Still a Slow Writer

Spike’s crypt is the last place you ever thought you’d spend the night—and yet, here you are.

Your apartment’s off-limits for the time being, thanks to some soul-eating monstrosity which you had literally no business meeting on your way home from Buffy’s place.

Giles insisted you stay somewhere “secure,” and despite your many (loud) protests, here you are—safe, sound, and surrounded by cobwebs.

You’re perched awkwardly on a beat-up couch that looks like it’s been rescued from a junkyard sale. It creaks ominously every time you shift, and you're convinced Spike dragged it here from someone’s abandoned apartment.

You hug your knees to your chest and glance around the crypt, debating whether it’s morally wrong to snoop in a vampire’s things when he’s not looking.

Let’s be honest—Spike’s a mystery wrapped in leather and attitude, and you’re half-convinced that deep down beneath the bravado, there’s a big softie waiting to be uncovered.

Before you can move an inch toward the oak bookshelf, Spike saunters out from behind his makeshift bathroom setup.

“Bathroom” is a generous term—it’s really just a dingy corner with a chipped tub, a sink older than yourself, and a room divider he probably lifted from a Chinese restaurant.

He emerges barefoot, a towel slung low on his hips, damp curls clinging to his forehead. He tosses you a lazy glance, cigarette already dangling from his fingers, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

“Lookin’ a bit stiff there, luv,” he drawls, lighting up like he owns the damn moon.

You roll your eyes, already over it. “Oh, shut up, vamp boy.”

He just chuckles, that low amused sound that always makes you feel like you’re the punchline. He sinks onto the bed with the grace of a cat, towel somehow managing to cling on for dear life. He takes a drag like he’s got all the time in the world—which, technically, he does.

“C’mon over, darlin’. I don’t bite—unless you ask real nice.” He winks, and you shoot him a look so deadpan it could stop his undead heart.

“No, thanks. I prefer distance.”

Spike only grins wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t be such a prude, sweetheart. That couch’ll do ya’ no good. You’ll sleep better over here.”

His tone dips slightly, not quite teasing, not quite soft either. Something in it makes your shoulders ease just a little.

You huff out a sigh and drag yourself off the couch with theatrical reluctance. He pats the spot next to him like he’s inviting you into the most luxurious five-star suite.

“Lifted this mattress straight from a showroom,” he says proudly. “No one’s broken it in but yours truly.”

“Oh, of course you did,” you mutter, sitting beside him with a frown you don’t fully mean.

He laces his hands behind his head, watching you with that amused glint in his eye. You keep your gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling, trying to ignore how the crypt suddenly feels... less oppressive.

“I won’t touch ya. Promise,” he murmurs, and for once, there’s no smirk—just something almost gentle in his voice.

You turn away, curling under the thin blanket, mumbling, “Shut up,” but your tone’s lost its bite.

Morning doesn’t arrive so much as drift in slowly—filtered weakly through a grimy window near the heavy crypt door. There’s no birds singing, no breeze from the morning air. Just cold stone and colder silence in this tomb.

And something holding you.

The first thing you register is the chill—an arm slung around your waist, cool fingers resting against your stomach. Cold breath tickles the back of your neck in slow, even puffs.

Every mission had been a challenge since your move to Yavin. You could not accompany him. The Rebels deemed you more valuable on site, not built for spying. At the point you had reached, mistakes were not allowed anymore. Everyone had to play to their strengths. Cassian’s were infiltration and manipulation, yours were communication and organization.

But tonight you were off duty, and Cassian was off planet. So you found your way to a bar, sat down and drank.

The host placed a glass of water in front of you and walked away.

Staring into the clear liquid, your throat started burning.

What if this was the time Cassian did not make it back?

You worried your lower lip and hid your face behind your hands. Your eyes grew moist, but you bit back the tears, grinding your teeth together. You had to keep it together.

Swallowing a dry lump, you shuffled your pockets. It was time for you to retreat into the safety of your home and sleep the alcohol and the pain away. The cool metal of the credits found your palm and you abandoned a handful on the counter. Not one to turn down a drink, you threw back the glass of water and slammed it down.

Legs shaky, but determined, you stood up from the stool, holding onto the seat and the counter. One step after another, you slumped towards the exit. You focused on the floor and correctly putting one foot in front of the other until a shoulder collided with yours.

You looked up, ready to cuss out whoever has done that. Instead, you stumbled and noticed the floor getting closer. Until it wasn’t. You had stopped. Mid-air…

“Woah there,” a familiar voice came up next to you.

Strong hands pulled you up by the shoulders. You blinked, attempting to regain focus over your sight as the world spun around you.

“Cassian?” you mumbled.

He looked you over and his brow furrowed.

“How much did you drink?” he wondered, voice tense.

“A glass of water,” you joked. “Before that I don’t remember.”

He sighed, but did not comment further.

“Let’s get you home,” he breathed. “Can you walk?”

You nodded slowly.

The journey back to your shared quarters was quiet. Your eyes alternated between your feet and Cassian’s handsome face. He had grown a stubble during his absence. You liked how it looked on him. His gaze was serious and closed off however, which you liked much less.

You tried not to pay it too much attention, your mind still blurred by liquor. Yet you knew he was upset because of you. Without warning, the tension in your stomach returned. You wanted to apologise, to cry, to run away, and bury yourself in his arms. You had missed him so, as you always did. 

You licked your lips, bit your tongue. Your throat was tight with regrets.

However, with each step, you could feel yourself regain consciousness. The glass of water, the fresh air, the exercising were all helping you resurface. By the time you reached your quarters, you almost felt like yourself. You noticed then how he had never let go of your hand since you left the bar.

Not daring to meet his gaze, you squeezed his fingers.

“How are you feeling?” Cassian wondered.

You shrugged: “I’m okay.”

You sighed.

“I’m sorry, Cass.”

He did not reply immediately, instead squeezing your hand in return.

“Me too.”

You frowned and tentatively looked up at him. 

“Why?”

“I know that you hate when I leave.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to apologise,” you countered. “The Rebellion needs you, you’re the best-”

“You also need me.”

Your jaw tightened. How you wished he was wrong. How you wished you could lie and tell him no. But Cassian had always been able to see right through you. He turned to face you fully.

“I just worry so much,” you confessed, voice tight.

“I worry too,” he admitted in turn. “Every time I leave, I worry about you.”

You frowned. 

“I worry that the Empire will find you while I am gone, that I won’t be there to protect you.”

You swallowed and bit back tears for the second time tonight.

“I love you,” you whispered, afraid that your voice might break if you spoke any louder.

“I love you too,” Cassian breathed, pulling you closer.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed the side of your head. A palm rubbed slow circles against your back.

“Let’s go sleep?” he suggested, barely above a whisper.

You nodded into his coat.

“But first,” he said, pulling away to meet your gaze, “more water for you.”

You chuckled but did not oppose him. Inside your barracks, you allowed Cassian to lead you to the dinner table, and sat down without protest. He returned from the small kitchen with a fresh glass and a portion of biscuits.

“It’ll absorb the alcohol,” he explained, eyes tender.

You smiled as he sat next to you.

Opening the foil, you could not help but ask: “How did the mission go?”

Cassian hesitated. He rubbed a hand over his chin, scratched his stubble.

“I’ll have a lot to report tomorrow.”

You nodded and bit into your snack. It was then that you noticed the deep pockets under his beautiful eyes, the flatness of his hair, the slump in his back. You worried about what this prolonged fight was putting him through.

You dove into your packet of biscuits and handed one to Cassian. While he tried to turn it down at first, he accepted when you countered with: “When’s the last time you ate something?”

You finished your meager dinner in comfortable silence, your feet meeting under the table. When the glass of water was empty, Cassian led you to the bedroom. There, you changed quietly. While a thousand quips usually ran through your mind at the sight of Cassian’s muscular back, this was not one of those nights. All you wanted was for you to return to home — in each other’s arms, peacefully.

When you met his gaze in bed after he pulled the duvet over you, you finally realised it: he was home. He was safe. He was here. And as you fell into the darkness, the last thing you felt were Cassian’s soft lips upon your forehead.

Every mission had been a challenge since your move to Yavin. You could not accompany him. The Rebels deemed you more valuable on site, not built for spying. At the point you had reached, mistakes were not allowed anymore. Everyone had to play to their strengths. Cassian’s were infiltration and manipulation, yours were communication and organization.

But tonight you were off duty, and Cassian was off planet. So you found your way to a bar, sat down and drank.

The host placed a glass of water in front of you and walked away.

Staring into the clear liquid, your throat started burning.

What if this was the time Cassian did not make it back?

You worried your lower lip and hid your face behind your hands. Your eyes grew moist, but you bit back the tears, grinding your teeth together. You had to keep it together.

Swallowing a dry lump, you shuffled your pockets. It was time for you to retreat into the safety of your home and sleep the alcohol and the pain away. The cool metal of the credits found your palm and you abandoned a handful on the counter. Not one to turn down a drink, you threw back the glass of water and slammed it down.

Legs shaky, but determined, you stood up from the stool, holding onto the seat and the counter. One step after another, you slumped towards the exit. You focused on the floor and correctly putting one foot in front of the other until a shoulder collided with yours.

You looked up, ready to cuss out whoever has done that. Instead, you stumbled and noticed the floor getting closer. Until it wasn’t. You had stopped. Mid-air…

“Woah there,” a familiar voice came up next to you.

Strong hands pulled you up by the shoulders. You blinked, attempting to regain focus over your sight as the world spun around you.

“Cassian?” you mumbled.

He looked you over and his brow furrowed.

“How much did you drink?” he wondered, voice tense.

“A glass of water,” you joked. “Before that I don’t remember.”

He sighed, but did not comment further.

“Let’s get you home,” he breathed. “Can you walk?”

You nodded slowly.

The journey back to your shared quarters was quiet. Your eyes alternated between your feet and Cassian’s handsome face. He had grown a stubble during his absence. You liked how it looked on him. His gaze was serious and closed off however, which you liked much less.

You tried not to pay it too much attention, your mind still blurred by liquor. Yet you knew he was upset because of you. Without warning, the tension in your stomach returned. You wanted to apologise, to cry, to run away, and bury yourself in his arms. You had missed him so, as you always did. 

You licked your lips, bit your tongue. Your throat was tight with regrets.

However, with each step, you could feel yourself regain consciousness. The glass of water, the fresh air, the exercising were all helping you resurface. By the time you reached your quarters, you almost felt like yourself. You noticed then how he had never let go of your hand since you left the bar.

Not daring to meet his gaze, you squeezed his fingers.

“How are you feeling?” Cassian wondered.

You shrugged: “I’m okay.”

You sighed.

“I’m sorry, Cass.”

He did not reply immediately, instead squeezing your hand in return.

“Me too.”

You frowned and tentatively looked up at him. 

“Why?”

“I know that you hate when I leave.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to apologise,” you countered. “The Rebellion needs you, you’re the best-”

“You also need me.”

Your jaw tightened. How you wished he was wrong. How you wished you could lie and tell him no. But Cassian had always been able to see right through you. He turned to face you fully.

“I just worry so much,” you confessed, voice tight.

“I worry too,” he admitted in turn. “Every time I leave, I worry about you.”

You frowned. 

“I worry that the Empire will find you while I am gone, that I won’t be there to protect you.”

You swallowed and bit back tears for the second time tonight.

“I love you,” you whispered, afraid that your voice might break if you spoke any louder.

“I love you too,” Cassian breathed, pulling you closer.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed the side of your head. A palm rubbed slow circles against your back.

“Let’s go sleep?” he suggested, barely above a whisper.

You nodded into his coat.

“But first,” he said, pulling away to meet your gaze, “more water for you.”

You chuckled but did not oppose him. Inside your barracks, you allowed Cassian to lead you to the dinner table, and sat down without protest. He returned from the small kitchen with a fresh glass and a portion of biscuits.

“It’ll absorb the alcohol,” he explained, eyes tender.

You smiled as he sat next to you.

Opening the foil, you could not help but ask: “How did the mission go?”

Cassian hesitated. He rubbed a hand over his chin, scratched his stubble.

“I’ll have a lot to report tomorrow.”

You nodded and bit into your snack. It was then that you noticed the deep pockets under his beautiful eyes, the flatness of his hair, the slump in his back. You worried about what this prolonged fight was putting him through.

You dove into your packet of biscuits and handed one to Cassian. While he tried to turn it down at first, he accepted when you countered with: “When’s the last time you ate something?”

You finished your meager dinner in comfortable silence, your feet meeting under the table. When the glass of water was empty, Cassian led you to the bedroom. There, you changed quietly. While a thousand quips usually ran through your mind at the sight of Cassian’s muscular back, this was not one of those nights. All you wanted was for you to return to home — in each other’s arms, peacefully.

When you met his gaze in bed after he pulled the duvet over you, you finally realised it: he was home. He was safe. He was here. And as you fell into the darkness, the last thing you felt were Cassian’s soft lips upon your forehead.

He leaned closer against your back, brushing your upper arms with his palms. Slowly, he kissed the base of your neck.

"You're cold," he remarked.

You nodded: "Just a little."

"Do you want a tea?"

"No, thank you."

Moving closer still, Cassian's arms wrapped around you. One snaked around your belly while the other met your hand on the windowsill.

"Your fingers are frozen," he pointed out. "Are you sure about that tea?"

You recognized the concern in his voice, the edge it took when he worried about you.

"Yes, I'm sure," you replied gently.

You could not blame him for being cautious. Not after everything you had already gone through.

Staying close, you spun in his arms. You rubbed a finger against his cheek, feeling the prickly hairs of his beard. It had been a while since you had seen him clean shaven. After a moment, you dropped it to join your other hand on his chest. The rhythmic beats of his hearts pressed into your open palms. He was alive. And he was here with you.

However, the deep bags under his eyes worried you, reminders of the countless sleepless nights. Yet, his brown irises looked upon you with the same tenderness they always held.

You breathed in and your back hit the cool windowsill. A new chill ran up your spine from the contrast.

"Just hold me close."

Cassian chuckled: "That I can do."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in as you snaked your arms around his middle. You buried your nose into his neck and breathed him in. The scent of the bed sheets you had been sharing still clung to him. You rubbed your cheek against the soft material of his shirt.

You recognized the familiar pressure of a kiss being placed upon your head. A smile tugged at your lips through the haze. Meanwhile, the radio kept playing that same slow melody.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

You closed your eyes and sighed.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

At first discreet, you started swaying.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Cassian's chest rumbled against your own as he chuckled.

"You want to dance?" he asked.

You noticed the smile in his eyes when you met his gaze.

"It's been a long time," you pointed out.

"It has been," he agreed. "Too long."

He pulled you in to peck your lips. Then, not looking away, his hands traveled to your waist. Your own fingers laid upon his shoulders.

Cassian led your movements, swaying and spinning you to the rhythm of the crackled music. He guided you away from the window to the center of the room.

For a moment, everything was normal. You were with Cassian. You were dancing. You were happy.

You smiled when he pulled away to make you turn under his hand, fingers never completely letting go. When you spun back to him, he enveloped you in his arms, your back pressed against his chest now.

You peeked at him over your shoulder. How you had missed to see him smile with that playful glint in his eyes. Your heart ached. You could not imagine anyone else in his shoes. Only Cassian could make you feel at home so suddenly.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and you came to a still. The melody quieted. It was over.

But you refused to move. Your eyes locked with Cassian's.

"Please tell me it will all be worth it."

He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"It will."

You spun to face him once again and buried yourself into him. You never wanted to let go. Cassian was your home.

You remembered the days and nights in Ferrix. You remembered the times he would disappear and leave you worried; the days he came home covered in bruises, the nights you spent cleaning them. You remembered the evenings spent drinking in bars with friends, the melodies that swept you off your feet, the hearts in Cassian's eyes.

You could not help but miss it all.

"Let's go sleep," he offered, voice quiet and tender.

You nodded, nose pressed against his shoulder. After a final squeeze, you let him go. Cassian turned off the radio. The safe house was once again just as quiet as the city.

Holding your hand, Cassian led you to the bed. He lied down next to you and covered you with the sheets. After pulling his pillow close to yours, he pressed one last kiss against the back of your hand.

"Goodnight," he whispered into your skin.

"Goodnight."

Your palms rested onto the warm mattress, the soft material of your pillow welcoming you. A shiver ran along your arms and up your spine. You could feel Cassian's every breath against your neck. But you were not cold. You were comfortable, at home in the arms of the man you loved. And you did not wish to move.

Everyone was asleep. Everyone including you.

He leaned closer against your back, brushing your upper arms with his palms. Slowly, he kissed the base of your neck.

"You're cold," he remarked.

You nodded: "Just a little."

"Do you want a tea?"

"No, thank you."

Moving closer still, Cassian's arms wrapped around you. One snaked around your belly while the other met your hand on the windowsill.

"Your fingers are frozen," he pointed out. "Are you sure about that tea?"

You recognized the concern in his voice, the edge it took when he worried about you.

"Yes, I'm sure," you replied gently.

You could not blame him for being cautious. Not after everything you had already gone through.

Staying close, you spun in his arms. You rubbed a finger against his cheek, feeling the prickly hairs of his beard. It had been a while since you had seen him clean shaven. After a moment, you dropped it to join your other hand on his chest. The rhythmic beats of his hearts pressed into your open palms. He was alive. And he was here with you.

However, the deep bags under his eyes worried you, reminders of the countless sleepless nights. Yet, his brown irises looked upon you with the same tenderness they always held.

You breathed in and your back hit the cool windowsill. A new chill ran up your spine from the contrast.

"Just hold me close."

Cassian chuckled: "That I can do."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in as you snaked your arms around his middle. You buried your nose into his neck and breathed him in. The scent of the bed sheets you had been sharing still clung to him. You rubbed your cheek against the soft material of his shirt.

You recognized the familiar pressure of a kiss being placed upon your head. A smile tugged at your lips through the haze. Meanwhile, the radio kept playing that same slow melody.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

You closed your eyes and sighed.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

At first discreet, you started swaying.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Cassian's chest rumbled against your own as he chuckled.

"You want to dance?" he asked.

You noticed the smile in his eyes when you met his gaze.

"It's been a long time," you pointed out.

"It has been," he agreed. "Too long."

He pulled you in to peck your lips. Then, not looking away, his hands traveled to your waist. Your own fingers laid upon his shoulders.

Cassian led your movements, swaying and spinning you to the rhythm of the crackled music. He guided you away from the window to the center of the room.

For a moment, everything was normal. You were with Cassian. You were dancing. You were happy.

You smiled when he pulled away to make you turn under his hand, fingers never completely letting go. When you spun back to him, he enveloped you in his arms, your back pressed against his chest now.

You peeked at him over your shoulder. How you had missed to see him smile with that playful glint in his eyes. Your heart ached. You could not imagine anyone else in his shoes. Only Cassian could make you feel at home so suddenly.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and you came to a still. The melody quieted. It was over.

But you refused to move. Your eyes locked with Cassian's.

"Please tell me it will all be worth it."

He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"It will."

You spun to face him once again and buried yourself into him. You never wanted to let go. Cassian was your home.

You remembered the days and nights in Ferrix. You remembered the times he would disappear and leave you worried; the days he came home covered in bruises, the nights you spent cleaning them. You remembered the evenings spent drinking in bars with friends, the melodies that swept you off your feet, the hearts in Cassian's eyes.

You could not help but miss it all.

"Let's go sleep," he offered, voice quiet and tender.

You nodded, nose pressed against his shoulder. After a final squeeze, you let him go. Cassian turned off the radio. The safe house was once again just as quiet as the city.

Holding your hand, Cassian led you to the bed. He lied down next to you and covered you with the sheets. After pulling his pillow close to yours, he pressed one last kiss against the back of your hand.

"Goodnight," he whispered into your skin.

"Goodnight."

Your palms rested onto the warm mattress, the soft material of your pillow welcoming you. A shiver ran along your arms and up your spine. You could feel Cassian's every breath against your neck. But you were not cold. You were comfortable, at home in the arms of the man you loved. And you did not wish to move.

Everyone was asleep. Everyone including you.

. . . there he was again, trying to reach you through your encrypted comlink. it’s his fourth time trying to contact you this week, and your fourth time ignoring him.

you’d met cassian andor at a club after work. you’d been hoping to let loose after yet another stressful day at the imperial security bureau. you weren’t even supposed to be caught in a place as rank and low as a nightclub, but there you were, job be damned, sitting at the bar and checking out any man that passed by you. he’d slid over to your side, introducing himself as varian skye; the two of you hit it off right away. one drink led to another — one thing led to another — and the next thing you knew, it was morning time and he was gone, leaving you nothing but a cheeky note thanking you for the intel you’d given him on the empire.

you’d unintentionally became an inside spy.

you could’ve stopped. you could’ve kept the whole shameful night as a secret you’d have to carry for the rest of your life. you could’ve left varian skye behind. but you didn’t. when you got a strange call through your comlink a week later, you answered, your heart stuttering at the sound of cassian’s voice. he asked you to be an informant. his informant, he said. you agreed before he could even try to sweeten the deal. his voice was all the persuasion you needed to defect. it wasn’t like you’d ever held on strongly to imperial values anyways.

two days after that call, he came by your place and stayed the night. one thing led to another, again, though this time when you woke the next morning, his body was still holding onto yours. he left after breakfast, then, two weeks later, called you for information before coming back over. the cycle repeated, again and again — a cycle of giving away secrets, then desperately mimicking domesticity with a rebel you hardly knew. you grew closer to cassian with each visit, eventually even learning his real name (and mocking him over his fake one). cassian learned about you, too. your past, your family, your scars, what you liked and disliked… “you get more interesting each time i stop by,” he murmurs playfully one night, leaning over to kiss your forehead before sleeping.

things weren’t perfect. it never could be, given the circumstances. but you both were content enough with what you had and with each other — at least until the imperial security bureau had started targeting you. it began with a check of your things one morning, a “spontaneous security check”. then suddenly there were new people walking the same routes as you when you’d make your way home. a new face appeared in the office across from you, their smile not entirely friendly and their eyes far too calculating. you decided to cut contact, at least for a while, for the sake of you both. it was something you wouldn’t cave on.

something you shouldn’t cave on.

as much as you shouldn’t, when cassian tries to contact you for the fifth time, you cave.

“i’ve been dealing with other informants, you know,” he hisses out as soon as you accept his call. he’s upset, rightfully so, and you can almost see his furrowed brows and annoyed look.

“how’s that going for you?” you ask, glancing out of one of your windows and taking in the setting sun.

“poorly,” cassian spits out, “what’s the deal? we had an agreement.”

“they’re everywhere, cassian,” you murmur into your comlink, turning away from your window, “spies. not just for me, not anymore, but for everyone. it’s getting darker here, in the empire. it’s not safe to talk, even now. i’ve been marked. half my department’s been marked.”

he pauses before responding. “you think they bugged your com?”

“they might’ve. i don’t know —” you begin, only to be cut off by cassian on the other end.

“i’ll be there in ten minutes.”

you frown. “are you listening to me? i said it’s not safe, i’ve been targeted! i can’t tell you anymore about the emp—”

“don’t test me. hang up your com,” cassian orders.

“you’re ridiculous.”

he scoffs, “and you’re in danger. i’m on my way.”

he said ten minutes, but he arrives at your door in eight, his hair messy and his brows tightly knit together as he looks you over. he takes hold of your arms, holds your hands briefly before letting go.

“i’m getting you out of here,” cassian mutters, “pack. now.”

“they don’t have anything on me.” regardless, you move to your bedroom, looking for a suitcase. you’d pack up just to ease his nerves, then talk him down if you could.

“you don’t know that. no suitcases — kriff’s sake, essentials,” cassian says, running a hand through his hair before walking over to you, “we’re leaving tonight.”

“i never said it was so bad i had to evacuate, cassian! if i leave, i can’t come back,” you protest, turning to face him.

“then don’t come back! stay with me, be safe.” cassian grabs hold of your shoulders, keeping a firm grasp on you as if you could disappear at any time. “look, this, us, we are more than just bodies looking for comfort, we’re something real. not just the sex but the comfort. the breakfasts, the talking, the way you smile at me and the way i hold you, it’s all real. it’s real to me.”

he leaned down, his eyes meeting yours. his gaze was intense. fraught, and yet almost reverent. he looked at you as if you held the stars in your eyes. “the empire has taken almost everything from me. even more than you know. i won’t let them take this too. you’re coming with me,” he insists, cupping your cheeks in your hands. he stares at you, waiting for a reply, biting his lip and hoping you don’t push him away.

you nod some, “okay, cassian.”

his voice, shaky and desperate, was all the persuasion you needed.