i call it ambrosia

anonymous asked:

So i have this headcannon going on in which Nesta is actually a massive flirt and insanely charming when the situation calls for it,growing up with her parents always throwing parties and all she just had to

2. can you write the inner circle being in shock and Cassian not knowing if he should handle his boner or his jealousy first?

Not sure if this was meant to be one prompt that accidentally got split in my ask box, but I’m putting them both together! Hope you don’t mind!

Glasses clinked together in cheers at the long tables in the Day Court. Helion orchestrated the event and invited the inner circle of the Night Court to join in the festivities.

For the most part Rhysand, Feyre and their small group lingered together. A few Day Court fae met them near the entrance, which prompted formal greetings and laughs meant to ease any awkward tension.

Nesta remained silent during the conversations. Promptly looking about the open interior of the room with a critical eye.

Helion approached them and made his regular flirtatious remarks. Of course he couldn’t resist reminding Azriel, Cassian and Mor of his offer to which all three declined with politeness of their own degrees.

And then Helion noticed Nesta’s gaze straying to the tables filled with food and wine.

“Perhaps I could interest you in a drink?” Helion asked her.

He wasn’t expecting much with his innocent suggestion. Nesta was perhaps the only creature who ever turned away from his stunning looks with such disinterest. It surprised the High Lord of the Day Court, but then again it made him appreciate Nesta even more. To know that she was not swayed by attractive bodies…or at the very least would not be interested in any other fae when her eyes were set solely on the Illyrian Commander.

Nesta tilted her head toward Helion. Finally acknowledging his presence and gave him a warm smile that stunned everyone around her.

“A drink sounds lovely,” she answered. “In fact I wouldn’t mind a couple of glasses if that wine is from your famed vineyards. I believe it is called “Golden Ambrosia”?”

Helion blinked before recovering. “It is indeed. I’m glad that you are a woman of such fine tastes.” Helion held out his darkly toned arm for Nesta to take. With poise of years of training that her parents paid for before they fell to poverty, Nesta placed her hand on Helion’s elbow and walked through the parting crowd toward the beverages.

In no time it seemed as though Nesta fell into this role that neither Feyre nor Elain had ever seen before. Rhysand shot Feyre a questioning look as the eldest Archeron began to strike up conversations with complete strangers.

Cassian couldn’t take his eyes of the scene before him. Nesta in a pale grey gown that was sheer down most of her legs and sleeves. Beside Helion it was as though Nesta was the she the moon to his sun.

Clearly the High Lord of the Day Court was enjoying himself. Far too much for Cassian’s liking as he saw Helion place his hand on Nesta’s back.

But seeing Nesta smiling at these fae…it did something else to Cassian. She drank wine among the dark toned fae who greeted her with open arms. And Mother above – Nesta laughed at something one of those fae said. Her head tilted enough that her hair took on a dark golden sheen in the sunlight and her eyes were clear of stress.

Then Helion whispered something in Nesta’s ear.

Cassian could barely control himself as Nesta gave Helion a bright smile and nodded in agreement to whatever he offered.

At that moment Cassian stilled. What if the High Lord had openly requested that she join him in his bed?

In mere seconds Cassian’s question was answered. Helion took Nesta’s hand and they glided out to the dance floor.

The crowd hushed and waited in anticipation. Cassian held his breath.

The musicians, following some unspoken command, began playing a soft tune. It was music that none of the Night Court visitors had heard before nor were they familiar with the dance that Nesta and Helion were following the rhythm to.

Quickly the soft tune turned lively and immediately Nesta matched Helion’s quickened pace. Others followed suite and began around each other. Matching the moves of their High Lord and the Night Court’s human emissary.

Cassian kept a watchful eye on the duo in the midst of the dancing. To his relief most of the time the dance did not require much physical contact, but those brief moments where Nesta almost brushed against Helion set Cassian ablaze.

Nesta moved so effortlessly. He never imagined the stiff postured and strict female he knew could be so fluid in her movements. Cassian couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Each passing second Nesta twirled with that small smile on her face flamed a heat in Cassian.

Jealousy and desire warred against each other as he fought to restrain himself from going out on the floor and taking Nesta far away from the eyes that now watched her. Or better yet out of earshot since he wanted to hear Nesta laugh and make noises that would be reserved to a much more intimate space.

Too soon, or perhaps it couldn’t be soon enough, the musicians played the final trilling note. Signaling the finale as partygoers applauded the performance and the dancers promptly parted ways.

Nesta approached the Inner Circle as Helion went to greet new guests that had arrived near the entrance.

“What was that?” Feyre asked when Nesta reached them.

“Surely you know what dancing is,” Nesta replied. “When we were growing up Mother had us attend lessons. Though you and Elain were never quite fond of it as I recall.”

The Inner Circle looked at each other with varying ranges of confused glances.

“So you will take dancing lessons, but you won’t accept combat training from me?” Cassian questioned with crossed arms.

He tried to reign in his emotions of both envy and desire. He also made an effort to clear his minds of the thoughts that made his cock stir in his breeches. Cauldron boil him if Nesta ever found out he was turned on just by a mere dance that wasn’t even with him.

Nesta raised a lone brow. “Perhaps if you can keep up with the next dance then maybe I will consider your offer.”

Cassian blinked. “The next what?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “If you can’t handle it then perhaps Helion would be more than happy for another round –”

Cassian stepped forward into Nesta’s space. Stopping her words with a smirk and hazel eyes igniting with a challenge.

“Trust me Nesta. By the end of tonight you won’t even be able to stand after we’re done.”

“Is that so?” Nesta ignored the hidden innuendo. But the gleam in her eyes made it clear she understood him. “Let’s see if you have the stamina to keep up Commander.”

As the band began striking the next tune, Cassian led Nesta out onto the floor. And so began a battle unlike any other before. One in which all eyes followed them as they spun and were wrapped in each other’s arms. Yet Cassian’s burning hazel eyes did not stray from the cool steel ones that focused on him. And Nesta’s fingers never stopped stroking the muscles that flexed underneath Cassian’s warm skin.

They were answering a song that rang deep in their bones. And no one, but them alone could hear it.

My friends take photographs of me dressed as Aphrodite.
My friends drape silk sheets around me and comb my hair down my back,
and when they ask me why I’m laughing I do not tell them,
“there is only one love that belongs to me.”

The first time he calls me goddess, I am stepping out the shower.
I laugh and he licks the water off my chest.
The second time he calls me ambrosia, I am gasping into my headboard,
he is between my sheets and I know why Ares never noticed the net on his bed until it was too late,
why Hephaestus forgave her anyway.
They tell you to watch out for boys who will steal your heart,
for boys who kiss like Cupid’s arrows, straight to the bone.
What about when it’s you who catches boys in your web?
What about when you’re the one they can’t get loose from?

He loves me like a forest fire.
He loves me like a reservoir,
and his mouth is every prayer they offered up for safe passage.
It was his mouth I wanted. It was his hands.
They paint me over and over again but they can never match
the exact shade of purple that you stained my neck,
the wildness in my eyes that only fades when you are here.
The poetry they wrote about my love affairs doesn’t compare to the poetry I was when our bodies became one.

My friends take photographs of me dressed as Aphrodite.
My friends drape silk sheets around me and comb my hair down my back,
and when they ask me why I’m laughing I do not tell them,
“you are too late, he has already turned me into love.“

—  Josie, “Aphrodite