#cassian x reader

after your post about the bat boys and ur tummy, I would love to see anyone of them following up on that, but most specifically cassian who holds ur stomach while going down on you!!

thanks bb!! 🫶

the aforementioned blurb: poly!batboys love your stomach

this post is 18+, minors dni.

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: A collection of more moments with Cassian.

Authors Note: I find myself daydreaming about the General of the Night Court an unhealthy amount. No major warnings below. Self-established relationship. Moments are not in any particular order.

A rare thing happens when Cassian returns to the House of Wind that evening.

He can't find you.

At first, he doesn't think much of it. You have a habit of appearing in strange places at strange times.

The library. The kitchens. Curled up in one of the sitting rooms with a book balanced precariously on your chest. Once, he'd found you asleep on a window seat with three blankets and a half-eaten pastry.

So when he doesn't find you in your room, he merely shrugs. When he doesn't find you in the library, he frowns. By the time he's checked the dining room, training ring, balcony, and three separate sitting rooms—

He's annoyed.

By the time he circles back through the house a second time he's worried.

The bond isn't helping. It's there, but muted. Distant. Fuzzy around the edges. Enough to know you're alive, but not enough to know where you are.

Cassian swears under his breath.

He finds Feyre halfway down a corridor and she looks equally concerned.

"Please tell me you've found Nyx."

Cassian immediately stills. "What?"

Feyre's face pales slightly. "He wasn't in his room when I checked."

Oh.

Oh no.

Now there are two missing people.

Cassian's stomach drops. "How long?"

"Maybe an hour."

Cassian looks ready to launch himself out the nearest window.

"Rhys is looking downstairs," Feyre says quickly.

Cassian is already moving. Fast.

Twenty minutes later he's seconds away from a complete meltdown.

You are nowhere. Nyx is nowhere. The bond remains frustratingly hazy and Cassian is rapidly imagining every terrible possibility. There's one last place he needs to check.

He climbs another staircase. Then another, towards the highest levels of the House. Mostly unused and quiet. The sort of place people forget exists.

As he climbs, something tugs at the bond. It's faint, but it's suddenly there stronger than it has been since he returned home.

Cassian freezes. Turns. And immediately follows it.

The nook is tiny. Hidden behind a curved archway near one of the highest points in the entire House. A large circular window overlooking Velaris with a cushioned seat below. The city sparkles below like fallen stars.

And there—

At the center of the window seat—

There you are.

Fast asleep. Blankets tangled around your legs. Head tilted awkwardly against the stone wall. And sprawled directly across your chest—

Nyx.

Also asleep. Head tucked under your chin. One tiny hand tangled in your shirt.

The sight hits Cassian so hard he almost laughs. Or cries. Possibly both.

Feyre appears behind him moments later. She stops and immediately presses a hand over her heart.

"Oh."

Cassian glances back. Feyre's eyes have gone suspiciously soft.

The city lights spill across the pair of you. Nyx tucked safely against you. Your arm wrapped around him protectively even in sleep. You look entirely at peace.

For a moment, nobody speaks.

Then Feyre smiles.

"You know," she says quietly, "she'd make a wonderful mother."

Cassian's chest tightens. Because the thought has crossed his mind before, many times. Usually when you're doing things exactly like this. Taking care of everyone. Loving people so completely it seems effortless.

His gaze returns to you and something warm settles in his chest.

"Yeah," he says softly. "She would."

Cassian crouches beside you, careful not to wake Nyx. His fingers brush your cheek, then your hair moving it gently away from your face.

"Sweetheart."

Nothing. Feyre snorts quietly. Cassian rolls his eyes.

You always did sleep like the dead.

"Sweetheart."

You make a small sound, but you're still very much asleep.

He smiles despite himself, before he leans closer and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your brow furrows and very slowly your eyes flutter open.

"Mm?"

Cassian laughs softly. You blink up at him in confusion. Then you notice Feyre, notice that you're not in your bedroom. Then you look down at Nyx.

"Oh."

Everything comes back at once. Your face immediately softens.

"He couldn't sleep."

Feyre kneels beside you. "He couldn't?"

You shake your head. "He was upset."

"What happened?"

You shrug. "Bad dream maybe. I found him wandering."

Feyre's eyes widen. You can see the guilt forming in her eyes, so you quickly place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"He was trying very hard to be brave and I know you and Rhys were busy with the Winter Court negotiations, so I brought him up here."

You glance toward the stars outside.

"He liked looking at them. We must've both lost track of time and fallen asleep. I'm sorry if we worried you."

Feyre visibly melts.

Carefully, gently, she lifts Nyx from your chest. The little boy stirs. Yawns and immediately curls into his mother's shoulder without fully waking.

Feyre kisses the top of his head before she rises to her feet, shooting you a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

You smile sleepily. "Anytime."

The moment Feyre disappears with Nyx—

Cassian turns back to you. You're still half asleep. Hair a mess and eyes heavy.

You were adorable.

He reaches out for you and you immediately lift your arms toward him without hesitation. Like it's instinct.

His heart does something embarrassing.

"Come here."

You don't even argue as Cassian scoops you up effortlessly. One arm beneath your knees and the other around your back. You immediately tuck your face into his neck.

"M'not walking."

"I know."

"Too tired."

"I know."

You mumble something unintelligible.

Cassian smiles. His wings settle comfortably behind him as he begins the walk back to your room.

"You scared me, you know."

You lift your head slightly.

"Sorry."

"I looked everywhere."

A pause.

Then:

"Did you panic?"

Cassian scoffs. "You disappeared with the High Lord's son."

You laugh sleepily. "That's a yes."

"It's absolutely a yes."

You smile against his neck.

By the time you reach your room, you're already drifting back to sleep. Cassian settles onto the bed with you still cradled against his chest, not ready to let go just yet.

You curl automatically into his side. You feel warm, safe, content.

His fingers slide through your hair, slowly and affectionately. And as your breathing evens out again, Cassian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you," he murmurs.

More to himself than to you, because you're already fast asleep already.

Dinner has long since finished.

The House is quiet tonight.

No meetings. No emergencies. No one dropping by unexpectedly. Just you and Cassian. Exactly how you both like it.

You're gathering plates from the table when a large hand appears over your shoulder and plucks two from your stack.

You blink.

Cassian is already heading toward the sink.

"What's this?" you ask suspiciously.

He glances back.

"Plates."

"No, I mean..." You gesture vaguely. "What are you doing?"

"The washing up?"

You stare. Cassian stares back. Then his mouth twitches.

"What?"

"You?"

"Me."

"The General of the Night Court?"

He rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Oh, here we go."

"You are literally one of the most feared warriors in Prythian."

"Correct."

"You never do dishes."

"I do dishes...sometimes."

You narrow your eyes. Cassian laughs and the sound fills the kitchen. Warm and easy.

Gods, you love that laugh.

"What, you think I don't know how?" he asks.

"I think you've probably intimidated someone else into doing it for you your whole life."

The gasp he lets out is so offended you almost smile.

"I'll have you know I am an excellent washer of dishes."

"Sure you are."

"I am."

"You once set a kettle on fire."

"It was one time."

You snort.

Cassian points at you. "Mock me all you want, but I'm full of surprises."

He shrugs and his expression turns suspiciously innocent.

You immediately don't trust that look.

"Uh-huh."

"And helping with the washing up means I get to do this."

You frown. "This?"

Cassian dips his hand into the sink.

Your eyes widen.

Before you can move—

He scoops up a handful of bubbles and smears them directly across your cheek. Cold foam splats against your face.

You let out an absolutely undignified screech.

"CASSIAN!"

The male has the audacity to look delighted. Actually delighted. Like this is the greatest thing he's ever done.

"You should see your face."

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

"You say that every day."

You grab a dishcloth.

He immediately points at you, mimicking an adult scolding a child.

"Violence is not the answer."

"You started it!"

"You looked too clean."

You make a strangled noise of outrage.

Cassian is already laughing again and that's his mistake.

Because while he's distracted—

You scoop your own handful of bubbles.

His grin drops.

"Wait."

Too late.

You smear them directly into his hair. Cassian freezes. The kitchen goes silent.

Very slowly—

He reaches up. Touches the foam and looks at his fingers, then looks at you.

"You've made a terrible mistake."

You immediately bolt.

The next five minutes are complete chaos. Cassian chases you around the kitchen island. You duck behind chairs.

He catches you. You escape.

Water gets involved somehow. Neither of you can remember who started that part. You splash him. He splashes you back.

You shriek. He laughs so hard he nearly drops a bowl.

At one point he corners you against the counter. Triumphant and covered in soap.

"You surrender?"

"Never."

"Bold."

"You look ridiculous."

"You look worse."

You splash a handful of water directly into his face.

His jaw drops. Your life flashes before your eyes.

Ten seconds later, you're both soaked. The kitchen floor is a disaster. There are bubbles everywhere. And Cassian has you trapped against his chest while you try—and fail—to reach the sink.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you're plotting."

"I am not."

"You're a terrible liar."

You huff. Cassian grins, then wipes another streak of bubbles across your nose. You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"You are so annoying."

"Yet you love me."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling.

His expression softens immediately. That familiar warmth settling into his features. The one only you really get to see.

"You know," he says quietly.

"Hm?"

"I like this."

You blink. "The washing up?"

"The being home with you."

The answer is so simple. So Cassian.

Your heart squeezes.

And because he's apparently incapable of allowing a tender moment to exist for more than three seconds—

He promptly flicks a bubble onto your forehead.

You gasp. Cassian bursts out laughing.

And the water fight begins all over again.

The café is your favorite little corner of Velaris.

Tucked away on a quiet street with flower boxes beneath every window and pastries so good Cassian insists they're worth getting up early for.

Which, coming from him, is saying something.

You settle into your usual table by the window.

"I'll get breakfast," Cassian says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before heading to the counter.

"The honey pastry," you call after him.

He throws you a lazy salute.

"Already know."

A minute later, you watch him chatting with the waitress.

She gestures apologetically toward the display. Cassian peers inside, frowning. Then he points to another pastry instead.

You can't hear the conversation, but you distinctly see him gesture back toward you. Then to the pastry. Then make a point of saying something else.

The waitress nods enthusiastically. He returns looking victorious.

"They're out of your favorite."

You pout.

"I know," he says sympathetically, setting the plate down in front of you. "But she recommended this instead."

"It looks nice."

He tears into his own breakfast while you take your first bite.

It's sweet. Rich. Different.

"Hm," you murmur.

Cassian looks up immediately. "Good?"

You nod. "I think so."

It takes less than thirty seconds.

The first itch starts at the back of your throat.

You frown, trying to swallow the feeling away. But it doesn't work, it only gets worse.

Your tongue tingles. Your chest tightens. Your stomach drops.

"Shit..."

Cassian's head snaps up instantly. "What?"

You look down at the pastry. Then back at him.

"...Nuts."

His face drains of color.

"What?"

"Nuts."

You cough hard. Your throat already feels tighter.

"Cass..."

He is beside you before you've even finished saying his name.

"What do you need?"

"My tonic." Your breathing catches slightly. "I... left it..."

Realization crashes over both of you.

"...At the House."

For half a heartbeat, Cassian simply stares. Then every ounce of warmth leaves his expression.

General. Warrior. Mate. All at once.

He doesn't hesitate.

He scoops you into his arms so quickly your chair topples backwards.

"Cass—"

"No." His voice shakes. "Hold on to me."

The café erupts into confused voices behind him as he bursts through the doors. His wings snap open and with one powerful beat you're airborne.

He has never flown this fast. The wind tears past. Your face is buried against his chest as you try to keep breathing steadily.

Every few moments he looks down.

"You stay with me."

You nod weakly.

"You hear me?"

Another nod.

His grip tightens.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, almost to himself. "Gods... I'm so sorry."

You try to answer. Another cough interrupts you.

Cassian flies even faster.

The doors to the House of Wind burst open so violently they slam against the walls.

"CASSIAN?"

Rhys.

He appears instantly, Azriel right behind him. Feyre only seconds later at the sound of the commotion. All three stop dead.

Cassian barrels straight past them carrying you.

"Where's the tonic?" he shouts.

The sheer panic in his voice makes all three of them move immediately.

"What happened?" Rhys demands.

"Nuts."

One word. That's all it takes.

Feyre pales. Azriel is already searching cupboards.

Cassian carries you straight into your room, lowering you carefully onto the bed while frantically opening drawers.

"No, no..."

He throws open another cabinet.

"Where did you put it?"

Your breathing is becoming more labored now.

"Cass..."

"I'm here."

Another drawer.

Nothing.

His hands are shaking.

"Where is it?"

You point weakly toward the bedside cabinet. You can't even get words out now.

He yanks it open and finds the small bottle immediately.

"Oh thank the gods."

He uncorks it with fumbling fingers.

"Drink."

He supports your head with one hand while carefully tipping the tonic to your lips with the other.

"Slowly."

You manage it and Cassian makes sure you take every drop. Then he sets the bottle aside and kneels in front of you. Both hands cupping your face.

Watching. Waiting. Counting every breath.

The room is silent.

Gradually your breathing begins to ease. The tightness loosens. Color slowly returns to your face.

Cassian's shoulders sag so suddenly it looks like someone has cut the strings holding him upright.

He rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed. One shaky breath leaving him.

He kisses your forehead. Long and lingering.

You feel something wet hit your temple. You pull back just enough to look at him.

His eyes are glassy.

"I nearly—" His voice breaks. "I nearly..."

You take his hand.

"It was an accident."

He shakes his head immediately.

"I handed it to you."

"You didn't know."

"I should have."

"You didn't."

His jaw clenches and you know he's going to continue arguing.

"I heard you," you say softly.

He blinks in confusion.

"At the counter. You told the waitress about my allergy."

His brows knit together.

You squeeze his hand. "I heard you. I think..." you add with a tiny smile, "...she must've misunderstood."

Cassian looks ready to cry anyway.

"I almost lost you over a pastry."

"You didn't."

"No, but I nearly did."

He lets out a humourless laugh.

Behind him, Feyre finally exhales.

"Oh thank the Mother." She kneels beside the bed, gently touching your arm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm much better."

Feyre nods, though she doesn't look entirely convinced.

Rhys folds his arms, relief evident even through his composed expression. "I still think Madja should examine you."

Azriel nods once in agreement.

You sigh dramatically.

"I feel fi—"

Four sets of eyes immediately fix on you, including Cassian's.

You smile sheepishly.

"...I was going to say 'fine,' but I don't think any of you are going to believe me."

"No," all four of them answer at once.

You laugh. The sound is a little weak, but it's enough.

Cassian closes his eyes briefly in relief, mumbling under his breath as you lean gently against him.

"You know," you say after a moment, "I'd really rather you didn't burn down my favorite café."

Cassian blinks.

"I didn't say I was going to."

"You were thinking it."

"...Maybe."

"You absolutely were," Azriel mutters.

Cassian doesn't even deny it. "They almost killed my mate."

"It was an accident," you remind him.

He sighs. "...Fine."

You smile.

"No burning?"

"No burning."

A beat.

"...Strongly worded conversation?"

Rhys pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're not threatening the staff either."

Cassian looks personally offended. "I wasn't going to threaten them."

Azriel raises a brow.

"I was going to have a calm discussion."

"With your siphons glowing?" Rhys asks dryly.

"...Possibly."

You can't help laughing again.

Cassian's head turns immediately toward you, all thoughts of revenge disappearing the moment he hears it.

He reaches up, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek. Then presses one more kiss to your forehead. Soft and reverent. Like he's still reassuring himself you're really there.

When Madja arrives a few minutes later, Cassian refuses to leave your side.

His hand never leaves yours.

Not once.

"You'll have to do better than that."

You glare at him.

"I've been trying to do better than that for the last hour."

Cassian twirls his practice sword lazily in one hand, entirely too smug for someone who has just sent you sprawling for what feels like the fiftieth time.

"I know."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"...I do a little."

He laughs, broad shoulders shaking.

"Come on. Again."

You groan dramatically, pushing yourself back to your feet.

The training ring is quiet this afternoon, the rest of the Illyrians long since gone. The mountain air is crisp, both of you damp with sweat, your muscles burning pleasantly from hours of drills.

Cassian has been relentless.

Every mistake corrected. Every opening exploited. Every successful strike met with a proud grin that somehow only made you want to hit him harder.

"Eyes up," he reminds you.

You roll them.

"They are up."

"They're glaring."

"They're glaring at you."

"Good." He settles into his stance. "So make it count."

You charge. He blocks. You pivot. He counters.

Steel rings across the training ground as you exchange blow after blow. Faster. Sharper.

You've learned his habits over the months. The slight shift in his shoulders before he attacks. The way his right foot plants just before a heavier strike.

The tiny habits no one else notices because you've spent countless hours right here with him.

He comes in from the left. You block.

He smiles because that's exactly what he wanted.

He starts to shift—

And this time...

You don't follow his rhythm. You create your own. Instead of retreating, you step into him.

His eyebrows shoot up.

Your practice blade hooks his aside. Your shoulder catches his chest. Your foot sweeps behind his ankle. For one glorious second Cassian's balance disappears.

"...Oh."

It's the only warning he gets.

The General of the Night Court hits the ground with a loud thump.

Complete silence.

You both stare at each other. Cassian lying flat on his back. You standing over him. Your practice sword still raised.

Neither of you move.

Then—

"I did it."

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You look down at him.

"I did it."

Your grin grows impossibly wide.

"I DID IT!"

Your triumphant shout echoes across the mountains. You throw both arms into the air.

"I KNOCKED YOU ON YOUR ASS!"

Cassian is still staring up at you.

Then, the slowest smile you've ever seen spreads across his face.

Gods.

He looks proud.

"So you did," he says softly.

You drop your sword immediately and practically bounce over to him.

"Did you see that?"

He laughs. "I was there, sweetheart."

"I actually got you!"

"You actually got me."

"I've never got you!"

"I know."

He pushes himself upright. You expect teasing. A sarcastic comment. Some excuse about slippery footing.

Instead, he reaches for you. Large hands settling gently on your waist.

"I am so damn proud of you."

Your excitement stills. "What?"

"I meant every time I told you that you were getting stronger."

His thumbs brush lightly against your sides.

"You've stopped fighting like you're trying not to hurt me."

You blink.

"You committed."

He smiles.

"You trusted yourself."

He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

"And you swept my leg."

"I did."

"Dirty."

"You taught me."

"I absolutely did."

You beam. "Guess you shouldn't have."

He snorts. "No."

Then, before you can say another word—

He cups your face and kisses you.

It's warm. Fierce. A little breathless. Definitely sweaty.

You laugh against his mouth.

"You taste like salt."

"So do you."

He steals one more quick kiss anyway. Then brushes a damp strand of hair back behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

"There." His thumb lingers against your cheek. "My beautiful little menace."

You puff your chest out proudly.

"You'd better watch your back now."

Cassian's grin turns positively wolfish. "Oh?"

"I've figured you out."

"Have you?"

"I have."

He nods thoughtfully. "I am genuinely thrilled to hear that."

You cross your arms. "I sense a 'but.'"

"There is a but."

You sigh dramatically. "Of course there is."

Cassian takes one slow step closer.

"You've earned that victory. But even when you win…”

He taps your forehead lightly, before his other hand suddenly catches your wrist.

"...you still have to watch your back.”

Your eyes widen.

"Cass—"

Too late.

With one smooth movement he hooks your ankle and gently—but efficiently—sends you straight back onto your backside.

"Oof!"

You land in the sand with an undignified squeak. Cassian bursts into laughter.

You point accusingly up at him.

"That was sabotage!"

"That," he says, still laughing as he offers you a hand, "was a lesson."

You grab it.

Instead of letting him pull you up—

You yank. Hard.

He barely moves.

"You keep trying that," he says smugly.

"It'll work one day."

"I almost hope it does."

He hauls you effortlessly to your feet, but instead of letting go, he pulls you straight into his chest. One arm around your waist. The other wrapped around your shoulders.

You look up at him, wrapping your arms around him in return.

"I'm still counting it as a victory."

"You should."

A beat.

Then—

"But don't think for one second I'm going easy on you tomorrow."

You groan dramatically. Cassian just laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He slings an arm around your shoulders as you both head back toward the House, still bickering over whose victory had really counted.

And for perhaps the hundredth time that day—

Cassian finds himself smiling.

Not because he'd lost. But because one day...

He knew you might just beat him for real.

And he couldn't wait for that day to come.

You'd broken the bed.

Not spectacularly, although Cassian would argue otherwise. One of the legs had simply... given up with a loud crack in the middle of the night during a particularly rigorous move on his part.

The mattress had lurched sideways, you had both rolled onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and wings, and you had both laughed so hard you’d nearly cried.

It was still embarrassing to admit however, but Cassian didn’t seem to mind. Mostly because he'd kept trying to tell everyone who would listen the story.

"I don't understand why we're here," Cassian sighed dramatically as you wandered through the largest furniture shop in Velaris.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Our bed is literally broken."

"It still functions."

"It has three legs."

"We can just move the mattress to the floor."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You are impossible."

The shop itself was beautiful.

Rows of polished oak bedframes, plush mattresses and enough bedding to make you want to redecorate the entire House.

You stopped in front of one carved from dark walnut.

"Oh..."

Cassian immediately abandoned you.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

He'd already climbed onto the display bed. "I am testing it."

"Cassian."

"You said we needed a new bed."

"I did not say you could treat the shop like your bedroom."

He bounced once experimentally.

"Hm."

"Cassian."

He bounced again. "This one's good."

You folded your arms. "You've been on it for approximately six seconds."

"I know quality."

"You know naps."

"They're practically the same thing."

You ignored him and wandered over to a display of bedding instead. Your fingers drifted across a deep emerald duvet.

"I really like this."

Cassian glanced over. "...I don't."

You blinked.

"You don't?"

"It scratches."

"You haven't touched it."

"I can tell."

"You absolutely cannot."

"I have instincts."

You laughed, shaking your head.

"I didn't realise bedding was where you drew the line."

He wandered over, looping an arm around your shoulders as he looked down at the fabric.

"It'll make my wings itch."

You looked up at him and your expression softened before you immediately put the bedding back.

“I just had to mate with an Illyrian brute…” you mumbled.

“Oh, come on sweetheart. You love these wings.”

You just rolled your eyes. He grinned and kissed your temple before wandering off again.

A shopkeeper approached with a warm smile.

"Can I help you both at all?"

"We're looking for a new bed," you explained. “Preferably larger than the one we had before.”

Before you could continue—

“Why do we need an ever bigger one?” Cassian asked.

“Because of your wings,” you replied bluntly.

“Well what was wrong with our old one?”

“It was too small still—“

“No it wasn’t—“

“Please Cass, I just want—.”

“Is it because I have a fat ass?”

Cassian looked at you, completely serious.

You stared at him, unable to help the corner of your mouth creeping up.

"...Excuse me?"

He pointed triumphantly. "See! You laughed!"

"I laughed because you're ridiculous."

"You literally said I have a fat ass last week.”

"I said you take up the whole bed!"

"Semantics."

"It's your enormous wings!"

"And my magnificent backside."

You groaned, covering your face.

The poor shopkeeper looked utterly lost.

Eventually you found a bed you both actually liked.

"Finally," you sighed.

Cassian immediately threw himself backwards onto it. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. He spread his arms wide.

"Oh, this is nice."

You shook your head. "You're unbelievable."

He looked up at you with entirely too much innocence.

"You should test it too."

"I can tell it's comfortable."

"Not properly."

"Cassian."

"Come lie down."

The shopkeeper, unfortunately, was still standing there.

You felt your face warm. "Cassian..."

"What?"

"We're in public."

"So?"

"So stop encouraging me to lie in a display bed with you."

"I’m just trying to make sure this one is sturdier than our old one, especially with those new moves you seemed to like—“

You smacked him lightly around the back of the head.

"Oy!"

The shopkeeper, displaying the patience of a saint, cleared his throat.

"So... are you two moving? Is that why you need a new one?”

"Oh," Cassian said. "It broke."

"Yes," you said quickly. "It was just old."

Cassian nodded.

"Well..."

You slowly turned to look at him.

"...Technically—"

"Cassian."

"—it wasn't entirely the bed's fault."

"Cassian."

"You see, we were—"

Smack.

You slapped him upside the head again. He rubbed the back of it, looking deeply wounded.

"What?"

"You are absolutely not telling that poor male how our bed broke."

"I think he'd appreciate the story."

"I think he'd like to finish his shift without wanting to disappear into the Sidra."

The shopkeeper suddenly found a reason to walk away. Very quickly.

An hour later...

You'd narrowed it down to two beds. You stood between them. Frowning.

"I genuinely can't choose."

Cassian looked from one to the other. Then back at you.

"I have a solution."

"You do?"

"We don't buy either."

You stared.

"...That's your solution?"

"We get ice cream."

You couldn't help laughing. "That solves absolutely nothing."

"It solves us not having ice cream."

You considered it. "...You make an annoyingly compelling argument."

"I know."

"And where exactly are we sleeping tonight?"

Cassian's eyes lit up. "The River House."

"So we can annoy Rhys?"

"So we can annoy Rhys."

You grinned. "And steal Feyre's biscuits."

You slipped your hand into his. Cassian squeezed it, smiling down at you.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I don't actually care which bed we end up with."

"No?"

He shook his head. "As long as you're in it."

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"That was smooth."

"I know."

A beat.

Then he added with a completely straight face—

"...But I'd still recommend one that's built to survive my fat ass."

You burst into laughter right there in the middle of the street.

"That is not why we're buying a bigger bed!"

"It definitely is."

"It's your wings!"

"It's both."

"It's the wings."

"We'll agree to disagree."

Taglist:

Cassian x Injured Female Reader

Reader is recovering from having her wings taken, and Cassian is the only one available to change her bandages when Mor is called away to Hewn City

The knock on your door was so quiet you barely registered it before the door slowly opened. It hadn't mattered that you hadn't told them to enter, you hadn't spoken since you were brought home. Everyone was used to your silence by now, everyone except him. “Mor was urgently called away to handle an emergency in hewn city with Azriel.” Cassian says, his tone soft as he lingers in your doorway. “If you want to wait for one of the sisters to come back I understand, but I'm not sure when that will be.” Cassian continues while indicating towards the fresh gauze in his arms. 

a/n: here’s cassian!! rhys is up next :) comment below if you’d like to be added to my tag list.

warnings: switch!cassian. oral f!receiving. praise. i think that’s it?

Cassian, whose love language is physical touch. He needs to feel you. A kiss on your forehead. Hands intertwined. It grounds him.

Cassian, who catches himself staring at you constantly. Even when doing the most mundane things. Fixing your hair; chatting with a friend. Memorizing every detail of your face, your mannerisms.

Cassian, who will do anything to make you laugh. Cracking jokes at the most inappropriate times. Wrapping his arms around you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, only to tickle you till you can’t breathe.

Cassian, who can’t help but get jealous. He waited so long for you. The fear of you leaving plagues him more than he’d care to admit. An arm around your shoulders in public. His grip tightening ever so slightly when another male approaches you.

nsfw below the cut. mdni.

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Azriel

Being mated to him

Cassian

Being mated to him

Rhysand

coming soon…

House of the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon

coming soon…

Daemon Targaryen

coming soon…

Gwayne Hightower

coming soon…

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Valarr Targaryen

coming soon…

Baelor “Breakspear” Targaryen

coming soon…

Aerion Targaryen

especially in the mood to write for the following characters, but i’ll write for others too :)

—

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

rhaenyra targaryen

alicent hightower

jacaerys velaryon

gwayne hightower

THE PITT

michael robinavitch

samira mohan

frank langdon

DC

clark kent

dick grayson

jason todd

bruce wayne

A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS

maekar targaryen

aerion targaryen

daeron targaryen

ser duncan

MARVEL

bucky barnes

yelena belova

benjamin poindexter

buck cashman

steve rogers

THE BEAR

richie jerimovich

A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES

rhysand

azriel

cassian

lucien vanserra

eris vanserra

CHALLENGERS