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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Drabble Roulette: Please, don't touch the art

For this round, drabbles are written based on a random choice of character and image from this pinterest board. Pls feel free to keep adding to it.

Character: Nick Fowler

Prompt

Warnings: this drabble includes elements such as stalking. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

One might think you simple if they could see inside your brain. If they could feel the sheer awe that sweeps over you, consuming you with each little detail, stirring your stomach into maelstrom of emotion. Your first time abroad is as much a fantasy as a privilege. Too wonderful to be real.

But it is. It’s all so real. It still hasn’t sunk in. Three days amid the ancient streets of a far-off land is not nearly long enough to convince you.

You look up at the vaulted ceilings as you stop short. You mouth hangs open and you fix it only as you notice someone watching you. You give a sheepish smile and put your chin down. You try to seem casual as you near the painting behind the velvet rope.

It will never feel normal to be in a place like this. Not for you. Your eyes stray from the art to the other patrons amid the low murmur. There’s a layer of deference in the air, a recognition of the layers of centuries old pigment and millenia tinged stone.

You feel underdressed against the simple but sophisticated black attire of the art snobs. They belong in their thick-framed glasses and statement jewelry. The men in their collars and ties, their pressed jackets, and leather loafers are almost apathetic to the sanctity all around them.

As you put your attention back to the Italian artist’s brush strokes, a shadow approaches from your left. You shift to allow them a fair view of the painting. They come shoulder to shoulder with you, their sleeve grazing your corduroy jacket.

“Beautiful,” he says. You resist the urge to look over at him.

“Very,” you agree as you consider the difference between the azure and cyan shades. You imagine them being mixed on a board with yolk under a dusty Tuscan sun.

He’s quiet as he stands in the lull. He clicks his tongue, “I didn’t mean the art.”

It takes a moment to understand. When you catch his meaning, you turn to reply, a babble that fizzles into nothing. He’s gone.

You flinch and look around. There’s no hint of the stranger, not that you could pick him out. You frown and blow out between your lips, once more facing the painting. Are you dreaming again?

🖼

You sit on patio, parallel to the narrow walkway of the stony streets. You sip espresso from a small cup, hints of cinnamon and almond woven into the bitter taste. The warmth of the beverage adds to the beads of sweat drawn out by the afternoon sun.

You set the cup down and pull your book closer. You’ve only flipped through a few pages so far. You just don’t have the mind for imagining when all around you is like a fairytale. You let it close and tap your fingers on the curling cover.

The iron chair across from you scrapes on the ground and you sputter as a stranger promptly claims it. The man sits with his shoulders wide, legs open, and hands firmly on his thighs. He grins as you look at him with confusion.

“Hello?” You utter.

He smirks and scoffs in amusement, “hi.”

You blink and wait for him to say more. Does he speak English? You look around then back to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak--”

“You traveling alone?” He wonders.

You snap your mouth shut and sit back. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Why is he asking?

“Waiting for a friend,” you lie.

His eyes flick up and down. You adjust the sheer scarf around your shoulders and hook one leg over the other. You move your wrist and peek down at your watch.

“Ah, been waiting a while,” he muses.

You don’t know how to answer. You pull your purse into your lap and stiffen, “so I have. I should call them.”

“They didn’t come to the museum either.”

You keep from standing up and flutter your lashes, “you’re following me.”

“Checking in,” he stands and waves away a server as they approach, “making sure someone worse isn’t watching.”

“Wha--”

He’s already walking away. You shiver and stare after him, heart racing. Have been so oblivious that you didn’t even notice him? Hard to miss a man like that with his piercing blue eyes and sculpted features. Worse to think that you would be easier to miss.

#nick fowler #the 355 #drabble #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #drabble roulette

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 10 months

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Pretty like the wind. Epilogue.

Series masterlist

a/n As promised, I welcome you into the last glimpse of our beloved's future. Thank you so much for joining me in this wonderful project. I had a blast writing it and a big part of my heart will always be here. ✨🤍 in a way can be read as a separate piece. 🫧

warning: kids for sure, mentions of past trauma and that's all. Happy, happy vibes. Just cute fam goodness.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You hummed to yourself. That ancient melody of the wind that had been woven into your blood for decades. One that was now accompanied by a gentle breeze. Pulling the basket to rest on your hip, you slowly turned back to the house that Azriel had bought, even before you and the kids were in the picture. One he had surprised you with weeks after the proposal. You three had slowly decoded and rebuilt. Painting flowers and gusts of wind along the rims of the windows. Slithers of dark and radiant beams of light. A mural of your story. One that had threaded you all together so tightly that there was no way to distinguish where one of you stared and the other began.

"Can you do my hair the way you had it during the mating ceremony with papa?", you flinched slightly as an overly excited Zofie appeared right in front of you the moment you walked through the patio door. You slowly set the laundry down. Cupping her cheek gently. To think that now she was almost above your shoulder. Where, when, and why did babes suddenly start to age way quicker?

"With flowers and all?", you asked her softly, and she nodded so eagerly that there was no way for you to decline. You loved that both Axel and Zofie had been there. Have been a part of one of the happiest days of your existence. Mother, strike them all. You still got goosebumps just from the thought alone. Of course, neither you nor Azriel cared about official vows and ceremonies, but there had still been a part of you that wanted to meet him in the middle of the old oak forest. Meet him in the glistening pool of startling. Take his hand as he slowly helps you step over the slippery stones.

Azriel was beautiful. You knew that from the moment you laid eyes on him. But that day. Dressed in all black. His slightly curly hair brushed back, yet that one stubborn, utterly perfect strand lazily fell over his forehead. The moment Azriel's eyes met you, you were ready to run down the path, not walk. Run straight into your mate's arm, into your forever. "My light, my sunshine," the spymaster had muttered as he brushed his nose against you when yours, you two were inches away, both up to waist submerged in the starlight.

"Alright, but...", you muttered, shaking your head slightly. You hadn't been the one to do your hair. It was Feyre and Cordelia who had braided and poked at your head for what felt like hours. "I picked all of the flowers myself." Zofie quickly cut into your train of thought, "You don't have to do anything; just braid," she breathed out. So hopeful. So full of young enthusiasm. Flowers. It had been the flower that Elain had grown in her garden that had been threaded through your hair that day. Even if Azriel had turned from her, you had sought her out against his will. She had moved out with Lucien. With Beron dead and Eris running the autumn court, the youngest Vanserra had wanted to stay close to his brothers. She, like the farmers in the border villages, had been poisoned by the dark magic Padme had borne. A weak link—that's what she had been. A naive, still ever-trusted heart that had been forced against her own will to cause harm that now she had to be forced to bear.

You chased that memory away. Even now. Even after so much, her story still sent shivers down your spine. Reaching for the brush, you gently brushed Zofie's long, onyx hair. Twisting and braiding. Plucking flowers from the basket as you went. Zofie shifted in her chair. She had a direct view of herself in the big brass mirror that stood against the wall in the hallway. Smoothing the silk of her skirt, she muttered, "Do you think it's too much?" You met her eyes in the reflection ahead. She was one stunning young girl. But teen years could be and often were filled with so much doubt. "Oh gosh, it's too much, isn't it?", she nearly sighed, and you realized that you had taken way too long to answer, "Zofie, darling, calm down; you look lovely." You smiled at her, finishing some of the last braids as you carefully pinned them into place.

"We'll go as soon as Axel comes back," you said softly. She rubbed her palms together, already trying to turn her head to see the backrest. The lack of patience in these younglings... "Do you think papa will be mad?", she asked softly, yet you couldn't help a slight frown that ran through your face. "Mad about what?", you had started right as the door opened, and Azriel walked in, looking as refined as ever. You instantly felt a gentle caress against the bond, making you smile before the spymaster turned his attention to the not-so-little girl. "Wow," Azriel breathed, and Zifie's cheeks instantly turned crimson. "Give me a twirl," his shadows already dancing in the sides of the purple dress you had stitched specifically for tonight. "You look breathtaking, my little start," and here she was, nearly shining with the love and confidence Azriel poured into her on a daily basis. She flourished when she was with him. And Azriel had done all he could to make her grow into her skin. Into her power.

"It feels like a whole welcome party for your brother," Azriel finally chuckled as he stepped further into the house, and Zofie's face fell instantly. The girl spared you a look before turning to her dad, "It's not for Axel." It was barely a whisper, and yet she knew that he heard her. "You just wanted to get...", but Azriel's voice died down right as the realization hit him. "Oh...", he breathed out. His features grew stern almost immediately. "Nyx's will be there," Zofie swallowed thickly.

This was probably one of the things Azriel struggled to get over. Of course, he knew they were going to mate eventually. And you had to be blind and dead and, in general, not be able to grasp reality to miss the way Zofie and Nyx were constantly pulling towards each other no matter where they went. "Papa," she breathed, stepping closer to Azriel and pulling at his arms that were tightly folded over his chest. "You are too young," Azriel huffed slightly, shaking his head. "Come on," Zofie huffed, turning to you. "Mom," she pleaded her case with you.

"Azriel, we talked about this," you said softly. And you two had. Elain had a vision of them a long way down the line. Azriel, of course, had called it bullshit. But Rhys saw the early flickers of bonding between the two kids with his own two eyes. Of course, they were left unaware for now. Way too young to go through frenzies. Hand holding already gave Azriel cardiac arrest. If Nyx were to pull her into a cabin all alone, the end of the world would be upon everyone.

"You are supposed to be in the phase when boys are disgusting to you," Azriel stated plainly, making you giggle slightly. Yet you knew that there was only so long he could decline her, and the minute Zofie's shoulders had sagged in defeat, the spymaster had thrown his head back too. "Fine," he muttered, and Zofie let out a happy squeal that she tried to cover with her palms, but nothing truly slipped through Azriel's ears. "Your shadows can be with me at all times," she stated, nodding her head firmly. "Oh, like hell they will be, missy," Azriel leaned in to kiss her forehead lovingly. His fingers reached for the blue sapphire that glistened on her neck. Azriel had crafted it himself for her. It was a way for her to block out the flare-ups of her empathetic powers. It helped her keep her shields up. Helped. She could do it perfectly fine on her own now, but Zofie had never taken the necklace off. No matter what, that piece of jewelry always stayed.

"I'm home." You nearly let out a gasp as you turned your attention to the door. And here he stood. You nearly tripped over yourself as you rushed to him. "Oh, my sweet," you said, feeling your eyes tingling as you cupped Axel's face. "Look at you," you breathed. To say that it was hard watching him go to the camps to train would have been an understatement. You couldn't sleep the first night he was gone. Had made Azriel winnow you there just so you could see him sleeping peacefully. Of course, he wasn't alone. Nyx was with him, and the two had formed quite a friendship, but still, the past trauma of the place lingered.

"Ax," Zofie's voice echoed, and Axel barely got to turn away from you as she jumped into his arms. Axel spun her around a couple of times before muttering, "Hey, Zo." The two siblings were beaming at each other. It was hard for them to stay away from one another. For most of their lives, they held onto each other so tightly. Protected one another. A slight sob slipped past your lips. "Mom, come on," Axel reached out to you, but you just shook your head, waving him off. "Don't mind me," you said, patting your cheeks. Zofie instantly stepped to hug you from the side, her head pressed against your chest.

"Who let you grow so much in a week?", you muttered, making everyone let out a chuckle. "I doubt I did," Axel looked down at himself before his eyes met yours. "Yes, you did," you reassured him as he too stepped closer to kiss your cheek. "Put your bags down; wash up if you like before we go," you brushed your fingers over his cheek, earning a smile from him in return. While you had been excited for a family dinner the past couple of days, all of a sudden all you wanted was to lock up the doors and keep your family all in the house. "I'll help him unpack," Zofie beamed. You knew it was less about the unpacking and more about the extra time they could spend together. The two just loved to talk. And since they trusted each other so much, you were sure there was a lot to catch up on. You watched them chasing one another up the steps. The house was once again full of laughter, and footsteps were echoing from the second floor.

You closed your eyes, your hand resting on your chest. "You're okay," Azriel's smooth voice found you before you felt his touch. "Don't ask me that, Azriel or I will cry," you huffed, pressing your lips together as another wave of tears burned your eyes. "Come here," the spymaster pulled you into his embrace, warm palms drawing patterns on your back.

"Mother, strike me. I hate this," you pinched the bridge of your nose as you blinked rapidly, trying to chase the tears away. Azriel snickered, "I think it's adorable." You shot him a glare, muttering a quick, "Shut up." That, of course, earned another wholehearted laugh from him, "See, adorable," to which you had only rolled your eyes. Azriel leaned in, kissing the side of your head. Cheek. Before his lips met yours, slow and gentle affection. That was how your love was now.

"I just want to keep them here forever," you breathed out after a while, "They are not allowed to leave ever." Leaning against your mate's chest, you felt that all overtaking peace and quiet. "And I'm the overprotective one," Azriel teased, but your lack of response and the way your shoulders were tense let him know that today wasn't the day to play around. He pulled you even closer to him as if that were even possible.

"Breathe with me," he muttered softly, resting his forehead against yours. Guiding your breaths once. Twice. A shallow breath in and an extended exhale. "And you," the spymaster muttered, the smile in his voice hard to miss, "You need to stop making mommy so emotional." His scarred palm slowly moved to rub your rather swollen belly. Where the newest addition to the family was growing. A loving touch from its father stirred the baby awake and earned a rather strong kick in return.

"You just said it was cute," you muttered, frowning. "And angry too, please," Azriel leaned closer to the bump as he whispered. You softly hit the back of his head, "You are insufferable." "But you love it," Azriel practically sang. "How are you feeling?", his tone almost immediately switched as he realized that you were up on your feet, so he was guiding you towards the sofa in no time.

"Well, I officially can't see my feet," you chuckled as he pulled out onto his lap, nestling his face in your neck for a couple of nibbles. "You look dazzling pregnant," Azriel stated firmly, making you shake your head. "Yeah, because you are high on fea hormones," you pointed at his chest, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"How did we get here?", you breathed out, slowly reminiscing on all the years spent together. This was your forever. This home. This family. "Well, when a male puts his...", you hit his chest playfully. "No," you muttered, "With our kids wanting to be out instead of spending the evening with us," because it had been just you four for so long. Well, five. Cordelia had been the most loving mother-in-law ever. And the two kids were over the moon excited to spend time with her. Even now, they always visit. If not together, then by themselves. But she was a huge part of your family. "They are growing up," Azriel said softly, his hand protectively resting on your belly as he no doubt sat here listening to the heartbeat. One of his many hobbies now that you have been pregnant.

"I'm excited to plan their mating ceremony," you blurted out randomly, and Azriel's head turned to you so quickly that you wondered how he didn't get dizzy. "Hold your horses, women," he huffed almost offensively, "No one is walking down any aisle unless I'm the one dragging them off it." Here was the protector. You tried biting your lip, but you simply couldn't hold yourself back. Letting out a genuine laugh. And Azriel's slight frown melted immediately as he moved to brush some of the hair away from your face, "Here's that pretty smile I love so much." Your heart skipped a beat. Still skipped a beat as you felt your cheeks grow crimson. "Stop," you muttered, nestling your head in the crook of your mate's neck. "No way, I vowed to make you happy," Azriel breathed out, kissing the side of your head.

Laughter echoed from above, making your lips curve upward even more. You didn't need to see Azriel's face to know that he too was grinning. Nothing ever beats the sound of home. "Do you know how much I love you?", you pulled away slightly, suddenly desperate to look into his hazy eyes. Azriel cupped your face lovingly, "I do because I love you just as much, sweetheart," he breathed. His velvety lips meet yours. And Mother, you had never been happier for bargaining forever with this man.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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uwingdispatch · 2 years

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Home

Notes: Cassian Andor/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, disabled reader, domestic fluff

CW: PTSD, chronic illness, disability, implied sexual intimacy, mention of alcohol

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You were surprised when you woke to find Cassian gone, a note on the counter to let you know he had to go off-world for something unexpected. But that he’d be home tonight, tomorrow at the latest.

“This doesn’t sound good,” you say to yourself before the patio door opens behind you and you find that Cassian has left Kay behind.

“You’re awake,” Kay says. “Arseven and I were tending to the garden. The berries along the fence should be ripe soon—”

You cut the droid off “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“He doesn’t want you involved.”

“And he left you home, what, to take care of me?”

Arseven comes through the patio door carrying a basket of fresh vegetables, which she hands to Kay before tapping your leg with one of her little arms, whistling and beeping: I take care of you.

Your heart is beating faster now and you pour yourself a glass of water if only to have something to do with your hands.

“Cassian said I wouldn’t be welcome where he’s going,” Kay says in his usual dry tone. “But I’m not particularly welcome on this planet either, am I?”

Like most days, Kay is wearing a scarf. This one is woven cotton, red and black—something you’d picked up at a local market. You’d given Kay his first scarf not long after you’d started dating Cassian. It was a way for him to signal his independence to the galaxy. To let folks know he wasn’t a danger to them.

“Where is he?” you ask again. “Do I need to be worried?”

You realize Cassian’s jacket—the one with the Rebellion starbird on the shoulder—is hanging on the hook by the door. Where it’s supposed to be. But he never hangs it there. It’s always slung over a chair or the back of the couch. You reach into the pockets of the jacket and pull out his com device.

You hold it up for Kay to see. “What the hell is going on?” you ask.

Arseven chirps at Kay, whistles low. Share why.

“You, too, Seven?”

“She only knows what I’m going to tell you,” Kay says. “A childhood friend of his asked for help. He didn’t know this person was even alive and is worried that it may be a trap. But he felt he had to try.”

“And you let him go?”

“I told him it was a bad idea.”

You feel tears in your eyes. Cassian has told you so many times that he’s not a soldier anymore. Not a spy. Recently you’ve realized he doesn’t even carry a blaster anymore—not most of the time. You go to the garage and punch in the code on the weapons locker, finding it nearly empty. Where could he be that he can’t bring Kay or his com but needs to be heavily armed? Cassian has seen some of the most lawless places in the galaxy, and your heart hurts to think that that’s the kind of place where he might be right now.

“Do you need a hug?” Kay asks.

You turn to the droid, almost as if to check that this is the same K-X droid you’ve been sharing your life with for the past several years. He’s holding his arms out, and it seems so unusual, this posture.

“Since when do you do hugging?”

“Cassian said I had to.”

But you do need a hug, so you let Kay wrap his metal arms around you.

“Can you contact him?”

“Cassian is currently out of range.”

You take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.

Arseven lets out a series of whistles and beeps. Need an activity.

“You’re right,” you say. “There’s something I need to finish, and today is a better day than most to get it done.”

Seven is already rolling into your office—a room that you and Cassian had recently transformed into a space that could almost also serve as something of a studio. Your sewing machine is out on one of the tables, and when you get to it, Seven is already pulling the pieces of your project from a drawer.

“When he does get home,” you tell Seven, “I’m going to be so angry with him. I’m already angry. But it will be worse for him, won’t it? Whatever he’s doing…it sounds overwhelming. Maybe it will be nice for him to have something soft, something that brings back good memories.”

Seven projects the photo of the stuffed bantha, one exactly like the one his mother had given him when he was young, a toy he kept into his adulthood, before things got…complicated. The events that transpired between when he left home and when he joined the rebellion weren’t something he ever really talked about with you. But a few months back, after a few glasses of wine, Cassian saw the toy in an old holofilm, his breath hitching slightly as he said he’d had the same one, that he kept it on a shelf in his room even after he outgrew plush toys.

Arseven pats one of her tiny arms on your materials and chirps: Perfect replica.

“I don’t know about that, Seven,” you said, holding the yet-to-be stuffed toy in you hands, your fingers aching to know if this was the right fabric to choose. Is it too soft? Not soft enough? “It’s not perfect. But it might be close.”

You were startled awake by the sound of someone pounding on your door, your heart already racing when you sat straight up on the sofa. You’d been reading a book last you remembered, maybe resting your eyes a little. And now it sounded like there was a tornado in the hallway outside your apartment.

“I’m coming,” you yelled, easing yourself off the couch as quickly as you could despite the stiff ache in your joints.

When you opened the door, you found Cassian looking disheveled in a hoodie and jeans. He swept you into his arms, kissed your forehead, squeezing you tight as he said, “Thank kriff, I was so worried.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Last night you told me you were feeling strange,” he said. “So when you weren’t answering your com—it’s not like you. I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe you were hurt…or that maybe something—”

“Slow down,” you told him. He released his grip, perhaps just now realizing how tightly he was holding you, giving you the space to take his face in your hands. You swept his messy hair out from out of his eyes. “Look at me. I’m okay. My com link has just been acting up, remember?”

“I remember now.” He pressed his forehead to yours and sighed.

It had only been nine months or so since you’d met Cassian, and there were times when this kind of intensity was a lot for you. But today you didn’t mind. And you lead him to the sofa where you wrapped a blanket around the both of you, cuddling into his chest.

“I just need a new com device,” you said. “And I’m going to get one after I finish work tomorrow.

You sat in the quiet for a while, the sound of children playing outside your building the only thing you could hear other than his heartbeat.

“You get dizzy when you panic,” he said. “When I was on Coruscant for work last month—”

Your anxiety had spiraled after a difficult doctor’s visit followed by a bumpy cab ride home and you’d ended up fainting in your kitchen. It had only been for a second but the way you’d crashed into a chair had left a nasty bruise on your hip.

“I can’t control it. When my body starts in that direction, I just have to try not to fall.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” he said. “I know what it’s like. But I have Kay.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “My heart, I never want you to be hurt and alone ever again.”

“You know, I’ve been alone for a long time, Cass.”

“Not anymore,” he whispered.

He kissed you softly, cradling your jaw in his hand. Something unwound in you as you threaded your fingers through his soft hair, a letting go of trepidation, somehow knowing that if there had ever been any turning back from falling hard for this man, that offramp was no longer an option.

“I never thought I’d let myself get this close to someone again.” Cassian said.

“I’m glad you did,” you replied.

“I should explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said, stroking your cheek. “There were a lot of times that I should have been there for people. People who cared about me even when I was at my worst.” His voice was low and he took a deep breath as he almost unconsciously began to caress your sore back. And then he laughed—a familiar laugh not of joy but discomfort. “I think sometimes about how my mother wouldn’t even turn the heat on unless I was home to make sure she did. And there were a lot of times when I wasn’t home.”

You laid your head back down on his chest and he wrapped both arms around you. Neither of you was particularly good at this kind of conversation. So you listened to the steady beat of his heart as he kissed the top of your head.

“It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” you asked.

“What is?”

“This closeness. How you’ve allowed me to really know you, and to have you. But I know some of the things you did during the war. I try not to think about it but there are definitely beings out there who wish you harm. You might have Kay, but every time you go off-planet I worry that something—”

“Listen to me, my heart” he said. “There is no one in this galaxy that could keep me from coming home to you. Do you understand me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I will make it that simple.”

When you saw the look in his eyes, you believed him.

It’s after dark when you hear Cassian’s landspeeder pull into the garage, the back door clicking shut, a bag dropping with some weight to the floor. You’re in your office cleaning up, but Cassian is apologizing while he’s still in the kitchen, an ache in his voice apparent as he calls your name.

“I know you’re upset with me,” he says, “but I’m ready to make it up to you, if you’ll allow it.”

You’re standing in the hallway when he sees you, stopping abruptly, beginning his nervous habit of running a hand through his hair only to find he’s tied it back. Even in the dim evening light, you spot an oil stain on the henley he’s wearing, a tear on the sleeve near his elbow that, upon further scrutiny, looks like a blaster burn.

“You were shot at today,” you say.

He rolls up the sleeve and peels back a bacta patch to reveal a small wound that’s mostly healed. “Just a graze,” he says. “My heart, I promise, it’s over.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Not tonight.”

Cassian nods, averting his eyes, eventually saying softly, “I understand.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Come here.”

He sweeps you into his arms, kissing your hair, your cheek, your neck as he cradles your head against his shoulder. “If there had been any other way.”

“I know.” It’s hard to be angry when you’ve also spent your whole day afraid for him, and now he’s here, holding you tight, an injury perhaps his own natural consequence.

“Where’s Kay?”

“You know how he gets when he has to keep secrets from me—I sent him and Seven on an errand. He’ll be back soon, but you should let him know you’re home if you haven’t already.”

“Right,” he says. “Let me go get my com.”

You settle into the sofa, doing your best to hold back tears. As hard as this is for you, you don’t know what it’s like to have everyone you love taken away from you over and over and over again. To feel like you are responsible for this loss. Cassian has done so much work to heal over the last ten years. But he’s still a man. Whatever he did today, he is carrying it and so much more with him right now.

When he sits next to you on the sofa, he has a blanket with him—it looks like the one he usually keeps for you on his U-Wing.

“You took your own ship today?”

“No,” he says. “But I know how much you love that blanket, I thought you might like one for the house. So I made a stop on the way back, found that artist’s stall.”

He’s pulling you toward him, the blanket wrapped around the both of you when he sees what you’ve set on the living room table for him to find.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, almost panicked for a split second before remembering where he is

“The toy?” you ask, “I made it. It’s not exactly the same, but—”

He reaches for it, taking it in both hands, his fingers running carefully over the different fabrics, the little button eyes.

“Thought you might need a nice memory tonight,” you said. “Even if I’m angry. I know this probably wasn’t an easy day for you.”

“You made this today?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the plush bantha in his hands.

“I started it a while back,” you said. “But I needed a project today, so I finished it.”

He has tears in his eyes when he looks at you and asks, “I know today was hell for you. Why are you so good to me?”

“Cassian,” you say, “even on our worst days, you’re still everything to me.”

“This is…so much,” he says, struggling for words. “This means…just so much.”

“We’ll talk about today when you’re ready. Right now—”

“Right now I hope you’ll just let me take care of you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Have you eaten?”

“I thought we could order something when you got home.”

“Okay,” he says, putting the little bantha back on the table. “I’m here. And I don’t care if you want dumplings from Tatooine. You will have them.”

Cassian had come to know your kitchen as well as he knew his in the last few months and was now sautéing vegetables on your stove, having insisted on making you dinner. You’d been a bit surprised the first time he’d cooked for you—he hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who would know how to follow a recipe, let alone work without one. He’d made a quick trip to the local grocer and come back with ingredients for one of your favorite comfort meals.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” you called from your cozy spot on the couch. “I don’t think I’ve even done dishes this week.”

“It’s taken care of,” he said. “After scaring you like that it’s the least I can do. Your neighbors probably think I’m a maniac.”

“They can think what they want. I know who you are.”

He added the vegetables to a large pan, which he then placed in the oven before joining you on the sofa.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You took Cassian’s jaw in your hand, caressing his short beard. And he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours for just a moment before kissing you, delicately at first, his lips capturing yours like a promise, before the kiss deepened with a hunger you felt as well, a need to be as physically close as possible to this man.

You ran your hands along the hem of Cassian’s shirt, soon letting your fingers wander over the warm skin of his stomach.

“Right now?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you said. “How long do we have before dinner?”

“Long enough.”

He stood, then pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the sofa and you threw your arms around his neck as you both started down the hall, discarding items of clothing as you went, finally in you bedroom, throwing back the covers and sliding into the sheets together.

“My heart,” Cassian said, his warm brown eyes almost sparkling as he looked at you, almost like he could see your every desire. “I love you so much. And it does frighten me. But I need you to know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” you said, lacing your fingers through his hair. “I love you, too, Cassian. More than anything.”

When you wake, for a split second you’re on the edge of panic, sitting straight up as you come out of a nightmare with the gut feeling that you’ve found yourself in an empty bed again, Cassian gone, perhaps never coming back.

But then he’s there, his hand gentle on your shoulder as he eases you back into bed. “I’m right here,” he says.

“What?” you ask, still foggy from sleep.

“You were calling my name,” Cassian says, his sleepy eyes looking straight into yours. He pulls you close. “You feel feverish. Were you having a nightmare?”

“It’s a blur,” you say, “but…you were gone again.”

“I’m so sorry, my heart.” He kisses your forehead. “Yesterday…it won’t ever happen again.”

“Can you promise that?”

“I think so.”

“Okay,” You say. “That’s good enough for now.”

When Cassian kisses you, sweet and soft, a calm washes over you and you let yourself melt into him, snuggling back under the sheets as he holds you close.

“Did you find your friend, Cassian?”

“Yes,” he says. “I did.”

“Is he safe now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“But I’d rather focus on you now,” Cassian says, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. “I am yours. All day. Whatever you want to do.”

This, of course, is a hint that he’s not ready to tell you about his friend, or what happened the day before. Your tuck his hair behind his ear, smoothing out his bedhead, caressing his face before running your fingertips over his shoulders and along his bicep. Recently he’d had a feather tattooed along the inside of his left arm, covering an old injury. It was a feather from a bird native to Kenari—a bird that was likely extinct now along with most creatures from the planet where your husband was born. He is a survivor, and with that, you know, comes a heavy burden.

“I'm just so glad you’re here,” you say.

“So am I, my heart,” He says, easing your head onto his shoulder, kissing your forehead. “The weather has been so nice lately. Do you want to take a picnic to the park? Maybe see what’s going on downtown? I think the waffle cart is open on weekends now.”

“That sounds perfect,” you say, even though a part of you wants to stay in bed with Cassian all day, your bodies close and unshared with the rest of the world.

But soon you’ve found the same grassy spot where Cassian proposed to you all those years ago. It’s early fall in your quadrant of Ralltiir, and it’s hard not to notice the butterflies that are everywhere, stopping in your city briefly on their journey south for the winter. One has perched on Cassian’s knee, and he’s frozen in place so as not to disturb it as it flexes its wings open and closed. You offer the butterfly your finger and it quickly climbs on. You bring it closer to your face so you can better see its colors.

“Is there a creature in the world that doesn’t trust you?” Cassian asks.

“You should have met the tooka-cat when I first took him in,” you tell him as the butterfly takes off into the wind. “He hid in the cupboard under the sink for two weeks. Wanted nothing to do with me.”

“But he came around,” he says.

“So did you.”

You lean into Cassian’s embrace as he tips your chin toward him, kissing you like you’re not in a crowded park. Like it’s the first night he kissed you, just inside the doorway of your old apartment, already perhaps knowing this would be the first kiss of so, so many down the years. With your arms around his neck you run your thumb along your wedding ring, thinking only of how complete your life feels with this man in it, even on the days when he exhausts you.

When he rests his forehead against yours, whisps of his hair tickling your cheeks, he says, “My heart, from the moment you let me in, there was no turning back from you.”

“You’re an extraordinary man, Cassian Andor,” you say. “And you owe me a dessert waffle.”

“I owe you so much more,” he says, rising to his feet and then helping you up off the ground. “But if what you want right now is a waffle, I can make that happen.”

With his arm around your waist, you make your way to your favorite waffle cart, parked just down the street. As you’re about to get in line, Cassian kisses your temple, whispers in your ear, “Thank you for being my home.”

And before you can reply, he captures your lips with his, the smile in his eyes also present in his kiss, and you throw your arms around his neck laughing, the smell of sugar in the air, knowing that whatever unfinished business Cassian is dealing with, whatever lead him to take off without warning yesterday—it will be all right. It might take some time to sort out, but you’ve both seen each other through hard things before. One more hard thing won’t break you.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to write something that somehow incorporated some of the elements we have from the first 5 episodes of Andor. I’m sure episode 6 will break my headcanon again, but that’s fine.I’ll just…edit. I hope this fic makes you feel seen and loved!

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @zinzinina @princessxkenobi @aerynwrites@belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @multifandom-fic-rec-blog @septimaseverinafavfanfic @feyredarling92 @againstacecilia @elasticreality @zombiedixon89 @forresway @diaryofkali @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian

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manicpixxiedreambitch · 4 months

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Come on man, let me take you to my grandparents house. No, not THAT one. The house down the street from the public park. The brick house with the porch swing. Yeah no the one where you always hear wind chimes when you’re in the yard. The one with the old creaky floorboards that somehow always sound friendly. The house that feels like the personification of being a little kid falling asleep while you hear people laughing in another room. The one that smells faintly of cigarettes and aromatherapy and a hint of weed. Bro I’m talking about the one where you always hear some sort of old music playing in another room, and it’s such a tangy and savory and lively beat that you can feel it faintly shaking in the walls and the floorboards and the very air you are breathing. The one with the beautiful stained wood staircase. With all the abstract art? Yes, the one with all those cactuses and flowers in the flowerbed in the back yard, the backyard that’s surrounded by a wooden fence? The one with the lawn that’s always perfectly manicured. Yeah with the screen door on the back snaps shut loudly but somehow the sound feels like a hug. The one with the big basement, that had a small shrine to Marilyn Monroe and a big leather couch and a table for playing cards? The one that has the bathroom with the pink tiled walls and the black tiled floors with the big bathtub. Yeah you know how that bathroom has the mini vinyl records hanging on the wall? With the air conditioning that seems to be working perfectly all the time. I love how grandma has those cut glass ornaments hanging in the kitchen window. Remember when grandpa went up to those and spun them and we tried to catch the rainbows they flashed on the walls thinking they were fairies? I miss that. The kitchen was beautiful, with the multicolored tiles on the wall and the woven rugs. Grandma was always keeping that kitchen so clean. Yeah the one with the cement patio in the back yard that grandma kept so clean that she could bring out that popcorn machine and pop popcorn with the lid off and we’d try to catch it in our mouths and whatever ones we missed we could pick up off the ground and eat because we trusted that it was clean. Grandpa was always the best with the grill. Whenever you are in the kitchen or the back yard you can hear ice clinking up against the edges of a cup of iced green tea. The one with the grand piano that was almost never used. Yeah we could stay in my aunts old room, the light green one, with the big bed and the quilts, and the vanity desk that had the pretty beaded lamp. When we stay in that one you can crack the window and hear the outside evening while we get our pajamas on. Or if you prefer we could stay in my uncles old room, the beige-yellow one with the sports art on the wall. You can crack the window and hear the outside with that one, too, and you might have a better view, but for some reason I’ve never been able to sleep all that well in that room. The house where there is always at least one light on. The one with the red dining room that has that one silly Coney Island poster on the wall. Yeah with that big stained wood dining table? Though no matter how big that table was grandma and grandpa always had to put out another folding table in the living room. Yeah the living room, with the big windows that showed the street? And the fireplace, and the couch with the crochet blankets. And the wicker rocking chair that I was forbidden to sit in after a certain age. Yes, my grandparents house. The one that the whole family loves. Let’s go there.

#sorry for rambling #my grandparents sold that house when I was eleven and I still miss it #their new house is nice but it’s not the same #idk I’m just coping with the fact thag my nostalgia is unique to me #I mean who else’s grandma kept a mannequin leg with a fishnet stocking and a black stiletto in her basement?#or an entire shrine to Marilyn Monroe #and it makes me sad #no one understands what my nostalgia is #or what I’m nostalgic for #because they don’t share my memories #so I thought I could take y’all there

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interiorcollective40 · 5 months

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Unleashing Your Inner Designer: Modern Barndominium Interior Inspiration

Barndominiums have become a hot trend in home design, offering a unique blend of rustic charm and modern functionality. But with all that open space, the question arises – how do I design a modern interior that feels both stylish and inviting? Here at Interior Collectives, we believe modern design can live harmoniously within a barndominium. Let's explore some inspiring ideas to transform your barndominium into a modern masterpiece.

Embracing the Raw Beauty (with a Modern Twist):

A barndominium's inherent charm lies in its exposed beams, metal accents, and soaring ceilings. Don't hide these elements – they're the foundation for your modern aesthetic! Instead, enhance them with strategic lighting and clean lines. Imagine sleek pendant lamps hanging from the exposed beams, casting a warm glow over a polished concrete floor.

Open Floor Plan, Defined with Modern Flair:

Barndominiums typically boast open floor plans, creating a sense of spaciousness and togetherness. To achieve a modern feel, define different areas with furniture placement and pops of color. Think large, clean-lined sofas anchoring seating areas. Area rugs in bold geometric patterns or neutral tones with a touch of texture can visually separate the living room from the kitchen. Double-sided fireplaces with a sleek, minimalist design can add warmth and functionality while maintaining the open concept.

Material Magic: A Symphony of Modern and Rustic

Modern barndominium interiors are all about creating a harmonious dialogue between materials. Juxtapose the rustic charm of exposed brick walls with sleek, polished concrete floors. Imagine stainless steel countertops in the kitchen gleaming against warm wood accents in the cabinetry. Don't be afraid to experiment with textures like woven throws on modern sofas or a chunky knit blanket draped over a minimalist chair.

Light Up Your Space, Modern Style

Natural light is key in a modern barndominium. Maximize it with large windows and skylights, creating a bright and airy atmosphere. Don't forget about layered lighting options for evenings. Recessed lighting throughout the space provides a clean and modern look, while statement pendant lamps over the kitchen island or strategically placed floor lamps add warmth and define different areas.

Storage Solutions with Modern Finesse

Modern design is all about clean lines and uncluttered spaces. Built-in cabinets with sleek, handleless facades keep your belongings organized and out of sight. Consider open shelving with a minimalist design to showcase decorative objects or a few favorite books. Woven baskets with clean lines can add texture and store blankets or magazines without compromising the modern aesthetic.

Indoor Meets Outdoor Living, Seamlessly

Barndominiums often have spacious patios or porches. Extend your modern living space by creating a seamless flow between indoors and outdoors. Large sliding glass doors open up the space, while sleek outdoor furniture in neutral tones creates an inviting area for entertaining or relaxing under the stars. Imagine a modern fire pit with clean lines as the centerpiece of your outdoor oasis.

The Art of Modern Accents

Modern barndominium interiors don't shy away from artwork. However, choose pieces that complement the clean lines and minimalist aesthetic. Think abstract paintings with bold colors, black and white photography with a modern feel, or sculptures with simple geometric shapes.

Let Your Personality Shine Through

While modern design is about clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic, it shouldn't feel sterile. Incorporate personal touches that reflect your style and interests. This could be a statement rug in your favorite color, a collection of vintage cameras displayed on a shelf, or a piece of artwork that speaks to you.

Designing a modern barndominium interior is an exciting adventure. By embracing the raw beauty of the structure, incorporating a blend of modern and rustic elements, and adding personal touches, you can create a space that's both stylish and comfortable – a true reflection of your unique personality and lifestyle. So, unleash your inner designer, explore your creative vision, and get ready to transform your barndominium into a modern masterpiece!

#modern barndominium interior #interior ideas #interior designs

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