Cassian Drabble - Tumblr Posts

Altered self-image (established relationship, Cassian’s mate)

You sat at the dining table, poking at the food on your plate with little interest. It had been like this for weeks—your appetite dwindling as your thoughts spiraled into darker places. Every time you looked in the mirror, all you saw were the imperfections: the rolls on the side of your back, the softness of your stomach when you sat, the marks on your thighs. You compared yourself endlessly to Feyre, Elain, and Nesta—how effortlessly thin they seemed, how perfectly their bodies fit into the image of what you thought you should look like.

But you weren’t them. You had curves, and while once they had made you feel powerful, now all you could see were the parts of yourself you wished would disappear. And then there was Cassian—so fit, so muscled, and not an ounce of fat. The warrior everyone admired, the embodiment of strength. How could you stand beside him and feel worthy when you didn’t even feel comfortable in your own skin?

You hadn’t noticed him watching you as you sat there, barely touching your food. But Cassian had been paying attention. He had noticed the way your appetite had waned, the way you pulled back when he tried to wrap his arms around your waist, the way you would avoid looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Are you going to eat that?" His voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his gaze serious.

You forced a smile, pushing the food around your plate. "I’m just not that hungry."

Cassian narrowed his eyes, the soft concern on his face quickly shifting into something more determined. "That’s not true," he said, crossing the room in a few strides. "You haven’t been eating, and I want to know why."

You felt the knot of guilt tighten in your chest as he stood in front of you, arms crossed. His presence was imposing, but the worry in his eyes softened the sharpness of his stance.

"I... I just don’t feel like it," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s nothing."

Cassian crouched down in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don’t lie to me, love," he said, his voice low but filled with a quiet intensity. "I’ve noticed. You haven’t been eating right for weeks. You’re not yourself."

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You didn’t want to have this conversation. How could you explain that you felt inadequate, that every time you looked at him—this strong, perfect warrior—you felt like you didn’t measure up?

"I don’t look like them," you blurted out, unable to stop the words from spilling out. "I don’t look like Feyre, or Elain, or Nesta. I’m not thin, Cass. I have fat on my stomach, and marks on my thighs, and when I sit, there are rolls on my back. I don’t look like you—fit, strong. And I... I just feel like I shouldn’t eat if I want to be better."

Cassian’s face softened immediately, and without hesitation, he reached for your hands, gently pulling them into his grasp. "Don’t ever say that," he said firmly, his eyes burning with emotion. "Don’t you dare compare yourself to them. You are *you*. You are my mate, and I love every inch of you, just as you are."

You blinked, the tears finally spilling over as the weight of your insecurities came crashing down. "But I don’t look like you," you choked out. "You’re so perfect, and strong, and I’m just... not."

Cassian’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I am not perfect," he said, his voice soft but steady. "And I don’t want you to be, either. I love you for who you are, not for what you think you should look like. Your body is yours, and it’s beautiful. Those curves, the softness of your skin, the marks on your thighs—they’re all part of you, and I wouldn’t change a single thing."

You sobbed, the weight of his words sinking in as you buried your face in his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"I don’t care what anyone else looks like," he murmured against your hair. "I care about you. And I need you to take care of yourself, not because of how you look, but because I want you to be healthy. You deserve to feel good, to feel strong in your own way."

He pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so you could see the sincerity in his gaze. "You are not meant to be Feyre, or Elain, or Nesta. You are *you*, and I fell in love with every single part of you. I wouldn’t want you any other way."

You sniffled, the warmth of his words finally starting to settle in. "I just... I don’t know how to stop feeling like this."

Cassian kissed your forehead, his hands never leaving yours. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But we’re going to work on this, together. You’re not alone, and I’ll be here every step of the way. And for now," he added with a soft smile, "you’re going to eat. Not because you have to, but because you deserve to treat yourself with the same love I have for you."

With trembling hands, you nodded and picked up the fork, taking a bite of the food in front of you. Cassian stayed by your side, his hand gently resting on your back, comforting you as you took the first steps toward healing.

And in that moment, you knew that with him, you would learn to see yourself as he did—worthy, beautiful, and loved.