Notes ㅡ gonna make this maybe a 3 part mini series? Or at least connected. Anyways
Warnings: gn reader w the ability to be pregnant, fluff
Cassian has thought about it before.
It’s always been a far away thought, tucked into a ‘someday’ corner of his mind because there are a thousand other things that come before the idea of being a father. His loyalty to Rhysand and his court, his duties as General – but he’s still thought about it.
He thinks more about it after Nyx is born. When things are settled down, when it’s for all intents and purposes peaceful, he thinks about it. About how cute Nyx is, the gummy little smiles he coaxes from the little boy by making the silliest faces he can think of as Nyx peers over Feyre’s shoulder at his uncle.
What makes it worse is when Nyx is left in your care for the night – and by extension, his. You’re so unbelievably gentle with him, cooing as you talk to him. The image of you with a babe in your arms does something to Cassian.
He doesn’t just think about kids – he thinks about your kids. Yours and his.
“Do you want kids?” It’s abrupt, the way that he brings it up when you’re enjoying breakfast between yourselves a couple days after babysitting Nyx. He watches as you look up, somewhere between confused and curious. His cheeks threaten to warm as he almost stumbles over his words. “I mean, we’ve never talked about it and I just…wanted to know if you did.”
You’re quiet for a long moment. And somewhere in the back of his head, Cassian wonders not just if you want children, but if you want them with him. It’s a rare sign of that vulnerability despite the fact that you’re mates, and you’ve done nothing but love him.
“I do,” you say, and it makes Cassian freeze, his heart pounding in his ears at the admission. “I never brought it up either, because we’ve always been so busy, but…yes. I want kids.”
“With me?” It’s stupid, he knows. But he has to be sure.
Your expression is soft as you reach across the table, taking one of his hands into your own, pulling it up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “Yes, Cassian. I want a family with you.”
The two of you actually take time to talk about it, about how to go about actually trying for children. The first thing that you do is make it clear that you don’t want sex to just be about making a baby, and he agrees.
The second thing that you do is dump the last of your contraceptive tonic down the drain – and there’s something about watching it disappear that makes Cassian swallow hard, already reaching for you.
“You know it’s not an instant thing,” you say as he tugs you to him, mouth already on your neck. He hums, letting his hands wander, finding the hem of your shirt to sneak beneath, smirking at the way you shiver as he touches bare skin.
“I know,” he murmurs, already maneuvering you towards your shared bed. “But it’ll happen faster the sooner we get started, right?”
You let him guide you down onto the bed, the careful movement of him that follows you before he’s kissing you properly, deep and slow. “Besides,” he says once he’s broken away from your mouth to trail kisses downwards, “as if I really need an excuse to worship you.”
He’s devout in his work, the tug of your shirt upwards and pants down, the reverence of his touch at your chest, your thighs – but he always circles back to your stomach. He’s always loved every inch of you, but there’s a marked interest in where his future child(ren) will grow.
“My pretty mate,” he murmurs against your navel, breath hot as he kisses, praise continuing to flow the lower he goes. “Let me take care of you properly, hm?”
Cassian knows that it takes time, but he’s still getting impatient. With all the adjustments the two of you have made to help boost the chances that you have, he would have thought that it would have happened by now, and it’s hard not to sulk about it – or make his sulking too noticeable.
But, being his mate, he isn’t surprised when you hand him a neatly wrapped present, one that makes him give you a sheepish look. “I’m not trying to be an ass about it–”
You hold up a hand. “I know, Cass.” Your tone is gentle. “I know it’s been frustrating.” You nudge the present further into his hands. “Just open this, okay?”
He takes it, then looks up. “I haven’t somehow missed something important, right?” You shake your head, and he turns his attention back to the gift. It’s neatly wrapped, a little bow the same color of his siphons – and it makes him smile, even as he tries to ease it off the box without unraveling the delicate ribbon.
You watch as he works, and were he not so focused on his task, he’d be worried about how nervous you suddenly seem. But then he’s popping the lid of the package, pushing aside delicate tissue paper and pulling out the contents.
They’re small – incredibly small, but the dedication to them is remarkable, an exact replica of the ones that he wears himself. And then there are the handful of little red stones, meant to look like –
Cassian swears his heart stops for a moment as it clicks, and he looks up at you.
“Is this – are we – are you –” It’s a rare thing, to get him to stutter like this – but his mind is racing, going far too fast for coherency as he watches you nod. And then he’s on his feet, tugging you into his arms to hold you tightly – but not too tightly, already thinking of the little one inside you. A baby.
“We’re having a baby, Cass,” you murmur, and he offers a choked sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a laugh as he tucks his face into your neck before he moves, kneeling before you.
He knows that it’s far too early for the babe to hear him, and far too early for you to be showing, or for them to be moving – but he leans in, pressing his lips to your stomach. “Hi, little one,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to meet you.”
