#lord of bloodshed

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

*Casually in the middle of a high stakes situation*

Rhysand: How do you eat pickles?

Cassian: What do you mean?

Rhysand: I mean, there's a whole process. It's not like you can grab them from the jar with your hand, because it's cold and the juice burns if you have a cut, plus, it's pretty unsanitary. And you can't use a spoon because you'll have to scoop it out, and it'll be way too difficult to grab more than three or four without taking 10 minutes along with half the brine in the jar, even if it's one with holes.

Cassian: Yeah, that's why you use a fork.

Rhysand: Okay, sure, but what if you don't have one of the big ones clean? It's weird to use a small one. But there is always one of those smaller sharp knives clean.

Cassian: But the straight edge doesn't really fit into the cylindrical shape, and you have to make sure you don't break it. It's too much work.

Rhysand: It makes me feel like I deserve pickles, though. Like, "Yeah, I did it. That's right. Good job me." It's empowering. But even after that, it's not like you can use a bowl.

Cassian: I get that, it's not aesthetically pleasing.

Rhysand: Exactly! And it looks weird if you don't entirely fill the bowl, but you also can't eat that many. My solution: Use mug.

Cassian: *nods*

Azriel: That's all very interesting. BUT WE'RE TRYING TO NOT DIE RIGHT NOW! USE YOUR LIMITED ATTENTION SPANS AND FOCUS.

Rhysand: Jeez, okay.

Cassian: Quit yelling at us already.

[rainingriversofyou]

The Bat Boys - A Court Of Thorns And Roses

Artist: gracerstudios

[surielstea]

Spelling it Out

Based on a request.

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a bit oblivious to Cassian’s flirtations, so Cassian has to go the extra mile to prove he truly wants her.

Warnings: Cassian probably makes some suggestive jokes somewhere in here, but it’s all fluff! :)

4.6k words.

"I brought coffee," I announce as I step into the studio's warm embrace, the door swinging shut behind me to keep the morning chill at bay. I balance the two cups in one hand, the other cradling the new set of paints Feyre had asked me to pick up this morning.

"Back here!" Feyre's voice carries from the storage room, muffled slightly by the rustling of cardboard.

I follow the sound, stepping into the small back area where she's surrounded by half-unpacked boxes. She exhales in relief as she rushes up to me, taking her coffee with eager hands.

"You're a lifesaver," she groans, lifting the steaming cup to her lips. "Thank you."

I set the paints down, glancing at the boxes. "I thought the shipments were too heavy to unload?"

Feyre hums around her coffee, eyes twinkling. "Oh, I had help—"

Before she can finish, a figure stalks through the doorway, his presence effortlessly filling the space. A box—one that Feyre and I together had struggled to move—rests in his arms like it weighs nothing.

"This should be the last one," the male says, setting it down with casual ease.

His voice is deep, rough-edged in a way that demands attention. I take in the broad cut of his shoulders, the way his wings shift behind him, arching slightly as he straightens. And then I see his face—hazel eyes rich as molten gold, a scar cutting through his dark brow, and a mouth curled into an easy, knowing smile. He's ruggedly handsome, but not in that delicate, ethereal way most High Fae are. No, he's something else entirely—something solid, real.

"Help from Cassian," Feyre finishes, amusement lacing her tone.

The name stiles me immediately, and I was a fool for not immediately putting it together the second I saw him. Cassian. Lord of Bloodshed.

He turns his gaze to me, openly assessing, and I take the opportunity to do the same. There's something about the way he looks at me, like he's mapping every detail—filing it away for later.

"I didn't know we'd have company," I say, forcing my focus back to the present. "I would've brought another coffee."

Cassian huffs a soft laugh. "Oh, no need. I've been up for hours." His voice carries the same warmth as his grin, rough yet inviting. "But that's a kind gesture."

I nod, offering a small smile in return.

"I don't believe you two have officially met," Feyre chimes in, shifting her attention between us. "Cass, this is my very talented friend. She keeps this place running."

"She gives me too much credit," I say, shaking my head.

Cassian, however, tilts his head, his expression unreadable. "I doubt that." The certainty in his tone knocks something loose in my chest.

"This is Cassian," Feyre continues, grinning. "Rhys' brother and the best guy to call for lifting heavy things."

Cassian makes a sound of protest. "Don't forget hilarious, intelligent, devastatingly handsome—I mean, the list goes on."

I huff a quiet laugh as he extends his hand.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cassian." I smile as I take his hand.

His fingers close around mine, warm and calloused, his grip firm but not overwhelming.

"Likewise, sweetheart." His smirk deepens, and before I can pull away, his thumb brushes ever so slightly over the back of my hand—a touch so fleeting, so deliberate, that I almost convince myself I imagined it. Then he winks, a quick, knowing thing, before finally releasing me.

I swallow, ignoring the odd flutter in my stomach. I've heard the stories from Feyre, how when she originally arrived in the night court she may as well have ended up with Cassian with his relentless flirting. He's joking, I remind myself. That's just how he is.

Cassian dusts his hands off on his leathers before flashing me an easy grin. "You must be the one keeping Feyre sane around here."

I huff a quiet laugh, setting down the paints. "I do my best. But she keeps me busy."

"She does that," he muses, glancing at Feyre. "Though I didn't realize she had such a beautiful assistant."

I blink at him, caught off guard. "Oh—I'm not really her assistant. More like a glorified errand runner."

Feyre scoffs. "That is not true."

Cassian's gaze flicks back to me, assessing. "You're an artist too, then?"

I nod while shucking off my winter coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. "That's the idea."

His grin widens. "Now I'm definitely going to start hanging around more. I could use a few painting tips."

Feyre snorts. "You paint?"

"Not yet," he says, unbothered. "But I'm a fast learner. And I've always appreciated a good work of art."

Something about the way he says it, about the way his hazel eyes flick over me like he's taking his time, makes my stomach flutter.

But before I can respond, he flashes me a smirk, turning back to Feyre. "Anyway, mission accomplished. Boxes are in, and I fully expect my reward."

"Which is?" Feyre asks dryly.

Cassian smirks. "Your eternal gratitude. And maybe a good bottle of whiskey, if Rhys is feeling generous."

Feyre rolls her eyes, but I can't help my smile.

"How about next time we need your help, you'll be the first one we call?" I suggest, noticing Feyre's playful disinterest in rewarding him for being a good friend.

Cassian grins like I've just made his day. "Oh, sweetheart. You can call me anytime."

His voice drops just enough to send an odd warmth curling through my stomach. But before I can overthink it, he turns toward the door.

Cassian turns slightly, glancing at me and Feyre. "I'll be seeing you around, hopefully." He directs at me. "See you for dinner, Feyre."

And just like that, he's gone, leaving only the scent of wind and cracking embers in his wake.

I shake my head, amused, as I turn back to Feyre—only to find her already watching me over the rim of her coffee cup.

"What?"

She only smirks, taking a slow sip. "Nothing."

I frown but brush it off, reaching for the new paints.

Cassian was just being friendly. That's all.

Right?

—

From that moment on, Cassian made every excuse to come to the studio. Half the time, he didn't even bother with a valid reason—just threw out a casual "I was in town" when, in reality, he always was. Velaris wasn't nearly as big as he made it out to be.

The bell above the door rang, and I didn't need to look up to know whose footsteps were approaching behind me.

"Is that supposed to be a bird?" Cassian mused, leaning over my shoulder.

I scoffed, shoving his face away. "It's a dog, and you know it."

He chuckled, easily dodging my half-hearted push and settling right back beside me. "Mmm. If you say so." His wings rustled as he peered at my work again, this time with something softer in his expression. "It's amazing, sweetheart. You're so damn talented."

The sincerity in his voice made my stomach flutter. I tilted my head back to look up at him, caught off guard by the rare note of awe in his tone.

That awe melted into something else—something warm and teasing—as he placed both hands on my shoulders and started kneading gently.

I nearly groaned on the spot. "Gods, you're perfect at that." I exhaled, practically melting under his touch.

Cassian hummed, his thumbs working expertly over the knots in my shoulders.

I sighed blissfully, rolling my shoulders into his hands. "You should've been a healer."

He chuckled, his breath fanning against my ear. "I'd rather just take care of you, sweetheart."

I smiled, tilting my head further into his touch, completely missing the way his fingers stilled for a beat before continuing their slow, deliberate strokes.

"You really are tense," he murmured, pressing into the tight muscles just beneath my neck. "Is this what happens when you spend all day hunched over, painting little dogs that look like birds?"

I smacked his arm lightly. "If you're going to insult my work, at least pretend to be subtle about it."

"Who said anything about insulting?" His thumbs dug in a little deeper, his voice dropping just enough to make my skin heat. "I love watching you work. All focused, biting your lip, completely lost in it."

I wrinkled my nose. "That makes me sound like some kind of absent-minded hermit."

Cassian grinned. "A very cute absent-minded hermit."

I rolled my eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Cassian."

"That's funny because I feel like it's getting me everywhere," he mused, his hands still kneading at my shoulders. "You're practically purring."

"I am not purring," I argued, though I made no move to stop him.

"Cassian, stop distracting my employees!" Feyre's voice rang from the back room, laced with exasperation.

Cassian smirked, straightening up from where he'd been massaging my shoulders. "Employee," he corrected with a lazy grin. "And I'm motivating her."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth of his hands still lingered on my skin, a phantom pressure I refused to dwell on.

He chuckled, stepping back, stretching in that way that made every muscle in his absurdly broad body flex just enough to be noticed. His wings flared slightly, shifting behind him like an afterthought before he shot me another smirk. "I'll let you get back to it, sweetheart." Then, with a slow tilt of his head—"Unless you'd rather take a break and let me keep working these magic hands?"

My breath caught for half a second before I forced myself to scoff. "No," I said, ignoring the small blush creeping up my neck. "But... could I ask you a favor?"

Cassian perked up instantly, arms folding over his chest. "Anything, gorgeous."

I hesitated, suddenly second-guessing myself, but forged ahead. "I need to paint an anatomical feature I've been studying. I have a few reference images, but..." I swallowed, glancing at his wings. "I was hoping I could use you as a live model?"

His brows lifted, hazel eyes gleaming with intrigue. "My wings?"

I nodded. "Your wings are far more magnificent than the sketches in my book."

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how they sounded—how appreciative they were—and my face went hot.

Cassian, of course, took full advantage. His wings stretched slightly as if preening under the attention. "You just trying to get me shirtless, sweetheart?"

A very unhelpful image flashed in my head—of him, shirtless, all sculpted muscle and golden skin, wings fanned out behind him in the studio's soft light.

"No!" I blurted, before catching myself. "I mean—it's just for the wings."

Cassian barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Only teasing, sweetheart. I'd love to."

I exhaled in relief. "Good. Are you free tomorrow?"

He tilted his head, grinning. "I'm here whenever you want me."

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip.

I bit my lower lip slightly, nodding. "Thank you."

"I wouldn't thank me so fast," he mused, gaze flicking to me with unmistakable mischief. "You owe me after this."

I narrowed my eyes. "Owe you what?"

Cassian made a show of looking away, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. "Haven't decided yet," he hummed, lips twitching. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I'll think of something."

I huffed, waving him off. "Go bother someone else, Cassian."

He gave a dramatic bow, smirk firmly in place. "As you wish."

And with that, he sauntered off, wings twitching ever so slightly as he disappeared into the back of the studio—leaving Feyre standing there, watching me, amusement dancing in her eyes.

I turned back to my canvas, heat still prickling my skin.

—

I wasn't nervous.

There was no reason to be nervous.

It was just a painting. Just a model session. Nothing different from the dozens I'd done before.

Except, of course, this time the model was Cassian. And he was currently standing in the doorway of the studio, a lazy, devastatingly handsome grin on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Told you I'd be here whenever you wanted me."

I cleared my throat, turning away quickly to gather my supplies. "Yes, well, I'd rather not have students knocking over easels trying to get a look at you, so we're setting up in the back."

He let out a low chuckle as he followed me. "What, afraid they'll get distracted?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, but I know you will."

"Fair point."

Once we stepped into the back room—where there were no prying eyes or interruptions—I pointed to the stool in the center of the space. "Sit there, facing away from me."

Cassian obeyed, but not before flashing me a smirk. "Getting bossy already?"

I ignored him, busying myself with setting up my canvas. "You can take off your shirt now."

"Damn, sweetheart—at least buy me dinner first."

I froze mid-motion, whipping my head around. "That's not—I didn't—"

Cassian just laughed, reaching over his shoulder to grab the back of his collar. In one smooth motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby table.

I regretted looking.

Because Mother above.

Cassian was made of solid muscle—thick, powerful shoulders, his back broad and sculpted as if the Cauldron had taken extra care in crafting every ridge, every dip, every inch of him. His wings, folded neatly against his back, only added to the sheer size of him.

I swallowed hard, thankful beyond belief that he was facing away.

"You good back there?" Cassian teased.

"I'm fine," I said, maybe a little too quickly.

I turned my attention to his wings. The pose needed to be just right—relaxed but natural, something that would emphasize their power without looking stiff or unnatural. I stepped forward, lifting my hands, then hesitated.

"Can I touch?" I asked softly, if there was one thing I learned from studying Illyrian anatomy it's that their wings were sensitive, sacred.

Cassian went still.

For a moment, there was silence. Then—so quiet I almost missed it—his breath hitched.

When he spoke again, his voice was different. Lower. "Yeah, sweetheart. Go ahead.

I exhaled slowly before pressing my fingertips to the strong, leathery membrane of his wing. Warmth radiated from him, the muscle beneath my touch twitching slightly as I carefully adjusted his positioning.

It was... exhilarating, in a way. To be granted access to something so personal.

I stepped back to assess the placement. "Are they too heavy to hold like that?"

Cassian laughed. "That's adorable."

I frowned. "What?"

"Sweetheart, these wings have carried me through battle, through storms, through the Illyrian mountains at full speed. I think I can manage to hold them still for a few hours."

I huffed. "Fine. But will you be able to sit still?"

That earned me another chuckle, this one softer. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

I shook my head and finally picked up my pencil, settling in front of my canvas.

"Alright," I murmured to myself, letting my nerves melt away as I focused on the work ahead. "Let's begin."

The soft scratch of pencil against canvas filled the room, steady, rhythmic—an anchor keeping me grounded as I worked.

I started with the shape of his wings, mapping out their vast expanse, the way they framed his body like an extension of his very presence. The leather stretched taut over powerful muscle, lined with delicate veins and faint, nearly imperceptible scars.

I shouldn't have been staring so intently.

I shouldn't have been so utterly captivated by every detail of him.

And yet, as I let my pencil glide over the page, shaping the curve of his shoulder blades, the slope of his spine, the corded muscles of his back... I couldn't stop.

He's just a model. Just another subject.

Then why did my fingers tremble slightly when I shaded the deep ridges of his scars? Why did my chest tighten at the thought of what he must have endured to earn them?

Cassian shifted slightly, flexing his shoulders, his wings twitching.

I snapped out of my daze, scowling. "Sit still."

He huffed a laugh. "I don't think I've ever sat this still in my entire life."

I hummed in response, refocusing. Carefully, I traced the lines of his back, the contours of muscle that spoke of centuries of battle, of training, of dedication. My gaze flicked up to his wings again, and a quiet sigh escaped me.

"What's that sound for?" he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

I hesitated, then admitted, "They really are beautiful, you know."

Cassian stilled for a fraction of a second before letting out a soft chuckle. "Careful, sweetheart. Keep saying things like that and I might start thinking you actually like having me here."

I rolled my eyes. "You act like I don't."

Silence.

A pause, just long enough to make my stomach flutter with uncertainty.

Then, "Good. I like being here."

I pressed my lips together, pretending that warmth hadn't bloomed in my chest at his words. Pretending that I wasn't getting lost in the strong, elegant lines of his body.

I dipped my brush into the paint, moving on from the sketch to the first careful strokes of color.

Cassian's voice broke through the quiet. "You know, if you wanted a full anatomy study, you could've just asked."

I blinked, pulling back slightly. "...What?"

He turned his head just enough to smirk at me over his shoulder. "You're painting my back, too, aren't you?"

My cheeks heated. "Well—yes, but—"

"Seems unfair to only get half the view."

I huffed. "I don't need the full view, Cassian."

His smirk deepened. "That's a shame. I'd be a very cooperative model."

I nearly choked on air. "Just—shut up and sit still."

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, settling in my bones.

I shouldn't have been enjoying this so much.

I shouldn't have been admiring the golden-brown glow of his skin, the way the light cast soft shadows over the planes of his back. I shouldn't have let my eyes linger on the scars that marred him—proof of all he had endured, of everything he had survived.

And I certainly shouldn't have wished that all his teasing, all his flirtation, was anything more than just casual banter.

Cassian was like this with everyone.

Wasn't he?

I was not going to let Cassian distract me.

Even if he was currently sprawled in front of me, shirtless, his wings stretched just so, his body the most stunning thing I'd ever painted.

Even if his words curled around me like smoke, warm and teasing, making my thoughts race in ways they shouldn't.

I swallowed hard and turned my attention back to the canvas, forcing myself to focus.

I just had to finish the painting.

And ignore the way my heart had begun to beat just a little too fast.

The rhythmic strokes of my brush filled the quiet space, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of bristles against canvas and the steady sound of Cassian's breathing.

Nearly an hour has passed, and to his credit, he'd been holding still remarkably well. Mostly.

"You're awfully quiet back there, sweetheart," Cassian mused, his voice carrying just the hint of a smirk. "Not getting bored, are you?"

I huffed, dipping my brush into a deeper shade of pigment. "I'm working, Cassian."

"I am your work right now."

I rolled my eyes. "And you're a very high-maintenance subject."

Cassian chuckled. "I prefer engaging. You should be thanking me, really. Keeps things from getting dull."

I let out a soft laugh despite myself. "You're half-naked in front of me, Cassian. Things aren't exactly dull."

Silence.

A beat too long.

I froze as I realized what I'd just said.

Cassian's wings twitched. Then, "Well, well."

I groaned. "Forget I said that."

"Oh, absolutely not." He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the smug curve of his lips. "You just admitted to being entertained by me. I'm savoring this moment."

"I said forget it."

"Nope. It's mine now."

I sighed, glaring at the canvas like it had personally wronged me.

Cassian chuckled again but thankfully let it drop, settling back into his position.

A few minutes passed in something almost resembling peace. I worked on layering in the first washes of color, the warm tones of his skin against the deeper hues of his wings.

Then—"So, do I get a say in how I'm portrayed?"

I lifted a brow. "Are you worried about artistic liberties?"

"A little."

I fought back a smile. "I could make you look very dramatic, if that's what you're asking. Add some storm clouds in the background. Maybe a tragic tear rolling down your face."

Cassian snorted. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather not be mistaken for some brooding, tortured soul."

I hummed. "That is Azriel's aesthetic."

"Exactly. We can't both have it."

"I don't know," I mused. "I think it could work. Maybe a single candle for dramatic lighting—"

"Absolutely not."

I grinned, but before I could make another remark, Cassian stretched, his wings flexing slightly before tucking back into place. The movement was so fluid, so casual—so utterly him.

I quickly went in with another light sketch, wanting to capture the way his muscles moved, the effortless strength in his frame.

"You still with me back there?" he teased, amusement lacing his voice.

"Yes, Cassian. Some of us are capable of focusing."

"Some of us just don't need to focus that hard to admire what's in front of us."

I frowned slightly, not quite catching his meaning. "What?"

He chuckled. "Nothing, sweetheart."

I shook my head, deciding not to press it.

"Alright," I finally said, leaning back to study my work. "I have the basics down. You can put your shirt back on now."

Cassian made a low, exaggerated noise of disappointment. "Damn. And here I was hoping you'd need me to pose for a few more hours."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't sound too heartbroken. I will be making you sit for another session later."

His grin was wicked. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"Shut up and put your shirt on, Cassian."

He laughed, grabbing his discarded shirt—but the knowing look in his eyes told me that he'd be holding onto this moment for a long time.

And for some reason, I didn't mind one bit.

—

Cassian came in for many sessions after that.

I probably could've finished the painting on my own after the first few sittings, but he insisted I get all the colors right, all the details perfect. And, well... I wasn't exactly going to complain about having him shirtless in front of me for hours on end.

So, day after day, he showed up, sauntering into the studio with that insufferable smirk, stretching his wings like he owned the place. And I let him, indulged him—indulged myself—until the painting was finally finished, until there was no reason for him to sit for me anymore.

The thought left a strange hollowness in my chest, but I ignored it, focusing instead on adding the final highlights to his wings.

Cassian shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders.

I glanced up. "Getting restless?"

He grinned. "You gonna keep me trapped here all day, sweetheart?"

I smirked. "You're free to go anytime." I glanced at the painting. "But you'd be leaving unfinished art behind, and that would just be tragic."

Even though all I had left to add was a small, near-invisible highlight, I liked the idea of keeping him there just a little longer.

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. I'll sit still for you a little longer."

Something in the way he said it—for you—sent a ripple of warmth through me, but I shoved it aside. I exhaled, finally setting my brush down.

"Alright," I said, stretching my arms. "You're officially free."

Cassian groaned dramatically, standing and rolling his neck. "Finally." He grabbed his shirt, but instead of putting it on, he slung it over his shoulder, turning toward me with that insufferable smirk. "Is it done?"

I turned the easel slightly toward him.

It was hard to admire my own work. After staring at it for so long in every unfinished form, I wasn't sure if I loved it or if I just loved the image I had painted. But I could say I was proud of it. That was enough.

Cassian stepped closer, blinking at the still-wet canvas. His brows lifted, his mouth parted slightly. He didn't speak, didn't crack a joke, didn't smirk like he usually did.

I shifted under his gaze. "Well?"

He inhaled, slow. "Sweetheart..." He sounded almost reverent. "It's... it's beautiful."

A laugh bubbled from my lips. "You're only saying that because it's you I painted."

"No—I mean, I am beautiful, but this is... magnificent." His voice was softer than usual, quieter.

Something flickered in his eyes as he turned toward me, something warm and fond. It was enough to make my stomach flip.

I swallowed. "Thanks, Cass."

His grin returned. "Proud of yourself?"

I nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah. I am."

His wings twitched. "Good. You should be."

A comfortable silence settled between us for a moment, the weight of his words pressing into me in a way I wasn't sure how to handle.

Then Cassian cleared his throat, stretching his arms over his head. "Now that it's finished..."

Something about the way he said it sent a prickle of anticipation down my spine.

He grinned. "...About my favor?"

I groaned. "You actually kept track of that?"

Cassian scoffed. "Sweetheart, I'd never forget a promise like that." He crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyeing me like he was scheming. "And I know exactly what I want."

A slow, lazy smirk curled his lips.

And for some reason, my stomach flipped all over again.

I raised a brow, waiting.

Cassian took a step forward. Then another.

My stomach flipped. "Okay?"

"I want you to go out with me."

I blinked. "What?"

His smirk deepened. "That's my favor. You and me. A date."

I stared at him, sure I'd misheard. "You're joking."

"Nope."

My heart did something strange, something uneven, and I let out a short, breathy laugh. "Cassian, you flirt with everyone."

"Not like this." His voice was quieter now. Steady.

I swallowed. "But—you're just messing with me. You've been messing with me this whole time."

Cassian sighed, running a hand down his face. "Gods, you're impossible." Before I could react, he stepped closer, hands coming up to cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks.

My breath hitched.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, tilting my chin up slightly. "Listen to me. I have not spent weeks finding every excuse under the sun to come here, sitting shirtless for hours just so you'd look at me, calling in a whole-ass favor just to take you out—just to mess with you."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Cassian's thumbs brushed against my skin again, his hazel eyes locked on mine. "I like you. I want you. And I swear to the Gods, if I have to spell it out anymore, I'm going to start carving it into the damn walls."

I let out a breathless laugh, my face burning. "You're serious."

His lips curled. "Took you long enough."

I exhaled, shaking my head slightly. "I—"

"Just say yes, sweetheart," he murmured, voice teasing, but there was something else in his gaze—something warm, something steady. Something real.

I swallowed hard. Yes."

Cassian grinned. "Good choice."

His hands lingered on my face for just a second longer before he pulled back, grabbing his shirt off his shoulder and throwing it on. He shot me one last smirk as he backed toward the door.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow after your class."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there—heart racing, mind spinning, trying to process the fact that Cassian had actually just asked me out.

That all this time, he hadn't been messing with me at all.

Feyre was going to laugh at me for not catching on sooner when I tell her.

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[readychilledwine]

Mine

Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor.

Warnings - Blood, smut, focus on reader and Cassian's differences physically, reader is thick because it felt right, oral (female receiving), Cassian going to pound town.

A/N - based on this post and our comments from @loneliestluvr I refuse to apologize for how quickly this became smut.

Being mated to the Lord of Bloodshed was never easy, especially as an illyrian female blessed to have found him before your wings were taken. “Sorry,” you whispered as he flinched. You had got to the cut on his eyebrow, wiping it down as gently as you could.

Cassian was covered in blood. A mix of his own and another male's who had not known you were claimed by the male sitting in front of you. “You okay?” He had his eyes shut as you took care of him, content under the feel of your soft hands.

“You're the one who ended up in a fight with 6 other males and walked away. I should be asking you that.” You gently reset and healed his nose, silently thanking the Mother for such a useful gift.

Everything about you two had been so perfectly planned. The skilled warrior. Loud, personable, quick on his feet. Then you, the talented healer. Intelligent, shy, soft spoken. You were balanced perfectly. A match truly made by the Gods. You continued wiping the blood from him, ensuring he would not have to change the water multiple times once you got him bathed and stepped away before offering him your hand.

It was another contrast between you two and Cassian's absolute favorite. Your soft manicured hands, his rough and calloused ones. He laced your fingers together, pretending to allow you to pull him up at he stood. “I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guys.” He smiled at his own joke, walking into the bathroom of the cabin. “Are you going to undress me too?”

“Absolutely.” You were graceful with buckle, each tie, gently pulling armor and fabric from his body until it sat on the vanity nearby. Habit took over as you folded it all, putting the clothing into baskets to be cleaned before turning back to the god in fae form behind you.

The moan Cassian released as he sunk into the warm water had your thighs clenching. You watched his head fall back as lavender scented steam came from the tub and as his shoulders fell in relaxation. “Can I wash your hair?” He groaned again at the thought, smiling as you sat behind him with the soap. “Need to show you my love and appreciation for protecting me.”

He gave a breathy laugh, shutting his eyes in bliss as you began massaging shampoo into his wavy locks. “I will always protect you, y/n. Always. You are mine.”

“I am,” he growled at your agreement, his need to possess you was high. Illyrians had always been more feral with their bonds, and you absolutely allowed him to enjoy the primal tendencies that came with it. “I will always be yours. In this life and the next.” You began rinsing his hair, ensuring every spec of blood and dirt was out before applying a deep conditioner.

“Lean forward so I can wash your back, Cassian.”

“I don't deserve you,” he was drifting off under your touch, enjoying the feeling of you kneading sore muscles as you lathered his scarred skin with a soft scented soap. “Could you get my wings?”

You leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I planned on getting them once I got you fully cleaned and the water changed.”

“Fuck that,” Cassian forced you over, pulling you in thin night gown and all before ripping it off of you. His lips were on yours and hungry. He was grabbing your hips, loving their plushy feel. “Want you now.”

“Cass, this water is disgusting.”

His head hit the tub with a thud. “Fine. Fine. It's fine.” He was, in fact, not fine. You could feel how hard he was. His length was pressing into your stomach. “I just need you. You know how I get when you take care of me.”

You were washing him again. Cleaning off his chest and face, scrubbing his arms. He was memorized by you by your body. He remembered learning about the Gods of old from Rhysand's mother, and you had to have been crafted by the goddess of love. It was another contrast. His rock-hard body, toned and cut from years of training. Your soft body, curves landing in all the right places, thighs so thick you genuinely worried when you sat on his face.

He lifted you with little effort when he knew he was clean, climbing out of the water with his lips attached to the point on your neck that drove you wild. “Done waiting,” he carried you to the bedroom, sucking that spot until he knew a deep purple mark would form.

He threw you down on the bed, not caring that it would soak the sheets and mattress as he watched your full breasts bounce. When he was like this, you knew you were in for a ride. Knew that headboard wouldn't be enough to keep you in place as he pounded into you over and over again, only content when he had ensured you were filled and would smell like him and sex for weeks. He was studying you like you were his prey, waiting to pounce at just the right time.

He found it as you shifted, laying down more on the pillows like the queen he knew you were. He did not bother kissing your lips again. Instead, it was him instantly pulling your legs over his shoulders and licking your already soaked core. Your hands shot to his hair, moans ripping through your throat. He was eager tonight. So damn eager.

“Cassian,” he hummed against you, looking up through hooded lust filled eyes. “Slow down.”

He shook his head, not even letting your clit out of his mouth as he did. “Baby, I'm going to cum if you don't go slower.” His brows shot up and a smirk formed. It spoke of every intention he had, you would not leave this bed, not without him carrying you.

Every flick of his tongue, every long drag, the soft kisses all had you melting further Into the mattress as your nerves came to life. Cassian was as calculated in bed as he was on a battlefield. Everything was precise, done with intention, and meant to fulfill his goal. His forearm went against your hips, locking you in place at his mercy.

He could feel every wave of pleasure from you shooting down that sacred and special bond. He could sense the moment you fell. Your fingers tightened on the sheets, your back arched, it was silence before the scream. Between your own pleasure, you could feel his pride leaking down the bond. Pride with how easily he could pull you apart with nothing more than his tongue. Pride over the way your body was so easily his.

He only pulled away when you began to whimper and push, but he was instantly crashing his lips on yours as he kicked off his pants. His forehead went to yours once you were both breathless. Those Hazel eyes you melted in the gaze of were feral and dark with desire. In one smooth motion with no warning, Cassian was inside of you with one single word, “Mine.”

There was no split second of calm before the storm, no moment to catch your breath after he took it from you. Cassian began to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small marks to join the littering scars and cuts from his earlier fight. “Mine,” the growl was deep, an ancient part of him almost begging for affirmation of the word.

“Yours,” you moaned out for him, back arching as your stomach tightened. “All yours.” Cassian's arm went across your back, hand roughly gripping your hips he could force you to move exactly how he wanted.

You could hardly breathe, mind lost to anything but Cassian. Your mate. Your everything. You could feel him down the bond, feel him getting closer with each squeeze and twitch of your walls. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of his groans and you whispering and moaning his name like a prayer to some long forgotten God. “So fucking beautiful,” his free hand forced your head up, forcing you to watch as his cock slid in and out of your core, soaked in your essence. “Watch me fuck you. Watch me mark this pretty perfect pussy as mine.”

You couldn't help but to moan, feeling that edge approaching faster and faster with his. “Cassie.”

“Do it. Cum on my cock, baby.” He let you go limp below him, placing your head back on the pillows gently as he did. Wave after wave of need and pleasure washed over you, blinding your senses to anything but the feel of Cassian filling you as you Came around him. He fucked you through the high before finally finishing, not even bothering to pull out and opting to instead hold your hips so close to his you could not even tell where he began and you ended.

When he finally let you go, he barely caught himself before collapsing on top of you as his exhaustion hit him. You could help but place soft kissed along his face. His scarred brow and lip, his nose that you'd reset and healed so many times, his jaw. You finally sighed with one last lingering kiss directly on his full lips as he smiled. “That was faster than I hoped it would be.”

“Always is when you fuck me after fighting.”

“Always yours.”

He kissed your neck softly on the mark he made, whispering one last time. “Mine.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[azrielsshadows42]

Bartender: There's this girl that really seems to hate you

Cassian: ?! What does she look like?

Bartender: Golden-brown hair, blue-grey eyes, has a general air of murder-

Cassian: Oh, that's just my wife and mate, Nesta.

Nesta: *Scowls at him from across the room*

Cassian: Yup, she's completely in love with me

Bartender: *concerned*

[lady-of-tearshed]

Lost in translation

Cassian x Reader

Cassian Week 2024

Day 4: Lover

@cassianappreciationweek

A/N: Honestly, I think that Cassian, as a lover, is a big fan of physical touch. Massages, hugs, holding hands, cuddling, having sex… That’s exactly how I imagine this male’s love language. So I thought: What would happen if our Lord of Bloodshed's mate had a completely different love language? And here's how this little fic got written. Enjoy! 💕

Summary: Cassian is worried he's being too clingy since you don't seem to show him your love with physical touches... But maybe the two of you just got lost in translation.

Warnings: Mention of nudity, but nothing explicit. Miscommunication angst. Happy ending.

Word count: 1,236k words

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

And they lived happily ever after… The end.

You snap the book close in your hands and groan. You slide the back of the book onto the nightstand, right beside your empty mug of tea, and stretch your arms above your head. You sigh at the feeling of your numb muscles stretching out after a long time stuck in the same position. You look up at the clock to check how long exactly you’ve been reading, and the realization hits you full force.

Seven whole hours. Mother above… More like “Mother’s tits”, as your mate would so graciously say.

Speaking of him, you haven’t heard much of him in a while, which was weird, since he would always be tucked at your side at any given time of the day. He would usually burrow his face in the middle of your breasts, and start kissing them sneakily once he has enough of waiting for you to finish reading. He would become insufferable if you have the misfortune to read a relatively steamy part of your book and become all hot and bothered. Cassian would always manage to make you even more flustered or aroused when this happens. 

But the General hasn't shown up for seven whole hours. Tendrils of guilt swirls around your stomach, squeezing it uncomfortably as you come to the realization that you have failed to notice Cassian’s absence until just now. You softly tug on the golden bond that shone permanently in your chest, connecting your soul with the male of your every desire, but you receive no response, as if he had blocked you out. 

You slide your cold feets into your slippers, and pick up the mug on the nightstand, bringing it with you on your quest to find the General. The house of the wind is silent, save from the fire soothingly dancing in the hearth. Your eyes scan the living room, then the kitchen… No sign of Cassian. You walk toward the sink, washing your mug and placing it down into the drying rack, all while thinking where your mate can possibly be at this time of the night. 

Your eyes move to the front door, and you notice that there still was a thin layer of snow melting under the sole of his boots. He must’ve been training until late, which means…

Just as you start to make a connection of where your mate is most likely to be, the sound of water running from the bathroom confirms your theory. You tiptoe to the bathroom, trying to be sneaky, but Cassian’s gaze is already set on you when you walk in the bathroom. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He says, turning his back to you.

The water is pouring down on him, soaking his hair, droplets of water sliding down the waves of his hair, following the uneven black lines tattooed on his shoulders, sliding all the way down his back, finishing their course by caressing his muscled ass… “I wasn’t sleeping.” You admit, starting to undress, not minding at all that your mate can smell the shift in your scent. 

Cassian shoulder’s tense slightly as you walk closer to the foggy glass door, naked. You raise a brow, halting your hand on the doorknob of the shower, about to question him but he’s quicker to speak. “Y/N, don’t come in here just because you pity me.” All hints of arousal leave your body at his words, your brain blurry from trying to understand where Cassian's insecurity comes from.  

“Alright, then,” You say, stepping inside the shower, standing right behind the General's massive shoulders, hands on your hips. “Mind telling me where such thoughts come from?” Your finger taps on the back of his head slightly, insisting that he turns around to face you, to face what’s on his mind and open up to you. 

Cassian’s shoulders drop, his wings so low that they brush the shower tiles on the floor. “Cassie… My love…” You stroke the spot in between his wings in a comforting manner, and you feel his wards crumble, his emotions pouring through the bond. 

Self-loathing, pain, loneliness… 

His feelings make your own heart sting, and your face crumbles at how much pain your mate seems to suffer from. You lift his wing, and carefully slip underneath it to sneak between the wall and his face. He turns his face away from you, facing the wall. You can’t tell if it’s tears, or water that’s rolling down his cheeks. “I need you to be honest with me,” He sighs, as if trying to gather the strength to speak his next words. “Do you…” His eyebrows knit, and your eyes glance to his fists, clenching, unclenching. He was nervous. “Do you find me annoying?”

“No, Cass-”

“Too clingy maybe?”

You frown, and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “No… My love-”

“Then why is it everytime I touch you, you…” His eyes snap to yours, and you hold your breath at how bloodshot they look. From crying. “You…” His voice softens, and he has to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. “Do you like it when I touch you?” He asks in a whisper, his head tilting to the side. Pain was written all over his face.

“Oh, Cassian…” You smile sadly, opening your arms to offer him a hug. He swings you into his arms, both of you now standing under the warm water. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I love it when you touch me. What made you think otherwise?” You comfort him, kissing the side of his head lovingly. 

“It almost looks like you avoid touching me. I just… I don't know. It made me wonder if perhaps I was the one being too touchy.” He confesses, still hiding his face in the safety of your neck. 

“Hey… look at me.” You move back to cup his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “If I didn't like you touching me, I would've told you so. I promise,” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Now, if I made you feel like I was avoiding touching you, I'm sorry. It's just…” You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “I'm just… I just like to express my love differently, I guess. Like, I usually express my love with little acts of services, or words of affirmation…” 

Cassian nods slowly, and scratches the back of his head, chuckling too. “Oh…” 

There's a moment of silence where the both of you just stand naked in the shower, your hands caressing Cassian’s cheeks, the stubbles scratching your digits softly. 

Cassian’s hands wrap delicately around your wrists, and he brings one of them to his lips, pampering the soft skin of it with kisses. “I'm so sorry I didn't notice all of this… I was too focused on my own love language. And since you weren't so… Gods, I'm such an idiot…”

“You're not an idiot,” You reassure him. “You're allowed to be worried about things, Cass. I'm happy we talked about it.” 

His lips leave your wrist, and hover over your mouth, softly brushing against yours. He tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear, and whispers against your lips. “Yeah… I'm glad we talked about it too…” Then he kisses you, his lips feeling so light against yours. So was his heart, now that you've communicated.

Acotar Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

Cassian Taglist: @ladybookstan @acotar-lover

[jennastokesart]

Sinbad ⚔️ A Court of Silver Flames

Finally, she is here! The full illustration in all its piratey glory. The more I think about the parallels between Sinbad & Marina and Nesta & Cassian the more art I want to make of this crossover. Someone said they also resemble Livia and Erik from The Ever King series which I’m glad they brought up. I was seeing them as well when drawing this and almost just switched to it being them instead.

I have already finished piece 2 of this series and y’all have already guessed correctly which characters and what movie I combined in the sneak peek👀👀👀 I have also already sketched out Feysand’s piece and the film I chose for them is unexpected but fits them perfectly in my opinion. 😩👌🏻

I am trying to find more duos to draw …. I’m thinking Rowan & Aelin but the film I’d choose for them I already chose for Feysand….hmmmm. There is much to brainstorm. If y’all have classic childhood film suggestions send me my way 🫶🏻

Actually…. What classic films and their main characters would y’all think Livia/Erik, Jude/Cardan, and Aelin/Rowan would resemble well? I can only think of Treasure Planet, Quest for Camelot, Atlantis, Anastasia….what other iconic underrated animated films are there???

[schetroschky]

[solbaby7]

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: cassian x rhysand’s sister!reader

warnings: sneaking around, suggestive language, swearing, possible sexual content either way minors DNI, mutual pining, a simping Cass and a meddling Az

summary: The General Commander of the Night Court finds himself falling for the High Lords precious little sister.

—

Cassian knew better.

He was smarter than this—had better self-control and discipline than hundreds of thousands of men combined but all of that crumbles to ash the second you come prancing past in those tight pants. The same ones that sat low on your hips paired with the skin tight sleeveless top that showed off the wink of your navel and the dangling piercing that resided there. “Your brother know about that?”

“Oh, Commander,” His jaw clenched at the title, the sing-song lilt of your voice and the bedroom eyes that raked down the giant length of his form. Never in his life had he ever felt so anxious under a woman’s gaze and he fights the urge to shift his weight from foot to foot. “You’d be positively baffled by the things my brother doesn’t know about.”

It was a taunt; perfectly manicured nails plucking at a string that was already seconds away from snapping. Even then, Cassian can’t seem to help himself and like a small animal with little sense of self-preservation—he’s caught in your trap. “Like what?” He clears his throat, the words coming out too soft, too desperate and yet he can’t find it in him to be embarrassed when you’re looking at him like that.

Dark lashes frame pretty eyes that trail down the length of his body, a feline smile on full lips. “I really wish I could say, General,” Never had his body reacted to his title in such a way; skin burning like a flame when it came from you, dark hair hanging over your shoulders and he wills his knees not to buckle when you stalk closer. A manicured finger just barely grazes the length of his bicep and he’s already fighting the growing erection beneath his breeches. “But, I just can’t be sure you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“I won’t say anything.”

You raise a brow, head quirking to the side and you’re unabashedly aware of the fact that this wing of the house was utterly bare save for you and Cass. “I’m throwing a little party tomorrow,” His surprise is evident; as witty and seductive as you may be, it was common knowledge how responsible you were. The pressures of perfection always weighed heavier on a woman and you handled it well. “Come if you’d like but only you.”

“Where?”

There’s a mischievous glint in your eye, fingers toying with the hilt of the sword hung at his hip. “Can’t say—you’ll just have to find me.”

He’s stuck in place when you saunter off, hips swishing from side to side until you disappeared behind closed doors at the end of the hall. Cassian huffed out a shaky breath, a hand raking through slightly overgrown strands as he willed his heart to return to its normal rhythm but he was already a goner. Mind utterly consumed in all things you from the shimmering pin tucked in your hair or the shiny sheen glossing over pouty lips.

For twenty-four hours he’d obsessed over the smell of your soap until his focus was shifted to the breathy little grunts you offer when sparring in the ring the following morning. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“Because,” You huff, breathing labored, sweat dripping down your back and you’d long since tied your hair in a knot at the top of your head. “I’m tired and can’t stop thinking about food.” You get in a few good jabs but the exhaustion sets in much quicker for you than it did the Illyrian soldier.

The idea that sets into his mind is disgraceful; pupils dilating at the very thought and he nearly moans out loud when you bend over to grab your canteen. Stretchy shorts hug tight around the curve of your ass and Cass is already diving head first into filthy fantasies of you bent over just like that with his face shoved between your thighs. It feels so real his mouth actually waters, throat bobbing with a gulp and his hands clench into tight fists.

It's wrong.

He couldn't—shouldn't—be thinking such thoughts but it's like you're doing it on purpose. Body elongated and spine dipping when tugging off the sweat-soaked training top. Only left in a sports bra and the holsters that wrap along your wrist and forearm, holding two swords so sharp you could probably slice his head from his shoulders with the right amount of intent. Yet, for some reason it doesn't deter him; the lethality of you that was always kept contained like some secret weapon just waiting for their moment.

The shirt hits the floor with a wet shlop and before Cassian can form words, Azriel is brushing past him with a knowing glance. "We'll feed you after you fight me," Cassian hates the way his nose scrunches in jealousy, lip twitching to curve into a snarl at the easy banter that arises between the two of you. Azriel stalks you like prey, sharp eyes raking up the length of skin you have bared—even if he does do it significantly more subtle than Cass.

You offer a breathy laugh, throat moving over the large gulps of water before falling into stance. Its casual, body loose from the thorough warm-up and Cass feels his blood rush at the mischievous smirk growing in the corner of your mouth, eyes darting to the shadows beginning to circle you. "Shouldn't take too long," Confidence dripped off your tongue like hot honey. "If you play fair, that is."

Az slowly tilts his head to the side, acutely aware of the rage radiating off his brother from the edge of the ring. It doesn't deter him in the slightest, shoulders rolling and wings tucking in preparation as a breeze shifted through his hair. "What's the fun in that?"

It's annoyingly fluid and Cassian just can't quell the frustration; lips scowled in a sneer the closer you and Azriel got. It should've been him with his hands touching your skin; should be him making you grunt and snap out snarky remarks whenever you'd lost the upper hand. The General's jaw clenches, teeth gritting when Az slams you down on the mat, holding down your arms as you struggle beneath such weight. "That's fine," Azriel jokes, sun beating down on golden skin, shining across amber irises and the brilliance is nearly overwhelming—nearly. "I like 'em squirmy."

It happens so fast that even the shadows don't have time to react when a whip of endless darkness wraps around the spymasters neck and snatches him back. The element of surprise works in your favor, offering enough time to get back on your feet and gain some distance despite the fact that he recovers unnervingly quick, gaze darkening under the challenge. "What? I thought we were having fun, Azzy?" A innocent little pout completely contridicts the growing throb of power that hums off your frame. "Playing around."

The sharp sting of metal unsheathing and the blades attached to your forearms are unfastened, the hilt twisting with practiced ease as you adjusted your grip.

You play the clueless female well—too well.

Maybe that’s why Azriel underestimates the true extent of your focus; too trained on the rapid rising and falling of your chest, the way your left leg trembles slightly with exhaustion and he’s completely blindsided by the way you adjust your magic to him. The deep abyss of darkness that usually comes when calling your power shifts, the shade adapting to that of Azriel’s shadows until there was no way to tell where he started and you ended.

You take the opening, mentally patting yourself on the back for the look of genuine shock that smears its way across Azriel’s face and he’s on the ground in seconds. Your knees dig into the juncture of flesh in his biceps, applying pressure to vital nerves as you hover over his chest. “Alright, alright,” He taps at the mat twice, sweat lacing his brow and fingers going numb. “You win.”

With a deep exhale, you flop to the side and sprawl flat out on the mat, limbs boneless as your head lazily turns to face a brooding Cassian. “Feed me. The Heiress of your Court demands it.” Maybe it was the linger aftershocks of jealousy that leads Cass to saunter over and hoist you over his shoulder. It’s effortless and the surprised yelp that strangled free is slightly more embarrassing that being manhandled. “Cassian,” You grunt, bunching your hands in the durable material of his leathers to brace yourself. “Put me down, right now!”

His amusement rumbles against your belly, one large hand splayed high on the back of your thigh. “I’m only doing as my Heiress asks.”

A flush warms your cheeks, no longer able to blame it on the sun when the cool air of the house shifts over your skin. “Seriously, put me down. You stink.”

“You don’t smell much better but I was practicing self-control and keeping it an inside thought.”

Your hand smacks on his back in retaliation, huffy swears echoing throughout the halls but Cassian continues as if you hadn’t done anything at all. Instead, he plops you into a seat at the dining table and instantly the house predicts your needs, providing a spread of food that has your mouth watering and stomach growling.

Before you can even reach for a plate, Cassian’s already washed his hands and come back to pile a plate full of your favorites, swiftly avoiding foods you didn’t enjoy as much as if it were second nature. A brow quirks playfully, form sinking into your seat comfortably. “You gonna help me shower too?”

“Only if my Heiress demands it.” His lips shift into a smirk so sinful you shift in place, fingers just barely recovering from losing your grip on your silverware.

A scoff hides your inability to form words, fork scraping against the fine china as you fill your mouth with much needed sustenance. Immediately, your shitty mood dissipates, hips wiggling in complete bliss while you indulge in garlicy breadsticks dipped in creamy pasta sauce.

“You’ve been training your powers.” Cassian mentions more so to distract himself from the little moans you let you with each bite. “I’ve never seen you manipulate them like that. Blending into Az’s shadows?”

“A girls gotta do something to fill her time.”

Golden eyes narrow in your direction, scanning the curve of your cheeks and slope of your nose. He lingers entirely too long on your mouth, pasta sauce gathering in the corner and his fingers twitch to reach over and wipe it off. “What else are you hiding under your sleeve?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Something about the way you look at him has Cassian’s skin going hot, the pale violet of your iris turning into nothing but a thin ring as your pupils eat up the free space. “And, I’d hate to have to get rid of my favorite boy.”

“I’m your favorite?”

You’re outright teasing; taunting the brick wall of a man with nothing more than polished silver and the insinuating drag of your tongue against your fork. “You think I give invitations to secret parties to any ol’ body? Please, I have better taste than that.”

It’s instinctual. Driven by nothing more than pure Illyrian pride, his chest subconsciously puffing up with pride under the kiss of your compliment. He’s not brave enough to elaborate on it—too afraid to jumble his words and make a godsdamned fool of himself. “Where is this party anyway?”

Silverware clangs against fine china, a signal that you’ve finished your meal and the house is quick when cleaning up for you, fondly topping up your wine and providing fresh linen to dab around your mouth.

You don’t take it.

Instead, you offer up a crimson red ribbon just barely long enough to fully wrap around Cassian’s wrist. It’s smooth like silk in his grasp, the material coated in your scent and it takes every scrap of decency he has left not to shove it up against his nose. “Follow those. Once you’ve collected the last one, you’ll find me.”

“And then what?”

A sultry smirk curves at your mouth as you rise from your chair. “Then, you can have me.” His mouth goes dry, fists closing over the strip of fabric clutched between his fingers. “Have fun hunting, General.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Rewrite Fate

Summary: He does not care what the fans say, and so shouldn't she

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1390 (including comments and captions <3)

Warnings: a bit of agst and a tinyyy tiny argument but cass is adorable teehee 😋

A/n: ughh i love cassian hes so a ASDJAFKSHKJHDJKHS🥹

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

cassian_winkwink

liked by rhysand-thegreat, gwynshusband, gwyn-the-berdara and 490,559 others

cassian_winkwink new song on repeat, guess which one 💪🏻lets see who guesses it 🥳

view all comments

gwyn-the-berdara hmmmmmm idk twinkle twinkle little star?

rhysand-thegreat i think its baby shark this time

gwyn-the-berdara aah i see i see 🤭

cassian_winkwink you two are so annoying gosh

imjustagirl1995 strangle me daddy 🤤💦

getsunghoonedloser girl u crazyyy

y/nislovesickgirl rewrite the stars?

cassian_winkwink correctttt 🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Soft sunlight penetrated Y/n’s slumber, letting her know it was far past the time for her to wake up.

But she didn’t want to, especially as the warm weight resting on her body refused to budge at her stirring.

Y/n blinked her eyes open, instantly finding the beautiful face of her beloved. His eyes were still closed, his lashes fluttering. Y/n wondered if he was dreaming, wondered what he was dreaming about. She raised her hand to touch his unbound hair lightly, feeling the strands sifting through her fingers and focusing on the feeling of warmth it induced in her chest instead of the coiling pit of sadness in her stomach.

Cassian’s brows furrowed, and he shifted to snuggle deeper into her chest. It made Y/n smile, and she dug her fingers deeper into his scalp, massaging gently.

"Y/n?" His voice was soft and rough as he peered up at her, his eyes narrowed to get adjusted at the sudden light assaulting his senses. She offered him a smile.

"Hello."

He smiled back sleepily, sighing as he leaned up and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Hey."

"Sleep well?"

She felt him smile against her skin. "Baby, sleeping next to you? I always have the best sleep."

She giggled, drawing circles on his shoulder. "I see."

He pulled away. "You’re supposed to say it back. Say, ‘oh same! I love sleeping next to you too Cassian’."

Y/n rolled her eyes, moving to push off the covers from her body, her heart beating gently in her chest at the softness of the morning. But he didn’t let her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her body, caging her in like his life depended on it.

Considering it was Cassian, he probably would claim it did.

"Cass, we need to get up." Y/n turned her head to search for her phone, trying to grab it from the nightstand, but Cassian’s hand snatched it from her before she could check the time.

"Nope. I deserve some love. Say it."

She shot him an incredulous look, but relented, speaking with exaggerated movements and a high pitched voice. "Oh Cassian! I love waking up next to you!"

He grinned, the lopsided tilt making his dimple peek out from his cheek. "Not the same words, but I can work with that."

Y/n hit him on the shoulder, sitting up.  He moved back to sit too, then scooted closer so one of his folded legs rested on her lap.

"So, what are the plans for today?"

Y/n raised a brow, her hands wandering to rest on his thighs involuntarily. "The plan is that you sneak out, go home, then go about your day. Or get yelled at by your manager. Pick what you want."

Cassian’s smile instantly was replaced by a scowl. "No. I said what are the plans for today, and that means what are our plans for today."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her eyes, knowing what conversation was coming and having had it far too many times by now. "Cass, you know we can’t be seen together-"

"Y/n I don’t see the problem in it! Who is anyone to tell me- or you- who to date?"

"You have a fanbase to appeal to and a reputation to uphold Cassian, and they won’t like it, you know that."

He released a frustrated breath. "Y/n, I really, really do not care what any of them think. Not if it means I have to hide my love for you and act like we have nothing going on."

"Your manager agrees we should keep it under wraps for now, Cass."

"You know I want you. You’re not a secret I want to hide. And you know you want me too, so please stop saying our hands are tied."

Y/n sighed, pushing off the urge to giggle as Cassian effortlessly slipped into his newest role of being the flirty character who’s too poetic for the sanity of the girls around him.

"Cass, you know the fans will get upset. They will do their best to break us up."

"And we won’t, because we’re stronger than that."

Y/n paused, staring deep into his eyes, the hazel that she had been intrigued by even the first time she saw them, before he even noticed her in class. They were so pretty, she could die staring at them and not complain.

They brought her peace, they showered her with the love she always craved.

"Cass, they will think I’m a gold digger, only after your fame and money."

"Are you, though?"

Y/n blinked, surprised. "What?"

"You said they’d think you are a gold digger. Are you?"

She wondered if he’d finally lost his mind. "No, Cass."

He shrugged, taking her hands into his larger ones, enveloping them completely. "Then what’s the problem? Let them think whatever they want to. I know you’re not only with me for superficial reasons, and you know that too. It is only us and our thoughts that matter."

Y/n felt her eyes go wet, but she smiled and shoved his shoulder. "I don’t know what they feed you at the set. Is it some sort of drug that isn’t getting off? Why are you being so cheesy?"

She blinked away the tears forming and found him grinning at her, his head cocked and gaze fixated on her. He looked almost… lovesick.

"I have to be cheesy, after all I play the role of the silly one in this relationship, no?"

Y/n sniffled, looking away for a moment. "And yet you’re the intelligent one."

Cassian gently tugged on her hands, making her meet his gaze. "Rhys and Az would laugh if you said that, you know."

Y/n’s brows furrowed. "You’re always happy doesn’t mean you are dumb, Cass."

His eyes softened. "I know, baby."

She huffed, pulling her hands away from his hold and wiggling out from under him. He watched her intently, his hands hovering around her as she crawled into his lap before wrapping them around her.

"You’re very smart, Cass."

He laughed, hugging her tighter as she placed her head in his neck. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded quietly, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

"So? Do we agree that we should let everyone know?" He mumbled, one of his hands rubbing her back.

"Cass, are you sure?"

"I’ve been sure since day one, sweetheart. You are the only one I want, as a girlfriend, as a wife, as the mother of my kids. It will always be you. The opinions of a select few fans will not change that. And if they don’t like it, I can always stop acting. I mean, you matter to me more than anything."

She peered up at him, feeling tears gather at her waterline again. "I love you so much, Cass. And you don’t have to do that."

He smiled down at her, his eyes warm and soft as he moved to peck her forehead. "I love you too, Y/n. And I will if they’re too mean to you."

Y/n could predict his next actions as he began kissing her cheek, the nose. Before he could touch his lips to hers, she slapped him on the bicep.

"Brush your teeth first, asshole."

He laughed, nuzzling into her cheek again. "As my love wishes."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

y/nislovesickgirl

liked by gwynshusband, nesta_archeron26, feyre-archer-on and 40,500 others

y/nislovesickgirl soft launch? hard launch? you pick teehee @ cassian_winkwink

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rhysand-thegreat finally!! they're public yayy 🥳

cassian_winkwink it took some persuasion but here we are 🥹

feyre-archer-on omg im so happy for you two girly 🥹

y/nislovesickgirl 🥹❣️

imjustagirl1995 O.M.G.???????? CASSIAN HAS A GIRL????

cassian_winkwink since i was in uni 😏

getsunghoonedloser OH MY GOSH WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS 😦

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[azysmate]

⚠️🔥ACOSF SPOILERS🔥⚠️

WHY ON EARTH IS NESTA ON HER KNEES FOR ARMEN? NESTA GET THE FUCK UP BEFORE I JUMP INTO THE DAMN BOOK AND LIFT YOU UP MYSELF!!!

Sarah J. Mass did not eat with this one!

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Cassian [in a jail cell]: What about my Miranda rights?! You're supposed to say I have 'the right to remain silent'! NOBODY SAID I HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT.

Azriel [in adjacent cell]: You have the right to remain silent. What you lack is the capacity.

[rainingriversofyou]

Nesta x Cassian - Artist: @madschofield 🩶

[surielstea]

Blade Bound

Based on a request!

Pairing: Cassian x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Cassian walks his wife home, and then some.

Warnings: Pregnancy | Slightest bit of angst

3k words.

The glow of the forge warmed my cheeks as I flicked my mask up, wiping at the thin sheen of sweat on my brow. My eyes scanned the steel daggers in front of me, the heat of the fire still making the blades gleam red-hot. The rhythmic hum of hammers meeting steel and the hiss of blades meeting water filled the air—a sound I'd grown to love. This was my sanctuary, my space.

I was so focused on the metal that I nearly missed the soft creak of the workshop door. Nearly.

My head lifted, the sound cutting through the symphony of my work. My lips curled into a grin as I saw the tall figure step into the dim light of my forge, wings peaking over his broad shoulders. "You didn't tell me you were coming, Cass," I called out, my voice teasing but warm.

Cassian stood there, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His hazel eyes glinted in the firelight, and the sight made my stomach do the slightest flip. "Hey, love," he said, his voice low and rich, his grin deepening as he took in what I was working on.

I turned my attention back to the sword in my hand, its unfinished hilt still warm against my gloves. "You come to give me a hand?" I asked hopefully, plunging the glowing blade into the barrel of cool water. Steam rose in a furious hiss, curling around us like a phantom.

"You know I'm terrible at making the weapons, much better at wielding them." He grumbled, approaching the countertop and drumming his fingers along it.

"Correction," I said as I removed the blade from the water. "You're terrible at the fine details. But you're great at the grunt work."

Cassian huffed, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he tried not to smile. "You married me for my muscles, didn't you?"

"Partially," I admitted, sliding the unsharpened sword back into its mold. "Why are you here then? I thought you had a meeting with Rhys." I pulled my mask fully off and ran a hand through my hair, shaking out the strands that clung to my skin.

"He called it early," he said, stepping past the counter, his large frame seeming to take up all the available space in the room. He leaned casually against the workbench, his arms crossed, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on me that made the air between us feel charged. "Besides, I didn't come here for weapons tonight."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, already knowing where this was going. "Oh?" I leaned back against the anvil, folding my arms across my chest to mirror him. "And here I thought you couldn't resist testing out my new blades."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and it sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Don't get me wrong—your work is as flawless as ever," he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the daggers on the bench before returning to me. "But I came here to walk you home."

His words hung in the air, soft yet firm, and I found myself momentarily caught in the intensity of his stare. "Home?" I asked, tilting my head. "Cassian, I'm fine. Just a few more hours and I'll—"

"You've been at this all day," he interrupted, his tone gentle but insistent as he pushed off the bench and stepped closer. He reached out, his rough, calloused hand brushing a stray streak of soot from my cheek. "Take a break. It's getting late."

I huffed a laugh, though my cheeks flushed at the tenderness of his touch. "The weapons won't forge themselves, you know."

"They'll still be here tomorrow," he said, his fingers lingering near my face before he dropped his hand back to his side. His voice softened as he added, "You won't do anyone any good if you work yourself to exhaustion."

There was no arguing with Cassian when he used that tone—the one that was equal parts concerned and endearing. He knew I could hold my own, but he also knew exactly when to step in and remind me to take care of myself.

I sighed, the tension in my shoulders easing under his steady gaze. "Alright, General," I said with mock seriousness, pulling off my apron and hanging it on the peg beside me. "What do you propose we do instead?"

His grin turned roguish, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief. "I told you I want to walk you home, maybe take the long way just to stare at the stars a little longer. You've been cooped up in here all day—I think some fresh air would do you good."

"A walk?" I teased, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You're practically courting me."

His laugh was deep and infectious, rolling through my workshop like a melody meant only for me. "We've been married for centuries," he shot back, his expression softening as he looked at me, his grin a mixture of teasing and devotion. "So trust me when I tell you—you're worth courting."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, freezing me in place for a beat too long. Cassian, with all his swagger and bravado, stood in the middle of my cluttered workshop, looking at me as though I were the only thing holding his world together.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the warmth unfurling in my chest. "Alright, you win," I relented, grabbing a rag to wipe my hands clean, but the skin remained stained with charcoal and soot. My voice came out steady, even if my heart wasn't. "Let me grab my coat."

I turned toward the rack, but before I could untie my apron, I felt the familiar warmth of his hand at my waist. He loosened the knot with an ease born of centuries together, slipping the apron over my head with careful precision. His touch lingered, just long enough for the air to thrum between us.

"Take your time," he murmured dryly, his voice a low rumble.

When I glanced back at him, he was watching me with that quiet intensity he so rarely let show—like the chaos of the world had stilled, leaving just us in the glow of it. For all his fire and fury, Cassian had this way of grounding me, of reminding me of the steady flame that burned beneath the warrior exterior.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his in a soft kiss.

His grin was as wicked as it was endearing. "Save that for tonight," he said, pulling back just enough to tease.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. Rising onto my toes, I pecked him again. "Fine, fine," I huffed, waving him off as I grabbed my coat from the hook, swapping it with my apron.

Reaching for a small glass case on the workbench, I handed it to him. "These are for Az," I said. "He requested them—something about restocking the nursery." I arched a brow, skepticism dripping from my tone. "Can you tell me why Azriel needs daggers in our child's room?"

Cassian's grin turned sheepish as he shrugged. "He likes to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? A rogue teddy bear attack?"

"Hey, I don't question his methods. I have yet to find one around the house, and it seems to keep him happy so I let him."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cass, we're going to have a child. Daggers hidden anywhere in the house isn't exactly baby-proof."

"I'll talk to him," he promised, holding his free hand up in surrender.

I sighed. "I suppose if I haven't found any yet, he's hiding them well. Just make sure he keeps them out of reach, okay?"

"Of course, love. No need to worry."

I gave him a long look, trying to decide if he was genuinely serious or just placating me. Probably a bit of both.

"Alright," I muttered, sliding my arms into my coat. "Let's get out of here before I start overthinking the entire safety protocol of our house."

Cassian chuckled, tucking the case of daggers under his arm. As we stepped out into the crisp night air, he slung his other arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. The world felt lighter with him beside me, the stars above brighter somehow.

The walk back to our house was comfortable, Cassian's hand never leaving the small of my back as we made our way through the city. It was late, far past sundown but Velaris was alive as always, the streets bustling with fae chatting, laughing, and living as though it wasn't nearing midnight.

When we reached the house, Cassian held the door open for me, his teasing grin softening into something quieter. "I'll drop these off with Az. You head up—unless you want to supervise the handoff?"

I snorted, shrugging off my coat. "I trust you to make sure he doesn't immediately shove one under the crib mattress."

"Funny. That's the first place he'd hide one."

"Cassian!"

He laughed, planting a kiss on my forehead before disappearing down the hall. I climbed the stairs, my steps slowing as I passed the nursery. The room was still a work in progress the walls half painted and the dresser dissembled, but the crib stood at the center, its dark wood gleaming in the moonlight.

I stepped inside, running a hand along the curved edge. The weight of everything settled on me in that moment—the good and the terrifying. A child. Our child. I could already feel my heart making room for them, expanding in ways I hadn't thought possible.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention. Cassian appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. "You're worried," he said softly.

I nodded. "It's, a lot. Everything's going to change."

He stepped inside, closing the distance between us in a few strides. His hands found my waist, grounding me in that effortless way of his. "You're not in this alone, you know. We're a team. And if anyone dares to mess with our family, well—" His grin turned wicked. "We've got Az's nursery daggers for that."

I laughed despite myself, leaning into his chest. "We're going to be fine, aren't we?"

"Better than fine," he promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. "I promise."

And in his arms, I believed him.

Cassian's arms tightened around me, his warmth sinking into my skin as I breathed him in. For all his teasing and chaos, he always had this way of making me feel steady—of reminding me I wasn't just a blacksmith pounding out weapons in a forge, but someone who mattered to him, to our court, and now to the tiny life growing within me.

After a long moment, I sighed and stepped back, my hand lingering on his chest. "Speaking of Az's daggers, you'd think the Spymaster would have a little more patience," I muttered. "I'm running out of ways to make his blades sharper, lighter, or deadlier. At this point, I'm half-convinced he's just trying to keep me busy." I drone, thinking of the recent orders he's been making for no real reason.

Cassian chuckled, his hand drifting to rest on my belly, a gesture so absentminded and natural it made my heart clench. "Azriel keeps you busy because he's secretly terrified you'll run out of projects and get bored. And we all know what happens when you get bored."

"Oh?" I cocked a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. "And what exactly happens, General?"

"You invent something," he said solemnly, though the sparkle in his hazel eyes betrayed him. "Something new. Something terrifying. Something that usually involves explosions or blades that even Rhys has to veto before you can patent them and start selling to Lord Devlon."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "I've only had two experiments blow up in my face this year."

"Three," he corrected, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Don't think I've forgotten about that flaming sword incident last spring."

"That wasn't an explosion!" I shot back, pointing a finger at his chest. "It was a controlled combustion—completely intentional, I might add. You're the one who decided to put it down on a wood surface."

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the quiet nursery. "It only burned down a countertop before we got the fire out. No harm, no foul."

I gave him a playful shove, but the warmth in my chest wouldn't go away. For as much as I loved the forge—the smell of molten steel, the rhythm of hammer against anvil, the satisfaction of shaping something raw into something powerful—moments like this reminded me why I'd taken the risk of opening my workshop in Velaris in the first place.

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked after a minute, my voice softer now.

Cassian tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Regret what?"

"Falling for someone like me," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the soot still staining my hands, despite my earlier attempt to clean them. "Someone who spends most of her days covered in ash and sweat, hammering out weapons instead of wearing gowns and sipping wine like a proper lady."

He stared at me for a long moment, his golden eyes unreadable. Then he reached out, taking my hands in his. His thumbs brushed over the calluses on my palms, the rough patches I'd earned from years at the forge.

"I've never regretted a damn thing about you," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not the ash, not the sweat, not the fact that you could probably forge a better sword than all the Illyrian smiths combined. And definitely not the fact that you're about to be the best mother in Prythian."

My throat tightened, and I blinked quickly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You're just saying that because you like getting the first pick of my weapons," I muttered, my voice breaking on the last word.

Cassian grinned, pulling me closer. "True." He smirks. "I love well-crafted steel. But I love you more."

I leaned my forehead against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside me. After a moment, I pulled back, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.

"Well, in that case," I said, my tone lightening, "I suppose I could work on a few more of those experimental blades for you. Maybe even something you'd actually be able to wield without slicing off your own hand."

"You'd patch me up." He says confidently.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips refused to fade. "Come on," I said, taking his hand. "It's late, and if we don't get some sleep, you'll end up snoring in the training room tomorrow."

We left the nursery behind, the soft glow of starlight spilling through the hallways of the house. The quiet was soothing, the faint hum of magic in the walls a reminder of the safety we'd built here. Cassian's thumb traced absentminded circles over the back of my hand as we walked, his touch grounding me in a way that words never could.

When we reached our bedroom, I let go of his hand to start unbuttoning my coat. Cassian, ever the helpful mate, came up behind me and slid the coat off my shoulders, brushing his lips against the nape of my neck as he did.

"Careful," I warned, though my voice lacked any real bite. "You keep that up, and neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight."

His chuckle was low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Noted," he murmured, hanging my coat on the nearby rack.

I crossed to the dresser, pulling out one of his old, oversized shirts to sleep in. As I tugged it over my head, I caught Cassian watching me from where he stood by the bed, his hazel eyes dark and unreadable.

"What?" I asked, tugging the hem of the shirt into place.

"Nothing," he said, though the softness in his voice told me otherwise. "Just, you're beautiful."

My cheeks warmed, but I rolled my eyes, trying to deflect the compliment. "You're just trying to butter me up so I'll make you another sword tomorrow."

"Maybe," he admitted with a grin. "But it doesn't make it any less true."

I shook my head, pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in. Cassian followed, sliding in beside me with a contented sigh. He stretched an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I rested my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn't felt all day. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm, and for a while, we lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away.

"Do you ever think about the future?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day," he replied, his tone just as soft.

"What do you see?"

He was quiet for a moment, as though he were choosing his words carefully. "I see us," he said finally. "You, me, and the little one. Maybe a couple more, if you're feeling ambitious."

I laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "Ambitious is one word for it."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Whatever the future holds, I know one thing for sure."

"What's that?"

His arms tightened around me, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. "I'll love you and fight for you—always."

I closed my eyes, letting his words wrap around me like a warm blanket. "Always," I echoed, my voice heavy with sleep.

Cassian shifted, pulling the covers up around us before settling back down. His warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest were the last things I felt as I drifted off, safe in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.

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[readychilledwine]

Okay, I have a request for you that is no pressure, but Reader enjoys praise loves when she is being acknowledged for doing good and being good but doesn't know how to accept but their lover(and I have no idea would best fit this. My heart says Cassian, but realistically, it's probably Az or Eris) talks them through it shows them they don't need to be flustered.

Please ignore if this makes no sense

Self Worth

Summary - Cassian can't stand seeing you so low

Warnings - insecure reader, praise, mentions of mental health slipping

A/N - just a little baby fic of how Cassian would handle his mate needing her self-esteem and self worth built up 💕

✨️Cassian Masterlist✨️General Masterlist✨️

"Look me in my eyes and tell me the female I love isn't good enough again," Cassian was being as gentle as he could. You were shying away from him, eager for his praise, but instantly falling into that shell the second he gave it. "Look me in my eyes and tell me why the female I love cannot look at me after I tell her how beautiful she is today."

"I-" The words died on your tongue. No excuse you could find would appease him. No excuse would make him forgive you for whispering to him that you weren't enough. Weren't brave enough, pretty enough, strong enough. You saw the way he admired Nesta and Feyre. The way he admired Mor.

You didn't see the way he looked at you, though. He looked at you as if you had made the very world, as if you had forged him to be exactly how you needed him to be. You pushed him yo be that male, pushed him to be better. To be good. You made Cassian see the beauty in the world, the beauty in others. Perhaps that is why it hurt him that you could not see the beauty in you.

"I just never feel like I'm doing enough. Like there's no way you want me, want my body, want me to be-"

"Stop," he interrupted you immediately. He hid the break in his voice so well, hid how just a few words instantly shattered his heart. "You're struggling again, aren't you angel?" His eyes studied you hard as you nodded silently. "Y/n, you've been working so hard for Rhys, being the perfect emissary. You single handedly started the process of him and Tamlin creating a trade route, of him and Dawn beginning a joint training program between the Peregryn and Illyrians. Angel, you are doing so well and working so hard."

Your chest started to feel heavy, breathing becoming rapid, and Cassian instantly put his hands on your upper arms. He began to exaggerate his breathing, forcing you to follow it and calm down. "You are beautiful, you are special, you are kind. You are my mate, Y/n. You will never have to worry about competition or me not loving a single inch of you. I am proud to be yours. Proud you wanted me."

You looked up at Cassian, eyes lined in tears, "Really? You don't wish I was a.. a fighter?"

He laughed softly, "If you could fight, why would you need me? My job is to protect you. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even if that means protecting you from yourself." He leaned in and kissed your forehead. "You are beautiful. Say it for me."

"I-" You paused, taking a deep breath. "I am beautiful."

Cassian's smile grew, "Good job, angel. Tell me five things you love about you."

You bit your lip thinking, "My eyes," he groaned in pleasure at that answer. "My humor," he whispered yes softly. "My butt-"

"Fuck yes your ass," Cassian turned you quickly to smack it before turning you around. "Continue."

You giggled at him, "My kindness," he shut his eyes smiling. "And... I think.."

"No. Not think. You know you love this last thing. Tell me again," he demanded.

You nodded more confidently, "I love my smile." Cassian held your face in his hands again. "Because when I smile, you smile, then I smile more."

"Seeing you glowing and happy makes me happy," he said. "Every day we do 5 things you love about you, then I'm going to spend the day praising them until that self Worth gets back up again, okay angel?"

"Okay, Cassie."

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[azrielsshadows42]

Devlon: You are a petty, weak, manipulative, phyco bitch-

Nesta: You are a male.

Cassian:

Devlon:

Nesta: An average, lazy, boring, cowardly, female-fearing male.

Cassian: *beams with pride*