Cassian Tries Pottery but Leaves With a Crush on The Teacher
Pairing(s): Cassian x f!reader
Summary: Cassian visits Feyre’s studio on a favor to visit the students. He did isn’t anticipate the teacher to be someone so lovely.
Contains: fluff / maybe OOC Cassian / suggestive bits (really brief)
"It's an introductory pottery class for kids. I made the mistake of mentioning I know you once and, well, they've been asking when you'll show up," Feyre said lightly in passing during dinner one night. It wasn't flashy or pleading, just a simple request.
Cassian chuckled and nodded, half glass of wine set back down. “Sure, I'll stop by to see the little squirts. Plus, I haven't stopped by the studio in a while,” he added lightly, with a grin.
Now, a few days later, he landed on the cobblestone street across from the studio. A few passing faces gave him smiles and greetings. The facade was clean and bright, with two tall windows flanking the propped-open front door and flooding the interior with spring air and sunlight. The afternoon air was warm yet breezy, stirring the paper stack in the far corner of the studio. The faint smell of paint and clay was grounding, carried on the breeze on its way out. Laughter paired with little voices and smaller feet shuffled in.
Cassian followed a father and young girl, tucking his wings tight.
“You made it!” Feyre greeted, wiping hands on an apron that had certainly seen better days.
“Wouldn't miss it." He grinned.
“Good,” Feyre chuckled and began walking deeper into the studio. Cassian fell in step behind her, giving small waves and bigger grins to the kids settling in their seats. Tables and canvas easels were moved aside to accommodate a semicircle of pottery wheels and one in front and center. Most stools were filled with a small bodies, either chatting with a neighbor or curiously investigating the machine without actually touching it.
“Today’s an introductory pottery class like i mentioned at dinner and if you want we can—oh! You’re here!” Cassian dragged his gaze away from a pair of boys he waved at and followed Feyre.
There, across the room, tying one of the studio-stained aprons around your waist, was you. For a breath, time slowed for Cassian, and the sunlight pouring through the windows glowed brighter, like it was holding its breath to shine a little brighter for you.
Feyre moved in his periphery, and Cassian blinked, the sun breathing and time moving again.
“Hey,” you greeted Feyre with a smile. “My plans didn't go through, so I thought I'd come help today instead. I hope that's alright,” you added almost apologetically.
Feyre waved dismissively. “Of course it is. Besides, you’re our best ceramicist, and the kids love you. I also asked this one to come in today, since the kids have been asking for a few weeks.” She glanced up at him briefly and gestured to you both. Cassian realized he was the “this one” in question. “Cassian, Y/N. Y/N, Cassian.”
Cassian was frozen for a heartbeat. He made an effort not to stare or gawk. He'd seen beauty of all kinds, colors, shapes, and sizes. He was an avid appreciator of it in the form of a body, but you were a kind he hadn’t come across often.
You, with your hair tied back, save for a few stubbornly loose pieces around your face. Your eyes were bright in a way that put the stars this court was known for to shame. Your smile was otherworldly. Your voice was calm and smooth like honey-coated marble, wrapping around his spine and melting into the gaps between.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you replied, offering a hand.
Cassian’s larger hand engulfed your smaller, albeit colder, one. “Likewise,” he breathed.
He watched your gaze meet Feyre’s again with a soft smile. “I'll finish setting up, and then we can start?”
Feyre nodded and watched you go prepare your station at the front. “Why don’t we get set up? You can take any of the empty spots with the kids.”
Cassian tore his gaze away from you where you gathered supplies in the corner, and found an empty spot between two girls. They blinked at him owlishly. Cassian tucked his wings tighter as he greeted them both, trying to make himself appear friendly and nonthreatening.
He was in the middle of answering one of there questions about what clouds felt like when he watched you take your spot at the center pottery wheel. “Can everyone please put a bubble in their mouth for me?” you asked the class, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a finger to your lips and cheeks puffed up. Cassian watched the kids settle down and mimic your bubble in their mouths. he was half tempted to copy for his own amusement (and maybe yours), the other half because of how your teacher voice subconsciously compelled him to for a moment.
You slipped into your teacher's role so easily, Cassian found, with your voice loud and clear, and your tone was adjusted to keep the students engaged. It was so different from your introduction. “Thank you, everyone. Today we’re going to be trying pottery. But before we start, we have a special guest,” you added, your gaze finally landing on Cassian with a small smile and an encouraging nod. “Guest, would you please introduce yourself?”
Cassian grinned, feeling ten pairs of eyes suddenly on him. He waved gently as he looked aroundthe class. “Hello, everyone. I'm Cassian. I'm going to learn pottery with you all.”
Soft, excited gasps and wide eyes flit through the little crowd, some whispering to their friends. A little boy with blueish skin and even big, blue eyes and a missing tooth raised his hand so fast he nearly fell off the stool. He was precariously kneeling to get a better look at the general, to which you gently chided him to sit correctly before he fell.
"Um, do you—when—when you uh, fight bad guys, how uh…how do you not get hurt?”
He huffed a laugh before glancing at you for permission.
“Well, I trained really hard for a long, long time. I still train with my brother’s but sometimes i still get hurt. I wish i could never not get hurt. That would make things a whole lot easier, now wouldn’t it?” he added lightly, earning scattered giggles.
He couldn't help but glance at you briefly as if he wanted your approval too. It was strange feeling; he’d only just met you. You allowed three more questions from other students before bringing their attention back to the class.
Cassian watched you just as intently as the students. He could tell they respected you and were excited about the class to learn. You asked them questions; they’d answer with excited raised hands and stars in their eyes. They followed your instructions with rapt attention and excitement. It was hard for him not to get sucked in either. From how to wedge the clay to centering and pulling. He felt that familiar tug of attraction. Of course, he found you physically attractive, but this was different; your skill was attractive. You have a talent, the way wet clay coats your hands as you pinch and pull with such even pressure. The careful balance of delicacy and strength was mesmerizing.
Cassian’s hands had so seldom been used for care and precision unless there was a bloodied blade and a dead body or two involved. His size was used for brute strength and even brutal techniques meant to end, not create. Pottery was out of his depth, but he told Feyre he’d come for today’s class. And watching you practice your craft, teaching simultaneously was enthralling.
And then your ring and middle fingers slowly curled down the center of your clay, and Cassian’s mind went very filthy very quickly.
Blood rushed to his ears and neck. His gaze tore away as he tried to follow your demonstration on his own.
He really shouldn’t feel so hot. You were teaching a technique—welling, he thinks, but the blood rushing in his head made it hard to remember. All he could focus on was your fingers curling, murky water displacing from the hole and spilling over the slick clay walls.
It took several deep breaths and morbid thoughts to focus on his own clay before his blood flooded elsewhere. There were children around, for Cauldron’s sake! Every so often he’d peek up through thick lashes as he caught you helping other students, your demonstration paused.
For better or for worse, Cassian was not used to walking such a fine line of delicacy and strength. Usually it was just one side of the fence—the brute strength. It was familiar. What he’d been trained for. So the focus it took to pull a simple cylinder was a challenge but one he didn’t mind. It was a little frustrating and more mentally demanding than he assumed, but it was better than thinking about what other wet, squelching area your two fingers could curl into—
"Cauldron boil me,” he muttered under his breath.
His head snapped up to where you stood across from him. Your sudden presence took him off guard, and as if the Mother were punishing him for such lewd thoughts about you, his wet clay caved in from the uneven pressure and detached from the center until it landed inside the pan.
"Oh dear,” you muttered, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Cassian huffed a laugh, a slip-coated hand gently waving dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Guess I was just really focused.”
Your smile softened, the worried curve of your brow smoothing again. "You were doing really well. Well…at least before it went flying.”
Cassian grinned at you, charming yet mischievous. “Had a real good teacher.”
You huffed a laugh, raising your brow. “I’d hope so. Otherwise, I’d have to reevaluate a few things about myself. Namely, how I still have my job,” you mused.
Cassian chuckled, letting you get pulled away by another student.
It was late afternoon when the class was wrapping up. Although he truly tried his best, the cylinder he managed to make was short and thick-walled, he was proud of it anyway.
He gave high-fives or fist bumps to the kids as they left, and before long it was just him, you and Feyre. He didn't know his way around the studio like you both, but he helped clean up.
“I'll lock up,” you reassured Feyre before she winnowed away. That left just you both.
Now, Cassian had considered his options. He could a) give polite goodbyes and leave or b) find some excuse to hang around a bit longer to talk to you more, to learn a little more about you, but he also didn't want to impose. He did meet you today.
“Thank you again for coming. The students were really happy,” you said gently as you put away the last of the tools in labeled buckets.
Cassian blinked out of his thoughts, grinning. “It’s nothing. Besides, I couldn’t disappoint them.”
Your smile grew as you dried your hands and finally exchanged the stained studio apron for your things. He followed you out, watching you lock up the studio and how the sun settled on you. Your eyes finally met his, bright and sparkling. A mix of peach and rose prickled under your skin at the sudden eye contact. Cassian’s smile grows, cataloging how your face holds the blush and already wondering how he can get you to do it again.
“Should I expect you for the next class?” you found yourself asking as you adjusted your bag to your shoulder.
“I’ll come to any class you want me to sweetheart.”
Your blush deepens, traveling up your ears and down your neck. “Oh,” you mutter, suddenly too warm up for the spring sun. Cassian relishes it and that smug smile lets you know full well.
“In that case,” you begin, steeling your flustered nerves and holding his gaze. A smirk tugs at your lips this time, voice dipping low and smooth. “I also offer private lessons, in case you're interested,” you add.
Now it was his turn to feel a little flustered and yours to smile in satisfaction. You don’t give him the chance to respond, only a brief goodbye as you turn heel and around the corner to the gods know where.
“Well, fuck me,” Cassian huffs out with a grin.
A/N: lowkey cheeks. Thank you for all the love and support!! I appreciate every single one of you!! <3
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