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dee-writes-smut · 7 months ago

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LAZY MORNINGS

FEATURING Cassian x reader

SUMMARY lazy mornings, simple fights, and tender kisses; all gone, all lost without him.

CONTENT WARNINGS major character loss, depression, emotional descriptions of kissing (?)

AUTHORS NOTE happy 100 followers, here's some devastating angst as a thanks! Enjoy! :)

I wanted it all. The lazy mornings in bed, the fight over which movie to watch, the bumping into each other in their small kitchen. The disagreements and the tears and the kisses and their love. For once, I wanted to be selfish, and I wanted to have it all.

The transition from sleep to wakefulness was seamless with Cassian by my side. As the first tendrils of dawn painted soft hues across the room, I would stir from slumber, greeted by the comforting weight of his arm draped possessively over my waist. His warmth enveloped me, cocooning me in a sanctuary of bliss where time seemed to stand still.

In the quiet stillness of the morning, I savored the sensation of Cassian's breath against the nape of my neck, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the rise and fall of my own chest. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly laundered sheets to create an intoxicating bouquet that stirred something deep within me.

"Cassian," I would murmur, my voice still heavy with sleep, "just a few more minutes."

His response was a gentle hum, a silent affirmation of our shared desire to linger in this moment of tranquility a little while longer. With his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my skin, I would bury myself deeper into the folds of the sheets, reveling in the sensation of his steady breath against my skin.

Minutes stretched into eternity as we savored the simple pleasure of being together, the outside world fading into insignificance in the face of our shared intimacy. Each touch, each caress, spoke volumes, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture.

Eventually, the call of hunger would rouse us from our languid state, and we would stumble into the kitchen, limbs entwined and hearts full. The familiar rituals of breakfast became a dance of shared moments, each movement fluid and effortless as we navigated the space between us with practiced ease.

Cassian took charge of the coffee, his hands moving with precision as he measured out the perfect ratio of ground to water. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the scent of his cologne to form an irresistible blend that stirred something deep within me. Meanwhile, I busied myself with preparing the rest of our meal, slicing fruit with care and toasting bread to golden perfection.

The rhythmic clink of knives against cutting boards filled the air, a soothing melody that accompanied our shared silence. As we worked side by side, I couldn't help but marvel at the easy rhythm of our partnership, the way we moved in sync without needing to exchange a single word.

Breakfast would be a simple affair, yet it held a significance that transcended the mere act of nourishment. As we sat across from each other at the table, our eyes would meet in silent communion, words unnecessary as we shared the unspoken bond of love and understanding. But it was after breakfast, when we would return to the warmth of our bed, that the true magic would happen. We would lie there, limbs intertwined and hearts open, basking in the afterglow of our shared meal, lost in the sweet serenity of our love.

No relationship is without its rough patches, and ours was no exception. For all the lazy mornings and tender moments we shared, there were also moments of discord that tested the strength of our bond.

Our disagreements were fierce, fueled by passion and stubbornness. This particular argument had been brewing beneath the surface for weeks, simmering like a pot left unattended until it finally boiled over.

"It's not just about the mission, Cassian," I argued, my voice tinged with frustration. "It's about us. I can't keep pretending like everything's fine when it's not."

Cassian's expression hardened, his jaw tightening with tension. "This is bigger than us," he countered, his voice strained. "The Rebellion needs us. We can't afford to let personal feelings get in the way."

His words cut deep, slicing through the facade of composure I had been desperately clinging to. The weight of his duty hung heavy in the air between us, a constant reminder of the sacrifices we were both forced to make.

We clashed over matters of duty and sacrifice, our opposing viewpoints pulling us further apart with each passing moment. The tension in the room was palpable, like a taut rope ready to snap at any moment.

"I can't do this anymore," I would whisper, tears welling in my eyes. "I can't keep pretending like I'm okay with you risking your life every day."

Cassian's expression softened, a flicker of remorse crossing his features. "I know," he would reply, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't just walk away. You know that, sweetheart."

I would retreat into myself, the weight of our disagreement pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. Doubt crept into my mind, casting shadows on the once bright future we had envisioned together.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, there was also a glimmer of hope—a willingness to listen, to understand, and to forgive. We were two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty, reaching out for each other in the hope of finding solid ground once more.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I'm scared, Cassian. I'm scared of losing you."

He would draw me into his arms, his touch a lifeline in the darkness. "I'm not going anywhere," he would assure me, his voice filled with determination. "We'll find a way through this, together."

In the quiet of the night, with our hearts laid bare and our fears exposed, we would find solace in each other's embrace. Our tears mingled together, a silent testament to the depth of our love and the pain we felt at the thought of losing each other.

And as the first light of dawn crept through the window, casting a soft glow over our entwined forms, we made a silent vow to do better—to communicate more openly, to listen more attentively, and to cherish each other with every breath we took.

Amidst the chaotic ebb and flow of our lives, there existed pockets of pure bliss—moments where time held its breath, and the clamor of the world melted away, leaving only the tender dance of our souls.

Our kisses were a language unto themselves, each touch a sonnet of desire and devotion, weaving a tapestry of unspoken vows and whispered confessions. In the sanctuary of our embraces, I found solace, as if the universe itself conspired to bring us together in perfect harmony.

His lips were an oasis, tender and yielding against mine, kindling a flame that surged through every fiber of my being, an inferno of passion that blazed brighter with each lingering caress. His touch was an electric current, coursing through me with a pulse of urgency and longing, binding us together in a symphony of sensation.

We stole kisses in the most unlikely of places, our love a secret shared with the world—a stolen moment in the bustle of a crowded street, a whispered promise beneath the moon's gentle gaze. Each kiss was a revelation, a testament to the depth of our connection and the fervor of our love.

But it was not merely the physical act of kissing that tethered us—it was the unspoken language of our hearts, a melody of longing and belonging that resonated with every touch, every brush of skin against skin. In the tender aftermath of our embraces, we lay intertwined, our breaths synchronized in the quiet cadence of the night, content to dwell in the sanctity of our shared affection.

Our kisses were a kaleidoscope of emotion, laughter bubbling up between stolen breaths, joy and mirth dancing in the spaces between our lips. Other times, they were a silent plea for reassurance, a whispered prayer against the uncertainties that lingered at the edges of our lives.

And as sleep eventually claimed us, cocooned in the warmth of each other's arms, I knew with unwavering certainty that I was exactly where I was meant to be—loved, cherished, and infinitely blessed by the presence of this extraordinary man in my life.

In the quiet moments of our intimacy, I could feel the weight of his love, an anchor grounding me amidst the tumultuous seas of life. With each kiss, it was as if the world around us faded into insignificance, leaving only the profound connection that bound us together.

Our kisses spoke volumes, conveying emotions too deep for words to articulate. They were a dance of vulnerability and trust, a testament to the depth of our bond and the strength of our commitment to each other.

As our lips met in silent communion, I felt a sense of belonging that transcended the physical realm, a profound knowing that in each other's arms, we had found our home. And in those stolen moments of intimacy, I vowed to cherish every kiss, every touch, as a precious gift from the universe—a reminder of the extraordinary love that bound us together, now and for eternity.

In the aftermath of Cassian's sacrifice for the Rebellion, I found myself adrift in a sea of memories—fragments of our love that seemed to shimmer and fade like distant stars in the night sky.

The lazy mornings in bed felt like a distant dream, a fleeting moment of bliss now shattered by the harsh reality of his absence. I could almost feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against my skin. But when I reached out, all I found was empty space—a cruel reminder of what we had lost.

The arguments over trivial matters echoed in the empty rooms of our home, their echoes bouncing off the walls like ghosts of our past. I could hear the frustration in his voice, the stubbornness in his stance, as we clashed over insignificant details that now seemed trivial in comparison to the gaping void left in his wake.

But amidst the echoes of our disagreements, there were also moments of laughter and joy, the playful banter that had once filled our home with warmth and light. I could almost hear his laughter ringing in my ears, see the mischievous glint in his eyes as we teased each other mercilessly. Those moments were a balm to my wounded soul, a reminder of the love that had once flourished between us.

Yet, even as I navigated the caverns of our shared memories, reality intruded in the form of his family, checking in with concern etched into their every word and gesture. They offered solace, companionship, and a shoulder to lean on, but I found myself retreating further into solitude, unable to bear the weight of their well-intentioned sympathy.

The stolen kisses filled with laughter and longing haunted me, their memory a bittersweet reminder of all that we had shared. I could almost taste the sweetness of his lips, the warmth of his embrace, as we had reveled in the simple pleasure of being together. But now, those moments felt like distant echoes, fading into the darkness like whispers carried away by the wind.

But most of all, I missed the feeling of being loved—truly and unconditionally, in a way that transcended words and defied explanation. I longed for the warmth of his touch, the strength of his embrace, the way he had looked at me as if I were the center of his universe. But now, all I felt was the cold emptiness of his absence—a void that seemed to stretch on for eternity, swallowing me whole.

As I traced the lines of his face in my mind's eye, I realized that I had taken our love for granted, assuming that it would always be there, steadfast and unchanging. But now, as I sat alone in the silence of our home, I understood that nothing in this world was permanent—not even love.

In the quiet moments of reflection, I found myself grappling with the realization that love, no matter how deep or enduring, was not immune to the passage of time or the cruel twists of fate. And yet, even as I mourned the loss of what once was, I couldn't help but cling to the hope that perhaps, somewhere out there in the vast expanse of the universe, our love still burned bright, a beacon of light in the darkness.

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