#MY FIRST CASSIAN FIC

[chichikoi]

hiraeth.

part II. synopsis: she watches as cassian falls for another, grappling with her own hidden affections and their newly snapped mating bond in the process. pairing: cassian x fem!reader fandom: a court of thorns and roses (book series by sarah j maas) genre: angst warnings: none a/n: house of balloons/glass table girls, this is his song... i love him. fluff part two coming up OBVIOUSLY, im not fucking ending it like this i cant do this to my #1 loverboy babygirl kitty princess beloved. @joyseuphoria hi <3

Cassian had always been the beacon of power and resolve, with a demeanor rugged and unyielding. But beneath the surface was vulnerability, and she knew that it was written in the stars for her to remain by his side as his closest friend and confidante, never to become one to uncover that side of him.

But it didn’t make it easier. Watching him as he fell for Nesta’s every glance, every touch, every word that escaped her mouth seemed to throw him deeper and deeper into a trance. And she was fine with that, and accepted it. Accepted that she would never be the object of his softened glances, his featherlight touches, his-

Her thoughts halted as Cassian stormed into the room, frustration radiating off him in waves. She glanced up from her book, her eyes immediately catching the tension etched onto his features. Without a word, she closed her book and shifted, making room for him on the couch.

Cassian collapsed beside her, his movements rough yet familiar. He stretched out, his feet finding their place on her lap almost instinctively. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, she settled into the comfortable silence, waiting for Cassian to speak.

"It's Nesta," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "Training with her…it was like walking on eggshells. One wrong move, and she was tearing into me with those ice-cold eyes."

She listened attentively, her gaze soft as she absorbed his words. "It was like she was always testing me," Cassian continued, his voice growing softer with each word. "Pushing me to my limits, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Her fingers instinctively started to massage his feet as he spoke. It was a small gesture, one born out of years of friendship and trust. Cassian didn't protest; instead, he leaned back against the cushions, allowing the soothing touch to ease the tension from his muscles.

As the minutes stretched on, their conversation ebbed and flowed, the weight of Cassian's burdens slowly lifting with each passing moment. Y/N listened, offering words of comfort when needed, but mostly content to provide silent support.

Cassian's breathing eventually evened out, his body relaxing against the cushions. Y/N glanced down to find him fast asleep, his features softened by the serenity of slumber. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection.

Suddenly, chains, bolts, and locks shifted, loosening, their weight growing just a little more tolerable. A soul peeked through. Broken, scarred, and trembling — with fear, she realized, but it stretched further and further. Yearning, searching.

It was as though a tether had snapped into place, an invisible thread binding her to Cassian in a way she had never felt before. Confusion flickered as she processed the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull drawing her closer to him.

She was aware that this was not happening in the slightest. A mind trick. A dream, she thought. betraying once, the jolt of real-time that pushed through her. Burning her cheeks and stealing her breath. How the waking world slipped past the knobby parts of her fingers like a whisper, barely there, because dreaming was just a fancier word for getting lost. It held her there, suspended in imagination and for every second, it felt real. Like she could grasp the outlines and the textures. Like she could touch the weather, drink the clouds, and taste the sunlight.

The gods who had her in a chokehold withdrew.

Death feared her too, it seemed.

He was soaring in the air, and she was on the ground. She tried to reach him but he was far, far out of her reach. Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, and every thought that tried to sneak its way in, through this thick veil, bounced off and dissipated into thin air.

Because she then remembered… that beautiful things shouldn’t be broken. And she had a knack for breaking things.

The soft rays of dawn streamed through the windows of the House of Wind, casting a warm glow over the sitting room where she and Cassian had fallen asleep. As she stirred from her slumber, she found herself alone on the couch, the imprint of Cassian's presence still lingering in the air. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her mind foggy with the remnants of… dreams? Visions? She felt as though the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but when has that ever stopped her?

So she stood on the ground and longed.

part II here >>

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Labyrinth of the Night - Chapter One

She laid broken and bloody in the street one moment and the next she was whole again, but now her humanity was lost forever.

OR Rhys hits Feyre with her motorcycle and in order to save her, turns her into a vampire.

Next Chapter

Read below or on AO3

AN: Hi Everyone! Welcome to my first Feysand fic! I'm trying to complete this spooky fic before Halloween (which I know is under a week, so we'll how well this turns out)

Please be aware that this fic features Sapphic!Feysand. And some Tamlin slander.

CW: Blood, cheating (not main characters)

Mood board made by me :p

Snippet:

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

**

“Feyre, please. This is my fifth time apologizing. Can’t you just forgive me?” Tamlin asked as he watched the young woman stuffing a backpack filled with clothes, some snacks, a tablet, and chargers.

Blue gray eyes glared daggers into his sunlight green ones. She watched him cringe and look away. Feyre’s gaze glanced at a nearby photo frame of them last year around the holidays. Feyre’s smile was so dim while Tamlin’s was bright and big.

“Feyre, I didn’t mean to do this. But what could I have done? You haven’t been home much recently.”

“Do you hear yourself? You just admitted that you’ve been cheating on me with the owner of the gallery that I’ve been working for the last three years. And you’ve been sleeping with her for at least the last two months.”

Feyre continued. “Not only that, but she’s stolen two of my own collection themes in the last year. And when I finally get a spot in the gallery, you end up fucking her!”

“And on top of all of that, two of my painted canvases are missing.” Feyre pointed to the few pieces she had left from her gallery from last week that rested on her unorganized desk. Most of her pieces had been surprisingly bought by an art collector. But there were still some left when she uninstalled her show as it was only running for a short time. 

“Are you implying that Ianthe stole them?”

“They didn’t just walk off on their own!”

Tamlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ianthe warned me about this.”

Feyre sneered. “About what? That you think I’m crazy? That you dove in between her legs without a second thought?!”

“It didn’t start off like that. You were complaining about wanting to have your own collection, so I asked her to give you a spot in the gallery and she said she would think about it. When you finally got your space, you ended up staying so late in the studio.”

Tamlin laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. “I was lonely. And Ianthe was there, and she took care of what I needed.”

Her mouth dropped slightly. “You asked Ianthe to give me a spot in the gallery? The one woman I’ve been working my ass under for years? Did she let you fuck her before or after you asked?”

Feyre held up her hand as Tamlin went to explain. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

Tamlin approached Feyre as she took a step back, closer to the front door. 

“Feyre, this is all in the past now. Your collection finished last week. Now we can focus on our relationship.”

Feyre shook her head. “No. I’m tired of feeling this way, Tamlin! You’re draining everything out of me.” She grabbed her phone off the nearby table, the percentage in yellow as it read under 30%.

“I’m not going to hear you out. I’m not going to forgive you. This was the last straw. I should’ve listened to Nesta.”

Tamlin growled. “Your whore of a sister is a waste of life. You left your family because I provided a future for you. They couldn’t even take care of you.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes expecting more tears, but there was none left in that moment. None left for the man she was in love with. No, the man she thought she loved. When Feyre didn’t answer, Tamlin raised his voice. She hated how her knees buckled slightly in fear.

“So what, you’re going to leave me? Go to your sister? She’s all you have now since your other sister is dead. Do you even know where Nesta is? Is she even still in the state?”

“Fuck you, Tamlin.” 

Quick as she could, Feyre turned the door knob of the front door before bolting out of the townhouse into the rainy night of downtown Baltimore.

**

“Fuck, why won’t you pick up?!” Feyre yelled into her phone as the automatic voice said for a third time that the phone number had been disconnected.

She hadn’t spoken to Nesta in years, not since the morning she left her two sisters in their family home on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

“Feyre, just think about this for one second. You’re barely nineteen. This guy is almost thirty. And you’ve known him for what? A month? Maybe two? Just because dad’s dead doesn’t mean you can just make any and all stupid decisions.”

“Oh shut up, Nesta. I want out of this awful house. I hate everything about this house!”

“No you don’t, Fey. You’re being a child.” Nesta stated as she went to reach for Feyre’s hand.

“No! I’m not staying in this house for one more second. I hate it! I hate you!” Feyre yelled.

Instantly Nesta stepped back and for a fraction of a second Feyre swore there were tears in Nesta’s eyes but in a flash, they were gone.

“Fine, go with your boyfriend. Do whatever the fuck you want. Why would I care?” Nesta sneered as she turned her back before heading back inside, slamming the front door.

“Fey, Nesta is right on this. Can’t you just stay for another month or two. You’re young,  and we haven’t even met this guy yet.” Her other sister, Elain said. 

Elain stood slightly timid from the heated exchange of her sisters. Her big doe eyes pleaded with Feyre.

“Please, Fey?”

“No. I’m not staying here. I need out, Elain. Go see Nesta or something. She needs to be comforted more than I do.”

Feyre watched as her second older sister shook her head in shame before she stepped back and went back into the house. This time the front door shut quietly, but the quietness was drowned out by the loud squeals of tires as a car stopped at the curb of the front yard.

“Ready to go, Thorns and All?” A man with long blonde hair said as he peered from the driver seat. He used Feyre’s username from reddit.

“Rose Court?” Feyre asked. She blushed slightly as the man stared a bit too long at her chest.

“The one and only. But like I said in our text, call me Tamlin, Felicity.”

“It’s Feyre.”

“Right, sorry. The trunk’s opened so put your bags in there. Hurry up too, I want to beat all of the traffic on 50 and 95.”

The thought of Elain painted Feyre in pain. Her sister had died in a freak accident with her car falling off the Bay Bridge into the shallow waters of the Chesapeake. Her body was never found, and Feyre never went to the funeral.

“It’s tragic, but your sister didn’t help take care of you, right?” Tamlin asked, knowing the answer.

“Ellie is my sister, and she’s dead.” Feyre sobbed into his chest.

“I know, Thorns. But listen, she never took care of you, so why waste your breath on her? Let her soul rest. Maybe we can visit her gravestone when the commotion has died down.”

She died over two years ago, just a year after Feyre moved out. No matter how hard Feyre tried, Tamlin wouldn’t let her go visit. Elain’s graves was in their hometown of Berlin. He always mentioned the bridge was dangerous and that they’ll go together at some point but they would have to take the long route of cutting through Delaware to get there.

But they never did.

Feyre also never got her licenses and from Baltimore city, that trip was at least two hours one way by bus and standard traffic. Tamlin would notice if she was gone too long. And if he didn’t know where she was at all times, he would freak. He would accuse her of cheating on him. Ironic.

The rain was only pouring harder as Feyre reached the Inner Harbor. It was late enough that some of the stores had closed, but a few restaurants and bars were still opened. Feyre glanced at her phone again seeing the battery at 15% now.

“Shit.” I need to get to a bar fast to charge my phone.

Feyre thanked every star that she ended up buying a waterproof backpack a few months ago. She was caught in the rain one night as she went from the studio to the townhouse.

I don’t even know if the house is still there in Berlin. I don't even know how to get a hold of Nesta.

Feyre didn’t want to think of the reality that she literally had no one in her corner. For the last three years it’s only been Tamlin.

Don’t cry! Crying makes everything worse. Focus, Fey! I can cry later. 

Not far from her, a nearby bar’s lights shone brightly in the darkness of the city sky. Feyre felt hope flutter in her chest. She picked up the pace wanting to get there as fast as possible. It was reckless to ignore the red stop light for pedestrians, but the sooner she was out of the rain, the sooner she could come up with a plan.

But then a bright light engulfed her before she felt her body leave the ground. Dazed by the rain clouds as her body smacked into the asphalt of the road, broken and bloody.

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

**

Rhys knew better than to be speeding down the streets of Baltimore, but to be fair she needed to be back in Frederick before the morning and still had to make a few stops in Catonsville and Ellicott City before she could venture home.

Driving the motorcycle seemed pointless to her cousin. She always asked her why ride it when they were just as fast, if not faster.

Rhys didn’t want her cousin to be peering too closely into her thoughts so she mentioned technology had evolved over the centuries, so should they. But what Rhys withheld from her cousin was that riding was one of the closest things she felt to being human again.

And now that feeling was stripped away as an almost dead woman laid feet from the crosswalk.

“Fuck, fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rhys ran over to the woman and her eyes widened just a bit. “Darling, are you hurt anywhere?”

The rain poured over their bodies but Rhys saw the familiar blue gray eyes that she’s seen every day for the last two years, only these eyes didn’t glare at her, but stared in wonder as they took in their final sights.

“Nesta is going to kill me” Rhys mumbled underneath her breath.

She pulled the woman into her arms. The rain had diluted some of the spilled blood already. Rhys held her breath for a moment, trying to soothe the ache of her hunger clawing at her throat and mind.

“I’m not letting you die today, Feyre darling.” 

Then Rhys leant down to Feyre’s neck and sunk her fangs right near the fading pulse.

[zrllosyn-art]

You should have been there. What kind of sibling were you, missing your own brother's funeral?

Blease allow me to share this pain with you because this comic made me loose my goddamn mind at 1 AM

bonus doodle under the cut

Technically drew this first but. Yknow. Context.

[omaano]

"Cassian's face is a brittle thing, no person's eyes should shine as painfully tearful as his. Kino offers his hand and Cassian - bright as the sun, steady as a roc, fluid as water Cassian - accepts it with shaking fingers. He tells Kino everything."

Art for we're spitting off the edge of the world by Xenomorphic for the 2024 Star Wars Big Bang @swbigbang. It is an amazing Canon Divergence Fix-it fic from one of the most memorable moments of Andor onwards, with beautiful prose that fits the mood of the show so so well and will make you feel just as deeply for these characters. Please give it a read and heap some love on my team's amazing and hardworking author, they were such a delight to work with!❤️

[imogenkol]

With each new leak and crumb of information we get about season 2 of Andor, the more I become equal parts excited and terrified for Bix.

It looks like they might be going in a darker direction for her, which makes sense given the horrifying torture she endured and the losses she suffered. Bix must feel so lost in the year before the season opens, plus she has a lot of anger and needs to put it somewhere.

“If I’m giving up everything… I wanna win.”

Oof. That line has been echoing in my head for the past day or so. Bix is all in. While I do think she’s a rebel at heart, I believe that “the cause” is secondary to her. She’s fighting for her now — for her home and her community, a place she longs to return to, but deep down knows it will never be the same, not for her at least… Bix is fighting for revenge. I believe that will be her purpose and driving force this season.

My deepest fear for her is becoming an accessory to Cassian. Becoming a prop for his losses and pain. I’ve said it before, but I really don’t think a rekindled romance between the two of them would serve either of their stories in any way.

Bix needs to find her sense of self again, who she is apart from Cassian. Apart from Ferrix, even. I want her to journey inwards to the darkest depths of her soul — to give in to the urges that scare her. I want her to frighten those around her, not because they’re afraid for her, but because they’re afraid of her. No one is sure what she’s willing to do anymore. She’s not even sure. And then I want her to come out of the other side of that and be a steadfast force of nature.

It would not serve her to move backwards. To accept Cassian as a partner again after the numerous times he has disappointed her, broken her trust, broken her heart. I feel like she’s learned her lesson too many times, especially so after the corpo incident. I do want to see them rebuild that trust and affection they have for each other, but with an unspoken understanding that they will never be romantic again.

The worst thing I feel like they could do to Bix is have her die for Cassian. That would just take so much away from her story. She has already suffered so much for him that to have her die as a means to further his own journey would really just be so disrespectful to such an interesting character.

Cassian as well I feel would not benefit from a rekindled romance. He is still finding his way in the galaxy. Diego Luna even said that Cassian starts the season still conflicted. Once his commitment to the cause is cemented, there won’t be much left of himself to give and Bix deserves so much more than that. It would be disappointing and unnecessary to see a weak excuse for a relationship between them where neither is able or willing to give it their all until it eventually fizzles out one final time — or until god forbid Bix dies.

Vel and Cinta already exist to explore that type of dynamic, it would feel a little redundant and possibly even take away from the complexities of their relationship (that we’ve barely scratched the surface of) if there were two similar dynamics happening parallel to each other on screen.

I would love to see Bix and Cassian be close again. There’s a lot of potential to create a unique and fascinating dynamic between them considering all their history, but it would be so refreshing to see a more familial type of bond form as opposed to a romantic one, and to see how these characters navigate that new dynamic.

Also while Bix’s likely death would and should affect Cassian, I truly hope that if she does go out… she goes out fighting for her own cause.

[starsofkyber]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor & Jyn Erso Characters: Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso Additional Tags: Rebelcaptain - Freeform, Post-Battle of Scarif (Star Wars), Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Another post-Scarif moment for you my lord, Mild discussion of medical injuries Summary:

This has happened before--he’s floated in and out of darkness, coming so close to grasping onto consciousness before descending once again into a dreamless stasis. But now there is something new. There’s a clarity to his thoughts, a sharpness behind his eyes that demands he wake up and assess the situation, target any dangers that might be lurking, get back on his feet and get ready to fight.

Cassian can’t imagine how useful he’ll be in a fight, though, considering he’s dead.

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Musc Ravageur

After obtaining an alluring perfume from a local vendor, Cassian and Nesta find themselves under a strange spell and unable to control their lust for each other.

(A sex pollen fic inspired by and for an SJM Kink Meme prompt and for Nessian Week 2023)

Happy Nessian Week! This smutty one shot is for @nessianweek Day 7 (Free day). Thank you so much to the organizers for running an amazing event!

This fic was inspired by an @sjmkinkmeme prompt on their spreadsheet for a Nessian sex pollen prompt. I've been wanting to do a sex pollen fic for a while and this prompt was the perfect inspiration!

Rating: Very Explicit. Please see the AO3 link for tags/warnings.

Word Count: 7K

Read on A03

Cassian adjusts his clothing and looks himself over in the mirror, feeling oddly nervous. He has no reason to be, the sensible voice in his head tells him. Nesta is his mate, and loves every gift, big and small, he’s gotten her in the past few months since they were mated.

But he still doesn’t have the best record with Winter Solstice gifts for Nesta, so he thinks the nerves are justified.

He glances over at the intricate perfume bottle on his nightstand. Nesta had never really shown a liking or affinity to fragrances. Cassian thinks her own scent—iron, smoke, and sheer willpower—is already perfect and there’s no reason to try to cover it up with anything else.

The old fae female hawking her wares in the Palace of Thread and Jewels was persuasive, though. Like a familiar friend was coaxing him along, Cassian walked up to the fae’s stall. Grinning slyly, like she had been expecting him, the half-concealed female took one look at him and thrust an ornate glass bottle with a mesmerizing, swirling liquid inside into his hands.

“For your true love,” she said in a whisper, eyes bright. “Guaranteed to make them wild with love.”

Nesta didn’t need that—they had spent the past month showing each other how wild with love they both were with each other after they had accepted the mating bond. Cassian took a slight whiff of the bottle. The perfume had an indescribable scent, like nothing he’d ever smelled before, and just that small sniff lay heavy in his nostrils. It was cloying and thick and heady and Cassian needed more, and before he knew it, he laid a finger on the top to spray an even more generous spritz—

“None of that, now.” The old fae’s worn hands darted out and grabbed the enchanting scent from his hands. Cassian shook his head, unsure of what had just come over him. “Save it for when you’re alone with your true love. It’ll be much more…appreciated then.”

Cassian didn’t remember tossing the money for the perfume to the woman, nor did he remember taking the perfume in its elegant box home and storing it away for a special occasion. And what could be more special than the annual Winter Solstice celebration with his family at Rhys’s house.

He grins and adjusts his vest. It’s little Nyx’s first Solstice, and Feyre’s birthday as well. His friend and High Lord seems to understand the importance of this year’s festivities, based on the extra energy and smiles he had been throwing around all week.

Satisfied with his appearance, Cassian takes the perfume from the desk and steals one last smell. Like before, the intoxicating aroma lingers in his nose and travels throughout his body, despite the fact that he hasn’t even sprayed any on himself. He had almost forgotten the perfume entirely before a niggling thought in the back of his mind reminded him of his purchase. He’ll spray some on Nesta soon, though, and the thought has his cock twitching in his trousers.

Cassian hustles out of their room. If Nesta isn’t in their room getting ready, there’s only one place she could be. Throwing open the doors of the library, Cassian stares at the vision that is his mate.

Nesta reclines on a reading couch, looking as elegant and proud as a queen surrounded by her adoring people. Fitting, Cassian thinks wryly: her beloved books are her subjects, and he is her loyal supplicant and advisor. Nesta’s hair is up in a simple braided bun, a few wisps of hair framing her long face. Her dress is a floor length smoky blue silk dress, with a deep ‘V’ that shows off her breasts and an equally deep leg slit that displays nearly the entire length of her strong, shapely legs. Just a glimpse of her smooth skin and muscles makes Cassian wish, just for a moment, that they didn’t have to go anywhere tonight, that he could spend the evening peeling Nesta’s dress off, trailing his lips along her petal soft skin higher and higher and higher—

“If you keep looking at me like that, we’ll never make it to Feyre’s.”

Cassian grins at his imperious mate, at her cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk. “You’re definitely making me double-think our family tradition, dressed like that.”

Nesta stands up—Cassian has to stifle a moan at the glimpse of flesh that’s revealed along Nesta’s leg and hip when she stands—and walks over to him, her heels thudding against the carpeted floor of the library. “Shouldn’t the sight of me dressed like this make you lose all thoughts and ideas from that gorgeous head of yours?”

He grins down at Nesta and places a soft kiss against her lips. “Of course, mate. How right you are.”

“And don’t forget it.”

Cassian chuckles. “You really do look amazing, Nes.”

His mate smiles fondly up at him and lays a hand on his shoulder, and not for the first time when it concerns his mate, Cassian forgets how to breath. “And you don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Do I look better than you?”

Nesta snorts and runs her hands down his jacket, straightening it out. “You know the answer to that. What’s this?”

“Oh!” Somehow, in the span of two minutes, Cassian had already forgotten the perfume. Digging in his suit jacket, he pulls out the delicate glass bottle. “I was in the market earlier and found this perfume. I know you don’t typically wear anything but it reminded me of you.”

Nesta smiles up at him. “That’s so sweet.”

“And the woman selling it said it would make my true love wild with passion, or something.”

“Yes, because we don’t regularly show each other how passionate we are for each other, hm?” Nesta asks sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. 

“Exactly. I know I’m already perfect—“

“Who told you that?”

“—but I figured another gift for my beautiful mate couldn't go amiss. Want me to spray you?”

Nesta takes the swirling perfume from his hand and takes a few steps back. “You can sometimes be a little heavy-handed with your cologne. I’ll spray it myself.”

“I do not spray that much cologne.”

Nesta inspects the bottle and the contents within. “Oh, yes you do. I shouldn’t be able to smell the Illryian mountains after you’ve been back for half a day and have bathed.” She opens the cap and takes a small sniff from the bottle. Immediately, Nesta’s gray eyes dilate and Cassian swears he hears her heart rate increase. “Oh!”

“Right? That was my reaction too.”

“It smells… I can’t describe it. Like pure sex.”

Cassian chokes on his breath because fuck, if that isn’t the perfect description. “I didn’t think—“

Without another word, Nesta douses herself with the perfume, along her arms, torso and the hollow of her throat. A beat passes, then Cassian watches, entranced, as his mate seems to transform before his eyes: her eyes close and she body shudders then relaxes, her heart beats even faster, Cassian swears he hears Nesta whimper, and the all too familiar scent of Nesta’s arousal slams into him like a fist to his face. 

“Nes—“

“Oh Cassian,” Nesta coos in a sultry voice he has never heard before. Her eyes are half lidded as she prowls towards him with an easy, confident stride. “Let's leave the thinking to me from now on.”

“Fuck Nesta.” Cassian isn’t sure if it’s the perfume or Nesta’s arousal he’s smelling, but his cock is hard in his pants and twitching against his leg.

“Yes, exactly, fuck me,” Nesta growls. Suddenly Nesta is in front of him and grabbing his jacket to bring him down to her and she’s kissing him, all fierce tongue and teeth and lips. Her hands roam over his torso and the back of head cementing him to her as she continues kissing him like her life depends on it.

Cassian grips his mate’s heaving shoulders and pushes her away from him, the scents of her arousal and the perfume making him dizzy. “Nesta, what’s gotten into you?”

“Hopefully your giant cock soon.”

“Nes,” Cassian growls, in equal parts frustration and arousal. 

“I need you,” Nesta pants, squirming in his grip. “I don’t know what—what’s happening but I need you right now, or, or…”

“Or what?” Cassian breathes through his mouth, trying to keep a level head through Nesta’s sudden madness.

“I feel like I’m burning everywhere, and I need you! In me, fucking me! Please!”

Cassian takes a moment to observe his mate. Her cheeks are flush and her breath is leaving her open mouth in great gasps. Nesta’s gray eyes look blurry—whether that’s from whatever madness has suddenly overcome her or the sudden tears gathering in the corners of her wide eyes, he isn’t sure. “This makes no sense,” he grits out. “You’re not well. You need a healer.”

“No!” With a speed that leave even him blindsided, Nesta sprays the perfume in his face and along his body, encasing him in a shroud of the tantalizing vapor. 

Cassian coughs and bats his hands through the mist. “Fuck, Nesta…” The perfume burns his throat and mouth as it travels down into his stomach then branches out into his body and permeates his skin and organs and bones, hotter and hotter. It’s as if something within him is changing, the shock of the perfume altering his very essence, turning him into a beast with only one thought, mine, mine, claim her—

And then, everything is quiet and calm. He blinks. Why is Cassian so concerned about Nesta? She’s fine, just as he is, and currently rubbing her body against his like a cat in heat. Nesta needs to be fucked, and Cassian needs to fuck her, right now—why was he fighting her earlier?

“You feel it too,” Nesta croons, softly cradling his jaw. Her eyes are huge and glazed, and Cassian can see his own dilated eyes in her reflection. “The burning, the need… you feel it too. I can see it.”

The inferno that raged through his body earlier has faded, and the heat is now simmering just below his skin. His ears are ringing, the sound getting louder and louder, and his skin feels itchy, but then Nesta grips his jaw to force him to look at her, and nothing else matters but the delectable female in front of him, a fire sparking within her eyes that he hasn’t seen since she gave up her powers.

“I need you. Now.”

Cassian doesn’t wait. Grabbing her dress, he tears it off her lithe body and is rewarded with a moan and a fresh gush of desire from his mate. He growls as Nesta claws off his clothes and he’s bare and stiff and proud before his wife. 

Nesta looks him up and down, a corner of her mouth tilted up. Her hand leisurely strokes his aching length. “Lay down on the ground so I can fuck you.”

Cassian growls. The urge, the hunger, within him demands to be sated, now, and the quickest way to do that is if Cassian gives them what they both need and bends her over the nearest piece of furniture to give his female the pounding of a lifetime. He opens his mouth to say as such when Nesta beats him to it.

“Get down on the damned floor right now before I go find some other way to get off,” Nesta snarls up at him, shoving his chest.

“You were just begging for my cock a moment ago, sweetheart,” Cassian crows back, a cruel grin on his mouth. The hunger he feels for Nesta is intense, but arguing with her temporarily sates that overwhelming desire. “You’re in no state to make demands of me.”

Nesta bares her teeth then ducks down. Before Cassian can track her, she kicks her leg out and sweeps his legs out from under him. He hits the floor hard and he feels a shot of pride for Nesta—his fierce Valkyrie has come so far—before every thought flees his mind as Nesta faces away from him and lowers herself over his lap. Cassian groans. From here, he has an amazing view of Nesta’s pert ass and strong legs as she she squats over him, as she grips his cock and angles it up, as she notches the thick head of his length at her tight entrance. She’s so wet, he can feel her juices already rolling down his straining shaft. 

He shifts below her. The aching desire has come back in full force and he needs relief, needs Nesta, now. Cassian’s hands dig into the plush rug beneath them. “Gods, Nesta, move.”

Nesta glances behind her to look at Cassian, an eyebrow cocked. Her body is already shining with sweat and she’s breathing hard, but he’s never seen a more beautiful and divine being in his life.

“You’re in no state to make demands of me,” she parrots back at him. But Nesta is a generous god; she slams onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in one and bringing them both instant relief. They groan in unison. Normally, Cassian has to take his time easing into her tight cunt, to make sure he doesn’t hurt her. 

Nesta doesn’t need any niceties tonight. She bounces on his cock, her strong legs moving her up and down, up and down, his cock. Cassian hears her panting softly above him as she braces a hand on his leg for leverage. Her other hand disappears between her legs—he feels her fingers occasionally grazing his shaft—and after only a few seconds, Nesta comes. Her walls squeeze his length and she softly moans as she comes down from her high.

Cassian looks on through bleary eyes. Nesta never comes that quickly or easily, preferring to gradually build towards a release with him. But that doesn’t matter, he decides. He’s warm and buzzing and jealous that Nesta has come already and he hasn’t. The burning beast within him rears its head again, and this time, it won’t stop until it’s satisfied.

“Are you only interested in getting yourself off?”

Without wasting a beat, Nesta shifts herself so she’s on her knees above him, still facing his legs, and leisurely rocks back and forth over his cock. Cassian bites his lip. From this angle, he has a perfect view of his thick cock splitting her glistening pink lips open, her folds spread obscenely around him. 

“You’ll come when I decide you can come,” she replies loftily, not deigning to look back at him and still taking her time and rocking above him. 

Cassian is done playing. Gripping her hips, he thrusts up into Nesta’s tight heat as she lowers herself onto him. She gasps and her cunt tightens around his length. 

From there, it’s a hot, sweaty battle for dominance between the two of them. They’re each racing for the same goal, he realizes, but Cassian refuses to lay back and let Nesta fully dictate when they finish. His hands are a brand on her hips and ass as he moves her up and down his throbbing length, and Nesta keeps riding him, going faster and faster and harder, her legs shaking with the effort. His cock is soaked with her juices, the sound of their flesh meeting wet. 

They’re both breathing hard. Nesta whines, a soft, keening noise from the back of her throat, and Cassian knows she’s close, that they’re both in the final leg of the race towards release. He’s burning from within and he needs to come, more than he’s ever needed anything in his life, and he needs Nesta to come with him. Blindly reaching between her legs, Cassian swipes a few fumbling fingers through the top of her folds. 

Nesta’s orgasm triggers his. As she moans his name, Cassian thrusts into her one final time and come inside her with a roar that shakes the windows. He’s coming, and coming, and coming, thick, endless ropes within Nesta’s welcoming cunt, more than he’s ever come before. Cassian’s continuing release fuels Nesta’s, and it’s a delicious feedback of their ongoing orgasms triggering the other. 

When it finally ends sometime later—Cassian isn’t sure when—they’re both sweating and quiet. His cum leaks out of Nesta’s cunt around his somewhat softened cock. The burning beast within him is sated for the moment.

Nesta twists over her shoulder to look at him, still seated atop him. “I hope you’re not too tired after that,” she purrs, and Cassian lets his head hit the floor. 

XXX

Time has lost all meaning to Nesta.

Perhaps it has been an hour, two hours, a day, or even a week. All she knows is the feel of her mate’s thick and heavy cock in her mouth.

Nesta takes Cassian’s length fully down her throat, the short hairs at the juncture of his thighs tickling her nose. She breathes through her nose and relaxes her tongue and jaw. Above her, he makes the most decadent noises.

“So good Nesta, taking my fat cock in that perfect mouth of yours,” he praises her quietly, and Nesta practically comes right then and there, just from the feel of his smooth shaft along her tongue and his honeyed words.

She desperately wants to reach a hand between her thighs and rub a finger over her clit or, even better, thrust her fingers inside herself and pump. Nesta doesn’t. There’s a sort of delicious agony in denying herself what she wants now, knowing what’s coming later will be worth the wait, like saving a piece of rich cake for after dinner at the end of a long day, knowing the reward would be appreciated all the better for waiting.

And wait she has. Nesta doesn’t know how much time has passed since a dreamlike fog, thick and heavy on her limbs like the morning mist, suddenly settled over her mind and body. It didn’t start out that way—she vaguely remembers a scorching sensation tearing through her body as a wild, feral need emerged from somewhere within her and demanded her mate. 

It isn’t completely unlike those wretched years after she was Made and turned to drinking and sex to attempt to feel anything in her life. Except now, though, she has Cassian next to her. She’ll never be wanting for anything again, as long as she has him, her mate, her equal, by her side.

Nesta feels one of Cassian’s hands slowly thread itself through her ruined hair. With a sudden tightening of his grip, his hand wrenches her hair and pulls her down further onto his cock. Nesta gags, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. “Something distracting you, sweetheart?” he taunts with a mocking sweetness, a corner of his mouth twitching up.

Her equal, indeed. Any other time, Nesta would have whipped herself off of Cassian’s dick and asked the House to deliver whatever type of punishment she thought he’d deserve. Now, though, with a cloud of lust making her dizzy, all Nesta could do is whimper around his length at the dominance in his tone and words. 

That dominance wasn’t exactly his idea, however. After Nesta had ridden him on the floor of the library like a warrior charging into battle, Cassian had dragged them to the couch and brought her close to his chest, a touching act of sweetness and normalcy at complete odds to what they had just done to each other. 

She couldn’t stand it, though. The buzzing beneath her skin branched out into her blood and veins and lungs and heart the longer she sat still without her mate’s cock in her in some way. Nesta had clambered out of his lap and kneeled between Cassian’s thick thighs, pumped his still half-hard shaft twice, then took him in her mouth.

The first time she made him come with her mouth and hands was quick, just a few minutes of her tongue working his sensitive tip and her hand squeezing and stroking what she didn’t have in her mouth. He had come with a hoarse cry, his hands digging into the couch cushions, thighs spread wide. His salty come coated Nesta’s tongue and rushed down her throat, her gaze content and proud at making her mate feel such pleasure. Cassian was still hard—somehow—beneath her, and a final splash of come landed on her lips as she detached herself from his shaft with a soft pop. 

His eyes were still bleary, like hers, like he too wasn’t quite sure what was happening. But also like Nesta, the continuous ache and need to continue fucking and coming was too great. It was tinged with a sense that something was wrong, but neither could concentrate long enough to voice and actually think on their concerns. 

Without missing a beat, Nesta had licked Cassian’s come off her lips, then took his cock back inside her mouth and started it all again.

Now, Cassian’s hand on the back of her head forcibly guiding her up and down his cock feels like a fixture, like Nesta is only complete with his hand in her hair and his cock down her throat. He moans when she drags her nails down the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“Trying to mark me up, mate? Leave bruises on my legs, like I’m going to leave bruises on that pretty neck of yours later?”

Nesta whimpers around his cock, wetness rolling down her cheeks when he thrusts his cock into her raw throat, and wetness rolling down her legs at everything happening to her right now. The sound of Nesta’s gagging and whimpers fill the room. She braces her hands on Cassian’s knees as she lets him fuck her throat, his hands tangled in her hair as he grunts and moans above her, all while Nesta stares adoringly at her mate. She’s close, and the haze within her thickens, and everything is jumbled—

Her world shifts and suddenly Nesta is on her back on the rug, and Cassian’s thick cock is entering her slick cunt in one brutal thrust. Lightning races up her spine as she comes suddenly, almost violently, her body shaking and her release coating her mate’s cock and thighs. Her inner muscles squeeze so hard she forces Cassian’s length from her body and she writhes on the ground. She has experienced mind numbing pleasure at the hands of her mate many times before tonight, but the release she experiences now is unlike anything she’s ever felt. Nesta vaguely hears Cassian cursing quietly to himself but Nesta is too far gone to recognize what he’s saying.

She receives no reprise. Still on her back with Cassian kneeling between her spread, trembling thighs, he thrusts into her still quivering pussy and resumes his brutal pace. “So good, Nesta,” Cassian purrs, his eyes hazy and delirious with pleasure. “So good of you to soak me like that. Did sucking my cock make you that needy?”

Nesta whimpers, too stricken with lust and already needing more even after the most intense orgasm of her life had been ripped through her body. This couldn’t be natural, what was happening to them…

But then Cassian slowly wraps a large hand around her throat, and all thoughts leave Nesta’s brain. She’s with her mate whom she loves more than anyone else in the world—what could be unnatural or wrong with what was happening to them?

“I asked you a question: did sucking my cock make you so needy that you squirted the second I started fucking you?”

His hand wasn’t too tight around her throat that she couldn’t answer. “Yes,” Nesta gasps, the feeling of his hand around her and cock within her already working her towards another orgasm. She grips the back of her thighs to widen herself even better for her mate, and Cassian moans appreciatively, looking down between her legs to watch himself pound into her red, swollen folds.

Cassian’s hand tightens around her throat as his breathing quickens and his thrusts get harder and sloppier. She feels herself leaking onto the rug, and knows her scent will be entwined in this room, just like it’s already entwined with the male above her. All Nesta can do is grip the back of her thighs to keep herself spread for him as she whimpers and urges him on, dark spots forming at the edges of her hazy vision. Her heartbeat thrums just under her skin. “Please, please, please…”

“Be a good mate and come,” Cassian snarls, releasing her throat to slap between her legs. He hits her clit and Nesta launches to the stars, like one of the many flying celestial bodies on Starfall. 

Eventually, she falls back to the planet, and Cassian is with her. She feels his spend trickle between her legs, and glances down to see him aim the last of the come on her lower stomach. Their breathing gradually slows. Nesta lightly touches her neck and knows from the slight ache already forming that she’ll have a bruised necklace in the exact shape of Cassian’s hand adorning her throat in the morning.

But all thoughts of later are far away in her mind. All Nesta focuses on is the feel of Cassian’s sweaty, hard body above her, quieting the ache between her legs and hunger in her blood.

XXX

“Put your back into it and fuck me!”

Nesta snarls like a crazed beast at him, and she looks it too: there are red scratches already forming along her back, her hair is in complete disarray around her sweaty face, her teeth are bared and the fingers of her elegant hands are curved into claws that could tear a male’s throat out. 

And she’s all his.

Deciding the best way to shut his mate up is to make her speechless, Cassian grips her hips even harder than before and steps up with one leg on the now-creaking couch in the library. This way, he has better leverage to fuck into her as Nesta hangs onto the back of the furniture for dear life.

Cassian is pretty sure they’ve been at it for hours. He hasn’t seen the sun come up, and a rescue party hasn’t come looking for them, so he dimly assumes in the back of his mind that no one is missing them and it hasn’t been that long. It’s hard to keep track of time, however, when his entire world is now centered on fucking the female in front of him.

“Have I not been fucking you well up till now? Are you not covered in my sweat and come? You were just screaming my name a few minutes ago.”

“If you were actually up to the task of satisfying me, I wouldn’t have ever stopped,” Nesta snaps without looking back at him, her hips gently swaying in front of him to try to entice him, and dammit it, it works. Through the ever-present fog that settled over his eyes and body, Cassian sees a bit of red creep into the corner of his eyes at the suggestion that he can’t keep up with Nesta. Stroking his cock, he watches in a haze as he sees two of Nesta’s long fingers skim her soaking folds before they plunge within her soft cunt. 

Cassian watches, entranced, as Nesta pumps her fingers in and out of her pussy. It’s an awkward angle for her, and she isn’t able to fuck herself as deep as he knows she wants to. She hangs her head down and moans, her hips moving in time with her thrusts, before Cassian remembers her earlier dare: put your back into it and fuck me.

He grabs the hand fingering herself and wrenches it out of her cunt before landing two hard, quick slaps to each of her rosy ass cheeks. Her ass bounces with the motion and Nesta moans in delight, and her ass keeps jiggling as Cassian thrusts inside her to the hilt with one savage push and he starts fucking her.

Just like every other time they’d fucked this night—day? Week?—Nesta takes it, takes him, so perfectly, not needing time to adjust to his length and girth. Cassian isn’t sure he’s ever been with a female that’s been as wet as Nesta is tonight, since he can’t remember anything from more than a few hours ago, but he doesn’t think submerging a partner in the Sidra would get them as wet as Nesta is now.

Cassian grips her hips, putting all of his strength and muscles into fucking Nesta harder than he’s ever fucked her before. She moans into the fabric of the couch, and he’s pretty sure she’s biting the couch to stifle her noises. 

He grabs her hair and pulls, making her back arch. “Come on, Nes. Let me hear it. Tell everyone who’s fucking you so well.”

“Cas—Cassian,” she whimpers. The wet slapping of their flesh meeting nearly drowns out her words. Cassian smacks her ass again. “Louder.”

“Cassian!” Nesta shrieks, and he can’t keep the grin off his face.

“I think… that’s enough of my back… don’t you agree?” Cassian can barely speak over how hard he’s moving into Nesta. The hand gripping her hip for dear life and the other hand in her hair keeps Nesta connected to him, and he’s thrusting so hard the couch is moving across the floor. He glances down and sees her ass bouncing against his hips and his cock, glistening with her wetness, shining in the low lamplight.

The beast that’s been lurking under his skin all night is rising to the forefront of his mind, demanding to be unleashed onto the female under him. Nothing else matters to Cassian but release—his and hers. His heart beats erratically in his chest. He needs to come now or he’ll die, he’s sure of it, and by the desperate whining leaving Nesta’s mouth, she feels the same aching need as well.

His hand gripping Nesta’s sweaty hair plunges between her legs and strokes her bundle of nerves punishingly, without any thought of kindness or care. Neither of them wants or needs that now, and when Nesta breaks and wails her release, his name on her lips, Cassian shatters with her. 

The beast within him purrs, content to rest until it needs to feed again.

XXX

Nesta isn’t sure how much more of this she can take. 

Logically, she realizes there’s no way she should still be conscious at this point. Between all the sweat and come that’s left her body, she should be a dehydrated husk that’s been left out in the sun too long. Even after she managed to hoarsely ask the House for some water—it had dumped a huge carafe of ice cold water with two glasses on the only unbroken table remaining, along with meat, cheese, crackers, and an entire chocolate cake—she still feels thirsty and empty and needy. Things are becoming clearer to her—she remembers there was something odd about that perfume Cassian got her—but her skin is still too tight on her body and she’s just uncomfortable.

Underneath her, Cassian is trying his best to bring her some relief. His tongue stiffens and grazes the side of her clit, and pleasure-pain lances through her body. 

“Why can’t you always be so sweet with your tongue like this, instead of giving me attitude all the time?” she asks fondly, staring down at him.

Between her thighs, Cassian chuckles and hooks his arms over her legs, keeping her cunt on his face. He hadn’t wasted a moment after coming inside her to throw himself on the ground and tug her over his face. “To clean you up,” he’d said, which was perhaps one of the most thoughtful things he’d ever said to her. 

Cassian doesn’t seem to mind that he’s licking his own release along with hers. He also doesn’t seem to be in any rush to make her come, or to seek any pleasure for himself. His cock is half-hard against his thigh and twitches with every moan and shaky breath that leaves her lips, but he doesn’t make any effort to change their positions.

His tongue swirls around her entrance before it plunges inside her. “Fuck,” Nesta sighs, carding a hand through his thick hair and gently moving her hips over his lips. “You feel so good.” Cassian stills, letting her ride his face as she chases her orgasm and quivers above him. 

Nesta falls forward, bracing her hands on the floor as she comes down from her high. She tries to swing off Cassian’s head but he only tightens his strong arms around her legs. 

“Again,” he commands from below, his voice muffled. He doesn’t give her any other option; his tongue strokes her clit in broad laps as Nesta grits her teeth.

Now it’s a bit too much pain and not enough pleasure. “I can’t,” Nesta says, fighting to upend herself from his grip, tears burning the corners of her eyes. “It’s too much.”

"You will come again on my tongue,” he shoots back forcefully, like he’s willing his statement into reality. “Touch yourself.”

Nesta groans, in frustration and because of what his lips are doing between her thighs, before she gives in and pinches her nipples. She leans back, seating herself fully on her mate’s face, and Cassian hums in approval.

His tongue dances over her folds as he slips a single thick finger inside her. Nesta hisses, squeezing her breasts. Despite her body being more accommodating than ever before when it comes to Cassian’s cock, her channel finally feels a twinge of tenderness at the intrusion. He’s gentle, though, barely thrusting inside her and letting her own rocking hips dictate how much of himself she takes within her. 

Whatever strange fervor that had taken hold inside her isn’t ready to be done yet, though. She finds release again on Cassian’s face and feels empty. “One… one more time,” she gasps weakly, crawling off him and laying down on the floor on her side. 

She hears Cassian shuffling behind her, then feels the floor reverberate as he thumps down on his side behind her. Dragging her top leg over his hip and positioning an arm underneath her head, Cassian turns her head towards him. 

His face is shining with her come, and it’s one of the most erotic things she’s ever seen in her life. It’s a sign that he’s happy to pleasure her, and also proud to have her mark him, to bear her scent proudly. Nesta tugs her mate to her lips by the back of his neck at the same time his hard cock enters her. 

They groan into each other’s mouths. Finally, it seems neither of them have the desperate, insatiable need to reach their release as soon as possible. Nesta’s eyes and body feels heavy and tired but she feels more like herself than before. Based on the bleary look Cassian gives her as he rocks in between her legs, she thinks whatever strange delusion that overcame her earlier is leaving his body as well.

Nesta relaxes in Cassian’s arms. He’s warm behind her, a reassuring presence. Cassian buries his face in the back of her neck as his hips speed up, pushing himself into her fully on each thrust. The sound of their bodies meeting is dirty and wet and filthy, yet she feels more connected with her mate now after what they just experienced.

Cassian breaks Nesta from her loving haze by pumping all of his cock inside her and grinding against her, hitting a sensitive spot he rarely manages to find. Stars erupt in Nesta’s eyes as equal parts pleasure and pain lights up her body.

“Fuck, Nes, you’re perfect,” Cassian mutters into her neck. He’s thrusting and grinding against her pussy as his fingers brush her folds. “So lucky—love you so much—mine, mine—“

“Yours,” she gasps, twisting to pull his face back to hers, her lips hurriedly brushing against his. “And you’re mine.”

“Yes, always,” he groans, screwing his eyes shut. He’s pounding into her with abandon, his fingers circling her clit. “Fuck, come with me.”

With a sob, Nesta comes. Cassian finishes soon after, shooting his release deep within her body. For several minutes they’re silent, each shaking with exhaustion.

The sun is peeking out from the bottom of the library’s windows when Nesta raises her head. When she finally comes again sometime later, the fog that had been hanging over and inside her finally dissipates, leaving her sluggish. The all-consuming need from that damned perfume is finally gone from her weak body, its scent no longer blanketing her skin. She crawls on shaking legs and arms to the water jug and hauls it over to Cassian, still laying on the floor.

“I know we just got done having sex—“

“Please don’t say you’re still feeling… whatever we just experienced,” Nesta interrupts tiredly, wiping her mouth after drinking from the carafe.

“No, no, I think I’m fine,” Cassian says, accepting the water from Nesta. “I was going to say, I know we just finished fucking like animals, but the sight of you crawling with my come running down your leg would normally be enough for me to go again.”

“And now?” Nesta asks, laying down on the floor, her head on Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian takes a long drink. “Now, I think we went at it so much I’m afraid to even look at you. My cock needs a break.”

“Just your cock? That seemed to be an entire body workout.”

“And you weren’t complaining.”

Nesta hums and closes her eyes, feeling Cassian’s steady heart beat under her head. They’re silent for some time until Cassian speaks.

“What happened to us?”

“It was that perfume you got me,” Nesta spats. “I felt fine until I smelled it. It must have been drugged to act as an aphrodisiac.”

“The female I bought it from did say it would make my true love wild. I didn’t think it would be like that,” Cassian winces. 

Nesta narrows her eyes and looks at Cassian. “Who did you buy it from again? When I can manage to stand and take a bath, I’m going to pay a visit to the Palace of Thread and Jewels with that cursed perfume and put my Valkyrie training to good use. I’m going to smash the bottle at her feet—“

“No need to be so hasty,” Cassian says, squeezing her. “I wouldn’t mind keeping it around, for special occasions.”

Nesta stares at him incredulously. “You’re mad.”

“Mad with how much I love you.”

“Just shut up and kiss me and be quiet,” Nesta sighs, and Cassian laughs and obliges his mate. 

XXX

Rhys glances out of the River House’s window into the dark night above. It had snowed earlier, and he can still make out the three spread outlines pressed into the fluffy snow, one much smaller than the other two. It had been a perfect Winter Solstice with Feyre and Nyx, and now Rhys gets to enjoy the evening with his small family as well.

Was it wrong of him to ask a local vendor to sell some enchanted perfume to all his friends, guaranteed to drive them uncontrollably mad with lust? Perhaps. Did Rhys also have to sneak inside his friends’s minds to ensure they actually used the perfume, to make sure his small family was alone tonight? Maybe. 

But it was Feyre’s birthday, and Nyx’s first Solstice. After everything he and Feyre had been through this year, all Rhys wanted was to spend their first Solstice as a family together, alone, just the three of them. 

He loves his family, truly. But sometimes Mor and Cassian can get a little loud, and Elain and Lucien get a little too affectionate in public, and Amren mutters offhand remarks under her breath, and Azriel broods in the corner, despite Gwyn being all smiles around the room. It all just seemed too much this year, after the fucking horrendous year they’d had. A quiet day with his mate and their son was the only way Rhys wanted to spend the day.

“I wonder what happened to everyone,” Feyre says quietly, coming up to stand next to him at the window, Nyx in her arms. Their son had had a very busy day, between a delicious homemade breakfast, playing in the snow, unwrapping his new presents, and trying a bit of Feyre’s birthday cake, and he’s fighting to stay awake. “I hope they’re ok. Should we look in on—?”

“No!” Rhys interrupts, and Feyre and Nyx give him matching looks of surprise. “Uh, I’m sure they all had a long day and decided to spend time with their mates.”

Feyre gives him a long, searching look but doesn’t say anything. “Will you still have your annual snowball fight at the cabin in the morning?”

Rhys thinks of the perfume that Cassian and Az have, and how confident the fae was in her enchantment. “Actually, we all decided to postpone it this year, to spend more time with our mates and families.”

Feyre’s face lights up brighter than every star on Starfall combined, and Rhys would make the same decision to douse his friends and family in an aphrodisiac in a heartbeat, just to see his mate experience even a fraction of the happiness she’s feeling now. “That’s wonderful! Maybe the three of us can paint something together with those wonderful finger paints you got me.”

Nyx makes a happy, contented sigh from Feyre’s arms and Rhys smiles. The bond between him and Feyre glows strong and bright as the best Solstice Eve he’s ever had draws to a close. “I can’t wait.”

[hannzoaks]

feel the wind in your hair

Pairing: !BikerAzriel x !BikerOC

author's note: reader has she/her pronouns, this is literally my first fanfic ever and i lowkey didn't want to post it but i figured it couldn't hurt LMAO. i dont love it and any constructive criticism is welcome, just don't be mean i'm sensitive :') lmk if a part 2 is wanted, okay enjoy!

word count: 1.2k

Dana

As soon as I walk into the university library, I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me. Wearing biker gear and carrying a helmet around tends to draw attention, both wanted and unwanted. My “biker gear” is just aramid lined jeans and a leather jacket, but combined with the helmet in my hands, I look totally decked out. I ignore the stares, as I always do, and look for an open desk. It’s the beginning of the semester so people are actually in the library instead of giving up and going home right after class. I walk through the lines of students and computers, glancing at students already in study groups or students sitting by themselves with headphones on, ignoring everything going on around them. There’s some open seats but I keep walking to the back of the library, wanting to be as isolated as possible. As I get closer to my favorite corner, the one with booths and whiteboards, I hear loud and rambunctious laughter. I’ve been in uni long enough to know that it’s a group of rowdy boys, most likely frat guys, not taking education seriously and riding on daddy’s money. My steps falter as I seriously consider finding somewhere else to sit, but after driving an hour and a half on the back of my bike, my body is screaming at me to just sit down. I pick the booth in the farthest corner, a couple tables down from the group of guys being obnoxious. My helmet clatters on the table as I practically fall into the booth, groaning as I take my backpack off my shoulders. I slip my leather jacket off and throw it across the table in frustration. I was only wearing that to ride, it’s the middle of August and I’m sweating so bad I’m not so sure I don’t look like a drowned rat. My head plops down onto the cool table and I take a couple deep breaths before sitting up and opening up my bag. I pull out my laptop and begin to sign into it when the table of boys explode in laughter again. Frustration rises in me quickly and violently and I bite my tongue before I lash out. I’m so overstimulated, I’m hot, sticky, my ass hurts from sitting on that damn bike, and my shoulders feel like they’ll fall off from how heavy my backpack is. I just wanted to come to my quiet corner and start my assignments. I pull out my headphones and sigh in relief when the room around me muffles into quiet background noise. I open up my assignments and click on the one that I’ve been putting off until the last second, it’s due tonight and I’ve barely even looked at it. Of course it's a tedious assignment that should be considered busy work, I sigh and pull up the necessary tools to complete it. After a while I actually get a majority of it done before deciding I want a quick snack. I scoot out of my booth, looking up at the group of guys that are still goofing off. I immediately make eye contact with one of them, he has dark hair with striking hazel eyes. He has sharp facial features, and I can’t help but notice how appealing his lips are. His facial piercings stand out against his tanned skin, and I swear they twinkled in the light. He’s probably the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. Both of our faces remain blank, and my eyes flick down to the objects at his feet. A motorcycle helmet, riding gloves, and an armored jacket. My eyebrows flick up in curiosity and my gaze darts back to his for a second before looking forward and walking towards the vending machine at the front of the library. I feel eyes on me again, but this time it’s only one pair, and it’s impossible to ignore.

Azriel

Jesus the guys are so loud today. Every laugh out of them is like nails on a chalkboard. I can’t tell if it's because I’m actually annoyed by them or just hyper aware of the fact that they’re acting like this in the library. It’s probably both. At this point I think I’ve totally zoned out, only coming to when one of them says my name or when Cassian laughs too loudly at a joke I didn’t hear. Rhysand doesn’t seem to be concerned with how loud Lucien and Cassian are being, and Eris seems as zoned out as I am. I’m so deep in thought that I don’t even realize Rhys was saying my name until he punches my arm and I whip my head around to him.

“Dude what the fuck?” I mumble, rubbing my arm. 

“Did you not just hear me? I told you to look at that biker chick as she passed but you didn’t look up in time. She already sat down.” He points to the corner of the room at a lone booth. I follow his finger and see just a shoulder and long brown hair in a braid thrown over it. There’s nothing there to suggest she has a motorcycle so I scan the rest of the area, looking for someone who has any biker gear. 

“Where? I don’t see anyone.” I say, still scanning.

“You were just looking at her, the one with the braid. Her gear is tucked into the other side of the booth.” I take another peek, watching as she slumps onto the table. I turn back to the group of guys and see them all watching me.

“Why are you all looking at me?” I look back down at the notes we’re supposed to be studying. “Just because she rides a bike doesn’t mean anything.”

Cassian sighs dramatically, plopping his hands into his chin. “Yea but YOU ride a bike. Which means y’all are meant to be, which means you can ride off into the sunset together, which mea-”

“Cass shut up and get back to work.” I throw one of my highlighters at him while the table bursts into laughter. I cringe and glance around, noting a few dirty looks being thrown our way and sink down into my chair. We eventually got back to work and ended up getting some of it done. Definitely more than I thought we would. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and look up to see electric blue eyes staring back at me. She has her hair pulled back into a braid that reaches the tops of her hips, and her nose ring catches my attention. Freckles splatter her face and neck and she has bright pink headphones on. She looks so…unimpressed. I see her scan me and note the biker gear sitting at my feet. My heart thumps as she looks back up to meet my eyes but she turns away and continues walking towards the front of the library. I watch as she walks away, my eyes following her intently and swallowing up any details I can while trying not to look like a total creep. I glance back at her table and realize she left all her stuff, which means she’ll have to walk back this way to grab it all again. My heart races as I debate getting up and talking to her when she makes her way back, but with every second that passes my self-doubt takes over. And when she makes her way back towards her table, I don’t even look at her as she passes.

[talons-and-teeth]

Your Taste, Forever on My Tongue

Pairing: Elain/Lucien

Rating: M

Summary: Elain's office is running a Secret Santa event that coincides with the launch of the new website which she's leading on. She happens to get allocated the last person she could ever think of getting a gift for.

Merry Christmas, @makememakesense ! It's me, your Secret Santa!

Thank you so much being so lovely and giving me so many ideas for this AU, I really hope I got it (somewhat) right!

Thank you also to the @acotargiftexchange organisers for giving me this opportunity. This is my first ever fic and I've been so nervous about it, but I'm so glad to have done it for such a joyful community. Special thanks goes to my wife @mmiscbutterflies for helping me brainstorm and bring my 'Love, Actually' vision to life, and generally talk me down from the proverbial ledge when I became anxious/was not in the right headspace to write. Love you always.

Read on AO3 here

Snippet below:

Elain was late.

Not her usual, sorry I’m late-I couldn’t resist-there was a new cafe I just had to try on the way- late, but a fuck me-I slept through five alarms-maybe I spent too long watching reruns of Bake Off-or was it the bottle of Sauvignon?- tardiness, which left her cursing profusely while she tripped over her tights, slapped on eye cream and was out the door.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I know you have so many fics on your plate (and I am eating up every single one!) so no pressure or anything but I was wondering which one you might be updating next?

Hello, lovely Anon! First of all, thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying all the WIPs (how did I end up with so many WIPs? Lol) 🥺

Second of all, the next fic I am planning to update is hockey Cassian aka Top Shelf Love! I am actually planning to share a snippet of it tomorrow for WIP Wednesday 😉

And then after that it will hopefully be the next chapter of When We Howl. Key word being hopefully 😅 I keep getting stuck because I desperately want to just skip ahead to the chapter after... Where a certain favorite Vanserra will be making an appearance and pulling a "where is my wife?!" moment while Cassian just dumbly gapes and is like "we're allowed to care about our wives? I didn't know that was an option"

[hlizr50]

Better five days late than never, right?

First of all, sincerest apologies to @vulpes-fennec and @azrielshadowssing for being so late posting my part 3 for the ACOTAR Writing Circle. You can see all the fics and authors on the master list here! Thank you, @azrielshadowssing for organizing this, yet again!

Apologies, as well, to all the readers who have been waiting for the conclusion to Why Did It Have To Be Me!

Read the whole fic on AO3 here!

Read Part 3 here!

Or just continue below!

CW: This chapter is NSFW

TW: This chapter contains mild depictions of SA and attempted SA

“Cassian.”

It wasn’t a surprised squeak, though she had very much not expected to find the hulking, gorgeous man at her door. No, it was more of a… statement. An observation.

Cassian. He was there. In her doorway.

Nesta couldn’t allow herself to sound happy about it, not when she knew how easy it would be for her to fall for him. Not when she knew who she was. What she was. There was no way that she would be able to do anything more than break his gentle, loving heart. And, even though she was selfish and heartless, she wouldn’t do that. Not to him.

“Nesta.” His face was wholly serious, one eyebrow cocked in that arrogant, expectant way that was so sexy it infuriated her. When she didn’t respond he strode through the door – the door she hadn’t slammed in his face for some reason. And now he was staring down at her with those intense amber eyes.

“Close the door, Nes,” he whispered. And, goddamn it, she did, her body moving of its own accord. After the door snicked shut, a large, warm hand covered hers and pulled it away from the knob. The touch was like lightning, jolting her back into her own body. She blinked up at Cassian with a scowl.

“What do you want?” Nesta hissed. In a move that was far too smooth for such a behemoth of a man, he turned them and pressed her against the door, one hand cradling her nape as the other held her wrists above her. She could smell the shampoo from the soft strands of his loose ebony hair as he leaned in close enough for her to taste the spearmint on his breath.

“I told you, sweetheart,” he murmured, running the tip of his nose over her cheek until his mouth branded her ear with his searing declaration. “I owe you something.”

She didn’t fight back when his lips captured hers and his tongue speared into her mouth. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t stop the kiss, but the battle for dominance was obvious. Of course, Cassian won. His kisses made her drunk, made her brain fuzzy. And still his breathy words clattered around in her brain with startling clarity.

“Can I touch you, Nes?” Fuck, she could feel the rumble of his gruff, gravelly voice in her very marrow. And her mouth, that cursed thing, responded automatically between his kisses.

“Please.”

Nesta hated the desperation in that plea; loathed the way her lips betrayed her typically iron will and the way her body yearned for him. When his calloused fingertips scratched deliciously against her skin as they slid under her shirt, she tilted her head back on a gasp. Cassian’s mouth just slid down to her chin and continued licking and kissing down the line of her jaw.

And then his hand moved in the opposite direction, his palm sliding beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts, and Nesta burst into flames.

“No panties, sweetheart?” The behemoth of a man chuckled darkly against her throat, and she both loved and despised the way it made her stomach twist in anticipation. “Naughty girl.”

“Are you going to keep talking or are you actually going to do something?” she hissed as she flexed her hands in his grip. With a growl he released her and hiked her knee up with his free hand. Delving further, his touch found where she needed him, though she would never admit it.

He ran a finger up her center, sending tremors through her muscles. With a nip to her neck – and a startled yelp from her panting mouth – Cassian plunged a finger deep inside her.

“I like to take my time, Nes.”

Fuck, this man.

Fuck this man.

With his perfect hair and powerful body and goddamn magic fingers.

Nesta cursed herself as her body quaked at his expert touch. Of course, she'd planned on letting Cassian get her off, but she'd planned on making sure he had to work for it. At this rate, she'd be a quivering puddle at his feet in a matter of moments. 

Her will was broken when he lifted his head and once again claimed her mouth with his lips and tongue, his finger thrusting in and out as his thumb circled her clit. As he coaxed her closer and closer to the edge, her hands – which had fallen to his chest – skated over the soft fabric of his tee and buried themselves in his luxurious ebony locks. 

With a sigh against her lips, Cassian slipped a second thick finger into her molten core. She barked a curse, clutching him tighter against her and earning a smug hum as his lips found her jaw again.

Fuck, she was close.

"That's it, sweetheart," he urged as he pistoned his fingers. "I can feel you clenching. You gonna come on my fingers, Nes?"

Stubbornness kept her from giving an answer. But it didn't matter when, only a moment later, his fingers curled against that most sensitive spot and she was sent into her climax on a guttural moan. Nesta clung to him, fingernails scratching over his shoulders and back, as she rode out her orgasm. It was so good – so staggeringly, infuriatingly good.

Her mind-numbing bliss shattered into a million pieces against a cold stone wall.

This was a mistake.

Nesta unhooked her leg from Cassian’s hip and supported herself on wobbly legs, her hands falling away from those massive shoulders. Her gaze hooked on a snag in her living room carpet, unable to meet his eyes as she straightened her shirt and shorts after he pulled away from her.

“Nesta–”

The honey-haired woman felt the cold wash over her, let the mask fall back into place. Indifference. Haughtiness. Ire. Everything that she was, and everything that would ruin him if he got too close.

The kissing and the touching and the orgasms had been a mistake. But this… what she was about to do, this was the right thing.

Lifting her chin she looked Cassian dead in the eye and said, “Now we’re even. Is that all?”

God, she hated the way his expression fell from that smug confidence to disbelief and hurt, and then twisted into frustration. But she could work with that.

“As a matter of fact, it’s–”

“I’m sorry, I should have been more clear,” Nesta interrupted. “That is all. You can leave now.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Amber eyes flashed as the hulking man’s anger rose. “It’s obvious that I want you. And it’s pretty fucking obvious that you want me, too. So what the fuck are we doing here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes. “As for what we’re doing here, I’d say we’ve finally completed our little exchange and now the two of us can go on with our lives, moderately satisfied.”

Her thinly veiled insult seemed to miss its mark as Cassian stepped into her space again, forcing her back against the door.

“Look into my eyes, Nesta, and tell me that you don’t want me.”

Nesta stared back at him. His eyes were so beautiful and warm and swirling with such fire. And she felt her own light extinguish as she did exactly as he’d instructed.

“I don’t want you, Cassian. I never wanted you.” She could barely breathe as his eyes grew dark, but they didn’t cool into something dull and lifeless like hers would. No, there was something simmering there. Disdain? Disbelief?

Pity.

And, God, if that shadowed glare didn’t cut right through her.

“I know you think you have this frigid bitch thing down,” Cassian practically growled at her, and it grated against her very soul. “But it’s obvious you’re dealing with some shit. You can put on a show of telling me and whoever else that you want nothing to do with me. I might be some gym bro, but I’m not fucking stupid. I see it when I look at you and I feel it when we’re together.”

He stepped back, but Nesta still didn’t feel like she had enough room to breathe.

“But I’m not going to stand here and deal with your whole hot and cold routine if you’re going to continue to lie to yourself. If you’re going to continue using your words as weapons meant to wound.” Cassian’s voice grew quiet, and instead of curling in on herself, Nesta forced a scowl.

Because this was best. For both of them.

“I care about you, Nes. I really do. But I can’t prove that if you never allow me close enough to try.” And with that, he reached for the doorknob. Nesta stumbled out of the way to let him out. Then, without even looking at him again, she shut the door behind him. Pressing her ear against the wood, she listened to the heavy footsteps traveling further and further away. Until there was nothing more than suffocating silence.

It was only then that she allowed herself to slide down the door until she was a crumpled heap on the floor, bury her face in her hands, and allow all of her shame and self-loathing to consume her.

~~~

The spiral that followed was something intervention-worthy.

The look in Cassian’s typically smiling eyes, the exhaustion in his voice, the way his shoulders slumped – she saw all of it on a constant loop in her dreams, and woke up almost every morning with that shame souring her gut. She’d hurt him, had pushed him far enough that she was no longer worth fighting herself for.

But that had been the point, hadn’t it?

And so she soldiered on, thanks to the miracles of coffee and concealer for the daytime and the alcohol that sent her toppling into her bed at night. She’d started attending as many parties as she could find, desperate to escape the echoes of her mistakes in her mind and the yawning chasm of her soul. Nesta had made quite a name for herself on fraternity row, and between Elain’s and Emerie’s connections within the Greek community, it was a small wonder she hadn’t been on the receiving end of more than the one conversation with her friend.

“I’m not judging you. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

What Emerie didn’t know was that safe was when her brain was too addled with booze to even remember that Cassian existed. When she was drunk she could be whatever she wanted; a bitch, a tease, a fucking queen if she saw fit.

She’d slept around more in the first few weeks, but nobody could even measure up to Cassian’s fucking hand. So she’d given up on trying to assuage her sexual frustration and had jumped straight to drinking enough to go blissfully blank.

Which was exactly what she was doing at Sig Eps on a Friday night, hand curled around a red plastic cup full of a punch that burned deliciously all the way down. That meant the night would probably end quickly, and that was good for two reasons:

Tomas Mandray seemed hellbent on getting into her pants

Cassian was there

Nesta sure hadn’t been nursing her drink long enough to deal with his presence, which was somehow even bigger and more overwhelming than his physical form. It was as if she could feel his stare on her skin like a caress, and no matter where she was in the house her gaze always seemed to snag on his intense amber eyes, that little half-up man-bun that shouldn’t be as devastatingly sexy as it was, and the way his long-sleeved tee stretched over his broad shoulders and chest, his huge biceps highlighted by the fact that he had his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.

She needed to get out of that house.

Cassian’s expression twisted into a scowl, and she nearly toppled back before a heavy arm landed across her shoulders.

“Not drinking tonight?” She didn’t need to look up to know it was Tomas. There was something about his voice that screamed rich and pretentious, with a unique, slightly-nasal quality that made him all-too-easy to identify. Nesta lifted her cup, along with her eyebrows, to show the idiot that she did, in fact, have a nearly-full beverage in her hand. To prove the point further, she downed a large gulp and savored the scorch of the alcohol. “That’s my girl.” He squeezed her into his side.

“I’m not your girl.” Nesta’s correction seemed to fall on deaf ears as the Sig Eps VP grinned like a moron. With a dramatic roll of her eyes she took another large sip, more ready than ever for the warmth of drink to take over.

But something was different. Her stomach roiled and her head suddenly felt too heavy, and she thought she might be sick. For a split second, she wanted to lift her head to find the man whose attention had followed her every minute she’d been in this house. She’d much rather Cassian comfort her while she vomited than Tomas. But she didn’t even have the strength to look.

“You okay, baby?” Tomas’s voice seemed far away… muffled. Blinking her eyes, her vision came into focus for a moment, finding his brown eyes focused on her face. Nesta couldn’t identify what she saw there, but also she was drunk and apparently getting sick.

“I think I’m just tired. But I also feel like I might get sick.” She felt the arm around her shoulders pull her closer, and her balance and vision were so off that she nearly fell into him. She’d never felt like this before, and something deep in the back of her mind screamed that it wasn’t right. 

But Tomas just ran his palm up and down her bare arm and led her toward the stairs. “I’ll take you to the bathroom and then you can nap in my room.”

And, though Nesta wanted to protest, her tongue was thick and useless in her mouth. The frat boy practically dragged her up to the second floor, and it was only marginally better once they reached flat ground again. Her legs could barely hold her weight and she couldn’t seem to figure out how to place one foot in front of the other.

When she was pulled through an open door that was quickly shut behind her, all of her senses went on alert.

This wasn’t the bathroom.

“Wh-what?” her voice slurred, though she could barely hear it over the heartbeat pounding in her ears. 

“Shhh just relax, baby.”

And then she was horizontal, splayed across something soft that had to be the twin bed with Tomas hoving above her, eyes hungry. When he reached for the hem of her shirt she made to smack his hand away.

But her arm felt like it weighed 100 pounds. It was sluggish and weak and did nothing as Tomas pushed it away.

With a furrowed brow she tried again, tried to get any limb to obey as grubby little hands crawled under her blouse and squeezed at her.

Dear God, this couldn’t be happening.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she somehow managed to push the word “no” past her lips. Over and over in a continuous, slurred string. But Tomas wasn’t listening, his gaze intent on his prize. His touch was violating and rough as he pinched and kneaded.

“God, I’ve been waiting so long to spend some time with these.”

Nesta could feel the burning twin trails of angry, helpless tears on either side of her face. “No. No no no.” Her shirt was pushed up over her chest to give him a better view, and she couldn’t see much because of it. But when she felt his hands fiddling with the button on her jeans, she used every last ounce of will and strength and bodily control to release what could only be described as something between a moan and a scream. And as her body shook, she resigned herself to the fact that nobody was coming to save her.

~~~

Cassian couldn’t have taken his eyes off her for more than a handful of seconds. Hell, he knew it because he hadn’t been able to look away all damn night. But, somehow, she had disappeared.

And maybe that was fine. If she wanted to avoid him so badly that she’d decide to hook up with Tomas fucking Mandray, then that was none of his business. But something didn’t feel right. Nesta hadn’t looked uncomfortable when Tomas had slung his arm across her shoulders, but she sure hadn’t looked thrilled, either. 

And now they both were gone, and that knowledge settled like a dead weight in his gut. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and Cassian was never one to ignore his instincts. That’s what had prompted him to try to get close with Nesta – he felt something when he was with her, deep in his soul. Something he wasn’t willing to ignore.

Something she was.

The towering man made a lap around the main floor of the house, finding no sign of the beautiful, icy-eyed woman who had tried to break his heart.

And so he headed up the stairs into the residential part of the fraternity, more quickly than was probably warranted. If Nesta wanted to sleep with other guys then that was her right and her prerogative. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that her disappearance wasn’t quite as straightforward.

And then he heard it: a cry that was so soft for all the devastation it carried.

Cassian knew it was her. He just knew.

In seconds he’d burst through a door with a snarl, finding Mandray straddling long, denim-clad legs. His fingers were still on the waistband of those perfect jeans. Time was frozen in that moment as Cassian took in the scene, horrified. Nesta’s beautiful eyes overflowing with tears, her top pulled up to reveal her chest. Her bra was still on, but Tomas had clearly been doing something. And then there he was, a dumb, piece of shit guy with a dumb, piece of shit look on his face.

“Take your hands off her.”

Tomas lifted his hands as if he’d just had a gun pointed at him. Hell, if Cassian only had one. “Hey, man. She said she felt sick. I was just helping her out. She’s the one that wanted to come to my room.” Cassian’s gaze flicked to Nesta’s tear-stained face and then back to Tomas.

“If you don’t get away from her right fucking now, I’ll fucking kill you.” He had half a mind to do it anyway, but his first and only priority was getting Nesta out of this situation. Tomas slowly moved to the edge of the mattress and set his feet on the floor, backing away with his hands still up.

Before Mandray could react, Cassian clocked him across the left side of his face, sending the trash human sprawling. He glowered down at the small man for a moment, then made his way back to the bed. With gentle hands he pulled her blouse back down, covering Nesta’s chest and stomach. Then he cupped her cheeks, wiping away the dampness with his thumbs.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m going to take you home, alright?” Nesta’s answer was less a nod and more just her chin falling forward.

“Itsssshard… to… move,” she whispered, and Cassian’s vision swam in shades of red. The fucking bastard had clearly slipped something in her drink, and the urge to kill Mandray returned with a vengeance. He gathered Nesta against his chest, helping her wind her arms around his neck, and started toward the door.

“If you even think about trying to come after me for punching you, I will destroy you,” Cassian seethed. Then he stalked forward with lethal purpose, his vision tunneled toward one singular goal: getting Nesta out. And he didn’t stop until he reached his Jeep and buckled her into the passenger’s seat.

In the oppressive quiet of his truck, Cassian was caught between cursing himself for living so far off campus and thanking the stars above that he had half an hour to rein himself in and deal with the furious storm of thoughts and emotions screaming through his head.

Thank God I made it in time.

Should I have killed the bastard?

What if I hadn’t been there?

I almost didn’t go after her…

Guilt washed over him in a cold wave. He’d known that she was struggling. All those weeks ago, when he’d left her dorm room he’d thought it was for the best. Cassian fancied himself good with people, good at pushing others to be better and great at making them smile. But it didn’t matter how much he cared for a person or believed in a person; he couldn’t make them believe in themselves.

Perhaps he’d been too arrogant, presuming he was enough of a catch for Nesta to want him enough to want to figure things out. But it had, apparently, backfired spectacularly. Instead of blooming, she’d spiraled. Cassian had watched, just out of sight and heart cracking, as she drowned her sorrows and self-loathing in cheap beer and jungle juice.

What Cassian hadn’t done was step in. The lovely ice queen had drawn a very clear line in the sand, and he’d done everything in his power to respect it. It had been pure coincidence that he’d ended up at the party that night. He’d begrudgingly accepted an invite from one of the counselors at camp, since he’d promised the guy over the summer to come hang with him and his brothers.

And thank fuck he’d said yes. If he hadn’t, Nesta would still be in that bed, trying to fight off that piece of shit Mandray and–

“I lied.”

Cassian nearly jumped out of his skin, even though Nesta had barely whispered the words. When he glanced over at her, she was hunched over and leaning her head against the window.

“What?”

“I lied. When I said I didn’t want you,” she mumbled, and the hulking student couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart.” The snort he received in response brought a small grin to his face.

“You’re such a pain in the ass.” Cassian waited for her to say more, but only silence followed.

For another minute or so.

“You’re too fucking perfect.”

Well that sent his brows straight into his hairline.

“Um… Thank you?” He dared another glance her way to try to get a read on exactly where the hell this was going, but she still faced the window, seemingly fascinated by the trees whizzing by. But she groaned.

“You don’t get it. That’s why I said I didn’t want you. You’re perfect and I’m… God, whatever the fuck this is. I had to scare you away so I wouldn’t crush your sweet, beautiful soul.” Nesta’s voice sounded so tired and sad. Didn’t she realize that it was that forlorn tone that crushed him? And not whatever she thought she would do to him?

“I dunno, Nes. I’ve always thought you were pretty damned great,” he started, but she wouldn’t let him finish.

“Oh, please. I don’t deserve you,” she slurred, a reminder that she was still under the influence of alcohol and whatever drug Tomas had fed her. “You said it, yourself. I’m a frigid bitch.”

Cassian winced.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first to say that. I’m sure you won’t be the last. Just ask my sisters. Just ask… anyone. I don’t give a fuck about anyone except for myself,” she spat bitterly, and he knew he had to choose his words carefully.

“So… you told me you didn’t want me because you’re selfish and frigid and didn’t want to hurt me?”

“Clearly.”

“But,” Cassian answered, “wouldn’t you not wanting to hurt me imply that you maybe aren’t that selfish?”

Nesta groaned again, the eye-roll apparent. “Stop making sense. I’m too drunk for that.” That simple statement brought him back into reality real fucking quick, and the warmth that had been spreading through him dissipated.

“Yeah. You probably won’t remember any of this in the morning.” Cassian didn’t want to go back to that distance and loneliness and watching this beautiful, intelligent, incredible woman destroy herself.

“Maybe that’s for the best, considering…” Her voice trailed off, quiet and small as she undoubtedly fell into reminiscing about the events of the evening. “I’m glad you were there, Cass. I… you had no reason to come looking for me, but you did it anyway. And I–”

“Hey,” he interrupted, not wanting her to keep thinking about how close she was to things being drastically different. “I’ll always be close, reaching for you. My hand will be there when you need it. You just have to take it.”

When she didn’t answer, Cassian heaved a sigh and leaned further back into his seat. They were only a couple minutes away from the house, and he was relieved that he would be able to get Nesta into bed so she could rest. But then he felt cool fingers sliding into his palm, and when his gaze flicked over to the seat next to him he found her curling her arms around his much larger one, her cheek falling against his bicep. When her fingers wove between his, something sparked and flickered in his chest. Cassian gave her hand a gentle squeeze and set his sights down the road ahead.

~~~

Nesta’s head was pounding and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. And the morning sun needed the calm the fuck down. With a groan she rolled over, pulling the comforter over her eyes and sucking in a deep, satisfied breath in the sweet, comfortable darkness. The scent that she pulled in was distinctly male, studded with amber and cedar and spice, and Nesta wanted to burrow into that warmth. But then her eyes flew open as the realization struck her.

She was not in her own bed. 

In an instant she threw off the covers and sat up, back rigid and tense as her frantic gaze searched the room. Fuzzy glimpses of the night before returning to her mind in blurry snapshots.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay." The soft rumble of a deep, comforting voice instantly put her at ease. And the smell of the blankets suddenly made sense. Her vision focused on a hulking form that settled next to the bed, amber eyes shining with concern. 

"Cassian?"

"How are you feeling?" Nesta's eyes wandered over his hoodie and sweats as he reached toward the nightstand. When his hand returned it held a water bottle toward her. She took it, and then he reached over again to grab a couple little pills. “Do you have a headache? You can take these, but either way you’ll want to drink the whole bottle.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded, as she took the medicine from him. Tossing them in her mouth, she started chugging on the water, realizing again how parched she really was. Finishing off the bottle was an easy feat, and Cassian smirked.

“I’ll go get you another one.”

When he returned he was holding another bottle of water out in front of him, and he placed yet another on the nightstand when he sat down beside the bed. Nesta downed about half of her new water before setting the bottle next to its full companion. Then she rubbed at her eyes, trying to soothe the throbbing in her head. The pain was twofold - the obvious hangover from the alcohol and whatever she’d been dosed with, and the frantic collision of thoughts and questions banging around in her brain.

“You brought me to your place?” Inwardly, she rolled her eyes at herself. Probably wasn’t the best lead-off question, and definitely not the most important part of the previous evening. But she didn’t really want to dwell on Tomas’s assault, and on what almost happened. 

“You fell asleep in the car before we got here. And I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get into the dorm if I took you back there,” he explained, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair. His expression grew sheepish. “I’m sorry if my bringing you here makes you uncomfortable. I.. wasn’t really thinking straight.”

Nesta couldn’t stifle her huff. “Yeah, you and me both.”

And then it was quiet. It wasn’t pleasant, or comfortable. It felt heavy and full of dread. Grim anticipation. And Nesta was afraid, as the seconds ticked by, that she would explode. And she wasn’t sure if it would come out as anger or terror or devastation.

But Cassian spared them both, at least for the moment.

“You.. uh… you said some interesting things on the ride back.”

Oh, fuck me.

“What did I say?” Regardless of whether or not she wanted to know – she hadn’t decided if she did – she needed to know what she’d said to him. And the snapshots that had invaded her mind were all of Tomas’s wandering hands and Cassian bursting in, face twisted with ire, an avenging angel. But even as she wondered, her drunken and drugged ramblings began coming back to her.

“You said you lied when you said you didn’t want me, and that you only said that because I was too perfect and you didn’t want to crush my sweet, beautiful soul,” he answered, the corner of his lips tilting up. “Those were your exact words, too: my sweet, beautiful soul.” With a groan Nesta buried her face in her hands, but a strong, warm grip circled her wrists and pulled her palms away from her face. Cassian was leaning in, his eyes serious even as that little smirk remained. “It was the most genuine conversation I’ve had with you.”

Immediately on the defensive, Nesta sputtered, “Well, I didn’t have a filter. You know what they say; drunk words and all that.” She pulled her wrists away, but Cassian’s broad hands found another home as they cupped her face. His eyes were blazing with passion and hope, and she couldn’t look away.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, Nes,” he breathed. His minty breath scorched her lips, just inches away from kissing him. And, God, she wanted to. She wanted to be done with the games and the ice and the cruelty, even though she didn’t know how.

“I can’t,” she whispered in return.

His mouth was ecstasy as it claimed her, somehow both rough and tender. The kiss was a brand upon her very soul. This was a line crossed, an admission given. Nesta had trusted him with her vulnerable truth, and he responded with acceptance and patience and need. She could feel him sigh against her lips as the kiss calmed and cooled, and then he pulled back, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks.

“You should rest some more, sweetheart.” As if on cue, the pounding in her head became almost dizzying, and she gave a reluctant nod. But she dared one more vulnerability, before she lost her nerve.

“Stay with me?”

Though Cassian didn’t give a verbal answer, his face beamed. He practically leapt into the bed, burrowed beneath the covers, and pulled her back into his chest. She even let out a little giggle, which only made him squeeze her tighter. And then she drifted away, warm and safe.

When Nesta’s eyes fluttered open again, they were met with soft amber, all the while gentle fingers stroked through her hair. She was struck, then, by how handsome he was. Rugged and purely male, but with a tenderness that made him so much more than just sex appeal and muscles. Not that he didn’t have those things in spades. 

“What are you doing?” she mumbled. Cassian’s answering grin was mischievous as his caresses moved from her hair to her cheek.

“Ogling you.”

Nesta scowled playfully. “While I was sleeping?”

“Well,” he looked thoughtful for a moment, “now I’m ogling you while you’re awake.” Cassian dipped down and placed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I can’t help myself.” Before he could pull too far away, Nesta hooked her hand around his neck and brought him back down to her. This time it was she who claimed him. Another line crossed, the pursuit of freedom from all she believed she was and into what she could be.

“Nes–”

“I don’t know how to do this, Cass,” she admitted quietly. It took every ounce of strength she had to hold his stare. “I don’t know how to be good. I don’t know how to be loving and warm. I don’t know if I can become the woman you want.”

“You’re already the woman I want, Nesta. And you’re already good. There’s nothing not good about you,” he answered. And, God, the sincerity in his gaze threatened to leave her in tears. “Give me your ice and your fire. Spar with me with your sharp wit and sharper words. But don’t hide your smiles or your laughter or your tears. I want all of you: your good, your bad, your ugly. Your honesty and vulnerability and trust. You don’t need to worry about my sweet, beautiful soul, Nes, so long as you’re next to me at the end of the day.”

Nesta pulled him down again, and she was awash in flames. Every part of her craved him: her body, her mind, her heart, her soul. Cassian’s mammoth form was a welcome weight above her, a shield from the rest of the world, and she wanted nothing more to be joined with him until they were so tangled that there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

As their mouths battled and tongues warred, Nesta tugged up on his sweatshirt. He was quick on the uptake, lifting himself up to pull it over his head in one fluid motion. Fuck, he was built, with well defined shoulders, pecs, and abs. Everything about him was massive and masculine and sexy as hell. As much as she wanted to continue her… appreciation… for his form, Nesta took the opportunity to pull her own blouse over her head and unclasp her bra. After Tomas, she felt more in control if she did the removing, and she knew that Cass wouldn’t want to push or make her uncomfortable.

If baring her chest to him by her own free will wasn’t enough of a sign that she was in this, then she wasn’t sure what else she’d be able to do.

A bright, flashing neon sign.

“Fuck, Nes,” he groaned, coming back down on top of her. She could feel his hardness against her thigh as he kissed her again, and her stomach twisted with delight.

Message clearly received.

He breathed in her gasps as one of his enormous hands palmed her breast, kneading and squeezing. Another experience with those hands came to mind, when he’d used his fingers on her until she’d nearly drowned in pleasure. Those hands were rough, and yet somehow he knew just how to use them to wring every drop of ecstasy out of her.

Cassian teased and tweaked her nipples, pulling little moans and grunts from her throat as he played her body like a fucking violin. Nesta’s hands moved from where she’d buried them in his luscious mane to her pants, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down as far as she could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“More,” she breathed, gripping his wrist and guiding his touch down and down and down. “I need… more.”

Boy, was he intent on delivering.

His fingers drifted into her heat, lightly caressing her clit before he buried two inside her at the same time he sucked a nipple between his teeth. Nesta’s fingers found his hair, again, digging in as if she were holding on for dear life. She cried out in a hoarse voice as her blood sang, those magic fingers doing their blessed work, just like she remembered. 

“You’re so wet for me, Nes,” Cassian rasped against her flesh. “God, so wet and hot and ready.” His words were like sin, sinking into her pores and anchoring deep in her belly. There was hardly a thing he could say that would turn her off, though, if she were being completely honest. He was breaking down her walls, word by word and stroke by stroke, and she wanted to be completely bare to him, even if that thought scared the shit out of her.

It only took a few more extra pumps and curls of his fingers for her to come undone, his name on her lips like a prayer. And then they were helping each other rid themselves of the remainder of their clothing.

Cassian’s cock was proportionate to the rest of him: huge. And she wanted to feel it inside of her, stretching her in all the best ways.

Nesta gave him one languid stroke, from base to tip. Then she hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him back down onto the bed. 

“I want you, Cassian,” she whispered.

That was all he needed to hear.

When Cassian thrust into her, it was like nothing she’d ever felt. It was delicious and despicable and took her breath away.

“Oh, fuck.” Her head fell back as she gripped the bedsheets. This man filled her in ways that weren’t just physical, but good fucking God was the physical fullness a fucking revelation. He pulled out, until just the head remained inside, and then he thrust in again, forcing a groan from her lips.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he hissed, leaning in to plunge his tongue between her teeth. Cassian consumed her, and she could only hold on as his tempo increased and his mouth became more demanding and filthy. He nibbled and licked up her jaw and suckled on that sensitive place right below her ear. “You take my cock so beautifully, Nesta. I can feel you squeezing me as I fuck you and its the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking experienced.”

“Fuck, Cass!” was all she could manage to say. Her breath came out in stutters and gasps as he buried himself so deep inside her she thought she might split in two. And, still, she needed more. She needed everything, and so she locked her legs around his pistoning hips and dug her fingernails into the firm muscles of his back. “Please.”

Cassian snarled as his hips bucked, hammering into her harder and deeper, until she could no longer contain the cries of pleasure that he inspired. This was feral and raw and soul-deep, and that understanding sent her straight to the edge.

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he crooned between panting breaths as sweat dotted his brow in little drops of glitter. Nesta squealed in answer, ratcheting higher and higher.

And somehow this towering man had snuck his hand between them, just to press his thumb against the swollen and needy bud at her apex. She shattered on a scream of overwhelming pleasure, her thighs trembling and she fought to regain her vision beyond the stars that had invaded. Keeping his thumb on her clit, pushing her orgasm to a height she never realized was possible, Cassian came with a roar. Then he fell, half on top of her, his broad shoulders heaving.

For a few moments the only things in the world were Nesta and Cassian, the sounds of their breathing, and the pounding of their hearts. Nesta carded her fingers lazily through his ebony waves, while his hand idly stroked up and down the outside of her thigh.

“How are you feeling?” Cassian’s deep voice was like a purr, vibrating through her entire being. She knew he was probably asking about how she felt after last night and this morning; if her headache was gone and if she was well-rested. Or maybe he was asking if the sex had been too much. On the contrary, she already had plans for more.

“Ready to do it again,” she replied, and his answering growl set her aflame once more. Cassian’s tongue traced the line of her jaw before his lips landed at her ear again.

“Put your hands on the headboard, sweetheart.”

Tag List: @headcanonheadcase @vikingmagic33 @damedechance @daevastanner @mystical-blaise @booknerd87 @foreverinelysian @shadowsxgwynriel @sunshinebingo @mercarimari

[bibliophiliaxvignette]

This is my first fic that I have ever posted! I am so nervous and excited to share it with you all! I started reading Wildfire by Hannah Grace and was immediately inspired to create this little Gwynriel piece!

Read a little snippet below the cut! Hope you enjoy! ♥️

“Are you a burglar?” She jumps, turning towards him.

At the first full glimpse of her face, Azriel completely loses his breath. She has wide, moon bright eyes, the color of the Mediterranean sea. Freckles decorate a pert, upturned nose. And her lips, the color of rose petals, parted on a gasp, turn upwards in a small smile. A sweet blush dusts her cheeks and nose, keeping her freckles company.

“Sorry, you startled me.” Her teeth sink into her plush bottom lip, as she glances down and then back up, doing a quick perusal of him. Azriel does his best not to squirm under her bright eyes, giving himself an internal pep talk. Cool, Az, keep it cool.

“Does it count as burglary if I never intend for the stolen goods to leave the property?”

Azriel hums in response. “Valid question. I wish I studied law so I could answer for you.”

She shrugs a delicate shoulder, looking at him conspiratorially.

“Surely if the owner never finds out, I’m okay, right?”

“How about you tell me what you’re looking for and then I’ll decide if I need to report you to the authorities?”

She scuffs the bottom of her shoe against the tile, fighting a smile, and leaning back against the counter behind her.

“I just wanted a glass. I don’t like to use plastic, if I can help it,” she says, gesturing to the kitchen island littered with plastic solo cups. “Do you know how much single use plastic ends up in the ocean? How damaging it is to the delicate ecosystems?” Her eyes glow as she describes the different kinds of animals in the oceans she wants to protect with this crusade through his kitchen for a glass and Azriel decides whatever cause makes her face light up like that, he’s on board.

He pushes past her towards the cupboard by the sink and grabs a glass for her without a word. She takes it, glancing up to meet his eyes.

“You…live here…don’t you?”

He pushes down a laugh, unsuccessfully.

“Yes.”

She nods, pulling her lips into her mouth, an adorable look on her face. Her cheeks tinge pink again and Azriel thinks that he could get used to causing that flush across her face.

[notasapleasure]

I've never actually finished a longfic in draft before posting before. What are people's reading preferences for something that's 100k (and may want some commentary with each chapter)?

Spread as far and wide as you like - I'd love to hear directly from people who might actually read an Icelandic saga AU about Cassian Andor and Brasso the Ferrixian, but getting a general survey of how people like to read longfic would be cool too.

[incognitajones]

Hello! May I suggest rebelcaptain + praise kink and honour bondage, if it inspires?💕💕

Listen, kind anon, I'm well aware this is not what you were expecting! In my defense, it's not what I intended to write either. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I blame a combination of reading Rifle's werewolf story plus having finally seen the MCU Jack Russell movie recently.

*

For a spy, rumours were currency: Cassian sought them out, sifted through them, paid attention to how they might link together. Long ago he’d heard the whispers about Saw Gerrera’s monster on a leash, the secret threat the Partisans had that could terrify anyone into talking. And he knew that Gerrera’s daughter, the ferocious soldier he’d raised from an orphan girl, was called the Wolf.

He’d just never believed there was any connection between the two, or that the name was anything but a metaphor. It was impossible. Even in a universe that had once held supernaturally powerful Force users, people simply didn’t transform into animals.

Then he’d watched a massive wolf bound up to Saw, shake blood from its muzzle, stretch, and shed its chestnut-brown pelt to rise as Jyn Erso. And now he was locked up with her, about to be the latest casualty of the Partisans’ vicious executioner. 

He’d only met Erso once before this, and briefly, but her body language was already miles away from that self-contained woman. Now she paced back and forth, fists clenched. She carried her head lower and her gaze flickered restlessly around the tiny cell, always avoiding direct eye contact with him. Her tense, hunched shoulders gave the impression of risen hackles. 

“I hate the Alliance as much as Saw, but I don’t want to be his monster,” she growled in a voice with low, feral overtones no human throat ought to be capable of. “I don’t want her to kill you.”

Cassian didn’t want that either. But he was trapped in here with no weapons and a woman slipping beneath the surface of madness. There was no winning endgame for Cassian—even if he somehow miraculously took Erso down when she attacked him, Gerrera would kill him in revenge afterward. 

She whirled on him and he pressed his back against the wall, tensed and waiting for her to spring. Her eyes flared with light reflected from the corridor. She clenched her hands in fists and jerked her chin toward the corner of the cell. “Stay there. Whatever the wolf does—don’t move. No eye contact. She’ll see that as a challenge. And don’t try to touch her unless you want your fingers bitten off.”

Even contemplating his impending death didn’t smother his terrified curiosity about her. She talked about the wolf as though it were a different creature: dissociation, or did she honestly not remember what she did when in the animal form? At least if she was offering him tips on how to placate the wolf, maybe she was serious about not wanting to kill him. 

“Can I talk to—her?” Cassian asked cautiously. 

Erso shrugged dismissively. “If you want. She won’t understand anything, but if you sound calm and non-threatening it might help.”

She spun on her heel, turning her back on him. Her whole body wrenched into spasms, her back arching in ways human spines weren’t supposed to. Her breathing was harsh, torn from her throat. 

Cassian backed into the corner of the cell and sat down, wedging himself in. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them in an effort to shield himself. He fought to keep his breathing even and steady, though he was sure it didn’t matter when she could hear his thudding pulse. 

He didn’t watch the transformation, mindful of her stricture against eye contact, but without meaning to, he still caught glimpses of it. She didn’t scream or cry out, but her ragged gasps and bitten-off grunts sounded like someone in pain. And the rippling fur erupting from bare flesh and the twisting of human limbs into flexions they weren’t made for looked viscerally wrong. 

It seemed to take forever until the wolf rose on four legs and shook itself. What made the beast so uncanny was that its eyes were the same hazel green as hers; that and its truly terrifying size. Somehow, it was twice the mass of the slight woman who’d stood in this cell a moment ago. 

Its head thrust low in an echo of her previous posture, a growl rumbled in its throat, echoing off the stone walls. Cassian hastily jerked his head down, cursing himself. Stupid to stare in defiance of warnings, stupider to get caught.

The wolf stalked toward him, its nails clicking on the stone floor, and Cassian fixed his eyes on the worn khaki fabric stretched across his knees. The growl trailed off and it hesitated, cocking its great head to one side. He stayed immobile. It lowered its head, wedged its muzzle into the space under his arm and he felt hot breath through his shirt as it sniffed his scent. He stared down at the coarse fur of her ruff, brindled light and dark brown, and prayed that he smelled more trustworthy than he was. He must: if animals could smell dishonesty, as some claimed, he’d have been dead years ago. 

The great dark head lifted and the wolf pushed her cold nose into the side of his neck. Her teeth rested against his skin; the pointed tip of one canine dented the hollow of his collarbone. A hard huff of breath escaped her and she butted him with the top of her skull, pushing his head to the side. Cassian tucked his chin down in a useless attempt to protect himself and waited for his throat to be torn out. 

She put her muzzle under his jaw and shoved, hard enough to push his head against the wall. Now would come the teeth tearing through his skin, ripping at his jugular… Nothing happened. The wolf let out an impatient whine. 

“What do you want?” Cassian’s voice was raspy with tension. 

She ducked her head and nosed at his right hand. Remembering her warning, Cassian slowly curled his fingers under to protect them. Impatiently, the wolf nudged harder at his limp unresisting hand, pushing the crown of her skull underneath it. He didn’t move. She wiggled her head farther under his palm, like Bee when he wanted a pat…

“Is that what you want? A scratch?” Cassian dared to twitch his fingers, just enough to ruffle the softer fur between her ears, and she shoved back with a low canine groan of pleasure. 

“Good girl,” he breathed, his throat dry. She grunted again. He rubbed her ears some more and she lowered her head to his knee, thumping down to lean heavily against his leg. He stroked the long sleek line of her back but he kept coming back to scratch gently at the thick ruff of fur around her neck—especially when he found a certain spot behind her right ear that made her whuff in pleasure, leg twitching. He didn’t dare touch her belly, though, even when she rolled halfway over to leave it exposed. That seemed too presumptuous. 

She struggled to her feet and sniffed his neck again, the cold damp circle of her nose dragging across his skin. Her tongue came out and licked a rough stripe up his throat, across his cheek, and he jerked away in surprise. 

“Uh. Maybe not,” he said. “I don’t know what Jyn would think of that.” 

The wolf cocked her head and whined again. Cassian distracted her by burying both of his hands in her heavy ruff and scratching. “Good girl,” he said, his voice falling into the soothing cadence of praise. “Lovely girl.”

She rested her heavy head against his chest and sighed. 

*

In the grainy light of dawn, Cassian woke to a hand over his mouth. His right arm tingled with pins and needles in a way that spoke of a weight recently lifted, like someone had been sleeping on it. He turned his head slowly, carefully. 

Jyn was kneeling on the floor at his side, naked and completely unconcerned with covering herself. He tried not to see anything. Her eyes—not the wolf’s but the woman’s—met his and silently warned him to be quiet. He nodded and she lifted her hand. 

“I know the door code. I’ll let you out now,” she whispered hoarsely. “You can be off the planet before Saw knows what happened.” 

Cassian swallowed. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“You said you don’t want to be their monster—come with me. No one will put you in a cage.” That was a promise he couldn’t possibly keep, but what was worse, he meant it. 

A tangled strand of hair fell into her eyes. He lifted a hand to stroke it behind her ear before he thought about it, and pulled away hastily. It wasn’t wise to take liberties with this woman, even if the wolf had liked it. 

She tilted her head in a feral gesture, studying him, and for a moment, pale green fire reflected at the back of her eyes. Then she nodded, once. “She trusts you, so I will.”

[read on AO3]

[flyfreeskylark]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso Characters: Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso Additional Tags: Rebelcaptain - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Car Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Getting Together, Penis In Vagina Sex, Nipple Play, Assassins & Hitmen, Hand Jobs, Hair-pulling Summary:

"In the backseat on a rented Hyundai they do much, much better than last time."

[owlinaminor]

a little fic about cassian and melshi, after escaping the narkina five prison ship.  1917 coded.  1.5k.

excerpt:

“I’m going to tell you something,” Cassian says.

His hands are scraped raw, clinging to the harsh cliff face that seems almost designed to deter escaped prisoners.  His head aches from days without any sleep, and his arms ache from the long swim, and his lungs ache from shouting at people to run—and still, this is the hardest thing he’s done since landing on Narkina Five.

“What?” Melshi shouts back.  His voice is breathless, too loud for the short distance between them.

“The PORD,” Cassian says, carefully pronouncing every letter of that godforsaken directive.  “When I said I didn’t know anything about it—I lied.”

“What,” Melshi replies, a little softer this time.

“I know exactly why the Empire did it.”