Bᵤₙₙy Hybᵣᵢd!Fₒₗₗₒ who just couldn't help fuck you senseless when his heat came over him..
“Follooo..! Baby, please!!” you whined, your voice a soft plea that you weren't entirely sure what you were pleading for.
At the moment, Follo had you bent over, your face smushed against the pillows, with your hips raised. He was practically mounting you, his face buried in the back of your neck, where you could swear you felt him nipping at you. All the while his hips moved with a frantic speed you never thought he could achieve.
Disoriented and exhausted from being folded in this position for so long, you were acutely aware of the heat radiating from your body. You had no idea what time it was, but it felt like hours since you’d been in this heated moment.
Unbeknownst to you, your bunny boyfriend was in a little predicament… He was in heat. It had driven him to the edge, leaving him unable to control himself the moment he laid eyes on you. It wasn’t entirely his fault—who were you to be walking around with that irresistible body, just calling his name?
So when he had abruptly dragged you away from your conversation and brought you to his room, confusion washed over you until he practically ripped your clothes off and threw you onto the bed. And now, here you were.
He had never been like this before—so frenzied and relentless in his pursuit of fucking you. Usually, he was soft and sweet, sometimes picking up the pace at your request, but never like this! Had he been holding back on you all this time? You’d definitely have to ask him about that later.
Suddenly, you felt his hips stutter, and you knew he was coming for the umpteenth time. Follo whimpered as he filled you to the brim, his release gushing out as he shallowly thrust in and out of you. You turned your head to moan into the pillow, your cunt squeezing him tightly.
"B-Babe—ngh, shit..!" You barely registered that Follo was speaking—especially since he hadn’t uttered a word throughout this entire encounter. He only called out to you when he was cumming.
He tried to muffle his high-pitched whimpers and groans against your neck, but you could still hear him clearly. You caught snippets of him muttering about "needing to fill you up to the brim," which he had certainly achieved if he would only lift his head and look.
You groaned as he continued in his frenzy. How could you deny or refuse your cute little bunny boyfriend who needed you so desperately?
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Authors notes: i am so happy with this one hehehe. So many cliches in one.
Wordcount: 2k
Warnings/Tags: fluff, making out, oblivious female reader, plan-gone-wrong, possibly OOC Cass, reader wears a dress.
Synopsis: Cassian messes up, and you both have to maintain your cover at any cost.
Masterlists
So far as missions went, this one was one the few that you actually found yourself enjoying – well, enjoying in the sense that you had a comfortable hotel room, food, and wore something besides tattered clothing and a thick coating of grime. Dealing with the imps? Not as pleasant.
Your eyes lifted beyond the rim of your champagne flute, searching over the heads of the officers. You had stopped listening to the women that surrounded you a while ago, after the little information they knew had dried out, and they had turned to piling on the compliments for your apparent fiancé instead. It was almost pitiable how little their husbands must pay attention to them, given their propensity for gossip and misplaced adoration, but you were finding it difficult to disagree with them.
It was the one part of the evening that had felt the most natural somehow – the compliments and adoration positively dripping from your tongue whenever you caught sight of Cassian in that suit. Not that you didn’t appreciate his good looks usually, but there was something in the way that the black fabric broadened his shoulders and had him standing just a little straighter that had had your legs crossed for most of the evening. Not to mention the unbelievable ease at which he had fallen into the role of your husband-to-be. Whereas you had been a stuttering mess when such a ruse was suggested in the breifing, he had stepped into it as if it was nothing to him, every compliment, every touch, every gentlemanly act perfectly natural, as if he had been doing it for an age. The more you dwelled on the fact, however, the more your chest ached. It likely was nothing to him…
The liquid in your glass sloshed a little as you jumped at the pair of hands that landed firmly on your shoulders. Pursing your lips and swallowing thickly, you did your best to compose yourself. The roughness of the palms immediately gave up who the offender was before you heard the thick accent.
“Forgive me, ladies, but I fear I must steal my wife away from you for a moment.”
You could hear the strained smile in his voice before you had to turn around, thankful for the opportunity to escape as you slid the half-empty glass back onto the table as you offered them a similarly tight smile.
“I’m not your wife quite yet,” you chuckled softly, finally twisting in your seat to look at Cassian, your easy smile faltering when you saw the alarm flashing in his eyes. It was subtle – so much so that you knew that the women around you were too enamoured with him on the whole to have paid the slightest bit of attention – but you saw it clearly. Something had gone wrong.
“Until next time, ladies,” you tried to brush it off, laughing hollowly and trying not to rush your exit, taking the time to quickly return the friendly cheek kiss of one of the wives, not missing the clenching jaw of your accomplice.
The arm that securely wrapped itself around your waist likely appeared as nothing more than a lover’s clinginess, but the rigidity of the hand on your hip as it steered you towards the door attested to the opposite. “Don’t rush,” Cassian murmured quietly, leaning in and brushing his lips against the shell of your ear, playing the move off as affection with a worryingly practised ease. “Just follow my lead.”
You chuckled again airily, disguising your nod as you leaned further into him, offering some of the officers he had been talking to an hour or so prior a friendly smile as you passed them.
You didn’t hesitate as you reached the corridor, following him as he picked up the pace minutely, keeping subtle tabs on the lingering few that had obviously escaped to the darkened corridor to breathe.
“Cassian,” you started quietly, your heart starting to pick up against your ribs, “What’s—”
Before you could finish your sentence, the arm around your waist tightened, tugging you with him into an alcove you hadn’t even noticed. You say alcove, it was more of a small room, you guessed it was usually used for storage when they were not hosting grand galas, but you had barely any time to think about it before your back hit the wall, knocking some of the air from your lungs.
“Cass!” His name came out as more of a hiss as you scowled at him, searching his face in the pale moonlight for any semblance of an explanation. He was too busy checking around the corner again to pay much attention to you, however. For a brief moment, you wondered if that is why he was standing so close to you, his knee practically propped between your legs as he caged you against the cold wall.
“Cassian—” you attempted again, the frustration growing in your voice as he continued to ignore you, your chest heaving from the rush of it all, “—what is going—”
“Kiss me,” he whispered, his eyes wild as he turned back to look at you.
Your stomach dropped, something in your chest clenching painfully at the mere suggestion – “What!?”
Cassian shushed you again as your voice rose. If you were warm before you were practically boiling now, your skin burning as you tried to piece together what possibly could have happened in the last 20 minutes for you to end up here.
“They’ll stop if they think we’re just two lovers sneaking off. It’s this or fight our way out.”
You stared at him dumbfounded, your lips parting and closing a few times as you struggled to form a thought let alone a sentence.
And then his lips were on yours.
You stiffened for half a heartbeat before something in you unraveled under the heat of it — whether from adrenaline or the way his hands framed your hips with startling confidence, you weren’t sure. The kiss was supposed to be a cover, a performance. But Cassian didn’t kiss like a soldier on a mission.
He kissed like a man who had been holding himself back for far too long.
His mouth slanted over yours with purpose, pulling a soft gasp from you as your back pressed against the cool wall behind you. The brush of his fingers over your waist felt anything but rehearsed, each movement slow and reverent, like he couldn’t help himself.
Heavy boots echoed down the hallway just beyond the curtain.
You felt him tense, but still, his lips never left yours.
Then the footsteps faded.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
“Cassian,” you gasped, trying to pull away, though the attempt was half-hearted at best, every now-weak muscle in your body screaming for you to make the most of it while you could. Your words stumbled between the heat of his kisses. “They’ve- gone—”
He hummed, the sound low in his throat, “I know.”
But his hands didn’t loosen their grip. If anything, they only grew bolder, fingers sliding from your waist to trace the curve of your sides – slow, deliberate. His touch was warm and commanding, sending a shiver darting up your spine.
your breath hitched, a soft moan slipping out before you could even think to swallow it. The sound should’ve embarrassed you. Maybe it would have, had your mind not been drowning in the dizzying closeness of him – his scent, his breath, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. Every inch of him pressed into you, and yet somehow it still didn’t feel like enough.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped out, his lips brushing against yours with each word, his breath warm against your cheek, still tinged with the scent of wine, “and I‘ll stop.”
You spared him your answer by leaning forward again, closing the narrow gap to press your lips back to his. His response was instant, his fingers digging into the skin so tightly you were sure it would mark, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Instead, your own fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, disturbing it from the slick gel that had held it so neatly all evening.
One hand crept lower, his knuckles grazing against your hip slowly until his palm found the split in your dress. His fingers curled around your thigh, his calloused palms scratching the soft skin as his fingers slid beneath the confines of the fabric, hoisting your leg up to hold against him, the motion pulled you flush against him, stealing the last bit of distance between you.
He leaned into you, voice nothing but gravel and heat. “You drive me insane.”
And with that, he kissed you again – slow at first, but deep, hungry. Like he had all the time in the world to explore every part of you, and fully intended to.
You found it within yourself to pull away the little you could again, still very much pressed between him and the wall, “But, you’ve never even suggested that I was anything more than a partner.” The words came out more of a question as you fought for breath, barely waiting for a response before you kissed him again, completely intoxicated despite the fact you had barely had one glass to drink.
“For a spy—” kiss “—you are terrible—” another kiss, this time his teeth catching your lower lip, “—at reading people.”
You frowned into his advances, your lips stopping as you pulled away again, brows furrowed as you tried to catch your breath again. “What are you on about?”
“What am I on about?” he echoed, voice still hushed. “Whose idea do you think it was to set this ruse up as an engagement?”
Your heart thudded painfully, your mind racing at a million miles a minute, fingers still tangled in the collar of his jacket. That’s why he hadn’t reacted at the briefing.
His brow ticked, his lips brushing just barely over the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trying to be professional. You know, partnerly. Respectful. But I’m not made of stone.”
Your breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing into you harder than any touch. His fingers flexed slightly against your leg, still holding it up against his hip. The closeness was unbearable – and somehow not nearly enough.
“You could’ve fooled me,” you whispered, voice barely audible as your own restraint began to crack under the heat of him.
Cassian let out a soft laugh against your cheek. “And you – maker, you think I didn’t notice every time you found a reason to brush past me? Or the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching?”
“I didn’t—” You started, but he cut you off with another kiss – less rushed now, slower, deeper. He pulled away again just briefly to wet his lips, his forehead just millimeters from your own. “I didn’t act on it because I thought if I ever started… I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
Your hand rose, trembling slightly, brushing his jaw. You felt the clench of it beneath your palm, the freshly trimmed stubble rough against your skin, the tension singing through him like a wire pulled too tight.
“Then don’t stop,” you said softly, your eyes searching his. For a moment, the world around you had ceased to exist, nothing mattering beyond the man before you.
But the sound of boots passing by the alcove again had you both tensing, heads turning to watch the shadows of feet passing beneath the half-draped curtain partially concealing you both before you snapped back to one another.
“We should escape now, right?”
He nodded, quickly dropping your leg and smoothing out his hair again as you pressed down the fabric, your skin burning again as he grabbed a hold of your hand, his fingers entwined with yours securely as he moved to peek around the alcove again, checking the coast was clear. “Probably, yes.”
Imagine reader reading a book about a girl who was originally to be sold to the Targaryens and how she tries to tame the "dragons", but her sister doesn't approve so she stabs the girl. Reader closes the book because it's like any other fic she has read, only to get stabbed by her own sister to get their parents inheritance.
Imagine reader who gets transported into the "A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" universe only to wake up and find out she's in the girl's body.
Imagine reader who freaks out when 3 handsome faces barge in her room; Aerion with a scowl, Valarr with a concerned look etched on his face, & Daeron stumbling in last as the maids push him in. Reader doesn't recognize them but when they introduce themselves, she realizes she's f*cked.
Reader who tries to escape the castle of the Targaryen's only to get caught by Egg. They bond together and escape the place, stumbling upon a tall man named Dunk.
Reader who gets dragged back along with Egg & Dunk to a ball, when she finds a familiar face; her best friend.
Reader who makes jokes that none of the Targaryen's get except her best friend, Egg who she forced to listen to her along with Dunk (reluctantly), Rhae, and Daella who she always gossips to.
Reader who successfully makes the three Targaryen boys interested in her and willingly fight for her hand accidentally.
Reader whose best friend is interested in the dads.
Summary: you and Gwyn have been emotionally involved with one another for a while, neither of you have yet taken that step to form a physical connection. Yet.
Warnings: smut, face sitting, pussy eating, 69-ing, mentions of squirting
It starts with the two of you planning to spend the night to review some scrolls, but as the night wares on your guards fall, beginning to relax into one another until you’re practically draped across her lap, lying on your stomach while she attempts to read through one of the sacred scripts.
You shift to get more comfortable, hips wiggling as the material of your robe raises to your upper thighs. Gwyn’s sure that if she were stood behind you she would be blessed with an unobscured view of your underwear.
The last straw is when you yawn, stretching your arms before you shift to your hands and knees, showing off the muscle in the backs of your thighs. You yawn again, arms stretching to the air as her eyes lap up your form: the swell of your breasts beneath the robes, the plump roundness of your ass, the plush skin of your thighs. She swallows.
“I think you should go to bed, now,” she manages, the scroll discarded thoughtlessly. Her breath catches as you swing a leg over her lap, settling down comfortably as you lazily drape yourself over her body, pushing against her until she loses balance, toppling back onto the floor of her bedroom. Heat flushes her cheeks as she feels your soft form pressing against her own, fire warming in her lower belly.
Hesitantly, her hands positions themselves on your waist. She doesn’t really know what to do. She doesn’t want to push you off for fear of hurting you - the floor is wooden - but she knows her scent will betray her if you’re allowed to stay settled. Gwyn’s body tenses as you nose her collar bone, heart pounding in her chest.
She inhales heavily, attempting to calm herself but instead your scent is like a kick to the stomach. Her breath catches at the distinct flavour of arousal permeating the air. “Gwyn,” you sing song sleepily, pushing up until you’re seated over her hips. She notes your eyes are clear of fatigue, wide open and sparking with mischief. She swallows as she realises what you’ve been doing.
You peer down at her, cheeks heated while her hair is splayed across the floor, “you okay with this?” You murmur softly, hands set on either side of her pretty face. Her eyes trace your features, desire twining with heat as they drop to your mouth, her hands still perched on your hips. She nods, fingers pressing a little harder through your robes, “yeah,” she breathes, “just…” she looks away and you wait patiently, “can I…” You tilt your head, curious.
She sets her gaze on yours firmly, a flush coating her cheeks as she opens her mouth, “I, uh, I want to be on top.” She swallows as she gets the admission out in the open, waiting for your reaction.
You grin, excitement sparking and you shuffle off her lap, kneeling by her side as she sits up, “and we can stop at any time,” you add softly as her hands cup your jaw. You make sure she’s looking into your eyes, “any time, Gwyn. Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” She smiles, “right back at you.” Then she’s kissing you softly, lips moving over one another seamlessly, pressing here and there as her hands land on your shoulders.
“Bed,” you mumble through the feverish kisses, “it’ll be nicer on the—” Her tongue shoves into your mouth, her hands sliding down to your waist as she pulls you upright. The two of you stumble, too preoccupied with one another to pay attention to your surroundings as you scramble onto her bed.
“Gwyn,” you pant as she pushes you down gently, “I want you, too.” Your arms are slung over her shoulders, pulling desperately, “fuck, I want to taste you so bad,” you plead against her lips, your eyes squeezing shut at the thought of having her seated atop your mouth.
Her breathing becomes heavier at the confession, her hand cupping your jaw, “you want me on your mouth, honey? Want to take me while I take you?” You nod frantically, panting as your back arches, pressing your breasts to hers. There would be time for teasing on a separate occasion. Right now you need one another, need to feel the hot brush of skin against skin. It’s been so long since either of you had been afforded that comfort.
She kisses you once more before she pulls away, shifting as she throws a leg over you and already you’re gripping her hips, needfully tugging her toward your face. She chuckles, “slow down, my robes are in the way.”
“Damn the robes,” you pant, hands shoving the offending material up over her thighs. You moan as you set your eyes on her, perfect and wet.
Gwyn laughs at your frenetic movements, “I don’t think you’re supposed to utilise curse words as a priestess.” Your hands roam over the plumpness over her ass, spreading her as you lift your head, pressing into her heat as she moans at the abrupt pleasure. “As a priestess, I know the Mother willed you to be here.” You deliver an open mouthed kiss to her clothed cunt, “and I’m certain with the amount of worship I’m about to give you, she won’t mind one bit.” You thumb away the damp slip of fabric, immediately latching your mouth onto her, tongue lapping greedily at her as she pushes back against you.
Her hands scramble through the layers of your own robes, pushing and shoving at them until they’re spooled around your belly. “Goodness,” she breathes reverently, cupping you as your hips buck. “How can you be so pretty?” She pants, thumbing at your clit, making you whine. She leans back onto your face, pressing you into the mattress as she sits, her middle and forefinger running up and down over your pussy.
With trembling hands, she pushes the fabric aside, moaning as her eyes attach to your sex. The scent is overpowering, arousal roiling throughout her bedroom as she drops her mouth to you, tongue licking over your clit then moving down to your entrance, both of you locked into a hazy madness, intent on taking everything until there’s no difference between you, until you blend to one.
Your mouth moves to her clit, suckling eagerly as one of her hands wraps around your thigh, spreading you wider for her. She needs to have all of you, right now. Neither of you can stand the thought of stopping your frenzied coupling.
Your beloved female pulls away to coat her fingers, circling your entrance before gently pushing in, pulling out, pressing further and she’s rewarded with a loud moan, your mouth working harder to please her. “Gwyn,” you pant, heat coiling in the pit of your belly as her nimble fingers fill you up, her lips suckling your clit. “Gwyn please.”
She moans onto you, your desperate pleas bringing her close to her peak. Flame ignites her body as she winds her hips over you, grinding against your tongue as it presses inside her, the sensation mouth-watering in its eroticism. “Go on,” she laughs, pressing her fingers deep into you, the heel of her palm rubbing over your clit, “I want to see how pretty you look when you come on my fingers.” She smiles in delight as your hips buck greedily. “You’re going to taste so good,” she moans, reattaching her mouth to your clit as she feels you fluttering around her, hips undulating.
The sensations send her spiralling, unravelling on your mouth as she gushes. Moans fill the room as you drink her in, tongue soothing over her clit in time with the now gentle pumps of her fingers, guiding one another down from your highs.
You lap over her entrance, pressing your face into her slick heat as she rides out her orgasm. You never want to leave her. Even as your highs fade into calming thrums of euphoria, you keep her seated on your mouth, licking and kissing all of her, devout in your ministrations.
She shifts, attempting to pull away from you but you whine, hands latching over her hips to keep her mounted atop your lips. She releases an adoring laugh, “you need to breathe at some point.” She laughs harder when you shake your head beneath her, tongue swirling over her clit, making her bite her lip.
Steadying herself, she pushes upward, her hands braced softly on your rib cage, fingers playing with your nipples absently. She takes the time to catch her breath, gazing down at your body: how saliva is glossing your pretty thighs, the handprints over your hips, the slick that’s been transferred to your perky nipples as she pinches them softly; teasing.
You nip at her clit in return, making her whimper and Mother above if it isn’t a sound that could bring you to your knees in an instant. She’s perfect and divine in every sense, from the taste of her orgasm, to the ring of her laugh, to the set of her mouth when she’s concentrating on deciphering a scroll or searching for a manuscript.
If you ever lose her you’ll never forgive yourself.
And if you spend the rest of your life with her, enriching every moment with soft puffs of breath and warm touches, you’ll go to the Mother happy.
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-I lived in a state of constantly being threatened. Get paid to expose, get exposed. Sell out your safety for a few thousand dollars. It was all commonplace. One job is different though, and with a few second thoughts, you end up attending an underground school of hackers, each with their own little secrets. Can you really trust someone you do not know the real name of? Well dear reader, or our friend refers to us, bunny, you will soon find out much more happens in the underground than what it appears through a screen.
Plot: Y/N is naturally born enhanced, with the power to manipulate sound. When her former parole officer asks for some assistance regarding a former team member she has no choice but to aid where she can. Along the way she meets Darcy Lewis, a brilliant Astrophysicist.
I shot up in my bed for the millionth time in the past month, everytime I close my eyes I see him, Thanos. No matter how many times I wake up and remember that Tony killed him, that Tony saved us all. I turn over and look at my clock and notice that it's only five in the morning here in Colorado but I decide to get up anyway, deciding it was too late to force myself back to sleep. I approach my closet and quickly scan past the suit Tony gave me, left untouched since the final battle. It feels wrong to wear it. After the funeral everyone went their separate ways, I always felt that the suit was more an avengers thing, ya know? I put on a pair of leggings and a sweater and make sure my hair is tucked inside my hood.
I went across my small studio apartment to my balcony and slid the door open. I sat on my balcony that gave me a beautiful view of the snow covered mountains and I began to meditate. Meditating is the only thing that I use to keep my powers in check these days. I try not to use my powers. I know it scares people, seeing enhanced beings. Even though I was an avenger I see people shy away from me in public, scared after seeing the destruction it can cause. It’s different from when Tony was Ironman, he had a suit people could understand. People have a harder time understanding those of us who don't wear a mask and can do extraordinary things. While I meditate I manipulate the sounds around me. I balance on the sound barrier and focus on clearing my head, I spend most of my day doing this but when I had barely started I heard my phone ring.
Snapped out of my trance I fall to the ground taking the full impact on my tailbone. I roll over, groaning, to see who it could be. I soon see the name on a caller ID that strikes almost more fear into my heart than Thanos, Jimmy Woo, my former parole officer. I quickly look around my balcony, looking to hide anything that could possibly be illegal, despite the fact that my parole ended when the blip happened.
“Jimmy Woo, my favorite resident snitch. What do I owe the pleasure,” I answered a small smile creeping onto my face.
“Y/N my favorite issue, the pleasure is all mine,” He said laughing, “I’ve actually called on business.”
I hung up. I don’t do business.
My phone rings - I don’t answer it.
It rings again, and again.
And on the fourth I answer.
“Jimmy I don’t do business anymore. I'm retired, I'm more than willing to forward you some contact information so some of the other small time avengers, I believe you do in fact have Scott Lang’s number. I, on the other hand, have taken the small fortune Stark generously left me, and started my own life without all that.” I explained, having lost all humor in my voice.
“Y/N It’s Wanda, you have to help her,” Suddenly the windows started vibrating around me as I lost all control of emotions, “Y/N are you there?” I heard Jimmy say from the speaker I was letting fall.
“Text me where to be Jimmy,” I said after regaining focus, “I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
A/n: lol just a little idea I and ik its short but like i hate when prequels are long it was just to short to be the first chapter. plz correct my grammar if u want i never learned any of that but i cant seem to care enough to find out
Authors notes: My first Cassian fic, and my first Star Wars fic in a long time! I am yet to actually finish the Andor show, but I just love Diego Luna sm, so I had to get something written for him while I have the time 🍪 I feel like the ending was a little rushed though 😕
Wordcount: 3.1k
Warnings/Tags: mild angst, mentions of injury, negative self-talk, non-gendered reader (alluded to be shorter than Cassian), hurt-to-comfort
Synopsis: You mess up on a job, leading to a fall out with Cassian. He isn't too pleased with how you choose to cope with it.
Masterlists
You dragged breaths through your pursed lips, sucking in sharply as the med droid peeled your now tattered shirt away from the weeping blaster wound in your shoulder, doing your best to swallow your grunts as the bacta pads were laid over the skin – the instant cooling both soothing and sore at the same time.
Heaving a sigh, you sunk back against the rough pillow of the bed, your head slumping back with a mixture of both exhaustion and relief as you felt the sticky gel start to work its magic already, the sharp ache replaced with a dull throbbing.
You weren’t sure what you had expected from your first blaster wound, but you were surprised by just how much it burned. It seemed silly, thinking back on it now that you were safely back in the base, but at the time, it was all that you could think about. Well, that and—
“What did you think you were doing, disobeying me like that?” Cassian’s voice bellowed through the med bay as he pushed past a bustle of nurses and med droids, practically imploding when he finally found you in the masses of people.
Gritting your teeth again you pulled your heavy head back up from the pillows, fixing him with a stare that you wouldn’t dare try with any of your other superiors.
“I did what I had to to secure the intel. You would have done the exact same thing if you were in my position.” You practically spat the words out, grimacing again when you tried to push yourself to sit up further on the scratchy sheets, trying but failing to not flinch away from the nurse that was now trying to peel away the initial bandage to assess the real damage.
“I would have never gotten myself into that mess,” Cassian snapped, his hands pushing you back down against the pillows, keeping you still so the nurse could work. Despite the tone of his voice, his hands were surprisingly gentle, weighing down on your good shoulder and collarbone as the nurse peeled away the bacta. It was surprising that neither party madea comment on the way your heart rate sped up beneath his touch. “You’re lucky you are still alive,” he seethed, his voice dropping in volume as he gritted his teeth, pulling his eyes away from the gaping hole in your arm to your face, his eyes searching your face.
It should have only been a simple mission. One you had both done countless times before, but you screwed up, you panicked, and now you were paying the price. You shuddered again as the nurse wrapped the wound back up, murmuring something to herself before pacing off to a supply stash.
Cassian removed his hands from you as you settled back into the bedding again, breathing shallowly as the throbbing eased. “Like you have never made a mistake before, because you’re captain Andor and he never makes mistakes.”
“I’m more responsible, not better,” he retorted defiantly, crossing his arms across his chest, “You always have to be a hero, to go and do whatever you think is right,” you finally dared to meet his eyes, his gaze boring into you, “and one of these days it is going to get you killed.”
The anger in your chest boiled, rising like bile in your throat – “And if it is in service of the rebellion, then so be it!” you spat, eyes narrowing, completely unaware of the fact that half of the nurses that had previously been hovering ad now discreetly slipped away during what was quickly turning into a screaming match. “I am expendable. That is my job. You are not.”
“Expendable? You?” Cassian practically bit out a laugh, the sound rough and sharp as his head dropped, shaking slowly. “Why are you–”
“I want to be alone–” you started, cutting him off before he could reprimand you again, “–please.” Your gaze fixed itself on the medbay’s ceiling, desperate to look anywhere but at him.
You could see him pause for a second out of the corner of your eye, arms unfurling from his chest, fists clenching at his sides as he scoffed again. “Fine”, his voice was gruff from shouting but now devoid of any energy. He turned, pausing only briefly in the doorway, “You know where I am if you need anything.”
And with that, he slipped through the doors again.
The soft material of your cot was a massive upgrade from the scratchy blankets in the med bay, and you sunk into them almost immediately, the tension practically melting from your spine as you let your body go limp against your thin mattress. Your quarters were far smaller than the medical bay, but they were cosy, warm, and most importantly, private. All you had wanted to do from the moment he had stormed off was sleep, but the constant bustle of nurses and med droids had left little opportunity. Now, however, nestled into the bedding you had managed to smuggle off a stopover planet, your eyes finally drifted shut, your head feeling impossibly heavy against your worn pillows.
You had barely drifted off when you were thrown bolt upright again, your muscles tensing and flexing of their own accord, your shoulder burning with a phantom shot as your stomach twisted, threatening with all its might to bring up the poor excuse of a dinner you had managed hours earlier.
Pressing your fingers to your lips, you eased yourself back against your pillows, your hand moving to ghost over the bandages on your shoulder, finding them still securely in place.
But it had felt so real – the firefight, Cassian shouting for you to get back to the ship, to leave the intel drive and get out, but it was so close, it had only skidded a few feet in front of you. He stood briefly to cover your escape and you darted – but not towards the ship like he had ordered, towards the small drive between you and the troopers.
With it safely curled in your fingers you turned again, scrambling to stand and finally dart to the ship when you heard his shouts, turning at the last minute to see the troopers perfectly lined up shot…
You had jumped again without thinking, shoving your captain out of the way, your fear taking over your body – only for it to be quickly replaced with the worst pain of your life…
Standing on shaky legs you crossed to the pitcher and bowl on your table, pouring out some of the water and splashing it over your face, letting the droplets mix with the sheen of sweat and tear tracks as they rolled over your skin, washing away the fear again.
With a huff, you turned again, resting more uneasily against your sheets as your eyes closed again. But sleep wouldn’t be so easy. Not when the image of his lifeless body threatened the corners of your mind every time it went dark.
You repeated the cycle of trying to sleep, getting a couple of hours at a time at best for the next two days, or so you would estimate. You were warned by the med droid that it could take a few days to kick the fatigue, but this was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and the lack of sound rest was hardly helping.
Uncertainly, you peaked around your door, stepping out of your room only when you were sure the corridor was clear. You had made a pitiful attempt to ignore the growling in your stomach for the last hour, and the only solution was two floors down in the mess hall. The soft slippers you had opted for helped you to stay quiet as you padded down the stairs, smiling and nodding a general ‘hello’ at anyone you passed, thankful that the bandages still firmly wrapped around your upper torso gave some kind of visual excuse for your choice of what were essential pyjamas to walk around the base in in the middle of the afternoon.
With it being a good two hours after the general lunch hour, the mess hall was relatively empty and, much to your relief, free from a certain captain. The only downside being that it meant it was also largely free from any of the good food.
With a quiet huff, you gathered what you could, shoving a few packets of snacks into your pockets before trudging back up to your room, opting to skim over the back of one of the packets to try and work out exactly what you had scrounged as you somewhat dawdled back down what you thought was the empty corridor to your dorm.
The sound of your name reverberating off the bare walls had you pause mid-step, a sudden wave of dread settling on your shoulders before you picked up your pace again, not daring to turn back around, even as his heavy footsteps followed you. You told yourself it was because you didn't want to face a debriefing, another dressing down for disobeying him. But you knew deep down you knew it was more than that. It was the fear that he would look at you with that same look of disdain in his eyes that he had when he had hauled you back onto the ship.
You had come to terms with the fact that you felt more than simple respect for Cassian Andor several months ago, after a recon mission had left you both stranded together and alone in a small rebel hideout, with nothing to do but wait and play ‘happy families’ until rescue was able to reach you. It was bliss, if you were honest with yourself. You two had always worked well together, but it was different, somehow. It felt natural to pretend to be his for just a few weeks. But he was your superior, and it was throwing off your judgement.
It wasn’t long after you had managed to shut your door that the heavy knocks started, each thud heavy and deliberate.
“I know you’re in there,” Cassian’s voice rang out from the other side, an exasperated sigh following when you continued to sit silently, staring at the other side like a loth cat in headlights. “Open the door, please.”
You fought the urge to scoff at his demanding tone, the anger still evident. “Is that an order, captain?” you snarked back, but you knew your energy was not in it.
You heard him huff again, “If it means you will open the door, yes. It’s an order.” The usual commanding tone was there, but as you unfolded yourself from your bed and crossed the small room, you could have sworn you detected an ounce of desperation. He was leaning against the door frame as you pulled the door open a crack, his eyes instantly looking up to meet you, straightening himself as you hovered in the doorway.
“Are you going to make us do this in the corridor?” he asked, raising a brow. Biting the inside of your cheek you rolled your eyes, regretting it slightly when your strained, tired eyes ached. Nevertheless, you stood to the side, opening the door just enough for him to slip in and close it behind him.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you flopped back down onto your bed again, fixing your gaze out of the small window. You wrapped your arms around your legs, your palms finding purchase on the fabric of your soft trousers to try and dry the sweat from your palms. Just looking at him had your nightmare flashing behind your eyes again.
“You have been ignoring me.” He stated simply. You weren’t too sure if it was supposed to be a question or not, but he continued to watch you, and you presumed he was expecting a response.
“Yes.” You replied simply, your voice quiet.
You could take out his jaw clenching in the corner of your vision, rocking a little in place in frustration. “Why?” He pushed sharply, hands coming to rest on his hips.
You shrugged, a hand instantly coming to rest on your aching shoulder at the movement. “I was letting myself heal.” It wasn’t a lie.
Perhaps if you have had a little more rest, you would have realised that lying so blatantly to one of the rebellion's best spies was a fool's game.
“You have been healed.” His gaze was intense, studying your face even as you refused to look at him. “Stop lying to me.”
Exhaling slowly, the air slipping past your relaxed lips, your fingers rubbed absentmindedly at your shoulder. He was right, your shoulder looked almost as good as new already. But it ached whenever you thought about him – a phantom burn that was present more often than not.
“I presumed that you wanted a break from someone so reckless,” you finally hummed, eyes glazing over as they defocused on the small silhouettes of people moving back and forth over the tarmac below you.
Cassian’s fingers curled into fists at his side. You could tell that he wanted to yell, his frustration starting to boil over as he bit at the inside of his cheek.
“Don’t do that. Don’t make it about me.” He inched closer, desperate to have you meet his gaze. His voice finally softened, a hint of vulnerability creeping in as he spoke, “just look at me.”
You snorted softly, shaking your head, “But it’s always about you, Cassian. Can’t you see that?”
His expression darkened, the bitterness in your voice cutting into him roughly. “What is that supposed to mean?” He shot back, his defences rising again as he stepped forward instinctively, closing the gap between you. “I can never understand what is going through your head, always putting yourself at risk. Throwing yourself into danger like no one cares, trying to–“
“– I just can’t stand to see you hurt!” You finally broke, pressing yourself to stand up in your anger without realising just how close he had gotten. “I do what I do to protect you. That is my job. That is my goal. Because without you the rebellion means nothing – without you, I have nothing to fight for.” You were practically panting by the time your mind had caught up to what you had confessed, but you made no effort to move away, watching as his eyes widened at your outburst, lips faltering around half-formed words.
He wanted to argue, to protest, to tell you that the rebellion needed you just as much as it needed him. But something in your eyes silenced him. Something in the way the anxiety and vulnerability swam beneath the surface that made his heart ache.
Huffing at his silence, taking it as confirmation of your fears, you moved to turn away, “not so vocal now, are you.”
His hand moved on instinct, grasping your wrist tenderly, his calloused palm rough against the skin, anchoring you in place.
“I’m trying to hold my composure, which is damn near impossible with you.”
You went to scoff, hand twitching in his grasp when he shushed you.
“Don’t scoff, don’t brush me off, and don’t walk away from this. Not until you hear what I have to say.”
The proximity was almost intoxicating, your mind racing at a million miles an hour as a warmth blooms across your chest, radiating up your arm from where he held you. You were sure from where his fingers pressed against your wrist that he could feel the way your heartbeat quickened.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the effort as he wet his parted lips, “you frustrate me, you infuriate me,” he started, fingers twitching slightly in the fear you might pull away, “you’re reckless and defiant and impulsive…” his voice trails off, his eyes dropping unmistakably down to your lips, lingering there and seemingly stealing the thoughts from his head.
“But?…” you urged, sensing the word hanging in the air.
“But,” he wet his lips again nervously, “but I love you regardless. And I can not bear to lose you.”
Cassian’s breath hitched in his throat as you pressed up onto your tiptoes and closed the gap between you, your lips pressing to his desperately and with little finesse. His body tensed slightly in surprise before he surrendered to the moment. His hands moving instinctively to your hips, pulling you up against him as he returned the kiss with equal fervor. All the frustration, all the tension, all the fear he had been suppressing in the last three days melting away on your lips.
Your fingers found purchase in the lapels of his jacket, twisting the fabric to pull him closer to you, as if he might disappear when you opened your eyes again. Cassian similarly pulled you closer, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you tight against his chest, your back bending just a little as he clung to you, his other hand weaving its way into your hair, tilting your head back to angle your mouth even closer to his, murmuring your name against your lips.
Finally desperate for air, you parted, but only enough to rest your foreheads against one another. His breathing was laboured, the air around him suddenly feeling too cold against his flushed skin.
“Please, never let me go again,” you asked softly, your gaze flicking between his eyes.
The arm around your waist tightened, the palm now resting against your cheek moving slightly to allow his thumb to brush against the soft skin. “Never,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse. “I’ll never let you go again.”
You swallowed thickly, finally finding it within yourself to be truthful with him, “I didn’t want to avoid you,” you started uncertainly, worrying your lower lip between your teeth for a moment, “I just couldn’t stop replaying what happened. I couldn’t stop dreaming about it. I barely slept, because I was so scared that if I hadn't jumped, you wouldn’t be here anymore…”
He shushed you softly, eyes softening as his hands came to cup your cheeks, carefully urging you to meet his eyes again.
“I’m here,” he reassured you gently, something resolute in his tone. “I’m alive. We’re alive.” His hands slipped from your cheeks, down your arms, until his fingers were entwined with yours, squeezing gently.
Nodding quickly, you released a shaky breath, glancing down at where his hands cradled yours. “Stay with me, please?” taking a few steps back towards your bed, you pulled on his hands softly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Cassian’s expression softened further and he moved with you, his hand still tightly entwined with yours as he followed you.
