An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 12/?
Fandom: Andor (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Syril Karn/Dedra Meero, Syril Karn & Dedra Meero, Dedra Meero & Original Character(s), Dedra Meero & Mon Mothma, Cassian Andor & Syril Karn, Syril Karn & Original Character(s), Syril Karn & Vel Sartha
Characters: Dedra Meero, Syril Karn, Davits Draven, Mon Mothma, Lio Partagaz, Alexsandr Kallus, Cassian Andor, Vel Sartha, Enza Rylanz
Summary:
Rebel!AU
Events on Ghorman took a different turn. Syril survived and made a deal that would change not only his but also Dedra's life. Losing control of everything made Dedra weaker than ever, but there's still one thing that keeps her sane.
TW: BLOOD!
Chapter 12: Pain Breaks Rhythm
Syril’s POV on what happened to Dedra, longing, pain, angst, and retrospection!
First Chapter of Rebel AU up! Enjoy!
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Andor (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Syril Karn/Dedra Meero, Syril Karn & Dedra Meero, Dedra Meero & Original Character(s), Dedra Meero & Mon Mothma, Cassian Andor & Syril Karn, Syril Karn & Original Character(s)
Summary:
SPORILERS FOR ANDOR S2
Rebel!AU
Events on Ghorman took a different turn. Syril survived and made a deal that would change not only his but also Dedra's life. Losing control of everything made Dedra weaker than ever, but there's still one thing that keeps her sane.
Reminder: later chapters in this series have spoilers!! If you haven’t read the chapters before (THANXX, Wonderland, Treasure, Inception) please do so if you don’t want anything spoiled!!
Word Count: 1.4k
Yeosang prays you’ll come back.
Sword and Shield | Ateez Masterlist
Yeosang recognizes your footsteps by now, soft, nearly silent on the concrete floor. He recognizes the pause of your movements as you weave through shelves and boxes, hears your breath sigh quietly as you approach his desk. But even then, he still turns around, eyebrows furrowed, because –
“Already?” he asks, heart sinking. “It’s only been two days!”
“Yeah, well.” You shrug, leaning carefully against a shelf. “After… everything, we’re kind of tight on hands, especially when the other alliances want to start planning our final moves. It’s almost time, you know.”
“And what will Hongjoong say if you somehow disappear too?” Yeosang snaps. “Or worse, turn up dead in a field like Seonghwa? Then we’re down another pair of hands and I won’t have anyone to trust with my stuff – he can’t keep stretching you thin like this, Y/N.”
Your lips curve into a smirk, completely unaffected by his words. “So little faith in me, Yeosang?” You press off the shelf, leaning forward instead to pick up one of the small gadgets littering Yeosang’s desk. Your eyes meet his as your fingers twirl the hunk of metal around. “I’m the only one you trust with your tech for a reason.”
That’s true. That’s true, and Yeosang hates that it is – if he didn’t trust you so much with all of his creations, maybe Hongjoong wouldn’t keep putting you on these missions. But the fact remains that you’re the only one who knows how every piece of his tech works, knows how to put it all together – albeit crudely – the way no one else does.
Not for the first time, Yeosang wishes he was the one who was worse at actually making all of this stuff, or at least that he wasn’t the only one who knew how to make it. Then he’d be out in the field as someone more expendable – Hongjoong would never say it, of course, but that’s the reason why it’s always you or the others. Never him.
Yeosang isn’t expendable. He’s the only one who can even come close to replicating the weapons made in factories by the opposition. He’s the only one who can modify what they steal without threatening to blow up the compound. He’s not expendable. He’s useful.
You’re useful, too. Just not in the same way he is – so useful he has to remain locked up in the compound, lest some safety official manage to gun him down in the streets.
From this angle, with the light of his lamp, he can see the dark bags under your eyes, heavy and deep. “I don’t trust anyone with my stuff who hasn’t had enough sleep in days,” Yeosang says, plucking the gadget from your hand. “Not even you.”
“You’re the one making the shit, yet you sleep like four hours a night, tops.” You snort. “Hypocritical, much?”
“I’ve done this enough that I can do it all on autopilot.” As if to demonstrate, Yeosang begins braiding several wires together without even looking. Your eyes shift to the twist of color, bright under the lamp. “Anyway, I don’t work on the explosive stuff when I’m too sleep-deprived.”
You sigh, deflating. “Yeosang.”
“Y/N.”
“Yeosang, please.” You cross your arms, smirk gone, eyes suddenly very heavy and tired in the pale lamplight. “I have to do this.”
Yeosang puts down the braid and rests his elbows on the table. He presses his face into his open palms, black hair matted with dirt and grease falling into his eyes. “I know,” he says, words muffled into skin dusted with powder and grime. “I just don’t like knowing that you’re putting yourself in danger if I can’t be there to help you with it too.”
Fingers lock gently around his wrists, pulling his hands from his face and forcing him to meet your eyes. “I don’t like it either,” you say, shoulders slumped. “I’d rather have you on my team than anyone else. I hate being on the field and wondering if I’m going to get back alive.” Your gaze turns sharper and gentler all at once, eyes clear but soft as they stare into his. “But you give me something to come back to, Yeosang. Trust me when I say that as long as I know you’re here, I’ll fight my hardest to return.”
Fight my hardest to return. There is no certainty there, no reassurance that you’ll come back no matter what. Nothing is certain, after all, not life or death, and working for an underground alliance attempting to bring down an entire government only throws that delicate balance into greater limbo.
But you’re a fighter. Always have been, even before you two defused the bomb that got you recruited into the alliance. There’s a reason Yeosang trusts you more than anyone else he knows, even Hongjoong – because he knows you. Knows you’ll fight.
He doesn’t have the right to ask you for anything more than that.
Yeosang sighs, turning around. “What do you need?”
You rattle off a short list of items. He makes note of it all on the wrinkled pad of paper on his desk, then stands to pore through the shelves. One by one, he pulls them down and hands them to you – weaponry, explosives – and then he pauses.
There’s one more thing that needs to be on the list. You don’t say it out loud – you never liked to, never wanted to talk about the pill you and your team would take if captured, assuming there was enough time. Yeosang knows you’d take it – you’ve sworn to it more than once, and you don’t break promises – but you don’t like to talk about it.
So he has to bring it up.
“How many?” Yeosang asks, fingers hovering over the small purple bottle.
“Three.”
Three. One less than usual. Yeosang wonders who’s out of commission – no one is dead or he would’ve heard, so it’s probably an injury – and mentally slaps himself for wishing it was you.
His fingers tremble slightly as he shakes four pills into your waiting palm. Three for your team, one for you. “Try not to have to use yours.”
The corner of your lips tilts up in an almost smirk as you slip them into a pouch. “I’ll do my best.”
There’s technically nothing left for Yeosang to do anymore. He’s pulled down everything you need, so he could go back to working on whatever the hell he was doing before you came in and let you go. But he lingers, fingers clutching his desk tightly like it’s the only thing holding him up, and prays that you won’t leave.
You don’t. Instead, you face him with that smirk, even though your eyes speak of uncertainty and pain. “Any last words of advice, Mr. Pyrotechnic?”
The words leave him on autopilot. “Don’t mix up the grenades or I’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself.” He pauses. “And don’t go and try to set anything off as fireworks for fun.”
“Gotcha.” You nod solemnly like it’s real advice and not just something stupid Yeosang has been saying for years to lighten the mood before one of your missions. “I’ll try to keep myself from doing anything dumb.” You turn around, ready to walk out.
“Y/N.”
You look back.
Yeosang swallows, nails digging into the desk. “Good luck.”
No requests, no demands. No “come back safe” or “be careful,” because none of that you can promise. Luck is the only thing Yeosang can offer. All he can do is hope for something in return.
And perhaps a bit of luck has decided to shine on him today, because you do return something.
A curve of your lips that reaches your eyes.
Yeosang almost stumbles. The smile on your face is genuine, real – it hits him in the chest like a bullet but a soft one, burying itself deep in his heart in a ball of warmth that slowly spreads through his blood and makes him feel just a little more awake, a little more alive.
“Thanks.” You nod, eyes still glimmering. Lamplight flickers on your face as you turn once more, heading out of his sight.
Yeosang holds onto the vision of your smile as he watches you go.
If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3
(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Yeosang to keep it together (he will, but he could use the love))
Raijin sat up and stretched, her back was hurting a bit, well imperial cells were never really comfortable. She should know that at this point. Her turquois eyes narrowed, she got up and sat down in the middle of the room, crossing her legs.
Whoever had captured her was holding her captive on a Star Destroyer, it wouldn’t be possible for her to escape the easily. For now did she have to wait and observe the situation.
