“I’m just asking this one thing of you.” Her voice was calm, but it wasn’t enough to cover the storm that raged inside of her. He already knew what she was going to ask. To be frank, he’d been waiting for it, had thought it’d happen every time they locked eyes. But she’d given him the silent treatment, waiting for him to make the first move and explain. He hadn’t caved in, not to the coldness in her eyes or the stubborn tilt of her jaw. Yet. Apparently she’d run out of patience.
“Why do you keep pushing me away? Be honest with me.” Honest. That word alone drove a hundred needles into his skull. If there was one thing he sucked at, it was honesty, especially if it concerned people he loved. Especially if it led to him admitting to a weakness. Admitting to fear.
“Every time I think I managed to get through to you, it’s like you never heard me at all. It’s like you don’t even try to listen. You’re not making an effort.” How very wrong she was but that too was something she could not know. Something he could not say out loud because words had a funny way of backfiring and making things even worse.
“You’re right. I’m not making an effort. I don’t want to. I don’t care.” Her face fell and his heart sank. What kind of person was he to protect his own skin, to let her put her heart on the line and not give anything in return?
“I think you do,” she said quietly. “I think you see where this is going and you’re scared so you’re trying to make me leave on my own. But I won’t. I won’t leave you no matter how often you push me away.”
“You want me to be honest?” She nodded and straightened, throwing her shoulders back. Every inch of her was attentive.
“I fall in love hard and fast. It takes as much time for me to fall out of love. I open my heart, I get attached, everything is fine until it isn’t. Until someone ends up breaking my heart or I break theirs and it always ends in fights and screams and tears and I’m sick of it.” Without noticing his hands had balled into fists. Heat rose in his cheeks. Never had he meant to lose control like this. His tone softened. “If I don’t risk anything, I don’t lose. That’s it. It’s not your fault.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed, gentle but firm.
“But you don’t know how it ends before you start, do you? You cannot possibly know.” Every part of him wanted to pull away, had to pull away, but he couldn’t. He’d been running for so long, struggling so hard, twisting and winding and always escaping. But he was tired. His very soul was tired.
“Because if you don’t risk anything, you can’t win, either,” she whispered, pulling him closer and closer until the only thing he wanted to be was honest with her. Until he no longer wanted to escape.
Light of All Lights - A Fairy Tale in Five Parts (1/5)
Notes: This fic would not nearly be what it is without @caprelloidea‘s handholding, encouragement and keen eye. She’s the best, I think you all agree. Based on a picset posted by @bleebug, encouraged by @its-imperator-furiosa‘s enthusiasm for the idea, and written with @queen-mabs-revenge in mind. There is nothing explicitly dominate/submissive about this, but there are borrowed elements of that dynamic.
Summary: When his ship crashes onto a secluded island after a storm Killian “Deckhand Hook” Jones finds himself the unlikely companion to the dark “goddess” who inhabits it. A fairy tale in three parts.
Rating: Explicit for whoa smut in the later chapters. Some mild violence.
Thunder cracked in the sky above, the entire ship tremoring and shuddering with the force, and not a blink later purple silver lighting flared brilliant white in the crew quarters. The storm was upon them.
Starkey crowed as Hook threw up an arm, his hammock swinging violently, almost pitching him to the deck, the flinch happening before he could check himself.
“Oh no not the raaain,” came a high pitched mocking voice from somewhere in the black darkness of the cabin. Probably Evans. Loud raucous laughter followed, but Hook ignored it, their mocking jeers the least of his concerns as the thunder boomed again, the ship pitching with the force of another wave.
Hook squeezed his eyes tighter, his hand clenched at his side to still the shaking.
It wasn’t that he was scared of storms persay, but bumpy seas always meant no lanterns could be lit, all fires must be extinguished, and the crew quarters were pitch black save for the flashing lighting in the portholes. It wasn’t that he was scared of the dark either, but he definitely preferred the light. He was also quite sure they were all going to die, and like most things in his life, he was terribly afraid of death.
“‘Maybe ‘e’s worried ‘is hook will rust,” came another voice. “Then how’ll he lay about scratching his arse the useless twat?” The laughs came again, the pounding rain at least drowning them out a tad. Thunder cracked once more, and in unison the men all shrieked in mock terror.
“Not me hair!” Came a cry.
“B-b-b-bloody hell,” came another. They laughed again. It was an old game, the same old insults, the same mocking jeers.
Hook continued to ignore them, a decade and then some of practice helping him along, focusing on his breath, on maintaining his place in the swinging hammock as the ship rocked and swayed beneath him. If he fell on his face in front of them again, it would only make it worse.
T’əq’ədiʔac or kʷaləgʷac, in Lushootseed. (Or, tsuga heterophylla: the western Hemlock pine.)
I love this tree. Specifically this one. It’s right outside my window. Finches, by the tens and twenties (of different species), come to perch and chatter and visit in this tree during the spring. The deep green of their branches and needles practically shimmers on a sunny day, and the way they hang and twist in the wind always makes me think of long, intricate braids ended with equally intricate beads.
Basically, time is a big circle, a loop. Everything is predetermined, and the three-eyed raven knows all the events in this big loop and how they are connected.
So the three eyed raven knew Bran would make the mistake of touching the wrong tree root and will end up in front of the white walkers. He also knew that once that happens, his time will be up and Bran will have to “become” him. He knew then, that the white walkers will come for Bran, he’ll be killed by the wight king and Hodor will ultimately help Bran and Meera escape by holding the door.
So the three-eyed Raven takes Bran to Winterfell in the past, where Bran can come face to face with Hodor of the past. Time is a big loop, and by taking Bran in the past, the raven connects the present and past to each other.
Bran is somehow, in the middle of the past and present.
When the appropriate time comes, the three eyed raven encourages Bran to “listen” to Meera. So Bran does. He understands he has to warg into Hodor so that Hodor can help them. Bran’s act of warging into Hodor, connects Hodor’s past and present selves. Making the loop something like this:
So when the present time Hodor, hears Meera say “hold the door”, and starts to stop the door from opening, the past time Hodor can hear her too. And not just hear, but sort of experience it. Warging definitely has a toll on the person, but this warging is extreme, as it is across two different times. The extremity of it, screws up with Hodor’s brain in the past, who is somehow experiencing his last few moments without really realizing what is happening. He keeps hearing ‘Hold the door’ and the extreme experience of holding the door against the white walkers as they hurt him, has such a psychologically damaging effect on Wylis, that he ends up saying ‘Hodor’ for the rest of his life, and the growth of his brain stops, and he basically goes kinda insane.
Summary: After Bucky’s night terror episode he is ashamed and avoids y/n. y/n, not liking to be ignored, makes Bucky talk things out with her. Bucky and y/n go for a walk through the park and get bubble tea and climb a tree in the middle of the night and have deep convos. They get closer as friends.
A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 66 pages. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know.
The thunder and pelting rain drowned out every other noise, and emphasized the menacing black storm clouds that engulfed you as you continued to plummet to your untimely demise below. The empty pit in your stomach grew larger and larger with every second that you continued to free fall down to the foreign entity below you. Your arms grasped uselessly at the open sky surrounding you in a futile attempt to gain balance. The harsh strike of lightning was accompanied by the contorted flapping of your dead, birdlike wings, feathers being twisted by the wind. At most you had thirty seconds before you would be reduced to an undignified pile of blood and feathers on the earthen floor below you.
I’m going to die like this.
Tears combined with the relentless onslaught of rain to blind your vision. Your lungs began to fight for air as the chemicals in your brain were released to instill a fight for survival. The suffocation of panic quickly overcame your consciousness, and a shroud of darkness enveloped your mind as the world below you began to close the distance.
“I told you I don’t play games"
The grip around the man’s throat tightened as his attacker threatened him, baring his thin, sharp canines that identified him as a latent monster.
"I- I said I wasn’t lying. I- I swear,” the hostage choked out, clawing at his assaulter’s wrists in a feeble attempt to relieve the pressure against his throat.
“You willingly came here, among the den of vampires, risking your life to tell me a shitty, useless piece of information like that and expect me to believe it?” The inhuman eyes narrowed as the attacker raised the man against the wall, his shorter legs kicking in desperation.
“I- s-saw her with my own eyes” the man strained his voice as he wheezed for air.
“Too bad for you I don’t believe something until I see it for myself.” His grip tightened in an attempt to fatally suffocate his victim, but seconds before the oxygen was cut off entirely, a panicked knock came at the metal door sealing off the abandoned, empty room.
The grip around the victim’s neck released as the taller man sighed disappointedly and ruffled his neon crimson hair.
“What in God’s name is it now?” The man turned away from the gasping heap on the ground as he walked to the door, “I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed unless the place is on fire or money is falling from the sky."
"About that sir,” the recipient on the other side of the door croaked nervously. The red-haired man swung the iron door open as the henchman continued.
“we’ve found her.”
The vampire’s face morphed from one of mischievous anger to one of seriousness in an instant.
“We located the fallen angel.”
A/N:So this is my first series! I’ve written a few drabbles here and there that I’ve posted to my old blog but I’ve decided to begin anew! (rip me) Things are somewhat complicated/confusing in the beginning but I promise everything will be explained in due time. (Thought the world could be made better with s’more vampire!Chanyeol, and my brain decided to say “Why stop there?” and made reader an angelic being so ENJOY) <3
UPDATE: If anyone has any questions concerning the setting, I got the inspiration from the Monster and Lotto MV’s so feel free to watch those if you’re confused~
Who would pay me for the last flicker of youth
Relentlessly wasted in the library
As if in a prison, between bookshelves?
Sometimes I find that
I act under an impression
That I am deathless
That’s what justifies anyway
A meticulous savouring of dust,
A goalless crawling
In an invisible glass jar
While in the sky a nonexisting shepherd
Or better yet a cowboy
Lashes clouds sheepishly drifting from the West to the East
With a twisted whip of the wind.
Who would pay me for all the time wasted,
And in what currency?
If only with glass beads,
If only with empty shells and rotten apples,
If only with stubs of pencils
Chewed while reading.
If only with all the precious stones in the universe–
And I will think
If I can accept it.
A parallelogram of the table
Covered with a white fabric;
A branch of pale purple lilac
Sits in a vase,
The glass is magnifying bubbles on the stems;
In the crystal-clear water, a beam is playing as a gold fish
And projects a dispersed rainbow spectrum onto the gray wall.
On the table there is a thin porcelain cup
With a tea trembling catching a reverberation of steps
Of a poet, a balding dandy;
A woman in a white dress, with a high hairdo,
Hugs her knees sitting on a low sofa,
And smokes a long-gone long cigarette,
Turning it slowly into ash;
The picture darkens on the edges and starts burning;
The movie ends; the tape abruptly tears;
The nineteenth century reaches its destination;
Trains are in the tracks; the rail road
Smells like iron, blood, and saliva,
And, as I leave the library,
The clouds are different.
You can leave and board a plane to France. Right now. You can get the wildest haircut you can imagine. You can go out in public dressed like you’re from the eighteenth century. When a song you love comes on in a store you can dance like you’re a twist of the wind, and smile as strangers watch.
You can pack up and live in a cottage on the highlands for the rest of your days. You can abandon everything and pursue that little dream that’s been in the back of your head since you were a child. You can open a restaurant and serve only blueberry pancakes, and nothing else. You can build yourself a gothic house complete with turrets and ebony paint and keep yourself locked away in a study gazing into a fire and absorbing words from ancient books.
You can ask out that cute person you’ve been admiring for weeks. You can change your diet completely. You can lose twenty pounds. You can wear high heels while you’re cleaning. You can refuse to wear makeup and still look absolutely gorgeous just the way you are.
Nothing is stopping you from doing these things but yourself.
You can do anything, be anything, go anywhere. It doesn’t mean it will be easy. It doesn’t mean you always have the proper funds or friends or resources, but it will mean that you will be free, you will be pursuing your dreams, you will be happy in a life that you made for yourself just the way you like it.
You are not obligated to the life you are living now. You are not tied to it. You can leave at any time. You are separate, you have choices. So many choices. So many options.
This life is your dream, and you are in control of it. If you don’t wish to stay locked in a drab, dull life for the rest of your days, you can leave at any time. Any time.
The Raven Boys is wonder- old woods and changing and magic. It’s desperate, the world pulling you outwards when you want to be in. It’s waiting for the weekend, waiting for signals, for signs, for something different. It’s a beat that catches, that swirls in the air, that twists and turns and winds it’s way into spaces you never realised were empty. It’s wide eyes searching skyward, mouths ajar, feeling new. It’s the promise of something bigger, dust in your lungs, breathless, gasping, help me’s into silence. It’s being saved without wanting to be, reproachful, I don’t know what to do, abandoning somewhere you thought was home. It’s reaching out and finding nothing to touch, things you can’t explain, I’ve been dead for six years, that’s all there is. It’s whispering questions into freezing air and finding the world tumbling in your breath.
The Dream Thieves is smashed glass, blood splattered floors, dialling a number that won’t pick up. It’s sunlight falling through air, hiding hurt behind shaking hands and averted eyes, broken, shattered, fix me. It’s dark water, dark laughter, dark eyes, dark hearts- children dragged into existence, into life, into more. It’s smashed fists and dirt-caked finer nails, secrets kept and moments analysed. It’s creation, madness, impossible, longing, enchanted, I don’t want your pity. It’s brothers, the ones you choose, chaos and shielding arms, what would they do to me? It’s clenched jaws, blood stained smiles, hooded eyes, the world as a nightmare. It’s falling through broken air, claws at your throat, fire at your feet, engulfing, scorched rooftops, rain falling from the earth and up and back down again. It’s releasing the controls, open eyes, empty lungs, restless hearts. It’s darkness, I’m always brave- braver than that.
Blue Lily Lily Blue is a light kicking in after a blackout, flickering shadows, dancing your hand out the window. It’s circles under your eyes, aching, something over your shoulder, I will be your hands, I will be your eyes. It’s caught breath, suffocating, thoughts becoming things becoming fears. It’s light, the absence of dark, how could you ever be lonely again, wonderful, dreamful days. It’s talking in circles, dreaming in riddles, walking down tunnels that lead to nowhere. It’s hands on a steering wheel, fingertips on fingertips, this was not allowed. It’s flowers and rosebuds and ripped skin and you let me believe, tuning everything on it’s head. It’s eyes closing into exhausted knuckles, sitting alone in the dark, finding, changing, wondering, for your hands. It’s your heart stopping or beating too fast or not at all. It’s intention, wanting, desperate, untameable longing. It’s your voice cracking in the dark and knowing someone’s beside you, ready to heal.
The Raven King is maps spread out across the floor, pin points and coordinates that don’t exist. It’s decaying, losing your grip, your own breath in your ears, rushing, drowning, running, whimpers and putting your faith into the unknown. It’s secrets kept and facts pulled out of thin air, something’s wrong, something new, something different. It’s overflowing, raging, crashing into each other, the ocean would catch fire, magic. It’s a storm made of anything but rain, alcohol soaked laughter, futures beginning, reaching for something, fining something new. It’s trembling tears, grief choked sobs, dreaming cures for tragedies that haven’t happened yet. It’s dissonance, cracked sunlight caught on sharp bones, heaving, dreadful, wonderful, panting, make it save, make it safe, make it safe. It’s endings and beginnings and fearful happiness. It’s being sick of a world without them in it, thumbs pressed into soft skin, stop me, stop me, stop me- stopped. It’s saving yourself, bending truth, unmaking, undoing, unhinging. It’s holding your hand up to the sky, longing, do you dream of the stars, slipping quietly from existence, wake up. It’s hopeful, it’s forgiveness, an endless, unwilling war. It’s impossible light, beginning and ending, beginning and ending - make way for the Raven King.
Aurora uncrossed her legs at the knock of the cabin door. Her palm rested the door knob. She could feel Blake on the other side of it. She opened the door to see Blake’s hands on either side of the door frame.
She widened the door, “Hello Sunshine.”
Blake’s clothing was new, his hair wet. She paused, a cut sliced down his collarbone and into his shirt. He must have fought through the mountain after all. His High Lord did need his help.
“May I come in?”
She opened the door, letting him pass through. His wings were gone, must be glamoured. He turned to her, his eyes impossibly dark. He had her pinned to the door, a hand on her lower back, the callouses of his fingers brushing the band of bare skin, the other lifting her chin to his mouth.
Request: “Hades/Persephone: reader is the only friend Ben ever had at his uncle’s Academy. After the fall, the Knights of Ren hunted her and brought her to Ren, at his command. She chose to remain, seeing her lost her friend in Kylo, as much as he tries to deny that. Little she knows Ben had feelings for her and Kylo Ren is selfish enough to desire to keep her by his side.”
“An interesting concept could be a Hades/Persephone story with Hades as Kylo Ren and Persephone as the reader. For Demeter i thought about Rey,but instead of being Persephone’s mother, she could be her older sister.”
“Would you be cool doing a Kylo x reader fic where reader is force sensitive and can see the future? Her village is raided but she escapes because of her ability. Kylo eventually catches her though. I love your writing.”
“Could I request an Emperor!Kylo x reader fic where the reader is the princess of a planet at war with The First Order? He ends up taking her captive after her planet loses and asks her to be his empress.”
Summary: Emperor Kylo has conquered a good portion of the galaxy at this point in his life, has unsurmountable power, a far more advanced base, surpassed his mentor and completed his training, however it’s still not enough. Recalling an old friend, one who has haunted his dreams for years, Kylo calls upon his Knights of Ren to find her and bring her to him. Though he knows it’s selfish he can’t help himself, and he tries to keep her with him…eternally.
A/N: If you have ever wondered how many requests I can bundle into one fic, well here you go haha. Yay for Greek mythology AU’s! I tried to make this as relevant to the SW universe as I could but still kept at least most of the myth in there. Also song recs if you want a creepy vibe while you read haha “Night Time, My Time” Sky Ferreira, “Rolling In On a Burning Tire” Dead Weather, “Once Upon a Dream” Lana Del Rey. Hope you enjoy the fic! :)
Ben watched as (Y/N) sat in the tall grass, whirling a stream of small leaves around her with a smile beaming like the sun that was illuminating around her. Her (Y/H/C) was highlighted with a halo like frame from the streams of light around her. Their afternoons almost always consisted of this, sitting in the fields by themselves finishing their lunches, showing off to each other with tricks of the force.
Staring at her contagious smile, Ben sighed to himself. His brown eyes were focused on her, his expression dumbfounded. (Y/N) to say the least was a luminous being. Almost everything around her seemed to come to life when she strode through. Her smile could heal the sick, her laugh restore hearing to the deaf, sometimes it seemed as though her simple touch could revive life into things that were otherwise dead and dreary. Giggling (Y/N) turned to him with her same smile.
Suddenly shaken out of his admiring gaze Ben’s brows furrowed.
“Now you show me a trick!”
Pausing he tried to think of something that would impress her. The longer he pondered however, the more his aura dropped. All of the tricks he could think of were only destructive, chaotic, things created out of anger. The older he got, the harder it seemed to be to simply be appeased with himself using only forces of the light. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. The voice in the back of his mind kept encouraging him to seek out more.
“You do know a good trick don’t you?”
Staring at the fruit in his leather clad hand as he recalled the memory, Kylo rolled the round food around his large palm with the smooth motions of his thumb. The blood red exterior satisfied him greatly, especially with the stark contrast against his black leather gloves, as well as the all dark colorless surroundings he was engulfed with. A pair of Nexus deep in slumber lying at his feet, one at each side of his throne.
Soon after he had completed his training, Kylo had carried out the ultimate task of defeating his original mentor and manipulator Supreme Leader Snoke. Though it freed him of his mental prison forced on by Snoke, it did not eleviate his destined path. He was in far too deep to be anything but solely committed to the Dark side. Now he sat on the ominos black marble throne, rigid and harsh in its design, as Emperor. He was finally the highest ranking soul of power on the Dark side, after years of dedication and torment, he had come out on top.
Relishing in the fear he scattered across the galaxy, Kylo took it upon himself to make even more alterations to the First Order and its presence. Taking his Emperial throne, Kylo decided that a palace visible to the public would not be smart for his widely scorned kingdoms preservation. Sending out patrol after patrol, he searched far and wide for a planet, similar to Starkiller, to settle his kingdom onto. Snubbing Hux’s efforts with the newly improved base, Kylo wanted something, something far more impressive for his Empire. Finally, after months of scouting around every system known to the galaxy they came upon an otherwise scarcely populated arctic planet to make their new abode.
The rolling hills of snow covered rock were seemingly deserted, deathly silent aside from the howling winds, it was like a blank canvas. Though beneath the snowy white surface, within the rocky terrain of the planet laid expansive miles of caverns. Within these grey caverns, twisting and winding through the dark, Kylo built his Emperial abode. It not only kept him concealed and protected, it added to the eerie persona he had established for himself as well as his Empire.
So one day I’m thinking, what if Feyre couldn’t stand to sleep alone when she first came to Velaris because she’s suffering from PTSD, and has to share a bed with Rhys?
Then I wrote a fanfction about it.
Here it is. Leave comments and feedback below. :))
The first night I spend in Velaris is torturous.
Rhys had flown us back to the townhouse from the House of
Wind. I bid him goodnight in the foyer and went upstairs to the room that had
been prepared for me. I quickly changed into a more comfortable pair of pajamas and
slipped into the bed so as to tumble into another episode of nightmarish dreams.
Except that I couldn’t.
I waited and waited for sleep to come but it evaded me. I
had never felt more awake. There was the lingering ache Tamlin had carved in me
by locking me up and shutting me out, but that wasn’t the reason I couldn’t
It was that dreadful feeling of paranoia creeping along my
skin. Anxiety twisted my insides, tightly winding them up so that every small
sound, every shift in the shadows, made my eyes dart around the room, expecting
to see my nightmares come to life before me.
The room was dark, since I’d blown out the candles but a bit
of light from the moon managed to shine through the windows so that everything
was basked in an eerie, soupy sort of gray.
A/N: Here it is! The third part in the Alpha Dawn series! This starts slightly before Empire Strikes Back, so maybe six months after the end of But For The Fall? The Right Thing To Do and But For The Fall can both be found here!
“Welcome to the Alliance, Captain Y/L/N.” Mon Mothma said, standing behind her desk as Y/N stood at attention across from her. It still felt strange to Y/N, the military correctness, but she was giving it her best shot now that she had finished the requisite training and was officially a member of the Alliance..
“Thank you, Senator Mothma.” Y/N replied.
“Well, we’re all busy settling in here at our new base. I’m sure you have some place to be.”
“Of course, Senator. Thank you.” Y/N gave Mothma a stiff nod before exiting the woman’s office.
Making her way down the winding, twisting halls of the Hoth base, she went in search of the group she had lovingly dubbed the Rogues. Finally arriving at the Mess Hall, she found that they had taken over a large table in the corner - Cassian, Jyn, Bodhi, Baze, and Chirrut being joined by Han, Leia, and Luke - obviously waiting for her.
“Captain Y/L/N!” Han yelled out, drawing the attention of the rest of the table to her. Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed him over until she could fit between him and Bodhi.
“I was already a captain, thank you.” Y/N replied, reaching over to grab a piece of bread from the middle of the table. “Until the Alliance wrecked my ship.”
“Yes, but now it’s official.” Jyn replied. “You’ve gone legitimate, Y/N.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Y/N said, tossing a piece of bread at Jyn’s face. Jyn caught it in her mouth and the table erupted into laughs.
“Also, I seem to remember that it was you piloting the Alpha Dawn when we crashed on this planet. So, technically, you wrecked your own ship.” Cassian replied, and Y/N rolled her eyes.
“Semantics. I was on a mission for the rebellion, therefore it’s their fault.”
“Your fault.” Han said with a wide grin. “You’re one of us now.”
“I regret this already. I resign my commission.” Y/N snapped, but couldn’t fight the small smile that appeared on her face.
“It’s so kriffing cold here.” Y/N muttered later that night, as she walked down a hall with Han. She had been lending him a hand with the Falcon, being one of the few aside from Chewie that the former smuggler trusted with his beloved ship. “I thought the engineers were working on a heat system.”
“I think the shield generator’s taking up most of their time.”
“The shield generator won’t do us much good if we all turn into Rebelsicles.”
“You’re so dramatic, Y/N.”
“Because you’re one to talk.” Y/N shot back, and Han rolled his eyes.
“I am not dramatic.”
“Oh, please. You are the definition of dramatic. Do you think no one sees how you act around Leia?”
“That was…That is not true.” Han said, but Y/N only smirked at her friend.
“Uh huh, whatever you say flyboy. You’ve got it bad for the princess, just admit it.” Y/N replied, turning on her heel to continue down the corridor.
“Y/N!” Han yelled, hurrying to catch up with her. “That is…I do not…”
“It’s okay, Han. Your secret is safe with me. And the rest of the base.”
The two continued in silence for a moment before turning the corner that led to Y/N’s quarters. Y/N stopped in place when she saw a figure leaning against the wall next to her door. Han quickly came up behind her, nearly bowling her over. He chuckled after a minute before nudging Y/N forward with his shoulder.
“Speaking of having it bad.” He muttered, before winking at Y/N and turning to go back the way he came.
“Was I interrupting something?” Cassian asked, and Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“What? Han?” Y/N asked, gesturing behind her. “Nah, he was just giving me a hard time, as usual.”
“I can go, if you want me to.”
“No!” Y/N exclaimed quickly, placing her hand on Cassian’s shoulder as she keyed in the passcode for her door. “No, of course not. Come in.”
Cassian followed Y/N into her quarters, the door whooshing shut behind them as Y/N moved to remove her heavy boots and set them by the door. Cassian followed suit, setting his down next to hers as Y/N bounced over to bed, burying her sock-covered feet under the blankets immediately.
“I hate the cold.” Y/N grumbled, and Cassian chuckled as he casually moved over to the small sofa that he had recovered from the wreckage of the Alpha Dawn when they had first begun to set up the new base. It was one of the few salvageable items from her ship, and she treasured it. “Why couldn’t we have set up on a nice beach planet?”
“If we had, you’d just complain about the humidity.” Cassian replied, and Y/N grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it in his direction. Cassian caught it immediately, fluffing it up and placing it at one end of the sofa as he stretched out. “They’ll work on improving the heating system, once the shield generator is running.”
“So I’ve heard.” Y/N replied, watching Cassian from her place on the bed. “Now are you going to come over here and warm me up or not?” She added with a smirk. After a moment, Cassian turned his gaze from the ceiling to her, a small smile on his face. He pulled the pillow out from under his head and shot it at her, Y/N shrieking and ducking the projectile. Cassian used the distraction to launch himself at her, tackling her to the bed as Y/N laughed.
Several hours later, Y/N awoke to the sight of Cassian pulling his boots back on by the door, apparently doing his best not to wake her.
“You know, for a spy you’re not very quiet.” Y/N said, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Cassian replied, moving back toward the bed. “I’ll see you at the briefing in the morning?” He asked, and Y/N nodded. Cassian stared at her for a moment, his eyes unreadable, before he dropped a quick kiss to her forehead and moved back toward the door.
“Good night, Y/N.” He added before opening the door and slipping through.
“Good night, Cassian.” Y/N replied to the empty space, twisting around until she was lying flat on her back. She and Cassian had briefly danced around one another after she had been discharged from sick bay after the crash, but they had quickly fallen into…whatever they were doing now. They were frequently occupied with missions, taking whatever brief solace they could find with each other. But neither had ever brought up any feelings or attempts to define their relationship. Y/N had asked Jyn, once, for her opinion and she had told her that Cassian was always guarded with his feelings and had refused to say anything more about her best friend. Truth be told, a relationship had never been something that Y/N had been interested in pursuing - with anyone. A situation like the one she now had with Cassian, a bit of fun and stress release when needed, was always her preference. Now, however, as she moved over to the side of the bed where Cassian had been sleeping, she found herself craving his continued presence beside her.
“Ugh, idiot. Stop it.” Y/N snapped to herself, pushing herself away and back to the side of the bed she had been sleeping on, punching the pillow into a more comfortable position and forcing herself to relax into sleep once again.
It doesn’t fucking matter if there are people in advertising who go in with the idea to be progressive and inclusive because that’s not why corporate approves those ads. They want to take your money and exploit your labor to the fullest extent they can. The ruling class and their corporations will never be our friends and until you realize that you’re just going to keep twisting in the wind and bending over backwards to excuse their rascality.