#Cold Brew Black Caf

[asparkinthestars]

Cold Brew Black Caf anyone?

[sketchupnfries]

On a trip to Batuu

Felt like finally drawing a variation of "Jedi Survivor Goes to Disneyland," but as "Cal, Merrin and BD-1 go on a trip to Batuu." I have been waiting to do another one of these "fandom goes to Disneyland" drawing things, and I finally got the chance to take some pics in Galaxy's Edge the other day during a recent Disneyland trip.

[frostbitebakery]

THERE’S ALWAYS ROOM FOR JUST DES(S)ERTS

a Gooey-Wan story

Sitrep.

Cody stares at the tableau in front of him.

Palpatine’s body has gone cold and kind of more shrivel-y, still in that terror-filled, agonized fetal position.

A mouse droid steadily bumps into the corpse as it cleanses up nightmare sludge residue. The usual wails of eternal torment and stalking mimic of the hunted under the whirring of the little droid are almost a comfort.

The galaxy is saved from a madman’s nightmare visions by his own, custom-tailored nightmares in between a lot of impressive lightsaber acrobatics and surprisingly few dismemberments, considering.

“Huh,” Fox says next to him and takes a sip from his “Second Best Commander in the GAR” mug that Cody had helpfully corrected and improved.

“There were,” Obi-Wan pauses, visibly ruminating on his next words, “a surprising amount of tookas involved in the dreams. And those little… do you recall those little fluffy critters we encountered on Therenx VI?”

“Huh,” Cody echoes. He does remember the small bear-like animals. Mainly because they tended to shoot lightning out of their fuzzy little bellies unprovoked. Perma-banning them from the Negotiator after singed eyebrows and electrocuted equipment had involved a lot of tears and attempts at mutiny secretly sponsored by Cody’s General.

“So,” Fox drawls out, “that’s it?”

General Windu frowns. “With the reveal, there are certainly more issues to be resolved. But for the moment? Yes, it seems so.”

“‘Kay. I’m going on vacation. Toodles.” And with that Cody watches Fox go away with a careless gesture.

Cody waves after him before he realizes what he’s doing. He shakes his head and turns back. “You okay?”

The pulsing, thick smoke is slowly absorbed back into the heavy cloak. Obi-Wan is flickering once in a while, the sclera of his eyes a black hole for the stars in his pupils. He drags a hand through his hair but the stubborn strands just fall back across his forehead. “That was quite the outing,” he says cheerfully. “Never did like Taungsdays very much.”

Cody raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer. He doesn’t do anything to suppress or hide the smile tugging insistently on his lips.

“Frankly, I could do with a cup,” Obi-Wan admits and cracks his back with a satisfied groan that does it for Cody very much. “I do feel a bit matte.” He tilts his head back a bit, strange, beautiful eyes seeming to stare into the galaxy’s matter itself. The black tongue laps at his lips, quick and away. “And very full. The Chancellor’s dreams provided indeed.”

The sing-song voice is back and Cody shivers despite himself. It’s…unnerving. The one thing that makes the hair rise on Cody’s arms. That tells his hindbrain that there’s nowhere he can hide, nowhere he can crawl into, nowhere to turn to, because what is looking for him can find him in ways beyond his control.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, black bleeding out of his eyes, and leans forward on his knees with another long groan. “I want a nap.”

General Windu shakes his head with a fond look, and leads him away from the body with a steady hand sinking into a smoky shoulder. “Master Mundi is bringing some trusted Senators here.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan nods and looks at Cody. “Commander,” he starts and Cody straightens instinctively as he receives the last orders from his General.

.

“Force, this is exactly what I needed,” Cody hears around the entry to the small kitchen. He takes his mug back to the living quarters and drowns in the sofa cushions next to Obi-Wan.

Nightmare sludge is happily sopping into the bowl placed under black clawed hands.

“Feel better?” Cody asks, sipping from freshly brewed caf made from real beans. The luxury feels endless. Smoke gently curls in between his fingers, dancing and playing around when he wiggles his hand.

With a mischievous smile Obi-Wan turns his head to him, burrows into his side. “Hmhm, that shower was rejuvenating.”

Cody has to agree. Feeling the grime and battle and literal nightmares washing off his skin, Obi-Wan’s skin, under hot water and hotter breath, the calming smell of the soap steaming against the tiles - it feels like a happy ending like in the holo movies.

“How are you?” Obi-Wan asks, shaking nightmares off one hand into the bowl.

“You know,” Cody tips his head against ginger hair and closes his eyes, “I feel really good.”

for @deathdovesong

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Chapter 11: Fractured

A/N: Short but intense chapter 🥹

Warnings: I am no doctor, no medic, I’m an idiot I know nothing. Don’t @ me. Blood, injury detail, intense feelings, everybody’s hurting.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Tagging: @dreamqueenkala @ravenclawbitch426

It was late. The lights in your room were at their lowest. The silence weaved in and out of every room, the medbay was dark and dead of activity. You sat bolt upright, the comlink in your hands as you stared straight ahead at your wall.

You had lost count of how many times you’d pressed the button, only to hear static in return. He was out of range, they were all out of range. Still you tried again, pressing the button and letting the crackling fill the void that threatened to consume you.

“Havoc….” You clicked off the com and swallowed against the emotion that wanted to steal your words. “Havoc-2. Do you read?” Silence. It gnawed at you, taking chunks of yourself away leaving only the worst of you behind. The longer you didn’t hear his voice, the louder your demons became. Jeering and sneering as they whispered the worst things into the darkness of your mind. Your nightmares had increased in intensity, not even the soft sounds of the Purrgil could wrestle them for you.

It was like he never existed, but he had. They all had. Tech’s stamp was all over your place, the little touches, the things he’d fixed and helped set up…throwing the covers off you braved the cold floor and went into the refresher.

The light was garish, its brightness making you squint. Catching sight of yourself in the mirror you saw the discolouration under your eyes, the flat expression on your face, but it was your eyes that made you look closer.

They didn’t look like you. Pressing a hand on the smooth surface to cover your face, you turned away with a scoff. Staring into your eyes never did any good, it just showed all the hidden things you hated about yourself.

Stripping off you stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go until you were hissing at the scalding temperature. Anything to break the hold of the encroaching darkness on your mind.

When you came out you felt slightly better but the sense of foreboding still wouldn’t leave you alone. Your own personal black cloud, oppressive and suffocating, always there and waiting, ready to seep into you when you least expected it.

The lights in your room were beginning to glow and you hesitated. You thought back to what Rex had told you, so you copied the stance he had said his Jedi General had used. After a few seconds you felt ridiculous, but you persevered. Closing your eyes and releasing a long breath, willing yourself to fall into that calm state of mind meditation was supposed to provide.

You listened to the gentle noises of the fauna from a planet you didn’t know the name of, imagining the warmth of the sun pushing away the darkness that constantly followed. But none of it worked.

The disappointment was another negative emotion to carry around with you. Angrily you made your caf, accidentally drawing out two mugs even after being on your own for over a week. As you sipped the dark liquid you stared at the spare mug, hating it, despising the way it stood empty and unused. What a stupid notion, you told yourself. To hate something so…inanimate.

The lights for the medbay clicked on, blinking to life as Beetoo also woke up. The photoreceptors blinked as she tapped into the system that ran the entire medcentre.

“The new assistant starts today,” she announced.

“Tesama,” you told her, not looking up.

“Tesama,” she repeated. “Twi’lek female, medically trained on Ryloth before she left due to the Imperial occupation.”

“She has good instincts.” The datapad flickered to life under your hands and a list loaded of your patients today. Rolling your shoulders you tipped your head back, this headache you had brewing wasn’t going to do you any good but you weren’t sure if you had any spare meds. With the Batch gone no one had been able to fetch you supplies for a decent restock. “Beetoo, can you inventory the supplies today and I’ll get Tesama to treat the patients.”

“Yes.”

“If we have any spare painkillers, let me know. I’ve got a headache.”

“They are becoming more frequent, I have recorded you having a headache everyday this week.” You glanced up at the droid, split between the annoyance of her recording everything and being grateful that she had. “Are you all right?” You gave a tight lipped smile.

“Not something that can be treated,” you replied. “Just mitigated.”

The day was tedious. You updated medical records and processed payments in your little office while you listened to Tesama treat the patients in the bays. You watched the information come up on your datapad as Beetoo inventoried knowing the supplies you needed was going to be extensive.

Chewing absently on a ration bar your eyes unfocused. You retreated inside yourself, sensing the approach of…something. You heard the rush in your ears, the flush of blood as it beat through your veins, the nervous ache in your chest. You could feel the burn in your legs, the urgency that thrummed through your entire being but oddly detached at the same time. Like it didn’t belong to you.

A bang made people yell and you were up and out of your chair in an instant, grabbing the blaster you kept hidden under your tunic, set to stun. You exploded into the bays only to come face to face with Wrecker.

He was leaning on the wall, his chest heaving erratically, his mismatched eyes were roaming with a panicked energy and that was when you realised, you’d felt him coming to you. It made you shake, soaking up the chaotic that bled from him, pulsing like the engines of the Marauder.

“Wrecker!”

“You need—,” he struggled to catch his breath but you didn’t need him to say anymore. An odd calmness flooded your body, pushing aside the panic and the stress, your own and Wrecker’s.

“Take me to him,” you ordered firmly, grabbing your bag and leaving. You could tell he wanted to run, his steps were uneven yet you still struggled to keep up.

People parted for the large clone and if they didn’t he soon shoved them out of his way, ignoring the tirade of angry exclamations.

As soon as the Marauder came into view you felt the rise in the emotions that emanated from the ship. Omega looked pale, her face drawn and eyes red as she sat at the bottom of the ramp. Echo was pacing near her, his arm and scomp socket crossed as he walked one way and then the other.

No one said anything at the sight of you, no relief came through the tension and you raced up the steps on the ramp.

The breath was sucked from your body. The worst of your fears was right there, the constant torture of your inner demons had manifested and it ripped you up inside. Tech lay on the bottom bunk, limp and lifeless, his skin had an unhealthy colour and a sheen of clammy sweat covered him. Hunter stepped back to allow you access to Tech’s side. There was a mask over his face, his breath barely fogging up the inside as you watched.

“Situation?” You demanded, surprised by how calm you sounded.

“A crate landed on his leg, he told us it was broken but then we had hard contact, he walked on it, lost consciousness and fought with some troopers.” Your eyes widened as you assessed him, noticing the rapid swelling on his thigh and you dropped your bag.

“Knife.” Hunter didn’t hesitate, slipping the blade free of his vambrace and handing you the hilt first. They had removed Tech’s utility belt otherwise you’d have cut through that too. There wasn’t time.

With a precise move you ran the blade down Tech’s body suit, the material spreading to reveal his leg, swollen and black as the blood pooled under his skin.

“Look away,” you warned. Using the blade you cut his leg open, not even flinching at the way the blood gushed freely over your hands, staining your tunic and trousers, splashing into your shoes and disappearing through the grated floor of the ship. Just like in your nightmares, it coated your fingers with its slickness and the metallic tang filled the air. Your breath stuttered for a second, a moment of blind panic at the sight of Tech’s blood over you but then you shoved it down.

You barely registered Hunter sending Wrecker outside as you held a hand over the gaping laceration you had created, using some wadding to pack the wound and staunch the flow of blood, trying to remember what to do next.

It was gradual at first, the building of the connection between you but the longer you touched Tech, the more you could feel of him.

His breaths were shallow, his heart was weak, blood pressure had dropped and you knew, you were losing him.

Hunter said something, his voice echoing into an incoherent buzz that you had to shake off. Your blood covered hand spread wider over the laceration, guided by something deep inside you and you concentrated. It felt right, natural, an extension of your touch reaching deeper than your hands ever could. Your eyes closed but still you could see his injury, sensing your way deep into his leg quicker than a mediscanner.

Oblique fracture in the femoral shaft.

The break had to be realigned, his movement after the injury and lack of a splint had worsened his condition, severing blood vessels and damaging nerves, tearing into delicate soft tissue. Gritting your teeth you absorbed some of his pain, forcing the bone pieces together, realigning them, guided by something raw and desperate.

Your breaths were ragged and you felt Hunter’s concern but he didn’t stop whatever you were doing.

“In my kit are rods, long screws and a driver.” He moved at the sound of your strained voice, laying them all out for you beside Tech’s head. Braving opening your eyes you were disorientated by the way you could see, but still sense the bones you were holding.

You worked efficiently, screwing the rods into place and finally releasing the bone, satisfied when it stayed in place. Next you used your fingers to clear out the clot, dumping the congealed masses onto the floor with a mindless efficiency as you worked.

You didn’t have Beetoo’s fine tools here so you called on that lifeline from within, stitching together blood vessels and reconnecting nerves until you felt your own body sag, only for Hunter to slip his arms under yours, holding you up. He didn’t realise, his closeness let you absorb some of his strength.

Next you worked on Tech’s skin, your concentration wavering slightly as you pressed it together, absently reaching for the needle driver and so you could seal it up with physical stitches. Your jaw was clamped tightly in an effort to keep the shakes out of your hands, expertly working the thread with nimble fingers.

“Blood,” you mumbled. “I need someone with Tech’s blood.” Hunter didn’t hesitate. Making sure you could stand first before he stripped down to his bare arm.

Keep going.

You shook away the threat of passing out, handing Hunter one needle so he could insert it himself as you did Tech’s. You located his vein instantly even with how depleted they were. The small transfusion machine hummed quietly as it worked and you dug around for your medscanner with numb fingers.

You weren’t done.

Blood smeared over the screen but you didn’t care, letting the handheld device take his readings and confirm what you knew already. You tugged at his goggles, slipping them up to his forehead so you could open his eyes and shine the light in them, pleased with the reaction his pupils gave.

You stepped back, the scanner falling from your hands and your legs gave out from under you. Hunter bellowed for Wrecker, his hand outstretched but he was tied to the machine and Tech. Sounds were muted, muffled like you were a outside the ship and not involved in what was happening at all.

You weren’t done.

Still you kept the mental connection with Tech, feeling the trickle of his life force weakly beating inside him. Such a small light, and you nurtured it, breathing life into it like you would a small fire. Fuelling it with your own, stoking the embers until they flared.

You knew Wrecker had a hold of you, his strong arms wrapped around you, his distress at the amount of blood was loud, his gruff voice breaking as he tried to get you to answer him.

You felt a hand on the side of your face, such a tender touch made you suck a breath into your lungs just as a Tech took a deep breath at the same time. Your eyes focussed, seeing one grey eye and one white search your face.

“Wrecker,” you breathed and he ducked to touch foreheads with you. He pulled you closer, cradling you in his arms and rocking a little as he called out you were ok to the others.

You weren’t done. “Wrecker, help me.”

“What am I ‘suposed to do?”

“You need to give blood.”

“Blood?”

“I can do it,” Omega said, her voice unsteady when she saw the mess you were in, the state the ship was in and the destruction that was seemingly holding Tech together.

“Stop the machine,” you mumbled as Wrecker placed you in a seat. “Or air will get into the system and t-the needle needs changing.”

“We’ve got it,” Hunter reassured you. The seat you were in was opposite the open ramp and you could see Echo still pacing, head down only coming into your line of sight for a second before he was gone again.

“Ow! Ow!” Wrecker cried out, when Hunter helped stick him with the needle.

“I’ll sit with him,” Omega said, leaving Hunter free to come and check on you.

“Stitch, you with me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, noticing how dark he was with the light of outside behind him.

“What can I do?”

“I need to dress the wound.” You flinched slightly when a cloth was wiped over your face. The touch was gentle, running over your skin but you didn’t have the energy to move away or do it yourself. “Hunter?”

“Hmm?”

“Get Omega out of here.”

“I’m concerned about you right now. What you did…you used it didn’t you?” Your hands were shaking as you looked down, blood was everywhere, slowly darkening as it dried, making the material stiff and uncomfortable. You could still smell it, the ferocious rusty smell as it filled the hold, the breeze from outside stirring it up.

Oxidising, the blood is oxidising due to the reaction of the haemoglobin and the skin lipids…that’s why the smell was so strong.

“Omega…” you whispered, forcing your tired weighted eyes to move. She was standing by Wrecker, her eyes like saucers as she stared at Tech and his undressed wound, bodysuit slashed and skin ripped. “She needs to leave.” You insisted again, making Hunter take note. “Her brother is all over t-the floor!” You hissed, wishing he would just take her and go. No child should see this.

Realisation dawned all too slowly in his gaze and he straightened, calling Echo and hurrying Omega to the door, even as she protested weakly. “Go with Echo, get a gurney for Tech from the medbay.” You heaved yourself off the seat, stumbling your way to Tech and dragging out the sedatives and bacta spray. You dowsed his wound until the liquid ran off the side of the bunk, streaked with even more blood.

“Inject this, here,” you said pointing to Tech’s neck. “My hands aren’t steady enough and my…my grip on his pain is slipping.” You heard the hiss of the driver and allowed some of your consciousness to leave Tech. You weren’t sure how to explain it…releasing one thread at a time and letting them slip through your mental grip while holding onto the rest. The headache you carried was throbbing but still you carried on.

You weren’t done yet.

Hunter wordlessly passed you some pads to clean the wound, covering it with a dressing so Tech could be moved. Your blood stained hands gripped onto the edge of the bunk, fingers feeling the congealing blood and its thick stickiness.

You fumbled for the medscanner even though you didn’t need it. You could feel his heart beat improving, colour was returning to his face and his breathing was more even. Slowly you let go of more threads, reading the numbers on the screen to make sure you didn’t let go of something drastic.

You and Hunter looked up at the same time when Echo reappeared on the ramp, his gaze sweeping in and assessing the damage. He visibly swallowed, his eyes shying away from Tech as he almost crabbed toward you, keeping his back to the occupied bunk.

“I picked you up some clean clothes.” Hunter grabbed them for you, allowing Echo to vanish back outside.

“How much longer do I need to be hooked up?” Wrecker asked.

“Let me get changed and then we can unhook you and move him.” You drifted to the cockpit, every motion you made felt like it wasn’t you. Oddly detached from the way your hands flexed, or what your eyes took in as you tried not to let the horror of nearly loosing Tech overwhelm you.

Hunter put the clothes on the chair. “Stitch…” You heard the door close and assumed he’d left but then you felt him come up behind you. “I’m going to help you.” You didn’t even have it in you to shy away, the protests were there but voicing them was impossible.

His fingers were nimble as he undid the hidden fastenings of your tunic, letting it fall open to reveal you were wearing a vest top underneath. Your eyes fluttered as the fabric slid off your arms and you heard the small, sharp inhale as he saw your shoulders and back for the first time.

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his seething rage at what had been done to you in those years of slavery. Scars crisscrossed your back, a tapestry of abuse and horrific memories. Some were made by whips cutting deep into your flesh while others had been left by your captors and their rendering claws.

He covered you, letting you pull the tunic around you and hugging your arms before he attempted to work off the stiff, blood stained trousers. This time you heard the quiet rumble in his chest, the brooding anger he festered at wanting to hurt the people who had done this. Your legs had always taken the worst of your abuse, the Master had liked his slaves laid out on the floor. The scars on the back of your legs were taking their time to age as you refused to put bacta on them and waste such a precious resource.

He gently nudged your ankles so you stepped out of the ruined fabric, keeping your eyes trained on the light outside. Life was outside. It moved on, ever rotating while you seemed stuck in your head, trapped by a prison of your own making.

You couldn’t keep your mask on anymore, tears slipped from under your eyelids, dashing on your cheeks as your face rippled with emotion. Hunter didn’t hesitate, wrapping you in his arms and crushing you to his chest as you cried. Trying to keep your sounds low so you didn’t worry Wrecker.

Hunter stroked the back of your head, his earlier rage had quieted to concern for you as he squeezed you as hard he dared. You were coming apart, the seams that had held you together the whole time they were away had corroded to something weak and feeble and now they snapped.

Saving Tech, nearly losing Tech had opened up things that you wanted to stay dead and buried. It all made sense to you now, why you’d always been such a fantastic healer, how you soared through the levels in the Academy. You had been using the Force to enhance your abilities right up until you were taken.

Secrets had a way of being discovered and yours was one that could end your life.

[femsteverogers]

Just saw someone say that Luke Skywalker drinks space mocha frapps and Din Djarin drinks black caf...... what kind of world are you living in. Luke lived on a resistance base for months and grew up in the middle of the desert!!! Din Djarin lived in the equivalent of a mid sized city!!

Luke Skywalker drinks black cold brew and Din Djarin drinks vanilla bean frapps with caramel drizzle and extra whip and when you give it to him and he doubles checks that it was made with milk and not coffee. Then he shares it with Grogu

[annisthree]

Chapter IX: Corulag

previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~5k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit language, canon typical violence, jelousy

Chapter summary: After their adventure on the orbital construction module, Marla and Cassian go to Corulag to investigate the mysterious shipments, hoping it will help them understand what the Empire was building over Geonosis - and whether it has any ties to Narkina.

A/N: Cross-posted on AO3 (same username).

The transition from the stillness of the Imperial space station to the bustling spaceport on Corulag was disorienting, to say the least. There were ships arriving and departing all the time, passengers scurrying between the landing pads, spaceport workers yelling something in different languages, and heavy machinery unloading cargo ships. It was a lot to process - but Marla still preferred that to the eerie silence of the construction module.

They were sitting in one of the cheap diners that were lining the street adjacent to the spaceport: Marla with her half-eaten nerfsteak sandwich, and Cassian with his cold black caf and sour countenance. K2 was instructed to stay on the ship - Corulag might have been overwhelmingly loyal to the Empire, but a security droid following two civilians would still draw attention.

The air carried a medley of scents—a heady blend of freshly brewed caf, various perfumes from distant worlds, and a subtle undertone of starship fuel. It would have been nauseating, if it hadn't been for the growling in Marla's stomach.

'I applaud your courage,' Cassian pointed out blankly, eyes still scanning the spaceport.

'Excuse me?' Instead of replying, Cassian eyed the sandwich on her plate, raising one eyebrow. 'Oh. Well. A girl's gotta eat. And this particular girl is really tired of travel rations. I swear, I keep thinking my taste buds have grown accustomed to the blandness, and then I open another pack...'

'I'll take bland over poisonous,' Cassian shrugged, eyes returning to monitoring the situation on the streets.

'Well, that's the difference between us, Captain. I have a very low tolerance for bland.' Cassian puffed quietly and rolled his eyes, a shadow of amusement running through his otherwise focused expression. 'Problem?'

'No problem, ma'am.' A slight grin crept onto his face. 'Eat up; we're leaving.'

The waitress appeared at their table almost instantly; she'd been giving them the side-eye for a while, very clearly suggesting that they had overstayed their welcome. Her expression softened a bit once Cassian threw a handful of credits on the table, but Marla had a feeling they wouldn't be coming back too soon.

Shame. That was a damn good nerfsteak sandwich.

'Where to next?'

'Sector C. There was a large patrol heading in that direction just now. We're just here to observe, though, so try to act... casual.' He finished the sentence with a sigh that might have had something to do with Marla turning around to check if someone was following them. 'We talked about this.'

'What? You'll thank me one day when I save you from getting shot in the back.'

'That's not-- you know what, I'm not getting dragged into this discussion again. Just stop looking around.'

Marla gave him an ostentatious eye-roll but followed suit, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket and focusing her eyes on the merchant stalls they were passing on their way.

And there was a lot to look at. Some displays were adorned with trinkets and curiosities: jewels sparking under the warm glow of the sun, tiny figurines and hand-carved sculptures standing proudly in lines, tiny embellished flasks reflecting the sunlight... Other stalls were draped with fabrics of every shade and pattern, inviting Marla to reach out and feel the soft texture against her skin. All that, combined with the multitude of voices and other sounds, and the chaotic spinning, swinging and whirling of hands, bodies, goods - all that made her feel entranced, if a bit overwhelmed.

'Focus,' she heard Cassian whisper almost directly into her ear, jolting her back to reality like a bucket of cold water. Maker. One of these days, they're gonna have a conversation about personal space. He cannot keep doing things like that and expect her to focus.

'That guy on the platform,' Cassian continued quietly, tugging her sleeve and gently pointing his chin towards one of the landing pads on the other side of the street. 'That's our guy. They'll be changing shifts soon. If he leaves alone, we follow him. Got it?' She nodded silently, watching the officer yell something at one of the spaceport workers. 'Good. First things first, though. We have about half a standard hour to fill. I hope you have space left for another nerfsteak sandwich.'

  *

  'Stars, do you always eat so much during undercover missions? How do you stay--' Marla performed an incomprehensible series of motions towards Cassian, '-- like this?'

Cassian smirked, 'By not ordering suspicious sandwiches in dirty diners? Coincidentally, that's also how I stay alive and, well, unpoisoned.'

'Funny,' she pouted at him. 'Are you gonna continue shaming my dietary choices, or do we get to work?'

'I am working. Working doesn't always mean running around with guns, you know?' Marla rolled her eyes and was already taking a deep breath to reply, but he interrupted her. 'Okay, he's on the move. That's our cue.'

Cassian was up before she could process his words, throwing a handful of credits on the table and tugging her sleeve. Admittedly, Marla had long lost sight of the target (because how long can you look at one spot), but she had no doubt Cassian would do enough looking for both of them. And, well, she was right.

As nightfall descended, the spaceport and the market square transformed into an illuminated spectacle. Tiny lanterns and other light sources dotted the area, casting ethereal shadows that seemed to dance along the pavement. The streets grew even busier, with hundreds of shadows gliding across the pavement like phantoms hunting for their prey.

They began following the officer, keeping a fair amount of distance but making sure not to lose track of him. Marla reluctantly let Cassian lead the way, his leisurely pace in stark contrast to her restless energy. Whenever they needed to change direction, his hand gently tugged at her wrist, silently guiding her.

Suddenly, Cassian tensed, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. With a fluid motion, he placed his hand on Marla's lower back, leading her in a dance-like movement towards one of the merchant stalls.

'How about this one?' he pointed at a display of patterned rugs nestled among dozens of other fabrics and decorations.

Caught off guard, Marla struggled to process the sudden shift. 'Mmm-- what?'

'For the living room, darling. I'm thinking it would go well with the wallpaper.'

The burly green-skinned Trandoshan merchant materialised beside them, his eyes darting between Cassian and Marla with eager anticipation.

'Right. Yes. Darling.'

Cassian didn't miss a beat, quickly interjecting with an apologetic smile. 'Sorry, her Basic isn't very good.'

'Ha! Such a lovely couple.' The Trandoshan leaned in towards Cassian, adding in a conspiratorial tone, 'I might just have a special offer for you. A gift... to celebrate your new beginnings together.'

Marla's heart sank, her hands growing clammy as she prayed for some miraculous cataclysm that would save her from having to participate in that conversation. Unfortunately, the ground beneath her feet seemed unyielding.

Meanwhile, Cassian's thumb gently brushed the side of her hip. She didn't know if it was part of the act or an ill-timed attempt to soothe her nerves, but it only made it worse.

'You're too kind,' Cassian replied with a trained poise in his voice that would have amused Marla if she hadn't been so focused on counting the cracks in the pavement beneath her feet. 'On second thoughts, though, I'm not sure it fits the vibe we're going for.'

The merchant's face dropped immediately. 'Well, I have a wide range of--'

'Thank you,' Cassian interrupted with that same polite smile. 'We'll come back if we change our minds. Right, darling?'

'Mhm.'

'Have a wonderful evening, sir.' Marla felt Cassian manoeuvre their arms to intertwine them, and she held onto his forearm to keep a facade of affection. They retreated from the stall, seamlessly blending back into the bustling street.

As the stress subsided, she replayed the conversation in her head and once again prayed for the ground to swallow her whole.

'Her Basic isn't very good,' she seethed quietly, digging her nails into his forearm. 'Walking a very thin line today, Andor.'

He shrugged. 'The officer stopped to buy something. I had to improvise.'

Indeed, their target now carried a box of unidentified food, its heavy and oily aroma mixed with an undertone of ash assaulting Marla's senses. Even her liberal dietary tastes classified whatever the officer was consuming as repugnant.

They continued tailing him, the crowd thinning as they ventured further. The rest of the city was densely filled with tall buildings, but it lacked the vibrancy and colourfulness of the spaceport market - instead, it was mostly durasteel and permacrete, with the rare neon sign adding brightness to the otherwise bleak scenery.

Their target stopped under one such neon that read 'Nebula Longue' and, after a couple of moments of hesitation, entered the building.

Marla glanced at Cassian impatiently. 'What now?'

'We wait.'

'Seriously? He could be there for hours. Is that really your plan?'

'You have a better one?' Cassian shrugged, leaning on the wall.

'I do,' she paused for a while, weighing her options. 'We can go inside, and I can get him to follow me to one of the rooms upstairs. We can interrogate him there.'

The sincere laughter that followed caught her by surprise.

'Oh, you're serious? Absolutely not.'

'Why not?' she felt increasingly annoyed. What was so funny about it, damn it? 'You do shit like this all the time. Doesn't seem that difficult.'

'Marla. You're a terrible liar. He'll see right through you the moment you open your mouth.'

'Then I'm not gonna lie; I'll just seduce him. Or are you saying I'd have to pretend to be someone else for a man to be interested in me?'

Cassian looked genuinely confused. 'I didn't say that, Marla. You're...' he hesitated for a while and clearly decided against finishing that sentence. 'It's just too dangerous.'

'I can handle myself,' she retorted, barely suppressing a snarl. There was a sharp pain in the palms of her hands, and when she looked down, she realised she'd been clenching her fists so hard that her nails almost broke skin.

'I didn't say you couldn't,' he said slowly. Annoyingly slowly, like he was trying to tame a wild animal or - worse yet - calm down a child. 'Nevertheless, we're not doing this.'

'Why not?' Marla's voice dripped with defiance. If you treat me like a child, I'm gonna act like one.

'Because we already have a plan,' his voice was becoming breathier and less controlled. 'And I make the call.'

'Because?'

'Because I outrank you,' he spat out with frustration in his voice.

'Oh, really?' she hissed through clenched teeth. 'You didn't seem to remember about it the last time you fucked me.'

Cassian recoiled, a mixture of surprise and frustration clouding his features. 'Oh, come on. Don't--'

'No, Cassian. You come on. We're doing this. I can do this.'

Cassian let out a frustrated sigh, his gaze fixed on the ground as he attempted to compose himself. The conflicting emotions played across his face, a mixture of exasperation and concern - and something else that Marla couldn't quite figure out.

Marla took a moment to flex her palms a couple of times. Meanwhile, Cassian began pacing, looking intensely at the pavement.

'Fine.'

'Fine...?' Already preparing another attack, Marla was taken aback by how easily Cassian surrendered.

'Fine. But I'll be there. And the minute he-- the minute you feel uncomfortable, for any reason, you back out immediately. Or give me a sign, and I'll get you out. Understood?'

'Understood,' she replied, carefully studying his expression. He had that troubled look again - brows knitted together, jaw tightly set, and that sad, conflicted stare he was piercing her with. Her anger morphed into confusion.

'Okay, let's do this. But you're gonna need a change of clothes.' One corner of Cassian's mouth twitched slightly as he sized her up. 'You have sandwich sauce on your shirt.'

  *

  Stealing a dress wasn't particularly challenging; she had a variety of choices at the market, and the business of the place made it simple enough to just grab whatever she wanted. It made her feel a bit better to see the merchant give a discount to one of the Imperial officers ('For your service, sir'). It ain't stealing if you're stealing from Imperial scum, right?

She returned to where Cassian had been waiting (watching the cantina entrance to make sure the target didn't leave) and changed behind one of the dumpsters. It was a light summer dress embroidered with little flowers all over. It definitely wasn't the right outfit for the rather chilly Corulag weather - but she figured it would do the job.

The look on Cassian's face confirmed that it would, indeed, do the job.

'I still don't like this,' he murmured, averting his eyes after they'd finished inadvertently sweeping over her figure. 'You already look nervous.'

'Then I'm gonna play a shy, timid maiden who's never seen a man in her life,' Marla replied, a mischievous grin adorning her lips. 'You know... I'm not nervous, I'm intimidated by his manly Imperial uniform and his general... manliness.' Cassian raised an eyebrow at her. 'It will work.'

'You're not very convincing.'

'That's because I'm more used to impressing men with my battle prowess and sharp wit,' she grinned at him. 'But I can work with this, too. Hair up or down?'

'Erm...'

'Down it is.' she decided, swiftly undoing her braid and running her fingers through her hair. 'Good?'

'Yes.' Cassian managed, a flicker of uncertainty shadowing his features before he looked away. 'Good.'

'Alright, here goes nothing. Give it a moment before you come in. Count to a hundred or something. And wish me luck.' She started towards the entrance, but Cassian's hand on her shoulder stopped her. The warmth of his touch contrasted starkly with the chill of the evening breeze, sending a shiver down her spine.

'Don't drink alcohol, stay sharp. And definitely don't drink anything he gets you.'

'Stars, Cassian, I've been in a cantina before. I know how this works.'

He let out a long breath. 'Just be careful. And signal me if you need help.'

'I will,' she assured him, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. His concern touched her, awaking a small voice in her mind that told her to grab his hand or even steal a bold kiss - stars, that would have felt so good, to melt into his embrace for a moment, draw some of that warmth and provide comfort to him in return...

But she resisted the impulse. Instead, Marla silently nodded, walking away into the chilly darkness of the evening, acutely aware of the weight of Cassian's stare on her back.

  *

  Cassian still didn't like the idea. It wasn't that he didn't believe Marla could be effective; he knew all too well she was perfectly capable of making a man abandon reason. He just... he just didn't like the idea. They could have waited until the officer was done and grabbed him from the street. Or followed him home. So many alternative solutions, and yet there she was, sitting in that ridiculous (pretty, but ridiculous) dress next to that dirty sleemo who definitely didn't have the right to look at her the way he did.

Frustrated, Cassian took a swig of his lukewarm beer and observed as Marla laughed at something the officer said, blushing and clearly avoiding eye contact. Cassian tried very hard to convince himself it could work; to be fair, she did look kind of shy and inconspicuous. If you squinted. Or turned off your brain for a moment. Which, admittedly, wasn't that hard for Cassian to imagine.

Looking down at his table, he realised he'd peeled the label off his beer and ripped it into small pieces. Great. He spent so much time focusing on how bad Marla was at undercover work, he completely stopped monitoring his own reactions. Great job, Cassian. General Draven would have been fucking proud.

Minutes dragged on, his beer grew warmer, and the remnants of torn paper on his table became even smaller. The smoke that filled the air irritated his eyes, but he kept them focused on the target, watching as he slowly shifted closer to Marla, as his veiny hands brushed over her arm, as he leaned forward and whispered something to her.

Cassian's hand, resting proactively on the blaster he had concealed under his jacket, began twitching involuntarily.

At last, Marla stood up from her seat, and the officer followed suit. There was some more smiling and fake laughter, some credits thrown on the counter, and soon enough, they were crossing the room toward the staircase.

Cassian waited five agonising seconds before standing up and discreetly tailing them.

The air upstairs was cooler, carrying a hint of dampness that clung to the frayed carpet. Cassian walked quietly, making sure to keep his distance as they walked down the corridor.

If the cantina downstairs was in somewhat acceptable shape, the rest of the place was severely neglected. The walls were covered with halfway-peeled wallpaper that revealed layers of faded colours and crumbling plaster beneath. The corridor was lined with doors to the rooms - doors that were presumably once vibrant and inviting, now displayed chipped paint and worn-out handles. The ceiling sagged in places, burdened by years of neglect, and water stains betrayed the leaky pipes that ran above.

Yet, the most repugnant sight of all was the Imperial officer's hand slowly creeping down Marla's back. Cassian took a deep breath and tried to look away - but then the hand began travelling lower, and lower, and--

A sudden flash of fury drove Cassian forward. Everything happened within a split second - the next thing he registered was pushing the man against the wall, one hand gripping the lapels of his jacket, and the other clenched painfully in a fist that matched the redness on the Imperial's face.

He was fuming. All of that built-up anger, all the anticipation, all the worrying - everything exploded in him at the same time. It didn't matter that they wanted to interrogate him. As far as Cassian was concerned, the fucker deserved nothing less than another punch to the face.

And it wasn't helping that the Imperial was smirking at him even as he was still being pinned against the wall.

'Let me guess, a husband?' Cassian didn't reply, instead focusing all his energy on trying to calm down. 'Easy, man. She's all yours. Not worth the trouble for me.'

Cassian's vision blurred with crimson, and he barely registered raising his fist again. He did, however, register Marla's grip on his arm.

'Hey! At least get him inside first.'

Her voice jerked Cassian back to reality. Slowly, he managed to lower his fist and take a couple of breaths - before he peeled the Imperial off the wall and quickly threw him inside the closest room. Thankfully, it was vacant.

Marla followed, her eyes scanning the room for a suitable spot. She quickly located a chair, dragging it to the centre and positioning it for the interrogation.

'Are you all right?' Cassian finally managed to cool down enough to form a coherent thought. A quick scan of Marla's features suggested she wasn't particularly hurt or otherwise affected - but he needed to be sure.

'Yes. Hey,' she walked up to him and placed both hands on his shoulders, staring intensely into his eyes. 'I'm fine. I promise.'

'I knew it was a stupid fucking idea,' he mumbled through gritted teeth.

But he was beginning to regain control. And with that came the realisation of just how carried away he'd gotten. His heart was racing like crazy, and his left hand was still balled up in a fist. His right hand was gripping a blaster that he didn't even register getting out.

After a couple of breaths, Cassian began noting the details of the room. The dirty walls. The even dirtier bed, which - together with a single chair - was the only piece of furniture in the room, giving a very clear idea about what this place was used for.

'I'll question him,' Marla said, gently - but decidedly - unwrapping Cassian's fingers from the blaster he still clenched. 'You watch the door. Make sure no one is coming.'

He nodded, still having some difficulty comprehending the world around him. Usually, he'd be the one doing the interrogating, but-- well, he was definitely not in his top shape.

It was funny watching Marla be the level-headed one for a change - or it would have been, had it not been for the growing pang of guilt in his chest. He still believed the Imperial went too far, and he deserved every punch he got and every punch he was about to get - but Cassian was fully aware he'd lost control. And that's one thing he absolutely shouldn't be losing, not on a job.

He opened the door a crack to look outside. The hallway was still clear, just as quiet and disgusting as they had left it. Luckily, the cantina downstairs was noisy enough to cover any potential sounds that he had no doubt would be coming from their room soon enough.

'What are those shipments? Why are they so important there's a whole garrison of stormtroopers overseeing the unloading?'

Cassian decided not to look at the interrogated Imperial, if only to avoid another outburst of anger. Instead, he closed the door and leaned against the wall, focusing on listening for any sounds from outside.

For now, the only thing he'd heard was the sound of spitting, followed by a string of curses, followed by a loud thump, followed by a pained groan.

'You really wanna make sure I don't get bored with you and pass you over to my friend there,' Marla hissed. So Cassian was the bad cop in this scenario. Fine. Made sense. 'Or, you know, shoot you.'

She wasn't doing a great job at being the good cop, but Cassian found a certain level of pleasure coming from the sound of another punch and a subsequent groan.

'I don't know,' the man panted angrily. 'We're not supposed to ask. Just make sure the cargo is safe.'

There was a moment of silence. 'Fine. Where are they shipping it from?'

The man barked out a short laugh that ended in a sharp inhale and another groan. 'I don't know. I don't care. They come in, we watch them unload the cargo and load it onto another transport, and that's it.'

'Load it onto another transport, huh? Where to?'

'Are you deaf?' There were no punches this time. Instead, Cassian heard a quiet click of the blaster safety. 'I. Don't. Know,' the man spat out. His voice was still angry, but there was an undertone of desperation sneaking in.

Cassian decided to look over at them. The Imperial's face was visibly more bloodied than when he last saw him; he was also having trouble catching his breath. Marla, on the other hand, was being surprisingly composed... if you didn't count the slight flush of anger on her cheeks and the blaster pointed at the man's temple.

'I don't know. What do you think?' Marla looked over at Cassian. 'To be fair, he does look like a nobody. I wouldn't trust him with any important information, either.'

Yes, that was the hole in their plan. There was, of course, a chance that the officer was lying, but Cassian knew the workings of the Empire enough to know they liked to keep their people in the dark.

But there was a plan B.

'When's your next shift?' Cassian asked, reaching for a small flask in one of his pockets.

'My next... tomorrow. Tomorrow morning.'

'Good. Drink this,' Cassian said, handing the flask to the Imperial.

Suspicion flickered in the man's eyes. 'What? No. Is this poison?'

'It won't kill you. Drink.' Cassian threw Marla a look, and she, in turn, nudged the Imperial with the barrel of her gun.

Cassian really didn't want to deal with that man for any longer than necessary. He crossed the room, forcefully put the small bottle to the Imperial's lips, grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back. It worked. The bottle has been emptied. And soon enough, the officer's head began dropping to his chest as he slowly lost consciousness.

'Was it something like the lullaby pill?' Marla asked, inspecting the man carefully.

'Not really. It's not lethal; it'll just put him to sleep for a day or so. At least in theory. It's... well, it's experimental.'

'Couldn't I have just stunned him?'

'We need him out for longer,' Cassian explained, patting the Imperial's clothes in search of his documents. 'See, officer... Sergeant Dorh,' he read out from the scandocs, 'has fallen ill after his visit to the cantina. Happens. Luckily, Sergeant Sward will be there tomorrow morning to fill in for his friend. The uniform is roughly my size.'

'And what do I do in this scenario?'

'You can pretend to be one of the spaceport workers who unload the ships. That way, we'll both be close enough to the cargo to get some intel.'

'Just say you want an excuse to order me around,' she grinned at him. 'Anyway, sounds good. I like that I'm not expected to do any acting this time. Although I think I've proven today I am a perfectly capable actress.'

Cassian hummed without enthusiasm. There was a series of images flashing before his eyes: Marla and the Imperial sitting by the bar, Marla and the Imperial laughing together, Marla and the Imperial walking down the hallway to the room...

'Speaking of which,' Marla began, her tone shifting to a more serious note. 'Do you wanna talk about what happened earlier?'

Damn her and her mind-reading abilities. 'Nothing to talk about.'

'Sure. Listen, I appreciate you... erm, defending my honour. But I could have handled this on my own. I had it under control.'

'He crossed the line,' Cassian snarled, his anger resurfacing.

'Do you really think he's the first drunken idiot who tried to grab my ass? Wake up, Cassian.'

Cassian dropped his gaze and took a deep breath. He tried very hard not to think about all the other drunken idiots she'd encountered in the past, but the notion still stung him somewhere deep.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' she shrugged. 'Most of them ended up with a broken nose. Or a vibroblade between their ribs.'

'Good.'

'My point being - I'm fine. Are you fine?'

'Yes,' he lied. 'It's just been a while since I punched someone. I suppose I needed it.'

'Cassian Andor,' Marla seemed mildly amused. 'Never knew you to be so... temperamental.'

'Been spending too much time in your company lately,' he grinned back. 'I guess it's rubbing off on me.'

'Glad your sense of humour is returning. But coming back to the matter at hand: what's the plan for tonight? Do we take his uniform and leave him here? How sure are we that this thing is gonna work long enough?'

'Not sure enough. We'll stay here. Can you make sure he's tied?'

Marla knelt down next to the man and began checking the knots. 'Not gonna lie,' she said. 'The bed definitely looks softer than the one on the ship. If you try not to think about all the other people that slept here before. Or did... other things,' she shuddered briefly, looking now less convinced.

'You get some sleep. Someone has to watch him, and I have some reports to write anyway.'

'No way. We'll take turns.'

'But--'

'We'll take turns, Cassian. But I'm happy for you to take the first watch. Just... try not to kill him when I'm asleep, okay?'

'Funny,' Cassian commented, politely averting his gaze as Marla began shedding her clothes. 'Very funny.'

He wasn't happy with how the evening unfolded - the images from the past few hours flooded his brain, and each time he went through them, he was increasingly dissatisfied with how he handled the situation. At the same time, he had no doubt he would have done the same again.

Turns out even his composure had its limits.

With a glance toward the unconscious Imperial, Cassian braced himself for the long night ahead - and an even longer day tomorrow. He let out a weary sigh... but then his eyes stumbled onto the image of Marla settling into the worn-out bed, sliding under the thin sheets, and gradually falling asleep.

And, in the steady rhythm of her breathing, he found all the solace and strength he needed to keep going.

At least for now.

[ocd-kenobi]

I was just thinking about how intimidate it is to know how your spouse takes their morning drink.

I feel like maybe you’ve answered this before, but what’s your head canon on Obi Wan’s/Anakin’s tea/caf preferences?

It is very intimate! I think I've seen enough references at this point to assume it's Obikin fanon that Obi-Wan is picky about his tea and Anakin is a coffee guy, and I buy that. I guess you see it during the clone wars, plus, you know, one of them's English-coded and the other is American-coded.

I'm sure Obi-Wan has tea drinking ~rituals, like stirring the sugar in an equal number of times clockwise and counterclockwise, needing a light cup if he's drinking dark tea and a dark cup if he's adding milk, needing to use freshly-boiled water that had come from the cold water tap. But they're preparation rituals, so if Anakin's making his tea for him, he doesn't feel that anxious about receiving black tea in a black mug brewed with water that might have come from the hot water tap. I also think Obi-Wan is very aware of his body as a system and can apply black caf to it when he feels it is needed (after Anakin has kept him up way too late, or during an ongoing siege.)

As for Anakin, I think he put tons of sugar and milk in his caf for years before acclimating to the taste enough to actually enjoy caf. He starts drinking it as a teenager to seem more mature (with Obi-Wan as his target audience.) Caffeine doesn't affect his energy too much, but he likes the sensations of holding the mug and scalding his mouth. Another fun fact: when making Obi-Wan's tea or coffee, he serves it hotter than Obi-Wan prefers because he likes to watch him blow on the surface to inefficiently cool it off :)

[sammakesamess]

Decided to paint a #pleinairpainting study. ☕️ I’m really liking the colors and shapes I come up with when I do my studies, but I can’t find a way to translate them into my personal paintings yet. I would start to like coffee at the point in my life when I’m trying to cut caffeine 🦩 So when I have it I’m trying to make the drinks super worth it. I made these mini Cocoa Puff topped cold brew black cafs a few weeks ago, and they’re my fave to indulge in when I’m craving chocolate 🍨 Sooo good • • #pleinair #paintingstudy #illustragram #coldbrewblackcaf #disneydrinks #disneycoffee #sketchbookartist #deskdecor https://www.instagram.com/p/CmCdJgMPQeB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[astrologicalkillah]

Zodiac signs as coffee orders with too much energy

Aries: Quad espresso. No milk, no sugar. Just adrenaline.

Taurus: Latte with extra whipped cream because I deserve it.

Gemini: Half-caf, half-decaf, with a twist of indecision.

Cancer: Hot chocolate… with three extra marshmallows.

Leo: Triple shot of confidence with a sprinkle of ‘notice me.’

Virgo: One plain black coffee. Precision is key.

Libra: I’ll have whatever they’re having but make it prettier.

Scorpio: Something bitter. Like my personality.

Sagittarius: Cold brew… and a plane ticket to anywhere.

Capricorn: Straight espresso. I have 25 deadlines today.

Aquarius: Matcha latte with activated charcoal. It’s… different.

Pisces: Chai tea with a side of emotional support.

[aardrian]

Dining at Disney Star Wars.

The Endorian fried chicken tip-yip and cold brew black caf were tasty.

The ronto wrap (roasted pork, grilled pork sausage, peppercorn sauce, and tangy slaw wrapped in pita bread) and the drink (assorted juices) were fine.

The milk thing (coconut and rice milk, sour gelatin cubes, topped with salt, pepper, and chili) was truly terrible.

[eatwhateveryouwant2-blog]

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:📍Disneyland 🎡⁣ ________________________________⁣⁣ ⁣What you see…..⁣ ⁣ Location: Dock Bay 7 (Galaxy Edge) ⁣ ⁣ ➜ Trandoshan-Style Pasta with Braised Bantha: Chile-braised Beef, Buttered Garlic Cavatelli, Seasonal Vegetables, Zesty Avocado Sauce, Balsamic Glaze ⁣ ⁣ —— $19 9/10 (Seasonal Offering) ⁣ ________________________________⁣⁣ ⁣ ➜ Cold Brew Black Caf: Cold Brew Coffee topped with Sweet Cream Cheese and Chocolate Puffs⁣ ⁣ —— $6 10/10⁣ ⁣ 💡Tip: Ask for a straw because this drink is too thick to sip cute. 💀🤣⁣ ________________________________⁣⁣ ⁣ #disneyland #disneylandcalifornia #disneylife #pasta #coldbrew #feedme #foodreview #disneyfood #disneyday #disneyfood #disneyfoodie #coffee (at Disneyland/Califonia Adventure) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpTLr8oP5cl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[real-jane]

best kept

[bucky barnes x baker!reader]

This is for Birdie's Birthday Bash Writing Challenge!! Happy happy birthday, @buckysbirdie ❤️❤️❤️. This was such a fun way to pull myself back into the creative roll! You're a gem and you deserve to have a beautiful birthday fest.

For my prompts, I chose:🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes |🧁 Birthday Cake: Baker | 🍭 “You deserve pretty things.” | 🍑 Secretly dating | 🍓 Mutual pining

warnings: idiots in love, miscommunication, fluff, mention of sex. no body descriptions, no use of y/n.

--

She didn’t mean it the way it came out–you deserve pretty things–like a plea. She intended for the sentiment to land like an observation, based on their few-and-far-between conversations across the register, like the brew of the day is Breakfast Blend or it’s supposed to rain around three o’clock.

But damn him… he flushed. He didn’t smile, quite, but his eyes flicked away and he cleared the embarrassment from his throat, handing over a bill too large for the small black coffee and the intricately frosted cupcake which had nearly given up the whole gambit to his companions, who hung at his elbow with an urgency which could only come from a post-mission adrenaline rush. 

He was expressly forbidden from dating anyone inside the compound. He had made that abundantly clear as he fished the buttons of her baking uniform through the holes in the storage closet the day that pull between them became too much to bear. He had still kissed her like he had all the time in the world, and every moment they squirreled away thereafter was precious, but the longer they had to hide in the shadows… the harder it became to keep her tongue from whetting his plush lips where anyone could see. Especially when he picked out a cupcake he knew she had agonized over that morning, thanks to the hastily sent photo he received from the kitchen in the wee hours.

The way lavender buttercream would taste in a forbidden kiss… she ached for it. 

He did deserve pretty things. He deserved much more than that, too. But he wouldn’t let her say it. She tried, with her legs tangled in his, to tell him sincerely what he meant to her, how lucky she felt that he would even look her way–but he had shut her down with suffocating kisses and stole all coherent thought. He went another day without knowing she loved him, without her trying to make him listen to her say it.

Maybe that’s why the comment burst out. When she couldn’t say I love you, what could she say? You deserve pretty things, like the cupcake I created because all this love has no place to go, because chamomile is your favorite tea, because it’s one part of you that belongs only to me.

Bucky motioned for her to keep the generous change from his bill, and hastened to the far end of the caf to admire her work from a safe distance. She watched him walk away for only a split second, before turning her attention back to the red-headed woman with a cold brew addiction.

Just wait, his text said. The message had pinged from her back pocket while she ascertained whether or not Captain America wanted a savory scone, so she didn’t see it until he and his cohort departed from the caf. 

Clutching her phone over the stove long after the other staff headed home, she stared at the two little words from ‘Jamie.’ No punctuation to hang a hope on, ever. He wasn’t one for soft sentiments. Bucky Barnes touched her with urgency, but he didn’t speak her name with the reverence of a lover. He barely spoke at all, except to coax pleasure from her. She was starting to feel less like a choice, and more akin to a tool he used to blow off steam. It clawed at her heart, making her skin crawl with longing for just one fraction of the effort she was devoting… to a man who had never hidden that he wasn’t supposed to be fucking her. 

She couldn’t take much more of such an empty arrangement. How could someone so enmeshed with her bones leave her so devoid of affection, even in the slightest? How could she love someone who stumbled away from a tryst like he’d been stung?

He never showed up before the night shift cleaners did their rounds, but he always showed. 

Wait, she did. She jumped when cold vibranium fingers wrapped around her elbow, swiping furiously at her reddened eyes. 

“Christ,” she breathed. “You’re a fucking phantom.” She hazarded a glance at him, but his expression was hardened and unreadable. He was frozen at the sight of her persistent tears. She rolled her eyes and eased her arm out of his grip, putting the island between them. Despite the way every hair on her body stood on end in his presence, it was no use hiding the way his silence inspired more tears. She let them streak down her cheeks. When still he said nothing, anger stirred behind her ribs.

“How was your cupcake?” she whispered.

“Um. Good.” Bucky leaned against the counter and folded his arms. The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened. “Chamomile?”

She nodded. “Your favorite. I, um. I sifted loose leaf tea in with the flour, I wasn’t sure how it would go.”

“It was good.” 

“Good.” She gripped the butcher block countertop so hard, her fingers ached. 

Bucky let an agonizing minute pass. “You’re crying,” he muttered. “Why?”

She snorted. “Tim’s wearing his big headphones while he does the floors tonight, if you want to risk it out here–if you can stand to fuck a woman while she’s sad.”

He was intelligent, she knew it. It hadn’t taken long to see how his mind whirred to strategize around every possible obstacle to the opportunity to take her in a dark corner, and she couldn’t dismiss the way his compatriots spoke about his work on assignment, even if she only overheard snippets of their conversations in the caf. It came as no surprise, then, when he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

“You wanna be alone. I’ll get out of your hair,” he said tersely.

“No–god.” She laughed, but it stabbed. “I want you. Here. I thought I had made that abundantly clear by sticking my hand down your pants at every opportunity.”

He blinked. “You’re angry.”

“Yeah. Yes, I am. I’m–I don’t know how to say this,” she struggled. “We’re better at the not-talking part of this arrangement. But if I don’t get it out, I’m going to pop!”

Bucky, to his credit, made no move to leave, though every muscle in his body seemed to tense up with the need to flee. Instead, he braced his hands against the counter behind him and nodded for her to say whatever was on her mind. It was then that she noticed that his hair was damp; he never came to her smelling of motor oil, or blood, or sweat, or any hint of whatever duty had demanded of him during the day. It made her want to sob. He came to her clean.

She studied the way his jaw flexed anxiously, and it gave her enough comfort–knowing he was uncomfortable–to make some sort of explanation come out. 

“I’m selfish,” she started. “I thought that I could just be content sneaking around, because I’ve been clinging to every bit of affection I can get from you. It was fine for a while. More than fine, Jamie–god, I’m addicted,” she said sheepishly. “But it’s not fun anymore, it’s like I need a fix of you, or I can’t function. I hate that I can’t kiss you where people can see. I hate that you don’t say anything to make me think you want me half as much as I want you. I invented a fucking cupcake based on your kiss after a cup of tea. I–fuck.” She looked up at the ceiling to hold back a new wave of emotion.

“You never promised me anything, so I have no right demanding more from you,” she said. “So. I don’t think I can continue with my part of this arrangement, given that–well, considering that you can’t even show interest in a person without creating a coup with Human Resources–”

“Hang on,” he said softly. “What do you mean a coup?”

“You’ll get in trouble. Especially for sleeping with the cupcake woman–”

“I’m not following,” he said. Then, it dawned on him. “Doll…” Bucky chuckled. From the depths of his chest, a warm and wooly sound that brought heat to her cheeks. He smiled even as he swiped a thumb across his bottom lip.

“I see what this is,” Bucky said. His blue eyes flicked up to meet her gaze and her stomach flipped. Gone was the frown from his expression, and instead, a strange and unfamiliar lightness took its place. “You should’ve told me.”

“What?” she breathed.

Bucky pushed off the counter and walked around the island slowly, until he caged her back against the wood. The scent of his soap–sandalwood and cedar–filled her nostrils. He tipped her chin up. 

“You seem to be under the impression that I come here to get my rocks off, and not because I have a sweet tooth. And I’m kickin’ myself for not seeing it sooner. God help me, doll: when I’m around you, I lose all rational thought.”

She wound her fingers into the front of his sweatshirt, a soft and well-worn thing with a faded SHIELD logo over the left pec. “Pardon my French, but those are the most words in a row I’ve heard out of your fucking mouth, maybe ever.”

“‘M a shy guy,” he said. 

“I have tried to talk to you about this for months–”

Bucky winced. “Shit.”

“Yeah! You shut me up every time! Hey–stop staring at my mouth.”

He raised an eyebrow as if to say well, go ahead. For good measure, he sat on the stool at the lip of the counter, and bracketed her between his knees. She sighed.

“I don’t know how long this can continue if it can never be more than a secret,” she admitted.

Bucky cleared his throat.“...Are you under the impression that SHIELD has a stake in my personal relationships?” 

She blinked. “You said it did.”

“When?”

“Um. The first time. In the pantry.” 

He frowned again and looked at the pantry door like it might project the exact conversation they had, amidst a feverish tryst. “I don’t think I did,” he said.

“‘They’ll grill me and everyone in the compound will know–’ You were pretty clear that nobody could know about us. You kept saying it. ‘They can’t know. They can’t know.’”

“I’m not sure I was thinking about anything but putting my head between your legs,” he said frankly, which made her shiver. “Nick Fury doesn’t care about interpersonal relationships as long as they don’t interfere with our work. The guys, however, already give me shit for how often I miss my mouth with coffee because I’m watching the cupcake woman and her damned smile. I was probably talking about them. But I don’t remember, and I’m sorry you’ve been losing sleep over it.”

“I haven’t been losing sleep,” she said bashfully, though her lip slipping into her mouth revealed what a lie that was. 

“Don’t you see how messed up I am over you?” The question came out of his mouth like a blessing. She stared at him in astonishment, which made the tips of his ears turn pink. “I may be bad at sayin’ it, doll, but I’m acting up like a lovesick man.” Bucky tucked his fingers into the back pockets of her jeans to pull her closer. “You’ve been hurting. Haven’t you?” When she nodded, his face fell. He huffed. “That won’t do.”

“Tell me,” she asked. “Please, Jamie.”

“You really been thinkin’ about something I said in the heat of the moment… shit, a year ago?”

“Words are precious, where you’re concerned.”

Bucky looked up at her like the sentiment struck a raw nerve. He shook his head. “I’ll be better.”

“You’ve already tripled your usual output,” she teased, letting her hands slide to his jaw. “It’s no wonder you’re good at keeping secrets.”

“What would people say if they knew?”

“Stop. You’re trying to save me from compound gossip?”

He studied her well-loved shoes and the flour which adorned the toes like a deliberate style choice. “Am I a coward?”

“Yeah,” she said, but she brushed his cheek. “For the sake of clarity… SHIELD doesn’t care, but your friends will tease you, and people might gossip, so that’s why you’ve never actually taken me to your room, and why we’ve been sneaking around for the better part of a year?”

Bucky cringed. “In my defense, I thought you got off on it.”

“I did–I do. But I spend about thirteen hours a day on my feet in this damn kitchen. It would be nice to have sex horizontal for once, and not bent over the sink I wash dishes in! Maybe even laying down on a mattress, as crazy as that sounds.” 

“You wild woman, you.” He laced his fingers behind her knees. “I’m sorry. All this because I’m afraid of people thinkin’--it doesn’t matter, right?”

“Oh, you’re just now realizing that?” She swatted him on the shoulder. “We should’ve had this conversation eleven months ago!”

He didn’t say anything for a while, but he leaned into her fingers where they dug at the knot in his shoulder while he pondered where they had gone wrong. He gripped her wrist so he could entwine their fingers and study the raised veins on the back of her hand with a curious thumb. 

“I always buy whatever pastry you made special for the day,” Bucky said, as if it was a revelation he was making at that exact moment. “I tip you like Rockafeller. I can’t stand the thought of stinking in your presence, so some days I shower twice. I scan the personnel report every morning to make sure you’re on the premises. I check my phone seven hundred times an hour on the off chance you text me. I dream about you. I wake up smelling your perfume. I’m–I’m your damned satellite, woman.”

“Then why are you so worried about people knowing?” she asked it, but she gleaned the answer the moment it left her lips and she pressed her fingers to his to stop him from saying it. His lips pursed behind her hand. She shook her head. “No. You’ll break my heart.”

Bucky waited until she removed her hand before attempting to say a thing. “You don’t know what I’ve done, doll–”

“I’m sorry–you think I didn’t google you within an inch of your life, old man?”

He smiled, despite himself. “My mistake.”

“Please. I would be so proud if people knew”

“Of me?” he asked, incredulous. “Why?”

She leaned in and took the softest drag from his lips, eliciting something like a gasp of amazement from the man. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense, does it?” she murmured against his mouth.

Bucky growled. “If I could have you, I would shout it from the rooftops.”

“You like me.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He stood, looming over her hungrily. “Could I, doll?”

She would have descended into tears again if her heart wasn’t bursting with happiness. “I would love that, Jamie.”

His eyes sparkle. “People will talk.”

“Good.”

“I’ll… I’ll kiss you over the counter!” He gestured to the very counter which separated them daily. “Other people will see me do it.”

She snickered. “I hope they do.”

“Sam will tell you about every time I’ve made a fool of myself watchin’ you–”

“I can’t wait.”

“You’re not ever gonna question me again, because I’m gonna just come right out and say things. All the time.” For the first time in her memory, Bucky fully smiled. Beamed, even. His eyes were lively with excitement and he reached for her hand. He laced their fingers once more. 

“I’m going to walk outta here right now, holding your hand.” He backed slowly towards the door of the kitchen, tugging her with him. “Because I want to.”

“Okay,” she laughed. He was giddy, almost, at the prospect of getting to tell anyone who would listen that he was with her. Being seen together was a dream he didn’t know was within reach. It made her heart clench. 

“Wait–” She held up a finger and released him so she could dash back into the pantry. When she emerged from the kitchen with the little pastry box in hand, Bucky raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Saved a cupcake for my personal pity party,” she said. “I blew through three dozen of these before noon.”

“Hmm… my cupcake is a best-seller, huh?” Bucky tucked her fingers in the crook of his elbow so he could draw her closer.

“Um. Every pastry I make is yours.” When he couldn’t speak in shock, she nodded. “You’re sort of my muse.”

“You’re jokin’.”

“God, it’s embarrassing–”

“No, no, no! It’s the sweetest thing I ever heard, doll, I promise you.” Bucky stopped in the vestibule where the hallway forked west to the parking garage (where her car was parked), and east to the residential wing of the compound. 

“Well.” She shrugged. “I take how you’re making me feel, and I say it in flour and sugar. Everything I couldn’t tell you got baked into pastry. They all have names, too, but I’m not quite ready to mortify myself by admitting some of them.”

He cupped her cheek. “What’d you call it today?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

“‘Jamie’s Best Kept Tea-cake.’” She braced herself for him to cringe, but he didn't.

Bucky looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “I am an idiot. Never let me forget it.” He turned on his heel and hastened down the east hall. She had to practically skip to keep up. 

“Do you hate it?” she panted.

“What–no!” He punched the up arrow to summon the elevator. “I love it.”

“I love you.” The sentiment flew from her tongue like it had been waiting for that very moment to spread its wings.

The elevator dinged to punctuate her admission, effectively squashing an otherwise perfect moment… made awkward by Sam Wilson on his way back from the gym, standing in the elevator and grinning. Bucky glanced between Sam and the woman who just admitted to loving him, and pulled her into the car.

“Sam,” Bucky acknowledged. “You remember–”

“The way you poured dark roast in your lap when she laughed? Sure do. Hi. How are you?”

“She loves me,” Bucky said. She nudged his ribcage. “What? You do. I’m in love with her, also.”

“I’ve gleaned that prior to now,” Sam said smugly.

Her cheeks were hot, but she leaned into Bucky’s side in disbelief. “Hi Sam. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. While we’re all sharing our feelings, he’s one of the best people I know, so. As far as I’m concerned, this is a fantastic development. Which I’m suspecting isn’t a new one.” Sam smirked as Bucky scratched his head guiltily. 

“Wow. Thanks, man.”

“Whatcha got there?” Sam pointed at the little box in her hand.

“That’s ‘Jamie’s Best Kept Tea-cake,’” Bucky explained proudly. 

She squeezed his elbow. “It’s chamomile with lavender buttercream.”

“Oh shit, the magic cupcake! He force-fed us all a bite at lunch. Five stars.”

“Thanks.” She shared a smile with Sam. The elevator arrived on Bucky’s desired floor. Sam said little else, but offered a sly salute to the retreating form of his giddy best friend and the woman he couldn’t stop talking about.

At Bucky’s door, he paused. “I didn’t–is this okay? Do you want to come in? You can use my on-suite shower. Water pressure is amazing. I have a very comfortable bed–”

She pressed up on her toes and kissed him quiet. “You love me,” she murmured, “so I’d like to go in.”

“I’m making a fool of myself right now, aren’t I,” he breathed.

“Nah. You’re just… chatty.”

“I don’t think I can stop.”

“It’s okay. 'S pretty cute.”

He smiled dreamily. “Cute is good. I can work with that.” He let them into the room, but the moment the door shut behind her, he tensed up again. “Um. This is it. I don’t have much.”

“Jamie,” she soothed. “I’m so happy to be here, but I’m exhausted. I’ll take you up on that shower, and we can talk more in the morning. Yeah?”

“Oh–of course, doll, there’s towels…” He babbled on, but she temporarily ignored him in favor of unwrapping the little box on his desk. She grabbed him mid-sentence by the front of the sweatshirt. Something had to be done to dissipate his adrenaline, which was hammering away full-throttle to force every little thought which crossed his brain to traverse his tongue, too.

“C’mere.” She held up the small cupcake and offered him the first bite. His lips grazed her thumb and forefinger, but her own chased them to capture the sugar of a kiss. He groaned into the flowery sweetness. She giggled when he dipped the tip of his finger into the frosting, only to drag it over her cupid’s bow. Warmth pooled between her thighs as he licked the purple sugar from her skin.

“Shit,” he breathed. “I’m. I–doll.”

She laughed. “That, James Barnes, is what you taste like after a cup of tea.”

“If I wasn’t already… I am, now.” He peered at her through half-lidded eyes, drunk on sugar and arousal.

“What?”

“In love.”

He said nothing else. Every sentiment which she inspired in him paled in comparison to the feeling of her. The alphabet of her body was language enough to describe the utter terror of exposing every chamber of his heart, and still come up short for the measure of awe. And as for her… 

She had kept him locked away in a neighboring vein for so long, that letting the flow of Bucky Barnes through her senses overwhelmed her with the knowledge that yes, she loved him… and yet loved him more as he exposed his vulnerabilities–like his 3-in-1 shower gel, and his pleasant striped pajama pants with frayed cuffs. He would be best kept at her side, of that much she was sure. Not a dirty secret in the pantry, but softly snoring against her shoulder, with no question of whether or not he wanted her, and an abundance of pretty things… many of which came frosted.

--

Thanks for reading! :)

my masterlist - my bucky barnes masterlist

bucky tag list: @peterhollandkait @nahthanks @honeywithemoney @dracris33

[samspenandsword]

The Coffee House: Commander Fox/Reader (Fem)

Summary: You own a coffee house on Coruscant famed for its especially strong and rare brews. One day, you find yourself meeting the Marshal Commander for the Coruscant Guard.  Pairing: Commander Fox/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance.  Rating: GEN — SFW (series will eventually be rated Explicit, 18+) Warnings: None - mentions of caffeine addiction, light fluff and feelings, tiny mention of horniness (bc it’s FOX people) Word Count: 1.2k

Part 2

Inspiration for Fox’s appearance taken from @amikoroyaiart​ because her version of Fox is canon and you can’t convince me otherwise :)

There was nothing quite like the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You took in a deep breath, the scent filling you with a joy like nothing else. To be perfectly honest, you were probably addicted to caffeine. Okay, you were definitely addicted to caffeine. And you were definitely a bit of a snob when it came to your coffee. But to be perfectly honest, you loved it all. Hot, strong, iced, cold brew, espresso, sweet, creamy, black. That was why you had opened your own coffee house on Coruscant. 

You served good coffee. Straight up. You ordered and shipped in coffee from your homeworld Yavin 4, where the tropical environment was perfect for growing premium coffee beans. You had a good variety, but your coffee house was known for its premium roasts and blends. And its strong roasts and blends. 

Your place had been open for about five years now, from before the outbreak of the war. And it had only become more popular since then. The majority of your clientele, pre-war, had been simple civilians and the occasional politician or even a Jedi or two. But now, with each passing month, you found more and more clones frequenting your coffee house. 

And you welcomed them with open arms. 

Those boys had raging caffeine addictions that rivaled even yours. And if you weren’t already so impressed by them, that would’ve done it. Those boys, barely grown and kitted out to the nines, who came stumbling into your coffee house and spent what little credits they had trying to get some decent breakfast and caf before they shipped out again, potentially to never come back. You were endlessly fond of them. 

Speaking of... 

“Beanie!”

A grin lit your face at the nickname as well as the sight of familiar red armor. The vibrant red and white of the Coruscant Guard had become quite a regular sight for you. And those Corrie boys could not survive without their morning caf. You had their orders memorized, even if you’d never met them. More often than not, one or two of them would show up and leave with an armful of orders. And though you would never admit it, you had a bit of a soft spot for these boys. Sure, they may not have been on the front lines, but they were fighting a war of a different kind. An arguably more dangerous one. Personally, you’d go insane if you had to deal with corrupt senators and rich, entitled civilians all the time.

“Good morning, Thorn,” you chirped. “You sound very energetic this morning.”

You could tell by the tilt of his bucket that Thorn was smiling. Members of the Coruscant Guard technically weren’t allowed to remove their helmets in the presence of civilians. There were some exceptions, like in restaurants, cafes, cantinas. Or if they were off-duty. But you knew that Thorn wouldn’t be staying this morning. 

You had set up a row of cubbies along one of the walls of your coffee house for troopers who came in who didn’t want to keep their armor on. Though it had taken a while for him to feel comfortable enough in your coffee house, Thorn was one of the ones who relished at the opportunity to shuck the plastoid. 

So you knew, when he didn’t even remove his bucket, that this would be a to-go order.

“The usual?” you asked, already grabbing the cups and pen. 

Thorn nodded. “No rush.”

You smiled, ringing it up.

You always took delight in creating little doodles for each of the boys on their cups. For Thorn, you gave him a little rose flower. Hound got himself a little cartoon massif. Stone always got himself a little gemstone. And you always drew a blaster rifle for Thire, knowing he preferred his rifle over simple blaster pistols.

You came to the last cup, sticking your tongue out a little as you doodled a little fox. 

You poured the coffee, sealed the cups, and set them all in a tray for Thorn. When you looked up, he had been joined by a second clone. One you didn’t recognize.

He was obviously another member of the Coruscant Guard judging by his colors. But rather than wearing white armor with red accents, his armor was mostly red with white accents. Like Thorn, he wore kamas and a visor, marking his higher rank. A commander, probably. 

But when you saw the way Thorn deferred to this clone, you felt yourself halt.

His bucket turned towards you.

“Order’s up, Thorn.”

Thorn turned around, reaching out to take the tray. You inclined your head towards the second clone.

“Good morning, Commander.”

You’d never actually met Commander Fox before now, but you’d heard plenty from his brothers. You’d always sort of quietly admired the man. He definitely didn’t have an easy job. But he also, like you, drank your strongest coffee blend. 

You liked him for that fact alone. 

It was a special blend, the strongest stuff in-house. You’d created it yourself from a mix of beans and roasting methods. You’d even experimented with brewing methods, perfecting the recipe until it was a seamless blend of velvety flavors and an unreasonable amount of caffeine.

So it wasn’t exactly for the faint of heart. 

Naturally, it was your favorite. Commander Fox had always only ordered it as well. 

You watched as Commander Fox reached out for the cup with your fox doodle. With one hand, he tore the bucket off his head, then raised the cup to his lips and downed the coffee in one. 

You and Thorn stared. 

Fox slammed the cup down, and you found yourself stunned. You didn’t think you were supposed to find the sight of a man chugging coffee attractive, but here you were, both unreasonably flustered and turned on. 

Also mildly worried.

“Refill, Commander?”

“Please.”

You watched Fox from the corner of your eye as you refilled his cup. He had wonderful hair, with black curls falling in front of his eyes and grey flecking the strands at his temples. He looked tired, but he was, like all clones, unfairly handsome, and you felt warm for a reason beyond the steam rising from the coffee pots and percolators. 

Thorn shuddered as you handed the refill to Fox. “How can you two drink that rotgut?”

You gripped your own mug and smirked behind the rim. “The caffeine addiction helps.” 

You couldn’t see it, but you knew Thorn was smiling. He looked at Fox. “Commander, this is Beanie. The only person in the whole galaxy who drinks more caf than you.”

You smiled angelically, batting your eyelashes. 

Fox raised an eyebrow, sipping his caf. “Beanie?”

You smiled and nodded. Beanie. That was the nickname the boys had given you a while back. Because you always smelled like coffee beans. “I like it.”

“Of course you do,” Thorn preened. “It came from me.”

“It did not.”

You could hear Thorn’s pout. “You could pretend.”

You giggled. “Nice try, Thorn. But you know my heart is taken.”

He shook his head. “I swear, Beanie, you’d marry coffee if it were possible.”

You winked. 

But Fox was merely looking at you, still thinking of your nickname. With a simple nod, he said, “It suits you.”

And you proceeded to blush very prettily.

Before the boys left, and before Fox’s face disappeared behind his bucket, you could’ve sworn you’d seen him smiling a little. 

Biting your lip, you decided you definitely liked Commander Fox. And you couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate the next time he came to your coffee house. 

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Oh my god, thank you for asking, I have had so much time to think about this.

So I mentioned Nathan's uncut black cold brew, because he is a MENACE who hates HAPPINESS, but:

Santi drinks hot coffee. He's the type to judge people for drinking it iced. Kind of an asshole move, but we love him for it. He'll do a latte or drip, I can't really imagine him ordering an americano, but he'd tolerate it.

My bb boy Michael has a sweet tooth. I think he's usually an iced latte man, 1000 pumps of whatever syrup the barista reccomends, but if it's cold outside he wouldn't mind a hot drink. Maybe something similar to Starbucks's Cinnamon Dulce Latte?

Llewyn doesn't go to cafes. But anywhere he goes with free drip, he immediately has a paper cup in hand. Reasonable amount of sugar and creamer, perfectly respectable.

Poe does not care what is in his caf as long as he has caf. Please, someone get this man some kriffing caf hes been up for 32 hours

Bud is an enigma, I can't tell if I think he would order a caramel frappaccino (worked at a barnes and noble cafe for a year and still don't know how to spell that) or a black drip coffee.

Blue Jones drinks shaken espressos (so classy)

Okay, I'm out of opinions, I'll shut up now.

These are all 110% valid

GOD Santi would be such an ass like SORRY IM GAY ALL MY COFFEE IS ICED

[anakinskywalkerog]

hiiiiiiii oliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

question -

does anakin like pumpkin spice or not?

i wonder...

because i walked down by a starbies yesterday and absolutely fkn FLIPPED when i saw the autumn menu was out!!! never actually tried pumpkin spice frappes yet but i already love them XD

https://www.thesun.co.uk/money/19675113/whats-on-starbucks-autumn-menu/

what would be his fav drink?

and hbu, whats ur fav autumn drink (if you like coffee/starbucks, ik some people dont)?

#AutumnAnakinVibes

also re my last ask, tis sad i also can relate to liking a bi guy who ended up liking some other girl (dk who it is but its deffo not me) T_T

as you can tell, this is me awkwardly trying to hold up my promise of always keeping your inbox full :")

love,

sy <3

hi thank you and yes don’t worry the inbox was been FULL to the brim good job everyone

i do kind of feel like Anakin is a secret lover of sweet caf but he doesn’t want anyone to know. like in front of his clones he drinks black caf but alone with Padme he loves a good PSL 😂

i do love coffee so so much and starbucks isn’t my favorite (i tend to like local coffee shops more) but it does have a special place in my heart ❤️ my fav cold weather sweet drink is a peppermint mocha!! but lately ive been ordering a vanilla sweet cream cold brew

the Autumn of Anakin it is 🤌

[aenaxes-moved]

miscellaneous headcanons on tbb (no spoilers):

tech spends his stipends on specialty caf beans and hand-grinds them himself (strong preference for percolation brewing)

tech also has absurdly terrible posture and will not sit properly on a chair unless he's manning the helm

crosshair has tmj and has to sleep with a mouthguard

crosshair collects small mementos from each mission in a lockbox (e.g. droid fingers, small rocks, gifts from natives)

hunter has auditory and tactile hyperesthesia and got his blacks refitted offworld to a less triggering texture (he'll rarely take off his gloves even around his brothers)

hunter keeps a picture of his brothers tucked under his chestplate

echo does, in fact, have a functional prosthetic arm/hand, but he generally avoids putting it on because he's more comfortable without

echo plays negotiator for the few actual arguments that arise (aka he smacks the boys upside the head and chews them out for an hour)

wrecker knows how to safely crack spines to relieve tension and is incredibly knowledgeable about kinesiology/pressure points

wrecker's the most sensitive to the emotional signals of his brothers and can easily pick up on when one of the boys is feeling off (though he isn't the most tactful about it)

body temperature-wise, wrecker and crosshair run hot, and hunter, echo, and tech run cold

hunter and wrecker wake up ridiculously early, crosshair and echo wake up at normal hours, and tech sleeps in because he stays up all night

echo’s a better splicer than tech, and tech will wake him up at ungodly hours to bother him about lines of code (sometimes echo calls him fives in his waking disorientation)

echo’s implant ports ache when it gets cold/dry and wrecker will massage any pain out for him

hunter and wrecker have a secret handshake (they all do, but they're the only ones who live by it)

crosshair and echo can have the pettiest, snarkiest exchanges that go on for hours, but it's all in good fun

tech has medical know-how but crosshair’s the one with steady hands, so tech dictates medical procedures to crosshair for minor excisions and stitches

the boys all pitched in to get hunter one of those fancy soundproof headphones and now he won’t sleep without them

when no one’s looking, they all babytalk the gonk droid