heart beat a little bit faster.
A throbbing had formed between her thighs.
Cassian stopped at the elevator and pressed the call button. They waited in silence until the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Nesta entered first. Cassian followed.
He pressed the button for the sixth floor and the doors shut them inside. Once they were alone in that small, compact room, Nesta turned to look at him, to say something, anything to break the silence, but Cassian was already taking a step toward her as they began moving.
He took her slim waist into his hands and pulled her toward him.
Nesta gasped, her arm instantly finding their way around the back of his neck, the other grabbing his shirt. He took his time leaning into her, but when her fingers brushed his warm skin just above his shirt collar, he snapped.
His mouth found hers, hungrily, and Nesta quickly responded.
He tasted like whiskey - not Nesta’s first choice of drink but it certainly suited him. When his tongue brushed along hers, Nesta’s body made full contact with his, and then her skirt was being drawn up and Cassian was lifting her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist and the elevator stopped, the double doors opening, once again.
Their lips never broke as Cassian carried her into the hall. He’d only taken a few steps before he stopped, fiddled with his key, and pushed open a door. Once they were inside and the front door shut, Nesta finally broke away from Cassian’s lips and, breathing heavily, asked, “Bathroom?”
Cassian blinked, his eyes glazed over from lust. It took him a moment to realize what she was asking. “Oh, uh, yeah. Down the hall, on the left.” A beat passed before he set her down and Nesta scurried down the hallway.
Clicking the door shut behind her, Nesta quickly smoothed out her hair and touched up her makeup, knowing full well they were about to be a disaster, but appearances were very important to her. After popping a mint, she unlocked the door behind her and began to walk down the hall.
A cracked door caught her eye and, although she knew she shouldn’t, she gently pushed the door open.
Pink. It was an explosion of pink and sparkles and…dinosaurs. The last items didn’t quite fit with the rest of the decor, but there was even a stuffed, pink dinosaur placed lovingly atop the pillows of the twin sized bed.
Realizing asking about the room would only make their hookup a fuck-ton more complicated, Nesta pulled the door shut again and headed for the entry where she’d left him.
Setting her purse on the counter, she found him standing in the middle of the living room, gazing out the window, a glass of something Nesta would have bet her life on was whiskey dangling from his fingers.
Nesta walked up behind him and said, “Quite a view you have.”
“It’s why I got the place,” he muttered, and slowly turned to face her. His eyes flashed when they connected with hers, but her eyes soon trailed down to his shirt, where he had undone half the buttons, revealing his strong, inked chest.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, voice low as Nesta closed the distance between them and placed her palm gingerly against his chest. His heart was beating wildly.
She shook her head and pulled her hair back, off of her shoulders. She slid the strap of her dress down and then the other. Cassian watched silently, intently as he raised his glass to his lips and took a drink.
She liked the way he was watching her, thrived on the fire, the lust, the need in his eyes.
Especially when she slipped her dress down further, revealing her breasts to him.
She could still feel his lips on hers, the taste of the whiskey still dancing around the edge of her senses. His eyes, which she’d noticed after far too much time looking at his pictures were usually a sparkling hazel, were nearly wholly black, and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.
Slowly, teasingly, he reached up and brushed a callused finger over her nipple. The throb in her core pulsed and she sucked in a breath through her teeth as his finger circled one nipple and then the other.
He was teasing her, playing with her, and usually, Nesta was on board with the game. But tonight, she wasn’t in the mood.
Before he could react, before he could grab her and take control, her fingers knitted into his hair, just beneath that nub of a ponytail, and she crashed her lips against his once more.
Her dress was off and tossed aside like an old, filthy rag in a matter of seconds before Cassian carried her through his apartment and to his bed where he laid her down.
At the foot of his bed, Cassian stripped down and climbed on top of her, careful not to crush her with his weight before fucking her senseless well into the night.
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