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ronearoundblindly · 4 days

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Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle.

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties. For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out.

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #time and tines series #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #winter soldier bucky barnes #villain!reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #steve rogers x y/n

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 21 days

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"The Bad Batch" S3 Review- Spoilers

Alright guys, we made it. After 3 years of this lovely show, it has finally come to an end. I definitely plan on doing a review of the entire show and see where it fits with the other big animated shows. However, that will come after my Crosshair Character Study. For now, let's focus on S3. Like Season 2, I'd definitely say it's a solid 8.5/10 for me. Although, S2 might still be my favorite. I honestly think Rebels might be the only show that has a 9/10 final season for me. Look, I loved CW and Siege of Mandalore is phenomenal, but that Ahsoka arc was not it. The final season of TBB has so much I absolutely loved and so much I wished it handled better. So, let's jump right into it!

This season felt so different for me and I definitely know why. The story is much more plot driven than the first two. In the first two seasons, the Batch were more worried about survival and kinda just went on adventures all around the galaxy. The Empire really didn't know where they were so the stakes weren't as high. Crosshair himself was stuck in the Empire meaning he didn't focus on the Batch as much until they crossed paths with him.

S3, however, sees the Batch and Omega specifically being hunted relentlessly. They need to figure out what's going on or else they will never be free. This shift from the Batch galavanting around the galaxy to a more plot driven narrative does change things up. Looking back, I think the creative team just needed more time. S3 has so much going for it and there just isn't time to flesh out the ideas to their fullest potential. That being said, I am overall satisfied with everything they pulled off, especially Crosshair. This show has solidified him as one of my top 3 favorite SW characters and fave clone. He's so well-written and I adore him.

What I loved:

The atmosphere this season was so dark and I loved it. There was a maturity to the ideas and threat level that I honestly really appreciated. Just like Andor, TBB really demonstrates just how monstrous the Empire is. There is nothing that Palpatine won't do in order to achieve total domination and subjugation of the entire galaxy for all eternity. And Hemlock is right there beside him. That man's passion for his craft knows no bounds; it doesn't matter who's strapped to his table. It's so horrifying to think how Tantiss is probably just one of the many, many inhumane and monstrous things the Empire has running. TBB, like Andor, is peak Empire imo. If there was any doubt that this monstrosity could last as long as it did, these two shows erase it.

I also really loved the character relationships, particularly Omega and Crosshair. Their bond is so beautiful and reminiscent of ones I see in my own life. There's nothing Crosshair wouldn't do for her and it fits really neatly with who he is as a person. Omega brings out the best in him, just as she does all her brothers. This season really emphasized how much Omega's brothers have influenced her. Their lessons really come into play by the end of the season. To see her grow from a naive young girl into a mature (but still childish) teenager/pre-teen was beautiful.

Crosshair this season was everything to me. I could be here for hours talking about him. I was beyond thrilled with how they handled him. He has changed so much and this season highlights that growth in every way. Crosshair remains to be the best written character and nothing about him felt OOC. I loved his dynamics with the Batch and Omega. (The hugs were perfect)! I loved how his struggle was something he worked on the entire season; it wasn't just one and done. I love how the themes of trust were woven so perfectly into his story. Crosshair was perfect (I'll touch on the hand thing later). I couldn't have asked for more (except just give me more Crosshair. I will never be tired of him. I could watch a whole show of just him doing stuff).

I don't have a burning desire to punch Hunter anymore. Yay! But in all seriousness, I have developed a soft spot for him. As much as he got on my nerves in S1, I really do appreciate him a lot more. He does care deeply and has a lot he's struggling with.

Echo showing us why he's the ARC Trooper. Seriously, those scenes of him will always live rent free in my head.

Emerie! Really great character and very interesting.

*hides in a corner* Rampart.

The music and animation were phenomenal. Honestly, both were flawless. The music in particular moved me to tears several times. Props to the animators and Kiners because this is some of their finest work yet. That one shot of Crosshair catching CX-2's knife was outstanding.

I also loved the action, seeing the boys fight together, and final shot of the Batch + the epilogue. There is so much I adored in those moments and the rush of emotions I got each time. The epilogue was so personal and I might do a separate write up on it.

The themes of family and hope were also front and center and I loved every second of it. If anyone asks why I love TBB, it's because this is show about family more than anything. The Batch are a family and seeing them learn to be one is so beautiful. It means so much that Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair got to settle down together and raise Omega. It's just beautiful.

What I didn't like:

I wanted more deep convos. Whether it was because of a preference for action or time constraints, the writers just needed to have more deep character emotions and let them sink in. It's why "The Outpost" and Tech's convo with Omega are so well loved; they let us really be with the characters. I wish S3 had more of those moments because they make this show that much better. I just wanted more. And I know this show is capable of that. It sucks knowing what it could've been. So many moments could've hit more had they been given time to breathe or worked in a bit differently.

The way Tech was handled. Hats off for actually keeping him dead. I just wish we got proper closure on that 😐. Although Tech's death looms largely over the Batch, it feels like the writers brushed it off. Why didn't we get a scene of Crosshair learning what happened? I know the time skip implies they all processed Tech's death, but it still felt like something was missing. It felt like the writers expected us to also process it like the Batch and move on. Except, we're not the Batch. We don't know what went on in their heads because they're fictional. The audience relies on the writers to show us that grieving process and we don't get it. It also didn't help that it felt like they were baiting us with CX-2 at times.

Some of the plot lines being dropped for plot/time reasons. Look, I know that it's about the Batch and their journey on becoming a family. However, it felt like more was being set up and it might go no where. One thing I love about TBB in general is how it showed us how the Empire began to change the galaxy the moment Palpatine got what he wanted: total dominance. Clones began to take a stand. Talks of rebellion were already being whispered. I just hope that these storylines revolving around Rex, Riyo, and Echo don't wither away because TBB has ended. Or the Ventress thing. I know they said she'll be back but who knows when that'll happen. I also wanted to know more about the CX Program. That’s what fanfics are for, am I right?

The pacing was brutally fast. This ties into my points about the narrative being more plot driven and lack of time to fully flesh out ideas. It felt like there was almost no room to breathe at times because we jumped from plot point to plot point as each episode progressed. Don't get me wrong, TBB handled this way better than Ahsoka, but I just needed like two more episodes of the boys and Omega running around, ok?

Overall, this season just needed time.

What I am neutral on:

Scorch. Man was done dirty, but I didn't know who he was til this season. Sorry guys. Including him and not giving him anything wasn't a good idea imo though.

Crosshair's hand. I get both sides of the argument, I really do. First off, I'm a sucker for whump. I can't help it. Also, you can say that him losing his hand connects to him severing himself from Tantiss and the pain he went through. But at the same time, Crosshair's trauma isn't going to magically vanish by just chopping off his hand. If anything, it'll just add to the trauma. I applaud the writers for dealing with such a sensitive topic, but from a certain POV the hand chop is a quick fix to a storyline that could've had more substance with another season. I'm neutral on it because again, I see both sides of the argument. I think if we got more of a reaction from Cross, the situation would've been more clear (he was doing some crazy compartmentalization during the back half of the finale, let's be honest here).

Anyways, that's my review of S3 of TBB. Despite it's flaws, this little show still went out on a high note and I am very pleased with it. I love TBB with all my heart and I will hold it cherish it forever. Until next time everyone. I will still be talking about Crosshair and this show, don't worry. No matter what, I will never tire of this beautiful family ❤️

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb season 3 #tbb spoilers

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

cassian andor + smut prompt #10

i am a whore <3

nonnie if you're a whore I'm a whore 🤍

you called - cassian andor x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (this one got away from me can you tell?)

warnings: unprotected p-in-v, brief oral (f receiving), jealous/possessive!cassian

“Two shots of Corellian whiskey, please,” you ask, stepping up to the bar beside Cassian. The sound of your voice almost makes him jump, but he hides the movement smoothly, adjusting in his seat. From the corner of his eye, he watches you lean back against the bar, propping your elbows on it. You wait for a few other patrons to pass before you drop your voice low. “You’re late.”

“I am not late,” he grumbles, polishing off the rest of his own drink. “I’ve been here waiting for you for hours now.”

You scoff a laugh, shaking your head. “After all this time and you still think you can lie to me, Cassian? You don’t think I had a lock on your ship the moment it entered the atmosphere?”

He balks, tries to hide it and fails. You’re good. Too good. He doesn’t say a word, shakes his head as the bartender returns with two shot glasses, placing them on the bar between you and him.

“That Fondor looks like it’s more mod than original,” you comment, reaching for one of the shots. “Where’d you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it,” he shoots back, watching your brow raise. “It’s on loan, from a friend.”

“You don’t have friends, Cassian,” you quip, tossing back your shot. You slide the second one over to him. “Just people you owe money to.”

“I don’t owe you any money,” he mutters, unable to stop himself from giving you a cheeky grin. “What does that make us? Friends?”

“You know exactly what we are,” you return, giving him a sideways glance before setting your glass back down. “The mark just walked in. Keep an eye out, will you?”

“I always do,” he replies, and then you’re gone.

This is an old habit for Cassian. He’s known you a long time; you grew up on Ferrix same as him, but you managed to get off-world far before he could bring himself to. By the time he first met up with you on Coruscant, you had already started to make a name for yourself in the Capital’s underworld, and Cassian was in awe. He longed to get the hell off of Ferrix, to go somewhere warm and easy and carefree. He knew Coruscant wasn’t that place, but judging by the amount of credits you were raking in, it was a step in the right direction.

You sent for him often, over the years. He was the only one you trusted to watch your back, to keep a careful eye while you gathered intel, traded information with some of the shadier types in the galaxy. Most jobs went off without a hitch, but there were more than a handful of times where Cassian had started bar brawls to get you the hell out of dodge. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet, but after everything that’s happened to him, he wouldn’t be surprised.

This is the first time he’s seen you, since everything happened on Ferrix. Maarva, Bix, B2. Luthen and his newborn rebellion. Cassian doesn’t totally know where he stands, what he’s doing, what his next move might be. But when he picked up your signal, Luthen loaned him the ship with little protest, and he was jumping through hyperspace an hour later.

You call, and he comes. It’s how it’s always been.

There had always been something between you, Cassian knew that much. His reputation might not have been the most pristine, but you never seemed to mind, having a bit of a rep yourself.

But tonight…He could hear the unspoken in your voice, the strain of the events of the last time you met up. The job hadn’t been the issue - it had gone perfectly, in fact - but after, you asked him to walk you back to the apartment you had on the other side of the district.

He’d done as you asked, going so far as to bring you right to your front door. You’d asked him if he wanted to come inside, and before he could get the word yes past his teeth, you’d grabbed him by the front of his collar, and kissed him.

Clothes scattered on the floor, you’d stumbled your way to your bedroom. It was…blissful, in a word. It was everything he felt like he was missing, and that unspoken thing rumbled through you both, but there in your bed, he didn’t think it needed to be spoken aloud. It just…was.

Morning had come too quickly, and when he woke, you were gone. No note, nothing, just his clothes folded and stacked on the table beside the bed. He’d dressed quickly, and got on the next ship to Ferrix.

He wants to ask. He wants to know why you didn’t stay, why you didn’t leave him any sign that you wanted him to stay. But after everything that’s happened, it feels inconsequential, almost.

Cassian drinks down the shot, setting the glass down on the bar with a little too much force. You’re easy to spot, weaving your way through the bar to a man lurking in the dark corner. Brow furrowing, his hand brushes over his coat, where his blaster sits, tucked against his hip. He’s gotten quick on the draw, since he last saw you.

The man spots you as you draw closer, and Cassian bristles at the recognition on his face. He’s glad to see you, and it only becomes more and more evident as the two of you move closer and closer together, heads bowed as you speak, the man’s hand moving to rest on your hip. Then it moves up your back, pressing into the dip of your spine, and Cassian grits his teeth.

Something like jealousy flares in his gut. No, not something like it, but the thing itself.

He wants to touch you like that again, like he had that night. Seeing someone else with their hands on you…his fingers twitch over the blaster again.

No, something else warns him, a clearer voice in his head. That won’t go well, and you know it.

So instead, he watches. He leans back as casually as he can, one elbow leaned on the bar, tapping his other hand against his thigh. The conversation doesn’t last much longer, and before he knows it, you’re returning to his side, a contented grin on your face.You toss your hair over your shoulder as you wave down the bartender again. “Another round.”

“Got everything you needed?”

“And then some,” you reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Thank you for coming, Cassian.”

He just nods. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“We’re not friends,” you say, shaking your head as the bartender brings you another two shots. You toss them both back quickly. “I thought we made that clear the last time you were here.”

“The last time?” he repeats, lifting a brow. “You mean when you dragged me to bed and disappeared the next morning? That last time?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out with such venom, but it does. Jealousy has taken hold of him and refuses to let go. His blood boils with it.

You narrow your eyes at him, your tongue poking between your lips to wet them. He watches the movement and ignores the way it makes his trousers tighten. He’s mad at you, he’s so glad to see you, he’s infuriated at you for leaving him alone last time, he’s so in love with you he might burst into flames.

“You’re jealous,” you determine, and though everything in him screams YES!, he rolls his eyes, turning half away from you. But you don’t let him go far, grabbing his shoulder and spinning his stool back in your direction. “Tell me I’m wrong, Cassian.”

Your hand moves from his shoulder to his thigh, and Cassian’s jaw goes tight. “We are not friends.”

“No,” you agree. “We’re more than that.”

“And your way of telling me that was disappearing the next morning, waiting three months, and then calling me to be your sidekick again?”

Your face falls, and you step back, removing your hand from his leg. “Come with me.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel and stalk out of the bar. Cassian only finds it in him to move when you reach the doorway, and then he’s all but chasing you, walking the almost familiar path to your apartment. You take the stairs, seeming to float up them as Cassian almost struggles to keep up. He loses you for a moment, but when he reaches your door, it’s open, only closing when he steps inside.

He calls your name, hears your quiet in here come from the direction of your bedroom. The place looks the same as he remembers and as he rounds the corner of the hallway, stepping into your room, he finds you perched at the edge of your bed.

“I left in the morning to get us breakfast,” you admit, looking up at Cassian, your eyes shining in the dark. “I’m not here a lot, and there wasn’t any food, so I went to get us something. When I came back, you were gone, and I realized I’d made a mistake.”

He says your name again, softer, and you shake your head.

“And then I started hearing the rumours, about Ferrix, about you. I heard about Aldhani, about Narkina-5, all of it. I even called Brasso, and that was when he told me about Maarva. I’ve been trying to call you ever since then, but nothing was going through. Then I met Vel, and she gave me the right frequency to contact you.”

Cassian sighs, leaning against the doorway. He never even questioned how you’d gotten his contact info after he was off Ferrix…he just…

You called, he came.

“You met Vel,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

You nod. “Hell of a woman.”

Cassian nods. “So you know, then. About the Rebellion.”

“I do. Figured I should put my talents to good use. Better than ripping off ex-senators and making credits I don’t need. And, if it keeps me closer to you, then it’s a win on all sides, as far as I can tell.”

His stomach drops into his toes. “You’re joining?”

You nod again. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. I tried to resist it, I really did. But now…everything else seems…”

“Meaningless?” you supply. You pull your eyes from his. “For what it’s worth, Cassian, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I’m sorry about Maarva, Ferrix, all of it. ”

“You didn’t cause it,” he replies, propping his hands on his hips. “I did that all by myself.”

“Come here,” you say, your voice going soft and your eyes meeting his once more. “Please?”

Slowly, he closes the distance. He watches you reach for him, your hands moving to the belt that holds his blaster, undoing it quickly and letting it slip to the floor. He tries not to groan when your hands move under his loose shirt, fingers curling around his hips.

Silently, he shakes his coat off, letting it drop to the ground before he hooks two fingers in the back of his shirt, pulling it forward off his torso. It joins the pile on the floor and then he hisses, your teeth sinking into the skin over his hip bone. He lets one hand dive into your hair, holding you against him, feeling your tongue soothe the mark you’ve left behind.

“Promise me something,” he whispers, and you tilt your head back, pulling your mouth from his skin long enough to meet his eyes.

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I promise.”

You kiss your way across his waist, fingers working the button on his trousers while you distract him with your mouth. He’s got both hands in your hair now, silk between his knuckles, and it almost pulls his focus completely, enough that you have to repeat the next words out of your mouth.

“You never answered me.”

“Huh?”

“Back at the bar, I said you were jealous. You never answered me.”

You pull his zipper down, snap the elastic of his boxers against his skin. Cassian hisses. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was,” you agree, nipping at his hip again. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls, just hard enough that your head tilts back and he bends slightly, pulling his body away from yours, but putting his face close enough that he can feel your breath on his cheek.

“You have any idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you? Someone else put their hands on you?”

You inhale sharply, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, and Cassian prods it with his thumb, pulling it free, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the plush of your lip. “Show me.”

And he does.

He makes quick work of your clothes, shucking his trouses off once you’re naked on the bed. You don’t let him go far, surging up to kiss him when he steps back to undress completely. Your hands are in his hair, same as his are in yours, and Cassian groans when you tug, both of you finding similar pleasure in the movement.

The first night was different. You’d stumbled your way through the dark, finding your peaks quickly. You’d fallen asleep after, and Cassian had watched you for a while before drifting off. That unspoken thing lulled him to sleep.

But now, he turns the bedside light on. The room illuminates with a soft orange glow, and he leans over you, until you fall back against the pillows and blankets, laid out for him, reaching for him. He molds himself into your palms, covers your body with his own.

The first night, he hadn’t had the chance to taste you. Refusing to miss out a second time, he arranges you on the bed, pushing your knees apart to make room for his shoulders, tracing his mouth along the inside of your thigh, eyes darting between your glistening cunt and your face, the way your eyes roll back in your skull when he buries his head between your legs and sucks your clit between his teeth.

He wants to feel you cum on his face, to feel your thighs tremble around his ears, but you have other ideas. You haul him up with a gasp, fitting your mouth to his and licking your taste out of his mouth. “I wanted to-” he starts, but you cut him off, reaching between your bodies and squeezing your fingers around his cock.

“Plenty of time for that later,” you murmur, lips at his jaw, words spoken into his skin. “Right now I need you inside me, Cass.”

He groans as you stroke him, curling your wrist just right, but then he pulls your hand away, pinning your wrists either side of your head. Using his knees, he spreads your legs wide and drops his hips, the tip of his cock dragging through your wetness.

“Please,” you beg, your own hips lifting, chasing him, trying to notch his cock at your entrance. He teases you a moment longer, waits for the angle to be just right, and then he pushes into you. Your fingers flex against the bedsheets, mouth dropping open with a moan as his hips press into yours. Your legs twitch, one calf wrapping around his thigh. “Cassian, fuck, oh my-”

He covers your mouth with his, swallowing down your words and moans. You tighten around him, impossibly so, and he starts to move, finding his rhythm, filling you to the hilt with each thrust only to pull out almost all the way and do it all over again. Over and over and over, and you’re babbling into his mouth, straining against his hold. He leans up just that much more, pulling his lips from yours, both of you staring down at the spot where you’re joined, where he’s disappearing into you with every move.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this, yes?” he grunts, hearing you gasp as he gives you one particularly hard thrust. He feels your head wobble with a nod, but he wants to hear it. “Say it.”

“Only you, Cass,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as you go even tighter around him. “Oh gods, fuck, only you.”

Pleasure coils like a serpent at the base of his spine, and he drops, trying not to smother you with his weight, pressing his face into the arch of your throat. You moan loudly as he releases your hands, curling his own around your shoulders while yours find purchase in his hair again. The bed shakes with your movement, both legs lifting to wrap around his waist now, your ankles hooked together at the small of his back. “Please, please, please, please, please,” you beg and Cassian bites at your pulse, groaning into your skin as his release threatens to overtake him.

“Cum for me,” he says, and you obey.

Your back arches and you make the sweetest sounds. He wants to bottle them, keep them for himself. He rides out your orgasm, keeping his own pleasure at bay until you’ve caught your breath, sighing at the press of him inside you, pulling him close. “Now you,” you whisper, nipping at his ear, lifting your hips so he gets that much deeper inside you, the warmth enough to swallow him whole. “Let me feel you.”

You call, and he comes.

He growls into your throat, fingers digging deep into your shoulders. You press kisses along his cheek, the space below his ear, his temple. Murmurs of how good it feels, how you missed him, how you’ll never let him go again, it’s the backdrop to the pleasure roaring through his body. It makes every muscle in him tense up before he relaxes completely, sinking into your embrace.

His eyes drop shut as he softens inside you, completely spent. Your fingers comb through his hair, soft kisses still scattered across whatever skin you can reach. After a few minutes, he finds the strength to roll off of you, falling onto the bed at your side.

You kiss his mouth before you get up, disappearing into the fresher for a moment, coming back with a glass of water for you both to share. Cassian gulps down the liquid as you slide back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over you both. You go to turn out the light, but he stops you.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

#my fics #sleepover sundae #cassian andor #cassian andor fic #cassian andor smut #cassian andor angst #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #you called

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shanastoryteller · 9 months

Note

HAPPY MONTH OF PRIDE!!!!! Poe and/or Andor from Star Wars please? (Thanks for the twofer last time 🥰)

a continuation of 1 2

They get lost.

Ben isn’t at all surprised, because this is exactly what he said would happen if they started trying to actually solder wires together instead of using the tried and true method of bubblegum and a prayer.

“How is this even possible?” Poe moans. “We’re going to die out here and then my mother is going to kill me. How does your dad get anywhere in this thing?”

“The Force, mostly,” he says, because Dad has been insisting he’s not Force sensitive his whole life and from where Ben’s standing, it’s pretty much total shit. Uncle Luke says to just let him live in his delusion.

Poe brightens. “So you can get us out of this, then? You use the Force, right?”

“Maybe?” he says. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve shorted several important components and if we don’t replace them it won’t matter if we know which direction to go since the ship will lose propulsion halfway there and we’ll be stuck floating in dead space until we starve to death.”

Poe glares. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” he says. “Come on, follow that that star thirty seven degrees to your right, we should hit a junkyard planet on the way that we can scavenge from. Hopefully.”

“Great,” Poe says, adjusting the controls. Ben can definitely get in contact with Uncle Luke if they actually need to get bailed out, but there’s no reason to tell Poe that.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #star wars

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not-a-big-slay · 1 year

Text

Natural

tangerine x fem!reader

summary: lemon catches his brother lying about his relationship, when he witnesses a glimpse of their every-day conversation....

type: fluff

warnings: swearing, very bad attempt to write an english slang

a/n: ATJ can do things to me... I've got this idea in my english class when we were talking about chores lmaoo, now yall know where my mind is at in school. anyway, i need to catch up on andor and avatar, cuz im kinda falling behind. enjoy this fic and if you like it pls comment something, it always makes my day :))

Lemon sighed at the look of another set of stairs in front of him. His brother told him it'll be the last one a few stories ago and if he wasn't already separated from him by the stairs, he would dismember him.

"That gal of yours better be Rapunzel." Lemon said once he caught up with Tangerine. He smiled and led him through a hallway. "She ain't my girl, Lemon." he confessed and kept walking while Lemon frowned. That didn't sound right. "Oh, of course not, she's just a friend you've been living with for this past month, isn't she?". Tangerine rolled his eyes. She was, of course, more than that, but calling her his sounded wrong. They never talked about this stuff, they just let them happen. "It ain't like that, it's just.." he couldn't find the right words for it and that frustrated him. Their moments was the only positive thing in his life right now and he didn't want to dig too much into it, worrying it'll be destroyed by his overthinking.

"Just fuck off, okay? I ain't intrested in your nit-picking, alright? You're lucky I'm even bringing you" he sighed and stopped in front of a door, leaning in the door frame. Tangerine had sudden second thoughts. Would she like to be introduced to his brother? Is it okay for their situation or is it too far? He would hate to scare her away, but she already heard about Lemon, so maybe it would be okay. He brought his hand to his mustache and caressed it around, deep in thought.

"Can she sense your presence or are you gonna knock?"

He almost jumped at his brother's voice that was too close to his ear. He turned to him, sending him to hell with his expression, but knocked as he requested. His heart was beating, a unfamiliar nervousness settling onto him. He was never nervous around her. In fact, this was the only place that he could truly relax in. He hated that Lemon ruined it by his stupid nosy questions. He took a deep breath and exhaled at the sound of the door opening.

The stress left him when he saw her eyes shining back at him. Her slightly raised eyebrows studied him, but her sweet smile was present as always, he had to show off his own too. "Did you forget your keys? Come in." she turned and walked inside, closing the door behind Lemon. "Hi there." he said with a nervous smile. Y/N was pretty, he didn't expect that, even though Tangerine said it quite a million times. He thought that Tangerine's pretty standard meant hot for others, but Y/N wasn't hot, not exactly. It seemed to him she was a softy, although he knew better than to believe that. She had a bit of acne on her skin, but that just added to her prettiness. She was cute, not hot, but really beautiful.

"You must be Lemon, right?" she assumed and he just nodded. She shook his hand and said: "Good, now I have most of vitamins in my house. Make yourself at home.". Lemon looked around the apartment. It was small, but cozy. The kitchen was tiny and it connected to the living room, made of one couch, a coffee table, a TV and two armchairs. All of it complimented each other colorfully. Tangerine came back from the bedroom, as Lemon assumed, holding the briefing papers they came for. Their next job started soon and Lemon has yet to read them.

"Alright, here it is." he said and handed his brother the lists, then turned to Y/N. "The window's broken by the way." he pointed to the room with his thumb and watched the girl setting down her cup of coffee. "Oh, I wanted to tell you, it happened this morning. Would you check it later?" he nodded when he heard her pleading voice. She always thought she bothered him when asking these questions when the opposite was the truth. "Yeah, sure. And we should buy more food, there's nothing here." he added, earning an agreeable nod from Y/N. "Yeah, I can do that, but first I'll mop the bathroom, it's about time I think." she spoke. Lemon returned his gaze back at the two.

"Right. Oh and give Emma the red wine I told you about." Lemon's eyes snapped on Tangerine when the words left his mouth. "Who the hell is Emma?" he asked him, but Y/N answered first. "She's just a neighbor, she helped us with the couch, so we wanted to thank her.". Lemon couldn't believe what he was hearing. His brother, an assasin, a total dickhead, thanked someone with a bottle of wine for moving a couch. "Tang, will you help me with the dishes one you're back?" Y/N said when she put the cup into a sink. "Of course, love. We gotta go now, though." he aknowledge the time and walked back to the door, stopping next to frozen Lemon that couldn't still comprehend what has happened just now. "You coming?" Tangerine spat and made his way outside, Lemon following slowly behind, waving to Y/N nervously. She waved back before her eyes widened with realization. "Oh! Tangerine!"

The man turned around, watching her swiftly walking up to them, holding a full trash bag. "Will you please take it out?". Once he nodded, she handed it to him and gave a small kiss on his cheek. She smiled a bit and said goodbye. "It was great meeting you, Lemon." she exclaimed and Lemon returned her words before the door closed again. Lemon then stared at Tangerine until he sighed and finally asked, stopping in his tracks: "What?". Lemon only widened his eyes more. "What do you think? What was that supposed to be?" he laughed at the absurdity of his brother's obliviousness. "Bruv, this ain't no talking stage, you're bloody married."

Tangerine scoffed at that. It wasn't like that. He lived with her for a while now, because of death threats he and Lemon recieved. They thought it would be better to separate for a bit, until it dozes off. Y/N was one of their old intel and helped them with a job once. Even though she wasn't an assasin, she gathered information for a lot of them and sold them for quite good money. He reached out to her then and they've been living together since. Lemon said that they can come out of the hiding now, but he didn't move back in with him, and doesn't plan on to.

He couldn't deny there wasn't something between them, but he wouldn't call it dating, Yes, they sleep in the same bed. They cook together and drink wine together and they are concerned when something in the house broke. Y/N treats his wounds from jobs and he returns her kidness in bed. Yet they have never talked about it. It just happens one time. Their first kiss was on the balcony, late at night when none of them wanted to sleep. It was a clear decision, he wanted to do that and she as well. He was so certain of it and it just came naturally. The next morning no one uttered a word of it, but she kissed him during breakfast, smoothly, as if it was a normal thing to do, just natural. And thus everything else began, every next step came in its own time, both of them weren't trying to take it, they knew when it was time to do so. Everything between them was clear.

Y/N told him she loved him, as if it was an obvious thing to say. He said it back two days later, feeling certain of it. Lemon didn't understand their connection and he wasn't right to assume so.

"You¨ve got it wrong, Thomas." he walked pass him and out of the building. The goal was to anger Lemon with a bad reference to his favorite show, but he laughed out loud and confidently followed Tangerine out. "Does she know that, though?"

She was his girl.

Tangerine rolled his eyes and went to throw out the trash. Lemon won't get it, but as long as they were sure, he couldn't give a shit about his opinion.

However he had to admit one thing he said.

‎

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x oc #tangerine fluff #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fic #tangerine angst #tangerine smut #tangerine and lemon #bullet train tangerine #bullet train lemon #tangerine bullet train #lemon bullet train #fanfiction #fluff

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beskarandblasters · 10 months

Note

okay pls just like SOFT Cass on Niamos before he gets arrested having just a soft beach vacation moment with the reader thank u xoxox

Summer Fling, Don’t Mean a Thing

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author's note: I tried to follow Star Wars lore in this one so you need to know that sunscreen oil = Star Wars version of sunscreen, bathing togs = bathing suits, revnog = alcholic beverage and peezos = poppers/pills

Summary: You're working at Neptune's Resort, a beach front hotel on the planet Niamos. And that's when you meet a mysterious stranger with a lot of credits who calls himself Keef Girgo. What started out as you just showing him his room turns into the best summer romance of your life.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, drinking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (pull out method lmao), oral sex (male and female receiving) little bit of nipple play, fluff, Cassian being a romantic, semi public sex, drug use, some light jealousy, angst, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n

It’s another typical day for you at Neptune’s Resort on Niamos; standing at the front desk and checking people in. It’s the officially busy tourist season for Niamos and you should've had your break forever ago. But the line at the front desk has been endless; a non stop flow of travelers from all corners of the galaxy.

Finally the line is starting to let up. One last guest walks up to your desk and you’re already captivated by him; dark hair, dark eyes and an accent that you can’t quite place where it’s from.

“I’d like a room, please.”

“Sure thing, let me check what our availability is, sir,” you say, scrolling through your holo-pad.

You feel his eyes scanning you as you search for a room for him. And to his luck there’s one left. But it’s one of the most expensive rooms in the whole resort with an ocean front view.

“So we have one room left but it’s four hundred credits a night…”

“That’s okay.”

“Oh, s-sure. Let me get your reservation set up for you.”

You’re surprised. The man in front of you doesn’t look like he comes from money particularly. Yet he’s already pulling out the credits for the first night’s down payment and setting them on the desk.

You slide the credits into your hand and put them in the drawer before returning to the holo-pad to finish setting up his reservation.

“Name?”

“Keef Girgo.”

“And how many nights are you staying?”

“Uh, I don’t really have a set amount of time. At least a week or two.”

You raise an eyebrow before returning your gaze back to the holo-pad.

“Right well this room is available for another week but after that we could move you to a different one if you plan on staying longer.”

He nods and you hand him his key hard.

“Go all the way down the hallway and at the end make a left. It’ll be the first door on your right.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking the key card from your hand.

You walk out from behind the desk, just looking to take your much needed break. But Keef asks, “Oh, are you showing me to my room?” but not in a rude, expectant way; almost like a hopeful tone.

“Oh! S-sure I can show you.”

You lead him down the hallway and feel his gaze all over your backside as you walk. And though you can’t see it, his eyes gravitate to your hips and the way they sway when you walk. You hang a left and stop at his door.

“Well here you are,” you say, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” he says, stepping closer and leaving only a small gap between the two of you. His eyes meet yours before trailing down to your face to your lips.

“Y-you’re welcome. Enjoy your stay! See you around,” you say before walking back to the lobby. You hear the beep of the key card opening his door behind you and you turn to get one last look at him, only hoping to get a glance of him from behind but to your surprise he’s already looking at you. He smiles at you and gives you a small wave. You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment so you turn on your heel and quickly walk away. You walk through the lobby and go down another hallway past the resort gift stop, heading to the break room. The door slides open and you walk inside with a heavy exhale, closing your eyes.

“So who was that?” you hear a voice ask.

Your eyes fly open and you see your coworker, Mara, sitting at a table across the room. You walk over and pull out a chair, sitting down across from her.

“Who?”

“That last guy at the desk! You went down the hallway with him.

“Oh you saw that?”

“Mhm.”

“Just a guest. I was showing him to his room.”

“I didn’t realize you did that for guests,” she says, a smile spreading across her face.

“I don’t! He just… asked?”

“He asked??”

“Sort of? I was just going to my break and he asked if I was showing him to his room.”

“How long is he staying? And what room?”

“At least a week or two. One of the ocean front rooms.”

“Oh so he’s got moneyyy. You might have a new friend for the next few weeks.”

“You’re funny. He’s just a guest. Are we still on for drinks tonight?

“Of course I am, girlfriend. See you later after my shift!” she says, getting up from her chair and heading back out into the lobby.

You spend the rest of your break trying to forget about the mysterious guest who checked in today. But frankly, you spend the whole rest of your shift doing just that; trying to forget about him and his eyes. So that when the end of your shift comes you’re excited to drink with Mara and finally have a chance to forget.

You change out of your work uniform and into clothes you brought with you for tonight. You head to the Neptune Resort lounge and find Mara sitting at the bar. It’s packed tonight, filled with patrons of all different species, smoke hanging heavy in the air. You walk across the room to the bar and sit next to her. She already ordered you a drink, revnog. She slides it across to you.

“You’ll never guess who’s here?” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“Hmm let me guess. The new clerk from Arkie’s you have a crush on?”

“Shh don’t be so loud!” she laughs, playfully slapping you on the arm, “And no, not him. Your new favorite guest,” she finishes with a tilt of her head.

You turn your head to the direction she gestured to to see Keef sitting at the opposite end of the bar. And he happens to be looking directly at you. You give him a small smile before turning back to Mara.

“Go over there and talk to him.”

“What? No, it’s girls night!”

“So? He’s not going to stay here forever. Go over there!”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll do it.”

You watch her face shift from excitement to shock; she’s looking at something behind you. You turn around to follow her gaze to find Keef standing right behind you, drink in his hand.

“I’m gonna go to the ladie’s room!” Mara bursts out before shooting you a wink and walking away.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly.

“Hi. I heard you two talking and I figured I’d just come over to you.”

Shit, he heard all that?

“Ahh I’m sorry about her. Her voice carries.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he laughs.

“So where are you visiting from, Keef?”

“Coruscant.”

“And what do you do there?”

“I repair droids. Are you from here?”

He does that thing with his gaze again, shifting from your eyes down to your lips and then back up to your eyes again.

“Born and raised,” you reply.

And a simple conversation filled with small talk turns into playful banter in no time. Your body language goes from stiff and controlled to open and comfortable. You sip your drink and lean into him, your hand grazing his bicep. Your touch lingering on his skin even after you remove your hand. And sure, the alcohol is loosening you up a little. But talking with him feels natural the longer it goes on. The conversation keeps going back and forth, never missing a beat.

Before you know it the space between you two is getting smaller, so small that you can smell him. He smells like the sun, saltwater, and sunscreen oil. You look closer at his face, the apples of his cheeks and his nose a little sunburnt. He must’ve gone to the beach today. And all of a sudden you’re picturing him walking out of the ocean; his hair wet and slicked back, water droplets hanging off his bare chest, the sun hitting him perfectly. Now your eyes are exploring his face; his nose, his dark eyes, the stubble growing in, his lips…

Without a second thought you’re leaning into him and pressing your lips against his. You take in all of him; his scent, his stubble tickling your face, his hand on the small of your back, the taste of alcohol on his lips. You pull back for a second but his mouth follows yours, not wanting the kiss to end. His hands caress either side of your face before returning his lips against yours. His tongue brushes against your lips, asking for access. You want to give it to him but you’re also painfully aware you’re in a crowded lounge right now and that there’s other people at the bar with you…

You pull away and worry flashes over his face, like he’s afraid he did something wrong.

“Do you mind if we go-”

“Back to my room?” he finishes, as if he read your mind.

“Yes, please,” you say, grabbing your bag off the back of the stool.

You turn and scan the room for Mara, just wanting to tell her you’re leaving. You spot her sitting at a table in the corner of the room with a drink. You start to walk over to her but she waves you off and mouths “Go!!”

You shoot her a smile and wave goodbye before interlocking your hand with Keef’s and exiting the lounge together. The walk back to his room is playful, both of you swaying back and forth and hanging off one another. You reach his room and he fumbles around in his pocket for his key card. He finds it and scans it on the sensor but not before giving you a sloppy kiss, not able to keep his hands off you. As soon as the door is open he pulls you inside. You laugh at his eagerness to have you already. Because the second the door closes you’re up against the wall being showered in kisses and his hands roaming your body. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, tugging at his locks lighty and eliciting a soft moan from him. Your senses become overwhelmed, completely enveloped in every aspect of him. In a rhythmic push and pull the both of you end up at the bed in the middle of the room. You sit on edge, pulling off your dress over your head and watching his eyes scan your form and his mouth fall open. You expect him to get undressed, too, but instead he falls to his knees right in front of your legs. He spreads your thighs apart and hooks his fingers at the seam of your underwear, pulling them down in one swift motion. His hands move to your sides, applying pressure ever so lightly to get you to lay down.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You oblige and lay down on the bed, closing your eyes in anticipation. You feel his warm breath at your core and it sends a shiver up your spine. He chuckles at your sensitivity to just his breath before licking one slow stripe up your cunt which sends even more shivers up your spine. His tongue goes straight to your clit, lapping small, quickly circles around it. But when he starts sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves that’s when he’s got you arching your back and gripping the sheets. His fingers slide up and down your entrance, marveling at how soaked you're getting. He removes his tongue from your clit for a moment, much to your chagrin. But that’s quickly replaced by intense pleasure as he slides a finger into your cunt and replaces his tongue on your clit. His tongue and his finger work simultaneously, mirroring each other perfectly. One hand continues to grip the sheets but your other hand moves to his hair, tugging at it and pulling him even closer into you. You feel him slide a second finger in and you know you’re not going to last. You grind your hips into his face and hand and before you know it you’re coming against him. The muscles in your core contract and release erratically as you close your eyes in pleasure. Your release soaks his hand down to his wrist and coats the lower half of his face. He lets you ride out your high, leaving his tongue on your clit and fingers inside your cunt, just getting joy of feeling your cunt cum thanks to him. But eventually the movement of your hips slows down and he removes his fingers and mouth before removing his clothes, tossing them on the floor in a strewn about pile. He sits beside you on the bed and looks down at you with complete adoration in his eyes, watching the rise and fall of your chest and the way your lashes fan out on your face when you close your eyes.

“Ready for more, sweetheart? Or are you tapped out?” he chuckles.

“No, no!” you blurt out, probably a little too quickly.

You move up farther on the bed, resting your head on the pillows by the headboard.

“Where do you want me?” you ask.

“Just like that,” he says softly.

You nod and spread your legs open. He situates himself between your thighs and brings his hand to your cunt again, collecting your wetness in his hand. He spreads it onto his cock, giving it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He grabs your hand and pushes into you slowly, studying your face for your reaction to him. You let out a small gasp, keeping your eyes locked with his eyes as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He pins your hand above your head, keeping intertwined with yours while he picks up the pace, driving his length deeper into you. Your walls tighten in anticipation of a powerful release and he can feel it.

“You can do it, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he says looking down at you.

With one last slam of his hips into you you’re coming around his cock, your cunt fluttering around him. He holds in his own orgasm as long as he can so you can finish riding out your high. And when you’re done, he pulls out and paints your stomach in ropes of cum before laying down next to you on the bed.

Panic starts to overtake you. The intrusive thoughts kick in telling you to leave. But instead you’re enveloped in Keef’s scent, the soft sheets, and the warmth of his touch. Running away can wait until tomorrow morning. For now, you rest.

The morning light peaks in through the curtains. You roll over on your side and see Keef sleeping peacefully next to you. And that’s when the memories of last night start to hit you; the lounge, the kiss, the walk back to his room, the sex. You sit up and rub your eyes. You’re a little groggy from the post-sex sleep and the alcohol. But thankfully you’re not hungover. Although you’re feeling sick with something else; regret. You’re not one for one night stands to begin with. And he’s a guest at your place of work for crying out loud. But… you did feel a connection with him last night. Then again, it could be the alcohol talking…

You get out of bed and quietly as you can so you don’t disturb Keef. You look around the room now that it’s light and you’re not drunk and preoccupied and it’s nice to say the least. The room is complete with a bed in the middle adorned with soft cream colored sheets and a large attached bathroom. These are the most expensive rooms in the whole resort, you’ve never even stepped in one of them in your time working here. It makes you wonder… does a droid mechanic make enough to stay in a room like this for an indefinite amount of time? Coruscant is an expensive place to live but the lack of plans to leave Niamos has you contemplating. You look down at him sleeping on the bed and your mind starts to wonder… Who is this man?

You grab your underwear from the floor and slip them back on. And that’s when he stirs for a moment. You stop what you’re doing and wait for it to pass. When you think you’re in the clear you pick up your dress and start to step into it. But just as you get one leg in, Keef wakes up, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

“You’re leaving?”

“Uhh-”

“Do you have to work?”

“Well no, but-”

“So stay.”

“What?”

He moves to the side of the bed you’re standing at and looks up at you, taking your hands in his.

“Stay with me.”

“You want me to?”

“Of course I do.”

You sit beside him on the bed. “Okay… what do you wanna do today?”

“We could go to the beach.”

“Sounds good! I just have to go home and get my stuff. I went to the lounge straight after work.”

“So you need a bathing tog?”

“Yes, but I can just run home real quick. I don’t live far-”

You cut yourself off when he gets out of bed (still completely naked) and walks over to the refresher. He comes back with a handful of credits and says, “Here. Go to the gift shop,” reaching his hand out to you.

“Keef, I can’t. This is really generous but I could never.”

“It’s on me,” he says, grabbing your hand placing the credits in your palm with a couple of his hand.

“O-okay, do you want me to go now and meet you back here?”

“Sounds good,” he replies, followed by a tender kiss on your lips.

He goes back into the refresher and turns the water on. You finish sliding on your dress and put on your shoes before tossing the credits in your bag and heading out. You’re painfully aware that it looks like you’re doing the walk of shame in your place of work, complete with sex hair and last night’s clothes. You try to keep your gaze on the floor to avoid making any eye contact with your coworkers. But as soon as you enter the lobby you hear Mara’s voice coming from the front desk.

“Well look who it is!” she laughs.

You look up and make eye contact before walking over to her, cheeks going hot with embarrassment.

“Could your voice be any louder?” you tease.

“Sorry, just couldn’t help but notice someone had a really good time last night. Last night’s clothes, matted hair– You spent the night!”

“Indeed I did.”

“Are you going home now?”

“Not exactly… he asked me to spend the day with him.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “Really? What are you guys doing?”

“Going to the beach. And then I told him I didn’t have my swimming togs and he gave me credits to go buy some at the gift shop??”

“Girl, what did I tell you? He’s got moneyyy and you have a new little friend,” she jokes, adding a sarcastic emphasis on the word “friend”.

“It was just one night.”

“Most one night stands don’t continue into the next day… or spoil you.”

“Okay fine! Maybe you’re right.”

“Do you like him at least?”

“I think I do.” “Well then go get your bathing togs and get back to him already!” she says, shooing you away, “But just know I’m living vicariously through you.”

You laugh and wave to her before walking across the lobby to the gift shop. You pick out a set of bathing togs, a matching two piece in your favorite color, and head to the checkout counter. The clerk is one of your coworkers that you don’t know that well but even she could tell that you’re here in yesterday’s clothes. You avert your eyes from her as she cashes you out and hands you your bag, hastily giving her the credits needed before getting out of there as fast as you can.

I just need to get to the beach already, you think to yourself, picking up the pace as you walk back to his room.

You knock on the door for him to let you in and he answers the door shirtless still but dressed in his own bathing togs. He steps to the side and lets you in. The door closes behind you as you go to hand him the leftover credits but he shakes his head and says, “Keep it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he says, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into him, pressing a kiss on your temple.

You lean into him for a moment, just allowing yourself to just be held by him before pulling away to change. He watches you as you get undressed and though you were just naked with him last night you’re feeling a little self conscious. But you look over at him and the way he’s watching you and your ill feelings melt away. All thanks to the way he’s admiring you. You finish changing as he comes up behind you in the mirror beside the bed, draping his arms around your shoulders. Every time he touches you it sends little currents of warmth throughout your body, leaving your stomach swelling with butterflies.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you respond, examining your joint reflection in the mirror.

He lets go to grab the towels and the two of you are off to the beach. His hand interlocks with yours as you walk down the steps to the crowded coastline. Luckily there’s an open cabana left. You drop off your bag and the towels before heading to the ocean, spending time floating in the gentles for a while. The conversation between you and Keef never hits a lull; always lively like you’ve known each other for ages. You have strangely deep and meaningful conversations with him even though you only met the day prior. You can genuinely feel yourself falling for him but you mentally chastise yourself for getting so attached already.

Eventually the two of you head back to the cabana and lay down in the sun. But not before helping each other apply sunscreen oil on each other’s back and shoulders. You can’t help but notice the way he tenses up underneath your touch and wonder if he’s feeling the same as you do.

You lay down underneath the sun together, conversation still flowing effortlessly. Except this time it does go quiet. But not in an awkward way. Instead he rests his head in your lap, closing his eyes and resting peacefully against your soft skin. You bring your hand to his hair, stroking it gently and feeling him melt into your touch. The sun hits his resting face perfectly, highlighting every detail of him. You get the sense he desperately needed rest like this.

And so the two of you stay there for a while, him sleeping soundly in your lap as you people watch and admire the rolling waves. He’s going to feel guilty when he wakes up, for just falling asleep on you like that. But you don’t mind in the slightest.

You fell asleep, too. The both of you waking up feeling a little cooked, a slight tan gracing his face. He apologizes profusely like you predicted but you do your best to reassure him that you didn’t mind.

But now it’s nearing the end of the day; the end of your day off which means back to work tomorrow. And you really need to get home. You walk back to the resort with him, hands intertwined again.

You turn to face him on the edge of the resort overlooking the beach and say, “I’d stay with you longer but I really have to get home.”

He nods like he understands but he also asks, “Will I see you again?”

“Of course you will. You know where I work,” you tease.

He pulls you in by the waist for one last kiss before you part ways. You can’t see it but he watches your silhouette walk away until you’re out of sight.

You go home that night still trying to comprehend the twenty four hours. And when you’re bed you find yourself still trying to comprehend everything as you drift off to sleep.

Three days have passed. The resort got unfortunately extremely busy. You had to stay late the past two nights. Which meant no time with Keef for you.

But today you finally get off work somewhat earlier in the day and Mara asks while you’re in the break room, “Another girls night tonight? Or are you too busy with your new friend?

“Actually I haven’t seen him in a while,” you reply, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice.

“Girl why not? You know what room he’s staying in. Just show up.”

“Mara, please. I’d never do something like that.”

She sighs. “So girls night it is then?”

“Sounds good. After I get out I’ll go home and change.”

“See you tonight, girl!” she says as you leave the break room.

You finish out the rest of your shift, only about two hours, and spend the rest of the night silently hoping you’ll see Keef again at the lounge tonight. You start to walk home and that’s when you see him across the resort closer to the beach talking to… a woman.

Jealousy starts to course through your veins but you try to stop yourself before you let it overtake you. It was just one night stand but one night stand’s don’t typically last all the way throughout the following day. And he indicated he wanted to see you again. You can’t help it. The jealousy is fully manifesting now. But instead of going over there and causing a scene you just shake your head and walk home, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You get home and decide to try and make yourself feel somewhat better. It’s girls night again tonight and if you’re brave enough you can find someone to replace Keef in no time. The resort is littered with rich guests. Although that’s not why you liked him in the first place…

You put on a dress, one that’s black and hugging your form in all the right places. You do your hair and makeup before leaving to walk back to the resort. You enter the lounge and scan the room for Mara. The lounge is even more packed than it was the other night. You weave around tables and slide past groups of people talking before you reach the bar at the back of the room where you find her sitting. She takes her bag off the stool she was saving for you and says, “Someone looks good tonight. Are you hoping to run into a certain someone?”

“Actually, no.”

“No??”

“I saw him talking to a woman on my way home.”

She sighs. “Men… They’re all the same.”

You both order a round of revnog from the bartender, downing it quickly and trying to have fun. But you’re in a mental battle with yourself. Part of you feels hurt; hurt because you thought maybe you felt something with Keef. But on the other hand you feel stupid for getting so attached to a one off fling.

But eventually after a few rounds Mara sees a guy across the room she wants to talk to. Her gaze shifts back to you with pleading eyes.

“Go! Have fun!” you tell her, shooing her off.

She did the same for you the other night. It’s the least you could do.

So that leaves you drinking alone at the bar. You’re sitting and quietly sitting on your glass, facing forward when you feel a presence on your left hand side. You turn your head slightly and see not Keef but another man sitting beside you.

“What’s a lovely lady like you doing here by yourself?”

“Girls night,” you reply nonchalantly.

“I don’t see another girl here with you,” he responds.

You tilt your head in the direction of Mara and say, “She’s over there talking to someone.”

“Maybe that’s what you should be doing.”

You turn your head fully and get a good look at him. He’s not terrible looking but the way he’s “flirting” (if you could even call it that) has you turned off.

“Should I?” you ask playfully.

He spreads his arms open as if to show off himself and says, “It’s all right here for ya.”

Ugh. At least he can keep you occupied while Mara’s gone. And so the two of you talk for a while. You learn his name is Sal and that he’s visiting here from Alderaan. The conversation is okay but eventually it goes stale. You zone out and look past his face, just wanting the night to be over at this point. And as you’re zoning out you see none other than Keef sitting at the end of the bar, his dark eyes fixated on the two of you. You can’t help but notice how tight his jawline is and the way he anxiously taps his fingers on the countertop. Is he… jealous?

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” you say to Sal, downing the rest of your drink and exiting the lounge, not waiting for a reply from him. You’ll worry about your tab later.

You wait in the lobby and pace in anticipation, wondering if your exit worked. And sure enough Keef follows you into the lobby, jaw softening when he sees you alone. His face relaxes as he pulls you into him by the waist, happy to just be with you again.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

You don’t say anything at first. You’re unsure of how to feel and how to respond.

He senses something off and asks, “Are you okay?”

“I guess I was just a little jealous when I saw you with that woman earlier today…”

“What woman…?”

“Earlier this afternoon,” you respond, cringing in anticipation of his response but also at yourself for even making this a thing.

“Oh sweetheart, I was just asking for directions to the Arkie’s.”

“Oh…” you say, looking at the floor and feeling a little silly.

“But it’s cute that you were jealous,” he says, grabbing your chin and turning your face towards his.

“Oh you mean like you were just now?” you tease.

“Mhm,” he says, not even denying it.

He leads you off into the direction of his room, arm still around your waist. He stops at his door and scans the keycard, pulling you into his room.

“So, sweetheart… Do I have to show you that I only want you?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you blurt out.

He chuckles at your eagerness and softly says, “On the bed.”

You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and about to pull off your dress over your head. But he doesn’t want to wait. He pushes you down lightly on the bed, kneels on the floor and spreads your thighs apart. He brings his mouth to your entrance, taking note as to how wet you are already. He licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt to drive you insane, flicking his tongue around your clit at the end. He hooks his arms around your thighs bringing your cunt as close to his face as it can go, completely inhaling your scent and your taste. His tongue moves back down to your cunt, leaving his nose to rub against your clit. You move your hips against his face, getting off on the feeling of his tongue in your cunt, nose at your clit and his stubble tickling your thighs. Not before long you’re coming against his face, your cunt spasming against his face erratically as you ride out your high. You coat the lower half of his face in your release and he laps up every last drop, making sure to comment on how good you taste. When you’re done he pulls away and stands up, getting undressed and ready to fuck you. But you want to pleasure him for once. You bring your hand to his groin, cupping his balls and stroking his already hard cock. He curses under his breath and says, “Baby you don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” you say, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” he says softly, closing his eyes.

You bring your mouth to the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it before taking him in your mouth. You take in his length, as far as you can go, and wrap your hand around the part that won’t fit. Your other hand cups his balls slightly as you bob your head up and down, listening to all the sounds he’s making. He brings a hand to your hair and holds it gently, never really pulling on it. You feel him tense up and you know he’s close. He pulls out of your mouth, not wanting to finish just yet and moans, “Need you. Now.”

You oblige and pull off your dress before laying down on the bed. He positions himself in between your thighs before inserting his length into you, both of you sighing at the familiar feeling. He places your legs on his shoulders and drives his cock into you deeper and deeper, hitting the most perfect angles inside you. You look up at him as he continues fucking you, chest slick with sweat and his hair getting messier with each slam of his hips. Between all that and the way he’s looking at you with pure lust in his eyes it’s almost like sensory overload. He brings his hands to your breast, caressing the outline of them before bringing them to your nipples, bringing them to stiff peaks between his fingertips. The added sensation brings you to the edge. You cum around him, your cunt convulsing him like a vice. He keeps fucking you through your release, prolonging it and almost going to the point of over stimulation. But then he pulls out and coats your abdomen with his cum. He lays down next to you on the bed, pulling you into him so that you’re spooning. He traces the outline of your body with his hand as you rest together, coming down from the evening’s activities.

“Have I never told you how beautiful you are?” he murmurs.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. You’re perfect,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You’re sweet.”

“You could stay with me, you know.”

“Hm?” you ask, feeling the sleepiness already taking you over.

“Mhm. Stay here with me. The commute to work will be so short,” he jokes.

“Okay,” you whisper, closing your eyes and letting sleep consume you.

Two weeks have passed since he asked you to stay with him. In the back of your mind you wonder how he has enough credits to do this and when he’s eventually going to leave but you try not to think about it. You’re loving how he treats you and how he makes you feel so you decided you’re just going to live in the moment and enjoy yourself.

He did have to move into a new room after a week, switching to one with the same layout but a few floors higher and a gorgeous view. The resort’s also been pretty busy. And on the days you work late it’s night to just walk into a room there with a warm bed and someone to hold you at night.

On your days off you two either spend time at the beach or around the resort. And since meeting him you’ve grown into the habit of drinking revnog and taking peezos when you’re really looking to have fun.

And that’s the case for today; another one of your days off. The beach has been really crowded all day so you’ve spent the day in the hotel room, twisted in the bed sheets, drinking revnog and popping peezos. Nightfall is approaching and you’re standing on the balcony with him when he says, “Let’s go to the beach.”

“Now? It’s getting dark out and this beach has a curfew.”

“They don’t patrol it at night. I’ve been watching from here,” he says, eyes scanning the beach as people start to leave.

You know what, why not?

“Okay,” you respond.

When it’s fully dark out the two you leave the room and walk down to the lobby where you see Mara at the front desk. She glances at the direction you’re headed and pieces together you’re going to the beach. She gives you a knowing look and mouths “Have fun!” You shoot her wave and continue walking with Keef.

You get to the beach and it’s so peaceful at night when it’s not packed with tourists. You pick out a cabana at the water’s edge and lay there together, just watching the waves. The moonlight illuminates his face and you think again just about how happy you are.

“I wish you could stay forever,” you say softly and also subconsciously.

“Who says I can’t?”

“I mean you have to get back to Coruscant eventually.”

“Right…” he says as if he just remembered something unpleasant.

It falls silent between the two of you, both of you retreating to watching the waves. He has an uneasy look on his face, like he wants to say something.

“Can I… tell you something?” he asks, his nervousness evident in his voice.

“Of course.”

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here or where I’m going next but for whatever time I have left with you… I want you to know my name.”

You’re silent, letting him talk freely because it looks like this is a real internal conflict for him. He grabs your hands and says, “My name is Cassian. And I know this is going to sound so suspicious but no one else can know… I just wanted to hear you call me by my real name when we’re together.”

You take a deep breath and say, “Okay, Cassian.”

He smiles and kisses you before you lay down again. The voice in the back of your mind is louder, telling you that this guy is bad news, that you should get out while you can. But the voice is still just soft enough for you to ignore.

His hand grazes your thigh and you decide that you want him. You want to fuck him and call him by his real name (which is much better than Keef anyway). You part your legs and let his hand travel up your thigh. He pushes the fabric of your underwear and shorts to the side, bringing his fingers to your entrance.

“Do you want me, sweetheart?” he says softly. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear you say it.

“So bad, Cass,” you respond, the tone of your voice getting breathier at his touch.

He slips a finger into your already wet cunt, pulling a sharp gasp from you. He curls his finger upwards against your walls as you grow wetter around him. He slips another in and your walls expand around the thickness of his digits. In no time, he pulls your first orgasm from you, your cunt clenching around his fingers as you ride out your high. You do your best to keep quiet, keeping your moans controlled as you soak his fingers.

He removes them from you and slides off your shorts. He pulls off his shirt and hastily removes his pants, desperate to be buried inside you already. He gathers your wetness on his hand and slicks his cock before entering you slowly, closing his eyes at the warm and inviting feeling. He buries his cock inside you to the hilt and curses under his breath. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts in and out of you, brushing your g-spot with each thrust of his cock. You look up at him with the moonlight and stars behind him; truly a sight to behold, your lover above you pounding you on a beach with the beautiful sky above him. He grabs your hand with one final thrust you’re coming around him. Unlike before you can’t keep your moans back, letting them flow out freely and he loves it.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby,” he says.

“It’s so good, Cass. So big.”

Due to your praise he’s at edge, pulling out of you swiftly and coming on your stomach yet again. He lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest. He presses a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Thank you… for understanding.”

“Of course, Cassian.”

“I just love being here with you.”

“Me, too,” you whisper back.

It melts your heart just how comfortable with you he is. You know he’s still not telling you everything about his past but you can tell it’s hard. And you can tell he desperately needed this time to relax and enjoy himself. There’s so much history and pain in his eyes. And you want nothing more than to just be there for him.

A week has passed since Cassian confessed his real name to you and you’ve gotten more used to calling him that. He hasn’t mentioned any plans of leaving just yet and you not so secretly hope he’ll just stay forever, whether at the resort or in a place of his own on Niamos.

It’s your day off again and you wake up in his bed again, naked and wrapped in the bed sheets. You hear the refresher going and call for him, “Cass?”

“Just washing up, sweetheart,” he responds.

You roll out of bed and get up just as he’s leaving the refresher, shirtless and skin still glistening.

“What are you doing up? Rest, baby.”

“But-”

“Shh rest. I’m just running to Arkie’s for more revnog and revnog, okay? Got any requests?”

“Hmm the green ones,” you say, retreating back to the bed. He bends down and kisses you before pulling on his shirt and saying, “You got it, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” you sigh as you hear the door close.

You lay in bed for a while before deciding to wash up yourself. You get dressed and sit on the edge of the bed and it dawns on you… he’s been gone for an unusually long time. Arkie’s isn’t that far from here and he was only grabbing two things. Where could he possibly be?

Eventually nightfall rolls around and he’s still not back yet. You don’t dare to make a missing persons report because of the secrecy around his name. So instead you just feel helpless.

It’s the next day now and there’s still no sign of him. He paid for two more days in his current room and you opt to stay there just in case he returns. But he doesn’t. When it’s time to check out of the room you gather his things and take them back to your place, still holding onto hope that he’ll come back.

But days turn into weeks and still… nothing. You’re starting to think he just played you. That he just had you when he could because you were convenient. But then again when he told you about his name and how much he loved spending time with you he seemed so sincere. The constant back and forth in your mind is eating you up inside.

Mara notices he’s gone and brings herself to ask about him one day in the break room.

“Haven’t seen your friend in a while,” she comments.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“I’m sorry, girl. I guess it was just a summer fling.”

You let out a long sigh. Just a summer fling indeed.

Part two: This Love Came Back to Me

Soooo I don't really do tag lists anymore but I'm really excited about this one so I tagged who ever interacted with the announcement post and some folks I thought might enjoy this based on my other Cassian fics 🥹

If you’d like to be removed shoot me a dm or ask 🖤

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#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor smut #cassian andor fanfiction #andor fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #cassian andor #diego luna #diego luna fanfiction #diego luna characters #star wars

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silver-pieces · 1 year

Text

prisoners

Pairing: Cassian Andor x fem!reader

Word Count: Almost 8.7k

Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate here.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smut (unprotected p in v sex, slight breeding kink), physical pain & trauma, depression, nightmares, prison, prison labour, open sea & dark water

A/N: For the prompt ‘Nightmare/Soulmark’ in Andor Bingo, created by @sw-andor This fic features major spoilers for Andor S1. Keef = Cassian. Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics.

“What’s she doin’ ‘ere?”

“I think that’s obvious.”

“Yeah but, she’s a woman.”

“What do they care? Man, woman, we’re all just slaves - ”

“Oi! Table five.” Kino barks from behind you. He stalks over, meeting everyone’s eyes with a glare. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeh’ve given us a woman,” the redhead says. “No offence, love, but why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with the other birds?”

“Shut it,” Kino growls. “It doesn’t matter why she’s here. She is. Now stop wasting my time and get back to work. Unless you want to get fried.”

Your feet shift nervously at the memory. Hot, electric pain. Everyone else stiffens too, a shared sense of dread filling the sterile air.

He takes you by the shoulders and pushes you towards one of the men. “Keef.”

A man with dark hair and even darker eyes looks up at the sound of his name, his gaze falling on you as he pauses mid-crank.

Your lips part, and your gaze lingers on the sight of his sleeves rolled up, his arms tensing with each push so hard, that, in any other circumstance, you might find it appealing.

“Show her the ropes.” Kino lowers his voice to a menacing growl. “And make sure she understands what’s at stake.”

The man gives him a subtle nod.

“You’re down four now, boys,” Kino says, his gaze shifting to you, “... and girl. No more distractions. Let’s get this done!”

They get back to work - a synchronised effort that you struggle to follow, only adding to the chaos happening around you. There are lasers and cranks and drills and pieces of machinery that they have to manually fit together. And the sounds are overwhelming - hardened voices overlapping with the whirring and clanking of the machines.

“I’m Jemboc,” the older one next to Keef says. “This is Ham, Xaul, Melshi, and Taga.” He goes around the table, pointing at each one.

You say your name in return, but it comes out feeble, your throat still not working properly. Xaul, the redhead, pins you with a look. Melshi mutters something to himself, shaking his head.

“Here,” Keef grunts to get your attention, beckoning you to his side. There's a lilt to his voice that pleases your ears. “Watch what I do closely. You have to pull your weight around here, or we all get fried, you understand?”

You manage to nod.

He removes the crank from the machinery and sets it aside, his hands moving deftly from one task to the next. You’re drawn to his hands, the display of skill and strength sending heat down your spine. His brows are lowered, his gaze focused.

Each part requires something different - to pull, crank, lift, reach, press, load. It's heavy labour, but he proves himself more than capable.

"It's easy once you get into the swing of things," Jemboc's voice taking you out of your trance as he steps beside you.

"Right.” You’re not sure you want to get into the swing of things.

The older man frowns at you, but there's a kindness in his eyes.

"Are you getting it?" Keef growls to you as he lifts his hands and backs away from the table.

You nod.

He draws near and ducks his head down, a patient look in his eyes. "Any questions, you can just ask me."

Your heart flutters. Heat rises to your face, though you're not sure why. "Thanks."

With a nod, he turns back to the table and starts loading alongside the others, letting you stand by his side and watch.

No more words are exchanged apart from the occasional barked order from the others - push!, lift!, and hands away!

They get more frantic as time passes. Kino calls something out and your table groans in response.

You realise that they're falling behind.

Get back to work. Unless you want to get fried. Shit. There is no way you're taking that punishment again if you can help it.

Stomach in knots, you step up beside Keef. "I've seen enough, let me help."

He eyes you, a muscle feathering in his jaw, before handing you the crank. As your hand closes around it, he mutters, "Be careful."

A shiver runs down your spine. His voice is low and smooth and it does something to your body that momentarily distracts you from this hell.

Hesitantly, you take the crank from his grip and fasten it to the piece of machinery.

"Table five, your productivity levels are unacceptable. Proceed to the centre of the room and remain on program."

The soles of your feet tingle with each step on the floor. Your head is spinning, heart pounding, mouth drier than a desert.

The others at your table stand with you in the centre of the floor. For a second, you allow yourself a glance over at Keef.

He’s staring straight forward, a dead look in his eyes, but the tiniest shuddering expanse of his chest betrays his fear.

You close your eyes and wait.

No no no no no no no no no -

It slices through your body and your muscles seize with pain. A cry escapes your lips. Your knee hits the floor painfully hard as your legs give way, and the cries of the others violates your ears, inescapable.

It's over in seconds, but it feels like hours.

Your lungs draw ragged breaths. Tears leak from your eyes, and you wipe them away before anyone sees.

Stand. The others are already getting up - you need to follow, quickly, before they decide to punish you again. But your legs are too weak.

A familiar outstretched hand enters your vision.

Your gaze trails up the veins in his forearm, to the sleeves bunched up over his biceps. "Come on," Keef urges softly. "You have to get up."

With all your willpower, you reach up and grab him by the forearm, his hand closing around the inner side of your forearm, bracing you there to help you up.

"Ah!" you hiss, pulling away as a sudden burning sensation flares where his hand touches you.

“Shit!” He grits out, exchanging a confused look with you, and then looks down at his own arm, where you touched him.

Your breath halts as you see it - the symbol burned into your skin, on the inner side of your upper forearm. It’s a simple slashing of lines, but the meaning it carries is far more significant - a soulmark.

He’s staring at the same symbol on his own skin in stunned silence.

“Keef,” you breathe.

Then the deep warped voice of the prison interrupts.

“Prisoners on program. Proceed to your quarters.”

He takes one frantic look at you, and then turns his head forward, following the prison directive and raising his hands behind his head on program. The sleeve, you noticed, he pulls down to hide the mark.

You quickly do the same, assuming the position, even though every fibre of your being is flooded with shock.

As you file through the doors with the others, you can barely hear anything over the pounding of your own ears. Your mind struggles to make sense of what just happened, let alone process everything else that’s happened to you in the last twenty-four hours.

Keef falls in line behind you.

Instantly, you feel his eyes on you, the heat prickling at the back of your neck.

The line of prisoners shuffles along through a long corridor, passing the night shift, stopping and starting up again until you're at your quarters.

"Jemboc, give her the orientation," Kino directs the older man, before leaving you behind to deal with another group of men.

Jemboc turns to you. "Come on, I'll show you your cell."

As he takes you down through the hallway, you see Keef emerge out of the corner of your eye, and when he reaches his own cell, so do you. Directly opposite from each other.

Your eyes meet.

Stars. Finding a soulmate is rare, practically unheard of for most. But he’s here, and the mark is burned into your flesh, still throbbing with fresh pain as you run your fingers over it.

Jemboc starts explaining what the lights on the floor mean, but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of Keef, raking your gaze over his tense form, brown hair mussed and grown out, dark eyes you could lose yourself in, even as you listen to Jemboc listing all the various rules.

“You understand?” Jemboc asks you.

Not really. “Yes,” you reply with a nod, dragging your eyes away.

“What are you in for, anyway?”

“Loitering.” You’ve grown numb to the anger.

“I see.” Jemboc pats you on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay, sister. We all will be, soon.”

“Hey!” The bark of another prisoner cuts him off.

It’s Xaul, pushing past the others, stalking towards you with a deadly glare.

You take a step back on instinct, and Jemboc folds his arms defensively, but it’s Keef who gets in his way.

With a growl, he pushes off the wall, getting in Xaul’s face before he can reach you. “What’s your problem, huh?” he growls. “You’re scaring her.”

Xaul growls, jabs his finger in your direction, and shifts his glare to Jemboc. “Not her.”

They exchange unreadable glances.

Jemboc scowls and takes him by the shoulder, leading him out of earshot from you. The two of them begin talking in low, urgent tones, Xaul shooting you another glare.

Your hands curl into fists at your side.

Hesitantly, Keef turns to you, his head ducked low in sincerity. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice coming out softer than you’ve heard before.

“No,” you say, even as warmth fills you at the concern in his devastatingly brown eyes. Stars, but the sight of him pleases you. “I think we need to talk.”

“Agreed,” he nods, holding his forearm with his other hand, his eyes briefly glancing down, “but we don’t have the time or the privacy in here.”

You draw nearer. “How long is left on your sentence?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes dart to Xaul and Jemboc. “I wish I could tell you. I - ” he cuts himself off as the floor lights start flashing.

In seconds, the hall clears as the rest of the inmates scramble to get into their cells. Keef pushes you towards yours. “Go.”

With his push, you step up into your cell before the lights can turn red. What was it Jemboc said? Seven seconds when the lights start flashing, then they turn red. And if you’re caught in the red light, you die.

On instinct, you turn back around to see Keef again.

Your soulmate.

He stands in his cell across from you, an unreadable expression on his face, his mouth in a grim line, as the lights begin to dim.

The floor lights turn red a second later.

There is no way to get to him now, and no way of talking across the hall without everyone in the surrounding cells hearing you. That’s not an option.

He lingers at the edge of his cell, and so do you, for a time, struggling with this new feeling inside you - this urge, compelling you towards him. Even if you don’t know him yet, you want to.

So you’re paralysed in silence; staring at each other across several feet of deadly flooring.

The murmurs of the other inmates eventually peter out, and as the snoring starts to rise, you feel your eyes growing heavy.

You curse beneath your breath.

Keef must hear it, because he raises his chin and nods in understanding, retreating from the edge of his cell and into darkness.

Grimly, you turn away from him, towards your bunk.

They're everywhere. They're watching you. They know what you've done. You're going to be punished -

You wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

"Hey, hey, breathe." Keef's hushed voice carries across the cell.

Your eyes dart around until you see him, a broad mass in the shadows, sitting on the edge of his bunk across the way.

The soft sound of the other men snoring in their cells settles over the silence.

"It was just a nightmare," he whispers across the corridor. "I'm right here."

You blink back tears, and push yourself up by your elbows. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You run your hand down over your face. There’s been a lot of that lately.

A few shifts in, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your cell counting the seconds going by, running your fingers over the soulmark on your arm, unable to stop thinking about him.

You’ve memorised his form and features with almost no effort - the cut of his jawline, occasionally peppered with stubble if he hasn’t shaved, being your latest obsession.

And you can feel when he looks at you, too. Devouring glances out of the corner of your eye that set your cheeks aflame.

It’s like your body is on high alert at all times. Working alongside him throughout the day, barely able to exchange a few words without anyone overhearing, passing by each other, brushing past each other so close your skin hair raises, but not touching, never touching, just savouring the few small moments in his presence and then trying to go to sleep every night knowing he is a only few feet away from you.

But it’s worse, somehow, when you do manage to turn your brain off. That’s when the nightmares come.

It’s relentless and repetitive; nothing but the Empire and memories of pain, torturing you through your sleep.

Keef’s been developing shadows beneath his eyes as well. You wish you could talk to him about it, but he doesn’t seem to want anyone else to know about your soulmarks, and shit, neither do you. It's hard enough to even admit to yourself, let alone have the others staring at you, judging you more than they already do for being the only woman here.

And if the prison ever found out, they could take you away from each other. Your gut clenches at the thought.

Fuck. Trying to drag your emotions out of the gutter before you break is becoming harder everyday. The weight on your shoulders is crushing you, and you can’t see any light at the end of this tunnel.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you confess, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stands, coming to the edge of his cell in the low, red lighting. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Don’t let them break you.”

You fiddle with your mattress. Don’t let them break you? They already are, and it isn’t your choice.

“Listen to me,” he says, raising his voice to a low growl.

You look up at him, drawing in a shaky breath.

“You had a nightmare, but you woke up from it.” The urgency in his baritone voice calls to you, and you stand, approaching the edge of your cell as he continues. “That’s all this place is. It’s a nightmare. You don’t realise it while you’re inside, but you’re in control. All you have to do is wake up.”

“What are you saying?”

He meets your gaze, an intense, unreadable look in his eyes. “I'm saying, hold on. Just a little while longer. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, before you realise what you’re saying. You blink and look away from him, frowning. “I can.”

His words paint a picture in your mind, one of you, years from now, out of here. On some beach planet or forest town, enjoying the sun on your face. This place, a distant memory in the back of your mind.

Just a nightmare.

A slight smile finds its way onto your face at the thought. You meet Keef’s gaze again, the fierceness in his eyes amplified by the red of the floor, and nod in gratitude.

“I’ll try.”

His shoulders relax slightly, and he nods. “That’s all we can do.”

You sleep.

There’s a warmth in you when you wake, a buzz from the memory of last night. That was the longest conversation you’ve had yet, and even if you couldn’t talk openly, it still felt real.

When you first open your eyes, you’re drawn to his cell on instinct, drinking in the sight of him every chance you can get.

But it’s like he hasn’t moved all night. He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall at the edge of his cell, arms still folded, and he’s staring at you, his dark brows furrowed, the slight stubble peppering his clenched jaw telling you he hasn’t shaved since yesterday. Movement draws your gaze to his arm, where his knuckles shift back and forth, running over that small mark on his arm.

Heat slowly rises to your face.

The floor is still red. The others are awake too, the few you can see from your cell having breakfast or pacing around their small cell. The slight murmur of muted voices blending together.

“Did you sleep?” you ask him.

He gives the subtlest shake of his head.

Your heart sinks.

It’s not just being around him that you can’t bear, it’s also seeing him suffer and not being able to help. You have to keep holding back these strange, rising urges to comfort him. It doesn’t help that he has those big, soulful brown eyes that could melt you down into the cracks of the floor.

You’re not in love, but he matters to you more with each passing day, and that feeling is killing you.

Damn, you thought you’d grown numb to everything, but suddenly the despair is back with a vengeance, and you have to look away to blink back sudden tears.

“Hey,” he calls to you. “You okay?”

Shaking your head, you blow out a breath and chant in your head, don’t break, don’t let them get to you.

He curses, and then he’s pushing of the wall to pace his cell. His shoulders tense with each breath.

You draw near the edge of your cell, watching him try to walk out the tension in his body, your heart caught between desire and despair.

It’s a vicious cycle of suffering between the two of you.

Then the floor lights shift from red to white.

“On program!” Kino calls out.

Prisoners load out of their cells, slowly getting into their line with murmurs and sluggishness.

Keef is already on the floor when you tentatively step down, enduring that moment before your feet touch the metal with your heart in your throat every time. White lights means it’s safe, but -

He approaches you suddenly, closing his hand around the nape of your neck, tipping his forehead against yours. Warm electricity floods through your veins and over your skin at his touch.

“Keef,” you stutter out, shocked at his public display, even as you sink further into his touch. The sounds of shock and angry voices from the men around you start kicking off, but you ignore them.

“Please,” he breathes, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, his face inches away, “it’s killing me. I know you’re scared - I know. What can I do?”

You shake your head. “I - ”

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Kino.

You pull him off you and step away.

He shudders at your touch, and you realise with a jolt that you took his arm right at the soulmark. For a brief moment, he cradles his arm, before Kino approaches and the two of you join the others in line.

“Hm?” The man raises his eyebrow at the both of you. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“It was nothing,” Keef responds. “Just making sure she’s okay.”

Kino glances at you, an unreadable look on his face. “Are you?”

“I’m fine,” you say, but even you can hear the shakiness in your own voice.

He blinks, searching your gaze. Then he grabs Keef by the arm and leans in to whisper something in his ear.

As Keef listens, he sets his eyes on you, before giving Kino a firm nod.

Apparently satisfied, the older man steps away and raises his voice to the rest of the men.

“Time to face another day. Everyone, move.”

As you begin walking forward, you turn your head to whisper back to him, “what was that?”

“Don’t worry,” Keef whispers. “He’s on our side.”

The tension is high at table five.

“I don’t think they should be next to each other today,” says Taga, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

“Why?” Keef growls.

“Does he really have to say why?” Xaul interrupts. “You like her.”

“It could be a distraction,” Ham mutters.

“No.” Keef glares. “She stays by my side. Kino’s orders.”

“Oh, ‘Kino’s orders’? Fuck that. We don’t want to get fried 'cuz of you,” Xaul growls.

Keef turns his ire on Xaul. "And when was the last time that happened? If memory serves, not since she started here, under my guidance."

A mutter goes around the table.

"Table five, get moving," Kino warns as he passes by.

"Let's get this done," Keef growls, and that's the end of the discussion.

The next days feel different, and the same.

You try to hold on, like you promised him, but the nightmares and the sleepless nights are getting worse.

You touched each other for the second time ever, felt the warmth of his hands on you, breathed the same air, the memory of seeing the depths of darkness in his brown eyes up close is carved into your mind, and now the yearning inside of you has developed; a deep ache in your bones.

The others can sense something more is up between you. You feel their eyes follow you; but you can't bring yourself to care whether they notice the way he always rushes to your aid, or the soft exchanges of words, or the way the two of you never move too far apart. You can't fight this growing need to be around him. You're soulmates. Whatever that means.

"Doctor! We need the doctor!"

Your ears prick at the commotion at table two. Everyone keeps working, but out of the corner of your eye you watch as Kino goes over to investigate.

"Is it another panic attack?"

You push down on the drill.

"...he's not breathin'"

You lift it up and inspect the results.

"Shit. I’ll call the doctor."

Your table begins to lift the cog off the table to load it on the rack. You step away, watching them move. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man keeled over on the floor.

A little bit of your soul cracks.

Keef returns to your side, and it’s brief, but his arm brushes against yours.

He doesn’t even need to say anything - you meet his brown-eyed gaze and all the hurt in your lungs evaporates.

“Unit Five-Two-D on program.”

He flicks his gaze up to the entrance, a gleam in his eyes.

You put your hands behind your head and turn to face them as the doctor is lowered onto the floor.

The man is dead.

There’s a strange anticipation in the air, like the way the air gets dry before a storm hits.

You watch them carry the man away in a bodybag. You catch Xaul and Jemboc exchanging a look. You catch the way Kino nods subtly to Keef as he walks past.

Everyone goes silently to their quarters - not even a whisper.

“Fall out!” Kino yells.

You turn to Keef. “What is going on?”

He pulls you aside, leaning in with his voice down low. “Do you trust me?”

“Why?”

“Tomorrow, whatever Kino says, I want you to follow immediately. No hesitation. You understand?”

“What - ”

“I can’t explain. I wish I could, but - ” His eyes catch on someone over your shoulder, and his mouth closes in a grim line.

You glance back and see Xaul, watching from a distance, arms folded, jaw tense. He’s never seemed to trust you, and you don’t blame him, but the way he watches you at all times is hard to get comfortable with.

“I don’t understand,” you turn back to your soulmate and search his eyes, “but... I trust you.”

An unreadable expression flashes in his eyes, and then everything is swept away as he takes you by the waist, cups your chin, and sweeps you into a gentle kiss.

For a nanosecond you freeze, before the rush of adrenaline fills your veins and you melt against his lips. The soulmark pulses on your arm, and the most amazing feeling overtakes you, of drifting high up in the clouds and watching the sun rise. You pull him closer, threading your fingers through his hair. The bristle of his five-o’clock shadow makes itself known with each movement, desire pooling in your core as you move your body against his. He feels so real, solid and alive, and it’s breathtaking.

The sounds of the world around you only vaguely registers in your head. Men, shouting at you.

Fuck them. Nothing else matters. You’re in the arms of your soulmate and you never want to leave again.

Then one voice, Kino’s, pierces through your haze. “Oi! The floor!”

Your eyes fly open as Keef breaks off the kiss and pushes you towards your cell with a growl.

You barely have time to react. Between the flashing lights, you lunge for the safe zone, leaping up into it seconds before the place is bathed in red.

“Fuck!”

You turn around.

He stands in his cell across from you, panting, his hair mussed from your attention. His eyes are wild, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to drop dead.

The instinct to reassure him overwhelms you. “I’m okay,” you say, stepping away from the edge. “I made it.”

He closes his eyes, running a palm over his mouth, and his shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shuddering breath.

You look down at your soulmark. That heightened feeling is fading, fast, each second you’re not back in his arms. A vision enters your head, of you, throwing yourself across the hall, even though you know that ends in death.

“You two lovebirds have a death wish?” Kino yells from his cell.

Shit.

“I told you they were distracting each other.”

“Gonna get us killed.”

Murmurs ripple down the hall. Heads, poking out of their cells.

Keef shakes his head, eyes swimming with anger. His voice is low, but you still hear it above the din. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken that risk.”

His words should fill you with regret, but a part of you, a small, stubborn part, thinks that maybe it was worth it anyway, just to touch him again, to feel his arms around you, the dominance of his kiss.

You close your eyes, a hand going to your mouth on instinct, fingertips trailing where he had his mouth on yours.

“Enough!”

Kino’s bark gets everyone’s attention instantly. The chatter dies down.

You open your eyes, and Keef is staring at you, a hungry look in his eyes. Heat rises to your face.

“Everyone knows what the plan is. Yes?”

Mumbles of men in agreement echo through the hall. You tilt your head, trying to discern any information you can, but pick up nothing. Nothing except that Keef looking towards Kino’s cell with fire in his eyes - tense, almost like hope, but darker.

Anger.

“Good. Now’s the time to rest. Tomorrow, we fight.”

A chill runs down your spine.

He’s shirtless in the morning.

Instantly pushing yourself up, your gaze locked on his chest, his stomach v, his arms, you catch his attention with the sudden movement.

He snaps his gaze to yours, pausing mid-stretch. His arm pulled across his chest, braced against his other arm to stretch his shoulder, the ropes of his biceps on full display for you.

“Hi,” you say.

Your swear his mouth curves just slightly, a twitch in his face, and he nods at you.

“Hi.”

All the blood in your body has left your brain. You continue to stare at him like an idiot while he does some basic stretches, before the lights flick to white, and Kino yells his daily on program! while Keef slides his shirt back on.

You fall in line in front of him.

He stands closer to you than normal, pressing his up front against you, his breath fanning against the back of your head as he leans in. His lilting voice sounds lowly in your ear, a lilting, baritone sound. “Remember what I said?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. “F-Follow Kino,” you manage to stutter out.

He hums in approval. “Good girl.”

Your thighs clench together.

He’s getting more bold in front of the others, more playful, and you can’t help but feel excited and nervous by the shift. Why has he stopped hiding?

The line starts moving forward, and you follow the person in front of you to the showers as normal, trying to focus on anything but what he just said.

He thinks there’s a chance you could both escape, you think, and then immediately regret that line of thinking. But it’s too late. That future you imagined - the one that he planted in your mind with his words, shifts, and suddenly he’s there beside you in each vision, relaxing, laughing, grinning like an idiot.

Fuck.

The shift begins, the men exchanging knowing glances that have anticipation and dread growing in your belly. You know what this is by now, you’ve put the pieces together despite their weird reluctance in telling you.

This escape plan is really happening.

The new prisoner arrives shortly after your shift begins, and when Keef returns from the bathroom soaking wet, you barely have time to react before shit hits the fan.

Obeying Kino’s orders, you watch as together the other prisoners hijack the lift and short out the entire system - no more hot floor.

As he reaches the top, Keef turns back to pin you with a wild, furious look in his eyes that fills you with fire. He jerks his head for you to follow him.

So you do.

You climb. You run. You follow.

A guard catches you and tries to pull you away, but Keef is there in a flash of red and the smell of burning flesh, grabbing you by the hand and telling you to run as the man slumps to the ground.

The loading platform ends in a sheer drop to the sea. Your stomach drops as you pull back, glancing around as others begin to jump.

This is insane.

“I can’t swim!”

You barely hear Kino say it over the sound of the wind and the other prisoners, but then he says it again, and there is no doubt.

You step up beside him. “Me neither.”

Keef stares at you in shock.

And then he’s gone.

One of the men drags him off the edge by accident, and a shriek escapes you. “No!” but you can only watch as he disappears from sight.

A second goes by, then two. More men rush past.

There's nothing but the sound of blood pumping in your ears. No matter which way you think about it, if you follow, you're dead. There's no way you can swim that far, and if Keef tries to help you, he'll probably just die with you.

You fall to your knees.

Others race past you still, flinging themselves off the edge one by one. Kino stands by your side, watching them with an empty gaze.

“What do we do now?” you ask, and find yourself subconsciously cradling your arm, the soulmark on it beginning to throb painfully. Follow Kino, he said, but you’re not sure Kino has any moves left. There’s none you can see; no way to survive.

Maybe you should just jump anyway and let fate decide.

“Nothing.” Kino looks down at the gun in his hand. “We’re going out, one way or another.”

You nod and take in a deep breath of salty ocean air. “Agreed.”

He says nothing.

“Ah!” Your soulmark throbs again, and you grip your arm, hissing through your teeth. “Fuck off!”

“Sorry?” Kino growls.

"It’s uh,” you pull back your sleeve to him, “my soulmark.”

He blinks. “Damn. Keef?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains you two then.” He nods, casting his gaze out to sea. “I... I have a family.”

You peer up at him.

“I just wanted to see them again.” He looks down at the gun in his hands again.

“At least you know you tried,” you offer. “Sometimes...” Keef’s words ring true, pouring from your lips even as you hear the memory of his words spoken in your mind. “...that’s all we can do.”

The two of you linger in silence. Below you, the forms of men swimming away from the prison spread out, reaching towards the horizon. The soulmark on your arm is aching something fierce now, calling you to the edge. But it’s the realisation that Keef must be feeling this pain too, that hurts even more.

You hope he is trying anyway, down there, despite the pain.

He’s probably thinking the same thing about you.

Damn.

You stand. “Give me the gun.”

Kino hands it to you without even looking, his eyes remaining fixed on the horizon.

You turn around, facing the inside of the prison, and point the gun at one of the panels of the wall. The sound of the blast almost deafens you.

The panels sizzle where the blast hit, but as you approach, you can see them peeling away from each other at the seam. Without hesitation, you wedge the barrel of the gun in the hole, and with all your strength, try to peel the panel off the wall.

“What are you doing?” Kino growls.

You glance back at him with a half-cocked shrug.

“Finding something that floats.”

Wet.

Cassian’s fingers close around sand. His lungs are on fire, exacerbated by the stinging salt he inhales with each breath. Everything hurts.

A shadow relieves him from the sun. He looks up and for a moment, it’s you, the beautiful image of you reaching down for him tilting this world on its axis. Then he blinks, and Melshi comes into focus.

“We need to disappear,” he’s saying, scanning their surroundings.

Cassian tries to push himself up, but there’s a terrible ache emanating from his soulmark. It was easy to ignore in the sea - everything hurt. But now it spreads through his body, an urging like no other to wade back out into the dark waves - to go back for you.

He wants to punch the man who tackled him off the edge. Whoever it was. But as soon as he hit the water, swimming was the only way to survive.

“Did ya hear me? Keef?”

With a grunt, Cassian sits up and brushes off his hands, wincing when his arm throbs with the movement. “Did anyone else make it?”

Melshi squints. “If they did, they didn’t follow us.”

Yeah, that’s what he thought. Even if, by some miracle, you did make it, you could be miles apart, with no way of finding each other.

It would be enough to know that you survived, but he’s never been that lucky. No. He thinks of you, of your tentatively hopeful expressions that get him through the day, that beautifully trusting look in your eyes right before he kissed you, and has to tilt his head back to prevent his eyes from watering.

His soulmate. Dead.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could save you.

“Keef.” Melshi stoops down beside him. “We have to move.”

“What do you know about soulmarks?” he murmurs.

Melshi sighs. “You’re dehydrated, mate. C’mon.” He goes to lift him up.

“No - no!” Cassian resists, pushing Melshi away and scrambling to his feet. He shoves back his sleeve and bares his soulmark. “I need to know! I need to...” He cuts himself off with a grimace as pain pulses through the mark.

Melshi stares at the mark, wide-eyed. “No shit. The girl?”

Cassian can only nod. “She doesn’t even know - my real name.” He chokes the words out past tears. “I thought I could save her. But she’s... she’s probably dead by now.” It feels like he’s separated from his body, like someone else is saying these things.

“Wouldn’t you know?”

Cassian stills. “What do you mean?”

Melshi hesitates.

“What do you mean?!” He grips at his hair, heart thudding in his chest so hard it might burst. “How would I know?!”

“I don’t know! It was just a story, back home - people said the marks are like homing beacons. So if she’s dead, your mark would... stop working.” He cringes, muttering, “it sounds stupid when I say it like that.”

Cassian looks down at it the throbbing, aching mark. He focuses on it, and - there - the throbbing pulls towards the sea.

He looks out at the waves. “She’s alive.”

His legs carry him forward, back into the sea. The sound of Melshi yelling behind him is a distant worry over the beating of his own heart, the very blood in his veins burning to get to you.

Then arms close around him, pulling him back. “You’re insane!”

He snarls and shoves Melshi back. “Get off me!”

“You’ll die!”

“I have to go back!”

Melshi lets him go. “Okay okay, just - just think about this! You’re no use to her dead.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t understand. If she’s alive - ”

“If she’s still alive, she’ll need more than just one man swimming out to rescue her!” His gaze darts down. “Is it getting better or worse?”

“What?”

He points to Cassian’s soulmark. “It’s painful, right? Is it getting worse?”

Cassian looks down at it. “It’s been about the same for a while now.” Fucking painful, but, “...maybe a little less than before. I don’t know!”

Melshi nods. “So she could be getting closer.”

“If that is how it works.” Instinct - the mark - tells him it does, but the panic in his chest won’t go away. He needs to see you. “So what do I do then? Wait around for her to find me? She can’t swim, so how - ”

“I don’t care!” Melshi interrupts. "But if you don’t return to shore with me, I will knock you unconscious and drag you back.” There’s a deadly serious look in the man’s eyes.

The ache within him isn’t going away. He’s not sure how much more he can take. But Melshi is right - it would be a death wish to swim back.

The prison is a blip on the horizon. Could you have really made it, somehow?

Melshi eyes him aggressively, waiting for him to make a move.

Cassian raises an eyebrow. “You really care about me that much?”

“You’ve been a bloody pain in my arse, but you were instrumental in our escape, so I figure I owe ya.”

With a nod, he looks back towards land, skimming his fingers over the waist-high water. “We wait here then.”

“They’ll be sending ships looking for us.”

“I won’t go any farther inland.”

Melshi shakes his head. “Fine.” With a splash, he begins wading toward the shore. “Then we’d better find some shelter for the night.”

It’s midnight. Probably, anyway. Cassian has no sense of time here, except that it's been dark for a while.

He sits with his face tilted up to the stars. The sea breeze is a cool rush of air, swaying the tree above and rustling his hair across his face.

He needs a haircut again.

The mark on his arm has steadied to a slow, aching pulse every few seconds, nothing more than the sensation of a mending bruise.

Melshi is right - he can feel it in his veins that you're getting close.

So he's waiting.

Sleep will not come to him tonight. Like you, it eludes him, and in its place, the unnatural sense that something is missing.

It's subtle, at first. A crashing of waves that don't fit the slow, steady beat he's been listening to all night.

Then, the sound of voices out there. A man's, deep and grating, and yours.

He'd recognise it anywhere.

He peers around the tree, out towards the sea, and sees a shape floating on the water.

“Melshi.” He hisses his companion’s name, getting up. “Melshi! It's them.”

“Huh,” Melshi starts, half awake.

“It’s them. I’m going to get her.”

He groans, shifting his arms up to cover his face. “They’re actually here? Wha’ are the chances? How?”

“I don’t know.” Breathless, Cassian turns toward the sea, towards the place his soulmark has been calling him towards all night. “But I’m going to find out. Come on.”

He runs to the water.

Sand sprays beneath his feet, then water splashes, and then he’s wading, then swimming, towards it. The shape blotting out the stars on the horizon morphs into two silhouettes sitting on some kind of raft. They’re slowly paddling their way towards the shore.

Cassian wants to weep with joy when he hears their voices - first Kino, then you.

“Is that - ”

“Keef? Keef!” you cry out, your voice hoarse.

His palm collides with the raft - a smooth white panel, and there you are, sitting on one side with a salt-streaked, wind-struck, beautiful face, staring down at him in wonder.

“Well shit,” Kino croaks, glancing at you. “You were right.”

Your hand rests over your soulmark as you stare down at Cassian.

Stars. There is so much he wants to say, but none of it seems like enough for this moment. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off you - he can’t.

But as the waves gently rise and fall, Kino clears his throat pointedly. “Much as I love being surrounded by water...”

“Right, right.” Cassian grabs hold of the panel. “I’ll take you to shore.”

The soft strokes of the sea abuts his efforts as he pulls the raft behind him, until the sea floor shallows out and he can put his feet beneath him.

“You should be good now. You can stand,” he says, instantly returning to your side of the raft. “Melshi’s with me, on the shore.”

Kino nods, sliding off the edge. “We should bury the panel.”

“Agreed.”

You hesitantly dip your legs in the water, and Cassian places his hands on your waist ready to help you down. “I’ve got you.”

In the darkness he can barely see your face, but he could swear there’s a heat reflected in your eyes.

It feels good, coming to you aid on instinct. Putting his hands on you.

As he holds you steady, you gently slip off the edge of the raft and collide against him with an oof as you land.

Despite his exhaustion, his shaft hardens. To go from be denied his soulmate for so long, to this...

“Here,” he says, roughly pushing the panel towards Kino, his eyes never leaving your face. “Go see Melshi. We’ll catch up.”

The man grunts something, and begins to wade to shore with the panel, and then he’s forgotten as Cassian is drawn back to you on instinct.

His arms tighten around your waist, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s struck.

You cup his face, gaze flitting between his eyes and his mouth, your breaths mingling, and then suddenly he’s pressing his mouth against yours.

You let out a cute little gasp against him, and his chest flutters, as you yield to him.

Yes. He burns with the rightness of this moment, and yet braces you against him as he deepens the kiss, like he’s afraid you’re going to slip away. He doesn’t quite believe you’re real yet.

Your fingers dig into his hair, and he likes it, the way you pull him into you with the same hunger and desperation he’s feeling.

“Cassian,” he breathes suddenly, pulling back for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours. “My real name is Cassian.”

“Cassian,” you repeat, and then your mouth curves into a smile - a fucking smile.

He almost groans. His soulmark pulses warmly against you. “You’re alive.”

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding against him.

“You’re my soulmate.”

You nod again, clinging tight to him. “Yes.”

A low, reverent chuckle escapes him, and you let out a light giggle in response; together relishing in the intimacy of this moment.

And then you cant your hips, and his laugh turns into a groan, a new kind of bliss making itself known in the hardening of his length beneath his pants. He thinks he’s never seen anything as beautiful as the look in your eyes. Full of passion - a beautiful, twisting flame, but also, understanding. You barely know each other, and yet it’s like your souls know each other intimately; bound together by something greater than either of you can fathom.

With a swift motion, he sweeps your legs out from underneath you and hitches your thighs around his waist so you're floating in the water, anchored in place by him alone.

You press yourself into him, arching your back and leaning forward to brush your lips against his.

He kisses you with all the fervour and unfulfilled need building inside him. His hands come around your ass and dig in, tugging your crotch against him so you can feel his hardness.

Another heady, submissive gasp escapes you against his mouth, and when your legs open further to let him settle against you, he's done for.

“I know you’re probably tired,” he murmurs, “and we should probably get to shore, but I...”

You're nodding before he even finishes the sentence, making his heart soar with the needy look in your eyes. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, yes, please, Cassian, please.”

With a breathless laugh, he drops your thighs and takes you by the waistband of your pants instead.

Together, you work to pull it off of you. It’s awkward, messy, not how he imagined this going, but it doesn’t matter. The mood is playful as you struggle to pull your pants off beneath the water - you, bracing yourself on his shoulders, and him, trying to pull it off your legs and getting splashed in the process.

But then suddenly you’re fully naked from the waist down, and your laughter quietens as you draw close to each other again.

He can’t see your naked lower half beneath the dark water, but he can feel when you wrap your legs around him again.

Slowly, he places his hand on your bare thigh, treating the moment with all the reverence of a ritual, his soulmark tingling in anticipation and sending a shudder through his body.

With his other hand, he cups your face, searching your gaze.

“I’m clean.”

“Same.”

“Birth control?”

Something like pain flickers in your eyes, and you shake your head. “Not since... before.”

“Right. Of course.”

He hesitates.

The two of you just escaped prison, and if he’s learnt anything, this is not the kind of galaxy he wants to risk bringing a child into. He’s not even sure if he’ll survive tomorrow.

“What do you want to do then?”

“We could die tomorrow.” You shift in his arms, pulling yourself flush against him until his hardness presses firmly between you. “Fuck it.”

He tilts his head, a slight grin curling on his face. Stars, when you say it like that... With a clench of his jaw, he pulls you down slowly and impales you on his hardness.

His head falls back. You’re fucking tight. A raw, incredulous groan rises from his throat.

Your reaction has his head spinning - fingers winding through his grown-out hair and pulling desperately against him. He loves little hiss you make.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze and his seed almost spills, only holding himself back with the barest restraint. Must savour this moment. Finally being inside you - his soulmate.

He pulls you in for a hungry kiss. Heat rises between your bodies as you give yourself over to his touch, opening your mouth into his kiss and arching your back for him.

It’s too much. Unable to stop himself, his hands grip you by your thighs and he fully impales you, forcing your tight, inner channel muscles to give way and let his shaft thrust full inside you.

You brace his shoulders and writhe in pleasure. “Oh, Cassian, please, m-move - ”

That’s all he hears before his instincts take over, and he uses all his strength to thrust, desperate to wedge himself so far inside you he’ll never leave.

He plants his feet on the sea floor and braces you against him as you cant your hips for him. Your bodies are working overtime to create that toe-curling friction, thrusting into each other with bruising force, the waves splashing and breaking over your entwined forms.

Your mouths clash in a tangle of heated, desperate kisses that burn him from within. The tension is pulled taut between you, soulmarks thrumming in time with each other as you desperately unite your bodies as one.

He rocks his hips up between your open legs and hits home harder and harder with each slosh of the water. His hands grip you by the back of your shirt, fingers scrambling against the fabric to pull your body down as hard as he can.

Your head lols back in the water, a gasp escaping your throat. “Cassian! Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop - oh!”

He grunts in approval. His hunger for you grows, seeing you so vulnerable like this for him, desperate to hold out as long as he can to pleasure you. His thrusts grow even more frantic and sloppy - a fast, brutal jerking rhythm of pounding up into your cunt.

“My hope,” he murmurs in Kenari, barely hanging on to his sanity. “Better than anything I’d ever dreamt of.” He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable and all his, and his hardness gives a heady warning pulse of heat. He groans. “You’re everything. You’re mine.”

You let out a whimper in his arms, and then you’re tensing, your thighs, clenching around him with newfound strength.

“Cassian,” you moan through gritted teeth, “Cassian!”

The first jolt of pleasure wracks through his body without warning. At the realisation that you’re climaxing, he’s had it - he can’t hold back anymore.

He groans in disbelief. His brows draw together, the deep, intense, deliberate jerking of his body against yours faltering as pleasure takes over. A sound comes out of him, a mix between a desperate plea and praise, and then he’s coming inside you.

Fierce, intense waves of heat pulse into your raw, messy, clenching cunt.

His pleasure deepens as you open your legs even farther to receive his spend inside you. With a growl, he pulls you against him and jerks his hips against you once more, finishing himself off.

“Yes,” you moan, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. The change in angle shields your face from the starlight, but the sound of your shuddering, desperate pants of breath are clear as day. You’re high on this shared bliss together.

“Don’t want to wake up,” he murmurs against your lips.

“You think I’m a dream?”

He traces up your arm and wraps his hand around the back of your neck. “You’re too good to be real. I’m not that lucky.”

You chuckle. “You are now.”

“We’ll see.”

It isn’t until the next morning, when he opens his eyes to the first rays of sun and you’re still there, asleep in his arms, that he finally allows himself to believe.

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teddy06writes · 4 months

Text

Stubborn

Cassian Andor x gn!reader

Prompt: "The only person that gets to kill you, is me."

Warnings: non specific description of injuries

Premise: After a mission for the rebellion goes south and Cassian lands himself in the infirmary, you give him a piece of your mind. Told from Jyn's perspective.

(presumably takes place at some point after Rouge One, in an Everybody lives universe)

It was supposed to have been a relatively routine mission. Two days at the most, including travel time; get in, get the intel, get out. That's all it was intended to be. That was until Cassian saw an opportunity to get a leg up, and Jyn had gone along, right up until that leg up turned out to be at a steeper price than they had planned.

Now, sitting in the infirmary on Yavin IV, Jyn was certainly beginning to regret it. Neither of the two were hurt badly, Jyn only sustaining a few scrapes and bruises from their quick escape, nothing a bit of bacta spray couldn't fix. Cassian had gotten the worst of it, and would be forced to take it easy for the next week or so until he had healed up enough to go back out in the field.

When the doors to the infirmary slammed open with a bang, Jyn couldn't even muster up shock. Cassian had mentioned that you would be furious at him.

"Are you kidding me? Are you an idiot Cass?" You demanded, storming past Jyn and strait to Cassian's bedside.

K-2SO lumbered along behind you, stopping beside Jyn, "To be fair, I did try to stop them."

"No you didn't." She said, watching in amusement as you continued to rant.

"No, I didn't." K2 agreed.

"You can't just go throwing yourself into things like that because you think it will accomplish something! What good are you to the Rebellion if you go off getting yourself killed for the tiniest bit more information!"

Cassian just kept looking up at you, waiting patiently, the same love struck in his eyes that Jyn saw every time you came near, or even came up in conversation.

"There are people here counting on you to come back! I'm counting on you to come back! God for someone so smart you make the dumbest decisions sometimes- Your so worrisome, and stubborn and aggravating and- Damn it, Cass, the only person who gets to kill you, is me!"

After this final exclamation you fell silent, staring down at him with a flushed, exasperated expression on your face that had Jyn struggling to hide her laughter.

Gently, Cassian took your hand, where it had fallen back to your side after your gestures had ended, "And you'll still have the chance, y/n. I'm okay. It's okay..."

In a moment, you deflated, your frustration suddenly disappearing as you squeezed his hand back, slowly sinking down into the chair beside his bed, "I was so worried Cassian. You can't scare me like that again."

Your voices grew too hushed for Jyn to make out, as Cassian reassured you, your hands still clasped between you. So she stood, all but dragging K2 out with her to give you space.

#rouge one #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #rouge one x reader #teddy06 writes #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy06writes

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

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Small fun fact about me:

My mom is neurodivergent too! And not only that, but

Me and my mom share a special interest.

[A short post about me, my mom, hyperfixations, and how acceptance can help you grow]

For the last ten years, both me and my mother have had a hyperfixation on Marvel movies and Superhero movies in general.

And if anything, she's more fixated than I am.

This started at the same time, despite my mother never picking up a comic in her life. It happened when we first saw the Avengers in theatres in 2012.

Since then me and my mother have seen every Marvel movie on the day of release, or even a day before release.

When I was in high school, I remember her specifically pulling me out of school early to take me to the marathon premiere of Thor 2 and The Winter Soldier.

She's seen every Marvel media to date outside of the Netflix series. She's already finished Secret Invasion.

In recent years, we've gotten Unlimited movie memberships, and because we live in NY we can often see movies the Thursday before the Friday release, so we go to the movies almost twice a month, and we see movies repeatedly.

I saw ATSV three times in theatres while she saw it twice, and saw GOTG a second or third time. We recently saw Blue Beetle the day or two after release. She keeps me CONSISTENT.

The reason why I theorize about Marvel media and Spider-man media is largely because of her.

For years she was the one I theorized with. I've spoken to her about whether or not Peter set Miles up (she isn't convinced), or argue with her about whether or not Khonsu from Moon Knight is cool (he is).

She watches more Marvel fan content than me and inhales all the essays, reacts, and Easter egg videos on YouTube.

She's the same with recent Star Wars, she's seen Andor and Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, and currently working her way through Asoka.

And she knew about my past fixation on Loki in specific. She even knows about Hobie and Diane.

I told her I want to go to NY ComicCon as my spidersona and she was like "... You'd have to work on your roller skating" and I was SHOOK she remembered that about Diane because she's right.

But yeah, we've always been REALLY REALLY close over marvel stuff, and it's amazing having a parent who has the same fixation as you. It's like a natural thing, and I can speak openly about my theories or interests and she'll be like 'Oh yeah I noticed that incredibly niche moment where Hobie did that one specific thing, what of it'

I'm never treated weird for my fixation. Cause hers is stronger. I told her I didn't want to see GOTG again and she was like HUH and I was so heartbroken that I went and saw it anyway 😭😭

Some of my favorite moments with my mom are in movies theatres. And because we share this niche interest and neurodivergency, we're able to have these in-depth conversations about these characters we've formed bonds to together.

When Loki the show came out we'd been waiting literal years for it - like literally since 2013 talking about it. And I had a lot of mixed feelings about it.

But I could talk about those feelings and thoughts and characterizations with someone I know wouldn't ostracize me, knows the material as well as I do - if not more, and cares about these characters.

Because of that, my theorizing skills were able to grow all throughout my teenage years.

Because my hyperfixation was nurtured instead of demonized.

And I just think that's SO COOL.

Just wanted to share. Here's a photo of Miguel because I hate consistency [this is a hobie household]

Bye.

#neurodivergent #neurodivergency #neurodiversity #adhd #autism #actuallyautistic #actuallyadhd #hyperfixations #special interests #autistic experiences #spiderman #marvel #atsv #across the spiderverse

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archieimagines · 2 years

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finally | cassian andor

Summary: Cassian Andor is the bane of your existence. He’s your rival in theft, always getting the good ships before you, always making more money in selling to Bix. Finally, you get there first— but of course he’d come to ruin your day.

warnings: blood, injury, needle and stitches. enemies to lovers un-enemies trope. read this to listen to me pretend to know about spaceships. word count: 3030 requested by: anon author’s note: thank you so much for this brilliant idea, anon! you may be able to tell i got carried away. i had a lot of fun with this. requests for andor are wide open! written by: archie

Finally, this one was yours.

You couldn’t help feeling a little giddy. This star yacht was definitely on the higher end of luxury, and it’d been sat unmanned on the outskirts of town for five days straight. Sure, it’d been purposely tucked away amongst sandy cliffs to hide it, but as per the general moral code, five unattended days on a ship put it on the illegal scavenger’s market. Fair’s fair. You thieves weren’t monsters, after all.

Your expert fingers worked swiftly with a wedge tool on lifting the panels from the front of the space vehicle to get at all those glorious parts inside. With a satisfying click, the central panel popped free.

The sun was just peering over the horizon to light your focus, all that treasure lit up in the golden light.

Your smile lit up too. Finally. A haul that was all yours. For once, it was so worth it to wake up before sunrise. No one to watch out for, not even that stupid, arrogant, condescending-

“What have we got here?”

You stopped in your tracks, fingers itching to get inside the engine.

That voice.

Infuriating.

He painted his words like a casual conversation. Like this was a joint effort. Like you hadn’t specifically woken up this early just to beat him to this goldmine. You’d barely slept last night for the excitement of finally bringing in a collection worth a good wad of cash, and yet he had the gall to pop up beside you and peer over your shoulder.

You reeled on him, fire in your eyes and sharp wedge in your hand. “Andor. Get out of here.”

He had the balls to laugh. He treated this so light, like you hadn’t been so determined to finally outdo him. “And leave you to carry all this back by yourself? I couldn’t possibly.” He had this irritating skill in being rude while being perfectly within his bounds. He simply reached past you without concern for your threat, rapping his knuckles lightly on various parts tucked away. “There’s a lot of good stuff here. Nice condition, too. We can’t take all of it, of course, we don’t want an angry holidaymaker stuck on our planet-”

“You’re taking none of it.”

“-But we can take the extras. Let me see…”

He bent at the waist to lean over the hole of the removed panel, reaching in and feeling around without so much as a blink at you.

That was it!

You jabbed the wedge into his ribs.

His arm retracted so quickly to protect his side, and he finally turned to you with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow as he rubbed his side over his coat. “Agh! What the-!? What was that for?”

“Shut up, I barely touched you.” You couldn’t keep the smugness from your voice as you nudged him aside, away from your engine, and promptly took his place to rummage around inside instead. It’s true, you wanted him to feel that jab even despite his coat. It was kinda hard.

“You want it so bad that you’re gonna stab me?”

“Don’t cry on my engine, you’ll rust it.”

There was no time for this chitchat. You dipped into your belt for a different removal tool, starting work right away. You wouldn’t remove anything integral: those parts weren’t worth much anyways. But the fuel ignition stabiliser… Oh, yes. It was a luxury. Gave the journey the smoothest ride possible. No clattering, no trembling of the ship. It’d be four or five thousand credits, easily.

If only it wasn’t so damn hard to remove.

You were hyper aware of Andor watching your every move, even if you were shoulder deep inside the machine. His stare didn’t make reaching around components easier in the slightest, and your arm was bent at an awkward and supremely uncomfortable angle- but you wouldn’t let him know that. He’d just take over, for sure.

But when the corner of your palm nicked on sharp metal, you couldn’t hide the wince.

“Look, you’re going to injure yourself. Let me. Move over.”

“Not likely.”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I can easily-”

“Exactly! So you should give someone else a chance.” You tried not to let your voice strain from the effort of pulling out the stabiliser, especially with the fresh scratch to your palm. This was not easy, and he was really just making you frantic with his presence.

“Whenever I give you a chance, something ends up damaged!” Ah, there it was. That familiar exasperation, delivered with a growl in his accent. This was the Andor you knew best-- the one that hated you right back.

You paused, face turned to glare up at his impatient eyes. “Sir. I don’t damage shit.”

“If that makes you feel better. Come on, just-” His fingers reached into the hatch and closed around your forearm, a gentle squeeze and tug to your limb.

That was it. You saw red.

“Don’t you manhandle me- AH!” You whipped your arm out to shove him back a pace-- But it caught nastily on that jagged piece of metal. It snagged down the side of your palm, causing a deep, pulsing gash. There was no way you could shove him back with that hand.

Your face paled as you dropped your tool and blinked at the thick ooze of red that trickled down the side of your wrist, quickly soaking your sleeve. It stung like nothing you’d handled before, eyes watering, head pounding. You couldn’t help but stare at it, trembling.

But Andor was on it. He wasted no time in ripping along the bottom of his shirt for a makeshift bandage, wasted no time in chastising you. “Dank farrik, you really-! You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Me!? This was all you!”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Skilled hands wound the bandage around your cut far too tightly to be comfortable, and you winced. But he paid no mind, quiet in his concentration as he worked. His aura had changed, as if his head was now cut off from communication. He was too focused, brimming with a panic that he kept silent.

Something told you there was no speaking to him now. Even if you tried to reason that you’d had so much worse many times, his tunnel vision was fixed on stenching the bloodflow. He tied the bandage off, clasping your hand firmly in both of his, raised between your faces to make sure it was above your heart. You had to actively try not to yelp from the pain of his care, but something about the urgent responsibility he demonstrated was so sincere.

He really was doing his best for you. You almost felt bad for blaming him.

His eyes were so focused, his lips pressed together in a concentrated line. There was no trace of that demeaning, condescending asshole you were used to. Something about this… Hm. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a terrible-

No, don’t think like that, you chastised yourself, peeling your gaze from his face. You couldn’t let yourself see him like that. He’d made your life hell for years.

Though the pain was dulled with the pressure of his hold, you were far from fine. The blood may have slowed, but it soaked the ends of his own sleeves now, too, and continued to spread.

“Let’s get you back home. You need medical attention.”

“But the stabiliser-”

“No. Home. Let’s go.” He didn’t drop your hand as he took a step away, leading you back towards the centre of the town, but you dug your heels into the sand.

“No, just- Quickly! You do it, we can go half-”

He jerked you close, face leaning to yours. Your eyes grew wide at this proximity- he’d never been this close before. The warm hues of his eyes caught the rising sunlight, lashes casting delicate shadows over his irises.

Despite how your memories always painted him, they were kind eyes. Honest ones. It was his furrowed brows that reminded you how sharp his will was, and the growl of his accent rolled over his words as he hissed.

“Listen to me. There will be more ships, but there will not be more hands. I’m taking you home, and for once you’re not going to argue with me.”

The bleeding had finally stopped by the time he’d taken you to his home. Certainly, you’d have preferred some professional medical care, but this would have to do. Besides, it’s not like what you were doing to get this gash was particularly legal.

He settled you onto the couch before bustling around you, picking up supplies and towels and wipes as he went, soon appearing beside you with a tray of items to help, including a bowl of fresh water and…

“A needle? There’s no chance. You’re not stitching me up, Andor.”

“I am. Bee, come over here.”

A squat little red box rattled to life from the other side of the room and rolled up to Andor’s feet on treads, clattering the whole way. “C-C-Cassian! That was much q-quicker than usual.”

“I didn’t get the parts. There was an accident.” Andor placed the tray atop the droid’s flat head and the circle lens turned to you instead, honing in on the blood.

“Oh n-n-no, there has been bodily damage to your friend. I can aid.” The droid either ignored your grumble of something about ‘not friends’ or just didn’t receive it. It let a hatch fall open, revealing a collection of packaged gauzes. You marvelled at his endearingly happy disposition, despite the broken antiquity of his model, obvious wiring problems, and living with this man. You already knew you liked him more than Andor.

“Thanks, Bee,” the man said, surprisingly gentle hands taking your arm. He was clean now, coat removed and hands sanitised to peel open the soaked fabric wrapped around your wound. It stuck to your arm hairs from how it’d begun to dry and you winced as it tugged from your skin, but this didn’t knock his concentration.

He eyed the open injury for a moment in silence. The soft sounds of the city waking up outside was muffled against the windows, the bell sounding for the residents to begin their day. And yet, you’d already had too much of this man for the whole week.

But, he was doing you a favour. So, you pressed your lips into a line and arched a brow as he investigated your wound like it was life or death, even though you honestly found the aching sting pretty manageable. You tried to keep your patience in line, you really did. But it was almost like he was specifically taking as long as he could. “You gonna do something about it or not, Andor?”

The sharpness of your tone didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Cassian,” he said.

“What?”

“Just call me Cassian. It’s not like you don’t know me.” He was so matter-of-fact as he spoke, turning away to dunk a clean cloth into the bowl of warm water, and you had to briefly wonder if he had no idea that you hated him.

Pft, of course he knew. But he really chose not to entertain it. He belittled it, even. Somehow, that made you hate him even more.

“I don’t know you.”

He let a trickle of water drip from the rag, holding it over the wound along your palm to loosen up the dried blood; the sting earned a hiss from you, but he didn’t bat an eyelid. “We’ve been bumping into each other since we were teenagers. I know where you live and you’re in my house right now. My mother knows your name. You know me.”

Okay, that was true. You searched for a way to dispute him, but you had nothing. Andor really knew how to- Cassian. Cassian really knew how to talk people into a corner. Infuriating.

“Fine.”

“You should say it.”

“Say what?”

“My name.”

You blinked at him, but he didn’t look at you. He was ridiculous. Methodical as ever, he dipped the cloth back into the water before closing it properly around the side of your palm with a wet squeeze.

A sharp stab of pain.

“Ow, Cassian! Gentle!”

His gaze finally raised to yours, and there was a cheeky light to them that matched the slightest upward quirk of his lips. He’d done that on purpose. “Quiet. Maarva’s sleeping.”

“You’re an ass.”

“So you always tell me.”

You let that one slide, quietly amused.

Somehow, it felt like a bubble had burst as he continued cleaning your wound. He was gentle with you, focused but not nearly so intense, and an easy silence lapsed between the two of you. The negative energy had given out into something else-- Somehow, you couldn’t find it in you to be at his throat like before. You must’ve upgraded to handling Cassian instead of Andor, you mused.

His eyes flashed up to yours, seeking any pain. You held his gaze for the shortest moment before turning it back to your wound, somehow embarrassed to look into the uncharacteristic tenderness of those windows. Satisfied that he wasn’t hurting you, he continued with delicate dabs.

Perhaps you’d made up Andor, this arrogant, cold asshole who’d been your rival for eons; Now, you were seeing past it. Seeing the human he actually was. Perhaps not flaunting of his kind nature, perhaps a little guarded, but peaceful. Cheeky, but by no means cruel.

You watched his hands work expertly with yours. One held your hand, thumb linked with yours, the other so careful with the cut running towards your pinky finger. They were a worker’s hands, a little calloused and rough in handling, but you could easily see how gentle he was trying to be. Taking it slow and steady, careful not to hurt.

“Okay, it’s clean. Can I stitch it?” Those eyes on yours again. Deep but cautious. He reached for the needle, medical thread already attached, and showed it to you.

You swallowed and peered down to the gash. Ah, it really was a deep one, it’d scar for sure. It needed all the help it could get. “You know what you’re doing?”

He nodded, the ghost of a laugh to his voice as he recalled his tens of incidents. “I have done this many times.”

“... Be careful.”

He got to work instantly, taking your hand in his and turning the cut upwards, holding it firm to keep it still. He glanced at the tip of the needle, brought it to your flesh and--

You couldn’t watch. You focused instead on his crown of messy hair. Warm brown, some strands lifted to look golden in the shine of the morning light. You could so easily reach out and touch it, see if it was as soft as it loo-

The prick of pain from the needle. You winced, but tried hard to be still for him, desperately focusing your attention on how those gorgeous locks might fall through your fingers if you touched them, how they’d differ to the coarser hair of his beard in your touch.

You gave a sigh. It was happening. You couldn’t push it away anymore.

People had told you for years that you clearly had a crush on this man, and you were adamant that you did not. He’d been the bane of your existence. He was the worst part of salvaging and stealing components. If you bumped into him, it’d ruin your whole day and you wouldn’t be able to shake him from your thoughts for hours. His annoying tone of voice, the haughty way he’d offer to help you.

But that wasn’t the truth. You’d always painted it so negatively, always convinced yourself that’s what it was. Hate. But honestly, you just never wanted to give into what you hated to admit.

And now, here, on his couch with a B2 unit watching, he’d shattered your narrative to pieces.

You felt things for him, and not in the way you wanted.

“And… Done.” He reached aside for scissors to cut the thread, dabbed a clean, dry cloth to any specs of blood that tried to seep out, and scrutinised his work. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You did well.”

His eyes fixed on you again, relieved and expectant. He was so genuine. How hadn’t you seen it before?

You cleared your throat and diverted your eyes to your hand, inspecting his repairs. It really did look good. The gash was pulled closed and the stitches were evenly spaced and clean; a professional couldn’t have done it much better.

“Hm. Not quite as terrible as I’d expect.” Your words were softer than your usual insults. You couldn’t find it in you right now to be sharp.

But even so, he gave a low chuckle. “You’re welcome. Let me cover it.” He took a packaged gauze from the droid’s hatch and tore it open with his teeth-- A shock to your tummy told you that you found it attractive. It was lucky he was engrossed with attaching it to your wound, or he would’ve caught the way your ears flushed pink.

Quick moments passed, and he sat up straight with his lips caught in a kind smile. “Good as new.”

Your hand still rested in his. You were hyper aware of the warmth of it, the feeling of his skin, and it took everything in you not to disturb the moment with the indulgent caress you craved, in case he let go.

This was too hard. You hadn’t banked on facing something like this when you woke up this morning. You shared a reluctant smile.

His demeanour changed instantly. His eyes flickered between your palm and your face, words urgent with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, Cassian. Do you think the yacht is still there?”

“It might be.”

You sighed inwardly. Perhaps it was finally time to let go of your grudge and see him for who he was.

You shone a daring smile, a buzz in your veins at the prospect of calling an end to your rivalry.

“... Wanna go half with me?”

#cassian andor imagine #cassian andor x reader #andor imagine #rogue one imagine #cassian x reader #cassian andor #andor #diego luna #diego luna imagine #diego luna x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #written by archie #cassian andor one shot

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