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senselessviolets · 11 days

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"Don't wanna be alone."

Roman Roy x Fem!Original Character

Rated T (Angst/Feels, Drabble)

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS:

Cursing, canon typical humor, descriptions & themes involving PTSD/depression. Roman is kind of a dick.

Author's Notes:

Heavily inspired by "Calling U Back" by The Marías. I realized there was some unintentional overlap between this fic and the headcanons about being Rome's assistant that I made so shared universe I guess? /s

Set during Caroline's Wedding in Italy at the end of season 3.

Summary: After a business trip in Turkey ended with her and her boss being held hostage, personal assistant Maxine Lee has some big questions to ask herself; why has he now gone cold on her? Will they be able to work through these unresolved feelings? And most important of all---is the paycheck really worth it?

I could feel two hazel beams searing into my back as I stood across the party from him. There was nothing that stated in the e-vite he forwarded me that I was to be his armpiece for Italy. And yet, Roman’s unshakeable gaze nearly had me feeling guilty or at the very least—unresolved. I knew jetsetting was going to be a part of the job and my brief stint in PR for the luxury fashion label ALMEN had gotten me well acquainted with travel of the sort. Instead of preparing statements for reporters about the brand’s upcoming collection for the spring-summer season; I was having to be a pincushion for the World’s Wealthiest Brat/Fuckboy.

It was a rather impromptu thing in the beginning. My father had gone to Wharton with Waystar’s CFO Karl Mueller and according to him; they “go way back.” Funny how Karl’s name had never once come up until his youngest daughter needed a cushy job in the city. All because someone (me) had to bite off a little more than they could chew.

“It’s, uh, nice that you stuck around even after the whole Turkey…thing,” Cousin Greg emphasizes, using his hands.

The briefest mention of Turkey had my stomach doing flips. I didn’t speak to Roman for weeks after. Beyond the now bi-weekly video calls with my therapist; I became something of a recluse. I didn’t dare to leave my apartment. The meals I did remember to have were left at my doorstep. I convinced myself this leave of absence was helping me cope and all it was doing was prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later, I was going to have to face him even though the last time he would’ve seen me, my face was hot and wet with tears. Tears I’d done everything to keep from spilling over.

There was just so much uncertainty at that moment. Being the lone female companion on that trip left me more vulnerable. In ways that Roman, Karl, or Laird weren’t or would ever think about. Beyond that, I was the most objectively expendable member of the group. I wasn’t a big-name banker like Laird, much less a high-level exec like Karl. If I were them, I would without a doubt choose me first to get thrown overboard if it came down to it.

I wouldn’t fucking think twice about it, in fact.

But Roman, as powerless as even he was at that moment, did everything he could to assure me that wouldn’t be the case no matter what. He was sweet. Why’d he have to be so fucking sweet? There were a couple of nights I’d spent awake in bed, eyes trained on the dark ceiling above me asking myself that same question over and over again until I either drifted off to sleep or the ache in my heart dissipated. Usually, it was the first one.

“It’ll…um…no, d-don’t…don’t cry. Please. You’re gonna be okay, w-we’re gonna be okay actually. Yeah. I mean, w-we got Laird. He’s like a fucking behemoth. And I know he sorta…got pulled away but we do have Dave. Dude is jacked. Y’know Colin? My dad’s security? Dave’s that but not as scary. We’d be covered. We a-are covered. We got you, Max. I got…,” he assured, almost rhythmically, “...I’m gonna…make sure you stay okay, okay?”

Was it incredibly verbose and clumsy? Yes.

Did it make me feel any better in that moment? Somewhat.

It was something to hold onto when there wasn’t anything else; it was something. I remember feeling weak and sick. All these powerful men occupying various corners of this decadent hotel lobby and here I am; a little girl dabbing snot into her sweater sleeve like I was eight years old again, legs criss-crossed in the church pews during my mom’s funeral service. Being utterly alone had been the bane of my existence for some time. Not just simply being by myself as I actually preferred that a lot of the time. Some mindless Netflix binge and takeout was enough most nights. “Utterly alone” to me meant being nothing in the eyes of the people around you. An organism, a space-filler—being interminably interchangeable. Roman had done what he could to assure me I was the opposite at my most terrified.

Though I didn’t owe him anything and I was on his payroll and a result, had received the fruits of my labor—I felt innately that I was indebted to him. An entire year later I had still yet to rid myself of this feeling. There was a heaviness to it. It usually occupied any prolonged gaps of silence in between our conversations. It was tangible to me but I often wondered if it was for him too.

I figured it was; otherwise, he might not be as much of a hellish prick as he had been to me lately. He’d spontaneously request revised versions of the business plans he’d drafted. Late into the night, he’d call me, harshly demanding I send over the revisions. At a certain point, I realized he wasn’t even checking to see if I had sent them or not. Like he just needed somebody to bitch out for the hell of it. I remember when I shrewdly accused him of doing so during one of his random calls, this one occurring around 2 AM.

“Do you even read my fucking notes? I feel like you don’t otherwise I wouldn’t be fuckin’ calling you at odd hours of the night to remind you to do your fuckin’ job.” he chastises, in a voice that’s made gravelly due to the phone and fatigue.

I was calling from my bed, propped upright by some pillows with my bedside lamp turned on. Likewise, I could tell Roman was sprawled out on his mattress due to the shifting of the bedsheets the mic picked up. The sound of sleep was always palpable in his voice.

“Well, if you bothered checking if I’d sent them over before calling to bitch me out for not sending them at all; it could save us both the fucking headache, yeah?”

“...lookit you, being all big-bad-bitch out of nowhere. Was wondering when I was gonna bring that outta you. I’m legit so proud of you right now, Max. Keep killing it, Kween!” Roman taunts, “Makes you wonder where this Max was when we were living it up in Turkey way back. Okay, okay, if you can admit right now that the only reason you were putting on the waterworks then was that you were weeping over the possibility of losing your meal ticket…I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”

What kind of twisted ultimatum was that?

Unfortunately, my throat becomes too dry all of a sudden and I’m unable to question what possessed him to ask such a fucked up thing this late at night. Instead, I’m only able to bid him a choked-up farewell and hang up.

“...I-I’ll send you my next round of revisions soon. I appreciate the follow-up call. Thank you, Roman. Have a good night.”

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Roman could be incredibly cruel with his words when presented with the opportunity to be. I’d had a litany of expletives hurled at me over the most minor of mistakes. That’s not even including the constant sexual innuendo but even he had the common sense not to push things too far with that. For all of his kindness; there was always an edge. Gestures of appreciation were undercut with sarcastic comments and name-calling. “Thank you” was most commonly followed by a well-timed “fuck you” or “fuck off” if he wanted to evoke his father’s bitterness.

This was by all means the norm.

But that’s why Turkey had been so different. That’s why it had been sitting in my craw so strangely these twelve-odd months. Sure, he had been trying to keep things light-hearted and get a smile, better yet a laugh, out of me since things were so dire. However, there was no “edge” to be found. No rug to be pulled out from under me and him to snicker at.

Cliche sure, but I could just feel the difference.

I could feel him trying to make a genuine connection which I’d come to surmise was typically quite difficult for him. Then again that seemed to be the case with most who shared his status; especially his siblings. His little-spoken-of partner Tabitha was evidence of this failure to connect. As were his handful of Raya dates that ‘never panned out’.

He was my boss. I was his first-ever assistant; meant to ‘help him acclimate to the increased levels of responsibility he hoped to gradually take on.’ At least that was how Ms. Kellman further described the position in my follow-up interview. While having Waystar’s General Legal Counsel conduct my second job interview was beyond intimidating, I was under the impression she was attempting to mentor him. Clearly, the two had history and that was none of my concern. Though I’d be lying if I’d said I hadn’t thought about asking her what his deal was. If he’d ever been the way he was at the hotel in Turkey to her. Maybe he had.

Or maybe she wouldn’t know a serious, genuine Roman if he was looking her dead in the eyes.

He was a confounding person who contradicted himself all too often. It made him impossible to decipher sometimes and intolerable to be around other times. And yet, I was stuck making the same mistake I suspected many individuals that came before me had too made; trying to make sense of this person named Roman Roy while at my core hoping that maybe he’d break through and be better.

If not for me or his would-be-girlfriend or his deeply flawed family—at the very least for himself. Because regardless of all he’d said or all he’d done, it’s what he deserved.

End.

{ Feedback is always welcome! Let me know if you want to see a follow-up to this! <3 }

#roman roy x reader #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy smut #roman roy x you #roman roy succession #succession fanfic #succession x reader #succession hbo #succession #roman roy

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senselessviolets · 13 days

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"So come on, mess me up."

Cassian Andor x Fem!Original Character

Rated M (Smut/Angst)

Word Count: 4.1k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Unprotected sex, age gap/difference, power imbalance, rough sex, oral (f recieving), taunting, lots of arguing.

Author's Notes:

Song title (and fic very loosely inspired by) "Come On Mess Me Up" by Cub Sport. I'd let this man snap me in half like a toothpick, what more can I say?

Nyla Haccard is the 23-year-old daughter of a high-profile senator from Ralltiir and has secretly joined the Rebel Alliance fight against the Empire. She figures her overly-protective mother would annihilate her for joining the band of rebels, but Nyla knows she'd absolutely implode if she knew the kind of man her daughter had been working closely with for months now.

There was something delectably frustrating about him. It was innate as if his sole purpose in life was to throw me off balance. Our relationship hadn’t begun to take shape until we started being assigned to the same missions. We were efficient and always managed to get the job done relatively unscathed. Our case officer, General Draven, saw value in Cassian taking someone like me under his wing. I’d shown enough promise or they wouldn’t have recruited me in the first place. My family ties to the Senate gave me access that they couldn’t afford to lose.

We represented Ralltiir, hailing from a long line of masons who became wealthy mining the endless deposits of marble embedded in the planet’s core. Regardless of what riches we’d come into; a long successful lineage was the truest indicator of wealth in the Inner Core. It’s why my parents shelled out every last cent they had to send me and my five other siblings to the finest educational institutes across the galaxy. My brothers and sisters all attended university on Coruscant. They dreamed of securing cushy jobs in the Senate all the while playing dress-up as politicians. I made a point of getting as far away from that way of life as I could, begging my mother and father to let me attend Theed University on Naboo. I’d said I wanted to pursue the arts and embrace my creativity. Of course, this was all a lie and a cover to join the Rebel Alliance in the fight to overthrow the Empire.

It was a relatively simple facade to maintain. Due to me being the ‘middle child’ and the most average of the family, I was able to fly under the radar rather easily. The vast amount of space in between us didn’t hurt either. I would have to take the occasional holotransmission and pray they couldn’t hear the loud metal clanking sounds of X-Wings being repaired in the background. Every family gathering—a bornday, Life Day, or some Imperial soiree—was an opportunity. At least that’s what General Draven told me back when I initially joined. Did part of me feel some intense pang of guilt in my stomach every time my mother would wrap me in a big embrace, knowing I was secretly siphoning intel off of her personal datapad?

Of course. But that was a small price to pay for the cause.

Gods know people had given up far more to get to where we are now. Cassian never let me forget that. Any hint of ungratefulness from me and he’d chew me out like there was no tomorrow. This latest briefing was no different. Me, him, and several other rebels were summoned at mealtime. We were meant to be discreet and to keep things strictly on a need-to-know basis which Cassian also hounded me for on the way to the briefing.

“...Draven means it, Ny. He does not want any chatter about this. It stays on the ground floor so no gossiping to your friends about it. Do you got it?” he chastises.

“Oh, I’ve got it,” I say, my eyes finding their way to the ceiling, “Thanks for the much-needed reminder though.”

I pivot through the doorway of the mostly vacant strategy room. Draven, Vesti, Amon, and Zu-Lee stand waiting quietly around the holotable. A figure adorned in white walks into view, right out of the corner of my eye.

“Senator Mothma, I-I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I say, caught off guard by her appearance.

Her presence was rare due to her being an incredibly busy woman but when she was here, you could feel it everywhere else. The energy becomes different. Things felt more certain and objectives became clearer. Mothma was more than pivotal; she was practically the lifeline of the cause.

“...how is your mother?” she asks, giving me a modest smile.

“She is well,” I nod, “Thank you.”

Draven stands up straight, casting the blueprint of an unknown building onto the holotable.

“Well, now that we’re all accounted for…let’s begin.”

///

“This is not gonna work,” Cassian mutters to himself, moments after exiting the strategy room.

I don’t think he had intended for me to hear him because when I intercept him in the hallway, Cassian feigns ignorance.

“What did you just say?” I frown.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, even quieter.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be like that,”

“Don’t be like what?”

“Like a damn child! If you’ve got a problem with something, how about you speak up and come at it like an adult? Instead of this grumbly mumbly shit you love to pull whenever something doesn’t go your way,”

I can see something snap behind his eyes. I’m sure being deemed a child by someone so much younger than him had to be a major blow to his ego. He takes me by both shoulders and pulls me out of the flow of foot traffic and over to the side. We’re better secluded in the nook we find ourselves in. He briefly looks over his shoulder, ensuring we haven’t caused any disturbance.

“I’ll have you know I didn’t have any expectations for this mission! Any! I didn’t know what base we were meant to infiltrate or which Imperial Officer we were supposed to track down!” Cassian says through gritted teeth, “How could I have any idea what this would entail?”

“Gods, you know what I mean. Just say you don’t think I can handle it. Just say you don’t think I’m good enough for the job—”

“You know that’s not how I feel!” “Then stop acting like that’s how you feel, asshole!”

I storm away from Cassian, not giving so much as a glance back at him. But suddenly my movements are halted and I find a firm hand around my wrist. It’s tight, not enough to hurt or bruise but hard and swift enough to send a shockwave throughout the rest of my body.

“Let go of me,” I say, lowly.

I hardly struggle. His jaw is clenched and brown eyes attempt to pry open my soul. We’re so close, that our breaths repel off of each other. A loose lock of umber-colored hair falls in front of his face—just above his eyelashes—and I try to suppress any sort of expression that follows. I’d be panting from the sheer tensity of the argument but pride tells me to keep it together. I can’t afford to unravel in front of him. Then I’d only be confirming his seemingly preconceived notions of me; that I’m not good enough.

That I’m not cut out for the job.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” I yell, far too loudly.

Silence overtakes the hallway and several passerbys stop in their tracks. I recognize one of them being a sentry from the recon-tower above base. He must be off for the night. I bet this altercation he’s just witnessed will worm its way into his and his pals’s topics of discussion in the Mess Hall later on. My mind is going a mile a minute. I can feel the blood thumping in my ears and the warm red hue that floods my cheeks. Embarrassment was an understatement.

“I said, let go…” I say, sighing as he releases me.

I speed off in the other direction, heading straight for my quarters. I don’t look back until I’m safe and secure behind the sliding door of my barracks. My heart still beats with vigor. A puff of air escapes my lips as I take a few steps forward and let myself fall face-first into my sleeper, groaning into my pillow. Cassian must really be that exhausting because, after a moment, I find myself drifting off.��

And away I go.

///

“Ny…Nyla? I-It’s me. Are you in there?” a haggard voice asks behind the door of my quarters, “Nyla?”

My eyes snap and I lift my head begrudgingly.

“No, I’m not. Come back later perhaps?”

“We need to talk. Sooner would be preferred,”

“Maybe I don’t care about what you prefer. Or what you want. So piss off.” I spit.

The doors slide open before I even have time to react. I scramble to my feet as a silhouette–a mere blur in my peripheral—strides towards me. I pivot so I’m facing him. In my sleep, I must have shed a few layers. I’m only left with my bare essentials; attire he’d seen me in plenty of times before aboard his ship during particularly long journeys. I’m not entirely sure how much time has passed since we last saw each other but Cassian’s still wearing the same clothes. His jaw is clenched. There’s a fervor behind his eyes.

Clearly, he came with an agenda.

“Oh, did you not hear me correctly? I believe I said…‘scram’,” I mock, making dramatic gestures in front of his face.

“Enough of that,” he grunts, “You did a real good job making a fool of yourself back there. But then again, you’ve never been the most subtle, have you?”

“Subtle? You wanna talk about subtlety? How many bodies have I had to drag out of sight because you couldn’t show some damn trigger discipline, hm? And you want to paint me as the brash, impulsive one. That’s cute,”

He paces across the room, letting his emotions drive his movement.

“I should never have taken Draven’s offer. Evidently, it was a mistake. Us being assigned together. You’re impossible. You’re immature, spoiled, selfish, and have no grasp of what we’re up against,”

“Don’t you say that! Don’t you ever say that! I know what’s at stake. I know the risks. I’m not in it for the same personal glory you are. Who are you trying to impress seriously? No, seriously. Who? The other girls on base?” I scoff, “Please. If only you knew what they had to say about you,”

“I don’t care about that,” Cassian tries to convince himself.

I saunter closer to his position. His feet stay firmly planted. He doesn’t turn away. Our eyes are locked on one another. I don’t think I’ve ever held someone’s gaze for this long, much less a man’s.

“Sure you don’t,” I say in a drawl, “...y’know, it’s a big galaxy, Cass, but word travels fast. I know your type. I know how the second you see a married woman…you do cartwheels. You’re a complete and total skeeze. Through and through,”

Something shifts within him.

“...what else…what else have you heard about me, hm? Do you think a man like me…the type of man you think I am…would be able to stand this close to a beautiful woman and not be able to resist her?”

“W-Well, I’m not married so…I wouldn’t do it for you, I don’t think,” I say, lowly.

I notice a stray piece of lint on the shoulder of his jacket. Nonchalantly, I go to brush it off of him but Cassian’s reflexes beat me to it. In a split second, his hand has encased itself around my wrist. His reaction startles me so much, that I laugh from the brief terror.

“Gods, would you relax! There was something on your jacket, I was just–”

“Don’t laugh at me like that.”

“...why not? I thought you didn’t care about what women thought of you. Mm, but maybe…maybe I’m the exception…am I just that irresistible, huh?”

I notice his eyes dart slightly down several times. It wouldn’t be until later that I’d realize he was fixated on my lips. His grip on my wrist doesn’t loosen but I’m not exactly itching to get him off of me.

“Well…,” he begins.

“Well, what, Cass?”

“...aren’t you going to yell for me to let go?”

Ignoring the heat from somewhere deep within me, I decidedly pursed my lips, simultaneously sealing my fate. Leading the way, I pull us in the direction of my sleeper. He follows along as if my wrist were his guide. I sit on the edge of my bed, scooting back until we’re both completely on it. He props himself up with his free hand, pinning my hand to the mattress. A slight roll of my hips brings my thigh right into the front of his pants. This simple manuever has rendered him breathless it seems. Those frantic eyes don’t know whether to land on my own or my lips. I choose for him, leaning upwards into a firm but passionate kiss. His eyes flutter shut and I feel his lashes brush against my own. I swear I hear the slightest rasp of a whine in the back of his throat but before I know it—his two hands have found purchase on both sides of my face. He takes charge, his tongue ghosting across mine. I swear I feel lightheaded, even though I’ve done nothing strenuous enough to warrant such a symptom.

“We…,” he moans in between kisses, “...we can’t be doing this,”

My lips find their way into the crook of his neck, grazing my teeth against the firm flesh.

“Why?” I immediately challenge, “Because you’re older…because you’re my superior…because if they found out, they’d find the nearest moon and dump me there? No chance. They don’t give a shit. Are you even listening to yourself right now?”

“Less talking,” he says slowly, dragging his cold calloused hands up my stomach, “...fuck. You’re warm.”

The fabric of my tank top catches on his fingertips and he pulls the shirt above my chest, exposing myself to him. Maybe a more decent man might take a delicate pace but Cassian wastes no time exploring my body. His hot wet mouth is everywhere. I don’t stifle my whimpers in the slightest.

“It’s wrong….it’s wrong to want the things I want from you,” he growls, mouth full of flesh.

“What do you want from me then?”

In an instant, he’s off the bed and using my hips as handgrips to tug me to the very edge so my rear is hanging limp off of it, only held up by his shoulders. It’s a swift and seductive show of strength that I quickly try to take a mental snapshot of, knowing I’ll be thinking about it later. I wonder briefly if it's a technique he mastered over the years spent with many lovers. Beyond the obvious slick gathering between my thighs, my level of excitement only blooms at the thought of what else he might have in store. He makes quick work of my bottoms, speckling my thighs with kisses all over as he traverses upwards to where I want him the most. Sometimes those kisses turn into gentle little bites. I practically squeal at the sensation, giggling as I feel him smile against my skin. I’m too shy in the moment to look down in his direction but I let my hand wander until I feel his umber locks, stroking softly when I find him. And then two chilled fingers run from the top of my mound downwards, pausing to circle my opening.

“This wet already, hm? What? Am I just that irresistible?” he playfully mocks me.

I yank on his hair roughly in protest, to which I receive a light slap on my thigh.

“Hey. Behave,” Cassian says, dipping his tongue into me.

The whine that emits from my lips is so pathetic, that I expect him to give me a hard time about it—maybe do another hilarious impression of me. Instead, he has found far more productive uses for that mouth of his. That mouth I’ve wanted to slap him because of more times than I can count. The same one I’ve fantasized about absolutely devouring me ever since we first met. It was exactly as I’d imagined it.

The heat of his tongue, followed immediately by his cool breath as he inhales before diving in again. Before he inhales me. His head locked between my thighs, driving my lower half upwards as his strong shoulders rise. Clearly, his confidence is growing. I finally am feeling bold enough to look down. All I can see is a head of hair moving rapidly, desperate to keep up with the gyration of my hips. As if he can sense me looking down, he looks up, palming around for my other hand. I give it to him and our fingers interlock.

The intimacy brings me even closer to the edge. Before squeezing my palm tightly, Cassian then brings my hand to his scalp. For a moment I’m confused but then I realize that he wants me to use both of my hands to drive his head further into my cunt. So his hair momentarily becomes reins that I use at my discretion. I’m not gentle, but I’ve more than gotten the impression by now that he doesn’t want me to be. I’m erratic. I’m frenzied. I’m certainly not doing anything to dispel the “selfish” accusation he lobbed at me maybe ten minutes prior.

That feels like a lifetime ago at this point though.

The pleasure growing from my depths is a warm and angry one. I didn’t know I could feel like this; I didn’t know I would like feeling like this. That same pleasure nearly spills over before Cassian positions me once again using my hips. This time he turns me over onto my stomach. The hand he has pressed into the small of my back keeps me in place. His other one is trying to free himself of his trousers desperately. Struggling to undo the buckle one-handed, I sit up, reaching back to offer him a hand of my own. My head bounces down onto the mattress as he swiftly pins both of my wrists to my back and with a grunt, manages to finally rip the belt and his pants off.

“Not going to lie, I figure you’d make me finish,” I pant, “...but only so you could lord it over me ‘till the end of time,”

“Oh, baby. You think I’m done with you?” The combined use of baby and the intrusion of his cock entering me have me moaning wantonly. Cassian slowly bottoms out, jutting his hips so he’s as deep as physically possible. He’s almost flattened himself on top of me, the scruff of his beard prickling at my left ear.

“Would the type of man you think I am go slow like this?” he coos, “Huh, baby? Or would he fuck you hard and rough like he paid for it?”

Cassian’s teeth nip the edge of my ear and I gasp. But the sudden punishing pace that he rails into me with practically has me winded. Every time he collides with my core, I’m left seeing stars. It’s indescribable. Like a flick of spark a flint and steel would give you. It’s hot and blinding and gone in an instant. Over and over again.

“Touch yourself if you need,” Cass rasps, “but I’m not stopping.”

He gives me back one of my hands and I immediately go for my clit. My smaller more acute thrusts are a nice contrast to his more broad, all-encompassing ones. Meanwhile, he’s now moved on to grabbing my shoulders and using those to propel himself rapidly. It’s all so blissful and brutal. I don’t want it to end but I know if he continued like this for an eternity, I’d be broken down to a speck of nothing in no time.

It was almost a guarantee that I was going to be sore tomorrow. Future-Me was probably cursing the Present-Me for allowing him to go at it so hard but that was her problem to deal with. My only objective was to finish myself off before he could. I did not want to give that bastard the satisfaction. But the scent of myself in his facial hair made me realize what a lost cause that was. Before I know it, I’m spasming around him, cursing his name in a series of sobs. My mind goes blank and I’m pliant as he continues pushing into me.

“Where d’you want me?” he says in a tone so husked I can barely understand him at first.

“Want you?”

“Want it. Where do you want it?” he reiterates.

“In me,” I murmur.

“In you? Are you sure?”

“Did I stutter?”

Cassian presses down on me hard as he cums and I groan. I can feel him throb inside of me. His hands now trace along my jaw, finally halting his movements whilst giving me a bit of reprieve. My quarters’ steady silence is soon deafening. We can hear everything; our rampant heartbeats, the wetness connecting us, the sound of skin simply brushing against skin. If he were a lover, it would be a beautiful moment. A moment of reflection, mutual understanding even. A reminder that what we were doing was okay and that we both cared for one another and we were safe.

With Cassian, these were partial truths. I have to suppress the part of me that wishes we were whole, that we had something beyond this shared neverending fight for survival. He gives me a feather-light kiss on the back of my neck. Something so tender that could only come from a partner. Maybe we could pretend. Maybe we would pretend. Show each other a brief devotion and chase off the doubts that swarmed us constantly. Outflank the regret and shame and make them both go darting off in the other direction.

Our greatest fears would fear us instead.

It was a nice escape from the happenstance. Is it strange that it wasn’t until this very moment that I fully processed Cassian being inside of me? Witnessing my most inner self. The man who I’ve wanted to punch more times than I can count. I burst out laughing at the thought.

“What? What is it?” he smiles, lifting off of me.

“Nothing,” I giggle, “It’s nothing, it’s just…you.”

I turn over, sighing a sigh that could only be sighed from a girl who’d just gotten her brains fucked out. Cassian rolls out of my bed and I’m able to finally get a good look at his physique. He’s about as toned as I’d expect him to be and his chest hair is trimmed and neat. It’s a brief spell of sightseeing as Cassian is quick to redress. I hardly have the energy to make myself neat again, instead opting to use my bedding to obscure my lower half. Once I get the notion that he’s about to depart, I stop to query him. Not because I was hoping we would cuddle afterward (I never saw him as the type), but because I was curious what kind of shenanigans he was going to get up to before we’d have to leave in the morning.

“...the U-wing. There’s some upkeep I have to do if we’re to make it off the surface successfully…for the mission,” he answers with a small smirk.

Color me surprised.

“W-Wait, so…you’re gonna let me go through with it? You’re not gonna blab to Draven like you said you would?”

“After having some time to reconsider…and to…cool off, I have had a change of mind,”

“Yeah, I wonder what spurred that,” I scoff, bringing the sheets up over my chest.

“That’s not what I meant, Ny. I-I hold out on you sometimes…because I don’t want you getting hurt. Or killed. I have a lot I carry with me but…I’d rather not add you to that list if you know what I mean,”

I swallow thickly. Finally, some insight. Some clarity into this man’s thought process and psyche. But part of me questions if it’s unveiled itself too late. The damage was done. I lean forward and swing my legs off the side of the bed, looking up at him with doe eyes. He tenderly brushes a few stray locks of hair away from my face.

“...t-that’s fine, Cass. But for this to work, I need you to believe that when the time comes and it's down to the wire and things are looking dark…that I’ll be able to handle it. Handle myself. Handle whatever gets thrown at us. I’d ask you to trust me but...we both know how little weight that word holds in this pursuit. So I’ll ask you instead…can you believe in me?”

A moment of stillness passes.

“Yes,” he says, firmly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m still not gonna do everything in my power to save your skin when the time comes. No matter how much you drive me crazy.”

End.

#cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x y/n #cassian andor x you #cassian andor #cassian andor smut #star wars smut #cassian andor x oc #cassian andor angst #star wars andor #andor series #rogue one

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senselessviolets · 13 days

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Adria Arjona as Bix Caleen in ANDOR (2022)

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senselessviolets · 13 days

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You don't believe me. I'm not the one you gotta convince.

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senselessviolets · 13 days

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Quotes from "ANDOR" which keep haunting me:

"Gets to you, doesn't it? That's what a reckoning sounds like."

"That's just love. Nothing you can do about that."

"But this time... You can't stay and I can't go."

"Power doesn't panic."

"I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude."

"Never more than twelve."

"ONE WAY OUT!"

"I've made my mind a sunless place. I share my dreams with ghosts."

"I can't swim."

"Let's call it war."

"Tyranny requires constant effort. Authority is brittle. It breaks, it leaks. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that."

"Freedom is a pure idea."

"I show you the stone in my hand, you miss the knife at your throat."

"Tell him I love him more than anything he could ever do wrong."

"The Empire is a disease that thrives in darkness, it is never more alive than when we sleep."

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senselessviolets · 14 days

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“Is it okay if I draw fanart of your fanfic?👉🏼👈🏼”

My brother in Christ we shall have a spring wedding

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senselessviolets · 14 days

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I was recently introduced to the fun little idea that Mencken seeing Roman break down in tears during the eulogy made him like WAYYYYY more attracted to Roman bc of how pathetic he seemed…and I have not known peace since.

#i fear i may be romencken-adjacent now #fuck #romencken #succession hbo

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senselessviolets · 23 days

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senselessviolets · 23 days

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How bad was dad?

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senselessviolets · 23 days

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Being Roman Roy’s Personal Assistant (and His Obsession) Would Include…

Rating M

WARNINGS:

Language, sexual tension, degradation, power imbalance, Roman being Roman weird.

Author's Notes:

Pretty self-explanatory. No uses of Y/N. Some brief RomanGerri. Very much inspired by @nanabrainrot's fic series with Pervert!Roman because it's divineeee. Highly recommend it!!

Roman never saw himself as the type to have an assistant. In fact, he was the only one of the Roy siblings to not have one. Kendall, of course, had Jess, Shiv had Sarah, and even though Connor never liked to bring it up out of fear of making him seem less earnest and hardworking to his supporters, he too had a “yes man” managing his personal affairs for him.

It was following the Hungary company retreat that Gerri offered to set Roman up with an assistant. She knew of a trusted agency that would be able to help him narrow down candidates and find a person best suited for his needs.

That person just so happened to be you.

Roman absolutely wolf-whistled at the picture attached to your portfolio when thumbing through the candidates he was matched with through the agency. Gerri made him promise not to make any untoward or inappropriate comments to you during your interview for the job. Roman saw it as a ‘woman thing’ but Gerri being legal counsel saw it as a nightmare waiting to happen.

Upon meeting with you and the hiring manager, Roman scoured the internet for any information on you. Even though all of the important need-to-know info could be found on your resume or your fucking LinkedIn profile—that wasn’t enough for him.

He tore through all of your public social media accounts, saving any particularly flattering images of you (swimsuit pictures, nightclub outings, etc.) and examining them throughout the day.

Suffice it to say, you got the job.

At first, Roman doesn’t know what to make of you. He sits you at a small desk on the opposite side of his own in his office.

Personality and demeanor-wise you’re in line with what he had wanted. Physically, he was already well-acquainted with your curves and the way certain types of clothes clung to your body.

In the long stretches of silence of you two working in the same room, he imagined briefly what you looked like underneath your clothes.

At home when it was just him and his right hand, he imagined what it’d be like to tear them off and leave them in tatters on the floor.

The better you get to know each other, the bigger his private album devoted to images of you grows.

Roman starts to pry into your personal life, asking if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Then he makes random passes at you throughout the day. Having worked with a wide array of smarmy, gross men in the past—you were hardly phased. Because a part of you sees through the facade. You know he just wants to rile you up—to get a reaction out of you.

You realize after a while that he wants you to be repulsed by him.

This incites something within you.

Roman starts dragging you to one-on-ones with investors and having you sit in on board meetings, much to the annoyance of many.

Shiv tells you (jokingly) to run before you wind up being chased down the hallways with a chainsaw.

While waiting together outside of a rather important meeting with many high-level executives, Greg informs you of a rumor that Roman has a dick pic circulating the office. But that in particular—he had meant to send it to you.

You don’t know how to feel.

These forced attendances at random meetings turn into becoming his designated armpiece for public events and parties.

At one of them, Stewy taunts Roman, saying you’re not the only woman he pays to touch him.

You laugh loudly at this joke which surprises them both. You crack a few of your own at Roman’s expense. Some are based on fiction, the others in fact. The shame floods his cheeks but the way he grips tighter at your waist tells you to keep going. To get meaner. So you do. You get a lot meaner.

Roman’s jaw clenches for a moment. Then his lips part. You convince yourself it's just a buzz from the drinks you’ve just had; that you did not just shit-talk your boss into arousal.

But the clumsy way Roman adjusts his stance, the subtle outline of something forming at the front of his pants, and how he excuses himself to the bathroom says otherwise.

The text you receive moments later from his number confirms this; “You know what you did, you fucking bitch.”.

It’s your direct reply to that message though that makes his breath hitch;

“Show me then, you sick fuck.”

End.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

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#roman roy x reader #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy smut #roman roy x you #roman roy succession #succession fanfic #succession x reader #succession hbo #succession #roman roy

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