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mylovelies-docx · 1 year

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A/N: Wow. Okay. So it's been a couple of years since I've written anything and since I promised everyone that I was working on a Cassian fic.

Welp. Here's that fic now - only two years later than I was expecting.

My bad.

Take this 20k fic as an apology/your due/something that I wanted to give you years ago.

Plot: You and Cassian go undercover as a married couple, but things take a turn for the worst when your past finds you.

C/W: Angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, reader has an abusive mother (featured heavily), gendered reader (daughter), no use of Y/N, *SMUT* (18+, Minors DNI), Not beta'd, also not proofread (if I spent any more time on this, I would never get it out here). Probably more, let me know if I need to include something.

I started writing this before the show came out (which I have not watched... I know, I know.) Anyway, as is always the case with any Cassian fic that *I* prefer, there is no such thing as canon.

“Married,” you echo quietly in disbelief. You have never been more shocked in your life; and when you quickly glance over, Cassian apparently hasn’t been, either. His jaw is tense and his eyebrows have raised slightly.

General Draven had just dropped the specifics of your mission, and it was not one that you could have anticipated. You and Cassian were to pose as a married couple that had just moved into an affluent neighborhood full of Imperial officers, weapons dealers, and senators.

In other words, right into a Sarlacc pit. Only this situation was thrice as deadly.

“With all due respect, General, this isn’t something either of us have experience with. Would it not be better to send Rishi and O’tal?” Cassian suggests diplomatically.

You nod your head at Cassian’s idea, showing your support. Rishi and O’tal are a real married couple in intelligence for the Alliance, so they are uniquely fit for this specific placement.

“They’re currently on assignment right now. And besides: you two are the best intelligence officers we have. Mothma and I don’t want this handled by anyone else.” Draven’s compliment of your abilities would have been more than enough to placate you if you weren’t still reeling from the previous revelation.

“Yes General, I know what you’re saying and I thank you sincerely for the commendation, but I’m still unsure if this is a wise decision,” you rebut. You have never once doubted a mission assignment, and you know Cassian hasn’t either, but this was territory neither of you have ever found yourselves in. “This will be the first joint mission for either of us. Would it not be possible for a different relationship? Perhaps a hired guard would suffice for one of us?”

Sure, you’ve seduced and courted marks before, but bringing along a partner that you needed to present a sense of physical and emotional intimacy with? That is something entirely out of your realm of expertise.

Draven is stationed at the head of the table, using the projection screen in front of him to present information, schematics, and diagrams. From his vantage point, Draven watches a slight frown mar Cassian’s face at your suggestion, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears.

“I understand your hesitancy, Captains, but rest assured that we have exhausted all other avenues,” Draven consoles. “But you both will be in control of the gritty details, so you can make it work. We’re only providing the accommodations and whatever alibis you require.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Cassian acquiesce with no further argument. You look at Cassian out of the corner of your eye, hoping he can’t see the real reason for the hesitation.

This is going to be an adventure neither of you can prepare for.

***

“This is going to be a difficult enough mission, so I think sticking as close to the facts as possible is our best option,” you explain to Cassian, jotting down bullet points and ideas on your datapad to relay back to Mon Mothma and Draven so that they can fabricate your history once it’s been decided.

“I estimate a 33% chance of your entire plan falling apart, Captain (Y/L/N),” K2 chimes in.

“Agreed.” Cassian ignores K2’s comment and speaks directly to you. “We can use our first names for simplicity, but we need a surname,” Cassian recommends from the co-pilot's chair.

“Would you like to know why?” K cuts in.

You appreciate the fact that you and Cassian are on the same wavelength about using your own names. You haven’t discussed it with him yet, so your similar logic on this bodes well for the rest of the discussion and the mission as a whole.

“Why don’t we just stick with Andor, for simplicity’s sake? It’s a common enough name and you’ll respond right away if someone calls for us. Plus, we both go by so many codenames that no one will ever think to search for us by this one.”

You’re swiping away on your datapad to avoid either of them seeing your reddened cheeks, so you don’t see Cassian’s ears flush subtly at your suggestion as well. Your heart flutters madly, causing a pang in your chest to the beat of your ‘new’ name.

Cassian clears his throat and readjusts in his seat. “That could work,” he remarks coolly while rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

K2 turns his head quickly to observe Cassian, the metal joints whirring with the motion. The droid begins to speak and Cassian glares at him, but there is no reigning in K2.

“Because two can keep a secret only if one of them is dead,” K elaborates on his one-sided talkingpoint, still observing Cassian’s reaction to your recommendation on becoming Mrs.Captain Andor, however temporarily.

You hurry on to get your mind off the impossible fantasy the name has conjured up for you. “Great. I’m just trying to think of the likely scenarios that will be brought up at dinner parties or Imperial galas. Obviously how we met, connections to the Empire…”

K is just being a bugslut with his next comment.

“And I’d prefer if it was Cassian who remained living.”

The aforementioned man shoots K2 another glare, wordlessly saying “behave”. The droid shrugs his large mechanical shoulders and mimes a zipping motion with his fingers over his audio port.

You roll your eyes at K2’s insistence that your plan will be a failure and at his obvious distaste for you. You’re unsure what it is about you that he finds so distasteful, but you find yourself wishing he tolerated you a little more. Perhaps then, Cassian would join Rogue One more often on small adventures and get-togethers.

Being around Cassian is easier than being with anyone else; you don’t seem to exhaust yourself as quickly or as often with him. He is a source of calm, controlled energy that speaks to the weary parts of your soul.

Focus.

“So. Instead of saying we met during a Rebel council meeting, how about we meet in the middle of truth and lie? Keep the time frame the same, just change the location. So for instance: we met five standard years ago at the launch of an Imperial class-II Star Destroyer. There were so many of those around that time that no one should question it – and even if they do, we could pretend we were too drunk on Merenzane Gold or love or whatever to notice anything but each other.”

You are proud of yourself for keeping this discussion so professional despite your intrusive thoughts. Your heart is racing and your hands are slightly trembling with anxiety, but your voice is steady and you still sound confident. Maker! Why can’t you find the same focus and steadfastness that you have on missions? You can only hope that your professionalism will kick in once you land and begin the assignment in earnest.

“You were wearing a pink dress,” Cassian murmurs, staring distantly at the stars passing over the cockpit’s transparisteel. He mutters it to himself mostly, but you still hear.

You snap your head up, eyes large and mouth slightly parted, finding that he has his hand spread across the lower half of his face with his head turned away from you. You had been operating remotely for the Alliance for a while in various social circles and planets prior to settling down on base. You had just finished with a mission and were wearing a pink dress when you met Cassian for the first time during a debrief of your findings.

You shouldn’t be surprised that a man who had grown up as a spy can recall details as small as what you had been wearing, since you can also do the same. But you had been absolutely nothing to him then, so why would he bother to pay you any attention?

“And you had your A280-CFE heavy blaster strapped to your thigh,” you divulge.

Your mind is still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Cassian had been watching you for far longer than you realized. He turns his head to look at you in surprise and catches your eye. Your puzzled expression is revealing too much of your thought process, so you drop your gaze from his and return to your holopad.

K2 breaks the tension with his usual tact.

“There’s a 93% chance you’re both lying to yourselves.”

“That’s enough, K,” Cassian reprimands, not for the first time.

“I’m only stating facts and highly calculated odds,” K defends himself.

“Facts as you see them,” you point out distractedly.

“Oh, I see a lot more than you do. A lot more.”

You’re still too self-involved to reply further and Cassian steers the conversation back to a safer topic: your mission.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat. “Let’s say we were dating for...six months? Eight months? Enough time to get to know each other, but short enough to accommodate our ‘love at first sight’.” Cassian lets out one compact ‘ha!’ at the notion of falling in love with a total stranger without knowing who they were.

“Eight months seems reasonable. That would give me a few opportunities to let you meet family and friends, and vice versa. Speaking of: do we have any?” you question, back to yourself after banishing any and all thoughts of Cassian’s motivation to study you so intently. You can only hope to gather more data as the mission progresses.

“Hmm,” Cassian ponders, unsure what option would be best. He scrubs a hand across his stubbled chin and cheeks in thought. “No family seems suspicious, but we don’t want to create too many to keep track of.” He reasons out. “These people are well-connected and will be looking into our history, so we need to think of how our team back at base can create the strongest alibi.”

“True. And there’s no doubt they would recognize our infamous friends by name. That really narrows down our options.” Your lips are pursed to the side in thought and your chin is resting on your closed first.

Your thinking pose works because you have an idea come to mind. Cassian stops his musings on ‘our friends’ to find your delighted expression when he turns at your little ‘a-ha!’ and finger snap.

“Do you remember anything about my mission on Aria Prime? My alias had a few family members we can repurpose.” You’re relieved that you’ve figured out a way to use established plants and make the intelligence officer’s work back at base easier.

“Antolin and Mauria, yes?” He confirms.

“Yes,” you verify, flustered yet again by Cassian’s attention to detail. “I’m glad you read my report – makes this easier for us.”

“I read all your reports,” Cassian remarks before realizing his error. “I mean. I-I read all the reports. Everyone’s. It’s best to have a clear understanding of the bigger picture,” he corrects hastily.

You’re struggling to understand why, why, why, but your heart flutters nonetheless at the small thrill you receive.

“Like I said,” K-2SO’s modulator is pitched to where only Cassian can hear, “lying to yourselves.”

***

This discussion had started a parsec ago, but is still going with no end in sight. Neither of you can agree on this, but neither are willing to yield.

“The more we use pet names, the less people will remember our real ones. First introductions we only give our names once and then use only nicknames after. People like them will be too embarrassed to have forgotten a name and won’t ask for them again.”

Cassian is making excellent points, but your insides squidge in a nice uncomfortable way whenever he offers up an example. You can’t help but remember all the times your marks had forgotten your name, so they used demeaning pet names to refer to you. Maybe that’s why you were so easily onboard for using your names on this mission when you’ve never done it before. One: because it’s easier, and two: because you don’t feel as if you hear it spoken often enough.

Three: because you don’t want Cassian to forget your name when this war eventually claims your life.

You’re making yourself unduly anxious with the thought of that eventuality, and your response comes off melancholic. “They won’t remember me anyway.”

Cassian is thrown off by this. How could anyone forget you? He had a hard time not thinking about you some days.

“Why do you say that?”

You give him a sad sort of expression, a wry smile turning your lips. “Isn’t that our job?” you question him. “Making yourself completely unrecognizable to the point that if your target ever saw you again, they wouldn’t even notice?”

Cassian can see where you’re coming from, but the look on your face and the tone of your voice makes him wonder at how lonely you feel during missions.

“As long as you are yourself around those you care about, it makes it worth it. Yes?” Cassian counters.

A small, wondering smile graces your lips as you lean back against the hold and look up. “Yeah, I guess so…”

You’re thinking of all the fun you have with Jyn and Bodhi when she drags you both away from base to explore, or when you’re all laughing at the exasperated look on Baze’s face when Chirrut walks into blaster fire with only his prayers to guide him.

Or when you catch the relieved look Cassian throws you after a near-miss, like he’s impossibly glad that you’re okay. You always point finger-blasters at him with a smirk, trying to diffuse the situation, but he usually just shakes his head and tells you to focus.

Ahh. There you are, a voice in your mind whispers suddenly. It’s a cool and sinister voice, one you had not heard in some time.

You startle, knowing that the disembodied voice cannot see you physically does nothing to prevent a sense of overwhelming fear from taking over. You try to take a series of deep breaths to calm your racing heart and slow the pounding of blood in your ears. Hoping repetitive and familiar motions will calm you down and refocus your mind, you begin to rub up and down one arm with your knuckles. With the amount of pressure you’re using, you’ll end up with bruises but the dull pain helps.

Cassian sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns toward you, you’re already up and walking to a more private area.

“E-excuse me,” you stutter out. Your legs feel weak and you run one hand along the wall to keep you steady.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asks, preparing to stand up and follow you.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘m fine. Just give me a moment.” Your voice is quiet, but you throw a shaky smile over your shoulder to try and stop Cassian from following you. You make it to one of the rooms and slide in, the door hissing closed behind you.

“That,” K2 says.

“What?” Cassian asks his companion, confused by the non sequitur.

“That is precisely why I don’t trust her. She hides too much,” the droid explains.

“She’s one of us, K,” Cassian defends. “We all have secrets.”

“Yes, but our secrets don’t make us run away. She’s hiding something big: I know it.” The droid asserts, giving his head one sharp nod to drive the point.

***

You survey the progress of your “home” being put together from the lofty heights of the balcony overlooking the foyer. Everything is white and gray and black, mimicking the Empire’s color scheme.

You hate it.

The only pop of color is your elaborate dress. The emerald gown is the height of Coruscant fashion, and you needed everyone who saw you and Cassian dock to know that you are important people.

Your quarters span the top two levels of one of the tallest towers in a swanky residential sector. The prestigious location alone should influence everyone’s opinions, but you also need to look the part of a spoiled and arrogant wife. So you have to dress and act accordingly.

You sense Cassian walking up behind you; his presence is unmistakable and you recognize his gait as his shoes tap against the expensive flooring.

Your fingers grip the balustrade imperceptibly tighter, the only reaction you will allow yourself. Since shutting down on the U-wing to try and prevent the voice’s return, you’ve been able to keep your thoughts and emotions in check: no racing heart, blushed cheeks, or errant feelings. This is the only way you know how to keep your mind your own.

Cassian places his hands on either side of yours, trapping you between his warm body and the railings. His chest is pressing into your back and his sharp chin is resting on your shoulders. You weren’t prepared for this level of fake intimacy so soon, so your breath hitches in your throat and escapes as a soft gasp. You feel his warm breath fan across your ear as he pretends to nuzzle into your neck.

“Kay and I placed the data collectors throughout the public rooms.” Cassian mumbles, moving from one side of your neck to the other. You tilt your head in the semblance of allowing him room to kiss along your skin, growing hot where his breath fans now and goosebumps where it had once been. “We’re ready for the company to arrive.”

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. You’re developing a pit in your stomach at the proximity, but you grasp Cassian’s hands under yours for the illusion. Your palms are sweating and you’re sure that Cassian can feel it, but he continues resting his lips near your ear.

You glance down at the individuals moving your furnishings throughout the rooms, catching one gray-skinned and multi-eyed lifeform watching the two of you surreptitiously. You scowl down at them, feeling Cassian’s head turn enough to give them a side-eye as well. They turn back to arranging the many fire-waters and spirits you bought in preparation for your first gathering as new residents.

Some aliens begin making their way from where they were setting up the sleeping quarters behind you and Cassian. As they’re passing, Cassian pulls away from you. You take a deep breath to recenter yourself and cool your skin.

“Come, Love. Let’s break in the new bed,” Cassian says, loud enough for the passing workers to overhear.

You feign a saccharine smile and allow him to place his hand on the small of your back. Cassian leads you to your shared bedroom, dropping contact as soon as the door closes behind the two of you. You both sweep the room for any foreign devices and find none. You remain standing on opposite sides of the room, aware of the awkward atmosphere.

“I am sorry for that. A few of the workers were watching us,” Cassian apologized. One hand is scratching the scruff along his chin to hide his discomfort.

“I saw. It was an effective way to give them observations to take back to their superiors if some are spies like we suspect.” You carefully place yourself on the edge of the luxurious bed, taking this time to rest your feet before you need to get ready for the evening’s plans.

“Yeah…” Cassian draws, giving you a quizzical look.

He knows that you’re on a mission now, but your tone and mannerisms are throwing him off. He always felt at least a sense of comradery with you, but this pliant and civil manner you’ve taken up bothers him for reasons he won’t can’t name.

You ignore his probing eyes. The voice in your mind is too recent an experience to let yourself relax even slightly. Your muscles are rigid from the straight posture of the elite woman you’re playing and from the stress of keeping your mind calm and under control. A headache is starting to form.

“I take it that K is situated?” You inquire of Cassian as you stand with bare feet. You pad over to the extensive closet space, selecting an outfit for tonight.

“Yes. He’s taken the ship to the lower levels and will stay there while we’re here; he’s close enough if we run into any issues.”

Cassian’s voice is still low as he follows you to the wardrobe, just in case any of the movers are lurking outside the door. You both stand back to back as you each survey your arsenal of clothing for this mission. You run your hands lovingly over the soft fabrics, happy that your sensitive skin won’t have to endure anything rough for this mission. Cassian’s clothed shoulder blades scrape along your exposed back, sending imperceptible shivers down your spine.

You quickly pull out a beautiful dress and move away from Cassian. You call over your shoulder to him as you near the refresher. “I’m wearing pink, unless you don’t have anything to match.”

“Of course I do. You selected the wardrobe,” he reminds you.

You hadn’t seemed yourself since the ship, which Cassian picked up on immediately since you were so sure and confident at the beginning. He is trying hard to understand your abrupt change.

You shut the door on Cassian and take in the immaculate space around you. You hang the dress so it can air out while you apply your makeup and arrange your hair and try to enjoy the solitude while you can, knowing that tonight and all the nights to come will wear you thin.

***

Cassian comes in a while later, taking note of your elaborate hairstyle and details of your thoad-eye makeup. He feels the nearly overwhelming need to comment how stunning you are and how similar you look now to when he saw you that first time, but holds his tongue. He doesn’t want to make this any more awkward for either of you.

You had been staring listlessly into the mirror before you until Cassian walked in. You can barely recognize the person staring back; hollow eyes, down-turned lips, dull skin. She isn’t you, but she is who you need to be until you’re sure the phantom hasn’t found you.

You move your eyes to study Cassian as he stands in the doorway. He looks handsome in his party-ware, the organic tones complementing his features and your pastel gown nicely. But you don’t dwell on how the sight alone of Cassian in something other than his everyday wear threatens the stability of the winged creatures in your stomach. You want them to be dormant, need them to be, but something about the man behind you sets them to tittering.

Since closing yourself off from your emotions and the galaxy at large, you have come to realize that you haven't been as careful as you should have. Despite your better judgment and without conscious effort, you have formed attachments in the Rebellion. Found yourself building relationships that mean something to you. Your fellow rebels from Rogue One are your life-line in this never-ending war.

Your bond with Cassian is one you are especially fond of.

You have grown to care for the man in a way that you know you shouldn’t. Your detachment now allows for you to reflect on your feelings in an objective way, understanding that you put yourself and the entire Rebellion at risk without fully realizing.

It stops today.

You harden what little bit of your heart you can still feel and fill in the small, Cassian shaped hole that had started to carve itself there.

You take your eyes from where they had locked onto his own. You can sense his hesitation to approach you and his inner turmoil that feels so like your own had earlier in the day. So while dabbing under your eyes for fallout and around your lips to neaten the line, you speak up.

“I’ll be done in time to greet our guests with you, but I need a few moments.”

Your voice is flat and devoid of any warmth that it once held for the man. Cassian notes immediately that your countenance has taken another turn, one that has pulled you even further away from him. His chest tightens. He sets his mouth in grim acceptance and leaves with a small nod in your direction.

***

All throughout the evening, a sense of foreboding had settled itself deep in your bones. You can feel it getting heavier and heavier as the party drags on, weighing down your body and worsening your already sickening headache. You continue to laugh and smile demurely despite it, but the bright light from the chandelier hanging above your head is sending bolts of pain behind your eyes.

In order to present a united front to these Imperial officers and sympathizers, Cassian has his arm wrapped around your waist and you’re resting your hand over top of his on your hip. The warmth of his hand as it caresses your curves sends heat between your thighs completely against your will. Your mind and heart know what you can’t have, but your body has wants of its own.

When an interesting piece of information comes up in conversations, one of you will squeeze the other’s hand in silent communication to pry further. It arose through no effort on either of your parts, but Cassian feels the rightness in the subtle exchanges. It feels like you’ve been partners for longer than a day, fake married for longer than a day, fake intimate for longer than a day with the way it feels to hold you.

He can’t get over the rightness of having you in his arms. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt, even with the few past partners he’s allowed himself to have between missions. He can feel the heat of your skin beneath his palm and through the fabric of your dress, making him want to pull you all the more closer as the night wears on and the open windows bring a chill to the crowded room.

You’re both in the middle of a conversation with a commanding officer when it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room, like a cabin losing pressure out in space. Your eyes widen and your heart races as your sense of foreboding from earlier ramps up into full fight-or-flight mode. You’re hastily scanning the faces in the room, terrified.

Cassian feels you tense in his arms. With a quick glance at your face, he knows something is wrong. Your eyes are flickering around the room and the pulse in your neck is prominent against the stiffness of your body. He tries to catch your eye or squeeze your hip, but he gets no response.

Quickly and subtly shifting your body behind his, he excuses the two of you from your conversation. You don’t feel yourself moving, too caught up in trying to find the source of this feeling.

You’re intimately familiar with this presence, having spent years in its company. You had tried so hard and traveled lightyears away in order to escape, but all your efforts seem futile now. You should have gone into hiding, should have locked yourself away on a little no-name moon, should have done something more.

A whimper escapes your mouth without permission, and Cassian’s heart lurches at the frightened sound. He’s always known you to be the bravest, strongest person he has ever met, but the woman in his arms right now looks like a scared child, looks like someone he doesn’t know. He would take your cold and detached manner from the previous day over this.

Because this? This scares him. And Cassian does not scare easily.

He leads you into a secluded area of the penthouse, away from prying Imperial eyes and whatever has caused your body to convulse with tremors. He still has his arm wrapped securely around your waist holding you close to him, and his other hand has a gentle but firm grip around your upper arm that is pressed tightly into his side. Cassian is practically dragging you away as your knees refuse to hold you up.

Cassian finds a small cupboard furthest away from the party. He looks around to be sure no one is near enough to listen in, and pulls you inside. A dim light turns on above your heads and Cassian places you gently against a wall. You start to slide down, but he puts his arms under yours, giving you support.

You can still feel her, can sense her proximity and her sinister presence in the back of your mind. It’s been so long since you were last with her, but your body must have known somehow that she was drawing nearer. Your headaches and anxiety that had only heightened throughout the party should have made you think.

But you didn’t.

Having Cassian at your side had made you feel safe, no matter that you were actively avoiding having any feelings for him. You have known his character well from watching and interacting with him over the years, learning to trust him and his calm and reserved nature. You were remiss in thinking that you could keep yourself and your feelings away from him during this mission.

Now that the walls you carefully constructed on the ship have crumbled around you, you can’t help but feel again. Can’t help but feel the warmth radiating from his chest and into yours from where he’s standing so close to you. Can’t help but feel his breath against your face as he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong. Can’t help but feel the pressure in your head slowly dissipating as you force yourself to breathe in time with Cassian’s instructions.

You readjust against the wall after a short while, standing taller and trying to regain feeling in your legs. Cassian’s hand shifts from the wall and cups the side of your face so that he can look into your eyes. You can see the question in his concerned gaze and answer in a still-weak voice.

“My… my mother. She’s here.”

Cassian’s brow furrows slightly as he wonders what that could mean for you and this mission. He opens his mouth to ask for more details, but you shake your head.

“She’s - we’re - I don’t know!” You cry out softly. You bring your hands up and grasp the lapels of Cassian’s shimmersilk jacket as you try to ground yourself and explain. “She’s in my head, Cassian. I can feel her. I can hear her. I couldn’t get away, and now she’s found me.”

You suck in a deep breath through trembling lips. You look deeply into Cassian’s eyes, watching as a dawning understanding fills them.

“I’m scared, Cassian,” you admit.

Cassian wraps both of his hands around your head with his palms against your neck, using his thumbs to sweep softly under your eyes, catching the tears that had fallen without you noticing. Your breathing is still stuttering in and out of your lungs, and Cassian can feel your pulse as he continues to stroke your cheeks.

“I know. I know, Princessa. But it’s okay, we can figure this out together, hm?” Cassian murmurs to you.

You nod your head and close your eyes as you lean back against the wall, drained of energy. Cassian takes both of your wrists into one of his and holds them against his chest when he feels your grip slacken, hoping that you can feel his heart’s rhythm and use its steady beat to come back down from your adrenaline rush.

“What do we need to do?” Cassian asks after a moment. “I can signal K and we can leave right now.”

You shake your head as you look back at him. You can’t let this opportunity for information slip away because of you. And you’re definitely not giving K-2SO any more reason not to like you.

“No. No, Cass, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just… give me another moment or two. Please,” you implore.

Rational thought is coming back to you as you finally match Cassian’s heartbeat and breathing. You start to feel embarrassed about your breakdown, but Cassian’s sympathy and understanding prevent you from doing so. You’re now focusing on the shift in your mission.

“The good news is I’m using my real name, so she can’t ruin us immediately,” you begin slowly. “The bad news is now we have to contend with her story and timeline of events. I haven’t been with her since I ran away, Cassian. I haven’t spoken to her in years, but she’s been in my head a few times since then.”

What you have to tell Cassian next is hard, but he needs to know. For your own selfish needs, you want somebody to know what you’ve been through.

“She… she studied under the Sith in her childhood, but never completed training. When she had me and realized I was force sensitive…” You’re pleading with your eyes and your grasping hands on his jacket once more. “She raised me on the Dark Side. To become the Sith she never could be.”

Cassian tries to pull away from you, shocked and angry by your perceived betrayal. His face hardens and his hands drop away from you, but you’re quick to hold tighter to him, keeping him from leaving you.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Cassian! I never joined the Rebellion for her or anyone else. I stopped training and cut myself off from the Force after my 16th year because I knew what she was teaching me was wrong. I joined you because I wanted to make up for all the awful things she made me do, to give myself over to a cause that I believe in.

“I never intentionally put the Rebellion in danger. Every time she found my consciousness, I shut myself away from whatever I was feeling that let her in and left the base until I was sure she hadn’t found me,” you explain. “I don’t know why she’s here now, but it can’t be good. We have to find out, and I’m the best shot we have.”

You can see Cassian’s mind moving at lightspeed to determine if he can trust you. You’ve never given him any reason not to, but this secret is explosive enough to shake his faith in his own discernment. His eyes are shifting between yours, staring into each to find any trace of duplicity. You keep your expression honest and open. It’s the first time you’ve ever presented your emotions – true and real emotions – to someone. You’re vulnerable in this state, but Cassian needs to see it.

And he does. Cassian’s shoulders drop imperceptibly and the tension you can feel under your hands loosens.

“Does Mon Mothma know? She’s the one that recruited you, yes?” He asks, looking for a solid reason other than his gut instincts to guide his decision.

You nod. You hadn’t told her the full truth all those standard years ago, but she knew enough to think of you as a worthwhile risk.

Cassian exhales and reaches for your hands where they clutch at him. He gives them a squeeze in acceptance and you can’t stop a small smile from coming to your lips in relief.

“What’s your plan?” He asks you, deferring over to you on how this mission should move forward now that there’s a massive obstacle to manage.

“I think…”you hesitate, already dreading the series of events your next words are going to set in motion. “I think I need to get close to her again. Not ‘close’!” You reassure Cassian when a troubled look comes over his face. “Just make her think I’m still on the Dark Side. Being here already lends itself to that.”

“I don’t know. Putting yourself directly in her path like that is dangerous,” Cassian reasons.

You give a short laugh and look at Cassian with amusement. “We’re Rebel Intelligence currently undercover with elite Imperial officers and weapons dealers. I think we’ve been in danger.”

Cassian mimics your small grin and rattles your hands around a bit. “Smart aleck.”

You’re feeling better than you have been since the U-wing. A weight has lifted from your shoulders and now you can breathe easier, safe in the knowledge that someone knows your secrets. Knows a large part of you, and doesn’t hate you for it.

Cassian’s smile fades. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever this moment is, but you need to go back to the party.

“I’m going to signal K-2SO; we might need him for security.” At the thought of K running his mouth off near all these officers, Cassian decides that he’ll instruct the droid to disable his modulator. “Are you ready?” he asks.

Your face drops into a determined expression. You gather all your strength and prepare to greet your mother. You’re going to need it.

***

“Well there’s my darling daughter!”

You keep your expression neutral, but quirk one eyebrow up as you look to the direction her voice is coming from. You watch as your mother saunters over to you, pulling along a middle-aged man in an Officer’s uniform; he must have been her way in, since you hadn’t seen her during your reconnaissance phase. He was of low-rank and low-importance, but you invited him because he could still harbor important information.

Your mother has aged: wrinkles line her eyes and crease her forehead, gray hairs are dyed an unnatural shade, and the skin on her neck and hands is thin and dry. Her dark robes swathe her frame in an abundance of fine fabric, perhaps to distract from all that you are observing.

“Mother,” you reply in a clipped tone. No one but Cassian notices the beginnings of sweat on your forehead. He leans in to place a kiss on your hairline, wiping away the droplet with his dry but soft lips. You grasp his hand tighter in appreciation.

“I knew I would find you here…” she taunts, but trails off as she eyes Cassian beside you.

You stiffen because you know that look. You angle yourself to where your breasts are pressing against Cassian and you lay a possessive hand over his chest, clearly indicating he was ‘yours’ in the only way she really understands.

But she hasn’t changed in all this time, so she tries her hand with Cassian. Even though her escort has an arm around her stomach in a not-so-subtle effort to keep her close to him and away from your partner - or anyone else in the room that catches her eye.

“My, my. Who is this handsome man you’ve conned into spending the night with you, daughter?” She addresses you, but bats her eyelashes coquettishly at Cassian. “I’m sure you’ll have much more fun with me, young man. I can give you anything you want,” she tries to whisper seductively, but fails in your opinion.

Her date looks at you and Cassian contemptuously, as if you were the ones to blame for her behavior.

Your mouth curls into an uncontrollable sneer and your expression morphs into one of disgust and anger. How dare she proposition Cassian in such a way? What a lewd and demeaning way to come onto someone!

All fear is forgotten in your outrage. You’re about to respond with vicious words as you start to move your hand towards the poisoned blade hidden under your dress, but Cassian stops you as he tightens his arm around your waist and pulls you further into him so that you’re basically looking over your shoulder - you’re full front is pressed against his as he takes his own hold on you. His hand snakes down to cup your ass in a proprietorial way to show your mother that he already has his hands full.

Your heart quickens at the possessive act. Focus.

Cassian gives an uninterested nod as his greeting, making a show of looking her over and finding her lacking. It’s cruel, but it fills you with a spot of joy.

“The husband, actually,” he remarks coldly. “Weapons Specialist.”

“Oh.” She pouts for just a moment, disappointed that he wants nothing to do with her. “Well!” She claps her hands together and steps out of her date’s arm. “I’m sure you gentlemen won’t begrudge me a moment with my long-lost daughter,” she bids. She flaps her hands around as she says, “You boys talk amongst yourselves.”

She walks off, expecting you to follow like a kriffing Kath Hound. One of your eyes twitches in agitation as you look to Cassian. He uses one hand to adjust a piece of your hair, wanting to draw attention away from his lips as he mutters to you.

“Do not let her get to you. I will be right here when you return.”

“I don’t think I can follow through on the plan. I don’t think I can get close enough without failing,” you whisper.

You are terrified of this woman and what she can still do to you, what she can still make you endure because of her connection to the Dark Side. But… you can’t really sense anything from her. You allow what diminutive control you have on the Force to surround her and probe for information, and you find very little.

You’re wondering now if whatever prevented her from completing her training as a Sith has been depleting her midichlorians since then as well. Her voice in your mind has been diminishing for quite some time now; the event today having been the first time in over a year, when you used to hear her every other month.

A hypothesis begins to form. But in order to explore further, you need to follow your mother.

You rub Cassian’s cheek with the palm of your hand in farewell and his stubble is rough against your skin. He takes your hand from his face and places a soft kiss on your knuckles, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

After your revelations in the cupboard and dispensation of some of the fear you had been holding all your life, you’re finding it easy to fall into this level of intimacy with Cassian -- false as it may be. You are no longer held back by thoughts of your mother reentering your life and wreaking havoc for the Rebellion. She’s found you here with Imperialists, ‘married’ to a war profiteer, and presumably on the same side.

But Cassian is still Cassian and you are still you. Public displays of affection make both of you uncomfortable, but you’ve been pushing it aside for the sake of the mission. You let go of each other and walk away from him, but you can still feel his eyes on you as you go to your mother.

“I never imagined you as a credit-seeking harpy, daughter of mine. Always so toffee-nosed and self-important. You never agreed to a single match I tried to make for you,” your mother starts in as soon as you’re close enough to hear. Some party-goers glance in your direction, but your glare sends them looking away.

“Perhaps you never set your sights high enough, mother. Maybe I sought better for myself than you could provide?” you retort, channeling Cassian’s cool demeanor into your character for this mission.

You had never imagined as a youngling that you could ever be brave enough to face your mother in this way; she had dominated and dictated every facet of your life, refusing you free-will and a normal childhood. But you need to complete this mission and find out why she’s here, so you don’t have time to dwell.

She looks at you now with thinly veiled contempt. You imagine she thought you would still be that girl who was too afraid to speak out against her. And if it wasn’t for this mission and Cassian dragging you from the party so you could collect yourself, you would still be.

Your hands are trembling where they’re hidden behind your back and beneath the capelet on the dress, and gravity seems to have broken: incredibly strong at your feet and incredibly light on your head. It keeps you rooted to the floor while also making you feel like you’re floating away. Rationally you know it’s your fear response, so you work on taking inconspicuous breaths.

“‘Sought better for yourself’; don’t make me laugh! Those ‘friends’ you had were barely sentient! Let alone have any connections to elevate you anywhere,” your mother mocks.

You’re momentarily dumbfounded: how did she know about your friends? You made sure to never mention them or hang out with them when your mother was on-planet. “What friends?” you ask quietly.

“Don’t play ignorant with me, daughter, it’s so unbecoming of a Sith. Did you forget? I’m in your head.”

You jerk away from where your mother has leaned in towards your face, taking a step back. Her last words had been inside your head.

“I’ve missed this, daughter,” your mother coos telepathically. She brings a wrinkled hand up to cup one side of your face while you’re struggling to breathe. “I’ve missed having you under my thumb.”

At this, she drives her thumb into your cheek, pushing your head roughly to the side. She has a firm grip and directs your face back to where you have to look at her. You’re breathing fast and shallow, panic taking over. Your hands have flown to take a hold of her wrist and forearm, struggling to remove her nails from your soft flesh.

You finally wrench her hand away, just in time to feel a strong arm snake around your waist and pull you backwards. Cassian steps in front of you in a protective stance, one arm still holding you against his back and the other pointing his blaster in your mother’s face.

If looks alone could kill, your mother would have evaporated under Cassian’s glare.

You can feel his breath escaping him in angry heaves, nostrils flared. His mouth is set in a thin, angry line, and you can hear his teeth gnash together as he clenches his jaw. His eyebrows are furrowed over his hard, piercing stare, your mother the sole object of his ire at the moment.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look at Cassian as her focus is still on you. Staring down certain death and one of the most intimidating men in the galaxy, she doesn’t move a muscle except to smile cruelly.

“They were so heartbroken when I told them you were dead,” she mocks as you stare at her from around Cassian. “It was quite fun to watch them suffer.”

They thought I was dead? Your hands grasp Cassian tighter at the thought. Is that why they never tried to contact me?

Feeling your shaking hands on his back and unsteady breaths against his neck, all Cassian wants to do is blast a hole through your mother. As soon as he saw her lay a hand on you, he was racing over to the altercation – blaster drawn and heart on his sleeve. He knows how strong and capable you are, but this mission is asking more of you than he can stand to watch be taken away.

He feels your warm hand slide around his where it grips his blaster. You bring his arm back down to his side and step out from behind him.

Your nerves are shot and you’re so nauseous that you could vomit at any moment, but you need to take control of the situation again. Your mother is making you look weak and incompetant in front of the Empire’s largest figures. The party had come to a screeching halt when Cassian drew his weapon.

“It’s alright, my love,” you say loud enough for those around you to hear. “I believe our guest has forgotten who is in charge here.”

You snap your fingers in K’s direction where you see him stationed against one of the columns beside the entrance. You’re elated when you see him actually heed your command and stalk over. He grips your mother’s arm and waits for your command.

“I do believe it’s time you and your date left now,” you say as you wave your hand in a dismissive gesture.

Your mother is absolutely fuming as K2 leads her out of the hall, stopping to grab her date as he tries to make himself small amongst the crowd. You can see her trying to move her arm out of the droid’s grasp, but she’s unsuccessful. Her date’s jacket sleeve is nearly ripping at the shoulder from how unwilling he is to be pulled along by her.

Cassian is immensely proud of you for standing up to your mother. After he watches her being dragged out by K, he turns to you with a glimmer in his eye, only to notice the sallowness of your skin and the movement of your throat as you swallow multiple times.

Cassian immediately turns to your guests and makes an announcement so you can sneak away unnoticed. “Now that we’ve weeded out the undesirables amongst us, it’s time to get this party started. Fosu–” Cassian calls to the Ortolan leading the live band “–let’s go!”

You make your way out of the crowded hall with one hand fisted over your mouth and the other holding your stomach. You hear the band start up as you reach the nearest refresher and bolt inside. As soon as the door slides closed and you’re alone, you promptly empty the contents of your stomach into the vacc tube.

-------

You’re shivering against the wall when Cassian comes in some time later. Your body has lost all ability to function after trying to purge itself of these mephitic feelings, so you’re collapsed into a seated position on the floor with your head leaned back to rest against the wall. The expensive stone interior of this refresher is beautiful to look at, but severely uncomfortable to sit on.

Cassian crouches down next to you and hands you a crystal flute full of water. You give a small smile in appreciation and sip from the cup, closing your eyes as you feel the cool liquid slither down your raw throat and into your empty stomach.

“You did good,” Cassian says to you.

You peep open one tired eye and look at him. His face is sincere and his eyes hold no hint of the disappointment you feel for yourself. You scoff at his words and close your eye again.

“The entire mission has gone completely barvy because of me,” you mutter harshly. If your mother hadn't shown up, you would have completed this mission without any problems. But as soon as you felt her presence and realized that she was in the same room, you broke down. And when she spoke to you and grabbed you...

At the thought of your mother’s touch, the anxiety in your stomach rumbles into nausea again. You press a closed fist up to your mouth to fight off the feeling. “I can’t even think about her without wanting to spew my guts up.” You roll your head to the side so that Cassian can’t see the self-deprecating expression you know is on your face. “How pathetic is that?”

A warm, rough hand encircles the wrist that still hovers in front of your mouth. The firm pressure brings your face up and forces your eyes open. Cassian is leaning towards you with an arm outstretched to you and balancing on one knee. You can’t help but feel bad that he’s ruining such a nice suit just to get you to look at him.

“Nothing about you is pathetic, Princessa,” he urges. “The way you handled that situation? There is no one else in the galaxy who could have gotten through the way you did.” He moves his hands in an exaggerated gesture to emphasize the shape of the galaxy around you, but your wrist is pulled along for the demonstration since it is still held between his fingers.

“I didn’t really do anything. I asked K to kick her out for me. I’ve probably lost any ounce of power and respect we scrounged up in such a short time.”

Your eyes are downcast as you say this, so you don’t notice Cassian’s other hand reaching up from where it was hovering over his bent knee. He oh-so-gently grabs your chin in the same place your mother had, but the difference between the two touches are immense. His thumb ever so softly brushes along the side of your mouth where a bruise is most likely forming, and his fingers perch below your chin as he pulls your face up to meet his gaze.

“If anything, you gave us more respect. You effortlessly took away all her power and turned her into the laughing stock of the party; these sorts of things are the highlight of any event for these people. You’ve just ensured that they’re all going to be coming back just on the off-chance that something like that happens again.”

His eyes are so intense on yours and his hand so kind against your abused jaw that it brings a flush to your face. You shouldn’t be relishing in the closeness you’re feeling in this moment because he is only trying to comfort you and get you ready to be hostess of the party again, but you can’t help the warm feelings and fluttering of your heart at his proximity.

You think he must have noticed your blush and became embarrassed for you, because he drops his hand from your face and rises from his crouch. Cassian clears his throat and pulls your wrist up towards him, indicating that it is time for you to stand as well. You push against the wall with your free hand and stand in front of him.

You’re unsure of what else to say besides a whispered, “Thank you.”

Cassian nods his head in acknowledgement and drops your hand. The loss of contact stings a little.

Cassian quickly starts ruffling his hair and jerking his clothes until they’re disheveled. Your questioning look is answered a second later as the same realization comes to your mind. A married couple locked in a bathroom together for some time after an apparent power move? Everyone at the party is going to think that show of dominance got Cassian hot with desire for you.

Your blush reappears with a vengeance as your hands remove some pins from your hair and ruffle through it. Your heart thunders in your chest as you grab Cassian’s shoulder as he is preparing to unlock the door. He looks back at you and you drop your hand.

“It.. it would be more believable if some of my makeup…” you flap your hand towards his face, indicating what you mean.

Understanding crosses his face as he slowly leans towards you. You take your thumb and smear it across your lips, dragging the lip color from its place and around your mouth in a facsimile of the chaos a kiss would create.

You take your makeup covered thumb and firmly glide it across Cassian’s lips. The contrast between the softness of his delicate skin and harshness of his stubbled chin remind you that your face and neck need to be more red.

Making to take your nails and redden up your skin, you’re stopped by Cassian’s question of, “Can I?”

You look up to see his hands reaching for your face and you allow him to hold you. He brings his face into yours and presses his stubbly cheek into your skin. You hold back your gasp of shock, but the inhaled breath allows in the intoxicating smell of him. You close your eyes in order to maintain some semblance of control over yourself. Your hands are itching to run through his hair and dishevel it even more, but you refrain in case it makes him stop.

Cassian is nuzzling into your neck now and you can feel a slightly shaky breath leave his lips and fan across your ear. A shiver races down your spine and lands hotly in your lower abdomen. The sensitive skin of your neck is red now from both his ministrations and your increased temperature.

All too soon, Cassian pulls away. You're warm all over except for the irritated skin on your neck that feels cool without Cassian’s warmth against it. He looks at you unsurely, probably worried that he overstepped a boundary.

“Your hands wouldn’t have left the right pattern,” he mumbles out.

He doesn’t seem unsure of himself, but not wholly convinced that you necessarily wanted him to do that. You nod your head too quickly when you agree with him to reassure that you do not mind. At all.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, but swings out one elbow as an offer to you. You take a deep breath to calm down and place your arm within his before exiting.

***

Weeks pass and you and Cassian have been inundated with dinner offers, gala invitations, and special meetings from members of the Empire and their allies. It seems that Cassian was correct in saying that everyone at the party - and not at the party - would be clamoring to get into your good graces after taking so much power away from a prominent member so easily.

When the topic is brought up, you always smile and laugh haughtily so they think such a thing was no big deal to you. The problem is that it was a big deal. You never stood up to your mother like that when you were younger - you always took the abuse until the day you jumped on a random cargo ship and ran away. You had always thought you were weak and powerless against your mother, but Cassian and these Imperial scum are beginning to make you realize that you’ve grown enough that she no longer holds power over you.

This realization makes you feel strong and more competent than ever. You’re fully ingratiating yourself with the beings around you, pretending that the Empire is the only way forward and that the Rebellion is just full of useless chizks.

Ha! If only they knew they were being played like an Ewok drum by one of those ‘useless chizks’.

As you’re laughing at what some high-brow weapons dealer is saying, you glance around the room to find Cassian. You were separated when someone dragged you away to have a ‘female talk’ that was excruciating to sit through. You spy him across the hall, but your heart drops as you watch him follow a beautiful Twi-lek into a side office.

Over the past few weeks, you and Cassian have gotten close. Or you thought you had. You were both becoming increasingly comfortable in each other’s arms and Cassian had even taken to kissing your lips when others were around.

You couldn’t help but take those little kisses and tight hugs personally. You know that, rationally, he is only doing those things to keep up the pretense of a happily married couple, but your touch-starved heart was going soft for the Rebel captain.

And maybe it’s that soft heart that makes you excuse yourself from the current conversation. That soft heart that makes you follow in the pair’s footsteps. That soft heart that constricts and feels as if it’s crumbling away when you hear the soft murmurs coming from behind the closed door you have your ear against.

You’re unable to make out anything being said, but the closeness that whispering requires crushes your soft heart. You know this is a mission and you both need to get intel at any cost. Cassian is one of the best spies in the Rebellion – kriff, the whole galaxy – so it shouldn’t come as any surprise that seducing a target is one of his methods.

But we’re supposed to be married, you reason out. Happily!

You hear the Twi-lek whine. Your chest tightens and your eyes start to burn for no reason. You shake your head to try and force the tears back. Taking a deep breath, you channel your current persona and feel her wrath and anger at the situation funnel through you.

You twist the handle and barge into the room. You stand scowling at the two as you eye them up and down. Cassian is unruffled and holding onto the Twi-lek’s shoulders as if to keep her at a distance. The Twi-lek, on the other hand, has her dress pulled down past her shoulders to expose her chest and her hands clasped onto Cassian’s lapels and fingering the buttons of his shirt.

Their eyes turn to you: Cassian’s relieved ,and the Twi-lek’s shooting daggers.

“Husband,” you deadpan, “what’s the meaning of this?”

But you’re not looking at your fake husband, you’re eyeing up the female who still has her dress around her waist and her dirty hands on your man.

“Princessa,” Cassian seems to plead with you. You flick your eyes away from the Twi-lek and onto him. Princessa has become a normal term of endearment from Cassian since your heart-to-heart in the fresher, and you can’t get enough of how ardently he always calls to you. But now the name sends a pain through your heart, because you’re just now realizing he may have used it for others during missions as well.

Your eyes threaten to start burning again, so you look away from Cassian and back to the one that pulled him in here. You notice that she was hanging out with the one that pulled you away for that ‘talk’, making you think that this had been their play all along.

Your nostrils flare as you stare her down. “Fix your gown, find your friend, and leave this house. I will not repeat myself,” you growl at her.

The Twi-lek’s eyes widen a fraction at the venom in your voice, hopefully understanding the danger that your persona emanates. She pulls her hands from Cassian and slips them through the sleeves of her dress before scurrying from the room.

You turn to watch her leave, narrowing your eyes as you catch hers as she shuts the door. You hadn’t only turned to make sure she left, you also turned so that you didn’t have to look at Cassian. You didn’t want to look closer and see what they were up to.

“Thank you,” Cassian murmurs as he walks up to you. “She seemed to think that I would sneak off with her willingly.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

Your question catches him off-guard and you see his furrowed brow in your peripheral. You tried not to put any emotion into your words, but don’t know if you succeeded or not.

“What do you mean?”

“You were gathering intel, right? It’s part of the job to seduce targets.” You’re still looking to the door and away from him, but Cassian turns his body fully towards you and raises a hand in your direction. You lightly step away as you finish. “I just didn’t know our cover had changed, is all. I won’t interrupt you next time.”

Cassian calls out for you, but you’ve already left the room.

***

No one notices anything out of the ordinary after you re-enter the party, but you can feel eyes on you the whole night. Whether they’re Cassian’s or others’ is hard to say – once you returned to mingling with the guests, you started wrapping them around your little finger.

You aren’t discriminating against anyone that seemed interested in you. Any being that you felt had even an inkling of knowledge about something and would only give it up if persuaded, you flirted with. Subtly, of course, since you are ‘married’, but enough to let them know you find them just as interesting as they find you.

You’re only laying the groundwork tonight, so you don’t have to worry about planning any rendezvouses. You wish that Cassian had discussed seduction with you while you were both laying out plans on the way to Coruscant.

No.

You wish that seduction wasn’t part of the plans at all. Because as selfish as it is, you want Cassian all to yourself – if only for this mission.

Stop lying.

As selfish as it is, you want Cassian. Period.

***

You don’t enjoy yourself tonight. Not like any of the other events had been times to enjoy, but at least for those few weeks Cassian had been at your side for most of them. Even so, you can’t pinpoint exactly when Cassian began this part of the plan, which means you are too distracted to be doing your job correctly. You internally berate yourself for the slip up.

It’s late by the time you and Cassian are standing on the landing platform waiting for your cruiser to arrive. The wind this high up causes you to shiver and cross your arms to try and protect yourself from the chill. While you’re thankful for your thin clothing inside the incessantly warm buildings, walking out into the brisk night air always catches you by surprise. Cassian in the past has always draped his jacket over your bare shoulders when he noticed that you were cold, but he refrains tonight. He stands several feet away from you with his hands clasped behind his back and his jaw tight.

The tension roiling between you is uncomfortable. There were no soft touches or easy conversations between you this evening like you have grown used to. After you left the office and Cassian behind, you had avoided him at all costs. But you’d catch him staring at you as you laid a hand on someone else’s shoulder or whispered into another’s ear.

You know that he’s upset with you for tonight, but you don’t know what for specifically. Did he think you were too bold in your attentions? It’s not like you had snuck off into a private room with someone in full view of the entire party.

The thought briefly crosses your mind that you’re trying to make Cassian jealous, but it’s quickly brushed away. Why would it make Cassian jealous to see you flirting with others? It’s not like this is a real relationship anyway… no matter that you were starting to think it was.

Your transport arrives and the doors slide open. The warmth of the ship draws you in and you clamber in on your sore feet. The high-arching shoes you’ve been wearing are kicked off quickly so that you can pull your legs up to rest on the seats beside you. You’re fully reclined when the journey to your suite begins, but Cassian is still rigid in his seat in the farthest corner of the ship from you.

The warm transport grows stifling as you feel the heat of Cassian’s gaze on you. Your eyes are closed where your head is resting on the hull, but you’re too tired to open them and stare back.

“Go on and say whatever it is you’re upset about,” you challenge wearily. The events from earlier in the night and your subsequent ‘star of the party’ mode had worn you to the point of exhaustion. You were ready to be alone and to sleep for the next standard year.

“You do not think that was too much?” Cassian hurls at you. “You throwing yourself at them? We are supposed to be happily married. Why are you not acting accordingly?”

The force of his anger surprises you; you knew he was displeased with your actions by the look on his face throughout the event, but you didn’t think he was angry enough to yell at you. Nerves begin to course through your blood at his raised voice. It reminds you too much of your mother’s anger when you were younger – you have been invisible ever since then, so no one has had a reason to scream abuse at you.

Until now.

Despite your weariness and building anxiety, the growing sense of your own power helps to bolster you. You will not let him lambaste you for putting your all into this mission. You’ve been here too long as it is, and you need to get away from Cassian so that you can get back to the right headspace without thoughts of him getting in the way of your duties. You’ve been too consumed with the feelings that his touch and presence bring you when you’re together. Too consumed with the thought that maybe he finds your presence just as all-consuming as you find his.

Your hands tremble slightly with nerves and anger as you plant your feet on the floor and turn to face him with a fierce stare.

“You will not speak to me that way, Cassian. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. And I do not need you questioning me when you’re the one that started seducing targets without consulting me! I also thought the plan was to be ‘happily married’, but imagine my surprise when I found a half-naked Twi-Lek in your arms!”

The transport has arrived at your dwelling by this point, so you grab the hem of your dress and your footwear before stomping off into the entrance hall. You can hear Cassian muttering expletives under his breath as he races after you.

“If you would let me explain,” he begins after grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to face him. You jerk your arm out of his grip with a hiss.

“Don’t grab me,” you growl out. “We’re done for tonight. I’m sleeping in the guest quarters.”

And you stalk away, leaving Cassian angry and alone.

***

Night turns into day, and the day turns into many more. Neither of you would admit to what was really the cause of the anger and the fight, not even to yourselves.

You still attend functions and dinner plans, but the small and casual affection between you and Cassian has disappeared. Instead, quick pecks and a loose arm around the waist was the only physical contact.

You hate this. You hate that you’re acting this way - so unreasonably. If it were anyone else, you might even laugh at their blatant flirtations with others. But with Cassian… any time you see someone else on his arm or someone else whispering in his ear, you see red. The fire you felt that first night with the Twi-Lek comes back with a vengeance and you can’t help but feel stupid for it.

Your ‘home life’ isn’t any better. You both sit at opposite ends of the dining table, staunchly ignoring the other. At least, you try to ignore him. Cassian is still your friend, despite the silence lingering between the two of you. You want to break the war of no words, but it seems like every event resets both of your tempers.

You had yet to return to the extra cot in the master bedroom you used to share with Cassian.

It all came to a head one afternoon. The same Twi-Lek, Anansi, had put her hands all over Cassian in the middle of a crowded dinner party the night prior, eliciting murmurs from the other party-goers about your and Cassian’s physical relationship. Or lack thereof.

You had glared daggers at the both of them, catching Cassian’s eye and snarling your lip at him out of hurt more so than anger. If he wanted to flirt so openly and auspiciously with the targets, then so would you, you rationalized. You found the most eligible officer and made it abundantly clear that you were willing to do anything to stay with him just a little longer. So you went back to his quarters once the party was over. You didn’t stay over for long, stumbling back to your and Cassian’s penthouse long before the suns even rose.

You don’t even fully undress before you fall into a deep sleep.

You neglect to leave your bed in time for the first meal of the day, but you make it to the small offering a few hours later. Cassian is already seated at the head of the table, so you avoid his eyes as you move to your place across from him.

Nothing is appealing right now, the firewater moving its way out of your bloodstream making you slightly dizzy. You glance up when Cassian’s utensils scrape across his dish.The noise sends shivers down your spine.

“Could you not?” you question quietly.

Cassian looks up with a quirked eyebrow. “Why? Enjoy yourself a bit too much last night, baby?” he taunts, scraping his plate again.

You send him a deadly glare, daring him to do it again. “I’m sure nowhere near as much fun as you had with Anansi last night. Another office, really?”

Cassian slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up forcefully. “At least I didn’t take her home, unlike that officer. Couldn’t even leave the party with your own ‘husband’ – you just had to leave with him. Did you at least get anything from him?” he demands, glowering from across the spread of food between you.

You smirk at him. “Oh, I got plenty from him last night,” you taunt as you stand as well.

You’ll be the first to admit that was a low blow, but Maker did it feel good to give right back as good as you were getting.

Cassian growls and stalks over to you. The sight of his taut shoulders and ridged jaw send you backwards until you’re up against a low table against the wall. His hands land either side of your hips, caging you in.

Your heart is thundering and you’re slightly shaking with adrenaline. A warm sensation fills your gut and you can’t believe that his anger is making you feel this way.

“Yeah?” Cassian asks in a low voice, his breath fanning across your lips. His face is so close and his eyes are staring deep into your own. “I bet I can give you more.”

And with that, Cassian’s lips are on yours and it’s hard to even breathe. Your arms snake up around his neck and pull his lips closer to yours, deepening the kiss. His hands move from the table and grab onto your hips, allowing him to grind against your abdomen. A hungry growl escapes his mouth when you bite his lip at the action.

Cassian reaches down to your thighs and hauls you onto the table that had been digging into your lower back. You gasp into his open mouth when he spreads your legs wide and settles between your thighs.

The days of anger and pent-up frustration explodes between you both and there’s no stopping the desperate kisses and wandering hands. You grab the side of Cassian’s face with one hand and slide the other down his chest to lay flat on his lower abdomen. You feel his muscles tense as your fingers slip under his waistband to tease him, forcing his hips to rock into you.

Cassian leaves kisses from your waiting mouth and along your jaw until he reaches your ear. He whispers huskily, “I bet he didn’t kiss you like this.”

You groan as Cassian sucks harshly on your neck, leaving red marks. The dress you have on rides up your legs and bunches around your waist as Cassian’s hand trails up the outside of your thigh. When he reaches your hip, he lets out another low groan at what he finds. Or doesn’t find.

“Nothing on underneath? Did you leave him a souvenir? ” he breathes harshly into your mouth, using his other hand to palm your breasts through your dress.

“Ha,” you laugh shakily. You can do nothing except throw your head back against the wall as his fingers travel towards your wet folds. Nothing had prepared you for this interaction with Cassian, but kriff were you glad you weren’t wearing underwear.

Cassian’s thumb presses harshly on your clit and you grasp his wrist tightly to keep him in place. He slowly teases one finger into your aching hole and grabs your neck to force you to meet his eyes as he feels you flutter around his finger. A small whimper escapes you at the hungry look in his eyes and the second finger nudging at your entrance.

“I know you didn’t get this wet for him,” Cassian purrs, still staring into your eyes. It’s hard to keep them open as he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, but the look he’s giving you is impossible to look away from.

Your free hand that had been on the table below you to keep you upright takes his hand at your throat and makes him squeeze. You gasp softly at the pressure and Cassian’s eyes blaze. He forces himself closer to you, moving his thumb harder and faster against your nub and forcing your chests together so that there is no space between you. Your eyes slam shut when he scissors his fingers to open you wider and you hear the noise of your juices echoing throughout the room from his movements.

His hand around your throat pushes you back against the wall so that Cassian has a better angle at which to see his fingers moving against you. His mouth waters at the sight of his hand glistening down to the wrist.

You’re rising higher towards your peak, but not quite there when Cassian leaves you altogether. You cry out at the loss of contact and immediately open your eyes to glare at him. Only he’s no longer face-to-face with you – he’s down on his knees and propping your thighs onto his shoulders. Cassian licks his lips as you stare at each other across the distance of your quivering body.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and when he licks his lips it sends another flood of heat towards your pulsing pussy. “Tell me how much you want it,” Cassian murmurs as he kisses your inner thighs while still looking up at you.

“Yes,” you breathe, panting and squirming to get his mouth closer to where you want need it.

“‘Yes’ what, Princessa?” he questions while blowing lightly along your slit.

“You. I want you,” you gasp out. “Now. Please.”

And that’s all it takes for Cassian’s mouth to finally close in and taste you. Your hands fly into his hair and your shoulders are bearing all of your weight as you lean into the wall for support. You tug and pull at Cassian’s hair, ensuring that he’s in just the right spot at all times. A harsher pull at a particularly good lick causes Cassian to moan into you and you nearly come just from the sensation.

He suckles your clit into his mouth and pushes his fingers back into you. You cry out at his ministrations and try to grind against him, but his arms are pressing you down securely and you can hardly move.

“Yes. Please – please. Cassian!” you chant, trying hard not to dig your nails into his scalp and shoulders as your hands grab onto him. You’re so close that you can taste it.

“Did you scream his name last night? Or were you pretending it was me fucking you?” Cassian nips your folds when you don’t answer immediately, causing you to jerk and moan.

“I-I didn’t– Ah!”

Cassian once again pulls away from you, raising his eyebrows in challenge. You’re determined that this is the last time he leaves you right on the edge, so you lean over and grab him by the shoulders and haul him up to you. You wrap your legs around him to keep him in place and begin to undo his shirt.

You deliberately let your hands press and knead as you tease him, wanting him as needy as you are. Cassian grabs your jaw and kisses you hard as you reveal his chest. He treats you in kind by pulling the straps of your dress off your shoulders and below your breasts. He palms them with both hands, tweaking the nipples when you reach for his pants.

Cassian rutts into your hands as you work him out of the confining fabric. He’s hot in your hand when you finally release his cock and pump his length. He groans into your mouth again and moves a hand down to yours and pulls it away.

You try to fight against it, but he guides your entwined hands to your center and makes you soak your palm with your own fluids. Getting the gist of his actions, you rub yourself with his guidance. You’re panting into his mouth as he continues to kiss you.

You deem your hand thoroughly soaked and place it back on him. He pumps into your fist until his cock is coated in your essence. You reach your free hand around his waist and pull him into the crux of your thighs, guiding him to where you desperately ache to be filled. Cassian pulls your hand away from him and places it against his neck, while his other hand keeps him positioned at your entrance.

He edges into you and stops when he meets a slight resistance. He looks into your eyes for permission to continue, and you nod your head vigorously.

With your acknowledgement, Cassian thrusts in to the hilt. You keen loudly at the sudden intrusion, but the fullness quickly turns all discomfort into an overwhelming need. You open your eyes from where they had closed suddenly and see Cassian already looking at you. He grabs one of your legs to hitch it up further around his waist and uses his other hand to cup your jaw and lean you back against the wall.

Cassian follows you and leans all his body against you. Your naked flesh moves against each other when he begins thrusting into you quickly. You gasp and shake against him, using your arms to keep his mouth on yours as you climb higher and higher once again.

Cassian can tell that you’re close. He raises your leg even higher and places one knee on the low table you’re fucking on, causing him to reach such a deep angle that you see stars with every movement. He’s practically on top of you now, bearing all his weight on his other arm that is grabbing hold of the back of the table to give him even more leverage.

He uses this new angle to thrust hard, slow, and deep. Your eyes water as the head of his cock slams into your g-spot over, and over, and over again. You can barely breathe with all of the pressure against you, but you drag in just enough air in order to scream as your orgasm washes over you. Your arms and legs go rigid around Cassian, forcing him to stay close as he continues to pump into you.

He can feel you pulling and squeezing his dick as your walls try to milk every last bit of pleasure, which leads him to his own finish. Cassian comes inside you hard, groaning in satisfaction. He continues to push into you softly as you both ride the last waves of your highs.

Your legs lose all muscle control and the one not being held up by Cassian drops down against the table. You’re gasping hard, trying to draw in a breath that will allow your head to start clearing from its post-coital fog. You can’t for the life of you remember ever having better sex.

Cassian slowly extracts his length from you and you cry out at the hollow feeling. He chuckles darkly. He pushes the hair that had fallen into his face back with both hands, removing all contact with your skin. “You won’t forget about your ‘husband’ now, will you?” Cassian smiles ruefully.

It takes you a moment to process the thinly concealed venom in his words. You still in disbelief as you puzzle out his meaning.

Wait… wasn’t that? Didn’t he–?

Your face burns with embarrassment at having been caught out. You’ll admit you were angry at your ‘husband’ at the beginning of this experience, but you threw your anger out the very high-rise window of this dining room as soon as Cassian kissed you.

You replay the words he had said during sex in your mind. You had been too busy at the time to pay much attention to what he was actually saying. He really thought you slept with that officer last night? A Rebel captain, sleeping with an Imperial officer? Who did he take you for?

You thought… but that look in his eyes when he entered you. The-the kisses and the closeness and the feelings. The intimacy that comes along with sex. Doesn’t he…?

You sit upright and grab the fabric of your dress to cover your breasts. The movement of your hips causes Cassian’s cum to leak out of you, and you watch his eyes trail the droplet as it races downwards.

You don’t understand. You don’t.

Did he not kiss you because he wanted to? Because he has feelings for you? Or did he only do it out of anger?

Your feelings for Cassian have grown over the weeks you’ve been together on this mission, and you thought he felt a similar way. All the intimacy in public and pretty words – even if it has been a while – were they really just an act this whole time?

You stand slowly, feeling your eyes grow hot with tears to mimic the warm wetness between your thighs. You bite your lower lip as you look at the floor by Cassian’s feet.

“I–” you start. “I didn’t sleep with him…” You look up to see Cassian’s eyes widen a fraction. You can’t tell if it’s in disbelief or surprise. “You really think I’d do that?” You question him.

“I don’t know…” Cassian whispers, shaking his head imperceptibly. His hair falls back into his eyes, but he doesn’t make a move to fix it.

You look away from him and towards the skyline outside, avoiding his gaze. You tug your dress back onto your shoulders and wrap your arms protectively around yourself once again.

“I thought you – I thought we… I don’t have sex with just anyone, Cassian.”

Your voice comes out as a whisper and you wrap your arms tighter around your chest. Your heart constricts in fear and anxiety as you utter your next words.

“I really like you, Cass. I kind of thought the feeling was mutual…because of – you know.” You shrug your shoulders self-consciously. “I thought as soon as you... felt that I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, you stopped pretending to be mad at me.” You look back to him with sad eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. “We were pretending, right? Because we were jealous?”

Cassian repeats your name in a whisper, sounding like an apology, beginning to lift a hand towards you but seemingly thinking better of it. He closes his mouth and shakes his head in a definitive ‘no’.

That hurt. That hurt bad.

Tears overflow your lashes and a small hiccup leaves your throat, but you nod your head and turn to leave. You feel ashamed of the feelings you had poured into your love-making, realizing that he hadn’t felt it. Realizing that he hadn’t done the same.

You shuffle softly to the door, your steps quiet. Your shoulders rise as a hiccup escapes your lips. You press one hand against your mouth to stifle the sob that is sure to follow. You’ve nearly reached the door when you hear Cassian take in a shaky breath.

“She said she was looking to sell weapons and wanted to know if I was interested. I went with her under the assumption that we could gain ammunition for the Rebellion.” Cassian says to your back.

His voice is soft. Pleading. Begging you to turn around and understand. Cassian doesn’t know why he had said those things to you just now. Why he had to go and ruin one of the best things that had happened to him in a long time.

He sees you pause in your steps, so he takes a deep inhale to calm his emotions before continuing. He needs to get this right so he doesn’t lose you.

If he hasn’t already.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he begins. All of his focus is centered on you, so far away. “I can not begin to apologize enough for the things I just said to you. Because I was jealous. Very. But those words – that is something you do not deserve. It was uncalled for to act in the way I did. I was angry at myself for not being brave enough to tell you how I feel. For letting you leave with someone else when all I wanted… when all I feel...is...” Cassian shakes his head in confusion while trying to come up with the right way to say this.

You take a moment before asking the question burning burning between you.

“...How do you feel?”

You wring your hands nervously in front of you while awaiting Cassian’s answer. Your heart is racing and you begin to feel light-headed from the anxiety coursing through your body in anticipation.

You feel more than hear the quick footsteps that stop just a hair's-breadth away from your back.

“Like…” Cassian begins, struggling to find the right words to convey just how attached he is to you, “like the galaxy wouldn’t be worth saving without you in it.” A tell-tale warble in his voice sends a stab of pain through your chest.

There’s a light touch at your waist, like he’s afraid that you’re going to run away at the slightest movement. That touch sends the chill that had seeped into your skin burning away and leaves you feeling all the warmth that had disappeared when you sat on that table alone. You let out a sob before spinning around to wrap your arms around his neck and cry into his neck.

Cassian hugs one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders so that he can cup the back of your head. He squeezes with all his strength and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. He whispers “I’m sorry” over and over while you shudder against his chest. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I should not have accused you of sleeping with an enemy when I know you would never.” Another kiss to your temple, then one to your cheek. “I let my jealousy overrule my thoughts. I am so sorry.”

You hiccup again as you turn your face to press your forehead against his neck and bring one of your wrists down to wipe the tears from your face. “We were both wrong,” you tell him. “I misread the situation and didn’t give you the opportunity to explain. I just jumped to my own conclusions and caused this whole mess. I’m sorry.”

Your throat is raw from your earlier activities and your crying spell, but you feel so much better now that your feelings are out in the open and you’re communicating about how’ve you’ve wronged each other.

Cassian pulls away slightly and moves his hand from the nape of your neck to smooth along your cheek to collect the tears that are still there. His eyes are soft and sorrowful as he sees what he’s done to you. He makes a silent vow to never be the reason you cry again.

“It hurt to not be near you these past days,” Cassian whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “We’ll promise to talk everything out from now on, yes?

“Yes.”

You both close your eyes and breathe each other in.

***

You wake late in the evening, the suns a few moments from setting. You feel Cassian’s warm breath against the back of your neck and his whole body as he cradles you from behind. You smile at the closeness, once again relieved that you both apologized and confessed your feelings for each other.

Cassian escorted you back to the master sleeping quarters when he realized just how exhausted you were after this morning’s events. He’d slipped your dress from your form and pulled the covers up around your shoulders when you slid onto the bed. He crawled in on the other side and moved closer, placing a kiss in your hair before wrapping his arms around you.

You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe. If the universe was kind, you would willingly spend the rest of your existence just like this. You turn over as softly as you can, not wanting to jostle Cassian. When you’re looking into his peacefully sleeping face, you can’t help but lift a hand and trace along his features with the back of one finger.

Cassian’s eyes open for a brief moment before closing again, a hum escaping his lips. You laugh softly at his unwillingness to wake up and continue your tracing.

“We should probably check on the status of everything,” you whisper. “We’ve been MIA for a while now.”

“We have, haven’t we?” Cassian’s gruff voice responds. He lets out a deep sigh and pulls the arm that was around your waist up to catch your hand. “Tickles,” he murmurs while twining your fingers together and leaving them to rest on the pillow between your faces.

What’s a few more minutes going to hurt?

***

This is not good.

Cassian had just called you over to review footage and audio that has been recorded inside your suite from the past couple of days. You noticed an odd gap of time between when one crewmate entered the hallway leading to your private quarters and when they returned. This in and of itself wouldn’t have been enough to warrant any worry, but you saw them slip a piece of your Rebellion issued surveillance equipment into one of the pockets of their uniform as they walked away.

There is no way some common staff member could have found some of the only evidence linking you and Cassian to the Rebellion. No way unless they were smart enough and trained in the same occupation as you.

You’ve masqueraded as household staff enough times that you should have realized that this was a distinct possibility when hiring a crew to keep up appearances.

You’re barely getting over your shock as you move to watch the next clip of the Adarian’s movements around your quarters. You take note of every movement of their cranial aperture as they scan their surroundings for sounds. Cassian had risen from his seat beside you in order to confirm that one of your signal jammers had indeed gone missing and to then send an encrypted message to Mon Mothma and General Draven to let them know you are now compromised.

Cassian is just returning to you when you come to the last holovid recording. He’s too riled to sit down again, so he stands behind your chair and lays a hand on your shoulder. You place your hand over his and worry your lip.

You watch as the Adarian closes their eyes and presses their head against a wall adjacent to the entryway from the landing pad. You're wondering what they could be hearing when Cassian’s hand grips your shoulder.

You look up at him and open your mouth to ask what the problem is, but he stops you.

“Look at the time.”

You furrow your brows and glance at the timestamp. Your blood runs cold in your veins.

“They heard us...” you breathe to Cassian as you tighten your hold on him.

“I mentioned buying ammunition for the Rebellion…” Cassian remembers out loud. Your lip is nearly bleeding with how hard your teeth are working it.

“Kriff,” you mutter.

Cassian flexes his fingers under yours before sliding back across the room to update the message to your superiors about your immediate removal from the situation. You ponder the implications of ending the mission here, now, and realize that if someone knew enough to plant a spy within the staff that the Rebellion hired directly, then they knew enough to be dangerous.

You stop Cassian before he can send for an escape vehicle. “This is the only one that has shown any subversive behavior.” You begin. “We need to follow them and find out who planted them here.” Your eyes bore into his as he takes the time to deliberate between escape and possible death.

Cassian finally assents. “They’re to finish their shift in the next standard hour, so we’ll have an opportunity then.”

You spend what little time you have planning the recon details with heads together and hushed voices.

***

The alias given by the Adarian, Sulet, didn’t turn up anything useful when the Rebellion ran the initial background check before they were employed, so you are now confident that this is a false identity. Their history is incredibly detailed and in-depth, so whoever they work for has good connections.

You and Cassian follow Sulet onto a hyperbus that takes you to another sector close by, where they are soon picked up by a private hovercraft. You have to commandeer a speeder left nearby, deftly connecting wires and slinging yourself onto the vehicle. The small seat has you pressed up against Cassian’s back and feeling his muscles move as he steers.

Cassian follows the craft from a distance that still allows him to watch its movements, but not be detected by the passenger. The insane traffic pattern soaring between the buildings on different levels makes you glad that Cassian is the one driving and not you, since your eyes are watering from the wind. You have a hard time focusing on anything further away than Cassian’s elegant neck and windswept hair. You burrow your head between his shoulder blades to escape the biting wind as you both race after the hovercraft.

You feel the speeder slow as the hovercraft drops Sulet off at some upper level quarters. The prime location and size alone tells you that they have the credits to employ their own personal spy.

You watch from above as the Adarian looks around furtively and moves inside.

“What do you think?” You ask Cassian.

“It could be a trap,” he replies. “They were smart enough to figure out we’re part of the Rebellion, they had to have known we’d be able to follow them at any point in time.” He peers down at the unassuming penthouse below.

“Especially with that device and what they heard this morning after we… after.” You blush profusely at the memories that are only hours old and remembering how loud you were when you came on Cassian’s hard…

Stop it.

“We need to be careful,” Cassian murmurs. “Backup will not arrive for a while yet.”

You nod against his shoulder blade and have him settle the speeder down onto the same landing pad the hovercraft dropped the Adarian off. You grasp your blaster firmly in your hands, ready to defend yourself. Cassian follows you as you both dismount and make your way slowly and cautiously to the doors.

You settle either side of the opening and look into each other’s eyes, signaling your readiness after not hearing anything from inside. You both jump away from the wall and bring your blasters up, pointing directly into the darkened living space. There is no sign of movement, the Adarian nowhere to be found.

Sparing a quick glance at Cassian, he motions for you to search your half of the room. You nod. Creeping along the wall, you scan behind the sofa and nudge the window coverings.

Nothing.

You look over to Cassian and find him already looking your way. He shakes his head, not having found anyone either.

“I don’t like this,” you mouth. Cassian agrees with another head shake.

You’re just turning to face the closed door keeping you both out of the rest of the home, when the door suddenly flies open and there’s a blaster pointed right at you.

Your eyes widen in surprise. Your training kicks in and your blaster seems to aim itself while you dodge for cover. Your blaster isn’t the only one that had gone off – Cassian slams into the cushions behind you and rolls down to crouch on the floor with you, his blaster smoking.

Adrenaline is high as you and Cassian take turns to give covering fire as you make your way slowly back towards the landing pad and your stolen speeder. You’re hunched behind a sturdy end table, waiting for your blaster to cool off, while Cassian fires on your assailants. He’s positioned not far from you, his back to the exit to cover your next move so he doesn’t see the figure land just outside the doors.

“Cassian!” you yell desperately, reaching a hand towards him to drag him down and out of the way of blaster fire. Your gun is still too hot, incapable of taking out the figure that has the two of you pinned down. Your hand clutches Cassian’s shirt, twisting him and throwing him down to the floor on your other side. Unfortunately, his weight destabilizes your center of balance, causing your bent legs to give way and making you topple sideways over Cassian’s now prone figure.

A sharp pain slams into your left shoulder blade. You cry out, but still whirl around to fire, hoping beyond hope that your blaster has had enough time to equilibrate. A bright red beam soars from your gun and hits your opponent square in the chest. They go down with a soft thud, leaving your escape path clear.

You turn back to Cassian, planning to grab him and run, but you’re frozen by the look on his face and his hands around his throat. Cassian sputters as if he can’t breathe, trying desperately to claw at his throat to relieve whatever invisible force is closing his airways.

Force.

Maker be damned.

You move your eyes back to the doorway where all your adversaries had seemed to pour only moments ago. Bodies litter the ground, the Adarian’s among them, courtesy of your and Cass’s excellent aim, but there was one person still standing.

A familiar figure you hadn’t seen since you kicked her out of your ‘home’ at your first party.

Your mother stands there, one hand directed at Cassian, fingers curling inward.

“Daughter,” she greets smugly.

“Let him go.” Your voice comes out as a hiss, spitting venom towards the woman in front of you. You already have your blaster pointed directly at her head.

Your mother clucks her tongue. “Now, now, dear. You wouldn’t want to make me kill your husband now, would you?”

Her fingers come closer together, and Cassian falls to his knees. Your heart twists in your chest at seeing Cassian in pain, but you dare not take your eyes and your aim from your mother.

“Stop.”

“Lower the weapon and I’ll let him go,” she croons with a smile on her face. She is enjoying watching you plead for Cassian’s life. You’re tempted for a split second to do as she says, but Cassian interrupts you before you even move.

“No. Princessa, no,” he gasps. “Kill her.”

Your eyes meet his, and you see determination blazing through him. His strength lends you the power to turn back to your mother and pull the trigger.

Instead of your finger squeezing the trigger, you feel it extending away. You curse and try with all your might to fire your blaster.

Tutting softly, your mother shakes her head.

“I was giving you one last opportunity, daughter.”

Her fingers close the gap between each other and Cassian slumps to the floor.

“NO!” you scream, panicked. You watch Cassian’s chest for any sign of movement, but before you can confirm anything, you feel your own throat being squeezed.

You gasp and turn your focus back on your mother, trying desperately to think of any way out of this before you, too, lost consciousness.

A short sigh leaves your mother’s mouth. “Look what you’ve done, now.”

“Me?” you struggle past your lips. “This is all you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “This is all because of you. Everything I do is because of you.”

Rage burns through you and your words come out icy. “Everything you’ve ever done is all for yourself, mother.” You take as deep of a breath as you can to continue. “Nothing you ever did benefited me.”

“I made you strong,” she growls.

“You abused me!” you cry. Big, fat tears drop from your eyes and what little breath you’ve been able to pull in leaves you in stuttered breaths. “My entire childhood was ruined because of you! My only solace, my only happiness, my only friends. You made them think I was dead!”

“Friends,” she scoffs, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “We don’t need friends. We’re better than everyone else! They should worship us, our strength, our power! We are above them!”

“No,” you whisper out. “We are not better than anyone. We are not anything! You! You think that way. You hurt and maimed and killed so many people because you thought it was entertaining! Because you thought it would teach me ‘strength’.”

There’s blackness creeping along the outsides of your vision, all the air you’re expelling in your tirade causing a loss of oxygen in your lungs and brain, your heart pumping overtime to accommodate. You gasp big, heaving breaths as you collect yourself.

Your mother stands rooted, anger apparent in the severe set of her mouth and deeply furrowed brows. Her eyes could set the whole city on fire.

You know that there is no coming back from this moment – that whatever happens here, there will only be one of you to make it out alive.

The problem you’re facing now is that you haven’t used your power in years. Over a decade, maybe. The mental muscles you used in adolescence have atrophied in the years that you’ve pushed this part of yourself into the background, trying to forget.

You pull with all your might, forcing your awareness to focus on your mother. You search deep within her, past organs, past muscle, past tendons. You reach into her cells, finding those miniscule particles she had taught you were the key to your powers.

You call out to them. Asking, begging, pleading them to obey you. Wanting them to do something that will stop your mother.

Stop her from killing you now. Stop her from hurting Cassian any further – if it wasn’t already too late. Stop her from continuing on this dark path that can only lead to death and destruction.

You feel a rush when the little beings begin to vibrate. It begins as a quiet little shiver, but slowly builds.

Your mother’s eyes widen in fright, her focus broken between cutting off your air or protecting herself from you.

“What are you doing?!” she shouts, arms quivering. She can barely stand, her legs are bowing at the knees and she begins to sink down onto the ground.

The shivering envelopes her cells, vibrates her muscles, quakes her entire body, until she can no longer maintain her hold over you. She collapses forward, crying helplessly.

The rage you’ve suppressed for your entire life boils through your veins, setting you alight. You feel good. Strong. Stronger than you’ve ever felt; the trials and tribulations she put you through growing up not even comparable to your feelings now.

“Please. Please! Daughter, stop! Stop!” she sobs into the carpet, curling into herself as if to protect herself from a violent beating, from a violent person.

But no other threat exists. Only you.

“Why?” you whisper hoarsely, voice barely loud enough to cross the distance between you and your pathetically weeping mother. “You never did.”

With a violent yank, you grab onto the essence within your mother, pulling it away from her and towards you.

She screams for a split second as the power leaves her body, and then she falls unconscious. All the power that once filled her now dances around you. You can feel the energy they house, their want of a new host, their preference for you.

You allow them in.

There’s a tingling sensation across your skin, a warmth enfusing into your blood. You shiver softly, close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. You feel at peace, calm. All your worries have disappeared knowing that your mother could never hurt you again.

A pained groan fills the silence that had settled around you. You jolt, realizing that you need to check on Cassian.

Feeling immensly guilty for taking so long but also incredibly grateful that he is still alive, you rush over to his side. He still lays on the floor with his eyes closed, but you see his chest moving rhythmically with each breath. As you place a hand on his chest, Cassian’s eyes flutter open.

You grin down at him, enjoying the contact as he places his hand over yours.

“You…” he breathes. “You did it.”

“Yes,” you say. “I did. Finally.”

Cassian smiles up at you, pride evident in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Princessa.”

The warmth from both the power and Cassian’s hand travels to your heart, filling it with love and hope for a long life with the man here with you.

“Come on,” you urge gently, tugging Cassian into a sitting position so that you can help him stand. “Let’s get back to base so that you can rest.”

Cassian comes to his feet and you pull one of his arms over your shoulders, allowing him to place his weight against you. You both begin to shuffle away when Cassian turns his head to look back over his shoulder.

“What about her?” he questions.

You glance back as well to see the crumpled woman on the floor. You no longer feel any fear, or anger, or hatred towards her. You feel nothing at all.

“I honestly don’t care,” you reply. “When our backup gets here, they can take her or leave her. I don’t care what happens to her after today.”

Cassian reaches across his body and clasps your hand within his. He gives a firm squeeze, then interlocks your fingers. Placing a soft kiss on your temple, he urges you to keep moving forward.

As you both walk into the fading sunset, you see a picture in your mind. A murkiness around the edges trying to invade the focal point of the image. But that center pulses with an overwhelming feeling of love, and safety, and contentment.

You and Cassian stand together inside the image, holding onto each other and never letting go.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian x reader #cassian/reader #cassian andor/reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #rogue one #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #tw abuse

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canaidliafail · 1 year

Note

scumbag!abby has been rotting my brain so bad😵‍💫😵‍💫

Not to stray too far off your suggestion but what if scumbag abby fell for maneater reader ? sorry I just had to write smt about it and hopefully it reads well enough 🫡✨

MDI

_____________

Abby is known for a few things. Her wit and the heat she packs in bed. She grew infamous around campus when they saw the third girl that month that had to be consoled after being ghosted on by “abby in chem”

That’s one girl too many and the worst part of it all was Abby was so damn good at her game that at any given moment she could respond to one of those girls and they’d leap back into her arms. She never fought and she made sure to make them believe through innuendos that it was their fault she left them.

She was often caught two timing, or going back to her ex for a one night stand which well, was very much in a pretend-serious relationship or she would go from one girl to her best friend next causing unceremonious platonic breakups and as if all of that wasn’t enough if Abby didn’t like someone she was rich enough to get them kicked out. Her dad was known to own many prestigious hospitals which meant that Abby was loaded and that ,only added to her attractiveness and power she held over others.

In her head she did nothing wrong. Hurt people, hurt people she would repeat like a mantra until someone called her out for it.

“That's comfort to no one but you Anderson” She could barely see who spoke in the group circle at one of the college parties she frequently attended. Her sights finally landed on you. You weren’t someone she recognised and if she knew any better back then she wished she had never found you in that circle at all

“Do I know you?”

You were sitting across from her, legs crossed,eyes on the phone with one hand resting on your thigh that was covered in transparent black Gucci tights, your fingers tracing the interlocking Gs. You looked up at her barely raising your brows but did not entertain her with an answer. She decided that you would be her new entertainment for the month

And she really did believe it would be easy until one day she was driving you back home and the other she would see you riding back on Ellies black motorcycle with your arms around her waist. Abby would let you borrow her notes only for them to be returned by Nora because you ran into her,which would be fine if it wasn’t for the fact that Nora seemed awfully flustered that day and would ask her about your name the next. She once caught you talking to a friend of yours, who would sneak glances at you and it seemed like you two were talking about her.

She didn’t mind. She was used to girlish councils taking place when someone new was about to make a move for her. She never knew what was said but she could guess

“I'll break her kneecaps if she breaks your heart” and “No I think she is different with me” were included. It was a little more difficult to understand how it could go with you but when you followed her on her socials she assumed it went well enough.

You texted her first ,which was unexpected and when you went out she took notice of your outfit which happened to be a plain satin short black dress that could have been tailored specifically down to your measurements. You complimented her that day,saying that with her hair down her face was framed nicely and her features stood out even more

On the drive back to your dorm from the club you two made out inside her parked car, with her eager to guide you to sit on her lap. She pressed one hand on your thigh circling it around it. You didn’t give her time to take it further when you broke the kiss to answer your phone

“Fuck I forgot my roommate needed me for an assignment today. Sorry I was gonna invite you in but that will have to wait” You said pleading and eagerness seeping in your voice, your eyes glossy. She had you where she wanted you. Abby smirked and pulled you in for another kiss that elicited the most whorish moans out of you and held you there from the back of your neck for a while

“Goodnight” she whispered and you separated ways.

Abby being utter scum days did not end there though. She still believed she only cared about the satisfaction of getting you to bed and bending the one playing hard to get, molding you to fit her grasp. But you didn’t text or show up to class for a week straight. That week she also realized in shame that she had let her hair down after your compliment and she’d catch herself looking at the entrance door every time someone walked in class only for it to not be you. She was reluctant to move on,for reasons unknown but decided to force herself to go through with it,scared of what you did to her. She invited a girl to her condo and went by Ellie’s dorm room to get her monthly weed supply.

Out of all the places she could have ran into you, she did not think she would find you there. With your hair in a messy bun, a baggy gray T-shirt and boxer briefs.

You had stayed the night at Ellie's place

You turned around and smiled at her innocently “Oh hey abs!” you greeted and she seethed with anger at your unbothered attitude. She ignored you and proceeded to have an eternal battle for the rest of the day, drowning out her emotions in the warmth of another girl's arms. She was a mess and she could rip your throat out if she had the chance to do so. That was a new Low. Everyone knew Ellie was her enemy in every way and form and to sleep with her was even below Abby as a move.

She was even more mad when she saw your messages the next day asking her out for coffee which,she did not respond to and when she saw you in class she packed her things and left pretending to be on call.She couldn’t avoid you at Mannys birthday party though where your spirits seemed high and nothing could spoil your mood. She did her best to be on opposite sides of the room until you went to poor drinks at the same time and you offered to fix hers

“You doing good Abs? You seem tired these days. Things alright with exams?” You asked and her eyes widened in shock at your obliviousness to her situation. You had no idea that everything she did was because of you. Not only did you not take offense to it,you even seemed concerned about her physical state and she could differentiate when that happened due to her corrupting and melting someone's brain and when it was because…because you just didn’t care enough to be bothered.

“Are you fucking with me?” she questioned sick of this chase and you looked at her with the same smile that you did a month ago

“No, I'm serious. If you need help, we can study together. Ellie will be visiting her dad next week so I have the room to myself” Abby was ready to slap you until she was starting to decode that sentence

“Who?”

“My roommate. Ellie. Come on,don’t act like you don’t know her”

Abby took a few minutes to snap out of the shock of this awful misunderstanding and then she chuckled. You passed her,her drink and now she was laughing

“Roomamates,fuck..Of course” she whispered and you approached her leaning against the kitchen bar table,letting you be sandwiched by her and the furniture behind you.

“What's so funny? Wanna share with the rest of us?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Ellie was your roommate ? Do you have any idea-”

“Oh I know” you said with a smirk and she held your gaze

“I knew it would bother you. That’s why I didn’t tell you”

Abby, had finally met her equal

___

Idk I have to go to uni now so it may be a lil rushed but Im tempted to elaborate on this concept

#liafail asks #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #tlou2 #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x f!reader

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heartthrobin · 1 year

Text

and let our hands make art (3)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 7.5k

warnings: reader is a going thru a lot, swearing, half-assed space terminology (writer is not an astronomer), cheesy ending (everyone cheered)

an: ahhhhh !!! it's the last part. i'm so proud of this fic and i hope you loved reading it as much as i loved writing it :)))

summary: for what it's worth. you'd tried. tried hard not to let him in, but he was slick and greasy and the hot sun had melted you all over. and maybe sometimes you're allowed to want things.

part one & part two

Eddie stepped into the muggy kitchen. Your eyes flickered behind him where daddy was shaking Carl’s hand out on the porch, he handed Daddy a pocket-size bottle of rich brown whiskey.

Your gaze returned to the man in your kitchen.

For what was definitely the first time since you’d met him, Eddie was dressed like he didn’t live elbow deep in engine grease.

His hair was fluffier than usual, not matted down with sweat as it was most afternoons. He wore a black buttoned shirt, it was cuffed at the elbow.

“You— uh,” your gulp was embarrassingly loud: “you look … nice.”

To be fair, “nice” wasn’t nearly an accurate enough description to describe how the sight of him all crisp and dapper standing just close enough to smell the aftershave had turned your stomach into a high-power washing machine.

“Hmm, a compliment?” His eyebrow pinched against his forehead, his smirk was unavoidable. “Better park the truck in the barn, it’s gonna hail pigs tonight.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head. You hoped he didn’t notice where you felt your cheeks warming. “You know what, I take it back—“

He laughed loudly, “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Thank you for the compliment.”

His eyes glittered even in the dim room.

He surprised you by speaking again. “And you look … beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

Fiery streaks raged up your cheeks. Of course you don’t look beautiful, he’s just teasing.

The thought didn’t console your thumping heart, however.

“There’s the little miss!” Carl’s voice was booming in the limited vicinity of the kitchen.

His wide warm hand found purchase against your shoulder, shaking you jovially.

You wobbled slightly, “Good evening, Mr A.”

“I hear you been working my boy real hard out here in the dust, hey sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered between Eddie, who was harbouring a curled lip, and Carl where his grip tightened around the edge of the back of a chair at the table.

“Hmph,” you guffawed lightly. “I’m sure he thinks so.”

Carl’s stomach vibrated with laughter, he fell down into his seat across from where you stood. Eddie hesitantly pulled out the chair beside him.

Your eyes clung desperately to the buttons struggling against his chest.

Fuck.

“Cherry, won’t you grab the salad from the fridge there.”

You felt the heat of Eddie’s gaze against your face: your eyes shifted quickly from where they’d been practically rubbing up his torso to meet the deep brown stare.

His brow was cocked, amusement alight in his face.

“Cherry?” He mouthed.

Your eyes rolled back.

“Shut up.” You mouthed back just quietly enough to evade a scolding from Daddy where he was carefully pulling the hot dish from the oven.

Carl and Daddy did most of the talking that night.

Forks scraped loudly against the plates between conversation of car engines and peaches and gas prices and incapable senators.

Keeping your eyes on your plate proved difficult, just as it did most of all those afternoons in the barn, when Eddie was chewing animatedly around his mouthfuls of food.

He crunched his salad loudly between his teeth and would sigh softly around particularly sweet pieces of chicken. A faint smudge of orange gravy lingered just below his bottom lip and the thought of licking it off was driving you to point of insanity.

Somewhere around when Carl had dished up his third serving of cornbread, the chatter steered over to the tattooed mechanic at your end of the table.

“So tell me son,” Daddy sipped at his glass of iced-tea, “How’d you end up in lil ol’ countryside Tennessee? Carl says you’re out from Indiana side?”

Eddie nodded, swallowing a mouthful. Your gaze greedily watched his Adam’s apple bob at the action.

“Yes sir, that’s right.”

He shifted in his seat, clearly searching for his next words. If you didn't watch him as much as you did, allow his words and actions to haunt you most nights, you might not have noticed how his hands curled into nervous fists.

“I-- uh, I graduated late from high school and felt like I needed a new start. So I left and started working, nearby states and the like.”

Daddy surveyed him, clearly interested, “Oh yeah? Whereabouts?”

Eddie shrugged, he caught your eye for a fraction of a moment before pulling it back to the man at the head of the table.

“Over the last two years, Kentucky, Arkansas ... Virginia for a while.” He spooned another heaping of mash into his mouth, “Never stay in one place too long.”

His last sentence struck you harder in the gut than you’d anticipated.

So you were right.

He isn't staying.

You hadn't even noticed that the conversation had steered to you before Carl rapped his knuckles loudly against the table --

“Caught in her own world this one, huh?” He was chuckling again, a laugh that sounded like dragging a bag of fertiliser over tar.

“Beg your pardon, Mr A?”

The old man stuck a persistent hand in your direction, swallowing roughly around a mouthful. “Was just asking what you get up to ‘round here, when your toes ain’t between the soil. Surely you got somethin’ keeping you busy.”

“Oh, there’s nothing really--”

“All I mean is I don’t see any young farm boys hangin’ round in the evenings, sure ya old man’s glad for that.” He was jostling Daddy in the arm. The look on Daddy’s face was blurry, like you couldn’t read him, but you swore his eye flickered over to where you could feel Eddie’s gaze on your cheek from across the table.

“Nope, none a’ that.” He said.

Carl turned back to you, face twisted in anticipation.

You shifted the mash on your plate. “Nothing really, Mr A. Lots of work to do, I stay busy with my toes between the soil.”

“Now that’s not true, Cherry.” Daddy piped up from his end of the table, he waved his fork in the air. “Tell him about all your space things.”

“Space things?” Carl’s brow tightened. “Oh yeah?”

“Space things?”

Eddie.

He was looking at you through those thick lashes, waterline dark with black liner.

The racing blush heating your face was impossible to miss, you were sure.

“Well, it’s not really--”

“Yeah, Cherry loves all that stuff. The stars, and the planets and the atmosphere: all that Star Track and Star Worlds--”

“Daddy.”

The unfolding interaction was only brightening the amusement in Eddie’s eyes. He set his cutlery down.

“Star Trek, hey?”

“No. It’s not that stuff,” you fought to defend your quickly deteriorating reputation. “The real science, not that crap on television. Real constellations, milky ways, foreign galaxies. Distant stars. Stuff like that.”

Eddie’s head was tilted against his shoulder, he was watching you unabashedly.

“I’d say. With all the textbook and posters I’ve bought over the years. Her room is covered in ‘em. Stars everywhere.”

“That’s ... that’s cool.” Eddie sounded out of breath when he spoke.

“I ain’t smart enough to understand all that.” Carl shrugged, forking more food down his gullet.

“Sure is cool, ‘least she thinks so.” Daddy pressed. “She’ll show you all her books and that after dinner, Eddie. Won’t you, Cherry?”

Somehow the mash had hardened upon his words, it lodged like a stone in your throat.

You coughed loudly. “Daddy, I don’t think Eddie’s interested in my--”

But between the food and the incessant pester of three men who love the sound of their own voices, not for the first time since you sat for dinner, you were unable to finish your sentence.

“I would actually love to see your posters and your books.”

The edge of that grin could slice a fat, ripe peach all the way across in one go.

Carl overtook table talk again. Something about a memory from when him and Daddy were in high school, something about an old football player with a bad knee.

It stretched beyond plates scraped clean.

“How about a bit of that Daniels out on the porch, huh old boy?” Carl asked finally.

Daddy sighed, hand rubbing over his stomach protruding over the belt on his jeans. “A’ course.”

He turned to you, he referenced over the plates with his hand. “Cherry would you mind, dear?”

You nodded enthusiastically, desperate for relief from avoiding looking up to Eddie’s figure across from you.

The chairs scraped loudly.

“You’re welcome for a drink, Munson.” Carl pressed.

A wide hand chased back loose hairs, “No, no, I’m alright. Thanks boss.”

The plates clattered against each other where you stacked them. A warm grasp made you jump when it closed over yours.

“Let me take that.”

He was much closer now when you met his face.

“It’s-- don’t worry I got it.”

Warm familiarity lapped at your brain, the memory of that first hot afternoon between the peaches. A crate of fruit against your hip.

His voice softened, just as it did that day. “Come on. Let me help you, love.”

The word settled deep into a cove in the pit of your stomach. Love.

“Okay.”

Cool water rushed noisily into the depths of the sink, soap frothed happily on the surface. The plates swum below the surface.

“You washing or drying?” Eddie asked at you where you were searching the cupboard for a sponge.

He fidgeted with the end of his shirt that was tucked into his jeans, not for the first time that evening.

God, this shirt is itchy.

But it was his best one. The one he’d dug out from the back of his cupboard a couple minutes before Carl pulled up and whistled at him from the driver’s seat.

“All dressed up to see ya’ princess, ay Munson?”

He’d washed his hair, opened up a bottle of shower gel that had been hidden in one of the many boxes scattered around his place and even had a second to struggle against black eyeliner in his bathroom mirror.

But he hadn’t seen her all week. Seen you all week.

Like a siren song you haunted him in his dreams, on his drive to the shop and when his fingers fumbled between filthy engine parts he thought of you then too.

“Uhm, whatever you want.”

“I’ll wash then.”

The sight of you in the kitchen with the muddy ends of your jeans and your hair shining with the afternoon sun through the window was enough to convince him that all the dress up hadn't been in vain. That you actually did exist and you weren’t some mirage he'd dreamt up in a haze of Tennessee soil and engine grease fumes.

His hands sunk into the warm water, you tossed the sponge where he caught it: wetting the side of his shirt.

The yellow sponge squeaked over the plates.

You hummed quietly. Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing. Say, women, they will come and they will go.

He was taken back to the drive home from Madison’s. Fleetwood Mac again.

Eddie could listen to the soft hum of your voice forever, he only wish you’d sing.

Instead you stopped, stopped Dreams to lean over and pick up a dry towel.

“Nice dinner.” He commented into the silence, head down towards the water. His hair tickled at his nose.

You smiled only briefly, from what he caught from the side of his eye and between the tendrils of his hair.

“Yeah. Yeah. Carl’s got a real mouth on him.”

Eddie chuckled, “Yeah. He likes your old man.”

You laughed, soft like a butterfly’s fluttering wings. “Clearly. He talks like everything was just yesterday. When they ran track, when they got drunk at Mr Alistair’s house--”

Eddie blew at the piece of hair against his lip.

He could feel you turn to him, trepidation lingering at your fingertips that had slowed to a stop.

“You ... you need a hand there with that mane?”

The question surprised him, but he nodded nonetheless. A little bit of a chuckle preceding his response.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

From around your wrist, you produced a yellow hair tie.

You laughed in return, “Kind of scared to get my hands into this jungle on top of your head.”

“Come on: you love it, doll.”

You huffed, “Shut up, Greenie. Lean your head back.”

He brought his head to rest back against his shoulders, where with absolutely no warning your warm hands reached between the tendrils.

A sigh escaped him, one he prayed you never heard. Fingertips climbed from the base of his head to just above his forehead, his eyes fluttered shut.

“Looks clean for once.” Your voice was soft.

He barely heard your jab.

“Mhm.”

Eddie felt the hair lift off his shoulders.

Your fingers chased longer than they should have. It was quiet.

He was plagued with the wonder of what those hands would feel like against his own palm. Against his chest or behind his neck. Maybe in the space at the bottom of his back.

“It’s soft.” You whispered. He speculated on whether you intended on him hearing it at all.

A plate slipped from his grip. It banged against the floor of the sink.

Your hands were gone.

His eyes flew open, in the reflection of the window he noticed how you’d tied the hair up into a bun like how he wore it most days.

You coughed quietly.

“Looks--looks good.” He clarified, a wobble to the edge of his voice. “Thanks.”

Your hands sunk into the water, you shrugged. “That’s how you wear it most of the time.”

“So you noticed, hm?” He tried to steady his voice again, falling back into playful banter.

“Yeah.” But your voice missed it’s usual teasing lilt, “I like it like that. Can see your face better.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered up from the soapy plate. You were wiping away like you hadn’t just made all the hair on his body stand straight up.

He forwent acknowledging your words.

“So ... Cherry, huh?”

You laughed again, it melded with the clink of the plate against the others where you sat it down. “Yep. Cherry. He’s always called me that.”

Eddie’s brow tugged, motioning over his shoulder back towards where the barn sat behind the house. “Something to do with that Cobra stuck up in the barn, does it?”

“Indeed.” You nodded, “You couldn’t get me out of that thing growing up. Daddy would come fetch me in the driver’s seat long past sunset fiddling with the steering wheel.”

He smiled at the notion. The image of a younger you sitting, humming Fleetwood Mac behind the wheel of a stationary, cherry red Cobra.

“That barn is fucking hot.”

That made Eddie laugh harder. “You’re fucking telling me.”

The laughter filled every crevice in the kitchen, enough that he spotted your daddy and Carl looking back over their shoulders from their rocking chairs out on the deck.

It took a minute before his chest rumbled to a slow, low chuckle.

You shook your head, the huffs of a last laugh escaping you. “It was my mother’s.”

Eddie’s hands stilled. His brow creased, “What?”

The air had grown stiller. Your smile was weaker. “You asked me that first day, how does a car like this end up on a farm in the middle of nowhere?”

His chest tightened, his words sounded worse coming from your mouth now than when he’d said them first.

He nodded slowly. “Oh.”

“Yeah. The only thing left of her ‘round here.”

The plate squeaked beneath his fingertips, the last one.

“She ... is she--?”

“Is she dead?” Your words slipped out with a strange-sounding chuckle, “No, not at all. Just a deadbeat. Walked out. Left the car though, thank God.”

“Shit.” Eddie didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. “I’m ... I’m sorry.”

The stark reality of your trooping around the farm washed over him warmer than the already stifling kitchen. Why you patrolled and frowned and worked and shrugged off every grease-head that came traipsing up on the farm.

It was just you. There was nobody else to do it.

His thoughts were cut in half when you bumped your shoulder against his arm, wiping down your hands with a cloth before offering it to him. “Don’t be. It’s better without her.”

You were looking right up at him for the first time since reaching the sink. Your eyes brought him comfort. “Right ... you wanna go join the men outside for a drink--”

He caught you by your wrist before you’d even moved to turn, “Uh, uh, uh.”

Your eyes rolled, already knowing where this was going but still not pulling your arm from his grip.

“You thought I was gonna forget?” He grinned, “I wanna see your space stuff.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

His touch moved from your wrist to your hand, shifting it gently against his palm. Still, you didn’t take it back. Instead your lashes rested annoyed up against your eyebrows.

“Fine.”

Eddie’s heart thrummed against his ribs as you lead him through the kitchen, attached by the hand towards a darkened staircase and pounded harder when you moved slowly up with heavy steps.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined being lead to your room the first time, but somehow it felt more fitting.

“I can practically hear you forming a bad joke about going to my room.”

He scoffed, wondering momentarily if you could really tell what he was thinking.

“No, I wasn’t.”

A narrow corridor, two doors. The tall one at the end.

“Yes you were.”

The brass knob whined beneath your hand.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Just admit it, I know you were cooking up some perverted comment under that big head of hair, Munson.”

The door creaked open.

“Perverted? I wouldn’t dare dream of such--”

Eddie stopped. Talking and walking.

Your hand broke from his.

He’d fallen into a technicolour acid trip.

The sky lunged at him, an expanse of stars and red and blue fog as far as he could see.

Clippings, posters, little squares of text cut from what he was sure was magazines and newspapers. They covered every square inch of the room, the colour of the wall a discarded mystery.

A single bed leaned against the wall closest to the window, a side attraction to the universe engulfing it. There was a blonde wooden desk in the corner, barely discernible from beneath the stacks of newspapers and textbooks leaning precariously upon it.

“Well, this is it I guess." you wrung your hands, shoulders pulled up against your reddening ears. "I told you it’s not much ...”

Eddie’s eyes found you again. The most beautiful thing between the galaxies, he’d decided.

He was reminded by your short nervous breaths that he still hadn’t said anything.

“It’s ... this is amazing.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly, letting him know that he’d spoken appropriately. You took a small relieving sigh, it was followed tentatively by a smile.

“Thanks. It took a long time to collect everything, magazines and books and ... posters from yard sales.”

Eddie took a slow step towards the nearest wall, watching how the stars climbed to the ceiling. “Do you know what they’re all called?”

His finger pressed against what looked like a pink and orange cloud.

You stepped quickly from where you’d been standing hesitantly by the door, a warm richness to your tone when you spoke:

“I mean, not all of them, but that one is Orion’s Nebula.” You pressed your finger against his and goosebumps ran up his arm. “It’s in our Milky Way and on some clear nights you can even see it in the sky without a telescope! It’s thirteen hundred lightyears away--”

You were so close against the side of Eddie’s face. His heart was swelling like a parade balloon in his chest, he thought he might collapse at the sound of your voice.

His finger moved quickly to the next, “And this one?”

“That’s the Crab Nebula, the reason it’s called that is because--” your words were punctuated with your giggles, “--the guy who first discovered it drew a rough sketch and people thought it looked like a crab.”

His finger moved to the next, “This one?”

“This one’s a star. Betelgeuse. It’s also called Alpha Orionis--”

But Eddie couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough. His finger shifted to the next and the next and the next until you’d been speaking for nearly twenty minutes and Eddie could see every single constellation behind your eyes as you did, quickly losing grasp on his sense of sanity.

“-- and they’re building this telescope, it’s called Hubble, that they’re gonna launch in the next ten years and it’s gonna be able to take much better photos than these that I’ve got.”

Maybe you’d finally caught him staring, but you stopped suddenly.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking too long.” He watched how your shoulder came back up close to your ears in embarrassment.

“It’s amazing.”

You’re amazing.

“You’re making me fall in love with space.”

You’re making me fall in love with you.

You nodded slowly, “I’m glad. I’m surprised that not everyone is.”

“Why didn’t you go study space or something after high school?” He waved over the lengths of stars and galaxies and planets around the room. “You’re the smartest woman in this whole town, if not the state.”

Your mouth opened to respond, then closed again. You chewed around your words for a long moment before eventually spitting them out.

“I did.” You sounded ashamed. “I applied to astronomy in Arizona and California and a couple other states.”

“And?”

Suddenly your hands felt hot. You pressed them down the sides of your filthy jeans. Eddie’s confused eyes held you in place against the wood floor.

“I got in.”

He took a step towards you, shortening the distance you’d allowed yourself to breathe. “Why didn’t you go?”

The laugh you let off was short and humourless, cold and sensitive to the touch. You motioned your hand over your shoulder at the window.

“I can’t leave here. My daddy wouldn’t survive all alone.”

Eddie took another step, shorter this time but enough to bring him where his breath tickled your cheeks. A sweaty hand reached to find yours.

“Did he ever tell you that?”

It pressed against your own warm palm.

“He doesn’t have to.”

There was a couple strands of black hair peeking out around his face and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He was too close, far too close.

“There’s a planetarium in Chicago, I saw it on TV once. A big one.” His voice was soft like Sunday wind blowing against linen on the line. “We could go. I could take you.”

Your heart leapt up to your throat, your lips open in a silenced gasp. “The Adler Planetarium?” You asked softly. Breathlessly.

Eddie inched forward and somewhere within yourself you found the courage to allow him to. He chuckled softly, his furry top lip reached out to yours if only for a brush. “I’m sure that’s the one. I’m not as smart as you, doll.”

For a hot fleeting second, the vision crossed your mind: you and Eddie in his white pick-up, driving hours across the country. Seeing a real planetarium like how you’ve dreamed for so long, seeing another state, seeing Chicago.

Maybe it would be cold like how you never saw in Tennessee. Maybe you’d have to wear snow boots and maybe Eddie would hold your gloved hand the whole time.

Suddenly, you found his thumb at your jaw. You couldn’t recall how it found it’s way, but it stayed. He twisted his face so as to press his hot lips against your cheek. He kissed there once, then again.

Your eyes rolled closed, imagining for a moment to be beneath the starry Illinois sky with Eddie pressed against you the way he was just then.

He moved slowly down, catching your breath at the top of your throat with each peck down over your jaw, to the column of your neck and at the junction of your collar bone.

“Will you come with me?” He whispered. His hand was still tight between your fingers, the other stroking against your jaw.

“I--”

Somewhere in the distance, Cowboy barked.

“Cherry!”

Your eyes flew open as if ripped from a dream in the dead of night. The icy cold hand of circumstance tightened over your throat. Visions of Chicago dissolved quickly from behind your eyes.

You stepped back out of Eddie’s grip.

He straightened up, confusion deep-set in his thick brow. “Uh, I think your old man is calling.”

“I heard.” You were avoiding his eye, wiping a hand over your neck where you could still feel his lips. “We should go.”

Despite your best effort of trying to pass him towards the door uninterrupted, Eddie caught your wrist. His face dripped in sincerity.

“So, Chicago?”

You shook your head, waiting for the lump in your throat to allow you to speak.

“T-That’s two states away. I can’t afford to leave, Eddie.” You pulled your hand from his grasp.

“Cherry, Carl’s heading out!”

The way his cheeks sunk at the fall of his smile made you nauseous.

“It’s not that far, just a couple hours. We could go for a weekend, or just a night. Or even just a day--”

The rolling waves of embarrassment you’d become achingly familiar with washed over you again. The same ones that drowned you when your friends would visit from college or send pictures of their new lives at the coast or on the road. The waves that reminded you of the decisions your mother made, the same ones you can’t repeat.

You didn’t want to leave, you couldn’t.

“Eddie, I just can’t, alright?” You pressed, a sharp edge to your voice. “Not all of us can just jump state to state, I have a family. I have responsibilities--”

“I have a family.”

It shut you up. Quickly.

It was a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind, you realised selfishly. A thought that paused you in your tracks.

Eddie’s face was pulled tightly, in a way you’d never seen it.

“I have people who care about me back home too. I have responsibilities.”

“Eddie, I--”

“Cherry!”

“Doll, if you didn’t want to go you could have just said so. I can take a hint.”

He moved faster past you than you had opportunity to blink away the tears prickling at the edge of your eyes.

By the time you’d given up on swallowing around the lump in your throat and reached the landing in the kitchen, Eddie and Mr Abernathy were nothing but a cloud of dust over the driveway.

He returned the next day.

You didn’t go down to greet and he didn’t come near the house.

Around midday the white pick-up pulled into the driveway. You watched down on the yard from the window of your room, the Orion Nebula glaring a hole into the side of your head from the wall. Eddie emerged with a red toolbox and disappeared around the house.

You didn’t make him lunch and he never came to ask. You hoped he might.

But the hours passed and the sun sunk while bitterness and guilt tugged at either end of the same rope across your chest.

I shouldn’t have snapped at him.

He should learn to mind his own business, he knows nothing about me.

It would be nice to go with him to Chicago, he’s sweet for asking.

He’s just gonna play with your heart and then jump over to the next state to do the same thing with some other poor broad. And who’s gonna have to pick up the pieces when he leaves? Me!

Your head rung until you were sick in the stomach.

Past sunset the truck still lingered in the driveway. The air was muggy with the promise of a storm.

You were packing pesticides in the shed around the back of the house with Cowboy’s tail thumping against the wood when you heard footsteps passing.

The dog leapt clumsily to his feet, keen to chase after his most favourite person.

You heard Eddie’s soft coo at the dog, “hey big boy”, and his foot falls up the three porch steps. Then the knock at the door.

Daddy answered, you tried to listen but the conversation disappeared between the wind and the swaying peach leaves.

He called for you, Daddy, but you pretended not to hear.

Embarrassment and shame and guilt and anger bubbled too close to the surface. You didn’t want to see Eddie. Maybe not ever again.

You knew it to be a lie. A temporary comfort to your troubled mind.

Thunder rumbled grumpily far out above your head.

His lips still hadn’t left your neck and when your eyes shut you still heard his laugh against your cheek. You thought he may just have driven you insane.

Only once you’d heard the jostle of the car disappearing down the road did you slip out from the shed under a sheath of lightning strike into the yellow lit kitchen.

A set of keys was watching you from the counter. Daddy was scrubbing a pair of dirty jeans in the sink. He glanced over his shoulder at you.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded as if he could see you, but your eyes never left the counter. “Those the Cobra keys?”

Daddy gave a triumphant huff, flicking his hands off by the sink and reaching for a dish cloth. “Indeed it is. Eddie came by just a couple minutes ago, said she’s all fixed up. We can give her a go in the morning.”

Your heart dropped like a hot stone into your stomach.

It was done.

The car was done-- he was done.

“Oh.”

Daddy’s barely dry hands pulled the keys off the wood, he cradled your hand and let them fall into your palm. He smiled and you worked hard to smile back.

“These are yours, Cherry.” He spoke softly, tightening his hand over your own. “She’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. You just need the courage to get behind the wheel.”

Against the pinching in your chest, you managed a mostly genuine chuckle. “Don’t be so cliché, daddy.”

He watched your face with an earnest you hadn’t seen from him in a long time. It unsettled you.

“Daddy?”

“I called you when he handed in the keys. You didn’t come.”

Your hand grew hot between his palms. “I didn’t hear you.”

He knew you were lying, you could tell. A pause hung between you.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter, Cherry.”

He sucked in a breath, reaching a damp hand to pat against the side of your face.

“But you’re allowed to want things, sweetheart. To want something more, or want someone to share it all with.”

“Daddy ...” your thoughts swirled like whisky in a dancer’s cup, “I-- thank you for the car, I’m happy. I don’t know what you’re--”

“You’re not your mother, Cherry.”

His words stung like steaming coffee tossed over your face.

You blinked. The pain eased.

The edges of your eyes prickled and suddenly your throat burned. “I know. I don’t want to be.”

“Well, you’re not. And the world deserves some of you, too.”

Daddy had never spoken so candidly, maybe from a shared well of fear you’d both drank far too long from.

“Where is this coming from?”

He shrugged. Rubbing a thumb down your cheek, then back up again.

“Maybe the pathetic look on that mech’s face when you didn’t come say goodbye after I called.”

“That’s--”

“And maybe something about a planetarium in Chicago.”

Your stomach jumped violently. “How did you--”

Daddy laughed, head tossed back and old age hanging off his face. “Carl’s a big talker, you know that.”

Reeling from the tug of a conversation twenty years in the making, you nodded slowly. “Right.”

He leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead before turning to pick his hat off the counter. “And you’re welcome, Cherry. For the car. It was always yours.”

A smile found your face. “Uh, you wouldn’t mind if I took her for a quick spin?”

He stalled at the base of the steps where he’d slowly been creeping to bed. Daddy took a glance out the window. “There’s a storm lingering. Don’t be long.”

The wind was whipping wildly when you met the doors of the barn.

Night was stronger than the back porch light and Cowboy’s soft upper lip flickered from the force of the gale. He was watching you in concern.

As the doors opened, the dust from within swirled into a cloud of brown up through your hair and over your face. The keys jingled in your hand.

You noticed that Eddie had moved the crates out the way, stacking them neatly in a corner behind the car. The same crates you’d leaned against on hot afternoons.

The door clicked open in the dim air, making the car look a blackened red in the dark barn, and Cowboy was the first to leap in: desperate for an escape from the biting conditions.

Following him, you collapsed into the seat.

Stiff knuckles wrapped around the smooth leather wheel and you weren’t sure if you could cry or throw up or even start the car. Alas, the key was slotted with shaking hands into the ignition and she purred to life.

You didn’t bother with the sentimentality of enjoying the sound - because then maybe you’d really be sick out the window - instead you pressed a hard foot down on the accelerator and let the car fly against gravel out and around the farmhouse.

The path was dark, following the only road that went anywhere. The first pats of rain were smearing the window before where the headlights reached into the collapse of darkness ahead.

So I begin not to love you. Turn around to see me runnin’, I say I loved you years ago.

Against the thrumming of your brain behind your forehead, you barely noticed that the radio had been playing since you’d left the safety of the barn. The sound of Silver Springs grew softer as the rain began to collapse brutally and unceremoniously against the windscreen. Lightning cracked over Tennessee and town teased you in the distance.

Beyond the rumbling above, within and below, the warmth streaking down your face had gone amiss until Cowboy leaned his wet nose against your jaw from the passenger seat. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks against the back of your sleeve and with your vision progressively blurring, patted his wide head dismissively.

The ground passing beneath you plagued little on your mind. Will you come with me?

The car was the only thing your mother hadn’t been able to pack fast enough on her way out.

You’re not your mother, Cherry.

The ghost of Eddie’s hand closed over yours on the wheel. You thought for a moment that maybe the car could take you all the way to Chicago without stopping and he’d be there waiting for you. Or maybe San Francisco, he’d be there as well. Or Pheonix or New York or Miami. He’d be there every time.

You couldn’t say how far you’d driven out by then: surely not as far as Chicago, but not yet close enough to town. The storm roared around you and the streetlights were few and far between when the car gave a long whine and a jerk.

Eyes flying wider open, your grip tightened around the wheel.

Was I such a fool? I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you. Give me just a c-chance--

Stevie Nicks stuttered at you before stalling to silence.

The dial behind the wheel was slowing, winding closer to zero and the car fumbled beneath you.

“Fuck ... fuck--” your eyes chased wildly over the dashboard, you slapped the wheel. “No, please not now, please--”

But she did. The car dragged to a roll before a steady stop. Cowboy pawed the dash.

“Fucking idiot, that son of a bitch--!”

Behind the fizzled car headlights, you could make out the cloud of smoke rising from the bonnet.

A scream like a shot bird rang from your lungs through the depths of the car, you slammed reddened palms against the wheel, again, again. Cowboy whined loudly, barking softly and clearly confused.

You threw the door open with as much force as throwing an axe over a log, tearing out into the pouring rain. The dog leapt after you, barking loudly now at your heels.

Pain chased up your ankle through your foot from where your boot connected with the tire of the car. Your voice ripped again, out into the space between the raindrops and into the flat plains of land.

By then, you hacked and swore against the sobs tearing at your chest. The tears mingled against the rain that weighed your clothes down and stuck your hair to the sides of your face.

You kicked the tire again. You tugged on the bonnet and it flew up.

Equipped with limited knowledge of cars, the inky darkness of night and pouring rain: you simply stared into the depths of the car wishing to melt into the tar.

A freckle of light in the distance made you turn.

The freckle grew to a speck as it neared. A speck to two headlights.

Cowboy stood firmly beside you, barking hysterically in it’s direction.

Maybe someone heading to another farm further down the road?

There was a limited range of individuals who would be out at this hour so far from town, but as the car neared it was impossible for the driver to go amiss.

The white pick-up slowed as it neared you, pulling to a stop just a few metres off.

You threw your hands up, “Just my fucking luck!”

The door opened, Eddie held his arm up against the rain. Cowboy ran up to and then past him, leaping into the driver’s seat he’d just abandoned. His headlights shone on you.

“What are you doing out here!” He yelled against the sky, “You’re gonna get struck by--”

“I wouldn’t be out here if you had actually fixed this fucking car, Munson!”

You turned against him, back to the bonnet.

It was in his character to sigh dramatically, you could practically feel it against your back.

“Let me have a look at it.” He stepped closer, but you raised a hand at him, meeting his eyes across the steps of tar and rain dividing you.

“I don’t want your help.”

His hands met his hips, hands curling into tight fists there. Eddie was a vision in the mingling headlights of his truck and your Cobra: hair soaked through and framing his face, he was in the same muddy pants and stained shirt he’d left the farm in less than an hour ago.

“So what?” His voice was tight, annoyed and laced in exhaustion. “You gonna fix it yourself? Leave it here and walk home, then?”

“Maybe I will!”

Eddie took a controlled step forward again, finger raised at you where you’d afforded him just half a glance up from the bonnet.

“You’re stubborn as a mule, you know that?”

Your throat still burned. You turned to the Cobra again. Everything was blurry beyond your lash-line.

“You knew that a long time ago, Eddie.”

Lightning split the sky and thunder cracked.

“When are you just going to admit that you like me, too, Y/n?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!”

Your eyes found him again, blinking away your tears against the rain. The vision reminded you of the warm afternoon he’d first appeared: from a haze of dust and bonnet fog to rescue you. Tonight again.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Your head shook, your chest rumbled with sobs. “You only think you like me now, Eddie--”

His black eyeliner ran, he stepped closer. The cold was seeping into his bones, his brain rattled with the sound of the crying sky but mostly he shook at the sight of you so weary. A reflection of the girl he was coming to love, a ghost of the one he’d been privileged enough to unravel.

“That’s not true.”

“But it is true. You’re gonna grow bored of me, of what I can offer, of who I am. Then you’re gonna leave to Phoenix, or Dallas or wherever else and find someone else to love and I’m gonna have to piece myself back togeth--”

The sight of your shaking shoulders and shivering hands was making Eddie’s stomach ache. He took the last step into the stretch of road diving you and him, taking your freezing frame into his hands.

Eddie’s head shook, he couldn’t seem to get it to stop. “Never, my love ... never ever. I’ll go where you go, I’ll stay where you stay. I’ll sleep on the floor of that fucking barn every day for the rest of my days if you’ll allow me.”

Your forehead fell into the space between his neck and shoulder, you were crying still. “Eddie ...”

“I want to listen to you talk about stars or galaxies and I want you to make us sandwiches and talk like you know better about everything, because you mostly do. I just want you, I’ll never leave this town if you never want me to.”

He took your face into his trembling hand, lifting you from his shoulder so your gaze sunk into his. Your lashes were tear-stained and still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. You swallowed hard.

“What do you want, doll? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Your hand found the side of his face, your head shook.

“If you want me to leave,” he whispered to you, “I’ll go, my love.”

There was a long moment where Eddie thought you might not even speak again. You blinked against the rain.

“I want to go to Chicago.”

Your hand sunk further past his ear and into the depths of his hair, curling your nails against the root. “I want to see the planetarium, I want to go to Indiana ... I want to meet your family.”

You hiccuped, then laughed, then kept talking:

“I want to see San Francisco and NASA with you, and I want to wake up next to you. I promise I won’t make you sleep in the barn--” He laughed and pressed his forehead to yours, “--And I want to do grocery shopping with you and tell everyone in the store that you’re mine. Tell them that I’m so sick on loving you.”

Eddie nodded. “We can do that. I can do that.”

You watched him wearily. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.” His nose bumped yours, “Can I please kiss you now, farm-girl?”

Your body melted against him in response, surging forward so that your lips found his. Eddie’s body slumped against yours, like his body had found rest.

The taste of rainwater and peach jam swirled against his lips and Eddie was sure it was the sweetest thing he’d ever taste in all his days gone and to come. He grasped deliriously for your hips, his head spinning from your kiss, and nudged you until he fell over you in through the open door into the front seat of the Cobra: a shelter from the rain.

You laughed beneath him, against him, and his hair dripped over your face.

Eddie’s knee pressed against the red leather in the space between your legs, he leaned over your sopping frame.

He gasped for breath, you did the same.

“You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of, doll.”

You captured his face between your hands, flushing red in your cheeks despite the cold. “Don’t be cheesy, Greenie. I like it too much.”

Silence fell for a moment. Eddie watched your brow crease. He kissed you again, he was drunk on it.

You tugged him off by the root of his hair.

“Why were you driving this way?” You asked, shifting to lean up on your elbows: suspicion heavy in your gaze.

Eddie chuckled sheepishly, eyes falling to your waist.

“I ... well, I was coming to apologise.”

“What for?”

He shrugged bashfully. “For last night, and ... and for this.”

From the depths of his pocket, Eddie pulled out a piece of something that definitely looked like it belonged somewhere under the bonnet of the car that had so readily given up on you.

You gasped. “You bastard.”

Eddie laughed, “I needed you to have a reason to come talk to me again.”

Sighing softly, you moved some hair out of his face. “I’ll always find a reason to talk to you again.”

“Well, well. Who’s being cheesy now?”

You rolled your eyes, catching him by his silver chain and tugging him against your lips again.

“Shut up.” You mumbled.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #fic rec #fic recommendation #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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demontonic · 11 months

Text

Anakin Skywalker - Old Friends

AOTC Anakin x fem reader

angst & fluff

Word Count: 1648

There he was walking beside Obi-Wan, he was skilled, nice, dedicated, clumsy, quiet, shy when he wasnt in a match. His light hair shimmered in the sunlight coming through the giant windows of the corridor, his tanned honey skin glowing as it always did. His figure was slim, tall, the very definition of lanky but he was fast and agile. The brown robes he wore only complimented his earth toned aura, the bright smile he always had was a sight for sore eyes. You’d known him since you were younglings, immediately taking interest when he first arrived. Over the years of course you’d distanced yourself, Master Windu could be quite strict and he was very cautious when it came to your relationship with the chosen one. Even now as he walked opposite of you in this hallway, your breathing became faint as you tried your hardest to avoid his gaze but-

“Excuse me master- Y/N, I havent spoken to you in ages I-“

“Anakin, well we have been training closely with our respected masters, I can see Obi-Wan has been doing a fine job. I hear nothing but good news for you, I shouldn’t expect anything else from the chosen one should I?” You were formal, something you and Anakin had never been with each other even in front of your masters. Obi-Wan seemed to be put off by your tone, walking a distance away and pretending to fidget with his commlink.

“I suppose so, how have you been since you’ve already heard of our missions.” His voice was quiet, softer than before like he lost the excitement he once held.

“I’m expected to become a knight soon, Master Windu has been testing me with more difficult missions… I hope it pays off.” Your voice trailed off towards the end, it felt wrong to speak to him like this, you’d long closed yourself off from his force connections. This interaction only drove a deeper stake between you two, it broke your heart but it hurt him tenfold. His head dropped, his eyes falling to the tiles beneath his feet.

“I’m sure it will.” With that he walked away, returning to his master’s side without sparring a second glance. You stood there, watching as they disappeared around the corner before the weight of reality fell onto your shoulders. The breath you seemed to be holding was released in a hushed sob, your hand covering your mouth swiftly. Being cold towards the only real friend you had, the only man you’d loved. Nothing could’ve began to fill the void that began to eat away at your very soul. Some nights, before you’d begun your distance, you’d feel each other’s force signatures. Each time either of you reached out it was warm, comfort, safe, because you’d done it a connection was formed. You could feel when he was too stressed, or in trouble, frightened, even sad. That was when you’d reach out, trying to console him. If he was in battle you’d be tense as he fought, too worried about his safety like he couldn’t hold his own. You missed it, yearned for it, but you knew it was for the better, for both of you. Attachments were forbidden and of all people he was the chosen one, he was to bring balance to the force and you wouldn’t live with yourself if he left the order for you.

𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔☽◯☾𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔

A month later you’d been in a match, you tried making peace and taking down the wall you put up. Though it might’ve been useless since you’re sure he had no intention of trying to talk with you after the last interaction. You were getting the upper hand, which is why you couldn’t understand why you felt such rage, and fear. You gone for a strike but you stopped, dropping your saber and falling to the floor. A pain in your arm, so sharp it felt like it’d been cut clean off. You began hyperventilating thinking the padawan you were up against had accidentally severed your arm in the midst of the match. Next thing you knew you were waking up in a meditation room, laying down on the plush floor in the pitch black. At first you thought you were alone but you should’ve known better.

“What was that?” Windu asked sternly, he’d anticipated your answer hoping it wouldn’t be the one he feared. He’d done all that he could do to stop it, Windu had assumed it was long snuffed out.

“What are you speaking of mast-“

“Was it Anakin?”

“The padawan- he must’ve grazed my arm he-“

“You came out unscathed, the padawan on the other hand was a little roughed up. So tell me the truth, has your connection with the chosen one opened again?” You froze, your fingers running over your left arm lightly feeling the soft untouched skin. It was then you’d realized there was no way of getting out of this.

“Master Windu I promise-“

“Anakin and Obi-Wan came in a while after you had that melt down. Anakin happened to return with a missing limb, his left arm to be exact. Luckily he had it replaced with a cybernetic arm and no further damage was retained.” You’d sat up in a panic, breath picking up once more at the news being relayed to you. He’d never been hurt so badly before, he was too good, too quick, how could you let this happen?

“I had no idea that would happen, I’d made sure it was closed off. I’ve been avoiding talking to him, training with him Master you have to believe-“

“I do, Y/N the force works with purpose, it connects all living things which is why we can feel when there is a major loss. I will not tell the council about this because there must be some reason you two are tied so closely.” You finally stood to your feet, too panicked to even try to reach him. You straighten your robes, and grabbed your cloak before looking to your master. He heaved a heavy sigh before nodding, getting into a relaxed position to resume meditating. You on the other hand ran towards the medical ward letting the force guide you to your blonde boy. Coming to a stop your breath slowed, you pulled a curtain back seeing Anakin surrounded by droids adjusting his robotic arm. His body visibly tensed as you stood there just taking in his presence trying to think of something to say.

“Ana-“

“I know you stopped blocking me out… I lnew the second I felt you again. At first I thought maybe it was because you were dreaming about me, but when it never closed off again I knew you did it purposely.” Blue tired eyes bored into your soul, your eyes brimmed with tears at his words. You stepped further into the confined space, closing the curtain behind you before sitting next to him.

“I never wanted to shut you out Ani, master Windu demanded it. After all you being the chosen one, what would we have done if they wanted us out of the order for forming an attachment. When we talked in the corridor that one day I need you to know I felt horrible, I just wanted to ensure our futures as Jedi Knights.” Your voice was faint, it sounded drained and defeated but he just watched you with the softest eyes. He’d known you better than even your master did, Anakin knew you were being entirely truthful.

“Saving the galaxy is meaningless if it means I’d have to live a lifetime without you. Y/N you mean more to me than you could ever know, the day you closed me out you took my heart with you.” His words were true, but you had been set on him falling for senator Amidala. You wanted to swoon, to fall deep into his baby blue eyes and never come up for air. However you are a jealous being, sour at the fact Amidala had been touchy with him. You wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for you tapping into his thoughts every so often when he went on this last mission.

“Why are you thinking about Padame?”

“Why were you thinking about Padame?”

“Are you jealous? Of the senator?”

“I’d thought I was dreaming but I was watching everything happen, in the arena. She was so close to you.” Your cheeks were red, burning with embarrassment and jealousy as you crossed your arms over your chest. Normally you would never admit to feeling this way, especially since your relationship had always been defined as an attachment and nothing more. Truthfully you had no right feeling so territorial over him, but he was your blondie. Padame was nice, personally you had nothing against her, the values she shared were the same as yours. Anakin however is where you drew the line, which she had crossed even if unintentionally.

“So you are jealous, all this time you’ve been the one to stay away from me and now look at you. I don’t want Amidala, she was a target, a job, a mission, nothing more my love.” He stood, the droids returning to their respective stations. Anakin took a few seconds to move his new hand in the way he wanted to. Now he pulled your arms from your chest, holding them gently as he leaned in close.

“Love?”

“My love, you are the only person I could ever want, the only thing in the universe I’d ever ask for. Accept my words for truth darling, feel the honesty in my soul you know I can’t lie to you.” He placed your hands flat against his chest, you felt his heart beat steadily. Most of all you sensed no malice in his force signature, it was the same warm, gentle, comforting feeling, it was home.

Okay this was supposed to be short but i got waaay too into it i mean honestly forbidden love is so awesome i dont CARE! i hope you liked it! heres my masterlist if you wanna check that out!

#anakin x y/n #anakin x you #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin needs a hug #padawan anakin #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #star wars anakin #anakin #star wars fanfiction

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

Note

okay okay, but after Eddy and Steve,, what about Billy cumming too fast ??

sending you lots of love & good vibes <333

This one was TEN TIMES more difficult that the other two men. Billy is... tough to break in general so I'm trying to think of a time where this would occur. Stay tuned, I think I did good.

I had been teasing him all day.

All day is actually an understatement- try all week.

He's the most impatient person I've ever met, demanding, rude and completely intolerant to anyone around him. But all of that, his bad attitude and snarkiness, only gets worse when I'm playing hard to get. But man, do I love playing hard to get and getting that rise out of him.

But today has been the most difficult for him out of the whole week, his hands unable to keep off of me, his lips glued to my neck and shoulder the whole time we were at one of the local parties. He had copious amounts of beers, chugging from the keg like he normally does, which definitely does lower his defensiveness a bit and make him easier to tolerate.

But this is the best time to strike; when he's tipsy and smiley, wanting nothing more than to be close to me in every way I'll allow him.

But me? When I'm tipsy, I'm given the confidence that I typically lack, causing me to act out even more to gain his attention and make those handsome jeans feel just a bit more tight.

"Baby," he whines, tugging on my hands and I lead him to the car the best I can, "y'look so good." His compliment makes me grin wickedly, sending him a wink over his shoulder and I listen to him blow out a breath. "Tease." He whispers as I open the passenger door for him, holding my hand out for the keys. "No, oh no." He shakes his head, clutching the keys to his chest with a pout.

"I promise that if you get your ass in that seat, I'll make it worth your while." I whisper, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he groans, hand tightening around mine. He doesn't say anything else but just slips the keys into my hands before falling gracefully (not) down into the passenger seat.

By the time I enter the car, adjusting my seat to prepare to drive, my thighs clench, loving the sight of his spread legs, almost calling out to me. He watches me with a lip tucked between his teeth, his eyes raking over my body with hunger in his eyes, his breath coming out in small gasps. My hand dances over his thighs, asking silently for permission as his knees twitch.

I don't bother buckling in, instead I crawl to my knees, leaning over the middle console to work at unbuckling his belt. He curses under his breath through a smile, reclining the seat a bit to allow me more room. His hand hovers above the back of my head as I nip at his hip bone playfully, palming him sensually through his jeans that seem to restrict him painfully.

By the time I slip his boxers and jeans down, he's breathing heavily, eyes closed and he basks in the pleasure of me stroking him gently, tongue trailing up the underside of his cock with a moan. He's awfully twitchy, hips jumping into my every touch and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he's already close.

"Fuck." He curses, resting his hand on my shoulder as I take him between my lips, sucking lightly and I'm surprised at his sudden jump of his hips, cum suddenly flooding between my lips. I choke a bit but swallow nonetheless, eyes looking up at him as I help him ride through his sudden but violent high. He groans almost in annoyance as I pull away from him, wiping my lips and I stare at him in awe and shock.

"I-" He cuts himself off, his brows pulled together and he awkwardly situates himself with a huff. "I genuinely don't fucking know." He ponders for a moment before raising his bashful gaze to mine, only to be faced with the shit-eating grin on my lips. "Why are you smiling- that was fucking embarrassing." His tone is close to that of a whine, his back straightening as I giggle escapes my lips.

"Between teasing you all week and the alcohol running through your veins, I had a suspicion that you wouldn't last long." My tongue sweeps out over my lips and his jaw drops, shocked that I would've planned this but also been so successful. He just stutters a bit with a laugh, reaching over to slap my thigh as I start the car.

"Fuck, you're evil." He groans, fisting his curls between his fingers before turning to me, a glint of mischief in his hooded eyes. "Just wait till we get home. You're gonna have handprints permanently engraved in that cute ass of yours."

"Can't wait."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee

#billy #billy x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #stranger things #stranger things fic

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11thsdoctress · 1 year

Note

I seen that you been asking for request for writing and I can't get out of my mind the idea of a one shot based of snap out of it by the artic monkeys. Where the doctor (ideally 10th but I don't really mind if you use any other) had a relationship with the reader in the past and they meet before a long time and reader is gonna get married and the doctor try to stop them. Sorry if was too long of request and thank you in advance! ✨

oK SO IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO WRITE THIS,,,, bUT,, I LOVE THE PLOT I WANNA TAKE TIME AND DO IT JUSTICE,, I wanted to stick with the prompt to it's exact originally, but I just went on and branched out tbh,,, I hope I did a decent job (after all I wrote this with one braincell) also,,, I love Ten (and David Tennant in general),, I've been meaning to write something with/about him,, he's sooo adorkable :(( ========================

Just Like Old Times (10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader)

Fandom: Doctor Who

Ship: 10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader

Warnings: n/a Word Count: 2276

It was a fickle feeling, knowing that the both of you had something going on, even though you knew the Doctor for just a few years, it felt like he was a childhood friend for more than a decade or two.

Now your world was back to its normal, dull, and mundane manners, leaving the TARDIS was the hardest decision you’ve made in your life, but who could blame you? Not even the Doctor could blame you for a time of some normalcy.

A few years had gone by, you met a man, and suddenly everything happened so quickly, from the first few small dates to outings, to him proposing, to which you said yes, After all, you were in love with him, right? Or the idea that he reminds you of the Doctor? Are you really in love with the man that you call the love of your life? Or was it just an infatuation?

You try to shake your head away from these thoughts since it was the day of the wedding ceremony, it was still really early, the sun barely touching the horizon, and the bridesmaids were still fast asleep, you decided to take a head start in preparing for your big day, you pass by your wedding dress on the mannequin, a nice white gown, with some blue accents to compliment with the dress, you took a moment to try to process the moment, but you went ahead to prepare.

—------

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

It was one of those nights when the Doctor reminisces about the two of you, he always had a feeling that something was missing every time he woke up, and starts a new adventure, hell, even sometimes see you in his peripheral, only to be his imagination playing with his brain and hearts,

The moment you walked out of the TARDIS was extremely difficult for the Doctor to move on from, He tried to forget everything for a bit, but it was no use, all he could think about was that it was his fault that you had left him with his time-traveling box,

He had blamed himself that he had put you at a distance, blamed himself that he knew that he was afraid for you to get closer to him, not only of putting you in danger, but afraid to allow himself to express how much he loves and adores you in all the ways he could imagine.

“Oi! Spaceman, where are you heading off to this time?” Donna had pulled him back to reality as she looked a bit worried before grabbing the keys to her home.

“Oh it’s nothing, just thinking of visiting some old friends.” he put on a smile before saying his goodbyes to Donna and heading back to the TARDIS’ console and sighing,

“Maybe I do need to relax.” he looks at the monitor, and his reflection on the monitor, “Alright, let’s pick this date then.”

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

The TARDIS had landed on in a sunny morning in London, next to a beautifully decorated garden, the door swung open, The Doctor cheerfully opened the door and looked around the place, he smiled bitterly as he recognized the familiar garden, stepping out and started to empty out his mind from the adventures.

He had wandered off in to the garden, the sights and scents of roses, orchids, and lavenders had filled him, bringing back all the memories of him and you in this very place, the time you had brought him ice cream from your favorite parlor, the time he had read you a book while having a picnic, and the countless times of afternoon to night strolls.

All of these bittersweet memories flooding his head filled his hearts with the familiar flutter and heaviness of the guilt that was lingering with him for a while, it was a momentary bittersweet bliss he felt until he saw a signage,

“Mr. & Mrs. Wellington Wedding Ceremony”

Intrigued and curious, The Doctor went around to sneak in and to look who were the lucky couple. Spotting the groom, he just mumbled to himself, “eh, could’ve been worse.” before trying to find out who was the lucky bride,

The Doctor snooped around more to satisfy his curious brain, as he got to a photo album of the couple, he slightly regretted feeding his curiosity by finding the album to see you in the photos.

He felt that the world around him froze, he didn’t want to believe the thing he was seeing, he looks around him, before running to the back of the venue. His hearts were racing as he was trying to calm down, He wanted to deny that he saw you in those photos, he was trying his very best to get you off of his mind.

He wandered around until he reached the park, little ways down the road, not that far from the wedding, settling on the bench near the river, he was trying to convince himself that you were happy with someone else, but there was a nagging feeling in him that he has to do something. It was truly an internal battle, his mind was now wandering into endless, ‘What if’s’ and hypotheticals, until he was interrupted by a voice he tried to forget and at the same time, longed to hear,

“Doctor?”

—------

The wedding was a disaster,

James, your supposed soon to be husband, was delaying the wedding hour by hour, since his business was on the edge of a international deal to make them skyrocket in the stocks. You felt stupid to let him tend to his business instead of pushing through with the wedding, and honestly now it felt like the wedding ceremony was skipped entirely.

You tried to keep yourself together, convincing yourself that it was better for the both of them, since, at least it’s going to help the both of you in the finances in the future, but hell, you couldn’t even live and experience the wedding ceremony itself. There was this feeling that bothered you, and to take a breather, you headed to the back of the venue to calm your nerves, to prevent yourself from snapping at the disaster.

As you slowly inhaled and exhaled, to lower the tension and stress of the situation, there was a figure at the corner of your eye, walking to the bench you once had great memories with a memory, the more you looked and analyzed the figure, you were in disbelief when you saw the familiar brown suit and the messy hair, you had to make sure in what you saw was not a hallucination, you were frozen there, you couldn’t believe it, he was there. The Doctor was there.

You had debated with yourself, thinking on which was going to be your next move, let him be or approach him,

Taking a gulp, you slowly approached the bench, mustering up all the courage you needed before letting out,

“Doctor?”

It felt that time had stopped, it was surreal for the both of you, for you, you’d never thought that you would say that word or name ever again,

For him, he’d thought he would never hear that voice calling for him ever again,

He quickly turned around, stumbled a bit as he was trying to come up with something to say,

“I-It’s been a while, huh?” you look down, “would’ve sent you an invite, but didn’t know how to…” You awkwardly say, just to avoid the the silence,

There was a pause, an unbearing one, before the both of you say at the same time,

“I’m sorry!”

Both of you were surprised on how the apologies came out at the same time,

“I should be the one saying sorry here.” The Doctor went a bit closer as he looked at you, “I was the one that was scared to say anything-”

“No, I should be the one apologizing since I was the one that walked away on what we could’ve fixed!” You insist as you looked at him,

“Seems like both of us have things to say sorry for.” He says, trying to make the atmosphere less intimidating,

As it became more comfortable and exchanging jokes and banter, the both of you sat on the bench next to the river, asking questions just to catch up, everything was easy going and breezy,

“Never thought I would land on your wedding day.” he says as he sighs, trying to hide the bitter thoughts that accompany with it,

Never thought I’d see you again after what I did.” You look away, regretting the harshness of the reply,

“Wouldn’t blame you.” There was a while of comfortable silence before the Doctor had to ask the question that was in his mind for a while,

“Do you still love me? Or do you resent me for everything?” He asked as his voice had a hint of sadness and nervousness as he was trying to brace for your answer,

“Doctor, I could never hate or resent you, honestly, for a while, I resented myself for walking out, not doing anything to get to you, or at the least-” you sigh, “said yes to this.” gesturing to the white gown you were wearing, “but I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“Then how were you so sure that this type of forever suits you?” He suddenly asked,

“What do you mean?” You looked at him,

“Well, you’re questioning a major choice that affects your life, why did you say yes to this?”

You thought about his question, it was something you really had to ponder, realizing alot of things, you met your soon to be husband at your lowest time, and he very much acted like the Doctor,

The more you thought about the reasons, the more you realized that you were still very much in love with the Doctor subconsciously. Slowly by slowly, you were regretting the choices you had made ever since walking out of the TARDIS,

The Doctor suddenly pulls you in an embrace, noting your habit of spacing out and shaking, as soon as you realized what he was doing, you snapped out of the state of overthinking and calmed down, “I can’t just back out of this, I have to push through with this, I signed up for this, I have to take that…”

“You can.”

“No I can’t.”

The Doctor was about to say something, until you heard your soon to be husband calling to you, “Baby, what are you doing with this guy?” He harshly grabs your wrist, causing you to whimper,

“What the hell you think you’re doing? Treating her like that?” The Doctor was not happy with that.

“So? She belongs to me.” He plainly and arrogantly says as he was dragging you away from the Doctor’s comfort,

You could feel the anger piling in the Doctor as he was trying his best not to punch this guy, “I’d be careful if I were you.”

He pushes you in his car, “As if.” He gets in the car and it speeds off, You were hopeless, you were comfortable and honest for once in a while. As the car was speeding off, it was the uncomfortable silence that stressed you out the most, James was about to say something but the driver of the car interrupted, “Is that a flying blue box?”

You looked through the window behind you, seeing the familiar TARDIS, you had hope in you for once,

James notices the flying blue box behind the car as well, “What the hell is that?!”

The doors of the TARDIS opened as The Doctor was now in sight with his sonic screwdriver in hand, he points it to the car door on your side. Noticing the plan, you were about to jump out of the 120mph car and into the blue box, but you felt a grip on your wrist,

“You’re not going anywhere.” James angrily says, The blue box is now next to the car, matching the speed,

“Yes I am!” You punched him square in the face,

As he winced in pain, he lets you go, in the window of opportunity, you hurriedly made an effort to grab the Doctor’s arm and jump to the TARDIS, in which you ended up landing on top of him and the doors shutting,

As the TARDIS flew up and into space, both of you took a moment to catch your breaths before both of you broke into laughter,

“I miss this!” you exclaimed as you both sat up,

“I miss you.” He says as his laugh turns into a smile,

You blushed at his sudden confession, not really expecting that he would still feel that way towards you, however, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I miss you too.” you say as you leaned your forehead against his, a usual thing that the both of you did, The Doctor’s smile grew wider and his hearts beat faster after hearing you say that,

He slowly held your face and leaned in closer for a kiss, and it felt that he was longing for this moment for a while, it lasted for a few minutes before he scooped you up, carrying you bridal style, as if he was the one you married.

“The next time I see you in a wedding gown, I better be the groom.” He says, making the both of you laugh as he carries you towards the TARDIS’ halls towards his bedroom, after all, the two of you needed to rest before going on more adventures, just like old times.

======== author's note: aaaaaaaaaaaaa I hope to write more since I really love doing this, and ofc requests are open, wait for announcements for it hdksjksdjfhkdsj hope ya'll enjoyed this-

#doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x reader #dw fic #dw fanfic

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finniestoncrane · 10 months

Note

Heyo finnie!! Congrats on 1500 I'm so proud of you! I hope you have fun with this event and don't burn yourself out! You deserve nothing but the best! 💚💚

Anywho, I'm here for a blind date..., I've never been on one before but always been interested lol.

So...I know you already know like probably WAY TOO MUCH about me (more than you cared to EVER know lmao)and we're kinda similar hehe BUT I'm gonna try and describe myself for you anyhow lol

I'm a 24 year old woman who is often described as thoughtful, wise, and genuine. If I'm not writing, I'm drawing or vice versa. I'm usually creating or working on something! My interests often vary but they're usually centered around cartoons and comics! I love video games even though depending on the console I'm shit at them but enjoy the concepts and art that goes into them nonetheless! Basically I'm a socially anxious mess of a nerd that's trying her best lmao.

Hope this is decent enough that was really hard🥴😂

💜 blind date 💜 the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: there were so many options i could have picked from ri but i knew in my heart EXACTLY who to send you on a date with💚

"Hello, and welcome to the Vill-Inn! Your date has been here getting things ready. I hope you weren't in the mood for soda and burgers, because he's ordered tiny sandwiches and a pot of tea for the table..."

As you approach your table, your date stands up and takes off his top hat, holding it in both hands in front of him nervously as he introduces himself.

"It's so wonderful to meet you! I'm Jervis."

You can tell he's impressed that he's made it through the whole sentence without stammering, and it's hard not to offer him a warm smile in return for his charming grin, punctuated by his protruding overbite.

He's quick to try and get to know you, but equally forthcoming about himself. And he mentions repeatedly how nice it is to have someone who is so polite and attentive, willing to give him so much attention.

Jervis is also extremely interested in your writing and art, especially taken by how creative you are. Like you have invented worlds to escape into on a whim.

"Why, you could have created as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

And when you broach the subject of Lewis Carroll, he's entranced by your knowledge, how much you know, how bright your eyes are when you talk about it. Which by the way, don't think he hasn't noticed your blonde hair and blue eyes. You'd make a wonderful Alice, truly. And though he wants to compliment you, he really is struggling to find the words.

"You do look marvellous, my dear. But I'm finding it difficult to put it into words. I think I could, if only I knew how to begin."

When you blush at his words, so poetic, so charming, he's completely besotted. Shy, unaware of how magnificent you are? It would be very easy for him to swoop in and claim you as his own.

For what feels like forever, he listens, eyes wide and holding his chest, as your tell him about your love of comics, games, and cartoons. Wonderous, joyous hobbies, escapism with whimsy, something he is familiar with himself.

The wait staff interrupt you though, and you realise that they're cleaning up around you. You wonder how long you've been talking, commenting on how it feels like only a moment you've spent with him. It's silly, but you tell him you hope that you haven't talked too much, or wasted the time to get to know him more as he was listening to you.

"If you knew time as well as I do, or how deeply intrigued by you I am, then you wouldn't talk about wasting it."

#finnie1500 #finnie writes

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doctorstethoscope · 2 years

Text

Sink or Swim || November

lets all ignore the fact that the last chapter of this is supposed to come out next week and it's not done yet ok

masterlist

contains: food consumption, grumpiness, a tiny bit of innuendo

wordcount: 1.9k

“Babe?” you call out to Aaron, who is upstairs trying to wrangle Jack out of his Spider-Man pajamas and into a polo for Thanksgiving dinner at Rossi’s. “Do you know where Alexis’ shoes are?”

“If I had seen them, I would have put them in her closet where they belong,” he calls back, a little tense. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that it’s always stressful for both of you getting the kids out of the house on time, let alone when there’s a special occasion involved.

The shoes, as it turns out, are in a bucket of Lexie’s blocks– no doubt her or her brother’s doing. You buckle her into the teeny-tiny mary janes that compliment her baby overall dress and turtleneck, and by the time you’re done, Jack and his father are bounding down the stairs, ready to go themselves.

“Look at that, and everyone is in one piece,” you smile. “Let’s hit the road, then.”

Once everyone’s settled in the car, you flick the radio to the holiday music station and take a deep breath. The hard part was over, and now you could enjoy a calm, reflective day with your family.

“I’m hungry,” Jack whines from the backseat.

“You’ll eat when we get there,” Aaron chides.

“But I’m hungry now,” he groans.

“I know, bubbers, I’m hungry too,” you console him. “What food is your favorite?” You ask, trying to distract him.

“The cranberry sauce with the ridges,” he tells you excitedly.

“Naturally, the pure sugar from the can,” you remark with a little roll of your eyes.

“How come Lexie gets to eat whenever she wants?” Jack asks.

“Because she’s a baby, Jack,” Aaron snarks back.

“She doesn’t understand that food is coming the same way that you do, and she needs a lot more food than you do, bud,” you supplement his father’s explanation with a more gentle tone.

You make it to Rossi’s without further complaints, and Jack’s all but forgotten his hunger once he sees Henry.

“Aaron, can you come help me hang up the kids coats?” You say, passing Lexie off to Penelope and giving Aaron a quick glance that says “follow me to the closet and don’t ask questions.”

He, gratefully, reads you as well as he always has and follows you to Rossi’s coatroom.

“Baby, are you alright? You aren’t acting like yourself today,” you whisper to Aaron as he shuts the door behind him.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve been a bit of an asshole, you mean.”

“You’ve been… a little grumpy,” you say, stepping closer to him and winding your arms around his neck. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing that excuses my behavior,” he answers. “The end of the year is always difficult administratively… Strauss and the rest of the brass have been breathing down my neck about the budget and our annual numbers. But I need to leave that stuff at my desk, it’s not fair to you or the kids.”

“Neither one of us is perfect. Yesterday I just about played Connect Four by myself because I told Jack we couldn’t play unless he ate a vegetable,” you confess, and he chuckles.

“I’ll do better. I know I’ve been staying at the office late, and you’ve had to take on more than your fair share with them,” he apologizes.

“I’m not watching the clock, hon. Work needs more from you right now, down the line I’m sure something will come up for me and you’ll take it in stride. I’m more concerned about you– are you eating when you come home at night? Or taking breaks during the day? The team can help before you’ve run yourself ragged, you know.”

“I need reminders,” he admits. “Maybe a pretty lunch date would help,” he smirks, leaning in to kiss you, which you happily return.

“I think I can make that happen,” you assure him. “Come on, let’s get back out there before someone gives Jack pie and ice cream before dinner.”

Rossi has dinner catered, and the meal is lovely. Aaron puts Jack’s plate together and settles him at the kid’s table, and you set up Lexie’s high chair next to you, cutting up some turkey and carrots for her to gnaw at. It keeps her entertained while the adults eat, and JJ is more than happy to give her a bottle after dinner.

“How have you and Hotch been?” Emily asks as the women of the BAU gather in the living room while the men break for whisky in the study.

“We’ve been good,” you say. “Work has been busy for him. But things are good– I feel like Lexie’s developing more and more of a personality every day, which keeps us on our toes. She’s into throwing food onto the floor and taking off her socks and shoes right now. She’d run around barefoot in the snow if we’d let her,” you tell the girls, and they all laugh.

“When’s the last time you and the boss got out of the house? No kids, no case.” Penelope asks.

“Oh, gosh…” you say, running through the calendar in your mind. “Is it awful if I say August? We had dinner and went dancing. It was lovely,” you smile.

“It’s not awful…” JJ says with a hesitant cringe.

“But it’s not good, either,” Emily interrupts.

“We’ve got our hands pretty full,” you remind your friends. “Even if we were able to plan more dates, we’d probably get interrupted for a case.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t try!” Penelope interjects. “Let us take the kids this weekend.”

“Pen, that’s sweet, really, but I couldn’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask. We’re offering,” Emily cuts you off.

“It will be good for both of you,” JJ intercedes. “Regular date nights saved Will when we were in this stage. And if I recall correctly, you were one of the biggest insistors that we take the help offered to us,” she teases you. “It’s practically my job to return the favor now.”

You fret a little bit, biting at your thumbnail. “It would be good for Aaron. He needs a break,” you agree.

“And so do you,” Emily insists.

“Well, let me talk to him about it. But can I give you a tentative yes?” You ask.

“Of course!” Garcia insists. “Hotch will say yes.”

“What am I saying yes to?” Aaron asks as he emerges from the study with the rest of the guys.

“Date night,” you explain, and he breaks out into a smile.

“That one’s always a yes,” he confirms, ducking his chin to plant a kiss to your cheek.

*******

“So, Penelope gave us rules for this evening,” you mention to Aaron as you both settle into a booth at Lafayette in DC– you don’t know how he managed to get reservations on such short notice, but you’re grateful. He likes to spoil you– and you can’t help but be pleased by it.

“Oh boy,” Aaron groans playfully, the shadow of a grin playing on his features.

“No talking about the kids, and no talking about work,” you explain to him.

“Seems simple enough,” he says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s a good rule.”

The two of you peruse the menu in a comfortable, practiced silence– with the chaos of your lives, neither one of you feels the need to fill every moment with conversation or noise. When the waiter comes, you order a bottle of wine to share and your respective meals, and without the distraction of the menus, the two of you are left to stare at each other.

“Every time I go to say something, I realize I’m going to break one of the rules,” you confess after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh, thank god. It’s not just me,” Aaron lets out a relieved sigh.

“Are we bad? This feels so bad,” you lament.

“No, honey, no,” he insists, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his, which comforts you just as it always does. “Our lives are just different. Raising two kids takes up a lot of energy, and so do our jobs. It’s not a moral failing that those are the first things we’d want to talk about.”

“Not just the first thing– we couldn’t think of anything else to talk about,” you point out.

“When someone tells you not to think about something, it becomes pretty hard to think about anything else, angel,” he reminds you. “This is a good thing, that we’re talking about it. It’s important to me that we aren’t just co-parents. I love you, hon. I love you and I love our kids, and I love you separately from our kids and our kids separately from you. We can do both.”

“Ask me a question,” you insist.

“What?” He questions.

“Ask me a question that’s not about work or the kids,” you clarify.

“What did you have for breakfast today?”

“Aaron,” you whine.

“What?” He chuckles.

“Take this seriously, please.”

“I am taking it seriously. Have you ever known me not to take things seriously?” he teases you.

“You know what I had for breakfast. You made my breakfast.”

“Well, what did you think of it?’ He asks.

“It was good,” you tell him. “I like when you cook for me,” you elaborate. “You put more butter on my toast than I ever would, but it tastes better that way. I like my bacon chewy, though. Not crispy,” you confess. “You look sexy in the kitchen. Don’t ask me to explain that.”

He smiles and lets out a warm, gracious laugh. “See? We’re getting somewhere,” he reassures you, running his thumb over the back of your hand.

“What do I do that makes you feel cared for?” You ask him in turn, reflecting on how his hand over yours and the breakfasts he prepares make you feel.

“I’m sure everything isn’t an acceptable answer here,” he attempts, and you narrow your eyes at him in response. He draws in a breath, thinking on the question for a moment before you respond. “Sometimes you look at me from across the room, and it’s like you tell me exactly what I need to hear just by the look in your eyes. Or, I don’t know, I look at you and things just feel clearer. But you’re always there, and you always know just what I need. When the kids are driving us up the wall and you just smile and remind me that bedtime is coming, or when we’re working on a tough case and you assure me that I don’t have to shoulder it all… When things are hard, you’re the person I look for. When they’re good, you’re the person I want to celebrate with. And every time I look for you, you’re always looking for me too. That means a lot to me.”

You draw in a breath, willing back the tears that were welling up in your eyes, and reach across the table to place your hand over his face. “There’s nobody else I’d rather be looking at,” you smile.

taglist: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @infinite-tides @gspenc @anlin2058 @zetasaturno99 @realdirectionx @witheldclouds @sbeno22 @el-vs94 @hausofwhores

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x reader fic #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n

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headintheclouds-posts · 1 year

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nct haechan enemies to lovers ? :D tysmm

Of course sweetie, I hope this is ok, its the longest story I have ever written on this app so I hope you like it and please send over anymore asks you can think of.

Starts of pretty angsty, but I promise it becomes fluffy.

Trigger warning - Some face shaming is mentioned in this story. Please note I do not condone this in any way.

You had recently debuted after several years of training with your agency SM, you and the girls in your group were like sisters and people were already praising your vocals and dancing skills online. It honestly felt like a dream come true, you were so lucky to have such an amazing group to be apart of, and also the other idols in SM had always been extremely supportive and gave the best advice.

Today your group was having an interview for a segment on a pretty well known show and none of you could contain your excitement. 'What if I say something stupid?' one of the girls said, panicking at the thought of the exposure you were all about to get. 'Don't worry, everything will be fine, just take a deep breath before answering each question' you responded trying to console her. To be completely honest, you were also extremely nervous but as the leader, your job was to make sure the group felt comfortable in any settings. 'If any difficult questions are asked, I will answer them' you smiled patting the girls back. 'Thanks Unnie' she responded clasping your hand in hers.

'Right ladies, the interviewer is almost here, we should greet them at the front of the building' your manager called out. You all followed him in a line to the foyer of the building and welcomed the news team. You all made small talk whilst walking to the meeting room to conduct the interview. On the way, you passed several well known idols including some members of NCT. They all smiled as they passed as you gave your hello's, that was until you got to Haechan, upon trying to greet him he just sneered and walked away. He had always been like this with you. At the beginning you thought maybe he just had issues with a new group but he was always polite and made small talk with the girls, you on the other hand have spent the past 30ish months being ignored, sneered at and having hateful comments made whenever he was around. You had tried to approach him several times trying to find out what you had done wrong but his response was always the same, 'I just don't like you y/n'. It wouldn’t of felt so bad if you didn’t have a small crush on him.

You tried to brush off his behaviour as you sat down with the rest of the group for your interview. The lady asking the questions was really nice and made you all feel at ease, and even complimented you all after saying how polite you all were. 'Thank you so much for speaking with me, I will have to head back to the office now as we will be posting the chat on our website later tonight' the interviewer smiled. You all bowed and thanked her. Once she had left, yourself and all the girls slumped to the floor glad it was over. 'Anyone hungry?' you asked as they all nodded their heads in unison. 'Great, let me just nip for a bathroom break and then we can go' you smiled, standing up to excuse yourself.

On your way back to meet the girls for lunch you bump into Haechan. Remembering what happened earlier you grabbed him by the arm. 'What was that about before? you couldn't just pretend to be polite for one minute whilst we were with guests' you questioned. He snatched his arm away from you before giving you an agitated look. 'Don't speak to me y/n, I don't want anyone to think I am associated with you' he snarled before walking off. Even though he has behaved like this many times before, you couldn't help the way your heart sank when he treated you like this. You brushed off how you felt and slapped on a smile to go and meet your group for lunch.

You went and filled up your trays and sat at one of the empty tables chatting amongst yourselves. You noticed Jungwoo and Mark walking over with their trays waving at you. 'Can we sit here' Mark asked. 'Of course' one of your members responded as the guys slid onto the bench. 'Heard you girls just had your first proper interview, does it feel real yet?' Jungwoo asked smiling at you all. 'Not yet' you responded, 'more scary than anything' you nervous laughed. 'Honestly you will get used to it' Mark said before turning his head into a different direction. 'Yo Haechan, there's some space here' he shouted across the canteen. You all turned your heads to look in Haechans direction. His face dropped when he saw you and he rolled his eyes. 'I'd rather not'' he spat before walking off with his tray. Both Jungwoo and Mark looked at you and tried to brush it off. 'What's his problem' one of the girls in the group snapped. 'Just ignore him' Mark says, 'Yeah he can be like that sometimes' Jungwoo nodded after seeing the sadness in your face. After lunch the girls decided to go back to the dorms to rest, you on the other hand decided to get your head around the choreography for your new song.

You don't even know how long you had been practicing before you decided to go and get some water. There was a machine just down the corridor from your practice room so you punched in the numbers and waited for your bottle to come out. You realised the interview would of probably been posted by now so you fished your phone out of your pocket and brought up the website. A big smile spread across your face looking at the lovely story written up by the interviewer. You continued scrolling to your phone as your saw the comment section was heaving with messages. The first few were pretty nice but then your stomach dropped.

"Is that the leader?? Ew she is not pretty at all"

"I don't know why they're debuting ugly idols now, let alone making one the leader"

"One thing is for sure, the leader will not be my bias"

In the midst of all the lovely and supportive comments, these comments stood out, causing tears to prick in the corner of your eyes. You look up from your phone in shock, not being able to comprehend how cruel some people were being. You hear footsteps and look to see Haechan walking down the corridor towards you. Without getting your water bottle you run to your practice room not wanting him to see you cry, he would only make things worse. Once you’re in the room you sit against the wall as a steady stream of tears fall from your eyes. Why me, you thought, you did your best to be a nice and kind, you always looked out for other people and put them before you, why do people have to be so cruel?. Next thing you hear is the practice door room slam open, causing you to jump from the sound. You look up to see Haechan in the doorway with a strange look on his face. You use your jumper to quickly wipe the tears from your eyes and continue to sit on the floor, not bothering to get up and face more mean comments.

You hear Haechan’s footsteps get closer to you he calls out your name. You look up through your tear collected eyelashes to see him knelt in front of you. ‘Wow, you’re kind of an ugly crier you know’ he says with a smirk on his face. ‘Why don’t you piss off Haechan, I am not in the mood’ you shot back. He proceeded to ignore you and sat across from you with his legs stretched out. ‘I told you to leave Haechan’ you said giving him a stern look. ‘You really think I would miss this’ he sniggered. You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you were angry and upset and tired, so tired of how people had been treating you. ‘Get out’ you half shouted getting to your feet. ‘I am sick of this, sick of people treating me like dirt for their own amusement, I never did anything to you and yet you continue to make my life a living hell, I can’t do this anymore’ and with that you turn on your heel to leave. Before you can go any further a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back. You find yourself wrapped up in the arms of your enemy, nose pressed against his chest whilst his arms have found their way around you. The tears start up again with this sign of comfort and you let yourself go in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his t-shirt. You half expect him to push you away and laugh at you or tell you this is some sort of prank, but instead he uses one hand to rub circles into your back whilst the other holds you close. You don’t know how long you were like this before you came to your senses and pulled away. ‘Haechan if this is some sort of joke then its not funny’. ‘Does it look like I am laughing?’ he questions back cocking his eyebrow. You really couldn’t read him, for the last several years he has been nothing but uninviting to you, why now did he want to console you? ‘You forgot this by the way’ he says picking up the bottle of water that was on the floor and handing it to you. ‘Oh right, thank you’ you respond taking the bottle from him. ‘So were the comments that bad?’ he asks you, ‘how did you know it was about the online comments?’ you say. ‘I saw the reporter come in with you this morning and I am just putting two and two together’ he shrugs. ‘Same thing happened when we were rookies too’ he says nonchalantly. ‘Really?’ you asked looking up at him. ‘Yeah, you kinda get over it, they are nothing but trolls so I just try to ignore them, you should too’. Still shocked at how kind he is being, you thank him again and let out a small laugh. ‘What are you laughing at?’ he questions tilting his head to the side. ‘I just never thought we would have a normal conversation without arguing’ you respond. ‘You never did tell me why you hate me?’ you ask him wondering what his answer will be. ‘I never said I hated you y/n, have you ever stopped to think that it might be something else’ he says taking a step towards you. ‘What? what else could it be other than hate’ you say to him as your voice raises up an octave. At this point you can see him start to get a little angry as well, ‘maybe, just maybe its because you’re rude y/n’ he shouts back. ‘Rude, RUDE, when have I ever been rude to you, I have always tried to be nice, even when you made me feel terrible’ you shout, as you go on your tiptoes to look slightly more intimidating than you feel. ‘You’re the rudest person I have ever met, did you think I wanted to fall in love, did you think I ever wanted to feel this way’ he is basically screaming at you right now. ‘I just wanted an easy life and you just waltz in and flip my world upside down. You go about your day happy with not a care in the world whilst I am suffering, suffering because you stole my heart and there is nothing I can do about it, so I would say that’s pretty rude of you’. Silence then fills the air as you both stare at each other, you don’t know what to think, or even feel other than shock. ‘You...you love me?’ you managed to splutter out after what felt like several minutes of silence. ‘You know what y/n, forget I said anything’ he says turning to walk away, but this time it was his turn to be grabbed by the wrist as you pull him back towards you. ‘Say it again’ you ask looking up into his chocolate eyes. ‘I love you y/n, I have from the moment you were introduced to us and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since’ and with that you close any space between you and put your hands on either side of his face, ‘I am going to be rude again and ask for a kiss if that’s ok?’ you whisper to which he nods in response. He pulls you up into his arms as your lips connect into the most euphoric kiss. You feel as though your soul has left your body and time stands still. His lips are so soft and warm against yours. The only way you could describe it was like coming home. It was perfect. Once you break away he rubs his nose against yours, ‘sorry for my behaviour over the past few years, I just didn’t know what to do with my feelings’ . ‘Its fine, but from now on you have to be nice to me if I am going to be your girlfriend’ you say kissing the tip of his nose. ‘Girlfriend?’ he questions with a laugh causing your bottom lip to pout out. ‘I am only joking, you’re more than my girlfriend, after feeling the way I have for all these years I am pretty sure you’re my soulmate’ he says peppering butterfly kisses to your face. ‘Come on, how about I treat you to a meal and we forget about those online trolls’ he says smiling. ‘Already forgotten’ you respond whilst grabbing your things to leave. ‘So like what do we do know, hold hands or something?’ he says awkwardly. ‘Come on’ you giggle grabbing his hand and walking to the exit. Though the day had many twists and turns, it ended in the most perfect way ever, your enemy finally became your lover and you couldn't be happier.

Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes on this one. It’s been a busy day :) feel free to send over anymore requests <3

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otherworldseekers · 10 months

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Random scene from during the Omega questline...

Working on my WIP? Hahaha. No. Writing a random scene during Omega where Severia has had a wet dream about Nero? Yes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Severia arrived in the Rift that morning Nero was already hunched over busily working at one of the monitors. She took a deep calming breath and marched forward as normally as she could.

“Good morning, hero,” Nero said without looking around.

“How did you know it was me?” Severia demanded, irritated that he had taken the initiative from her.

“Please, hero, do not insult me by insinuating that I cannot tell the difference between Garlond’s aurochs-like tramping and your own nimble gait.”

“Oh.” Was that a compliment? Or only another dig at Cid?

“Did you sleep well, hero?” Nero asked unexpectedly.

“Of course!” Severia insisted, feeling an uneasy prickling up her spine. “Why?”

Nero turned around slowly and leaned back against the bank of equipment, arms folded. Eyes hidden behind his shades, his expression was difficult to interpret. “It is curious,” he said. “I was taking a walk late in the night when I passed by your tent… and thought I heard a moaning sound coming from within.”

“Moaning?” Severia questioned in a faint voice.

“Indeed. Naturally, I concluded you must be in some sort of… distress. I considered entering your tent to assess your status, but since it was the middle of the night, I concluded this would cause more trouble than it would solve. I am glad to see you well this morning.”

“Er… yes. I’m absolutely fine,” Severia assured him as images from the dream she had been having last night flashed through her mind. She could never, ever let him know the real reason for the sounds he had heard. “It was just a bit of a headache.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

Nero pushed himself off the console and slowly sauntered toward her. When he reached her side he leaned over to speak into her horn. “Should the problem by any chance reoccur,” he said in a soft, suggestive voice, “do seek me out. I may have just the medicine to give you for your... condition.”

Severia closed her eyes and bit her lip as he passed by her to go to the stack of supply crates where the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster had begun to sing. She turned and watched him calmly pour his coffee as she internally panicked. Was that… an invitation? Did he know, somehow? Or did he merely guess? Was he offering… Severia clapped her cheeks and shook her head. No. She absolutely could not let her thoughts go there.

Nero smirked at her as he walked back to the monitors with his mug of coffee. Part of her wanted to slap the smirk from his face and another part remembered the way he had smirked up at her from between her legs in her dream… She spun around and headed back toward the portal to the surface.

“I think I forgot… to… something…” But before she could reach escape she ran straight into Cid, who was rubbing his hands in excitement.

“Severia! There you are. Ready to fight a monster, my friend?”

“Oh yes. Definitely. One hundred percent ready.”

“Excellent! Let’s get started.”

Severia fell into step behind him miserably. She was not ready. She was completely distracted. I am going to get myself killed and serve me right for dreaming about Nero fucking Scaeva.

#my writing #random scene #Severia x Nero #wolnero #Severia Zetsuen #Nero tol Scaeva #Omega quests #suggestive content #All My Tomorrows

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sophierequests · 2 years

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Hello, just want to start out by saying that your writing is amazing! I have fun reading and thank you so much! Can i request a fic where the reader is the only sun summoner in the grishaverse after alina and is in an established relationship with zoya and when the priest guards try to kidnap them zoya brings hell on earth? Thank you!

the sun and her storm

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Zoya Nazyalenksy x gn!Reader

A/N: OMG THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT I'M CRYING!!! I love this idea, and writing this for Zoya was so much fun. The beginning is pretty much only exposition, but I had the urge to also include this, because I thought it would be kinda cute. Also, fuck the Apparat man. This also includes spoilers for Alina's storyline in the last book, just fyi!!!

Summary: The Apparat's cult is weird, but they wouldn't go as far as kidnapping the only Sun Summoner, whilst knowing who their girlfriend is?

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, kidnapping, hinting at random character death, no real proofreading, not completely canon compliant

"Zoya, love, stop fussing." you murmured as you carefully cleaned the gash on her cheek.

She sighed but apparently decided to follow your order since she slowly stopped fidgeting under your touch.

Now you were able to properly assess the scratches that were scattered along her face without causing her too much further discomfort. You had already scolded her for not going to a proper healer since you could only do surface-level wound treatment, but she bluntly refused. Even though you weren't all too sure about what happened, you chose to not pry any more than you already had and to begrudgingly help her with whatever she needed to be done.

"All of that wouldn't have happened if that one bitchy squaller would've just stayed where I told him to stay." she grumbled, absent-mindedly fumbling with the belt of her kefta.

You could only chuckle at her current moodiness. It was usual for her to be a bit disgruntled when one of her plans turned sour, but she was especially pissed when it failed because of someone else's inability to follow her orders.

Moments like these always reminded you of the time when the two of you properly met for the first time - it wasn't pleasant. Everything happened right after Alina Starkov - Sankta Alina - had sacrificed her powers in order to bring down the Darkling. After seeing her do so much good with her gift, you decided to come clean about yours too. You had kept it hidden your entire childhood in fear of being hunted, enslaved or killed, but you had hoped that the new age would spread acceptance over the world. Being a Sun Summoner proved to be quite difficult though, since nobody else seemed to be one of your kind, meaning you had no one that would truly understand you, and also no one that would be able to properly help you advance in your training. These unfortunate circumstances led to you being even more reckless and uncoordinated when it came to simple military work. So when you accidentally let a small flash of lightning erupt out of your hand, effectively blinding your teammates, you managed to ruin an entire mission. Zoya, of course, was absolutely mad, talking down on you as if you were dense. But once the tears rolled down your cheeks, she caught herself again and genuinely tried consoling you. From then on, the two of you developed a quite close friendship that quickly turned into something more.

"Z, it's too late. It already happened. Don't beat yourself - or anyone else for that matter - up over it."

"I know, I know. I'm just…frustrated." she huffed, a hint of colour rising to her cheeks.

You cupped her cheeks cautiously, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I understand, love. I still need you to calm down a bit. You're home and safe. That's all that matters to me."

She hummed in response, leaning her forehead against yours, closing her eyes with a tired smile. You felt all of your previous worries dissipate as you felt her soft breathing fan across your face. It was nothing new, seeing her hurt, in pain, or even on the brink of death, but you knew that you'd never get used to it. A certain amount of worry would always be present when Zoya was the person you were in love with, you just had to learn how to deal with that.

"Let's get you to bed, dear." you cooed, stepping away from your girlfriend, who just let out a dissatisfied huff.

"I'm not tired." she mumbled out, almost falling forward when she noticed that she didn't have you to lean on anymore.

You laughed at her futile attempt at protesting. But nevertheless, you moved over towards the closet, pulling out fresh sets of nightwear for the both of you. She begrudgingly took it from your hands without another word of complaint, beginning to change out of her dirty kefta, which she then tossed into the bag you had set up for the dirty laundry. You did the same, joining her on your shared bed. Without saying anything more, you put out the small lamp you kept on your bedside table and opened your arms for Zoya to crawl right into. When she finally moved to lay snug on your side, you used one hand to stroke through her silky black hair, while you held up the other one, propped up by your elbow that still rested on the mattress.

It was no secret that your partner had always been fascinated by your powers. Which you never completely understood, because, in your books, she was one of the most powerful Grisha to exist.

With a flick of the wrist, you felt the familiar feeling bubbling up in your chest. You never particularly liked using your powers, the pressure that came with it always gave you a sense of unease. But once the initial apprehensiveness disappeared, you experienced the all too familiar tingle that was followed by a soft string of light emerging from the palm of your hand. Quickly, your hands began to twist decisively, comforting the twine into a collection of different shapes and forms. It was one of the first skills you learned after your powers first appeared, and since it was pretty but useless, you had only presented it to Zoya, who was surprisingly enchanted by your show.

Her head perked up slightly, eyes trained on the small figures you had conjured. She always liked to bring up one particular meeting, where you had managed to summon a tiny apparition of a fox behind Nikolai's back, whose only purpose was to make fun of the young king's current attitude.

After a few minutes, you felt her head sink back to the position it previously had been in, her breathing steadying gradually. When you were sure that she had finally fallen asleep completely, you wrapped both your arms around her, also falling asleep.

The awakening the next morning wasn't as pleasant though.

The two of you were rudely woken up by harsh knocks coming from the door. A male voice called your names multiple times until you noticed who it belonged to.

"Zoya, Y/N, I need you both to go to the city!" Nikolai's voice bellowed from the hallway, "There's another protest happening and I need you to tell them to knock it off."

You sighed, rubbing your temple with two of your fingers. The protest he was referring to was very likely another gathering of the Apparat's followers or so-called guards. Since Alina sacrificed her powers, his little cultish group of weirdos chose to focus on you. You felt it in their creepy comments, their lingering glances, and even just their mere presence. Spending more than an hour in the same room was almost unbearable. Zoya tried her best to keep you from encounters with them, but Nikolai was one of her main opponents for that game. You understood that he tried keeping his citizens content and as safe as he could, even if that included having to throw you into the cold water once in a while, so you rarely held events like these against him.

No amount of complaining helped against the need to fulfil your duty, so you decided to get dressed quickly, hurrying down to Os Alta.

The streets were buzzing with life, people shopping, children playing, travellers just passing through and, of course, religious fanatics littering the marketplace. They stuck out of the usual crowd like a sore thumb. Even though the group was small, they were noticeable enough to cause a scene and irritate the others.

After a quick glance behind you, you could also see that Nikolai apparently also called Tamar as a backup. Her muscular frame followed cautiously behind you. This fact made you even uneasier than you were before. She and her brother were, in fact, the Sun Summoner’s guards, but after the Darkling's death, they weren't actually needed. He would only send one of them when there was an actual danger to be expected. But the priest's followers weren't violent? They were eccentric and eerie, but they didn't usually go around killing people left and right, did they?

You wanted to ask your girlfriend, but she was already throwing her hands up in exasperation upon spotting the little crowd.

"Alright, alright people!" she exclaimed in annoyance, actively cutting the Apparat off, whilst he talked of things like 'the new age of the Sun Summoner' or other grotesque ideas he tried to realize.

She asked you to stay back a bit, to try and keep you away from their prying eyes, before she pushed through the masses towards the small makeshift pedestal they had made.

"As much as I enjoy watching your little show, your presence is actually quite bothersome for others, so would you mind packing it up?" she tried, a fake sweetness hiding the conman she had actually just uttered.

You could see the Apparat frown, whispering something into the ear of one of his little prawns, who quickly disappeared into the mass of people behind him, taking another man with him.

The priest didn't budge from his spot, engaging in a tense conversation with Zoya, who was close to pushing him from his creaky wooden box. You didn't understand what they were saying, the casual chatter from the passing people overshadowing their talk.

When you turned around, you tried to look for Tamar, you were met with a sea of faces, none of them belonging to her. If she was anywhere, she blended into the crowd perfectly. Your anxiety levels rose again, knowing that you were on your own, with no support from Zoya or Tamar. You were trained in combat, as almost every Grisha was, but you wouldn't be able to stand your ground against his men without creating a huge panic.

And as soon as you finished that thought, four strong pairs of hands seized you, putting a cloth over your mouth and pulling you away from the chattering masses. You tried to fight back, but they overpowered you by strength and numbers. Not even your Grisha abilities were of any use since you weren't able to free your hands after they had roughly tied them together behind your back.

You were forcefully dragged into an alleyway, far away from the sight of any possible onlookers. They pushed you through a flimsy wooden door that led into a dimly lit basement, where some other men were already sitting. You identified them as other members of the priest’s assembly of creeps, which made goosebumps form on your skin. What were they trying to do with you?

“What do you want from me?” you hissed after being put down on the cold ground.

“The ones who do not wish to bent will have to be broken.” a low voice mused, coming from the door that you had entered only a few minutes before.

The Apparat descended the stairs almost bemused. His long brown robe dragged behind him, giving him an added layer of eeriness. When you took a closer look at him, you could clearly see the steady deterioration on his face. He never had been much of a looker, but the years were evident on his face. If you wouldn’t know it better, you would’ve mistaken him for some ancient demonic manifestation in need to be freed from his mortal vessel.

His form towered over you, as he finally crossed the room to meet your gaze.

“Such a pretty face.” he murmured, analysing your features carefully, “What a shame, that there’s no sense behind it. Yet.”

“I’m only asking you once again, what do you want from me?” you said again, not really wanting to deal with his bullshit right now.

“I want you to see what you’re actually meant to do.” he started, his voice sounding as if he would be holding a sermon, “They keep you locked up in their palace. They can’t give you what you need. They don’t see you how we do. They don’t appreciate you.”

If the cord around your wrists wouldn’t be cutting into your skin, you would’ve laughed at that. He still couldn’t accept that he had failed his previous grooming attempt with Alina, so now he was trying to retry it on you? Absolutely not.

But before you could shoot back a witty response, the door flew off its hinges forcefully, causing some of the guards to jump back from the spots they stood on earlier.

Zoya dashed through the entrance, looking as pissed as ever, an out-of-breath Tamar following her. You watched her clench her jaw, as she spotted you on the floor, looking absolutely dishevelled.

“You!” she seethed, pointing an accusing finger at the robed man, still standing in front of you.

The man held his hands up in defeat, but it was of no use. With one swift movement of her hands, she threw the Apparat back, taking some of his man right with him before hitting the ground with a cracking sound. She didn’t flinch, as she did the same to the other guys standing around the room, no matter how hard they tried to explain themselves. The whole scene ended almost as fast as it began, only way more brutal.

Tamar rushed towards you, cutting through the ropes and freeing you from this absolute shit show. Your gaze met Zoya, who towered over the priest’s writhing form, threatening and cussing him out with no regard for the foul language she used.

“Zoya, I think that’s enough!” you suggested, growing rather uneasy by the suffocating darkness that had settled in the freezing basement.

She gave you a disapproving glare but decided to leave her lecture at that. In a matter of seconds, she was by your side, asking you if you were hurt, or if they had done something to you.

“Z, I’m alright. Really.” you assured her, finally being able to shake out your hands a bit, “I hope these bastards will have learned their lesson.”

“I’ll teach them another one really soon, trust me. Nobody hurts the people I love and just gets away with it.” she grumbled, holding onto your arm for dear life.

And at that moment, you were sure that these freaks wouldn’t be bothering you any time soon.

#zoya nazyalensky smut #zoya nazyalensky x reader #zoya nazyanelsky #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #netflix shadow and bone #shadow and bone #sab

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saiilorstars · 11 months

Text

• Previous Chapters • Sequel to Falling in Temptation • Avalon’s Masterlist

• 11th doctor x ofc

taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @gloryekaterina @lenonizi @foxesandmagic

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Disclaimer: This chapter’s plotline is from Doctor Who’s comic stories. Most of the dialogue is directly written from the comic. The plot is NOT mine.

"I cannot believe I am doing this," Avalon walked tiredly into the TARDIS, tossing her nurse's hat directly at the Doctor. It hit his cheek in the midst of his research on the monitor. "You owe me big time for making me do this!"

The Doctor picked up the nurse's hat off the floor and dusted it off with his fingers. "I think you look positively adorable." His remark was received with a deep frown. "Absolutely sexy?"

Avalon rolled her eyes. Clearly, no kind of compliment would lighten her mood. She detested the stupid nurse costume she was in and much more that she was working as a nurse in a retirement home. "I am a traveler, a mediocre writer—"

The Doctor scowled at the lowball self insult. "Avalon!"

"'—but I am not a nurse!" Avalon finished with a heavy huff. "Why can't we go pick up my grandfather who is an actual certified nurse!?" She stomped her way to the console up to the Doctor, demanding to hear a good answer from him.

"We already started this undercover mission," the Doctor pointed out, "And your grandparents are busy. Besides, I thought this could be a fun trip for the both of us."

Avalon's eyes narrowed. "How is this fun when I'm pretending to be a nurse in a retirement home where you're pretty sure people are being murdered?"

"It's interesting at the very least," the Doctor settled for his new description. "C'mon Ava, you've already been there three days and you've done a beautiful job blending in. Now I'll come in tomorrow and do my part to investigate."

"You mean go straight to the director and tell her what you think you know about her?"

"Absolutely!" The Doctor set the nurse hat back on Avalon's head, an admittedly difficult task given her unruly curls were being extra resistant. Avalon mentioned it took half a dozen pins to keep the hat in place.

Avalon swatted his hands away, effectively making the hat fall to the floor again. "I will do any other kind of UC job but not as a nurse. I don't like it."

"Next time," the Doctor promised her. She grumbled. "How about I draw you a nice bath?" His hands threaded down Avalon's hair. "I can get you those sweet lavender scented soaps and shampoos you love so much?"

"You mean the ones you love so much?" Avalon raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor smiled ever so innocently. "Me? I don't recall, but if you really need my help—"

Avalon's brow furrowed. "I didn't say I needed your help—"

"—then I will of course assist you however I can," the Doctor finished with an even wider smile, more like a grin.

Avalon wouldn't even pretend to be by these antics anymore. After a couple decades, she got too tired. "Yeah, alright," she shrugged.

The Doctor beamed. That had been far too easy!

"But I will need a massage, and a face mask..." Avalon started listing her demands as she headed for the corridors, the Doctor right on her trail.

"Anything you want, love," the Doctor promised, grabbing Avalon by the waist for a moment to kiss the crook of her neck. She smiled to herself. He was much too easy to work.

~ 0 ~

The next morning, Avalon begrudgingly returned to the retirement home just like they planned. This was a ludicrous plan from the start given that it had not been their intention to get involved in the first place. But that's what happens when you're time traveling with your birth mother for "bring your daughter to work" day.

They had stumbled across a much older River Song — she wasn't even in prison anymore! She was Dr. River Song, archaeologist, and she and her team were excavating bodies 200 years from now of the very retirement home Avalon was now walking the hallways of. The issue turned out to be that every coffin was empty which meant that the patients dying right around these days were not being buried. It was a mystery that the Doctor couldn't let go of. So here they were, investigating on their own.

Avalon learned fast that she was not made to be a nurse like her grandfather. It was simply not her vocation. She had little patience for difficult people, she did not like to clean bedrooms, and she didn't like her boss either. At least when it comes to writing, I'm my own boss. However, there was one thing that made the place bearable and Avalon was heading right there.

She met the face of her favorite patient in the entire retirement home and immediately smiled. "Good morning Arthur! I brought you a cup of tea!"

The older man was lying on his bed and watching Avalon's every move. His thick eyebrows knitted together as his eyes squinted.

Avalon walked up to his bedside with a tray in hand. "It's me, Arthur. Nurse Reynolds? Avalon?"

"I'm sorry," Arthur awkwardly smiled back. "Nurse Reynolds…" The recognition glinted in his eyes after a moment and it was then that Avalon set the tray on the bed stand.

"It's alright," Avalon assured him, picking up the cup of tea from the tray. "Believe me, I know a thing or two about losing memories." She presented Arthur with the cup of tea. "No pressure, honest."

"You?" Arthur chuckled lightly. "But you're so young. Your memory's got to be in top shape."

Avalon set her hands on her hips for a moment. "Oh, you would not believe me but I am older than I look."

"Really?" Arthur leveled her with a disbelieving look.

Avalon nodded. "Aha!" She turned away, making her way up to the windows and opening the blinds to let the sunlight in. "I'm nearing 50 now. Had I been a normal human, I would've been wrinkly by now."

"Is that where you're from, then?" Arthur took a sip of his tea.

"I hadn't told you that?" Avalon watched the children below, all playing much too loudly for her taste.

"Uh, maybe you did, but I can't really remember," Arthur smiled apologetically.

"That's alright," Avalon dismissed it. "God, did you get some good sleep with those kids? They're so loud and it's not even nine!"

"I don't mind," Arthur said, "It's good to hear their laughter and games. It can get so quiet here sometimes."

"What—I'm not chatty enough?" Avalon swayed back to the bed. "I feel like I talk your ears off!"

Out of all the patients Avalon had met in the past days, she liked Arthur the best. He was such a sweet gentleman who suffered a form of dementia. He didn't have any family nor friends but he was still so talkative. He was the only patient who had thought to ask Avalon about herself. Everyone else tended to grumble.

"I like it," Arthur nodded, "It's been so long since somebody talked to me. Nobody visits me — well, nobody visits anyone here."

"Yes, I've noticed that," Avalon mumbled under her breath. Three days she had worked at the retirement and not once had she seen a visitor. There were plenty of patients here that would warrant at least one visitor, but nobody had showed up.

"What story do you have for me today?" Arthur curiously asked her.

Avalon's smile returned, a sweet one. She may have also told him several of her written stories as well as her adventures. It passed the long hours for both of them, and Arthur seemed to like them.

"I, uh, I had a bit of a quarrel with my husband," Avalon said, reaching to press Arthur's blanket down. "He's a bit childish, remember?"

Arthur nodded. His tea was half gone already. "He's a traveler, right?"

"Yes, we both are," Avalon reminded him, "I just chose to have a job for a bit...try to, um, set some roots." That was normal, right? She had no idea. Lately, she didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life besides traveling.

She was set on being a writer, at least on some level, but the idea of school was still troubling her. She was never indecisive about anything and yet this one thing bugged her for decades now. The pressure was just there — to do something — with her life. It seemed like Amy and Rory were finally learning how to do that, even Lena now. Avalon now faced a reality she didn't think would ever come: her family was okay, and safe, and now she could do whatever she wanted. It was an odd feeling this way, truthfully. Avalon didn't know what to do with it.

"Is he on a trip right now?" Arthur's question drew Avalon out of her thoughts.

"He was...he's supposed to be in today, actually," she said, "Going to pick me up." This all sounded so blatantly normal that it felt so weird for Avalon. She couldn't imagine having a regular job and having the Doctor waiting outside to "pick her up" after her shift. She almost laughed.

"What's his name, again? I think I forgot…" Arthur attempted to place his cup on the bed stand.

Avalon hurried to take it from him and do it herself. "No, I didn't tell you that. He's a, uh, a doctor. I think you'd be entertained with him."

"My Elsie was the same," Arthur said reminiscently.

"Your wife, right?" Avalon stepped away and put her hands behind her back.

Arthur nodded. "She was a light in every room. She told the best jokes." Avalon smiled at him. "Lost her to cancer years ago."

"I'm so sorry," Avalon sighed. "It must have been so terrible…"

"It was. I don't wish that kind of pain on anyone…" Arthur flashed Avalon a small smile, "Especially good, sweet people like you."

Avalon chuckled. "Well, thank you. Although, don't be fooled again, I'm not that sweet. My husband actually tells me that I have a nasty temper."

"Even then, I'm sure he would miss it greatly if you were gone," Arthur said, pointing a finger at Avalon. "And you would miss his childish ways if he were gone."

"Oh…" Avalon brought a hand to her chest, feeling it constrict at the mere idea of losing the Doctor, "No, I can't even talk about something like that. If I were to ever lose my husband, I think I would die myself."

"Unfortunately, those who remain suffer worse because we're still here...and they're not."

Avalon nodded slightly.

"Nurse Reynolds!" A gruff female nurse called from the open doorway, ignoring the way that Avalon flinched. "If you're quite finished you have duties to perform!"

Avalon could barely hold onto her tongue. She hated Nurse Frost. The name suited her perfectly.

"Of course," Avalon said through gritted teeth. "I will be right there."

"Now," Frost corrected.

Avalon looked at Arthur apologetically. "I'll be back later, Arthur. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," Arthur nodded, "Go, go. I'll be here, waiting for my story."

Avalon promised that she would come up with another story for him in the afternoon. She would follow Nurse Frost out and tend to the other patients, just like she had for the past 3 days.

~ 0 ~

It took very little to get into the retirement home. The Doctor knew it would've probably been easier to get Avalon like this as well but he was guilty of wanting to see her in that hot nurse outfit...and to get deeper information from the inside of course.

He treaded the hallway carefully, keeping an eye open for anything plain strange. Most of the doors on his sides were closed but the few that happened to be opened didn't allow for much view of the patients. Avalon said most patients tended to stay in bed and that seemed about right because there had only been a handful of patients walking the gardens outside.

It was almost as if they were encouraged to stay in their rooms, on their beds…waiting for something…

"Hello there," he startled the woman sitting in the office. She looked up from her dark rimmed glasses and scrutinized the unknown visitor. The Doctor could practically read the woman's thoughts: 'A visitor!?'. He was a novelty not because he was an alien but because he was visiting. That alone waved red flags.

"The name's John Smith…" the Doctor strode into the office waving the psychic paper around. "How are you!?"

The woman barely had a moment to look at the psychic paper before the Doctor stuffed it in his inside pocket. Next thing she knew, the Time Lord was taking a seat on her desk. "Excuse me–" she started, but the Doctor went ahead with his facade.

"And you're clearly the woman in charge of this place! Miss Bruce, isn't it?"

"I—" the woman blinked, "Yes, how do you know that?"

The Doctor pointed to the plaque sitting on the desk.

Miss Bruce flushed. "Right, right. Um, what exactly are you doing here?"

"Doing some investigation of course!" the Doctor hopped off the desk and started pacing in the office. "Because, tell me, bodies disappearing, people vanishing mysterioualy in the night – ring any bells?"

Miss Bruce's face fell grim. A deep crease marked her forehead.

"Wait!" the Doctor exclaimed, his hands flying in front of him, "I know exactly what you're going to say! You have no idea what I'm talking about and deny all knowledge, right?"

Miss Bruce was beginning to hate him by the minute.

"Which means, Miss Bruce, either you're extremely unobservant or you're the one who's trying to cover it up. Let's see, residents going missing from right under your nose – embarrassing! So what do you do?" the Doctor pretended to hum as he feigned thought of all the options Miss Bruce could have in the situation. "You arrange with the local undertakers to bury empty coffins in the churchyard down the road. No one need ever know what's really going on."

"I don't—"

"You're probably wondering how I know all this," the Doctor nodded to himself, bringing his hands behind his back, "Because I was there when one of the coffins was dug up by archaeologists! Well, my mother-in-law but that's another story for another day! But you should know that she was not happy and truth be told, neither was her daughter – my wife – because she was writing an article on it. Had to stop the whole thing."

It had not boded well for anybody in the group when the coffins turned out empty. River Song was finally getting to bring Avalon to some of her "work" and that happened to include one nefarious location that was about to be dug up. The Doctor felt bad for introducing the idea in the first place and see it go horribly wrong. Avalon had no article to submit to the university and because she had always written stories for them, she felt twice as bad. And when Avalon felt bad, the Doctor felt worse.

"So, you see, I've done some thinking, Miss Bruce," the Doctor 'tskd' at the woman who was still blinking widely at him, "And here's my other suppositions about this place. You only take in residents who don't have any friends nor relatives so that when their bodies eventually disappear, there's no one to miss them and most importantly to report them missing. Here's the good news, though," he leaned his hands on the desk, reaching forward until he was face to face with Miss Bruce, "I don't think you're responsible for the disappearances, just the cover up, because if you were responsible for the disappearances, you would've thrown me out by now."

In truth, miss Bruce was like a frozen statue and an unhappy one at that. She let out a heavy sigh, confirming everything the Doctor had just said. "Something else you want to add?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Two things. One: I'll be taking a walk and talk with some of the residents. Two: have you been allowing children into the grounds?"

That was the first time Miss Bruce appeared startled, almost offended. "You're clearly insane, Doctor Smith. There are no children on the premises. It's like you said, I don't admit any resident with families or friends."

~ 0 ~

Avalon followed Nurse Frost into an empty bedroom. If Avalon remembered correctly, it belonged to a patient named Margaret Webster. She was a sweet old woman but she barely talked. She had a fascination with stuffed birds that creeped Avalon out.

"Margaret passed away in her sleep last night," Nurse Frost informed as she turned the lights of the room on, "We need to clear it up for the next patient."

"What – but she passed away last night," Avalon blinked, staying right by the doorway while Nurse Frost started taking the sheets off the bed. "Shouldn't there be, I don't know, studies going on? Like the medical kind to make sure no foul play happened?"

Nurse Frost snorted. "What 'foul play', Reynolds? She passed away. These people here are very old, it happens."

"Still, where's her body?"

"The undertakers have already collected her mortal remains."

"Already?" Avalon made a face. "That's beyond quick!"

Nurse Frost flapped the sheet hard, gesturing for Avalon to come help already. The ginger reluctantly did.

"That isn't your concern nor your job! You're supposed to tidy away the effects of the decease—"

"For the family?"

"She had no family! When you're done here, refresh the sheets. This bed will have a new occupant by this evening!"

"This evening?" Avalon whispered to herself. It truly was beyond fast for a senior center.

"Stop repeating everything I say into a question!" Nurse Frost snapped, throwing the sheet down on the bed for Avalon to take. "And get to it already!" She headed for the door.

"Whatever you say, Cruella De'Vil," Avalon muttered with a roll of her eyes. With a sigh, she started taking in all the personal objects in the room, putting them neatly into boxes. She was slightly quicker with the stuffed birds so she wouldn't have to look at them nor feel their presence.

She stopped by a portrait of a young girl with long ponytails. Judging by the face, Avalon presumed it was Margaret as a child. "You look straight off the 1950s magazines," she chuckled to herself. She turned to bring the frame to the boxes when she came face to face with the same girl…in person. Avalon gasped deeply and let the frame in her hands fall.

The girl was stoic for a moment, not even the thud of the frame pulled her eyes off Avalon. The redhead, on the other hand, was breathing heavily.

"H-how are you here?"

The girl didn't response. Instead, she turned around and walked out the room.

"H-hey! Come back!" Avalon went after her. The girl walked pretty fast, forcing Avalon to pick up her pae as well. "Little girl! Seriously!" The girl made a turn on the corner and just as Avalon did the same, she crashed into Nurse Frost. "Woah!"

"What are you doing here?" Nurse Frost demanded.

"I was just – the girl – where's the girl!?" Avalon peered around Nurse Frost in search of the girl but she had disappeared.

"What are you talking about?" Nurse Frost looked at Avalon like she was crazy.

"The-the girl!" Avalon exclaimed, gesturing behind Nurse Frost. Of course, when the woman looked over her shoulder there was nothing there. Avalon was pointing at thin air.

Stop playing games!" Nurse Frost snapped. "We have a lot of work to do!"

"But I—!"

Nurse Frost seized Avalon's wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction. Avalon kept craning her neck as much as it allowed to see if she could spot the girl again. It truly was like the air had swallowed her up.

~ 0 ~

It took the Doctor a short half hour to find a patient to converse with. He was about the only one who wouldn't give the Doctor suspicious looks. It was always nice talking to someone inviting.

"A police box! That takes me back!" the elderly man gazed appreciatively at the TARDIS parked in the outer parts of the center's gardens. "I haven't seen one of these things in over 40 years! I used to be a bobby myself, just after the war…"

"Arthur, you were telling me about this boy with no face…" the Doctor gently reminded the man. It was the second time he had to nudge the conversations back to the prime topic. Arthur's mind sometimes went.

"Doctor, one of the other residents, a friend of mine, Bert, he said he saw the boy and then he died the next night!" Arthur said, letting out a shudder. "So if I'm seeing the boy now, it means that I'm next!"

"Nonsense," the Doctor waved it off, "You'll be around for a long while yet…probably. Now tell me about these children. You said they've only recently started coming here?"

Because off in the distance, there was a group of singing children dancing around the trees.

"Yes, but they don't like to get too close and…there's something wrong about them…" Arthur admitted.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, "Their clothes for starters." The children were dressed as if they belonged to an earlier time period, perhaps the 50s if he had to be more accurate. "And no mobile phones or ipods. Just a bat and ball. Odd!"

The Doctor fixed his jacket up before approaching the group of children. As soon as they spotted him getting close, one girl with long pigtails grabbed a younger boy beside her and stepped in front of him.

"Oi Mister! What do you want?" the girl demanded.

The Doctor put on his best smile. "I'd just like to know who you are and why you're here."

"Can't say," the little boy said as he came around the girl, "Grown ups mustn't find out or they'll put a stop to our games!"

"Will they?" the Doctor went along with the boy's game, whatever it was.

"But don't worry, Arthur," the girl smiled at the older man, "You have nothing to fear. You'll be coming to play with us soon." The words had the opposite effect on poor Arthur. He stumbled back a few steps.

The Doctor didn't like the words either. He straightened up and quickly led Arthur away from the children. The elderly man seemed to be having chest pain.

"It's just indigestion," Arthur said, though clutching his chest contradicted his statement, "It comes and goes…"

As they neared the TARDIS, Avalon came running towards them. "Oh my God! There's a girl – I saw her! But that Nurse—" she growled abruptly. "Nurse Frost – she didn't see the girl so she didn't let me follow her! But there's a girl!"

"Well hello there, Nurse Reynolds!" the Doctor waved a hand, "I sense that you saw something strange?"

Avalon deadpanned him. Her hands fell on her hips. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm. I had to roll up sheets of a deceased older lady, so watch it or the next thing I roll up will be your dead body in a sheet!"

The Doctor just smiled in the face of a threat. "That's my wife, Arthur. Isn't she lovely?"

Arthur looked at Avalon — who seemed ready to seethe — and asked her if that was truly her husband.

"Unfortunately, yes," Avalon replied. "He thinks he's so funny but dead people can't be funny."

"Oh, calm down, Avalon," said the Doctor, "You'll be relieved to know that Nurse Frost can't see the child because there's a perception filter on the children."

"Not feeling very relieved here," Avalon said flatly. "And 'alien tech'?"

"Exactly. It's shielding the children and probably their hiding place as well, it's amazing what some people won't notice."

"You don't say. Well, I guess it's like the laundry closet," Avalon said, "People just walk by that room all the time. I hate doing laundry so I do the same thing but at least I can see it."

The Doctor smirked all of a sudden. "I really love you, wife."

"That's great but what did I do?"

"Let's go see that laundry room!"

"What – I don't want to do laundry!" Avalon groaned.

~ 0 ~

Avalon led both the Doctor and Arthur down the hallway towards the laundry room. She slowed her pace, however, when she saw Arthur was walking slower than normal.

"Arthur, really, if you're not feeling well, I can take you back to your room," she said, "Really. The Doctor can go on his own."

"Not a chance, Avalon," Arthur said sternly, "I haven't had this much excitement in years!"

Avalon chuckled. "Well, I can't argue with that sentiment. I'm a girl who loves excitement too. And adrenaline. Lots of it."

"Is that why your stories are simply the best?"

"Hm, if only you knew, Arthur," the Doctor started, "Most of those stories actually happened."

"What?" Arthur blinked. "That can't be!"

Avalon smirked over her shoulder. "Yeah, I don't behave so well sometimes."

"Sometimes!?" the Doctor snorted.

"Oh shush, you're not that better than me!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. He had plenty more to say but they reached the laundry room Avalon talked about. Using the sonic, he led the way inside and found not a laundry room but a huge spaceship-esque room instead.

"Woah…" Avalon breathed in at the sight, eyes wide and matching Arthur's as they both took in the sight, "Had I known this was inside, I would've gone in this laundry room a long time ago. Wouldn't mind washing clothes here."

The Doctor gave her a light push from behind, and exchanged smirks.

Arthur wandered towards one of the walls and noted the weblike structure going across it. There were large pods holding small creatures inside. "This looks like a nest..."

Avalon's head flipped in his direction and frowned. "It does. Doctor, why is there an alien nest hidden in the laundry room?"

"It's not a laundry room, dear," the Doctor said, "It's a nest."

"Yes, but why? And for what?"

"For me," went a new voice, and a gruff one at that.

The trio turned around to find Nurse Frost herself standing in front of them. A second later, the Nurse Frost was morphing into a huge, spiky alien creature with tentacles. "Analysis: you are a threat to the surrogates! All threats must be eliminated!"

"Uh, yeah," the Doctor put his sonic away fast, "We need to run! Now!"

"My husband, ever so smart!" Avalon shot him a mock glare.

"Oh, shut up and run!"

The pair started running back for the door but Avalon looked back to see Arthur struggling to move with them.

"Doctor!" she called and returned to Arthur.

"Engaging defensive weaponry!" the creature declared.

Red lasers shot forwards. Avalon covered her head as energy began striking around them. When she was able to lower her arms, she saw Arthur had collapsed on the floor.

"No!" she ran the remaining length and slid on the floor beside him. "Arthur!?" She checked for his heartbeat and was horrified to find none. "Doctor! He's dead!"

"Avalon, move away!" the Doctor exclaimed, trying to make a run towards her. The lasers were much too close to hitting her.

Avalon shook her head fervently. "No, no, no! Arthur!" She fell back from an electric force that enveloped Arthur's body. "NO!"

A dark haired boy was shooting the electrical current towards Arthur.

"Stop that!" Avalon demanded from the boy. Arthur's body was disappearing before her eyes. "I said STOP!" She scrambled to get up, intending on taking the boy herself when the Doctor arrived to pull her away. "No! No! Stop him! Look what he's doing!"

"I'm sorry but we can't touch him!" the Doctor had a tight hold around Avalon's waist. "He's gone, Avalon!"

"Literally!" Avalon cried as Arthur's body disappeared.

The little boy straightened up and marched up to the pair.

The Doctor set Avalon on her feet and stepped in front of her. "Alright now, you can stop," he warned the boy.

But the boy stopped in front of them then turned to face the creature. "Stop," it commanded, "The Doctor and Avalon are my friends."

"Well…that's unexpected," the Doctor blinked. Avalon wiped the tears from her face and stared at the boy, puzzled.

The creature froze in its tracks. "Doctor, Avalon – designated non-hostile," he repeated.

"You-you're in charge of that thing?" Avalon sniffed. "How the…you're a…I am so confused and tired…"

The Doctor reached over and rubbed her back comfortingly. She really needed her rest.

The boy turned around as did the creature, and smiled at Avalon. "It's me, Avalon. Arthur."

Avalon's eyes widened, as did the Doctor's. They both looked at each other, neither one sure whether to believe the boy.

"No, he was — you're just a—" Avalon rubbed the side of her head. "No, no, you're joking. You can't be Arthur."

The Doctor continued to study the boy and his uncertain self-examination. 'Arthur' kept looking at his hands and then put one over his head, eyes looking up as much as he could.

"Why am I so short now?" he asked.

"Oh dear," the Doctor breathed. It was Arthur, but he had no idea how he'd become a child. "Erm, that's...that's Arthur," he told Avalon.

"What!?"

"On the bright side, he's not dead."

"Doctor!"

The Doctor winced. "Yeah, alright." He cleared his throat and turned to the creature. "If we're non-hostile, then you can start giving us some answers. What's your function?"

"Designation. Vorlax regeneration drone. Function: to provide replacement bodies for infantry terminally compromised in conflict," the creature dutifully responded.

"Doctor – English, please?" Avalon said impatiently. Why couldn't one of their 'enemies' be simple and clear?

"It creates clones that absorb people's consciousnesses at the moment of death. It's brilliant, actually!"

"I don't know if that's the word I'd use for this," Avalon said, "It's not exactly asking for consent, is it?" Her eyes then fixated on the creature. "Technically speaking, Arthur is dead but his consciousness was copied and placed in a clone. Yeah, it's cheating death."

"Well," the Doctor fixed the collars of his jacket, "Can't really say anything there, can I?"

Avalon sighed. "No, I guess not." Her eyes flickered to the creature as well. "So why the hell are you posing as a nurse anyways?"

"Compromised by enemy fire. Teleport drive malfunction. Upon arrival in foreign terrain, activated camouflage protocol."

"And you decided being a bitchy nurse was the way to go?"

"Avalon," the Doctor said. He whipped out his sonic again and used it on the creature.

"And now, neither will you," the Doctor said gleefully. A bright light was taking over the creature from within. "I've repaired the Vorlax's teleport. Programmed it with a new destination and started the countdown for departure!"

"Where's it going to!?" Avalon asked.

"I'm sending it to an uninhabited garden world! Somewhere it can't cause any trouble!"

"Now wait a minute!" Avalon hurried in front of the Doctor, arms open wide on her sides. "That thing about consent – it should involve the rest of the residents! They should have the chance to choose what they want to happen to them and their home!"

"But – Avalon!" the Doctor groaned. He hated when she made sense. He stopped the process and lowered his sonic. "What do you want to do? Ask everybody?"

"Yes, why not?" Avalon raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't they deserve to make the choice? The choice that the others didn't get to make?"

The Doctor bobbed his head. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You should!" huffed Avalon. "Given the fact that you can regenerate, you should've thought about this first."

"You can allegedly regenerate too," the Doctor pointed out solely for the argument's sake. He never wanted to see his wife regenerate. "Alright, fine, let's gather them up and ask."

Avalon grinned and dropped her arms on her sides.

~ 0 ~

As soon as they left the now dozens of children in the new uninhabited planet, Avalon and the Doctor returned to the TARDIS for a much needed rest. Avalon was ecstatic that everyone in the nursing home had decided to run away and become children again – they were going to live a new life! That they chose! She of course took special interest in what little Arthur was going to do now. She might check up on him later in the future.

Much later in the evening, now in the TARDIS, Avalon bobbed her head in front of the bathroom mirror. Her voluminous red curls bounced with her. They were damp from her shower.

"Do you think if I regenerated, I could turn into a, I don't know, a teenager?" She walked into the bedroom and rolled her eyes at the sight of the Doctor lying on their bed, carelessly tossing his sonic into the air relentlessly.

"Why on Earth would you ever want to go back to being a teenager?" the Doctor shuddered. "Talk about awkward!"

"I don't know, maybe to see if this time things worked out in my favor?" shrugged Avalon. "That would be a good story, actually."

The Doctor caught his sonic and pointed it at Avalon, his face dead serious when he warned her: "You better not try to regenerate for the sake of a story."

Avalon smirked. "Don't tell me what to do, Fairy Tale Man. I might just do the opposite now."

The Doctor didn't like that joke on any level. He sat upright, putting his sonic away. "I mean it, Avalon. Your regeneration isn't exactly a stabilized thing. We don't know if you actually can regenerate, alright?"

Avalon shrugged again. "I'd have to find out at some point in my life. How long can you live in one body?" She walked up to the bed, climbing over it to sit beside the Doctor.

With a sigh, the Doctor answered her. "Your first body is always different. You live to a very old age – there's no exact number – but it can be your longest body if you take care of it."

"What about the last one?" Avalon asked quietly.

The Doctor's head lowered. "Like the first one. You can live long as long as you take care of it."

"Really? You're not just telling me that?"

"No."

Avalon scooted closer to the Doctor, bringing one arm over his shoulder and leaning her chin on top. "Good, because when you go…I go too."

"Don't," the Doctor warned her again.

"Well, what would you do if I died? Or if I just couldn't regenerate?"

"I'd die with you, but…that's different," the Doctor said, prompting a hard scoff from Avalon.

"How?"

The Doctor sighed. He moved his shoulder until Avalon pulled her arm from him. "You really want to know?"

"If there's an actual answer behind that other than hypocrisy? Yes, I do," Avalon said, sitting on her knees and promptly waiting for said explanation.

"Fine," the Doctor shifted his body to face Avalon, "If you were to die – which you won't – then I'd have nothing again. I've lived for a very long time, Ava. I know what it's like to be truly alone for ages. The darkness that rears its head around is one that I don't want to face again, not when I've lived such wonderful, amazing years with you."

As touched as Avalon was, and she was, she couldn't fathom the idea of letting him simply die with her. It actually hurt her heart to even think about it. "But you could still have centuries to live after, to find somebody new!"

The Doctor shook his head. "I wouldn't. I know I wouldn't because I've already been everywhere before you. I know what's out there and I'm not interested. But if I were to die, I'd want to you to keep going. You haven't seen a quarter of what I've seen already. You haven't lived like I have. I don't want you to waste your precious years – your regenerations – on me because you deserve to live your years. Centuries. You're an aspiring writer, a traveler, and you have too much to look forward to."

Avalon smiled softly at him. "I appreciate the sentiment but what makes you think that I'd want to do any of that stuff if you're not around?"

"You'd have to," the Doctor said simply, "Because your family wouldn't let you do anything else." He reached for her body, tugging her closer until he brought her down on the bed beside her. He interlaced their hands between them. "That's the difference. For better or for worse, that's it."

"Well, it sucks then because it's not fair," Avalon said, shaking her head, "I'm 50 years old…"

"And I'm 1400, talk about an age gap," the Doctor smiled at her. "But see? You've got so much to do, with or without me."

"I choose with you," Avalon said cleverly, snuggling up to him. She simply couldn't imagine a world where she didn't live with her husband.

It just couldn't happen.

~0~

A few hours ago.

All the new children waved happily at the TARDIS as it disappeared. One brunette girl with pigtails especially liked the dematerialization process.

"It's like magic, huh Arthur?" She looked around for her friend but didn't see him right away. "Arthur?"

The TARDIS had completely disappeared now.

The same girl started looking around more carefully as the other children walked away from the area. "Arthur? Arthur, where are you!?" It was like Arthur had disappeared into thin air. "ARTHUR!"

From a distance, a girl with long black hair smirked. Chiyoko loved seeing history unfold itself. One more to check off the list.

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