Hi!! I was wondering if you’d be interested in a part 2 to delicate bonds? I just think Cazriel was so sweet with reader in it! Maybe something small happens and reader wants to take care of one of the boys (maybe like a small training injury and the other boy is busy with work for Rhys for the day) and it ends with reader finally sleeping in the bed? Just a little idea lol!
Love what you’re doing with ACOTAR and as always no pressure just an idea! Mwah!
thanks for your request <3
poly!cazriel x fem!reader who can't help but help Cassian [2k words]
CW: reader is a workaholic, still reluctant reader [referenced fic can be found here], minor injury to Cass, quiet and loving manipulation of a situation, fluff
Cassian has a bit of a situation on his hands.
He supposes that technically Azriel does too, except the prick is on a mission and very much not here to help him solve this problem.
You see, you’re a bit of a workaholic.
And, listen, Cassian knows that’s rich coming from the likes of Illyrians who can hardly sit down long enough to warm up the seat beneath them, but even Rhysand has expressed concern about your current work-life balance.
“Can you do something, please?” Rhysand asked him earlier that day.
“What would you have me do, Rhys? I can hardly throw her over my shoulder and march her out of the library,” Cassian sneered in return.
His response was met with an incredulous brow and a smarmy once over. “Are those muscles just for show, brother?”
Cassian’s siphons flared indignantly causing Rhysand to sigh.
“Listen, I know she’s down there doing research for me, but she’s hardly taken a moment to eat or sleep or, like, breathe,” the High Lord explained tiredly, as though your over-working exhausted him. “I was sort of hoping that, you know… as her mate…”
Rhysand didn’t finish that thought, Cassian didn’t need him too.
While Cassian and Azriel have made some progress with you, you’ve been warming up to them at a glacial pace and Cassian hardly thinks he’s the one who will finally be successful in extricating you from the library.
Feyre’s already tried, Gwyn and Nesta too; what can Cassian possibly do that three females can’t?
Still, you’re his mate, and he’s yours, and he should—at least try to—take care of you.
If he’s unsuccessful, maybe Azriel will have more luck tonight once he’s back from his mission.
With a small prayer to the Mother, Cassian braves the library beneath the House of Wind and begs the Cauldron that you’re not currently bumping elbows with Bryaxis.
The Cauldron has some pity on Cassian, it seems, which finds him locating you on the very first floor.
You’re so engrossed in whatever you’re working on that you don’t notice Cassian’s approach despite the mating bond, despite the fact that he’s not exactly an easy male to miss, despite the way he nearly upends an entire stack of books with his wings on his way over.
“I’ve heard you’re due for a break,” he says as quietly as he can manage, wincing when he still manages to startle the ever loving shit out of you.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, your hand rising to splay beneath your throat as you try to still your racing heart.
“You scared me,” is all you manage to say.
Cassian chuckles albeit apologetically. “I can see that. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“S’okay,” you manage as you roughly rub at your face as though trying to rouse yourself back into action. “Did you need something?”
Did Cassian need something? Uhm, yeah, for his gorgeous little mate to see the light for a few minutes or, you know, eat and sleep like a normal person.
“I was wondering if you had time to grab something to eat with me,” he settles on, raising a brow when you wince halfway through his sentence.
“I…I’m really quite busy,” you try carefully, gaze pointed at the spread of books and parchment across your table as though it might vanish should you lift your eyes from it.
“Yeah?” Cassian hums thoughtfully. “You’ve been at this for a while, right?”
You sigh. “I… guess, but, I really think I’m onto something here.”
“I’m sure you are, you’re a brilliant fae,” he allows, wishing beyond measure that Azriel was here to help; he’d be so much better at this right now. “You still need to eat, though.”
And just like that, whatever progress Cassian thought he was making with you vanishes, finding you rolling your eyes in frustration.
“Did Nesta send you?”
“What? No, I-”
“Because I told her I’m fine; I was already sitting when it happened and-” But whatever happened while you were sitting remains a mystery to Cassian when you fall silent, doing a double take before staring at the male with wide eyes.
“What happened?” you almost whisper.
What happened? What happened, indeed; you’re the one who stopped the story halfway through.
“What do you mean?” he asks instead of potentially starting a fight with you. You're a bit all over the place; whether that’s due to exhaustion, hunger, or stress, Cassian’s not entirely sure. He’s kind of afraid to find out.
“You’re hurt,” you explain, hand rising slightly from your side as though it itches to reach out but won’t commit to the action.
Honestly, Cassian almost laughs; he’d all but forgotten about the incident until you brought it up.
Gwyn’s face was priceless at sparring this morning after successfully landing a blow to Cassian’s cheek, immediately falling into hysterics over it.
The Illyrian eventually had to command the priestess to stop apologizing to him; she did exactly what she was supposed to do, and she did it well.
So well, in fact, that it managed to cut the skin and is producing a decent bruise.
It’ll be gone by tomorrow, maybe even later tonight if he soaks in a nice bath with healing salts.
He almost tells you as much until he realizes that your hand still hovers between the two of you, until he realizes that you’ve looked away from your workspace for the longest stretch of time in Cauldron knows how long.
Until he realizes that he might be onto something.
“Training incident,” Cassian explains with a put upon forlorn expression. Your brows furrow even deeper; a sign of his success.
“Does it hurt terribly?” you murmur then, leaning to the side in order to get a better look, hand still hovering—just begging to be held—though Cassian doesn’t dare take it in his yet; doesn’t dare shock you out of whatever trance his mottled skin has you under.
Truthfully, it doesn’t hurt at all. It hurt minutely when it happened—no one tell Gwyn or Rhysand, though; Gwyn will go on another apology tour and Rhysand will definitely laugh at him—and he long forgot it happened by the time he came looking for you.
He doesn’t tell you any of that.
“It has a heartbeat,” he lies, almost feeling bad about the small, pitiful sound you let out at that.
“Cassian…” you hum mournfully. “You should ice it.”
“Yeah?” he asks you, daring a small smile. “Az is usually in charge of that, but he’s out on a mission.”
Your chest falls at Cassian’s predicament but your hand finally rises, daring a delicate, barely there touch to the purpling skin under his eye.
He’s glad Azriel’s end of the bond is shut while the Shadowsinger works, Cassian’s almost embarrassed at the acrobatics his heart does in his chest at the show of affection.
“Can you help me, maybe?” he ventures then, words barely above a breath as your eyes trace his face.
Your hand stills on his face but doesn’t retreat.
“Please?” he doubles down. Honestly, Cassian’s not above getting on his knees and begging you if that’s what it takes.
You make a noncommittal sound, looking back over your shoulder at your work.
He speaks again before you can argue. “Clotho will make sure no one touches it,” he tells you quickly, winking over your head at the priestess who looks up from her book at the sound of her name.
Cassian doesn’t really give you a chance to reply let alone argue. He gently takes your hand in his larger one and starts leading you in the direction of the exit.
Rhysand must’ve been right; you must be exhausted. You’re completely listless as you let him guide you out of the library, you nearly fall asleep as he flies you up the the House of Wind, and you barely manage to hold the ice against Cassian’s cheek while he plies you with grapes and a few bites of cheese before finally collapsing in exhaustion on his and Azriel’s bed.
Surprise, Azriel’s shadows inform him as he trudges through the now dark and quiet home, the male having long missed dinner and saying goodnight to everyone before the House finally shut down for the evening.
Azriel’s fresh from a mission, which means he’s sore and tired and desperate for a wash and definitely not in the mood for his shadows’ secrecy.
Azriel does not want to be surprised, does not appreciate surprises; surprises in his line of work usually mean injury—or worse.
So, he’s tense as shit by the time he finally shoulders his way into his and Cassian’s shared room when he stills; first at the scent, and then at the sight.
You’re snuggled into Cassian’s side—your boots discarded on the floor near Azriel’s side of the bed—and dutifully tucked in under the covers as Cassian draws delicate lines up and down your upper arm with a loving finger.
Asleep.
Surprise! his shadows cheer again as they flee forwards to investigate his mates.
“What’s this?” he asks Cassian quietly as he shucks off his own boots and moves to perch on your his edge of the bed.
“Turns out you and our troublesome little mate have something in common,” Cassian taunts, pausing in his caress of you only for Azriel to draw a tender line of his own.
“Your stories can put both of us to sleep?” Azriel teases in return, smirking when Cassian flicks him before returning to his ministrations.
“She works too hard,” he explains pointedly. “Wouldn’t take a break. Feyre, Nesta, and Gwyn all tried; Rhys finally asked me to check on her.”
Hasn’t slept in twenty-seven hours, Azriel’s shadows fill him in. Stubborn girl.
“How’d you manage to convince her?” Azriel asks then as he brushes a few baby hairs from your hairline; you let out a shuddering sigh.
“Magic,” Cassian tells him.
He got hurt in training, his shadows tattle.
“Are you sure it’s not because of that shiner you’re sporting?” he supplies.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Cassian denies haughtily. “Although, you should probably expect a round of apologies from a certain priestess tomorrow for—quote—marring your poor mate’s face.”
Azriel huffs a laugh and feels his wings sinking behind him, beginning to relax at finally being home, at finally being reunited with the other pieces of his soul.
“Missed you,” Cassian murmurs then, continuing when Azriel responds with a pulse of warmth down the bond. “Mission was okay?”
“It was okay,” Azriel supplies noncomitally; he’s never been one to talk much about his missions, and finds the idea of discussing the dark reality of his line of work in your presence all that much more offensive.
The sound of water running steals Azriel’s attention and he watches a few of his shadows leave the attached bathroom.
He almost regrets wanting to bathe when sitting here in bed with both of his mates is the alternative.
“Go wash up,” Cassian encourages him, clearly clocking Azriel’s hesitation. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
Azriel sighs. “With my luck, I’ll get back and she’ll be on the couch again, or worse; in her room.”
Cassian snorts at the Shadowsinger’s petulance. “She barely stayed awake on the flight up here. Besides, I’m pretty sure she was about to tell me that she passed out in the library—I know, we’ll have to ask Nesta for more details—before I dragged her out of there.
“Trust me,” he explains easily. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Azriel relents, giving Cassian a quick peck and then pressing a much gentler one to your temple before making his way to the bathroom.
Azriel takes the world's quickest bath that evening and makes the executive decision that he and you will be taking the day off tomorrow.
© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.
