#cassian andor x female reader

[amywritesthings]

about you. (cassian x you)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Summary: You are a rebel spy working as an escort at Canto Bight's cliffside casino. When Luthen cannot meet you for an intel exchange on New Year's Eve, he sends his best asset. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that meant you'd reunite with your former childhood best friend, Cassian Andor.

Warnings: New Year's Eve, Spy Thriller, Escort Service, Romantic Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Reunions, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Mentions of Sex Work, Wall Pinning, New Year's Eve Kiss

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I had a fun holiday one shot idea and wanted to try my hand at writing Cassian Andor. I am wishing you all a happy & healthy new year, and I can't wait to continue writing in 2023.

( Read on AO3 )

Canto Bight is always bustling at New Year’s Eve.

It’s why Luthen Rael has shown up on your doorstep for the first time in months. In his not-so subtle way, the man requests (see: demands) that you float back to your old haunt, the one within the glittering halls of their monument cliffside casino, and do what you do you best: entertain as a partner experience escort for the rich and powerful. 

The partner experience operation has been your designation from the very beginning of this rebellious calling. Your contribution to the rebellion, as he claims, is valuable — because the whispers in the night by decorated Imperials that feel safe in your company are priceless.

Whispers bring intel, and not even gold is as priceless as Imperial intel.

Luthen claims he knew of your potential the moment he laid eyes on you in a seedy dive bar on an Outer Rim moon. The little lamb far from her home planet Ferrix, looking fearful yet enraged all the same; starved, but most importantly willing to do anything to take down the Empire one domino at a time.

It was the type of spunk the older man needed in a claustrophobic world.

So you struck a deal: under trained supervision, you would run the casino circuits and red districts — never quite getting close enough to sleeping with the enemy (who knew the Empire thrived on humiliation and edging?) but enough to drug them, learn from them, then report back to him for the next move.

Rinse and repeat for six successful years.

And right now, you were supposed to be done. Find a small shack in the middle of nowhere knowing you did your part in the small but mighty agenda. Perhaps, eventually, you would find a way to make peace with your past and your present.

Then Luthen fucking Rael shows up at the stoop of said shack only six months later with a new opportunity.

A new strategy on the chess board.

(The rebellion, as he so candidly puts it, is never final.)

“Did you hear about what’s going on with Life Day this year on Canto Bight?” Luthen grunts, opting to stand by the doorway rather than a seat at your makeshift kitchen table.

You drop down unceremoniously with your arms at your sides. You know — and you know he knows — there is a blaster taped on the belly of the steel table should this be an unpleasant visit.

“You mean the Wookie holiday?”

“Hmm,” Luthen sounds, caught between a yes and a no. “Supposed to be the Wookie holiday, but it seems the Empire has allowed the casino a profitable chance to participate until the new year.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you muse in return, surveying him. “When you say profitable, you mean—”

“Everyone who is anyone will be visiting.” Luthen never makes any sudden movements; always trapped sounding bored with this life he leads. It’s also a tactic not to play his cards too far from his chest. “They’ll be running the gambit for paid time off.”

Smile bland, you nod once. “Which is code for… you need someone on the inside.”

“For the season,” he agrees, shifting his weight. “A gift to the faces who may have missed you.”

“Missed me?”

“I hear about the Diamond quite a lot.”

Their precious Diamond.

Maker, that nickname always made your skin crawl.

You huff, rubbing your nose with the back of your thumb. “Flattery gets you nowhere with me, Luthen, you know that.”

He takes a pause, small eyes observing everything that you do. Updating a mental database logging your quirks and your discomfort to cipher for a later date — that’s all he’s ever done, study and download people, and he’s done so without error yet.

(It’s why he’s never been caught.)

“It isn’t flattery,” he finally says. “It’s an opportunity.”

To do everything we couldn’t the first time, is what he really implies.

It’s feeding an addiction no amount of dead fascists will be able to quench.

“And how do I tell them why I want the job back after I quit?”

“Your mother was very ill. You needed to help with her expenses,” Luthen fabricates from thin air. “It was easiest to part ways without the low note on your record. But the credits have dried up, and their clientele will be thankful of the casino’s decision to allow you back on the floor.”

It’s your turn to pause — to study. He gives away nothing. You lean forward to rest your elbows on the tops of your thighs.

“You think that’ll work?”

“You’ll sell it,” is all he gives back like you’ve already said yes.

You’re supposed to be out.

(Do you want to be out?)

.

.

.

.

.

No.

No, you don’t.

.

.

.

.

.

Getting the job back at the casino as a specialized escort is easy. The difficulty lies in remembering how to fall into old, subtle habits when all you want to do is cause chaos. Staying engaged while chatting up Imperial scum as they spittle in their expensive liquors and moan about the woes of their occupations and agenda can only go on for so long.

Yet you laugh with the rest of them once they’re kissing your feet and your hands, because everyone in this rebellion has a part to play.

(Our loveliest of diamonds, back to see us once again.)

Luthen, of course, never leaves you to your own devices for long. Gifting a hefty sum of credits and a bag of dissolvable sedatives every time he passes through Canto Bight as his alter ego is about as noble as the illusive man gets.

You fill small briefcases with voice memos and holovideos of nightly conversations, drunken manifestos and slippery plans.

It works.

By some miracle, you have never been caught.

New Year’s Eve is filled to the brim with Imperial guards enjoying time off from their grueling schedules. Some of the higher commanding officers already have their arms draped over people inviting them to a great time. Others chase after the debauchery promised by scantily clad creatures inviting them into the halls and out of their money.

You? Have a booking in advance: a high-ranking officer, but not within the Inner Circle.

According to Luther, he’s a valuable asset double-crossing their superiors.

A plant.

You are to deliver the intel to him under Luthen’s command and trust.

(Ironic. You always believed Luthen trusted no one.)

At the final half hour of the year’s end, you round the corner from the main entertainment room and down the hallway towards the private event spaces. A multitude of sounds are muffled by the doors — some good, some not so. Your focus is set on the twelfth door where your officer awaits, and suddenly you feel nervous all over again.

Meeting one of Luthen’s other operatives feels all too daunting.

After a moment, you place your code into the code box by the door and wait for the durasteel to slide, revealing the plush crimson meeting space. It's staged with a convenient king-sized bed and a vanity for refreshment, inviting comfort and suggesting the obvious.

What greets you as the door opens — a silhouette at the edge of the bed, dressed in Imperial formals — is not what you envisioned.

The man’s hair is what you notice first: disheveled brown locks are combed back neatly, smoothed by gel to keep the unruliness at bay. The jacket’s shoulders are a little too pointed, as if he’s not grown into his uniform quite yet — or like he’d stolen it on his way into the venue. The lines on his faces aren’t new, but aren’t old. He’s tired — so fucking tired, but he sits taller the second the door opens.

The blank expression on his face is purposeful, almost doe-eyed, with a feigned, smug-like innocence only an Imperial officer would wear.

Then his gaze travels from your open-toed shoes, up your bodysuit dress of sequins, and locks onto your face.

Just like that, the façade is broken.

What once was blank now hardens, wholly confused, before the lines on his prominent brow smooth with recognition.

Cassian.

Of all the idiots in all the galaxy, Cassian Andor is dressed as an Imp in your meeting space on the eve of the new year.

And you thought, with this rebellion, that you’d seen everything.

While the officer in disguise is much older than what your memory recalls, you could never forget that face even if the Empire tried. The feeling of dirt under your fingernails, the scent of rubber burning, the spark of an electric charge from a stolen piece of property — it all floods back in a tidal wave, almost knocking you a step back into the hallway.

On Ferrix, Cassian Andor always ran around with different people — sometimes it was Bix when she wasn’t punished for entertaining teen scoundrels; sometimes it was other boys in scrappy brawls and mended machinery; most of the time, however, it was you.

Hand and hand, causing mayhem in the bright suns and the full moons. He'd shown you what it meant to stand up for yourself. To want what you want and not apologize for it. To be bold, even at the expense of disruption.

And then he’d pummel whatever wayward eye looked at you the wrong way.

Trouble. 

Cassian Andor was so much trouble, and you were mad for it.

Your last memory of him is as vivid as the neon lights lining the ceiling: you're both sixteen years old and shoulder-to-shoulder on an inclined metal slab, staring up at the stars. He's wearing that jacket from his father and hasn't combed his hair in days. You're lost in telling him about your dreams of a better tomorrow, of one day leaving Ferrix for good and making a difference in the vastness of the galaxy despite how small you feel. He laughs, a hum more than anything else, and takes your hand in his.

You're too afraid to squeeze back.

Having Cassian poke fun of the idea of doing much of anything in the galaxy never felt like he mocked you for wanting to try. More than anything, his laugh was one of envy: he couldn’t afford dreams, so you dreamt for the both of you. He couldn’t handle intimacy, so you were satisfied with resting your hand in his the entire night.

Nothing was said. Nothing had changed.

He gave what he could, and you understood.

Childhood friendship has a funny way of feeling that simple.

Cassian, however, never truly chose to change with you. He never truly chose anyone, not really, not when he had so much to give — to his mother, to his scrapyard confidantes, to Bix.

You fit somewhere in the chapters of his life, but Cassian Andor could never tell you which ones. He could not, and would not, promise someone tomorrow.

An unfinished book.

You never did tell him where you were going after hitching a ride on that stock transport to get the hell out of Ferrix for good. Not a single holocard or a note.

Just… gone, into the galaxy, to dream.

Now he sits in front of you at the edge of your meeting space bed, threatening to ruin your calculated cover in one-fell swoop.

Before Cassian can implode your operation, you turn on the mask: with a bright smile and squared shoulders, you gesture to the plush furniture of the room. “Is it to your liking, Mr. —?”

You trail off on your question to give him a chance to speak.

Cassian blinks a few times, only to remember himself.

“Raoul,” he blurts without dismissing his accent, eyes widening with an unspoken question: what are you doing here? “Sargeant Murl Raoul.”

Maker, you haven’t heard that voice in so long.

It’s deeper now. Rusty. Scratched.

“Sargeant,” you correct pleasantly, taking a step into the bedroom to toe the perimeter. Cassian pulls the geometric gray hat clear from his head, balling it in his fist, but you raise a palm at the hip when his mouth opens: don’t.

He listens, pressing his lips together with purpose.

“I asked if this room was to your liking," you repeat.

Cassian struggles with an answer, studying you with concern. You hate it. You hated it back on Ferrix when he tried to play protector, and a decade and a half apart doesn’t dilute the emotion.

Your brows rise, and he clears his throat. “I— yes, I am quite comfortable.”

“Good,” you conclude with a small nod. “Now before I join you and get more comfortable, do you have any questions for me?”

“More comfortable?” he asks a little too fast, so you recover with a glide of your hand along your sparkling thigh.

“Can’t do much when I’m in this old thing,” you coo, that stage performer voice now sounding so phony to your ears with a known audience. “Shouldn’t take long.”

Cassian runs the tip of his tongue along the seam off his lips, shifting his seat on the mattress. “I suppose I could ask how… uh, how long have you been doing… this?”

You don’t know if he’s asking about the escort arrangement or the Informant position, which further complicates the game. The odds of Cassian showing up on Canto Bight should be slim. Cassian wearing an Imperial outfit on his own ought to be slim to none. 

But appearing in your private meeting space, fake alias and all?

Your blood runs cold with truth between the lines.

(Luthen never does anything by accident.)

This meeting — reuniting Cassian and yourself — is his test, a judgment call, but you refuse to let Luthen win the game with this surprise hand.

“Years,” you answer honestly, to both.

You continue to face him as you skirt around the left side of the sparkling vanity, not taking any chances with your former friend. Your manicured fingers glide along the mirror’s back, searching for the planted Imperial wire.

(Not only are they cruel, but perverted in their efforts to catch spies.)

“So then you are... experienced?” The question comes out rougher than you believe he intends. Gruff, like he’s embarrassed to even ask.

(The question almost — almost — makes your face burn.)

“If you’re worried that you won’t have a good time, Sergeant, then I promise they sent you to me for a reason. I’m going to take great care of you.”

Cassian’s expression darkens at this as he rises to his feet with purpose.

You rip the microphone from the back of the mirror, holding the device between your index and middle finger for show. 

This stops him from moving ahead, eyes locked on the microphone before flickering back to you. You shake your head.

I said don’t.

He nods once, and you take the microphone between your hands. With two clicks, the wire cover pops open, displaying a multitude of tiny wires. You fidget between two, pulling, until the red eye at the center of the device dissolves into black.

The room is blanketed with silence.

Now it’s just you and a ghost here.

“We’re clear,” you tell him after another beat, dropping the seductive aloofness in your tone.

Cassian’s shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. “That was fast.”

Your brow picks up that fraction, raising high. “You have to dismantle them fast."

“Let me take a look at it,” Cassian replies, tossing the hat twisted in his hands to the mattress. "Are you certain it's off?"

“Positive,” you say, sheltering the item closer to your chest. “You don't need to look at it. Easy to disable and reassemble at a moment’s notice, so I’ll turn it back on when you depart.”

“What about lost footage?”

“Chalk it up as faulty equipment they’re too stubborn to replace in a shithole like this.”

Cassian mulls over your answer, taking a cautious few steps forward to observe the small device in your hand. “Imperial-grade wires are tough to work with. A five-second warning doesn’t give many people time to disable the alarm,” he informs in a whispered afterthought. “Where did you learn to do that?”

In your bones, you know it’s a trick question.

Fifteen-something years of reuniting in a moment like this comes with immense drawbacks. When he asks, it is not out of curiosity — it is out of the desire to see if you are truly you.

(Because he remembers your face, too.)

“On Ferrix,” you reply.

He gives no reaction, continuing to deadpan. “Where on Ferrix?”

“You want me to remember from that long ago?” you laugh, placing the microphone on the vanity’s surface and following up with a thick blue cloth to drape over top of it.

“Humor me,” he reasons, flexing his leather-clad fingers at his sides. Now that he doesn’t have a distraction, Cassian doesn’t stop looking at your face.

(The same intensity as the boy without dreams.)

“The old Slavyard. There was that one incredibly rainy month when those prim and proper freaks—”

“—installed the spyware on the back door in the middle of the night,” he interrupts, finishing the story with a misplaced awe under his breath. “You played lookout while I disabled the devices.”

You don’t answer, not really, as you offer a half-hearted smile. “Say what you want about that place, but you learn a lot of things when you watch restless boys who never know when to stop getting in trouble.”

The return smile is small and fleeting, but the corner of Cassian’s lip upticks. His brows knit together, contemplating before a huff of a laugh exits. “Not a very good lookout, then, if you were so busy watching me.”

“You never got caught, though, did you?” you joke.

You swear he almost laughs.

The silence settles at your ankles and rises with each passing second, encompassing you both in a shroud of possibilities: pleasantries are nice, but the popping of bottles and shouts of celebration passing by your room brings you both back to a reality where you’re playing pretend.

Cassian huffs once more, running a hand down his face and around his neck before dropping it in a gesture towards you. “He cannot be serious.”

He.

You catch that pronoun with intrigue and tilt your chin.

“Serious about what? Who’s ‘he’?”

His voice softens, shrinking in size, as he nears half a step closer and into your bubble. “Don’t tell me it’s you.” You maintain eye contact — maintain dominance of this situation — and stay in place. “When he said to wait…”

“...for the Informer, you didn’t think you’d run into a ghost?” you finish, and he’s polite enough not to nod. “He only told me the person he was sending in his stead was one of his best assets. This reunion isn’t my doing.”

“No,” Cassian agrees, low and certain. “It isn’t.”

Because Luthen knows.

Luthen knows, and that’s dangerous in and of itself: his little lamb on Ferrix knew his most trusted asset long before the mastermind was in the picture, and this sabotage is meant to figure you out.

(To figure you both out for his own gain: to make sure you were both up for the task, history aside.)

Your jaw clenches as you nod with assertion, mindful of the train of your body-tight dress when you shift around Cassian to create some space. He turns his torso, following.

“Did he force you to do this?” When you pause in your steps to quirk a brow, he struggles with verbalizing what this means. “Entertaining these low lives while they piss their credits away.”

“Very strong words for someone dressed as an Imp.”

He completely ignores you, hyper in his budding rage. “Because if anyone has touched you—”

“No one’s forcing me to do anything, Cass,” you reply, hateful that the former nickname leaves your lips so fluidly; as if no time has passed. “We’re all cogs working for the same machine.”

“That doesn’t mean he should be having you do this on your own,” the man argues. “He’s not even on the planet, for fuck’s sake. This is dangerous work.”

“You keep saying this or that, but you’re not really asking the real question.” Your nose scrunches, maliciously playful. “I don’t fuck them. It’s pretend, Cassian. My honor is intact.”

Cassian squints with a scoff. “That isn’t what I meant—”

“It isn’t?” you challenge.

“No,” he responds just as fast and just as intense. A smirk plays on your lips, slow and growing. “Fuck whoever you’d like to fuck. One or a dozen, I don’t care, but not them. They don’t deserve you.”

“And who does?”

“I don’t know, but not Luthen or the pieces of shit out there or anyone on this planet.”

“Not even you, right?”

He stares down at you, hard. You snort in disbelief.

“I never thought I’d see the day where Cassian Andor is jealous of a body count, but I guess stranger things have happened for both of us.”

Cassian’s jaw sets, nostrils flaring with an anger he refuses to bury completely. He searches your face, lost on a response, before sharply inhaling through his nose.

“I need information on your regulars.”

Ah.

No more games. 

You roll your eyes, absently waving him off as you turn to walk towards the crate-like nightstand. “I have the files on a drive.”

No more games, or so you thought — Cassian follows close behind. “Drives are easily corruptible or lost or stolen. You could just tell me.”

Your hand hovers on the drawer when you turn your chin to look at him. “Yeah, sure, let me just… tell you about a mission I’ve spent years finessing so you can get the details wrong when you relay with Luthen.”

“Do you think so little of my memory skills?” he says and it’s a joke, but it teeters on the edge of an argument.

Just like old times.

You don’t need this type of deja vu before the new year.

“Whisper down the lane only goes so far,” you answer, turning back to the drawer in front of you. Your hand lifts the edge of the bottom plate, removing a small box from the center of the hidden compartment.

You only pause when you feel his presence right behind you as soft puffs of air tickle the back of your exposed neck.

He says nothing, not at first, in this proximity. Then a syllable sounds:

“Why?”

The question is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it whisper. His voice flutters along your skin, causing a shiver down your spine. Deep down you know he’s not asking about the drive or your distaste for his preferred method of relay. Why — the one word you hoped to never face.

If you concentrate hard enough, you can smell the scent of his cologne.

It smells nothing like Cassian.

You stay focused on a miniscule dot on the wall, too afraid to turn around.

“We can’t do this here,” you murmur, barely audible in return.

“I paid for the hour,” he replies. “If I were to leave ten minutes into your company, then there would be questions.”

(He’s right. As much as you hate it, your former friend is right.)

You raise your chin to the ceiling, closing your eyes. Contemplating. Seeking anything, everything, to say to avoid what’s to come.

You open your mouth to speak, but Cassian gets there first.

“I looked for you.” A vulnerable statement from an impenetrable man. His chin leans forward, the warmth of him spreading to your aura. “In dozens of quadrants—”

“Cassian.”

“—and about a hundred planets—”

“Stop.”

“—but you left nothing.” The final word emphasizes with raw emotion, causing your throat to swell. His gloved hand rests on your tricep, but you turn to finally face him. The closeness of him is a surprise — piercing brown eyes meet yours with mere centimeters between noses. “No note, no goodbye, no telling where you might have headed. Nothing.”

Frowning, you don’t realize that you’re shaking your head. The lines on his face are too distracting. He is distracting.

“You were never supposed to see me again.”

“And I never understood why.” He steps forward. You step back. When you think he won’t advance, he continues to step once, twice, until the third lands your back to the corner of the room. “So I am asking — now — while I can still have you: why?”

While I can still have you. You know the implication isn’t there, not truly, but your heart aches for it. The tension makes you feel so small, as if you’re eighteen and flying all over again.

You’re supposed to be over this; over him.

“I had to start new,” you answer after a considerable pause, forcing yourself to look him in the eye in what little space is held between you. “I was always going to leave Ferrix.”

“I knew that,” he argues softly. “I was never going to deter you from—”

“No. No, you were never going to,” you agree, nodding. “But you were always off and on the planet, doing what you had to for everyone else. If I didn’t cut Ferrix out of my life, then I wonder if I would have had the same fate as my parents or my friends: getting stuck there. And not just getting stuck, but waiting.”

“Waiting?” Cassian asks with confusion, brows knit.

You relax against the wall with a humorless laugh. “How did you not see it? The way I always waited for you.” Anxious, you turn your cheek to check the main door as you mull over your next few words. “I would have waited my whole life for you.”

The air in the room shifts.

Although he remains in your peripheral vision, the man stays staring at you without a discernible expression. The gravity of what you’re admitting drags lower, lower, until he says something that forces you to look at him head-on:

“I thought you were indifferent to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Indifferent?”

Cassian nods, short and quick. “You had all these big plans. I listened for hours. Not one of them involved me.”

“Because I didn’t think you’d want to be a part of those plans.”

“Maybe I didn’t think I couldn’t make a difference, not in a… rebellion, though the irony is not lost on me now,” he admits with a huff of a laugh, “but I wanted to be a part of you. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I still had you.”

You stare at him as he stares back at you, totally dumbfounded with this brand new information. Cassian swallows thickly, shifting his weight yet again from one leg to another. The loud party continues outside of your room, drowning these confessions in the excitement for a nearing midnight.

You had all these big plans.

Memories warp at a second’s notice as your brain tries to understand what he’s laid at your altar.

Not one of them involved me.

He shouldn’t be saying this.

He shouldn’t be saying any of this.

Closing your eyes to find a pause in your racing thoughts, you try — try to find where perhaps this is fabricated, designed to see if you’re easily swayed by the past that you so desperately let die in this rebellion.

Slowly, your eyelids flutter open. Cassian is watching with something close to concern.

(Something, maybe, closer to fear.)

You gently shake your head. “This is a test.” 

“I know.” 

“Luthen did this—” 

“Fuck Luthen,” he breathes out, eyes dropping to stare at your lips, and your heartbeat quickens. 

His brows meet in the middle, concentrated yet lost — as if he’s back on Ferrix, scrawny and scrappy and calculating the gravity of the risk should he decide to steal or trespass —

Or do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Cassian.” 

Your voice is gentle with a warning. His eyes do not raise, but he does answer.

“What?”

“You have that look on your face.” 

“I have a look?”

“When you’re contemplating doing something stupid? Yes.”

He snorts, amused. “You remember what that looks like after fifteen years?”

“It's very hard to forget it.” 

He mulls the moment over, flickering his attention back up to your eyes and nodding.

“You’re right. I am thinking of doing something stupid.”

“How stupid?”

“Incredibly.”

A beat passes.

Finally he blinks up to your eyes, searching for an answer to a question he hasn’t asked yet. You wait, just as you’ve always waited, to hear his voice.

“It’s almost midnight,” he says, flexing the leather gloved hand at his side. “I should go.”

Everything sinks.

The crowd outside grows louder as people depart from their private rooms to celebrate in the middle of the casino. Everyone begins the unison countdown of the final minute until the new year rings out.

The device in your hand grows heavy — a reminder of why he’s here in the first place, what Luthen will be looking for, yet your arm cannot rise to give it over.

(A few more minutes and he’ll be gone.)

To find a reason to keep him here with you would be selfish.

Instead of protesting, you nod. 

“Yeah. You should go.”

He nods, too, and his throat bobs with a swallow.

Outside your door, their laughter and shouts reach a collective ten, nine, eight, seven…

Yet he doesn’t move. 

Neither do you.

Six, five, four, three…

“Cass?”

Two.

Cassian speaks with broken finality, rushed and wanting. “I can't go without—”

You beat him to it.

Canto Bight’s cliffside casino roars with excitement of the new year while you grab the lapel of his Imperial uniform, dragging him in as he simultaneously launches his lips to yours.

The force of him smacks your head into the wall, but the stars behind your eyes aren’t from impact. It’s from the way he presses his mouth to yours, desperate to pour years of frustration and wonder into a long-awaited kiss. You whimper into it, eager to dissolve any space between you.

Cassian Andor cages your head into the palms of his gloved hands, holding you with a tenderness and strength only he can have. He groans into your mouth when he tastes you, tongue dragging along your lower lip — the neediness of it is enough to make your knees give out.

Except he drops his hands to your shoulders and spins you, pressing your chest into the wall. Using your hands to balance yourself, Cassian wastes not a second more to place his hands over yours, pinning you in place.

“We should have — opened with a fight,” he murmurs breathlessly into your ear, kissing your earlobe before bringing it into his mouth. 

You bite back a moan, dropping your forehead to the wall. “If I'd known you wanted to kiss me after all this time, Cass, then I would have — gone straight past a fight and went for it.”

He chuckles behind you, letting go of your earlobe to travel kisses down the side of your neck.

“There is a lot I wanted to do back then, but I was too chickenshit to try it.”

The imagery of a lot burns into the back of your skull.

“And now?” you ask, but it’s wavered.

Cassian slows down, but his lips remain against the crook of your neck. You mourn the loss of speed, pushing your hips back to connect with his.

A hand shoots down to still your waist as his thumb runs soothing strokes into the skintight dress.

“Not here,” he decides, but it isn’t regretful. It’s determined. “When I see you again—”

“When?” you interrupt.

“When,” he enforces, squeezing your waist, “I see you again, I’ll do what I’ve been too chickenshit to do and it won’t be under a watchful eye.”

When I see you again.

You smile small, delirious in the haze of him.

“Is that a promise?”

“As good as I can make one,” he responds in earnest, turning to leave a small kiss on your cheek. “You’re not losing me so easily this time.”

And you believe him.

Misunderstandings, miscommunications — all of that hardship to end up here, of all places.

You have so much to learn.

(He has so much to hear.)

Even if this was Luthen’s doing, even if this was a test of faith, you cannot find a reason to care. Not when your lips still tingle with the kiss you’d only dreamt about your entire life.

Reaching for his arm, you gently bring his free hand to yours and place the small drive in the middle of his palm. Cassian’s chin drops to observe the tiny metal, jaw setting to its unreadable clench.

Because at the end of the night, you both still have jobs to do.

A new year.

(A new horizon.)

“Until next time,” you say, removing your hand from his.

Cassian curls his fingers over the drive, shoving the small device in his coat pocket. He flexes and raises his hand to bring it up to your cheek, cradling your face once more as he leans in for one final kiss. This time it’s softer. Timid.

The closest Cassian Andor can ever get to a promise.

He pulls away, nose to nose, and mirrors in reply.

“Until next time.”

#andor #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x f!reader #andor tv #andor tv series #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfiction #luthen rael #female reader #reader insert #new years eve #about you #amywritesthings

[beskarandblasters]

The Leisure Zone

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Summary: Cassian Andor walks into a brothel on Morlana One looking for a good time but ends up leaving with more than he bargained for.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, sex work, blowjob, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, reader has an alias she uses at the brothel (Venus), potential for a part two, no use of y/n

On a dark and rainy night on Morlana One Cassian Andor walks through an area known as the Leisure Zone, looking for a good time. 

For you on the other hand it’s just a normal night at the brothel. There’s two Preox-Morlana employees sitting at the bar in the lounge and the hostess, Zeva, is trying to pass them along to you. 

You poke your head through the beaded curtains and get a look at the men at the bar. Definitely not what you’re in the mood for. You retreat back to the hallway and turn to Zeva. 

“No way,” you say. 

“Can’t say I blame you,” she laughs, “I’ll see if some of the others can take them. And if someone better comes along I’ll send him your way,” she finishes with a wink. 

“Sounds good!” you say before walking back to your room. 

In the meantime Cassian enters the brothel, scanning the room for the hostess but also for anyone he knows. Ferrix had their fair share of similar establishments but the point of coming to a brothel all the way on Morlana One was to avoid running into anyone he knew. Thankfully he’s safe tonight. 

Zeva spots him enter just as you walk back to your room and immediately makes a beeline for him, thinking that she’s found the perfect client for you. 

“How can I help you?” she asks sweetly. 

“Just looking for a service,” he says shyly. 

“Oh I have just the girl in mind for you. Follow me.”

She turns on her heel and leads Cassian across the lounge towards the beaded curtain. The two Preox-Morlana employees sitting at the bar scowl at Cassian as he walks past, most likely upset at the fact that he’s being serviced before them. She brings him to your door and says, “She’ll take great care of you. You can call her Venus. Enjoy!” And with that, she turns and walks back to the lounge. 

He knocks on the door and you open it to reveal yourself to him, dressed in nothing but a dark blue silky robe and matching bra and underwear set. The robe was tied loosely as your waist leaving a small hint of cleavage. His eyes gravitate to your chest before immediately moving back to your face in embarrassment at checking you out. 

“Hi there,” you say, leaning against the doorframe and smirking.

“H-hi,” he stutters.

“Well, come on in, handsome,” you say, stepping to the side so he can enter.

He walks in awkwardly and the door closes behind him. His eyes trail up and down your form again and while yes, he’s checking you out, but he’s also looking at you more than an object of desire. 

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Cassian,” he says nervously. 

You take a step closer, closing the gap between you two and place your hand on his chest. Your gaze meets his and the hand you had on his chest moves to his cheek; his skin burning hot against your touch. 

“So Cassian, what will it be tonight?”

“Uhh…”

“Are you not sure? Perhaps I should choose for you.”

“S-sure,” he says. 

“Sit down for me,” you say, gesturing to the couch behind you, “And strip.” you add.

He takes off his clothes and sets them down gingerly on one side of the couch. He sits down and you can see his cock already starting to grow hard. You pull off your robe slowly and set it down with his clothes, taking note of how his eyes widen at the reveal of more skin. You kneel in front of his legs and bring your hand to his cock. His breath hitches at your touch.

“Don’t be nervous, Cassian” you whisper. 

He takes a deep breath and you stroke his cock, feeling it getting harder in your hand. A dribble of pre cum leaks from the tip so you swirl your thumb around the head of his cock, emitting a gasp from him. You bring your mouth to his cock and take as much of his length as you can into your mouth, wrapping your hand around the part that won’t fit. You bop your head up and down and one of his hands slowly migrate towards your hair. But he’s being hesitant about it. You place your hand on his and bring it to your hair, letting him know that it’s okay. You continue sucking him as he tugs at your hair, letting out deep moans as you pleasure him. Your other hand goes to cup his balls and you feel them tighten up in your hand. The tip of his cock goes rigid and you know he’s about to cum soon. But not yet. 

You pull your mouth away and say, “Not yet,” looking up at him. He’s panting and the look on his face is truly priceless, seeing someone so shy and reserved like him slowly unravel. 

You stand up and slip off your underwear, stepping out of them while unclasping your bra. You straddle him and hover over his cock while he looks at you for further instructions.

“Touch me, Cassian,” you say softly, bringing one of his hands to your breast and the other to your cunt. Every time you say his name it just makes him weaker and weaker, completely melting into your touch and falling into a trance. You grow wetter just by showing what to do and guiding him on where to touch you, observing how flustered he gets. He lightly pinches your nipple which grows hard between his fingertips. His other hand goes to his mouth, moistening his other set of fingers to bring to your cunt. He strokes your entrance delicately, reveling in your warmth and your soft skin. Your eyes close, lashes fanning out against your face. And that’s when Cassian admires your beauty, the soft gasps reacting to his touch, your chest rising and falling as you breathe heavier, the outline of your breasts, and the curve of your waist. He slips a finger inside you and you moan out at the sudden presence inside you. His curls finger upwards, working your g-spot and expanding your walls. He inserts another finger and you grind yourself against his hand. You’re desperate for more; desperate to be sitting on his cock already. Before you could cum yourself you pull his hand away and for a moment his face betrays a look of confusion. But it’s instantly replaced with a look of bliss as you sink down onto his cock. 

“You feel so good; so perfect,” he moans. 

“Ah, I’m so full,” you whisper, moving against him.

His hands move to your waist and your hands move to his hair, tugging at it likely while you rock your hips. You’re pressed up against each other, looking directly into each other’s eyes. It feels like you’re having a connection instead of a transaction. Most clients opt to have you bend over or on top of them while they lay down. But with him you’re pressed up against each other so intimately, face to face and eyes locked on each other. With each movement of your hips his cock is buried inside you deeper and deeper. You bring your face against his and kiss him, both of you moaning into the kiss as you cum around him. Your cunt flutters around his cock rhythmically, sending tingling waves out from your core. Your own orgasm triggers a chain reaction, pulling his own orgasm from him, the tip of his cock flush against your cervix and coating your insides with his cum. You continue moving against him as both of your orgasms ebb and flow. Once he’s finished coming down from his high he realizes what he’s done and starts profusely apologizing. 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sor-” he starts but you cut him off.

“It’s okay! I have an implant. All the girls here do.”

He nods, still panting slightly from his release. At this point in a session either the client would pull out or you would pull yourself off of them but neither of you move from each other. Strangely enough, you two start to get to know each other, with his cock still buried inside you. 

“So, what’s your name?” he asks.

“Zeva told you. It’s Venus.”

“No, I mean your real name,” he says, his hand tracing the outline of your body.

You tell him your name and it brings you to ask, “Is Cassian your real name?”

“Mhm. Where are you from, sweetheart?”

“Alderaan,” you say, leaning into him more.

“Morlana One's quite a ways away from Alderaan.”

“Long story. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Kenari.”

“Really? Don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from Kenari. I didn’t think that place was even liveable anymore”

“It’s not. I live on Ferrix now.”

Your eyebrows raise and he chuckles, “Long story.” 

And so the small talk about your names and where you’re from turns into a deep and real conversation. You tell each other about how you ended up where you are now. He tells you of his life before he was taken from Kenari at a young age, so much life and history behind the random stranger that walked into the brothel tonight. And as he listens to you, he strokes your hair and or rubs your skin, all while looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the whole galaxy. 

“Morlana One’s not terrible… though I don’t want to work at a brothel forever. And I forgot what it’s like to live in a place that’s not crawling with Corpos.”

“Those Blues at the bar? They don’t deserve a girl like you.”

“I think you came here for a good time and got much more than you bargained for, Cassian,” you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? I'm not complaining,” he says cheekily.

But before you can respond Zeva knocks on the door and says, “We’re closing up, girl.”

You sigh and pull yourself off of him, already missing the feeling of him being inside you. He stands up and puts his clothes back on while you slip on your robe, both of you moving slowly like you don’t want the night to end. His hands find your waist again, pulling you close to him once more. 

“Will I see you here in the leisure zone again, Cassian?” you say, pressing a kiss against his lips.

“Perhaps… Maybe next time I can get you to leave with me.”

“Maybe some day,” you smile. 

“We’ll meet again.”

He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before saying goodbye, using your real name. He leaves through the door and you watch him walk down the hallway, stopping at the beaded curtain and turning to get one last look at you. He smiles and gives you a small wave before disappearing into the lounge. 

Zeva comes up behind you and says, “Girl, you were with him all night! He must’ve been good.”

“He was,” you sigh.

“I think you’ve got yourself a new regular. Much better than those Corpos.”

“Definitely,” you laugh, shaking your head before returning to you room, already thinking of when you’ll see Cassian from Kenari again. 

End note: My first Cassian fic!!! Thank you for reading and lmk what you think 🖤

Send me some Cassian requests too🥰

#cassian andor smut #cassian andor x you #cassian andor #cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor x female reader #andor #andor fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #diego luna #diego luna characters #diego luna fanfiction

[imagineyourworld]

As Long as the Stars Allow

Cassian Andor x Duchess!Reader  Warnings: Talk of death, canon typical violence, sexism, smut (including oral, PiV, and slight choking and orgasm denial, thigh riding), possessiveness (from both Cassian and reader) Summary: I honestly don’t have a summary... It’s kind of an enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, fake bodyguard, soulmates story.

-------

Nothing could ever shake your unwavering loyalty to the Rebellion, or at least that’s what you thought before you met him.  Cassian Andor. Infamous rebel spy, ladies man, fighter to his core, and the one person in the Rebellion you hated almost as much as the Empire itself.  For quite some time now you have wondered how it was possible for you to get along with every single other rebel, and then you met Cassian and all that went out the window.  It wasn’t exactly hate at first sight, in fact the first conversation the two of you had had been good. He was reserved and held back, didn’t tell you anything about his past of his motivation to join the Rebel Alliance, but he was polite, nice, almost flirty. Well, the next time you saw him all that had changed.  Cassian had single-handedly managed to make you question whether taking down the Empire was really worth spending time with him. Until said Empire committed another atrocity that is and you realised that as annoying as Cassian might be, it was worth it. For you, your loved ones, your people, and the entire galaxy.  “Your Grace, Bail Organa requests your presence in his office,” the voice of your trusted lady drew your attention away from your brooding thoughts.  You turned away from the window, the millions of stars outside it, and nodded your thanks to her.  You had expected to be called into someone’s office sooner rather than later, after all you had already spent more time on the starship than you liked. Every second you spent with the rebels, even worse on one of their ships, was a risk. You could gather intel at meetings, read classified reports from the Empire only community leaders had access to, help the Rebellion in many little ways, but actually being with them for an extended period of time might draw the wrong kind of attention and blow your cover of neutrality.  Your lady following behind you, you made your way to Bail’s office, the doors of which opened the second you halted in front of them.  “Please wait here for me, Mira.”  With a small curtsy your lady told you that she understood and you entered the office, the doors closing behind you again.  Bail Organa stood with his back to you, another human male next to him, and an all too familiar Togruta facing both of them and thereby you.  “Y/n, I’m glad you could join us,” Ahsoka said with a smile on her face.  You returned the gesture, focusing all your attention on her so as not to stare daggers at the other man in the room, who out of the corner of your eye you had by now recognised as none other than Cassian Andor.  “The pleasure is all mine. I didn’t know you’d be here,” you told her as you walked across the office to give her a hug.  Despite a ten year age difference you counted Ahsoka to your closest friends, one of the few other women in the Rebellion and someone who had been through more than you could ever imagine.  “You’re more beautiful every time I see you,” Ahsoka told you, looking you over. You knew you looked your best today, your white dress flattering your body shape and your hair styled in the newest fashion with a flower native to your planet braided into it. “Doesn’t she?”  The last words were directed at the two men in the office, forcing you to stand beside Ahsoka and look at them.  “Beautiful like a midnight flower, your Grace,” Bail said with a smooth kiss to your hand.  Cassian, on the other hand, didn’t even acknowledge you. Instead he kept his gaze focused on the holopad on the desk.  “Enough with the pleasantries now. Please, let’s get to business. What is so important that we had to meet here?”  Finally, Cassian looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours in a cold stare. “Why? Did your Grace have somewhere more important to be?”  Out of his mouth the honorific sounded like an insult. It was only due to years of education and dealing with condescending politicians that you managed to ignore him and instead focus on the two people in the room you actually liked.  “I know what you risk by meeting us here, Y/n, but there was nowhere else we deemed safe,” Ahsoka said. “What we’re about to tell you could change everything.”  Her words made you look at the datapad, which displayed a map and a long list of names next to it. It took you a moment to recognise some of them. Bail was on that list, as was his wife Queen Breha and even their daughter, though only just a teenager. Ahsoka, deemed dead by the Empire, wasn’t on it, but you spotted a few other familiar names, friends, other rebels you had only spoken to briefly. Cassian.  You looked up from the list and met his eyes. He knew he was on the list, of course he did, maybe that was the reason he was here now, and though you should have expected him to be on the list, especially with what little you know of his past, it somehow shocked you that the Empire was really after him, that one day he might not return from a mission.  “Cassian here managed to secure this list a couple of weeks ago. It’s names and last known locations of people the Empire knows or thinks might be a danger to it. Spies, rebels, gang members, everyone who for some reason or other isn’t happy with the Empire.”  You looked at Bail as he talked, an unspoken question in your eyes.  He shook his head. “You’re not on that list. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t others on which you might be.”  You nodded. It had always been a risk to work for the Rebellion, you knew that one day the Empire might find out and you would have to face the consequences.  “What’s the plan? Do you want me to hide those people on Kamaanti?”  It was somewhat of a rhetorical question, you knew, and everyone else in the room did as well, that you might have been able to hide a few people on your small planet but not an entire list of enemies to the Empire, at least not without getting yourself on that list as well, and getting people killed in the process.  “You’re invited to the Empire’s annual masquerade ball, right?”  Another rhetorical question. As Duchess of Kamaanti you were invited every year, forced to dance with Imperials, listen to their ideas and how they thought they were the greatest beings to ever walk the galaxy, and in an admittedly clever way kept away from any known rebel sympathisers at the event.  “I am.”  Bail nodded.  You remember, years ago, when he and his family had been invited to the ball as well. That’s where you first met, where you found out that Bail, in his days as a republic senator, had been quite close with your own parents before their untimely death, where he had begun to give you hints of a group of people who weren’t exactly on board with the Empire.  The last couple of years the Organas were still invited, as the royal family of Alderaan they had to be, though be it on paper only. Everyone knew that they weren’t exactly welcome, other than you they had never kept their political opinions exactly quiet.  “And it is still held in the Great Imperial Ballroom on Coruscant?”  You confirmed.  “And do you know what lies beneath the ballroom?”  You turned away from Bail to look at Ahsoka, who had spoken for the first time in a while.  “I don’t,” you admitted after a moment of silence. “But you do, don’t you? You were raised on Coruscant.”  Just like with Cassian, you knew only a little about Ahsoka’s past. You knew that she, like Bail, had known your parents before their death, that she was raised on Coruscant, that she kept many secrets she wouldn’t even tell you.  “What is now known as the Great Imperial Ballroom wasn’t always a ballroom. It used to be a training facility, which is quite useful since both a ballroom and a training room require soft flooring, big spaces, speakers for music. What are now the guest suites used to be dormitories, and underneath the ballroom, where there used to be storage, are now secret offices. Offices where the Empire does things they don’t exactly want the public to know.”  You nodded along with her words. Things they don’t exactly want the public to know, such as writing up lists of enemies of the Empire, basically kill lists.  “And you want me to, what, sneak into the basement and delete the list?”  It wasn’t exactly madness, but almost equally as insane. Sure, you had an invitation to enter the building, a suite reserved for you just a few floors up, but you had no experience with breaking and entering whatsoever. You were an informant, you could help out with sensitive information, hide a few people if necessary, donate a star ship every once in a while, but you couldn’t break into a top secret office, at least not without... help.  Your eyes flitted over to Cassian. That’s why he was here. You were the way in, he was the one to actually do the job.  “Delete the list, see if there are any others, and if so delete them as well,” Bail confirmed your earlier question.  You nodded along, barely registering his words.  Why Cassian? There were dozens of others who could to the job, people you didn’t hate, who didn’t hate you. Why did it have to be him?  “I’m sure you’re wondering what Cassian has to do with all of this,” Bail continued after a moment of silence.  You scoffed. You liked Bail, you really did, but sometimes he, like most other men, underestimated you simply because of your pretty face and your fancy clothes.  “I know exactly why he’s here. I’m the looks, he’s the brain.”  Now it was Cassian’s turn to scoff. He glared at you with fire in his eyes.  “I wouldn’t exactly say that you’re the looks. More like I’m the brain and the looks and you’re just our way in.”  Charming, you thought, rolling your eyes at him.  “Have you really thought this through, Bail?” Ahsoka asked, mirroring your thoughts exactly.  Bail shrugged. “It’s an important mission and we need our best people on it. I’m sure they can cease acting like children for at least a little while.”  Somehow his words struck you. You really were acting like children, weren’t you? Bail was right, this was an important mission and you couldn’t risk it by arguing with Cassian every time he opened his mouth or even just breathed in your direction.  With an audible sigh you reached your hand across the desk, offering it to the spy.  “Truce?”  After a moment of heavy silence, and raised eyebrows from both Ahsoka and Bail, Cassian returned the gesture, enclosing your hand in his.  The warmth of it, even in the slightly cold office, took you by surprise, as did the calluses against your soft skin. And yet his hand somehow fit in yours, not quite like a puzzle piece but it didn’t repulse you as much as you had anticipated.  You squeezed his hand once, giving him your most dazzling smile, before letting go and turning back to Bail.  “So, what’s the cover story? How am I going to get Cassian past security?” 

-------

You were scared.  It was a week later, you were on your way to the masquerade ball, and you were scared as fuck.  This, though undeniably for a good cause, wasn’t what you had signed up for when you agreed to work with the Rebellion. This was espionage, you were used to sitting behind a desk, typing up neat reports to send to the Rebellion via paper, something that left little to no digital evidence the Empire could trace back to you.  “You’re nervous,”  It wasn’t a question, Cassian, sitting beside you in the traditional clothes of your personal guard, was simply stating a fact.  And yet you couldn’t admit it, not to him.  “I’m not.”  You glanced over to your driver, the same woman who piloted your starship whenever you needed to leave the planet, who flew you from useless appointment to useless appointment. You trusted her, at least on the basic level you trusted most, if not all, of your employèes, but you couldn’t risk her overhearing anything.  “You’re quite observant,” you told Cassian in your most regal voice, the one reserved for strangers and people you didn’t like. Or at least people other than Cassian you didn’t like, he somehow brought out a version of yourself you rarely showed, one that at the same time made you feel unlike yourself and more yourself than you were at any other time. Maybe he just agitated you so much that you lost all sense of self.  “I’m your guard, it’s my job,” Cassian replied, the hint of warmth his voice had held earlier gone, replaced by the same professionalism you tried your best to conjure up.  You silently cursed Bail for the idea to have Cassian pose as your guard. Admittedly, it clever since it would explain why the two of you would stick together the entire evening, and it was one of only two ways of getting Cassian inside the building. The other being having him pretend to be your date, your boyfriend or even fiancè, which everyone agreed wouldn’t be believable and likely end in injury or death for one or both of you.  Moments of silence, in which every single way this mission could go wrong, crossed your mind, until finally the shining lights of the ballroom came into sight.  “We’ve arrived, ma’am,” your driver announced.  From the way Cassian almost choked beside you, you could tell that he was trying his best to hold back a scoff. A small smile found its way to your lips, it was quite fun seeing Cassian having to deal with all of this. You were raised from birth to one day inherit your mother’s title of Duchess of Kamaanti, to understand, and even appreciate, the protocol that came with the role, the responsibility. But all of this was new to Cassian, and for the first time in quite some time, the first time since he let it slip how he came to leave Kenari, you felt for him.  “Let’s go, Cassian,” you said in a soft voice, hoping neither he nor your driver would misinterpret it as anything more than it was, a friendly way to encourage Cassian to get out there and face whatever the evening had to offer.  You could hear him take a deep breath before he exited the ship and opened the door for you, allowing you to face the flashing lights and people lined up to watch the guests enter the ballroom.  Cassian followed just a few steps behind you as you made your way up the stairs to the main entrance.  “There are more witnesses than expected,” he whispered into your ear just as you reached the top step, the one spot where you were unlikely to be overheard by either guards or spectators.  His warm breath his your ear and for a moment it made you forget just how cold you were in your beautiful, but quite thin, dress in the Coruscant night air.  “That’s just outside, inside there’ll be way less people.”  You continued to walk up to the Imperial officer in charge of greeting the guests, one you knew you had met at a previous event but couldn’t for the life of you remember the name of.  “Your Grace,” he greeted you with a stiff bow, his expression telling you just how much he despised showing his respect to a woman, especially one so much younger than himself.  “Lieutenant, “ you return, guessing his rank based on the medals gleaming on his chest.  Cassian stood behind you, no doubt noticing every detail about the grand entrance hall and the man in front of you, taking note of every exit, surveillance camera, and blaster in the area.  “And who is that with you?”  Despite your best efforts the lieutenant’s question threw you off guard. You weren’t used to having your actions or the people in your company questioned, at least not openly though of course you knew that people talked behind closed doors, not even at an Imperial event.  “This is my personal guard. I was assured that you were told he was accompanying me.”  Cassian stepped ever so slightly closer to you, something you could only tell by the heat radiating off his body intensifying against your back. You had a feeling that if you played close enough attention you could be able to feel his breath hitting the back of your neck where your hair was pulled up.  “You didn’t bring a guard with you last year, or the year before that.”  It wasn’t a question but you nodded nonetheless, trying to hide the unease that you felt at realising that among hundreds, if not thousands, of guests the Empire paid close enough attention to you for even the lieutenant to notice a change in your company.  “Due to the political climate my head of security thought it wise to have some extra protection.”  You didn’t mention the Rebellion, didn’t say that this ball would be a perfect target and it would only make sense for someone as high ranking as yourself to have personal protection. You didn’t need to, the officer, if he knew what was good for him, would let you pass, opting to admit that the situation with the rebels was getting dangerous rather than risking angering you.  “Of course, your Grace. An extra room in your suite for your guard has been prepared prior to your arrival.”  You nodded, playing the part of snob nobility and not granting him a real answer, as you rushed past him, your skirt flowing behind you as you made your way to where you knew the lifts to be located.  “Room 4215,” the lieutenant called after you.  Only as the lift doors closed behind you did you dare to let out the breath you’ve been holding. All of this, lying, deceiving, pretending to be someone you were not, wasn’t your area of expertise, and for the first time you really came to admire Cassian for managing it all so effortlessly.  “Well, that didn’t go as well as I expected,” you started but before you could say anything else Cassian coughed once, then twice. Your agreed upon singal to tell the other that you were being watched.  You turned to face Cassian, who was standing behind you in the corner, trying to get a good look of your surroundings in the process. And there, in the top right corner, was a small camera, almost invisible to the untrained eye.  Cassian looked at you as you pretended not to notice the camera, to not let the Empire know that you were well aware that you were being watched.  Though this was you in your natural environment, embodying your role as duchess of Kamaanti, you were as tense as he had ever seen you. Granted, he hadn’t spent all that much time with you, but the few times you did see each other you always looked more relaxed.  Thinking of the easy smile, comparing your clenched shoulders to your usual posture, brought back memories of your first meeting, and the time directly after it.  It was hot, hotter even than the usual scorching temperatures of Jakku, and Cassian longed to get back to the slightly cooler Yavin, or even just a shower to wash off all the sand and dirt clinging to his sweaty skin.  He was here to meet an important informant, one he had been told couldn’t risk meeting anywhere other than the middle of nowhere.  Wiping sweat from his brow Cassian first thought that the girl he was seeing, probably a few years younger than he himself, must have been a hallucination. There was no way a girl like that, with glowing skin, shining hair, and a radiant smile.  “Stars above, it’s a long way from home,” you said as you jumped off your speeder.  Those were the words, the signal, that told Cassian you really were the one had was supposed to meet.  “Not as long as a desert day,” he replied, telling you that he was the rebel you were told would be waiting for you.  You walked closer to where Cassian was sitting in the shade of a giant rock, just as he jumped up to meet you.  Up close you were even prettier, despite the sand clinging to your hair and your lips chapped from the dry air, you were a vision.  Cassian wasn’t usually one to be at a loss for words when talking to a pretty woman but there was something about you.  “I’m Y/n,” you introduced yourself.  He repeated your name, trying to get used to the unfamiliar sound. It sounded pretty, sophisticated, like the name out of a fairytale.  “Cassian.”  You sat down in the shade, pulling a water bottle from your backpack and talking a sip before offering it to Cassian.  “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”  He chuckled, a sound that had almost become unfamiliar to his own ears. Laughter was hard to come by in the Rebellion but somehow, sitting on this hot as hell planet with you, it came easy to him.  “I could ask you the same thing, you don’t look like a rebel. Far too pretty,” he was quick to add before you could say anything.  You laughed, a sound he longed for more than a cold shower. How he could feel like this only minutes after meeting you, knowing nothing about you but your name, he didn’t know. Cassian wasn’t a stranger to women, he had a healthy sex life, knew how to make females (and the occasional males) swoon over him, but never had he been so captivated by someone as he was by you.  “I’m not exactly a rebel, just an informant.”  You pulled a stack of papers out of your backpack and handed them to him. Cassian flipped through them, finding names, locations, reports, and an envelope filled with credits among them.  You pocketed your water bottle again before getting up and brushing the sand off your trousers.  “Feel free to buy yourself something pretty, Cassian. We all deserve beauty amidst this darkness.” You made your way back to your speeder, leaving a stunned Cassian behind. “And if you’re ever on Kamaanti, feel free to drop by.”  And with those words you were off, leaving Cassian to wonder who exactly you were.  He didn’t have to wonder long though, once he returned to base Mon Mothma answered the pressing question on his mind.  You weren’t just an informant, you were a duchess, nobility, someone who had the power and the money to change the course of the war and yet sat comfortably in your palace, tossing the Rebellion a bone every now and then, probably just to ease your conscience.  Cassian didn’t usually blame people for not joining the Rebellion, everyone had their reasons to fight or to lay low, but if someone held the power you did, and yet did little to nothing, he couldn’t help the burning anger.  Never mind that you were pretty or funny, inside you were little better than the Empire you didn’t stand up to in favour of your own comfort. 

-------

You exited the refresher wearing your ball gown, your hair and makeup done by the stylists who have left just a couple of minutes ago and your handbag, shoes, and mask waiting for you to complete the look.  Cassian, dressed in a smart suit rather than the uniform he had been wearing earlier, sat in the armchair next to your bed, staring at the datapad in his hand.  “Careful, I heard they bite when you glare at them like that,” you tried to joke to lighten the mood.  His tense shoulders didn’t relax, if anything they clenched up even more as his eyes lifted and he looked you up and down.  “How do I look?”  The superficial part of you couldn’t resist the question. You knew you looked good, and you knew that if Cassian even tried to deny it he would be lying.  But Cassian didn’t deny it, instead he looked you up and down, a sudden heat in his eyes you had never seen there before.  You cast a quick glance to the mirror on the other side of the room. Your skin hadn’t magically turned green, not a hair was out of place. The dark blue dress hugged your upper body, hiding all your insecurities in the process, before flowing out in a long silky skirt with a slit up one leg just long enough to be sexy but not too long as to be indecent for the ball.  “What’s the matter, loth cat got your tongue?,” you joked as you slipped your shoes on. You bent down to fasten the ties but before you could Cassian’s voice finally sounded through the room.  “Let me.”  In one smooth motion he got out of his chair and slid onto the floor in front of you, his warm hand gently holding your ankle while the other busied itself with the fastening.  You couldn’t deny that Cassian looked good in his suit, just like your dress it brought out his best features, though you did think it was a shame that he had gelled his hair back, suddenly realising just how much you had grown to like the casual hairstyle he usually had. But there was something about him kneeling in front of you, wearing this suit, that had heat racing up your leg from where he touched you right to your core. A tingling sensation all too familiar, yet one you had never experience with Cassian Andor of all people.  “Is everything alright?,” Cassian aksed, his voice slightly rough, his accent more pronounced, though you blamed it on him concentrating on securing the overly complicated clips and bows around your ankles.  “Fine,” you choked out, a second too late realising that he had been talking about the upcoming evening, the mission, rather than the fact that having him on his knees in front of you did unmentionable things to you.  Finally, he let go of your leg and got up, though he was now standing a bit too close for comfort, his face only centimeters from your own.  “What do you do if we’re being watched?”  You rolled your eyes. Same old Cassian was back, always testing you, believing you to be incompetent.  “Cough twice.”  He nodded, his dark eyes never leaving yours.  “And what do you do while I extract the files?”  You crossed your arms in front of your chest, managing to put a bit more distance between the two of you in the process.  “Stand guard outside the door.”  He nodded again.  “And-”  You uncrossed your arms again, scoffing as you grabbed the mask from the bed and slipped it over the upper half of your face before tying a bow behind your head to fasten it.  “And if someone comes I’ll pretend to be drunk and that I couldn’t find my way back to my room. I know, Andor. I might not be an infamous spy like yourself but I’m not an idiot either.”  You tried your best not to frown, not wanting to smudge your makeup, and instead settled for glaring at him.  Cassian sighed, putting on his own mask.  “I never said you were an idiot, but you spend all your time worrying about where to find money for more of those pretty dresses you always wear.”  Now that made you see red. Was that what Cassian really thought of you? After everything you did for the Rebellion, everything you sacrificed, did people, did he really believe that all you worried about were your looks?  “Listen here you arrogant bantha shit,” you hissed between your teeth, walking over to Cassian until you were chest to chest, your voice dangerously low. “I worry about money, alright, and yes, sometimes I use that money to buy ‘pretty dresses’ but that’s because it’s what’s expected of me as a duchess. You know why I also worry about money? Because I need that money to pay my employèes so they can feed their families, I need that money to fund schools and universities, to give to those who need it, to buy weapons and supplies for your precious rebellion.” You took a deep breath before continuing, glad that you had managed to stun Andor into silence. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, whether you like me or despise me as you so clearly do, but don’t for one second think that I only think about myself. I may not be a rebel in the same way you are but make no mistake, I’m no Imperial either.”  You took a step back, refusing to look at Cassian again as you grabbed your small handbag and looked in the mirror one last time before exiting the room, your head held high and expecting Cassian to follow you like the duchess you were.  The ride down to the ballroom was awkward, filled with an unknown silence and tension, neither of you daring to say anything. But as soon as your arrival was announced and you entered the ballroom all that disappeared and you were in your element. This, even if you hated every single person in the room, was what you were born and raised to do. You may not exactly enjoy it, but you knew what to expect. You knew what people would ask and how they would answer your questions before they even opened their mouths. It wasn’t like it was with Cassian, who never said what you expected him to and would probably rather eat his own shoe than listen to you. Here, with those sharks and piranhas, you could prove your worth to the Rebellion.  “Your Grace, you look stunning,” a young Imperial you didn’t recognise greeted you. He lifted your hand up to place a kiss on the back of it.  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” you said, at the same time indirectly asking for his name and trying to remind him just how unprofessional it was to just approach a duchess, even as a high ranking officer, without being introduced by a mutual acquaintance.      “Captain Flak Romeis, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  His blond hair gleamed under the light as he looked you up and down in what you were sure he thought to be an inconspicuous way.  “The pleasure is all mine, captain,” you purred, knowing full well that Cassian, who was standing only a step behind you, held the same title as the slimy Imperial in front of you.  “Duchess, it would be a great honour if you granted me a dance.”  His overly formal words in combination with the way he still looked at you send icy shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the heat Cassian had ignited in you just hours before.  Speak of the devil, before you could reply to Flak’s request, Cassian’s hand closed around your wrist, tugging ever so slightly in a manner that was no less unprofessional than the Imperial’s behaviour.  You turned around to face him for the first time since your argument, his hand still holding your wrist in a firm grasp.  “I don’t think it would be wise to dance with him, your Grace,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear, to smell his minty breath and close your eyes to regain your composure.  “And why is that? Surely he doesn’t pose a threat to my safety.”  You blinked up at Cassian, urging him to play the guard, not to blow your cover over a simple dance and some nasty looks.  “Just one dance,” you said, lowering your voice. “And then we can do what we came here for.”  You pulled your hand out of his grasp, placing it on the Imperial’s arm so he could lead you to the dancefloor.  “I hope I didn’t just pull you away from your husband,” he said as you got into position, placing one of your hands in his and the other on his shoulder while his other hand founds its place on your waist.  “Husband?” You couldn’t help but laugh. Both of you were piss poor actors if people believed that Cassian was your husband. “He’s my personal guard. A bit overprotective maybe, it’s the first big event he’s accompanied me to.”  The music began to play and the Imperial took the first steps, leading you into the dance as Cassian watched from the side.  Maybe the playing pretend finally got to him because he felt a wave of protectiveness rise up as he watched Flak’s hand drift lower just a hint, as he pulled you closer, as he made you laugh.  Cassian knew that you were playing a part just as he was, that there was no way you were charmed by an Imperial, especially one as slimy as Captain Flak Romeis. Though you didn’t believe it to be true, as your little speech earlier had shown, Cassian did think highly of you, or at least of your dedication to the Rebellion. He knew what you were risking, that if you were caught it wouldn’t end well for you, that the Empire would make an example out of the unfaithful duchess.  Still watching you float across the dancefloor, Cassian noticed another guard, an actual personal guard, approach him out of the corner of his eye.  “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”  The question, and the way in which it was asked, managed something only few people ever managed, it made him lose his focus.  Cassian turned to face the other guard, a Twi’lek, dressed in a suit so much like his own.  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he continued. “I’m hooking up with my charge as well, though she’s nowhere near as good looking as yours. She really is something else. Is there any chance you’re willing to share?”  Though Cassian was no stranger to hooking up with women, sometimes women he had only seen as briefly as the guard had seen you, he did believe that everyone was owed respect, regardless of gender or looks, and you especially.  Yes, Cassian himself had difficulties tearing his eyes away from you in that dress, and a fantasy of ripping it off you had crossed his mind, but hearing someone else talk about you like that made him forget your argument earlier, replaced any anger he had towards you with angers towards the guard.  “You either leave right now and never look at her again or I’ll find you on whatever backwater planet you live on and break your jaw so you won’t ever talk about her like that again, understood?”  The guard didn’t even have a chance to reply before you suddenly appeared in front of Cassian, and as he looked to his side the Twi’lek was gone.  A few strands of your hair had fallen out of place and Cassian’s fingers twitched to push them behind your ear.  “May I have another dance before the night is over?,” the Imperial captain asked, calling Cassian’s attention to the fact that he was standing right there beside you.  Like a bucket of ice water it reminded him of why he had to stay away from you, you were a distraction. A beautiful distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.  “We’ll see, Captain Romeis, I tend to retire quite early.”  The statement was a polite a ‘no’ as you could manage and luckily succeeded in driving him away, leaving you and Cassian alone.  “Are you ready to go exploring, your Grace?” 

-------

The hallway you were walking through was freezing cold, a stark contrast to the stale air in the ballroom, and something that made you appreciate Cassian’s body heat next to you a tiny bit more.  “I was sure your heels would give us way but now I’m beginning to think it’s your clattering teeth,” Cassian whispered under his breath.  You were about to throw him an annoyed comment about how you dressed for a hot ballroom filled with hundreds of people, not an abandoned hallway that even a droid would catch a cold in, when you felt a sudden warmth around your upper body.  You had been too distracted with trying to come up with a witty comment to notice that Cassian, in an act that was as unlike him as dressing up in bright pink would be, had placed his suit jacket around your shoulders.  “I-,” you started before abruptly shutting your mouth. Cassian had just done a nice thing for you, now wasn’t the time for sarcasm. “Thank you.”  A small grunt was all the reply Cassian gave you. You rolled your eyes at his hot-and-cold behaviour, an act that, as childish as it was, saved your asses.  You coughed once. Twice.  Cassian looked at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to follow your line of sight without being too obvious.  You saw the recognition in his eyes as he spotted the security camera in the corner.  “It’s an IB24, it doesn’t record sound,” he told you, his monotone voice didn’t give you any comfort, but it didn’t give you reason to panic further either.  “Doesn’t mean it’s safe to talk, does it? Whoever watches the footage could still read our lips.” You put your hands in the pockets of Cassian’s jacket, trying to busy yourself so you wouldn’t begin to freak as another thought settled in your head. “They don’t just see two people who aren’t supposed to be here. Cassian, they’ll recognise us, recognise me.”  Your partner scoffed as he reached for the blaster previously hidden by his jacket and shot straight at the camera.  “Listen to you, all concerned about your own kriffing wellbeing.”  You didn’t waste your breath explaining to him that you, being a duchess and not a spy who made a living by staying hidden, were simply more recognisable.  “You’re one to talk, the great spy who doesn’t even see a security camera.”  Cassian, who had already taken a few steps towards the camera to knock it down and destroy the chip inside, turned around and came to stand right in front of you within a few quick strides.  “Listen, mi duquesita, you cannot fuck with me right now. I need to concentrate if this mission is to be successful, and you’re making that damn difficult.”  Though his voice was low, his breath hitting your lips, and his entire being surrounded you in a way that could go south within seconds, you weren’t intimidated.  “Trust me, the last thing I want to do is fuck with you. Or fuck you, for that matter.”  Cassian leaned impossibly closer, one hand reaching up to cup your chin and lift your head so you couldn’t look away from his dark eyes with a dangerous fire burning within.  “Are you sure about that?”  The sheer arrogance in his tone brought you to your senses. How dare he? Who did he think he was, who you were? Did he expect you to fawn over him just because he treated you like an equal for a couple of minutes?  You took a step back, letting Cassian’s hand fall from your chin, breaking the strange hold he had on you even further.  “Let’s just get this over with so we can go upstairs and I go to sleep and dream of being far away from you.  With a chuckle so soft you were sure you must have been imagining it, Cassian finally removed the chip from the camera, stuffing it in the pocket of his trousers before tossing you the broken camera.  “Hold on to that, will you? Can’t leave any more evidence of our visit than absolutely necessary.”  And the rest of your mission really did feel like a visit, like a walk in the park. You found the correct door, Cassian broke in, leaving you standing guard outside, and within a few moments he was back out again, a small smile on his face.  “All done, mi duquesita.”  There was that nickname again. You wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of admitting that you didn’t know what it meant, by asking for a translation. You spoke three living and two dead languages fluently, so what if you didn’t speak Cassian’s damned language (both metaphorically and in the actual sense)?  “Let’s get out of here.”  You began to walk back the way you had come, glad that for once everything seemed to be going quite well, when you turned around, noticing that Cassian wasn’t following you.  “You coming?”  With a shake of his head he hurried to catch up to you.  “Are you in such a hurry because you can’t wait to dance with Captain whatshisname again?”  There was an unfamiliar venom in his voice, one you could have sworn was unlike anything Cassian had ever directed towards you.  The chance to annoy him further was right there and the words were at the tip of your tongue, but you decided to tell the truth. Partly because Cassian had been a good partner today and you didn’t want to anger him the one time the two of you got along, but mostly because you were simply too exhausted to tell another lie.  “I’ll be glad if I never have to see that guy again,” you admitted, pulling his jacket closer around your body as you tried to stifle a yawn. “I was telling the truth when I said that I just want to sleep.”  From the corner of his eye Cassian looked you up and down before nodding.  “Then let’s take you to bed, your Grace.”  You managed a nod, despite the fact that from his mouth the formal words sounded more like dirty talk than anything else.  The doors to the lift, which you had reached some time during your conversation, opened and you sank against the wall with a relieved sigh.  “I can’t wait to take these kriffing shoes off,” you muttered.  Cassian, from the other side of the lift, smirked at you, one eyebrow raised.  “Foul mouth for a duchess.”  If you only knew, you thought, and you were just about to say it as well, to try and test what it would take to make him lose his cool, what flirting with him would get you, when the doors unexpectedly opened.  The second the gap between the two doors was wider than a centimeter, thereby allowing whoever was outside to actually look inside the lift, Cassian jumped away from the wall until he was face to face with you.  “We have no idea who’s about to enter this lift,” he whispered.  You nodded in response. “Correct.”  “We’re on the ballroom floor, whoever it is knows we didn’t just get on, that we’ve come from downstairs.”  Another nod. There was no need to interrupt him, not when Cassian was clearly trying to come up with a plan to get you out of this situation.  “Do you trust me?,” he asked before quickly correcting himself. “Nevermind, I know that you don’t. But will you play along?”  You barely had the chance to nod before Cassian placed his lips right beneath your ear, kissing you softly.  The gasp you let out was anything but fake. It was a surprise reaction, and one of unexpected pleasure. His lips were soft, a welcome contrast to the rough hairs of his beard, and his hands, that had found their way to your waist, felt good, great even.  As if on autopilot your own hands wandered up his back, settling in his hair, which you finally managed to rough up a bit, bringing it from its combed back style to the wild curls you were used to.  “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”  Your eyes flew open at the new voice, too distracted by Cassian’s lips on your hot skin to have noticed another person entering the lift.  Shit, shit, shit, shit. Kriffing shit, ran through your mind. Once again you found yourself on autopilot as you pushed Cassian away from you, ignoring how much you missed his hands, his lips, on your body the second they were gone, as you looked at the other man.  “Grand Moff Tarkin, I am so sorry.”  You cursed yourself, this ball, the entire galaxy, that the person you had to be trapped in a lift with was Tarkin. You would have even preferred Darth Vader himself, at least he would have put you out of your misery instantly.  “Duchess.” Tarkin was too professional to look you up and down in what you presumed to be a dishevelled state, or to really look at Cassian, which you should be thankful for. “I noticed you were arriving from the basement, care to explain why?”  “I-,” Cassian began to explain, but for once he actually shut up when you shot him a pointed look.  “We were heading back up to my suite, must have pushed the wrong button in a hurry,” you were quick to explain. The lie slipped off your tongue easier than expected, especially considering you were lying to one of the most powerful men in the Empire while standing next to a leading member of the Rebellion.  “Yes, I can see that you are in quite a hurry.”  Tarkin’s dry tone didn’t give you any hint as to whether he suspected that something was amiss. Cassian, despite his experience in situations like this, must have been feeling the same way, since his arm once again sneaked around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.  His hand sneaked lower, from your waist to your hip until it rested right on your ass, an act alone that made heat curl in your stomach, but when he gave it a soft squeeze you couldn’t help the small yelp.  Well, as embarrassing as this was in front of Tarkin, at least now you had a better chance of actually selling your story.  As you tried to think of a way to reciprocate Cassian’s action, and coming up short due to his hand still firmly placed on your ass, the lift dinged. Your breath caught in your throat, fearing that even more Imperials would get on, but luck seemed to be on your side as Tarkin, his eyes like ice, looked you straight into the eyes.  “Goodnight, your Grace, sir.”  He left without uttering another word and only once the doors closed behind him did you dare to take a deep breath.  Though he visibly relaxed, Cassian’s hand never left your body. Instead he leaned closer to your, whispering into your ear in a voice that was nothing if not sinful.  “Tell me to stop any time and I will.”  Before you could ask what he was talking about he once again caught your chin between his fingers, turning and lifting your head until he crashed his lips against yours.  If you had thought his kisses felt good against your neck, they were no comparison to having his lips on yours. They were warm, soft, and as your hands once again found their way to his hair and you gave it a single instinctatious tug, they opened for you, allowing you to let your tongue roam freely across his bottom lip and into his mouth, where his own tongue met yours with enthusiasm.  You pressed your body closer to Cassian, needing to feel more, to feel every part of him against every part of you. At the same time his hand left your ass, moving all over your body, leaving trails of hire in its wake, until one hand found its place on your waist, pulling you even closer, and the other began to caress your neck, applying just a tiny hint of pressure.  Your eyes, though firmly closed, rolled back in your head as your hips moved towards his, needing more, more, more.  Suddenly the lift came to a stop, bringing you out of your haze and reminding you that you needed to breathe.  As the doors slid opened Cassian slowly leaned away from you, though nothing more than a sheet of paper would have fit between your bodies even with the newfound distance.  “Wanna finish what we started, pequeña?”  He didn’t have to ask twice. The fact that the man in front of you was Cassian Andor, the person you hated almost as much as the Empire itself, who got on your nerves and never let an opportunity to show you just how inferior he thought you go by, never crossed your mind. Or at least not in the way that it should. Of course you knew that you had just made out with Cassian, but somehow it didn’t bother you as much as it should. Maybe it was because the entire day he had been decent, if not even friendly, towards you, or the fact that there have been heated looks and touches all day that had seemingly only lead to this, or that you were actually beginning to like him when his mouth was occupied with something other than frowning.  “Lead the way, Captain.”  The title simply rolled off your tongue, but as you saw the way Cassian’s shoulders tensed as he exited the lift before you, you noted to use it more often.  As soon as the door to your suite closed behind you, Cassian turned you around, pressing you to the closed door, as his lips found yours again.  The kiss was less heated than that in the lift, more sensual, slower, allowing you to notice all the small details. How soft Cassian’s hair was between your fingers, the scar along the back of his head, the sharp sting as his teeth sank into your bottom lip only for it to be soothed by his tongue. And his hands.  Oh, his hands would surely be the death of you. They roamed all along your body, caressing and squeezing, pushing his jacket, that you still had wrapped around you, to the ground, giving him better access to your neck.  You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as he kissed from your jaw down your neck all the way to the beginning of your dress.  He leaned back a bit, making your hands fall from his hair, as he just looked at you.  Though a moment before you had been sure that Cassian wanted you as much as you wanted him, doubt suddenly began to creep up.  “What is it?,” you whispered into the dark room, illuminated only by the city lights outside the window.  Cassian shook his head, licked his lips, and shook his head again.  “Nothing.” He stepped closer to you again, placing his hands on your waist, his thumbs slowly stroking your sides. “I just can’t decide whether I want to finally take this dress off of you or fuck you in it.”  The contrast between his soft caresses, his low voice, and his filthy words, made you clench your thighs together. You were insatiable when it came to this man. “Why not do both?” You bit your bottom lip at the possibility, at the thought of simply feeling more of Cassian’s skin against yours. “Or can you only go one round?” Your bold words shocked you, and it wasn’t until you heard Cassian chuckle that you stopped wanting to take them back. From his earlier actions you had presumed that Cassian would prefer a more submissive partner in bed, and you were happy to take that role, but apparently your banter would have a place inside the bedroom as well as out of it.  “You have no idea what I can do, mi duquesita.” His lips found your neck again, gently sucking on the vulnerable skin. “I don’t just plan on fucking you with my cock, I’ll make you come with my tongue first. I’ll have you begging for me.”  You rolled your eyes, playfully this time, as you looked at him with a smirk. You had to admit that Cassian really knew how to build tension but you wouldn’t beg for anyone, anything.  Instead of giving him an answer your hands reached out for his shirt, beginning to unbutton it to grant you access to his skin. Cassian, for once deciding that helping you would be in his best interest, loosened the tie he was wearing around his neck before pulling it over his head.  Finally, you managed to rid him of the bothersome shirt, and get a good look at him. He was well-built, defined but not overly muscular. Scars littered his skin, some large, some small, as well as what seemed to be a rather new bruise. Though you knew that Cassian was in constant danger, that he had probably escaped death more than once, seeing it with your own eyes brought a sense of protectiveness over you you hadn’t experienced before.  You lifted your hands to gently stroke across his shoulders, down his chest, lingering a little longer on each scar. You stepped closer as Cassian watched you carefully, taking note of every slight change of expression.  “Cassian, I... you’re beautiful.”  The words, maybe the truest words you had ever spoken, slipped past your lips. He really was beautiful. Not just because he was handsome, though of course he was, but because his scars told of his struggles, his dedication to the Rebellion, his willingness to risk his life for the good of the galaxy. With soft touches you stroked along every inch of his skin you could reach, hearing his breath stutter as you lips began to follow your fingers. His skin tasted different than his lips, saltier, earthier, but also truer, not altered by anything he ate or drank.  You placed a soft kiss just above his heart, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.  It was that simply action that broke the spell Cassian was under. He bent down until his lips met yours in another kiss, tongues battling for dominance, until he broke the kiss only to fall to his knees in the next instance.  “What are you doi- oh, oh fuck, Cassian,” you exclaimed as it dawned on you.  Cassian, on his knees and his eyes focused solely on his task, took your ankles and gently pushed them to the sides, allowing your legs and thighs to spread further.  “I told you I’d make you come with my tongue,” he said with a smirk before lifting your skirt and diving underneath.  You could barely see him, with most of his upper body hidden beneath your dress, which somehow made it even hotter, leaving you to anticipate his next action, his next touch.  Gently he stroked up your legs, alternating between kissing each of your thighs, sometimes adding a little bite to the mix, until he reached your center.  One hand placed firmly on your waist he took the finger of the other hand to stroke up and down your covered slit.  “Shit, pequeña, you’re soaked.” His finger found your clothed clit and applied gentle pressure, which turned your insides into lava and made your knees buckle. You needed him.  Cassian slipped his finger, still just the one finger, underneath your panties until it rested on your skin, right on your lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the skin just above your panties, not moving his finger.  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he reminded you, not giving you a chance to reply before he finally, fucking finally, slipped his finger inside you.  The groan he let out at the contact was almost as loud as your own. He moved a bit, trying to get a feel of you, trying to resist to overwhelm you but overcome with desire to feel more of your tight, wet heat at the same time.  ”I’ll buy you a new pair,” he said more to himself than to you, and before you could ask what he was talking about you heard the telltale sound of cloth being ripped apart. Cassian had just torn you underwear from your body.  Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his finger, and just as he entered your pussy his mouth came into contact with your clit, sucking once, twice, as his finger began to thrust into you.  You had heard talk around the rebels that Cassian had game, that he wasn’t a stranger to taking other rebels to bed or even seducing informants to get what he needs, but you had never really believed any of it. Sure, maybe he had a one night stand every now and then, but so did most people in the Rebellion, you had been so sure that there was no way that Cassian Andor could be as good as the talk suggested.  That was until he brought you to a mindblowing orgasm within an embarrassingly short time.  “Ca- Cass- Fuck,” you stuttered pressing your thighs against his head, trying to draw him closer as waves of pleasure swept over you.  Cassian hummed against your core, taking everything you would give him, still sucking your clit while his hands, though slowing down, massaged your tight walls.  As the last of your orgasm ebbed away, Cassian finally crawled out from underneath your dress, and looked up at you still on his knees, wetness coating his mouth, making his beard seem darker than usual.  “You ready for me to make you beg?”  Despite how quickly he had managed to make you come, and the fact that seeing him like that made you wet all over again, you shook your head.  “In your dreams, Andor.”  He chuckled as he got up, leaning close to you as his mouth found the shell of your ear.  “How did you know what I dream about?,” he whispered, his hand sneaking up your back until you suddenly felt a gush of cold air against your skin.  Cassian had, in one smooth motion, pulled the zipper of your dress down. He looked at you, waited for your slight nod, before pulling at the fabric, making the dress fall off your body until it pooled around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a bra and shoes.  “Eres mas hermosa que la luz de las estrellas,” Cassian breathed against your lips. His hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and massaging, and twisting your nipples just right.  “Wait, Cassian, stop,” you gasped as he took one nipple in his mouth through the thin fabric of your bra, sucking in a way that made you see stars. What gave that man the right to be so kriffing good with his mouth?  He immediately let go of you, putting some distance between your bodies, though his hand itched to touch you again, even if just to soothe any harm he might have caused.  “What is it, pequeña? Did I do something wrong?”  He had tried his best to be gentle, to take it slow, not to let his desire overcome him. This was a step in the right direction and he didn’t dare do anything to jeopardize it.  You shook your head, your hand reaching out to take Cassian’s, who let out a relieved breath.  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just... Don’t you want me to... You know...,” you said, suddenly shier than Cassian had ever seen you as you motioned towards the obvious bulge in his trousers.  Yes, his dick was aching for relief, but he knew that this might be his one chance with you and he wouldn’t blow it by making this all about him and his pleasure.  He shook his head. “Not right now.”  You raised an eyebrow, waited a moment, as if to get him to admit that yes, he did want you to get on your knees for him as he had done for you earlier. But he didn’t say anything.  “Just lay on the bed and let me make you feel good, alright?”  It was a question, nothing like the commands he usually spat out at you, and yet you followed more willingly than you had ever done before.  Sex with Cassian wasn’t like you had imagined it, not that you had imagined it a lot, but when you heard talk around the rebels you couldn’t help but imagine at least a bit. Also whenever you looked at him before he opened his mouth to snap at you, or when you caught him looking at you like he was right now, as if he was seeing you for the first time. Not to mention the instant crush you had developed after actually meeting him for the first time, one that quickly burned out after your second meeting.  You got on the bed, lying down still in your bra and shoes, as Cassian crawled over you, his naked chest meeting your clothed one. You didn’t wait to see what he would do, instead hungry for more, you leaned up, capturing his mouth with yours, returning to the heated kisses from earlier.  He returned the kiss with just as much eagerness, licking into your mouth as his hands once again found their way to your breasts. Your own hands wandered across his back, relishing in the feeling of his skin, feeling every inch of softness, contrasted by rough scars.  Despite his earlier insistence on wanting to focus on you, Cassian couldn’t help himself and began to move his hips, agonisingly slow, against yours, making your still sensitive clit rub against the fabric of his trousers.  Your hands found their way to his ass, using the new leverage to push him further down, to give you more contact where you craved it most.  “Cassian, I need you,” you breathed against his lips, trying your best to hold back the ‘please’ that sat on the tip of your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging.  He nodded slightly, moving one of his hands from your breast to rub slow circles onto your clit.  Your entire body felt like fire, like ice, you couldn’t focus on anything but Cassian’s hands on your body, his lips gracing your neck, his erection pressing painfully hard against your core.  Your hands were forced to leave his ass as he sat up on his knees, quickly pulling his trousers and underwear off in one motion, before returning to his position above you, pressing hungry kisses to your lips.  “Are you sure about this?”  Instead of an answer you moved your hips up, giving Cassian delicious friction as his cock met your wet pussy for the first time. The moan he let out was sinful, pornographic, and you could have almost come from the sound alone.  You reached down, feeling his erection in the palm of your hand, giving is a few good strokes before gently placing the tip right at your entrance.  “Show me what you got, Captain,” you told him with a smirk.  Cassian bottomed out in one swift stroke, not giving you the chance for another witty remark, instead making you moan as he filled you just right. It was a stretch, but not an uncomfortable one, as if he was meant to be right there.  You began to move your hips, trying to get Cassian to move as well, to give you more, when he pushed you down with a heavy breath, making you halt your movements.  “Shit, pequeña, give me a moment. I need- need to-,” he groaned as you ignored his request, moving your legs this time, wrapping them around his waist, pushing him impossibly deeper into your heat.  Cassian looked at you with new fire in his eyes. “You wanna play dirty?”  He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he pulled out, leaving only the tip inside of you, and slammed back in with newfound vigour. You didn’t have enough air in your lungs to moan, to even breathe, all you could do was think that you wanted more, needed more, that maybe he’d have you begging for him after all.  He set a rough pace, slamming in and out of you again and again until you were finally able to adjust and move your hips in sync with his. Your hands wandered up to his head, pulling him down in a bruising kiss, biting his lips, licking into his mouth. What had started as sex, as making love almost, had quickly turned into fucking, but by the stars it brought you closer and closer to the edge.  As you felt yourself nearing another orgasm, needing just a little bit more to push you over the edge, you removed one of your hands from Cassian’s hair with the intent of giving some attention to your aching clit.  Cassian, however, quick as a whip, caught both your hands in one of his, pinning them above your head with a shake of his head.  “Not so fast. I told you I’d have you begging.”  You couldn’t think of a reply, could barely even shake your head, with his fast pace, the way his cock hit that spot over and over again.  To hell with your pride.  “Please, please, Cassian, make me come. I need it, Captain, I need you.”  You felt his cock twitch inside of you, grinning as you had seemingly found his weak spot. Nevermind that begging was something you were usually too proud to do, especially with a man in the bedroom, if it brought Cassian that close to the edge you could use it to your advantage. Add to that your newfound knowledge of how much he liked being addressed by his title and you knew you could tease him for the rest of his days.  “You fuck me so good, Captain. Please let me come,” you whispered in his ear.  The hand around your wrists began to shake ever so slightly, telling you just how much you were really affecting him. His other hand finally found its way to your clit, rubbing slow circles that rapidly began to increase in speed. You had him right where you wanted him, and he still thought he was the one in control.  “I knew you’d beg,” he grinned, supposed victory obvious in your voice.  You came. Your vision went white, ecstasy burned through your veins. You couldn’t remember having an orgasm like this ever before.  Cassian continued to fuck you through it, his pace never slowing down as he began to near his own end. He began to stutter just as you calmed down, making him lose control for a moment, just long enough for you to gather all your energy and twist your bodies, making you end up on top of Cassian, who suddenly found himself on his back.  “Wha- what are you doing?”  You grinned down at him as you sat up on your knees, slowly beginning to bounce on his cock.  “You didn’t think I would be the only one to beg, did you, Captain?,” you asked in a sickly sweet voice before leaning down again, pressing your tits against his chest, pushing your hips down at the same time as your lips reached his mouth. “I bet you sound real pretty when you ask me to make you come.”  Cassian could do nothing but thrust his hips up, unable to regain control as you clenched around him, bringing him ever closer to the edge but not close enough.  You continued bouncing, clenching, stroking your clit with one hand while the other was placed firmly above Cassian’s racing heart. You truly were a vision to behold, tits bouncing, face twisted in pleasure, mouth open in a silent scream. Cassian was sure that in that moment he could die a happy man, or almost happy at least, he still needed to come. The thought of releasing inside of you, of marking you where no one else would see it, made him go feral, push his hips up further, faster. And just as he was about to come, you halted your movements.  “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?,” you laughed. The hand above his heart wandered along his chest, up his neck where it came to rest. You squeezed gently, not enough to make him lose his breath, just enough to tell him that you could, to remind him that you were now the one in control.  You began to move again, clenching even tighter around his dick, telling him that you were about to come again while not giving him enough to join you.  “Shit, mi duquesita, you want me to beg? Fine, I’ll beg,” Cassian grunted, no longer caring that you were using his own tactic against him. “Please, I beg of you, let me come, make me come. I’ll do whatever you want.”  The image of Cassian on his knees flashed before your eyes again. You supposed that having him eating you out once more before you’d have to leave in the morning would be enough to grant him an orgasm right now.  Your hand around his neck tightened, as did your walls around his cock. Your bounces became faster again, deeper, as Cassian pushed himself up to meet you halfway. Just as you felt yourself nearing another orgasm a hot rope of cum caught you by surprise, leading you to quickly give way to pleasure again.  Coming together with Cassian was almost poetic, your moans, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin, and heavy breathing filled the air before you finally fell down on top of him, utterly spend.  Your head came to rest on his shoulder, his now softening dick still buried deep inside of you. Cassian’s hand stroked up and down your back, every now and then playfully squeezing your ass.  “That was...,” he began before stopping. There were no words to describe what that was. It was unlike any sex he had ever had.  “Yeah,” you admitted, relaxing even more against him.  You felt your eyes beginning to drop, your breathing to even, and maybe you had fallen asleep for a little while when you suddenly felt yourself moving.  Opening your eyes again you realised that Cassian had carried you over to the bathroom. He put you down, holding you a moment longer to make sure that your feet would carry you, before nodding in the direction of the toilet.  “I’ll leave you to it.”  He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in the bathroom, alone with your thoughts.  You slept with Cassian Andor. The Cassian Andor, the one you couldn’t stand, who you were pretty sure couldn’t stand you either, and it was good, great even. You let out a sigh as you went about your business in the bathroom, shaking your head as you flushed the toilet and grabbed a clean cloth to at least try to clean the bed enough to sleep in it tonight.  But as you re-entered the room you were caught by surprise once again. Cassian had stripped the bed, leaving nothing but the bare mattress, blankets and pillows. He handed you a bottle of water as you stepped closer.  “I think it might be best if we both sleep in my bed tonight,” he said as you drank almost the entire bottle in one go.  Too tired to argue, to explain why that would be a bad idea, you simply nodded your head, following Cassian to the other room and sitting down on his slightly smaller bed.  “Do you need anything else?”  You shook your head as you sank down onto the bed, burying your head in the soft pillows. You were fast asleep before Cassian could even turn off the lights. 

-------

The next morning Cassian woke to your soft snores next to him.  Though he had placed his arms around you last night, you had drifted away from him in your sleep, giving him a good view of your face. You looked younger in your sleep, peaceful, less troubled. Looking at your innocent face now Cassian couldn’t understand how he could once have thought you to be an enemy, someone who only gave the Rebellion just enough to get your own gain. Over time, but especially last night, he had come to realise that he had been wrong about you. He now understood that though you didn’t do as much as you maybe could, it was for a good reason, you couldn’t risk gaining unwanted attention, putting everyone you laid your life on the line to protect in danger.  His eyes drifted away from your sleeping face towards the clock on the nightstand, which made his heart race for a whole other reason.  You were late.  Quickly he got dressed, threw the essentials into a duffle bag, and shook your shoulder.  “Wake up, we need to catch the next ship out of here if we’re to deliver the list in time.”  You blinked, lights rapidly attacking your eyes, only to see Cassian, already dressed, standing over you. It took you a moment to remember the events of last night, how you had ended up naked in his bed, but once the memories returned, so did your usual anger at him.  Was he really about to pretend that last night hadn’t happened? Go back to business as usual?  Without another word you threw on your underwear, a pair of comfortable trousers and a simply blouse before taking the bag Cassian offered you and sneaking out of the room together.  You tried your best to act as if the man next to you was nothing more than a guard once again, putting on an act for any Imperials who might be watching.  “Are you leaving us already?,” the same lieutenant who had greeted you last night asked as you were about to exit the building.  You nodded. “There are urgent matters I need to attend to back home. No rest for the wicked and all that.”  He seemed to believe you, to not notice the uncertainty in your voice, and let you pass to hurry to the waiting speeder.  The journey to Yavin 4, the rebel base you had only visited once before, was uneventful. You and Cassian barely shared more than a few words, though admittedly you were always surrounded by either your staff oder Imperial border controls, which did make speaking about last night rather difficult.  Finally at base, having sent all but your most trusted staff ahead to Kamaanti, you turned to face Cassian for what felt like the first time in an eternity.  He looked at you, an expression on his face that you had never seen before. His brows were drawn, his lips pressed into a thin line. If you didn’t know any better you would have said he seemed uncertain, nervous almost.  You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to set the tone for the conversation. On the way over you had planned it all out, you were going to say that though you didn’t regret anything, and though the sex was great, it didn’t change things between you, it couldn’t.  “Captain Andor, Mon Mothma wants to speak to you,” a Togruta woman you didn’t know told him in passing.  Cassian’s eyes scanned your face as if to anticipate your reaction.  “You should go,” you told him, trying your best not to sound disappointed. Right now you were prepared to have this conversation with him, you didn’t know if you’d be as prepared later. “We’ll talk later.”  With a nod and one last look at you over his shoulder Cassian made his way to give the mission report. You’d still be there when he came back, he would only be gone a couple of minutes and it seemed as if you wanted to talk just as much as he did, you wouldn’t run.  But ‘later’ turned into days, weeks.  By the time Cassian returned from the briefing you were long gone, needed for an emergency on Kamaanti, ironically the same excuse you had given the Imperial lieutenant earlier that day.  Cassian couldn’t reach you, he didn’t know how to, the only people in the Rebellion who could actually reach you were Ahsoka Tano and Bail Organa and it wasn’t like Cassian could just go over to either of them and tell them that he needed to talk to you.  It wasn’t until almost two months later that he heard from you again. He had just returned from a mission, rather short and easy compared to what he was used to, when he ran into Ahsoka on the way back to his room.  “Captain Andor, there you are,” she said more to herself than to Cassian, though he still heard her.  “Is something the matter?”  The Togruta shook her head, lekkus moving with it. “No, everything’s fine. The Duchess of Kamaanti was just looking for you earlier.”  The words caught Cassian off guard. By now he had convinced himself that he wouldn’t hear from you again, that he should put what happened between the two of you in the past.  “Where is she?” He knew he sounded impatient, probably shouldn’t talk to Ahsoka like this, but he needed to see you, to finally have that talk he had been waiting for for months.  A small smirk found the way to Ahsoka’s lips at his urgency. “She left, she was only here to drop something off.”  Cassian nodded, forcing down a sigh. Of course you had slipped through his fingers again.  Yet another month went by until he heard from you again.  Cassian was called into a meeting early in the morning, earlier than usual that is, and he was just about to close his eyes for a second, just one second, after yet another sleepless night staring at reports and mission plans, when he heard your name.  “-and Klieml will attend the dinner, during which there is sure to be talk.”  Cassian cursed himself internally for not paying attention that very second. The meeting, though important,  didn’t really concern him, not when he had so many other things to do, and some much needed sleep to catch up on. What had they said? Why would they send Janna Klieml on a mission with you instead of him?  “Because, Captain Andor, this is an important mission and we cannot risk either of you messing it up with that little feud of yours,” Mon Mothma said matter of factly, making Cassian realise that in his sleep deprived state he had actually asked his questions out loud.  Cassian couldn’t do anything except nod. He could argue, try to convince Mon Mothma that  he should be the one to accompany you, later when there were less people around. Though even then he had no idea how to convince her, how to explain to her that he didn’t hate you anymore, probably never hated you but only your title and that it was one you actually did your best to use not only to your own, but the Rebellion’s, advantage.  “As I was saying,” Mon Mothma continued. “The Duchess will hopefully get valuable information during the dinner while Klieml will try to get General Truks’s staff to talk.”  The rest of the meeting went by quickly, Cassian tried his best to pay better attention, to not let your upcoming mission consume his thoughts. But as soon as everyone else left the room he walked straight over to Mon Mothma.  “I think I should be send on this mission instead of Klieml. I accompanied her to the masquerade ball a while back, Imperials have already seen the two of us together, if would be less suspicious than having her show up with a new personal guard.”  Mon Mothma looked him up and down, clearly trying to asses the situation, to find out Cassian’s motivation for asking for this mission.  “Andor,” she finally said. “We both know that the Duchess has a big staff, multiple guards, and that it wouldn’t be suspicious for her to have another guard accompany her, a female guard at that, especially to this dinner. So if you want to convince me to give you this mission you’ll have to give me the real reason you want it.”  Cassian, skilled spy that he was, knew that lying would be pointless. Not only would Mothma be able to see through any lie, it wouldn’t get him what he wanted anyway.  “I need to speak to the Duchess, we have unfinished business. I also know her better than Klieml, we’ve worked together before and had to come up with plans on the spot. Despite our differences we’re a good team.”  He looked her straight in the eyes, not knowing whether he had given her enough to convince her.  “I’m going to give you this mission against my better judgement, but know that if you fail there will be consequences, not just for you, but for the entire Rebellion.” Cassian nodded. He had anticipated that much, after all, what mission was without consequences? But if that meant he’d have the chance to talk to you, even if just to make sure that your relationship hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, he’d take it. 

-------

Cassian came to regret his decision as soon you he laid eyes on you.  He had been waiting in your personal library for you to show up so he could accompany you to the dining room, where you would greet your guest. Finally the door opened and you walked through. It wasn’t your dress that caught his attention, though it was of course stunning, but rather the look in your eyes. “Cassian,” you said, clearly trying not to let any emotions show.   He didn’t know what to do other than to repeat your name in the same astonished voice. He cleared his throat. Once, twice.  “I don’t think right now is a good time to talk,” you finally said after a moment of silence.  “We should talk,” Cassian said at the same time.  You stepped closer to him, closing the door behind you, looking the two of you into a room with nothing else but a thousand books.  Cassian could smell your perfume in the air, the same scent you had worn that fateful night, the same scent that reminded him of your moans, the taste of your skin. He had to get this off his chest now, otherwise he knew he wouldn’t be able to fully concentrate on the mission.  “We have a dinner, a mission, we-,” you stopped talking as Cassian stepped closer, as he placed his hand on your cheek.  He began to stroke the soft skin of your cheek, relishing the touch of your skin against his, longing to place his lips on yours once more.  “We have enough time for one conversation, mi duquesita,” he insisted.  You nodded your head, unable to stop yourself. Deep down you knew, same as Cassian, that you needed to get this out of the way now in order to be able to concentrate during the dinner.  “I wont apologise for what happened on Coruscant, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Cassian stated, making you shake your head.  You hadn’t been looking for an apology, weren’t going to issue one either.  You had spent countless hours thinking of your next encounter with Cassian, planning every single word ahead of time, only to now find yourself speechless in his presence.  “I think that maybe it’s good that it happened, that we did what we did. Maybe it was what we needed in order to release some tension.”  Cassian could only nod along with your words. He had been thinking along the same lines. As soon as he kissed you for the first time all the tension, the hate, that usually floated between the two of you had disappeared. Maybe that was what your relationship was supposed to be like, heated tension building until you could release it in a physical way.  “Maybe we should keep it going,” you suggested, your voice wavering ever so slightly as you spoke again.  Though this was something Cassian himself had thought as well he was somewhat surprised to hear it out of your mouth. He gently stroked along your cheek with the hand that was still holding your face. He knew, as did you, that it would be a good arrangement, it would help you release not only the tension between the two f you that endangered neither your own lives nor the Rebellion, while at the same time giving you an outlet for all the stress said dangerous lives led to.  “Just casual sex?”  You nodded, confirming the deal. “Nothing more. Enemies with benefits, so to say.”  Cassian leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours as your hands found their way to his hips.  “Are we enemies, mi duquesita?”  His low voice and that nickname made you clench your thighs. It brought back memories you really shouldn’t think about right before an important dinner. That’s what was so great about this, you didn’t have to think of Cassian, not the way you would think of a romantic partner, while going about your day to day life, while behind closed doors you could indulge in all the sinful ways he could offer you pleasure.  “We’re not friends.”  A small smirk found its way to Cassian’s lips as he leaned impossibly closer, letting his breath ghost over your own lips.  “No, we’re not friends,” he repeated in a teasing voice that brought a smile to your lips, the first genuine smile all day. “And I don’t think we ever will be.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, chaste and almost sweet, but the moment you tried to deepen it he pulled away again.  “We’re something else entirely,” he whispered.  And just as you were about to reply a knock on the door and a quiet voice from the hallway told you that your guest had arrived. 

------- 

While a lot could be said about the dinner, it wasn’t boring.  General Willem Trusk had recently been promoted and was now an Imperial officer of great standing, highly trusted by Tarkin, and it was rumoured even by the Emporer himself. He was also surprisingly funny and good looking for a ruthless fascist, which you had known before, this being your fourth meeting and second private dinner with him, but it shocked you every time.  “I must admit, there is never a dull moment with you, Duchess.”  You shook your head as you lifted your wine glass to your slips, trying to hide the small smile on your lips. Sure, he was a terrible person, but he was still a good looking man your age who had just complimented you.  “Please, I think we’re way beyond such formalities. I would like for you to call me by my first name.”  Other than you Trusk didn’t even try to hide his smile. You knew you had him right where you wanted him. It took every bit of self control you had not to glance over to the corner of the room where Cassian stood, once again wearing the uniform of your personal guard.  You knew Cassian would have to leave soon, to mingle with the staff Trusk had brought with him and try to get information out of them, but right now you took comfort in knowing that he was here, and that you had come to an arrangement about your relationship.  “You have been kind enough to invite me for dinner twice now, I think it is about time I repaid the favour, though of course I don’t have a palace as grant as yours. There is however a very nice dinner party for high-ranking Imperial officers soon and it would be an honour if you were to accompany me,” Tusk said, looking you straight in the eye while he spoke as if searching for awe in them. “Usually only spouses are allowed to accompany officers but I’m sure they’d make an exception for the Duchess of Kamaanti.”  The words echoed in Cassian’s brain as he made his way through the servants’ hallway to the kitchen. Another guard, an actual guard this time, had taken his place, and he was now supposed to get any information he could gather out of the General’s own staff. One was a pretty Twi’lek girl, one he would usually flirt with until she gave him what he wanted, but right now, whenever he thought of a pick up line or anything else to say to her, your face kept popping up in his brain.  He finally reached the kitchen, which was almost quiet now that dinner and desert had been served, and it only took him a moment to spot the Twi’lek girl he thought to be his best chance to get information.  Cassian grabbed a piece of bread and some cheese from an abandoned plate before making his way over to her. He casually leaned against the whole, breaking off half of his bread to offer to her.  “You must be hungry.” Not the smoothest way to start a conversation but better than nothing.  But the girl just shook her head. “I was given a good dinner. The Duchess is very generous.”  Cassian just nodded. He had barely managed to keep you out of his head for a few moment and yet there you were again.  “You’re lucky to be working for someone as kind as she is,” the girl continued and it took all of Cassian’s strength not to roll his eyes. Of course he just had to have chosen the one servant who didn’t enjoy gossip.  “Though if all goes to plan of course I will be working for her as well very soon.”  This finally managed to catch Cassian off guard. He tore off another piece of bread, quickly chewing before asking whether she was going to quit her job with the General to come working for you.  The Twi’lek shook her head with a laugh that seemed genuine, almost as if she was laughing about Cassian.  “I meant that surely the will combine their staff once they’re married. I supposed the General will move to Kamaanti to be closer to his wife and-”  Cassian held up a hand, interrupting her before she could say anything else. His brain was working so hard there might as well be steam coming out of his ears. Were you engaged to that Imperial? How could no one have told him? Why didn’t you?  “I had no idea they were that serious,” he finally said, trying his best to swallow the last bit of cheese despite his suddenly very dry throat.  She laughed again and this time the sound was beginning to anger Cassian.  “They’re not. Not yet at least, but the General is going to propose very soon. He needs a wife, all the high ranking officers have one and the Duchess is the perfect candidate. She’s powerful, wealthy, beautiful, and he actually seems to like her, something that cannot be said for all married officers.”  She spoke matter of factly, as if expecting Cassian to already know all of this. If he really were working for you he probably would, but Imperial marriages weren’t her area of expertise.  “Rumour also has it that the General is going to be given some big secret task, so maybe he wants to settle down before that, to have someone to lean on if he is given more responsibility,” she added, and before Cassian could say anything else, try to get any information out of her regarding said task, a young servant boy entered the kitchen, saying that the General was leaving and that you were asking for Cassian. 

-------

Cassian slammed the door shut behind him, making you jump from where you sat at you vanity, applying moisturiser.  You turned around, a deadly look in your eyes.  “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago,” you started. “And don’t slam doors again.”  Cassian couldn’t even look at you, not now that he knew that those same eyes had just looked at an Imperial as your potential husband, that those lips had smiled at him, maybe even kissed him. Rage took over his body, rage that he had worked his entire life to keep under control, and yet you somehow brought it out without saying a single word. Or maybe because you didn’t say a word.  “When were you going to tell me that you’ll marry him?”  The words were out before Cassian could stop himself.  You looked him up and down and Cassian couldn’t tell whether you were thinking of what to say or waiting for him to continue.  “I wasn’t aware that my personal life was any of your business,” you finally said, getting up from your vanity and pulling on the robe that had been hanging over the chair.  Cassian didn’t pay any attention to the soft silk adorning your nearly naked body, nor the thin pyjama that covered very little and even then was almost see through. How could you not see how dangerous a game you were playing?  “This isn’t personal, it’s about the Rebellion. What do you think your husband would do if he found out? Do you think he’d be merciful?”  You scoffed. With slow steps you walked over to Cassian until you were standing right in front of him, your naked feet touching the tips of his shoes, your chests almost pressed together.  “Of course it’s about the Rebellion, what do you think why I’m doing this? I don’t love him, I don’t even like him, but he’s more powerful than I could ever hope to be.” A sad smile crossed your lips. “Can you imagine the information he has? What I could get my hands on as his wife?”  Cassian could. As the General’s wife you would have the highest ranking Imperials over as dinner guests, would be part of the inner circle and gain knowledge you simply cannot right now. The rational part of him knew that it was a good plan, and yet he disliked it.  He lifted his hand, slowly stroking along your cheekbone with his index finger before cupping your face in his hand and leaning his forehead against yours.  “Please, be careful.” He took a deep breath, the words flowing freely from his mouth. “I’ve lost so many friends, good friends, I cannot lose you too.”  You lifted your hand to run it through his hair, a gesture so soft it made Cassian sigh due to the comfort it brought. He didn’t remember the last time someone had touched his as gently as you did, the last time someone made him feel as at home as you did.  “I wasn’t aware that we’re friends,” you whispered, your lips now ghosting over his own. “Just a few hours ago we weren’t, and until a couple of weeks ago we were basically sworn enemies.”  Cassian opened his mouth but before any words could get out you pressed your lips against his, capturing them in a heated kiss.  “You’re right,” he panted as he pressed sloppy kisses down your neck, pushing your dressing gown out of the way to gain access to all the skin your pyjama showed. “We’re not friends.”  The way he said it set your whole body on fire. In the end if didn’t even matter what you called yourself, all that mattered was the way Cassian made you feel with a few whispered words, with his lips and tongue and fingers. And his cock.  You could already feel it pressing against your lower stomach, hard and firm even through the tick material of his trousers.  You hadn’t had the opportunity last time but now you were dying to taste him, to bring him pleasure with just your hands and mouth. You no longer wanted him to beg for you, you wanted own him.  Just as you were about to sneak a hand to the button of his trousers, Cassian began to suck on the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, a place so obvious and visible you would for sure have to cover it tomorrow.  “You’re mine,” Cassian said, his voice loud and clear, as he leaned away to fully look at what you were sure was a hickey that would stand out for days to come.  His words made you clench your thighs together, you were sure that by now you had soaked through not only your underwear but also your thin pyjama shorts.  The way he looked at you only underlined his words. It wasn’t the look of superiority and ownership with which Trusk had regarded you earlier, it was a look that spoke of belonging, of wanting to protect what was yours, of desire.  You didn’t know what to say so you did the only thing that felt right. You unbuttoned his trousers, pulled the zipper down with a loud noise, but your hands didn’t go straight to his cock, which by now you were sure must have been aching. Instead you let your hands roam free under his shirt, feeling his soft skin against yours, running your fingers over every ab and scar before settling one hand on his rapidly beating heart.  Cassian, whose hands had fallen to your waist, looked at you. He didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything, he just looked at you.  Reluctantly you removed your hands from his chest. You leaned up to press a quick kiss to Cassian’s lips before making quick work his the bothersome shirt, ripping it more than unbuttoning.  “Someone’s a little eager,” Cassian finally said.  You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, trying your best to look innocent, as if you hadn’t just ripped the clothes from his back.  “Just trying to get a look at what’s mine.” The words had left your lips before you could stop yourself. Only once you saw Cassian’s soft smile did you realise that you were glad you had said it. Maybe the two of you were nothing more than fuck buddies, but right here, right now, Cassian belonged to you.  You finally pushed his shirt out of the way and Cassian did the rest of the work, getting it off and throwing it somewhere, neither of you caring where the bothersome piece of clothing had landed.  You looked at Cassian, at how the soft lights in the room reflected in his eyes, on his skin, making shadows appear darker, casting him in an ethereal light.  You let out a breath you’ve been holding, the air escaping from your lungs ghosting over Cassian’s naked chest, making goose bumps rise up in the process. You fought the smirk threatening to rise to your lips. It was a unique sort of power, knowing that you could make Cassian feel like this by something as simple as breathing. It had you wondering what else you could to do him.  “Take off your clothes,” you whispered into his ear, your voice as seductive as you could make it sound.  Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He kicked off his shoes and socks before quickly pulling down his trousers and underwear in one swift motion. Within seconds he stood before you, no clothes to hid behind, baring it all to you.  You pressed a quick kiss to his lips. one of your hands finding his cock at the same time and giving it a few strokes. Already you could feel precum at the tip. You wondered whether Cassian was this eager with everyone he slept with or if you really did hold some unique power over him.  His own hands wandered to the bottom of your top, slowly lifting it inch by inch.  “Your turn, mi duquesita.”  But you only shook your head. You had something else in mind, and a favour to repay, he wouldn’t get you naked this easy.  Gently, but firm, you took his hands in yours, removing them from your top and instead leading him over to a gigantic armchair in the corner of the room. This was where you usually curled up with a book, or sometimes with reports late at night when you couldn’t sleep.  Cassian understood without needing to be told. He sat down, his knees just far enough apart to allow you to stand between them. You settled yourself on one of his thighs, leaning forward to trail kisses all over his exposed neck, up to his jaw, where his beard tickled your lips in an almost familiar way. Cassian twisted underneath your touch as one of your hands found his dick again, swirling the leaking precum around the tip and giving it a few strokes just as your lips captured his in a heated kiss. He let out an almost needy moan as your tongues met just as you squeezed his cock, a sound that you knew you would do your best to hear again and again.  Before you knew it you had swung one of your legs over his thigh and involuntary begun to move, rubbing yourself on his leg, giving much needed relief to your aching clit.  You opened your mouth in a breathless pant as Cassian removed one of his hands from your hips, where he had put them to steady you and move you along his thigh at the same time, to sneak it through the bottom of your shorts and panties to your clit. He didn’t circle it like you had expected, instead he gave it a soft squeeze, almost painful but too pleasurable to really notice the ache.  There was nothing to be done to muffle your scream.  “That’s it, let me hear you.”  You continued to move your hands and your hips, your orgasm building quicker and quicker as Cassian caught one of your clothes nipples in his mouth, wetting the material with his tongue before biting down ever so softly, only to soothe it with this tongue once more.  In the end you weren’t sure whether it was his leg beneath your pussy, his fingers on your clit, his mouth on your breasts, or the filthy encouragements he whispered that had you unraveling. There was no holding back the moans as you finished, nor did you want to hold them in, not when you could feel Cassian’s dick twitching with every sound from your mouth, with every bit of wetness leaking through your clothes.  “That’s it, that’s my good girl.” His lips ghosted over yours, barely touching, just taking comfort in sharing this moment, sharing the same air. “I bet Trusk could never make you feel like this.”  And the moment was gone.  You sat up straight, tried your best to look as if Cassian hadn’t just rocked your world, as you looked him in the eyes. There was something of defiance in them, as well as something darker, something buried deep inside, that you couldn’t quite identify.  “Way to ruin the moment, Andor.”  Your hands slipped from his still hard dick and in the next second you got up, suddenly feeling dirty and wanting to be as far away from Cassian as possible.  You walked over to your window, wrapped your arms around yourself, as you looked over the darkness outside. A few lamps were illuminating the park beneath your window, in the distance you could see small lights, probably servants smoking. You refused to look at your reflection, instead straining your eyes to focus on anything else, even if it was something as simple as a tree.  You had been so focused on ignoring Cassian, expecting him to get dressed and leave the room, that it took you by surprise when you felt warm hands on your cold body. It was only when he wrapped his arms around you, one around your waist and one around your shoulders, and pulled you against his chest that you noticed that you had in fact started to shiver in your thin pyjama.  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”  You looked at Cassian’s reflection in the window, only to see that he was already looking at you. His grip tightened as he noticed your gaze, almost as if he was afraid you would pull away from him.  “We should get away from the window,” you finally said after moments of silence. “Someone might see. It isn’t proper.”  You felt Cassian’s chuckle against your back before you heard it. His lips attached themselves to your neck once more, peppering soft kisses along it.  “Nothing about our relationship is proper.”  You didn’t say anything. Didn’t correct that there was no relationship between the two of you. Instead you looked at him, at his soft brown hair that you had run your fingers through, the small scar above his eyebrow that was probably the result of some daring tale, his beard, that had felt so good against your skin. You knew that you had never truly hated Cassian, had only ever reflected his negative feelings towards you back at him, but now you were beginning to wonder if you reflected all feelings back. Ever since you had last seen him you had thought of your relationship, of when it all went wrong after a first meeting that had left you wanting to see the handsome rebel again. You knew that something must have happened between your first and second meeting and that whatever had changed Cassian’s opinion on you had once again shifted.  “Cassian, why don’t you want me to marry Trusk?”  It was a simple question, one that you thought you deserved to know the answer to.  Now it was Cassian who avoided looking at you. He pressed a kiss to your head before resting his forehead against your shoulder, breathing in your scent, grounding himself in the moment.  “I have given so much to the Rebellion,” he whispered into the dark. “And I was glad to give everything I had. I would give my life and do so willingly, but I won’t give you.”  You turned around in his arms, forcing him to lift his head and look at you. One of your hands cupped his cheek, just holding him.  “I am not yours to give, Cassian.”  He leaned into your touch, closed his eyes and nodded slightly.  “I know.” He was silent for a moment and you didn’t know what to say either. After what felt like an eternity he continued. “I know it doesn’t make any sense but when I first met you I thought there might be something there, something we could build on. I found myself wishing that we had met under different circumstances, in a different time. And then I got back and I found out who you were, that you carry a title that stands for everything I have spend most of my life fighting against.”  You didn’t know what to say. You had always suspected that your title was the reason behind Cassian’s changed attitude towards you but hearing it out of his mouth was something else, it twisted something inside you. Did he still feel this way?  “It felt like a future was being ripped from my hands, a future we likely wouldn’t have had to begin with. I thought that you were only helping the Rebellion to ease your conscience, tossing us a bone every once in a while to keep us hooked. And yet I couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. I wanted to hate you, tried to make myself hate you.”  You nodded. You had felt the same way. At first you had hoped to find a friend in Cassian but even after a short conversation you could tell that there was a chance the two of you could become something more. And then he changed, he seemed to despise you, and you tried to mirror his behaviour, his feelings, and yet you mourned for what could have been.  “I realised that I was wrong the night of the ball, and that I had wasted so much time in trying to hate you. Time we could have spent together.”  The look in Cassian’s eyes made your insides melt. He was being honest, vulnerable, putting his heart in your hands.  “We don’t even really know each other. You don’t know my mother’s name, I don’t know your favourite colour. Who’s to say that we would even work?”  Cassian twisted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist. That simple gesture, the way he made your heartbeat quicken, told you that you would burn down the entire galaxy to find a way for your relationship to work. Cassian Andor had a way of turning off the logical part of your brain.  “But I know how you make me feel, how I make you feel. I know that you’re my home, you’re the one thing in the galaxy that means more to me than the Rebellion. I’ve been a fighter my whole life but with you I’ve found peace.”  You stepped impossibly closer to him, removing your hand from his cheek in order to wrap your arms around him as you rested your head on his chest, taking comfort in the steady beating of his heart.  “We agreed to be casual just a few hours ago, Cassian.”  You breathed in his scent, relished in feeling his skin under your hands, your cheek. You’ve heard tales of soulmates, of people bound together by what you parents used to call the Force. They had grown up in a different time, in a time where it was still easy to believe in fairytales and true love, in knights guided by a higher power. You had never hoped to find what they had, the love the two of them shared, had always known that your marriage would be a political one. There was no love under the Empire, only loss.  And yet, maybe that was what this was between you and Cassian, maybe feeling drawn to him, knowing that you could easily love him if only you let yourself, meant that you were soulmates.  “That was before I knew that I could lose you.”  You thought about his words. Yes, you could marry Trusk and be out of Cassian’s reach, but you could also be the one to lose him. He risked his life every day, the scars all over his body told of how often he had only narrowly escaped death. You had seen his name on the Empire’s kill list with your own eyes.  “I can’t promise you forever. I can’t promise not to marry Trusk if it’s what’s best for the Rebellion. But I can promise that I’ll be yours as long as the stars allow.”  You lifted your head from Cassian’s chest to look at him, only to find his eyes already focused on you. He moved a hand to the back of your neck, gently tracing his fingers through your hair.  “As long as the stars allow,” he repeated, whispering the words against your lips, against your neck, as his lips moved down.  And even if the stars, fate, the Force or whatever power controlled the galaxy were to decide that Cassian was ripped from you the very next day, at least you were allowed one perfect night together. 

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Ok, this was honestly a mess! Not only was it my second (and first published) time writing smut, I also had no idea where the story was supposed to go and it ended kinda weird. I might one day write a part two to make up for that, we’ll see. 

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Thanks to @blue-ties-and-green-eyes for helping with the Spanish! 

Taglist (I’m just gonna tag everyone who liked the Sneak Peak):  @ducktruffles  @fandom-switch @fanofverymanythings @moonlightfoxs-blog  @leonkennedyslefthand @marvelbros-oneshots @starstriker027 @queenbillie1637 @mushyluvr99 @wwesarahjaneroszko @iovesaint @luthienpallanen  @multifandom-loser @gothamincorrect  @lunarisnightmare @spectors-film @brittney22  @beautifulfreaklawyercroissant @hiddlebatchedloki @jessi55555  @noeliaxvpelluz  @skyemaria91121  @theblondeone-029  @juliette151  @chocogato777 @skyewardsherlock221b 

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x y/n #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor smut #cassian andor fluff #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor #andor #andor series #star wars #star wars imagine

[vibrantbirdy]

Dissent: A Cassian Andor x Female Reader Story - Chapter 1

Title: Dissent Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Post Andor, Pre Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Action/Adventure; Hurt/Comfort; Romance Pairings: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Warnings for Chapter 1: Contains mature themes - Moderate-Strong descriptions of violence/injury detail and Imperial brutality including an instance of whipping - not gratuitous, mainly lead up and aftermath - and brief references to execution; Very strong language; Canon-typical angst; (Please bear in mind that Chapter 2 will include sexual content and mature themes (but there will also be fun romance too) Chapters: 1/2 Word Count: C.6k Summary: You are an ex-Imperial sharpshooter who defected from the Empire and forged a place for yourself in the Rebellion working intelligence. As part of a team led by Captain Cassian Andor to the planet of Divach, your mission is to uncover the reason behind the Empire's sudden interest in the small world. Following a disastrous start to the operation with severe consequences for Andor, you and he are thrown together to investigate further, and this seemingly simple directive becomes more complicated than you ever imagined.

Author's Note: I've been sitting on this one for months and months, working on it here and there and Part 1 is finally done. I'm extremely busy in real life at the moment and I wasn't going to split this story but it has become so long, and it has been ages since I've posted any writing so I felt like I need to produce something! As always, thank you for all your interactions with my stories - I am very grateful! Masterlist of my writing here.

The first time you meet Captain Cassian Andor, you almost break his nose.

Since you arrived on Yavin 4 five months ago, you've been grounded, spending much of your time carrying out menial duties on the base at Rebel Alliance Headquarters. Your fellow Rebels have not yet warmed to you, but you hope this is only temporary until you can prove yourself when you are finally cleared to run missions by Command.

When you'd handed yourself over to the Rebel contact you'd managed to source on Coruscant, someone had come up behind you and shoved a hood over your head. Your hands were bound behind you back and then you were roughly bundled onto a cold, rattling transport where you sat for hours in blackness, uncomfortable and confused. When you'd finally reached Yavin 4 in the Outer Rim, you could heard the jeers and the taunts as you were paraded, blind and disoriented in binders through a bustling Rebel base with the Imperial insignia still emblazoned on the sleeves of your jacket.

It hardly made for a subtle arrival, nor the best first impression, but you understood that this was a test of sorts. And so you've learned to tolerate the suspicion and snide remarks for the most part.

But Rek Ryker? That man really knows how to push your buttons.

That's why, one jibe too many, and you're sitting atop the big man on the floor of the mess hall, his arms firmly pinned beneath your knees. There's a crowd around you shouting and jeering. As you draw your fist back to give Ryker a right hook across the jaw, someone grabs your arm from behind, preventing your strike. Immediately, you twist around and deliver a cross-body punch with your left fist square into this new assailant's face.

The stranger lets go immediately and staggers backwards, his hand flying to the point of impact and he pinches his nose, tilting his head backwards and pacing a tight circle as if he might walk off the pain.

"Captain Andor," you hear Ryker acknowledge beneath you and with your arm still extended across your body, teeth still bared, you snap your head back to look down at him. He raises his eyebrows at you, the most infuriatingly smug expression plastered across his face.

"Get up, both of you," Andor orders in an accent you don't recognise, his words muffled through his hand which remains firmly clasped to his face.

You leap to your feet and turn to the Captain, snapping your hand to your forehead in a salute which sends Ryker and his companions into fits of mocking laughter behind you.

Andor, at least, seems too preoccupied with his tender nose to take much notice but your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you let your arm drop back down to your side. You're still unsure of what's expected of you in terms of protocol here. The performative motions with regard to rank hierarchy seem much less ridged than the Imperial command structure.

Although, you think glumly, brawling in the mess hall and striking a superior officer is probably still frowned upon, even amongst Rebels...

Andor finally lets go of his nose, revealing an angular face with a well defined jawline, sharp cheekbones and dark, sombre eyes. He's perhaps not yet thirty, but the rather grim expression that sits on his otherwise attractive face gives the impression that he's already experienced much hardship in his short lifetime.

You watch as a small trickle of blood escapes from his right nostril and runs down through his short moustache, across the downturned line of his lips and catches amid the stubble on his chin. Gingerly, he reaches up to touch his nose again and this time, as he takes his hand away and examines it, a small patch of crimson glistens on his fingers. Still, the damage appears minimal.

Thank the stars, you think.

"Ryker, I'll deal with you later," Andor says over your shoulder, before addressing you directly, "You, come with me."

Trying to ignore the multitude of eyes that bore into you as you exit the mess hall, you follow Andor like a chastened child. The Captain leads you out into the deserted corridor where he rounds on you.

"What the hell was that?"

"I've been here for months," you erupt with a candour surprises even yourself, "I've complied in Draven's countless interrogations, I've taken the whispers and the insults without complaint, I've cleaned so many blasters in the armoury that I can't get the oil stains out from under my fingernails. I gave up everything to be here. I didn't defect to sit in this kriffing base and rot. I can be useful..."

"You're the Imperial sharpshooter, right?" Andor interrupts your tirade, his tone impatient, "Right?"

"Ex-Imperial sharpshooter," you correct him through gritted teeth, unable to help yourself.

The Captain gives you an exasperated look as he pulls a data pad from the pocket of his worn brown leather jacket.

"Is that not your name?" he asks, pointing to what looks like a duty roster. You lean in to examine the text on the device. Your name is indeed on the list. "General Draven had cleared you to run with me on my next op. Tomorrow."

You don't know what to say, bitter disappointment forming hot and solid in your throat like a lump of molten durasteel and constricting your words. You were so close to the chance to actually do something and you didn't even know it. Now you've blown it.

You look up and examine the face of the man before you, trying to decipher what he might be thinking. Those dark eyes are set hard and cool, glinting like obsidian. Yet there is a glimpse of something concealed underneath, something almost wild, and you have this notion that if you could just mine through that impenetrable surface, you'd find yourself swept away in the tumultuous, endless ocean raging at the centre of his existence.

But today, the man is almost impossible to read.

"Captain...I..." you start, but you trail off, defeated.

"Get out of here," Andor says quietly, his expression suddenly softening as he inclines his head towards the door at the other end of the corridor, "Cool off before tomorrow, I need you with a clear head."

Your heart leaps at the realisation that he's not going to take this opportunity away from you, and it's like a rush of oxygen after the stranglehold of your regret.

"Thank you, Captain," and you can't help the grin that spreads across you face.

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, thinking you glean the faintest trace of a smile on his lips and a new, elusive warmth in his eyes. You nod a farewell, and take off to your quarters to prepare for your first assignment.

*********************************

1 year later

“An hour?!” Andor's frustrated query crackles through your com link.

"I'm sorry, Captain," comes Brox's meek reply, "I blew the circuit on the transmitter and I can't make the replacement charge any quicker than that."

The young man sounds miserable, close to tears, and you suddenly feel a rush of sympathy for him. He's barely eighteen and it's his first field op. He's a talented electronics tech, but he's just a kid and his nerves are all over the place. Ryker should have been checking his work, lazy brute that he is.

You listen to the disaster unfolding through your com link with increasing exasperation. There is little you can do from up here, perched high in the bell tower at the south-eastern corner of the market square.

Your position affords you a bird's eye view of the maze of streets below. Like most urban settlements on the planet of Divach, Kinafor is made up of looming, ramshackle houses topped with rooves of black slate from local quarries squeezed together in almost impossible proximity. It gives the impression that the structures themselves are fighting for space. The aged buildings seem to sag with fatigue over the filthy streets paved with the same grey cobblestone.

The dark skies and lashing rain manifest muddy pools which flood the rutted, poorly kept roads. It does little to alleviate the dour atmosphere. But despite the torrential downpour, the streets are teaming with people going about their daily business, their heads bent against the weather, jostling with each other to get where they are going.

Overcrowding is rife in Divach's towns and cities. You've done your research - this is partly an ongoing effect of the rapid industrialisation that took place prior to the Clone Wars under the auspices of the Separatist Confederacy. Yet the population of Kinafor appears to have doubled in only the last year and the once quiet market town just doesn't have the infrastructure to support the sudden influx of people and it appears that everyone is suffering for it.

It's no coincidence that there has been a marked increase in Imperial activity in the sector. Like many planets caught in the wake of the Empire's relentless progress, Divach's natural resources are being scoured and plundered, with most remaining rural communities being forced off their ancestral lands and into the urban centres.

Rebel Command want you to find out why the sudden Imperial interest in this particular planet, and today, you have that opportunity. Your fellow operatives, Brox and Ryker, are currently bugging Kinafor's Imperial Bureau in the hopes of capturing a meeting taking place between the Imperial whom whom the Empire have recently set up as Magistrate, Dek Perrin, and Senator Josen Stoker, a politician renowned for his love of Empire and his unwavering loyalty to Emperor Palpatine.

Ostensibly, your look-out is under shelter, the ancient, behemoth of a bell and its inner working protected by a sturdy slate roof. However, the rain is now blasting in horizontally through the open arches of the tower. On the short time you've been on this little planet you've come to realise just how unpredictable the weather is here and you wish you'd brought something waterproof. Even your boots are filled with water, and your clothes, simple travelling garb of leggings and a loose, lightweight shirt, stick to your skin uncomfortably. At least it's not cold - this is what counts for the summer season on Divach.

Aware that Ryker and Brox are almost out of time, you rub the rain water out of your eyes as best you can and look again through the sight of your binoculars.

A tall, middle aged Imperial Officer with a long, elegant gait is floating his way down the main street with an entourage. You recognise him instantly as the target, General Perrin, the two rows of red and blue pips on the front of his dark, grey uniform indicating his status. Next to him is an older, balding man, scurrying to keep up with the General on account of his short little legs. He is dressed in refined, but rather strained looking purple robes which are tailored in the fashionable Coruscanti style. He can only be the other mark, Senator Stocker. Four Stormtroopers armoured in their soulless, white shells bring up the rear of the party.

“I just need more time to...”

“Do we abort?" Ryker's rough brogue cuts across Brox's message, "Andor? Andor?”

The overlapping chatter on the coms is making you nervous. How many times have you told Ryker to keep to essential communications when pieces are moving on the board? There are so very few things you miss about your days as an Imperial operative, but coms discipline out in the field is definitely one of them.

“Andor, Perrin and Stocker are approaching your location now,” you interject quickly.

“Hold your positions and keep working," Andor's order comes through, his voice low and urgent, "We need this intel and we won't get another chance. I'll get you your hour. I'm going dark - Bird, you have command.”

"Acknowledged, I have command," you say and despite your growing apprehension, you feel a rush of warmth at the use of your nickname.

Less than a week after your first mission with Rebel Intelligence, somehow, Ryker had discovered that your Imperial sharpshooter callsign had once been Raptor. For weeks after, he'd insisted on calling you Bird-Brain. Once the joke had worn thin, even for Ryker himself, the Bird part just seemed to stick around. Secretly, you've grown fond of it, especially the way it sounds as it rolls off Andor's tongue.

You hold your breath as you realise Andor is walking straight towards the Imperial delegation. As he reaches the party, he roughly and deliberately shoulder barges past Senator Stocker who reels backwards, a pudgy hand clutched to his chest in affront.

You lift your binocs to your face, fighting to get them to focus through the visual noise of the relentless downpour, and succeeding just in time to see Andor's usually handsome features twist into a vicious sneer. His mouth moves as he passes the Senator, and you can just about make out his words.

“Fuck the Empire."

That'll do it, you think, grimly.

************************************

As a Stormtrooper grabs him roughly by the shoulder and spins him around, shoving him back towards Perrin and the Senator, Cassian Andor thinks this might be the stupidest thing he's had to do in a long time. Deliberately risking capture as a diversion tactic was not on his to do list today.

But Cassian knows that the Empire aren't looking for spies on a backwater planet like Divach. Espionage is not the biggest threat to Imperial power here.

Insurrection is. Dissent.

So today, Cassian dissents.

“What did you say?” A mortally offended Stocker manages to stutter out in his pompous Coruscanti accent.

Behind the Senator, Perrin's face is reddening, painting a crimson canvass of indignant rage at Cassian's overt and brazen insolence. The General is clearly infuriated to have his authority undermined and challenged on his planet - and in front of an Imperial Senator no less. Cassian might as well have spat in the face of Emperor Palpatine himself.

The spy feels a strange thrill of satisfaction. Since joining the Rebellion, the covert nature of espionage - the sneaking and stealing and lying for intelligence - has afforded him very few chances to show his contempt for the Empire so simply, so directly. It makes him feel suddenly, gloriously human and so alive.

The memory of the day his adoptive father was murdered by a fledgling Empire flashes into his mind. Clem Andor had been trying to protect his neighbours, to keep the peace in the streets of Ferrix City as Clone Troopers marched through the town, signalling the beginning of Imperial residency on the planet. For his efforts, caught up in the unbridled confusion of furious anti-Imperial feeling, he was falsely accused of anarchy and carted away for summary execution.

Cassian closes his eyes for just a moment and he feels the ghost of cold metal in his hand, the phantom weight of a baton in the grip of his fist. He tastes in his mouth the ice of Ferrix's frigid, winter air. The years fade away and it's if he is still that thirteen year old boy, rushing headlong in a reckless, hate-fuelled frenzy towards a clutch of the occupying Troopers.

The image of his father hanging in the square at the end of Rix Road, falling snow gently gathering on his still body, is never far from Cassian's consciousness. But today, something old and familiar flares deep within him at the remembrance. The embers of the white-hot fury he keeps smothered by cold, learned dispassion for the sake of his clandestine occupation suddenly ignite.

It feels like freedom.

Cassian welcomes it as he repeats the provocation with a snarl.

******************************

“What's going on, Bird?” Ryker's distorted demand bursts through your com link, the ragged edge of panic at the threat of possible discovery tangible in his voice, “Do we abort?”

“No, you heard the Captain, hold your position, keep working" you reply, "Andor is... He's causing a … scene.”

You mean to say distraction but it's quickly becoming more than that.

You wince as the closed fist of a Stormtrooper catches Andor hard in the mouth, and he spins to the ground in a spray of rainwater. He tries to rise but a heavy, white boot lands between his shoulder blades and slams him face down in the dirt.

General Perrin barks an order, his once serene face now aflame with self-righteous anger. The Trooper with the savage right hook hauls Andor to his feet, a gloved hand twisted viciously in the spy's dark hair. He's bleeding from his mouth, his face and once cream coloured shirt spattered with black mud.

“What?" Ryker presses, "What do you mean, a scene?”

“Never mind!” You hiss into the com, “He's bought you and Brox some time, just get on with the job. I'll let you know if anything changes.”

If it was anyone else at the centre of the commotion unfolding on the street below you, you might think that this chosen course of action had been conceived of panic.

But this is Andor. You've observed first-hand his uncanny ability to adapt to the unexpected, calculating his next move based on shrewd observations and then acting with swift, often ruthless efficiency. It's what makes him such an effective weapon against the Empire. He is, by all accounts, a sharp, precise instrument.

And while necessity has rendered today's choice of tactic rather blunt and a little rougher around the edges than his usual style, you know that this isn't panic.

It's instinct.

A resistant Andor is dragged past the street where, even now, Ryker and Brox are bugging Perrin's office and you exhale a breath you didn't even know you had been holding as you realise that he has succeeded in drawing attention away from the others.

The relief is short-lived and your heart sinks as Andor is frogmarched in front of your position and towards Kinafor's main square. You can't resist leaning over the stone balustrade of the bell tower and peering down into the street below. Fleetingly, the Captain raises his gaze to the heavy, grey sky. There is a look of resigned acceptance on his filthy, bloody face and as his eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments, you think you catch the trace of a grim, rueful smirk on his lips.

********************************

Dedication to the Rebellion sometimes makes things incredibly simple. Cassian has long become accustomed to an existence of constant jeopardy, where the illusion of choice is often stripped away and his actions are dictated by necessity and urgency. There is no choice in rebellion but to decide how to resist; how to keep moving. To push, to scramble, to crawl, to climb, anything to keep ahead of the ever-grasping Imperial reach.

Cassian knew, even as he'd crushed his com link under his boot, that this particular decision would cost him. He knew the outcome would be unpleasant. He knew that it would probably hurt.

He'd supposed, perhaps naively, that he would be hauled off to be roughed up in a filthy back ally somewhere until Perrin and Stocker were satisfied that he'd been suitably chastised for his impudence. It wouldn't be the worst thing he'd suffered through for the Rebellion, and Cassian knew many who had sacrificed much more in the name of the Cause.

But as he is led into the market square, the reality of the situation he has created for himself finally sets in. A Stormtrooper with an orange shoulder guard designating his rank as a Squad Leader, is standing next to a tall, sturdy-looking wooden post, the base of which has been securely screwed the cobble stones. The Trooper is caressing the tail of a whip through his gloved hands as if it is a strand of his lover's hair.

There doesn't appear to be a gallows in Kinafor yet. That day will come, Cassian muses bitterly. It is inevitable. It will simply appear one day, hastily erected in the name of a savage, polluted vision of justice and when it does, the people of Divach will either be too paralysed from the shock of the first exhibition of unspeakable, deadly barbarity, or otherwise ground so far under the Empire's leaden heel to even flinch.

He thinks again of his father.

The Trooper who has been diligently prodding Cassian in the back the whole way to the square now shoves him forwards towards the post and orders him to remove his shirt.

"What, you're not going to buy me a drink first?"

It's a stupid time for a cheap jibe and Cassian knows it. It earns him a stinging backhand to the face, the impact sending a new stream of blood trickling from his already split lip. He glares at the Trooper as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the wet ground at his feet.

The Trooper secures him to the wooden column, affixing his arms above his head where heavy magnetic cuffs snap closed around his wrists and lock tightly. He suddenly feels overwhelmingly vulnerable, strung up half naked and exposed, and his entire being rails against the unnatural, paralysing feeling of abject restraint.

Cassian swallows his fear as best he can, reminds himself that he took the only course of action available to him. Ryker and Brox's imminent discovery would have blown the entire operation and the capture of agents under his command is no option at all. At least whatever happens next gives them a fighting chance to complete the mission.

Then, he thinks of you and a small flash of reassurance passes through him. Over the year that he's known you, you've proven yourself to be a capable and determined operative. Above all, you are pragmatic, and he knows he can trust you to be courageous enough to get him out of here if - when - you can, but that you are not likely to risk the intel, nor the lives of the others in the process.

Cassian allows himself a moment of escapism, taking comfort in the thought of seeing your face, of indulging once again in the lingering, stolen glances that seem to intersperse your otherwise strictly working relationship more and more these days. He wonders if you know just how meagre a thread his professionalism hangs by in those rare moments you find yourselves alone together.

“The Empire is the uniting, stabilising force in our Galaxy.”

Perrin is standing with his back to Cassian, the Senator by his side. He is addressing a sombre crowd of citizens whom Stormtroopers have hassled away from their daily business to stand, huddled together against the ceaseless rain to observe this spectacle. The faces in the crowd are grave and solemn. There is sympathy in their expressions and grim expectation, even some contempt directed towards the Imperial presence. But there is no panic. No confusion.

This has happened before, Cassian realises, and it rekindles some of the furious fire in his belly temporarily snuffed out by his apprehension.

He should have predicated something like this. Perrin is exactly the type of man to favour a public display of violence as a mechanism of control. Pain and humiliation are simple but effective tools of spreading fear amongst the Empire's subjugated populaces, especially when an Imperial zealot like Perrin can claim to be prescribing them as a remedy to unrest and disorder.

As his dogmatic drone continues, the General's voice is almost fatherly, a stark contrast to the brutality he is about to oversee.

"Disrespect against the Empire will not be tolerated here on Divach where we all benefit from the guidance of the Emperor's steady hand. I hope that the regrettable example I am forced to make today will assure you that I will act always swiftly to protect the integrity of our thriving community wherever such disloyalty is exposed."

At Perrin's finishing words, Stocker's eyes appear to gleam with pious reverence.

Perrin turns and nods at the Squad Leader over Cassian's shoulder.

Almost immediately Cassian hears the whip whistle through the air behind his head and he braces the front of his right shoulder against the post, allowing his cheek to rest against the wood which smells newly cut. He inhales deeply, trying to ground himself in the earthy, reassuring scent.

A strip of fire erupts across his shoulders and upper back, and the sheer power of the blow snaps his head back and forces his mouth open, ripping a strangled shout from his throat. Cassian sets his jaw and clenches his hands into tight fists, steeling himself for the next strike.

********************************

He doesn't know how many times the Stormtrooper has brought the whip down across his back. He lost count some time ago, one savage, agonising blow blurring into the next and the next and the next. All Cassian knows is that it has finally, finally stopped.

He realises that he is now sagging against his restraints, the cold metal of the cuffs digging into the red raw skin around his wrists and he tries to take advantage of the break in proceedings to straighten his posture again, unwilling to give Perrin or the Stormtrooper any further satisfaction in the effect their ruthless work has had upon him.

But the reprieve, such as it is, doesn't last long. Perrin is there, suddenly behind him, winding his sharp, skeletal fingers painfully through the spy's wet hair, roughly pulling his head back and forcing his gaze upwards to the leaden sky.

The rain is still hammering down, sharp pinpricks in his open wounds, and now the drops pelt down onto his face as well, mingling with the sweat on his brow and temples and trickling salty water into stinging eyes. He squeezes them shut.

Over the ringing in his ears, Cassian realises Perrin is speaking to him.

“Say it again,” the General seethes.

He wants to. Cassian really, really wants to.

A strained growl rumbles in his throat and he grits his bared his teeth.

Despite what he knows they will bring him, those three incendiary words are already forming on his tongue like a compulsion. He yearns to spit them out and watch as the Imperial bastard's face falls. He wants to yell them at the top of his lungs - Fuck the Empire! - each syllable it's own purging, cathartic release.

But as Perrin releases his vice-like grip on Cassian's hair and the spy blinks the rainwater from his eyes, he catches a glimpse of your face amid the crowd over the General's shoulder.

An overwhelming sense of relief floods over him, and douses the blaze of his temporary madness. You would never leave your post unless Brox and Ryker had sent confirmation that the job was complete - that they were out and they were safe.

You've come back for him.

Cassian's dark eyes flick back to Perrin's, and he keeps them locked there for as long as he dares, his chin tilted upwards in defiance. This final show of resistance is rewarded as he sees the General's steady, cold stare appear to falter just for the briefest of moments.

The spy revels in this small victory until, reluctantly, he averts his gaze and looks down at the wet ground in a gesture of capitulation, the best his pride will allow.

It seems enough to satisfy Perrin who leers at him in triumph, before slapping the release button on his captive's restraints. Exhausted and agonised, Cassian's body fails him, his legs give way and he collapses, hard, to all fours on the cobblestones in the mud.

Get up, Andor, he orders himself, get the fuck up.

*************************************

“Kriffin' hell,” Ryker says, jumping up from his seated position on the ramp of Andor's U-Wing, “What happened to you?”

The sudden absence of his considerable weight sends the ramp rocking so violently it unbalances Brox to the point that he is also forced to stagger to his feet to prevent himself toppling off the side.

Andor removes his arm from around your shoulder where it has been slung all the way from Kinafor's town centre to here in the junk yard on the outskirts where the ship and the rest of the team are waiting.

It hadn't been difficult to extract him. By the time you'd pushed your way through the subdued crowd that the Troopers were busily dispersing, Perrin and Stocker were already halfway back to edge of the square, engaged in some casual conversation as they made their way toward the Bureau to carry on with the business of their day.

They'd got what they'd wanted from Andor - an example, a potent, brutal, tangible reminder of the consequences of challenging the Empire's authority. You try to comprehend the men's palpable disinterest towards the barbarity they'd just inflicted, but you can't, and thinking about it only makes your blood boil.

Disentangled from your support, Andor takes laboured, stilted steps towards the U-Wing, obviously determined to make a show of making his own way back to his own ship. You don't fuss, choosing to give him space and allow him this moment to restore some semblance of his bruised pride if this is how he feels he needs to do it.

The Imps have made a real mess of him. He is soaked through, his dark hair set in jagged points against his forehead which send raindrops trickling down his face to drip off the end of his sharp nose. Darkening blood from his split lip where it met with the Stormtrooper's gauntlet is caught in his stubble, and there are new abrasions, one on his right cheek where the rough wood of the post has grazed his skin, and two more on his wrists, rubbed raw where they have taken his bodyweight against the biting metal restraints.

There had been little point in trying to puzzle his sodden, filthy shirt back on to his body. It would've only stuck to him and chafed against the angry, red welts that criss-cross his back, evidence of the cruel leather which has bitten deep into his flesh. His exposed skin glistens from the rain amid a mixture of mud and sweat and blood.

“We needed a distraction,” Andor replies flatly, his voice strained as he slowly ascends the ramp of the U-Wing, "So I made one."

Brox looks crestfallen at the sight of the Captain. His mop of curly blonde hair is wild, as if he's been constantly running his hands through it in despair. His usually bright blue eyes are bloodshot. It's clear that he's been crying, overwrought with a feeling of responsibility for the situation that no one in their right mind could ever fairly place on his young shoulders. Andor must see it too because he claps the boy briefly on the shoulder just before he passes through the doorway into the ship.

“Cassian?”

K-2SO, Andor's reprogrammed Imperial security droid sounds just about as distraught as is possible for a mechanical lifeform to be as he twists in the pilot's chair and catches a glimpse of his returning master from the cockpit.

“I'm fine, K,” Andor says, rather sharply “Just get us out of here as soon as you're sure Command is receiving the transmission, then set a course for back home."

K-2SO is uncharacteristically silent.

"Say you understand, K," Andor growls through gritted teeth.

"I understand, Cassian," K-2 relents, as his master turns away towards the back of the ship.

"I've got him," you mouth to the droid.

K-2's inner workings whirr as he gives you a nod of his mechanical head, the bright, white bulbs of his visual receptors shining with something so human that it could almost be mistaken for gratitude.

You have a real fondness for the droid. Usually unrelentingly verbose, his reprogramming has gifted him with several quirks including a brazen sense of independent thought and a sarcastic sense of humour. It seems odd to feel an affinity with a machine, but you do. Those first few monotonous months of eating alone in the mess hall had quite often been interspersed by the company of the huge, lumbering droid, even though he had no need to eat at all. He was intrigued by you, as you were by him. A couple of ex-Imperials, finding a new purpose, a new freedom within the Rebellion.

You follow Andor as he stumbles through the cramped corridor of the ship until he reaches the cargo and passenger compartment. You hear Brox traipsing after you, but you turn to him and silently shake your head. He means well, but a crowd won't help. He gives you a look of understanding that is coupled with relief and scurries back through the ship to sit behind Ryker and K-2 in the cockpit.

Andor starts rummaging around clumsily in the med supply drawer, discarding equipment here and there, sending instruments and bandages sprawling across the durasteel floor. He seems in a trance, blinded by his pain and oblivious to your presence. He's unsteady on his feet, staggering this way and that, and you just wish he'd sit down. Finally, he finds a bottle of pain pills, tips several - probably too many - into the palm of a shaking hand, and swallows them greedily.

You feel the ship rumble and vibrate as K-2 fires up the engines and soon the U-wing starts to climb towards orbit. Andor loses his balance during a brief moment of turbulence and crashes unceremoniously to the floor.

You crouch down on your haunches in front of him. He is already trying to rise.

“Andor, let me...”

You reach out and touch him gently, desperate to snap him out of his reverie, and you accidentally graze one of his wounds where the tail of the whip has snaked over the front of his shoulder and down to his collar bone. He recoils from you like an injured animal and slumps back to the floor.

“Sorry, I'm sorry," you raise your hands in a placating gesture, "Just...please, Cassian, let me help you."

The use of his first name seems to ground him in some way. He looks up then, suddenly and with unguarded, anguished eyes that focus on you with an almost desperate intensity. He looks lost, a vulnerability radiating from him that you've never felt before - a raw, elemental hurt so great that you think he couldn't verbalise it even if he wanted to.

You feel an overwhelming need to reassure him that it hasn't all been for nothing - that this reckless, physical manifestation of the resistance he's dedicated his life to has meant something. He saved Ryker and Brox. He saved the mission. It was, perhaps, the bravest, most selfless thing you'd ever seen anyone do.

But tongue-tied and unable to put any of these grandiose feelings into words, you instead place your palm gently on Andor's cheek. Silently, he brings his own hand up to rest on top of yours and he closes his eyes as he leans, ever so slightly, into your touch.

It's enough for now.

To be continued

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor

[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS

cassian andor has a bad habit of losing the things he loves.

the tragedy before the tragedy. before scarif, before jyn erso and the death star, fate had something else planned for cassian. something fleeting and fiery, something he could tell himself over and over that he couldn’t have, that he didn’t need. but something he was given, something he lost…you.

full disclosure: this story is sad as hell. there is no happy ending (we’ve all seen rogue one, we know what happens to captain andor in the end). but I wanted to give him something in the interim, something to fuel his rebellious desire a little further, something to show why he built up his walls, what made him the way that he was by the end. but mostly, I wanted to give him hope.

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI (each chapter will have their own, but please start here before you dive into the story) DEATH, canon-typical violence and injuries, SPOILERS FOR BOTH THE ANDOR SERIES and ROGUE ONE (I highly suggest watching both before reading this if you haven’t already - there are lots of easter eggs and references!), mentions/depictions of blood, kidnapping, brief mentions of torture (no depictions), betrayal, mutual pining, smut, unprotected p-in-v, oral (f and m receiving), swearing, jealous!cassian, typical imperial behaviour (read: a bunch of assholes). reader dies in the end, the final chapter is rogue one from cassian’s perspective after the events of this fic. my askbox is always open if you want a heads up on anything else.

chapters + release dates under the cut!

summaries will be posted after chapters are released. chapters with smut are marked with *, chapters eight and nine contain explicit reader/character deaths.

chapter one: (take me back to) the night we met

cassian finds something familiar in the mud, and gets much more than he bargained for.

chapter two: how rare and beautiful it is (to even exist)

you and cassian pull a job for luthen, and something is starting to form between you and the rebel.

chapter three: just my soul responding (to the heavy heart I’m holding)*

things don’t go as planned on hosnian prime.

chapter four: takes one to know one (you’re a cowboy like me)*

cassian lets his emotions get the better of him.

chapter five: (we are all) living in a dream* - TBA

chapter six: there is a light (that never goes out)* - TBA

chapter seven: a sky full of stars (you light up the dark)* - TBA

chapter eight: (goodbye, goodbye, goodbye) you were bigger than the whole sky - TBA

chapter nine: I know the end (the end is near) - TBA

#rebel suns #my fics #cassian andor #cassian andor fic #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor smut #cassian andor angst #cassian andor fluff #andor fic #andor fanfiction #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #rogue one fic #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one #andor #tw: death #tw: torture

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

LOVE YOU ANYWAY - C.A

Pairing: Cassian Andor x gn!reader

Summary: you had been by cassians side since he had arrived on the planet but when he went missing for a month you gave up on him. now he's back and wants to make up for it

Warnings: arguments, mentions of blood, fighting, scars, trauma, kissing, sadness, allusions to sex, wrongful imprisonment

Wordcount: 2.5k

tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway

You had never expected to be the person who waited around for a man to come back but ever since Cassian had vanished when the empire came looking for him, you had been waiting for him to come home.

Every day you woke up in his home with his mother, a sickening feeling in your stomach as you wondered what could be happening to him. Maarva had invited you to stay with her in the home after he had left as she was getting sicker every day and needed someone to stay with her at all times.

You had known the Andor ever since you met when he was just a young teenager and the three turned up on the planet. Maarva trusted you with her life and you felt the same way.

Cassian meant everything to you, he was your best friend, your confidante and the man you had always been in love with. Ever since you were little kids, that smile on his face had drawn you in and even though you knew he didnt feel the same way, you always stuck by his side.

And now you were waiting in his home for him to come back. The rain poured down heavy on the windows and you were making Maarva a pot of tea when you heard a knock on the door.

You’re entire frame tensed up and you rushed to the door, hand resting on the blaster in your holster and you tried to figure out what to do. You leaned closer to the door, eye peeking through the hole in the door as you tried to see who it was; ever since Cassians escapade, the security had increased and they were constantly wary that you and Maarva were plotting something.

You opened the door when you saw who it was and Cassian stumbled into the room, “Since when do you lock the door?” He questioned, not even wondering why you were at his house so late at night.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked at him, brows furrowed as you tried to figure out why he had come back and where he had been. He had shaved his beard off, leaving a light trail of stubble behind and his eyes seemed sadder than they had before. He looked like he had been through hell and back and you didnt know what had happened but every instinct in your body told you to hold him tight.

You just stood there as he walked in, looking at his mother as she sat on the sofa, “I’m sorry Cass, you cant stay here. Its not safe. There’s troopers everywhere now,” Maarva explained and you walked over, looking at the two.

You had never felt like you were intruding before but now as you stood there in his house, there was an awkward tension.

“The troopers got here fast,” Cassian stated, looking around.

You shook your head, thinking back to the day that the troopers bolted into Maarvas house where you were waiting for him. They had ransacked his entire room and the house, looking for some indication as to where he was and you werent going to tell them even if it meant that they killed you.

“They came the next day, kicked out pre-mor and took over the hotel. Ferrix is under imperial authorities,” you said, words spitting out like venom.

He turned to look at you. You seemed just as stressed out as he felt, bags under your eyes as you wrapped your cardigan closer around you. He wondered what had happened after he had left you to fend for yourself but he knew you were okay.

“You shouldn’t be here Cass,” you said, an almost bitterness to your voice. You had been the one to pick up the pieces after his mistake had done this to your city and to the peopl you cared about.

“I’m not going to ask what you’ve been doing but you need to think about this,” Maarva said, noticing the tense air in the room.

She had always thought that you and Cassian would be something one day but as you both stood here, you trying to conceal your anger towards him for the sake of diplomacy and him trying to hide his yearning for you after all the time apart she didnt know what to think.

“Someone turned me in,” Cassian said, almost spitting out the words as he turned to you.

“It wasnt me,” you said under his inquisitorial gaze and even though that’s not what he meant by looking at you, the damage had been done, ”It was Timm,” there was a shock on his face at the fact that one of his friends would be capable of doing something like that, “No point stewing over it, the corpus killed him when they were coming after you,”

Instinctively, your hand reacted up to your face, finger brushing over your temple and it was only now that he noticed a new scar there, deep and ragged and it sent an ache through his chest. There was so much guilt weighing down on him for what he did to the city of Ferrix but even more about what he did to you.

“The imperials are here to say,” Maarva said, interrupting the look between the two of you.

“You don’t have to worry about that, we’re getting out of here,” Cassian said as he crouched in front of his mother before turning to look at you, “All of us,”

You scoffed, “All of us?” You questioned and he nodded, looking at you with a smile.

“We can go anywhere we want. I got lucky and I scored enough credits to get us anywhere. We can leave this mess behind and we can go tonight,” he said, looking between you and Marva with a boyish smile that you hadnt seen in a very long time, “I can make it happen, it’s gonna be different now,”

You shook your head in disbelief, “That’s where you’ve been? Running around with what, smugglers? Mercenaries?” You questioned, scoffing as all the anger finally came out after over a month of worry for him.

“Let’s not argue now,” he said, brows furrowed and his smile falling from his face. He hadn’t released how mad you were at him and it took him aback.

“Its a lot to take in, you surprises me,” Maarva said with a shaky breath, looking away from the two of you.

He shook his head, “What am I thinking? Its late. You get some rest and we can talk tomorrow okay,” he said, a smile on his face as he watched his mother get out of her chair, patting her hand on his cheek before walking off into the bedroom.

When she left, he turned to you, brow furrowed as he started stalking closer towards you. You flinched when his hand came up, the coarse pad of his thumb brushing across the scar on your temple.

You couldn’t even meet his gaze as he looked at you with such an intense look. That intense side of Cassian used to make your stomach flip but now you just felt guilty, guilty for your little outburst and guilty that you hadnt been able to help him.

“You’ve been hurt,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly at the end. That’s what made you turn to look back at him, eyes fluttering open as you looked into hs eyes. They were sad, a deep crease between his brows as he looked at you intently.

“Its nothing,” you said, stepping away from him, his hand falling from your face. You didnt want to think back to that day.

When he had been on the run, they had started to ransack Maarvas apartment. You aw it happening and pushed through the crowd and that’s when the fight with the pre-mor employees had started. You had barely done anything wrong before he was hitting you round the head with the but of his gun, knocking you to the floor before dragging you across the gravel in front of the angry residents of Ferrix.

Cassians hand grabbed your wrist before you could move too far away from him, stopping you from going anywhere and breaking you out of your thoughts.

“You’ve been hurt,” he repeated, this time an anger in his voice and it wasn’t focused on you, it was aimed towards the person who had done it.

“Let go of me Cass,” you said, the nickname still there even though you were mad at him. You shook your wrist free of his grip and stepped so your back was to him, hands coming up to your shoulders as you hugged youself.

“What happened when I was gone?” He questioned and you scoffed like the last month could be explained in a simple sentence.

“What happened? Ive been looking after your mother, I’ve been looking after this town and you’ve been running around doing maker knows what and I’m bored of having to pretended its okay!” You exclaimed.

He just stood there, almost shrinking in on himself as he listened to you. He had never thought about the effect that his absence wold have on you.

“I cant leave Ferrix,” you stated.

He shook his head at your statement, confused as to why, “Its not safe here,” he stated, eyes trailing up your cheek to the jagged wound there again, a pang of guilt seeping through his chest.

“You cant stay here,” you said and he knew what you were suggesting. You wanted him to leave you and Maarva there and be free but he couldn’t imagine that life without you.

“Ill be worried about you all the time,” he said and now you could see the tears brimming in his eyes at the idea of him leaving you.

You sighed, pursing your lips together in an ettempt to hold back your tears from spilling over your waterline, “That’s what love is Cass,” you said.

He furrowed his brows at your statement and that’s when you knew it was now or never. The words were spilling out before you even had the chance to stop them, “I love you Cass and I always have so when you run away and act like a child and leave me to pick up the piece, its not okay,” you explained, chest heaving and heart pounding as you finally admitted it, “The people here need me,”

“I love you too-” he started to sat, walking closer to you.

You backed up, eyes brimming with tears as you helped your hands out like it would top him getting away closer, “No, I love you,” you stated, words getting quiet as your never got the better of you.

It was like Cassian andor had been hit by a meteor. The entire world froze and he just looked at you with wide eyes, not sure how to respond to that. You had been his rock ever since you had met and when he was on Aldhani, you were really the only thing that was getting him through it.

His body was pulling him towards you like a magnet and in a matter of seconds, his lips were pressed forcefully against yours and after a second off shock, you kissed back, hands entangling themselves into his hair.

You had been dreaming of this moment since your were a little kid and now you had it and you werent going to let go of him. He pulled away, hand caressing your skin, “And I love you too, and that’s why you’re coming with me,” he said, mumbling into your lips and you nodded.

That's all you needed as confirmation to pack up your things snd finally escape. You had wanted to leave and now nothing was holding you back. Sure, you'd both be worried about maarva but you'd come and visit one day once you'd built your future together.

Less than a month later, you woke up in the bed on Niamos. It was a small beach planet that you and Cassian were basically honeymooning on and you realised that you’d never been so at peace before as wrapped up in his arms.

“We have to get up,” he muttered into the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss to the mark he had left the night before.

You groaned, grabbing onto his hands that rested on your bare abdomen, “Five minutes Andor,” you begged and he chuckled into your neck, brushing your hair out of your face before turning you so you had to look at him.

“I have to get us breakfast,” he said and you rolled your eyes as you watched him pull away from you, bare chest

Your breath hitched in your throat as you thought back to the previous night and he smirked as he pulled a shirt over his head, turning to look at you as you pulled on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“Ill get food and then we can spend the rest of day in bed baby,” he said, walking over and muttering some nickname in Kenari. You knew it was a term of endearment from the way it fell soft from his tongue and then he pressed a kiss to your cheek before walking to the door.

“Ill come with you, just give me a minute,” you said before getting changed, following him out of the door.

You walked through the sunny beaches and smiled at Cassian, his hand enveloped in yours. You had never been as happy as you were in this moment and little did you know it was all about to be taken away from you.

“Ill go look at the menu then Ill be back out,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walkig into the restaurant, aa smile on both of your faces.

Cassian looked around. He had never been this happy before and it was all because of you. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to tell you how he felt but now that he had you, you werent going to be going anywhere.

That’s when he was encountered by a K2 droid, snapping him out of his daydream of a future with you as he was accused of being involved in rebel activity. He tried to protest but it was no use because the next thing that happened was him being pulled away and knocked to the floor.

Ypu walked out, a smile on your face as you held two paper menus up but your smile fell from your face when you realsied you couldn’t see him. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him being dragged away by a K2 droid and you started to rush forward before a local grabbed you.

You turned and looked back at her, “Your boyfriend is gone, you will be gone too if you go,” she tried to convince and by the time you managed to escape, he was nowhere to be found.

You had lost everything you'd ever had in a second and you were going to search every inch of the galaxy for him. Every inch.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor angst #cassian andor fluff #cassian andor fic #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x y/n #cassian andor x gn!reader #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfic #cassian andor #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars cassian #star wars angst #sw: andor #andor #mj writes nonsense #diego luna #diego luna x reader

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

cassian catching you masturbating HCs~

cliche and niche as it is, i've decided to air this out bc i can't stop thinking about it

🧡 initially he thinks it's just his mind playing tricks on him

🧡 you're sharing the same ship for the time being, and are just friends, and that's all fine

🧡 he's busy, you're busy.. both of you have zero time for anything resembling sex, let alone any form of a sexual relationship

🧡 that's likely why he's so sure it's all in his head. the noises. not the usual sounds of footsteps, moving things around in your room or getting ready for bed. likewise the sound of the shower water flowing from the head to the drain. these are all perfectly normal

🧡 buut, maybe that's why it's so glaringly obvious when it isn't those noises.

🧡 at first he tries to block them out. it must be that he's extra horny, and he'll deal with it when the time is available, ofc. in the privacy of his own room. when he knows you're off to take care of your own work or tasks outside of the ship

🧡 likewise, he assumes whatever you do to take care of it is done in a similar manner..not that he's thought about that, or anything.

🧡 but once the rhythmic sighs and moans start to leak through the ship walls, well, he can't deny it

🧡 at first it's just quiet. the occasional sigh or groan, usually stifled after you likely catch yourself being a little too loud, but after a while it starts to become something else

🧡 likewise, his ability to block it out or ignore the mental images begins to falter - what was initially a short blip of an image becomes a lewd, drawn out mental picture of you, splayed on the bed, legs spread

🧡 one hand rubbing quick circles against your engorged pink clit, running your fingers against you swollen lips; or perhaps the sloppy sticky sounds of your fingers plunging into your tight pussy

🧡 the idea that you're only a room away, fulfilling such graphic and intimate desires just makes his loins stir in a way he can't ignore, like-

🧡 it only worsens when he has to look you in the eyes the morning after. what was once a small slip up of mental imagery and some soft palming through his trousers, becomes an almost nightly escapade of tugging at his thickened length, smearing his precum all over his swollen tip at the thought of you

🧡 his head cast back, hair slicked with sweat, quiet but gruff grunts escaping his lips, hips gyrating and bucking into his tightened hand,

🧡 fisting his reddened cock so quickly, perhaps entertaining the fallacy that if he did it fast enough it might not have even happened.

🧡 the shame almost spurs him on, because the idea of you finding out - or him finding you there, making all those pretty sighs and moans for him just triggers every pent up sexual thought that he's done his best to store away

🧡 suddenly the short conversations you have at breakfast only further fuel his disgust at himself, which in turn seems to do the opposite of qualming his arousal. suddenly what was a tired old linen top has now become an all too-tight piece of clothing, barely covering the swells of your soft tits-

🧡 only serving to remind him of last night's fantasies - his tongue licking circles around your perked nipples, gently squeezing the soft cups in his hands,

🧡 or maybe the idea of you smearing your precum-covered tits all over his hardened cock, looking him deep in the eyes as you do it

🧡 or the way your fingers hold the glass of water, gently curling around it, so similar to how he'd imagine they'd look curled up inside your swollen pussy, padding at that soft spongy g-spot, making your hips shake and juices drip out of your opening, perhaps even at the thought of him

🧡 or maybe how the curve of the tip of that spoon fits so well with your lips; how he could imagine them forming such a tight seal around the engorged head of his dick. humming and gagging softly around his length, grinding your hips into the hand jammed between your thighs

🧡 suddenly sitting opposite you is as difficult as it is blocking out those sweet sounds he hears when the lights go out, and all that masks the noises of your combined self-pleasure is the muffled hum of the ship's engine..maybe you feel it too? the risk of finding out is too great for him, so he'll have to keep it in his pants or room, at least

enjoyed that? feel free to request - they'e open. :)

also some more tags, but lmk if you're not interested and i'll take you out ofc! @enamorededdie @spicedchaiandromeda @stargirlfics @anythingjimhopper @goodboyriddler @spideyheartsmaryjane-blog @anisbaby @princesssmimi @thedanoriddler @lost-in-sokovia @killerlookz @kelsiejayy @mypoisonedvine @creme-bruhlee @spilledkauffie @kaylawritesfics @inklore @babybugwrites @littlepadika @underratedcharactersimagines @becca-e-barnes @callsign-rogueone @wishilovedyouinthe80s @jaiheats @freshfleshandblood @axen-gers @wingedjellyfishrebel @interplanetarytraveler

#cassian andor smut #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian fluff #cassian andor headcanons #cassian fanfic #andor smut #andor x reader #cuethequestions #cuethediscoandthedrinks #cuethedisco #discosmut #star wars x reader #star wars smut

[septimaseverinawannawrite]

Saturday Seven 03

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing : Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Request: No.

Summaries: From this prompt; "You are hot when you are angry."

Warning: Mention of fungus and virus. Bad Writing? Using Y/N. Implying 18+ at the end.

Rate: T

Words: 390

A/N: Finally, I can drag myself to write my own challenging. A little bit change about devider, because the old one is too big.

🌹Click to My AO3

(Divider by @saradika)

“Cassian Jeron Andor!” Y/N shouted out loudly from the bathroom in her and Cassian’s quarter, on Hoth base. She knew she was not supposing to be furious towards him, but this time she really pissed of what he had done. It is just like his second nature before they married.

“What is it, love?” Cassian, who was wearing and apron and standing at the small area, where they could prepare and cook simple meals. He turned around, seeing that she grabbed his towel in her hand. He knew the consequence, sweet and innocence smiling for her should calm her down. But it did not help at all.

“How many times I tell you not to hang your towel in bathroom after you taking a shower!” Y/N frowned, trying not to look into his pair of those big brown eyes (and the glistening in them, sometimes). They almost got her every single time. “Your wet towel is gonna grow toxic fungus! And don’t make me mentioning about bacteria and germs! Are you a nine years old boy…”

Cassian didn’t argue or bicker back like previous. Today was his day-off. He had planned for a long time on spending the precious time with Y/N, nothing could worsen his mood today. He smiled at her while listening to her complaining. His delightful expression made her quirking her eyebrows – demanding for the reason why today he was unusual.

“You know, you are hot when you are angry.” His voice was flirtatious. Just like he said. Her eyebrows, her redden face, her mouth’s thing and her behaviour – it might not amenity in others’ attitude – but for him, they were adorable and pleasant.

“This is not the time, Cass. I really mean it! Do not charm your way out off trouble! The temperature here is proper, it makes fungus spreading and causing virus!” She continually complained, suddenly she was hugged by Cassian. His pointy nose on her cheeks, while his stubble tickling her jawline and the neck. “Cassian! Stop!”

“If you want me to stop, try me, darling.” Cassian saw that she was doing nothing but be grumpy. Finally, he smirked, carrying her onto his shoulder and ignoring her protesting, from a small kitchen to their bed. Of course, she did not stop yelling until he peppered the kisses all over her face and her lips.  

Tag : @starwarsficnetwork

#dance me to the end of queue #star wars fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #cassian andor #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x you #female reader #reader insert #diego luna x reader #septimaseverinawannawrite #saturday seven

[weasleywinchester]

Hot Blood (love is gunna get ya)

Cassian Andor x Curvy Female Reader

Y’all I’m so excited that space husband #2 is back on screen!!! I’ve had this dirty fic in my mind for a couple of years (???) now and I actually finally wrote then ending 😂 I’ve never written anything with sex pollen so it may work differently than someone else’s version!

Warning: Smut, sex pollen, unprotected sex, cream pie, unrequited feelings, K2 being sassy

“(Y/N), you’re with me.” Cassian finishes, looking up at you. You blink a few times at him, frowning. You normally have to stay with K2 on the ship…

“You’ll walk with me, the more eyes we have, the better.” He clarifies, a fraction of a smile appearing.

“Yes sir.” You nod. Everyone breaks from the huddle to grab their gear and get ready as K2 lands the ship a short distance outside of town.

“We’re not sure what form the drug is in, but they seem to be targeting couples. Nine people have shown up dead in the last 2 days, be careful.” Cassian announces as he jumps out of the ship.

“I thought we were the resistance, not the drug police.” One of your crew mates mutters, and a few nod in agreement. You manage to keep your eye roll to yourself, but this group should know better than to question Captain Cassian Andor’s leadership.

“Drugs are an easy way to control people. Get them hooked on something only you provide, makes them loyal for life.” You shoot back, keeping your eyes trained on your shoes as you tie them.

“Drugs have a very high success rate in administering tracking devices and keeping the mind in a sedated state for easier control.” K2 adds, giving each teammate a pointed look. You smile, gathering your things and joining Cassian outside the ship. He gives your smile a sideways glance but doesn’t comment.

“Hurry up!” He shouts at the team. They quickly scramble out of the ship and begin walking into town, each taking a separate section.

“So we really have no leads besides the dead?” You ask.

“The people who died were found hours after splitting up from their partner.”

“Thus the ‘no leaving each other alone’ rule and why you took a partner this time.” You muse aloud. Cassian turns to say something but a local vendor catches your eye.

“I’m going to go talk to him. I’ll be right back.” You gently squeeze Cassian’s arm as you walk to the booth.

“Can I interest you in anything young lady?” The man asks, his eyes wandering over your body.

“How about a fun time?” You ask in your sweetest voice, batting your eyelashes.

“What is a pretty young thing, like yourself, looking for?”

“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.” You bite your lip, “I’ve heard of something new floating around, something that gets the blood pumping.” You lean across the counter, the man's face becoming a little less playful.

“Everyone always thinks I’m too young, but trust me when I say I can play with the big boys.”

The man sighs, briefly looking over your shoulder and then focusing back on you.

“I’ll take care of you, sweet cheeks.” He winks, standing up tall.

“And how will I know?” You push, keeping your tone light.

“Trust me, you’ll know.” He smirks and walks to the back of his booth. You frown and turn to scan the crowd for Cassian. He catches your eye, flicking his from you to the lamppost on the corner of the street and walks towards it.

“Anything?” He whispers as you pass him. You wait for him to match your pace before you start talking.

“When I asked the man about a good time, he knew what I was after and said he would get it for me. However, he didn’t hand me anything or tell me to go anywhere.” You answer, putting your hood up to keep the chill of the air away.

“We should find the others, maybe they found something.” He picks up his pace, leading you down one of the allies.

“Ok sounds-“ you sneeze, your nose suddenly feeling like you just walked through a wall of pollen in the middle of spring.

“Salud,” Cassian says over his shoulder.

You take a deep breath in, sneezing once more. And then again, your eyes start to water so much that you stop walking.

Cassian turns when he doesn’t hear you stomping behind him, seeing you trying to wipe your eyes with your gloves.

“Are you ok?” He comes to look you over, his voice laced with… concern?

“Ya, apparently I am allergic to this planet.” You laugh, finally able to breathe. “We should see if anyone else has had luck.”

Cassian nods, not quite convinced you're ok and lightly pulls you forward by the elbow back into the crowd. Your breath hitches at his touch, even through your coat a tingling sensation erupts like a warm glow. You close your eyes, wanting to just bask in the warmth. The sensation is gone as fast as it appeared, and when you open your eyes you realise he’s let go of you.

“Anything?” Cassian asks. Each pair shares their findings with the Captain, and you’re trying to focus on what they’re saying, but it seems to be getting a little warmer every time someone bumps you into Cassian.

“(Y/N) and I will take the small hotel on the west side of town. That should leave us spaced enough to cover the town. Meet back here tomorrow at 8.” Cassian finishes, letting everyone get to their posts for the night. “Ready?” He turns to you. You’re standing a bit too close to him and the sleeve of his jacket brushes against yours. You feel heat shoot straight between your thighs, you swallow hard. Hormones must be out of whack, Cassian could reduce you to a puddle with one look, but maker, this is ridiculous!

“(Y/N)?” K2 tilts his head at you.

“Sorry, ya let’s go. I need a shower.” You sigh.

The walk isn't very far, but your mind is set on replaying every fantasy you’ve ever had about Cassian, and you need relief from it now.

Cassian unlocks the door and you bolt into the bathroom.

“She must have really had to poop.” K2 comments.

“K, why don’t you keep watch outside.” Cassian commands, annoyance clear in his voice.

You rip your clothes off and turn the shower on. You can’t even make it in before reaching between your thighs and making quick circles around your clit. You convulse with an orgasm so quickly you’re knocked to your knees.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” Cassian asks through the door.

“Fine! Just banged my knee.” You sigh in relief and the ache between your thighs dulls. You wait until you hear him walk away from the door before stepping into the shower.

Which was a mistake.

The moment the water hits your body you moan at the sheer pleasure of something touching you. Your heart starts racing and the impulse to touch yourself is back. You rub out a second orgasm, relieving yourself long enough to get out and dry off.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” You whisper, quickly laying down on the bed. Cassian hums in acknowledgement as you try to get comfortable. He’s pouring over the latest mission reports, the glow from the data pad illuminating his frown. He’s taken most of his layers off, leaving him in his Henley and cargo pants. It’s the least amount of layers you’ve seen him in… well, except the few times you’ve seen the toned stomach that hides under his shirt because, you know, someone has to give him stitches…

Then you feel it, the slow wave of heat that starts at your core and spreads through your body. And it’s much stronger, your hand automatically reaching in between your thighs. You screw your eyes shut and lean against the headboard.

He’s in the fucking room (Y/N) get a grip!

He says something out loud, but the blood rushing through your ears drowns him out and your eyes screw shut even tighter as your fingers practically burn to give you any sort of relief.

“(Y/N)?”

His voice sounds like it’s underwater, but it’s closer than before. You feel something touch your hand and it feels like heaven. You gasp for air, your shoulders relaxing as your body shudders with the smallest amount of relief. You open your eyes to see Cassian's hand on top of your own.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, trying to catch your gaze. You want to tell him nothing, your body is just overreacting. You’re having a normal allergic reaction to whatever you walked through earlier… But when he moves his hand away an inferno rips through your veins and you double over.

“What’s wrong? What do you need?” He asks, a little sliver of panic apparent in his voice.

“Cassian, something’s,” you gasp as his hands grip your shoulders, “something’s wrong.”

“What? Where does it hurt?” He gently pulls you toward him, his scent filling your nose and making you dizzy.

“Everywhere…” you move to straddle his lap, a small fraction of relief coming as his hands grip the back of your knees to keep you from sliding to the floor.

“I can’t… explain… I need you.” You pant into his neck, your hips rolling into his.

His eyes flutter shut as he feels your wetness soak through his pants. His hands lightly slide along your bare thighs, gently guiding you to grind into him. Your forehead comes to rest against his, your lips teasing as they come closer to his but never touch.

She’s not in control. He repremands himself, pushing you to sit up and create a little space between you.

“(Y/N), hey, we need to figure out what’s wrong.” He begrudgingly pushes you off his lap, laying you on the bed.

“Everything burns… but you.” You grit through your teeth as you try and pull yourself together. You dig your heels into the bed, using every fiber of your being to keep your hands away from your throbbing clit.

He takes a shaky breath in, he hates seeing you in any kind of pain, and you wouldn’t lie, not about this. He gently caresses your outer thigh, your face instantly relaxing and your hands unclenching. After a minute he pulls away and within seconds you're back to squirming.

“Cassian, please.” You beg, your nails gripping the sides of your shirt as you try and self contain whatever the fuck is happening to your body. Everything feels like too much and not enough. Your clothes become irritating, it’s not his touch and it needs to stop. You stand, ripping them off, hoping the cool air would any kind of relief.

Cassian knows he should avert his eyes, that this was not his opportunity to gaze upon the valley of your breasts as your nipples harden from the cold; or to lust after your cunt, dripping with all your juices or to revel in the sound of his name falling from your lips. No, not the time. But his touch has been the only thing to bring you any relief…

“Cass…” you grunt, hands gripping at the sheets so tight you might tear a hole in them. He pulls you up, helping you back into his lap, his hands gently rubbing any patch of skin he can reach. You sigh, leaning into his shoulder as the fire slows down to a dull ache.

“Run me through the events of your day mi amor.” He whispers, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

“You were there.” You let out a breathy laugh against his chest, fingers lightly scraping at the front of his stupid shirt that is blocking your greedy fingers from his skin.

“I…” how could he be so stupid? How could he not notice something happened.

The burn has calmed enough that your mind registers that Cassian has gone silent, which means he’s too far in his own head.

“Off the ship, talked to man that… that said I would find what I wanted.” You double over, the heat rushing once again through your body in an all encompassing wave.

Cassian runs his hands everywhere he can, but it no longer satisfies what you need. She needs more. He gently places a kiss on your neck, a moan escaping from somewhere deep in your chest that makes both of you relax a fraction.

“Amor…” he tries to look at your face, your silence unnerving.

“We met back with the group… allergic to something in the air… brushed against you, that’s when the heat started…” you thread your fingers into his hair as he gently sucks the column of your neck.

He wishes this was real, that your need for him wasn't tangled in whatever this drug was. He should have kissed you long before this. Long before this suffering, long before this mission...

“Something in the air…” he pulls back to look at you. Your pupils are blown, your body coated in a sheen of sweat even though the room is cold.

“Touch… not enough…” you stammer, leaning your forehead against his.

“Amor, we need to-.”

“Captain Cassian Andor, I need you to fuck me in every conceivable way.” You growl, roughly putting your open mouth against his. You lose yourself in the way his tongue instinctively thrusts into your mouth, the way his hands dig into your hips to push you flush against him, and oh maker the vibration of his moan mixed with yours…

He lays you on your back, slotting his hips in between yours, his growing bulge putting the perfect amount of pressure against your clit. His mouth finds yours again, tongue eagerly exploring. You manage to remember you have hands attached to your arms and yank his shirt up his body. His lips briefly unlock from yours, reattaching to your neck as your hands scrap along his back. He never thought pain could feel so fucking good and that he would wish for more.

Focus, have to focus. He unseals his mouth from your skin, remembering that you’ve been drugged. He tries to untangle himself, but your body only wants more and, frankly, he doesn’t want to stop. He has to get his mouth away from yours, he has to be able to shout for K… He pushes your thighs apart, making room for him to shift down your body.

“K!” He shouts in between kisses until the droid breaks his way in.

“Oh my…” K2 averts his gaze; he has seen many things but you sprawled naked with Cassian in between your thighs was not one he ever wanted to see.

“K, blood sample, she’s been hit with the drug.” Cassian says. K2 nods and leaves to gather the items needed.

Cassian turns back to you, the sight of your dripping cunt making his dick twitch. You smell so enticing that he licks a stripe from your opening to your clit, eliciting a satisfied yes from you. Maker, you taste better than he could have ever dreamed and he gets to have it all.

“Cassian, I’m not going in there until you say so!” K shouts from the door. Cassian growls into your cunt as you pulse around nothing, not happy that he has to stop when he would much rather go until you beg him to stop. He licks through you one last time, a satisfied grin stretching across his at the sight of you blissed out on the bed.

“Ready?” K2 shouts, annoyed that this is taking so long.

Cassian is about to call him in when your hands grip the sheets and your brow furrows again.

“Cassian, it’s coming back.” You whimper, sitting up and trying to gain any control over your body.

“Amor, K is going to get a blood sample, are you able to do that?” He leans down, tilting your chin so he can see you.

“I need you.” You state, hoping he understands what you mean. He gives you a small nod, shucking off his pants and sitting next to you. You can’t help but stare at his hard cock, it’s thick and leaking and if it were any other day you would have no problem returning the favor. But the heat ramps back up and Cassian guides you to straddle his lap.

“You sure?” He whispers.

“Yes.” You raise your hips so he can line himself up with your entrance. You gently lower yourself down, both of you screwing your eyes shut.

“K! Hurry before we can’t stop!” Cassian half-heartedly shouts. K quickly stomps into the room, jabbing you with a needle. You look up at him and mouth I’m sorry.

And you are sorry.

You’re sorry for being the one who got infected.

You’re sorry that Cassian has to go through this.

You’re sorry that K2 has to have this store in his hard drive forever.

“Gone.” you whisper when the door clicks shut. Now it’s Cassian’s turn for his mind to go blank as you rock against him, your cunt gripping him so perfectly. He rolls the two of you over, putting his mouth to yours as he sets a grueling pace. He feels you quickly pulse around him, his hips stilling at the sensation. He can feel your body start to cool off, and starts again, bringing your knees close to your chest for a different angle.

He fucks you through this orgasm, your grip in his hair loosening has he takes you higher once again. His thrusts get sloppy as you bring his mouth to yours, your tongue toying with his as you scrape your stubby nails along his back. And he loses it, letting himself spill inside you as you both slow down.

“How are you feeling?” Cassian whispers, his lips gently ghosting over your skin.

“Better. Blood doesn’t feel hot anymore.” You sigh. You turn your face toward his, catching his gaze. You gently put your mouth back to his, savoring the taste of him.

“Should have kissed you long before this.” He murmurs, hand gently brushing you hair out of your face.

“What do you mean?” You whisper back.

“Rebellions are built on hope, but I could never let myself hope for love. For you. I love you (Y/N).”

“I love you too Cassian.”

#cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #Cassian Andor x reader smut #sex pollen #cassian Andor smut #Star Wars

[starryevermore]

none of it was accidental ✧ cassian andor

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: cassian andor x fem!reader

summary: it was all by design, because you’re a mastermind.

word count: 1,406

warnings?: implied smut, fluff, kinda shitty but we’ll pretend it’s not lmao, not proofread

The first night he saw you, he knew nothing was going to stop you. The first time you walked into the room, he could tell you decided that he were going to be yours. He saw it in your eyes, the way you looked him up and down, a twinkle in your eyes. And, he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind, because it was you. There was a warmth to you, a sort of kindness, that he hadn’t experienced in so long. Cassian Andor had become accustomed to coldness and distance and being kept at arm’s length. It was the nature of his profession. One doesn’t become a spy for the Rebellion by cozying up to people. Though, he mused, it had worked well enough for you.

He remembered you tripping over your feet as you walked by the booth he was sat at. He remembered practically jumping out of his seat, reaching out, steadying you, stopping you from falling flat on your face. He remembered your quiet gasp at the feeling of his hands on your waist. (He remembered wanting you to make that sound again and again and again.) He remembered offering you a seat at his booth, the way you smiled appreciatively at him. 

“Do I get to know the name of the kind gentleman who’s helped me?” you asked as you settled in your seat, your eyes practically twinkling as you peered over at him. 

“I don’t know how much of a gentleman I am,” he said. That much was true. He had seen too many things, done too many things, to be called a gentleman. That part of him wanted to run the other way, if only to preserve you. You didn’t deserve to be tainted by him.

“Perhaps because you don’t see yourself the way others see you.”

“Perhaps because I know how others see me,” he said. 

“Let me convince you otherwise,” you practically purred, leaning in closer to him. 

He swallowed hard, realizing how close you were to him. He had been sitting alone in a booth before you came over, his arm slung over the back of it, his legs spread out, taking up more room than perhaps was necessary. He had resumed that position after he helped you, finding it more comfortable than any other way he could have sat. Now, you were mere inches away, practically tucked under his arm. You were close enough that he could smell the soap you used. He could smell how you were clean and fresh. Did you really want to be dirtied by him? 

“Cassian,” he said. Would he regret this? Perhaps. But, Maker, he wanted to feel something good for once. “My name is Cassian.”

“Well, Cassian, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”

He wanted to laugh at the thought. Fun? During times like these? It seemed more like a far flung hope than anything that could become reality. But as he looked at you, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to have a life that was simple, carefree, fun. He wanted it all.

“Then lead the way.”

You became a near permanent fixture in his life after that. It wasn’t uncommon for you to appear when he was least expecting it, presenting him with a gift you’d found for him on a mission, or telling him a story about a mistake a rookie made, or struggling to tell a joke to him because you can’t stop giggling your way through it. It made him wonder where you had been before. It made him wonder what life had been like before you. 

Being around you was nice. Cassian was used to slipping into the background. He was used to going unnoticed. He used to prefer it. But then you came around. And you saw him. You heard him. You remembered him. When he mentioned that he was going on a mission with someone he hated, you always offered him something nice when he got back. When he could barely keep his eyes open but still needed to work, you would bring him caf with cream because you knew he couldn’t stand the bitter taste of the drink but still enjoyed the energy it would bring him. When the nights were quiet and he found himself in your bunk, desperately seeking comfort, you would let him lay on your chest, card your fingers through his hair, and let him talk about the life he used to have, the life he long since left behind. 

Now that you were a part of his life, Cassian wasn’t quite sure he could ever live without you. He didn’t want to. 

Sometimes, he wondered what he should call what he had with you. Was it a relationship? Were the two of you just friends? It certainly felt like something more. Should he ask you for clarification? Or should he let it be? Why kick a gift horse in the mouth, after all? 

The answer became clear, however, when after months of dancing through his feelings, the two of you were assigned to a mission together. As excited as Cassian was to have a reason to spend time with you, he nevertheless dreaded the mission. It was relatively simple. An Imperial ball was to be held. You would go in as the entertainment, he would go in as a member of the waitstaff. If you remained as the entertainment, it wouldn’t be so bad. But Cassian knew that you would have to sidle up to an Imperial officer, look at the bastard with the sweet eyes you reserved for him, so you could retrieve invaluable information. 

Worse, perhaps, was how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. You giggled and laughed and smiled at the officer. You leaned into his side, ran your fingers along his jaw. You leaned in close, whispered into his ear. Worse, you climbed onto the officer’s lap, locking eyes with Cassian, It took everything in him not to blow his cover right then and there. 

That night, you didn’t leave his bunk as he told you over and over and over again that he was yours, that you were his.

In the morning, he woke before you. You had stolen the sheets in the middle of the night, leaving Cassian with only a corner of the blanket covering him below the waist. He didn’t mind. He would give anything for you. He shuffled closer to you, pulling your body against his. You let a contented noise, smiling in your sleep. Oh. He liked that. 

Cassian lifted his hand, caressing your face. He ran his thumb over the swell of your cheek. A rare smile, a smile that became more common in your presence, settled on his face. He liked how soft you were. He liked knowing that you trusted him with that softness. It made him feel like he was a good man.

As he admired you, you slowly opened your eyes, your smile growing as you realized he was still there. “Good morning, handsome,” you said, your voice thick with tiredness. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. You nuzzled your face into the spot where his neck met his shoulder. His breath hitched at the feeling of your breath tickling him. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he said without missing a beat. “You can tell me anything.”

“When we first met…none of it was accidental.” You lifted your head, watching closely for his reaction. “When I first saw you, I decided that nothing was going to stop me until you were mine. Everything from that point forward was a carefully laid plan.”

Cassian huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. A smirk settled on his face as he said, “You think I don’t know? You had my heart at the first step in your plan. Or, perhaps, at the first trip in your plan.”

“You knew? And…you didn’t mind?” you asked. 

“I’ve known this entire time you were a mastermind,” he confirmed. “And I love that most about you.”

A smile stretched across your face. “You know, I recall saying that you and I were going to have a lot of fun.”

“Oh? I think you should live up to that promise, don’t you?”

And, Maker, you did. Because you were a mastermind, and he was happily yours. 

#cassian andor imagine #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x fem!reader #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x y/n #cassian andor fic #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfic #cassian andor fan fiction #cassian andor fan fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[annisthree]

Andor Wednesday #6, ”The Sun on Both Sides” by guardianangelcas

I feel like I need to stress this from the very beginning: this story is very much 18+. But it’s delicious and adorable and you need it in your life, trust me. If you’re over 18 and are into smut, that is.

Title: The Sun on Both Sides

Author: guardianangelcas on AO3, @no-droids on tumblr (they seem to no longer be active on tumblr, though)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x fem!reader

Words: 11202

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297735

Tumblr link: https://no-droids.tumblr.com/post/190317810440/the-sun-on-both-sides

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: SMUT, sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), recreational drug use, dirty talk, oral sex (both male and female receiving), penetrative sex

Description: I’m not sure I have anything smart to say, but this is one of those stories that are perfect for reading after a tough day at work. At least for me.

I love this author’s writing style, I love the small interjections of humour, but most of all - the tension! The build-up! And it’s extremely sweet and tender, too; it genuinely makes my heart warm.

I’m just gonna quote one of the comments from AO3: “screw space weed, I’m gonna roll this fic up and smoke it”. Sums it up perfectly.

I hope you enjoy the reading! Thank you for all of your recommendations - feel free to send more, either via comments or in my ask box. Don’t be shy to self-promote!

And if you end up reading this story, let me know what you think (+ remember to leave the author some love!)

#andor wednesday #fic rec #cassian andor #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor smut #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #andor

[honestlywtfisgoingon]

Holding On To A Memory — Cassian Andor

A CASSIAN ANDOR x READER ONE-SHOT

description: was it so wrong? were you betraying him simply by wanting someone else?

warnings: some angst, loss, n a lil tad of fluff to make up for it :,)

a/n: hahharwhshjdjsjd this is my first fic for cassian bc my 2016 thirst has been reawakened ahh and idk why but i needed some angst lol

words: 2962

It felt wrong. You loved your fiancé. You were here because of him. all the loyalty you had for him was now given to the rebellion so that the empire might be brought to justice for his death; a bullet in every imperial head for the one that blew through his. You didn't need this new guilt; you already had enough knowing that maybe if you took the shift at the garage that day like you were supposed to, he might still be here. He was stubborn, and so were you, but he won that time, insisting that you should stay home after the careless injury you gave yourself the day before. You didn't know that his stubbornness, his refusal to shove all his other work aside and service a rather drunk imperial who had crashed his speeder right in front of the shop, demanding he fix it all up for free despite his carelessness, would cost him his life. It was petty. That's what they all were. Petty bastards in a uniform, the worst ones wearing a medal for every atrocity they've committed.

So here you were, doing something about it, hiding at a rebel base, helping those with stories like yours of love and loss dealt by black leather gloves wrapped around a blaster. Until now, your story, your fiancé's memory, emphasized by the ring you still wore, is what drove you. But now you felt his memory was tainted as another man's face had started to fill your dreams in his stead—dark, messy hair, deep brown eyes, thin lips that parted for his Kenarian accent.

Cassian Andor had been with the rebellion long before you joined and captained one of your first missions. You had many together after that, and then the two of you began to seek each other out apart from missions. It didn't matter if you hung out in a group or by yourselves as long as you were in each other's orbit. It wasn't intentional; you were just drawn to each other. There was a balance of playful sarcasm, genuine care, and honesty between the two of you that you had only ever had with one person before. At first, you counted yourself lucky to have found a friend with whom you could have that connection until you realized that it was the sort of connection that led beyond friendship.

It led to hands grazing each other when you were working and pretending every area was smaller than it was so that you had no choice but to stand where you could feel his soft breath fanning on your neck.

Eventually, you imagined that breath in between your legs and those hands grazing every part of your body. Those thoughts became increasingly frequent until you finally decided to take care of them. As soon as your hand slipped past the band of your shorts, your heart stopped.

This is wrong.

You rolled over, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to internalize the tears that were hitting your pillow in a now incessant pour that could almost be compared to heavy rain. Your erratic sniffles persisted even when your body was too spent to cry anymore, falling into a deep sleep. You didn't know precisely when you drifted off in the night and woke up with a feeling akin to waking up from a blackout. Your head hurt, no doubt, from the continuous use of the muscles that pulled your brows together in your sorrow. Stretching your face to loosen up the tension, you opened your eyes widely to see the wrong numbers on the clock on your bedside table. Well, you wished they were wrong because if they were right, you were late for a briefing on your next mission.

Success wouldn't just ensure that you were able to actually come back from your mission, but it would also ensure that there was something left to come back to. A list of weapons, food, and other resource suppliers to the rebellion was being built up in one of the imperial intel centers. It was frighteningly close to being finished and sent through the entire imperial system. If that happened, there would be no way to rectify it or salvage safety for any rebel. Galaxy-wide. From then on, it would simply be a waiting game, waiting for stormtroopers to rush for a slaughter knowing all of you were either starving or unarmed. You knew you and a few others—

Cassian

—would have to get your hands on and destroy that list, but right now, you were missing how to actually do that. You yanked on some pants and pulled your hair back before running to where you could hear Mon Mothma's voice, followed by Cassian's. You barreled into the room, cutting him off as everyone swiveled to look at you. It was silent, apart from the heavy breathing you were trying to cover up.

"Y/n. Go ahead and take your place around the table." Mon Mothma said, not fazed or annoyed by your late arrival in the slightest, or at least she didn't show it. She was impressively good at concealing reactions; she was a politician, after all.

The logical space for you to stand in was the gap between Cassian and Hera straight in front of you, but you took the long way around and found a spot on the opposite end of the table. What didn't make much of a difference to anyone else made all the difference to you, and to Cassian. You tried not to meet the stare you knew he was giving you, but your eyes flicked up practically on their own accord. His usually warm eyes were now riddled with confusion…and concern.

"Is something wrong?" he mouthed to you. You shook your head just barely, not wanting anyone to take notice of your side conversation. You took a deep breath and looked down again, ignoring him and refocusing on the holo-map in the middle of the table you surrounded.

You stayed back just a little after the briefing to get caught up on what you missed. When you exited the room, you nearly crashed into a waiting Cassian leaning back against the wall, presumably for you.

"y/n. You've been crying," he told you, voice laced with the same concern you saw in his eyes before. It was a statement, not a question. The puffy lids that circled your bloodshot eyes chronicled last night's sobbing clearly enough. You sniffled, holding back the new set of tears that threatened to form with every second you spent in his presence. He continued when the little noise was your only response, saying, "did I do something wrong? the other end of the table, I—" he sighed, "There's something you're not telling me."

"Cassian, there's just…" you replaced the end of your sentence with a sigh.

"I need you to tell me you're alright," He stepped closer, his hands twitching by his side, wanting so badly to reach up and place them on your flushed cheeks.

"I'm alright," you tried to play it off with the best casual laugh and roll of your eyes you could manage.

"You can do better than that," he folded his arms, one of his brows raising, telling you to give it up already. He wasn't going to be fooled. "I need you to say you're alright and mean it."

"I am alright," you said a little harshly, your defenses rising.

"If you say so," he shrugged and threw his hands up in defeat, but his face turned sincere only a moment after. "But when you're ready to talk about it, Pequena, I'm here," he said softly before nodding and walking past you and down the other end of the hallway.

It's not like the base was that big, and you and Cassian always frequented the same parts. That's why you got to spending more time with him in the first place. But you didn't run into him for the rest of the day, which you knew was on purpose. He was giving you space, but you didn't realize how much space until days passed and conversations got shorter, and he no longer stood by you. It was by no means rude, you were still close friends on the outside, but on the inside, you two had been separated by a wall you had built. It wasn't that you didn't want to talk about it; Almost everyone in the rebellion had their own secrets and stories that they'd rather keep to themselves; no, it was that he thought it was because of him. Something he had done had caused you not just to cry, but to fall apart. The fact that you didn't want to tell him either felt like a blaster shot, and he had had a few. He cared about you, which was rare. He couldn't count the women he had slept with, but the few he had ever actually cared about, he could count on only one hand. Maarva, Bix, his sister…you. He had made himself vulnerable on accident and told himself that now he was paying the price for it.

His absence pained you. Each night you couldn't help but wonder if he was in his room trying to glean something out of the few words you gave him, or maybe he wasn't thinking of you at all. You didn't know which was worse: the idea that you left him tormented or the reality that you might have truly pushed him away. Your head hurt from your conscience being rapidly eaten up. Tonight you couldn't take it. Lying in bed would only provide a playground for those intrusive thoughts, so you tried to tune them out with a toolbox and the company of your astromech. At least your relationship with him wasn't complicated.

GG-58 chirped at you happily, enjoying their little spa day as you cleaned and fixed one of the legs that had gotten a little wobbly.

"I'm glad one of us is having a good time, GG," you sighed out into the empty hangar you decided to haunt at this hour of the night. GG let out a few beeps voicing her concern. "Don't worry. I'm alright. I guess I just miss him,"

"I hope you're talking about me," the very same smooth voice you craved came from behind, "…because I miss you too," Cassian sat down next to you.

"Cass…" you started, but you had no idea what you were planning to say. At first, a small part of you was excited to talk to him alone again, but your gut turned a little when you realized you didn't know if you were ready to have this conversation. You didn't expect him to be here. In fact, you were here for the sole purpose of trying to escape him.

"Y/n, I've thought about it, and… and you don't have to tell me everything, but I need to know what's been going on so that I can fix it," he leaned in, his brows knit with care as he pleaded. He was being gentle and deliberate with his words, afraid that he would commit another offense towards you and push you away once more. If only he knew that he hadn't done anything wrong in the first place. It would end his agony. You always thought that you would take on his pain for him in a heartbeat if you could, yet here you were, the only one who could do anything about it, remaining silent. With each second of prolonged pause, his anxieties grew until he couldn't bear it. "Please, y/n, it's… it's killing me. I can't stand the thought of you hating me,"

"I don't hate you," you were quick to stop him from that thought, at least.

"But you're not happy with me." He pursed his lips. "Anyone else could be pissed off at me, and I wouldn't give a damn, but you're not anyone else. You mean something to me,"

"You mean something to me too, Cass," you couldn't help but let some of your feelings slip out just so that you could reassure him instinctually. "But that's the problem. I mean it when I said you haven't done anything wrong,"

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

"You've been avoiding me,"

"No, I haven't. But I have to admit it's a little hard to go up to someone who won't even look at you," you didn't realize what it looked like from his end. You had been just as cold as you had perceived his actions to be.

"I'm sorry, so sorry that I've been letting my own guilt come between us," he stayed silent, allowing you the time to find your words, lest his interruption scare you away from even searching for them. "The thing is—“ you let out a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to be open if it meant having him back. It had to happen eventually. “—I want you."

His heart began to beat harder. He had always wanted to hear you say that, but when he imagined that admission falling from your lips, it was followed by him taking you in his arms, not a sense of dread over what you were going to say next.

"I want you like I've never wanted anything before, and that's what's wrong. I can't want anyone else. The one person I ever wanted is gone, and I can't do that again. I can't lose you," Your confession and the tear that ran along your cheek were unexpected. Then, it suddenly and painfully clicked.

What you initially thought was guilt over betraying your past relationship was only something you had provided for your fears to impersonate. You had convinced yourself that it was in the name of your fiancé, that you owed it to him. The truth is, the part of you that shut down after his death, that blocked out any development of a close relationship, would rather hold onto a memory. You couldn't lose a memory.

"You're not going to lose me,"

"You know you can't promise that," You answered him immediately. "Even I can't promise that,"

"You're right. I can't promise that, but I can promise that you deserve to be happy. Don't lose your chance at that. You know he would want that for you," he had never met your fiancé, and he had only heard about him once from you, but from your description of him as kind, thoughtful, and willing to do anything for you, he had gleaned enough to be right about what he had just said.

"I'd always imagine an imperial gun pointing at the back of your head."

"But we'd always imagine what could've been. Let's just—" Cassian wrapped his hands around yours, which had been clasped so tightly that your knuckles were white. "Let's just try. Hold on to each other as long as we can, just as long as we get to hold onto each other at all. I'd rather go out there every day with something to lose rather than wondering if there's even something left for me after this war to fight for," He let one hand go from holding yours to cupping your cheek, "You say that there's no way to guarantee I'll come back, but I can't imagine a better reason to come back alive than you,"

His face was now only a breadth away, your eyes flicking between his blown out pupils and his lips that were offering such sweet words. He caught the quick shifting of your gaze and took it as a sign you wouldn't pull away when he pressed his lips to yours…and you didn't. Just as he had hoped, your lips had slotted perfectly between his. The kiss only lasted what Cassian felt was all too short when you pulled away, his lips still leaning after yours just after. You took a little breath, pressing your forehead against his. He wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer so that you were almost in his lap.

A small smile that you couldn't help but leave stamped on your face as you warned him playfully, "You better come back, or I'll kill you myself," He chuckled, his laugh filling your heart with warmth.

"I believe you," he kissed the tip of your nose.

You jolted as you felt a small poke in your back from a metal arm. You didn't even realize that GG had gone off to wander around during the middle of Cassian's and your talk.

Thoughtful little droid.

You and Cassian laughed at the rapid beeping.

"Yes, G, I'm feeling better. Cassian did help me," you smiled at him.

"Do you want to go to my room?" He looked at you tenderly. "Just to sleep, of course," he corrected himself quickly, in case you weren't ready for that yet. You nodded and rose with him, walking to his room with his arm slung around you in such a way that you knew he was only going to let go in order to hold you close to him in bed.

You no longer felt robbed by the empire, fueled by revenge. In fact, the love that had now taken over you was the best revenge. To continue living your life, to be happy despite their bullets, bombs, and best efforts to crush you, meant they could never get to you because if you don't keep going, they've taken your life away with your fiancé's as well. No, it was time to take off the ring that had shackled you. Cassian was now your life, your hope, and rebellions are built on hope, not on pain as you had operated until this moment; wrapped up in blankets, your head buried in his neck, hands running through the hair on his chest as you meditated on the rythm of his heartbeat. As you were lulled to sleep, you were comforted by the thought that, as long as you were with him, you'd already won.

#star wars #cassian #cassian andor #andor #rogue one #cassian andor x reader #cassian x reader #andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor fanfiction #andor fanfiction #andor fluff #andor angst

[beskarandblasters]

Idea: Cassian bringing you to Aldhani to witness the Eye (since precious lil baby didn’t get to enjoy it last time) and he fucks you during it!! Like imagine looking up at him with that beautiful sky behind him !!

Under the Eye

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Summary: Your boyfriend, Cassian, takes you to see a special event on the planet Aldhani known as the Eye but you find out he has other plans in mind.

Word count: 900

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, porn with no plot tbh, semi public sex, romantic sex, oral sex, lil bit of nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, eye contact during sex 👀, no use of y/n

“Come on, let’s go!” Cassian says, grabbing your hand and leading you off the ship practically the second he lands. 

“Okay! Okay, I’m coming!” you laugh, grabbing the blanket you packed on the way out. 

He leads you outside to the beautiful rolling hills of Aldhani; a place you’ve heard about in his stories but never visited. You spread out the blanket on the top of the hill and you sit down together. 

“So what’s going on?” you ask, looking up at the illuminated sky, returning your hand to his. 

“We landed just in time,” he says, rubbing your hand with his thumb, “Every three years Aldhani passes through a crystal belt and the meteors enter the atmosphere and burn up.”

One meteor shoots by, leaving a brilliant green trail in its wake. 

“Wow,” you whisper, mouth falling open and eyes full of wonder. 

“Last time I was here I didn’t really get to enjoy it.” 

You squeeze his hand and look over at him. 

“Hey, that was a long time ago. Things are different now. You get to enjoy it with me.”

He pulls you into him and wraps an arm around your waist. Your head rests on his shoulder as the two of you look up at the sky filled with multicolored meteors. Streaks of green, blue, orange and a little bit of pink race across the atmosphere. Cassian pulls away for a moment and looks at you; the way your eyes catch the light above you. And that’s what he finds most beautiful, not that natural phenomenon happening in the sky; you. 

He pulls you in for a kiss, hands caressing each side of your face. You expect for it just to be a quick kiss but instead he keeps going, kissing you with more and more passion. His hand tugs at the waistband of your pants and that’s when you pull away and say, “Right here, Cass?! What if someone sees?”

“There’s no one around for miles, my love. They’re all in the valley.”

He points to the valley in the distance, full of the Dhani people celebrating and watching the sky. 

“Okay,” you nod. 

And with the confirmation he needed he pulls down your pants and you kick off your shoes. You pull your shirt off over your head and lay down while he gets undressed himself. He hovers over you and kisses you again, brushing his tongue across your lips. You part your lips and his tongue explores your mouth. His hand traces the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple, bringing it to a stiff peak between his fingertips. You moan into his mouth as he moves to your other breast. You spread your legs for him, desperate for his touch already. He pulls away and moves down between your thighs, licking one slow stripe up your cunt.

“Cass, please,” you beg. 

“Love when you say my name,” he says before bringing his mouth to your clit. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing your cunt as close to his face as it could possibly get. You grind your hips against his face and between his tongue at your cunt and his nose at your clit you’re coming against his face. Waves of pleasure spread throughout you, starting at your core. The movement of your lips against his face turns languid before you collapse back down onto the blanket. He comes back up by your face and you can see under the glow of the Eye that the lower half of his face is slick with your release. He brings hand to your cunt and gathers your wetness before spreading it on his length. You close your eyes at the feeling of his cock entering you. You feel your walls expanding around him but you also feel his hand on your chin. 

You open your eyes to see his face above yours, looking at you with pure adoration in his eye. 

“Look at me, my love,” he says, drawing his hips back and thrusting into you harder. 

You look up at his face with the illuminated sky behind him and his hair getting messier with each slam of his hips against you. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it. You arch your back and feel yourself arrive at the brink of orgasm, core tightening as the pleasure stirs in your stomach. You come undone around him and your cunt clenches him like a vice bringing him to the edge, too. You both cum looking into each other's eyes. You feel yourself become filled with ropes of his cum before he pulls out of you, laying down next to you on the blanket. 

You place yourself into the crook of his neck and he wraps his arm around you. Your head rests on his chest and the two of you look up at the scenery above you. You’re both silent for a moment before he says, “Thanks for coming here with me.”

“I’d go anywhere with you, Cass,” you whisper. 

He finally feels at peace in life, thanks to you. And with that, the two of you hold each other and enjoy the Eye. 

End note: Another shorter one but send me some more Cassian requests 👀

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor smut #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor #andor fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #andor #banners by cafekitsune

[miseries-mistress]

IDYLLIC | CASSIAN ANDOR

Synopsis: Idyllic: (especially of a time or place) like an idyll; extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque.

The sun dipped under the horizon, the last wisps of the day trailing like smoke onto the buildings of Ferrix. As the day melded into night, the promise of seeing Cassian after a long day keeps your body in a constant feed of excitement for his arrival and will surely bring you the release you so desperately crave.   

Warnings: afab reader, spicy, mhm lots of spice, no smut, cassian being so fine it makes me giggle, no gendered pronouns used. W/C: 962

Notes: yeah yeah, i know i need to start writing more, but i have no energy to do it. so here is a draft i finished editing.

star wars masterlist

The quiet ambiance starkly contrasted with the busy machinery and the whir of droids you were usually surrounded by. Sure it was a welcome change, but there was something foreign about the notorious silence that you couldn't quite place. Maybe you've grown so accustomed to the sound over the years that it has become a strange sort of ambiance to you, not that you would understand it since you thrive in the quiet, whether it be in your life or your mind; you did best when the world turned silent.

That hush was interrupted by the cool hiss of the front door opening and the scuffling of feet across the floor.

"I'm home," you heard his Kenarian accent before you saw him, the door closing a moment later. The deep rumble swirled with just the right amount of smoothness to make you melt into the earth beneath your feet. His heavy footsteps echoed through the small space until they stopped behind you. His hands came to meet your waist, pulling you into his chest. You giggled as he tucked his head in the crook of your neck, placing a kiss above the blotchy purple hickey he had left the night before. His mouth leaves goosebumps to pimples along your skin as they trace the mark while it gives a dull, achy throb under his advances.

"How was your day, Kassa?" His hand drew circles across the fabric of your pants where your hips met your thigh as you put down the part you were cleaning to sell to Timm the next day.

"Much better than yours could have been." You smile, trying to hide your amusement. It never failed to surprise you how keen Cassian's senses were. It was like a sixth sense to him when something was plaguing you or causing you despair, whether it be a deal gone south or a fruitless haul. Nevertheless, he made sure to ease away each emotion that infested your mind with his addictive touch. It was easy to get lost in him, the sensations, the pleasure he all but supplied you with, accompanying a well-needed distraction. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"You know that drive plate I've been trying to sell?" Cassian hums knowingly against the soft of your neck, the vibration sending a rush down your spine. "Well, the only guy that would buy it wanted 200 hundred Credits. 200 hundred Cas! For what I spent fixing that, it's at least double that pathetic price he offered me."

"You could always sell it to Bix. She's working on fixing a motor in a speeder. I'm sure she'll buy it," he offered, his mouth latching onto your neck, and you gripped the counter to stabilize yourself. You bit back your groan as his tongue ran over the area in apology. A warm ache spreads through your body as his lips map your skin, marking it as his own. They move down the column of your neck with each flutter of a kiss, leaving you breathless in the best ways.

"Go on, I'm listening." You find it nearly impossible to do anything with the way his hands rove over your covered skin, and you have to find your scattered thoughts one by one in order to think of anything besides the feeling of his calloused skin inflicting sinful torture upon the mounds of your flesh. It's enough to demonstrate their profane properties and hint at the thrill of ecstasy they could bring down on you but not enough to slate your growing arousal, which right now is quite irritating.

"I can't hear you." His lips dipped towards your ear's shell, his voice's low reverence spiced with lust. His hands ventured across your body, and you felt the familiar tug of lust dance across your chest before it bloomed. Then, slowly, it spilled into your blood, tainting it with an excitement that felt too good to not be forbidden.

Your desire must have been infectious because he pulled you impossibly closer, his nose nudging your jaw while his tongue swirled across it, licking the salt off your skin. Your head falls against his shoulder as his facial hair scratches deliciously across the plane of your jaw, earning an unprecedented whine from your kiss-bitten lips.

"That's not what I asked, is it?" Cassian holds your hips steady to keep you from squirming from the onslaught of teasing bliss he endlessly bestows upon your body.

"No," you breathe, and if it weren't for Cassian holding your body still, you're sure you would be in your bed by now. So instead, you rotate your head, so you can finally get to see him after what felt like an eternity (a day) of him not being at your side. His eyes are vast, dilated with an unhindered ardor that has you weak in the knees, and amidst all that desire, there's a tenderness almost hidden beneath the dark valleys of his irises.

"Go on then," he urges, and you have to physically tear your eyes away to think clearly and remember what the conversation was about in the first place.

"B-Bix didn't need a drive plate, s-so I sold it to the guy for 230," you tried to keep your voice steady, you really did, but the stumble was inescapable. You feel his lips curve into a self-assured smirk as his hands grow more adventurous.

"Perfect." And even though Cassian whispered the word, with no lust or passion clouding his vision but out of the fluttering in his marred heart, you become utterly lost in him.

Yet as the night passed into the morning, with the sun spilling over the skyline, you couldn't find a more perfect moment you wanted to be trapped in or a more perfect man to be beside.

#cassian andor x you #cassian andor x reader #cassian x reader #andor series #cassian andor #cassian #cassian andor series #star wars andor #cassian andor x female reader #andor season 1 #afab reader #drabble #almost smut #star wars #x reader #andor show #star wars cassian #x female reader #sw: andor

[vibrantbirdy]

Hey lovely!! Could you do a Cassian Andor x (f) reader? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. I like the whole “you annoy me and piss me off” relationship that ends up in a situation where they are stuck together for something and end up in a fight where they suddenly realize they have feelings! I love allowing creators to have their own space to create, so if you wanna do something else entirely, please feel free too!!

❤️ take care of yourself

Thank you SO much, this is a great request! I am a sucker for enemies to lovers too. I hope you don't mind, but I had a similar Cassian request from Anon at the same time about Cassian x Reader having to go undercover to Canto Bight as a couple which I thought would work well with yours so I merged them. (Anon, I also hope you don't mind the merging and that you can find this ok as I don't know if/how I can reply to two asks in the same post?)

Also, I want to thank everyone who has interacted with my writing so far.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Keep 'em coming.

-Birdy

Title: Charade Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Enemies to lovers; Action/adventure; Fluff Warnings: Moderate sexuality; moderate swearing; mild violence/peril; brief mentions of loss of family/friends by Reader. Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 10k (oops)

Summary: You and Captain Cassian Andor have to negotiate your personal differences and difficult history when you are both assigned to go on an undercover operation to the Galaxy's playground for the super-rich, Canto Bight, as a married couple.

Prologue

Your first mission as a spy for the Rebel Alliance has taken you to Carida. The objective; to infiltrate and sabotage the Imperial Naval Yard there then get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

As it turns out, the mission is doomed from the outset. An Imperial mole who somehow dug their way into the very heart of Rebel Command on Yavin 4 has alerted the Empire to your plans.

Your team of six hardly made it five kilometers from the rust-bucket of a ship Rebel Leadership had assigned to you when you were intercepted by an Imperial patrol.

The firefight was brief. The Stormtroopers were green, even more so than you. You wondered with a pang of unexpected sympathy whether they'd come fresh from the Imperial Academy which was also based on Carida. There were far more seasoned combatants amongst your own unit and the fight was over before it had really began.

Still, that's when you'd lost poor Lily to a Trooper's blaster bolt. You're not even sure he was aiming at her. She'd fallen against you and you'd twisted your ankle as you'd spun to the ground following a futile attempt to hold her upright as if that would negate the fatal injury she'd just sustained.

Now, as you limp up the ridge of the hill you feel a swell of relief as you see that you are almost back to the clearing where the ship is stowed. But as you catch a glimpse of the hunk of old metal, you realise with horror that you are not out of the woods yet.

The Empire uses decrepit shuttles just like this one for for training cadets at the Academy. That's why High Command had insisted you take it - to blend in. You'd nicknamed it Tenacity because the old girl just wouldn't die and the name had stuck.

The ancient vessel doesn't do anything quickly until it's up in the air. Then she's sharp as a razor. But she has a complicated manual override for emergency take-offs whereby the crew need pump fuel round the engines a few times using an externally stowed generator.

Good for training Imperial cadets for problem solving and how to make the best of old tech. Not so good for spies who need a quick exit.

You're the engineer, it should have been you who hooked the ship up to the generator. But with your injury you are too slow and so the others went on ahead to start without you. You are sure you gave correct and clear instructions, but in his panic, it looks like Rogdul has connected the ports up all wrong. Dangerously so.

Overhead, you hear the scream of Imperial TIE fighters and you launch yourself into the nearby undergrowth. You count them. Four. They are searching the valley for you. They pass, but they'll be back in less than a minute. It's impossible that they haven't spotted the ship in the forest clearing.

From your hiding place you hear the ship's engines burst into life. Inside, you imagine Rogdul and Anya carrying out hurried pre-flight checks. Baslin is probably taking up position in the gunner's hatch, hoping to see some action.

No, you think. Not like this.

But you can reach the ship and fix the problem. You know you can. The whole thing will blow if you don't and that's not an option.

You dart out towards the Tenacity, but someone intercepts you, slamming into you with a body tackle and dragging you roughly back to cover through the mud. Soon, you're seated up against them, your back pressed into their chest, their arms and legs wrapped around you like a vice.

It's Captain Cassian Andor, you realise, your superior officer and the lead operative on this mission. You'd completely forgotten that he was even further behind the hasty retreat than you, taking up the rear and keeping watch for more Imperial patrols on your tail.

You don't care who it is. You struggle and writhe furiously against him, desperate to get away and stop the impending disaster you can see unfolding before your eyes. But Andor holds you fast against him as if you were a child having a tantrum.

"Let me go, I can fix it!" you scream over the howl of the returning TIEs.

"You can't, it's too late!" Andor shouts back into your ear.

As if on cue, the generator connected to the side of the ship starts to spark wildly, just as you knew it would. You watch helplessly as the fuel cells hidden within the Tenacity ignite with a deafening bang and whoosh of flame as the ship goes up in a hellish fireball.

A second later, the TIEs make their second pass. There's no need for them to bother firing their weapons. The devastation from the explosion is catastrophic.

They do it anyway.

Two years later

You are on approach to Canto Bight, Cantonica's capital city - the Galaxy's playground for the wealthy.

Captain Cassian Andor is in the pilot's seat, following instructions from the flight control tower. You'll sit down in a moment, but right now, you are desperately trying to sort the sticking-up collar of his cream shirt which is made of expensive looking silk.

Irritated, he tries to bat your hand away, but you are persistent.

"Kriff's sake, Andor, just let me do it," you mutter.

"I'm not a child," he says petulantly, but he relents.

There. Now he looks the part in his fine clothes. He's tidied his short beard and moustache so that the stubble is cropped neatly to the sharp contours of his chiselled face. His dark brown hair is neatly parted at the side, although it's perhaps still a little long...

You don't look too shabby either, bedecked in a knee-length silk day dress of sky blue, accompanied by a cloak of dusky purple which is draped elegantly across your shoulders. The Rebellion went to great lengths to fund this operation and they certainly didn't skimp on the provision of suitable attire. It's essential that you fit in.

"I look fine, you look fine, stop fussing," Andor says dismissively, noticing as you smooth out a couple of annoying wrinkles in your dress and swish out the skirt to make sure the fabric is lying properly.

"I think you look lovely," K-2SO, Andor's droid and almost constant companion, pipes up from the co-pilot's chair, "and that Cassian looks like he's swallowed an Endor fire hornet."

"You don't think," Andor retorts, "That's just circuits misfiring randomly in your head..."

K-2 turns to you with a mechanical whirr, and if he had the ability to conjure expressions, this one would read:

See? I told you.

You stifle a laugh and drop down into the passenger seat behind the droid.

The first time you'd met the hulking re-programmed Imperial security droid had been that fateful day on Carida. You and Andor had shivered miserably in silence for hours by the wreckage of the Tenacity as the rain lashed down, making little difference to the fearsome fuel-accelerated flames which devoured the ship. The Empire, in their arrogance, didn't bother to send out a patrol to check the site.

Then, late into the night, K-2 had finally arrived in Cassian's own ship under cover of darkness. With your injured ankle having swollen to twice its usual size, the gargantuan droid had lumbered over, scooped you up, and carried you with surprising gentleness into the vessel. Ever since, you've always enjoyed his company and his sardonic wit.

Your relationship with Andor, on the other hand, has been tumultuous since its inception. He's always been frosty and stand-offish with you. You sometimes wonder if your presence reminds him of the disaster on Carida the way his does to you.

Whatever his reasoning, his uncompromising demeanour has always brought out your worst qualities when you're around him, especially your stubbornness and your dislike of being told what to do. You've never gone so far as insubordination under his command, but when you disagree with him, you have a unique knack for finding your own way to interpret his orders. This always has the infinitely satisfying effect of winding him up.

Anyway, this time won't be like Carida. And despite your personal differences, you and Andor have worked together successfully - though admittedly never harmoniously - many times since.

Your objective is simple enough. You're looking for a business man, Dreylan Balgo. He's not yet thirty, but he's the biggest supplier of Imperial weapons in the Galaxy. You need to obtain his biometric signature and transmit it back to Alliance High Command. They'll then use it to access the designs and blueprints of the weapons his company is designing for the Empire and eventually send agents in as factory workers to sabotage various key elements.

As Andor and K-2 make the final approach to Canto Bight you look out the window. Below you, the dark sea glitters and ahead, the shining spires of the beautiful city glow golden in the evening sun.

You close your eyes as a flash of a childhood memory dances across your brain. You came here with your parents once when you were nine or ten. That's partly why you've been chosen for this mission. You used to move in these circles.

K-2 drops the shuttle neatly on to the landing pad which juts out over the water.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the droid quips as you exit.

It's winter on Cantonica. As you step out onto the platform, the breeze is chilly but pleasantly fresh and you can hear the steady crash of waves against the cliffs below you.

At the entrance to the structure, you pause a minute to take in the monolithic doors, ornately carved and inlaid with beautiful coloured glass which catches the light of the setting sun with dazzling beauty. The doors open and you and Andor step into the elaborate marble halls of Canto Bight's most luxurious resort as newlyweds Mr and Mrs Race Pax.

**************************************************

The suite you are staying in is as lavish as the rest of the place, but it is small. The coiffeurs of the Rebel Alliance do have their limits.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suddenly stopping your own unpacking to observe Andor throwing an assortment of pillows and blankets onto the ground.

"I'm taking the floor like a gentleman."

"Don't be stupid," you snort, "What if the maid comes in and sees this..." you gesture to the collection of blankets on the floor, searching for a fitting description "...gentleman's pillow fort?"

The most important thing on this mission is that your cover needs to be believable. And, perhaps tantamount to that, if Andor is tired, he'll be even grumpier than usual and you don't think you could deal with that.

He straightens and sighs, repeatedly slapping the cushion he has been plumping with unnecessary force.

One thing you and Andor have never been around each other is shy. Having spent weeks at a time together in miserable, hastily erected camps, cramped transports, and underground bunkers in the service of the Alliance, the necessity of living in close quarters with him stamped that out quick. You've learned to move in each other's personal space with ease and usually without any awkwardness, so you can't fathom why he's making a meal of it now.

He looks at you defiantly for a moment longer before accepting defeat.

"Fine," he says, as he starts to pick up the elements of his makeshift camp bed and throwing them back on the bed, "Fine, but if you snore, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

"If I snore?!"

That was rich.

*******************************************

You and Andor are attending one of Canto Bight's seemingly infinite evening soirees for the rich and powerful. A colourful sea of people in lavish dress are engaged in polite conversation and enjoying expensive beverages in one of the grandest ballrooms you've ever seen.

Dreylan Balgo is here, somewhere. Tonight is a chance to observe his behaviour, get to know his habits and make an initial introduction if possible. Anything that could help you create an opportunity to obtain his biometrics over the next few days.

You are wearing a teal halter-neck gown, a drink in one hand while the other rests elegantly on top of Andor's arm. The silk of his plush evening jacket is smooth under your fingertips and you absent-mindedly fuss with it as you scan the crowd for your target.

Someone says your name. Your real name.

Andor stiffens next to you.

Trying to keep your composure you turn and relief floods through you as you realise it's one of your mother's oldest friends, Lady Sen Prya. It's been years since you've seen her and she must be in her eighties by now, but she hasn't changed one bit. She is adorned in the most grandiose yellow satin gown you've ever seen, complete with matching gloves. Her long white hair falls, twisted in an elaborate braid, all the way down to her waist.

Quickly, you take her gloved hand and squeeze it gently, a subtle message you hope she can read.

"Oh I'm sorry you must be mistaken," you say politely and introduce yourself as Mrs Pax.

Understanding flickers across Prya's face. She always was sharp as a knife and time doesn't seem to have dulled that characteristic one jot.

"Ah of course, child. Forgive me," she says tactfully with all the grace and ease you remember from your childhood, "You look very like a dear old friend of mine. It's nice to meet you. I am Lady Sen Prya."

She reaches a hand up and touches your cheek affectionately with a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then, she reaches out to Andor who brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently.

"Race Pax, it's a pleasure," he says, and there is a genuine warmth in his voice.

He appears to have relaxed somewhat and you are sure it's because he probably recognises Prya's name. She has been funding various elements of the Rebellion for years.

"Now, is there anyone you need an introduction to, before I retire to bed like the old woman I am?"

Prya stresses introduction as if its a code word. And it is.

You look up at Andor questioningly. You hate to ask his permission for anything, but he is the senior operative here. He nods once in ascent.

"Dreylan Balgo," you say.

Lady Prya's eyes light up and you can tell that she is delighted to learn who your indented mark is.

"Well then, follow me, young lovers."

Andor gives that rare smile of his, the one you see so infrequently which reaches all the way up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. He likes Prya. Everyone does. That's what makes her so dangerous for the Empire.

You wind through the crowd, following Prya as if she is golden star leading you to your destination. You're suddenly nervous and although you'd never admit it, there is something comforting about how Andor's large hand entwines with your own as he follows your lead through the busy party.

"Dreylan! My boy!" Prya's voice is clear as crystal and cuts through the party hubbub with ease.

Balgo turns from a conversation he is having with several other men. He is a handsome man, dressed in an evening suit of black velvet. He is tall and elegant with piercing blue eyes and a mop of sandy blonde curls.

"Ah! Lady Prya! What a delight to see you," he says gregariously, stooping low to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"And you, my lad," she replies with gracious ease, "Now, I want you to meet a couple of newly weds, Mr and Mrs Pax. I'm certain young Pax here would be interested in discussing business with you boys, although I, for one, find it all very dull."

There is a ripple of smug, amused laughter from the circle of men, and you join in only because you know Prya could negotiate most of these idiots out of any of business asset of theirs she chose to.

Balgo turns his attention to you first, appraising you thoroughly before taking your hand and kissing it with an elaborate flourish. You let out a silly little laugh, ensuring your voice carries an appropriate blend of affluence and air headedness.

Less than a minute you've been in this man's company and you can already read him like a holo novel.

He then greets Andor with boisterous joviality.

"Congratulations, Pax, what a stunning creature you have caught in your net."

Andor chuckles amiably, shaking Balgo's hand.

"It's good to meet you," he says warmly.

This time, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and you notice that his hand, which has been sitting lightly round your waist, shifts down to just under your hip.

Lady Prya retires to bed soon after, flashing you a wink and a dazzling smile as she sweeps from the room, an ageless vision in yellow.

The conversation and drinks flow. All night, you sense Balgo's eyes on you. Alliance High Command don't officially approve of so-called "honey-traps," and neither do you, but you see no harm in cultivating Balgo's delusion if it opens another window of opportunity. You don't discourage him, directly meeting the furtive glances he casts your way when he thinks Andor isn't looking.

Throughout the evening Andor proves why he is so good at his job. His ability to observe and imitate behaviour is uncanny. He adopts with ease that careless, raucous affectation that only young, wealthy men seem to possess. He hasn't taken more than a few sips of his wine, but he mirrors Balgo's increasingly boisterous body language and bawdy humour expertly.

By the end of the night the two are stomping around the dwindling party with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying and laughing and singing like idiots.

The night has been a success. You've created a rapport with Balgo.

*******************************************

"Prya was a friend of your family's?" Andor's voice comes unexpectedly from the darkness, "What happened to them?"

It's very late - or early, depending on how your look at it - and you and Andor have just fallen, exhausted, into bed.

You are resting on your left side, as always, and you hear him roll over beside you, so that he is looking at your back.

You are surprised by how accurately Andor has read into the situation with so little information. You don't see any harm in telling him.

"My father owned an agricultural engineering works. One day the Empire came to his factory and asked him to design and build components for some machine they were building, probably a weapon. He refused. They executed him on the spot and took the factory anyway. I did my best, but we struggled and my mother died a few years after of a broken heart. That's when I left to join the Rebellion."

Andor shuffles, the bed shifting beneath you both and you can tell that he's propped himself up on his elbow. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

"You've never told me that before."

"You never bothered to ask," you reply defensively, "I know what you think, what you all think. That I'm a rich brat who ran off to join the Rebellion just to piss off her wealthy parents."

There's a silence.

"Turns out you're only half right..." you finish with a rather bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

To your surprise, Andor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, before you reach across your body to place your hand on top of his, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Cassian," you say.

You rarely use his first name and it feels odd, but not unnatural on your tongue.

"Goodnight."

He rolls back over and is soon snoring softly. You don't fall asleep for a long while, not until you hear the birds begin their morning chorus and the light of dawn starts to creep through the open window with the sea breeze.

********************************************************

You and Andor spend the next morning trying to locate Balgo but he's nowhere to be found. You suspect he is probably in his bed nursing a very sore head.

The last place you try is the Fathier racetrack, although you know there are no races on today. You are glad. You can't stand to see these magnificent animals forced to run like that.

Even so, you are unable to refrain from grabbing Andor's hand in excitement and dragging him over to the nearest pen where a mother and foal are resting in a patch of sunshine.

"A baby," you find yourself saying, stupidly.

Andor laughs quietly at the ridiculous, breathless joy in your voice. You wonder if he's making fun of you, but when you turn to him his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous light.

He gestures to a nearby handler, adopting Pax's air of arrogant entitlement with frightening ease.

"My wife would like to see the animal."

"Of course, sir."

The handler coaxes the foal over and it's tall enough already to reach other the fence. You pat the creature on its nose and between its ridiculously long ears and it nuzzles sweetly into your hand.

"Mr Pax?" You say as you turn to Andor and realise he's hovering a few feet back from the fence.

You gesticulate to him to come over. When else will he get the opportunity to interact with such an animal?

"Oh no, I can see fine from here," he replies with a shake of his head.

Surely not, you think, and you feel your mouth twist into a devilish smirk.

"Are you scared?" You tease.

You sidle up to him and entwine your arm in his before stretching up to whisper into his ear so that only he can hear you.

"Captain Andor?"

Unable to resist your direct challenge he offers you his hand with a resigned, slightly nervous grin. You take it, leading him back to the fence. You guide his palm up to the baby Fathier's nose and the creature sniffs it curiously. You then press it gently against the animal's long forehead. When you let go, Andor continues to stroke the animal softly, his face lit up with an expression of childish wonder.

"Thank you, husband," you say when you both turn to leave.

He gives you a subtle wink and you feel a sudden rush of something close to fondness for him.

********************************************

That afternoon is spent sneaking around the resort's service corridors. You are right at the top of the building and the corridors are narrow and low. It's ridiculously hot and you feel stupid carrying out serious espionage in yet another one of the seemingly endless supply of dresses you've been provided. This one is a horrible pink colour that clings all over and you hate it which is why you've chosen it for this dirty, sweaty work. You know you need to wear something suitable for Canto Bight's grand halls in case anyone sees you on your way to or from the job, but it just feels so unnatural.

Hopefully this shouldn't take too long. All you need to do is wire in a small signal booster to the resort's communications lines. Then, when you obtain Balgo's biometric signature, the data pad can send a transmission to a commandeered, disused Republic satellite to confirm that the sample has been collected successfully.

Actually transmitting the scrambled data to the Rebel base on Yavin 4 needs considerably more power which means, at some point, you and Andor are going to have to hike out to Cantonica's main transmitter mast and send the signal manually from there.

You'd flown past the huge pylon on your way in to land at the resort. It's a monumental thing and you feel a rush of nausea at the very thought of having to climb it...but that's a problem for another day, you decide.

Your head is buried in a control panel, and you're trying to explain to Andor why you need to use a slightly different width of cable than originally planned but he interrupts you mid-flow.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"I can do it," you snap back.

"Then just do it, I don't care how."

Charming as ever, the morning's hard won truce between you apparently forgotten. He's nervous and so are you, so you try not to hold it against him. He just wants to get out of here quickly.

There's a sound, and with horror, you realise it's the service elevator doors hissing open. A stern male voice follows soon after.

"Lars, If you're up here slouching again, I'm going to dock your pay."

You and Andor both freeze, staring at each other like Loth cats caught in the headlights of a speeder. Then, without warning he grabs you at the back of your knee, hitching your leg up to rest on his hip, his hand travelling further up the underside of your thigh and underneath your dress as he shoves you against the wall and pushes his body firmly against yours. The other hand flies up to your face, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone.

Your gasp of surprise is muffled as he crashes his lips hard against yours. It takes you only a millisecond to understand what he's doing and you kiss him back, twisting your fingers tightly through the locks of dark hair at the back of his head.

At this, a soft groan resonates in his throat and you are almost certain this is unintended. You feel a flash of satisfaction that you've managed to affect him in such a way, then scold yourself for being unable to refrain from point scoring with him, even now.

"Get out of here," Andor growls at the hapless employee, pretending he has only just noticed the man's presence.

His voice is low and husky. As he speaks, you feel his fingertips press into the flesh your thigh. Suddenly, the combination of his proximity and his heady, masculine, familiar scent is overwhelming, and you feel something hot and fierce coil in the pit of your abdomen.

Andor - Pax - has broken away from your lips to berate the man, but he hardly deigns to turn his head to look at the unfortunate employee. You take a moment to study the fine details of his face up close. His pupils are dilated, making his dark eyes gleam like midnight. His nostrils flare slightly with heightened breathing. An uncharacteristic blush is travelling up his neck into his cheeks. You can feel his heart slamming against his chest and your own.

"Oh, uhh... yes...of course," the poor employee sounds terribly embarrassed and all the previous managerial authority has vanished entirely from his voice.

"My apologies sir..."

The man actually stands on his tiptoes and cranes his neck to see your face through the tousled mess you've made of Andor's hair before addressing you directly with a courteous nod of his head.

"Madam."

You raise your eyebrows at him politely and give him a ridiculous little wave with your free hand, the one that's not woven through Andor's hair.

You hear the employee blundering off back to the service elevator and the machinery clunks as the doors close and he disappears.

Andor's forehead is gracing your own and neither you nor he move for a moment. It's just long enough to catch the slow glint of recognition in each other's eyes that something new has passed between you and you both know it.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he finally breaks away, running a hand through his hair as if to sweep away the feel of your fingers there, "I didn't have time to ask nicely."

"It's fine," you say, smoothing your stupid dress down and clearing your throat, "Good thinking."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, as you return to your work in silence.

*******************************************

Evening has fallen and Andor and Balgo are talking animatedly at the bar. The resort is hosting another of its grand parties. You sit with Lady Prya at a nearby table. You don't talk about your new life and she doesn't ask, but the conversation is easy and comfortable and you feel a rush of gratitude that your paths have crossed again.

Once Balgo has left to mingle with other guests, you give Prya an apologetic smile and cross over to the bar where you drape yourself around Andor's shoulders. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone else, these merely look to be the actions of a young couple.

In reality, you are providing cover as Andor works quickly with Balgo's empty glass. Earlier, he'd lined the outside of the receptacle with a special gel that picks up biometric data. Once settled on a surface, it is almost imperceptible to the touch.

Andor attaches, then tears away the transfer strip from the glass and quickly places it down on the data pad's receiver. A rather sad and weary boop from the device confirms that it hasn't picked up Balgo's fingerprints.

"Kriff," Andor curses quietly in frustration, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give it," you hiss.

Uncertainly, Andor passes the various components of the device to you. You snatch them from his hand, shoving the bits and bobs into your pockets and stride away before he can stop you. The satin of your dress swishes a melody to the click of your heels. You hear Andor swear under his breath.

As you walk, your eyes scan the room, searching for your target. There. A flash of golden hair at the other side of the room. You stalk Balgo through the crowd, waiting for the right moment.

You make your approach, taking out a small mirror from your pocket and quickly squeezing a blob of the clear transfer gel onto your finger before making a performance of patting the strange substance on your mouth like lipstick. You snap the mirror closed and move in for the kill.

"Oh Mr Balgo, I am so sorry!" you exclaim, feigning embarrassment as you collide with his shoulder, jolting him arm so that he spills red wine all down the front of his pristine, white suit jacket.

"Please, Mrs Pax, it's no matter, really," he says as he stays your pawing hands and swoops down to greet you with a peck you on the cheek.

"I really am sorry, Dreylan, I will pay for the damage."

"Nonsense," he scoffs amicably, his chest visibly puffing out as you address him familiarly by his first name, "Now, where has your husband of yours got to? The fool surely hasn't let you out of his sight in that dress?"

Balgo is right, it is a nice dress. Your favourite so far in fact. It is tailored in beautiful crimson satin with a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and a plunging neckline.

"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure."

You lean in and whisper in his ear.

"But he's not here."

He smirks back at you and you see his icy blue eyes light up.

"Shall we get some air on the balcony?" He suggests.

Well, what an unexpected turn of events, you think sarcastically as you accept the proposal with an external show of flirtatious grace.

Out on the ballroom's grandiose veranda with Balgo, you look across Cantonica's seemingly endless, dark waters. The sea breeze is cold, and the businessman drapes his jacket round your shoulders. You laugh at the right times, interject an asinine comment here and there as Balgo talks about business, and allow him to explain things to you that you already know without complaint.

When the timing feels apt, and the balcony is otherwise deserted, you reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. He returns it, placing his hands on your hips. Balgo is attractive enough, there's no doubt about that, and the kiss is far from unpleasant... but it's only a means to an end. There's no passion to it, and you can't help but compare it against the ardent fervour of Andor's embrace. The heat of it.

As you pull back from Balgo with a suitably flushed smile, the gossamer curtains behind him shift in the breeze and over his shoulder you catch a glimpse of Andor across the cavernous ballroom.

He's so far away, but you see him clear as day. His eyes are searing holes in Balgo's back before meeting yours with a look of disdain. He downs his drink and slams the glass on the bar's marble counter-top, stalking off towards the elevator.

You suddenly feel a pang of irrational guilt which makes you furious with him. You're doing your job. The one he failed to do.

Balgo's self-satisfied look of victory does nothing for your vexed and flustered disposition. He offers to go and source a drink for you both. Keeping your composure - you are a spy after all - you smile sweetly at him and agree.

When he is gone, you make sure no one else is around before you take out the transfer paper from your pocket and subtly dab it on your lips. Surreptitiously, you whip the data pad out of your other pocket - thank the stars you'd insisted on dresses with pockets - and press the paper against the reader.

You wait, visualising what the signal might look like if it was something tangible and visible. A little bolt of lightning, perhaps, arcing to the closest service hatch, climbing its way up wires and cables, escaping out into the cold night and up into orbit and the decrepit Republic satellite.

Finally, the device gives you a cheerful bleep and lights up green.

Success.

You'd like to see Balgo's smug face fall when he returns to find you've disappeared, but you don't want this to go any further than necessary. You've got what you need and your sudden absence can easily be explained away as a young wife's crisis of conscience. You leave his jacket on a nearby chair and make your way up to your suite.

*****************************************

When you get back to the room, you can practically feel the heat radiating off Andor as he rips his shirt over his head dramatically in the process of undressing for bed.

Trying to ignore his silent seething, you turn away from him and lift your hair away from the nape of your neck. He automatically moves behind you to help you unzip your dress and, despite his clear agitation, his hands are gentle. The red gown drops to the floor, leaving you standing in your flimsy under-slip.

You turn back to look at Andor, taking in the familiar outline of his body. He's not a huge man, but the muscles are strong and taut in his torso, back and arms. Littered here and there are scars, testament to a hard life lived dangerously. The moonlight streaming through the bedroom window gives his tan skin an ethereal glow and illuminates the sharp, handsome features of his face.

It's not that you don't find each other attractive. You both know that there's always been some unspoken tension between you. But the tempestuousness of your personal and working relationship has always prevented you from falling into anything that might be a mistake.

You are suddenly keenly aware of the obviousness your own form as your underdress clings to the curves and planes of your body. You can sense Andor's eyes roaming across it in a way you're sure they never have before.

You think - maybe - something changed with that kiss you shared this afternoon. An embrace which began as a charade and ended as something else.

"That was a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing to do!" he finally explodes, interrupting your reverie and bringing you back down to reality with a thud.

"It was a calculated risk," you retort, furious with him and internally embarrassed by your silly romantic notions.

"And," you stretch across to the nearby dresser to pick up the data pad where Balgo's biometric data is safely stored to brandish it under Andor's nose, "And it worked."

"In case you'd forgotten, Balgo thinks you're here with your husband..."

"That's why it worked!" You exclaim, "By the Force, men know so little about their own species..."

"You could have blown our cover, the whole operation!"

That riles you. Why can't he just congratulate you on a job well done? You've just saved this damn operation. You have what you need now. All you need to do is transmit the data and you can both get out of here.

"I know what this is," you say, your voice rising in chorus with your anger.

"Oh please, please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

There's a heavy silence.

"Jealous?!" Andor scoffs finally, but the strength of his conviction has faded from his voice, "Of what?"

"You can't stand that I kissed him."

Andor steps towards you, brows furrowed, eyes alight with something that's not quite anger.

"He's welcome to you," he seethes, "The last thing I need is some highly strung rich girl playing at being a spy."

The words sting, especially after you opened up to him about your parents the other night. Even as the vague idea of restraint flashes through your mind, impulsion compels you to raise a hand to strike him across the face.

He catches you by the wrist as you lash out, pulling you even closer to him so that his sharp nose is almost touching yours.

"And so what if I am?" He continues and the change in direction is so unexpected that you are rendered speechless.

His tone is low and dangerous and his deep, brown eyes are wild, roaming your face desperately for an answer that never comes.

"What if I am jealous? What if I don't want his filthy, Imperial hands all over you? So what?"

Andor's face suddenly softens, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression of genuine turmoil. It's a display of vulnerability you've never seen from him before. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly but he doesn't let go.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"What difference does it make to you? Ever since Carida... You despise me."

It's not true, you suddenly realise. It's never been true. Not really.

You want to tell him you've never blamed him for what happened on Carida. The actions of the mole? Not his fault. The failure of that sorry excuse for a ship? Not him either. Somewhere along the way, your perception of him became warped and refracted through the prism of your own feelings of guilt.

You know he saved your life that day. He must have gone through hell in the aftermath too, dragged up in front of various different elements of High Command to explain why only two of his six operatives made it back alive over and over and over again.

More than this, you want to explain that while you were kissing Balgo tonight, you were thinking only of him. You want to say how when you took a shower earlier and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you'd seen the faint, red imprints of his fingertips still lingering like little tattoos on your skin and that you hope they never fade.

But you're just so angry with him for always having to be such a stubborn, patronising, hard-nosed bastard. So you say none of these things.

You know how much it must have taken for him to admit feelings for you, no matter how clumsy and ill-timed the execution. This man who always holds his cards so close to his chest has shown you his hand. He's given you ammunition and all you can think of in this moment is shooting him down with it.

"That's right," you say, leaning in close and whispering spitefully into his ear, "I despise you Cassian Andor."

You regret it immediately. Andor drops your wrist as if he's been burned. As he steps away from you, he looks completely lost. His eyes are cast down at the floor, full of humiliation and hurt. By the time they return to your face, they have darkened like storm clouds.

"Then, I'm glad we understand each other."

You open your mouth to say something, to take back your words and undo the damage you've wrought with your temper. Nothing comes out.

As Andor turns away, you reach out for him, try to catch him by the elbow. He shrugs you off angrily and storms out of the room.

He doesn't come back until late. You pretend to be asleep as he quietly slips into the bed beside you.

********************************************

When dusk falls the next evening, and with Balgo's biometric stored safely on the data pad in your pocket, you and Andor set out for Cantonica's main transmitter.

You want to use the journey time to explain yourself, to apologise to him and admit your own feelings. But you are so ashamed of your careless words the night before that you don't even know how to begin.

Continuing the trend of the day, you walk the ten kilometers together in almost complete silence, trudging in single file along the rocky coastline.

Even so, being out in nature and away from the city feels almost healing to you. Most tourists only see the rugged countryside of Cantonica from the confines of a shuttle. It has a wild, mountainous, windswept type of beauty that you find exhilarating. After days stuck inside the gilded cage of Canto Bight, it is wonderful to be out in the elements, even if it is rather cold and damp.

Night has decsended by the time you reach the transmitter. It is set precariously on the cliff edge, so close to the tumultuous waters below, it seems like a freak wave could wash it away at any moment.

It looks even more imposing than you remember. A huge durasteel spike with a narrow, fragile looking caged ladder stretching up into the sky leading to a high metal gangway which looks just as ancient.

You go first, and as you climb higher, your hands and feet start to feel fuzzy and your breathing becomes rapid, escaping through your lips in short, sharp pants. You've never been good with heights.

The icy wind starts to whip unpleasantly around you and you grip the ladder fiercely with each laboured step. The damp air has made the metal slick and you gasp as your boot slips on one of the rungs.

You catch yourself before you fall, but even so, you are relieved when Andor comes up behind you and positions himself so that his solid chest presses reassuringly against your back as you take a moment to steady yourself.

"Take your time," he says and his tone is gentle, "You're ok."

You nod and exhale deeply. Steeling yourself, you continue your ascent. You can do this.

You finally reach the top of the ladder and crawl up onto the round platform which encircles the pylon of the transmitter to provide access to where the mechanics of the structure are stored.

You think for a moment that this experience is going to be marginally better than the climb up the rickety ladder. That foolish hope is soon proven mistaken. The durasteel grating beneath your feet feels precarious. There are rusted gaps in the metal here and there and your stomach flips every time you look down. The wind is stronger up here, wild and blustery, and you feel horrendously vulnerable. You just want to get the job done and get down from this death trap as soon as possible.

Andor helps you lift the heavy panel off the front of the control box. You sigh with relief. It's a standard set up, one you've seen hundreds of times before and it's easy to bypass. You set to work infiltrating the system and once you're done, you wait in suspense as the data pad blinks text at you.

TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING....

TRANSMISSION SENT.

"It's gone!"

Instinctively, you turn to flash a smile of triumph towards Andor, and you are relieved when one corner of his mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly in return. You wonder if, on the way back to the city, you might find the courage to try and make amends for your rough words the previous night.

Your hopeful thoughts are rudely interrupted when, without warning, the gangway you are standing on shifts violently under your feet. The whole structure lets out an ominous and eerie metallic groan and you realise with dread that the platform is tearing itself away from the pylon.

You have no doubt that you and Andor are the first people up here in years, and that your presence has disturbed the structure from its hibernation and reminded it of its decrepit, fragile state.

You grab at one of the rungs affixed to the main pylon intended for servicing the internal mechanisms, but Andor is too far away to reach. As the walkway peels away, he falls with it. The huge hunk of metal stops suddenly at a right angle to the structure, and the now horizontal guard railings catch Andor as he slams into them with a sickening clang.

There's a brief moment of relief when you think the worst is over, but then the structure jerks violently again as another metal bolt fails, and it tilts just enough to send Andor somersaulting over the top of the railing.

Desperately, he scrambles for something to purchase, and he manages to grasp at the guard rail with the fingertips of one hand as he rolls over it, leaving him dangling helplessly over the roaring water below.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop down towards him and your body hits the metal railings agonisingly hard. You ignore the pain and, praying that the railings will hold you, you scrabble to grab at Andor, your hands clutching at a handful of material at the front of his shirt just as his own grip fails.

Unexpectedly finding himself suspended in the air, Andor looks up at you in abject surprise. He assesses the situation and his eyes lock on to yours in alarm as he understands what you've done.

Your shoulders feel like they are slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and your fingers, numb and white, are twisted up painfully in the material of Andor's shirt. You can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs being crushed out of you as you are pressed into the railings by the pull of Andor's bodyweight below you.

You are terrified that at any moment the guardrail will collapse and you'll both plummet together into the angry sea which seems to wait with open maw like a predator beneath you. But you don't know what else to do, and you refuse to let him fall, so you cling on to him in utter desperation.

"Let go!" Andor shouts up at you, and you can tell it's an order.

"No!" You yell back.

Suddenly, the front of his shirt rips and he drops away so that he is now hanging, almost literally, by a thread. The abrupt and unexpected motion causes you to lose balance and you have to let go of him with one hand to steady yourself on the railings and stop yourself from almost flipping over them to join him.

Andor's eyes are wild and fraught now, flicking between the failing structure and your overwrought face.

"Damn you," he growls with renewed urgency, "let go!"

Your whole body is screaming at you to do as he says, but you won't. Tears sting your eyes, whether from pain or fear, you're not sure. You clench your jaw and shake your head at him.

Andor snarls with effort as he reaches behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out his flip knife. He wrenches it open with his teeth.

"Don't you dare, you stupid bastard!" you scream down at him as you realise with what he intends to do.

He looks at you for one final moment and the world seems to stop. His expression is completely open and readable to you, perhaps for the very first time. His dark eyes glint with a fear that you suddenly realise is as much for you as it is for himself.

Then, he sets his face into a mask of grim determination and with one swift motion, he severs the flimsy cord of fabric tying you together and cuts himself loose.

"Cassian!" The vague outline of his name is torn ragged from your throat in an incomprehensible shriek of despair.

Helpless, you watch as he falls, limbs flailing, down, down, down, until he hits the water below with a sickening crash and disappears into the black, unforgiving waves.

*********************************************

Unbeknownst to you, the Rebel Alliance have successfully received Dreylan Balgo's biometric signature and K-2SO is already on his way to extract you and Cassian from Canto Bight.

By his calculations, K-2 should reach Cantonica in twelve hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds. Plenty of time to mull over the conversation he'd had with Murdo the flight technician before he'd left the hanger.

"Maybe this time, eh K-2?" Murdo had quipped as he unhooked the re-fuelling nozzle from Cassian's ship.

"Maybe this time, what?"

"Maybe this time they'll finally have admitted their feelings for each other."

"That is a ridiculous observation," K-2 had said confidently, "They dislike each other immensely."

Murdo had laughed and made a comment about the droid having a lot to learn about human relationships which K-2 had thought was quite rude.

But as he barrels through the hyperspace lanes in Cassian's ship towards the Outer Rim and Cantonica, K-2 has time to mull things over.

He thinks about how on missions when the unit has to set up camp on some remote world, Cassian always leaves your meat rations on the fire just a little longer than everyone else's because he knows you like them so crispy that they're almost burnt.

Then he thinks about how whenever he and Cassian return from a mission you're not assigned to, yours is always the first face the droid spots in the hanger when they arrive back, and that once your eyes land on Cassian, you always walk away without a word, seemingly satisfied.

Now that K-2 really uses his circuits to process it, Murdo's conclusion doesn't seem quite so ridiculous after all.

"Humans," the droid muses to himself with an exasperated shake of his mechanical head.

**********************************************

Somehow, you manage to descend the transmitter, climbing and clambering down the structure in a daze. You don't bother even trying to mask your shouts of distress and frustration as your feet and hands slip on the blasted, kriffing, cursed metal all the way down.

You stagger the ten kilometers back to Canto Bight in something resembling a fugue state. When you reach the resort, you sneak through the back entry port you and Andor left through and wind your way through the maze of service passages and elevators back to your suite.

You are as bedraggled looking as you are distraught and you are glad that the corridors are as deserted as they were when you departed. You don't feel you could negotiate your way out of anything right now, despite all your training.

Once you've climbed out of your damp and dirty clothes you fall into bed. Andor's absence beside you is a stark, raw reminder of what's just happened and you finally allow yourself to cry. Somehow, at some point, as you wallow in your anguish, fatigue takes over and you fall into a torrid sleep.

When you awake, it's still dark and you have the distinct impression that you're being watched. There's someone else in the room with you. You bolt upright and almost cry out as your eyes take in the silhouette of a person in the moonlight.

The ghost of Cassian Andor is standing at the foot of the bed.

Except he's not a spectre, you realise. His outline, though swaying, is solid. He's flesh and blood. He's alive.

Once you've recover from the initial shock, you don't think you've ever felt relief like it in your whole life. You leap up out of the bed and fly to him, just as he starts to crumple to the floor. You grab for him, but too weak to moderate his own movements, he drops like a stone and his momentum pulls you crashing down on top of him.

He's all sand and salt and seawater and he is shivering violently. His eyes are heavy, like he's struggling to keep them open. You touch his face and his skin ice cold. His clothes are wet through and you're suddenly struck by the urgency of the situation. You need to get him warm. Now.

With great effort, you manage to half drag, half shove Andor towards the shower room. He's so exhausted and disoriented that even this appears to be an insurmountable task for him.

When you finally get him there, you bundle him into the shower, fully clothed. He slumps against the wall as you turn the warm water on. You start peeling off the sodden, freezing layers of his clothing.

He hisses through his teeth as you remove what remains of his shredded shirt and you see that the skin on his torso and back is blossoming here and there in vibrant shades of black and blue. You're not surprised, a fall from that height, these are probably bruises from hitting the water hard. You try to be more gentle.

Once he's free of all his clothing, you slide down behind him so that you are against the wall, and he's sat between your legs with his back pressed against your torso. You guide him to bring his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around himself pliantly, curling into a tight ball. He's still shaking uncontrollably.

You ignore your own discomfort as the warm water plasters your nightdress to your body like a second skin.

Trying desperately to aid the shower in its work of returning some of his body heat to him, you rub his back, his arms, and his chest vigorously. Every so often he rests his head on the bridge he's created with his forearms across his knees and you have to coax him gently to sit up.

"Stay awake," you plead, "You need to stay awake for me."

Finally, his shivering subsides and you sit in exhausted silence as the warm water continues to pour over both of you. Your chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Cassian," you finally say into his ear, tucking a stray lock behind it as if that will allow him to heed your words better.

He leans back into you, tilting his head up towards your face, to show he is listening.

"I don't....I don't despise you, I don't..." you trail off, silent tears suddenly mingling with the spray from the shower as they start to fall from your eyes.

Slowly, Cassian turns to you. He rolls on to his knees, and sits upright on his heels. You mirror his movements so that you are face to face and your foreheads come to rest against each other's.

"I know," he whispers, bringing a hand to your cheek, his expression soft and full of tenderness, "I know that."

He trails a series of soft kisses down your face, touching his lips to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally down until they reach your own. You melt into him.

This kiss is not like the first you shared, hasty and hurried and fuelled by external forces. This is deep and languid and deliberate, as if you are the only two in existence and you have all the time in the Galaxy to spend in this moment.

One of Andor's hands tangles up in your wet hair, the other presses against the small of your back as if willing you closer to him. You can feel his urgency increasing now. His movements are definite and purposeful as he caresses and kisses your skin.

Selfishly, you want him to continue, need him to never stop. But you also know this might not be the wisest way for him to recover.

"Cassian..."

"You told me I need to stay awake," he argues as if he already knows what you're about to say, now tracing kisses along your collarbone, "I'm awake."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind..." you protest weakly, but the breathy desire in your own voice betrays you.

"Liar," he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck and you feel him grin against your skin.

The movement of his lips makes his short beard tickle your flesh and the feeling forces a raucous laugh from your chest. It's a loud, unrestrained, joyful sound.

Cassian pulls away to look at you, wearing an expression of wonder. You realise he's probably never heard you laugh like that before. In fact, you can't remember the last time you heard it yourself.

His eyes crease at the corners and dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles widely at you. That smile, the one you realise you've adored all along. And this one is only for you.

"You're infuriating," you scold, but your voice is light and full of heady exhilaration.

You wrap yourself around him and kiss him hard, realising, finally, that it is impossible to deny yourself the joy of him any longer.

**********************************************

You and Andor step off the landing platform of the resort and up into his ship. K-2 wastes no time in piloting the vessel up and away from the city.

Compared to the sumptuous surroundings of Canto Bight, the interior of the ship looks admittedly a little dreary by comparison, but you won't miss life within those opulent walls. Not when you now know just how many of its inhabitants are within the insidious clutches of the Empire.

"Well, I hope you two behaved yourselves," K-2 greets you as you both enter the cockpit.

You and Cassian exchange a glance. He winks at you and you actually giggle, the internal glow of happiness you feel manifesting itself in an embarrassing little laugh.

"I'm taking that as a no," K-2 says, "Murdo will be pleased."

"Who the hell is Murdo?" Cassian asks and he drops into the pilot's chair beside his faithful droid.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #cassian andor fanfiction

[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER ONE

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: cassian finds something familiar in the mud, and gets much more than he bargained for.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR*, light-ish to start! descriptions of canon-typical violence, injuries, blood, talk of the rebellion and the empire, luthen is an enigma and cassian is a little bewildered.

a/n: and off we go! god, I am having so much fun writing this story, and I’m honestly so proud of it. I’m probably gonna cross-post this on ao3 as well (who is she), but any and all comments are appreciated, and my askbox is always open 🤍

✨I no longer have a taglist! if you’d like to be notified of future works (and chapter updates!), please follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨

Someone’s following you.

They’re not being subtle about it, that’s what worries you most. 

You don’t recognize the face, mostly shadowed by the hood pulled over their head, obscuring the eyes. There’s a thick scar over the mouth, an unforgiving expression. You see the blaster at their belt, the hands curled into fists. You can outrun them, if you’re smart about it. If you can make it just a few more blocks, there’s a path you can take, one that’ll take you down under the sewer system, spit you out the other side of the city. If you can just get there then—

Something hard smacks against the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

+

He doesn’t have time for this.

People are waiting for him. Luthen is waiting, back on the ship. He had a job to do, and he’s done it. Now, it’s time to go back. To go home. Well, wherever home happens to be for the time being.

But you’re in his way. Not purposely; he nearly tripped right over you in his haste to get back to the landing pad. It’s pouring rain — not uncommon for Arkanis — and it’s left his boots caked in mud, his hair plastered to his skull. It’s cold, enough so that his teeth chatter as he stumbles over your boot, catches himself on the rail before turning back to see what broke his step.

He thinks you’re dead, at first. You’re not moving, face-down in the mud, sprawled on the edge of the path and draped in a soaked coat. He spies the blaster on your hip, the spot of blood on your upturned cheek. Your eye is ringed with a blackening bruise, and Cassian’s eyes travel up before he sees it, half-clutched in your grasp, the gold chain still looped around your wrist, the familiar blue crystal smeared with dirt.

Sky kyber.

Maybe he does have time for this.

It’s odd enough, finding a body dumped at the edge of the path like this. It’s far from the city itself, out of the way and leading to the landing pad tucked behind storage buildings. That’s why Luthen picked it: obscurity. But the spot you’re in, the fact that you’re face-down, bloodied and beaten, it makes his brow crease. Someone must have dumped you; there’s no other tracks in the mud, no other signs of a struggle.

The crystal is warm as he pulls it from your limp grasp. He lets his fingers skirt your wrist, checks for a pulse, holds his breath until he feels it. He jams the kyber in his pocket, stuffing the chain in with it. He’d left it with Vel, after Aldhani. He never expected to see it again. And last they’d been informed, Vel was laying low on Chandrila, so…how did you get your hands on it?

For a moment, he nearly leaves you. He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t owe you anything. You’re carrying stolen property, as far as he’s concerned. Why should he help?

His mother’s voice in the back of his mind has him crouching at your side, rolling you carefully into his grasp, throwing your arm around his neck. 

You’re dead weight, and he grits his teeth as he stands. The rain is coming harder now, and it splatters your face, smearing the blood and dirt. You don’t so much as flinch, and it worries him for a moment; you still have a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean you’ll survive.

Cassian tries to catalogue your injuries as he carries you back. Besides the black eye and the bloody cheek, there’s a mark around your throat, one that looks unmistakably like a hand. Someone choked you, or tried to.

If there’s anything else, he can’t see it. You’re weighed down more by the heavy jacket around your shoulders, zipped to your sternum, a belt across your chest. He should have checked you for weapons, he realizes too late, but huffs quietly, cursing Maarva’s voice in his mind as he continues down the path.

You do what’s right, Cassian. You always have.

The ramp to the Fondor lowers as soon as he’s within sight, and Luthen pokes his head out a moment later. Cassian’s used to him by now, the gruff orders, the demanding demeanour. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. The Rebellion needs men like him, Cassian knows.

But he’s never seen the old man shocked. And as he walks up the ramp, you curled against his chest, that’s exactly what he sees.

“What…?”

“I found her,” Cassian says, pushing past Luthen, stepping onto the ship, “face-down in the mud. She’s injured, I don’t know how bad. Someone must have dumped her.”

The ramp whirs as it lifts again, the doors sliding closed. Luthen is pale, his eyes wide. Cassian lays you out on the passenger’s seats. “So you decided to bring her back here? We don’t…” He trails off, swallows thickly. “We don’t even know who she is. What she is.”

Cassian stares at his companion a long moment. Up until now, he’s never had a reason to doubt Luthen. He took the man for what he was, what he made clear he had set out to be. But looking at him now, the lie is plain on his face.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says simply, narrowing his eyes at the old man. “You know exactly who she is.”

“I—”

If he was going to lie again, the words die on the old man’s tongue as Cassian fishes the stone from his pocket, gripping the chain and letting it dangle, holding it between the two of them. “I found this in her hand. I left this with Vel. After Aldhani, after I took what I was owed. You told me it was important. Vel would not have given this to someone without reason, would she?”

Luthen says nothing, eyes flicking between the blue crystal and your unmoving form.

“Would she?”

The old man sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He won’t look at Cassian, but snags the kyber from him, shoving it in the pocket of his cloak.

“Who is she, Luthen?”

He takes a few steps back, puts some distance between him and Cassian. He leans against the wall of the ship, crossing his arms over his chest. Luthen says your name, the syllables sounding heavy on his tongue. It’s obvious he hasn’t spoken of you in a long time. “She’s a fence. Best one in the Outer Rim. Before Aldhani, the Rebellion was funded only by quiet senators fed up with the Emperor’s power, wealthy families who wanted to do their part. Sure, we have more than enough criminals at our disposal, mercenaries and the like, but most of them barely have enough credits to get themselves by, never mind fund a Rebellion. It wasn’t enough.

“Then I found her. In a market on Tatooine, selling jewelry that had once belonged to Queen Amidala. Legitimate stuff, too, no fakes. She tried to run when I approached her at first, thought I was ISB. Her family was taken, you see, her brothers conscripted to the Imperial Army, their parents killed. She was just trying to make her way across the galaxy, hoping to find a lead on her brothers, trying to make a name for herself on the black markets. Lots of powerful people there, you know. Lots of names, lots of faces, lots of favours owed.”

Cassian just stares at Luthen. “Where did she get the jewels?”

Luthen huffs a laugh. “You know, I never asked.”

“So you hired her.”

“Enlisted, more like it.” He pulls the kyber from his pocket, lets it lay in his palm. “I told her I would help her find her brothers in exchange for her work. I found the items to sell, artifacts, jewels, weapons, what have you. She stole them, sold them, and the money was funnelled back into the Rebellion.”

“Until Aldhani.”

“Before that,” Luthen continues, staring down at the stone. “There was a collector, on Hoth. Had a slew of kyber, signets and the like, bits of the Old World, remnants of the Jedi. Stubborn old fool, but he was willing to negotiate, and she was up for the challenge. I took her there, waited. He’d only give her the Kuati signet, but she took it, paid him for it, started to head back. Until a squad of Troopers showed up, one of the Emperor’s lackeys seeking the same thing we were. She tried to get back, I tried to meet her halfway, but they were everywhere, swarming from all sides. The planet, it’s all ice and snow, steep cliffs and ledges. She caught a blaster bolt in the side, went toppling over the edge. I tried to grab her, but she slipped away.” He pinches the kyber between his fingers, holding it up to the light. “Leaving me with this. I thought she was gone.”

“You didn’t look very hard,” an unfamiliar voice says, and Cassian whips his head in your direction, eyes widening as he sees you move to sit up, gripping your side with gritted teeth. You spit blood onto the floor, wipe at your reddened lips. Your knuckles are bruised, which he hadn’t noticed, and you lean your head back against the wall once you’re upright, eyes narrowing at Luthen. “Tell me you have bacta. Or med-nog.” You wince, adjusting slightly. “Or both.”

“Cassian, get the kit,” Luthen answers, waving a hand in his direction. Cassian does as he’s told, watching from the corner of his eye as he heads for the compartment where the med kit is. Luthen stuffs the kyber back in his pocket and crosses the distance to you, dropping into a crouch in front of you.

“I thought you were gone,” he says to you, and Cassian hears your sharp inhale.

“Well, I wasn’t.” He glances over his shoulder as you wince again, eyes squeezing shut. “I clung to the edge of the fucking cliff for hours, waiting for the Troopers to leave. Couldn’t feel my fingers.”

Cassian balks, turning back to the wall. A memory swims to the surface of his mind; him and Melshi, clinging to the cliffs on Narkina-5, Melshi’s heavy accent barking at him that he couldn’t feel his hands, that he couldn’t climb back up. Tell me they’re leaving.

“You fell.”

“Not very far,” you throw back, and he hears you huff. “Honestly, Luthen, do we really need to dissect this? I’m alive, no thanks to you, but Maker, this hurts.”

“Cassian!” Luthen barks. “The kit!”

Startling, he pulls the entire kit out of the compartment, setting the large box on the floor and sliding it across to Luthen. You’re glaring at Luthen, your eyes fiery.

“The med-nog is in the cockpit,” he tells Cassian, who just nods, trying to shake the memory from his head, rubbing a palm over his cheek before stalking towards the front of the ship. 

As he steps through the door, he hears you: “Who is he?”

Luthen’s response, clearly said with a smile: “A Rebel.”

He snags the flask from where it’s tucked in the side of the pilot’s chair, heading back to you quickly. Luthen’s tending to your injuries, helping you shrug out of your jacket, and Cassian takes it, holding it for a long moment, not quite sure what to do with it. He just watches as Luthen cuts away part of your shirt, baring your injured side. It looks like blaster burn, and he covers it with a bacta patch, giving you a cold pack for your eye, inspecting the shallow cut on your cheek. 

You wince hard when he wraps your middle in bandages, keeping the bacta in place on your side, and Cassian remembers the metal flask in his hand, stepping forward to hand it to you. Your fingers brush as you take it from him, your one visible eye crinkling at the corner. “Thank you.”

He just nods.

You keep staring at him, cold pack held to your blackened eye. “I heard about Aldhani,” you say simply, jutting your chin towards Luthen as he gathers the kit and goes to put it away. “It’s all anyone could talk about a few weeks back. That was you?”

“Sort of,” Cassian says, realizing he’s still holding your jacket. “I should…I’ll clean this for you.” He turns on his heel, heading towards the fresher at the back of the Fondor, and you call after him.

“Wait,” you yelp, leaning forward, wincing when it irks your side. “Shit, this hurts.” You take a swig of the med-nog. “There’s a holo-pad in the pocket,” you say, gesturing towards the jacket, “and my blasters.”

He walks back to you, steps close enough until you can reach into the dripping jacket, pulling out a holo-pad, two more blasters, a pouch of credits, a vibro-blade. Once your belongings are piled beside you, the holo-pad resting in your lap, you lift your gaze to his again, a half-smile on your mouth.

“Thank you, Cassian,” you say, and Cassian stutters, realizing Luthen told you his name before he could decide if he wanted to use a fake or not, “for saving me.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, jutting a thumb over his shoulder, “Luthen, he was the one who—”

“Luthen left me for dead a long time ago,” you say, your face pinching for a moment before it softens again, though the slight wince of pain remains. “Not many men would find someone laying in the mud with kyber crystal and not just leave them there. So, thank you.”

Cassian swallows so hard he can feel his throat bob. His eyes are locked to yours. “You’re welcome.”

“Who was it,” Luthen calls, breaking the strange tension that has formed between you, “that attacked you?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, and Cassian takes it as his cue to go, heading for the fresher again.

It’s easy enough to wipe the mud from the outer layer of your jacket, the fabric waterproof and tough. It’s lined with durasteel in a few places, he realizes, chest plates and curves around where your ribs would be. Once he’s done with your jacket, he tends to himself, cleans the mud from his boots and his own jacket, shakes the rainwater from his hair. He can still hear you and Luthen, the thin door to the fresher doing little to muffle your voices.

“Was it someone you’ve stolen from?” Luthen asks you. “Someone you’ve sold to?”

“I told you, I don’t know.” You’re exasperated, clearly. “It’s wasn’t anyone I recognized, and you know me, Luthen. I know every face I’ve ever worked, sold or stolen.”

“So it was a hired hand. And they grabbed you in broad daylight?”

Silence. He wonders if you’re glaring at the old man. You seem to have a penchant for it. A heavy breath. “Knocked me out right in the middle of the city. People don’t get involved here. People don’t get involved anywhere, not since P.O.R.D.” Cassian grits his teeth, leaning against the door. “They took me to some warehouse — no, I don’t know where, before you ask. Questioned me for a few hours,” a harsh wince, “beat the shit out of me.”

“Questioned you on what?”

You let out a watery laugh, and the sound is so laced with pain that it fills Cassian’s chest with pity.

“The Rebellion. They wanted to know what I knew.” Another silence. “I didn’t tell them anything, Luthen, so don’t even think about asking.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to read people, old man.”

Cassian has to stifle his laugh. You’re fiery.

“Cassian said the kyber was in your hand.”

“It was,” you confirm. “Once they decided to release me, they said they’d take me back. I put it around my wrist to keep it hidden. I’ve been desperate, Luthen; the plan was to sell it once I got back to the city, but instead, they shot me in the side and knocked me out again, dumped me on the side of the road, and I woke up here.” A huff, almost a laugh. “Imagine my surprise.”

“Vel gave it to you?” Luthen asks. “You saw her?”

“I was on Chandrila for a few weeks,” you reply. “Lots of wealth to spread around there, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Watch it.”

“I want it back.” A pause. “The kyber, Luthen. It’s mine, by rights.”

“What rights?”

“You left me for dead, took off from that fucking planet without so much as confirming if there was a body or not. I nearly got myself killed finding it. It’s mine.”

“It’s worth—”

“I know what it’s worth,” you bite. “Give it back.”

There’s some shuffling, the quiet clink of metal, a low sigh. “I never meant to abandon you on Hoth. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Another pause, the sound of boots on the floor. “Luthen?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you trust him?”

“He can hear you, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

Luthen’s smile has returned, it’s evident in his voice. “As much as I trust you.” The old man gives a little laugh. “You two will probably get along, you know. Two of the more tragic lifetimes I’ve known.”

You laugh in return. “Is that so?”

More silence follows, and then Cassian hears the loud whir of the Fondor’s engine sparking to life. He steps out of the fresher, your mostly cleaned jacket in one hand, pushing his other through his wet hair. You’re sat in the same spot, the ice pack still pressed to your eye, but he catches the flash of gold at your throat, the kyber crystal evidently tucked down the front of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you say quietly when Cassian hands you your jacket, letting it sit on top of the pile of your stuff. The holo-pad is still in your lap, a man’s face illuminating the screen.

“Who is that?” he asks, moving to sit in the seat next to you, reaching for the buckles. You reach for your own, but your face pinches in a wince and Cassian stops to help you, guiding the straps over your arms carefully, avoiding your injuries best he can.

“My brother,” you answer, settling back against the seat as he tightens your straps.

“Luthen said they were taken,” he says, brow pinching as he leans back in his own seat. “Conscripted?”

Biting your lip, you nod, looking down at the holo-pad. “I had three brothers, before. Parents, a home, pets, the whole deal. Now it’s just me and him.” You rest your hand on the screen, tapping a finger against your brother’s outline. “Everyone else is dead.”

“That’s why you joined the Rebellion?”

You nod once, and then, “I have to find him. Somehow.”

“And you think Luthen will help you do that?”

You scoff. “Luthen only does what’s in the best interest of the Rebellion. I know that. But, doing what I do puts me in contact with a lot of…interesting people. And if that’s what I have to do to find my brother, then so be it.” You look at him slowly, lowering the ice pack. “Why did you join?”

“It’s like you said,” he replies, “everyone else is dead. And this? This is the only thing that’s ever made any sense to me.”

“Fighting?”

He nods. “If we don’t fight back, what chance do we have? What hope is there?”

The corner of your mouth quirks, eyes shining. “Rebellions are built on hope.”

NEXT

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