#cassianxreader

[sarawritestories]

hi! how are you? i just returned to tumblr after leaving it for a bit. i've reread someof the things i liked in the past and UP was one of them. just wanted to ask if you're still plannning on continuing the story? i enjoyed rereading it

Hello!

The fact that people are still reading my stuff after a long period of being...well gone is truly remarkable to me! I truly appreciate everyone continuing to read and enjoy my stories.

The short answer to your question is Yes. Unwavering Presence is still happeneing!

However, My plans for the story is to do a complete rewrite of the story. I have re read UP numerous times since being quiet on tumblr and I'm simply not happy with it. There are some continuity issues with stuff i wrote AND what happens canonically in the books. For the entirety of my life I have written stories on whim and my long form series always seem to suffer because I am focused on how I feel now instead of having a thought out plan.

Your ask has had me thinking about this series and the potential it can have to be my best work and I want to give the time to plot out things in the stories and major connections that will flow a lot more fluidly than what I have at the moment.

I am thinking of making Reader an OC to give me more of a chance to connect with her and her motivations.

I want to make this a genuine slow burn. Where you can feel their pining.

I want to dive deeper to the Readers time in the Spring.

I want write my antagonist better. Genuinely!

There is so much I have planned and genuinely excited to sit and plot this out. Alas this will take some time!

I am talking about all the changes I want to make but I want to make it clear too that core elements of what people loved would still be there. Reader and Rhys' friendship, the complicated dynamic of Feyre and Reader's relationship and how they work through that for example. They will just be written to seem more earned than what I have.

I don't have a timeline for this as I am also having a baby at the end of June and just unsure when I am going to be able to make time for writing.

So, yes Unwavering Presence is still in the books just not sure when we'll be back!

If you have read to this point I applaud you for sticking to my long-winded response! I appreciate your love for reading this story and I hope you stick along with me!

[batboysanonymous]

A Breath Between Us

Cassian x Reader

Summary: She gave him space, just like he wanted, and it gutted her in silence while he realized too late that the air he needed was her.

Velaris was quiet that evening, cloaked in the hush of early spring. The wind carried the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen, and the moon cast silver shadows over the Sidra.

Y/n moved silently through the House of Wind’s library, her bare feet cool against the stone floor. She hadn’t meant to overhear. In truth, she’d been coming to find Cassian—to ask if he wanted to spar in the morning. To feel normal again after the way he’d been slipping from her fingers like smoke.

But she froze when she heard his voice carry from the training ring just outside the archway, words rising sharp and unguarded in the open air.

"She’s just…always around lately. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes."

Y/n’s heart stopped.

Not slowed.

Stopped.

She stood there, invisible in the shadows, as the person she loved more than anything exhaled the words like a weight off his chest.

Azriel’s low voice rumbled in reply. “She’s your mate, Cass.”

“I know. I know,” Cassian muttered, the leather of his gloves creaking. “But she’s everywhere. Clinging. And I don’t want to hurt her, but I need space. I feel smothered.”

A sharp, involuntary breath tore out of her lungs. But it was soundless—silent enough to be buried beneath the crack of a punch meeting Azriel’s pads.

Y/n stepped back, the quiet scuff of her heel brushing against stone somehow deafening in the silence that followed. She didn’t hear Azriel’s reply.

She didn’t need to.

She was already walking away.

She didn’t cry that night. Not even when the bond, the mate bond, pulsed low and confused in her chest like it had felt her retreat.

She didn’t show up to breakfast the next morning. Nor lunch. She missed training entirely. When Cassian passed her in the hallway later that evening, she didn’t flinch, didn’t pause—didn’t even look at him.

She might as well have looked through him.

Like he was a stranger.

At first, Cassian barely noticed. She’d vanished for a day before—needed alone time to read, to breathe. He didn’t press it.

By the second day, when he reached for her side of the bed and found cold sheets, he frowned.

By the third, when the bond between them buzzed with distance instead of the warm thrum of affection, he started to feel it.

By the fifth, it hurt.

Gods, it hurt.

Like a phantom limb where she used to be—present in every memory, every instinct, but no longer there. She didn’t laugh at his stupid jokes anymore. She didn’t braid her fingers through his when they passed in the hallway. She didn’t kiss his neck when he sat at his desk, didn’t pull him to bed when he worked too late.

She had disappeared in the loudest, most devastating silence he had ever heard.

And it was only then—only then—that he remembered.

The words. The ring. That one quiet moment of venting when he thought no one could hear.

She’d heard.

Cassian finally snapped when he found her in the gardens, speaking quietly with Elain beneath the wisteria-covered pergola. She looked radiant in the late sunlight, even as her voice carried no joy. Not for him.

She didn’t look at him when he approached. Didn’t turn. Not even when the bond screamed with his presence.

“Elain,” he said stiffly, eyes locked on Y/n’s profile. “Can I borrow her for a minute?”

Elain cast Y/n a glance. Y/n nodded absently.

Cassian waited until Elain walked out of earshot before he tried to speak.

“Have I done something?” he asked.

“No,” Y/n said softly. Then, colder: “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Her voice was all wrong. Detached. Hollow. Like he was speaking through glass.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been giving you space.”

He blinked. “What?”

She turned then, finally meeting his eyes—and it cut more than he thought it could. Because nothing was there. Not anger. Not sorrow. Just… nothing.

“I didn’t realize I was smothering you,” she said. Her voice cracked, just once, but she pushed forward, eyes hard. “But you were right. I’ve been too much. So I’m stepping back.”

The world tilted.

“Y/n—” His voice was a rasp. Raw. “Wait—”

“I’m not mad,” she cut in, a soft, sad smile curving her lips. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel. I just… I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

And then she turned. Walked away. No tears. No begging. Just cold, quiet finality.

He reached for her, hand brushing her arm—but she pulled away before he could hold on.

Her scent lingered like heartbreak in the air.

Cassian didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

He’d torn the wings from an angel and wondered why she stopped flying back to him.

That night, the bond between them screamed. A painful, aching silence filled his soul. It rattled his bones, echoed through every step he took alone in their—his—bedroom.

Sleep didn’t come. The sheets were still cold. Everything was wrong.

The next morning, he found Azriel with fire behind his eyes.

“She heard us,” he growled.

Az raised a brow. “Clearly.”

“She heard what I said,” Cassian choked. “About her being clingy. That’s why she’s pulling away. That’s why it feels like she doesn’t even—doesn’t even see me anymore.”

Azriel’s expression didn’t soften. “You said it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cassian snapped. “It wasn’t about her. It was about… everything else. The war, the pressure, the High Lord’s Council breathing down my neck. I was spiraling, and she was the only light I had—but I twisted that too.”

Az crossed his arms. “Then why haven’t you told her that?”

“She won’t even look at me.” His voice cracked.

Az tilted his head. “Then make her.”

Cassian tried. Gods, he tried.

He brought her flowers the next night—starblossoms, her favorite. He knocked on her door like his life depended on it.

The door opened an inch.

Y/n’s face appeared. Tired. Beautiful. Untouchable.

“Y/n,” he breathed.

“I’m tired, Cass,” she said.

Gentle.

Kind.

Cold.

The door closed again.

And something inside him shattered.

The next week passed in pieces. The scent of her was everywhere, but never close. She was polite in meetings. Present in group settings. But to him, she was a wall.

She didn’t speak to him alone.

Didn’t meet his gaze once.

He tried again—notes, gifts, flowers. Nothing thawed her. The distance felt permanent now. Like she’d severed him at the root and planted herself somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t follow.

And he deserved it.

He went to Mor.

“I think I broke her,” he said.

Mor looked at him. Eyes full of rage and sorrow. “You didn’t break her, Cassian. She just stopped trying to prove she was enough for you.”

“I never wanted that—”

“No. But you made her feel it. And you don’t fix that with flowers. You fix that by bleeding. So figure out how you’re going to bleed.”

The next morning, Y/n found a note on the training bench. No name. Just a memory.

I missed watching you kick Azriel’s ass. — C

She didn’t take it.

But her hand lingered over it a moment longer than she meant to.

That night, she returned to her chambers and found a bundle of lavender on her bed. Her scent. His memory.

Two nights later: a dagger on her doorstep.

Obsidian blade. Curved Illyrian hilt.

Etched into the handle, in small, nearly invisible script: My mate. My blade. My breath.

She stared at it for a long time.

And then, she sought him out.

She found him at the edge of the Sidra, armor stripped away, eyes cast to the stars.

“Why’d you say it?”

Her voice was quiet. Almost a whisper.

Cassian turned, like her voice alone was enough to break him. “I didn’t mean it,” he said.

“Then why?” she asked again, colder now. “Why say it at all?”

His throat bobbed. “Because I’m a coward. Because I didn’t know how to be held without breaking. You love me in a way I don’t think I deserve—and that scared the hell out of me.”

She folded her arms, nails digging into her skin. Holding herself together.

“I thought I was giving you love,” she said. “Turns out I was just giving you reasons to want space.”

“No,” he said fiercely. “Y/n—you were never too much. Never. I was just too little. And too scared.”

He stepped toward her, close enough to touch—but didn’t. Wouldn’t. Not until she reached back.

“I can’t breathe without you,” he said. “Not because you take the air. But because you are the air. You were never suffocating me. You were keeping me alive.”

She didn’t speak.

But the tears finally came.

She stepped forward.

Curled her fingers into his chest like she was anchoring herself.

Cassian wrapped her in his arms like he was home.

And maybe, finally, he was.

Taglist:@willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @pham-tastical,  @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @shylahstarzz, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch, @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @marina468, @tele86, @raccoonworld,  dinosandwaffles

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[batboysanonymous]

A Thousand Kisses Later

Cassian x Reader

Summary: He held her face like it was the most precious thing in the world, like he couldn't kiss her fast enough, like he had loved her for centuries and still hadn’t gotten enough.

The war had ended three weeks ago. Three long weeks since Cassian had come back from the front lines bloodied but breathing. Since Y/n had sat beside his healing body in the House of Wind, her hand glued to his, whispering promises she wasn’t sure he could hear.

Now, he wouldn’t stop touching her.

Not that she minded. Not when the pads of his calloused fingers brushed her cheek like a prayer. Not when his palms cradled her face like he’d crumble if he let go. Not when his lips pressed tiny kisses over every inch of her face—cheeks, chin, nose, brow—like it was instinct.

She was seated cross-legged on their shared bed, hair still damp from a bath he’d drawn for her, the scent of lavender clinging to her skin. Cassian had taken one look at her—soft, flushed, relaxed—and crossed the room like a man starved.

Now she was giggling, helpless under the affection of a war-hardened general who kissed like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Cass,” she laughed, eyes squeezed shut as he pressed yet another peck to her nose, then her cheek, then her jaw. “That’s the fiftieth one.”

“Fifty-first,” he murmured, lips barely brushing hers. “And that’s for calling me Cass.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—Lord Commander General Cassian of the Night Court—”

His groan cut her off as he buried his face in her neck, letting out a dramatic sigh that made her laugh harder.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he murmured into her skin, voice rasped from laughter and love. “In excessive affection.”

“I’m already drowning in it.”

He lifted his head and cupped her cheeks again, his grin boyish and wicked. “Good.”

Another kiss. This one to her temple.

And another. Her eyelid.

And another. The tip of her nose.

She melted in his hands, the kind of love-sick, soul-deep softness that only a mate bond could bring. His thumbs swept gently across her skin, and she looked up at him with stars in her eyes.

“I missed this,” she whispered. “Missed you.”

His expression crumpled with emotion so fast she barely caught it. But she did. Because she knew him. And he hadn’t let himself feel everything that needed to be felt—not yet.

Cassian settled beside her, tugging her into his lap, her legs over his. His wings curled instinctively around her, a shield of warm, powerful muscle and love. He rested his forehead to hers.

“I was so scared,” he said hoarsely, voice barely audible. “That I wouldn’t get to do this again. That I’d never touch you again.”

Her heart cracked open. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, nose tucked under his jaw.

“I know. I felt it too.”

Cassian pulled back just enough to cup her face again. She loved when he did that—how reverently he held her, like his entire world existed between his hands.

“I made a promise,” he said. “Out there. That if I made it home, I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you knew how much I love you. Every damn day. Every moment I get.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she nodded. “You already do. Every time you look at me like that. Every time you touch me like I’m...everything.”

“You are everything,” he said fiercely.

He kissed her again—quick, soft, sweet—and another giggle bubbled from her throat. He grinned, lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

“You laugh like you were made for me,” he murmured.

She scrunched her nose. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does to me.” He kissed her again. “Your laugh is my favorite sound. Second only to your moans.”

“Cassian!”

He smirked, clearly proud of himself, before pressing a kiss just under her ear. “What? I like all your sounds.”

“I swear,” she muttered, cheeks warm, “you are the clingiest, softest Illyrian warrior in history.”

“I almost died. I earned the right to be clingy.” His hand slid around her back, pressing her tighter against him. “Now hush. I’m not done kissing you.”

He tilted her chin up again, and she let him. Let herself fall into him, into the warm hum of their bond that wrapped around her heart like velvet. Kiss after kiss after kiss, until she was breathless and smiling and so, so in love.

She brushed her fingers through his thick hair, letting her other hand rest over his beating heart. Cassian kissed her palm, then nuzzled into it, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“You deserve everything,” she whispered back.

His arms tightened around her, his lips brushing her brow.

“And yet, somehow, I got you.”

They sat there for a while in the hush of evening, the world slowed to a heartbeat between them. He didn’t stop touching her. She didn’t want him to. Every brush of his thumb, every lingering kiss, every whispered promise—it was a prayer they both needed.

“You really want to spend the rest of your life kissing me like that?” she teased softly.

Cassian gave her a slow, roguish grin. “Absolutely.”

“What if I get wrinkly?”

“I’ll kiss every wrinkle.”

“What if I snore?”

“I’ll wear earplugs.”

“What if I—”

He kissed her. Full and firm and breathtaking.

“I’ll love you anyway,” he finished for her.

She blinked up at him, tears rising again. And then she laughed—light and unguarded—her cheeks squished in his palms, lips pecked again and again by the male who had given her everything.

“I love you, Cass.”

His eyes glowed. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

He kissed her once more, a thousand soft promises in one lingering touch.

And she knew—without question, without fear—that she would never stop hearing those words from him. Never stop being held like that. Never stop being his.

And he—gods help him—would never stop kissing her.

Taglist:@willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @pham-tastical,  @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @shylahstarzz, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch, @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @marina468, @tele86, @raccoonworld

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[batboysanonymous]

Miss Possessive

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Y/n never doubted their bond, until the moment she saw another woman’s hands on her mate. Some fights are inevitable, especially when love is sacred…and hers burns hotter than any Illyrian flame.

Based on the song: Miss Possessive by Tate McRae

No, seriously, get your hands off my man Baby blues undressin' him Funny how you think that I don't notice it

The celebration at the River House was meant to be effortless, indulgent, a night to bask in the peace they’d fought so hard to win.

Y/n should have felt relaxed, watching Cassian laugh so easily. His presence was a storm and a sunrise all at once, and the pull of the mating bond was a steady, silken cord wrapping around her heart.

But then she saw her.

Blonde, lithe, her smile too wide, too bright, as if she belonged here. Her hand lingered on Cassian’s forearm longer than necessary. She tilted her head, giving him that demure little smile women wore when they thought they could win.

Acting like we're friends, we're the opposite I know what you are, tryin' so hard Runnin' 'round tryin' to fuck a star

Y/n’s fingers tightened around her wineglass. Her power hummed under her skin, itching to be set loose.

She forced herself to breathe through her nose. Cassian was oblivious. He always was, in moments like these—friendly, warm, trusting. But she wasn’t.

She saw. She felt.

And she wouldn’t stand for it.

Look at the floor or ceiling Or anyone else you're feelin' Take home whoever walks in Just keep your eyes off him

Her feet were moving before logic could intervene. The crowd parted around her like silk tearing, and the blonde’s laughter faded into nothing the moment Y/n stepped into the space between them.

Cassian’s smile faltered when he looked down at her. “Sweetheart.” His voice, that low rasp only for her. Her fury softened by a fraction.

“Cass,” she purred, threading her fingers into the leather belt at his waist, tugging him closer until his thigh pressed between hers. She could feel the heat of him, the solid strength of him, and if she’d had her way, she would have dragged him out of the room and shown everyone exactly who he belonged to.

Instead, she pinned the girl with a smile that was all teeth.

Yes, I'm Miss possessive Pretty girl, gon' learn your lesson Some fights you're never gon' win Just keep your eyes off him

“You seem to enjoy his company,” Y/n said, her voice like velvet over steel. “I wonder—does your father know you make a habit of pawing at another female’s mate?”

The blonde blinked, the color draining from her cheeks. “I— I wasn’t—”

Cassian groaned softly. “Y/n…”

But she wasn’t done.

Better, better keep your, keep your, keep your, keep your Better, better keep your, keep your, keep your eyes off

The girl opened her mouth, but Y/n’s gaze turned to ice. “I think you should leave.”

The silence between them thrummed tight as a bowstring. Slowly, the female backed away, her steps faltering, her eyes darting to the floor.

Y/n exhaled through her nose, only realizing she was shaking when Cassian slid his arms around her waist.

Yeah, I'll be nice up until I'm not And oh, so generous, tonight I forgot I'm telling you, you haven't seen the 1 AM side of me When I'm two drinks in, and you just can't leave me and my man alone

Cassian kissed her temple, sighing into her hair. “You are going to get me killed one day.”

She finally looked up at him. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement, but something darker simmered underneath—a heat that answered her possessiveness with his own.

“I won’t share you,” she whispered.

He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “You never have to.”

Look at the floor or ceiling Or anyone else you're feelin' Take home whoever walks in Just keep your eyes off him

Still, the frustration hadn’t burned out completely. Her veins thrummed with it. She grabbed his hand, weaving through the crowd with purpose, tugging him toward the stairs.

They didn’t make it to their room.

She pushed him into an alcove, hands already yanking at his tunic. His grin was wicked and indulgent, but he let her take control, let her claim him.

Yes, I'm Miss possessive Pretty girl, gon' learn your lesson Some fights you're never gon' win Just keep your eyes off him

“You’re mine,” she hissed, biting his jaw, his neck, tasting him.

His breath hitched, hands sliding up under her skirts to grip her thighs. “I was always yours.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him—flushed, wild, hers.

Better, better keep your, keep your, keep your, keep your Better, better keep your, keep your, keep your eyes off

They kissed like it was a battle, tongues clashing, hands desperate. His scent filled her head, and the bond between them flared hot and sharp, a living thing that crackled in the space around them.

She ground against him shamelessly, wanting to mark him with her scent, her touch, her fire.

Cassian groaned into her mouth. “If anyone looked at you the way she looked at me…”

“I’d kill them,” she said without hesitation.

He laughed, pressing his forehead to hers. “My possessive little mate.”

Better keep your eyes off

They made it upstairs eventually, but the sounds that echoed through the walls were loud enough that no one dared look at Cassian the wrong way for a long, long time.

And if Y/n woke the next morning tangled in his arms, marked by his teeth, and wearing his shirt…

She didn’t feel a single ounce of guilt.

Not when he whispered, half-asleep, “Mine.”

And certainly not when she smiled and whispered back, “Yours.”

Some fights you're never gon' win Just keep your eyes off him.

Taglist:@willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @pham-tastical,  @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @shylahstarzz, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch, @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @marina468

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[batboysanonymous]

More of You to Love

Cassian x Reader

Summary: You never thought a warrior like Cassian could crave softness, until his hands found every inch of yours like they were made for him, and his heart, foolish and full, begged you to never pull away.

Cassian wasn’t a gentle man. Not by nature, not by upbringing. His world had been forged in the steel of the Illyrian camps, molded by blood, death, and merciless survival. He knew how to fight. How to protect. How to endure.

But loving you… That was the one thing that had unraveled him completely.

Because you were softness in a world of blades. You were kindness where cruelty had reigned. And most of all, you were his mate—a gift from the Mother herself, and Cassian had never, not once, believed he was worthy of something as perfect as you.

You didn’t hear him come in. You were too focused on the mirror, on the reflection staring back at you with judgmental eyes. Your gown was too tight. The fabric clung to your hips in a way that felt unflattering, pressing into your waist like a taunt.

You hated it. You hated the way your body looked tonight.

Your fingers trembled on the laces, heart sinking with every tug that wouldn’t come loose. The voices in your head—insidious, cruel—whispered reminders of all the ways you didn’t measure up.

You’re not like the others. You’re too much. Too big. Too full. He could have anyone…Why would he want you?

“Need help with that?” Cassian’s deep voice cut through your thoughts, smooth and gravelly.

You stiffened. “Gods, Cass—don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He grinned, but it was softer than usual. Devouring. “Couldn’t help it. The view was too good.”

Your cheeks burned, and you turned away, fingers tugging harder at the stubborn knots. “The dress doesn’t fit.”

“Fits just fine from where I’m standing,” he murmured, stepping behind you, his breath warm against your neck.

His hands brushed yours aside, and you froze at the gentle way he touched the laces. Calloused fingers—strong and rough—were delicate now, undoing the knots with practiced ease.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, watching as he worked, the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes lingered on every inch of your skin with reverence, not critique.

But you couldn’t hide the shame in your voice. “It’s too tight, Cass. Nothing fits right anymore.”

He stilled behind you.

“I’ve… changed,” you said quietly. “I’m not like Mor or Nesta or any of the females you’re used to being around.”

Cassian’s hands dropped from your back, only to come around and cup your face, turning you to face him. His eyes… Gods, they burned with something between rage and heartbreak.

“Don’t ever compare yourself to anyone else,” he said, voice hoarse.

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you. “You think I care about some godsdamned dress?” His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you tightly. “You think I don’t see you?”

He pulled you flush against him, your soft curves pressing into the hard lines of his body—and he groaned, like the contact undid him.

“You’re a dream I didn’t know I was allowed to have,” Cassian murmured. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a woman who makes me weak. Who makes me crave peace. I see softness I want to sink into for the rest of my life.”

Tears stung your eyes, but he kissed them away, his mouth brushing over your cheeks, your lips, your neck.

“I love every inch of you. Every curve. Every dip.” His voice broke. “And you think you’re too much?”

His hand gripped the back of your thigh, pulling it up against his hip, grinding against you slowly, purposefully. “Sweetheart, there’s not enough of you.”

Your breath hitched, heart racing.

“I love you exactly as you are,” he whispered. “You were made for me.”

You turned into his embrace, burying your face in his chest. His arms locked around you, strong and safe, and you breathed him in—the scent of leather and cedar.

“I just… I don’t always feel like I fit,” you admitted quietly. “Next to you, I feel… too much.”

Cassian tilted your chin up, eyes gentle but firm. “You fit me better than any armor ever could.”

He guided your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You feel this? It’s yours. Every beat, every breath—I live for you.”

Your lip trembled, and he caught it between his thumb and finger, kissing you softly, like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

When he pulled back, his smile was warm and boyish, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand.

There was no music. No crowd. Just the two of you, barefoot and wrapped in the quiet glow of the stars outside the window.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his.

Cassian twirled you once before pulling you into his chest, swaying with you in slow, lazy circles. He hummed a tune under his breath, the sound of it rumbling deep in his chest.

There, in his arms, you didn’t feel too much. You felt perfectly held, perfectly loved.

And when he whispered, “There’s more of you to love,” it wasn’t a tease, or a jest.

It was a promise. A vow to cherish all of you—every inch, every moment, every heartbeat—for the rest of his days.

Taglist: @willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @pham-tastical,  @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @shylahstarzz, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch, @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @marina468

[batboysanonymous]

To Break a Warrior

Cassian x Reader

Summary: When Y/n is sent to the Spring Court on a mission that leaves her shattered in body and spirit, Cassian must prove that loving a warrior means fighting beside her, even when the battle is within her own heart.

*Some of this is made up for the storyline*

Rhys didn’t look at you when he gave the order. That should have been your first warning.

“Tamlin’s been quiet too long,” the High Lord said from where he stood at the windows of the River House, hands clasped behind his back, violet gaze fixed on the sea of stars above Velaris. “Feyre and I both agree someone needs to check on him.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of your tunic to hide the tremor. “Send Azriel.”

It wasn’t a request. It was common sense. Az knew how to slip in and out of courts unseen. He wouldn’t be provoked the way you would.

Rhys’s smile was thin, sharp enough to cut. “Tamlin doesn’t hate Azriel the way he hates you.”

Because you were Night Court through and through. Because you had stood beside Feyre during the war, had smiled that wicked smile only a Night Court female could conjure when you watched Hybern burn. Because you were nothing Tamlin could stomach—and everything Rhys wanted to rub in his face.

You swallowed down the knot in your throat. “He’ll attack me.”

“Then defend yourself.” Rhys’s voice was velvet over steel. “You are a warrior of this court, Y/n. If you cannot handle a visit to a washed-up High Lord, perhaps you shouldn’t be sitting at this table at all.”

The blow landed—clean and brutal. Your teeth clamped down on the words you wanted to throw back. You didn’t dare glance at Cassian, though you felt the weight of his stare from across the room.

He hadn’t spoken since Rhys gave the order. Hadn’t fought for you.

That, somehow, hurt more.

──

The Spring Court felt like it was rotting from the inside out.

The once-lush fields were strangled with overgrown vines, the grass scorched in patches like Tamlin had burned it in a fit of rage. Even the air tasted wrong—thick, humid, the faint scent of spoiled flowers making your stomach churn.

You shouldn’t have come alone. You knew it the second your boots crossed the border, the shield Rhys had laced around you flickering faintly in the golden light. It felt too thin. Insufficient. Like even Rhys hadn’t expected you to make it out.

You’re capable, you told yourself, trying to drown out the doubt thrumming in your chest. Rhys wouldn’t have sent you if you weren’t.

Except…he would.

Your heart hammered harder with every step up the cracked marble stairs leading to Tamlin’s front door. The place looked abandoned—windows broken, the once-beautiful façade covered in dirt and dead vines. But the moment you touched the heavy brass handle, you knew you weren’t alone.

The door swung open before you could knock.

Tamlin stood there, barefoot and rumpled, like he hadn’t slept in days. His golden hair was tangled, his green eyes sunken and wild, bright with something you couldn’t name. But it was the smile that made your stomach curdle—the slow, curving thing that had no warmth at all.

“Back so soon?” His voice was smoke and glass shards, scraping at your ears.

You forced your chin higher, though your pulse thudded so loudly you could barely hear yourself speak. “I’m here on behalf of the Night Court.” You hated how rehearsed the words sounded. Like you were a child parroting a script. “Rhysand requests an update on—”

He laughed. Low and sharp and utterly humorless.

“Rhysand sends a messenger girl to check on me?” Tamlin’s fingers curled around the doorframe, claws slipping free in tiny, almost lazy flickers. “How pathetic. Does he not even bother sending his shadows anymore?”

You tried to hold your ground. “I’m not a messenger girl.”

“Aren’t you?” He leaned closer, and though the scent of him was the same—fresh-cut grass and sun-warmed earth—it was tinged now with something rotting. Like that poison had bled into his very skin.

You opened your mouth—to argue, to defend yourself, you weren’t sure. But his hand shot out faster than you could track, wrapping around your wrist.

“Let me go.” Your voice was sharp. Too sharp. It gave away the sliver of fear crawling beneath your skin.

Tamlin’s smile didn’t waver. “You took everything from me.”

Your throat went tight. “I didn’t take anything.”

“You stood beside her.” His grip tightened, claws pricking through the leather of your sleeve, just enough for a bead of blood to well. “You laughed while my court crumbled. You and your filthy Court of Nightmares.”

You wrenched back, free hand reaching for the dagger at your hip—but vines shot from the floor, wrapping around your ankles before you could even unsheath it.

“Don’t.” Tamlin’s voice was soft. Soft in the way a predator coaxes prey into stillness. “Don’t pretend you’re a warrior, little girl.”

Anger flared beneath the fear. “You want me to beg? To apologize? I won’t.”

His hand shot out again, this time slamming into your chest with a blast of magic so forceful you flew back, spine colliding with the opposite wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Pain burst through your ribs like fire.

You hit the floor coughing, gasping for breath—but there was no time to recover. The vines snaked tighter, dragging you forward across the marble, over broken glass and debris until they coiled around your arms, holding you spread-eagle like some grotesque marionette.

Tamlin stalked toward you, each step measured. Controlled.

“You think you’re one of them,” he murmured, eyes flicking up and down your trembling body. “But you’re not. You’re just their pawn. A disposable little soldier they’ll burn through and forget.”

You gritted your teeth against the pain. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Liar.”

His magic yanked your arm at a brutal angle, dislocating your shoulder with a sickening pop. You screamed before you could stop yourself, the sound echoing off the empty walls.

Tears blurred your vision, but you swallowed the sob threatening to break free. You wouldn’t give him that.

“You’re not even worth killing.” Tamlin’s voice was bored now, dismissive. “Go home to your High Lord. Crawl back to your precious General. Let them see what their little pet looks like when the mask comes off.”

He dropped you.

Just like that, the vines loosened, and you crumpled to the floor in a heap, cheek pressing into the cold marble. You could feel the blood seeping through your torn leathers, the grinding ache in your ribs with every breath.

“Get out of my court,” Tamlin said quietly. “Before I change my mind.”

It took everything in you to push to your hands and knees, every muscle trembling with the effort. Your fingers slipped in your own blood. But you crawled—each inch toward the door a battle.

You didn’t look back.

Even when you felt his eyes on your spine, even when your broken shoulder screamed with agony, even when you felt the whisper of his power trailing after you like a ghost.

──

The air felt too thick in your lungs.

Each breath tasted like dirt and blood and shattered pride, your cheek pressed into the cold ground outside Tamlin’s manor. You had crawled this far—through the broken doorway, across those steps, through the weeds and rot choking the garden path. Your body screamed at you to stop.

You didn’t.

Your dislocated arm hung useless at your side, every tiny jostle sending molten agony lancing through your shoulder. Blood streaked your hands, slick with grime, glass and thorns embedded in your palms. You could barely see—one eye swelling shut, the other blurred with tears you couldn’t hold back.

But the bond—gods, the bond.

It was a thin, silver cord in your chest, a lifeline you hadn’t wanted to rely on. You had fought so hard to stand on your own, to prove you were more than Cassian’s mate, more than the weakest link in the Inner Circle. But now…

Cassian.

You whispered it into the bond, voice so faint you weren’t sure it would reach him. It was barely a thought, a trembling plea wrapped in agony and shame.

But Cassian heard.

The response was instant—like a crack of thunder, that golden warmth roaring to life across the tether between you, flooding your senses. His fear slammed into you so hard you gasped, your battered lungs failing to catch enough air.

Y/n? Y/N.

It wasn’t a question. It was panic sharpened to a blade, his voice raw with terror.

You could feel the sky shift. His wings slicing through clouds as he launched from wherever he was—felt the storm of his rage boiling up like magma beneath his skin. But it was the fear that broke you.

You’d never felt him afraid like this. Not in the war. Not in any battle.

But your pain—your weakness—was a dagger straight into his heart.

“Please,” you whispered aloud, voice rasping into the dirt.

You didn’t know if you said it for him—or for yourself.

The world started to tilt, dark edges closing in. You couldn’t feel your legs anymore. Couldn’t even hold yourself up. You were collapsing into the earth, breath hitching, pain blooming like a thousand flowers beneath your skin.

But you clung to the bond.

Even as everything else slipped from your fingers—your pride, your strength, your sense of self—you held onto him.

I’m coming.

The bond shuddered with the force of those words, like he was pouring every bit of himself down that invisible thread. You could feel his wings beating furiously against the wind, his heart pounding just as hard as yours.

You closed your eyes.

He would come.

Even if Rhys never believed in you. Even if the whole court thought you were a mistake.

Cassian would come.

You didn’t remember the moment he landed. Didn’t hear the rush of wind, the crack of his boots on soil. You only felt—

Scarred hands, gentle despite their strength, cupping your face. His fingers trembling against your bloodstained skin, voice cracking as he said your name, over and over, like a prayer.

“Y/n.”

You tried to smile, but it felt broken too. “Took you long enough.”

His laugh was half-sob, half-roar, torn from somewhere deep inside his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t, because he was gathering you into his arms, careful but desperate, cradling you like you were something precious—something he was terrified might slip away if he wasn’t careful enough.

His wings wrapped around you, shielding you from the world, his scent of cedar and smoke cocooning you safe in the storm of his fury and fear.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice low and lethal.

You didn’t answer. Not yet. Not when it took all your strength just to breathe.

Cassian’s hand slid down your back, fingers mapping each bruise, each broken place, memorizing the evidence of your suffering like he might etch it into his bones and never forget.

When his fingers brushed your dislocated shoulder, you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

Cassian swore—ugly and guttural—and held you closer.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, voice softer now. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just hold on.”

You clung to the front of his leathers, tears hot against your raw skin, and let yourself believe him.

Even if you didn’t deserve to.

─────────────

Through the bond, he could feel everything.

The pain. The sharp, ragged edges of her pride torn to shreds. The humiliation curdling in her gut. And beneath it all—the small, flickering ember of her belief that none of them had ever truly wanted her.

That she had been sent to fail.

Cassian’s heart nearly stopped.

He had to grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached just to keep from flying straight to the River House and demanding answers from Rhys right now.

But Y/n came first.

Always.

Her breathing hitched against his chest, and Cassian laid his hand over her ribcage, fingers splayed to feel the fragile rise and fall of her breath. Each time her ribs moved, he whispered down the bond, a stream of words and feelings and warmth, steadying her even as his own rage threatened to drown him.

You’re safe now. I have you. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.

And through the crack in her defenses, through her pain and shame and silence, came the smallest response.

I’m sorry.

It broke him.

Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t you dare.

But she was already drifting, consciousness slipping. Cassian held her tighter, his heartbeat thundering for both of them.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered aloud, into her hair. “I’ll get you home. I’ll fix this. I swear to the Mother, I will fix this.”

And the sky itself trembled beneath the weight of his vow.

────

Rhys was waiting when Cassian landed.

Y/n was cradled against his chest, her face slack with exhaustion, body battered and limp in his arms. Cassian barely had enough restraint to keep from shaking her awake every two minutes, just to make sure she was still breathing. Every uneven beat of her heart thrummed down the bond, and with each one, Cassian’s temper frayed further and further.

Rhys stood at the edge of the River House steps, hands clasped behind his back. Feyre beside him, worry etched deep between her brows. The High Lady took a step forward, but Cassian’s wings flared, cutting her off.

“Don’t,” Cassian snarled.

The sound of his voice was pure violence. Feyre froze, mouth parting in shock.

“She needs a healer,” Rhys said, his voice calm. Careful.

“She needed backup.” Cassian’s voice cracked like a whip. “She needed protection. She needed someone to actually believe in her.”

He stalked past them, his steps heavy enough to make the ground tremble beneath his boots. The healer was already inside—thank the Mother someone had at least prepared for that—but Cassian wasn’t done.

He laid Y/n down gently, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, then rounded on Rhys with all the fury of a storm.

“Why her?” Cassian’s wings snapped open, his voice low and dark. “Why send her to Tamlin alone? You know what he’s like. You knew.”

Rhys didn’t flinch. “Tamlin would’ve smelled my magic on anyone else. He had to believe it was a gesture of good faith. If I’d sent Amren, or Az, or even Feyre, it would have been war all over again.”

“So you sent her.” Cassian’s chest heaved. “You sent her to prove a point? To test her?”

Feyre’s voice was soft. “Rhys didn’t mean for her to get hurt—”

Cassian’s laugh was jagged. “He didn’t care if she did.”

That silence said enough.

Cassian’s hands curled into fists, shaking at his sides. “I thought we were past this.” His voice was quieter now, almost hoarse. “I thought you were done using people as pawns.”

Rhys’s jaw tightened. “This court’s survival requires sacrifices. You know that.”

“She’s not a sacrifice.” Cassian’s voice broke at the edges. “She’s my mate.”

Feyre sucked in a sharp breath, her hand flying to her mouth. Rhys’s expression flickered for the briefest second—but Cassian didn’t care.

“She’s my mate,” Cassian said again, softer this time. “And you nearly got her killed.”

Rhys held his gaze. “And if you let that blind you, you’ll get her killed yourself.”

Cassian’s vision went red, but the healer called from inside, voice urgent.

He turned without another word, wings tucking tight against his back. He’d deal with Rhys later. Right now, Y/n was the only thing that mattered.

──────

Y/n was asleep in their room when Cassian stormed into the River House again, wings flared so wide they nearly knocked a vase off the entry table. He hadn’t even bothered with his leathers—just an old shirt thrown on over his bandaged knuckles, his hair still damp from washing off Y/n’s blood.

Rhys was in the study, leaning against the desk with a glass of wine in hand, his jaw tight like he’d been waiting for this.

“Explain,” Cassian said, voice low and dangerous.

“She’s fine now,” Rhys said, tone careful but not remorseful enough for Cassian’s liking. “She’s alive.”

“Don’t.” Cassian’s hand slammed onto the desk so hard the wood groaned. “Don’t you fucking downplay this.”

Rhys’s nostrils flared. “I did what I had to—”

“She is my mate.” Cassian’s voice shook the walls, his wings trembling with restraint. “You sent her there like she was nothing—like she was expendable—and you knew. You knew Tamlin would rip her apart if she so much as looked at him wrong.”

“She needed to prove—”

“To who?” Cassian’s voice cracked. “To you? To this fucking court?”

“She needed to prove it to herself.”

Cassian went still.

Rhys’s gaze was like steel. “Do you think I don’t see what eats at her? Every time she stands in a room with us, do you think I don’t feel how small she thinks she is? How much she believes you’re the only reason she’s still standing here?”

Cassian’s teeth bared. “That wasn’t your call to make.”

The study door swung open hard enough to bang against the wall.

“You’re right,” Feyre said, voice sharp and cold. “It wasn’t.”

Rhys’s head whipped around. “Feyre darling—”

“No.” Her hands shook at her sides, knuckles white. “Don’t darling me right now.”

Cassian’s chest heaved, his anger a living, breathing thing beside him. But for once, it wasn’t just his fury filling the room.

“You could’ve gotten her killed,” Feyre said, voice low but vibrating with anger. “For what? Some twisted test? You used her, Rhys.”

“It was calculated,” Rhys said, but the words rang hollow even in his own mouth. “Tamlin wouldn’t hurt someone who wasn’t a threat.”

Feyre laughed—a sharp, humorless thing. “You mean like he didn’t hurt me?”

The silence after that was deafening.

Cassian’s fists clenched again, the memories of Feyre’s bruises—the hollow look in her eyes when she’d first come to Velaris—still sharp in his mind.

“You of all people,” Feyre said, her voice cracking, “should have known better.”

Rhys’s throat bobbed. “I—”

“She is our family.” Feyre’s voice shook now. “Whether you like her or not. Whether you think she’s good enough or not. She is ours. And you let her bleed for your pride.”

Cassian had to look away—because if he met Rhys’s eyes, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from putting his fist straight through his brother’s jaw.

Rhys closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them, the weight of it all settled there—the guilt, the fear he hadn’t admitted, the quiet, ugly truth that he hadn’t expected Y/n to come back in one piece.

“Do you even see her?” Cassian asked, voice quieter now, but no less lethal. “Or is she just a liability you tolerate because I love her?”

Rhys didn’t answer.

That silence told Cassian everything.

“Fix it,” Cassian said, turning toward the door. “Because if you ever use her like that again, I don’t give a shit that you’re my High Lord. I will rip you apart.”

Rhys didn’t argue.

And when Cassian left, it wasn’t just the tension that hung heavy in the air.

It was the fracture between brothers. A wound that might never fully heal.

────

The first thing Y/n registered when she woke was the ache in her shoulder—followed closely by the too-warm weight of a calloused hand clasped gently around her own.

Cassian.

Her eyes cracked open, the soft candlelight catching on the gold in his brown eyes. His head was bowed, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in a slow, mindless rhythm.

“You’re awake,” he rasped.

Y/n swallowed, throat raw. “Unfortunately.”

Cassian’s lips quirked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

Silence stretched between them.

He wasn’t touching the bond. Neither was she. Both too afraid to open that door—to face everything unsaid inside it.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Y/n whispered.

Cassian’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I could’ve handled it.” Her voice was bitter. “Or I should have.”

Cassian’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood, pacing like a caged beast. “Handle it? You almost died.”

Y/n stared at her hands. The bandages. The bruises already darkening her skin.

“I’m not like Feyre,” she said quietly. “I’m not powerful, or clever, or—”

“Stop.”

“I’m not like Nesta,” she went on, voice cracking. “I’m not a warrior. I’m not—”

“Stop.”

Cassian’s voice was low and fierce, but Y/n couldn’t stop the flood now that it had started.

“I’m just the girl Rhys tolerates because you want me here. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

Cassian knelt beside her, gripping the arms of her chair, his face so close she could feel his breath. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice broke entirely. “If I was worth anything to this court, he wouldn’t have sent me alone.”

Cassian’s hands slid into her hair, his forehead pressing against hers. “You are worth everything.”

Y/n’s breath shuddered out, her fingers tangling in his shirt. “Then why does it feel like I’m not?”

Cassian had no answer. So he just held her.

────

It was three days before Y/n could stand without wincing. Five before she could move through the halls without Cassian hovering like a storm cloud at her shoulder.

But even then, her steps were careful, measured, as if each one might shatter the fragile illusion that she belonged here at all.

Cassian saw it in the way she avoided the training ring, the way her eyes slid off the others whenever they spoke of strategy or battle. Saw the doubt sinking deeper and deeper into her skin.

He found her on the cliffs, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, watching the sunset.

She didn’t turn when he landed beside her, though his wings stirred the grass.

“I’m not fragile, you know,” she said, voice soft but not unkind.

“No,” Cassian agreed. “But you are bleeding inside, and I can’t stand watching you pretend you’re not.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her pants, knuckles tight. “I’m not like you. Or Feyre. Or even Nesta. I don’t have power. I don’t have—”

“You have courage.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Courage doesn’t mean shit when you’re face-down in the dirt.”

Cassian crouched beside her, resting his forearms on his knees. “Then let’s make sure you never end up there again.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’m going to train you,” Cassian said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “Properly. Not just enough to get by. Enough to make you dangerous.”

Y/n turned to him, eyes wide with uncertainty. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His voice was low, rough with something too tender to name. “Because this is what you don’t see—you belong here. Not because of me. Not because you’re my mate. But because you are strong, and clever, and you deserve to take up space in this court. And if Rhys or anyone else has made you feel otherwise, fuck them.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, emotion flashing in her eyes. “You really believe that?”

Cassian’s fingers traced her jaw, tilting her face toward his. “I believe in you more than I believe in anything.”

Y/n’s breath caught.

She nodded once, almost shyly, and Cassian stood, holding out a hand.

“Come on,” he said, smiling softly. “Let’s teach you how to break my nose.”

Training was brutal, but not in the way she expected.

Cassian didn’t just drill her in forms and technique—he made her unlearn every quiet apology her body had ever made. Every flinch, every inch she gave up to the world to make herself smaller.

“Stop retreating,” he barked as they circled each other, wooden swords in hand. “You’re not a rabbit.”

“I’m tired, Cass.”

“I don’t care.” His wings flared wide. “The next time someone comes for you, they won’t stop because you’re tired. So fight tired. Fight scared. Fight broken. But fight.”

Y/n’s jaw clenched.

And when she lunged, it wasn’t graceful or pretty—but it was fierce.

Cassian grinned through the sting of her wooden sword cracking against his ribs. “Good.”

Again. And again. And again, until her muscles shook, her heart pounded, and every doubt she carried began to bleed out into the dirt.

By the end, she was breathless, sweat-drenched, and smiling.

Cassian’s grin matched hers. “That’s my girl.”

────

That night, Cassian found her sitting at the edge of their bed, staring at her hands.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked softly, closing the door behind him.

She shook her head. “My body feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder.”

Cassian chuckled, moving toward her. “That’s how you know you did it right.”

But when he knelt between her knees, hands settling on her thighs, his smile faded.

“Talk to me,” he said softly.

Y/n exhaled shakily. “I hate that I needed you to save me.”

Cassian’s thumb brushed the inside of her knee, tracing small, soothing circles. “That’s not weakness.”

“It feels like it.”

“Sweetheart.” His voice was a rasp, his hands sliding up to her waist, so gentle despite the strength in them. “Do you think I never needed Rhys? Or Az? Do you think needing help makes me less a warrior?”

She didn’t answer.

Cassian leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers. “Strength isn’t about never falling. It’s about getting back up. And sometimes, the only reason we can is because someone pulls us to our feet.”

Her eyes burned, tears pricking the corners. “I’m tired of needing to be saved.”

“Then let me stand beside you instead.”

His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the first stray tears. “You are my equal, Y/n. My mate. My heart. But even the strongest hearts need somewhere soft to rest.”

Y/n’s breath caught, and when Cassian kissed her, it was slow—softer than she expected. Not hunger, but reverence. A kiss that said you are precious.

She melted into him, hands curling into his hair, pulling him closer. And when they tumbled back onto the bed, it wasn’t frantic or desperate. It was worship.

Cassian’s lips traced the line of her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. Every scar, every bruise, he kissed as if he could erase them with his mouth alone.

“You scared me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “When I felt you through the bond, I—”

His hands trembled where they held her waist, his forehead pressing to her sternum. “I can’t lose you.”

Y/n curled around him, pulling him up to meet her gaze. “I’m here.”

Cassian kissed her again, deeper now, need threading through the softness. And when his clothes joined hers on the floor, when their bodies tangled together in the sheets, it wasn’t just desire.

It was coming home.

Every touch was a vow. Every breath a promise.

You are enough.

You are mine.

We will fight for each other.

When they finally lay sated in the dark, her head tucked beneath his chin, Cassian traced idle patterns on her back, wings spread protectively over both of them.

“I’ll teach you everything I know,” he murmured into her hair. “And one day, you’ll scare the shit out of anyone who thinks you’re just a pretty face.”

Y/n smiled sleepily, fingers tracing the scar over his heart. “Even you?”

“Especially me.”

He kissed her temple, arms tightening around her. “Now sleep, my love. Tomorrow, we fight again.”

────

The training ring was full when Y/n stepped inside.

Azriel was sparring with Nesta, Mor was leaning against the railings, and Cassian—Cassian was waiting for her, twin blades in hand.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, tossing her one. “Show me what you’ve got.”

She caught it easily, sliding into a stance so confident even Az paused to watch.

Cassian came at her fast — no holding back, no mercy. And she met him step for step.

The crack of steel on steel rang through the air, and when Y/n spun low, sweeping his leg out from under him, the collective gasp from the others was delicious.

Cassian hit the dirt, and she planted a boot on his chest, blade pointed at his throat.

His grin was feral. Proud. A little bit in love with how terrifying she looked standing over him.

Mor whistled. Nesta arched a brow. Azriel’s smile was the rarest thing of all — pure, quiet pride.

Y/n offered Cassian her hand, and when he took it, she hauled him up hard enough to make him stumble.

“She’s a menace,” Cassian grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

Y/n only smiled sweetly. “You made me this way.”

And the Inner Circle finally saw — not Cassian’s mate. Not a liability.

But a weapon in her own right.

────

They made it back to their room just before sunset.

Cassian sprawled across the bed, shirtless and still slightly breathless from their sparring. Y/n stood at the window, watching the horizon glow gold and violet.

“You scared them today,” Cassian said, voice warm with pride.

Y/n’s smile was small, but real. “Good.”

He reached for her, and she went willingly, climbing onto the bed beside him. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, the comfort of his touch sinking deep into her skin.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, voice husky. “You’re not just my mate. You’re you. And I love you for every reckless, stubborn, brilliant piece of that.”

Y/n’s heart squeezed tight.

She traced her fingers along his jaw, her touch reverent. “And I love you for seeing me even when I couldn’t.”

Cassian kissed her then — soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that wasn’t about need or urgency. It was about knowing. About the quiet certainty that whatever storm came next, they would face it together.

When she pulled back, breathless, Cassian grinned up at her.

“So,” he said, wicked and sweet all at once. “Want to practice breaking my nose again?”

Y/n laughed, and for the first time in weeks, it was free and light.

“Tomorrow,” she promised, curling against his chest. “Tonight, just hold me.”

And he did.

Because love wasn’t just about battles fought side by side — it was about the quiet moments after, when two hearts beat as one, and the world felt a little less terrifying.

And in the safety of his arms, Y/n finally knew.

She was home.

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[batboysanonymous]

Language of Us

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Cassian never needed words to know you. He understood every flicker of your gaze, every subtle shift of your body, every unspoken thought as if you had whispered it into his skin.

The River House glowed with warmth, the golden light of faelights flickering against the high ceilings, the scent of spiced wine and roasted meats curling through the air. Conversations wove together into a gentle hum, a comfortable din of laughter and clinking glasses.

Cassian’s arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers idly tracing along the bare skin of your shoulder, slow and absentminded, but there—always there. His warmth pressed against your side, grounding, solid. He hadn’t stopped touching you all evening, and you had no doubt he wouldn’t, not until you were alone.

He never did.

The conversation drifted to Illyrian training reforms, something Cassian had been pushing for centuries. His voice was deep and smooth as he debated with Azriel, that sharp, passionate edge to it that made everyone listen. You leaned into his side, pressing your cheek briefly against his shoulder, and he glanced down immediately.

You weren’t saying anything—hadn’t said much all night, really—but Cassian knew. He always did.

“You tired?” he murmured, voice pitched low for only you.

You hesitated before offering a small shake of your head.

Not yet.

His fingers flexed where they rested on your hip, reassuring. “Too loud?”

A pause. Then, a quiet, “A little.”

His lips quirked, and he shifted, angling his body slightly to shield you from some of the chaos, to create a space that felt more like yours. It was such a simple movement, but it soothed something deep in your chest.

Across the room, Feyre had been watching. She leaned closer to Rhys, murmuring something that made him chuckle.

“She doesn’t actually say much,” Feyre mused, tilting her head slightly as she studied you. “But somehow, Cassian always knows exactly what she’s thinking.”

Rhys’s mouth curved. “She doesn’t need to speak for him to hear her.”

Feyre’s brows furrowed slightly. “Do you think—”

Rhys’s gaze flicked back to you and Cassian, amusement dancing in his violet eyes. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “Though I doubt they even realize it.”

You weren’t Daemati—not like Rhys and Feyre. You didn’t speak into Cassian’s mind, didn’t weave words through an invisible tether.

But he had always known you. Had always understood.

Cassian let out a low chuckle, the rumble vibrating against you as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Always so shy,” he murmured, the words thick with fondness, teasing but utterly adoring.

A quiet flush crept up your neck. You didn’t respond, but the way your fingers curled against his thigh, the way your body softened into his—he knew.

Cassian knew exactly what that meant.

And it destroyed him, every time.

Later, after the meal had finished and the conversation had slowed, Cassian led you out onto the balcony, away from the noise and warmth of the gathering. The cool night air kissed your skin, the sky above Velaris endless and star-flecked.

He leaned against the railing, pulling you between his legs with effortless ease, his hands settling at your waist. “Better?” he murmured.

You nodded, tilting your head back to look at him. “Much.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Look at that,” he teased. “More than one word. You’re spoiling me, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but a soft laugh slipped from your lips, and Cassian beamed like you’d given him the world.

He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. “You never actually said if you agreed with me back there.”

You smirked, running your fingers up the ridges of his chestplate. “I didn’t?”

Cassian exhaled a laugh, his grip on your hips tightening. “No, but I’m willing to bet you did.”

Your smile turned lazy, a little smug. “Maybe.”

He groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “Cauldron save me.”

You giggled, and it was effortless, easy, this warmth that existed between you.

And then—

You shifted, tilting your head so your lips brushed just barely against the shell of his ear, and whispered, “You look really good in that tunic.”

Cassian went still.

Your voice—your full, unfiltered voice—was something only he ever got to hear. In the quiet of your rooms, in the spaces only you shared, when it was just the two of you and the weight of the world didn’t exist.

Cassian lived for these moments.

And he was greedy for them.

His grip on you turned possessive, his wings flaring slightly as he exhaled, slow and sharp. “Oh, now you want to talk?” he muttered. “Only when I can’t do anything about it?”

You grinned, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “What, General? You don’t have any restraint?”

Cassian’s eyes.

They darkened, filled with heat and promise, his body going taut against yours.

“Not when it comes to you,” he admitted, voice rough.

You shivered.

And then he was on you—

Lips claiming, hands roaming, pulling you so tightly against him that there was no space, no air, nothing but him. He kissed you like he needed to, like he had been starving for it, like every little thing you had not said tonight had built up into this.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groaned, deep and desperate. His hands framed your face, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, to steal whatever breath you had left.

The only sound was the soft hum of Velaris below, the rustling of wings, the quiet, breathless little noises he pulled from you.

Cassian loved you like this.

When you gave him everything.

When the silence fell away, and you let yourself take what you wanted.

And you loved him for understanding—for never pushing, never demanding. Just waiting until you were ready, until you wanted to give.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His fingers traced along the curve of your jaw, reverent.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice hoarse and thick.

You smiled, brushing your lips over his once, soft and slow.

“I love you more.”

Cassian made a sound low in his throat—wrecked—and crushed you against him.

Because you didn’t say those words often.

And that—

That destroyed him most of all.

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Cassian Masterlist

✧.* fluff ⋆ | ˚꩜｡ series | ⚠︎ angst | 🔞 smut | ♫ based on music | ☆ most popular

Oneshots:

☆ More Than This: Neither of you dares to believe it could be more—until fate proves otherwise.

✧.* Drunk on You: Girl's night at Rita's gets a little too out of hand, need I say more?

✧.* To Break A Warrior: When Y/n is sent to the Spring Court on a mission that leaves her shattered in body and spirit, Cassian must prove that loving a warrior means fighting beside her, even when the battle is within her own heart.

✧.* Language of Us: Cassian never needed words to know you. He understood every flicker of your gaze, every subtle shift of your body, every unspoken thought as if you had whispered it into his skin.

✧.* A Thousand Kisses Later: He held her face like it was the most precious thing in the world, like he couldn't kiss her fast enough, like he had loved her for centuries and still hadn’t gotten enough.

⚠︎ A Breath Between Us: She gave him space, just like he wanted, and it gutted her in silence while he realized too late that the air he needed was her.

✧.* More of You to Love: You never thought a warrior like Cassian could crave softness, until his hands found every inch of yours like they were made for him, and his heart, foolish and full, begged you to never pull away.

⚠︎ Man, am I the greatest: You had spent years making sure he was okay. Making sure he was fed, rested, whole. And yet, when you stood at the edge of a decision that might break the both of you, you wondered if he would even notice.

♫ Miss Possessive: Y/n never doubted their bond, until the moment she saw another woman’s hands on her mate. Some fights are inevitable, especially when love is sacred…and hers burns hotter than any Illyrian flame.

♫ LUNCH: Cassian spent years convincing himself you only saw him as a friend, ignoring the way his soul burned for you. But you’ve always known, always felt, the weight of his unspoken desire. And tonight, you’re ready to show him just how deep your love runs.

˚꩜｡ Breaking Point: The training grounds become a battlefield of unspoken fears when tensions between Cassian and you explode.