DRABBLES | ocs, canon, x reader

kyber insomnia , cassian x reader , multipart

caffeine is a love language

cassian and reader are both emotionally constipated and traumatized

there is plot :3
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he stepped into the galley at some ungodly hour— maybe 0300 or so— only to be greeted by an offered mug of caf and a quick "mornin', captain."
and cassian could only stare.

it was his mug. he didn't necessarily have a claim to it— but it was the one that he always used.
he raised bleary eyes to squinted at the person holding the mug.
you.
cassian— liked you. ever since he was assigned to extract you from a planet with heavy imperial presence, you became—
a constant. one of the few ones.
you rarely talked to one another, so he doubted it qualified as friendship. instead you two sat in each other's presence.

it reminded him of snow days: just a reprieve, a moment to pause and breathe.

cassian accepted the cup.
he didn't have time to thank you— you already made your way to the table, your caf mug already in hand.

it was familiar— the same mugs, same time, same table. you even wore the necklace you always did, tucked beneath your tank (like always).

cassian thinks he could recognize you if he were on death's door just by the cadence of your breath that he can barely feel. he's known you for only a few months, and you feel— like home.

and it's dangerous. being part of the rebellion means tomorrow is not guaranteed, and being intelligence can only end in tragedy.

but cassian needs this—something to hold on to— and if it's you, in your almost-crumbling angel statue way, with dark circles to rival his— he's almost glad.

but—
cassian takes a sip of his still-steaming caf, not flinching at the way it scalds his tongue and sears his throat, and speaks.
"you're on this mission."

you nod, drinking your own caf, clutching the mug like it's your only tether to this realm.

"why?"

you consider the question, hand moving to fiddle with your necklace almost absentmindedly. you worry at your lip. "bail organa believes my expertise will be of use on your mission. that is all i was told." it's a repetitive motion, turn, swipe your thumb across the pendant, turn the other way, swipe again, and you repeat.
cassian can catch a glimpse now and then of the little etchings into the metal.

he thinks you might be superstitious. but he doesn't know— this might be the longest conversation you two have ever had.

"what kind of imperial operatives?"
and your hand stills. you raise your gaze to his, rimmed with insomnia, and cassian can't help but think that you're beautiful in the most tragic way.

—

kyber crystals cause insomnia. the smell of the dirt fills your nostrils. kyber crystals cause insomnia, you tell yourself, and that's why you're burying the crystal from your saber.
the dirt cakes under your nails and you wipe away sweat with the back of your hand.
you've had enough of sleepless nights, and it must be the crystal. had to be. you couldn't take it being anything else.

the leadership for the rebellion knows who you are.
cassian does not.
you don't know what's more of a betrayal— someone close to you being a failed jedi or not telling you about it.

your comm chirps somewhere behind you. the captain calls your name. "we're due to depart in two hours. where are you?"

you press the comm to answer. "outside the base, a few klicks out. north by northwest." there's a second of silence, and you wonder if he heard the breathlessness in your voice.