#star wars fics

[tenelkadjowrites]

Reclamation - Cassian x Reader (NSFW)

👰‍♀️Summary: After spending ages carefully constructing a plan to flee from your arranged wedding, it threatens to shatter at your feet. But a mysterious stranger named Cassian may offer a way out...and a deeper personal connection.

👰‍♀️Word count: 6.5k

👰‍♀️Genre & warnings: one shot. smut. strangers to lovers. descriptions of an abusive relationship. mentions of alcohol. reader is in a wedding dress. unprotected sex. some dirty talk. oral sex, reader receiving. use of a knife to cut clothes during sex. creampie.

               The contact isn’t coming.

               You figured as much over ten minutes ago yet still waited. Your hand is curled around your drink which has formed condensation along the rim, lazily rolling down the glass, colliding with your skin. You’re trying to keep your breathing steady but the nerves are buzzing in your head. The fear is growing, bubbling in your chest.

               You need to leave now. If you manage to get off world tonight, you’ll be safe.

               Yet you remain rooted to your stool at the cantina counter, staring ahead at the collection of bottles that line the wall. Some of them glimmer in the dim lighting, others give off a bioluminescence that is entrancing and not for human consumption. All of them offer the alluring promise of drinking enough and forgetting your problems.

               But you need a clear head tonight, especially if your escape plan is turning to ash right in front of you.

               It doesn’t help that the cantina, so quiet every other time you staked it out, is busier than usual tonight. That meant a lot of curious stares at the woman in ornate wedding garb.

               You take a small sip of your drink, trying to figure out your next move. But your brain is stuck on the fact that your months of planning, all the sneaking around, the negotiations, finding a pilot willing to piss off one of the most powerful people on the planet, has gone to waste.

               The guests will be entering the venue for the wedding now. How much time until they realize you fled? How long until your image is blasted on every port? An hour, two at the most.

               The cantina is doused in a blue glow. A band is in the corner, playing softly. Unlike the loud and raucous cantinas that are in the hub of the entertainment district, this one offered a place for private conversation and the easy ability to abscond to the hotel above it. At the time of your planning, it made sense to use this cantina along with the hotel to escape. But now, you wish that there was a cacophony of noise and lights to get lost in.

               “Would you like another?” The droid bartender slides over, tilting its head with a small click.

               “No,” You mumble and it slides away without another word, going to the next patron.

               There is a sense of movement next to your right side as someone sits in the stool. You glance in his direction only to find the man leering at you openly. Your grip tightens on your drink. Impossible they could find me already, you think, wondering how fast the glass could be smashed in his face if he made a move.

               His mouth twists up cruelly when he opens it to speak. “Nice dress,” He drawls.

               You don’t reply. The droid bartender returns to take his order. Something moves on the other side of you. A quick glance out of the corner of your eye shows a weary looking man, a loose fitting jacket hanging off him, a slightly scruffy beard and mussed up brown hair. He sticks out, just like you do.

               He shows no interest in you, lost in thought. You discard the concern about him, instead focusing back on the man who is still gawking at your dress. You removed all the jewels that were laid upon a separate netting that was then placed over the dress, stashed as many as you could in a secret pocket you sewed in the inside of the skirt, and left the rest behind for some lucky person to find.

               “Why you all dressed up and alone?” The man asks – he already reeks of alcohol and there is an energy to him that you mislike.

               Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to realize your dress is traditional wedding garb of this area. With the intricately woven long sleeves that puff out a little around your wrists, down to the beading along the bodice depicting two waves coming together which was done painstakingly by hand, ending in plenty of billowing soft blue ruffles that swirled gently when you walked, the dress was beautiful – even more so when the net of jewels was slipped on over your head and laid against the entire length of fabric. There was a large headpiece that came with the dress as well; it was heavy and made your neck ache, dangling with sapphires. That had been ditched back in your quarters.

Since the planet was a seafaring one, the bride’s dress typically illustrated waves crashing together but not done in beading. Nor was the headpiece usually filled with sapphires. That was because you came from a family with a lot of credits – but not as much as your fiancé.

               But this man is not only a distraction but possibly will attract more attention than you want. You needed to end the conversation and get out of here quickly.

               “She’s not alone,” came a low voice, “She’s with me.”

               Both the inebriated man and yourself look over in the direction the voice came from. It’s from the gruff looking man next to you, the one who showed no interest in anything but getting a drink. At some point, the droid bartender had given him a glass of something clear.

               You may be sheltered but you aren’t naïve enough to think this gruff man is your savior. He could easily be hopping in just to rob you later. But between your narrow options, you’ll take your chances with him.

               “That’s right,” You reply stiffly.

               “Bullshit,” The drunk man growls, leaning forward so that a cloud of heavy booze wafts over, “She didn’t spare you a glance when you sat down.”

               But if the gruff man is perturbed by the intensity the conversation is taken, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he tilts his face in your direction, looking up from his drink. You are struck by the depth in his brown eyes, so deep that one could get lost in it.

               “Not that it’s any of your business but we’re in the middle of an argument,” You say swiftly, tearing your gaze away from him to shoot daggers at the drunken man.

               “Which I didn’t start,” The man with the beautiful eyes replies curtly, “But you immediately jumped in with the ‘Cassian, how many times do I need to tell you that my mother is just like that’.”

               You pick up quickly on the fact he’s told you his name in a manner that won’t attract attention, easier to pretend familiarity to get this drunk idiot out of here.

               “I wish you wouldn’t be so dramatic.”

               “Me, dramatic? You’re the one that took off for the closest cantina after lecturing me about being late. Now, we’re both going to be late. I hope you’re pleased.”

               You purse your lips together in a motion of displeasure. “Maybe my mother was right about you. She warned me, the first moment we met, that you were trouble. And my life has been nothing but hell since you came into it.”

               You can hear the drunken man shuffling off with an irritated sigh. Even so, you continue the fake argument with Cassian until he finally drops the act, his shoulders slumping forward as he resumes his earlier position.

               “He’s gone,” He remarks.

               You look over your shoulder, relief swooping through your body. You are silent for a minute or so while making sure the man truly left before looking back at Cassian.

               “Thanks for your help.”

               There is a quick glance from the corner of his eye before offering up a curt nod. The droid bartender circles back around. Cassian motions to send it off but you speak quickly.

               “Let me buy you a drink as a thanks, at least.”

               “It’s okay.”

               “I insist.”

               Cassian relents, taking a long swig of his drink to finish it off. He places the glass on the counter with a soft clink and orders. The droid bartender beeps and spins off to go make it. Cassian turns in the stool, his full attention now on you.

               He’s handsome, you think out of the blue and then push the thought aside – talk about the worst time to notice such things. You’re supposed to be getting on a ship off planet right now and somehow you’re buying an attractive man a drink – damn it, you just did it again.

               Handsome but tired, you amend. There are dark circles under his pretty brown eyes, and a heaviness that clings to his shoulders as if being weighed down by something invisible. His jacket is well worn, fraying at the edges of the sleeves. His hands are dotted with tiny scars, nails bitten to the quick.

               Even though Cassian looks exhausted, there is a level of alertness in his eyes that shows that nothing is getting by him. He is aware of every movement, every person stepping into the cantina. This piques your curiosity. You wonder if he has a ship.

               “Is Cassian your real name?” You ask, pushing your glass that is now mostly ice water away from you.

               “It is. And yours?”

               You give your name as the droid bartender returns with his drink. Cassian looks at your glass. “Surely, you’re going to have another. Not leaving me to drink alone?”

                You hesitate, knowing time is short. But you are unsure where to go and there is a chance this stranger might have a ship to take you off world.

               He picks up on your hesitation. “Somewhere to be?”

               “I thought so. But it seems my transport fell through. So, I suppose I can have another drink.”

               “Going off world?”

               “Trying to.”

               “Funny, I didn’t think it was tradition to hold the weddings off world.” His words make you freeze. Cassian motions to the droid, saying, “She’ll have another.”

               At first you think that maybe your feeling had been right – Cassian does work for your fiancé and is toying with you before lugging you back to that monster. But he is still at ease, seemingly in no hurry. He catches your expression and waves his hand.

               “I’m not here to make trouble. It was merely an observation. It isn’t any business of mine if you’re running out on your fiancé.”

               “If that was true, then why step in and help me with that man?”

               “Now that had nothing to do with your wedding dress. I was just helping a pretty lady out.”

               The droid slides the new drink in front of you before buzzing off. You stare at Cassian incredulously. “Are you hitting on a woman on her wedding day?”

               He gives a small shrug, bringing the glass to his lips. “I don’t see the fiancé around,” He remarks before taking a sip.

               Your thighs clench, forcing your gaze away from this handsome stranger who knows you’re supposed to be at a wedding but instead sitting here. Logically, if he can tell you’re in wedding garb, so could others. Suspicions could be raised especially with a high profile wedding like yours. And meanwhile what are you concerned with? How attractive he is, how nice his brown eyes are, how strangely comforting of an aura he has.

               Since your fiancé had been shoved into your life and the arranged marriage contract signed, every waking moment was about how to escape the chains that were threatening to bind you. The plotting and planning to escape left no room for dalliances. It wasn’t even something that was on your mind.

               Yet here you are now, right at the most important moment of escape, and you’re getting sidetracked by Cassian.

               You swirl the liquid in the glass slowly, thinking about how to word your next sentence. “You don’t look like you’re from here. How do you know what traditional wedding gowns look like?”

               “And what makes you say I am not from here?”            

               “Your clothes, your posture, the way you’re hunched over your drink so no one will talk to you. We’re close to the port on top of that so a lot of travelers come in. But most of all, your voice. The accent…it isn’t native to here.”

               Cassian studies you for a moment. There is a note of approval in his gaze. After a beat of silence, he replies, “I’m just passing through.”

               “When are you leaving?” You can’t help but ask.

               He leans forward, closer to you than ever. You can see the stubble that grazes his jawline, the depths of his dark eyes and how his hair curls slightly at the back of his neck. You swallow hard, wishing that this stranger hadn’t burst into your life tonight of all nights. Maybe if things were different, you would have been able to take him as a lover, a distraction, for a little bit. But not now…

               In a whisper, Cassian goes, “Where are you looking to go?”

               There is a hint of desperation in your reply. “Anywhere. But I need to go tonight.”

               It is difficult to express vulnerability to a stranger in a cantina. There is always that risk, no matter how small, that he could turn you over to your powerful fiancé. There would be credits in it, after all, to return the bride to the clutches of the groom.

               But the fact of the matter is your original plan might have fallen through due to your fiancé’s machinations, leaving you on less time than previously thought. On top of that, Cassian has not given you any mental alarm bells going off. This might be your only shot.

               “They’ll be looking for you,” He murmurs, his pleasant expression not matching his words. This man is used to lying, you think. “Checking the ports tonight.”

               “They’ll be checking them tomorrow too,” You counter.

               “It’ll be worse tonight. They’ll be waiting for you to go off world.”

               “How do you know?” You fire back, impatience creeping into your voice.

               Cassian brings his drink to his lips, taking a small sip before replying. “I know you’re not getting married to a local farmer.”

               There is a thud in your chest at the realization he knows who you are – this man passing through, this mysterious stranger who is good at play acting and has a ship – and if he is aware of who you are, there is no way other people in the cantina don’t.

               Your voice is so quiet that you aren’t even sure if Cassian can hear the words. “Are you seriously suggesting I stay here tonight and leave tomorrow?”

               “That’s right.”

               Your fingers nervously run across the fabric of your dress. You did have a hotel room booked tonight only because originally it was going to be where the pilot was going to hand over a bag with your disguise and new ID card. But I won’t be getting that either.

               A thought strikes you. “It can’t be here. If the pilot was compromised, he would turn over the room key.”

               Cassian gives a small shake of his head. “No, not here. I have a room.”

               Your hands flutter uselessly at your sides. Your nerves and panic are starting to impact your thinking. “How can I trust you?”

               “You were going to trust the pilot and that wasn’t a sure bet either.”

               “We’d been planning this. I don’t even know you.”

               “Then stay here. But I have a room for tonight. We leave first thing in the morning. I can get you off world. I can’t tell you what planet we’re going to. All I can tell you is that it’ll be a lot safer than here.”

               The entire conversation was in hurried whispers, bodies leaning together as if two asteroids are about to collide. You realize that Cassian did this intentionally. To anyone staring at the two of you, it looks like lovers making up from the earlier fight. It would be easy to lean into him, pretend you’re leaving the cantina to become intimate. He’s set up the story. It’s up to you if it is to be followed through.

               Cassian continues quietly, “They’ll know you’re trying to leave tonight. Every port, every ship, will be searched. Come tomorrow morning, they’ll believe you stayed on world. They’ll tighten security here, start looking in hotels. That’s when we leave.”

               “How can you be so sure?”

               “I’m not sure of anything. But we can say this wouldn’t be my first time smuggling something or someone off world.”

               What are your other options? To wait to be discovered, hauled back to your fiancé, forced into a marriage you don’t want with a man who would only torment you? That meant risking it and going with the handsome stranger with the beautiful yet sorrowful eyes is your only option – your only shot at getting out of here.

               You tentatively rest your hand on his knee. Cassian’s gaze flicks down to the sight before raising to meet your gaze. “Alright,” You murmur, “Let’s go.”

               He takes a swig of his drink, finishing it and pushing the glass away from him. He then slides a few credits onto the bar top, slinking off the stool. He looks down at you and in that moment, you know that you’re risking your future to this stranger – while battling an intense attraction to him as well.

               “Follow me,” Cassian says simply.

*

               The sky has streaks of purple through it by the time you reach the hotel with Cassian. It is on the outskirts of the red light district which ended up working in your favour. No one questioned the way you leaned into the faded leather of Cassian’s jacket, the manner in which you’d tilt your head and giggle at something he said (which actually were just quiet directions on where to turn) or how his arm slinked around your waist and his hand rested lightly on your hip.

               Admittedly, even given the tense situation that your brain was well aware of sitting in, you are still noticing the stubble along his jaw, his bitten fingernails, the way his hair curls slightly against the back of his neck – all things that aren’t important given the situation. But all the mental lecturing in the world doesn’t stop you from taking note of these things.

               Finally, you arrive at the hotel. It is small and nondescript, crammed in between yet another cantina and a droid repair shop that is shuttered. It’s only three floors and looks like the sort of place that people would meet up to have an affair in. In other words, it’s perfect. Your fiancé believed you to be a fool which you took advantage of while plotting and planning your escape. Even now, he is probably confident of finding you at a luxury resort or stumbling into the space port. He wouldn’t believe that you would be someplace like this, simply because he would never go here himself.

               The lobby is run down and empty. You wonder if the wedding party has realized you’ve given them the slip. By now, they must know, are probably searching the estate grounds for you, beginning to question the staff. Your fiancé is going to start searching the spaceports, if he hasn’t already, because he would assume you’re going off world. The original plan had it that you would be in hyperspace by the time they realized you weren’t at the wedding. To still be here, in the city, made your nerves jumpy.

               Cassian takes you up to the third floor, walking down the hallway together. One light is burnt out, another flickers ominously. You can hear someone having sex in a room when you walk past and duck your face away from Cassian’s, feeling strangely embarrassed. Does he feel your attraction to him? He must find it absurd, given the situation.

               He stops at the last room on the right, scans the key card and enters. The doors shut behind you and your eyes get adjusted to the low lights. The room is small, one bed in the centre, one window overlooking a shabby building. The walls are painted blue although the paint is chipping in spots. Blue, blue, everything is blue no matter where I go, you think while pressing one hand against the wave design on your gown.

               You realize your arm is still entwined with Cassian’s. With warm cheeks, you separate, dropping the act of being his lover coming to the hotel. Cassian is already going to work, crossing the room and pulling a bag from underneath the bed, rummaging through it.

               “We’ll leave tomorrow at the first sign of light. My ship has a smuggling compartment which you’ll use just in case we get boarded. But I have a fake ID and falsified ship logs. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

               “What else are you smuggling?”

               Cassian looks up, brushing some of his hair away from his eyes. He’s sizing you up, trying to figure out what to tell you, this strange woman in a wedding gown trying to escape her fiancé.

               Finally, he settles on, “Some records.”

               You slowly walk through the small space, heading towards the window, peering out of it. From here, you can just see the night sky, barely making out the stars. It is dotted with ships leaving and your heart swoops with longing to be safe among hyperspace.

               “This is the right choice,” Cassian says gently from his spot near the bed, “I know it doesn’t feel like it. But this has the highest odds of success.”

               “I was supposed to be off world by now,” You mumble wistfully.

               “Well, you’re not,” He says bluntly, “But you’re alive and you’re not at the wedding. So, you haven’t lost yet.”

               You look over your shoulder. Cassian is slipping a blaster from his holster onto the bedside table. His back is to you. His posture is different; he is no longer acting, no longer in a character. Who is this man? You wonder. He’s a good liar, clever, at ease with a blaster and quick to come up with a plan. He isn’t smuggling weapons or drugs but merely records. But you bite off any questions before speaking them. It’s better to know little. To learn more about him meant getting involved and if complications arose, that would be bad for you. Better to focus on yourself and only yourself.

               When you turn back to look out the window, you realize the sky is emptying. The last few ships blink out like soft stars exhaling a final breath and nothing else remains.

               “They’re shutting down the ports,” You say as your heart jolts, “They know I’m gone.”

               Cassian’s voice is closer when he speaks next, eyes to the sky. “Grounding ships…” He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Your fiancé is a powerful man.”

               Perhaps a tiny bit more powerful than originally thought. You didn’t think air travel would be cut off. Suddenly, you know that Cassian made the right call.

               He senses your train of thought because he leans closer while saying, “This isn’t my first time doing this.”

               You tilt your face in his direction. The heat from his body seeps into yours. You wish he wasn’t so attractive. Or maybe you wish to have met him in different circumstances so you could have taken this mysterious stranger as a lover and twiddled away the time sneaking from your fiancé with him.

               “Swooping in to save someone from an arranged marriage?” You try to joke but the words come out a bit more fragile than intended. “Because her plan fell apart after so much scheming?”

               Cassian’s eyes soften. “It happens to the best of plans. To dwell on what went wrong in the moment…does you no good.”

               You like the way he looks at you. Is it because you’ve been looked at with distaste or indifference for so long or because he looks at you so gently? It’s difficult to know – the time with your fiancé and all the struggles you’ve gone through way heavily on you. There has been no time to be in the present moment. Every second is plotting, withstanding, scheming.

               But there isn’t anything to do now besides wait for morning…and Cassian looks so inviting.

               “Just feels like I never have any time to even dwell on things,” You reply, “I’m running from one plan to the next or one interaction to another, just trying to get through it with as much of myself intact as possible.”

               It is the most vulnerable you’ve been with someone in a long time and it’s with a stranger. Maybe that’s why it’s easy. Cassian’s eyes grow distant. You wonder what he is thinking about, what memory is floating to the surface.

               Your bodies are close now. Close enough that you could touch him. It’s alluring, the idea of tumbling into bed with him, because he’s here and he’s present and he has those pretty eyes that seem to be holding a similar pain to yours.

               “Maybe dwelling in those precious few quiet moments isn’t what we should be focusing on,” Cassian finally says, “Taking those moments and making them our own is what matters.”

               Maybe he’s right. Or perhaps you’re both lonely and looking for an excuse. Regardless, you’re not going to overthink or brood on it. Instead, your lips find his, pushing all thoughts of the wedding and escaping out of your mind. Cassian’s hands are on your waist immediately, angling your body towards his. You can feel the urgency in his kiss, the desire to blot out the past and the future – you can feel it because it’s in your lips as well.

               The force of the kissing has you up against the wall a few moments later. Your hands are gripping his hair while his tongue is in your mouth. He tastes like the booze from the cantina and you cannot get enough of it. All the time and energy spent in fear and on schemes is wiped clean by the sensation of this stranger’s lips on yours and hands resting on your hips.

               You’re tugging off Cassian’s jacket. It falls to the floor, already forgotten. He is fiddling with aspects of your dress but the urgency is growing by the second and the entire thing is too cumbersome to remove. You make an impatient noise in the back of your throat.

               “Just forget it,” You say urgently, “Just keep it on.”

               Cassian hoists you up onto the small table in the corner, pushing the chair out of the way. It clatters to the floor next to the jacket. His hands are running up along the gown, bunching the fabric in between his fingers as the two of you work together to bring it up around your waist. You’re wearing stockings with pearls running down the sides – more expensive pageantry to show off at the wedding, to deflect from the terror that resided in the bride’s heart.

               The two of you are grappling for one another, swept up in the present moment and the relative safety of this run down hotel on the outskirts of town. Cassian’s hands glide up along your stockings, looking for the top so he can yank them down. But the band is buried underneath the layers of the dress.

               “Just rip it,” You plead and he doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the stockings and tearing them. The seam splits and the pearls go flying, rolling across the floor and making a mess of things. You don’t even make a mental note to collect them later to sell for money; you’re simply too swept up in Cassian. The remains of the stockings fall off your legs as Cassian is unzipping his pants.

               The wedding dress gets smushed in between your bodies as Cassian presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his length inside you. It’s been so long since you’ve been fucked but judging by Cassian’s impatience, it has been a while for him as well.

               He grunts as his cock is engulfed by your warm walls. Your hands grip the edge of the table as he begins to rock his hips while you inhale sharply through gritted teeth at how good it feels to have his cock. After a minute or so of getting used to being inside your pussy, Cassian picks up the speed ever so slightly.

               His hands are lost in the many layers of your gown. The delicate beading and pretty imagery isn’t made to be fucked in and you’re running the risk of ruining it. But you don’t care – there is something exciting about being fucked by a stranger in your wedding dress, an act of rebellion you didn’t know was possible.

               Each thrust of Cassian’s hips rattles the table against the wall. You’d feel sorry for the neighbors if this wasn’t a hotel that basically existed to be fucked in. You urge Cassian to keep going, your legs bouncing every time he slams his cock in you.

               “Is this what you thought your wedding day would be?” His voice is shattered, aching, lacing each word with lust, “Being fucked by a stranger in your pretty dress?”

               “You can ruin the thing,” You say with a bitter note, “Just keep fucking me.”

               “Gladly,” Cassian grunts.

               He pulls out of you then which is the exact opposite of what you want. His cock is slick with your wetness as he helps you off the table and towards the bed. The dress is a bit cumbersome to move on, even more difficult to lay down in. Cassian removes his pants and boxers hastily before climbing onto the bed.

               “W-wait,” You remember something with a jolt and Cassian stops immediately while you fumble along the side of the dress. Your fingers slip into the secret pocket and pull out a small switchblade, not wanting it to somehow accidentally hurt either of you.

               “Turning your weapons over?” He asks in a slightly teasing voice.

               You retrieve the gems from the pocket too, showing them in the palm of your hand before closing it. “Didn’t want to lose these either.” You slip the gems back into the secret pocket.

               Cassian makes a noise although you can tell he isn’t interested in the gems nor the switchblade because he is too busy lowering himself in between your thighs. He’s lost among the billowing pieces that make up the bottom of the gown but you can feel his tongue along your skin, moving closer and closer to your pussy.

               His tongue probes your slick folds before slowly tasting your hole. There is something dirty about having this man you barely know licking your pussy with the beautiful skirt of your wedding dress splayed out around him. You’re clutching the blanket of the bed while gasping as Cassian’s nose bumps softly against your clit. This lovely dress is not meant for obscene acts in this run down hotel. Your fiancé is tearing the space ports apart searching for you in a wicked frenzy to claim what he thinks he is and meanwhile your head is blissfully blank while Cassian brings the tip of his tongue flat against your swollen nub.

               Cassian’s hands are on your thighs, spreading you open wide for him. All you can hear outside of your moans is the dress rustling and the obscene sound of him sucking and licking your clit. He slips a finger inside your wet hole, pumping it hard and fast while flicking his tongue over your clit. Your thighs shake from how good it is and then you’re cumming, losing yourself to the pleasure as Cassian gives one last hard suck on your sensitive clit before untangling himself from the dress.

               His hair is a mess and he seems annoyed with his shirt which he pulls over the top of his head, exposing his fit chest and broad shoulders. Cassian doesn’t seem to care he is entirely naked while you’re in a wedding dress – in fact, you’re starting to suspect he’s getting off on it.

               Your face is hot and you’re out of breath from the intense orgasm. He attempts to enter you but the dress is getting in the way and he makes an impatient noise. An idea strikes you, one of passion and throwing caution to the wind. You push the handle of the switchblade in his hand.

               “Just cut through it,” You tell him, “I don’t care.”

               Cassian looks at you with a glint in his eye. He grins quickly and the blade catches the blue light of the hotel room, blinking briefly like a star, before he takes it to the dress. The fabric is delicate and can’t withstand the force of the blade. In only a few seconds, layers of the gown are gone, laying across the bed and falling onto the floor.

               There is something liberating about ruining the wedding dress. It is a signal to the universe that things are going to happen due to your own choices, not to survival. Allowing Cassian to cut the dress just to make it easier to fuck is something you decided because you wanted it.

               It reignites your passion and you reach for Cassian as he puts the blade away and tosses it aside before propping himself up over your body. Your legs, now freed without the constraining fabric, wraps around his waist and pushes his cock inside you.

               The beading of your dress is coming undone, spilling over the bodice and onto the bed. But neither of you care as Cassian slams his cock into you before lowering to press his body against yours. His lips are on your neck, up along your jaw until he finds your lips. His tongue is in your mouth, moans muffled between the two of you. Your hips lift to meet each thrust, taking his cock all the way to the hilt each time.

               Gone are the worries of all the plots and plans. Gone is the concern of getting out of here and fear about the wedding. All that exists in the moment is the way Cassian is inside your pussy and the warmth that rolls across your skin.

               Cassian’s fingers are on the top of the dress, tugging it down hard enough that a tearing noise fills the room. He exposes your breasts, bringing his mouth to one of your nipples and gently biting down on it. Moans are falling from your lips, urging him to keep going. He switches to the other nipple, swirling his tongue around it before straightening up. He grips your legs, resting your feet on his shoulders as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

               You love how it feels to be fucked by him in your ruined dress and judging by the way his eyes roam across your body, he’s enjoying it just as much. Cassian leans forward a little, adjusting the angle of his cock before ramming it hard and fast in your wet hole. His hair has fallen in front of his face and he’s panting as both of your orgasms draw closer and closer.

               Just to hear him talk in that sexy voice of his you like so much, you prompt, “You still like my dress after it’s been ruined?”

               Cassian hisses sharply and his cock goes all the way to the hilt for a second or two before he pulls out. “I think I like it even more now. Better like this than walking down the aisle.”

               You couldn’t agree more although your reply is lost by the next jerk of his hips which hits the sweet spot. Your fingers dig into the bed to hold onto something as Cassian’s thrusts grow erratic and messy.

               “Cum around my cock,” He urges quietly, “Let me feel you tighten around me.”

               Cassian fucks your cunt so hard and fast that each pump of his hips makes your body jolt. Your tits bounce, squeezed out by the bodice of the ruined wedding dress. This was not how you thought the night would go and definitely not how you thought the dress would end up.

               “Come on, pretty girl,” Cassian continues, “Cum for me in your nice dress.”

               Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as your orgasm starts. It’s more intense than the first one and your walls clench around Cassian’s cock. He groans, giving one last thrust before unloading inside your pussy. Spilling out in your hole while you squeeze every drop from him, he moans again, going still. Together, you and this stranger finish.

               After a few moments, Cassian gently rolls off you, trying to collect himself. You gingerly stretch out your legs, basking in the afterglow of fucking like that. You tilt your face in his direction. His eyes are closed, hair a mess, toned chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

               Your eyes fall to the window, seeing a sliver of sky.

               A small dot is going across it, tracing a steady arc towards the stars, signaling they are no longer keeping ships grounded.

               You smile.

*

               Your breathing is unsteady, your legs cramping from being bunched up in the smuggling compartment on Cassian’s ship. Even though ships are being allowed to depart off world, there is extra security and scanning being done. It had been tricky enough to get to the ship without drawing attention, wearing Cassian’s extra clothes that didn’t fit properly and a cloak tossed around your shoulders. Better not to risk it further.

               You can hear the low hum of the engine idling but nothing else. It is difficult not knowing how it’s going. Your nerves are swimming in your stomach. You’re picturing getting caught, dragged back to your fiancé. You’re picturing something terrible happening to Cassian because he’s helping you. You rub the palms of your hands against the baggy pants but it doesn’t seem to help.

               And then, when time seems to stretch into an eternity, bending and threatening to burst with your impatience, the engine grows louder, a roaring that you can feel across your body. Still, you remain crouched, knowing Cassian made it very clear not to leave the compartment until he came to get you.

               Even though you hardly knew Cassian, it hadn’t entered your mind since sleeping together that he would turn you in. He gained nothing from it because he didn’t seem interested in any money. He carried a past within him, just like you did.

               The rumbling of the engine changes; it shifts into the familiar sensation of hyperspace. A few seconds later, the door to the compartment opens and Cassian is peering down at you.

               He grins.

               “Just entered hyperspace.”

               Relief bubbles up in your chest and you laugh. He reaches down for you, helping you out of the compartment. You could almost cry due to the intensity of emotions you’re experiencing.

               Cassian, with his gentle brown eyes and tender expression on his face, asks, “What now?”

               The question is a powerful one. Limitless with the universe at your fingertips. You aren’t sure how to show your appreciation to this man who helped you escape your wedding when the plan seemed to be in shambles.

               “I don’t know,” You reply, unable to stop from laughing, “I guess…I guess whatever the hell I want.”

               And Cassian laughs too, reveling in your personal freedom that he helped bring to fruition.

the end.

[triptuckers]

undercover - captain rex

Request: nope Pairing:  captain rex x reader (reader has long hair) Summary:  you're sent undercover to get an important data stick from a separatist leader Warnings:  mentions of blood, injuries Word count:  1.8K A/N: give me PINING rex he needs to be YEARNING. love me a pixel man. enjoy reading!

it's an easy mission. a very important one, but it seemed rather easy. anakin's briefing was short as well.

one of the separatist leaders had a data stick with important information about a few new secret bases. they thought it was so important, that the separatist kept the data stick on him at all times.

which is where you came in.

there was a popular summer festival coming up on the separatist's home planet. your job was to go there, have fun, talk with the separatist and steal the data stick.

to avoid attracting too much attention, only anakin and captain rex accompanied you. the three of you arrived via public shuttle, dressed in civilian clothes.

you had traveled to the festival and separated once you got closer.

and now anakin and rex are hiding on the edge of a mountain ridge, looking out over the festival terrain, waiting for you to show up.

rex is glad he's not wearing his full armour for once, because the planet is extremely hot.

'general.' says rex after a while. 'isn't she going to stand out? they're going to notice a jedi general attending a festival.'

while they'd all worn civilian clothes while traveling, your clothes had still resembled jedi robes a little. you claimed you felt more comfortable that way. and if rex could recognise them as "kind of jedi robes", then surely the festival crowd could recognise it as well?

'well, then it's a good thing she won't look like a jedi general.' says anakin.

as if on cue, you enter the festival. rex looks at you through his scope, and anakin was right. you don't look like a jedi general. you look like a girl who is excited to have a good time at a festival. and you had changed your outfit.

you're now wearing a blue skirt that reaches your calves, and it's fluttering in the hot summer breeze. a tight fitting black top and a pair of comfortable shoes finish up your outfit. no jedi robes, no armour. but what catches rex off guard is your hair.

normally, you wear it tied up in several buns or braids, saying it was annoying if it got in your face all the time. after all, you're moving around a lot during battle. but you wouldn't cut if off, you loved your long hair.

now it flows freely down your shoulders and back, and it moves in the wind and shines in the sunlight.

rex knows you're off limits. you're a general, he's a captain. you could be thrown out of the order, he could be removed from duty - or worse.

so he's kept his mouth shut all this time.

but seeing you like this, no armour or weapons or a concentrated frown on your face. your hair and skirt moving in the wind. rex has never had to hold himself back so much. to stop himself from staring at you so many times.

meanwhile, more and more people have joined the festival terrain and the music has gotten louder.

anakin and rex keep an eye on you as you dance and laugh and have a good time in the valley below. they watch you as you approach the separatist leader and laugh this jokes and touch his arm, pulling him to the dance floor.

it sparks a flame of jealousy in rex's chest. that separatist leader with his girl.

no, not his girl.

a respected general of the GAR. one of his superior officers. who is now on an important undercover mission.

still, rex doesn't like watching you and the separatist leader.

after a while, the separatist leader has had enough of the dancing, and orders a few drinks. you sit with him and talk, leaning in close as you're listening to him.

because rex had been watching you so closely, he notices the exact moment when you swipe the data stick from him.

but you don't leave immediately, that would have been suspicious. a couple more minutes pass before you get up and head back to the dance floor. without the separatist this time.

just as rex is looking at you slowly making your way to the exit, the separatist yells out that someone has stolen something from him. anakin and rex hear how he shouts for a girl in a blue skirt.

given that your cover is blown, you give up trying to blend in with the crowd. you run away from the festival as fast as you can, heading towards the meeting point anakin told you to go to if things went wrong.

it's still hot, and within minutes you're sweaty and out of breath as you make your way up to the mountain ridge. but you won't tell yourself to slow down til you've put enough distance between yourself and the festival.

you're running uphill and just as you round the corner of a large boulder, you smack into something solid. before you can defend yourself, a pair of hands grabs your shoulders to stop you.

you look up into anakin's familiar eyes.

'got it.' you say, still out of breath, handing him the data stick. 'let's get out of here.'

you start to move past anakin, but you're stopped again. this time, by rex.

'general, your leg.' he says.

you look down and see your blue skirt is stained with red. you frown. in the crowd and while you were running away, you hadn't noticed you got hit by something. so it probably wasn't too bad.

'I'm fine.' you say. 'I hardly feel it, let's just get out of here quickly while we still have a head start .'

anakin eyes the amount of blood on your skirt, then looks behind you at the festival.

'no, you'll lose more blood and slow us down.' he says. 'rex, bind her leg. quickly.'

'yes, sir.' says rex.

'it's fine.' you say.

'rex, bind her leg. that's an order.' says anakin, with a slightly playful look in his eyes. you all know rex won't refuse a direct order from his general.

rex looks at you. 'sorry general. general's orders.' he says.

'what if I outrank anakin?' you say.

'do you?' says rex.

'rex.' says anakin, a little more firmly this time.

rex clears his throat and steps closer to you, then crouches down. he pulls out a knife and looks up at you.

'I'll need to cut a piece of your skirt so I can use it to bind your leg.' he says.

'yeah, go ahead.' you say.

rex carefully cuts a strip of fabric from the bottom of your skirt, then puts his knife away. he briefly looks up at you and silently asks permission before he slides your skirt upwards, til it reaches just above the cut on your thigh.

'hold it there, please.' he says.

you take a hold of your skirt and your other hand comes down to rest on rex's shoulder for balance as you take the weight off of your injured leg.

as you feel rex's gloved fingers on your thigh, you clench your teeth to keep yourself from looking down at him. you're fully aware anakin is standing right next to you, keeping an eye on the path in case separatists would show up. you wished anakin wasn't here.

you feel how rex wraps the piece of fabric around your thigh.

'this is going to hurt.' rex warns.

'I can-'

you're cut off by rex pulling the knot tight and a sharp pain shoots through your leg.

on instinct, you groan rex's name, your fingers digging into his shoulder. rex tries to ignore you saying his name like that, and focuses on securing the piece of fabric in place.

rex gives the knot a small tug, and when it stays in place, he stands again. your hand falls from his shoulder and you drop your skirt, which is now knee length instead of reaching your calves.

'thanks.' you say.

rex nods. 'you're welcome.'

'we need to move.' says anakin. 'they would have heard that if they were close.'

you nod and the three of you start your way back to the shuttle bay. rex occasionally helps you climb over rocks, to make sure you don't put more pressure on your injured leg.

when you get to the shuttle, you quickly board it and take a seat near the back of the craft. anakin takes off his jacket so you can wrap it around your waist, hiding the biggest part of your blood stained skirt.

the way back to anakin's flagship isn't that long, but you start to get tired nonetheless. it's probably due to the blood loss, you think. you know if you close your eyes, it's a bad sign, so you stay awake by focusing on rex's presence next to you. you can feel his shoulder against yours.

when you get to anakin's ship, he goes to inform the other jedi masters the mission was a success while rex escorts you to medbay.

one of your arms is over his shoulder while his other arm is around your waist, given that your energy has drained since running away from the festival.

'thanks.' you say, as you and rex walk though the halls of the ship.

'for what?' says rex.

'being a literal shoulder to lean on.'

'you would have done the same for me, general.'

'you know I prefer it if you call me by my name, rex.'

'and you know I call superior officers by their rank, general.'

maybe it's the blood loss. or the dizziness. or the fact rex is so close. whatever the case, you get a sudden burst of courage.

'is that all I am to you? a superior officer?' you say.

you feel rex briefly stiffen besides you.

'for the sake of my rank, yes.' he says.

you feel anxiety and regret growing in your stomach and think of something to say to change the subject, but rex speaks again. softer, this time.

'for the sake of who I am without this armour and the rank of captain, you're more than just a superior officer, y/n.' he says.

you smile as rex walks you through the doors of medbay.

'I'm glad to hear that.' you say.

rex gently places you on a bed and calls over the chief medical officer. he smiles at you.

'sorry your skirt got ruined.' he says. 'I... liked it.'

'of course you do, it's the color of the 501st.' you say.

rex raises his eyebrows. 'is that why you picked blue?'

you shrug. 'I figured it would look great next to the blue of your armour.'

before rex can answer, the chief medical officer arrives at your bed.

'we'll talk about the mission later, captain.' you say to him, with a quick wink, as the medical officer examines your leg.

rex smiles briefly and nods at you. 'certainly, general.'

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

[zoeykallus]

Master List/Stuff I Wrote Part 6

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

_________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_________

MAUL

Maul x Fem!Reader - Damsel In Distress

The Bad Batch

The Bad Batch/Rex/Wolffe/Gregor/Howzer x Reader HCs - Proud Family Moment

The Bad Batch/Cody x Reader HCs - The Flinch

The Bad Batch x Afab!Reader HCs - Struggling With PMDD

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Your Social Media

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Abandonment Issues

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Accidental Proposal

The Bad Batch x DominantFem!Reader HCs - Who's In Control?

The Bad Batch x Reader - Burnout

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - Clumsy

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Enemies To Lovers

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - When I See You Dance With Another

The Dad Batch x Offspring!Reader HCs

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - A Restorative Hug

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - Husband And Daddy?

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Sleepy Mix-Ups

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - The Sparring Partner

TBB x Gender-neutral Reader (Extended) HCs – Lost Something? Part 1 Of 5 Hunter

TBB x Gender-neutral Reader (Extended) HCs – Lost Something? Part 2/3/4/5

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Crocheted With Love

HUNTER

Hunter x Jedi Fem! Reader One-shot - Perceptions And Senses

Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot - The Savior

Imperial Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Little Smuggler

Hunter x Fem!Reader - One-Shot - Love And Lotion

Hunter x Jedi/Reader - One-Shot - The Things We Do For Love

CROSSHAIR

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-Shot - The Unexpected Gentleness

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-shot (Smut)

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-shot - Don't Let Go Of Me

WRECKER

Dom!Wrecker x SubFem!Reader One-shot - My Naughty Little Girl

TECH

Tech x Reader One-Shot - Loving Care

Tech x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Close And Real

Tech x Fem!Reader One-shot - AFTER THE FALL

Tech x Fem!Reader Smut One-Shot (Pollen Trope)

Tech x Fem!Reader One-shot - The Teacher

Tech x Fem!Reader – One-Shot – Distractions The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 1/7 - Tech

ECHO

Echo x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Without Words

REX

Rex x F!Reader One-Shot - My Love

CLONES

Crosshair x Afab!Reader x Mayday One-Shot - Keeping You Warm On A Cold Night (NO CLONECEST)

Hound x GN!Reader – One-Shot – Grizzer On The Loose

Rex/Fives/Hardcase/Echo/Jesse/Heavy/Kix x FTM Trans Jedi!Reader HCs - Who You Really Are

[ijustreallylovedaredevil]

a series of fics in which Obi Wan Kenobi having a disability somehow saves the galaxy

behold, my magnum opus

#1. Iviin’hiibi te Tuur- 16k, 11 chapters, complete (+ongoing bonus works)

Obi Wan has never resented the seizures he's experienced, not exactly, but he wasn't particularly fond of them either.

(And then they save the galaxy.)

#2. Uja Nejah - 34k, 28 chapters, complete

Obi Wan was diagnosed with diabetes a few months after his return from Melida/Daan. The Healers assured him it would only have minor impacts on his life and wouldn't change much for him. It does, but it somehow works out all the better in the end because of it.

#3. Gev’or’dayc O’r - 62k, 30 chapters, complete

After an attempt on Obi Wan’s life leaves him in a precarious state, and the clones concerned about the person trying to finish the job, they make a significant decision that involves the entirety of the 212th faking their deaths, disappearing into wild space, and working tirelessly to help their General get better. While Anakin and Ahsoka are investigating the attempted assassination, Obi Wan has to come to terms with the possibility he might not get better from this, and what his life will look like if that’s the case.

#4. Mirsh’prudiise - 45k, 19 chapters, complete

Obi Wan is diagnosed with psychosis after Melida/Daan.

 When he returned, he was cracked, portions of him split from other pieces, reflected in mirrors, distant. There were other things in him, when he got back. Things that were not him, that he now had to carry around, weighing on him heavily.

#5. Nor’taakur be Beskar - 47k, 23 chapters, complete

Months before the clones are discovered, before the outbreak of war, before Geonosis and everything that occurs therein, Obi Wan is seriously injured in a speeder crash. He still finds his way to the front lines and the galaxy is better for it. 

#6. Urakto Videkir - 2.5k, 1 chapter, complete (future work forthcoming)

Obi Wan realizes he's quite forgotten to tell the troopers he doesn't eat by mouth. Surely this will not come back to haunt him later (said no one ever).

#7. The only thing strong enough to kick my ass is me - 5k, 1 chapter, complete (likely to be future works)

Obi Wan assumed the joint paint was part of getting older, of using his saber for endless hours while fighting a war in exhausting conditions. He certainly didn't think there was anything else going on. 

#8. Cinar’tal Or’baar - 9k, 2 chapters, complete

An unexpected complication throws a wrench into the chronic illness Obi Wan has been coping with for years. Further complications arise, naturally, because nothing in his life can be easy.

#9. Irud bal Motuun - 5.5k, 3/26 chapters, WIP

When Anakin abandoned Obi Wan on Geonosis, leaving him to to fight Dooku on his own, both he and the galaxy are forever changed.

Based on the excellent art of @charrhylis

(updated December 12, 2023)

[ladyveronikawrites]

ABOUT ME Veronika ・ She/Her・ 20-something writer ・my kinks ・ moodboard

WRITING

Queen of Unlocking Kinks™️🔑🔓 ・ 18+ CONTENT

Masterlist ・Kink Masterlist ・Collection of BO fics・Wattpad ・AO3

CURRENTLY

Fic Requests: ❌CLOSED❌

Taglist Sign Up

Kink Resources

Kink & BDSM in Writing & IRL

💜Thanks for reading!💜

updated: March 4, 2024

[whatevvvs]

Would you guys want to see my fic ideas list on my notes app, or would that be cringe?

[tonsillessscum]

Hiiii guys, don't hate me for posting late for day one of wolfwren week, 106 people had to watch me have a vague mental breakdown about my troubles with the ao3 website. anywhooooo, read the notes and summary. hope you guys all love lesbians!!!

[snippy-tano]

Hi there! I absolutely adore your writing it makes me smile everytime you post something new and brightens my day... that being said I'm going through a tough time rn and was just asking if you could write something comforting with any clone really ( I literally love them all 😅).

Wow it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been crazy busy and time kinda got away from me. I’ve still been writing, just other things. But for some reason, I just decided to revisit some of these asks and then this happened. I’m not sure where it came from, maybe I just needed to hear something like this and it all just came out. I’m not sure why I picked Fives either, he just seemed like the only choice for this. I hope that’s alright.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this anon! I hope this helps makes things easier and makes you smile. Things will get better. It may not be right away, but they will. I believe they will. :))

((there wasn’t a specific song I had in mind when I was writing this, but after the fact this song came on shuffle and I think it was meant to be. I’ve linked it here, but it doesn’t have to played while reading. I just think it fits and it’s where the name of the one-shot comes from. Just make sure you turn on subtitles if you want to know the lyrics :) ))

Masterlist is here.

Taglist is here.

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @marvel-starwars-nerd @mackstrut @dissapointingpancake @ahsokatano-thetogruta @welcometothepedroverse @lightning-wolffe @fractiouskat @mandaloriandin @lussyyung @lowkeyodinsong @Str-wrs-fics @bantha-shit @badbatch-simp24 @katelynnwrites @s1st3r @leotatombs @torchbearerkyle @rain-on-kamino @the-navistar-carol @bombshe77 @lucyysthings 

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Lonely St.

For the first time in almost 12 hours, you stepped out of the makeshift med tent. 

Every breath you took felt like a monumental effort and your very bones ached. Your hands trembled slightly as you rested your hands on your hips. You let your eyes fall shut and your face tip up to the dark sky. 

You took a shuddering breath, feeling yourself sway slightly. You forced your eyes open as you glanced around. Most of the camp was quiet, save for the tent behind you. 

The sight of your stained hands drew your attention downward. Your stomach turned as you looked away. Your feet followed suit and soon you were stumbling towards the nearby showers. Your boots sunk into the mud with every step, making your legs ache with every step. 

You finally stumbled into the empty showers and turned on the water, picking up a small dry rag and scrubbing violently at your hands. You sniffled as you used more force than was probably necessary, trying to rid yourself of the physical reminder of your terrible shift. 

After what felt like hours of scrubbing, you stopped, seeing the skin of your hands and arms had been rubbed raw. The water turned off and you brushed a hand under your eyes. You shook out your hands and ringed out the damp rag. With another sniffle, you turned and headed for the medic barracks. 

You didn’t pass many others on your way, after all, it was the middle of the night. Your fellow medics had practically kicked you out of the tent, despite your protests. Even though you were beyond exhausted, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to sleep and would much rather be productive. But you’d been kicked out, probably rightfully so. 

The walk was a long one, but the quiet was nice. After spending hours in a high stakes situation, the silence was almost deafening. 

Your eyes began to burn and you quickly bit down hard on your lip. 

No. You were not going to cry. 

Not here.

Not now.

Your nails dug into your palms, causing you to wince slightly. You couldn’t reach your bunk fast enough. All you wanted to be was alone.

But the sound of your name from to your left halted everything. 

You instinctively turn, surprise evident on your face as you face the equally surprised Fives. 

He looked just as tired as you were, dirt covering his armor and face. Even though it was late, you could clearly see the deep circles under his eyes. 

“What are you still doing up?” He asked quietly, taking a step closer. 

“Uh- I uh-“

You thought hard, eyes squinting as you tried to remember what you were doing. 

Fives called your name again and you swallowed thickly. “I just got off, so I’m uh, heading to my bunk to get an hour or so of sleep before I go back.”

Fives sighed. “You need more sleep than that.” 

Your jaw clenched painfully. “I'm fine. You should rest. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Woah hey.” Fives said, reaching for you as you tensed. “You okay?”

It took you far too long to spit out a yes and he noticed. 

The ARC trooper sighed again before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”

You tried to push him off, but after such a long day your effort didn’t have any effect. Eventually you gave up and let Fives steer you towards the makeshift medic barracks. 

He held the flap of the tent open for you and you ducked inside quickly, noting that it was mostly empty. You headed immediately for your bunk in the back corner and dug out your small bag from underneath. When you looked up, Fives was nowhere to be seen.

You tried not to be disappointed. 

Without letting yourself think about it too much, you quickly changed out of your soiled uniform and pulled on something clean and more suitable for sleeping. It wasn’t warm enough, not by a long shot, but it was better than nothing. 

You were just hanging up your uniform when you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. You looked up to see Fives had returned. 

He moved quietly, careful not to disturb anyone else. As he got closer, you could see he had washed the dirt off his face and was carrying a small bundle of fabric in his hands. You watched with narrowed eyes as he stopped beside you, bending down to whisper quietly in your ear. 

“Climb in, I’ll be right there.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “Wha-“

“Hurry up. It’s kriffing cold.” 

A shiver wracked your body and you were moving before you could protest further, crawling under the flimsy blanket in your bunk. You pulled the covers close under your chin and glanced over at Fives as he quickly took off his armor, without making much of a sound. 

The light was minimal, but the light of the two moons peeking through the cracks of the tent bathed him in a soft light. 

You’d become close with Fives not long after arriving as a medic. At first you didn’t really talk with anyone else, sat alone in the mess aboard the Resolute, preferred to just go about your duties and not get attached. But Fives had plopped right down across from you at one lunch and never looked back. On the surface, you two were totally different. On paper it didn’t make sense.

But you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He made you smile on days when you needed it the most. He always seemed to be able to read your mind, much like tonight. You didn’t want to bother anyone and planned on coming back to your bunk to lay in silence for an hour and then go back to work. You didn’t want to sleep. You didn’t think you could.

But somehow, Fives just knew.

He knew what you needed the most was someone to keep you company. 

Yes you preferred to be alone, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be lonely. 

Especially on a night like this.

Fives piled his armor in a small bunch against the wall of the tent, tossing part of the fabric bundle at your feet. You buried your face into your pillow, cheeks warming as he grabbed the back of his blacks and pulled it over his head. 

Now was not the time for this. 

There was some shuffling and you looked up to see Fives spreading another thin blanket over you. Then he motioned with his hand. 

“Come on, scoot over.”

“But-“

“Move before I just lay on top of you.”

If your face wasn’t burning before, it definitely was now. But you did move quickly, scooting to the very edge of the incredibly small bunk, facing away from where Fives was moving. There was a brief moment when the blankets shifted that you felt a rush of cold air, but it dissipated quickly and was immediately replaced by nothing but warmth.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, feeling the bed shift as Fives got himself comfortable. Well as comfortable as he could be crammed on a bunk meant only for barely one person. 

Sleep. Come on, just karking fall asleep already.

You were trying your hardest to will yourself to fall asleep, but nothing was working. 

You were jolted out of your spiraling thoughts when you felt an arm snake around your waist and pull you backwards. Your eyes snapped open and you tensed. 

“Relax.”

“Fives-“

“I said relax. Just go to sleep okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath at your ear did nothing to calm you down, nor did the way his feet tangled with yours. Despite him telling you to relax, you just couldn’t seem to do it. 

His arm tightened and you felt him press his lips to your hairline, speaking softly. “Please. Get some rest.”

All at once, the fight in you left in an instant. Your eyes burned and you curled in on yourself, or tried to. Fives seemed to anticipate this and held on tighter, not letting you push away. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

You slumped against him and grabbed onto his hand, holding on for dear life as the day's events caught up with you. Fives never once let go and continued to whisper quietly to you. 

Eventually, you must have dozed off because you awoke to sunlight streaming through the crack in the tent. The tent was still quiet and nearly empty, but you could hear the camp waking up outside. You rubbed a hand against your face and let out a breath. 

There was a grunt from behind you and you tensed as the arm around you tightened. The events from the night before came rushing back and you felt a blush spread across your face at the thought of spending the night with your best friend that you probably, most likely had developing feelings for. 

Now would be a great time to get out of here. 

You started to move, only for Fives to clamp down even harder. His forehead thumped against your head as his nose brushed the skin of your shoulder. 

“Five more minutes.”

You relented, knowing that when it came to sleep, Fives didn’t mess around and if he wanted to stay, you weren’t going anywhere. 

He drifted back off behind you and you took the time to think back on the day before. It had been a hard day, one of the hardest you’ve had in a long time.  And it would continue to be hard for a while. But you’d get through it. You had to. So you would.

A few minutes later, Fives began to stir. He sighed deeply, pulling himself even closer, despite you thinking that wasn’t possible. 

“Mornin’” he rasped and you laughed lightly.

“Good morning.”

“Feeling better?” 

You sighed. “Yeah. I am.”

He grunted in response. “Good.”

“We really need to get up Fives.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do.”

“No. I’m an ARC trooper, I can do what I want.”

You snorted before checking your small watch. “Alright fine but I need to get up. My shift starts soon.” 

“No you don’t. I forbade it.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face at his whining. Fives must have noticed because you could feel him smile too as his nose brushed the underside of your jaw. 

“Fine but don’t say I didn’t try.”

Your smile faded slightly. “Thank you Fives.”

“Hmm, for what?” 

You rolled your eyes. “For last night. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

He hummed softly. “Anytime. Seriously though. I slept great so I want to do it again.”

Your face warmed and you gave him a playful shove. He laughed quietly, squeezing just a bit tighter. He shifted abruptly and you turned to see him hovering above you. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. His eyes searched your face and you felt totally frozen. 

Then he leaned down and your eyes fluttered closed without thinking. His lips pressed against your forehead and you let out the breath you had been holding. He pulled back slightly, but still lingered for a moment. Your hands fisted in his blacks, wondering if you should just forget about your shift just to spend a few more moments here, right now. 

Fives pulled back before you could act on that impulse. You opened your eyes and he smiled at you. You smiled back and then he was moving, standing up and stretching. 

You flopped back down against the pillow, watching as he gathered up his armor and began putting it on. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began clicking his leg armor on. He stole a glance behind and poked at your leg. 

“Come on, we’re both going to be late.”

You gave him another shove before climbing out of bed yourself. Together you got ready with hushed whispers and quiet laughs. 

And yesterday’s troubles slowly eased and were replaced by nothing but warmth and him. 

You knew that days like yesterday were only going to get more frequent and more intense. And you didn’t know what this was with Fives. But those dark days didn’t seem all that scary when he was smiling at you. Those days wouldn’t haunt you as much as long as he stayed by your side. 

Your future was uncertain.

But as long as Fives was there, you knew you’d not only survive, but live. 

[tenelkadjowrites]

I Want You Back (Cassian Andor x Reader) - NSFW

💬 Summary: When your ex-boyfriend, Cassian Andor, stumbles to your apartment wounded, it brings back not only memories of your time together but a promise of something starting anew.

💬 Word count: 12.7k

💬 Genre & warnings: one shot smut. fem pronouns for reader. exes to lovers. mentions of blood and injuries. drinking. dirty talk (a LOT of it). reader is called sweetheart a couple of times and slut once. oral sex, reader receiving. unprotected sex. creampie.

💬 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @violetwinters - (I’m not doing my usual tag list for this fic given it’s in a different fandom than usual, you can lemme know if you want to be added for any future Star Wars fics)

               You stare at the door, holding your breath, waiting. I might’ve dreamt it, you think but the way your heart is racing makes you believe otherwise. Your blaster is cold in your hands, a grim reminder of what you might have to do. The only source of light is leaking through the shuttered window in the living area. Your entire apartment complex is cramped and indoors; only artificial light can enter here.

               The knocking comes again. It is heavy, more of a thud. Your chest is like ice, your legs moving forward before your brain can stop it. Living on the outskirts of the galaxy your entire life, you know how to handle your own but that doesn’t mean you derive any pleasure from doing so.

               Your finger hovers over the trigger as your free hand slams down on the button to open the door. It glides open soundlessly –

               “Cassian?” You blink in shock at the sight of someone you never thought you’d see again in your doorway.

               He is slumped against the doorframe, one hand underneath his jacket. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair stuck against his skin which has a sickly pallor. He looks as if he is crumbling underneath his own weight.

               Cassian tries to smile but it looks forced and pained. “Did I wake you?”

               “Uhm, yes. It’s the middle of the night,” You frown, whispering, “You look like shit.”

               “I feel like shit. Can I come in?”

               Even though he looks like hell, you hesitate. Maybe it is selfish but the last thing you feel like dealing with currently is your ex-boyfriend showing up in your new life, bringing in who knows what sort of hell with him. You had spent so long trying to forget him after things went to shit and now to find him right outside your apartment…

               Cassian moves his hand out of his jacket and you can see his fingers are smeared with blood. It dawns on you only then that he is injured. The sight of the blood kicks you into gear from years of training.

               “Hurry up before someone sees you,” The words are gruff and unpleasant but Cassian doesn’t seem to notice nor care because he lurches forward on the final bit of energy he has and is over the threshold.

               Cassian slumps forward and you catch him quickly before he can strike the floor. The door seals behind him as your blaster drops to the floor when you take on his weight. He is familiar yet different; the weight of him sturdier than in the past, his frame harder, more stubble on his chin than you’ve seen before. It is like looking at a painting through water and trying to make out all the individual bits of what makes it feel so personal.

               You manage to get Cassian successfully to the living room before his legs give out. He is splayed on the couch at an awkward angle which you have no time to adjust because you’ve scurried off to find your med kit.

               After you told Cassian that the relationship didn’t work, that the chaos burning inside him without an outlet proved to be too exhausting for you, your mind had drifted to him often in the weeks that followed. You wondered what his life was like without you around, wondered if he was happier without you and if he regretted how things went.

               It took a long time to get over him. And now here he was, bleeding all over your cramped and small living room in the middle of the night with no explanation – including how he knew that you lived here.

               Returning to Cassian, you motion to the jacket that he still has on. “Come on, I can’t see your injury with the jacket.”

               Cassian has managed to right himself in the short time you ducked out of the room. He is slumped on the couch, his head rolled back, breathing labored.

               Still, he shifts enough to shrug out of his jacket which you take gingerly, making a mental note at how it has seen better days. His black shirt is wet on one side, stuck against his skin. You sit next to him, a twinge of anxiety hitting your chest. Cassian’s eyes are closed, and the sight of this brings back a storm of old memories, none of which you want to linger on.

               “Do I even want to know what injured you?” Your voice wavers a little, betraying your nerves. Cassian would normally pick up on such a thing if he weren’t in his current state.

               “No,” is all he mumbles.

               Tentatively, you reach for his shirt, carefully peeling it upwards to expose the wound. It’s a gash, sticky with oozing blood, dark red smeared all over his abdomen. It isn’t the sight of the wound that sends your stomach churning; you work at the local clinic and have seen similar injuries more times than you can count. It is the fact it is on Cassian that makes anxiety bloom in your chest.

               “I don’t have any equipment here and I don’t have any bacta. I can try to get you to the clinic –”

               “No,” He rasps out and his hand reaches for yours. His skin is hot, too hot, and you realize he is feverish. “Too dangerous. Do what you can here.”

               “Too dangerous? Cassian, what exactly were you doing before you got here? How did you even know where I lived?”

               But his head has rolled back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed, too weak to reply. Knowing that you would get no answers now, all you can do is go to work on the wound and hope for the best. Exhaling slowly, you study Cassian’s face for a moment, your chest constricting. You hadn’t ever allowed yourself to think about what it would be like to see him again.

               Your time with Cassian was a flurry, the sort of passion and romance that normally didn’t apply to your life. But there was a wildness with Cassian that at the same time meant it was impossible to pin him down. He had no desire for cozy nights in, always on the move as if there were a target on his back, running from his past and sidelining his future. Eventually, it grew more exhausting to deal with that versus the passion, sex and love you felt for him.

               But that didn’t erase history nor did it erase your feelings for him. As you work, your mind flashes through a set of memories: seeing Cassian when you were introduced to him, the expression on his face when first kissing you, the way he’d slink into the apartment in the dead of night after doing universe knows what, how he would storm out in the morning when the two of you would fight again, the sex that would follow, only for the cycle to start again. Cassian seemed empty and even your love couldn’t fill it – a hard lesson to learn and one that ultimately ended with you leaving.

               And now…

               Well, now, it is up to you to make sure your ex-boyfriend makes it through the night.

*

               At some point after patching Cassian up to the best of your ability, you doze off next to him. The next time your eyes open, you aren’t sure what time it is and for a split second, you can’t remember how you ended up on the couch.

               But the sight of Cassian brings the memories flooding back, the adrenaline hitting as if you just drank some caf. To your relief, his breathing has steadied. Gingerly, you reach out to touch his forehead. He’s still a little too warm but not as feverish as a few hours ago. Your fingers linger there and you gently push some of his hair off his forehead, studying his face. You wish that there wasn’t this tidal wave of emotions when looking at him, no feelings of fondness, no memories to contend with.

               Cassian stirs and your hand flies back to your lap. You hope he didn’t catch your moment of tenderness because you aren’t sure that he would let you live it down. You’re the one that left me, you could hear him say and it sounds so real in your head that you can feel yourself withdrawing.

               He shifts slightly as his eyes open groggily. You are busying yourself with the medical kit, getting ready to change the bandage on the wound, knowing that it is a serious injury and needs a lot of tending to. You are aware of Cassian’s eyes on your back, a sensation so familiar that it makes a shiver roll down your spine.

               “How are you feeling?” You ask curtly.

               “Like shit,” He mumbles.

               “You still have a fever. Here, you need another round of medication.” The glass of water is still on the table and you turn to face Cassian, thrusting it at him.

               He reaches out and the tips of his fingers brush against your skin. The touch, so minor it is nothing, knocks your insides apart, your heart banging like a gong in your chest.

               “I don’t remember…” He takes a swig of the water, stopping to get the medication from you and then takes another gulp, “Don’t remember much.”

               “You showed up bleeding all over my front door. I need to change your bandage now.”

               “Is it bad?”

               “Well, you’re doing a better now than last night so I think you’ll live but the wound can still get infected and your fever hasn’t diminished as much as I would like.”

               For some reason, you cannot bring yourself to look at Cassian directly. On top of that, examining him while he’s basically unconscious is one thing. But having him awake and semi-alert as you do so makes you jittery. Gingerly, you reach out, raising up his shirt just enough to expose the bandaged wound. You’re trying not to think about all the times you held onto him here when he fucked you, trying not to remember how he sounded when he was –

               “Like old times, huh?”

               Your thoughts shatter, quickly flicking your gaze upwards at his face. He’s teasing me, you think half in wonder and half in frustration. You were hoping for more time before Cassian brought up the past even with a small sentence like that.

               “You mean when I’d patch you up after a bar fight?” You look away, back to tending to the wound, gently peeling the bandage off.

               Cassian winces as it tugs at his skin while going, “Always wanted someone who could patch me up for free.”

               “Old habits die hard,” You reply wryly, examining the injury closely although you can feel his eyes on you, “You going to explain how you knew where I lived? Or what happened to injure you like this?”

               It still looks bad, you muse, disliking the shiny tautness of the skin around the wound. If only you had some bacta gel…but there is none in your apartment, having used it all up on a small child who got injured in the complex two weeks ago.

               There is a pause as Cassian considers what to say. You know he is debating lying because the tiny bits of himself he allows others to see are not given freely. You once had access but in the passing of the years, you don’t know what he feels comfortable with anymore. Cassian is good at gambling, drinking, burying his feelings in the search for fun, in the search for something to blot out the burning in his heart that seemed to spill out of him in a rage against the universe. You have no clue if that’s changed, how much he’s changed, but when your gaze shifts to meet his, the silence seems to grow longer.

               “It’s better if you don’t know,” He settles on, a finality in his tone that brokers no further conversation.

               You never heeded the tone before and you won’t now. “Are you mixed up in something bad? You piss someone off?”

               “I told you, it’s safer if you don’t know.”

               “No, you said it’s better if I don’t know. Now you’re telling me that it’s safer.”

               You are examining the wound, fingers touching his bare skin, still wishing for bacta gel. You aren’t convinced it isn’t going to get infected by the look of it. Cassian is quiet again. There is something more withdrawn about him now than before although you chalk it up to the breakup.

              When he doesn’t reply, you go, “I should really get you down to the clinic and do some proper work on this injury. You still have a fever and I can’t tell if the wound is getting infected. On top of that, it could heal slowly, possibly leave a scar.”

              “No,” The word comes out harsh and fast, “No, I’ll stay here.”

Narrowing your eyes, you ask, “Why? Why can’t you come to the clinic?”

              “I came here for discretion. Not to be paraded through the town square to the clinic.”

              “No one is parading you around, Cassian,” You frown, “What aren’t you telling me?”

              “You can bring supplies from the clinic, can’t you? Or are there checkpoints? Will they question you about bringing things from the clinic?”

               His tone is leaving you more confused than ever. There is an urgency and roughness to the questions that make you worry Cassian is in over his head although you can’t imagine what a security checkpoint would have to do with anything.

              “Typically, no there aren’t checkpoints.”

              “There might be today,” He says grimly, “I’ll wait for you.”

               “What aren’t you telling me?” You demand yet again.

               To your surprise, Cassian reaches out for your hand. He grips it tightly, sending a jolt through your skin that seems to sizzle. He is looking at you urgently and for a split second, you grow fearful that he has truly gotten in over his head.

               “The less you know the better. Will you trust me on this? It’s for your safety.”

               You want to argue that Cassian doesn’t get to decide what keeps you safe or not. But his eyes, those puppy dog eyes that have driven you around the bend more than once in both sex and arguments, brings you up short. Instead of fighting, you nod once indicating that the conversation is shelved…for now.

               He relaxes, leaning back against the couch, eyes closing. His grip on your hand lessens, allowing you to go back to work on doing what you can to clean up the wound and change the bandages before you deem the work complete, standing up.

               “I’ll head to the clinic now and come back as quickly as I can. I’m worried about infection settling in if I don’t get some bacta on it,” You grab your jacket, hurriedly getting ready, wondering how quickly you can make the trip.

               Cassian says your name softly, drawing your attention. It is strange to see him on the couch; you never once thought that he would be in your new apartment. He has tugged his shirt back down, his skin still looking a little pale. For the first time it hits you that if he hadn’t come to your place last night, where would he have gone? It’s clear that he didn’t want to go to any sort of medical bay or even your clinic. If he wasn’t here, would he be dying in an alleyway somewhere? The thought leaves a bitter taste of fear in your mouth.

               “Be careful,” is all he says before closing his eyes.

               You give one last look at him and leave.

*

               The walk to the clinic makes it immediately evident that there is something going on. There are imperial patrols on every street, the layer of fear across the city is like a thick cloak, and there are more security checkpoints than ever.

               But how did Cassian know? The thought bangs around in your brain the entire walk to the clinic which takes double the amount of time it should. By the time you arrive, your nerves are on edge and you’re in no mood for small talk.

               The clinic is quiet this late morning with just one medic on duty, patching up someone’s broken arm. The patient is complaining loudly when you enter.

               “Asshole shoved me so hard that I toppled down the flight of stairs by the market. And did nothing about it, didn’t even stop to make sure I was okay! We get punished because some captives escaped?”

               As you shrug out of your jacket and your coworker says hi, you say, “Who escaped?”

               “You didn’t hear?” That patient’s tone is seething, “Where have you been all morning?”

               “Asleep,” You reply curtly, not in the mood to bicker with a stranger, “I don’t work today, just forgot something here.”

               Your coworker looks up from the man’s arm and explains, “Someone broke out that small group of rebels being held at the garrison up near the city entrance late last night. They were supposed to be transferred this morning but now they are just scattered to the wind.”

               You are thankful that your back is to your coworker and the patient because your face is unable to mask the surprise as your stomach swoops.

               Trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible, you reply, “We’re expected to believe just one person broke them out of the garrison?”

               “Apparently.”

               The patient makes a noise of disbelief. “No way the person survived. I heard they got him pretty good but he managed to limp out of there and they lost him in the city. He’s probably dying somewhere and they’ll find his body soon enough. He’s the reason these stormtroopers are all riled up, pushing people around and breaking my arm.”

               “Please stay still so I can finish,” Your coworker sounds a little bitter, adding on, “Regardless of who broke them out, the rebels got away and now we have to deal with the repercussions.”

               The blood rushing to your head is very loud. You take a steady breath, packing a few items in a small cloth bag and sneaking some more in the inside pockets of your jacket. If they know Cassian is wounded, these items might raise some red flags. You suddenly understand why Cassian couldn’t leave your apartment and why he told you to be careful.

               “Alright, well, I got what I needed. Told myself I’d organize all my medical supplies at my place today and naturally I forgot some,” Your voice is casual as if the extra security and escaped rebels mean nothing to you.

               “They’ll find the rebels soon enough. Where will they go without running into a blockade? I don’t think the person breaking them out had any sort of proper plan. Just wanted to stick it to the Empire.” The patient is still babbling and every word about Cassian is starting to make your clothing feel itchy against your skin.

               Slipping your jacket back on, you smile blandly at your coworker. “I’ll be around more tomorrow.”

               “Bye,” They reply, too focused on the fact the patient won’t keep still.

               Leaving the room, you take a moment to collect yourself in the hallway. The idea of Cassian helping rebels escape, the same Cassian who seemed more likely to drink and gamble the night away, is a difficult one to wrap your head around. But there is no other explanation for him showing up injured on top of his secrecy.

               You feel a flicker of anger in your chest that he has brought this situation upon you without your permission. You had been living quietly for all this time and now every moment with him around threatens to undo that. But what is the other option? Kicking him out to be caught by the Empire? No, you couldn’t do that, not to him of all people.

               Exiting the building, you know that any strange expression on your face, any tension in your shoulders could spark a stormtrooper’s interest in you. Exhaling slowly, you try to keep your breathing steady as the walk home begins. You are hoping to look as nonchalant as possible, someone who is so used to imperial rule that you don’t really question the extra patrols or random security checks. A group of escaped rebels has nothing to do with you.

               You are about five minutes from the apartment complex when a security checkpoint before the main entrance into the residential area pops into view. Cursing underneath your breath, you know that to turn around now would only catch their attention. The checkpoint hadn’t been there when you left.

               Standing in line, you try to keep your face devoid of worry, coming up with your story about the medical supplies. They know Cassian is wounded. You think of the bacta gel hidden in your pockets. They’re going to question me.

               When it is finally your turn, your heart is pounding and the palms of your hands are sweaty. Even so, you maintain an even tone when asked for your name.

               One stormtrooper is running your credentials as another begins to search your bag.

               “What do you need these for?” He asks, the helmet modulating his voice.

               “I work at the clinic in the square,” You explain patiently, “I just keep some at home for emergencies and I like to replenish my supplies every few weeks.”

               “Why?” He demands.

               “Records are clean,” says the other stormtrooper.

               “You never know when an emergency could hit. What if there is no possibility of getting to the clinic? All of us have our own kits in our places for times like that. We usually keep a small travel pack on us as well that needs replenishing.” You slip your hand into your inner jacket, pulling out the health kit from the pocket, hoping that it will be enough to stop them from poking around your pockets.

               It is difficult to know what the stormtrooper is thinking as he studies the kit in the palm of your hand. You feel a little ill, unsure what to do if he wants to question you further. But the line behind you has grown as people are grumbling about the new checkpoint.

               You want to keep talking but are aware that will only make you look as if there is something to hide. Remaining silent after your explanation, you wait.

               “Records did say she works at the clinic,” The other stormtrooper remarks as if to prod things along.

               Another moment passes. He’s not going to believe me, not with the timing –

               “Fine, go.” He jerks his head towards the residential district.

               You nod, making sure to keep the speed of your walk the same, putting your health kit back in your jacket. You can feel the stormtrooper’s gaze linger on you almost as if he regrets letting you pass. Something is tickling at his brain, some question he wants to ask, but it is obvious the other stormtrooper doesn’t see it as he does and wants to focus on the line forming instead.

               Once you push past the doors, your shoulders slouch a little, your pace quickening. All you want to do is get back to your apartment. The fear that is hanging over the city today is much worse than usual. It is like the escape of the rebels is going to be made everyone’s problem.

               The interior of the complex is flooded with the usual ugly, harsh lighting that your eyes have grown accustomed to. It has many floors, with the small apartments shoved close to one another to hold as many people as possible. The building is run down but overall clean. Every hallway is identical and it is a wonder Cassian stumbled around here and ended up at your place without being caught or reported.

               You arrive at your apartment, stepping inside. You hear a familiar sound, immediately causing you to pull out the blaster hidden in one of your pockets, raising it –

               Only to see it is Cassian with his own raised. He immediately relaxes upon seeing you.

               “Are you trying to kill me?” You snap, your tension leaking out into your words as the door seals behind you.

               “Had to make sure it was you.”

               He is standing but his legs look wobbly. The entire trip couldn’t have taken more than an hour but he still doesn’t look well. Lowering the blaster, you hurry over to Cassian, ushering him back to the couch, plucking his own weapon from his hand.

               Cassian slumps back onto the couch, wincing slightly as he sits, his hand going to his side. As you empty out the medical supplies, you cannot stop from biting out, “Were you going to tell me that you helped rebels escape? Or just bring this hell on me without any warning?”

               Cassian is eyeing you carefully, weighing his words. You are frustrated, not only by the situation but this version of your ex that is brand new, doing things you never dreamt he could do.

               Unable to stop yourself, the words tumble from your mouth. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear of it? Someone breaking out a bunch of rebels, getting wounded and losing stormtroopers in the city? Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? There was a checkpoint before the residential district and I think it was only my clean record that got me through because the stormtrooper didn’t seem entirely convinced I needed these supplies just to restock.” Your hands are shaking, you realize, as one of the bacta gels tumble out of your hand and lands loudly on the table. “You just show up here – I haven’t heard from you in years and you think it’s okay to just – fuck, Cassian, did you think at all of what this was going to bring down on me?”

               The last sentence makes his eyes blaze, leaning forward, his voice hot. “You think I wanted to show up here in the middle of the night? That I didn’t consider other options? I had nowhere else to go that would offer safety and someone to make sure I didn’t die in the street!”

               “How did you even know I lived here?! What are you wrapped up in that you’re not telling me?!” Your voice is too loud – dimly, you are aware that it should be softer but your agitation is clouding your brain.

               Cassian grits his teeth, his hand going to his wound, momentarily thrown off by a burst of pain. You sit down next to him, pulling the medical kit into your lap while gesturing to him wildly.

               “Take off your shirt, I need to clean this out again. Properly this time,” You take a deep breath, lowering your voice, trying to collect yourself, “And as I do so, you’re going to explain everything going on.”

               Cassian goes to pull his shirt off but when he lifts up his arm with the wounded side, he winces, inhaling sharply through his teeth. You reach out, helping him remove it, refusing to let your brain bring back memories of late nights involving the same motion for very different reasons.

               Even so, the sight of Cassian shirtless leaves you briefly flustered and then surprised at the various markings along his arm, some along his abdomen that you hadn’t noticed in the hustle and bustle of tending to the injury prior. A lot of injuries, a lot of scars, a lot of stories here that started after I left. Who is this man in front of you? It no longer feels like your ex at all.

               He is looking at you steadily, watching your expression change as you take in the sight of him before he finally says, “You already know the answer to everything you’re wondering.”

               “Do you know how dangerous it is?”

               “I do.”

               “You’re lucky that you didn’t die last night. To break into the garrison like that and come out alive…”

               “Because of you,” He shifts slightly, just enough so that he is angled towards you. “I had no plans to see you. I just knew your location as a final emergency plan. I didn’t think I’d use it.”

               You want to ask more – how Cassian got swept up in working for the rebellion, why he did so, how much danger is he in regularly – but all the questions seem pointless. Cassian had always been restless, running from the past, ignoring the future. Maybe he just figured out that it was time to stop running. Perhaps it is selfish against the greater cause but you wish he decided to stop running and become a moisture farmer or something instead of a rebel spy leaping into dangerous situations.

               Cassian’s voice is soft but firm as he continues speaking, “There were a few more guards at the garrison than our intel originally said. By the time I lost them, I knew I was too injured to go to the rendezvous point. You were the closest person I could get medical assistance from. I didn’t intend to put you in danger or pull you into anything.”

               “I know,” You mumble, leaning forward to begin working on his injury, “I just was scared from the checkpoint.”

               “I didn’t think they would tighten security so hard.”

               “They think you’re still in the city and that you’re dying in a ditch somewhere, easy to find and finish off. Let’s just hope they don’t figure out your identity because they’ll come knocking here first thing.”

               Cassian chews on this silently. For a little while there is no noise other than you cleaning out the injury carefully, smearing a goop of bacta gel on top of it and watching it do its work. You feel a tingle of relief knowing that Cassian will recover now without the worry of infection.

               “That was a nasty wound,” You remark to finally break the silence, “What happened? Didn’t look like just a blaster bullet.��

               “Got nicked by a blaster and then lost my footing, slammed into something sharp, don’t know what it was. Things were a little too frantic to tell and my vision went white. Rest of that is a blur,” He hesitates, “I barely remember making the conscious decision to come here.”

               “Old habits die hard, right?” You quote from the morning.

               The corners of Cassian’s mouth twist upwards for a moment in an almost smile. “You always were good at patching me up.”

               Your cheeks grow warm, much to your embarrassment. Still, you brush the comment off by going, “Well, this was a little more complicated than any of your silly bar fights.”

               “Even so, you still took care of it.”

               His tone sounds serious now and unable to help yourself, you look at him. It is strange being this close to Cassian again and the fact he is shirtless now truly hits you. All the memories you attempted to fend off come flooding back – the times you’d be in his lap, your fingers grazing along his shoulders, his lips on your neck, his hands pressing against your lower back as he would talk dirty. No one ever quite spoke as filthy as Cassian did, no one could ever make you finish just from talking to you in the manner he did.

               But that was the old Cassian, the one who wasn’t working for the rebellion, the one who was in love with you.

               “Well, if I ever show up at your doorstep wounded, I expect the same treatment.”

               This time he does actually laugh a little, that familiar twinkle in his eyes making your stomach twist. “I don’t think you’d want that. You and I both know my hands aren’t good for that sort of thing.”

               The comment knocks the wind out of you. Is Cassian flirting? Or is he simply deflecting? It is difficult to know what he means by such a thing. All you know for sure is that it makes your heart skip a beat and you hate that it does.

               “Well, the bacta gel should help a lot, on top of rest and medication. Hope you don’t have any plans because you’re going to be here for a few days.” You stand up, eager to remove yourself from the close proximity of him.

               “By that time, they’ll figure I escaped the city and will ease restrictions enough I can slip out.”

               “What happened to the others? None have been recaptured.”

               “I got confirmation they made it to the rendezvous point. I was the only one who didn’t,” Cassian looks a little awkward before adding, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I’m sorry if I am while staying here.”

               “I won’t lie, it is…different having you back, Cass,” The old nickname slips out and you curse inwardly, “It isn’t as if we’ve been talking since things ended. But I’m not going to kick you out in the street to get snatched up by the Empire either.”

               He looks relieved. “I appreciate it.”

               “Yeah, well…” You trail off, not knowing what to say, “You should get some sleep. It’ll help you heal.”

               Cassian nods, stretching out on the couch. He doesn’t even ask for a blanket which only makes you wonder what sort of sleeping conditions he’s had over the past few years. “Good idea.”

               You turn around to head into your room, digging around for a few seconds before pulling an old blanket out of a drawer. But by the time you come back to Cassian, he is fast asleep. Clearly, the injury is still taking it’s toll on him.

               Standing awkwardly in the living room, the fabric of the blanket soft against your fingers, you stare at your ex on the couch. He hadn’t put his shirt back on and his pants are riding low on his hips. Visually arrested by the sight, you are aware that you’re staring. But your feet are rooted to the spot. How many times have you seen Cassian sleep like this? Hundreds, surely.

               But Cassian is different now; physically he is in better shape with scars across his skin and mentally he is more focused and driven on something you didn’t think he’d ever topple into. There is no crossing the living room and waking him up with kisses, not anymore.

               Quietly, you place the blanket on the table next to Cassian and go to your room, needing some space from him and the memories.

*

               The next three days involve you trying to spend as little time around Cassian as possible. You spend long hours at the clinic, checking on Cassian before your shift and before bed. Conversations are to a minimum, time with him as short as possible because you grow fearful that the memories are going to blur your present. Your time with him is done and finished. There is no going back, especially now that Cassian is swept up in the rebellion.

               One of the driving factors of leaving him was that you needed some sort of emotional stability with the person you’re with. Cassian, with the fire burning in his chest and no focus for it, proved to be too chaotic of a fit for what you wanted. There would be no such emotional stability with Cassian, a hard truth to swallow.

               That’s what you tell yourself every night before going to sleep anyway. In the late nights where you can hear Cassian unable to sleep, occasionally caving and watching one of the holos you have, your mind wanders to memories and a warm desire in between your legs. You wish that your body still didn’t respond to the way he looked at you or that just the casual way he hands you a cup of caf in the morning didn’t remind you of all the previous ones spent together.

               To make matters worse, you are positive that the amount of anguish Cassian is experiencing from being around you is close to zero. Sure, it was evident the first day or so that he felt a little awkward. But now, he acted at ease in every conversation.

               Of course, Cassian had always been an excellent liar, something that would have been honed if he was running around with the rebellion.

               All you knew was that if you had to see him shirtless one more time, you might actually lose it.

*

               “It’s healing well and your mobility has improved a lot,” You say one evening, after a twelve hour shift at the clinic, “In a couple of days, you should be good to go. Well, ‘good to go’ as in mostly recovered, not walk out right into a group of stormtroopers.”

               Cassian moves his arm a little, leaving you thankful that his shirt is on for this checkup. He then tugs down his shirt to cover the injury. “How is it out there?”

               “Loosening up, going back to the regular number of patrols. Give it a day or two and I think they’ll be shifting to scour outside the city for you. There are rumors you escaped,” You hesitate and then ask, “Where are you going to go?”

               “It’s better for you not to know. You already know more than I am comfortable with in regards to your safety.” He stands up, moving towards the tiny kitchen.

               You bite down hard on your bottom lip, swallowing all the other questions you want to ask. His logic makes sense but suddenly the idea of Cassian vanishing into the void makes you feel…well, you aren’t sure.

               Cassian rummaging around in the kitchen draws you out of your thoughts, going to join him. “Can I ask why you’re going through my kitchen?”

               “Was looking for, ah, here it is,” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey that you didn’t even remember buying, “Looking for some sort of alcohol. Although I didn’t think you’d own this.”

               “You’re drinking?”

               “Sure,” He replies, “Where are your glasses?”

               Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you push past him, getting a couple. He arches one eyebrow slightly at the sight of two.

               “You never liked whiskey.” He shakes the bottle a little, looking perplexed.

               “That was over five years ago. Things change.” Your tone is pointed.

               His gaze lingers on your face for a few seconds before going, “I suppose they do.”

               And Cassian pours the whiskey into both glasses.

*

               Three hours later, you are very drunk.

               One drink led to another, loosening the awkward feeling around Cassian into one of familiarity. The alcohol wiped clean the fact Cassian now worked with the rebellion, wiped out the fear of hiding him in your apartment, wiped out even the breakup five years ago.

               At some point during the drinking, you’ve ended up on the floor with your back against the couch. Cassian is next to you, one hand around his whiskey glass although he is slumped forward a little from laughing too hard. Your body is warm all over, a combination of the booze and being next to him.

               “Why are you laughing?” You demand even though you’re laughing as well.

               “Because the look on your face when I lied to the shopkeeper – I still see it so clearly,” Cassian manages to say in between laughing at the memory of some random drunken incident from a long time ago.

               “You’re supposed to let me in on the lies not allow me to walk right into them,” You scold before taking another sip of the whiskey which burns on the way down.

               Cassian rubs his eyes to wipe the tears that formed from laughing for too long and looks at you. “You’re right, you’re right,” He pauses for a moment and adds, “I guess I broke that rule again, didn’t I?”

               “Yes!” You sit up straighter, ready to lecture him, “You should’ve told me!”

               “I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to,” He points out although the edges of his words are slurred from too much drinking, “The whole…injury and fever.”

               You nudge him with your shoulder, “The next morning then. Before I went to the clinic.”

               “I was afraid about the checkpoints,” The earlier laughter from his voice is gone, and he looks serious now, “It was safer for you not to know much.”

               Logically, you know Cassian is right. But you’re too drunk for logic. “I figured I was shut out of things. Of knowing things about your life. Because of what happened between us.”

               Had you moved closer to Cassian or had he moved closer to you? Things were difficult to keep straight while clouded with this much booze. Either way, the two of you are close now, as close as possible without touching. You can see the stubble grazing his jawline, the tension in his shoulders that he still carries even now, the way his hair curls slightly against the back of his neck. All familiar, all off limits.

               “No,” Cassian’s voice has dropped to a whisper, “You’re not shut out of things. I just didn’t want you in danger.”

               “But you’re in danger,” Your words are mushy in your mouth, difficult to get out, “You’re the one going against the Empire.”

               “I chose that. I didn’t want to bring you into something without you deciding if it was wanted.”

               “We don’t get a choice with the Empire,” You mumble, “Either we go along with the tide to make it easier on ourselves or we try to swim against it. But the Empire in our lives isn’t a choice. It just is.”

               You have no idea if what you said makes any sense. But Cassian’s gaze grows troubled. He moves slightly and his hand that was on the floor suddenly touches yours. His skin is warm to the touch and before you can stop yourself, you curl your fingers around his hand.

               “You should come with me,” He says so quietly that you have to lean even closer to make out the words, “We need medics. We need people like you.”

               “I’m not cut out for that sort of thing, Cass.”

               “Yes, you are,” He says firmly.

               “Besides, what would that mean? Being around you all the time?” The words flow too easily, loosened by the whiskey, “Seeing you all the time?”

               His thumb is grazing the top of your hand now. The small touch is making your head light. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted Cassian more than you have at this moment. But you have no right to him. He is not a part of your life any longer.

               “Would that be so bad?” He teases, his voice dropping an octave.

               The tone is reminiscent, too reminiscent of what Cassian would sound like before he kissed you. Your body is screaming for him. All thoughts of rebellion and the Empire are washed away with the pure desire that is overwhelming your senses.

               Your foreheads are practically touching, lips so close that it would be simple to kiss him. Fucking Cassian had always been the best sex of your life. He knew exactly what you liked, knew exactly how to get you off and fuck, he had a mouth on him that would –

               Cassian suddenly pulls away, giving a small shake of his head as if breaking the surface of the water. Shocked, you remain frozen in place, wondering what just happened.

               “We’ve both been drinking,” He says in a shaky voice, “We both aren’t thinking clearly.”

               You feel wounded at the rejection, your feelings hurt even if a tiny sober part of you is trying to yell that Cassian is correct in neither one of you thinking clearly.  

               But you refuse to let him know the impact almost kissing him had on you nor the sting of rejection. Pulling your hand away from his, you try to breezily say, “True. I don’t think I’m cut out for the rebellion but I appreciate the sales pitch.”

               On wobbly legs, you manage to stand, looking down at Cassian. There is an expression behind his beautiful eyes that you cannot make out but your brain is too hazy to do so anyway.

               “I should get some sleep. Goodnight, Cass.”

               Cassian, for once, doesn’t have any witty retort or casual goodnight. You leave in silence, wanting nothing more than to have him again but knowing he doesn’t want the same.

*

               In the harsh morning light, you want to hide under the blankets forever given your memory of the night before. The drunken camaraderie had been one thing, even Cassian discussing the rebellion with you was understandable but the almost kiss…

               You’re standing under the hot water of the shower, letting it run over your skin in an attempt to batter your headache away. You weren’t scheduled for a shift at the clinic today and Cassian could not yet leave. You don’t know how to spend an entire day around him. You could come up with an excuse to head out for the day but the idea of dodging stormtroopers and dealing with that anxiety doesn’t seem ideal either.

               By the time you’re out of the shower, mostly dry and changed in clean clothes, you’re dying for some caf. Taking a deep breath, you step out of your room. Cassian is in the kitchen, his hair mussy from sleep, looking over in your direction sleepily.

               “Did you just wake up?” You ask.

               He nods, stifling a yawn. “I think I feel well enough to use your shower, if that’s okay.”

               “Yeah, of course.”

               “I was making some caf,” He presses the button to turn the machine on, “I haven’t drank that much in ages.”

               “Me either and now I remember why I stopped,” You rub your forehead, wishing to be rid of the headache.

               Cassian seems to hesitant for a moment before changing his mind on whatever he planned on saying, instead going, “I’ll take that shower now.”

               He walks by you quickly, almost as if he is scurrying. Could it be he’s embarrassed about last night? Surely not. More than likely, he is embarrassed for you and the fact you almost kissed your ex. Grabbing a mug, you get the caf, standing by the counter and losing yourself in thoughts of Cassian, the past and how he could still elicit such a reaction out of you.

               You aren’t sure how long your mind wanders because the next second, Cassian calls out from your bedroom, “Do you have any clothes I could borrow that might fit me?”

               “Maybe in the bottom right drawer? I don’t know,” You reply.

               There is some rummaging around in your room and then a few minutes later he comes out. The sight of him makes you laugh and he looks perturbed.

               “Don’t,” He warns.

               “The pajama bottoms are okay but that shirt is way too small for you.”

               Cassian looks down at himself. The shirt is probably two sizes too small, sticking to him like a second skin, showing off his toned chest in a manner that would be districting if he didn’t look so ridiculous. He scowls, crossing the room to get some caf.

               “I didn’t pack any overnight clothes for the breakout, silly me,” He mumbles.

               “We can clean your little rebellion uniform today so you’re not wearing that all day.”

               Cassian’s hair is still wet from the shower, his back to you as he drinks his caf. He makes a noise of irritation and rolls his shoulders uncomfortably which only shows off his muscles.

               “Forget it,” He finally says to himself and then begins to try to remove the too tight shirt off him.

               He manages to get it successfully almost over his shoulders before it is too tight to fully yank off. Even though Cassian being stuck in the shirt is funny, you grow concerned about him opening his wound and go over to help. Reaching up, you successfully pull the shirt off.

               “I’ll just wait until my clothes are cleaned,” He says with an annoyed shake of his head.

               You are holding the shirt in your hands, trying not to stare at him casually drinking caf in your kitchen while shirtless. You couldn’t handle Cassian drunk, you couldn’t handle him sober – and you had been the one to end the relationship, for fucks sake.

               Maybe you are giving off an awkward energy or something because he glances over at you, back at his mug and then back at you. He then puts the mug down with a heavy thunk, moving in your direction.

               “What?” He asks.

               “Nothing.”

               “You keep looking at me like that.”

               “Like what?”

               Cassian is close to you now but this time you’re both sober. You are clenching the shirt in your hands so tightly that you worry about tearing the fabric. Cassian’s chest, covered in large and small scars, tell a story that you have no knowledge of, indisputable proof of the passage of time you play no part in – but the worst part is that you find yourself wanting to know all the stories.

               Cassian places one hand on either side of you, gripping the counter. The warmth of his body and seeing him shirtless seems to spark an awakening once more in your body. Your thighs clench and the shirt in your hands becomes some sort of shield between the two of you.

               “Like you detest me being here but also can’t stop thinking about me,” He says gruffly, his eyes dropping to look at your lips, his eyelashes wet smears against his skin.

               “That’s not true,” You lie weakly.

               “Is that why you wanted to kiss me last night?” He says ruthlessly.

               You want to melt into the floor and are momentarily struck silent. You don’t know how to respond because your desire for him is blocking out all rational thought. You desperately want to touch Cassian, just to feel his skin underneath your hands, to have his lips on yours once again.

               He keeps going, “But you’re the one that ended things, remember?”

               “I remember,” You try to make your voice like stone but it sounds frail to your ears, “Don’t act like I don’t remember. You make it sound as if the choice were easy for me, as if it didn’t eat me up inside.”

               Cassian leans forward, still not touching you. You think that he is going to discuss the breakup further, talk about how painful it was and how it felt to end things after all the ups and downs.

Instead, as his lips hover just above your ear, he whispers, “Tell me, has anyone fucked you as good as I did since we broke up?”

               Your eyes close tightly, your pussy growing wet. His impact on you is dizzying. You hadn’t realized just what he could do to you until after things ended and you slept with others. None had been like Cassian.

               “Have any of them figured out what makes you tick? Did any of them realize what really gets you off is a dirty mouth?” His lilting accent mixed with his own desire is enough to make you crumble and beg for him.

               “Cass, I…” You swallow hard, trying your best to form a sentence.

               “I could hear you tossing and turning last night,” His voice is still a whisper, “Were you remembering all the times I fucked you? All the times I used my mouth to make you cum?”

               You’re so turned on that it is impossible to think clearly. Cassian has always used his clever mind to come up with the most filthy dirty talk anyone has ever spoken to you, something that no one has even been able to live up against. You just had assumed that you never would hear him talk like this again.

               You manage to wrangle enough brainpower to go, “You wanted to kiss me last night too, didn’t you? That’s why you’re trying to fuck me right now.”

               Cassian moves away from your ear. For a second, you wonder if you’ve pushed things too far – hilarious, given the way he is talking to you – but the expression on his face shows otherwise. He is looking at you with pure lust, those gorgeous brown eyes of his so familiar in the way they study your face. His hair is drying slowly, forming those small curls that you’ve grabbed ahold of when he would go down on you.

               Yes, the universe knows that you broke up with Cassian. But would it be so wrong to throw that out the window for the day and fuck him?

               “You broke up with me, remember?” He repeats carefully, studying your face, “I never stopped wanting you.”

               With that declaration, you throw caution out the window, bringing your arms around his neck to pull him in to kiss you. Your lips crush against his as your fingers go to his wet hair, giving it a sharp tug. Cassian groans in your mouth, a sound so familiar that it threatens to devour your head entirely with passion. Your skin is tingling, each nerve in your body awake from a long sleep without him.

               You love the taste of him in your mouth and the way his hands press on your lower back so that you are pushed against him. You can feel his desperation, echoing past times of kissing like this. But there is something a little different in Cassian’s kisses now – an edge that speaks to the sort of life he lives now. Danger at every corner, unsure of what the next morning would bring, and how to deal with whatever happens – it shows through his kisses that now have an urgency and wild undercurrent to them.

               The two of you are stumbling towards the bedroom, the caf forgotten. Cassian pulls off your shirt and it lands somewhere in the living room. He is stiff against your thigh as he kisses you again, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth. The back of your legs strike your bed frame and you lose your footing, landing on the bed.

               Cassian doesn’t waste any time, undressing you until you’re just in a flimsy pair of underwear. His lips drag against every inch of your skin, his hands electric against your body. He bites down on one your nipples just to make you gasp.

               “You remember the one night you wore that tiny dress at the cantina and teased me for hours?” He says as he fondles your tits, his thumbs grazing your nipples.

               You did. You thought Cassian was going to bring you home and fuck the hell out of you which is not…exactly what happened.

               He keeps going, “And by the end of the night, you were the one begging for me to fuck you.”

               Cassian is pulling your underwear off now, tossing them over his shoulder and gently spreading your legs apart. You remember quite clearly how the night went and what he did –

               “What did I tell you when we got home that night?” He prompts and when you open your mouth to reply, he talks along with you, “I said I could make you cum with two licks of my tongue against your clit. And I did, didn’t I?”

               The memory makes your cheeks hot. At the time, you thought it was typical Cassian bravado. But your orgasm had been so intense that you didn’t doubt he could do such a thing again now.

               His hands are rubbing your thighs, very slowly as if there is all the time in the world now to talk to you. “I’ve improved since then so…I think I can make you cum with one lick.”

               You scoff, unable to help your bewilderment. “That’s ridiculous even for you.”

               Cassian’s grin is so fast that you may have imagined it if you didn’t know him like you do. He straightens up, keeping his hands on your knees so that you’re spread in front of him. His hair is a little messy from the way you grabbed it during all the kissing, his broad shoulders and well toned chest enough to make you want to beg for him just to skip to fucking you.

               But you know that he would never do such a thing because he derives too much pleasure in watching you squirm underneath him, too much pleasure in running his mouth off.

               “Is that so?” He asks, “Because unless you’ve changed a lot in the past few years, I know that all you need is me talking to get you to cum.”

               You don’t reply because what is there to refute? Cassian had always been able to get you off the hardest when he talked dirty, seemingly knowing every word that pressed your buttons the most and made you cum the strongest. No one else figured that out – fuck, you weren’t even aware of it yourself until dating him.

               And you’d be lying if you didn’t admit how much it was missed.

               “Your pussy is still as pretty as I remember it,” He says almost affectionally, “I wonder if it will still feel as good wrapped around my cock. I used to love when you’d sit in my lap with my cock buried in your hole, remember that?” You breath catches at the memory: the way you would rock your hips against him as his fingers would trail down across your back until neither one could wait any longer and you’d start bouncing in his lap.

               Cassian is thinking of that too judging by the way he runs one finger down along your inner thigh, watching the way you shiver. “You know what makes your pussy look even prettier?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “When it’s filled with my load, leaking my cum. And it always did, didn’t it? Because I made sure to fill up your pretty pussy every time you begged for it.”

               It’s striking you just how much you missed Cassian talking in this manner. You realize belatedly that you’d been looking for a lover to talk dirty like this in the years since the breakup but it isn’t just the words that mattered – you wanted Cassian.

               You weren’t aware that you’ve been squirming until he goes, “This is difficult for me too, sweetheart,” The pet name he always used for you in bed rolls off his tongue so smoothly that you don’t think he even notices, “Do you think it’s easy for me seeing your pussy this wet for me and I can’t bury my face in it? It punishes me as much as you.”

               He isn’t lying. Cassian is partial to eating pussy, another benefit to having dated him, and yet another thing missing from lovers that came afterwards. In fact, being with him again like this is starting to blur out all the very valid reasons the relationship didn’t work out, leaving you wondering why in the universe you thought breaking up with Cassian had been a good idea.

               “And you know there’s nothing more I love than worshiping your pretty pink hole,” Cassian goes on, his fingers moving in slow, soft circles against your thighs. “Don’t worry, I remember all the buttons to press with you. I know the way you like to be spoken to and the way you like to be fucked best – soft and slow, right? With me on top, pressing against you as I pump my cock in your tight cunt while I whisper in your ear.”

               You can hardly stand the way his tongue isn’t against your clit right now. Every inch of your body is screaming for more alongside all the memories of fucking him. Cassian’s index finger moves tantalizingly close to your clit but he stops just above. His gaze flicks upwards to look at you squirming with one hand clutching the quilt to steady yourself.

               “Did you miss me?” He suddenly asks, his fingers resuming their soft trail against your skin, away from your pussy, “Did you think of me, even for a moment, when you fucked someone else?”

               It’s unfair of him to ask such questions when your mind is in a fog and you can’t come up with something clever to say.

               “I know I probably shouldn’t admit this,” His voice hangs in the air, dangling a confession in front of you, “But I’ve thought of you. I’ve never known anyone’s body like I’ve known yours and I don’t think I will again.”

               Cassian’s grip on your thighs tighten, keeping your legs spread. His eyes look like dark clouds on the horizon, a mingle of lust and memories. Your own brain is swirling, wanting more of him, remembering how it used to feel with his cock fully inside you as he rocked his hips.

               “I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone else who has a pussy made for me,” He is lowering his face towards your cunt now, his voice even as though he is completely confident in making you cum, “Someone who is my perfect little slut.”

               The use of slut sends a shiver through your body immediately. Cassian has always used the word sparingly because it always drives the biggest reaction out of you, your body responding to the usage of the word in dirty talk before your mind can even wrap around it. He wouldn’t devalue the power it has to turn you on by overusing it and since it had been years, the impact of the word makes you gasp –

               And Cassian immediately lowers his head, his tongue flat against your swollen clit, giving one hard flick against it. The dirty talk, the use of slut and his tongue has you climaxing immediately in one loud moan. Your back arches, your pussy against Cassian’s face as you cum. Your thighs shake, your eyes closing tightly as his name tumbles from your lips.

               It would be impossible for anyone but Cassian to work you up with his words so much that he could make you finish like this. The orgasm is the strongest you’ve had in ages, perhaps since the last time you were with him. It blots out everything but Cassian and when your hips fall back onto the bed, he is looking particularly pleased with himself.

               You prop yourself up a little to look at him. Your entire body is tingling as the orgasm fades. Cassian, with his broad shoulders, tanned skin and toned chest, looks better than you can ever recall. Instead of sating your desire, the orgasm only has made you want him more.

               He smiles slowly, crawling forward, bringing his body against yours as he speaks, “Well, look at that. I guess I can make you finish with just one lick.”

               He kisses you before a reply can be uttered. You can taste yourself on his lips. His stiff cock strains against the pajama bottoms he is still wearing. You are fumbling with the top of them, trying to pull them off. He laughs against your mouth but kicks them and his boxers off swiftly.

               Languidly, Cassian brings his body back against yours. Skin to skin like this with him makes your head swim. Your heart is racing, fingertips skirting along his back, feeling the difference in his skin from the years that passed. Your fingers touch bumps and indents in the skin that weren’t there previously, a landscape of time marked on his skin.

               When his lips find yours yet again, his tongue in your mouth, his stubble grazes against your skin. You’ve detested the sensation on everyone but Cassian – he was always the exception to everything. Instinctively, you curl your legs around his waist. His cock is at your entrance now. You know how he is going to fuck you – in the slow, soft quiet way he would fuck you after an argument where his voice would once again lull you to an orgasm.

               Cassian enters you slowly, allowing you to feel each inch of his girth fill up your hole. You squeeze around his length automatically and his breath catches. When he is finally fully inside, the kiss breaks as he brings his arms underneath your back. His hands grip the sheets near your head. There is not a spot between the two of you that isn’t touching.

               Cassian leaves a trail of kisses along your jawline, stopping to tug gently on your earlobe with his teeth. He has not moved yet, remaining still inside you. You luxuriate in the sensation of having Cassian again. Your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, eyes closed with pleasure.

               Cassian moves his hips so slightly that if you hadn’t done this with him a thousand times before you wouldn’t have noticed. But the touch is like fire rolling through you – the most wonderful fire possible. You know that you’re whimpering but Cassian has always loved your small noises of pleading.

               In a soft, deep voice, Cassian begins to speak honeyed words in your ear, “You remember that week we ran off to Canto Bight? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going, just left.”

               You do remember. It was a year or so into the relationship. Hazy with love for one another, there had been no planning involved. Life kept getting in the way and you only wanted Cassian. The week was a blur of gambling, drinking and sex. The memory was something that belonged to a holo, not your own life.

               Cassian is still very slowly moving his hips. He isn’t fully thrusting, just making small movements, enough to begin to work you up. His own breathing is shaky as he tries to control himself from pounding into you.

               “I remember fucking you in front of the window of the hotel room. Twenty floors up and you didn’t care who saw you,” He goes on in a taunt voice, knowing full well that you love nothing more than being fucked like this, listening to him whisper in your ear, “You had just the necklace I bought you on, draped across your tits.”

               “I remember,” You gasp out, eyes fluttering closed at the memory.

               “When I came, it was all over your stomach so if anyone was watching they could see you covered in my cum.” Cassian moves a little faster now, fully pulling out of your cunt before lowering his hips to go all the way back in. The slow and deliberate pace is making you squirm against him but he doesn’t alter it.

               “And every morning before we left the room, I’d bend you over and fuck you in the shower,” He continues relentlessly, “I’d watch your tight hole swallow up my cock until I’d empty my balls in you. That was my favourite trip, you know.”

               You whimper, thighs clenching at the memory. It doesn’t matter how much you wiggle against him, Cassian refuses to change his speed. He knows how to make you cum better than you do.

               “Do you remember when I’d cum inside you and then you’d dip your fingers in your cunt to make sure it didn’t leak out? Your pussy always looked the best like that, covered in my load which you smeared across your fingers,” His voice catches at the very end as he goes hip to hip with you, his cock buried in your pussy.

               Your hands find his hair, tugging on it anxiously. You attempt to lift your hips upwards to try to meet his movements, a silent plea for more but Cassian brings his own hips downward. You groan at the sensation, your breathing ragged.

               “You look the prettiest when you’re fucked out from me,” He continues as if you aren’t begging. But this is how it always goes with Cassian. The fact he refuses to give you what is so desired makes the entire interaction hotter. “When you’re too fucked out to move afterwards, when all you can do is hold onto me and fall asleep,” He moves a little faster now, “Or maybe you look the prettiest when my cock is in your mouth and you’re looking up at me with your beautiful eyes. I love your lips stretched out around my cock, you drooling all over it as you suck me off.”

               “Cass,” The name comes out like a broken plea, your fingernails gliding down his back, sure to leave some light scratches, “Cass,” You whine again.

               He ignores your begging. His cock moves in and out of your cunt easily because you’re dripping wet for him. You can feel how slick your pussy is when Cassian pulls out all the way and slips back inside, his cock covered in your wetness.

               “I’ve missed hearing you plead for me,” He admits, his breathing uneven, “Let me hear you say my name again.”

               “Cass – just fuck me, I need – I gotta cum.”

               He smirks against your skin, replying, “You just came, sweetheart, you can’t wait a little bit longer?”

               You know all too well Cassian can hold off on his own orgasm just to make you wait longer for your own. But the earlier climax has only made you desperately need another, one where he is fucking you and cumming inside your pussy.

               “Cass, I can’t wait,” You know that you’re not furthering your cause but your need for him to fuck you into the mattress is too strong, “Just fuck me hard, please.”

               Maybe it is that so much time has passed since the last time you slept with him. Perhaps Cassian is just lost in the memories of your time together and he is feeling a little soft. Regardless of the reason, he begins to adjust his position, sending relief through you. Propping himself up above you, with a hand gripping the bedsheets next to each side of your head, he studies you beneath him.

               Normally, Cassian never caves. He would keep at his slow pace until you finish. But whether it’s the years or desire, for the first time he submits.

               With a jerk of his hips, he drives his cock in your cunt and then doesn’t stop. The entire time his eyes don’t leave your face, studying your ever changing expressions to figure out what speed makes you feel the best. His own breathing is growing ragged from having held back his own orgasm for so long. As he fucks you hard and fast, the bed frame rattling from the sheer force of it, your head rolls back as a long moan of his name escapes from in between your lips.

               You are cumming again, raising your hips to meet his thrusts as your pussy tightens around his girth. Cassian gasps and shivers but is still holding back, making sure that you ride out your climax. As you finish, he lowers himself down, curling around your body as he pumps his hips steadily.

               “I’m going –” His voice catches, “Fuck, take my load, sweetheart.”

               Cassian grunts, spilling out in your pussy. He always came a lot and this time is no exception. You can feel his hot load filling you up as he buries his face in your neck, breathing shakily. You love how it feels to have him finishing in your cunt again and your hands go to his ass, gripping it hard to make sure he stays inside you until he finishes completely.

               Afterwards, Cassian pulls out and rolls onto his back next to you, panting. He runs his hand through his hair, eyes closed tightly. You know that you’re leaking his cum and from the two intense orgasms you’ve had, all you can do is lay there and try to collect yourself.

               The day just started and it felt as if you could sleep it away.

               But the question of what happens now still lingers at your brain.

*

               “And that one?”

               Cassian glances down at the top of his shoulder, squinting. “Blaster bolt grazed me… I think.”

               “You think?”

               “Some of it just…blurs together,” He gives a casual shrug.

               The answer as to what happens now ended up being spending the entire day in bed, lazily switching between talking about the past few years and fucking. As evening descends, you are in Cassian’s lap in the living room after having successfully left the bedroom to eat dinner.

               Half dressed in his lap, while Cassian is once again shirtless, you are running your fingers across the various scars and marks on his chest. His own hands have wiggled under your long shirt, touching the bare skin of your lower back.

               Playfully, you point to the bandage on his side. “That one?”

               “Oh, that one? Prison breakout. Going to leave a nasty scar, that one. I don’t think the medic knew exactly how to deal with it.”

               “Hey!” You protest although you are giggling.

               Cassian smiles, his gaze softening at your expression. He brings one hand upwards to cup your cheek and your laughter dies in your throat as the questions you’ve been avoiding since first fucking him in the morning come bubbling to the surface.

               “What now?” You cannot help but ask, “You just leave once it’s safe?”

               “Come with me,” He says, “I meant what I said earlier. The rebellion needs medics.”

               “I’m not cut out for the rebellion, Cass.”

               “If I am, then you certainly are,” He pauses for a second and adds on, “It isn’t just the rebellion who needs medics. I want you back.”

               You blink in surprise at his forthcoming nature, unsure how to respond.

               He goes on in a clear tone, “I know why we broke up. I get why you ended things. But I’m not like that now. I have something I’m focused on, something that is important to me, something my energy goes into. It isn’t like before…I’m not like I was before. Give me a chance to show you that. Come with me when I leave here.”

               Your heart is beating quickly at his serious stare. “You’re asking a lot,” You finally manage to say.

               “I know. But I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important to me.”

               You know it is a risk and you have no idea how it will play out. But Cassian is correct in that he isn’t the same person he was when you first ended the relationship and this time around him showed you that deep down in your heart you still longed for him.

               On top of that, you also knew that the Imperial overreach would only grow worse. Maybe you wouldn’t be on the front lines or running around as a spy but surely your skills could still come in handy.

               “Besides, maybe if you had been around all these years, I wouldn’t be so scarred,” He jokes softly.

               “Not so sure about that one seeing as you’re going to have a fresh new scar on your side,” You point out.

               “That’s just a reminder I’d be dead if you hadn’t answered the door.”

               You feel safe and comfortable in his lap like this, your fingers idly touching his chest. He is warm and inviting in a way that he only ever showed to you. But there is a hardness underneath that Cassian always had, now honed like a weapon to be aimed at the Empire.

               Cassian is impossible to resist and impossible to forget. You already know what you’re going to say – why dance around it?

               “Alright.”

               He raises one eyebrow. “Can you be a little more specific? Alright to…the rebellion? To me?”

               “To both.”

               His shoulders sag slightly with relief and happiness flickers behind those gorgeous brown eyes of his that you’ve been enamored with since the first time he looked at you all those years ago. He leans forward, kissing you softly.

               You wrap your arms around Cassian, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. He is comforting, warm like your favourite blanket and familiar as ever even with all the changes. When his arms circle around your waist, your heart flutters.

               This is where you’re meant to be, you think, softening against him.

               The universe has an interesting way of having you circle back to the one you’ve always loved.

the end.

[bruh-myguy-what]

If Not Him, Perhaps Me

Good evening again, my friends! I have chapter 2 all ready! It wasn’t totally proofread, so I might have to be updating and fixing it as I reread it later but I was so excited to post the second chapter I couldn’t wait lol I also super appreciate all the comments on the first chapter. It really helps encourage me to continue writing! So keep commenting if you want! I love it haha

If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

So here it is!

Enjoy~

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Chapter 1

Pairing- Thrawn x f!reader x Luke Skywalker

Summary- You finally meet the Grand Admiral himself and the conversation is intriguing for the both of you.

Word Count- 2K+

Warnings- Mentions of kidnapping

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Bright lights glared painfully against your eyelids. The ringing in your ears coming back with a vengeance but finding its home near the back of your head in a raging migraine. Consciousness still felt as if it were a distant dream, but you were steadily grappling it with shaking hands, pulling yourself toward the blinding light. Soon your shoulders ached with the stiffness of tension and the feeling of hard steel beneath you.

‘Where am I?’ The thoughts swirling in your mind were flimsy and challenging to gather into a lucid form, but you still tried to make sense of yourself. Full consciousness continued to grow closer and closer but as it did, the realization that you weren’t aboard the Falcon anymore was also becoming increasingly troubling. Trying as best you could to recall where you were and how you got there was proving even more difficult than stringing together a cohesive thought. Your eyes wouldn’t obey your demand to open, and your limbs felt weighed down as if by lead, numbing your body. ‘Luke,” your mind strayed to the man who’d left you alone with Chewbacca and Leia to assist Han and as you lay against cold steel in thought, you heard a series of boots thud closer toward you.

Then you remembered suddenly where you were. “Get up, woman,” a gruff modulated voice spat in irritation, “the Grand Admiral wants to see you.” The Grand Admiral. That’s right! You’d been kidnapped by Storm Troopers and brought onto an Imperial Star Destroyer. The last memory you had was the white armored soldiers restraining you and giving you a drink of what you thought at the time was water. “Get her up, I think the drink is still in her system.”

“Really?” Another modulated voice sounded beside you, “that’s crazy, it’s been four days and it’s still affecting her this bad?”

Four days?! You’d be out for four days without any knowledge?! Groaning as the man beside you assisted you in sitting up, you were finally able to force your eyes open- as blurry as the atmosphere was, at least you could get some sort of idea where you were. “F-Four…d-days?“ You choked on the words, dryness aching your throat. It felt as if your vocal cords were dust and your mouth the sandy dunes of Tatooine. “We’ll get her some water on the way to the Grand Admiral’s office.” The one at the door explained as his partner lifted you to your feet.

Desperately, your bleary eyes tried to focus on the surroundings you passed. To memorize what it looked like to be in an Imperial Star Destroyer so whenever the knowledge was needed to be used in battle you could recount it perfectly, but the dryness wasn’t just plaguing your throat now- the bright lights overhead still blinding you. It was, you noticed, becoming easier to gain your own footing now, the troopers less rough and uncaring than you expected and it wasn’t long before you were at a door. After one of the Storm Troopers punched in a code, a soft hiss echoed through the quiet hall, and they ushered you inside.

“Who is this?” A whispering voice made you jump, nearly into the ceiling you noticed but wouldn’t admit to anyone who asked. The small corridor was hardly lit, and the hissing voice seemed bodiless.

It made you feel better when one of the men beside you cursed under his breath just enough for you to hear. “Stop sneaking up on people like that, Rhuk. We’re likely to shoot you if you aren’t careful.” The trooper seemed anything but pleased at the sudden start and there was only a hissing chuckle in the dark.

“I am the admiral’s protector, and I shall do my job as arranged.” So, the Grand Admiral had a bodyguard? Not just the Storm Troopers? Another note you placed in the back of your mind for later as the door before you in the darkness whooshed open, itself.

As you were ushered forward again the room you stepped into was surprising. What you had expected from a Grand Admiral’s office was bright overhead lights like the halls that stretched around the ISD, large murals displaying their awards, and perhaps some Galactic Empire paraphernalia to show their “pride” in the imperial navy. But what you were greeted with instead was practically an art gallery with dimmed lights that were backlighting a tall structure that had what looked like furry lizards strewn about it.

But what truly astounded you was the man sitting behind the desk, awaiting your position before him to be to his liking before he spoke. He wasn’t a man, at all. His skin was a surprisingly blue color, nearly sapphire in the dark lighting, dark hair that gleamed its own shade of cobalt, his features serious and thoughtful as you stood in front of the large grey desk now. The facial feature that struck you the most was the all-consuming eyes that sat framed by long dark lashes. The piercing red gaze was disturbing as they narrowed at you, his mouth and chin hidden behind steepled fingers- he was studying you.

“Ya know,” you began, quietly at first, “you had already kidnapped me. I think the drugging was a tad bit overkill.” The sarcasm in your voice made one blue-black eyebrow raise in question, but that was the only movement out of the Grand Admiral sitting before you. Shifting in your wrist shackles, you huff indignantly. “I mean, it was a little nicer than waking up on the cold steel floor, I guess.”

Without a response, the admiral stood from his chair. His stature was imposing, far taller than you’d expected him to be too, you noted. To your surprise- again- he smiled at you politely. “I apologize that your time aboard my ship has not been to your liking.” The voice. Your mind went blank, and eyes widened at the deep, warm voice that came from his lips. The evidence of a life lived speaking a foreign language you probably never even heard accentuating the syllables he spoke. Before you recognized it, the alien man was standing directly in front of you, eyes studying you still as he placed his arms behind him. His entire air seemed noble, regal…Imperial.

No wonder he was a Grand Admiral.

He carried every bit of his title in his stance and your heart ached with uncertainty. But before uncertainty turned to apprehension, the admiral smiled again as he spoke, “Would you, perhaps, mind giving me your name?”

Your eyes narrowed this time. Just because he was intimidating didn’t mean he was going to scare you immediately. “If this is a game, I’m not going to play. You kidnapped me, clearly, you know my name, or at least have some idea of who I am, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

It seemed as if his smile grew from your challenge. He was enjoying himself. “Perhaps,” he commented casually, “though, I prefer to be mannerly in certain circumstances. You are a woman, whether a prisoner of war or not, and I prefer to give you the respect you deserve.” When he saw that you weren’t budging, he let out a dissatisfied breath, as a father would a rebellious child and his face swiftly grew stern. “Very well if you insist. I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, warlord of the Galactic Empire. Welcome aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer; Chimera, (y/n).” Thrawn’s full title was so imposing it nearly knocked the wind out of you, but you purposefully gave no sign of fear.

“Grand Admiral, huh?” You replied interestingly, then changed your weight to one hip as you studied him this time. “But you aren’t human, how did you become a Grand Admiral?” Another smile appeared on his face- patronizing. You grumbled at the grin and stepped away to face the structure behind his desk, petting one of the furry lizards.

 “I am sure you are aware you weren’t brought to me to discuss my time in the Empire,” he almost sounded as if he were chuckling a little and it infuriated you. How could he be laughing so casually? “You see, I brought you here because you are of some importance to my cause.”

Rolling your eyes, you shifted your shackled hands once again, “you mean regaining power for the empire?” You scoffed sarcastically, “it isn’t happening, grand admiral.” The emphasis you put on his title caused one of the men to start forward, grabbing your arm painfully.

“Mind your tongue rebel scum!” He snarled candidly, “you will show the admiral respect.” At the gesture of Thrawn, the Storm Trooper unenthusiastically backed off, releasing your arm.

“You see, (y/n),” Thrawn started as he faced you again from across the room, “I am aware that Skywalker and Solo departed for a mission to aid Calrissian only a few days before we obtained you from the Millennium Falcon and while your capture does not suit my needs for gaining the power I seek for the Empire, it does satisfy someone who will help me gain that control.” So, you were just a pawn? Thrawn once again came to stand before you, his glowing eyes looking down his nose at you as the full weight of his power melted into your bones. “You will tell me everything about Skywalker that I need to know.”

“How do you presume I do that?” Your voice was less aggressive than you were hoping it would sound, but you met his eyes still. The glowing embers sparked with intelligence and wisdom piquing your curiosity briefly. “Do you honestly expect me to just give up someone I care about because you asked it of me?” It seemed as if directness surprised him for a moment because some of his severity eased. “I’m sorry,” you almost seemed genuine about it but, whether it was your exhaustion or your willingness to die for Luke without questions that calmed your nerves, you knew you weren’t going to give Thrawn what he was looking for, “but I’m not going to tell you anything about Luke.”

Thrawn was silent for a long while, gazing at your face, your features. Then he returned to his chair on the other side of his desk, calmly sitting down in the position you’d previously found him in. “Perhaps you can tell me a little about yourself then?” His voice was softer this time around, grabbing his datapad and scrolling through what you assumed were documents.

He was absolutely playing games this time, why on earth would he want to know anything about you? “Why? What do you possibly have to gain from wasting your time getting to know me?” It was becoming clearer that it was your exhaustion that made you apathetic to the idea of death now.

Thrawn peered up from his data pad slightly, the red peaking beneath dark lashes and the raising of the same one brow and he smirked at you, “call it curiosity, (y/n). I am a gentleman, after all. Since you will be staying aboard my ship for a while, I would like to know who I have in my barracks.” His eyes returned to the scrolling screen once again, “tell me,” he started, “are you someone I should be worried about breaking out?”

A short, self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips at his words. “yeah, I’m going to try to break out of my cell and do what? Fly out into chaos knows what by myself?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so. I don’t even know where in the galaxy we are. How would I ever have a chance of getting anywhere?” You shook the skirts of your dress as if to notify him of your compliance, “I’m not the fighting type, evidently.”

“Do not mistake me for a fool, (y/n),” Thrawn laid his datapad aside, sitting back into his chair, eyes stern again. “I am mindful of who you travel with and while you may not voluntarily partake in battle, you are proficient at self-defense. It would be unwise for Skywalker to not provide you with some manner of protection.”

You shrugged noncommittally, unnerved by his assumptions and how close they were to the truth. Luke had taught you many self-defense tactics and exactly what to do in case you were in trouble without him. Though it didn’t happen often, and you were always able to call for his help. “So I know a little self-defense to keep myself safe, do you think that’ll give me the confidence to fight myself free?”

“Then will you call for Skywalker's aid?”

Shaking your head immediately, you glared at him, “absolutely not.”

Thrawn smirked again, knowing you were catching on, “perhaps you would like to tell me why?”

“Because I’m not a fool either,” Thrawn smiled at your response- of course, you weren’t. He could already tell. “I’m not going to bring him to you. I’m not going to bring him straight into the heart of the Empire just to save me from you.”

“Interesting,” Thrawn mumbled softly, hand resting below his chin in thought, “you are intriguing, (y/n).”

It seemed as if it were the twelfth time you’d rolled your eyes at this guy, “I’m so happy you think so.” The sarcasm was getting difficult to contain anymore as you continued to go back and forth with Thrawn.

Chuckling, the Grand Admiral grabbed his datapad again, gesturing for the Storm Troopers to leave, “you shall return to your barrack and get some rest. Perhaps after you are well rested, we can continue this conversation.” He glanced at you once more before the troopers took you away, the stony gaze returning, “And you will tell me what I want to know.”

And with that, you were returned to the bedless, steel prison of your barrack to replay the conversational meeting you’d had with Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Tags:

@blueberry-thrawn @myevilmouse @agenteliix @blackmonitor @coffeeorsomething-irl @torchbearerkyle​

[cherry-writes-yanderes]

babe. BABE. how about so darth maul and Anakin and my gal asohka (how tf to spell dat name smh). just general hcs, one shots, or whatever u feel <33

BABEEEE- Ilysmmmm/p 💕💕💕

Darth Maul

This mans feels he is entitled to you-

like no, fr he will pull up and be like “gimme”

Seriously though, the word “rejection” is not in this man’s vocabulary

Very angry by nature, he warns you at first that you need to be careful in what battles you decide to pick with him

“Calm yourself, my love, you should know exactly what I’m capable of..”

But if you still continue to defy his warnings, he has no choice but to remind you of your place

Anakin

Anakin is a mixed bag

At first he is patient with you, he understands how odd this situation is for you and decides to give you a grace period in the beginning of your relationship (that you were forced into)

But if you still decide to act fussy and ungrateful, he has to be stern with you

His teaching ways poke out in his ways of giving you lessons on how to behave, how to speak to him and others, even how to stand

He’s very passionate with you, giving you soft kisses and words of praise when you do good things, but if you misbehave…

If you decide to be “fussy” after the grace period, you have just landed yourself in one of the worst yandere’s hands

He will hurt you. Not badly, but just enough for you to have bruises and tears running down your cheeks

Ani will apologize after, kissing where he hurt you, but he’ll always tell you that it’s your fault

Because it is! You misbehaved, so you get punished!

Ahsoka

As many have stated, Ahsoka is a reckless girl, and as soon as you make her heart beat faster she is on your tail

She’ll follow you for a bit, looking over her shoulder at you discreetly or not caring at all and just looking right at you if you’re doing something with your back turned

She really does love you, even though you’ve said all but three words to her. But never mind that, the Force draws her in to you!

She invited you to look at a rock she found on a planet she had just recently visited, and the next thing you know you’re on the floor, being knocked out

She didn’t mean to do that, it really was genuinely an invite for the rock! But the sight of you in her room made her practically dizzy, and she couldn’t help but take you and keep you there~

Taglist

@candyk0rn

@httpsplanetmarsdotcom

@aeroinsomnia

[kalevalakryze]

Goth Dad Skills

Relationships: Shin Hati & Baylan Sköll Characters: Shin Hati, Baylan Sköll Warnings: This is 💕fluff💕 Notes: This also actually reminded me to go bleach my own hair asdfghjkl ANYWAYS GUYS CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS? !!!!!! I’m sobbing, I am kicking my feet, my heart is fulfilled and I am in love, this is the cutest thing and we need more, because Baylan is a good Goth Dad who loves his adopted murder child !!!! (summary taken from Mine ) Word Count: 1,419 VERY EXCITED TAGGING WITH ALL THE LOVE IN MY BODY: @thegirlsinthecity AO3 Link: Here! Summary: Sabine’s fingers carded through their hair. “How much work do you put into this?” Frowning at how off-track things had gone, Shin’s hands shifted to rest under Sabine’s thighs as shift her weight around, hiking her further up against the wall and her hips as she thought. “My Master helps me every couple weeks?” “Seriously? Baylan can dye hair? Sick,” Sabine shifted to press their lips together, slower than Shin had become accustomed to.

Every few weeks, brown started to overtake the mop of platinum on her head, dead ends of her hair would tickle at her cheeks and get stuck in her face, bringing an irritable Shin to the surface.

Truly, they could be hard to deal with when their hair started to grow and their original hair color would start to fade back in. The first time Baylan had tried to work with Shin after her hair had grown below her shoulder blades and the brown went past her ears, she’d nearly tore his head off during her lessons.

He hadn’t known what to do, then, only when Morgan mentioned the change in his Padawan’s appearance effecting her behavior did he cautiously approach the topic. They’d been cautious to accept his help, and he’d been cautious to mess up her hair, but it had come with its rewards in the form of a calmer Apprentice and a new skill to learn.

Baylan had come to learn the approaching signs that his apprentice needed a hand that she would not ask for (He’d seen what happens when she tried to do her own hair and was unwilling to handle that chaos ever again). Their fingers would tug through the ends of their hair and a look of annoyance would cross their lips, or they would keep their hood pulled over their head, even when it was just the two of them.

Shin’s boot was pressed into the console of the war table, other leg dangling in the space between her seat and the edge of the table. Her hood was pulled low over her eyes, though he could see her restlessness in the way she tugged at the strands of dead platinum hair poking past her hood.

“Apprentice,” He called as he stepped into the cabin, his hand resting on the back of the seat. He was silent until their head begrudgingly raised from the zoned out staring at the hologram of the star system.

“Master,” Her voice was quiet, gruff, and tired. Baylan knew that the reminder of her hair reverting to its state before he’d taken her in served as a reminder of the life she’d lived before him, that wanting to leave it all behind was difficult when she couldn’t look into a mirror without staring at her past. Her eye makeup was scrubbed away, leaving only the bags under her eyes to contrast against pale and red rimmed skin.

With more confidence than he’d usually felt, he reached to brush her hood back with a calm hand. Her eyes narrowed, though she said nothing as he studied the inches of growth, brown hair thick where it leveled with their eyebrows. “Come,” He called, patting the back of the seat before disappearing down the small hall to his cabin.

Shin��s boots on the durasteel floor announced her presence a few minutes after he’d entered his room. It was spartan in design, though star maps and etchings were hung up around the walls, as well as a trinket or two from the Clone Wars, incentive to follow the Nightsister’s mission to find Thrawn.

Their stool was sitting in the center of the room, with the acidic smelling chemicals that would change their hair color being mixed carefully in his hands. Shin dropped onto the stool without a word, unhooking their cloak and bunching it up in their hands. Once the mixture was complete, he’d passed the bowl to Shin before grabbing her cloak from her hands and hanging it on a hook near his desk, smoothing out the wrinkles before he’d returned.

On his desk, a small music player sat between his datapad and his spare lightsaber pieces. As he hung the cloak up, he’d reached for a spare music file before sliding it into the device. A Galan-Kalank album fired up, various instruments harmonizing with Corellian voices filling the small room.

The disposable gloves they’d had on board were too small for his hands, but he’d made it work, latex stretched out across his fingers and threatening to rip. Taking the mixing bowl from Shin, he’d set to work.

Each layer of the harsh chemical was carefully applied and worked through to where brown met darkening blonde, generous amounts of bleach were spread across her head, though he was always careful to leave just a little bit of brown closest to her scalp. The holonet had some terrifying images about the hair bleaching process, even for a man who’d seen the worst of the wars.

Shin stayed silent as he worked the small brush through her hair, arms crossed over her chest as the heel of her boot caught on the bar of the stool, other foot bouncing against the ground as she waited. Her appreciation was shown not in words, but in the way her head would dip back into his hand, or when she would move her head where he needed without needing to be asked.

After the laborious process of applying the chemical was finished, he’d bunched her hair up to the top of her head, using a clip to keep it in place, while allowing her padawan braid to dangle outside of the material he used to wrap her head to trap the heat.

The time was passed by Baylan passing his datapad over with an old assignment, leaving her to read quietly while he cleaned up and grabbed what he would need to cut her hair after she rinsed it out.

His internal clock warned him of their time approaching. “I will be here once you finish,” He informed her as she started to rise. Setting the tablet back on the desk, she strode from his room to the fresher.

Baylan did not see her for another twenty minutes as she’d washed the excess out of her hair, though when she returned, the weight pressing in on her shoulders and the shackles that chased her were noticeably eased.

Their footsteps were lighter, lowering themselves onto the stool as they finished pulling a towel through their hair The brown was all but gone, with only her roots poking through damp strands of hair.

Now free of uncomfortable gloves, he began sectioning out her hair, softer than it had been when he’d gone through to bleach it after she put conditioner in it. Humming along to the music file he’d been given on Tattoine, a cheery quartet with a lot of sax, Baylan grabbed a brush from the stand, working out the knots she’d gained with careful hands.

His scissor work was exquisite as he’d lined her hair up and snipped away overgrown and dead strands, levelling the ends of her hair to fall above her shoulders. He was careful as he layered platinum strands, laying them out carefully before continuing until both sides of her hair were symmetrical, save for the unwound padawan braid, loose hair falling down her shoulder, crinkled from being taken out of the bands that kept it together.

He brushed out the strands of longer hair with a comb, before working through rebraiding the hair together with dark orange bands, until the braid could fall back against its home in her shoulder.

When he’d finished, he was met with Shin’s relaxed shoulders and closed eyes, arms still crossed over their chest, with none of the earlier tension. “Shin,” He called once, his hand resting heavy on her shoulder.

Silver blue eyes blinked open, her hand dropping to the saber on her belt for the briefest of moments, though her hand dropped away from her belt as she looked up at him. Now that she couldn’t feel her hair at her back moving their head was easier. Their hand raised to reach for the end of the Padawan braid brushing across her neck, letting the soft hair slide between her fingers before dropping back down. “Thank you, Master,” Her head dipped in acknowledgment of his work, and she allowed his hand to rest against the crown of her head.

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there,” He promised with a conviction that his own Master had not granted him. The cycle of Masters not preparing their apprentices would end with him, he was certain of it.

Shin was sent off to bed so he could clean up the hair he’d cut away and return to his reading and music, the ship falling silent after some clanging from Shin’s disaster of a room, and the occasional rumble of their ship traveling through hyperspace.

[skywlker-sluvtt]

ignore my 5 minute picsart heading 😭

omg i just had to do an event cause I adore writing with prompts for you guys it literally gives me so much motivation. so in celebration of reaching 500 i’m doing drabbles or one-shots based on the prompts below so send them in <3

thank you guys once more for all the love and support i’m always receiving, I'm so grateful for all of yall 🩵

500 follower celebration masterlist

requests: closed

rules:

✧ my main writing rules still apply

✧ send me a character and up to two prompts per request. possibly three if they work hella good together

✧ you can mix and match prompts from the four lists below (e.g. smut prompt & fluff)

✧ it might take me a while to get through them so please be patient, i am starting exam season soon so i’m planning to finish this up before then. i apologise if it takes a little while

extra stuff:

✧ feel free to message me about any requests if you’d like to talk about them 🩵

✧ if you have any questions but them in my inbox

characters:

jedi:

anakin skywalker - obi-wan kenobi - luke skywalker

clones:

rex - cody - fives - echo - hunter - tech - wrecker - crosshair - jesse - kix - hardcase - tup - wolffe - fox

prompts:

fluffy prompts

hurt/comfort prompts

smut prompts

smut dialogue prompts

credit to the amazing people that created these:

@creativepromptsforwriting @writtenonreceipts @anotheropti @rainysoot

main masterlist

[stormkobra-5]

The House of Fett (Poe Dameron x Mando!Force Sensitive!Reader Series)

Sneak Peek, Scene 1

Summary: You're Y/N Janghis Fett, the only daughter of the infamous bounty hunter himself. When you were eight years old, you discovered quite by accident that you were Force-sensitive, and so your father Boba sought out the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, who would, for the next eight years of your life, be your mentor in the ways of the Force-- but you are no Jedi. You are a Mandalorian, even if you do happen to wield lightsabers. However, when the Sith Lord Kylo Ren-- whom you once knew as Ben-- begins to seek out your old mentor for terrible purposes, you're met with the familiar face of Poe Dameron, who is requesting your aid, and you agree to help him only once. But when Luke is not where you think, sending you and Poe on a galaxy-wide hunt for your elusive mentor, you're forced to work with him even longer than you had originally planned. This complicates things greatly, because you've been helplessly in love with him since the day you met him, and unrequited love is a painful thing indeed.

Sneak Peek, Scene 2

Sneak Peek, Scene 3

Promo:

————————————————————————

If anyone wants to be tagged, just let me know! ^^

Series Masterlist here

@poeticsorcery

@adamcarlsenslvr

@djarinsgirl27

@dameronsknight

@ahookedheroespureheart

[morethansky]

By Amphitrite / morethansky

Pairing: Sabine Wren/Ketsu Onyo Word count: 5,800 Content warnings: Past canonical character death, presumed character death, grief/mourning, drinking (And a happy ending, I swear!)

After Lothal is liberated from the Empire's control, its people spill out onto the streets to celebrate and help put their world back together. But despite the hard-won victory, Sabine struggles to feel triumphant while she's still mourning the loss of members of her family. To her surprise, it's Ketsu who helps her find closure―and who, along the way, makes a long-buried wish come true.

Sabine helps the residents repair their damaged speeders and droids, and guides those now without homes to the makeshift shelter the rebels have set up in the old capitol building. She was born to wreak destruction, her hands made to wound and kill, and those tasks, those duties, are still what feel the most natural to her. But through her time as a rebel, she’s learned to enjoy fixing things and putting people back together, too.

Written for @starwarssapphicweek's Femslash February: Week 3: Bonds/Transformations, Day 15: Growth/Homecoming

[inklore]

recs blog | previous recs

i hope everyone’s pride month (and may, since i never got around to making a post for it lmao) was amazing!!! hope the vibes are immaculate and you are all staying hydrated and in good spirits.

as usual i spent more time reading fic than i did doing actual responsible adult things, therefore this list is long and filled with immense content by immensely talented babes!

so shoutout to all of you on (and off of) this list who continue to make this hellsite better by sharing your wonderful work with everyone <3

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI with the works below. unless it’s stated otherwise. heed warnings and authors notes please.

STRANGER THINGS

Distract Me by @allaboardthereadingrailroad (eddie munson)

Untitled by @ringpop-poppy (eddie munson)

Smutty Drabble by @saintlike78 (jim hopper)

One, Two, Three by @indiefilmfatale (eddie munson, steve harrington)

Red Light at The Bowling Alley by @chaseadrian (eddie munson)

Fast Times at Skull Rock by @softlikesilkchiffon (steve harrington) 

Wild Side by @mypoisonedvine (eddie munson)

Alternative Payment by @letterstotheflre (eddie munson)

Where Shadows Meet Spaces by @amywritesthings (eddie munson)

One Last Kiss by @aphrogeneias (eddie munson)

Hellfire Queen by @sunkendreams (eddie munson)

Untitled by @moonbcrry (steve harrington) 

Vandalism in The Closet by @/chaseadrian (eddie munson)

Slippery When Wet by @lilacletter (eddie munson)

Not A Moment Too Soon by @/softlikesilkchiffon (eddie munson)

TOP GUN

Heat by @clints-lucky-arrow (rooster)

First Impressions by @ohcaptains (rooster)

Definitely Annoying by @callsignbob (rooster)

After All This Time by @/softlikesilkchiffon (rooster)

Untitled by @/ohcaptains (rooster)

Nsfw Alphabet by @/callsignbob (hangman)

Warning: Do Not Engage by @/clints-lucky-arrow (hangman) 

Touch Me, I’m Sick by @/ohcaptains (hangman) 

Put You in Your Place by @thebradleybradshaw (rooster)

Jake by @charnelhouse (hangman)

Tap by @/clints-lucky-arrow (rooster)

Swift Evasion by @/clints-lucky-arrow (hangman)

Grind by @/clints-lucky-arrow (rooster)

MARVEL

Citrus Light by @burnthoneymint (steven grant)

Hazy by @/aphrogeneias (marc spector, layla el-faouly)

Untitled by @/ohcaptains (frank castle)

Untitled by @/ohcaptains (frank castle)

Untitled by @/ohcaptains (kate bishop)

Just Peachy by @laters-gators (steven grant)

Heavy Metal Lover by @ozarkthedog (steven grant)

In Forgetting by @boxofbonesfic (spiderman)

Untitled by @spidervee (tasm!peter parker)

Iced Out by @/charnelhouse (marc spector)

Stranded All In Love by @/charnelhouse (jake lockley)

Suit & Tie by @wint3r-h3art (stephen strange)

Untitled by @cumberstrange (stephen strange)

Delineate by @/laters-gators (steven grant) 

Dictate by @/laters-gators (steven grant)

Suppression by @/laters-gators (marc spector)

Untitled by @/spidervee (tasm!peter parker)

Liberated by @syntheticavenger (thor odinson)

Take me, I’m Good by @/ohcaptains (marc spector) 

Spirals and Skin by @/clints-lucky-arrow (steven grant)

Deserve by @softlybarnes (marc spector)

Hot Egyptian Nights by @bemine-bucky (marc spector)

In the Night by @h0unds-of-h3ll (steven grant)

DC

Untitled by @/ohcaptains (edward nashton)

STAR WARS

It’s Always Belonged To You by @im-poe-dameron (poe dameron)

Distracted by @ghostwiththemostbitch (din djarin)

Like This? by @mandoblowmybackout (din djarin)

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space by @no-droids (poe dameron)

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place by @/no-droids (poe dameron)

Rough Day by @/no-droids (din djarin)

Heaven in Hyperspace by @/no-droids (din djarin)

Tight by @frannyzooey (din djarin)

Watch by @/burnthoneymint (din djarin) 

TV

Caught by @mothdruid (anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton)

Dripping by @cptnbvcks (javier peña) 

Dial Tone by @/cptnbvcks (javier peña)

Save Your Tears by @/burnthoneymint (javier peña) 

FILM

Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch by @/charnelhouse (steve kemp)

Bunny Girl by @/laters-gators (santiago garcia)

Truth by @xwing-baby (duke leto atreides)

Doppelgänger by @brandyllyn (nathan bateman)

Mangled by @/laters-gators (kane)

Good Gettin’ Used by @blondiebarnes (frankie morales, santiago garcia)

In The Air Tonight by @/blondiebarnes (frankie morales, santiago garcia)

Homecoming + Part Two by @astroboots (frankie morales, santiago garcia)

Bellyache by @/burnthoneymint (javi gutierrez)

please do not spam like the works above, no one likes a spam liker. comments and reblogs are always the better way to show your appreciation to content creators.

if you would like me to remove your works within this list, for whatever reason, please let me know and i will kindly do so!