#cassian

[yiiyiiwrites]

Baking with their mates

I’ve been baking a birthday cake today 😌 and just had this in my head. [Acotar masterlist]

The guys baking:

Azriel:

He’s baked with you a few times, but it’s the decorating where he feels the most confident. His shadows steadying his movements as he adds fancy piped icing to the buttercream exterior.

You like admiring his concentrated gaze and how the silence wraps around you. Sometimes he even hums to himself when he’s really focussed.

You can tell from Azriel’s face that he doesn’t want to cut the cake and eat it after. But the pesky dark wisps smudge the edge, so he sighs and cuts you both a slice to eat. Azriel asking bakers on perfect buttercream mix and the different size piping nozzles.

Cassian:

Chaotic mess, but you’re just the same. You enjoy the shared activity, the light brushes as you squeeze past each other to do certain parts like you’ve got a good routine/production line going between the two of you.

It’s not till you’re waiting for it to bake do you realise the mess you’ve left behind. It’s like a battlefield and you both try to get out of it by rock,paper, scissors but you end picking the same thing and end up cleaning up together.

Cassian always tries whatever you bake straight from the oven, even when you warn him not to. Has roped you into making a chocolate cake after seeing Bruce eat an entire one in Matilda.

Eris Vanserra:

Pastries are your favourite thing to bake and Eris hovers around the kitchen testing your latest experiments. He even asks you teach him taking full advantage of getting your help or opinion. Praise.

He likes when you hold his hands and guide them on how to present the pastry. Smirk on his face as you fall for it every time as you know he’s a bit of perfectionist.

Makes sure you taste it first, his elbows on the counter and leaning forward to catch your expression. Learns how to make churros after you try them at the autumn equinox celebrations.

Lucien Vanserra:

You don’t know why you even said yes to letting Lucien in your kitchen. You both started off using boxed recipes and just adding an egg, now you’re trying to make it from scratch.

You can’t help but get distracted, his sleeves rolled up his muscular arms and the way his finger swipes off a splash of cake mix from your chin.

You end up burning the cake as you were oh so distracted by other things.

Definitely would be making pot brownies randomly when you can’t sleep. Making cookies and adding everything else instead of chocolate chips.

Rhys:

After a long time of Rhys asking to bake with you, you give in and wished you didn’t. Because he’s even better than you at it!!

You should have known though, he seems to pick up things pretty quickly and teases you when you accidentally put the mixer on the highest setting and splatter cake batter everywhere. His confidence and ability to do everything makes you feel butterflies and you’re a ditsy mess as you try to ramble off instructions.

Asks you when you’re opening your own bakery and reeling off business ideas.

Tamlin:

After you asked Tamlin to bake with you, he started researching edible flowers and brought them with him, recipe book in hand for you two to try making them.

The first batch goes horrible wrong, that you end up making something simple. Tamlin goes home and bakes them again multiple times till he perfects them.

He returns a week later, offers you some beautiful cakes decorated with flowers and flavoured with them. Gives you a recipe he amended that makes the best cakes.

[soulessjourney]

Shattered Bonds

A/N: I'm back after a very much long needed break! Between starting a new job and graduating, things have been super hectic. So, why not come back with an angsty fanfic with Azriel? I also may or may not be working on the long-awaited part 2 of 'Exile'.

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: After being injured in battle, Azriel is consumed by guilt. But when you finally wake, you're confronted with the harsh reality that perhaps you were always replaceable.

Warnings: Violence, Language, hurt no comfort, Azriel lowkey is a dick, Injured Reader, Angst, Duel(ish) POV, Mentions of pregnancy

Death and smoke fill your lungs. A sticky substance clings to your skin, though at this point, you're unsure if it’s yours or someone else’s. Metal clashes against metal, and your hands sting from both the vibration and the rawness caused by gripping the sword's hilt. You pivot on your foot, turning quickly to keep up with your opponent, your blades moving at lightning speed. Then, you feel a foot slam into your stomach, sending you flying backward across the rough brick ground. The surface tears into your skin like tiny knives, shredding your clothes in the process.

You scramble to your feet, your eyes darting around for your attacker. Instead, they land on a blue glow and dark hair. Azriel. But before you can process this, a sharp pain stabs your side. Gasping, you turn and plunge your sword into your attacker, your eyes blazing with fury. You lock onto the wide eyes of your victim just as another sharp pain strikes your stomach. Looking down, you see something silver protruding from your abdomen.

Green wisps shoot out from you, your lip curling as blood dribbles from the corner of your mouth. You drive the sword deeper into him as he begins to gag, foam forming at the edges of his mouth. You watch as he collapses to the ground, clawing at his neck before eventually falling still. Staggering back, you wince at the ever-growing burn in your abdomen, the green wisps swirling as if seeking something.

You fall back against the crumbling building behind you, sliding down the wall as you tilt your head back, feeling the weight of your exhaustion. Your vision blurs, your mind hazy, as you clutch your stomach, finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. A red glow catches your attention, and someone sprints toward you, dropping to their knees, unsure hands hovering over your wound.

“Cassian?” Your voice is frail, barely a whisper. If your mother could hear you now, she’d be laughing in pure disappointment.

Cassian smiles down at you and gently brushes the hair from your face. “Hey there, Bug. Hang on for me, alright? Azriel is coming.” You smile at the nickname he gave you when you were younger, back when you had an obsession with ladybugs.

Nodding, you close your eyes and lean into him. “It hurts, Cass,” you mumble, wincing as you shift, trying to find some comfort.

“I know, I know. But you did such a good job,” he whispers, combing your hair back before pressing his hands firmly against your wound to stem the bleeding.

The world around you seems to darken, and you glance up to meet the eyes of your mate. Smiling weakly, you reach out to him. “Hey, Az,” you whisper as your eyes flutter closed. His horrified expression tells you everything—the wound isn’t something that can be easily fixed. In other words, it’s a "you might die" kind of wound. Joy.

Azriel looked pale, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened. He gently pulls you toward him, holding you close as his thumb strokes softly across your cheek. His gaze darts around frantically before locking onto Cassian.

“We need to get her back. She’s not going to survive. Let Rhys and the others know,” he says, urgency clear in his voice.

Leaning into him, you feel the comforting embrace of his shadows surrounding you. Your eyes grow heavy, and before long, sleep overtakes you.

Azriel paced around the room as you lay motionless in the bed. Every glance at you gnawed at his heart, guilt consuming him. His shadows hadn't left your side, hovering as if trying to heal you somehow. His pacing came to an abrupt stop when his brothers and Madja entered the room. Azriel didn’t miss the more somber expressions they wore, and even Madja's eyes seemed duller than before.

He turned to them, desperation shining in his gaze. “Well? What did Madja say?” he asked, his voice tight with anxiety. Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a look, as if communicating silently. Cassian nodded, then pursed his lips before facing Azriel.

“Well, there’s a chance Y/N could make it,” Cassian said gently.

Azriel felt as though his ears were ringing. A chance. Just a chance that you might wake up and survive. It wasn't a guarantee, only a possibility. His frustration boiled over. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Can’t we do something to wake her? If not, why did we even bring her back?” he spat, his shadows retracting toward him, draping over his shoulders like a dark cape.

Madja shook her head as she finished changing the dressing on your wounds. “We’ve done all we can, boy. It's her fight now. I suggest you stay here—if she wakes, the first thing she’ll want is her mate,” Madja said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You need to be there for her, as she has been for you countless times.”

With that, she nodded to the brothers and quietly left the room, the door clicking softly behind her.

Azriel clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at the ground. Cassian, already knowing what his brother was about to say, gently gripped his shoulder. “It’s not—”

“But it is my fault," Azriel snapped. "She wanted to stay behind and protect Feyre and the others, and I convinced her to come because I couldn’t bear to be away from her for so long. She was unsure of her skills, and I talked her into it. I’m to blame for all of this. I almost got my mate killed.” He spun, his gaze shifting between his brothers and you.

Rhysand sighed, pushing off the wall he had been leaning against. “Az, Cassian’s right. You can’t blame yourself for this. Y/N was already set on coming. She talked to me about it—she was worried about you and didn’t want to leave you stranded in battle while she stayed behind.”

Azriel let out a low growl, his siphons flashing, causing Cassian to tense. “Either way, I couldn’t protect her. And now look at her—she’s fighting for her life, and I don’t know if she’ll ever wake up.” He stepped closer to you, sinking into the chair beside your bed and gently taking your hand. “Just give me some time alone. I need to think while still being here for her,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on your chest, searching for any sign of your shallow breathing.

Cassian opened his mouth to respond, but Rhysand placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently, Cassian closed his mouth, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room, Rhysand following close behind. The door clicked shut, leaving Azriel alone in the deafening silence.

Azriel let his eyes trace over your face, as if committing every feature, every imperfection to memory. Gently, he ran his fingers through your hair and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stayed by your side, like you asked. I shouldn’t have fought with you about it. You needed me, and I turned my back on you, and this is the result.”

He felt like a danger to you. Even if you survived, he believed he would only continue to put you in harm's way. You could never have a peaceful life with him. All he wanted was for you to be safe and happy, but he’d failed when it mattered most. You were his entire universe, and yet he couldn’t protect you. He had convinced himself that by staying by his side, you would never be safe—that he didn’t deserve you, not if it meant you ended up like this.

The door creaked open, and Elain poked her head in, glancing around. Stepping in, she cleared her throat softly. “Oh, Azriel, I didn’t realize you’d be here. I thought you were still with Madja and the others,” she said gently. Noticing his gaze on the moon lilies, she smiled and approached the table next to your bed. “Moon lilies. They were her favorite. For a while, I thought she was going to take over the whole garden with them. Luckily, I talked her into taking over the area by the pond. It’s beautiful with the flowers there,” Elain said, smiling down at you.

Azriel looked up at Elain, his expression unreadable. Letting go of your hand, he stood and cleared his throat. “Speaking of the flowers, I saw you loading the cart earlier. I assume you’re making rounds around Velaris to hand them out. Would you like some help?” he asked, his voice even.

Their eyes met, and Elain studied him for a moment, as if searching for the intent behind his offer. After a brief hesitation, she nodded and motioned toward the door.

You pace around the room, your leathers hugging you tightly. Nesta had spent hours wrestling with your hair, her shaky hands finally managing to braid it back. She’d have a fit if she saw the strands that had already fallen loose. Chewing on your nail, your gaze snaps to Azriel, who watches you from the bed. “I don’t know about this, Az. We still don’t know what I’m capable of. What if I hurt the wrong person?” you ask, your pacing quickening slightly.

Azriel huffs as he continues sharpening Truth-Teller. “Stop worrying so much. It’s war, Y/N. Accidents are going to happen. You can’t always prevent them. One day, you’ll have to face the reality of what you can do and accept it. I can’t always be there to shield you from the harsh truths.” His tone is sharp, and it brings you to an abrupt halt.

“I’m not asking you to shield me, Azriel. I’m asking you to be there if I lose control,” you push back, crossing your arms over your chest. Azriel tenses at the use of his full name.

Setting the dagger in his lap, he turns to face you. “And I can’t do that. My place is by Rhysand’s side, and you know that. I can’t abandon him just to keep you safe all the time. This is your chance to learn how to handle things on your own for once.”

A dry laugh escapes you, and you throw your hands up in frustration. “I never asked you to abandon him, Azriel! You were the one who insisted I come with you—especially when we don’t know what I’m capable of or that I can’t control these abilities yet. So, I’m sorry if I’m a little scared,” you say, your voice catching.

Azriel scoffs as he stands, gathering his things. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Y/N. And if not, just don’t die. We don’t need more problems weighing down the court.” His words hit you like a blow, leaving you speechless, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Taking your silence as an answer, Azriel turns his back and walks out of the room, leaving you standing there, staring at the door.

Your eyes snap open as a rush of air fills your lungs. Choking, you cough violently, feeling a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. Your body tenses at the unfamiliar touch, and you instinctively jerk back, putting distance between yourself and the unknown figure.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s okay,” a familiar voice reassures. As your vision clears, you find yourself face to face with Cassian, his frown deepening at your reaction.

Relaxing slightly, you offer him a small smile and shift back into your original position. “Where’s Azriel?” you ask, noticing something flicker in his eyes, though you can’t quite identify the emotion. Maybe you weren’t fully awake enough to process it. Glancing around the room, you spot a few vases of dead flowers and a subtle change in the decor. Confusion clouds your face. “Cassian, how long have I been asleep?”

Cassian clears his throat, looking away as he gathers his thoughts. “It’s been about ten months,” he finally says.

It feels like a jolt of electricity surges through you. Ignoring his protests, you slide out of bed and limp toward the window. “Ten months? How—what—there’s no way,” you mutter, staring at your reflection in the glass. You turn your head from side to side, inspecting your appearance. Your face had slimmed significantly, and your eyes were slightly sunken. You still looked like yourself, but there was something off, something different. “Cassian, where is Azriel? Is he on a mission?”

Cassian sighs, running a hand over his face as he averts his gaze once again. “It’s better if I show you rather than tell you,” he mutters, glaring toward the door. “Get cleaned up, and once you’re ready, we’ll head downstairs,” he says, moving to sit on one of the couches. “I’ll wait here. Take your time.”

Nodding slowly, you turn toward the bathroom and walk in to bathe. You were somewhat clean, but it was clear they had only managed to wash the areas they could reach with a small towel. At least they had taken care of you, in some way. Stepping into the bath, you sink into the water, staring blankly at the wall. Ten months. You had been in that state for ten months, leaving your family to wait and worry.

Your thoughts drift to Azriel. Why hadn’t he been there when you woke? Why did the other end of the bond feel so empty and cold?

Sucking in a deep breath, you tug on the bond, holding it tight as you wait for a response. But when none comes, your heart clenches. Panic sets in as you hurriedly finish bathing and dressing. Throwing the door open, you face Cassian. “Has something happened to Azriel? Is he alright?”

Cassian lets out a dry snort and stands. “Yeah, something happened,” he mutters, offering you his arm. Taking it, you shoot him a confused look as the two of you walk together. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”

As you and Cassian descend the stairs, the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and silverware fill the air. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you step into the room. Mor is the first to notice you, her eyes brimming with tears as she suddenly stands and rushes toward you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Please don’t tell me this is a dream,” she rasps, clinging to you.

You and Mor had always been like sisters. Growing up surrounded by the boys, her arrival in your life had been a blessing.

“It’s not a dream,” you whisper, hugging her back just as tightly. But after a few moments, you feel Mor tense, as if she suddenly remembered something. She pulls away, giving you a sad smile that only deepens your confusion. As you look around the room, everyone avoids your gaze, though a palpable tension hangs in the air, laced with something like anger.

Your eyes shift between them, trying to understand, until they finally land on Azriel. He sits frozen, fork midair, eyes wide, body rigid. Next to him, Elaine quickly looks away, nervously biting her lip—a habit she had whenever she felt guilty about something.

“Azriel?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly. The sound of his name seems to snap him out of his stupor, and he drops his fork, spilling his drink onto Elaine’s lap.

Elaine stands abruptly, and your eyes widen in shock. Before you, a very pregnant Elaine rises, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. Your gaze travels downward, catching the glint of a ring on her finger. “You and Lucien finally made it official?” you ask, a smile breaking across your face. “I’m so happy for you!” You laugh, but the sound dies quickly when you notice everyone else’s glances shifting toward Azriel.

That’s when you see it—something you had somehow missed before. On his finger, where he once wore the engagement ring meant for you, sits a wedding band, one that matches Elaine’s.

A chill runs down your spine as your eyes snap back to his. The room feels suddenly colder, and you feel the ground give way beneath you.

“No…” you whisper, your vision blurring as the weight of it all crashes down on you.

The ring on your finger suddenly felt like it was searing into your skin, and you blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from falling. "This is a joke, right? Some sick prank you both decided to pull?" When silence met your words, the rage inside you began to swell, and your breathing quickened. "So you’re telling me that while I was fighting for my life, you were out here screwing Elain, and somewhere along the way, you got married—and the best part? She’s pregnant?"

Something snapped inside you, and from the corner of your eye, you saw green wisps materialize, curling around you like tendrils of raw power.

Rhysand stood abruptly, and Cassian shifted closer to Nesta, instinctively protective. “Y/N, you need to breathe. I understand you're angry, but this isn’t the place to test your abilities after being asleep for ten months,” Rhysand said, trying to calm you.

You shook your head, fists clenched. “You want me to calm down? My supposed mate left me to rot in that room, just so he could chase after Elain. He abandoned me and every promise he made! I didn’t ask to be in that room—I didn’t ask to get hurt. So why should I bow down to your request when the real traitor is right here in front of all of you!”

With a final burst of fury, a smoky green tendril shot out, aimed directly at Azriel and Elain. His shadows barely blocked the blow. Elain screamed, curling in on herself to protect her stomach, while Azriel staggered back, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions surging through the bond. The betrayal, the hurt, the rage—all of it hit him like a wave, causing him to drop to his knees, gasping for breath.

You stepped closer, looming over him, and pulled the ring from your finger, letting it fall to the ground in front of him. Azriel picked it up without hesitation, his eyes wide with guilt.

"Don’t look at me like that, Azriel. It makes you look pathetic," you spat. "You chose this the moment you left me in that room to chase after Elain. After 200 years together, I was never going to compare to her, even as your mate. You’ve made it clear, Azriel—I’m replaceable."

You took a step back, but Azriel’s hand shot out, catching yours in desperation. “Y/N, you don’t understand—you can’t do this. Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, his voice broken, his face twisted with regret.

Seeing him on his knees, begging—it made you feel sick.

You pulled your hand away, standing tall as the green tendrils swirled and coiled around you, making you seem larger than life. "I can, because you left me to die the moment you chose Elain over me. You made your bed, Azriel—now lie in it. Don’t bother looking for me, because if you do, I’ll do everything in my power to destroy you."

With those final words, you turned and walked out, leaving behind your family, your home, and every happy memory you once held dear. All that was left was anger and a thirst for vengeance.

A/N: I do hope you guys enjoyed! It may not be the best after a long time away, but I figured it was a great way to finally make my comeback after so long!

[bookwormjust]

Cassian have competition (established relationship with Cassian, Nyx declaration)

It had been a busy day at the River House with Nyx clinging to your side from the moment you walked in. The little boy had made it clear to everyone in the inner circle that he had no intention of letting you out of his sight. You couldn’t help but smile at his devotion, his tiny hands always reaching for yours, his giggles echoing through the halls as he followed you everywhere.

You were sitting on the floor with him in the living room, helping him build a tower out of wooden blocks, when Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and the rest of the inner circle strolled in. Nyx immediately straightened up, puffing out his little chest as he glanced at his parents and then back at you with a serious expression.

"When I grow up," Nyx announced loudly, his voice filled with determination, "I’m going to marry Auntie!"

Cassian, who had been lounging on one of the couches, instantly perked up at the statement. His eyes widened in playful mock surprise, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Oh really?” he said, sitting up and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You’re going to marry my mate, huh?”

Nyx nodded vigorously, his small wings fluttering with excitement as he declared, “Yep! I love her, and she’s mine!”

The room erupted into laughter, everyone chuckling at Nyx’s bold claim, though you noticed Cassian narrowing his eyes playfully as he stood up and walked over to where you and Nyx sat. He crouched down next to the boy, looking him straight in the eye with mock seriousness.

“I don’t know about that, little warrior,” Cassian said, his voice full of amusement. “I think you’ll have to get through me first if you want to marry her.”

Nyx, undeterred, puffed up even more, his face scrunching up in a serious expression as he held onto your arm. “But I’ll be big and strong like you, Uncle Cass! I can protect her!”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, glancing at you with a smirk before turning back to Nyx. “Oh, is that so? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Nyx stood up as tall as he could, puffing out his little chest again and spreading his wings wide. “I’ll be the strongest Illyrian ever! I’ll fly her everywhere, and I’ll get her lots of toys and flowers!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, ruffling Nyx’s hair as you beamed down at him. “That sounds like a pretty great plan,” you said, glancing at Cassian with a teasing smile. “He might have some competition, Cass.”

Cassian let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned in closer to you, his large hand resting on your lower back. “Oh, trust me, I’m not worried. I know who you’re coming home to every night.”

Nyx, still not backing down, looked between you and Cassian with a stubborn frown. “But when I’m big, she’s gonna marry me,” he insisted, as if the matter was already settled.

Rhysand, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, grinned and chimed in, “Looks like you’ve got a rival, Cassian. You better watch out.”

Feyre was smiling fondly, clearly amused by the whole situation, while Mor couldn’t stop laughing from her spot on the sofa. “Oh, Nyx, I think you’ve got some stiff competition,” Mor said, winking at Cassian.

Cassian ruffled Nyx’s hair, smiling at the boy. “Alright, alright, I’ll let you have your dreams, kid. But just know that she’s mine for now,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Nyx, still determined, crawled into your lap, snuggling against you as he wrapped his arms around your neck. “I’ll wait,” he said stubbornly, looking up at you with big, adoring eyes.

You laughed softly, holding him close as you looked at Cassian. “Guess you’ve got some time before he steals me away.”

Cassian shook his head, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t truly worried. “I think I’ll manage,” he said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “But for now, I’ll share.”

Nyx grinned, clearly satisfied with that answer, as he nestled closer to you. And though the teasing was lighthearted, you could feel the warmth of Cassian’s love and protection radiating through the bond, grounding you in this moment of laughter and joy with your family.

[velarisdusk]

Embers to Ice

Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 5 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 7 - TBD!

word count: 6k

content: [ explicit sexual content, dub-con, unprotected PIV, rough sex, rough oral (m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, gagging, slapping, begging, degradation | mentions of infidelity, explicit language, emotional manipulation, alcohol ]

summary: When something pushes Cassian's anger over the edge, you receive an unexpected text from him. It ignites a fiery and intense encounter, blurring the lines between desire and pain. As his anger drives him to relentless passion, you're left to confront both the storm of emotions and the unsettling truth that follows.

author's note: we're coming up on the end here omgomg how exciting!!!! well.. maybe not super exciting for yall, these final two installments are a bit uhhhh......... anyway sorry for the bomb drop at the end teehee (no im not)

Cassian carved through the ice, his movements sharp, cutting, but automatic. His mind was far from focused on the drills. He was just here, skating because it was something to do, something to drown out the gnawing anger that had been festering for weeks. The rest of the team was trickling in, but there was no camaraderie in the air — none of the easy-going banter or brotherhood he once felt. The weight of their betrayal hung thick, unspoken, but suffocating.

Three weeks. Three weeks since he’d caught her at Ianthe’s party, caught all of them. Three weeks since everything came crashing down. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d dropped her off at her mom’s. The apartment felt too big without her, too empty. She wasn’t just his anymore. She was theirs too — all of them. Every interaction with his teammates felt like an insult, every laugh he’d heard them share like a knife between his ribs, twisting just enough to remind him they had all taken something from him.

Cassian’s gloved hands tightened around his stick as he skated another lap. He could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, could sense the tension rippling through the air. No one had addressed it, not directly. But it was there. Palpable.

He pushed forward, the sharp bite of his blades cutting into the ice, trying to shake the anger threatening to overtake him. But then the rink doors swung open, and Eris stepped onto the ice, his skates gliding effortlessly as if he owned the place.

Cassian barely glanced at him — until he caught a blur of red. 

His gaze zeroed in on the red scrunchie, wrapped around the shaft of Eris’s hockey stick. It looked an awful lot like the one you wore to their games as a good luck charm. He wasn’t naive.

The world seemed to freeze around him, the noise of the rink dulling to a muted hum. The red fabric, twirling around with each movement Eris made, was like a flashing neon sign — mocking him, daring him to react. It wasn’t just a scrunchie. It was proof. Cassian’s knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on his stick. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heart slamming against his ribcage as his fury bubbled to the surface. He wanted to hit something. No. He wanted to hit him. 

“Nice scrunchie, Eris.” The words slid from his mouth, low and cold, as they glided past each other. 

Eris didn’t even glance at him, the bastard. Just smiled that infuriating smile that made him want to punch his teeth in, twirling his stick lazily in his hand. “What can I say?” Eris called back, loud enough for it to echo throughout the rink, for everyone else to hear. “I always leave with a souvenir.”

He could see the other guys trying to avoid his gaze, awkward and unsure, but none of them said anything. Not one of them. It was enough to make Cassian’s blood boil.

His chest heaved as he fought the urge to lash out, to take a swing at Eris right then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he let the anger simmer, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. The tension coiled tight within him like a live wire sparking just beneath his skin, the weight of everything pressing down on him like a vice. 

Cassian led them all through the drills, but he barely registered any of it. Every glance at Eris, every flick of that red scrunchie, was a reminder of how everything had fallen apart. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re sitting at the small desk in your childhood bedroom, the dim glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains, staring blankly at a cup of coffee that’s long since gone cold. It’s been three days since you shared Eris’s company, the weight of your decisions settling like lead in your chest. This room, so familiar, used to feel so safe. Now, it just feels… too small, too suffocating. 

Cassian is still back at the apartment, you assume. You haven’t been back there since the evening of the party. You can picture it: his clothes strewn carelessly in the closet, the dent in the couch where he always sat, the ring of your perfume still lingering in the air. The life you built together — the life you wrecked — is just there, untouched, waiting, while you sit here. Stuck.

You haven’t spoken in weeks. Not since the night he found out. Not since his eyes darkened with betrayal and he left you standing at your mother’s door, guilty. And the shame, the regret, the memories won’t let you go.

Especially not the ones of Eris. Three days ago, his hands were on you. Three days ago, you were tied up in his basement and tangled in his sheets, knowing you shouldn’t be but doing it anyway. He made you feel wanted, but the moment it was over, the emptiness came back. No matter how much you tried to bury it, it’s still there. The mess, the guilt, all of it crashing down on you like a punishment you can’t escape.

Your phone vibrates on the desk, pulling you out of your thoughts. You aren’t expecting anything, so when you see Cassian’s name light up the screen, it’s like a cold hand gripping your heart. Your fingers hesitate above the screen. It’s been weeks. Why now?

You tap the notification, and your breath catches in your throat when you read the message. 

Come over?

Your mind reels. Is he reaching out for a conversation? Is this a second chance, or just another storm surge? You know better than to hope too much, Cassian doesn’t forgive easily. But you can’t help the flicker of something — hope, desperation, need — that sparks to life in your chest. Still, there’s dread pooling in your stomach. The anger in his eyes that night, when he’d caught you all, you haven’t been able to get it out of your head. 

why ?

A long pause. You stare at the screen, pulse thrumming in your ears, until finally, the reply comes. 

You’ll see.

“what do you mean ?” you respond. A minute passes, then two. Your stomach twists in knots as you watch the “typing” bubble flash and disappear, then reappear again.

I think you know what I mean.

You close your eyes, his words sinking in, but you can’t read the tone. You’ve never been more afraid of a message in your life. 

cass, i don’t like fighting with you. can we talk ? please ?

His response is immediate. Who said anything about fighting?

You bite your lip, the uncertainty clawing at you. What does he want from you? An apology? Closure? Or something else entirely? Part of you wants to refuse, to put some more distance between you both before you get pulled back into the emotional chaos. But the other part, the one still clinging to the hope that things might not be as broken as they seem, presses on.

why now ?

It’s blunt, but you need to know. After weeks of nothing, after he’d shut you out completely, why now?

Does it matter?

Meet me, or don’t. Up to you.

The pit in your stomach deepens. The words are cold, and yet there’s something just underneath them, something unresolved and simmering just beneath the surface. You know this isn’t going to be easy, and that whatever happens tonight will leave you with more scars than you already have. But…

what time ?

9. Door will be open.

It’s 8 now. You stare at the screen, his final message sitting there like a weight pressing down on your chest. You should feel relieved that he’s giving you a chance, but instead, there’s only dread — and that flicker of hope that refuses to die. You set the phone down and let out a shaky breath. Cassian’s messages were as vague as they were unsettling, leaving you to stew in a mixture of dread and longing. The suddenness of his invite, the cold indifference in his words, the fact that you had no idea what would be waiting for you when you got there… You couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was going to end badly, but you couldn’t turn away from it, either. Not from him. 

Pushing back from the desk, you stood and wandered over to the small mirror above your dresser, staring at your reflection. Your eyes were tired, dark circles haunting your gaze from sleepless nights spent replaying every mistake you made. You didn’t know how to fix things. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you could fix things. But the need to try was too strong to ignore. 

Why now? You’d asked him, and his answer hadn’t been comforting. What would you even say to him? No amount of rehearsing could prepare you for the real thing, and every potential conversation that played out in your head ended in disaster. The truth was, you didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to explain why you’d done what you had. Worse, you didn’t even know if he’d listen. He very well may have been calling you over to come get your things. 

As you stood in front of your closet trying to decide what to wear, you rubbed at the tightness in your chest, struggling to steady your breath. But the anxiety was relentless, spiking every time the thought of facing him crept back in. Cassian’s anger had always been a force to reckon with, and after everything you’d done, you didn’t want to imagine it directed at you. 

Maybe this is what I deserve, you thought bitterly. Maybe this meeting wasn’t about closure or second chances. Maybe it was just another consequence of your actions.

Those words echoed in your mind as you stood in front of the door. Your door. His door. Just like he said, it was unlocked, the latch clicking open with a slight push. The quiet inside felt oppressive, thick. You hesitated on the threshold, half-tempted to turn around and leave, but the soft hum of the TV in the living room drew you in. 

And there he was — Cassian, sitting in the dim light, his arms crossed, his broad shoulders tense. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as glanced your way, but the air in the room shifted the moment you stepped inside. The space between you felt tense, like something fragile waiting to shatter. 

You closed the door behind with a soft click, the sound almost deafening in the silence that followed. 

“You came,” Cassian said, his voice low, emotionless. He didn’t bother looking at you, his gaze fixed ahead on the TV, but you knew he wasn’t watching. You could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Yeah.” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. 

He stayed silent for a long moment. You were about to say something when he stood from the couch. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there. But when he finally turned to face you, it was like a punch to the gut. You could see it — the pain. The shadows under his eyes were darker than you remembered, his normally sharp features softened with exhaustion. Cassian had lost just as much sleep as you had, maybe more. And of course, he had. You’d wrecked everything between you in the worst way possible. You’d torn him apart. 

He took a slow step toward you, his gaze heavy, intense. There was no softness in his eyes, no hint of the Cassian who used to hold you close after every game, who used to make you laugh when no one else could. This version of him… he was something else. The anger, the betrayal, it still lingered in the air around him, even if he wasn’t saying it out loud.

He stopped when he was close enough for you to feel the heat coming off his body, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of whiskey already on his breath. “You want a drink?” he asked, his voice rough but casual, like you were just two old friends catching up.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’m good.” I don’t want to pretend everything’s fine, you wanted to say. You wanted to talk, to finally get everything out in the open. 

He sucked his teeth, a sound that almost felt like a scoff, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ahh, come on,” he said, moving past you to the kitchen. You heard the clink of glass as he pulled two tumblers down from the shelf, the dull slosh of whiskey as he poured. “One drink,” he added, like it was a command rather than an offer. 

You watched him silently, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. He poured you each a glass, and by the time he turned back to you, there was something sharper in his gaze, something that made your skin prickle. Cassian walked back to where you stood, barely a few paces past the threshold, pressing one of the glasses into your hand without waiting for you to protest. His fingers brushed yours as he handed it over, the contact sending a wave of unease through you. 

He tipped his own glass to his lips, throwing back the whiskey in one smooth motion. His eyes never left yours, daring you, waiting.

You stared down at the amber liquid in your hand, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. Just one drink. It wasn’t going to change anything. With a quiet breath, you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip, the sharp burn of the whiskey flooding your senses. 

Cassian’s expression didn’t change as he watched you, the empty glass still in his hand. “Good,” he muttered under his breath, setting his glass down on the kitchen island with a clink that echoed in the stillness. 

Before you could say anything, he stepped closer, closing the small gap between you, his presence overwhelming. The heat from his body made your skin tingle, and when his hand reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your breath hitched. His touch was too familiar, too careful for the tension that buzzed between you. It sent a jolt through you, a reminder of all the nights you’d spent in this very apartment, tangled up with him, and how far away that felt now. 

“Cass, I–” you started, your voice trembling, but he didn’t let you finish. 

He shushed you, and his fingers slid down to your jaw, holding you there as his thumb brushed over your cheek. His lips were so close to yours now, close enough that you could feel his breath puff against your skin. Your heart raced in your chest, your mind screaming at you to pull back, to stop this before it started. 

“Please, Cass, we need to talk,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I–”

“I didn’t bring you here to talk,” he said, his voice low, the words brushing your lips as he spoke. You knew what he wanted, and the sight of his eyes darkening only confirmed it. You tried to push your free hand against his chest, a feeble attempt to put some distance between you.

But he didn’t stop. His mouth crashed against yours, the kiss hard, demanding, and it caught you off guard, sending a shockwave through your body. You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest, glass of whiskey and all, trying to push him away. But he was relentless, his hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak. 

“Cassian, don’t,” you managed to get out between breaths, your hands pushing harder against his chest. For a moment, he hesitated, his grip loosening just enough for you to break the kiss and pull back slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. 

“I–” you started again, but the words felt useless now. He was looking at you with such intensity, his chest rising and falling with the same ragged breaths, and for a second, you could see the raw pain behind his anger. He was hurting — just as much as you were, likely more. And in that moment, you realized that talking wasn’t going to fix this. Words wouldn’t heal the damage you’d done. But you would still try, damn it. 

Cassian’s eyes flicked down to your lips, and before you could think, his mouth was on you again. This time, it was slower, deeper, but still full of that same bitterness, that same unresolved anger. His hands moved down your body, gripping your hips as he backed you against the door. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to try to make him talk. But his touch, his toned muscles pressing against you, it all clouded your thoughts until the only thing left was him. 

You could feel his frustration in every movement, in the way his lips pressed harder against yours, in the way his hands gripped you like he was afraid you’d slip away. And maybe that was what this was — a way to hold on to something that had already slipped through his fingers. 

He broke the kiss for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy. “Tell me to stop,” he muttered, his voice rough and ragged. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because even though your mind was screaming at you to stop this, to pull back and speak on the situation like adults, your body — your body and heart — they’d already made their decision. 

Instead of answering, you kissed him again, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The whiskey glass slipped from your grip, landing with a heavy thud as the amber liquid pooled across the hardwood floor. Surprisingly, the glass hadn’t shattered. He responded immediately, his hands sliding under your shirt, his touch sending a rush of heat through you that made your head spin. His fingers gripped your skin, nothing gentle about it. His mouth was on yours again, hard and demanding, and any attempt at control you had slipped further with each frantic kiss. 

His fingers dug back into your hips, and he pulled you toward him. You tried to catch your breath, but Cassian didn’t give you the chance. His hand slipped between your legs, pressing roughly against the front of your jeans, the friction sending a jolt of sensation through your body that made you gasp. 

“Cass–” you started, but the words died on your lips as his fingers worked your button open with a quick, practiced motion. The next thing you knew, his hand was inside, sliding past the fabric of your underwear. His fingers found you immediately, slipping through your wetness with a precision that had your back arching involuntarily. But this wasn’t the way he used to touch you — not with the slow, teasing strokes meant to drive you crazy. This was something else, something far more aggressive. 

“Missed me?” Cassian rasped against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. “Missed this?”

Two of his fingers plunged inside you without warning,  stretching you, moving in fast, unforgiving strokes. You let out a choked gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he fingered you hard, each thrust of his fingers sending shockwaves through you. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was as if he was trying to remind you — this is mine. You were mine. 

“Fuck,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? How easy you’d fall right back into it.” His fingers pumped inside you, deeper, harder, each movement making it clear that this was about more than making you feel good. This was something he needed. 

With a whimper, your head fell back against the door, your mind spinning with the sensation, the way his fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your legs tremble. It was so much, so fast. The push and pull between your desire and the way he was handling you was dizzying. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat to his lips.

“Did you think of me while you let them fuck you?” he hissed, voice dripping with venom as his palm pressed roughly against your clit. “Did you miss my fingers when you spread your legs for them?”

You moaned despite yourself, the push and pull of your desire and guilt twisting inside you. He bit down on the tender skin of your neck, his fingers still driving into you with that relentless pace. “Cass, please…” You barely managed to choke the words out, your body reacting to the brutal pace of his fingers even as your mind struggled to keep up. 

“Please what?” he mocked, his voice low and full of heat. “Please, Cassian? Please don’t stop, Cassian? I’m desperate for something to fill my pathetic fucking hole, Cassian? You want more, don’t you?”

Before you could answer, Cassian pulled his hand back abruptly, removing his fingers from you with a sharpness that left you gasping, your legs unsteady. 

“Open your mouth,” he growled, and you did without thinking, instinct taking over. He pressed his fingers down against your tongue, and you almost gagged at the sudden pressure. You tasted yourself on them, sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact. 

“That’s it,” he said, his voice cold as he watched you. “You take it so well.”

He pulled his fingers from your lips and was already moving. His hand gripped the back of your neck, guiding you downward, pushing you to your knees in front of him. You blinked up at him, breathless, the weight of what was happening sinking in. But the look in his eyes, the intensity, the fury… it left you speechless. 

Cassian wasted no time. He tugged at his belt, yanking his pants down just enough to free himself. “Take that shit off,” he muttered, nodding toward your shirt and bra. “You wanna make it up to me, right?” he said, his voice rough. “Go ahead. Show me. Let me feel how sorry you are.”

Before you could brace yourself, his hand was in your hair, and he was guiding his cock past your lips. He was thick and hard, and the taste of him was almost sweet as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, his hips jerking forward with a force that made your eyes water. 

“Take it,” he growled, holding you in place as he thrust into your mouth, the motion brutal. “Of course you’d take it so easily, so sweetly. Look at you. Look at those perfect fucking tits.”

You tried to adjust to the sensation, to put on a show for him as you played with your breasts, massaging and pinching and squeezing. His hand tightened in your hair, holding your head still as he fucked your mouth with a punishing rhythm. His breathing grew heavier, each thrust more forceful than the last.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he buried himself deeper, the sound of your gagging making his cock twitch against your throat. “You’ve always been so fucking good at this, goddamn.” His hips kept moving, faster, harder, his grip unrelenting as he used you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your jaw aching as he pushed you to the limit, fucking your face like it was the only thing that mattered. And maybe right now, it was. You could feel the anger still simmering beneath the surface, the way his need for control dominated every movement. And even though you knew this wasn’t how tonight should have gone, the heat building in your gut betrayed you. 

Finally, with one last thrust, he pulled back, his breathing heavy and labored as he looked down at you. You gasped for air, wiping at your mouth, your body trembling. Without a word, Cassian lifted you to your feet, his hands rough and commanding. He pushed you toward the couch, and you landed with a quiet “oomph,” your body barely having time to register what was happening before his hands were on you again. 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured as he pulled your jeans and underwear down with quick, rough motions, leaving your heat bare and exposed to him. You could hear him behind you, kicking his own jeans off, and feel the heat of his body as he lined himself up. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind reeling with the intensity of it all. “Tell me you don’t need this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say anything, but all that came out was a shaky gasp as he slammed himself into you, filling you in one hard thrust. You cried out, your hands scrambling to brace yourself against the back of the couch as he started moving immediately, his pace brutal and unforgiving.

“That’s right,” he snarled, his grip on your hips bruising as he thrust into you with a force that made your legs shake. “You take it so well. Just like always.” There was nothing soft about it, each thrust slammed you into the couch, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as Cassian fucked you harder, faster, the anger pouring out of him in every movement.  This wasn’t love or tenderness. This was raw, angry, and so intense it left you gasping for air.

“Did any of them fuck you like this? Did Eris fuck you like this?” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned over you, his hips never slowing. “Did you take him as sweetly as you’re taking me? Were you this pretty for him, this complacent?”

“Cass, please…” you cried out. Was that all you could think to say to him?

“Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he bit out, his fingers digging into your skin. “I know you. You’re mine. You always have been, and you always will be.”

His words cut through you, the intensity, the fury in his voice mixing with the pleasure that had your body on the edge of unraveling. And despite everything, despite the pain, the anger, the confusion — you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, the way the pleasure kept building, threatening to spill over.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” he muttered, still fucking into you with no sign of slowing down. “Of course you are. You can’t help yourself. Not with me. You never could.”

His grip tightened, his movements steady as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You couldn’t help but chase that high, pushing your hips back against his, responding to every brutal thrust, every mocking word. 

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come on.”

And with that, your body shattered, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you came, your mind going blank, your legs shaking beneath you. Cassian yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground, but he never slowed his pace, and his cock was still buried deep inside you. He didn’t stop. If anything, the pace he set before only grew more intense at the feel of your muscles contracting around him. The pressure of his hips slamming into yours, the harsh grip of his hands, it was all too much, and yet… not enough.

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice was a low, dark rumble against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Before you could protest, he leaned his body over yours and snaked his arm to your front, finding your clit with practiced precision. You gasped, your body jerking in response, your oversensitive nerves already on the edge of snapping again. He wasn’t giving you a chance to recover, wasn’t letting you escape the relentless pace he set. 

“Did Rhysand fuck you like this?” he snarled, his fingers circling your clit faster now, drawing another moan from deep within you. “Did he make you scream? Bet he didn’t make you come this hard, did he?”

You tried to shake your head, tried to speak, but Cassian clamped a hand over your mouth, straightening up as he used his grip to drive you back onto his cock again and again. Each thrust hit that spot deep inside you, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You could barely think, let alone find the words. 

“No answer?” he mocked, his voice rough and dripping with arrogance. “Figures. I bet you happily spread your legs for him, just hoping he’d fuck you half as good as I do.”

You whimpered, your legs trembling beneath you as the pleasure built again, unable to do anything but take the fucking he gave you. His fingers pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he thrust into you with bruising force. You knew you’d be unbelievably sore in the morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you felt yourself spiraling, hurtling toward release once more, and there was nothing to be done to stop it. 

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you? Y’know how I can tell?” he muttered darkly, leaning in closer. “I know your pussy. I know when it feels good, I know when it wants to be stuffed full of cock. I know when it wants to come just by how it squeezes my fucking dick.”

You cried out, the overwhelming sensation of him pounding into you, his fingers merciless on your clit, pushing you closer and closer. His hand over your mouth did next to nothing to muffle the depraved sounds escaping you. 

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he grunted. “I want you to come for me. I want you to scream my name while you come on my cock.”

And you did. He moved his hand just as your orgasm ripped through you, his name spilling from your lips again and again. Every muscle in your body went taut, the intensity making you convulse. You would have collapsed if he weren’t holding you so tightly, his grip bruising, keeping you upright as he rode you through your second orgasm.

But he still wasn’t done.

He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving you feeling empty and aching despite having finished twice. You blush, embarrassed at the thought. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he spun you around, his eyes dark and wild with hunger as he looked down at you. “Get on your knees.”

You clambered off the couch and dropped to your knees for him again, your body and mind too overwhelmed to do anything but obey. Cassian stood over you, his chest heaving, his cock still rock-hard and slick with your arousal. He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as he shoved himself back into your mouth. 

“Did Azriel fuck your throat like this?” he demanded, thrusting into your mouth with a brutal rhythm that had you gagging, tears streaming down your cheeks this time. “Did he make you choke on it? Bet he didn’t. Bet you let him take you nice and slow.”

You thought back to that day, to how Azriel had asked you if Cassian was too gentle while he fucked you stupid. But you couldn’t think about it for very long. Cassian slapped your cheek just a little harder than necessary, his cock still down your throat. “No one makes you choke like I do, huh?” he groaned, his cock twitching against your throat. “Not Tarquin, not Helion, and definitely not fucking Eris.”

He pulled out then, leaving you coughing and gasping for air as he turned you around and shoved you to the ground. “This is what you need,” he panted, driving into you with unmatched force, your cheek brushing against the plush area rug. “I bet Helion and Tarquin didn’t give it to you like this.” He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “Did Helion make you beg for it? Did Tarquin fuck you hard enough to make you scream like this?”

You moaned, the pleasure building up again, your body responding to every brutal thrust, every filthy word that left his lips. 

“Of course not,” Cassian sneered. “He couldn’t. None of them can. Not. Like. Me.” He punctuated the words with particularly deep thrusts that had you trying to pull your hips away from him. A fruitless effort, his hands yanking you back with a laugh. 

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing in tight, small circles that had you gasping, your body on the verge of breaking for a third time. You were shaking, face against the rug, unable to hold yourself up anymore. 

“Come again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “I’m not stopping until you do, so fucking hurry up.”

You felt yourself unraveling, the pleasure too intense, too overwhelming. His name tumbled from your lips again, followed by an incoherent string of curses as you teetered on the edge. 

“That’s it,” he growled, his grip on you tightening as his rhythm finally began to falter. “Come for me. Let me hear you scream.”

And scream you did. The pleasure ripped through you, your body shuddering violently as you came again, your vision going white, your mind completely blank. Cassian followed soon after, his own release tearing through him as he groaned, spilling inside you with one final, brutal thrust. 

“Tell me,” he whispered roughly as he pulled out of you, turning you onto your back so he could look down at you. “Tell me if Eris made you come like that. Did he fuck you like I just did?”

You shook your head weakly, your body too spent to do anything but breathe, your legs still shaking from the intensity of it all. 

Cassian stood up, already pulling on his boxer briefs and jeans with calm efficiency, as if nothing had happened. You lay there for a moment, trembling, your mind still foggy. Slowly, you fumbled for your clothes, pulling them back on in silence, your body aching and spent. 

As you zipped up your jeans, still breathless and shaken, you looked over at him. He was slipping his shirt back on, the casualness of his movements making your stomach twist. 

“Cass… what are you doing?” you asked, your voice shaky, confused. “I thought we–”

He cut you off coldly. “I told you,” he said, pulling his shirt down over himself. “I didn’t ask you to come over here to talk. I’m heading out, but you can stay here tonight.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, making your heart clench. Your hands trembled as you adjusted your shirt, a gnawing dread already settling deep in your gut. 

Cassian zipped up his jeans, then leaned down, his voice soft but biting. “No one will ever fuck you the way I do,” he said, voice full of an almost cruel satisfaction. “You’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this. Chasing me.” 

As you straightened up, zipping your own jeans, Cassian continued. “No one else will ever be enough,” he said, “and you’ll have to live with that.”

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you adjusted your shirt. When you looked up, you saw him halfway to the door, fully dressed now. But he turned back, a glint of cruel amusement in his eyes. “Oh,” he added casually, like an afterthought. Like his next words wouldn’t hit you like a punch to the gut, like a knife twisted deep into your chest. “You’ll also have to live with knowing that you sucked me off after I fucked Elain raw. Right here. On this couch. She left right before you got here.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@blessthepizzaman @book-obsessed124 @celear @girl-math-aint-mathing @halo-hanging

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[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Azriel: Violence isn't the answer.

Cassian: You're right.

Azriel: Sighs in relief.

Cassian: Violence is the question.

Azriel: Wait what?

Cassian, sprinting away: And the answer is yes!

Azriel, running after him: NO-

[nessiandaily]

Nessian by zumifresky [instagram]

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒍 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 3 of Betrayal Summary: With renewed purpose, Azriel heads to the library to see what he can get about resurrection spells. He also has to deal with a family intervention. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Hurt/No Comfort, Death of a loved one, Grief, Cheating, Betrayal.

Azriel raced to the library after giving Adelaide a goodbye kiss on the forehead, hoping it was the last time he would do so while she was dead.

He grabbed anything he could find on magic such as this, and scared the shit out of the priestesses in the process. He would usually take good care to show patience and nothing but kindness to them, but the desperation, lack of care, and now suddenly, hope, he couldn't bring himself to hide his feelings.

Azriel started to walk back to her room when he stopped by his door.

Maybe he should shower? Change clothes?

These weren't things Azriel cared to do much anymore. He kept himself from smelling, and changed every time he did so. But that was out of necessity, and he did it as fast as he could. It was never to make himself feel better or because he cared enough to want to.

It was a weird feeling in his chest when he put on the warm clothes the house had given him. Happiness? Fear? Hope?

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't really call himself happy, only two hours ago he was planning on taking his life, but he felt he could soon be happy, he now had a future to look forward to.

A future in which his best friend was once again by his side.

In other new developments, when Azriel's stomach made enough noise for him to truly realize how much he was starving, he decided he did want a proper meal, not just the scraps he had been forced to eat by his family because he otherwise wouldn't have done so.

It was the middle of the night, a time that usually meant it was safe for him to leave her room without being disturbed. His shadows would alert him if anyone had been there, but since he had come to the decision to take his life, they hadn't been speaking to him, certainly upset at his choices.

But they also didn't leave his side. They had been a constant companion these past 6 months. At first, he begged and begged them to leave him alone and while they would keep their distance when asked, they were never not only a few feet away, tucked into the corner of the room.

The hardest moments, when his chest felt like it was caving in from grief, they became a shield from the outside world, covering him and giving him a safe space. He could feel them providing a heavy weight upon his skin, not as to crush him, but to keep him grounded.

He had appreciated it, thanking them when he remembered to. But now, he cursed them out when he walked into the dining room to see his entire family sat at the table, staring at him, surprising him.

6 months ago, something like this would never happen. The Spy Master never allowed anyone to sneak up on him, to surprise him.

But he didn't feel like the Spy Master anymore.

"Sit, boy." Amren commanded. Not unusual of her to do so, but there was more in her tone than just snappiness. Hurt? Despair? Two emotions he rarely saw from her.

He felt his shadows nudging him to the empty chair at the head of the table. Where she used to sit, Rhysand at the other end, Azriel usually by her right side.

But his usual seat was taken by Gwyn, one of the priestesses he had become almost friends with before... everything. He would train with them sometimes and he would usually go to her when getting books for himself or Adelaide.

Despite the shadows' nudging, he didn't move an inch.

"What is this?" He asked, a thousand thoughts running through his head. Everyone looked... somber. Desperate. Angry.

"Please, Azriel" Elaine managed to get out before sobs left her mouth. While whatever they had in the past had faded, they remained good friends, thats why he finally sat down at the table with his family for the first time in months.

"Gwyneth came to us after you went to the library. She said- she said there was something wrong with you." Rhysand said, grief heavy in his voice. A rare occurrence, when the High Lord couldn't mask his emotions.

"No more than usual." Azriel snapped back. This was a waste of time, and he had not forgiven Rhysand for his actions, no matter how much his brother groveled, no matter how much Azriel knew he was mourning, no matter how ashamed he was of what happened.

How could he? When at the end of the day, Feyre was the one holding his hand and comforting him, while Adelaide, sweet Addie, was lifeless in a cold marble box.

"Your family said as much to me, but it was different, Azriel. I hadn't seen you in a few months and while I know this is a difficult time, I couldn't recognize you. There was, there was something else." Gwyn spoke up.

"I went to check on you in her room, expecting to see you in the same chair, but you weren't there, just a note in your place.'" Nesta explained.

Bury me with her, thats all I ask, that was Azriel's final request, his final message to his family, after 500 years together.

Sobs came from somewhere but he couldn't tell who it was. The ringing in his ears, the blurry vision, the feeling of his stomach dropping, it was all too much for him. He should have gotten that note the moment he came back.

Cassian, who was to Azriel's left, was shaking as he tried to stop his emotions from taking over his body, spoke in a soft and pained voice, "Nesta came back to us, holding the note and looking as if she- as if she'd seen a ghost. When she read it out, to us, Rhys and I winnowed to her resting place. You weren't there, the only sign you had been was your blanket, drapped over her. We thought- we didn't know if-" Cassian couldn't finish his sentence as Rhysand interupted him, seething with anger and hurt.

"Haven't we lost enough? Why would you do this, Az? Are you truly that selfish?" He screamed. He only stopped and took a breath when Feyre put her hand on his arm, trying to offer a comforting touch. He now spoke with a more level headed tone. "Why not talk to us, talk to me? I know you are upset and hurt by my actions. Gods know I will never forgive myself for the rest of my days, but I lost the woman I had loved my whole life. We both lost her, I- all I wanted to do these past 6 months was grieve with the one other person who loved and knew her as much as I." Feyre retracted her hand, clearly jilted from Rhys mentioning his love for another woman. "You didn't lose anything. You immediately had a replacement lover! I lost everything, and I had to stay by her side as she died, watching you betray her in her final moments. You are calling me selfish for wanting to end my life, but you would have been in the same position had you not had your mate to eagerly take her place." He spit out the word mate in disgust. He had spent his whole life wishing for a mate, but seeing all the pain they seemed to cause, he now wished to never have one.

He had liked Feyre, initially. She hadn't been anything but kind to him, but she jumped at the chance to be Rhys' one and only, and the few weeks before Adelaide had died, Feyre had acted as if she had claim to the High Lord. As if a mating bond could undo centuries of love.

But Azriel guessed it could, seeing as she was now warming his bed.

"Azriel," Cassian spoke up, trying to stop him from saying what he was about to.

"No! Fuck this. You were replacing her as she was dying. Don't talk to me about how much you are mourning her. If you ever feel even a sliver of the misery I have felt for the past 6 months, it would kill you. And I hope it does."

"Azriel!" Feyre yelled, shocked at how he could speak this way to his oldest friend.

He turned to Feyre, finally addressing her for the first time in half a year, "I know you aren't, you are too self centered to, but I also hope you feel shame and disgust every second you spend with him. I hope it eats you alive and you grow to hate yourself because of it. I wish you nothing but a long and unhappy existence."

"How dare you speak to your High Lady like that." Rhysand screamed. In 500+ years, Azriel had heard him yell like that but never had it been directed at him.

The world simultaneously stopped turning for everyone in that room as it sunk in what he just said. What he just revealed. All Azriel could do was look at his family, seeing each of them not surprised at the information, but ashamed, and disgusted, and scared at what was to happen next. They all knew.

"What?" he said, with as much venom and hatred in his voice it was a shock the High Lord didn't fall dead because of it.

Rhysand was now pale, apologetic. He knew he had fucked up, and he had fucked up hard.

Swallowing his guilt and fear, Rhysand tried to calmly explain, more care in his voice than before: "A few months ago, Feyre and I accepted the bond. We then immediately married. It was a secret and intimate affair, no one else but the officiant and us two. I then declared her as my High Lady."

Silence, as they all awaited the Shadowsinger's response. He didn't move for several moments, but his shadows became thick and heavy, almost suffocating everyone in the room. The High Lord and the General had seen him do this, but that was when he was about to torture someone, as he was about to hurt someone who he hated.

Using his wings to propel him forward, Azriel launched himself at his brother, intent on giving him a slow and painful death.

[realfae12]

[greenleaf777]

This little Nessian moment at the end of ACOSF is one of my favourites. They’re so cute 🥰

The character development Nesta goes through so by the end of acosf she feels safe and secure enough to be her true self and not constantly keep up a facade. Proud of her!

Imagine acofas Nesta blowing anyone a kiss?? LOL 😘

Kinda late for nessian week but 🤷‍♀️

@nessianweek

[acotarmemes]

ACOTAR tweets // moo deng

icons by @copypastus

Not even Prythian is free from the power of Moo Deng 🦛

[lady-of-tearshed]

ok…hear me out, a fic where cassian has a kid (prob adopted or smth) that’s nonverbal bc trauma or disability reasons, and it kinda wears on cass so one night he’s like talking to rhys about how his kid isn’t normal, and the kid went to get some water but overhears the whole thing - just angst to comfort

love your writing btw💗💗

Beautifully different

Pairing: Nessian & Their kids (Oc!Briana & Oc!Zion)

Summary: Cassian has a lot of pent-up frustration and worries about his son, Zion, who is diagnosed with selective mutism. He slips up in front of Zion, and now he has to apologize and make it better.

Word count: 1368 words

Warnings: Disabled child (selective mutism), angst, miscommunication, a bit of swearing, allusion to Nessian conceiving another child.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

“It’s called selective mutism,”

Cassian could still remember the confusion and worry that had set in his head the day Madja had announced the diagnosis of his son, Zion. 

Cassian’s grip tightened around his mate’s shoulders, his jaw clenched with anger. “So he’s not talking on purpose?” 

“No,” Madja’s voice had softly reassured him and Nesta, whom was crying against Cassian's chest. “No, it’s not how it works. It’s a rare childhood anxiety disorder. It’s the brain response to a trigger that makes Zion unable to speak in certain situations or around certain people,”

He remembered how it made his stomach twist with guilt, how the sight of his mate crying in his chest at the hard news had brought tears to his own eyes. But Madja’s comforting hand on his shoulder had calmed him down, grounded him. Her voice had enveloped his heavy heart and soothed his ache like a soft salve. 

“It is not your fault, to any of you,” Her other hand gently rubbed circles on Nesta’s back, calming down her sobs with her reassuring words. “There are treatments to attempt to cure this, and things you could do to help Zion’s condition to go away,”

“We’ll try anything,”

Cassian was a bit late to pick up his kids from Feyre’s studio. Madja had deemed it helpful to sign up Zion on recreational activities with other children for him to interact with, so Cassian and his mate did. Of course, Briana, the perfect big sister that she was, had insisted that she absolutely needed to go too so she could hold Zion’s hand if he got too shy (but mostly because she absolutely adored her auntie Feyre, and she was overly excited to make some art with her.), so Cassian and Nesta had no choice but to agree. As if he would’ve ever denied anything to his little princess anyway… 

The doorbell rang when Cassian pushed the door open.

“DADDY!”

The tiny bundle of curly hair wrapped in pink chiffon jumped into his arms, and Cassian caught her up in his arms before twirling her around. He bit her chubby cheeks playfully, making Briana’s melodic giggle to fill the room. “Hello sweetie, I suppose you had a great day?”

“The bestest day ever!”

Cassian huffed a laugh before putting her down on the floor slowly. He lifted his eyes and scanned the room, searching behind every canvas where the paint decorating them was still fresh and shining. Finally, his eyes landed on the one exposed on the easel exposed in the farthest corner of the room, where Zion sat, absentmindedly applying the same shade of blue all over the white canva. 

Cassian had to hold back his cringe, and forced himself to not look at all the other kids' artworks and compare them to his son’s. Instead, he just caressed Briana’s hair. He crouched down to be face to face with her, and smiled.

“Hey, why don’t you go and play outside with your brother for a while? I need to talk with Auntie Feyre,” Briana opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian poked her nose and cut her off. “Alone.”

Briana sighed dramatically, pouting a little before taking her little brother’s hand and cheerfully dragged him along to the swings outside the studio. 

Cassian waited until he was sure that both of his kids were outside, playing, and not paying attention to him, then he made his way inside the studio. His ears led him to where water was running, and leaned in the doorway to where Feyre was cleaning a shit ton of paint brushes. Sometimes, the warrior wondered how she dealt with such messes weakly, for fun. 

A chuckle left his throat at the thought, and made Feyre’ face snap up from her task. A bright smile flashed over her red, blue, purple and yellow painted face. Feyre tried to wipe it away, noticing Cassian’s amusement glinting in his eyes, but her attempt very much failed, as it only resulted in spreading the paint all over her face even more. 

“Are you here solely to make fun of me, or to actually pick up your kids?”

Cassian chuckled, scratching the back of his neck while a flush of embarrassment creeped up his cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit late to pick up the kids I know… I was…” He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the mental image of how busy him and Nesta had been. “Busy.”

“Busy making more of those little ones?” 

Nosy woman. 

“How has it been for them today?”

“They’ve been good. Briana has made some progress on her painting today…” Feyre frowned, hesitating. Then she shrugged, avoiding the topic. “They’ve been good.”

“And Zion?” Cassian pushed, moving closer to where Feyre was washing the paint brushes. “Has he… made any progress? Did he make any friends?” 

Feyre left the brushes in the sink and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, he tried a different shade of blue on his canva today… He didn’t participate actively in the group today but…” She bit her lip and placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, “Maybe it’s normal, perhaps that’s just how he is you know… Maybe he’s happy like this-”

“Well I am not. A child needs to have social interactions to develop, Feyre. He’s not normal,” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel his face heat up, his breathing getting as heavy as the guilt resting on his soul. “Madja was wrong. That kid will never be normal. He’ll never be like the other kids,” 

Anger bubbled up within him. How was his son not normal, when his daughter was? “Where the fuck did I mess up-”

A thud that came from the other room cut off Cassian. Both Feyre and his face snapped to the door, where a tiny wing peaked out. 

Feyre’s face twitched and she patted Cassian on the shoulder. “I’ll wait outside with Briana… and I’ll make sure that the front door stays closed while you talk it out.” 

Feyre quickly made her way out of the studio, cheeks red from the embarrassing situation. She carefully avoided eye contact with Zion’s heart-broken face. 

Cassian only stayed in the middle of the supply room, staring at Zion’s tiny wing peeking out of the doorway. He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. “Zion…” 

Zion hesitantly moved from his hiding spot and slowly dragged his feet in front of his father. His head was kept so low that Cassian couldn’t even see his eyes from where he stood. He kneeled in front of his boy, his warm palm coming to cup his cheek. His thumb brushed off some tears staining Zion’s cheek, but he still avoided his father’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I…” 

Cassian’s throat tightened, cutting off any sounds when the silent room filled with Zion’s choked sobs. He brought his face to his chest, his own tears now falling on top of his son’s head. He held him tight against him, as if he was afraid that the boy’s heart would crumble if he’d let him go. “I’m sorry, Zion. So sorry…” Cassian whispered against the boy’s ear, his hand rubbing slow circles on his back. 

Zion sniffled, his face now tilted up to look into his father’s eyes with so much sadness.

“I said horrible things, I’m sorry. Every kid is different, I know. I just…” His voice broke. Cassian looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. He calmed his sobs down before taking control of his voice again. “I just want you to be happy, my son,” His eyes met Zion’s, the same shade of hazel eyes staring back at him. “But… I guess sometimes I need to remain myself that being happy for you sin’t the same as being happy for me,” 

Zion nodded, his little hands coming to wipe away Cassian’s tears, the same way he did for him. 

“Are you happy, Zion?” Cassian whispered, his face painted with concern. 

“You make me happy.”

And these were the most words Cassian had heard from his son, but the most beautiful ones anyone had said to him in all of his immortal life span.

Acotar taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover

Cassian taglist: @ladybookstan

[unforgivenyunjin]

Nesta’s fans: Why don’t people like us

And this is how they act👇🏾

You’d think that they’d be more sensitive to the topic of rape when they stan someone who was almost raped herself but I guess asking for Nesta’s fans to be decent people is too much for them.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Nesta Archeron’s greatest crime is and always has been that she doesn’t fit in with the IC - and that isn’t changing.

I saw a post that said basically why does Nesta try when no matter what it will never be good enough for the IC. They’re mad if she doesn’t volunteer to risk everything for the good of the world and then also mad when she DOES.

But I actually think this is EXACTLY IT!! Nesta DOESN’T try or do anything based on the IC’s determination of what she should and shouldn’t do unless forced with threats to her own safety or Elain’s (I wonder if Cassian will also be used against her in future books)

So as Nesta heals and learns to stand up for herself she is making choices that she deems right and that’s why there is so much tension, why she’s so “lost” and seems unhappy and honestly a bit listless in HOFAS. Because before when she didn’t fit in it was because she was mean and drunk and traumatized. But now … now Nesta is settling into who she truly is free of expectations that have suffocated her since she was a child.

Now it’s a bigger problem because there is nothing to fix. This is her. She is happy and satisfied inside of it.

Now, we test if Cassian meant it when he said she didn’t need to become sweet and simpering. Is she allowed to give your high lord your favorite look, Cassian? HMMMM

[azrielsshadows42]

Feyre: Not sure why everyone's like; 'YoU MuSt LeaRn YoUr HisToRy, oR eLsE YoU ArE DOOMED tO RePeAt It'

Feyre: Personally, I don't think it would be that bad if it did, in fact, I want it to

Feyre: I would so get myself a pet dragon

Feyre: Smoke that Amarantha bitch, and Ianthe too while we're at it

Rhysand: ...

Rhysand: I love you... but sometimes you scare me

Cassian: Everyone, delete history as a subject RIGHT NOW

Cassian: We need pet Dragons!

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Cassian: I got stabbed in a bar fight once.

Feyre: What did you do?!

Cassian: Stitched it up by hand and walked back in for another beer. What else?

[kale-theteaqueen]

To Choose Her, Nesta POVs

Technically written for #nessianweek2024 but I didn't get it finished in time. TWT is up next!

---

"Nesta never thought she’d know peace like this.

Never thought she’d even come close.

But she was learning, by the grace of the Mother or whatever other existential power there was, just how blissful it might be.

Naked under the sheets, she took pleasure in being languid, in draping herself across the male who had made it a recent mission to be devoted to her, to show her love and care. He had exhausted her the night before, bestowing upon her a kind of worship that was still overwhelming, that she never thought real until now.

‘You’re perfect,’ He’d breathed against her lips, fingers dancing below her waist, under her skirt.

‘Beautiful.’ He’d praised, eyes flashing up at her from between her legs.

And against her neck, trembling as he reached his peak with a snap of his hips, he swore, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’"

---

Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @doriansgf @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @unlikelypersonalknight1 @slipknotvol3 @stylishmuser @lady-winter-sunrise @bri-loves-sunflowers @misswonderflower @acourtofladydeath @natasharomxnov @unhealthyfanobsession @fiction-loving-person @daddyduncan69 @bobanna81 @a-trifling-matter

@blueunoias @authenticgaymer