#cassianweek2022

[generalcassianweek]

Cassian Week

Day 2

The Lover

“Nesta had loved Cassian since she'd first laid eyes on him. Had loved him even when she did not want to, even when she had been swallowed by despair and fear and hatred. Had loved him and destroyed herself because she didn't believe she deserved him, because he was all that was good, and brave, and kind, and she loved him, she loved him, she loved him...”

art: NicoleDeal

[acotarharlot]

Clumsy

Cassian x reader (Part 1)

Summary: reader is uncoordinated and cassian is constantly helping her.

Not gonna like twilight was my inspiration for this HAHA

~

It was a day like any other, bone chilling wind, and unwelcoming temperatures. You had chores to do. You didn’t have the luxury of training much, unlike the males of the Illyrian camps. At least they had stopped clipping wings. You were currently doing washing for your father, as it was just you and him. Your mother having died long ago. You were lucky in the instance that your father wasn’t as cruel as some men, but he definitely wasn’t the definition of a caring parent. He had done the bare minimum. You had learnt some of the defence training but not enough if someone really had tried to take advantage of you.

You finished up the washing, not like you had a lot anyway. You walked a short whole away from your home, you lived in a house as your father ran a business. It wasn’t spectacular but you were better off than most people in the camp - better than a lot of other women. The family business was in training gears and equipments. Unfortunately your father hadn’t died in the war so you still worked under him.

It was currently early morning and you wanted to get some chores out of the way before you started the day. Picking up the washing, you began the distance back to your house. What you didn’t plan was the wet mud, slipping you nearly fell backwards, until a hand harshly gripped your arm to steady you.

“Watch yourself” the unknown man said.

You couldn’t register what was happening. This man had just helped you? But was so rude in his conversion with you. Almost like it was an order rather than a helping action. All you could do was look into his eyes to try and get some closure on the situation. His expression did not falter and he released you to walk away. You stood stunned. While most of the community here were horrid and rude - most of them would have let you fall. He looked like someone of importance, great power even. Better not to interact or get involved.The high lord had been down here, trying to right wrongs. Maybe that man was with him.

They had stopped the wing clippings, and tried to give women more freedom. I wonder why then, he was so brute in his reaction, you pondered. Realising you were still staring at him as he walked off you quickly turned on your heels, careful of the wet ground.

Later that day you had tried to forget about the interaction. But something just rubbed you the wrong way. Which was an issue as you had been treated unpleasantly your whole life. Maybe it was because you didn’t know the spiteful man. It made you angrier the more you thought about it. You currently were standing out the back of the shop going through stock, when you overheard your father talking to a man. They were exchanging information about a general in the camp. It made sense. That was the man today. You saw the look on your fathers face. He had to leave, assumably for a meeting. The sooner he left the better.

The man left the store in a hurry, with your father trailing behind him. This meant you had to watch the store by yourself. You lived for moments like this. Just being by yourself and in control. One day you would get out of this place and see what the world had to offer. Generally the males of the camp didn’t allow women to know of life outside of the life created here. So that they could be manipulated and controlled into slaving for the men. But through being quiet and observant you had learnt of other cities and adventures. The plan you were hatching would get you there. You weren’t going to let your only life amount to this. You almost felt bad for leaving your father here alone. But he is stuck in his ways and would have allowed you to be clipped - if not for new regulations. But the time had to be right. Or they would find you and bring you back.

It had been a few moments when you heard the door open. You had been going through records at the counter, when you looked up to see the familiar face. You subconsciously frowned. You didn’t greet him either. Just looked at him, waiting to see what he would do.

“Oh, hello” he said

“Hi” was all you responded in monotone.

“I didn’t realise you worked here?” He said as more of a question rather then a statement.

“Okay” you curtly replied.

He had been rude to you, there was no way you wanted to engage in a conversation with him.

After a moment you continued on, “is there something you need?”

“Yes, actually, I need a few training supplies”

Without saying anything you moved and motioned for him to follow, taking him to the selection of training equipment he was after.

He was content to look through the options. So you told him to yell out if he needed something.

You were feeling flustered by him. His energy just made you uneasy but in a way you hadn’t felt before. You couldn’t pin point it at all. You had finished going through all the records. And now you needed to complete the stocktake, your father had already gotten some of the boxes down from the shelf they had been waiting on. You contemplated for a moment, the ladder was old and raggedy. Usually you left that for your father. But he wasn’t here. And you had completed all of the other chores. And you didn’t want to be in the same room as ….that man, who’s name you didn’t even know. It’s not like he introduced himself. And neither did you. You made the rash decision to climb the ladder. You got half way up when you misplaced your footing and felt yourself slip on the ladder. You saw the end but before you could feel impact someone had caught you. For fucks sake was all you could think. Eyes still closed, you hoped that you had actually died and you were about to wake up in the after life.

“Do you always just fall like this?”

You’re eyes snapped open. Jumping out of his embrace, you stood up abruptly, fixing your dress.

“Are you always this rude to people you don’t know?” You bark back.

“Only ones that I think are pretty”

Who does this man think he is? It was a vast change from the morning.

“Who even are you?”

“My names Cassian” he said while staring into your soul.

You noticed behind him, he had placed the items he wished to purchase on the counter. Brushing past him you went to organise it all. Not wanting to be in that proximity anymore.

You counted up everything and told him the total. Just as you did, your father walked back in. Trying to ignore him you refocused on Cassian. He placed a larger sum of money on the bench and began to walk away after a small greeting to your father. You tried to call out to inform him that he gave too much. When in response he gave a scowl and said goodbye.

You were left in the dust and confusion. This man was giving you whiplash. You felt like a child unable to process emotions or social situations. If he was going to be rude then fine, but why switch it up? A headache began to form because you were furrowing your brows so intently at all the questions rummaging through your head. It didn’t matter anyway. Soon you would be far away from this place.

[fawnandshadows]

Fawn Fest - Walking Through Velaris On a Chilly Night

prompt: Nyx crunching leaves in his tiny galoshes on an autumn walk through Velaris with his uncle Cass. Also a love letter for Cassian Week <3 Requested by @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

Word Count: 827.

Warnings: None. Fluff.

The air was crisp, almost bitterly so, which was unusual for the time of year. Only a few weeks prior had the air started to chill and the sun started to spend less time in the sky, and all of the residents of Velaris found themselves spending more and more time indoors. Their fireplaces coming to life with the flickers of orange flames, their ovens constantly full of fresh bread while their stews stayed hot over open fire, and mothers would bundle their children up in bulky, woolen sweaters.

It was the time of year where one’s own home was at its coziest — a warm, welcoming place that everyone was thinking of as they went about their day. And when the week was coming to its end, home was where everyone could be found.

Well, almost everyone.

If anyone had looked out their window just before evening they would have found the Lord of Bloodshed and his nephew walking along the Sidra.

They owned the streets as everyone else was tucked safely into their houses, and their only companions were the fallen leaves that littered the ground — small piles of red, orange, and yellow could be seen on the corners of the streets, and the uncle would place his hand on his nephews shoulder to stop him from jumping into the piles that weren’t quite large enough to truly cushion his fall.

The pair continued to walk through the streets aimlessly, when they left the house earlier that day they didn’t have a destination in mind. Cassian saw the restless energy in Nyx, the energy that he himself felt so often, as his nephew was staring out the bay window of the townhouse after lunch. His parents were sleepy from the large feast Elain had prepared with the twins, and they were snoring on top of each other on the couch when Cassian asked Nyx if he wanted to go for an adventure — his nephew looked at him with excited blue eyes and immediately jumped into his bright yellow galoshes, his wings flapping excitedly behind him.

Cassian knelt in front of him after grabbing Nyx’s scarf from where it hung by the door and slowly wrapped it around him, and Cassian tucked it into his jacket after he helped guide Nyx’s tiny arms through the sleeves.

He contemplated leaving a note for his brother and sister in law, but he decided just to tell Elain, who was still puttering around the kitchen. And when he poked his head through the doorway Cassian tucked away his surprise at seeing Elain sitting at the table, sharing a cup of hot coffee with Azriel. A small bundle of fur laid on Azriel’s lap. After a second Cassian recognized Jasmine, the stray that Elain had brought home and adopted a few weeks ago. The little kitten had packed on some healthy weight since then, and its black fur had regained its shine, but the little beast never got over Cassian calling her a rat.

She growled a little every time she saw him.

In fact, it was her growl that alerted his brother and Elain to his arrival.

Cassian had the unnerving feeling that he was interrupting something private, so he simply asked them to tell Feyre and Rhysand that he was out with Nyx when they woke up. And left before either of them decided to give him a flimsy excuse as to why there was only one steaming cup of coffee being shared between them, or why the tips of Elain’s fingers were placed delicately next to Azriel’s on the table.

Cassian simply nodded his head towards them and left the room. He slipped his feet into his own sturdy galoshes, slipped on a coat he was pretty sure belonged to Azriel, grabbed his nephew's tiny hand, and headed out.

They explored almost all of Velaris that day, Cassian telling Nyx all of the historical tidbits that he knew — and he took Nyx to one of his most favorite spots in the city. He watched his nephew’s face glaze over in wonder as he heard about the legend of a dragon that appeared in Velaris, one that was brought about by love and heartache to protect the city.

And the entire time they roamed about the city, they walked in the oddest, most impractical way.

Rather than walking in straight lines, they took giant, oblong steps.

Sometimes walking side to side. Or hopping onto one foot a few feet in front of where they stood. Anyone looking out at them undoubtedly tilted their head in confusion, but the actions of the Lord of Bloodshed and the Princeling of the Night Court made perfect sense.

To themselves, at least.

They were crunching leaves.

To Nyx, it was the satisfying crunch of the leaves crumbling beneath his galoshes that sent him into a fit of giggles that drove his actions.

And to Cassian, he was simply following where his prince led.

——

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes @magnolia-blossom87 @sheena-beene @nivem565

[nestasgalpal]

Not even his [Nessian smut]

Cassian Week - Day 2: The lover

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: It's been a long time since I last posted anything, but I'll ue the last tagging list I had. If anyone has changed theur username, wants to be added or removed from it, let me know!!

Tagging: @zoyaslai @champanheandluxxury @pataytayo @nessiantrashh @dustjacketmusings @saltydreamcollector @generalpeachyboots @simpingfornestaarcheron @arinbelle @a-court-of-valkyries @azrielsgirl@swoopingoccamy @vasudharaghavan @vidalinav @sv0430 @nessianforlife @claralady @sayosdreams @malluzia @dealfea @kylosmomm @generalcassianweek

She was wearing an anklet bracelet that hadn't been gifted by him. The charm on it tinkled next to his ear with each thrust he gave. The metallic chime was making it impossible for him to enjoy this last time like he needed to. Like only long time lovers knew how.

It was a metallic clinc, and it was about to drive him insane.

Clinc, clinc, clinc.

It was like a clock. A countdown. And it was torturing him, for it took extra effort ignoring it and focusing on what really mattered.

Nesta.

She was under him, the pale skin of her thighs reddening where his fingers dug into her flesh, his grip tightening as Cassian fucked his lover for all he was worth.

And she moaned. She whimpered for him to make her come. She begged, and no silly tinkle could ever distract him from that sweet melody of pleas escaping her lips. Through glassy eyes, Nesta looked at him and begged him to take her over the edge.

It didn't matter that everything they had built was about to be over. A pact was a pact. Proud and haughty Nesta Archeron got lost in the pleasure and let go of her need for control. And so he now had to oblige.

Cassian felt her tighten around him and answered her moans with some of his own. He didn't hold back, he pounded her with force. Quickly. Desperately. Again. Once more. He was close, and so was she.

"I love you" He whispered. A foolish, desperate attempt to… what exactly? Useless, wasted words, for there was nothing he could say at this point that the tearful Nesta under him didn't know already.

She didn't answer, and it was probably for the best. Cassian restrained himself from wiping that silent, single tear running down her face. She was quick enough to get rid of it before he did.

That was the last sign of emotion he got from her that night, as she pushed his chest and freed her body from his.

Cassian didn't even get to see her face again.

Nesta got out of the bed and walked past him, and the soldier stood there, powerless. He saw her honey colored hair, unbraided by his calloused fingers hours ago. He painted in his head a perfect map of how each lock of hair fell on her shoulders and back, how they were wavy and slightly frizzy. He mapped her hair and then her back, and then told himself that no matter what, nobody else would ever get this view. This version of his Nesta, bare in every way.

As Nesta picked up her nightgown from the floor and put it on with a swift, practiced movement, Cassian realized he would never again be allowed to call her his.

The honor would be soon someone else's.

The quiet princess walked past the unlit torches, opened the fly of the General's tent and walked straight into the darkness of the night. And although his lover left and disappeared from his sight, the metallic charm's tinkling decided to remain in the inside of his head, likely to stay there and torture him forever.

[generalcassianweek]

Cassian

art: romannaboch

[generalcassianweek]

Cassian Week

Day III

The Brother

If I had not met an Illyrian warrior-in-training," Rhys said to Cassian, "I would not have known the true depths of strength, of resilience, of honor and loyalty." Cassian's eyes gleamed bright. 

"Then Az and I will draw straws like the tough warriors we are and the loser goes in.”

“Cassian blew out a breath, watching the flames leap and flutter. “We’re going to be uncles,” he said after a moment, unable to keep the wonder from his voice. Azriel’s face filled with pride and joy. “A boy.”

art: ellyness5 

[generalcassianweek]

Cassian Week

Day V

The Bad Boy

The feared general felled by allergies

art: _skye.design_

[generalcassianweek]

Cassian Week

DAY I

The Warrior

Mud and blood splattered Cassian's dark helmet, his armor.

He ditched his tall shield for a round one strapped across his back, crafted from the same ebony metal.

And then he launched into a run.

I could have sworn even Rhys paused on the other end of the battlefield to watch as Cassian cut his way through those enemy soldiers, aiming for the mounted Hybern commander. Who realized what and who was coming for him and started to search for a better weapon.

Cassian had been born for this--these fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation.

He didn't stop moving, seemed to know where every opponent fought both ahead and behind, seemed to breathe in the flow of the battle around him. He even let his Siphons' shield drop--to get close, to feel the impact of the arrows that he took in that ebony shield. If he slammed that shield into a soldier, his other arm was already swinging his sword at the next opponent.

I'd never seen anything like it--the skill and precision. It was like a dance.

I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, "For him, that's what battle is. A symphony."

Her eyes did not stray from Cassian's death-dance.

"Holy Mother," I breathed.

That was who had been training me. Why Fae trembled at his name.

Why the high-born Illyrian warriors had been jealous enough to want him dead.

...Within a heartbeat, Cassian has sheathed both shield and sword across his back. And I would have asked why but he'd already picked up another fallen spear.

Already hurled it, his entire body going into the throw, the movement so perfect that I know I'd one day paint it.

Both armies seemed to stop at the throw.

Even with the distance, Cassian's spear hit home.

It went right through the commander's chest, so hard it knocked the male clean off his horse.

By the time he was done falling, Cassian was there. His sword caught the sunlight as it lifted and plunged down.