#cassian carr

Colter found Cassian near the edge of the mini reception, half-lit by fairy lights and the glow of clinking glasses, like he’d strategically positioned himself where he could observe without being swallowed by the crowd. She slid up beside him, nudging his arm with hers. “You always look like you’re mentally taking notes at weddings,” she said, lips twitching. “Like—hmm, yes, love, very fragile, would not recommend the chicken.” She lifted her glass in a small toast toward Alec and Jon, smile softening. “Kinda wild, though. Ending the year like this.” Her gaze flicked back to him, something unspoken hanging there. “You doing okay? Or are we both pretending champagne counts as emotional processing tonight.” @hxrricvnes

The band was somewhere between Monster Mash and Thriller when Colter finally spotted Cassian across the dance floor—cape, curl, and all. The man looked like he’d stepped out of a comic book, which was both hilarious and unfair. She tugged at the hem of her crop top, straw brushing her collarbone, and rolled her eyes skyward like she was asking for patience from some higher farm deity. “Superman,” she drawled as she sauntered up, one hand on her hip, the other holding a plastic cup of spiked cider. “You do realize you’re setting impossible standards for the rest of us mere mortals, right?” @hxrricvnes

Colter found Cassian in the barn, sleeves rolled up, hands deep in some chore she had no intention of helping with. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “You know, for someone who acts like he’s too busy to answer texts, you sure spend a lot of quality time with hay bales.” She stepped inside, kicking at the dirt floor with the toe of her boot. After a beat, her voice softened. “Got a minute? I could use your… big brother wisdom. And before you get all smug about it, no, it’s not about boys. Or girls. Or whatever. It’s… just me.” @hxrricvnes