#just to be clear I love the fact cassian's last push to join the fight in the show comes from a mother figure

[dasakuryo]

maarva: *dies* [and the show wants to make me believe she’s some sort of martyr]

me, knowing fully well this woman kidnapped cassian as a child, severed all his meaningful relationships, separated him from his sister, talked down and belittled him at every available opportunity, and later unceremoniously abandoned him because all of a sudden she cared about rebelling against the empire, hence hurting him even further after piling nothing but trauma upon trauma on his shoulders:

[thewayshedreamed]

Fight or Flight— Nessian AU

This one-shot goes out to @bookstantrash 💕 

Thank you so much for the prompt— “I almost lost you.” for Nessian! Prompt is in bold within the post.

Warnings for strong language + mentions of combat and injury

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Cassian fell into his office chair around 4:30 PM, the force rocking him back a little. He squinted his eyes and pinched his scrunched nose between his thumb and forefinger as he willed this Cauldron-foresaken day to end.

It had been a long day of strategy meetings, supplemental trainings, drills, and checkrides. He had a rather uncomfortable conversation with a cocky little shit of a pilot, who carried himself as if the other members of his flight were there to provide a backdrop for his greatness. Overall, his flight team was skilled, dedicated, and they treated him with so much respect that it surprised him at times. Not that he wasn’t deserving of that respect, having risen through the ranks with impressive speed since joining the military as an airman all those years ago.

According to his superior officers, he was one of the finest pilots for generations, and he had shown a natural ability for leadership as early as basic training. He was dedicated to being fair, set high standards for the members of his flight, and considered their input as frequently as he could. In return, they made his job somewhat easier by executing his orders flawlessly and in a timely manner. Most of the time, anyway.

The loud rumble in his stomach reminded him that he had skipped lunch. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, but he tried not to lament over small things considering they were at war. There was never enough time, and he’d adapted over the years to running on very little when necessary. He rubbed his eyes roughly with his palms, blinking against the light coming in from the window and looked to see what tasks remained for the day. Nothing that couldn’t wait for Monday.

He grabbed his jacket and aviator sunglasses as he stood, put them on, and walked out of his small office a little early.

“Would you like me to forward your calls, Captain Mortel?”

“You know me well, Nuala,” he said with quick wink. “You wouldn’t happen to know if Captain Spion is back, would you?”

”He’s gone for the day,” a deep voice called from several office spaces down the hall.

“Never mind. That answers my question,” he chuckled. “Have a good weekend.”

”You too, Captain,” she said with a small smile.

He walked the several paces down the hallway to Azriel’s office, hoping to drag him out early along with him. He leaned in the doorway, offering a small knock on the door jamb with his knuckle. Azriel looked up from his desk, leaned back, and ran his hands down his face.

“You look like you had the same day I had,” Cassian said through a laugh.

Azriel gave an ironic-sounding laugh in return. “Was your day a complete shit show? Because if so, you would be correct.”

”Almost makes me miss the days where all I had to worry about was my own plane and my checkrides,” he replied wistfully.

”Don’t pretend you worried about your scores. False humility doesn’t suit you.” Azriel stood from his desk to gather his things.

Cassian laughed, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I seem to remember you doing okay for yourself, too.”

It was true. They were almost terrifying as members of the same flight, and they regularly set the bar for the rest of the pilots. Both of them extended their help wherever the could, aiming to improve their fellow airmen’s performances in everything from confidence to specific maneuvers. When they’d each climbed the ranks to Captain, it was almost poetic that they became flight commanders within the same squadron.

They walked out of the building together, discussing where and when they were going to meet up to drown this day in whiskey. They decided they would meet at the bar after they both showered and ate dinner. Speaking of which, he realized he had almost nothing in his apartment for food. He decided to go by the commissary to grab a few things to cook, hoping that maybe he was early enough to get in and out quickly.

The gods had mercy on him, and he found himself standing in the short checkout line within minutes. He zoned out while he waited, his gaze fixed toward the commissary doors as he daydreamed. His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar head of golden brown hair entered his line of sight.

Nesta Archeron, a brilliant intelligence officer who he had the frequent pleasure of running into on base. His first encounters with her were short, mere introductions before she shared relevant information to his superior officers. He had served as a liaison as well, traveling to her building to make requests or gather information on behalf of his Commander.

They started to share pleasantries when they would run into each other, asking benign questions about each others’ days or commenting on things around base. She was stunning, her features elegant and soft. And those eyes. They seemed to cut through him like no one else’s ever had. He’d basically word-vomited the fact that she was beautiful one day and asked her out for dinner. She’d chuckled and tapped him on the top of his shoulder with a cupped hand before stating, “That’s not a good idea, Captain.” Then, she had just walked away.

Not that he had certain expectations, but he was always a little perturbed by her sheer indifference anytime they spoke. He hadn’t changed how he interacted with her after she shut him down, not wanting her to think his kindness hadn’t been genuine, but it wore on him that she never seemed to drop her mask of politeness. Quite honestly, he was used to people liking him pretty readily, his charm and warm demeanor immediately putting them at ease. Nesta Archeron was not most people, though. That was probably the reason, he mused, that he’d been thinking about her basically every godsdamned free minute he had in the day. She was an enigma, and he felt compelled to figure her out.

——————————————————————————

He was on his second whiskey, listening to the band that was playing and making idle conversation with Azriel. He noticed a group of women nearby who kept looking over at them, and a drink appeared in front of Az minutes later. He chuckled, leaning in to Azriel to taunt him a little, but the words died on his tongue.

Walking in across the bar was none other than Nesta. She was in a short-sleeved red dress that kicked out just a little at the waist, falling at her knees. Her hair was in a low chignon, curls pinned around her face and a delicate comb tucked in close to the bun. She was smiling, speaking to an incredibly petite woman with short, dark hair. He recognized her from the intelligence office; Amren, he believed.

His mouth dried up as his eyes trailed Nesta’s long legs, landing on the pair of black pumps she wore on her feet. He tried, and probably failed, to be subtle in looking at her, but the red lipstick that graced her lips was killing him. He was so jealous of that stupid fucking lipstick.

“You should go talk to her,” Azriel said. He jumped slightly, having almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. Not so subtle, obviously.

Cassian shook his head and cleared his throat. “I’m good. You don’t have to babysit, you know. I think you owe someone a ‘thank you’ dance for the drink,” he deflected.

Az gave him a small, sideways smile. He was almost bashful when this sort of thing happened to him, which was a lot, now that Cassian thought about it. His knew his eyes were already searching for Nesta against his will, and he decided that maybe he should give up trying to ignore her.

“Tell you what. You go say your thanks, and I’ll go ask Archeron to dance with me.”

”Easy for you to say. You know her already.”

”Exactly. Which means that I know I’ll likely get shut down. I’m doing this for you, brother.”

”How noble of you,” Azriel said, as he knocked back the rest of his whiskey and rose to his feet.

——————————————————————————

It took him a third whiskey and several more minutes to even consider standing up to find Nesta. He knew Azriel would never let him live it down if he didn’t go over there, but he took his time deciding if his pride would better survive Azriel’s eternal taunts or Nesta’s rejection.

You are a fucking pilot and flight commander who has to lead dozens of men every day. You can handle asking a woman to dance with you. Go talk to her, you idiot.

Turns out, his inner monologue was kind of a dick.

He rose to his feet, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. She was sitting at a table with Amren and several other women, a glass of neat whiskey in front of her. He felt that summed her up pretty readily; a glass of whiskey among glasses of sugary white wine.

Good thing he liked whiskey.

He mastered himself enough to walk over and silently cursed the short curls at the top of his head for falling against his brow. He didn’t like the look of a buzz cut, but he also didn’t love that the curls on the top of his head had a mind of their own most of the time. Her eyes fell to his as he approached, and she him offered a small smile.

“Captain Mortel. To what do I owe the pleasure outside of work hours?” she teased. Whiskey agreed with her, he thought. Her friends fell silent at their exchange, watching with rapt attention.

“Cassian, ma’am,” he corrected with a small smile. The formality of her address irritated him.

He looked around the table, offering a broad, genuine smile. “I apologize for interrupting, ladies. I have some critical information to share with Miss Archeron. That is, if you all are willing to spare her.” His eyes flitted to hers. She may have been immune to his charms, but it didn’t seem like that applied to her friends as they adamantly insisted they didn’t mind. They all but hauled her to her feet, Amren offering a subtle push at her lower back.

“Lead the way, Cassian.” The way she said his first name was so intentional that he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was distracted by his thoughts of other ways he’d like to hear her saying his name.

“I think it’s best discussed on the dance floor, Miss Archeron.” He had one arm bent behind him, resting on the small of his back, the other extended to her, palm up.

She took his hand heavily, showing him she knew exactly what he was up to. She followed nonetheless, and once they reached their destination, he gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He placed his large hand on her waist, and lifted the other in his as he lead them across the floor.

“Nesta,” she said, still looking over his shoulder.

“Pardon?”

”Call me Nesta.” Her steel blue eyes met is, and he swore he saw them soften a fraction. “So, what is so important that it couldn’t wait for Monday?”

“Ah. That. Well, truth be told, I didn’t have anything all that critical to tell you,” he paused, laughing softly when she looked at him with an expression that said, no shit.

”I hope you’ll forgive me. It just didn’t seem suitable to wait for Monday to tell you how devastating you look tonight. It’s hardly appropriate workplace conversation.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” There was no irritation in her voice, nor did she move away from him.

“So I’ve been told.”

He pulled her a fraction closer, and she let him.

——————————————————————————

They’d swayed together for song after song that night, taking short breaks at a small take next to the dance floor. They were talking about anything and everything, their laughter carrying through the small venue when there was a break between songs. At some point, they had started sharing one glass of whiskey rather than opting for two.

Cassian knew he was totally and royally fucked.

He walked her out later that night when her group of friends started to tire out. He stopped just outside the doors, and her friends walked slowly ahead, allowing them some privacy. He curled his index finger under her chin, and eased her face upward to look at him. His other arm was secure behind his back; the only place he trusted it to be.

”I had a lot of fun. Be careful going home, yeah?” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to risk her becoming shy at the thought of her friends overhearing them.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked at him, giving him a small nod.

“I had fun, too,” she breathed. The corners of her lips drew up slightly, retrained by the secure pressure her teeth had on her lower lip yet again. She might have been the death of him.

Before he could think better of it, he raised his thumb to stroke her cheek and had to clench his other fist when she leaned into his hand to keep from pulling her to him. He swallowed thickly, hoping his voice would come out more stable than he felt.

“Goodnight, Nesta.”

”Goodnight, Cassian.” She turned her face, placing a soft kiss to the tender part of his palm at the base of his thumb before she turned to leave.

She left him standing there, dumbfounded and grinning like a fool. He looked down at his palm, the soft lip print left by her red lips, and closed his fist before he walked inside to find Azriel.

——————————————————————————

In the days that followed, nothing changed. He remained insanely busy each day and saw Nesta minimally. He wished there were more reasons for him to travel to her office and visa versa, but he had likely exhausted his fill of luck on that Friday night.

His world turned on its head on Wednesday as the alarm sounded. There were no scheduled drills that he was aware of, and his heart leapt into his throat. He saw Azriel running into the hangar from another direction, his eyes locking on Cassian’s. They approached each other, their postures already morphing into the leaders they were called to be. It was Azriel who spoke first.

“Incoming air attack. Just got word from the Commander.”

”Shit. Okay. Let’s fucking do this, huh?” He was trying to keep his tone light enough without downplaying the magnitude of their situation.

“Not like we have much of a choice. Stay safe, brother.” He gripped Cassian in a hug, patting him roughly on the back. Cassian returned it quickly and broke away.

“Stop saying your goodbyes, Spion,” he said as he broke into a backward jog toward his flight team. He raised his voice to finish, “They chose the wrong fucking base!”

——————————————————————————

Cassian awoke to a blinding pain in his head and a high-pitched beeping sound coming from his left. He kept his eyes firmly shut, trying for the life of him to figure out where he was and why he was in so much pain. He creased his brow as he concentrated, only able to conjure snapshots of the events that led him here.

Take off.

Giving orders to his flight team.

Circling back for an aircraft in pursuit of one of his airmen.

Shots fired, bullets flying. Explosions as they met their mark.

Another loud explosion, an aggressive shift of his plane.

Losing an engine.

Bailing out.

Everything was blank after that, until right now, where that obnoxious fucking beeping was going to make him violent. If he was dead, he was surely in hell.

He opened his eyes, squinting against the faint light overhead. He turned his head slowly, fighting a groan at the pain that shot through his temples. His mouth was dry as shit, and he needed to find some water stat.

His eyes snagged on something foreign next to his hand. He lowered his chin to look at it properly, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a something, it was a someone.

That same damn head of golden brown hair that had been haunting him for months was on the edge of the mattress, resting on her bent arm. She was sitting in a chair, bent over to rest her head on his bed, and her other arm was extended, resting just above his knee. Her face was softer while she slept, he thought. He looked at her for a few seconds, not wanting to disturb her slumber, and realized he couldn’t give a shit less about that beeping sound all of a sudden. Nesta fucking Archeron was here.

Okay, so definitely not in hell, then.

He looked down, realizing his chest was bare save for the rolls of gauze and bandages wrapped around him. He had no clue what that was about, but he figured someone would tell him eventually. He noticed bruises and scrapes on almost every exposed part of his body and a cast on his right ankle. As far as he could tell, he still had all of his limbs and could wiggle his toes. He decided he was grateful, even if everything hurt like fuck.

His movements must have roused her, because Nesta’s eyes suddenly opened. She sat up and rubbed them before turning them to Cassian in assessment. She started at his legs, running her gaze over him, and over to his monitor. Her eyes snapped to his own once she realized he was awake.

”You’re awake!” The relief in her voice broke his heart. She gripped his hand with both of hers, careful not to disturb him too much.

”Yeah,” he croaked, his voice ragged from disuse. She pulled one of her hands away, grabbed the small styrofoam cup on the side table, and handed it to him. He grabbed it with his opposite hand, cringing a little at the pain in his chest as he reached across his body. He brought the cup to his lips, leaving his eyes on hers as he sipped. She took it from him as he lowered his head back down to his pillow.

“Your parachute deployed, but it got tangled while you were still in the air. Luckily it eventually opened, but you were already fairly close to the ground. Your ankle is broken and you have several broken ribs. They aren’t sure what you hit, but you sustained impact to your head at some point. Be careful if you touch your face... there are some stitches on your forehead and through your eyebrow.” He honestly would have been okay with a few more injuries on the list if it meant she would keep talking to him like this; with a gentleness and care he had never seen. He rolled his head toward her to look at her properly, and noticed tears running down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll take a lot more than that to keep me from sticking around and annoying the hell out of you,” he joked.

“That’s not funny, Cassian!” She clutched his hand in warning. “I listened to the radio all day. I found out through communications that your plane went down.” Her tears were rolling in earnest now.

He was such an ass. Why the hell did he insist on putting his foot in his mouth?

”I’m sorry. Really, Nesta, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m okay.” He squeezed her hand, wishing he could pull her into his chest to comfort her.

Her tears continued despite his request. “I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I couldn’t get clear answers from anyone about your status for hours. It was a nightmare, and for a second, I thought.... I don’t know. Worst case scenario, is what I thought. I almost lost you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. He started rubbing soothing circles on the back of her palm before he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhe—“ He was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, all thanks to his dry fucking throat. Beautiful timing. Excellent. Perfect.

He groaned between coughs as he felt the sudden pain wrack through his ribs. It was as if someone was taking each one and snapping them over their knee like small tree branches. He couldn’t get his throat to cooperate, sending his chest into contraction after contraction. He started clutching for his chest, grimacing, and trying to do anything possible to calm his reflexes down.

Nesta jumped from her chair, perching on the edge of his bed. She gripped his face gently with her hands, willing him to look at her. Once he did, she encouraged him to relax, and grabbed his water cup to hold it to his lips. He managed to hold back his cough long enough to take a couple of sips, and he was finally able to relax into the bed again, breathing through clenched teeth.

She brushed his curly hair to the side in a soothing gesture, trying to tame the wild strands somewhat in the process. She spoke to him in a soothing voice, hoping to keep him as calm as he could manage.

“You have beautiful hair. I know women who would kill for it,” she mused.

He huffed a laugh. “Has a mind of its own.”

”Seems true to form, considering the head it grows from.” She laughed when he glared at her. “I’m serious. You should grow it out one day. Just to see its potential.”

”Mmm... I’ll think about it. I think I could try it out for you,” he replied with a smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before it occurred to him that the clock read 3:00, and there was no light coming through the window. It was 3AM, and here she was.

”I’m surprised they haven’t kicked you out yet with how late it is.... Not that I’m complaining. I want you to stay.” He hoped he hadn’t offended her, but the look on her face showed only amusement. “How’d you manage that?”

She bit her lip in a sheepish gesture, and he had to fight the urge to reach up and release it with his thumb.“When I found out they had located you and were in transport, I ran here immediately. I didn’t have much of a plan. I’m sure I looked like a lunatic to the young nurse’s aid at the station. I asked for you, but she told me that only family could see you,” she trailed off, looking down at the bedsheets. “I was all over the place, and I just blurted it out... that I was your wife.”

His eyes had to be the size of saucers. They were fairly familiar with each other through their work, and they’d had that one perfect night at the bar. But he’d never kissed her, nor had he brought her out on an actual date. She was the one who had turned him down, for Cauldron’s sake.

He couldn’t hold back his chuckle at her words or the blush that fanned across her cheeks.

“How long was I out? We seem to have come a long way,” he teased, hoping to ease her nerves.

”Oh, shut up. To be fair, I have to think on my feet a lot with what I do, and it kind of took me over. I was apparently quite convincing.”

”Didn’t even court me properly,” he mumbled in mock offense, grinning as he shook his head. He promptly stopped when he remembered the headache.

“Alright. You’re hilarious,” she stated dryly. Her voice quieted a bit more as she said, “I know I overstepped. I just wanted you to be okay, and I couldn’t stand not knowing. I’m really sorry.”

”It’s okay, really. You were the perfect thing to wake up to in here. Thank you,” he replied. “I’m honestly just surprised no one fact-checked you.”

”Once I was in here, they kind of just ignored me except for updates. I’ve gotten lucky that no one that would know better has been in here. Well, except Captain Spion, but he’s keeping my secret. He’ll be happy to know you’re okay. He’s been pacing around in here anytime he’s had a free moment and scaring the shit out of all the hospital staff.” She laughed, and he didn’t think he could ever hear enough of it.

“Sounds like Az. I’ll check in tomorrow,” he said. “But hey, before I forget, since we’re married anyway... would you be interested in going out sometime?” He hoped he hadn’t misread this shift between them, but he couldn’t let her leave here without asking.

She sat there for several agonizing seconds before leaning forward and pressing her lips softly to his. When she pulled back, her blue eyes were shining as she said, “Absolutely. I love that idea.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: I enjoyed writing a little fluff after that angsty multi-chapter. 😂 Let me know what y’all think! 

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, shoot me an ask, comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you! My tags have been acting up, but I’ve been emailing Tumblr about it. Hopefully that’s not a long-term issue. A girl can dream, right?

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader// @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash​

[julemmaes]

Pinky Promise - Chapter Four

A/N: I love them so much and if they don't kiss in the immediate future I'm gonna sue myself. This is some fluffy-whump shit I don’t even know, I tried to update earlier this time, I hope I didn’t fuck anything up and please please be nice if you don’t like the chapter cause today was hard - we found out my uncle is positive and my parents might be at risk (me as well) and it’s not good. Enjoy!:)

Fic masterlist

Word count: 4,779

Nesta sat on the armchair in Cassian's apartment and stared at the void, clutching her hands around her cup of tea.

She had been there for thirty minutes, joined by her boyfriend, and they had both said only a few words. She was terrified at the idea of having to force herself to listen to him and he, unaware of the battle that was raging inside her, seemed not to want to drop this crazy idea.

"I spoke with Feyre this morning," Nesta murmured. Cassian's head snapped up, a not too convinced smile flashed on his lips, inciting her to continue. "She told me I should listen to you."

The half smile turned into a proper one at her words, but he got serious when she gave him a dirty look, "Why?"

"She said that if you've gone so far as to call this insane mission of yours a dream, then it must be important." she held the cup even tighter between her fingers. Cassian followed the movement with his eyes, frowning. "She says I can't clip your wings. That it would do us more harm than the prospectus of you dying in combat, apparently." her sharp tone that of a woman who leaves no witnesses.

He stiffened in his seat, "Nes..."

"I'm not saying that she's right. I'm not going to give you my consent to do shit like that, not yet..." she pointed out, looking him straight in the eye, "But I want you to explain to me how it would work."

She saw the second hope ignited in his irises. The moment he knew that if he used the right words, if he pushed the right buttons, he would be able to make her give in. And Nesta wanted to shut herself down. She wanted to throw the cup against the wall and yell at him how stupid, stupid, stupid he had been to think such a thing.

She wanted to tear her hair out because the man in front of her was the only thing that hadn't brought her down in the last ten years and now he was slipping through her fingers, and she couldn't do anything to avoid it.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, pushing himself forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn't smiling openly, but she could see that the conversation was making him happy.

She licked her lips and saw him swallow.

They hadn't kissed in about four days and Nesta was counting the minutes since their mouths had touched before they started fighting, wondering if it would be the last one every second that passed.

"I want to know everything." she stammered, "What should you do now, right now, to prepare to join the army?"

He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up, "I'll have to take a medical examination, of course, and do a physical screening." He began, "This will be held in MEPS, which stands for Military Entrance Processing Station," Nesta had a feeling that she would remain silent for much of the explanation, without interfering. Not because she didn't want to, but because she could better absorb the information and all the acronyms he would spill on her.

As if she had been in class and they were explaining yet another protocol.

"I'll have to go there to process into the army." he looked her in the eye, "Basically, I'm gonna spend a night in an hotel, chosen by them. You can come visit me with the others, but you'll have to leave at ten and-" he stopped, arching his eyebrows, "Do you want the details of what I'm gonna do or?

She stopped him, "Please, tell me everything."

Something in her voice must have moved him, because he looked at her carefully before he resumed, "Alright, I'm gonna get a call at four in the morning, I'll get breakfast there at the hotel cause they do that for you," he said as if it were something to be applauded.

She snorted, "I think that's the least."

She wasn't ready to thank an organization that would surely destroy her family just because it would give her boyfriend a free breakfast.

Cassian glared, "And then we're all there at MEPS at five."

The fact that Cassian already saw a "we" in the army made her skin crawl.

"They'll assign me to a liason and that person is gonna explain what the day will entail and what we should expect."

He took a deep breath, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He did that so often, "Then, there's the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, that I'm gonna call ASVAB from now on. It is a mock test used to screen applicants to ensure that they mesure up to the high standards that are required."

And here it was, his recruiter voice. Nesta didn't think he would mention other propaganda videos, like the night before, but it seemed exactly like he was doing that while saying, "The main reason this test exists is because for Prythian Armed Forces it's important that they employ people who show strong levels of enthusiasm and skill." he winked at her and Nesta had to make an effort not to throw the cup at him, "You know, in order to maintain a great level of service and professionalism."

He puffed his cheeks, with thoughtful expression, tapping a finger on his lips, "There are nine subtests to this thing." And then he started counting on his fingers, "There are General Science, Arithmetic Reasoning, World Knowledge, Paragraph Comprehension, Mathematics Knowledge, Electronics Information, Auto and Shop Information, Mechanical Comprehension and Assembling Objects."

He stood up, took the phone at the center of the coffee table and passed it to her. She hesitantly picked it up and saw only a picture of a book, "There are plenty of sites and a specific book with sample questions I'll need to try out." he pointed the phone into her hands, "Just like a normal exam, same exact stuff."

He joked that he would need her to study, but she didn't change her expression, putting the phone on the coffee table and taking a sip of her tea.

"I'm gonna get a medical briefing and after that I have to get an exam with some physicians," he continued, "Once I'll be done with medical part-"

She interrupted him again, having to stop that dump of information that was being tossed at her, "And at this point you're not enlisted yet, are you?"

Cassian's smile turned soft, "No, baby, this is the moment they see if I'm suitable."

She nodded, "Got it."

He gave her the thumbs up, "Resuming, once I'm done with medical, I'll meet up with a counselor and that's the part where I negotiate a job. We'll talk about this later." he cracked his fingers, sighing, "With that being done, I'll go to the processing section, they'll do what they have to and at this point, I'll take the Oath of Enlistment, where I'd like you to be there."

He looked hopefully at her and Nesta closed her eyes, breathing through her nose.

Cassian stood up, approaching her. When she felt his hand on her leg, Nesta opened her eyes and saw him kneeling in front of her, his eyes glowing as he stared up at her.

"And then I'm gonna come home. To you." he whispered, stroking her thigh with his thumb, "And the first part will be done."

She moved her leg, fleeing his touch. She missed him too much and that hand, whether it was a strategy to soften her up, to make her lower her guard or simply because he missed touching her too, was messing with her brain.

Cassian swallowed noisily, clenching his hand in a fist and bringing it to his side. He stood up and sat down on the sofa, as close as possible to her armchair, "I'll return to the MEPS a second time, to begin my path on the army. A second medical inspection, a second oath and final processing and then I'll leave for BMT, which is Basic Military Training," he concluded.

Nesta looked across the room, toward the kitchen, where they had argued heavily just a few hours earlier. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, suddenly feeling weak.

His words appeared behind her eyelids, as clear as the sun.

We can always have children and pursue the careers we want.

He had seemed so sure of what he was saying.

We don't have to choose.

"Sooner or later we will have to..." she whispered.

Cassian pushed himself towards her, "Sorry I didn't hear that."

Nesta passed her hand over her face, "No, nothing," she sighed, "I was just thinking out loud."

He nodded, biting his upper lip.

"Is that why you've been training so hard?" she asked, remembering only then how much more he had actually started working out in the last few weeks. In the last few months.

Cassian responded positively and they continued talking for hours.

Nesta asked question after question: what would happen now, what would change in the immediate future in their lives, when was he supposed to leave Velaris - when was he supposed to leave here.

He explained to her what they were going to do. He would sign the contract for enlistment in a delayed entry so that he could leave in more than six months. So that they could plan everything calmly without the fear that he might be called to start Basic.

The departure date would have been decided together before he left for MEPS. He would apply for a career in the Transportation, Distribution & Logistics field as a Cargo Specialist.

Cassian had opened a web page on his phone and had her read what a job in that field involved.

"Cargo specialists ensure service members all over the world receive needed supplies and are themselves transferred safely and efficiently to their destinations. They are responsible for transferring or supervising the transfer of cargo to and from air, land, and water transport by manual and mechanical methods. They also plan and organize loading schedules." she read aloud.

Exactly what Declan was doing at that moment, he explained.

Cassian remained silent for a few minutes, allowing her time to assimilate any information he had given her. There was still so much to discuss that Nesta's head was bursting at the thought.

Before she could say anything about the fact that they were done for today, the door of the house opened and Azriel entered, with two vases so big that they covered his face, followed by a smiling Elain.

Cassian puffed and looked at her, whispering so that the others would not hear him, "I can't wait to have our own house," Nesta felt her heart implode, "so no one would ever come into the middle of our arguments to interrupt." she knew that his was a poor attempt to make her laugh, but she had completely turned her brain off.

She was used to talking about these things with him. Her heart hadn't hurt at the idea of the two of them just living together. Her whole body had hurt at the idea that in that house, there would only be her. No one else.

Even if they spent the next six months looking for the perfect house and found it, she would be alone.

Because Cassian would be overseas.

She turned to him, really looking at him and concentrating on the long black eyelashes that were fluttering fast.

She caught her breath, rising abruptly and Elain realized at that moment that she and Azriel were not alone. Both of them seemed more than surprised to find her in their living room, but, exchanging a quick glance, they decided not to say anything about it.

Azriel put the large vases on the floor, taking the smaller ones she was carrying out of Elain's hand, "Hello," greeted both of them and Cassian stood up in turn, turning to the newcomers and giving them a tight smile, "have you read the messages?" Azriel asked, taking off his coat and scarf that Elain had knitted for him.

Nesta smiled slightly.

It was Cassian who shook his head.

"Mor said that Manon arrived early. There was a misunderstanding with the time zones and they got confused with the days, but she's here anyway." Elain sounded excited, "Dinner at hers tonight."

"Fuck." Nesta murmured, running a hand over her face. She grunted in pain thinking of the headache she would have the next morning when she was due back at work. The week she spent at home on vacation had certainly made it easier for her to lay in bed without having to spend hours in the bookshop.

Cassian turned to her, slightly worried, "We don't have to go if you don't want to".

We.

Azriel looked closely at them and when he crossed Nesta's gaze, he sighed.

"We-" she began, "We?" she asked sarcastically, laughing in his face.

She was getting angry and had to try to control all the emotions roaring inside her.

After all the things he had decided without her, there was still an us. Apparently.

Cassian seemed to be in trouble, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "You don't have to come if you don't feel well." he corrected himself, "I'm sure Mor can arrange a meeting with just the three of you."

Nesta looked him in the face, clenching her jaw, "I'm going."

Elain let go an excited scream and went up to her, "I'm glad you're coming too."

They exchanged a quick hug and the older one almost cried.

She didn't realize how much the lack of physical contact weighed on her. And how more than half of that contact came from Cassian.

***

"Hey girls, come on in!" Mor greeted Nesta and Feyre with a bright smile on her lips.

As soon as they entered the house, they smelled the smell of baked pasta and both their mouths watered.

"Amren and Varian are in the kitchen with Manon and Rhys is wandering around the house somewhere, so," she told them, informing them on who was already there. Then she took one look at Nesta, "You're sure you and Cassian can stay in the same room without jumping at each other's throats?"

Feyre giggled next to them, shutting up immediately when Nesta looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

She turned to Mor, "He promised me he wouldn't bring up the army topic tonight and I promised him I wouldn't get mad about anything he said, so there shouldn't be any problems."

The blonde didn't seem so convinced, but then someone called her from the kitchen and her face lit up. She grabbed them both by the hand and dragged them into the other room, where a tall girl, with almost blinding white hair, was standing with a pan in her hand. When she saw them, she opened her eyes wide and flashed them a smile.

Feyre raised her hand in greeting and Nesta smiled tightly.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry," Mor approached Manon, taking the food and placing it in the center of the table.

"Baby, these are two of the three sisters, Nesta," she said, pointing to the eldest, who reached out to Manon to shake her hand, "and Feyre, the youngest of our group."

"Pleased to meet you," murmured Feyre, blushing under the inquisitive gaze of Manon.

The girl smirked, "The pleasure is all mine." then she turned to Mor, "Our Morrigan told me that you were all very beautiful, but I didn't think I'd join a group of models."

Amren, who hadn't taken her eyes off Nesta until then, snickered, "And we're the modest ones, just wait until Rhys and Cass are in the same room and we'll have a hard time breathing from how much space their egos will take up."

Feyre laughed, "You say that as if Azriel didn't know he was the most charming one in the group," then turned to Varian, "Nothing personal," she joked, sitting between Amren and Mor. The boy shook his head smiling, always with his silent manner.

"At least dear Az remains humble and does not go around proclaiming himself Miss Velaris," said Mor.

"It happened only once and I was drunk off my ass."

Rhysand entered the kitchen with his usual grin on his face, sitting next to Nesta.

He greeted the sisters with a quick smile, and she saw Feyre smiling back as if they hadn't yelled at each other five nights earlier.

She looked around, trying to figure out if she had missed something in the last few days or if she was really the only one who just couldn't let things go.

It was true, she wasn't going to cause Mor any trouble that night and she certainly wasn't going to spoil everyone's dinner by arguing with Cassian, but she wasn't going to pretend it was all okay either. Looking at each person at that table, however, it seemed that the fight that everyone had heard had never happened.

They were talking about the university and the jobs they had and Manon seemed more than calm and comfortable in that group. Feyre, strangely enough, was the one who was the most involved in the conversation and Nesta realized with no small apprehension that it must have been because Tamlin didn't let her make new friends so often.

Manon was a flower that had just bloomed in the burnt lawn that was her sister's life.

When the other three arrived, Azriel had one arm around Elain's shoulders and Cassian, behind them, had shiny eyes. Nesta knew very well that he was not crying or drunk. That was the face Cassian had when he was exhausted and only two days of deep sleep could fix that.

Manon and Mor had got up to make introductions and Nesta had burst out laughing when the newcomer had extended her hand to Az and said, "You must be Lucien. You and Elain are a splendid couple."

Elain laughed and shrugged Azriel off, "Oh, no. He is Azriel. Lucien's not coming tonight."

Mor had cast a long look at her girlfriend and Manon had apologized, smirking, as if she had done it on purpose.

Nesta knew very well that the blonde in their group often talked about the relationships-non-relations within their circle, so Manon must have known that no one in that house really believed that Elain loved Lucien. At least, no one in that house believed that Lucien was the right person for Elain.

There was a time when Nesta was convinced that he was going to propose to her. That sweet little Ellie would finally leave the nest and build her family elsewhere, but whenever she was asked questions about their relationship, she seemed indifferent. She cared about Lucien, she did, and it was obvious.

But maybe that wasn't enough anymore.

Azriel had introduced himself for who he really was and then rushed to the table, sitting next to her, red from head to toe. Nesta bent over to him, making a joke about what had just happened, and then whispered, "Thank you." Azriel raised a confused eyebrow. "For sitting here," she pointed to the chair, "I didn't want to have to spend the whole evening next to him."

He smiled at her, clutching her knee under the table and reassuring her that it was not a problem.

When they all sat back down to eat, Manon was looking at her and smiling at her in a reassuring way. Whatever Mor had told her, the white-haired girl knew more about them all than she let on.

Cassian didn't speak to her the whole time, too lost to have a chat with Varian and she was grateful that both of them were sitting on the same side of the table, because she didn't risk crossing his gaze, not once.

Also because she was sure that if he looked at her even for a moment, he would notice that something was wrong and that Nesta was not feeling well.

When Mor put the wine on the table, half of them refused the alcohol, finding a plausible excuse that they would all have to work the next day, but Nesta knew every person at that table like the back of her hand and she knew that Feyre had refused because she would have argued with Tamlin if she drank without him being there. Elain would bring up things that weren't supposed to go out in such a context and she and Cassian would start fighting, driven by the liquid courage in their glasses.

Halfway through the meal, Nesta got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as she shut the door behind her, she sighed closing her eyes.

Cassian was right when he told her that she should not come. Her headache was getting worse and she couldn't concentrate on anything that was being said.

She sat on the closed toilet and put her hands to her face.

She felt her fingertips tingling and her stomach hurt so much that she would not be surprised if she vomited all over the table when she got back.

She had to go home and sleep and not think about anything.

She heard the others burst out laughing and suppressed a groan of pain when her ears started ringing.

She was dying, she could feel it.

She came out of the bathroom staggering, almost as if she were high on drugs.

Leaning on the wall for support she managed to return to the kitchen and covered her eyes with one hand, sheltering herself from the light. She coughed to call Mor's attention and they all turned towards her.

Nesta sighed for the umpteenth time, "I'm really sorry but I don't feel so good and I'd rather go home," she stepped to the table, approaching Manon and offering her a tired smile, "It was nice to meet you, I hope you can come back soon and visit us."

She had no idea what she was saying, the ringing in her ears became louder and louder.

Cassian stood up and everyone's attention shifted to him, "Do you want me to give you a ride?" he was already slipping out of his seat.

Nesta shook her head, grimacing, "No, there's no need-"

"You're sick, you shouldn't drive in these conditions," said Amren, looking at her severely.

Feyre came to her aid, "If you want I can take you. I can go out with them tomorrow," she said, pointing to her friend and her visiting girlfriend. Mor nodded, looking at her pale face and looking more concerned than necessary.

"Nesta," whispered Cassian, "please."

The fact that no one was making fun of him for literally begging her to drive her home made her realize that others had also sensed the emotion in his voice.

She looked him in the eye and nodded slightly with her head.

She saw Cassian sag with relief and then he was gone to the other room, fetching their stuff for her. She arranged with the sisters how they would return home and Azriel reassured her that one way or another they would safely go home. This made her slightly agitated as Azriel wore that stupid sneer he had every time he exaggerated with wine. Elain told her that she would be driving, since both Az and Rhys did not seem to be properly sober, and Nesta calmed down. She was about to thank Mor again when she felt the weight of the jacket on her shoulders.

She turned and smiled gently at Cassian, who had a tired and worried look on his face and shifted his gaze over her cheeks as if he could find the illness on her skin and remove it only by willpower.

He put his arm around her shoulders when she got dressed and said goodbye to everyone one last time, while Nesta, tired of being angry and on the verge of another hysterical crisis, snuggled up against him, letting herself be dragged out of the apartment and into the car.

As soon as she sat down, she leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes, yawning.

"Let me," Cassian murmured to her. He looked at her hopefully and it took her a few seconds to realize that he was asking her if he could fasten her seatbelt. She nodded almost imperceptibly, swallowing when he smiled at her and stretched over her to reach the other side of the seat.

She breathed the air deeply and had to close her eyes tightly when his scent ran over her and tears made their way under her eyelids.

She missed him so much.

Cassian closed her door carefully and then went around the car, settling down behind the wheel.

Like the last time they had been in the car together, he was not putting the keys in the patch and she was getting nervous.

She didn't have the strength to argue at that moment and if Cassian had offered to accompany her and she had accepted without too much fuss, it meant that her body knew it too.

"What is it?" he asked her finally, starting the car.

Nesta looked at him from the side, with a lost look, "Everything hurts, I think I might have a fever".

Throwing her a look full of worry, he said, "Why don't you close your eyes for a while? I'll wake you up when we get to your house."

She nodded and leaned her forehead against the cold window.

It wasn't long before she fell asleep, lulled by the gentle humming of Cassian and the rocking movement of the car.

When she woke up, she was no longer in the seat of her boyfriend's Jeep, but someone was carrying her and her head fell right and left as she was being bounced up the stairs. She tried to open her eyes and recognized the stairwell of her building.

She had her head resting on his chest, one arm around her back and one under her legs to support her.

"Sssh," he murmured into her hair, "we are almost there."

She grunted in pain, whimpering and almost crying when Cassian had to put her down to get the keys and open the front door. Her feet touched the ground and she leaned completely against him, gasping against his chest.

She didn't even have the strength to touch him and her arms were dangling along her sides. It was as if her legs had become jelly, she couldn't stand on her own.

"Sweetheart," he called her and she moaned, "I know, I'm sorry," he rubbed his hands on her back, stroking her gently, "but you have to give me a moment to open the door. So I can take you inside and you can sleep."

Nesta couldn't see anything and if she tried to keep her eyes open, everything would spin, but she still heard the hint of panic in his voice and could picture the worry painted on his face. Clenching her teeth she pulled herself away from Cassian and backed against the wall, "Hurry up," she said through her teeth.

The door was opened in a second and then Cassian picked her up without her even noticing. He took her directly to her room and as soon as she touched the bed, she sighed, pressing her face against the pillow.

Cassian took off her shoes and pants, helping her slip into her pajamas and covering her legs with the comforter. When he tried to pull her up to sit down, Nesta twisted, her head pounding.

"I know everything hurts, but if I let you sleep in your bra, tomorrow your ribs will hurt even more," he explained to her, sitting on the mattress, "Lean on me and I'll take care of it, Nes," she laid down, her head turned to the other side.

She heard him sigh and then Cassian's arms wrapped around her chest. She leaned completely against him with her eyes closed as she cried silently. The pain had reached overwhelming levels.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she heard him murmuring when she sobbed.

Once he had removed her shirt and bra and put the top of her pajamas on, he laid her gently on the bed and put the comforter on her so that she was not exposed to the cold.

She felt Cassian's lips on her forehead a second before sleep took over.

“I promise we’ll get through this, too.”

acotar tag list (if you want to be removed or added just send an ask or dm me)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron 

[thelostgalaxyinspace]

“Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you.” Please and thank you!

I really hope you enjoy! I’ve worked hard to make this a great fic that I think you’ll love! This was a great prompt and I am super into writing this! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992875/chapters/45100597 (if you want to keep up with the chapters, if not, your prompt is below!) 

*******************************************************************************************

Jyn Erso had long hair. It was dark and reached down to the bottom of her shoulder blades, but most people would never have guessed it because she always kept it up. Her mother used to braid it every single night before Jyn went to sleep.  

“It keeps the knots out, Stardust,” she would whisper softly and press a gentle kiss to her head. Jyn didn’t care if her hair was knotted until the first night it got tangled, which was also the first night her mother wasn’t there to braid it.  

Jyn took her hair out when she hid in the bunker. She decided that if she was bad enough maybe her mother would just have to wake up and come to yell at her not to let her hair down like that. So Jyn took her hair out of it’s braids and sat there in the glow of the lantern, wishing it would knot faster.

When the metal grate had opened and Saw offered her a hand to help her out, her hair was matted and knotted and stringy.

The first night, she was given clothing that was too big, food that her parents would never have let her eat, a red soda pop with Aurebesh lettering on the front, and a wooden brush to untangle her hair.

She finished the food and wore the clothing and tried to untangle her hair by herself, but it was too knotted and it hurt too much and she couldn’t reach the back. That night, she went to find Saw, who was poured over a few maps in his quarters on the ship. He let her in, but she didn’t move from her spot by the door.    

“What’s wrong, child?” He had asked her and put the maps down. She shifted awkwardly and thought about how her mother had told her she could trust him. Anyone her mother liked must have been good because her parents did not have friends. Quickly and abruptly, she shoved the hair comb she’d been given forward.   

“Do you know how to braid hair?” She asked softly. He hadn’t moved from his desk and stared her down, for a few minutes. She could feel her chest clamp up and suddenly, she regretted coming into the room, very, very much. So she started talking, rambling like she did when she was in trouble at home, when her mama had yelled at her and when papa had raised his eyebrows asking if she was sorry. Somehow, Saw’s look was worse and she had only just met him. “It doesn’t need to be pretty, that’s okay, but mama used to braid it every night so it didn’t get tangled and I don’t think I can braid it myself and it’s all tangled now and I love my hair and my mama did too and I don’t want to cut it and-” Saw cut her off without even speaking. He raised a hand for her to be quiet and immediately she did. He motioned for her to come sit in front of him and tentatively, Jyn crossed the room’s distance. He held out his hand for the comb and she placed it in his hand.    

“I can brush it for you,” he said. “But I don’t know how to braid it.” Jyn nodded as the comb pulled through her hair sharply and she stared to the front of the room where Saw’s bed was.

“I’m sorry it’s tangled,” she said softly. He pulled another knot out. Jyn flinched and looked down at the ground.  

“I’m sorry it’s tangled, sir,” he corrected and Jyn nodded quickly. Mama had told her to be respectful of people older than she was and this man was certainly older than she was.   

“Sir,” she affirmed. Trying it out on her tongue. She had never called anyone by a title in her life and she didn’t think she liked it, but Saw was helping her and he was a friend of her parent’s so she would try to make him happy. “Sir,” she said again. She wanted to make sure it was perfect.   

“Yes,” he nodded and pulled on another knot. Jyn cleared her throat.  

“I’m sorry it’s tangled, sir.” She kept her head up and she heard a small chuckle from Saw. She smiled too.  

“You were down there for some time, child. I would expect your hair to be the last thing you were worried about.” Jyn shrugged, eyes still downcast and legs crossed tightly.  

“I was kind of worried about it,” she said and then looked down at the ground. “I thought that if I let it get tangled then mama would come back to yell at me but you said she’s gone forever now.” Saw sighed a long and deep sigh. He leaned forward and put the comb down.

“I lost my sister. To the same fight your mother gave her life for. We can’t bring them back but we can win the war. You’re still very young, Jyn, but you’ll learn. I will teach you and I will take care of you, child. You will learn to be respectful, useful, and as good as a soldier as any of my men,” Saw said as he ran the brush through her hair a last time. Jyn nodded. She promised herself right then and there that she would. If someone so strong, so big, and so important could take the time to brush her hair now, she would take the time to be the best soldier he’d ever seen.

Jyn didn’t think she’d ever lost that draw, that desire to be the best. It was a fierce, competitive fire that raged and grew whether she was playing Sabacc with Bodhi or shooting targets with Cassian or sparring with Han. When she wasn’t the best, she could feel herself losing control, feel a tension freeze her where she was less than she thought she should be. After all, if she wasn’t the best, it was easier to be abandoned, to be hurt, or to be left and now that she had people she cared about, that was the last thing she wanted.

She was the best at a lot of things. She was the fastest on the pathfinders and easily one of the best fighters. She was quick with her words and famously the best at riding Tauntaun. What she was not the best at, was undercover work. She wasn’t bad, far from it, but she wasn’t the best and it took her some time to get used to it.   

She didn’t used to like undercover work. When she first started at Echo Base, they didn’t have anywhere else to out her, so they put her with Cassian, on the field for intelligence work. Jyn hated it at first, not just because she wasn’t the best, but because she wasn’t even good. There was too much politics and too much playing nice and not enough of an adrenaline surge, but Cassian had wanted her on the field with him and it was enlist or leave, so she enlisted. Besides, she liked trusting someone to have her back, so she wore whatever dress they told her too, smiled as bright as she could, and bought a drink for any informant they needed to get a read on.

It became a game to her and that was when she first started to like it. When she was able to think about everything like a game that she could win, it got easier. Jyn Erso would never have laughed and batted her eyes in a dark bar, but Kestrel Dawn did and Jyn Erso couldn’t light up a room with a look, but Tanith Pontha had such a beautiful smile, that people couldn’t help but stare and when she became someone else, it was easy to win the trust of whoever she needed too, because Jyn Erso might not have been very trustworthy, but everyone of her aliases were.

Ever since Scariff, Jyn hadn’t liked herself very much, so espionage gave her a chance to be someone better, someone who knew her place in the galaxy, someone who knew that she deserved to walk off that beach.

When Cassian first got the mission, Jyn had put twenty credits on the fact that she knew she could outdrink Han Solo and she knew she could because that was another thing that she was the best at. She didn’t worry about Cassian when he didn’t join her like he promised after, his briefings usually ran late and Baze had walked her back to the room.

Jyn woke up to the sound of the refresher and the smell of Trillium soap. It was a sharp pine scent, one that Cassian never would have picked for himself and that was when she knew he was going undercover. She frowned and pushed herself out of bed, walking to the bathroom door and gently pushing on it. The door zipped open, letting out a small cloud of steam. Jyn slipped into the bathroom and let the door close behind her. Cassian turned around from the stream of water and looked at her, his face was a neutral, as opposed to the small smile he usually greeted her with. Jyn, in turn, frowned and tried to hide the hurt that she felt quickly flash across her face. He hadn’t look at her like that since she moved in. It was the same face he used on informants and when he was on missions.

“Good morning,” he said softly and Jyn sighed and crossed her arms.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Is it? You seem off.” She slowly started to peel her shirt off so she could get in the shower with him, but Cassian shook his head and reached out, arm wet and not seeming to care as he laid it on Jyn’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” he said quickly. “Not now.” Jyn frowned deeper.

“Cassian, what’s wrong?” She asked and took a step closer to the refresher. She was worried not because he’d stopped looking at her and was instead fixated on the beads of water dripping down the walls. He blinked and turned to face the her.

“Jyn,” he breathed. “I was going to wake you in a little to say goodbye. I’ll only be gone a few days.” She sat down on the ground and crossed her legs.

“Draven give you a briefing?” She asked. Something was wrong, she could feel it, she just didn’t know what. He nodded. “What’s the mission?” He looked back at her.

“Three days on Savatis Prime,” he said and reached out for the red bottle of soap again. Jyn bit her lip in thought. Savatis Prime was a small planet on the outer rim. Savatis was hot and arid with a small village. Recently, it had started to become a hotbed for building explosives because when you dug in the caves, you could find pure Litoxal, a highly explosive chemical. Jyn had been there with Saw once, it was a strange mix of industrial and indigenous and Jyn hadn’t liked it. It was bright and dry and hot and there were three orange moons.

“Are you meeting a contact there?” She asked. “I’ve been before, if you want me to come and maybe-”

“Jyn, you’re not coming.” His voice was sharp and strong. He stepped out of the refresher, turned it off, and took a towel, hanging up, to wrap around himself. Jyn crossed her arms. Cassian sighed. He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you before I left.”

They never spoke that frankly and even though they’d kissed and shared quarters, Jyn had yet to tell him she loved him. She knew it hurt him. She knew every time he said it, whether it was casual after training when they were both grinning and sweating or whispered in her ear in Festian, he meant it and wished she’d say it back, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t bring herself to say it back. Not after the first time he said it she stole a ship and tried to leave planet. Cassian promised her that letting him say it was a step in the right direction, but it still left her stomach in a knot when she got this upset over words.      

“Why can’t I come, Cassian?” She narrowed her eyes and tightened her crossed arms around her body.  

“Because you don’t rank as high as me.” He walked over to the mirror and picked up the small plastic razor to even his facial hair. Jyn crossed her arms and scoffed.

“You’ve never cared about that before. We make a good team,” she pressed and leaned against the wall. Cassian refused to meet her eyes, averting his to the sink. He started running the water to shave and Jyn frowned. “Cassian, I could-”

“I said no, Jyn!” He slammed the razor down and turned to face her. His breathing had quickened, but his face was neutral. The clatter of the razor caused her to blink and she didn’t realize that he was bleeding until she looked from where the razor lay on the floor to his face. She picked up the washcloth from the counter and closed the distance between them.

“Ok,” she said softly and nodded. “Okay, Cassian.” Jyn reached out with the washcloth to wipe the small cut on his cheek he made with the razor. Cassian put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.                 

“Jyn,” he said softly. “You’re doing better. Let’s just keep it that way.” He let go of her shoulders and turned back to the mirror. Jyn sat down on the ground.

“Just tell me what’s going on. I won’t make a scene.” Cassian turned around to face her. He’d put on his briefs and was in the process of buttoning up black imperial uniform trousers. The wet towel lay on the ground, pooling water next to where Jyn sat.

“We’re not doing this now.” He shook his head. “It’s a classified mission.”

“Cassian! Tell me what is going on!” She could feel herself starting to make a scene.

“Nothing concerning you,” his voice stayed low but she could hear the strain in it. He reached for the white undershirt and pulled it over his head. He smoothed it out and tucked it in and did his belt and then knelt down in front of her. “We’re in a good place and we’re getting better. Just let yourself heal.” He reached out and brushed some of her hair off of her face and tucked it behind your ear. Jyn leaned forward.

“Cassian, if you want whatever this is to last, you need to talk to me.” She took his hand. “Please don’t leave me in the dark.” The unspoken sentiment, that she didn’t think, now that she had tasted what it felt like to have a home and a family, she could do it again. She didn’t think she’d be able to revert to the shell of what she was now again. Jyn tried to convey it with the sentence she said and then she bit her lip because she knew if she opened her mouth again all of those words would come tumbling out and those were more damning than even telling someone you loved them. Cassian rose up from where she sat on the bathroom.

“The file is on my desk. Third drawer down. It’s not long.” Jyn rose up from the ground. Cassian picked the washcloth up to press it against his cut again. He grabbed Jyn’s hand before she was able to exit the refresher. “Don’t make a scene, Jyn,” he warned, leaving her to wonder why she would need too.         

[elentiya-ashryver-galathynius]

Nesta Archeron

Warning – there are major spoilers ahead

 So I saw a few post commenting on how horrible Rhys and Feyre acted towards Nesta in the sneak peek and I completely disagree. And thus my first lengthy rant about a fictional character.

First of all, I should say, that Nesta is an amazingly written character. She has her priorities (that being mostly Elain), and acts accordingly. She is stubborn, but can and did change her mind about many things. She seems fearless (not afraid of Amren, disregarding High Lords, freely stating her opinions and threatening everyone, and finally – fighting with the King of Hybern). But we learn, that that’s an act. She fears many things (e.g. she admits to Feyre, that she is afraid to go into a bathtub), just doesn’t let everyone around her know about that. Similar to Feyre, isn’t she? But Feyre learned to rely on those who love and care about her, and Nesta is somehow unable to.

So, Nesta is really well-written and beloved by many fans. I, however, have a bit of a problem with her. I really like her interactions with Cassian and Amren, but to the rest (except of course Elain and sometimes Feyre) she is really offensive practically all the time, or just plainly ignores them. And that behaviour really irks me and is what I don’t like about her. I get it, that she is meant to be that way, but irritates me nonetheless. And it’s not mainly about her behaviour, but about the fact, that she doesn’t really want to change. She focuses on herself and Elain and doesn’t see anything beside them. She was slowly starting to adjust to her new life and the Inner Circle in acowar, and then the fight with the king happened.

And so we have our new acofas Nesta, who has withdrawn herself so much, that she treats even Elain poorly. Her only link with the Inner Circle is Amren, but we learn in the sneak peek, that some argument happened between them and now even that link is broken. But I did jump ahead just a bit, so let me return to acofas.

Nesta has a really serious depression.

There was anger, occasionally. Sharp, hot anger that sliced her.

But most of the time it was silence.

Ringing, droning silence.

She hadn’t felt anything in months. Had days when she didn’t really know where she was or what she’d done. They passed swiftly and yet dripped by.

She drinks heavily and beds any male who comes her way to feel something, but also to forget what happened. She still has nightmares about her and Elain being turned and probably remembers beheading the King, but what haunts her the most is her father’s death.

But I tried—one last time. For Elain’s sake. “Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

She could barely stand to hear the crack and pop of the wood. Had barely been able to endure it in Feyre’s town house. Snap; crunch.

How no one ever remarked that it sounded like breaking bones, like a snapping neck, she had no idea.

So she drowns in her misery, hating everyone who is happy. Even Elain. She did not state that she hates them, but her envy turns into an anger, and anger will eventually turn into hate. (who also thought of that star wars quote just now?)

“She just said … She said that we have our lives, and she has hers.”

To say that to me, fine. But to Elain?

She doesn’t even care that she hurts the one person she loves the most, in fact I think she wanted to hurt her. She is angry, that Elain joined the Inner Circle. It feels like a betrayal.

Nesta watched warily from her chair, Elain’s present—her only present—in her lap. Her spine stiffened slightly. Not at the words, but at Elain, laughing with them. With us.

And this is the main problem. Nesta is depressed and slowly wastes away. She is angry at everyone  - that they moving on and trying to be happy - and pushes them all away, but also hates the fact that she is slowly being included from everything. She is offered help many times from everyone, but refuses, because it’s easier to just be angry and blame others.

I think that her anger and pride are her undoing. When they were humans, Feyre took care of her and rest of the family. Nesta was allowed to be angry and prideful all the time and it didn’t have consequences. Feyre would never let them suffer and didn’t care that her efforts weren’t being gratified. She had a promise to keep and only three people she cared about.

But now everything changed. Now Feyre is responsible for many – humans and fae alike. Also she nearly lost everything dear and learned to treasure herself and her newfound happiness in the process. And that is the case for all in the Inner Circle. They want to help, but after constantly being pushed away they just give up and decide to give Nesta time (as Amren suggested). Selfish and comfortable? Absolutely, but remember that all of them have their own nightmares and losses. All of them are tired after the war and want some peace.

And remember how Nesta treats them. In acomaf she treats Feyre as a danger to Elain and her, insults all the fae and then ignores Rhys’ Inner Circle. In acowar she patronizes Mor for being friendly and for her choice of clothing, constantly threatens everyone who want anything from Elain, insults Cassian and mostly ignores Rhys and Azriel. To Feyre she gradually warms up, but still has her issues that we don’t know. In acofas she either ignores everyone, or is being a bitch to them.

So why would they want to help her desperately? They do try, mostly because Nesta’s behaviour pains Feyre, but then even Feyre and Elain give up. And also they all love Feyre and hate how Nesta treated her in the past and how she does now. Rhys said more than once, that he can’t forgive her, and I think Mor and Azriel think the same.

Now then, let’s talk about the sneak peek. We obviously don’t know much about what happened by the time of that scene taking place. Nesta had a serious argument with Amren, and thus nearly completely severed ties with the Inner Circle. She isn’t invited to events and included in their lives anymore (just like she said she wanted) and is extremely bitter about it. She notices, that in Feyre’s house there are paintings of everyone the painter holds dear – except her. Nesta goes to the meeting and she expects scolding (she mentions signing outrageous tab to her sister’s account), but she doesn’t care. She think that the High Lord and Lady are capable only of idle threats.

At the meeting Feyre tries to talk to her, but Nesta’s attitude pisses Rhys off and then she starts to fear. That is the part many people don’t like. But I think Rhys’ anger is completely reasonable. He hates when somebody treats Feyre like that, and this somebody happens to be her own sister. What infuriates him even more is the fact, that even after all this his mate still wants to help and is completely disregarded. He does not hurt Nesta, only commands her to sit and listen.

Then, Feyre tries to talk to her. Admits that her behaviour is partially her fault, because she wasn’t there for her. Tells her, that she understands how is she feeling, to which Nesta snaps. And that I understand, because she wouldn’t know. She wouldn’t know this, because Feyre never really shown any vulnerability, never broke down in front of her. She was always the strong one, always taking care of them all. Feyre told her sisters what happened UtM, but they never saw what Rhys and the rest of her friends did – how broken she was. And I think that it was worse than Nesta, because Feyre hated herself. Nesta blames everything on others and direct her hate to them. That’s why, while her current state feels miserable, she manages.

And I think, that Nesta should see Inner Circle’s memories of her sister. Not only because she should finally fucking apologize to Feyre and thank her for all she’s done, but also to know that even the strongest people have hard days, and that you can beat it. It takes time and care from your friends, but you can be happy again. But you have to fight for it.

Finally, the controversial decision of banishing Nesta from Velaris. I completely agree. And why? Because, when other methods fail, sometimes people have to kick you, for you to get up again. Everyone tried to be understanding and gave Nesta time. It didn’t work – even worsened the situation. So they had to resort to more drastic measures. Also, Nesta is addicted to drinking and sex. This does not help with her depression. The Illyrian War Camp, with its discipline and harsh conditions will clear her mind and whatever work she will do will push away unwanted thoughts. Additionally, she really needs to talk with Cassian, and there she will have nowhere to run.

To sum up:

Right now Nesta irritates me, mostly because of the fact, that even if you have your issues, no matter how serious they are, this does not entitle you to behave like a jerk. I think that Rhys’ anger was justified, and that Feyre’s decision will result in positive development. I believe, that Nesta should have her own (long) novel, where sjm explains why she is like that in the first place and to write her slowly changing and curing. I know, that all the nessian fans want mostly the mating bond and all, but I wholeheartedly wish for Nesta to make peace with Feyre and find her happiness before any romance.

[rxbxlcaptain]

#26? :) xxx {roguewrath}

26: “I think I’ve been holding myself from falling in love with you all over again.”

Wow, I am so sorry about how long it took me to write this. I just went down a fairly sentimental path for this one, and it turns out that’s how I get really stuck on a piece of writing. I’m still not sure this is exactly how I want it to be, but it needed to be published.

I’ve decided to do a throwback for this prompt! A long, long time ago (like, April) I wrote Logos and Pathos, based off the prompt “Temptation”, where Draven just shy of orders Cassian to make his relationship with Jyn official and stop creating drama around the Rebellion because of it. I had several people ask me for a continuation from Jyn’s POV and I swore I was going to do it, but I just… never got around to it, I suppose? My writing brain is weird sometimes my apologies really.

But, now, I DID IT. Have Jyn’s perspective on a proposal that, well, may or mat not go the direction Cassian was hoping. 

Warning: You’ll likely want to read Logos and Pathos first!

AO3

“What did you want to talk about?” Jyn asked as sheand Cassian slid into seats in the mess hall. Cassian had met her as her shippulled into Echo base’s hanger – nothing unusual there – with his face lit up byan overeager smile – again, nothing unusual. What had been unusual was hisreason why. Cassian wasn’t one for overly sappy sentiments, or at least inpublic places, but she’d expected the reason for his smile to be different than“something Draven said a few weeks ago.”

And now, with Cassian recoiling (not physically,perhaps, but Jyn watched him retreat within his mental shell, hiding his openemotion from the hanger behind the practiced “spy face”) she had absolutely noguess what that statement meant. It’s not like she and Draven were famousaround base for getting along. In fact, most of the rebels would be lesssurprised by Jyn and Draven falling into an all-out snowball fight than by her willinglyfollowing his advice.

Cassian looked as if he were going to begin but,after opening and closing his mouth twice, averted his eyes to the table.Rather than answering her question, he instead asked, “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful,” she responded, “But now you’re makingme nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Cassian assured her. “Nothing’swrong.”

“In the hanger—” Jyn pointed a finger back in thedirection they’d came “—I believed that. Now you’re acting weird.”

Silence overcame the table for a few moments beforeCassian peeked up at her from under the fringes of his hair. He cleared histhroat lightly before beginning. “Draven’s a bit concerned about ourrelationship.”

Jyn’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead inresponse, though Cassian missed the expression by dropping his eyes back to thetable. “Did you tell him to go to hell?”

“No,” Cassian said with a slight smile (Jyn couldn’tdecide if that calmed the livid thumping of her heart or if it angered her more),“That would be your job. And it’s not what you think.”

“Draven didn’t give you an ultimatum about howbeing romantically involved with a known rogue and ex-Partisan was going tomake you more vulnerable and if you knew what was good for you you’d neverspeak to me again?” Jyn didn’t bother to disguise the sarcastic anger drippingfrom her voice.

“No.” Cassian shook his head, entirely too calm forJyn’s liking. His fingers traced aimless patterns along the tabletop, nervousin a way that Jyn never saw him. Part of her wanted to grab his fidgetingfingers. She stayed still instead. “He didn’t say anything like that at all.”

“Then what could General Davits Draven have to sayabout our relationship, if it’s not ‘Get one of my best agents away from JynErso’?”

Cassian finally dared looking up at her again. “He …suggested that we make it official.”

Jyn stared at him. “Marriage?” Her voice taintedthe word with disdain. Cassian hid it well, but, for a moment, Jyn was certainshe saw him flinch at the tone of her voice. “Draven suggested we get married?”

“He made some logical points, Jyn, and…”

Jyn didn’t let Cassian finish. Too many emotions –nothing like the cool logical Cassian was speaking of – coiled in her gut; finishingthis discussion with him right now would be disastrous for both of them. With ashake of her head, Jyn pushed back from the table, despite Cassian’s protestsand attempt to grab her arm.

She stormed out of the mess hall with no cleardestination in mind, shoulder checking several pilots in her path on the wayout.

Cassian didn’t attempt to call her back.

Jyn found her way to the training room. Since she’djust returned from a mission, no other members of her squadron were in theroom. They, likely, were taking the rest of the day to sleep and eat and shower– all the things she should be doing right now, if only her heartbeat weren’trunning so high and her hands itching to punch something. 

Hemade some logical points, Jyn…

General Draven could keep his logical points, Jynthought as she jabbed at a punching bag. If Jyn had been looking for logic,Cassian wouldn’t be in her life. Hell, the Alliance itself – her rank, herposition within it, the missions she ran at the risk of her own life – wouldn’tbe in her life at all if logic dictated her actions. She would have boltedbefore the Scarif mission, the second her obligation to the Alliance for savingher from Wobani was fulfilled.

Instead, she’d led a suicide mission to Scarif. She’djoined its ranks once she escaped the bacta tanks, and she’d allowed herself togrow close to the members of her team. More than the magnetic pull Cassian hadon her – and she on him – Jyn found herself relying on Bodhi’s easy company andthe optimistic presence of Chirrut. Baze’s sure aim and K-2SO’s statisticalsupport (or was annoyance the right word?) kept her back safe, and, forthe first time in years, Jyn didn’t need to check over her shoulder constantly.

She’d followed her heart for the first time inyears and life gave her the satisfaction of the destruction of her father’sweapon, the rank of sergeant, and a man who waited on the tarmac of whereverthe Alliance called home with a smile and a “Welcome home.”

The last thing she wanted now was logicalreclaiming that relationship, not when she’d needed to work past that in thebeginning.

Marriage. Jyn hadn’t considered marriage since she’d seenher parents’ marriage end with a blaster bolt to her mother’s chest. But whenshe considered it – considered the smile her father saved exclusively for hermother or the way her mother laughed as her father told a joke that really wasn’tfunny at all – it seemed more like a fairy tale told to children. Somethingdoomed to fail from the start.

Minutes faded into an hour and the limited crowd inthe room thinned until Jyn was one of the last remaining in the training room. Hermuscles ached and her knuckles showed early signs of bruising, but Jyn wasstill reluctant to leave. Leaving meant returning to the room she and Cassianshared and it meant they’d need to finish their conversation.

With a sigh, Jyn straightened her shoulders andtook a deep breath. She battled Stormtroopers and the entire force of theEmpire on a regular basis; handling a terrifying conversation with Cassianshould she tame in comparison.

“Jyn,” Cassian said as the door to their quartersslid open. He sat up quickly from where he’d been lounging on the bed, hisvoice caught between relief and surprise. “I … wasn’t sure you’d come backtonight.” 

“I always come back,” Jyn replied with a shrug,heading to the wardrobe to get a change of clothes, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’llalways come back home.”

You’remy home, she hoped heunderstood. Even if we fight, even if we’re both idiots, even if I’m stillangry. This is where I belong.

Her words must have given him hope, because Cassianapproached her as she grabbed a set of sleep clothes. When he grabbed her armthis time, Jyn didn’t pull away, only gave him an intense look, trusting hewould understand the implied You have five seconds to speak before you losethis hand. His voice was pleading as he spoke. “Just… hear me out.”

“I’m listening,” she informed him coolly, her armscrossed in front of her chest. “But if you’re going to start talking aboutlogic again…”

“I’m not,” Cassian assured her, shaking his head. “Iwouldn’t.” His hands ran through his hair anxiously, tossing it this way andthat. Combined with his nervous ticks this afternoon, Jyn had never seen Cassiangive so many obvious tells about his emotions.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He smiled, shy with ahint of self-depreciation, and shook his head. “Earlier proves that. But I’dlike to figure it out, with you by my side, if you’re willing.

“I opened this wrong,” he continued. “Because itisn’t about logic for me. If it was about logic, I would have told you thisplan when Draven first mentioned it a month ago. But you and me, this feelingbetween us—” Cassian reached up to cradle her face in his hands and she didn’tpull away, couldn’t pull away, not with how intently his eyes were boring intohers “—nothing about it is logical. And, for once in my life, I want to followmy heart instead of my head.”

Cassian took a deep breath as if to settle himself,“When I first met you, you were nothing more than a tool in the mission. But bythe time we left for Scarif…” Cassian trailed off with a laugh. “By the time weleft for Scarif, I was content to die by your side.”

His thumb stroked her cheekbone tenderly, his eyesnever leaving hers. “I worried that you wouldn’t feel the same, or I couldn’thandle a relationship like this but with each day I’ve served alongside you, I think I’ve been holding myself fromfalling in love with you all over again.

“I recoiled from the idea of marrying you whenDraven first mentioned it, but it had nothing to do with you. I’ve lived mylife through orders, but this… this is different. I don’t want it to be anorder, and I don’t want it to be logical.” He swallowed again and a nervouslook creeped back into his eyes. His next words were rushed, as if he had spentall afternoon practicing them and needed to get them out before he forgot them.“And if you don’t want to involve legal documentation, that’s fine, but, Jyn, Ineed you to know that I’m going to be right by your side for as long as youwant me.”

Cassian had never declared anything so sentimentalbefore, not even hidden within the walls of their quarters and under the coverof darkness. She’d known – how could she not, when she felt the same way? – butshe’d never heard it expressed in so many words. She wanted to surge up andkiss him, to silence him in the best way, but her knees wobbled, her mind spun,her throat dried up. She should be speaking, should be reassuring him, but shewasn’t sure she could speak if she wanted to.

“I don’t want anything dramatic,” she finallymanaged, her voice sounding as hoarse as her throat felt. “But I’ve learned tolike the official path over the last few years.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up and Jyn’s suspicions that, nomatter how he assured her he was fine either way, he wanted this to be official.

“We can be as quiet as you want,” he assured her. “Noone outside of the crew would have to know.”

Considering how gossip spread around the Rebellion,Jyn doubted that would be true, but, as she pulled Cassian down for a kiss, shedecided it wouldn’t matter.

[moiraineswife]

IM GOING TO KEEP POKING YOU ABOUT AUTISTIC NESTA BC THOSE HEADCANONS WERE A M A Z I N G AND IM OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!! Can you talk about autistic Nesta in the context of nessian though please bc I would love to hear your thoughts!!

Of course I can, friend! ^_^ This will be a weird blend of like...meta and headcanons it’s just a little stream of thoughts, basically? 

Okay first thing that I love especially in the context of this is the differences, socially, between Cassian and Nesta? (And also the ironies that come with this and how they were raised but I’ll get to that in a second.) I just..Love the gender role reversal for a start? 

Women tend to be the ones who are expected to have more social skills and be good at performing emotional labour in relationships. Men are typically allowed more leeway and it’s expected that they won’t be as good at reading other people and are generally seen as less compassionate and what have you. 

This, very obviously, gets flipped on its head when it comes to Nessian. Nesta is uncomfortable in social situations, prefers to be on her own, and when she is around people she can come off as a little...acerbic, sometimes. Like she loves them but dear god she does not have the patience to be around them all the time. Cassian on the other hand, is the picture of social intelligence. He’s described repeatedly as being deeply compassionate and it’s also made clear that he’s excellent at reading and understanding people and knowing how to respond to them. 

The ironies associated with this is that revolve around how they grew up. Think about it. Cassian, who’s so deeply connected to and good with people, grew up alone as an abandoned bastard. He was trained as a soldier and rose to be an army commander, all while having this huge heart and amount of social intelligence that means he’s more naturally suited to solving problems with his head rather than his fists. 

Then there’s Nesta, an autistic who probably wasn’t diagnosed as such in the human world (if they have a concept of autism in this world (let’s say they do)) But Nesta is a girl, and she’s a noble-born girl too, whose mother loved the parties and social life that being of this class afforded her. Nesta is expected to carry that on and be good at it as well and I can just imagine her struggling with it? The parties are too loud and too crowded and there are too many people and it honestly doesn’t matter how many lessons her mother gives her on social politics and etiquette; somehow she always, always manages to do something wrong. And she never understands exactly why or how it’s wrong. Just that when she tries to join in on the conversation everything goes quite. People give her that look. And her mother is standing staring on in disappointment from the corners. 

Multiply this over the course of several years and then introduce a sister like Elain, who is so obviously better at this than her, who gets praise from her mother and from all of her friends while Nesta is shunted to the side and I’m not surprised she gave up and started thinking of them all as ‘sycophantic fools’ instead. Nesta got fed up trying because no matter what she did it was never quite right, and never ever good enough, so she stopped.

 She stopped trying to be like them and she just started being herself instead. People still sometimes fell into awkward silences when she spoke but now she wasn’t disheartened by it, she’d expected it. She still pushed people away but she didn’t sit up late at night crying herself to sleep about it anymore. This was just the way that she was. This was just who she was. She wasn’t her mother, and she wasn’t Elain, either, even if she loved them both dearly. She was herself. And if they didn’t like that, well, she didn’t much like them, either, what did she care? 

And then Cassian and Nesta meet one another and it’s like two sides of the same coin being allowed to face and see each other for the first time. Cassian comes up against someone that he can’t always read, someone who operates a little differently to how he’s used to, someone who confuses him, keeps him guessing, someone he doesn’t automatically know everything about. A challenge. 

And Nesta...Nesta finds someone who actually tries. She finds someone who sees the surface her, that cold, withdrawn, acerbic air she somehow can’t help but project whenever she’s around people (and has long since stopped trying to help it - Elain accepts her for who she is, everyone else can too) but sees her too. He sees beneath to the raging heart, the torrent of fierce emotions they all accuse her of not having.

 She’s heard them whispering in the village, heard them call her heartless and unfeeling and they don’t understand. None of them understand just how deeply she feels, just how strong her heart is. And she tells herself that it’s their loss, their fault they’ll never truly know, never truly benefit from all the fierce love she has to give...But it does get lonely. 

Then he comes along and he sees her. He sees that fierce heart and those raging emotions and he understands. He’s so unlike her, in fact it’s probably difficult to find someone less like her than Cassian. Yet he understands her. 

For all their differences in how they see and interact with the world, though, they respond to it incredibly similarly. Cassian and Nesta have...A lot of the same motives and ideals and goals, actually. They stem from very different places and very different people but they are the same. 

That determination. That ability to sacrifice and destroy yourself for someone that you love. The way that Nesta would have died fighting Tamlin for Elain. The way that Cassian spreads his wings in front of Az to protect him from the king’s magic. The way that Nesta declares herself emissary to the human world because they are the forgotten, the group no-one cares about or seeks to help. But she will. The way Cassian stands before Nesta and swears to defend the humans with her, because dying to save those who cannot protect themselves is a worthy end for him. The way Nesta shields Cassian’s body with her own; as he had done for his brother all those months ago. The way Cassian sets himself up to die so that others will live. 

They are such different people but their hearts are alike and in spite of everything they understand each other. 

So I love that aspect of this dynamic, but I also love the fact that Cassian accepts and loves Nesta for who she is. Without expecting or wanting her to change, in a way that I don’t think anyone save Elain has ever truly done. (I’ve argued before but I’ll say it again, Elain also has a lot of social intelligence, like Cassian. She also grew up with Nesta and I think that she sees and understands her in a similar way to Cassian and this is one of the reasons that the two sisters are so close - that understanding) 

Cassian’s acceptance of Nesta is really important to me because I think it’s so easy to see a character like her and expect her to change. Expect her to soften herself so that she can more easily navigate the world. Expect her to thaw herself and become warmer and friendlier and more open because this is what’s expected of someone of her gender and class. Expect her to fit the moulds that she never has fit and likely never will, but it’s expected that she’ll shatter some intrinsic part of herself to do so. And in the context of this hc it’s even more important to me that Nesta is never forced to do that, is never forced to change, and is allowed to utterly be herself...and still be loved and worthy of love and a mate and a support circle in spite of all that. Because she doesn’t conform to society’s expectations, because she can’t conform to them. And that doesn’t matter. She is not broken, she does not need to be ‘fixed’, she only needs to be accepted. 

Okay, okay, last thing on this post (which got really long and out of hand, I have other autistic!Nesta/Nessian hcs on another post that someone asked for, smaller and less meta-y ones, so I’ll just post that as it is instead of forcing them in here) but one thing I really love in the context of this hc is, once they’re together, Cassian sort of...helping Nesta understand and navigate the social world around them. 

So Nesta talking to someone and saying something and the conversation ends a little abruptly and she can lean into Cass and ask him if that was okay or- Did she fuck up? How did she fuck up? And Cassian can either gently explain the social rules that have escaped her all her life if need be, or he can reassure her that no, she did good, that was fine, they’re just a prick. 

Or Cass can do what Feyre did for her at the dinner, and reassure her that people aren’t trying to hurt her all the time, sometimes they’re just teasing but they really do mean well. (But also Cassian having quiet words and asking people to stop that if it continues to bother her) and him like...Interpreting other people for her because jfc they’re exhausting, she has no idea what’s going on at all, she is Tired. 

Cassian understanding when Nesta can’t face the idea of a party or a big social gathering, even with his help, so they just stay in that night and snuggle and be together.  

Nesta using the mating bond between them to start learning Cassian’s tells. Because she can learn how to read people’s body language it’s just...like learning any other language because it’s not intrinsic or instinctive. So she can feel through the bond what he’s feeling and thinking, and start to learn how he looks when he’s angry or agitated or upset. Even if Cass tries to hide them from her, then...She knows. 

Cassian just...Helping Nesta to navigate the tangled minefield that is social interaction and working with her and supporting her instead of just sighing at her. Understanding that there are some things she genuinely can’t do because she processes the world differently to him and her brain is just wired differently.

Cassian being completely and utterly fascinated by this and wanting to learn all about it and exactly how it’s different and exactly what he should do to help and Nesta being...Shocked. Because people either turn their noses up at her and assume she’s trying to be rude or difficult, or they just try and beat the same lessons into her over and over again but Cass just...Okay but how do we make things work for you and how can I change a little to better accommodate you for a change and Nesta just...Being really, really touched that he’d do this for her.

Nesta growing more confident in herself and far, far less insecure around other people. She opens up a little more because she can be herself and be accepted and wanted for that. She doesn’t have to choose any more between being who she is, and keeping people around her. She can have both. Cassian helping her and supporting her into reaching that conclusion and refusing to allow her to expect any less from people just because of the way that she is. Cassian never, ever expecting Nesta to change herself this way because then, well, she really wouldn’t be Nesta. This is a part of who she is and he helps encourage her and others to accept that about her. 

[vanderlinde-moved]

but the gun still rattles

summary: What’s supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission goes terribly wrong when Jyn is recognized by a ghost from her past.

jyn/cassian, mostly angst w/ hurt/comfort at the end, trigger warnings for torture and suicidal thoughts, 9.1k words

read it on ao3!

If Jyn had to pick a least favorite planet, she’d choose Scarif without hesitation. Most of it is gone now, destroyed by the Death Star, but that doesn’t stop the nightmares and memories she sees burned into the back of her eyelids most nights.

Tamsye Prime would be second, but it’s close. Very close.

Jyn hates it here. Hates that the Imperials cracked down on the planet after nearly destroying it years ago, hates how everyone is so indifferent, apathetic, keeping their heads down and surviving one day at a time. Hates seeing her old self reflected back in every face they pass.

The weather here is absolute crap too; Bodhi had trouble dropping them off, barely managing to touch down without being swept away by the wind. It’s so kriffing hot she thinks that her skin is going to melt off. And it smells weird and her clothes are itchy and there might be sand in her eye, though it is possible it’s only an eyelash.

But maybe she’s biased. Maybe she’s trying to think of minuscule complaints to distract her from the fact that every time she lets her thoughts wander, she sees herself at sixteen, crouched in a bunker with a blaster in her shaky hands, watching Saw take off in the shuttle and abandon her.

At the time she hadn’t know he wasn’t coming back. She should have, but she had let herself foolishly hope that he actually cared about her. So she waited until it was almost too late, escaped by the skin of her teeth, and cursed his name for years after.

She’s nervous. Jittery. Hasn’t felt this way in a long time. She thought she had got over it after talking to Saw on Jedha, but apparently not.

Cassian notices on the flight over, and she’s not surprised. Bodhi does too, asking her about her shaky hands and distracted answers. It’s obvious that she’s miles away (still in that bunker, all these years later) but she waves him off with a tight smile and tells him to tell her about the ship to distract him. And that’s the end of it – at least, she thinks so.

She should have known better.

“You’ve been here before,” Cassian observes. It’s not a guess.

She scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze is pointedly forward, not wanting to look him in the eye. “Yes.”

She doesn’t elaborate any further. He only hums in acknowledgment, strapping his blaster to his belt. When he speaks again, it’s softer. More gentle. It’s not pity, but something else she doesn’t recognize. Understanding, maybe. “If you want, I can head out myself. You can stay with Bodhi.”

“I’m fine, Cass,” she mutters, wiping a hand across her brow. It comes away wet with sweat. “Let’s get going, okay?”

The sooner they’re off this planet, the better.

“Jyn,” he says, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back to him. She lets him. “You don’t have to tell me. But I want to make sure you’re all right.”

She bites her lip, debating on whether or not to say anything. Apparently she’s not as good at hiding herself around him as she thought. “I was left here.”

His grip grows tighter, his mouth twists. He knows what she’s talking about immediately, which is a relief. She doesn’t think she’d be able to say anymore about it, not here – even years later, the memory still pains her. It’s a dull knife twisting her in stomach. “Saw.”

“Yeah,” she mutters grimly, tugging out of his grip. “Let’s get going. I hate this kriffing planet.”

He doesn’t push the issue. She’s grateful for that.

It’s been a long time since Jyn’s been on an Intelligence mission. She works almost exclusively with the Pathfinders now and only occasionally with Han Solo. But Draven had requested her specifically, according to Cassian, and she thinks the general knows more about her past than he lets on.

Supposedly, there’s a rebel cell here. Her and Cassian are under strict orders to observe and see if it’s worth the Rebellion’s aid. Basically, their word determines whether or not the rebels on Tamsye Prime get supplies from the Alliance.

It’s eerily similar to the mission she went on with Saw seven years ago. The mission that ended up with her all on her own.

(looking back, maybe she should have stayed on the ship.)

For a planet that’s strictly under the Empire’s thumb, the main street is loud and bustling. There’s people all around them, talking, yelling, pushing them aside. Jyn thinks there’s some sort of fight happening to her left and she almost gets knocked into it until Cassian tugs her away.

Despite the noise, she hears the shout loud and clear.

“Liana Hallik!”

To her credit, she barely flinches. Cassian shoots her a look – “you okay?” – and she nods, too quickly, tugging him forward. He touches his ear briefly, presumably fiddling with his comlink.

She doesn’t pay it much mind. All she can focus on getting out of here. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge she recognizes the speaker. A small, foolish part of her hopes that this will be the end of it. They have a mission, they need to complete it.

Of course, Jyn’s never been that lucky.

“Don’t try me, Hallik,” the speaker sneers, grabbing Jyn’s arm. Jyn jerks around, suddenly face to face with a ghost she had hoped died long ago. “We’re friends, remember?”

Friends are the last thing they are, made obvious when the stormtroopers flanking her move to restrain both Jyn and Cassian. When she struggles to get out of their grip, the two ‘troopers holding her only tighten it.

“Still a fighter, I see.”

Commander Solange is almost a head taller than her, looming over Jyn’s small form. Besides the new scar bisecting her eyebrow, she looks the same as she did all those months ago when her and the admiral went against their word and locked her up in Wobani.

“Please,” Cassian pleads, slipping into an identity Jyn doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t try to fight the stormtroopers, but instead sags in their arms. “What is this about? My wife and I are just passing through.”

Before she can react, the ‘trooper next to him slams the butt of their rifle into Cassian’s temple. He lets out a groan of pain, his knees giving out.

“What the hell – “

Jyn sees red, straining to attack the soldier who hit Cassian. But Solange reaches forward and grips Jyn’s chin in her hands. “I’ll kill him if you don’t cooperate. Let’s play nice, shall we, Liana?”

Jyn wants to spit at her feet, but the ‘troopers are armed to the teeth and she doubts they’ll hesitate to shoot her if she does anything rash. It’s been some time, but the slip into Liana Hallik is almost seamless. “What do you want? Got another gambling problem?”

“I’ve been stationed here for a while. This is just a routine patrol.” Solange replies evenly, taking a step forward. Jyn has to crane her head up to look her in the eye. “The Empire relocated me after the mess on Five Points. Supposedly there are lots of rebels in this area.”

“Are there?” Her voice betrays nothing. Liana Hallik doesn’t care about anyone except for herself. Certainly not a small, unorganized resistance.

(jyn erso, on the other hand, wonders just how much the empire knows about the rebellion here. too bad that not who she is right now.)

“Don’t pretend, Hallik,” Solange says. “A little bird told me you escaped prison and joined up with them.”

“Please,” Jyn scoffs, rolling her eyes. Her face is a portrait of nonchalance, but her heart is racing, pulse hammering. How much does she know? Does she know about Scarif? About Rogue One? If this puts the rest of her team in danger, she doesn’t think she could live with it. “You and I both know I’m not one for picking sides.”

“And we both know you only do things for money. We’re cut from the same cloth, hmm?” Solange says wryly, as if they’re two friends chatting over a cup of tea. “So you say you’re not in the Rebellion, fine,” when Jyn opens her mouth to argue, Solange holds up a hand, “but you’re clearly not in Wobani anymore. And if I recall correctly, there’s a hefty bounty on all escaped prisoners.”

“There was a security breach,” Jyn snaps. Her hands itch for her blaster, for her truncheons, for a weapon. She’s defenseless and she doesn’t like it, especially when she knows how far Solange will go for credits. “I took advantage of it.”

The Imperial woman purses her lips in thought. There’s a sour taste in the back of Jyn’s throat; she has a sinking suspicion that she’s said the wrong thing. “I heard about that. But it seems kind of odd that the rebels would only take you, don’t you think?”

Behind her, she feels Cassian stiffen. She doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s worried, but he doesn’t say anything. He trusts her to take care of this, and she hopes that his faith isn’t misplaced.

“The Empire was going to kill me before I ever finished my time there,” she replies in an off-hand way, as if her dying in prison would be no big deal. “The Rebellion wanted me to fight for them. I didn’t agree. So I stole a ship and left.”

For a moment, Jyn thinks that she believes it. After all, it’s not too far from the truth. But a woman like Solange would never have risen so high up in the Empire’s ranks if she wasn’t suspicious of the words of a seemingly petty criminal.

But she changes the subject instead of questioning it further, clearly expecting to throw Jyn off balance. She’s hoping that Jyn’ll slip up somewhere and admit her anti-Imperial ties. “Didn’t think you were the type to settle down, Hallik. He’s with the Rebellion?”

“Kriff no. It’s a marriage of convenience,” Jyn replies quickly (too quickly, a voice in the back of her mind says) but sticks with it. “There’s no love between us and he’s a good fuck. That’s all.”

“I work at the mines here,” Cassian says easily, his accent thicker than she’s ever heard it. This is natural for him, lying. Fitting into a persona. “I’m not a rebel.”

“For some reason, I’m not inclined to believe you.” Solange responds with a tilt of her head and a glint in her eyes. She makes a quick movement with her hand. When Jyn risks a quick glance behind her, one of the ‘troopers has his rifle pointed at Cassian’s chest. Her heart stutters.

“He’s nobody important, Solange. He works for the damn Empire. I needed to relieve some tension,” at that, she shrugs. “You know how it is. Just let him go.”

“Unless you want to die before we get to Wobani, it’s ‘sir’ to you, Hallik.”

“Let him go, sir,” Jyn sneers.

“I would, but,” Solange spreads her hands out, as if there’s nothing she can do, “here’s the issue. I want the bounty on your head and I don’t want anyone coming after you. If he’s nobody, then it’s no big deal if I shoot him, hmm?”

Liana Hallik would agree. Liana Hallik wouldn’t care if Cassian died on the streets of Tamsye Prime and Solange knows it.

But Jyn Erso cares a lot.

“Why waste the bullets?” she says lazily, a hint of desperation lacing her tone. That small movement snaps one of the blasters in her direction. “Let him go. It’s me you want.” There’s an unspoken plea. Let him live and I’ll come quietly.

Jyn Erso slips through there, at the end. There’s a crack in her voice that Liana Hallik would never make and her tone is a bit too pleading for a disdainful smuggler.

Solange notices – of course she does. Jyn sees her response in her face, something along the lines of “Why would I ever do that?”

Then she raises her hand and flicks it forward, then there’s a blaster shot but it’s not her that’s getting hit, and she doesn’t need to look that it goes right into Cassian’s chest, and then there’s a thump as his body hits the ground behind her. There’s no whimper of pain, he’s too well-trained for that, but Jyn thinks she can hear a small hitch in his breathing before it wheezes to a stop. It grows quieter, so quiet she can’t hear it over the rush of blood to her head, and then she can’t hear it at all.

He’s not breathing. He’s supposed to be breathing – why isn’t he? Why isn’t he breathing? She can’t hear him breathing.

No. Not him.

She doesn’t even look back as her fingers curl into fists. Red hot fury consumes Jyn as she leaps forward seconds later and tackles Solange to the ground, having every intention to beat the other woman into a bloody pulp. She’s yelling but she doesn’t know what she’s saying, and there’s a lot of yelling that’s not coming from her, drawing a crowd around them.

There’s a voice that sounds like Saw’s in the back of her head, but it’s hard to hear over the noise. You need to calm down, my child. Anger makes you reckless. Anger gets you killed.

She thinks, rather absently, as she slams a fist in Solange’s nose, that she wouldn’t mind that if it meant she would get to be with Cassian again.

But the stormtroopers behind her – the stormtroopers who killed Cassian – one of them hits her in the temple with the butt of their rifle and she falls unwillingly into darkness.

Jyn snaps back into reality when she’s nearly thrown across the floor. The ship she’s in is rattling and groaning with each second, sounding so broken that she wonders if it’ll fall apart before they reach the prison. The lighting is dim and flickering, but she can just make out the boxes and shelves in front of her. Some sort of cargo shuttle, then.

She begins assessing the problem rationally. She’s bound, with her arms are wrenched behind her back, restrained by binders that are a notch too tight. It’s going to be hard to get out of here with her hands behind her back. As far as injuries go, there’s nothing serious. Her head is aching and she can feel dried blood sticking to her temple and she might be concussed but that’s fine. She doesn’t have a hole in her chest, not like –

Jyn thinks she’s going to vomit.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t vomit. She lets herself cry, pulling her knees up to her chest so she can muffle her sobs, lets herself grieve, lets herself feel the pang in her heart. Force. It’s so hard to think about a life without him. She half expects him to march through the door any second now and pick the locks of the restraints around her wrists. Somehow miraculously be alive.

Then she remembers the sound that he made when he fell. And how he didn’t get back up again.

And Bodhi. Bodhi’s alone, sitting in the shuttle, waiting for them. It’s long past the time they were supposed to be back. She wonders if he left. Wonders if he went looking for them and found a body with a hole in his chest instead. She hopes he’s okay, that he’s safe. If she goes back to the Alliance after all this, it will be for him. For Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze.

Jyn wonders what she’ll tell K2-SO when he’s finally rebuilt. She wonders if she’ll even rebuild him or just leave him in pieces on their – hers, now – desk.

She lets herself think about this things, each new thought leaving a hole in her heart that only grows bigger and bigger. He left her. Not intentionally, like her mother and father and Saw, but now she’s alone.

Protect your heart. Close yourself off. They always leave in the end. And now you’re hurting because you’ve gotten soft, Jyn Erso. What would Saw say? What would Kestrel or Tanith or Liana do? Not fucking this.

So she lets herself grieve, but only for a few minutes. And then she shuts down.

She shoves him and all of her feelings into the cave in her mind and locks the hatch tight. This isn’t something she can think about now, not when she’s in the hands of the Empire. Later, later when she’s safe, she can cry. Later, she can think about a life without him.

Shutting her eyes, she takes a deep, shuddering breath, then leans her head back against wall she’s propped up against. Composes herself. Stops crying.

Solange walks in not a minute later, holding a data pad in one hand. “Good. You’re awake.”

Jyn doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. She can hear the sound of something being dragged across the floor, so she opens her eyes to see Solange settling herself in a chair directly across from her. There’s an angry looking bruise covering her nose; Jyn takes some satisfaction in that.

“This isn’t personal, you know?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I need the money. Finding you on Tamsye Prime was merely a coincidence. I can’t say I’d take you to be a rebel – you’re not the type to pick sides, especially not after you sold out Blue – but I suppose it’s possible. And the bounty on your head is so high.”

The guilt of that, of going behind Blue’s back and working with Rocwyn and Solange to protect her own skin, makes it hard to breathe. And even after being forced to betray a crew of people she had been beginning to trust, the Empire still locked her up.

“If you needed the money so badly, then why didn’t you ask me to splice you a few more game tokens?” Jyn snarls. “I did that for you back on Five Points.”

“You got caught, ” Solange points out, her tone infuriatingly even. “Or do you not remember being tied up in Pso’s Palace?”

Jyn doesn’t grace that with a response.

Solange taps her right cheek with her finger, then gestures to Jyn. “Ran into some trouble in our time apart, I see.”

Her burns prickle on her skin, feeling hotter than usual. Suddenly she’s back on Scarif again, in that elevator, on the beach feeling the force of the explosion across her skin, but all it takes is a deep breath to steady herself and she’s back in the cargo bay again.

(she’d rather be on scarif. she wasn’t alone on that beach, not like she is now.)

“What do you want, Solange?” Jyn’s so kriffing tired. “Not surprisingly, I don’t want to chat. Leave me alone, yeah?”

“Don’t think so,” the Imperial says with a twist of her lips that’s probably supposed to be a smile. She stands up from her chair and grabs Jyn by the arm, pulling her up. “We’re just coming out of hyperspace. I thought you’d like to get the first glimpse of Wobani.”

This goes unspoken: You got lucky last time, but there’s no rescue coming for you. You’re going to die here.

The warden bears no resemble to the man in white – Krennic, her mind supplies – but somehow she sees him anyway. It’s in the way he stands, how he looms over her when Solange drags her into the room and how he looks at her like she’s scum. That he’s better than her.

The room is blindingly white. There’s guards posted at the door, equipped with rifles and shock batons. If she’s going to fight her way out of here, then that’s going to be an issue.

“Warden Miran, sir,” Solange says, keeping a firm grip on Jyn’s bicep. “Liana Hallik. She escaped from prison a couple months ago during the rebel attack.”

“Hm. You tracked her down, then?”

“I recognized her on Tamsye Prime. We have a history together – I was the one who put her here in the first place. I caught her during a patrol, sir.”

“You’ll want the credits, then.” At Solange’s curt nod, he pulls out a scanner. “Let me run her through the system and then you’ll get your bounty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Miran raises the facial recognizer up to her, her heart clenches. Right after Scarif, she remembers Draven saying something about how the Empire might recognize the people who stole the Death Star plans. If she’s recognized as Jyn Erso –

The butt of a rifle slams down between her shoulder blades when she tries to get out of Solange’s grip. Her breath catches, and she can barely clamp down on a cry when her knees give out and she hits the floor, hard.

Miran doesn’t seem concerned. Why would he be? He deals with this shit all the time. All he does is frown ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth turning downward as he moves out from behind his desk to get closer.

He bends to grab her chin and jerks her head upward. She can barely contain her shudder. “Liana Hallik,” he says, finally getting the results. His thumb brushes against the scars on her cheek ever so lightly. “You look a little worse for wear.”

Jyn pulls her chin out of his grasp and spits at his feet. For that, he backhands her across the face, sending her flying toward the ground. The copper taste of blood fills her mouth and her cheek is on fire. But even through the pain she can still his touch on her face and she wants to gag at the wrongness of it all.

“Take her up top,” he says, nodding to the two guards at the door. She’s hauled unceremoniously to her feet. “Prep the droids. It’s been awhile since we’ve captured a rebel. Perhaps she has some new information for us.”

“I’m not a fucking rebel,” Jyn snarls, trying to lunge out of the guards’ grasp. They drag her to the door. “I have nothing to do with them!”

“We’ll see about that,” he hums, setting the scanner back on the desk. An overwhelming want to carve him to pieces washes over her. “I’ll be up in a couple minutes. Oh, and Liana?”

She’s out the door at this point, but doesn’t look back. Doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes.

“Welcome home.”

As they drag her down the hallway, an echo of an old conversation repeats in her head.

“I’m not used to people sticking around when things go bad.”

“Welcome home.”

The thing about torture –

it’s always the same.

Sometimes it’s droids or sometimes it’s a person with too many tools or sometimes it’s simply being shoved in a dark room without food or water, but it’s all the same.

They want her to break.

i am one with the force the force is with me

Here’s the thing: it’s been a long time since Jyn Erso’s been tortured. The Rebellion, she realizes later, has given her a sense of security. A place where she feels not quite safe but not in danger either. Most days, she doesn’t even think about running.

All lot of these feelings can be connected back to Cassian. But Cassian – he’s not –

Cassian’s not around

anymore.

It’s been a long time since Jyn Erso’s been tortured. She’s never broken before. But she thinks, as the droid injects her with something that makes her blood boil, as she tastes blood in her mouth from nearly splitting her tongue in two, as the man in white asks her again and again about the Rebellion, she thinks that she might.

Maybe then they’ll kill her. She’ll feel guilt, of course, for giving up her friends, but at least she won’t have to worry about that for long.

Then she’ll be with Cassian. If she’s dead they’ll

be together again.

i am one with the force the force is with me

But she doesn’t break. Not when she curls up in her cell at night, not knowing what day it is and barely remembering who she is – Jyn Erso, your name is Jyn – and certainly not when the man in white tells the droids to increase the dosage.

She doesn’t break. Instead, she begins to plan.

Jyn dreams of being rescued.

It doesn’t happen the same way each time. Sometimes, it’s Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze who come for her, shooting all of the guards and breaking down the bars of her cell. Sometimes it’s a faceless rebel, someone she doesn’t know, but this time, she doesn’t hit them with a shovel and cooperates.

Sometimes Cassian comes to get her. Those are both the best and worst kind of dreams. When she wakes up, the pain of his loss stays with her for the rest of the day.

Realistically, she knows that no one is coming to save her. The only way she’s getting out of this prison is if she breaks herself out. And that’s exactly what she intends to do.

They put Jyn to work hours, days, weeks after. She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. It all starts to blend together – she sleeps, she eats, she’s tortured. There’s no such thing as day and night in a windowless cell. Sometimes, she’s left in darkness for hours on end then suddenly subjected bright light when all she wants to do is rest.

Wobani is a labor camp, so it’s not surprising when she’s eventually dragged out of her room and placed on a convoy. She scans the faces of the other prisoners, hoping to recognize someone. Maybe someone is here from the Rebellion, looking to break someone else out. She doesn’t know if she’s grateful or disappointed when she doesn’t find anyone familiar.

Nobody talks to her, taking special care to avoid being too close. She wonders if there’s rumors being spread around at night, spoken only in hushed whispers. She’s a rebel spy. Got her locked up top. Sometimes I can hear her screaming.

But the lack of human contact, of being treated like she doesn’t exist, echoes faintly of her life before Rogue One. Back then, that’s how she wanted it, but it’s been a long time since her heart has ached this fiercely.

She’s sent to the farms on the first couple days. It’s the easiest job at Wobani, and she’s sure that she’s only given it because of the torture she’s been put through. It’s not something she’s thankful for, but the work is mindless and she completes it with a ruthless efficiency. There’s something extremely satisfying in hitting the ground as hard as she can with her shovel.

And while she doesn’t know when the guards will take her back to the droids and the man in white, she knows they will. The Empire needs all the labor it can get, so she’s put to work like any other prisoner. But she’s got information and they know it. She’s not stupid enough to think that the torture is over just because they’ve given her a change of scenery.

The droids barely leave a mark on her. Most of the pain comes from a needle or electricity. Her arm hurts, and there’s a makeshift bandage around it but she doesn’t remember why. She doesn’t look underneath it, only at the blood that’s staining the fabric red. A part of her wants it to get infected.

The biggest issue is that Jyn’s thoughts are scattered. Messy. The torture leaves more mental marks than physical. Some mornings it’s hard to remember what’s happened to her, so she runs through it again and again until she gets it right.

My name is Jyn Erso. My father’s name is Galen and my mother’s name is Lyra. I lived with Saw Gerrera until I was sixteen. I’m with the Rebellion now. I was on Scarif with Rogue One – Bodhi, Baze, Chirrut, K2-SO, and –

Fuck.

My name is Jyn Erso. My father’s is Galen and my mother’s is Lyra. I lived with Saw Gerrera. I’m a rebel. I was on Scarif. My team is Rogue One – Bodhi, Baze, Chirrut, K2-SO, and…Cassian.

It’s hard to think sometimes. She loses focus easily, trains of thoughts stopping suddenly and without warning. She forgets small details such as the last time she’s slept or eaten. But she hasn’t broken yet.

Most of her concentration goes into making an escape plan. The one she has is disorganized – it involves her hijacking the convoy, driving it to the hangar, and stealing a ship without dying. The likelihood of it succeeding is low. She can imagine what Kay would say in response to it, something along the lines of “There is only a 12% chance of success, Jyn Erso. That is low. You will probably die.”

Probably. But if there’s even a small chance she’ll get out of here, she’ll run the risk. And if she fails, well, that wouldn’t be so bad either.

All that’s left is to wait and find an opportunity. It comes a couple days later.

The lights switch on, signaling what Jyn assumes is morning. It’s more consistent now that she’s working. She groans, rubbing at her eyes and wiping off her sweaty forehead. It’s so kriffing hot in her cell and her arm hurts more than normal. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she’s up on her feet as soon as the guards start unlocking the door.

She stumbles out of her cell and is taken downstairs, where she’s pushed into a line behind the other prisoners. A pair of binders are slapped on her wrists as they’re hustled outdoors. The air feels heavy and there’s a cloud of smoke rising over the horizon, but at least it’s not raining like it did yesterday. When she’s pushed toward the smog, she nearly slips in the mud, but doesn’t let her confusion show. Maybe they’ve finally realized she’s not going to talk and assigned her to a more permanent job on the work rooster.

She’s still wary. The warden could be trying to catch her off guard in a change of schedule. It’s likely he’ll visit her cell tonight.

The truck to the factory is silent. Not even the stormtroopers talk among themselves, instead choosing to sit with their rifles trained on the prisoners. She doesn’t look at them, bowing her head and resting her elbows on her knees in an attempt to get comfortable.

The drive to the factory is shorter than it is to the farm. That’s good. If she can manage to sneak out and grab the convoy, then that takes precious minutes off of her escape route. And if she needs to run, there’s a small chance she’ll make it without being shot in the back.

Jyn’s placed at the front of the assembly line. Her job is to shift through the spare parts and toss anything that can’t be salvaged before they’re melted down. The whole process is very reminiscent of the first time she was at Wobani, and she thinks that the warden must have a strange sense of humor in assigning her here again. It’s boring work, but not tedious, and she soon finds herself falling into a rhythm.

Still, she keeps one eye at the task at hand and the other watching the guards circle. If she’s lucky, then one of the prisoners on the other side of the line will mess something up and their attention will go to them. Once their focus is elsewhere, she can sneak out the back. The hard part is going to be taking out the guards who will inevitably guarding the convoy. She’s not certain she can do it in the state she’s in, but Saw Gerrera didn’t raise a quitter.

The hours pass. Her back begins to ache from being hunched over the conveyor belt. Every so often her fingers slip on a piece of metal – her hands are shaky, too shaky. She wonders if she’s going to be the one who drops something or if anyone is going to mess up at all. That would mean another night in her cell and another night spent as a prisoner.

Her fingers tighten around the screw she’s holding. Then the wall farthest away from her explodes.

For a second, Jyn can’t do anything except stare at the place where concrete used to be. Smoke fills her lungs and she coughs, pulling the front of her jumpsuit up over her mouth. Vaguely, she can see blaster fire through the haze and that’s all the motivation she needs to get the hell out of there.

As soon as the stormtroopers run out of the factory to investigate, Jyn bolts in the other direction, shouldering her way through the crowds of prisoners. It’s chaos. Everyone has the same idea as she does, hoping to get free, hoping to escape this godforsaken planet.

“Hope?”

“Yeah. Rebellions are built on hope.”

She doesn’t really believe in hope. Not anymore, not since Tamsye Prime.

She forces her way out the door and stops only briefly to assess her surroundings. The factory is farther away from the hangar than she originally anticipated but it’s not far enough where she’d need to steal the convoy. Good thing, too – a squad of ‘troopers is using it for cover as they fire back at the intruders.

The ship looks vaguely familiar, though she doesn’t dwell on it. It’s the kind of distraction she’s been waiting for, so she doesn’t linger. Jyn pushes herself in a sprint, but it only takes a few seconds before sweat is pouring down her temples and her lungs constrict.

Something is wrong. The ground spins underneath her feet and she has to blink rapidly to clear her head. Why can’t I breathe?

She’s never had this much trouble running before. But the pain needs to shoved down, back in the cave along with all of the other things she’s locked up there. She just needs to reach the hangar bay. It’s only a little bit farther.

Run, Jyn.

It’s not the first time she’s thankful for Saw’s intensive training. She’s had to escape tighter situations with worse injuries so she knows that she can make it. And she’s not going to quit, just slow down a little. Pause to catch her breath.

She stumbles, then stops. Places her hands on her knees and tries to breathe, sucking down all of the air she can get. Two seconds later, and she’s back on her feet, arms pumping –

and then she’s stumbling forward, caught in another explosion and knocked to the ground in the blast. Scrambling to her feet quickly, she risks a quick look behind her and her eyes widen at the sight. The ship is in flames, and when she squints, she can see bodies surrounding it, but she doesn’t know who’s dead. It’s too far away.  

“Fuck,” she breathes out, then doesn’t waste another thought on it. The remaining stormtroopers will be rounding up the other prisoners soon, likely shooting a couple of them to make an example. That’s not something she wants to get caught in. She’s leaving Wobani today , one way or another.

She resumes running, though now it’s more a slow jog. It’s too difficult to go any faster. Her necklace, the one Cassian made for her, feels tight around her neck, as if it’s cutting off her air. She ignores the feeling, reaching up to grab it with one hand. Immediately, she’s comforted.

Almost there. I’m sorry, Cass.

In the distance, she sees a ‘trooper. She ducks reflexively, scanning the area for some sort of weapon but nothing is going to stop a blaster bolt right at her head. However, when she looks up again, there’s nothing there.

Well. She can’t help but be a little relieved, despite what seeing things means.

The hangar isn’t much farther away, and she makes it in a few stumbling breaths. She pauses at the entrance, leaning up against the door to stay standing. When she rights herself, she scans the room. There’s not as many ships here as she hoped, but there’s got to be something here that she can fly.

“Jyn! Force, is that you?”

Before she can react, someone’s grabbing her from behind. Their arms are too tight and too restricting, so she shoves them off blindly, and staggers back. Her vision is blurry, but she can only just make out the figure in front of her raising his arms in surrender.

“Jyn? It’s me – uh, it’s Bodhi!”

Her mind clears and a flush rises up in her cheeks. “Bodhi! I’m sorry. I panicked,” It’s cloudy and there’s a cool breeze, but she still feels too warm, as if the sun is beating down on her. She didn’t notice a change in temperature from outdoors to the hangar, but it’s possible. “I didn’t…”

Recognize you. Didn’t think I’d run into anyone here.

She wavers and Bodhi is at her side in an instant, steadying her with a gentle hand curled around her elbow. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she answers, but her tongue feels heavy. “What – what are you doing here?”

It’s a coincidence. It has to be. Some sort of mission the Rebellion gave them. There isn’t any other explanation why he’s here right now. Maybe it’s to break someone else out of here. Maybe he’s just a hallucination. But there’s no way he could have known Solange took her back here.

For a moment, she panics. What if he’s a prisoner, just like her? It’s possible. The ‘troopers could have traced the coms back to the ship and taken him –

Bodhi grips her shoulders tightly. “Hey. Easy, easy! It’s all right. Don’t panic, okay?” He looks over his shoulder worriedly then glances back at her. “C’mon, Jyn, just breathe.”

“Why are you here, Bodhi?” Jyn says softly. Are you real? Are you really here? “What’s going on?”

“We’re rescuing you, of course,” Chirrut says, rounding the corner with Baze at his back. He grins at her, shouldering his smoking laser cannon. “I think that’s obvious. Isn’t it, dear?”

That must have been their ship, she realizes. And they’re not dead – those must have been stormtrooper bodies caught in the explosion. She sways, dizzy with relief. They’re alive.

If they had died for her like Cassian –

“Good to see you, little sister,” Baze responds, clapping her fondly on the shoulder. “‘Echo Base isn’t nearly the same without you.”

“It’s not.” Chirrut agrees. “There is a lot less trouble when you are not around. It’s not as fun.”Bodhi shifts and wraps his arm around her waist. At that, Chirrut frowns suddenly and leans forward to press his hand against her forehead. “I don’t need my sight to know that you’re fading.”

They don’t know, she realizes. How could they? Bodhi peers at something over Chirrut’s head and for a moment she panics. Is he looking for Cassian? Does he think he’s here too is she going to have to tell them that he’s dead?

“I’m fine,” she responds, shaking her head and deciding she’ll deal with that problem later. There are more pressing issues to take care of now. She moves out of Bodhi’s grip and starts to climb into the nearest ship. It looks barely big enough to hold the four of them but it’s going to have to do. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“We can’t leave without Cassian. He’s still doing a sweep of the factory.”

Jyn freezes, glances down over her shoulder at Bodhi. Her hand is gripping the railing so tight that her knuckles are turning white. “What did you just say?”

That’s when Cassian comes running up to them, blaster in hand. This time, Jyn knows she’s hallucinating because this is impossible. This has to be some sort of fever dream.

But for some reason, he doesn’t disappear when she looks away, not like the stormtrooper did.

His left arm is in a sling and there are bandages peeking out from underneath his collar. He’s panting and there’s sweat beading up on his temples, but other than that, he looks alive. There isn’t any blood on his shirt and there’s no hole in his chest. Jyn takes a step back, retreating into the ship. If she’s seeing things, then she’s not going to last much longer. They need to leave now .

“We need to get out of here,” he says. “Reinforcements are on the way. I couldn’t find her, but I think – “

Baze shifts. That’s when Cassian sees her and rushes over to the ship. He reaches up to cup her face with his good hand. He looks surprised, as if she shouldn’t be standing there. She can’t move, only look down at him.  “Jyn! You’re all right!”

His grip feels so real. The touch of his fingertips against her skin, the feel of his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. He scans her for injuries, eyes pausing on the bandage on her arm and the state that she’s currently in.

All she can do is reach a shaky arm out to him. He grasps her hand in his own and holds it to his heart. She can feel it beating underneath his shirt but it shouldn’t be. The last time she saw him was dead on the ground on Tamsye Prime.

“Cass – “ she tries to say, but the pounding in her ears is suddenly too loud and her heart is thumping too fast. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. When her knees give out, Cassian is the only thing that keeps her from falling to the ground. Vaguely, before she fades completely, she feels herself being gathered into his arms.

Later, once she’s more coherent, she tells herself she passed out because of the fever, not because she saw a ghost.

Jyn wakes to the sound of praying.

“I am one with the Force. The Force is with me. I am one with the Force. The Force is with me.”

She opens her eyes, still crusty from sleep. She can feel the humming of the engines through the cot that she’s laying on. The room she’s in is small, most likely one of the crew’s quarters. She’s no longer in her prison jumpsuit, instead in a shirt and a pair of pants that are much too big for her and smell like Cassian.

Chirrut is sitting on a stool next to her, eyes open but not looking at her. When he notices her attention, however, he smiles.

“It’s about time you woke up, little sister. I was getting impatient.”

“Yeah,” Jyn grunts, shifting so she can prop herself up on her elbows. Her arm feels stiff, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. At a closer inspection, she sees the bacta patch on it. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, then says, “What happened?”

In his usual fashion, Chirrut doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he tells her, “The Force moves around you, Jyn Erso. Not as strongly, but I can feel it still. I believe that is why you are here with us today.”

She frowns at that, her brow furrowed in confusion. “But my necklace – the kyber crystal – it was destroyed on Scarif.”

“It was,” he agrees. “Your mother gave it to you. Lyra Erso.”

Jyn doesn’t remember ever telling him that, but she’s used to him knowing things that he shouldn’t. “Yes. Back on Lah’mu.” Before she left me to save Papa and the stormtroopers killed her for it.

A memory comes to her, unbidden. Back in her cell, when the man in white and the droids had tortured her, she remembers praying. And while she doesn’t believe in the Force, not really, the words had held a measure of comfort.

And she hadn’t broken. Not once.

Chirrut hums, clearly thinking but doesn’t decide to share his thoughts with her. Instead, he answers her earlier question. “You passed out. The Captain insisted on carrying you here, but didn’t make it too far with his bad shoulder. So Baze took you the rest of the way.” He wags a finger at her, mock-accusing. “You’re lucky. Baze hasn’t carried me like that in years.”

Jyn reaches up to the hollow of her throat where her necklace lies, gripping it tightly. “So it wasn’t a dream, then.”

“No.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. Her free hand curls in the blanket and she squeezes her eyes shut to warn off a wave of dizziness. “Cassian – he’s not dead.”

Chirrut’s smile is soft. He reaches over to grab her hand with one of his own. “He has barely left your side. I told him to get some rest a couple hours ago.” he tilts his head to the side. “I could go get him, if you’d like.”

“No, let him sleep,” she rasps, then swallows. Her heart beats a staccato rhythm in her chest, but she pushes the blankets away and stands on unsteady feet. Chirrut moves to steady her. “Thank you.”

He pats her hand once. “For you, little sister, anything.”

Her face warms at the sentiment and she has to duck her head to hide her blush. It’s been a long time ( too long) since she’s has something this – something that feels like family.

Chirrut hadn’t lied – Cassian is nowhere to be found. Her heart stops for a moment, looking back and forth for any sign of him, any sign that he’s alive, until she remembers what Chirrut said. This is real. He’s alive.

Baze is resting up against the wall, eyes closed. When she enters the main room, however, he grins at her. “Up on your feet already, I see.”

“I’ve gotten enough sleep,” she responds easily, though she has to brace herself up against the wall for a second before continuing on to the cockpit. Next to Bodhi, the copilot’s seat is empty and she sinks into it slowly.

“You’re awake,” Bodhi says quickly, turning to her with wide eyes. He must not have heard her walk in. “Are you – are you feeling any better?”

“Mostly,” Jyn says with a slight roll of her shoulders. She doesn’t tell him how it’s hard to close her eyes without seeing Wobani in the darkness or her thoughts are scattered and lost, even though he might understand all too well.

(that’s another thing she can’t forgive saw for. bodhi never deserved the bor gullet.)

“Good. That’s – good.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. She watches as he flies, his hands steady when they’re normally shaky. This is where he belongs – at the helm of a ship. And the Rebellion gives him exactly that.

She hates to break the quiet, but the words slip out of her lips before she can stop them. “What happened? Back on Tamsye Prime?”

“I, uh – “ he pauses, clenches his hands in his lap. Jyn wants to reach out to soothe him, but doesn’t move. “I heard it all. Cassian turned his comlink on at the beginning and I came as fast as I could. You – you were already gone but Cassian – he was – “

He stops, takes a breath, continues. “I patched him up the best I could but I couldn’t – “ he turns to her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough. I should have been – “

This time she reaches out to him and steadies his hands beneath her own. “It’s not your fault, Bodhi,” she says firmly. When he opens his mouth to interrupt, she cuts him off.“You saved Cassian. Thank you.”

Thank you for helping him when I couldn’t.

“I’m just sorry you had to go through all of that.”

“Yeah,” Jyn breathes out, suddenly weary. She stands, claps a hand on Bodhi’s shoulder. “Yeah, me too.”

She makes it back to her room on her own, waving off both Chirrut and Baze as they stand to help her. Once there, she falls back on her cot roughly, resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands and cry.

She has a few moments to herself before Cassian bursts through the door. Her head shoots up by his sudden entrance, startled. His hair is mussed and his eyes are still half-closed from sleep. He offers her a small smile before covering a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he explains sheepishly, snagging the stool with his foot and dragging it closer to the bed. “I had only planned on getting an hour or two of sleep, but I, ah, slept a bit longer.”

Her mouth moves, but she has a hard time getting the words out. She swallows, “Don’t worry about it. You should still be resting.”

“I told Chirrut to wake me if anything changed, cariño ,” he replies, meeting her gaze so strongly she has to look away. This is not a dream. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers, picking a thread in her sheets with her ragged nails. She lets out a shaky exhale, then meets his eyes. He looks alarmed to see that they’re filled with tears. “Cass. You’re real…right? This isn’t – this isn’t a dream. You’re really here.”

Immediately he wraps his good arm around her shoulders, bringing her to his chest. She clutches the front of his shirt, trying to choke back her sobs. “I’m here, Jyn,” he murmurs, pressing kisses into her hair. That only makes her cry harder. “I’m real. This isn’t a dream. I’m here.”

“You were dead,” she chokes, the front of his shirt growing wet from her tears. He shushes her, rubbing circles on her back. “I heard you go down and – and you were dead. You were dead and I – I wanted to die too – “

“I am so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “I am so sorry, Jyn.”

“S’not your fault. It’s mine – if I hadn’t – “ Hadn’t what? Pissed off a bunch of Imperials? “You got shot and – Stars, Cass, that shouldn’t have happened.”

“You didn’t shoot me, Jyn. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner, that you had to go through – go through all that because of it.” She can hear the anger in his voice, but it’s not at her.

Eventually, she pulls back, wiping her tears and snot off her face with the back of her hand. “I ruined your shirt,” she mutters, wringing her hands in her lap. A broken laugh wrenches it’s way out of her throat. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says, grabbing her hands. His thumb rubs back and forth on her skin. “I have plenty of shirts back on Hoth.”

She reaches for him, tugging him upward. “Come here.”

“I’m not sure there’s enough room for the two of us,” he chuckles, but complies, sliding in next to her. His bad shoulder is propped up against the wall and he wraps his good arm around her shoulder, then presses a small kiss to her forehead. She curls into his embrace. “Your fever’s gone down. That’s good. I need to check your arm again, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” she replies, then watches with poorly hidden interest as he peels back the bacta patch. There’s four holes right in the center of her bicep, too neat and precise for them to be from a blaster. They’re not bleeding, but the skin around them is red and cracked.

Cassian hisses between his teeth, rubbing his thumb over the wounds gently. Jyn flinches and tugs her arm free, cradling it to her chest.

“It’s still infected,” he says as she smoothes the bacta patch back over it. “We don’t have the supplies to treat it on the ship. I’ve given you something to get your fever down, but – “

“Thank you,” Jyn replies softly. “I’ll be fine, Cassian.”

He gives her a pained glance. “Did they…they tortured you.” He states it so evenly, but Jyn can see the hurt in his eyes.

“Not much. I’m fine.”

“Jyn, don’t – “ he pauses, clenches his jaw. “Don’t lie. Not to me.”

She takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly. “Yeah. Mostly droids. I don’t remember a lot of it.” I remember too much of it.

Cassian’s grip tightens around her shoulder and she presses her face into his good shoulder, closing her eyes and struggling not to think about it. “I’m sorry, cariño. I should never have let them take you.”

The ridiculousness of his statement shocks her; she lifts her head up and lets out a startled gasp. “Cass, you – you were – “ You were dead. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“Could have gotten back up,” he mutters, pulling her back toward him.

“No,” she says. “No, you couldn’t have. You shouldn’t have – “ Survived. “The ‘trooper was aiming at your heart. How did you…?”

“Lucky for me, the ‘trooper that shot me had bad aim,” he says. “Shot a bit too high and just barely missed my heart. The only reason they didn’t come back and shoot me in the head was because you tackled their commander and it took all four of them to knock you out. So – thank you, for that.”

Jyn offers a small smile at that, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The rage and loss she had felt at that moment are two things that she never wants to feel ever again.

“By the time Bodhi got there, you were already gone, but he managed to patch me up enough to get me back to base. I spent a week in a bacta tank, and another in the medbay until they released me, then we left to come find you. We, uh, might be in a bit of trouble when we get back.”

“Oh?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“We didn’t really get permission to leave,” he replies with a slow, tired smile. “But none of us were going to leave you behind.”

“We have to live up to the name of Rogue One somehow,” Jyn says. Gently, she unwraps herself from his arm and pulls him close to her instead. Cassian rests his head on her chest and she runs her fingers through his hair, careful not to touch his bandages snaking up his neck. “It’s good to have you back, Cassian.”

“I’m glad we found you,” he whispers, eyes closing. It’s not long before his breathing evens out, his face calmer than she’s seen it in a long while. She smoothes down the hair at the nape of his neck, wondering the last time he’s slept properly. He looks awful, unshaven with dark bags underneath his eyes. He needs to rest if his shoulder is going to heal properly.

Despite all the sleep she’s gotten already, Jyn feels her eyes begin to flutter shut. She doesn’t fight it, placing her head on top of his and closing her eyes.

When she wakes up hours later still holding Cassian, she smiles, brushing away a small tear that had fallen unknowingly. This is real, she realizes, closing her eyes again and inhaling deeply. This isn’t a dream. You’re both safe.

And, for the first time since Tamsye Prime, she finally feels at peace.

[getalittlecountry]

Shape of You (10)

I apologize in advance....Don’t fear there’s more chapters to come!

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Chapter 10

I woke up to someone pressing soft kisses along my shoulders. I buried my face in my pillow as the flutters kept up, moving along my shoulder and down my back. I scrunched up my nose, hands were on my hips. I felt happy, I felt warm. I didn’t want to move, I didn’t want to burst whatever bubble I had found myself in. I couldn’t pretend any longer though, I giggled as he tickled my waist.

“I know you’re awake,” his deep sleep filled voice made my toes curl.

I sighed, “I don’t want to get up. Then we have to leave.” I opened my eyes and he was staring down at me, his fingers moving along my shoulder now.

He started to draw circles on my arm, “but we leave together, so it won’t be that bad. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, Nes.”

I smiled, “no, I guess not. If we can still do this, it’ll be perfect.”

Cassian leaned in, my fingers brushing his cheek, and kissed me softly. I smiled, never realizing how amazing this could be. How truly liberating it felt to finally let someone in. My chest wasn’t tight, my body wasn’t stiff. I felt like a girl I never knew I could be as I laid there with him. He had somehow found a way to bring me back to myself. To heal whatever damage Tomas had done.

“I’ll be right back,” He said against my lips. I sighed, but pulled myself away as he got up. I nodded, watching him walk out of the room wearing only his boxers. He was beautiful, I wasn’t sure what I had thought by trying to push him away.

I closed my eyes again as he shut the door. I and fallen asleep in his shirt, after he had worshipped me over and over again. His words not mine. I had fallen apart by his mouth, his hands, by him more than once last night. I shivered just remembering how good it felt. How I never wanted him to stop. How I never knew it could be as amazing, as warm and welcoming, as this.

I couldn’t stop smiling now that Cassian and I weren’t in a fake relationship. It was like I had become a whole new person again. Like the girl Tomas had hurt was finally free to find her pieces and put them back together. I snuggled into the blankets, warm and lazy. I didn’t want to leave, this place had brought so many good things, even if Tomas had been here.

The door opened and I opened my eyes. Cassian’s face was pale when he came back into the room. He sighed loudly as he crawled back into the bed beside me. He didn’t reach for me, he didn't pull me close again. He leaned against the headboard and his eyes stayed on the door.

“Hey,” I sat up and touched his hand, “everything okay?”

He nodded, coming out of his trance, “yeah. I just, ran into Tomas when I went downstairs.”

My eyes got wide, “what happened?”

“Nothing,” he sighed and finally reached for me, “he doesn’t matter. You. You matter.”

I smiled as he kissed me and I forgot all about Tomas and whatever had happened between him and Cassian. All that mattered was Cassian’s skin against mine.

“We have a few hours to kill,” he whispered as his hands pulled at the shirt against my hips. His eyes sparkled as I opened mine and I knew he was trying to forget whatever had happened.

I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck. I melted into him as the sun got higher in the sky.

*-*

It was almost noon by the time we pulled apart and got our things ready to go home. I got dressed, much to Cassian’s dismay. He had tried relentlessly to get him to join him in the shower. As tempting as that was, I knew we needed to get ready to leave if we wanted to get home at a decent hour. I was folding my clothes and putting them away, still smiling.

It was bittersweet, leaving this weekend behind. Then again I couldn’t wait to get home. For the first time the idea of being with someone didn’t scare me. Cassian was safe, he was solid. Cassian felt like home.

Arms came around me from behind and he was still damp. I didn’t care, I leaned into him as his hair dripped on his shoulders. He kissed my jaw, “I had a fun weekend, Nesta. With you.”

I smiled, “yeah I did too.”

He rubbed my shoulders before stepped away to grab his things. He got dressed, my eyes watching as he pulled his shirt on the way guys do. Pulling it over his head and his stomach twisting with the movement. I bit my lip, watching the towel strain against his hips. My cheeks flushed as I felt the warmth flood through me.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he stepped forward and grabbed my waist. I shook my head, bringing my eyes to his, “because it’s yours. I am yours Nesta.”

He brought my hand up to his chest and pressed it against his chest, “you’re so fucking corny. I can’t.”

He laughed, kissing me before grabbing his jeans, “and you love it. Admit it, Nesta. You love my corniness.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, “put on some pants, brute.”

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he finished getting dressed. He started to gather his things and put them in his bags. Everyone was already waiting downstairs for us, waiting to say goodbye. We all had long drives ahead of us.

Cassian took my bag with his and went down ahead of me to put them in the car. I walked down the stairs and I heard them laughing. I smiled as I went into the foyer and looked at everyone who had come this weekend. I stood with my sisters and hugged Elain first. She kissed my cheek and apologized for not calling enough. I told her it was okay, she was busy and so was I.

We would do better. We would be better sisters in the future.

Cassian came back in when I was standing with Feyre. I hugged her once more, "I promise to come home more," I said quietly as everyone talked amongst themselves, "I promise."

She smiled, "good. I promise to come to you too. I'm glad we talked about things. And I'm glad you've found someone. Your very own Rhys."

I rolled my eyes, "oh god if I ever get that public with my affection shoot me please."

My little sister giggled. I hugged Elain again and then Rhys. He apologized for not telling me about the wedding, and I told him it was okay. I told him he better take care of my sister with his life. He laughed and promised me no matter what Feyre would be safe with him.

Azriel gave me a nod, he wasn’t big on public affection and neither was I. I looked around and I realized that Mor was missing.

Cassian came up behind me, “it was nice meeting you guys,” he lost some of his smile as Tomas came down the steps. He squeezed my waist as Rhys nodded and then reached for Feyre.

“I hope my sister brings you around more,” Feyre said as she hugged him. He kissed her cheek and then Tomas stepped closer to us. Cassian looked at me and then the room got tense. He let me go and took a step away.

He stepped towards the hallway, “I’ll be right back. I left something in the kitchen.”

Tomas followed him with his eyes and watched as Cassian disappeared. I looked at Feyre and shrugged, telling her that we would make plans to get together as soon as I got home and figured out my schedule. Ten minutes passed and Cassian still hadn’t come back.

"Well we should get going. At this rate we won't make it back by evening," I turned and looked towards the kitchen where Cassian had gone. More than likely in search of a snack, "where did my boyfriend go?"

I walked towards the kitchen looking for Cass and my jaw dropped. Because I found him, with his hands on Mor's hips and their lips inches apart. I watched as they kissed, my heart breaking. I cleared my throat, unsure what to say. They jumped apart, Cassian’s eyes were huge as my heart sunk. He pulled away from Mor, but the damage had already been done.

"I um. I was looking for you," Mor was smiling, Cassian looked like a kid with his hand in a cookie jar, "it's time to go."

I spun on my heel and Cassian ran for me, "Nesta wait. Please listen," he grabbed my wrist, "she kissed me Nesta."

I nodded my head, "right. I saw her hold you down and force herself on you," tears filled my eyes as everyone stopped getting ready to leave and watched the fight that was about to happen, "I don't even know what to say."

Cassian looked hurt. But then his eyes went over my head and he pulled himself together. His face lost all expression. His jaw tensed and his hand dropped my wrist. I watched his fingers curl into a fist.

Time slowed down then.

Cassian glanced at Tomas as we all stood in the foyer again. This time he wasn’t holding me, this time he was standing away from me, my heart trying to understand what had just happened. Why Cassian had been sweet with me one minute and trying to get with Mor the next.

I let out a breath as everyone watched us. No one but the three of us knew what had happened. But they could all feel the tension. They could all see Cassian’s shoulders were tense, "Nes. Can we talk?"

"Cass we have a three hour car drive, and I honestly don’t want to talk about it right now. I just,” I pushed down my tears, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

He shook his head, Tomas's eyes staring at us. He let out a shaky breath and looked at the floor. Something about the way he held himself. As if there was a weight in his shoulders, made me take a step forward. It made me forget about the fact that he had just been kissing my sister’s friend. Because he looked so different from the man I had brought here. So different from the boy who told me this had always been real for him.

Something was wrong and that scared me.

But I froze, I stopped reaching for him, the moment he spoke.

"I think we should see other people." His eyes didn't meet mine. They were still glued to the floor. Like he though he could try hard enough to will it to open up and swallow him whole.

"I'm sorry what?" My entire chest caved in as Cassian's words hit me.

"I think we should break up," his words were hard, yet so soft I could barely hear them. Everyone was watching, including Tomas.

Tears filled my eyes. Because yesterday things had changed. Because yesterday we had been moving towards more. He kissed me, he touched me. I let him in, he was under my skin. I let out a shaky breath.

Mor laughed, making me look in her direction, "figures. He slept with me for three weeks and never called once he was done. Cassian is not a relationship kind of guy. I was just reminding him of all those lovely nights when you so rudely interrupted us.”

I raised an eyebrow, "excuse me? You two know each other?"

Rhys laughed, "that's why I recognized you! You were all over my cousin at the bar on St. Patrick’s day!”

My eyes were burning as I stared at Cassian. His cheeks were red, his hands were flexing. And Tomas stood there smiling, watching the whole thing as if he had planned this to happen. It would've been bittersweet if he had a camera in his hand.

My life had come full circle, this house, Tomas. Everyone watching as he ruined me once and for all.

Cassian shook his head, but Mor spoke first, "actually we do. He probably doesn't remember since he was drunk beyond reason. But he took me home a few months ago. Slept with me and then left. If I recall that was our pattern every weekend for about a month."

"We've all had one night stands right?"

"Except I remember you," half her mouth curled up, "because you told me you loved me. You told me you cared. You listened when I told you about my friends. About the girl who's sister was hard to handle. I told you all about Nesta. And you told me if you ever met her, you would break her."

I let out a sob, Cassian's eyes flying back to mine. My hands covered my face, "this really was all a game to you."

"No it wasn't," he reached for me, "Nesta please. I don't remember what she's talking about. I swear if I said it, it was the arrogant man child I used to be."

My entire chest caved in. I had done this to myself. I had broken my own heart by believing I could have someone like Cassian. By believing Cassian would ever want someone like me. Tears filled my eyes and I tried to stop the ache that spread through me.

I couldn't wait until the numbness finally set back in.

"You know what you're right," I stood up taller and forced my head high, "we shouldn't be together. This will never work."

Cassian's face fell and he reached for my hand. "Nesta," his eyes word wide, pleasing with me to understand. Except I couldn't because for the first time in my life I was truly, utterly heartbroken.

“Can we please just talk about this in the car?” he sounded so hurt, so broken I almost agreed to it. But then his skin almost brushed mine and my entire body broke. A flash of them in the kitchen hit me, the way he had been looking at her, the closeness of their faces. It was all too much and I gave into hit.

I guess it was ironic, the whole weekend was one big joke on Nesta. Because Mor had done exactly what Tomas had tried to do with me. She had gotten between us. She had ruined whatever we had almost started.

"Don't touch me," I snapped as I stepped away from him, "find your own way back to the city. I'm done with you."

I turned and walked towards the car, grabbing my bag that sat by the door. I heard someone ask what had just happened, Cassian called for me. Tomas laugh, it was the loudest sound I could hear as I threw my bag onto the seat and started the car. I didn't let the tears fall until I had made it to the main road.

I pulled over onto the side of the road, my knuckles turning white from holding onto the steering wheel so tightly as the tears started to fall. Because once the damn broke, when I realized how I had already fallen in love with him before we ever laid down in that bed together, I couldn't stop. I cried harder than I had ever cried before.

Because this was what had scared me. Letting someone in, only to let them ruin what was left of my heart.

[highlordrhysie]

The high lord and the Suriel

So this just a little fanfic inspired by @something-called-sno’s post ’ Rhys can’t catch a suriel’. Thank you @getalittlecountry for all the help and feedback you’ve given me! ( @it-takes-love-to-change-lives, it might not be a book, but I simply couldn’t resist!) :

~

“Cassian! I’m just taking Rhys his food, try not to get into too much trouble would you?” I called.

Cassian had come over earlier that evening and had made himself comfortable lounging in the sitting room with his feet up on the table and wings splayed out behind him so there was little to no room left for anyone else. “trouble? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about Feyre!”

I laughed, shaking my head as I bundled up the warm bowl of soup up into a container along with a chunk of bread and some butter. After it was contained, I held onto it tightly making sure not to spill it as I winnowed out of the town house and into the cold forest.

The bowl began to steam as I emerged in the clearing and I huddled deeper into my coat, fighting against the bitter winter chill. I stepped over the bubbling stream which cut across the clearing, dodging between the myriad of traps laid out over the ground. In the centre of each was an item of clothing: a burgundy cloak, a fine cotton shirt and…

I knelt down to pick up the scrap of fabric within this particular trap and found myself frowning at the set of black lacy underthings dangling from my fingers. Why, why was it not a surprise that Rhys would try to catch a suriel using underwear? Especially my underwear? In fact one of my favorite pairs. Laughing quietly to myself I set the scraps of lace back in their trap.

Tucked into the foliage the ramshackled hut was almost indistinguishable from the forest as I made my way towards the front door. He had been here for two weeks now and I’d given up offering to help. Stubborn as the day is long, he was one hundred percent determined to catch the suriel by himself- all thanks to Cassiens gods damned bet. It had taken a whole evening of mockery, ridicule and an uncertain amount of alcohol, but Rhys had eventually folded, falling face first into the commanders trap. At the time it had been hilarious: the most powerful highlord of all time, unable to catch a suriel in 500 years of trying, while I- a half starved mortal - had managed it within weeks of entering Prythian. The opportunity had been too perfect to resist. Now, however, after a long fortnight of sleeping on my own I was starting to get impatient.

Taking the last few rickety steps carefully, I knocked on the door before letting myself in. It was surprisingly warm and cosy inside, despite its worn down outward appearance. I mean there were even holes in the walls and without magic I knew it would have been just as freezing inside as it was out. Rhys smiled up at me as I came in, beckoning for me to sit down beside him before returning his attention to the window and the empty traps beyond. My lips quirked up into a mischievous smile. That window had gotten far too much attention in the last two weeks and I decided it was about time that I got some instead.

Setting the bowl down on the table to my right I turned and looked at my mate. Even from behind he was beautiful, he was everything I never thought I deserved. Quietly I crept up behind him and ran my hands over his shoulder, down his chest until my lips were close enough to brush his ear. Weeks without him warming my bed made me crave his scent, his taste. I let my breath tickle his skin and felt his muscles tense then melt beneath my hands as I traced my lips against his neck: light and teasing. Rhys closed his eyes, as caught up in the moment as I was. Strong hands gripped my waist and then I found myself in his lap, looking into those stunning violet eyes, sparkling with amusement.

He was Beautiful.

His eyes were more beautiful than even the sky on starfall night.

Rhys seemed to purr as he stroked his thumb over my lips. “you are the most wonderful of distractions Feyre darling.”

Wordlessly, I griped the collar of the black tunic he was wearing and kissed him slowly and deeply, relishing the feel of his mouth on mine. Even after all this time his touch still sent thrills through me. I didn’t think I would ever tired of needing him, wanting him. We had eternity to be together and even that didn’t seem like enough time. Breaking the kiss I wrapped my arms around him and put my head on his chest as he pulled me closer, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I wish you would stop trying to catch this damn suriel Rhys. It’s been a fortnight! The bed is cold without you.” I grumbled and felt his laughter reverberate through him.

“missing me are you?” I tried to scowl at his smile, but it was impossible, because I did miss him. Whenever he was gone I missed him. I held onto the bond, I held onto him.

“well, I’m sorry my love, but you’re going to have to miss me a little while longer, because I’m not leaving until there’s a suriel stood out there with it’s legs bound”

“you’re a nightmare”

“hey, you know Cassien and Azriel, they’ll never let me live this down now that they know my little failing!” His raven hair fell into his face as he shook his head. “plus, they’ve already taken me for everything I’m worth in cards, I can’t let the insufferable bastards get the better of me this time"

I sighed “well alright then, but I’ve already dealt with the night court twice now on my own, so you’re going to have to leave your hovel sooner or later” extracting myself from his arms I leaned over and picked up the food I’d made. It had gone cold so I reheated it using my power and slid it in front of him. “don’t worry, I didn’t make it” “

“thank you Feyre, you didn’t have to”

“well I wouldn’t want my mate to starve would I?” I laughed and bent to kiss him on the cheek but he twisted so that it landed on his lips. I yelped as he tugged me back onto his lap, holding me captive with his kiss. When I mumbled onto his mouth that I really had to go his arms only tightened further.

“Rhys! Look! The suriel!” I gasped, pointing out the window.

“where!” His arms slackened and I used the distraction to slip away, my heart sinking slightly at the reality of leaving him here for yet another night.

It didn’t take long for him to realise my ruse, but I was out the door before the explicits started flying. Pushing my hands into my pockets I grinned, looking around at the forest. It was so peaceful, the trees whispering in their gentle voices, mixed with the sound of flowing water that I decided to walk part of the way back before winnowing. I was wandering through the trunks on the outside of the clearing when something flickered out the corner of my eye. There, mere meters away, it’s ragged shift fluttering in the breeze stood the Suriel. It’s lipless mouth was pulled into what might have been a smile.

“I know what you’re doing” I said, crossing my arms. An unearthly chuckle echoed towards me, a sound not unlike grating bones. “do me a favour would you and please just let him catch you?”

“Oh but the little bat is so much fun to toy with!” It’s fingers clicked together with every word.

“Yeah, well you might want to give this game up my friend, because he’s even taken to luring you in with underwear and believe me when I tell you it’s certainly not of the modest sort!” I lingered just long enough to see the suriels mouth drop open, before winnowing out of the forest.

I swore if there had been any blood in the creatures body its cheeks would have been bright red.

~

It was the next day when Rhys finally returned. I was just coming down the stairs after having a bath when the front door of the townhouse flew open and Rhys strode inside. “Cough it up Cassian! I have returned and bear a piece from the suriels gown as proof of my success!”

He brandished the rag like a trophy above his head as the rest of the family filtered from the sitting room and into the hall. Mor was the first out and she bundled into him, smothering him in a hug.

Rhys laughed and hugged her back “glad to know you missed me Morrigan”

Mor stepped away, grinning up at me. “ Of course! But it wasn’t just me, I’m pretty sure the court of nightmares will be glad to have you back, Feyre’s been scaring the shit out of them. You should have seen her!”

“That’s my girl” Rhys winked and I saw a flash of pride there in his eyes, before Cassian piped up.

"I can’t believe you actually caught it!”, He exclaimed, clapping Rhys on the shoulder and that was that as they all barreled back into the sitting room, bickering over the price of their bets.

Amren however hung back as we followed along behind them and without looking at me said: ”you caught the suriel and told it to let itself get caught didn’t you” there was no question there, but I heard the amusement layered in her voice.

“I didn’t even have to catch it, it was literally standing right there” I laughed and watching them all together, celebrating Rhys’s success, even Amren chuckled slightly before joining in with their laughter.

[julez-the-great]

Honest Goodbyes--Cassian Andor x Reader

“Imagine living in a world where you can see everyone’s time left to live, except for yours.” A/N: Okay, so I saw this after googling some prompts for imagines. Spoilers for Rogue One!!! Enjoy!

–

Silently, you trudged through the foliage, branches and leaves hitting you as you walked. Sweat was dripping down your face and bags were beginning to form under your eyes. It had been forever since you’ve slept in your own bed back at base. It had also been a while since you’ve eaten a proper meal. Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food.

“Be quiet,” you whispered to your stomach quietly, wrapping your arms around your thinning torso. Continuing your trek, you’ve finally found what you were looking for–the secret base of the imperial army. It has only taken you one month to figure out where it was. You squatted low in the brush and watched as soldiers walked in and out of the building, some carrying boxes and others only holding blasters. You began to map out the place.

In front of you was a decent sized building only one story tall. The walls appeared to be thick and coated with a metal finish. Outside of one area was a set of double doors with crates stacked neatly beside it. On the next wall over was another door and this was the door that the imperials continuously came in and out of. Deciding you had a good picture of this side, you snuck around to the other to see a landing pad and more crates. Overall, this place was not extremely busy.

Standing once more, you scanned the area to make sure the coast was clear before dashing to the door of the landing pad. Like the wind, you made it to the doors, hiding behind some crates before the shuffled of shoes was heard. Luckily it was only one of then as you silently knocked him down and out. Working quickly, you put on his armor and grabbed his blaster. The time on his forearm was ticking down quickly–ten minutes and forty-seven seconds.

You quickly walked inside the doors to see a giant ship inside. You’ve never seen a model like it before. You wanted to stop and stare but you pushed ahead, reminding yourself of the mission at hand.

‘Alright, just have to plant this bomb and then get the heck out of range,’ you thought, scoping the place out for a spot.

“Hey, why don’t you take a break, you’ve been working hard these last few days, recruit,” you heard a robotic voice say behind you. Stiffening, you turned around to face a trooper with a different style of helmet. Nodding, you saluted before being dismissed.

‘Good thing I’ve gone undercover with the Empire before,’ you thought to yourself before scampering off. Upon entering another room, you saw a control room that housed all of the electronics in this base. Smiling, you looked around, reaching under the suit and pulling out a small electronic stick the size of your hand. You placed it under one of the panels, hiding it. Pressing the activation button, you left the room and towards an exit.

–

Your heart raced as you ran through the jungle, preparing yourself for the shock wave of the blast. You had deposed of the armor as soon as you were out of sight of the base. It surprised you how there were so few imperial troopers on the base, especially with the amount of what appeared to be new technology living inside.

You stopped by a tree, catching your heaving breath and waited. The humidity of the jungle was causing you to sweat through your clothing and become slightly dehydrated. Your stomach was aching from your lack of food and your eyes were willing you to sleep for just a couple of minutes.

‘The mission is over, all I have to do is get back to the rendezvous point and contact the Rebellion,’ you thought to yourself, listening to the echoes of the animal calls and feeling the rumble of the ground. A smile came onto your face as you sat down on the muddy ground, pulling your hands to your ears and closing your eyes. The explosion was loud and you still felt the shock wave even though you were two miles away from the blast. For a little device, it sure packs a punch.

–

You arrived back to the Rebellion in one piece and was greeted with a couple of hugs and a few high-fives.

“Way to go (y/n)!” One of your friends yelled, causing you to smile. Another friend pat your back and before you knew it, you were in the hallway leading to your room.

This hallway was dimly lit and the paint was beginning to chip off of the walls. Some of the bulbs were out, but that didn’t matter to you. What mattered to you was to make galaxies all around safer, more pleasant places to live. The reign of the Empire had struck your family harder than others, and you decided that you would join the fight against them.

Looking up, you saw a familiar figure standing against your door, watching you come down the eerie hallway. His hair was messy and his clothes were filthy, but so were yours. In fact, you probably looked worse than the captain.

“Hey, Cassian,” you stated once reaching your door. You dug out your keys and unlocked the wooden door, walking inside with Cassian following.

“Welcome back,” he said, looking about your room. The dresser was beginning to accumulate dust, as was the desk and the lamp. Cassian was an interesting person–he always built up walls to pretect himself from everything around him. The Rebellion always came first for him, but he always had to see you either when you arrived home from a mission or before he left out on a mission.

“I was hoping to see you when I arrived back,” you said, sitting on the edge of your bed studying the man before you. You looked at his arm and it read: 26 years 2 days 3 hours 8 minutes 29 seconds. He caught you staring at his arm and then looked at yours, a small smile appearing on his face momentarily. Just as quickly as it came it dissapeared.

“Well, I’ll catch you later,” he said, quickly filing out of your room, leaving you alone. He’s always done this when he visited you. Sometimes he would strike a small comversation, but mostly he just checked to make sure you were alright. You’ve also noticed that he was not like this with everyone. Laying back onto your bed you thought about the mysterious Cassian Andor.

–

A few days later, you were helping Cassian load up his ship for a mission of his. You knew nearly nothing about it, except for that it was big and a few of the Rebellion members were accompanying him.

Placing the last box on the ship, you stood up straighy, wiping the sweat that was accumulating on your head, smiling at completing your task.

“Is that the last one?” He said, pointing to the box. You nodded, glancing at his arm. Your heart dropped and your smile soon turned into a frown.

1 day 2 hours 59 seconds

Cassian saw your expression shift and walked up to you, placing his hands on your biceps.

“Thank you,” he said, rubbing up and down your arms. He knew that this mission would be his last and he knew that he would never see you again. It broke his heart to see how sad you were, but he had to help the Rebellion first. Gently, he placed a kiss on the top of your head before walking into the ship, leaving you to walk yourself out.

You walked quickly to Mon Mothma’s office, hoping that she would listen to you. You knocked on the door, it’s echo ringing off the wall behind you.

“Come in,” she said. You opened the door to see her in front of a giant map, looking over it. “Good afternoon, (y/n).”

“Good afternoon. I was wondering about a mission,” you stated bluntly. She turned around facing you.

“And which mission might that be?” She asked you cautiously, already knowing which you were talking about. You stared at her, a blank expression on your face.

“The one that Cassian is going on,” you said. She turned back around before saying, “it’s classified and only those who are going on it know the details.”

“Let me go on it then. I want to help,” you demanded. She smiled softly.

“But you’re needed here,” was all she replied before circling a spot on the map. You looked and noticed that she circled a planet called Scarif.

“And besides, I couldn’t tell you to go since the ship is already full,” she then gazed to her left, looking at an empty ship before looking into your eyes, the smile still on her face. You nodded, understanding her.

“Alright, thank you,” you said to her before rushing out of the room and away to Scarif.

–

Here you were, sitting on a beach with the one and only Cassian Andor, on the middle of a planet that was unknown to you until now. The beam from the Death Star shot out as your eyes began to tear up.

“Cassian, I love you,” you turned to him, hugging him tightly. You buried your head into the crook of his next as he tore down his own walls and hugged you close to him.

“You had a long life ahead of you, (y/n),” he whispered, an unseen tear escaping his eye. “I wish you didn’t have to go like this, my love.”

The ground rumbled and your heart began to race. Everyone else that had come with you was now dead and you were about to be as well. The tears began to slide down your face as you glanced at Cassian’s arm one last time.

“You had a long life too, Cass. But now we’re down to the last 25 seconds,” you said, choking out a sob. He pulled you towards him, comforting you.

“Remember that time we had to escape from the Empire because we were too cocky to ask for backup?” He asked and you nodded, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, that was a fun task,” you replied, smiling at the memory of fooling those around you. This was one of your favorite memories because you got trapped trying to find out information about the Empire. The way you escaped was by dressing as various officials and throwing the ones whose uniforms you stole into a tiny room with no windows.

“Goodbye, (y/n),” you heard him say as you felt him place a kiss on your head. You hugged him tighter as the rumbling of the ground became more intense and before you knew it, a blinding light took you from reality, took you from home, took you from your life.

[canardroublard]

Poco a poco

Fandom: Rogue One (featuring characters from the OT)

Pairings: Jyn/Cassian, background Chirrut/Baze and Han/Leia

Two-shot, first chapter: 8000 words. Second chapter is written and will be posted early next week.

ao3

University/Classical music AU. No wait, classical music isn’t that scary, come back! No knowledge of classical music is required to read, I promise. Slow burn UST, humour, and other good stuff are contained within.

Poco a poco (It.). By degrees; lit. little by little; as in, Rall. poco a poco.

The Student's Pronouncing Musical Dictionary, by Leon Aubry

Jyn, in her defense, is not exactly late for class.

She's just not very early. Music theory doesn't technically start for another (damn it she keeps forgetting to switch her watch to this new time zone which means it's off by...) three minutes. Three minutes to get to Theory 2100. Or at least to get to the room where she thinks Theory 2100 is being held. The Yavin School of Performing Arts had seemed much easier to navigate when she'd been on the new students tour yesterday. Also, who designed this school with so many bloody stairs? She's just rounding the corner to tackle the next set, feeling only slightly embarrassed by how much she's panting after the past three flights, when she bodily slams into someone and isn't that exactly what her day needed right now. For fuck's sake.

"Sorry, I'm late for theory," She says, hoisting herself off of the dark-haired man who is now crumpled against the wall, groaning slightly. She notices the case in his arms. "Oh shit, your violin -"

"Viola, actually," He says with the sigh of someone who knows he should give up trying to correct people on this issue but keeps on doing so out of pure bloody-mindedness. Grabbing her proffered hand to pull himself back up (wow, he's pretty tall), he continues. "It's fine. Theory 2100?"

"Yeah."

"You're going the wrong way. It's down a floor," He seems to take her in for the first time, frowning down at her slightly. "I'm going there now, you can follow me." She's only a teeny tiny bit distracted by the way his hair flops over his forehead when he turns away to start down the stairs.

"So, what are you?" He asks.

"Piano," Jyn says, falling into step beside him. The man's head bobs, nodding to himself as if she's just confirmed a hunch.

"No instrument with you, and most vocalists aren't so," He makes a circling gesture with the hand not holding his viola case, searching for a word. "Scrawny."

"Um, thanks?" Scrawny? Fortunately she's spared the pressure of further response when he pushes open a door and gestures brusquely for her to go in first. The small lecture hall is mostly full, with about thirty students sprawled in their seats, pulling tiredly at their Starbucks cups. 9 AM classes are hell. Jyn slides into the nearest available seat at the back, but her new acquaintance begins walking down to the front of the room.

"Ah, Mr. Andor," Says the professor in a tone of such condescension that Jyn can already definitively state that she does not like him. "Glad you could finally join us."

"Sorry Professor Draven," the man, whose name is apparently Mr. Andor, says. "Professor Îmwe wanted to discuss my repertoire for this year before classes started, and I had to help-" He stops then and turns, blinking, back to where Jyn has tried to settle in as inconspicuously as possible, staring up at her as if he's finally realized that he was too busy calling her scrawny to actually get her name (or give his, for that matter) like a polite human being. Before she can put him out of his misery, Draven interrupts.

"You have decided to grace us with your presence after all, Jyn Erso," The man scoffs. She wants to punch him in the dick. "I wasn't sure whether to trust the rumours." Before she can let loose a few choice words which would certainly have gotten her expelled on her very first day here, Draven's face wrinkles into a bulldoggish scowl.

"Both of you, take a syllabus. Don't be late again." He turns back to the board. "As I was just explaining to the students who showed up on time, this class will be focusing on musical analysis."

Goddammit.

Finding Bodhi in the canteen after class is such a relief that Jyn nearly cries. He gives her a bright (Bodhi is always so bright) smile and waves her over.

"Everyone keeps whispering and staring at me," She says, "I half expect someone to yell 'Pay five p. to see Jyn Erso, former child prodigy!' like I'm a circus freak."

Bodhi's face sinks. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I didn't tell anyone, but one of the professors must have let it slip last week."

"Probably Draven. He's odious," She says and Bodhi has the nerve to snort at her.

"I thought you might not like him," He replies, gesturing around the dank, concrete room with his fork. "Most people don't."

"We're spending the entire semester just doing analysis! I hate analysis," Bodhi actually smiles at her outrage. She liked him so much better when they were young and he was scared of her because she was the daughter of Galen Erso, world famous violinist.

"Draven's tough. But he knows his stuff and he wants everyone to succeed," Chewing thoughtfully, he adds, "Even if he doesn't show it."

Bodhi's ability to see the good in everyone is positively infuriating sometimes. He is also patient, to his credit, and lets her launch into a long rant, nodding and making appropriate noises of sympathy. She loves this about him. When she begins to run out of steam he prods her to eat. "You'll need to keep your strength up. You've got your private lesson after this, right?"

"Yes, assuming I don't get lost trying to get to this one too."

Bodhi's assurances that Professor Malbus is much more understanding are a small comfort. "He's okay, you'll be fine. How'd you find theory?"

"Some violist. Andor. I bumped into him on the way to class." She doesn't need to tell Bodhi the details of how literal the bumping was.

"Oh, so you've met Cassian?"

"Yep. He called me scrawny. Nice guy."

Bodhi just shakes his head. Her phone chirps.

Incoming call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS

She thumbs the decline call button while Bodhi continues.

"He is nice, Jyn. And you are scrawny."

She may not know anyone at Bodhi's start of semester party, but there's lots of beer and when you really think about it, beer can be a pretty good friend so it's really almost the same thing as actually knowing people. And yeah, so maybe she's lurking in the corner like a total loser, but at least she's managed to be the only woman in the room who's successfully avoided being hit on by God's Gift to Music, Han Solo. Why are all the trumpet players she knows such overconfident tossers?

The tiny flat is packed with music students celebrating the fact that classes inexplicably began on a Friday this year. She scans the room to see if Bodhi is free enough that she can go harass him in lieu of meeting new people. Bodhi, who is just sickeningly nice sometimes, well, all the time, has instead taken pity on the blond guy who was in her tour group with his twin sister. Luke something? All she remembers is that he's an oboist and his sister plays horn, and Jyn remembers the latter fact only because the woman's twisty side-bun hairdo looks like she has two French horns (minus the bells) stuck onto her head. It's nice when people make things easy to remember.

"You are the Jyn Erso," Says a voice unnervingly close to her ear. She jumps slightly and glances around to discover a towering blond man who is staring owlishly at her. Why does she always attract the weirdos at parties?

"You are the reason Cassian was late for Theory 2100."

Apparently she's meant to say something now? "Yeah. I mean, he was late anyways," She corrects, feeling suddenly defensive. This guy just keeps staring at her like she's some exotic species of insect that he might want to pin to a board and study if he were motivated enough to do so, but he can't be bothered so he's about to squash her instead out of vaguely malicious indifference and what the fuck is with the male students of this school? God.

"No, he was not," He says primly. Good lord, she's not even going to make it through her first day here without starting a fight. Bodhi won't be surprised. "Cassian is a conscientious student. If you had not assaulted him and then solicited his assistance, he would not have been late."

Jyn wonders if she could jump high enough from a standstill to just start throttling him now or if she'd have to ask him to crouch down first.

"Hey, listen, you knob, he said-"

"Kay, where have you been?" A hand parts the wall of people boxing in her corner and of course it's Cassian because the universe hates her and will not let her alone long enough to get properly soused while sulking in a corner like the well-adjusted adult that she is.

 "I have been getting to know"  (Oh, that's what this is?) "Jyn Erso, the women whom you spent at least thirty percent of our lunch break talking about."

Cassian actually flushes at that. She can see it start at his cheeks and disappear into the neck of his t-shirt and she cannot contain the grin that overtakes her while he tries to verbally dodge that particularly interesting pronouncement.

"I wasn't - it wasn't that much!" He clears his throat slightly. "Kay, Threepio wants to talk to you about tone clusters. He's thinking of using them in his next piece, the one he's writing for his recital." And thank God, that actually works, sending Kay off grousing about how he is about to save Threepio from making a horrible mistake. "Sorry about him," Cassian says. "He means well. He's John Kay, by the way. Everyone just calls him Kay though."

"He's studying composition?"

"Yes."

"Well, that explains," She uses her free hand to indicate broadly the direction in which Kay had just left, "Everything. Does no-one around here remember how to introduce themselves?" She grumbles and is rewarded when Cassian ducks his head awkwardly.

"Han seems to have it figured out,"' He says, gesturing over to where the lanky man is indeed making the acquaintance of yet another pretty girl. She can't tell for certain from across the room but it looks like what's-her-name, Horn Buns. Luke's sister. Cassian interrupts her thoughts before she can make a definitive identification. "Should we try again?" and he's gazing down at her with kind brown eyes that peek out from under his fringe of hair (it looks so soft) and pulling her hand into his gentle, warm grasp and oh shit she is in trouble.

"Cassian Andor." He looks positively miraculous when he grins at her.

Shit shit shit.

The thing Jyn likes most about Professor Malbus, Baze, as he insists she call him, is that he is one of the few professors she's had who is able to look past what a complete disaster her life is at the moment and just focus on music. He's not one for small talk, doesn't scold her too much for being late, and has also had absolutely zero comment on her semi-famous upbringing. They just talk music and that is something she can do for days.

"The left hand in measure twenty-eight sounds much better this week," He says, squinting at her score slightly from his amusingly homey armchair. The entire office looks like it was designed by an extremely aged man who was mostly concerned with being warm enough; big armchair, throw blankets, a space heater tucked under his tiny desk. It's delightful. "You need to get a better edition of the score, I don't know how you read this. It's Chopin, you know well enough to get the Paderewski."

She winces. He's got her there.

"Sorry, Baze. The Paderewski edition is quite expensive and when I bought this book..." She's not poor per se, but admitting that she couldn't scrape up enough money to buy anything better than the cheapest edition of Chopin's nocturnes still feels vaguely like she's failed at something. And no way in hell would she have crawled back to Saw or her father to ask for the money. He cuts off her excuses with a raised hand.

"It's fine." He absently nudges his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You can obviously read all of the notes well enough, everything sounds correct. Mind the dynamics in measure forty-five, though." His notes about her right hand fingering during the same measure are interrupted by a few knocks at the door, which is opened after Baze grunts something that sounds like "hmm?" The puckish face of the string professor, Chirrut Îmwe, pokes around the door frame.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"If I said yes, would you go away?" Baze asks with a huff.

"No, but I would feel bad about staying," Chirrut says, stepping into the room with a grin. "Hello Jyn," He greets her. She's not entirely sure what his vision is like, but after a couple weeks of Chirrut roaming the halls with his white cane, yet identifying her before she speaks, her best guess is that he has at least some functional sight. "Have you found an ensemble partner yet?"

"I'm doing the Britten cello sonata with Bodhi." She says, kicking herself as soon as she finishes the sentence because Chirrut is Bodhi's teacher for God's sake, he knows that already. "Um, but haven't found anyone for the second ensemble, no." Which is something she should probably fix. She'd been talking about teaming up with Leia but then the horn player ended up doing orchestra and also forming what Jyn understands to be an incredibly argumentative quartet with Han, Luke, and Chewie. So Leia was not an option anymore.

Chirrut smiles in Baze's direction, then, and Jyn's teacher lets out a little grunt. "Chirrut, stop pestering my students. The department does give you a budget for accompanists." It's rather sweet of Baze to stick up for her considering that her teacher had been prodding her to hurry up and find a second ensemble for at least the past week.

"Aren't they called 'collaborative pianists' now?" Chirrut says wryly. "Why hire someone when Jyn needs the ensemble credit as much as Cassian does?"

"Cassian?" She says. Oh, hell no. She's been doing a great job of avoiding Cassian and his annoyingly perfect face and the way he makes her stomach feel all fluttery whenever he smiles. Her history with personal relationships in general has been nothing short of a train wreck and romance has been no better; she cannot deal with whatever that is right now. She is barely holding her life together as it is. Conveniently enough it turns out that theory is the only class they have together this semester and with Cassian spending all of his free time with Kay it's been easy to carry on pretending that he doesn't really exist. Suits her fine.

"He's still looking for someone to do Brahms' second viola sonata," Chirrut says after a brief pause. "The piano part would suit you, Jyn." Baze is now looking at her appraisingly over the top of his glasses.

"It would be a good fit to round out your rep. Unless you have an alternate suggestion?"

Bugger. Well, looks like she's going to be dealing with whatever that is a lot more from now on.

 Cassian, it would seem, is no more enthusiastic about their arrangement than she was. She's not sure whether to feel relieved or offended by that. He more or less throws the piano score at her while rushing out of theory class, not even making eye contact, and texts her a perfunctory "7 pm thurs?" to arrange a practice time. Well, fine.

She wanders down to the practice rooms at 6:45, actually early for once in her life. It's mostly thanks to Bodhi's constant nagging today, but Jyn will still happily take the credit. Leia is practicing her Mozart horn concerto in the first closet-like room on her right, fighting with a fiddly scale passage. Walking a few doors further she can hear an oboist, possibly Luke, working on some piece she can't identify. Jyn turns the hall corner and smiles when she sees that practice room sixteen, the only one with a grand piano, is unoccupied. Clearly it's her lucky day. The magnificent old Bösendorfer sits in the dark room, hunkering awkwardly in the tiny space which offers room for little else apart from the monster piano, a dented music stand into which someone has scratched the word 'butts', and a plastic chair. The piano's humidifier unit winks coyly at her from where it snuggles against the underside of the keyboard, green light confirming that the instrument is being kept happy. Jyn mentally greets the piano with a hello, old girl as she sits on the wooden bench.

Her phone chirps when she turns it back on, intending to see if Baze has emailed her about her rep for the next recital.

1 missed call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS

1 new voicemail

Not such a lucky day after all. Bollocks. She dismisses the notifications and deletes the voicemail before stuffing her phone back into her bag and turning back to the keyboard.

Do not think about him. Her heart is racing, readying her for a fight that she is definitely not having tonight. As she's always done, she turns to music to calm her anger.

Midway through Jyn's first set of warmup scales, Cassian bustles into the room, throwing his coat onto the chair and looking nearly as disheveled as Jyn normally feels. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and he appears even less shaven than usual. Jyn chooses to helpfully point this out to him.

"You look like shit." Okay, possibly not the best way to deal with him at the moment. No-one has ever accused Jyn of being good with people.

Cassian rolls his eyes at her and retrieves the score from his bag with what appears to be far more force than should be required. "Have you practiced at all, or are you too busy getting lost?"

That clearly does not merit a response. Learning the finer details of whatever stick has lodged itself up Cassian's behind is something she has neither the patience nor interpersonal skills to pursue. She'd almost thought that doing this piece with Cassian might not be so bad after all, but if he's going to spend the entire semester being a miserable sod she will regret this. He sighs then, flicking his gaze briefly in her direction before turning back to his viola case, tightening the bow strings with a few precise swivels of his wrist.

"Sorry," He mumbles. "It's been a long day." God, Jyn has had days like that. She can forgive him being a bit snippy with her now.

Hell, she's had years like that.

"Need an A?" She offers.

He nods before tucking his viola under his chin and beginning for the comforting ritual of tuning. After the standard twisting of knobs and frowning, he finishes by checking his work with three quick bow strokes that cause the viola's strings to harmonize in perfect pairs. Meeting her gaze, he stands, statuesque, bow-arm held slightly aloft, patiently awaiting her count in.

"One, two, three, four."

It's probably a good thing that the first line of the piano part is relatively simple because she barely prevents herself from stopping and gaping at Cassian when he starts playing. She's accompanied people before; played with not merely good but exceptionally talented musicians whom she knew through Saw; actual professionals who had made it past the ever-tightening gauntlet of critique to become some of the rare few on the planet who could be full-time performers because people would pay good money to hear them play. So the experience of sharing good music with people is nothing new. And yet...

Cassian is extraordinary. The first high note of the piece rings from his viola, delicate, bell-like, for a moment before he dips softly to the note below, then above, then does a little turn back downwards. He leans sumptuously into the next lingering note, making it warble with a rich vibrato, then deftly slips down again to coax the low D through a breathless sigh. The effect of his playing sparks through her like electricity.

She'd known he was handsome ever since their re-acquaintance at Bodhi's party, but this?

She dares to peek up at him. His eyes are half-hooded, lips pursed, caught in the thrall of the music. Her eyes are drawn to the slender fingers of his left hand, fluttering back and forth in a rapid vibrato against the finger board, balanced firmly between his thumb and the tip of his pinkie.

This is a whole different level of attraction. Her stomach swoops as he gracefully steps back up by broken octaves. In her distraction she completely botches the simple B-Flat seventh chord that had presented no problems when she was practicing this piece on her own. Crap. She fixes her gaze on the score in front of her, manages to correctly land the next set of chords, get the next couple measures out. The piece builds to a natural pause and she slows ever so slightly in anticipation, giving it the faintest hint of rubato, and to her amazement Cassian matches her tempo change perfectly, drawing out the melody with tender sensuality.

She is screwed.

Knowing that the first genuinely tricky bit of the piece is rapidly approaching for her, and messing up this solo would be nothing short of completely embarrassing, she tries her best to let Cassian's playing fade into the background and focus on her own part. She even manages to do a decent job on the sweet little left hand melody that comes next. The piece swells in crescendo to a loud forte which she punctuates with a quick staccato hit, then she launches into the short, punchy piano solo, trying to lend it as much vigour as she can muster while still hitting all of the difficult octave spans correctly. Apart from misplaying one of the big chords it goes well and she does her best to imbue the burst of piano with plenty of fire. Cassian rejoins the action with a bright, high note as she steps both of her hands towards each other with the quick set of broken chords.

They work through the first few pages of the piece with a tolerable amount of mistakes for a first run-through until they hit a section with is tricky for both instruments and simultaneously self-destruct. She bursts out laughing when they both stop, giddy and thrumming with the pure joy of music.

"You're pretty good!" Cassian says warmly. She glances up at him. He's looking down at her, grinning, eyes sparkling, viola dangling in hand. God, he's gorgeous.

"Yeah, not bad yourself!" She says in the understatement of the century.

 "Hi Jyn, it's me. Look, I know you don't want to talk, but please call Saw back at least? He's worried enough about you to actually call me, that should tell you just how concerned he is.  I'm going to be in town for a concert, um, sometime in December. Doing some Handel and Telemann. You know me, I always go for baroque. Like 'broke'? Yeah, that was bad, your mother never laughed at that one either. Anyways, um, so I know this is a work trip, but I would have come sooner if I thought you wanted to see me. I would love to catch up while I'm there, even just a brunch. Please, Stardust. Oh, and say hi to Bodhi for me."

She knows it's a mistake every time she does it, but she seriously needs to stop listening to her father's messages. It just makes her angry. If he had wanted to be a part of her life, he should have made an effort back when it was just the two of them, before she ended up living with Saw by default because at least he was around more often than a couple nights a week. Maybe things could be better now that he's stopped spending all of his time holed up in some studio making weird post-tonal music with Krennic, but the years of sitting at the window waiting for someone who was not coming home still rankle.

"Everything okay?" Bodhi asks, glancing at her with a creased brow from where he sits on the other couch in the student lounge. He's been chewing his pencil again, despite trying to kick the habit for good this year. When Jyn stares pointedly at the mangled piece of stationery Bodhi spits it out guiltily and starts spinning it between his long fingers instead. "What do you think about Stockhausen's process music? For my history paper?"

"Yeah, that could work. The early choral stuff?" Bodhi hums in confirmation. Jyn looks down, away from him. "My dad says hi."

She's staring at her phone and doesn't see Bodhi's reaction to this, but she can just sense him still for a moment.

"Thanks," He pauses. "How is your dad?"

Apart from being a total bastard?

"He's fine. He's coming here for a concert. In December." Jyn manages to look back up at Bodhi now and that was a mistake. He's staring at her like she's an overfull balloon that could pop at any second. Damn. "It's okay, Bodhi," Christ, he needs to stop looking at her like that. "He wants to get brunch. That'll be fun, right? You're doing it again." Bodhi retracts the pencil from his lips with a frustrated growl, tapping it against his thigh. "I'm fine, I swear. If he actually shows up I'll just say I'm too busy with exams."

"Jyn..."

"Don't. Bodhi, please, just leave it."

Bodhi just shakes his head, turning back to his note pad with what she knows is disapproval. Her dad has always been Bodhi's idol, always left him a little awestruck, wishing she could see Galen the way he does. Or maybe that's not it. Bodhi has seen what her father's inconstant presence did to her, he knows that she was all but abandoned. Surely he's not forgotten that? Maybe Bodhi is just that nice and he is honestly able to forgive people for things. Forgiveness is not one of Jyn's strengths. Despite being almost pathetically self-deceptive, she knows this much about herself.

"How're things with Cassian?"

"What do you mean, things with Cassian?" She bristles. She does not have a thing with Cassian.

"The Brahms," Bodhi says as if she's particularly soft in the head today.

"Oh, that. It's fine. Good. We're working on the second movement." She very deliberately fails to mention how she nearly died this morning because Cassian leaned over her at the piano to point out that the decrescendo in measure 109 should start forte rather than mezzo forte and his hand was resting on her shoulder like that's a completely normal thing that they do and he smelled amazing. Bodhi doesn't need to know that, right? Why would he? It's not like she's been thinking about the warmth of his hand through her shirt, the faint puff of his breath over the back of her neck, the rumble of his voice right next to her ear. Was that a normal distance for...that sort of thing? It felt close. Like, really close. And he smiled at her when she looked up. So yeah, it's not like she's been replaying that moment in her head every thirty seconds for the past eight hours. And it's definitely not a thing that she's talking about with people. Other people. Or herself.

Fuck.

 She's going to murder him. Tomorrow headlines will read "Bright young pianist kills absolute fucking shithead of a violist in the most justifiable homicide ever." Parades will be held in her honour. Future generations of school children will write reports detailing her heroism in defending Brahms' second viola sonata from being turned into a funeral dirge. Maybe she'll be given some kind of medal.

"It's andante, Jyn," Says the dead man, jabbing at her score with the tip of his bow. "Andante is slower!"

"Andante means 'walking pace' you wanker! And-"

"I know that! It's-"

"-besides, it's andante con moto! Con. Moto!"

"Andante is not a fast tempo! How can you possibly justify-"

"Con moto! Do I seriously need to explain this to you?"

"I know what it means! Spanish and Italian-"

"'With motion'! That's what it means, Cassian! Con moto! With motion!"

"That doesn't mean you need to play it like you're late for class again!" He shouts.

So. Dead.

"Okay, first off," She starts, standing up from the piano bench to stop him from towering over her. Or at least to make him tower over her less. Damn him for being so pointlessly tall. "Who the hell taught you anything about music? Because you need to track them down and get your money back. Secondly, it was only the one-"

"Jyn!" There's something in his tone now that makes her stop dead. He looks furious. She stares him down, unwilling to give a single inch.

"Jyn," And now he has gone from shouting to deadly, quietly serious. It's so much worse. She can see him shaking with anger. "Do not ever question my education again. Not all of us have had the privilege of growing up around people who actually gave a damn about music, let alone having a father who's one of the world's best musicians." He obviously has never met her father if he thinks she did much 'growing up around' him. "I worked hard to get here," He continues, "To get into this school. I work hard to stay here. I will not let you ruin this piece just because you think you're smarter than everyone else."

He's out of the room before she can even begin to formulate a response to that. She should really get at least a small medal for not chasing him out into the hallway.

 "Hello, Jyn."

He just knows. She has no clue how he knows it's her from all the way down the hall, but he does and while she's used to it now, it occasionally still puzzles her.

"Hello Professor Îmwe," She says, walking up to him. "How was your weekend?"

"How many times must I ask you to call me Chirrut?" He says lightly. Her last school was significantly more strict and very British compared to Yavin. Calling professors by their first names just feels wrong. "It was good. I took Baze for a hike in the forest. Considering that he's not the blind one, he gets lost surprisingly easily," He continues with a chuckle. Clearly there's a story to be had if she felt familiar enough to ask for it. "And how was your weekend? Did Bodhi throw another one of his parties?"

"No, that's this weekend coming," She says. "It was okay. I finished up the analysis for Professor Draven."

"That Bach was in need of a good analyzing. I'm sure you set it straight."

"Yeah," She laughs. She's about to make her excuses and turn away when she reconsiders. "Prof- Chirrut?"

"Yes?"

"Have you spoken with Cassian recently? About the Brahms?"

Chirrut's milky eyes search her face for a moment. "I have." He says simply. He's going to make her work for this.

"Did he say anything to you about the tempo? For the third movement?"

Chirrut chuckles slightly. "Yes, Cassian had a lot to say about the tempo of the third movement. He was quite impassioned at our lesson this morning."

Shit.

"Right..." She says, trying to figure out how to ask Chirrut about the issue without being too obvious that she's not quite as sure about the tempo as she might have thought.

"Jyn, have you ever asked him why he's chose this piece? Why it's always been this particular sonata?" She shakes her head. "Well then, I must be off to teach. Have a good day!"

 One thing that Jyn has discovered about music students is that the enthusiasm for childish games and pranks seems universal no matter where she is. That's the only possible explanation for how she's been roped into playing "sardines" with the group of people who is rapidly becoming Jyn's circle of friends: Bodhi, Cassian, Han, Leia, Luke, and Han's friend Chewie. Kay is technically part of the group but she's pretty sure the fun centres of his brain are broken, so it's no surprise that he opted out of their brilliant idea to dodge security and spend the entire night in the darkened music building. They'll be paying for the sleepless night tomorrow morning, but her morning class is theory with Draven so she doesn't care if she's loopy and tired because he hates her anyways.

"Okay," Han says, having elected himself the de facto leader of their posse, "I don't think I should have to explain this, but since there's a decent chance at least some of you were major band nerds with no social life in high school, here it is. The rules are simple. Jyn lost the coin toss with Luke, so she goes to hide somewhere. Professors' offices and the concert halls are off limits. We count to, what was it?"

"Two hundred," Leia supplies with a tone of voice that makes it clear she's not remotely surprised that Han forgot this.

"Yeah, what the rules committee decided on."

"I am not a committee!"

"Right, so," Han continues, "Count to two hundred, Jyn hides, we split up and try to find her. Once you find her, hide with her. Last person to find everyone loses. Any questions?"

Chewie says...something. Jyn still cannot figure out what sort of accent the enormous, hirsute man has, but it's thick and Han seems to be the only person who can reliably understand him.

"I don't know why it's called sardines, Chewie! Just play the damn game."

Roughly two hundred seconds later, Jyn has managed to shimmy past a few beat up music stands to the back of a storage room and wedge herself between a tall stack of plastic chairs and the corner. She's tucked in such a way that hopefully she won't be too visible from the doorway, especially with the hall lights dimmed for night. It's really not a particularly clever place to hide, but she panicked and lost track of time and thought that being caught standing in the hallway would probably look much more foolish than a mediocre hiding spot. Thank goodness she's not afraid of the dark.

Hiding is boring. In retrospect, as the single most impatient person in their group, volunteering for this job was almost certainly a mistake. It's been at least five minutes, five long minutes, before she hears footsteps tromping down the hall. Finally, some excitement. Doors are being opened on either side of the storage room. She presses against the wall, tucking as far behind the chair stack as possible. If she crams into the corner just so she's fairly certain she can't be seen from the doorway. She's torn between wanting to be found so she'll at least have some company and wanting to remain hidden so that she can lord her superior hiding skills over all of her friends. Once again her competitive side wins out. With a rattle the door opens, flooding the small space with light that is blinding now that her eyes have adjusted to the minuscule amount that sneaks under the door.

"Jyn?" It's Bodhi. He seriously expects her to just call out "I'm here!" like an idiot? Now she stays quiet out of pure spite. After a silence (don't breathe, don't breathe) the door creaks closed, leaving her in the dark again.  Gloating to Bodhi about how he was the first person to find her and just walked right past is going to be absolutely delightful.

"Any luck?" Says a muffled voice through the door. Maybe Luke?

"Not yet."

They exchange a few more words too softly for her to hear. Then their steps retreat down the hall and she's truly alone.

Great, now she's bored again. This is the worst game ever. She slumps against the wall and drums her fingers against her thigh, playing along to a jingle from an insurance advert that she heard a few days ago and has gotten stuck in her head ever since. She manages to amuse herself for several minutes by analyzing the chord pattern of the song: I, vi, IV, V7. Laughably basic. Draven would be proud of her. This passes the time until another person walks slowly down the hall. Whoever this is searches more carefully than Bodhi and Luke. They're opening every door and pausing to actually enter and search the rooms. She may have company soon. The sounds grow steadily louder until they stop outside the storage room. She jams into the corner as the door opens. The door closes and someone steps softly towards her. From her spot in the back corner she can't see the door over the chair stack, can't figure out who's about to find her. In the dim light from the door crack a long shadow slips over the floor in front of her. As soon as her pursuer turns the corner past the chairs she will be caught.

Despite it being an easily deduced possibility, based on who she's playing this game with, the sight of Cassian emerging from around the chairs still takes her by surprise. Damn it. His brows raise in alarm upon seeing her and he just stares, looking as if he is genuinely considering just backing right out of the closet and losing on purpose rather than take one step closer to her. Honestly she would happily let him do that, but then she hears someone quickly striding down the hall and no way in hell will she let Cassian ruin her hiding spot by just standing there like a nitwit.

"Get over here!" She hisses. When that does absolutely nothing to rouse him she claws out and drags him over by the shirtfront, managing to get him at least somewhat hidden just as the door handle rattles. That seems to break through his indecision and he surges forward, backing her into the wall just as the door opens, presenting her with a great view of his throat and collar bones. She glances up, can tell that the top of his head is poking over the chairs so she reaches up and pushes him down with a hand on the nape of his neck. He obediently stoops until his nose is pressed against her temple, lips centimetres away from her face.

This may have been a mistake.

She's still got one hand trapped between them, fisted into his shirt, the other now resting on his neck. Their new searcher starts to wander into the room, bumping into a music stand which clangs noisily.

"Damn it!" Han. He knocks into another stand. Her hand unconsciously clenches at the noise, tightening around the fabric of Cassian's shirt. He inhales sharply against her.

"What are you doing in there?" Calls Leia from the hall.

"Having a tea party! What do you think?" Han says.

"Well, obviously you're not finding Jyn."

"Yeah, like I see you doing so much better, princess..."

"Don't call me that, you spit-valve-sucking, Pachelbel-loving scruffy asshole!" Leia spits.

"Scruffy? Scruffy?" Han's voice fades slightly as his footsteps retreat towards the doorway. God, Cassian smells great.

"Do I need to define it for you? Because I'd be- Hey, get back here! Where are you going?"

She can practically hear Han's eyes rolling. "Jyn's not in there, so I'm going to look in the practice rooms if that pleases your worship."

Leia's reply is lost to the closet door slamming. For a moment the only sounds are the pair's indistinct bickering and Cassian's breathing.

Her hand is still wedged between them. She can feel his stomach expand with each breath, the only motion from his seemingly frozen form. His arms are boxing her in, hands pressed against the wall on either side of her waist. When she slides her hand down, away from the nape of his neck, he seems to remember their position. He steps back, giving her enough room for her to slip out of the corner which suddenly feels roughly the size of a petri dish.

"Sorry," He says from behind her, "Sorry, I, um-"

 "It's fine," She says, turning to face him. He appears to be intently studying his shoes.

"Cassian?" He hums for her to continue. "Why Brahms?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you chose that piece?"

He sighs. His shoes must be exceptionally fascinating.

"It was my mother's favourite," He mutters.

"Oh. I thought..."

"What?" He asks harshly as if he's just preparing to ward off an attack.

Jyn thinks back to her own mother. Lyra is mostly represented by a hazy, warm feeling, more than actual events or remembrances. Jyn thinks of how at age nine she found a box of cassettes in the attic while she was home alone yet again. 'Lyra' was written on it in her father's messy scrawl. She remembers what it was like to pop the first tape into her Walkman and start bawling when a kind voice that she thought she'd forgotten said, 'Okay, trying this again. Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, posthumous,' and then her mama was playing the saddest, sweetest piano piece that Jyn had ever heard. That was the day, sitting in that dusty, stifling attic, that Jyn had given up violin and focused on piano. Piano made her feel connected with someone in a way that following in her father's footsteps hadn't. It felt lovely.

"Your mother had good taste," Jyn says to him. Means it.

Cassian looks up, sagging as if all the fight was just pouring out of his muscles and bones. "Yeah, she did." His voice breaks slightly. "She loved Brahms."

"My mama loved Chopin," Jyn says. He smiles softly at her. The moment is suddenly too raw, too open. She turns away to stare at the far wall.

"Do you think they've just given up?" She laughs nervously, trying to feel less exposed.

"Hmm," He considers, "I bet Luke and Bodhi are still looking. Chewie probably got bored and went to the percussion room to practice. Leia and Han are chasing each other around arguing." Jyn snorts.

Footsteps sound down the hall. She freezes, staring at the closet door. Someone's opening other doors. Realizing she's completely exposed she tries to back into the corner as quietly as possible. The door handle clatters and she panics, taking a too large step backwards and losing her balance.

Cassian whispers her name in alarm, catches her by the hips, and hauls her back into the corner just as light floods the closet. In his haste Cassian has pulled her back sharply into his chest with presumably much more force than intended. They're pressed together, from tangled feet all the way up to her head which is cradled in the hollow of his throat.

"Duck!" She hisses. He shifts down from the knees instead, entire body sliding against her back, as their latest interloper enters the closet. Now Cassian's breath is whooshing past her ear and she honestly doesn't know if that's better or worse than before. Either way, she wants to live in this moment forever. Her stomach isn't swooping anymore, it's filling with molten heat which builds and builds every time his shallow exhales caress the sensitive skin behind her right ear. He swallows thickly. His hands let go of her hips and drop to dangle next to her thighs, leaving their bodies still glued together. Every inch of her feels engulfed in the heat that radiates from his form.

Just then her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Damn, she thought she'd turned it off. At least it's on silent. Cassian's hands jerk against the sides of her legs, which is the exact moment when she considers precisely where that sensation is hitting him now that's he's crouched at her level. Her face burns. Oh god, she tries to telepathically communicate to her caller, please just hang up.

There's a faint scrape as the searcher moves some of the music stands. Her phone buzzes again and Cassian's entire body spasms as if someone has just stuck an electrode into his spine. His hips twitch slightly like he's trying to dodge back, away from her, but he's jammed against the wall and has nowhere to go. 

Soft steps walk closer.

Bzzt! Her phone goes off again before she can gather sufficient mental faculties to shift forward and relieve Cassian's obvious discomfort. But something miraculous happens when this vibration hits. Cassian's hips jerk forward and he lets out an honest-to-God groan right into her ear. Fuck. That sounded like a sex groan. She has no other words to describe the strangled noise he just made. Is it possible that's he's every bit as aroused as she feels right now? Her brain floods with images; turning them around until she's pressed against the wall and he's grabbing her by the hips again and rutting into her from behind and she's just moaning. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. The explosion of want which surges between her legs at the thought forces an involuntary gasp from her. He freezes. He was still before but now he seems to have given up breathing entirely. If this carries on much longer that may be for the best. Him simply collapsing in a sweaty heap due to lack of oxygen flowing to his brain might be the most dignified way this could possibly end. She shoves down a hysterical giggle trying to claw its way up her throat at the thought that she is experiencing what is quite possibly the single most erotic moment of her entire life during a glorified game of hide and seek.

"Oh man, seriously? I can't believe I missed you!" Bodhi whispers bitterly when his head pops around the corner. "Hey Cassian."

Bodhi's greeting seems to snap Cassian out of his trance. He lets out a rattling breath and she all but jumps away from him.

"Uh, everything okay?" Bodhi asks in roughly the same tone of voice as the one he used that time during her high school years when he let himself into her house and found her with her hand down her pants, at which point she remembered that she'd invited him over to study before she'd gotten horny and bored, and Bodhi had said 'Should-should I go?' while gaping at the ceiling and flushing scarlet. Much like that spectacularly traumatizing incident, she also currently wishes that everyone else on the planet would just simultaneously drop dead so she didn't have to face another human being ever again. That would be fan-bloody-tastic.

"We're fine," Cassian says from behind her. He clears his throat. "Close the door."

"Right," Bodhi says.

Her phone vibrates again in her back pocket and she lets out a growl, yanking the blasted device out and blindly poking the screen until it goes still. Darkness envelops the space again. Bodhi swears quietly as he bangs into one of those damn music stands while picking his way back to their corner. Her entire body feels electric. She wants to run, scream, punch something. Fuck.

Giving her a pointed look, Bodhi slips past to sandwich between her and Cassian. Thank God. When she turns to join them Cassian looks every bit as agitated as she feels, antsy and rapidly bouncing his leg. He's also turned away, facing the wall. Very conspicuously.

The rest of the game goes quickly now that their group is too large to properly hide behind the chair stack. When Han and Leia finally spring them she more or less bolts out of the room with a strangled shout about not feeling well and doesn't stop running until she gets back to her flat.

[the-new-fanfic-order]

Remembrance {Part VIII}

Author: Zoe

(A/N: Finally got it out! Enjoy, everyone!)

Plot Summary: Cassian Andor is a salesman for Valley Tech, a company specializing in selling various computer parts to other companies. You're the receptionist for Valley Tech, with a little crush on your coworker. Little do you know, Cassian has known you longer than you can even remember. And he's going to help you get those memories back.

All of your coworkers sat in a conference room the next day, headed by a woman, no later than her 40s, making a speech. "Hello everyone! I'm Catherine Luminar, and we're here today to talk about building trust between both clients and coworkers."

Everyone from the office sighed as the lady working for the lodge's retreat program went on and on about 'teamwork' and 'trust building.'

"Is… is this what I've been missing out on?" Bodhi whispered to you, as you nodded.

"Surprisingly, this is more interesting than last year's retreat." You commented, until the woman on stage clapped her hands.

"Alright, everyone! We're going to kick off this retreat with a good old fashioned trust fall!" She grinned, as you could practically hear the whole room sigh. "Now, I'm going to pair you off with a fellow co-worker, and you will each take turns standing on this step-ladder and falling, trusting that your partner will catch you!"

"Great…" You muttered, as everyone stood up from their seats.

"Come on!" Catherine grabbed your wrist as she dragged you around the room, much too excited for this particular exercise.

"Here!" She pulled Cassian into the front, joining your hands together. "You are now trust partners!"

"Looks like we managed to get lucky." You noted, as Cassian's hand lingered on your own, before he got a hold of himself and pulled back.

Before he could reply, Catherine announced, "Alright! Will your partner please go up onto the first step on the stool?" She called, as you and Cassian stared at each other.

"I'll go." He spoke, stepping up onto the step ladder and falling back, yourself managing to catch him and stumbling backwards slightly.

Cassian chuckled as you struggled to keep him up. "They always do trust falls for some reason."

"Yeah, sometimes I don't get why either." You noted as he stood back up.

"Now, will your other partner please go to the highest step on the ladder and fall?"

"Oh come on, how come I get the longer fall?" You sighed, climbing to the top of the step ladder, where you'd fall about three feet down before Cassian caught you.

You fell back, eyes closed and Cassian catching you but tripping, taking you with him.

You landed with a thud, his arms wrapped around your waist and your eyes still closed.

"God…" You groaned softly, opening your eyes.

Cassian was there, but he wasn't wearing his normal button down shirt. He was wearing some kind of beige shirt and a jacket with a logo you kept seeing in your dreams.

His eyes were glassy and it looked like he was begging. He looked like he was crying and yelling, but you couldn't hear anything. He shuddered, holding you as you saw a blue sky, with laser-like lights whizzing past you.

For some reason, you felt in pain. Overwhelming, unbearable physical and emotional pain and you didn't know what to do. You trembled, trying to grab onto Cassian's forearm but your body couldn't move.

"Y/N?" Cassian spoke, shaking you softly until he saw your wide eyes shaking and tears flow out onto your cheeks while you kept the same, fearful expression.

He grew especially worried, as Bodhi and Catherine rushed to you. Cassian had never seen you so distraught before.

"Come on, come back to me." He murmured, until you blinked, sitting up. You wiped your tears, unaware that you had even begun crying in the first place.

"What just happened…? I-I saw you. And that warzone, where I was laying in the ground. I'm not dreaming, I'm awake this time. What's happening?" You rambled.

Cassian said nothing, but hoisted you up, telling Catherine you'd felt a bit sick and that he was taking you up to lay down.

He let you lie in his bed, as you slowed your breathing.

"Cassian, I don't know what the hell is going on, I'm probably, maybe hallucinating or something." You sighed.

Cassian saw you as your breathing quickened again, having no idea what to do but put his arm around you.

When he held you, your visions began again, this time it was in some kind of clearing, watching as airships flew away and landed with you in his arms.

You pushed away, becoming fearful of the sudden hallucinations you've been having. "What's going on?" You shuddered, as Cassian still couldn't think of other ways to try and comfort you.

Until he remembered one thing.

"So, what you're saying is that they're memories?" Cassian repeated, as Mon Mothma nodded.

"Once you accept that they're memories, the dreams will begin to subside. That's what happened to me, at least." She explained, before straightening her back and looking the former captain in the eye. "However, yours might be harder to be rid of."

"My dreams? Why?" He inquired.

"When you were in the Rebellion, you were close with a girl. Her name was Y/N Y/L/N, a commander for our ground squadrons." Mothma explained, placing a hand on his shoulder and sighing. "That woman you keep seeing in your dreams? She was your fiance. That battle you keep seeing in your dreams, on that beach, that was Scarif. The fighters there… they didn't make it."

Cassian soon had a lump in his throat. He had someone to love. She died before they could be married.

She had to die in his arms.

"That… That doesn't explain the dreams though. How can I be free of them?"

"From what I can think of," Mothma surmised, her hand lightly resting on her chin. "...you have some unfinished business to take care of, and so does she. Jyn doesn't have the dreams as much anymore because she was able to get her father's plans. However, you are a different matter."

She looked at him with a solemn expression. "You and Y/N were practically soulmates. So much so that I think even the Force wanted you together. But when the battle happened, you were torn apart."

"Y/N…" He mumbled, the name so familiar to his lips. "How can I find her, then?"

"Unfortunately…" She sighed, her arms at her sides. "That, I don't know. My only advice is to just wait for the Force to bring you together."

He felt comforted knowing that he wasn't just having weirdly vivid and tragic dreams. That his dreams were a part of his past life.

He hoped you'd feel the same comfort he did when he learned the truth.

"...They're not dreams." Cassian finally spoke, letting his words flow out.

"What?"

"Those dreams you've been having, the rest of us too. They're… memories."

"What?" You sat up, as he crossed his arms.

"All those dreams you've been having. About the war where you were shot. Where we met, when I proposed to you. Everything. I remember them too."

You backed up, your reality practically crashing down on you. "Cassian, what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying, I'm telling you the truth. Everything that you dream of, the rest of us have too. Jyn has dreams, she remembers. Chirrut remembers. Even Bodhi's dreams are dawning on him. Mon Mothma's had them too, she's the one that helped me realize they were memories." He confessed, sitting on the side of the bed next to you, attempting to hold your hand until you pulled back, afraid it might trigger another vision, flashback, hallucination… whatever it was.

"We were going to get married. Start a family. Then Scarif happened and it tore you away from me." Cassian sighed. "Ever since I was young, I've had constant dreams. Memories of before. We fought in the rebellion together. I met you when we were teenagers. We were both young and reckless, but I loved you then, and frankly, I love you now."

He shuddered, as you stood up trying to process everything.

'Okay, sure, the guy you like just said he liked you back, that's good, Y/N.' You thought.

But now, everything you knew was just a lie. You were living again with these constant dreams. Memories. Whatever the hell they were.

And the fact that they've been plaguing you at night with mixtures of Cassian and you together, you and Cassian fighting.

Cassian watching you die, until you woke back up like nothing ever happened.

You don't know why, but you ran.

"Y/N, wait-" Cassian tried to stop you, but you were too busy trying to handle everything and having a panic attack.

"No… no no no, leave me alone. When you held me I remembered that awful beach thing that I keep dreaming about. Don't come near me, leave me alone." You ran to your room as Cassian followed.

"Y/N, please. I-"

"Go away!" You shuddered, closing the connecting door and locking it, your back against it as you slid down, trying to reconstruct everything that he had told you.

Memories.

Not just dreams.

Memories that decided to haunt you your entire life.

Now you knew why you really ran.

You were afraid.