#cassian andor fanfiction
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What Happens on Coruscant, Stays on Coruscant
Din Djarin x Cassian Andor x Poe Dameron x F!Reader
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Din Djarin Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist
Summary: Three men stroll into a brothel on Coruscant one night looking for their own individual services. But when you’re the only worker available that night you decide you want to take on all of them at the same time.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, Poe, Cassian and the reader do not know Din’s name, sex work, reader has an alias she uses at the brothel (Nova), foursome/group sex, blowjob, handjob (but not to completion), nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, no use of y/n
“No one can know about this,” Mando says.
“I’m not gonna say shit,” Cassian responds.
“What are you so worried about?” Poe says, leading the other two men down the dimly lit street, “That your little cult is gonna find out and shun you?”
“It’s not a cult,” Mando sighs.
“Whatever you say,” Poe chuckles.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Cassian asks.
“I do, actually. We’re almost there. Just gotta hang a left at this next corner,” Poe says, matter of factly.
He turns left at the next corner, narrowly missing a giant puddle, and then stops at a neon sign reading “The Big Bang”.
“I thought you said this was a nice place,” Cassian says, raising an eyebrow at the flickering lights of the sign and the abysmal exterior.
“It is a nice place! Speaking from experience.”
“You would have experience,” Mando says under his breath.
“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Poe says, walking towards the door.
The door slides open and the three men step inside. The lobby is actually rather elegant, a stark contrast compared to the exterior and the street it was located on. Dimly lit with sleek black tiles on the floor and a tall counter at the back of the room. A slender woman with emerald robes and neatly manicured fingernails stands behind it, tapping her fingers on the counter mindlessly. Her face lights up when she sees Poe walk through the door.
“Mr. Dameron! Welcome back. I see you’ve brought some friends.”
She tilts her head in Mando’s direction.
“A Mandalorian? Been a while since we’ve had one of those,” she adds with a wink.
He’s thankful for the helmet, for everyone would be able to see how embarrassed he looks if he were without it.
Poe rests his arms on the counter and leans forward, shooting her a boyish grin.
“Got any openings for each of us tonight?”
She looks down on her holo-pad and her brow furrows.
“I’m afraid only one of our girls is available for the rest of tonight.”
“You’re killin’ me, Salva,” Poe teases.
“Let me go talk to her and see what she wants to do,” she says, turning and disappearing behind a curtain. She walks down the hallway a few feet and turns left, stopping at none other than your room.
“Dear?” Salva asks, giving your door a light knock.
You open the door and greet her with a smile.
“Yes?”
“I have three clients in the lobby right now. One of them is a regular, Mr. Dameron. I’m not sure if you’ve serviced him before.”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Oh he’s the best. Very good tipper. But none of the other girls are available tonight.”
“Hmm let me take a look at them first.”
“Of course.”
She steps aside and you follow her down the hallway, stopping at the curtain at the entrance to the lobby. You peek into the lobby and the three men don’t notice you as they talk amongst themselves. Two of the men have darker hair but one clean shaven and the other has full facial hair. But the one that sticks out the most is the Mandalorian in silver beskar, standing with his hands on his belt and rigid as a board. He seems the most nervous out of all of them.
You put the curtain back and turn to Salva.
“So what do you wanna do?”
“All of them at once.”
Her eyebrows raise, “Oh really?”
“Mhm. See if they’re okay with that and if they are, send them to my room,” you say, turning and walking back down the hallway.
Salva shakes her head and chuckles to herself before stepping back out into the lobby. The three men stop their conversation in her presence and fall silent, eager to hear what she has to say.
“Well boys you’re in for a real treat tonight,” she says with a smirk on her face.
“And that is?” Cassian asks.
“She has requested all three of you at the same time.”
“Uh I’m not sure-” Mando starts but Poe cuts him off.
“Fine with us!”
But before Mando could protest, Salva claps her hands together and says, “Great! They’ll be twelve hundred credits!”
Poe pulls the credits out of the pocket inside his jacket. The other two sigh and do the same. Salva collects the credits and slips them into a drawer behind the counter.
“Right this way!” she says, pulling back the curtain for them.
The three men follow her down the hallway. Cassian and Din look all around them at the interior whereas Poe stays focused on following Salva. She stops at your door and says, “Well, here she is, boys! You can call her Nova. Enjoy yourselves!”
And with that she walks down the hallway and returns to the lobby. Poe knocks on your door and awaits a response.
“Come in!” you call sweetly.
Poe opens the door slowly and steps in. Din and Cassian follow him and close the door behind them. You’re standing in front of the bed that’s in the middle of the room. The bed is adorned with silky red sheets and four posts at each corner with beams connecting across with black curtains hanging. You’re dressed in black lingerie with a matching silky robe that stops at your mid thigh.
“Well aren’t you a sweet thing, Nova,” Poe says, stepping closer and eyeing you up and down.
“Why thank you, Mr. Dameron,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up.
“You can call me Poe, sweetheart. And this here is Cassian.”
Before he could finish you step closer to the Mandalorian and ask, “And what should I call you?” batting your eyelashes a tad. You’ve never had a Mandalorian client before and he’s certainly got your attention.
“Mando’s fine,” he says stiffly.
He seems nervous. You can’t wait to get under his skin.
“So how do you want to start?” Cassian asks.
“You tell me. I’m all yours tonight,” you say with a smirk.
You slip off your robe and watch Cassian and Poe’s mouths fall open. The visor of Mando’s helmet trails up and down your scantily clad form. You hang the robe up on a coat rack across the room before walking back over to the bed and sitting at the edge. Poe walks over and sits besides you, pressing kisses along your neck and sliding a hand up your thigh. Cassian followed suit, placing himself on your other side and fiddling with the strap of your bra.
“Take it off, Cassian,” Poe mutters against your skin.
Cassian obliges reaching a hand behind you and unclasping your bra. You slip it off and toss it on the floor, letting both men palm your breasts.
“Aren’t you gonna join, Mando?” you ask sweetly.
“Yeah c’mon, Mando,” Poe says, removing his mouth from your breast and looking over at him, “I know you can’t take the helmet off but you at least gotta take the gloves off and feel her tits.”
Poe moves to a different spot of the bed to let Mando take his place. He strokes himself at the sight of your naked top half while Din sighs and takes off his gloves, tossing them on the floor as well. He sits beside you and brings a hand to the curve of your breast, trailing his fingers to your nipple and pinching it lightly.
“Don’t be scared,” you say softly.
And with that he pinches a little harder, emitting a small gasp from you. One of your hands moves to the bulge growing in Cassian’s pants. His breath hitches at your touch as you mess with the zipper. He stands up briefly to take off his pants, letting you gain complete access to his cock. You stroke it as he curses under his breath. Din migrates his hand to your other breast, worrying your nipple into a stiff peak between his fingertips. Poe sits beside you watching you grow hornier under Din’s touch and strokes himself. Eventually Din’s hand moves down your midsection and to your groin, pulling at the fabric and grazing the entrance of your cunt.
“Wow, look at you go, Mando,” you tease just as he slips a finger into your already wet cunt, pulling a sharp gasp from you. You watch the visor of his helmet move from your chest to your cunt and he picks up the pace, curling his finger upwards against your walls. He slips another finger in and your walls expand around the thickness of his digits. In no time, he pulls your first orgasm from you, your cunt clenching around his fingers as you ride out your high. After your orgasm is finished washing over you, you turn to look at Poe and say, “Enough for me. Let me pleasure you.”
The men at your side move as you lay back onto the bed. Poe stands up at the edge of the bed, removing his clothes and bringing his cock right next to your face.
“You gonna suck my cock for me, Nova?” Poe asks, gazing down at your topless form.
“Of course, baby,” you say, opening your mouth for him.
He brings his cock by your mouth and you take as much of his hard length as you can. Your hand fits around the base as you lick up and down his shaft, tongue swirling at the tip, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and curse.
Cassian slips off your lacy underwear and spreads your legs, marveling at your dripping cunt.
“He got you nice and wet for me,” Cassian says, his voice dropping a few octaves at his arousal.
He pulls off his shirt over his head and spreads your thighs apart, aching to be buried between them already. He gathers your wetness on his hand and slicks his cock before entering you slowly, closing his eyes at the warm and inviting feeling. He buries his cock inside you to the hilt and curses under his breath. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts in and out of you, expanding your walls even more with each motion.
Din stands on the other side of the bed, watching you suck Poe’s cock and getting fucked by Cassian, your back arched and nipples perked up. His hand finds his cock and he’s stroking himself at the sight of you being pleasured but also pleasuring.
Your hands move to Poe’s balls as you continue to suck him, feeling them tighten up in your hand. With one last swirl of your tongue around the tip, followed by your mouth enveloping his length again, he’s coming. His warm mouth fills the back of your mouth and you swallow all of it, continuing to suck as he comes down from his orgasm. His hand grips your hair and he pulls your head closer into him, bringing the tip of cock to your throat. Tears spring in your eyes and just when you think you can’t take it anymore he pulls out.
“Good girl,” he praises.
But before you can respond you moan in pleasure as Cassian fucks you relentlessly, hands gripping your hips for dear life as he pulls you into him. Your back arches in pleasure and you close your eyes, seeing stars in the back of your mind as the euphoria builds up. Each slam of his hips brings your orgasm closer and closer. You open your eyes and get a look at him, his long hair swaying with each thrust and his chest glistening with a layer of sweat. And damn he looks good as he’s railing you. He brings his thumb to your clit and you’re already coming around his cock, fluttering and convulsing in rhythmic waves. He fucks you through your release, prolonging it even more before pulling out. You reach between your legs and stroke his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him. He paints your stomach in thick ropes of cum and sighs, leaning back on his heels on the bed. You catch your breath from the intense orgasm as well and look over at Mando.
“What about you Mando?” you ask sweetly, “Let me take care of you.”
Cassian moves to the side of the bed, leaning against the bedpost as you flip onto your hands and knees, arching your back and sticking up your ass for him. He walks to the edge of the bed and hooks onto your hips, pulling you closer to him. You gasp but before you have the time to make a snide comment at his sudden confidence his hard length pushes into you. And for someone as quiet as Mando he fucks you rough. The cool beskar of his thigh armor collides with your skin with each of his thrust. You hear him curse under his breath in what you can assume is Mando’a while he continues to drive his cock deeper and deeper into you. The room fills with the most obscene sounds between your moans and the sound of skin slapping against the beskar. His grip on your hips tighten, surely tight enough to leave a mark but you’re too blissed out to care. You open your eyes for a moment to see Poe and Cassian stroking themselves at the sight of you getting dicked down by Mando. With one last thrust he pulls your final orgasm from you leaving your thighs shaking, barely able to keep you up. He pulls out and cums on your ass and you collapse onto the bed, completely exhausted from the evening’s activities. You hear the other men getting dressed so you flip over and sit upright. Mando’s replacing his gloves and the other two men are sitting on the bed.
“Thanks for a good time, Nova,” Poe says, “I’ll definitely be back for you.”
“Oh yeah? Bring your friends next time, too,” you say glancing over at Mando and Cassian.
“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart. Have a good nest of your night,” Poe says. And with that he rises from the bed and walks to the door. Cassian grabs your hand and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.
“Goodbye, gorgeous. See you next time,” he says, softly before following Poe.
And as for Mando he gives you an awkward wave of his hand wordlessly before leaving with the other men. As soon as the door closes you collapse back onto the bed, completely exhausted.
The men walk back into the lobby and stop at Salva’s desk.
“Well, did you enjoy yourselves?” she asks cheekily.
They let out a collective “yes” and she chuckles.
“Good. Would anyone like to leave a tip?”
Each of them pulls out various amounts of credits from their pockets and hands them to Salva.
“Thanks, boys. Have a good night!” she says, waving goodbye as they leave.
“What did I say, guys? I knew you were gonna love it,” Poe says smugly as they step out onto the street.
“Yeah that was something alright,” Mando says, “But no one can-”
“I get it. No one can know. What happens on Coruscant stays on Coruscant,” Poe says, clapping Din on the shoulder.
Din sighs and the three men walk back to the docking yard, already thinking about when their next trip to The Big Bang will be.
End note: That was my first time writing any kind of group sex so lmk what you think!!! 🖤
Part two: Is That a Blaster in Your Pocket or Are You Happy to See Me?
If you'd like to be notified when I post a new fic follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications!
#din djarin x reader#cassian andor x reader#poe dameron x reader#din djarin smut#cassian andor smut#poe dameron smut#din djarin x f!reader#cassian andor x f!reader#poe dameron x f!reader#star wars fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#cassian andor fanfiction#poe dameron fanfiction#mandalorian fanfiction#mandalorian smut#din djarin#cassian andor#poe dameron#cassian andor x you#din djarin x you#poe dameron x you#pedrostories
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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
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prisoners
Pairing: Cassian Andor x fem!reader
Word Count: Almost 8.7k
Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate here.
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smut (unprotected p in v sex, slight breeding kink), physical pain & trauma, depression, nightmares, prison, prison labour, open sea & dark water
A/N: For the prompt ‘Nightmare/Soulmark’ in Andor Bingo, created by @sw-andor This fic features major spoilers for Andor S1. Keef = Cassian. Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics.
“What’s she doin’ ‘ere?”
“I think that’s obvious.”
“Yeah but, she’s a woman.”
“What do they care? Man, woman, we’re all just slaves - ”
“Oi! Table five.” Kino barks from behind you. He stalks over, meeting everyone’s eyes with a glare. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeh’ve given us a woman,” the redhead says. “No offence, love, but why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with the other birds?”
“Shut it,” Kino growls. “It doesn’t matter why she’s here. She is. Now stop wasting my time and get back to work. Unless you want to get fried.”
Your feet shift nervously at the memory. Hot, electric pain. Everyone else stiffens too, a shared sense of dread filling the sterile air.
He takes you by the shoulders and pushes you towards one of the men. “Keef.”
A man with dark hair and even darker eyes looks up at the sound of his name, his gaze falling on you as he pauses mid-crank.
Your lips part, and your gaze lingers on the sight of his sleeves rolled up, his arms tensing with each push so hard, that, in any other circumstance, you might find it appealing.
“Show her the ropes.” Kino lowers his voice to a menacing growl. “And make sure she understands what’s at stake.”
The man gives him a subtle nod.
“You’re down four now, boys,” Kino says, his gaze shifting to you, “... and girl. No more distractions. Let’s get this done!”
They get back to work - a synchronised effort that you struggle to follow, only adding to the chaos happening around you. There are lasers and cranks and drills and pieces of machinery that they have to manually fit together. And the sounds are overwhelming - hardened voices overlapping with the whirring and clanking of the machines.
“I’m Jemboc,” the older one next to Keef says. “This is Ham, Xaul, Melshi, and Taga.” He goes around the table, pointing at each one.
You say your name in return, but it comes out feeble, your throat still not working properly. Xaul, the redhead, pins you with a look. Melshi mutters something to himself, shaking his head.
“Here,” Keef grunts to get your attention, beckoning you to his side. There's a lilt to his voice that pleases your ears. “Watch what I do closely. You have to pull your weight around here, or we all get fried, you understand?”
You manage to nod.
He removes the crank from the machinery and sets it aside, his hands moving deftly from one task to the next. You’re drawn to his hands, the display of skill and strength sending heat down your spine. His brows are lowered, his gaze focused.
Each part requires something different - to pull, crank, lift, reach, press, load. It's heavy labour, but he proves himself more than capable.
"It's easy once you get into the swing of things," Jemboc's voice taking you out of your trance as he steps beside you.
"Right.” You’re not sure you want to get into the swing of things.
The older man frowns at you, but there's a kindness in his eyes.
"Are you getting it?" Keef growls to you as he lifts his hands and backs away from the table.
You nod.
He draws near and ducks his head down, a patient look in his eyes. "Any questions, you can just ask me."
Your heart flutters. Heat rises to your face, though you're not sure why. "Thanks."
With a nod, he turns back to the table and starts loading alongside the others, letting you stand by his side and watch.
No more words are exchanged apart from the occasional barked order from the others - push!, lift!, and hands away!
They get more frantic as time passes. Kino calls something out and your table groans in response.
You realise that they're falling behind.
Get back to work. Unless you want to get fried. Shit. There is no way you're taking that punishment again if you can help it.
Stomach in knots, you step up beside Keef. "I've seen enough, let me help."
He eyes you, a muscle feathering in his jaw, before handing you the crank. As your hand closes around it, he mutters, "Be careful."
A shiver runs down your spine. His voice is low and smooth and it does something to your body that momentarily distracts you from this hell.
Hesitantly, you take the crank from his grip and fasten it to the piece of machinery.
"Table five, your productivity levels are unacceptable. Proceed to the centre of the room and remain on program."
The soles of your feet tingle with each step on the floor. Your head is spinning, heart pounding, mouth drier than a desert.
The others at your table stand with you in the centre of the floor. For a second, you allow yourself a glance over at Keef.
He’s staring straight forward, a dead look in his eyes, but the tiniest shuddering expanse of his chest betrays his fear.
You close your eyes and wait.
No no no no no no no no no -
It slices through your body and your muscles seize with pain. A cry escapes your lips. Your knee hits the floor painfully hard as your legs give way, and the cries of the others violates your ears, inescapable.
It's over in seconds, but it feels like hours.
Your lungs draw ragged breaths. Tears leak from your eyes, and you wipe them away before anyone sees.
Stand. The others are already getting up - you need to follow, quickly, before they decide to punish you again. But your legs are too weak.
A familiar outstretched hand enters your vision.
Your gaze trails up the veins in his forearm, to the sleeves bunched up over his biceps. "Come on," Keef urges softly. "You have to get up."
With all your willpower, you reach up and grab him by the forearm, his hand closing around the inner side of your forearm, bracing you there to help you up.
"Ah!" you hiss, pulling away as a sudden burning sensation flares where his hand touches you.
“Shit!” He grits out, exchanging a confused look with you, and then looks down at his own arm, where you touched him.
Your breath halts as you see it - the symbol burned into your skin, on the inner side of your upper forearm. It’s a simple slashing of lines, but the meaning it carries is far more significant - a soulmark.
He’s staring at the same symbol on his own skin in stunned silence.
“Keef,” you breathe.
Then the deep warped voice of the prison interrupts.
“Prisoners on program. Proceed to your quarters.”
He takes one frantic look at you, and then turns his head forward, following the prison directive and raising his hands behind his head on program. The sleeve, you noticed, he pulls down to hide the mark.
You quickly do the same, assuming the position, even though every fibre of your being is flooded with shock.
As you file through the doors with the others, you can barely hear anything over the pounding of your own ears. Your mind struggles to make sense of what just happened, let alone process everything else that’s happened to you in the last twenty-four hours.
Keef falls in line behind you.
Instantly, you feel his eyes on you, the heat prickling at the back of your neck.
The line of prisoners shuffles along through a long corridor, passing the night shift, stopping and starting up again until you're at your quarters.
"Jemboc, give her the orientation," Kino directs the older man, before leaving you behind to deal with another group of men.
Jemboc turns to you. "Come on, I'll show you your cell."
As he takes you down through the hallway, you see Keef emerge out of the corner of your eye, and when he reaches his own cell, so do you. Directly opposite from each other.
Your eyes meet.
Stars. Finding a soulmate is rare, practically unheard of for most. But he’s here, and the mark is burned into your flesh, still throbbing with fresh pain as you run your fingers over it.
Jemboc starts explaining what the lights on the floor mean, but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of Keef, raking your gaze over his tense form, brown hair mussed and grown out, dark eyes you could lose yourself in, even as you listen to Jemboc listing all the various rules.
“You understand?” Jemboc asks you.
Not really. “Yes,” you reply with a nod, dragging your eyes away.
“What are you in for, anyway?”
“Loitering.” You’ve grown numb to the anger.
“I see.” Jemboc pats you on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay, sister. We all will be, soon.”
“Hey!” The bark of another prisoner cuts him off.
It’s Xaul, pushing past the others, stalking towards you with a deadly glare.
You take a step back on instinct, and Jemboc folds his arms defensively, but it’s Keef who gets in his way.
With a growl, he pushes off the wall, getting in Xaul’s face before he can reach you. “What’s your problem, huh?” he growls. “You’re scaring her.”
Xaul growls, jabs his finger in your direction, and shifts his glare to Jemboc. “Not her.”
They exchange unreadable glances.
Jemboc scowls and takes him by the shoulder, leading him out of earshot from you. The two of them begin talking in low, urgent tones, Xaul shooting you another glare.
Your hands curl into fists at your side.
Hesitantly, Keef turns to you, his head ducked low in sincerity. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice coming out softer than you’ve heard before.
“No,” you say, even as warmth fills you at the concern in his devastatingly brown eyes. Stars, but the sight of him pleases you. “I think we need to talk.”
“Agreed,” he nods, holding his forearm with his other hand, his eyes briefly glancing down, “but we don’t have the time or the privacy in here.”
You draw nearer. “How long is left on your sentence?”
“No,” he shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes dart to Xaul and Jemboc. “I wish I could tell you. I - ” he cuts himself off as the floor lights start flashing.
In seconds, the hall clears as the rest of the inmates scramble to get into their cells. Keef pushes you towards yours. “Go.”
With his push, you step up into your cell before the lights can turn red. What was it Jemboc said? Seven seconds when the lights start flashing, then they turn red. And if you’re caught in the red light, you die.
On instinct, you turn back around to see Keef again.
Your soulmate.
He stands in his cell across from you, an unreadable expression on his face, his mouth in a grim line, as the lights begin to dim.
The floor lights turn red a second later.
There is no way to get to him now, and no way of talking across the hall without everyone in the surrounding cells hearing you. That’s not an option.
He lingers at the edge of his cell, and so do you, for a time, struggling with this new feeling inside you - this urge, compelling you towards him. Even if you don’t know him yet, you want to.
So you’re paralysed in silence; staring at each other across several feet of deadly flooring.
The murmurs of the other inmates eventually peter out, and as the snoring starts to rise, you feel your eyes growing heavy.
You curse beneath your breath.
Keef must hear it, because he raises his chin and nods in understanding, retreating from the edge of his cell and into darkness.
Grimly, you turn away from him, towards your bunk.
They're everywhere. They're watching you. They know what you've done. You're going to be punished -
You wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.
"Hey, hey, breathe." Keef's hushed voice carries across the cell.
Your eyes dart around until you see him, a broad mass in the shadows, sitting on the edge of his bunk across the way.
The soft sound of the other men snoring in their cells settles over the silence.
"It was just a nightmare," he whispers across the corridor. "I'm right here."
You blink back tears, and push yourself up by your elbows. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”
You run your hand down over your face. There’s been a lot of that lately.
A few shifts in, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your cell counting the seconds going by, running your fingers over the soulmark on your arm, unable to stop thinking about him.
You’ve memorised his form and features with almost no effort - the cut of his jawline, occasionally peppered with stubble if he hasn’t shaved, being your latest obsession.
And you can feel when he looks at you, too. Devouring glances out of the corner of your eye that set your cheeks aflame.
It’s like your body is on high alert at all times. Working alongside him throughout the day, barely able to exchange a few words without anyone overhearing, passing by each other, brushing past each other so close your skin hair raises, but not touching, never touching, just savouring the few small moments in his presence and then trying to go to sleep every night knowing he is a only few feet away from you.
But it’s worse, somehow, when you do manage to turn your brain off. That’s when the nightmares come.
It’s relentless and repetitive; nothing but the Empire and memories of pain, torturing you through your sleep.
Keef’s been developing shadows beneath his eyes as well. You wish you could talk to him about it, but he doesn’t seem to want anyone else to know about your soulmarks, and shit, neither do you. It's hard enough to even admit to yourself, let alone have the others staring at you, judging you more than they already do for being the only woman here.
And if the prison ever found out, they could take you away from each other. Your gut clenches at the thought.
Fuck. Trying to drag your emotions out of the gutter before you break is becoming harder everyday. The weight on your shoulders is crushing you, and you can’t see any light at the end of this tunnel.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you confess, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He stands, coming to the edge of his cell in the low, red lighting. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Don’t let them break you.”
You fiddle with your mattress. Don’t let them break you? They already are, and it isn’t your choice.
“Listen to me,” he says, raising his voice to a low growl.
You look up at him, drawing in a shaky breath.
“You had a nightmare, but you woke up from it.” The urgency in his baritone voice calls to you, and you stand, approaching the edge of your cell as he continues. “That’s all this place is. It’s a nightmare. You don’t realise it while you’re inside, but you’re in control. All you have to do is wake up.”
“What are you saying?”
He meets your gaze, an intense, unreadable look in his eyes. “I'm saying, hold on. Just a little while longer. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” you breathe, before you realise what you’re saying. You blink and look away from him, frowning. “I can.”
His words paint a picture in your mind, one of you, years from now, out of here. On some beach planet or forest town, enjoying the sun on your face. This place, a distant memory in the back of your mind.
Just a nightmare.
A slight smile finds its way onto your face at the thought. You meet Keef’s gaze again, the fierceness in his eyes amplified by the red of the floor, and nod in gratitude.
“I’ll try.”
His shoulders relax slightly, and he nods. “That’s all we can do.”
You sleep.
There’s a warmth in you when you wake, a buzz from the memory of last night. That was the longest conversation you’ve had yet, and even if you couldn’t talk openly, it still felt real.
When you first open your eyes, you’re drawn to his cell on instinct, drinking in the sight of him every chance you can get.
But it’s like he hasn’t moved all night. He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall at the edge of his cell, arms still folded, and he’s staring at you, his dark brows furrowed, the slight stubble peppering his clenched jaw telling you he hasn’t shaved since yesterday. Movement draws your gaze to his arm, where his knuckles shift back and forth, running over that small mark on his arm.
Heat slowly rises to your face.
The floor is still red. The others are awake too, the few you can see from your cell having breakfast or pacing around their small cell. The slight murmur of muted voices blending together.
“Did you sleep?” you ask him.
He gives the subtlest shake of his head.
Your heart sinks.
It’s not just being around him that you can’t bear, it’s also seeing him suffer and not being able to help. You have to keep holding back these strange, rising urges to comfort him. It doesn’t help that he has those big, soulful brown eyes that could melt you down into the cracks of the floor.
You’re not in love, but he matters to you more with each passing day, and that feeling is killing you.
Damn, you thought you’d grown numb to everything, but suddenly the despair is back with a vengeance, and you have to look away to blink back sudden tears.
“Hey,” he calls to you. “You okay?”
Shaking your head, you blow out a breath and chant in your head, don’t break, don’t let them get to you.
He curses, and then he’s pushing of the wall to pace his cell. His shoulders tense with each breath.
You draw near the edge of your cell, watching him try to walk out the tension in his body, your heart caught between desire and despair.
It’s a vicious cycle of suffering between the two of you.
Then the floor lights shift from red to white.
“On program!” Kino calls out.
Prisoners load out of their cells, slowly getting into their line with murmurs and sluggishness.
Keef is already on the floor when you tentatively step down, enduring that moment before your feet touch the metal with your heart in your throat every time. White lights means it’s safe, but -
He approaches you suddenly, closing his hand around the nape of your neck, tipping his forehead against yours. Warm electricity floods through your veins and over your skin at his touch.
“Keef,” you stutter out, shocked at his public display, even as you sink further into his touch. The sounds of shock and angry voices from the men around you start kicking off, but you ignore them.
“Please,” he breathes, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, his face inches away, “it’s killing me. I know you’re scared - I know. What can I do?”
You shake your head. “I - ”
“What the fuck are you two doing?”
Kino.
You pull him off you and step away.
He shudders at your touch, and you realise with a jolt that you took his arm right at the soulmark. For a brief moment, he cradles his arm, before Kino approaches and the two of you join the others in line.
“Hm?” The man raises his eyebrow at the both of you. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“It was nothing,” Keef responds. “Just making sure she’s okay.”
Kino glances at you, an unreadable look on his face. “Are you?”
“I’m fine,” you say, but even you can hear the shakiness in your own voice.
He blinks, searching your gaze. Then he grabs Keef by the arm and leans in to whisper something in his ear.
As Keef listens, he sets his eyes on you, before giving Kino a firm nod.
Apparently satisfied, the older man steps away and raises his voice to the rest of the men.
“Time to face another day. Everyone, move.”
As you begin walking forward, you turn your head to whisper back to him, “what was that?”
“Don’t worry,” Keef whispers. “He’s on our side.”
The tension is high at table five.
“I don’t think they should be next to each other today,” says Taga, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.
“Why?” Keef growls.
“Does he really have to say why?” Xaul interrupts. “You like her.”
“It could be a distraction,” Ham mutters.
“No.” Keef glares. “She stays by my side. Kino’s orders.”
“Oh, ‘Kino’s orders’? Fuck that. We don’t want to get fried 'cuz of you,” Xaul growls.
Keef turns his ire on Xaul. "And when was the last time that happened? If memory serves, not since she started here, under my guidance."
A mutter goes around the table.
"Table five, get moving," Kino warns as he passes by.
"Let's get this done," Keef growls, and that's the end of the discussion.
The next days feel different, and the same.
You try to hold on, like you promised him, but the nightmares and the sleepless nights are getting worse.
You touched each other for the second time ever, felt the warmth of his hands on you, breathed the same air, the memory of seeing the depths of darkness in his brown eyes up close is carved into your mind, and now the yearning inside of you has developed; a deep ache in your bones.
The others can sense something more is up between you. You feel their eyes follow you; but you can't bring yourself to care whether they notice the way he always rushes to your aid, or the soft exchanges of words, or the way the two of you never move too far apart. You can't fight this growing need to be around him. You're soulmates. Whatever that means.
"Doctor! We need the doctor!"
Your ears prick at the commotion at table two. Everyone keeps working, but out of the corner of your eye you watch as Kino goes over to investigate.
"Is it another panic attack?"
You push down on the drill.
"...he's not breathin'"
You lift it up and inspect the results.
"Shit. I’ll call the doctor."
Your table begins to lift the cog off the table to load it on the rack. You step away, watching them move. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man keeled over on the floor.
A little bit of your soul cracks.
Keef returns to your side, and it’s brief, but his arm brushes against yours.
He doesn’t even need to say anything - you meet his brown-eyed gaze and all the hurt in your lungs evaporates.
“Unit Five-Two-D on program.”
He flicks his gaze up to the entrance, a gleam in his eyes.
You put your hands behind your head and turn to face them as the doctor is lowered onto the floor.
The man is dead.
There’s a strange anticipation in the air, like the way the air gets dry before a storm hits.
You watch them carry the man away in a bodybag. You catch Xaul and Jemboc exchanging a look. You catch the way Kino nods subtly to Keef as he walks past.
Everyone goes silently to their quarters - not even a whisper.
“Fall out!” Kino yells.
You turn to Keef. “What is going on?”
He pulls you aside, leaning in with his voice down low. “Do you trust me?”
“Why?”
“Tomorrow, whatever Kino says, I want you to follow immediately. No hesitation. You understand?”
“What - ”
“I can’t explain. I wish I could, but - ” His eyes catch on someone over your shoulder, and his mouth closes in a grim line.
You glance back and see Xaul, watching from a distance, arms folded, jaw tense. He’s never seemed to trust you, and you don’t blame him, but the way he watches you at all times is hard to get comfortable with.
“I don’t understand,” you turn back to your soulmate and search his eyes, “but... I trust you.”
An unreadable expression flashes in his eyes, and then everything is swept away as he takes you by the waist, cups your chin, and sweeps you into a gentle kiss.
For a nanosecond you freeze, before the rush of adrenaline fills your veins and you melt against his lips. The soulmark pulses on your arm, and the most amazing feeling overtakes you, of drifting high up in the clouds and watching the sun rise. You pull him closer, threading your fingers through his hair. The bristle of his five-o’clock shadow makes itself known with each movement, desire pooling in your core as you move your body against his. He feels so real, solid and alive, and it’s breathtaking.
The sounds of the world around you only vaguely registers in your head. Men, shouting at you.
Fuck them. Nothing else matters. You’re in the arms of your soulmate and you never want to leave again.
Then one voice, Kino’s, pierces through your haze. “Oi! The floor!”
Your eyes fly open as Keef breaks off the kiss and pushes you towards your cell with a growl.
You barely have time to react. Between the flashing lights, you lunge for the safe zone, leaping up into it seconds before the place is bathed in red.
“Fuck!”
You turn around.
He stands in his cell across from you, panting, his hair mussed from your attention. His eyes are wild, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to drop dead.
The instinct to reassure him overwhelms you. “I’m okay,” you say, stepping away from the edge. “I made it.”
He closes his eyes, running a palm over his mouth, and his shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shuddering breath.
You look down at your soulmark. That heightened feeling is fading, fast, each second you’re not back in his arms. A vision enters your head, of you, throwing yourself across the hall, even though you know that ends in death.
“You two lovebirds have a death wish?” Kino yells from his cell.
Shit.
“I told you they were distracting each other.”
“Gonna get us killed.”
Murmurs ripple down the hall. Heads, poking out of their cells.
Keef shakes his head, eyes swimming with anger. His voice is low, but you still hear it above the din. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken that risk.”
His words should fill you with regret, but a part of you, a small, stubborn part, thinks that maybe it was worth it anyway, just to touch him again, to feel his arms around you, the dominance of his kiss.
You close your eyes, a hand going to your mouth on instinct, fingertips trailing where he had his mouth on yours.
“Enough!”
Kino’s bark gets everyone’s attention instantly. The chatter dies down.
You open your eyes, and Keef is staring at you, a hungry look in his eyes. Heat rises to your face.
“Everyone knows what the plan is. Yes?”
Mumbles of men in agreement echo through the hall. You tilt your head, trying to discern any information you can, but pick up nothing. Nothing except that Keef looking towards Kino’s cell with fire in his eyes - tense, almost like hope, but darker.
Anger.
“Good. Now’s the time to rest. Tomorrow, we fight.”
A chill runs down your spine.
He’s shirtless in the morning.
Instantly pushing yourself up, your gaze locked on his chest, his stomach v, his arms, you catch his attention with the sudden movement.
He snaps his gaze to yours, pausing mid-stretch. His arm pulled across his chest, braced against his other arm to stretch his shoulder, the ropes of his biceps on full display for you.
“Hi,” you say.
Your swear his mouth curves just slightly, a twitch in his face, and he nods at you.
“Hi.”
All the blood in your body has left your brain. You continue to stare at him like an idiot while he does some basic stretches, before the lights flick to white, and Kino yells his daily on program! while Keef slides his shirt back on.
You fall in line in front of him.
He stands closer to you than normal, pressing his up front against you, his breath fanning against the back of your head as he leans in. His lilting voice sounds lowly in your ear, a lilting, baritone sound. “Remember what I said?”
Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. “F-Follow Kino,” you manage to stutter out.
He hums in approval. “Good girl.”
Your thighs clench together.
He’s getting more bold in front of the others, more playful, and you can’t help but feel excited and nervous by the shift. Why has he stopped hiding?
The line starts moving forward, and you follow the person in front of you to the showers as normal, trying to focus on anything but what he just said.
He thinks there’s a chance you could both escape, you think, and then immediately regret that line of thinking. But it’s too late. That future you imagined - the one that he planted in your mind with his words, shifts, and suddenly he’s there beside you in each vision, relaxing, laughing, grinning like an idiot.
Fuck.
The shift begins, the men exchanging knowing glances that have anticipation and dread growing in your belly. You know what this is by now, you’ve put the pieces together despite their weird reluctance in telling you.
This escape plan is really happening.
The new prisoner arrives shortly after your shift begins, and when Keef returns from the bathroom soaking wet, you barely have time to react before shit hits the fan.
Obeying Kino’s orders, you watch as together the other prisoners hijack the lift and short out the entire system - no more hot floor.
As he reaches the top, Keef turns back to pin you with a wild, furious look in his eyes that fills you with fire. He jerks his head for you to follow him.
So you do.
You climb. You run. You follow.
A guard catches you and tries to pull you away, but Keef is there in a flash of red and the smell of burning flesh, grabbing you by the hand and telling you to run as the man slumps to the ground.
The loading platform ends in a sheer drop to the sea. Your stomach drops as you pull back, glancing around as others begin to jump.
This is insane.
“I can’t swim!”
You barely hear Kino say it over the sound of the wind and the other prisoners, but then he says it again, and there is no doubt.
You step up beside him. “Me neither.”
Keef stares at you in shock.
And then he’s gone.
One of the men drags him off the edge by accident, and a shriek escapes you. “No!” but you can only watch as he disappears from sight.
A second goes by, then two. More men rush past.
There's nothing but the sound of blood pumping in your ears. No matter which way you think about it, if you follow, you're dead. There's no way you can swim that far, and if Keef tries to help you, he'll probably just die with you.
You fall to your knees.
Others race past you still, flinging themselves off the edge one by one. Kino stands by your side, watching them with an empty gaze.
“What do we do now?” you ask, and find yourself subconsciously cradling your arm, the soulmark on it beginning to throb painfully. Follow Kino, he said, but you’re not sure Kino has any moves left. There’s none you can see; no way to survive.
Maybe you should just jump anyway and let fate decide.
“Nothing.” Kino looks down at the gun in his hand. “We’re going out, one way or another.”
You nod and take in a deep breath of salty ocean air. “Agreed.”
He says nothing.
“Ah!” Your soulmark throbs again, and you grip your arm, hissing through your teeth. “Fuck off!”
“Sorry?” Kino growls.
"It’s uh,” you pull back your sleeve to him, “my soulmark.”
He blinks. “Damn. Keef?”
“Yeah.”
“That explains you two then.” He nods, casting his gaze out to sea. “I... I have a family.”
You peer up at him.
“I just wanted to see them again.” He looks down at the gun in his hands again.
“At least you know you tried,” you offer. “Sometimes...” Keef’s words ring true, pouring from your lips even as you hear the memory of his words spoken in your mind. “...that’s all we can do.”
The two of you linger in silence. Below you, the forms of men swimming away from the prison spread out, reaching towards the horizon. The soulmark on your arm is aching something fierce now, calling you to the edge. But it’s the realisation that Keef must be feeling this pain too, that hurts even more.
You hope he is trying anyway, down there, despite the pain.
He’s probably thinking the same thing about you.
Damn.
You stand. “Give me the gun.”
Kino hands it to you without even looking, his eyes remaining fixed on the horizon.
You turn around, facing the inside of the prison, and point the gun at one of the panels of the wall. The sound of the blast almost deafens you.
The panels sizzle where the blast hit, but as you approach, you can see them peeling away from each other at the seam. Without hesitation, you wedge the barrel of the gun in the hole, and with all your strength, try to peel the panel off the wall.
“What are you doing?” Kino growls.
You glance back at him with a half-cocked shrug.
“Finding something that floats.”
Wet.
Cassian’s fingers close around sand. His lungs are on fire, exacerbated by the stinging salt he inhales with each breath. Everything hurts.
A shadow relieves him from the sun. He looks up and for a moment, it’s you, the beautiful image of you reaching down for him tilting this world on its axis. Then he blinks, and Melshi comes into focus.
“We need to disappear,” he’s saying, scanning their surroundings.
Cassian tries to push himself up, but there’s a terrible ache emanating from his soulmark. It was easy to ignore in the sea - everything hurt. But now it spreads through his body, an urging like no other to wade back out into the dark waves - to go back for you.
He wants to punch the man who tackled him off the edge. Whoever it was. But as soon as he hit the water, swimming was the only way to survive.
“Did ya hear me? Keef?”
With a grunt, Cassian sits up and brushes off his hands, wincing when his arm throbs with the movement. “Did anyone else make it?”
Melshi squints. “If they did, they didn’t follow us.”
Yeah, that’s what he thought. Even if, by some miracle, you did make it, you could be miles apart, with no way of finding each other.
It would be enough to know that you survived, but he’s never been that lucky. No. He thinks of you, of your tentatively hopeful expressions that get him through the day, that beautifully trusting look in your eyes right before he kissed you, and has to tilt his head back to prevent his eyes from watering.
His soulmate. Dead.
He thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could save you.
“Keef.” Melshi stoops down beside him. “We have to move.”
“What do you know about soulmarks?” he murmurs.
Melshi sighs. “You’re dehydrated, mate. C’mon.” He goes to lift him up.
“No - no!” Cassian resists, pushing Melshi away and scrambling to his feet. He shoves back his sleeve and bares his soulmark. “I need to know! I need to...” He cuts himself off with a grimace as pain pulses through the mark.
Melshi stares at the mark, wide-eyed. “No shit. The girl?”
Cassian can only nod. “She doesn’t even know - my real name.” He chokes the words out past tears. “I thought I could save her. But she’s... she’s probably dead by now.” It feels like he’s separated from his body, like someone else is saying these things.
“Wouldn’t you know?”
Cassian stills. “What do you mean?”
Melshi hesitates.
“What do you mean?!” He grips at his hair, heart thudding in his chest so hard it might burst. “How would I know?!”
“I don’t know! It was just a story, back home - people said the marks are like homing beacons. So if she’s dead, your mark would... stop working.” He cringes, muttering, “it sounds stupid when I say it like that.”
Cassian looks down at it the throbbing, aching mark. He focuses on it, and - there - the throbbing pulls towards the sea.
He looks out at the waves. “She’s alive.”
His legs carry him forward, back into the sea. The sound of Melshi yelling behind him is a distant worry over the beating of his own heart, the very blood in his veins burning to get to you.
Then arms close around him, pulling him back. “You’re insane!”
He snarls and shoves Melshi back. “Get off me!”
“You’ll die!”
“I have to go back!”
Melshi lets him go. “Okay okay, just - just think about this! You’re no use to her dead.”
“You don’t get it. You don’t understand. If she’s alive - ”
“If she’s still alive, she’ll need more than just one man swimming out to rescue her!” His gaze darts down. “Is it getting better or worse?”
“What?”
He points to Cassian’s soulmark. “It’s painful, right? Is it getting worse?”
Cassian looks down at it. “It’s been about the same for a while now.” Fucking painful, but, “...maybe a little less than before. I don’t know!”
Melshi nods. “So she could be getting closer.”
“If that is how it works.” Instinct - the mark - tells him it does, but the panic in his chest won’t go away. He needs to see you. “So what do I do then? Wait around for her to find me? She can’t swim, so how - ”
“I don’t care!” Melshi interrupts. "But if you don’t return to shore with me, I will knock you unconscious and drag you back.” There’s a deadly serious look in the man’s eyes.
The ache within him isn’t going away. He’s not sure how much more he can take. But Melshi is right - it would be a death wish to swim back.
The prison is a blip on the horizon. Could you have really made it, somehow?
Melshi eyes him aggressively, waiting for him to make a move.
Cassian raises an eyebrow. “You really care about me that much?”
“You’ve been a bloody pain in my arse, but you were instrumental in our escape, so I figure I owe ya.”
With a nod, he looks back towards land, skimming his fingers over the waist-high water. “We wait here then.”
“They’ll be sending ships looking for us.”
“I won’t go any farther inland.”
Melshi shakes his head. “Fine.” With a splash, he begins wading toward the shore. “Then we’d better find some shelter for the night.”
It’s midnight. Probably, anyway. Cassian has no sense of time here, except that it's been dark for a while.
He sits with his face tilted up to the stars. The sea breeze is a cool rush of air, swaying the tree above and rustling his hair across his face.
He needs a haircut again.
The mark on his arm has steadied to a slow, aching pulse every few seconds, nothing more than the sensation of a mending bruise.
Melshi is right - he can feel it in his veins that you're getting close.
So he's waiting.
Sleep will not come to him tonight. Like you, it eludes him, and in its place, the unnatural sense that something is missing.
It's subtle, at first. A crashing of waves that don't fit the slow, steady beat he's been listening to all night.
Then, the sound of voices out there. A man's, deep and grating, and yours.
He'd recognise it anywhere.
He peers around the tree, out towards the sea, and sees a shape floating on the water.
“Melshi.” He hisses his companion’s name, getting up. “Melshi! It's them.”
“Huh,” Melshi starts, half awake.
“It’s them. I’m going to get her.”
He groans, shifting his arms up to cover his face. “They’re actually here? Wha’ are the chances? How?”
“I don’t know.” Breathless, Cassian turns toward the sea, towards the place his soulmark has been calling him towards all night. “But I’m going to find out. Come on.”
He runs to the water.
Sand sprays beneath his feet, then water splashes, and then he’s wading, then swimming, towards it. The shape blotting out the stars on the horizon morphs into two silhouettes sitting on some kind of raft. They’re slowly paddling their way towards the shore.
Cassian wants to weep with joy when he hears their voices - first Kino, then you.
“Is that - ”
“Keef? Keef!” you cry out, your voice hoarse.
His palm collides with the raft - a smooth white panel, and there you are, sitting on one side with a salt-streaked, wind-struck, beautiful face, staring down at him in wonder.
“Well shit,” Kino croaks, glancing at you. “You were right.”
Your hand rests over your soulmark as you stare down at Cassian.
Stars. There is so much he wants to say, but none of it seems like enough for this moment. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off you - he can’t.
But as the waves gently rise and fall, Kino clears his throat pointedly. “Much as I love being surrounded by water...”
“Right, right.” Cassian grabs hold of the panel. “I’ll take you to shore.”
The soft strokes of the sea abuts his efforts as he pulls the raft behind him, until the sea floor shallows out and he can put his feet beneath him.
“You should be good now. You can stand,” he says, instantly returning to your side of the raft. “Melshi’s with me, on the shore.”
Kino nods, sliding off the edge. “We should bury the panel.”
“Agreed.”
You hesitantly dip your legs in the water, and Cassian places his hands on your waist ready to help you down. “I’ve got you.”
In the darkness he can barely see your face, but he could swear there’s a heat reflected in your eyes.
It feels good, coming to you aid on instinct. Putting his hands on you.
As he holds you steady, you gently slip off the edge of the raft and collide against him with an oof as you land.
Despite his exhaustion, his shaft hardens. To go from be denied his soulmate for so long, to this...
“Here,” he says, roughly pushing the panel towards Kino, his eyes never leaving your face. “Go see Melshi. We’ll catch up.”
The man grunts something, and begins to wade to shore with the panel, and then he’s forgotten as Cassian is drawn back to you on instinct.
His arms tighten around your waist, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s struck.
You cup his face, gaze flitting between his eyes and his mouth, your breaths mingling, and then suddenly he’s pressing his mouth against yours.
You let out a cute little gasp against him, and his chest flutters, as you yield to him.
Yes. He burns with the rightness of this moment, and yet braces you against him as he deepens the kiss, like he’s afraid you’re going to slip away. He doesn’t quite believe you’re real yet.
Your fingers dig into his hair, and he likes it, the way you pull him into you with the same hunger and desperation he’s feeling.
“Cassian,” he breathes suddenly, pulling back for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours. “My real name is Cassian.”
“Cassian,” you repeat, and then your mouth curves into a smile - a fucking smile.
He almost groans. His soulmark pulses warmly against you. “You’re alive.”
“Yes,” you breathe, nodding against him.
“You’re my soulmate.”
You nod again, clinging tight to him. “Yes.”
A low, reverent chuckle escapes him, and you let out a light giggle in response; together relishing in the intimacy of this moment.
And then you cant your hips, and his laugh turns into a groan, a new kind of bliss making itself known in the hardening of his length beneath his pants. He thinks he’s never seen anything as beautiful as the look in your eyes. Full of passion - a beautiful, twisting flame, but also, understanding. You barely know each other, and yet it’s like your souls know each other intimately; bound together by something greater than either of you can fathom.
With a swift motion, he sweeps your legs out from underneath you and hitches your thighs around his waist so you're floating in the water, anchored in place by him alone.
You press yourself into him, arching your back and leaning forward to brush your lips against his.
He kisses you with all the fervour and unfulfilled need building inside him. His hands come around your ass and dig in, tugging your crotch against him so you can feel his hardness.
Another heady, submissive gasp escapes you against his mouth, and when your legs open further to let him settle against you, he's done for.
“I know you’re probably tired,” he murmurs, “and we should probably get to shore, but I...”
You're nodding before he even finishes the sentence, making his heart soar with the needy look in your eyes. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, yes, please, Cassian, please.”
With a breathless laugh, he drops your thighs and takes you by the waistband of your pants instead.
Together, you work to pull it off of you. It’s awkward, messy, not how he imagined this going, but it doesn’t matter. The mood is playful as you struggle to pull your pants off beneath the water - you, bracing yourself on his shoulders, and him, trying to pull it off your legs and getting splashed in the process.
But then suddenly you’re fully naked from the waist down, and your laughter quietens as you draw close to each other again.
He can’t see your naked lower half beneath the dark water, but he can feel when you wrap your legs around him again.
Slowly, he places his hand on your bare thigh, treating the moment with all the reverence of a ritual, his soulmark tingling in anticipation and sending a shudder through his body.
With his other hand, he cups your face, searching your gaze.
“I’m clean.”
“Same.”
“Birth control?”
Something like pain flickers in your eyes, and you shake your head. “Not since... before.”
“Right. Of course.”
He hesitates.
The two of you just escaped prison, and if he’s learnt anything, this is not the kind of galaxy he wants to risk bringing a child into. He’s not even sure if he’ll survive tomorrow.
“What do you want to do then?”
“We could die tomorrow.” You shift in his arms, pulling yourself flush against him until his hardness presses firmly between you. “Fuck it.”
He tilts his head, a slight grin curling on his face. Stars, when you say it like that... With a clench of his jaw, he pulls you down slowly and impales you on his hardness.
His head falls back. You’re fucking tight. A raw, incredulous groan rises from his throat.
Your reaction has his head spinning - fingers winding through his grown-out hair and pulling desperately against him. He loves little hiss you make.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze and his seed almost spills, only holding himself back with the barest restraint. Must savour this moment. Finally being inside you - his soulmate.
He pulls you in for a hungry kiss. Heat rises between your bodies as you give yourself over to his touch, opening your mouth into his kiss and arching your back for him.
It’s too much. Unable to stop himself, his hands grip you by your thighs and he fully impales you, forcing your tight, inner channel muscles to give way and let his shaft thrust full inside you.
You brace his shoulders and writhe in pleasure. “Oh, Cassian, please, m-move - ”
That’s all he hears before his instincts take over, and he uses all his strength to thrust, desperate to wedge himself so far inside you he’ll never leave.
He plants his feet on the sea floor and braces you against him as you cant your hips for him. Your bodies are working overtime to create that toe-curling friction, thrusting into each other with bruising force, the waves splashing and breaking over your entwined forms.
Your mouths clash in a tangle of heated, desperate kisses that burn him from within. The tension is pulled taut between you, soulmarks thrumming in time with each other as you desperately unite your bodies as one.
He rocks his hips up between your open legs and hits home harder and harder with each slosh of the water. His hands grip you by the back of your shirt, fingers scrambling against the fabric to pull your body down as hard as he can.
Your head lols back in the water, a gasp escaping your throat. “Cassian! Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop - oh!”
He grunts in approval. His hunger for you grows, seeing you so vulnerable like this for him, desperate to hold out as long as he can to pleasure you. His thrusts grow even more frantic and sloppy - a fast, brutal jerking rhythm of pounding up into your cunt.
“My hope,” he murmurs in Kenari, barely hanging on to his sanity. “Better than anything I’d ever dreamt of.” He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable and all his, and his hardness gives a heady warning pulse of heat. He groans. “You’re everything. You’re mine.”
You let out a whimper in his arms, and then you’re tensing, your thighs, clenching around him with newfound strength.
“Cassian,” you moan through gritted teeth, “Cassian!”
The first jolt of pleasure wracks through his body without warning. At the realisation that you’re climaxing, he’s had it - he can’t hold back anymore.
He groans in disbelief. His brows draw together, the deep, intense, deliberate jerking of his body against yours faltering as pleasure takes over. A sound comes out of him, a mix between a desperate plea and praise, and then he’s coming inside you.
Fierce, intense waves of heat pulse into your raw, messy, clenching cunt.
His pleasure deepens as you open your legs even farther to receive his spend inside you. With a growl, he pulls you against him and jerks his hips against you once more, finishing himself off.
“Yes,” you moan, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. The change in angle shields your face from the starlight, but the sound of your shuddering, desperate pants of breath are clear as day. You’re high on this shared bliss together.
“Don’t want to wake up,” he murmurs against your lips.
“You think I’m a dream?”
He traces up your arm and wraps his hand around the back of your neck. “You’re too good to be real. I’m not that lucky.”
You chuckle. “You are now.”
“We’ll see.”
It isn’t until the next morning, when he opens his eyes to the first rays of sun and you’re still there, asleep in his arms, that he finally allows himself to believe.
#andor bingo#andor#andor smut#andor fanfiction#star wars#star wars smut#star wars fanfiction#cassian andor#cassian andor smut#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor x you#cassian andor x y/n#soulmates#soulmate trope#soulmate fanfiction#soulmark#soulmarks#soulmark trope#soulmark fanfiction#sil's writing
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sO I've quite always been Feral for Cassian Andor, and with his new show out I'm even more feral, especially after reading your Cassian stuff which is *chef's kiss* literal perfection.
I'd like to submit a Kinktober request, and if I do it wrong just, like, literally yeet me into the sun.
Can I get a breeding + floor sex + "Shhh. There's people in the other room." with a Mr. Captain Cassian Andor, please and thank you? 🥺
(hi hi thank you so much 🧡! i hope you enjoy this!)
Crossing Lines
(sequel to Off Limits)
Cassian Andor x f!reader
Summary: With the promise of your long-awaited freedom from the Empire just on the horizon, you and Cassian have a risky celebration the evening before your escape.
Word Count: 1.3k
Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT
Content: NSFW, smut, floor sex, forbidden relationship, established relationship, unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, cassian's filthy mouth, breeding kink, cockwarming
A/N: This is a sequel to Off Limits. I'd suggest reading that first for full context if you want to understand the plot!
MASTERLIST || MORE KINKTOBER
Cassian Andor.
His name was Cassian Andor.
Though he was initially hesitant to tell you much of anything at all, countless nights spent together after your first dalliance loosened his lips considerably. Your suspicions that something seemed off about your Imperial guard were proven to be correct—he was a spy for the Rebel Alliance. And if you were both lucky, you’d be escaping this miserable planet with him when all was said and done.
While Cassian was well aware of your disdain for the Empire, something which you’d made abundantly clear long before his mouth laid claim to yours, he was surprised when you whispered to him in the darkness of your room one evening, asking if you could join the Rebellion. He’d been planning to pilfer you from the clutches of your Imperial general father one way or another before taking his leave, but he’d expected that you’d want to take off on your own to find a quiet planet on the Outer Rim to disappear into anonymity.
But no, you wanted to fight.
And Cassian could hardly turn down the opportunity not to let you slip through his stained, battered hands.
The union of your bodies brought you together, and you continued to tread a dangerous path as Cassian discreetly took you to bed each evening, taking his duties as your “assigned guard” a bit more literally than your father had likely intended as he fucked you deep and slow until you were a trembling mess in his arms. But it’s what came after that found him nestling deep into the crevices of your heart—the hushed, soft conversation across the expanse of your pillow as Cassian gradually dropped down the walls of his hardened exterior bit by bit and let you see inside.
After his name came his story—from his heartbreaking childhood to all of the harrowing, traumatic, and tumultuous years that eventually found him rooted deep in the heart of the Rebellion, a cause that, while he hadn’t believed in it at first, was now the one thing that kept him standing despite the demons of his past that chased him. The memories of the blood on his hands, the choices he’d had to make.
“You’re a good man, Cassian,” you’d told him, letting your nose brush against his.
“I’m glad you think so,” he’d breathed out, cupping your cheek and running a thumb across your jaw.
–
Cassian had already managed to gather a goldmine of information while stationed a room away from where your father often discussed Imperial tactics and planning with his fellow officers, but with your added help, the information you left the planet with would be priceless.
The night before you were both set to flee, you and Cassian took a chance at sneaking into a building where you were convinced your father had stored several crucial files that could change the game entirely for the Rebellion. Your hunch ended up being correct, and while you both still kneeled on the floor after working together to pry the hard drive from the computer sitting beside you, Cassian surged forward and kissed you as you both laughed in elation at your success.
Perhaps it was the taste of freedom on the tip of your tongue that let you grow reckless, but as Cassian’s stubble brushed against your cheek, you couldn’t help but relax your jaw to deepen the kiss, inviting his tongue to probe further into your mouth. Rather than pull away and find a more inconspicuous place to continue, you let yourself slowly sink to the floor, grabbing the front of Cassian’s uniform to pull him down on top of you.
“Right here?” he asked breathlessly as he broke the kiss, both of you all too aware of the sounds of footsteps echoing down the hallways and muffled voices nearby. While you’d barricaded the door the moment you entered the room, it was risky nonetheless.
“We can’t go anywhere until the shift changeover, anyway. Might as well get comfortable,” you responded with a smirk.
Cassian shook his head, grinning, before he leaned in to nip at your bottom lip. Your hands trailed a familiar path down his chest, slipping his straining erection from his pants. In turn, he tugged down your bottoms, helping you pull one leg free so you could spread your thighs wide for him. He teased your damp entrance with two digits before thrusting them inside, and you moaned.
“Shhh,” Cassian hushed you. “There are people in the other room.”
You snapped your mouth shut, but when the silence was then punctuated by the wet, lewd sounds of his digits plunging in and out of your fluttering cunt, a bitten off whine managed to escape your lips.
“But I bet you want them to hear...don’t you? You want them to walk in here and see you, the general’s daughter, spread out on the floor for me, whimpering and desperate to be fucked and filled.”
Lining himself up with your entrance, Cassian wiped the head of his shaft through your slick folds.
“You want them to watch while I stuff my cock into your tight little cunt, a dirty, filthy Rebel fucking the Empire’s finest.”
“Cassian—” his name punched out of you as he buried himself in you to the hilt, your tight walls stretching to accommodate his length.
“You want them to know how filthy you are, too. How you beg me to pump my cum into you every single night. How nobody knows you sit at that table for dinner with your family while my seed still drips from your messy little hole.”
He drug his shaft from you slowly, only to penetrate you once more with a swift, brutal snap of his hips, and you gasped as he slammed into your cervix. The floor was hard and cold beneath you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
“I watch you drink that tea every morning, but I know you want those bastards to see just how badly you want to be bred, your belly full and round for the Alliance. For me.”
Heat pooled in your gut as Cassian’s cock massaged your inner walls at a relentless pace, and you arched your back up into his thrusts, wrapping your legs firmly around his waist.
“You want the whole Empire to know you’re mine.”
He sought out your mouth in a bruising kiss, licking across the seam of your mouth and taking claim of your bottom lip with his teeth, and you threaded a hand into his messy hair while fisting another in the front of his shirt.
“Yes,” you managed to get out in between the stilted moans you were doing your best to swallow down.
For all the tenderness that Cassian regarded you with normally, he quickly learned exactly what his filthy mouth did to you, and he used it to his advantage to consistently turn you into a simpering mess in his arms.
“When I get you back to the base, I’ll fuck you properly, and you can scream as loud as you want while your tight little cunt gushes all over my cock.”
With the promise of what was still to come lingering between you, Cassian clapped a hand over your mouth as he felt you clench down on him, muffling your choked out sob as the ache between your thighs bloomed white-hot and exploded, your entire body writhing with the force of your orgasm. He dropped his head down to mouth at your collarbone as his shaft began to pulse, painting your inner walls with his hot seed.
Even after the last of his cum finished pouring into your womb, you kept your legs wrapped tightly around Cassian’s waist, relishing the feeling of his softening cock nestled inside of you. He pressed an affectionate flurry of kisses across the curve of your jaw.
Turning your head slightly to capture his mouth with your own, you asked, “I mean…do we have to wait until we get back to the base? You do have a ship.”
---
#dameronscopilot kinktober#kinktober#cassian andor#cassian andor fanfiction#diego luna fanfiction#cassian andor smut#star wars smut#star wars fanfiction#cassian andor x reader#andor#andor x reader
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Cassian Andor NSFW alphabet
Pairing: Cassian Andor x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 2300 words
Warnings: multiple sex positions, come feeding, praise, creampie, exhibitionism, sex toys, oral, fingering, nipple play, rimming, finger sucking. Let me know if I forgot anything major!
Author’s Note: I really wanted to do it so thank you for the encouragement ;)
dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts
Main Masterlist ・❥・Cassian Andor Masterlist
NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Cassian is doting and caring after the act. He loves taking his time smothering you in kisses and running his fingers through your body. There’s something about that intimacy that fills his heart with joy and cannot stop slowly breathing close to your ear as he pulls you closer and closer. He also likes it when you run your fingers through his hair, loving that familiar intimate touch. Cassian also loves helping you shower after the act, caressing your body and lathering it slowly until he makes sure you are clean as you can be.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Cassian does love his face and his hair a lot. He likes also his scruffy beard and loves nuzzling against your neck or cheek or even when you caress him in tender moments. As for the women, Cassian does not have a preference per se, he is just a woman lover through and through and loves being able to caress and touch your body any way he likes discovering what is the most unique thing about you. Cassian also is obsessed with your lips, he loves kissing, he loves making out and he loves the sticky sounds that come with it.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Cassian likes cumming everywhere basically. He loves shooting on your face, and loves it when he paints your breasts with it, and also loves it when he can double finish inside you and watch it all leak out. He also loves feeding you his cum with his long fingers. Is a mental image that stays with him for days and days.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
The dirtiest secret that Cassian keeps to himself is that he loves it to eat your ass and he also loves it when you do it for him. Is very rare and he loves knowing someone else can make him such a mess like this.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Cassian is very experienced. He could not be more experienced, his reputation is well and known along the lands and he has nothing but satisfied partners, his only problem is that he never stays long enough to stick around. But he takes his time, for your pleasure, delaying his as long as you are pleading and begging for no more. He loves knowing he has that effect on you. Also, there is no move, no kink, and no activity that Cassian hasn’t already done or isn’t game for. Cassian in a very well-experienced lover and he never minds taking the lead or taking a seat back depending on the situation.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Riding. He loves you on top of him, breasts bare, hands on his hair, pulling them as you are trying to fuck yourself on him. He of course prefers making no effort at all just watching you struggle. Once he has enough of your performance, he loves pinning you down and grabbing your wrists as he fucks you animalistically against any surface. Also, he loves it very much to fuck behind a door, standing up, with your leg around his back.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Cassian has humor, he knows how to laugh at the funny moment or recite a funny story to have you loosen up easier. He knows how easily one joke can turn into him sliding a finger inside, so he never misses an opportunity to do so. And he also loves hearing your laugh during the act, watching you so happy as he is staffing you fully.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He is as groomed as his life allows him to be. Obviously, there is hair everywhere on his body but his hygiene is the best it can be. He likes taking care of himself and cleaning himself, even if he skips the colognes because he is not living a fancy life out there.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Cassian is romantic during the act because it’s a rare moment where he gets to be as free and as loving as he can be. He kisses you between anything and praises you and repeats words of affirmation and love all the time, worshipping you and the world in every aspect. But he also keeps it rough at the same time. He manages to balance it out perfectly. Showing his affection to you is his favorite thing to do during the act.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Cassian prefers real sex instead of masturbation and is never hard enough for him to find someone but in the moments that he does, he does it slowly, preferably listening to an old voice message of yours or finding a picture of you. His head is full of thought as he brings both hands, one on his cock, one fonding his balls, grunting as he cums. Especially when he has you on the other line of the Comcast link.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Cassian has many kinks. He loves bondage, he loves grinding, he loves your breasts, he loves fucking your ass, he likes some pain, he likes watching you cry from too much pleasure, he loves spanking you, he loves it when you choke him or tie him up. He loves the sloppiest blow jobs and fingering you with his gloves on, shoving his cock between your breasts, and then facefucking you. He loves it in any way he can find and loves switching you but he also loves commanding you and watching you do exactly as he says. He also likes it when you blindfold him and all he can do is anticipate your next move, He also likes it when you are fully naked, riding his thigh while he is all dressed up. And creampies. Basically, he likes it all.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Beds and of course the cockpit. Always the favorite place for any pilot. But mostly he likes doing it in close proximity to being caught, in alleys and behind the bar and mostly behind closed doors and even right where you wouldn’t expect one to. One palm over your mouth and his cock deep between your ass cheeks and into your pussy fucking you fast.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Cassian is one of those people who is always horny, maybe is the way he lives, and the danger that comes with it but he is always thinking about it in some way. So is not hard for him to get turned on at all. But he does love it when you call his name, something so intimate and yet familiar about it.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
He doesn’t have many turn-offs, but he won’t ever do something you wouldn’t want him to do.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He both loves giving and receiving. He likes spending hours eating you out with your legs trying to push his head in and of course he loves watching you gag on his cock, trying to swallow him whole. He is quite an expert at it, pussy eating by now, and is one of the first things he does during the act, he never proceeds to fuck you without at least one orgasm before he gets his cock inside you. He uses both his fingers and his tongue, wanting to have you as wet as possible before he makes a move. One hand always goes up to your breasts squeezing them as the other one has fingers shoved inside you, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit. On the rare days he gets to eat you out for more than an hour, he cums like that shooting inside his pants. Some other times though he is even stroking his cock as you are drowning him with your thighs. Now when it comes to him, he is also cool with whatever you are comfortable with, if you don’t like it fast he will go slow. Even if he likes guiding you on his cock, he also wonders what you can do on your own so a lot of times he just relaxes and watches you do all the work.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Cassian can be anything he wants at the moment. Sometimes he likes it slow, sometimes depending on the day he had he likes it rough, and other times he likes barely moving all night as he is circling your nipples with the tip of his tongue. After a bad mission, he will take his frustration out on you, and on a good day, he will fuck you senseless out of happiness.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He likes quickies. He doesn’t mind at all, having some for a little bit until he can get more later or even on the days he won’t. He also doesn’t mind giving you some as a treat. He could do it several times a day if there is no premise for the night or a couple of times till he can.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Cassian is always game to experiment. He loves taking risks and trying new things. He loves knowing as much as possible as there is to know about the act and he loves trying new things and even new places. He also loves breaking in things and furniture like this.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Oh, Cassian can last. He can last well. He loves taking his time when he can to fuck you and pleasure and he almost always wants a minimum of two rounds if he sees you can keep it up he loves amping that to four. Those rare nights where he reaches seven times are his favorite though but it does take hours.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Well, depending on the narrative whether they exist or not in the universe, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to use one. He knows the device could be beneficial to the overall experience and he does put your pleasure first and always. Now when it comes to sensory deprivations and tricks he is the first to suggest using them because it’s something he prefers. Whether on him or on you.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Cassian loves teasing because he knows he will be fucking and commanding you later. He is going to start by whispering inappropriate things in your ear, making lewd comments, and very rarely touching you because he knows you’d find his voice more compelling for that and he also likes to smirk and wink or even lick his lips together.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Cassian can become loud if he wants to. Most of the time he might try to keep it quiet because the walls are never thin but when he can let loose, he makes sure anyone could hear him. He loves to speak during the act because he is overall a talker and between praises and degrading words, the biggest sound that hangs off his lips is your name. A constant repeat of it is like a prayer. He also has an extremely performative face during the act making you want to watch his expressions.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Cassian loves dancing. He loves to watch you move and swing for him and then give him a lap dance. He loves and craves it but he never ever asks for it. He loves the whole act of you grinding on him and him groping you as you go and likes it even more when all of this is happening during a public appearance. He is pretty exhibitionist like this. He loves the risk of being caught, knowing just three seconds ago he was just cumming inside you while now he is casually talking to someone else.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Cassian has a good physique. His body is overall lean and muscular with various scars covering from his harder days. The occasional tattoo symbolizes something important for him and of course, his favorite part is the marks frpm your teeth on his neck.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Cassian possesses a very high sex drive. He can keep at it for hours and he is always somehow up for it. He would never say no to a quickie, whatever body part it required, oral or physical sex. He likes it often so he almost never says no to it.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)
Sex is Cassian’s biggest stress reliever. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep afterward, holding you close to his arms and rocking you slowly as he whispers sweet melodies against your ear. He loves the romance and the intimacy of the act because he doesn’t get enough love often so he makes sure to savor these rare moments as much as he can. When he falls asleep, he is usually naked with his cock still deep inside you and you sprawled on his naked chest, his hands keeping you warm.
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#selenewrites#cassian andor#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor smut#star wars andor#cassian andor x you#cassian andor imagine#cassian andor fic#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian fanfic#cassian fic#cassian smut#cassian x reader#cassian x you#cassian imagine#sw andor#diego luna x reader#star wars x reader#star wars smut#star wars imagine
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Ktober 2023 Day 10- Stripping
Cassian Andor x fem!reader
Word count- 1.6k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), established relationship, pining, riding, feelings, no use of y/n
Notes- I actually kinda struggled with what prompt to write Cassian for cause I kept changing my mind but then this fell into place and works perfectly! I still maintain that Andor is the best thing Star Wars has done recently I'm obsessed with how amazing it was!! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!
~
Cassian sighed dejected as he knocked on your door. It had been a long day, and when he hit a rough patch, Cassian usually found himself at your place to seek refuge. You were a comfort to him, even if all feelings were left unspoken. And the moment you opened the door and he saw your face again, all his trouble felt like they melted away just from looking into your eyes.
“Cassian,” you breathed as you stepped aside to let him in, “What happened? You look rough.”
“Things have been difficult lately,” was all he said as he stepped into your apartment.
You guided him into the living space and sat him down on a chair before you sat across from him, “You want to talk about it?” you asked with a pleading look on your face.
“Not particularly,” he sighed. Cassian’s eyes trailed down your figure to your hand, which you had placed on his knee in a comforting manner. He swallowed hard as he felt the warmth spread from his knee all the way to his chest… and to his cock.
Noticing the way he shifted in his seat, you let out a deep breath, “I think I know what you need tonight, baby,” your tone dropped as you saw his eyes widen.
You let go of where you rested your hand on his knee and stood up. When Cassian tried to stand with you, thinking you were going to lead him to your bedroom, you placed a hand on his chest and silently guided him back down to sit. He whispered your name, but before he could ask what you had in mind, you raised a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.
Cassian both loved and hated how much power you actually had over him.
You flicked something on, and music started to play as you swung your hips slowly to the beat of the rhythm. Cassian looked you up and down, and adjusted his posture to open himself up to you more.
“Like what you see, Cassian?” you asked in a low hum, catching how his jaw tightened the more you shimmied your hips.
“You know what the answer is,” he replied in a breathy tone, as if he was holding himself back.
A smirk lit up your face as you danced your way closer to him, straddling his lap. You allowed Cassian to rest his hands on your hips, gently guiding your motions as you swayed over him. You were calculated in your movements, and made sure to brush against his cock a few times before staying teasingly far at the same time. Hovering closer to Cassian’s lips, you felt his breath on your skin. But, you broke away before you closed the gap.
Cassian let out a frustrated grunt as you lifted yourself up off his lap and continued to dance for him. But, his annoyance vanished when you grabbed your shirt and slowly lifted it up inch by inch to the beat of the music. Teasingly slow at first, you only allowed him glaces of your skin. You wanted to make him wait, you wanted him to want you so desperately that he couldn’t fight his urges to keep his hands to himself.
Agonizingly slow, you started to expose more and more of your skin to Cassian, and you saw the way his eyes darkened with every peak you gave him. Finally, you lifted your shirt up and off, leaving you topless before him. Cassian clenched his fists involuntarily as he raked his gaze over your chest. He had seen you many times before, yet when you stayed sensually to the music that played, something felt different.
You came back to where he was seated and straddled him once more. This time, Cassian didn’t put his hands on your hips, but on your breasts. You moaned softly as he squeezed and pinched at your soft skin, and you arched your back into his grip.
“Cassian,” you moaned as you rocked your hips against his, feeling his cock underneath you.
He breathed your name as his eyes looked up to meet yours. Locks of his hair fell into his eyes, but it only framed his face better. This time, you couldn’t resist and you leaned in and took Cassian’s lips with your own. He groaned into you as you continued to move your hips back and forth.
Breaking away with a gasp, you pushed yourself off of him once more, and you heard his grunt of frustration over the music. You couldn’t stifle the laugh you let out as you turned around and shook your ass for him. Cassian had come to you many times before, and the two of you started an unofficial routine. He came to you when he needed a release, when he needed to let off some steam. And in return, Cassian made sure you were safe from any threats. But this… this was something new and different.
You had never felt this bold with him before. You had never teased him like this before. And you certainly never gave him a strip dance like this before. It was exhilarating watching him fight to hold his composure as his eyes darkened. And something in you told you that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.
Perhaps more.
As you swayed your hips to the music, you hooked your fingers under the hem of your pants and slowly pushed them down. This time, however, you decided not to tease Cassian as much. You kept a slow but determined pace as you shook your ass to the music while you pushed your pants down.
Cassian let out a low rumble as he fought to keep himself seated for the show you put on. You never told him not to move, but like everything with the two of you, it was unspoken. But as your ass bounced out of your pants, Cassian’s cock strained and screamed at him and it became harder and harder for him to stay still.
When you turned back around, you were bare for him, and you kicked your pants away. Your eyes trailed down his seated form and landed on his cock tenting in his pants. “I think I’ve teased you long enough, Cass,” you cooed as you sauntered over to him.
“I would say so,” he huffed in agreement.
You straddled his hips once more, but this time you reached down and freed his cock from his pants. Involuntarily, you licked your lips as it sprang free and at full attention. “Fuck…” you breathed as you wrapped your hand around it and stroked it a few times.
Cassian whispered your name, causing you to pause and meet his gaze, “Sit on my cock,” his tone was low and commanding, yet not harsh. Like it was a question and a statement at the same time.
“Anything you want, Cass,” you moaned as you lifted your hips and lined his cock up with your pussy.
He rested his hands on your bare hips, guiding your body as you sank down onto his cock. You let out a loud moan as you impaled yourself on him and your hands grabbed into his shoulder for balance.
“That’s my girl,” Casssian purred as he let out a gasp of his own at feeling your wet tightness around him once more.
You whimpered as you sat yourself on his lap, his cock fully sheathed inside you. Time seemed to stop for a moment as you met his eyes, and your heart fluttered in your chest. But, Cassian was not yours to have, not really. This was just an agreement between the two of you, just a release.
Feeling the rhythm flood your veins once more, you lifted yourself up a bit and lowered back down. You moved your hips to the beat of the music that still played faintly in the background, and your mind swam in the pleasure that was his cock.
“Fuck,” Cassian hissed as he watched you bounce and rock on his lap. You felt so good, and it took biting his tongue to keep the praises from flowing from his lips.
“Cassian,” you moaned as your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your head back. You started to lose your rhythm as you bounced on his cock, focusing more on the pleasure than the music.
“That’s it sweetheart,” Cassian groaned as he bucked his hips up against you.
Together, the two of you found a rhythm, and you grinded against each other in desperate need for release. Moans and groans from both of you filled the room and drowned out the music. You moved faster as heat rose in your body and you felt the familiar tingle build within you.
“Cum for me,” Cassian purred.
As if on cue, you came hard, clenching and trembling around Cassian as you screamed loudly. Cassian groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and yanked you close, pounding into you until he too hit his peak. He bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans as he spilled himself inside you.
Once the two of you were spent, you collapsed forward into his shoulder. Cassian’s arms stayed wrapped around you, holding you close as you settled yourself on his lap. Faintly, you were both aware of the music in the background, but the sounds of your beating hearts drowned it out.
Cassian wanted to tell you how much he cared about you, how much he craved seeing you time and time again. But, he also needed to keep you safe, and that also meant keeping you at arm’s length. But, at least for now, he could savor the feeling of you in his arms as you breathed heavily. For just that moment, you were his, and everything was perfect.
#fawktober2023#kinktober#kinktober 2023#cassian andor#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor x you#cassian andor x y/n#cassian andor imagine#cassian andor fic#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor fanfic#andor fanfiction#andor fic#andor fandom#star wars imagine#star wars fandom#star wars fanfiction#star wars fic#andor imagine#andor fanfic#star wars#star wars andor#andor star wars#diego luna#diego luna characters
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Reasons, Ch.6 - Cassian Andor series
Female reader insert
Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever.
Word Count: 2,260
Content Warnings for: canon-divergence; cursing
Taglist: @mithicakurogo @nonniecannie @freerangesweets @zbeez-outlet @chicken-fifi @queerponcho @theatergirlmgm @oh-yeah-i-exist @shakespeareanlead @idontevenknow1359
The sound of waves licking the sandy beach below had become a steady soundtrack that pounded around your head all hours of the day and night. You’d at first been mesmerized by the planet Niamos - to think, its inhabitants lived within full eyesight of an ocean at all times - but now, almost three and a half months after your frenetic arrival, boredom mixed with fear had gotten inextricably mixed with the sounds and smells of the ocean and you realized that you hated it here. Especially without Cassian.
He hadn’t stayed long, maybe two days. He’d dumped you in this beautiful, empty house and left with barely a word…
“I need to see my contact on Coruscant.” His dark eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and cold. “Need to sort out safe passage for you. Get forged papers, new documents. It’ll take a while.”
You’d breathed in a heavy, long breath. Exhaustion had settled deep in the center of your bones, but what choice did you have? You were a fugitive now.
You nodded numbly, looking longing out through the perpetually-open wall of glass at the ocean stretched out to the horizon line.
“I’ll go pack,” you replied, sliding out of the chair you were in and heading towards the bedroom you were staying in. “Won’t take long.”
Cassian caught your hand as you turned away. His touch sent electricity ricocheting up your arm, stealing your breath. You turned back to him, wondering if you looked as hopeful as you felt.
“I’m going alone,” he clarified. His voice sounded sad and far away, but those dark, bottomless eyes revealed nothing.
You didn’t know what to say. What to ask. Where would you stay? Here, you supposed, only because there was nowhere else to go. You’d realized very quickly that the Galaxy was massive, and you’d never left Ferrix before. The only person that you knew out here was Cassian, and laying claim to ‘knowing’ him felt like a lie. You felt that now more than ever. You didn’t really know him at all.
You felt yourself give a shrug. Half resignation, half confusion. Cassian watched you quietly as you slid back into the chair, your eyes returning to the waves. Each time a new wave boiled up from the ocean depths, crested, and then crashed in a spray of foam on the seashore, you felt a new emotion rise up and crash open inside you. Grief. Rage. Despair. Terror.
You don’t know how long you’d sat there, staring at the sea. After a long while of sitting still and thinking, you said the only thing that really mattered to you anymore. “Don’t forget to come back for me.”
Cassian hadn’t said a word after that. He’d simply slipped out the door without so much as a backwards glance. Leaving you to the empty house that looked out over the empty ocean…
The realization that Cassian wasn’t coming back for you had hit you somewhere around week seven. He hadn’t left a way for you to contact him, or vice versa. He hadn’t sent anyone to check on you. He hadn’t squirreled away a secret note or some small token of his remembrance. It was like he’d never been here at all. And that was by design. He was covering his tracks. Sure, you were on the run. But so was he.
You wondered where in the escape things had gone sideways. He’d seemed so deliriously guilty about getting you tied up with the Empire when he’d broken into your home on Ferrix. He’d been tender in taking care of you after hyperdrive sickness, and then he’d brought you here. To safety. Because he cared… right?
There was one moment that everything had pivoted. You could barely bring yourself to think of it. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment (and desire, if you were completely truthful) each time you relived that kiss. It had to be the kiss. You’d crossed a line, you told yourself. Cassian was just trying to save your skin, and you’d gone and made it some sort of tragedy-romance mashup of bad luck and bad decisions when you’d slapped your lips on his. I’ve always been a good actor. You’d never forget those words. He’d been acting as the good guy, trying to make up for his wrongs by pulling you out of Ferrix. But that’s where it had ended. You’d fallen for his show, and you’d ruined everything. And now, you were alone. Just you and the ocean.
Three and a half months was a long time to be by yourself. You’d managed to get by on the credits you’d had the sense to pack before fleeing your home, but that supply was dwindling. Pretty soon you’d have to make a choice: go home, or set up shop here. You’d have to fix droids. It was all you knew. But setting up shop somewhere new was bound to be fraught with challenges. You didn’t know the market, didn’t have a customer base. There were bound to be other droidsmiths on Niamos, so you’d be making enemies while you were bowing and scraping, taking whatever anyone would throw at you, all in the name of buying trust and goodwill and maybe, hopefully, a repeat customer.
But worst of all, setting up shop here felt final. Setting up shop here meant that you wouldn’t be leaving. That this was home now. And, at the end of the day, that meant that Cassian wasn’t coming back.
You hated him for leaving you, but not enough to give up all hope. Not yet. You counted the credits you had left. One more week, you thought to yourself. If he’s not back by then, I’ll start looking for shop space.
An empty promise, you knew. You’d made the same one for the last four weeks.
* * * * * * * * *
Cassian felt fire burning in his veins as he held Senator Mothma’s gaze, her last words hanging heavy in the darkness between them.
“I cannot afford to wait another week,” Cassian growled through gritted teeth, his hands trembling at his side. “It’s been almost four months already, Senator.”
Senator Mothma fidgeted uncomfortably with the large hood that obscured her face from the ambient light of a Coruscant night. They were quite alone in the rancid-smelling alley that Cassian had chosen for their meet-up, but the hum of the city-planet rang in their ears. A reminder to be quick, and be on their way.
“I’m sorry, Cassian, I truly am, but I simply canno-”
“Senator, with respect, I am tired of your apologies.” Cassian was pacing now, his voice breaking free of the constraints of whispering. His temper was fracturing with impatience. “My contact on Niamos is in constant danger, and you’ve kept us waiting for four months for papers!”
“Cassian, please.” The Senator cast a shifty glance around. No one was listening, but the last thing either of them needed was to make a spectacle of the exchange. A Senator caught in a clandestine midnight meeting with a known Rebellion agitator would do neither of them any good. To say nothing of the warrant for Cassian’s arrest and the bounty price of half a million credits on his head. Or the Senator’s deeply scrutinized allegiances and alleged ties to the Aldhani incident.
Cassian tried to calm himself, but he was beyond reason. All he could see was your eyes, the way you’d crumpled when he’d told you he was coming to Coruscant alone. It had nearly broken him to leave you there, but the brutal calculus of life as a wanted criminal demanded the utmost adherence to scruples. Cassian couldn’t risk your life just to keep you near him. It would have been easy - too easy - to delude himself into thinking that the safest place for you was by his side. Right where he wanted you. But he’d already proven himself near-fatal to you, almost getting you good and shot on Ferrix just by trying to pay off his massive debt with some traced credits. And all that had been before that goddamned kiss. After that, he was sunk. Totally enraptured. He knew it from the instant he felt your lips on his. No, he was in far too deep. If it was the last thing he did, Cassian Andor meant to make good on his promise to you: he needed to get you set up somewhere safe and then make it so that you never saw him again. It was the best way - the only way - he could see to keep you safe. And as badly as he wanted you, he wanted you alive. More than anything, that was what mattered.
He reminded himself of all of this, one painstaking bitter pill at a time. Slowly, incrementally, he felt the fire begin to burn off as his mind cleared to reason. When he finally felt calm enough to speak, he rounded on Senator Mothma.
“Senator, it gives me no pleasure to do this, but I simply cannot wait any longer. If I don’t have the papers I’ve requested - and paid for, mind you - by tomorrow, I’ll have to take matters in my own hands.”
Senator Mothma inhaled, her chin jutting out proudly as her eyes simmered. “And just what does that mean, Cassian?” Puffed up and haughty, but Cassian saw a flicker of fear in the back of her eyes. She knew a threat when she heard one. And Cassian had been honest about one thing: it really didn’t give him any pleasure to play this hand with the Senator. She was a noble woman, strong in her beliefs and an astoundingly deft political operative. Smart and confident. Cassian respected her immensely. But, when all was said and done, she was proving to be a hindrance. Cassian had promises to fulfill. Or rather, promise. Singular. Your safety. He was determined that nothing - not the Senator’s delicate political situation, not an outstanding warrant for his arrest, not an entire garrison of Imperial Storm Troopers - would stand in his way.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out, Senator.”
For a few tense seconds, the two of them sized each other up in the hazy darkness. Cassian’s gaze was steely, his resolve never stronger. Three months, three weeks, two days. His internal clock screeched like a tea kettle. Too long.
After a few breaths, Senator Mothma deflated slightly, her head sagging on her proud neck. The way she crumpled, like a kite that’s lost its breeze, reminded Cassian of the way you’d looked as he’d left you alone by the seashore on Niamos. The memory brought the threat of tears to his eyes.
“I’ll get them to you,” the Senator agreed. Her voice sounded stretched and thin. Cassian felt a pang of guilt for having to push her to this. He knew what she was risking - her career in the Senate, her daughter’s and husband’s safety, her own life - to get these forged identichips. Ever since the Empire had assumed power, identichips had become mandatory for Imperial citizens to carry at all times. Forged chips had quickly flourished as one of the most lucrative corners of the black market, but the Empire had expended considerable effort on quashing that enterprise in its infancy. Those willing to alter identichips were few and far between now; those willing to forge entirely new ones, even fewer. Only the very wealthy had enough credits to realistically purchase such a service, but forgers made themselves extremely scarce in efforts to avoid Imperial imprisonment. Not that Cassian blamed them - wasn’t that the fate he was trying to save you from, after all? - but their secretiveness had proven an unexpected time suck on his plans. Months had dragged by before Senator Mothma had even made contact with one, and now her order hadn’t been delivered on schedule. Cassian wasn’t sure what it would cost her to extort the identichips tonight, but he couldn’t allow himself to backtrack now.
“Thank you.” He exhaled heavily, unsure if he felt relieved or more terrified than before. He’d been focusing for so long on getting the identichips that he hadn’t let himself think too hard on what would come after. Were you still on Niamos? Would you still want his help? Had the Empire found you? Were you still alive at all?
Unwilling to follow those thoughts any further, Cassian simply handed Senator Mothma a small strip of paper with a ship’s name and docking location scribbled on it. “I’m leaving at midday tomorrow,” he told her as she crumpled the paper and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. “Make sure my chips are on board by then.”
She nodded again - a sad, completely exhausted acquiescence - and turned on her heels, vanishing into the foggy street. Cassian watched as she left, listening to the sound of her retreating footsteps. She was walking away with the power to make or break him, Cassian realized. If she didn’t deliver those chips, and Cassian couldn’t get back to you…
He wasn’t sure what that would mean for him, except that his heart turned to ash in his chest whenever he thought of that possibility. Steeling himself against the mix of dread, relief, and adrenaline sitting on his shoulders, he turned the collar up on his coat and turned in the opposite direction from the Senator. He threw up a silent thought for you - all alone by the seaside in a beautiful, empty house - hundreds of thousands of miles away, but somehow still the closest thing he had to home.
*more chapters coming soon! please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters
#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor angst#cassian andor imagine#cassian andor#cassian andor x reader#andor imagine#andor#diego luna x you#diego luna x reader#diego luna fanfiction#diego luna imagine#diego luna
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Away From Prying Eyes
Cassian Andor/Reader
Fictober Day 14 of 31
Words: 902
Summary: Everyone thought that you and Cassian couldn't stand each other. In reality, that couldn't be further from the truth.
Cassian Andor Masterlist
You looked down at the assignment on your datapad, eyes widening when you took in one particular name. Groaning, you got up from where you were sitting and stalked through the halls of the base, a scowl beginning to form on your face. Mon Mothma was usually around, but it seemed this time she was nowhere to be found, and no one else seemed to know where she was.
After finally giving up trying to run into her anywhere in the base, you went back to your quarters and typed out a message, hitting send the moment you were done.
Need to talk to you about upcoming mission ASAP. Reassignment necessary.
Barely seconds after you had put the datapad down, it beeped to signify that you had a new message, a response to the one you just sent.
I know why you’re asking this, and the answer is no. You know I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t the only option left.
You groaned. Usually you were always able to skirt around working assignments with one particular person in the Rebellion, but it looks like this was the first time you wouldn’t be able to shift things around.
In the eyes of the rest of the people on this base, you and Cassian Andor did not get along. You saw him as rude and abrasive, he saw you as confrontational and aggressive, and the two of you simply hated each other. Mon Mothma was probably expecting that message from one (or both) of you when she sent out the list of new reconnaissance assignments and listed the two of you on the same one.
When Cassian entered the dining area, you would get up and leave, no matter if you had finished eating or not. If you had to attend the same meetings, you sat at the farthest points of the table, and you never addressed him personally. People had always asked why you and Cassian didn’t get along, and you always just shrugged, saying that you never had, and there was no use extending an olive branch to someone who obviously didn’t care enough to be cordial.
But what no one else on this base knew was not a word of that was true, and it never had been.
It started out as a joke, when someone had said something about Cassian and you responded with a sarcastic comment. Somehow, word spread across the base about your supposed hatred, and it became part of the collective conscious that you and him didn’t get along. In truth, the two of you were actually friends.
He thought it was funny, and the two of you decided to keep up the ruse.
But soon your friend became your lover, and it certainly was not lost on you that you felt a little bit odd giving him fake glares in the halls and exclusively referring to him by his last name in meetings.
However, it provided an extra level of protection against the Rebellion’s raging gossip mill (you would think that people wouldn’t care about interpersonal drama like this in the current galactic climate, but you were very much wrong about that), so you continued to play along, feeding into the belief that you and him did not get along.
The door to your quarters opened, and you could soon hear the telltale footsteps of your boyfriend.
He leaned down to place a soft kiss to your cheek as he passed by, the scruff of his beard tickling your face slightly as you leaned into the gentle touch. “Did you see the message from Mon Mothma?” you asked, turning to face him.
“I did,” was the response, and a smile crossed his face. “I assume you’ve already tried to get that switched around.”
“Yeah, I have,” you said. “What about you?”
“I’ll probably track her down tomorrow,” he said. “Say something about how there’s no possible way I can work with you and see what she says.”
“According to her message, this seems like something we can’t get out of.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think with the Empire ramping up their atrocities and we’re going to get a lot busier over the next few months.”
Cassian nodded, and then walked back over to you, gently running his hands over your shoulder. When his fingertips traced your bare skin, you shivered slightly. “That’s why you should take a nap with me right now.”
It was a tempting offer, and one you really shouldn’t have accepted, but you did. The time you spent with Cassian in your quarters (or his, depending on the day) was never anything short of perfect, and you always looked forward to the little moments where you got to shed the pretenses and indulge in the feeling of joy and flood of love that your boyfriend brought forth from your heart.
As you laid there in the bed together (thankfully the Rebellion had a standard bed size that could more than accommodate the two of you), you couldn’t help but marvel at the way you had managed to trick the entire base.
Of course, that could all come crashing down at any minute if someone with a high security clearance walked into your room, but you didn’t really care.
No matter what happened, you would have Cassian by your side, and that was worth every morsel of trouble it could possibly bring your way.
- the end -
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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
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Moments
Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader
Summary: Casual sex has it pros and cons but feelings makes it a hella lot more complicated...
Warnings: SMUT! NSFW!
Notes: My first time writing for Cassian. I got really inspired by the first episodes of the series ^^
The morning sun peeked through the curtains, gently poking Cassian awake. Smiling, he turned around and met your beautiful eyes.
"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice grousy with sleep.
"Morning," you whispered, smiling back at him, trying to still the wild beating of your heart as you looked at this beautiful man beside you. Your gaze followed the features of his face, from his soft, brown curls to the sharp angles of his nose down to the thin lines of his perfectly shaped lips. The last thing you wanted was to fall for him, knowing you probably weren't the only woman in his life. But a part of you hoped you were, despite his reputation. Neither of you had specified this thing that had been going on for a month now and you didn't dare to ask him. You didn't want to scare him away, to lose what you had with him. Even if it was only sex.
"Hungry?" Cass asked, erupting your train of thought.
"Mmhmm," you replied, biting your lip as you crawled on top of him.
"What are you doing?" Cass asked, chuckling lowly with a twinkle in his eyes as he looked up at you.
"Satisfying my hunger." Smirking down at him, you lifted your hips and wrapped your hand around his morning erection. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he filled you up.
"Fuck, baby," Cass groaned as he easily slipped into your warm wetness. He grabbed your hips and watched as you moved on top of him. He let you set the pace, your breasts bouncing as you rode him at a slow and steady pace.
"You’re so beautiful."
Face flushed with pleasure and flustered from his words, you closed your eyes and held his chest tightly as you quickened the pace, feeling your climax slowly building up, that intense, tingling pleasure in your clitoris. Reaching down, you massage the sensitive bud and everything exploded, pleasure spreading slowly and all at once, down to your toes and fingertips. Your body began to vibrate and hum with electricity, pulsing through your stomach, chest, and thighs. Finally, the sensation crescendoed with a full release of tension, stress, and pain, leaving you feeling as though there were thousands of tiny effervescent bubbles slowly gliding across your skin.
Cassian watched mesmerized as you came, grunted as your walls tightened around him. Bucking his hips against you, he swelled inside your clenching pussy, his cock twitching as he climaxed and filled your womb.
Panting, you opened your eyes and looked into Cassian's brown eyes with a tired, satisfied smile on your lips.
Cass smiled back and palmed your cheek, pulling you down for a kiss.
Moaning sweetly, you kissed him back, your fingertips dancing across his bare chest. As the kiss ended, Cass took you in his arms, embracing you lovingly.
"Let’s just stay like this for a little while longer," Cass mumbled as he pressed his lips into your hair. "I want to enjoy this quiet moment together."
"Sounds perfect," you whispered as you closed your eyes and pressed your cheek against his warm chest.
Cass tightened his grip around you, wishing he could say all the things he wanted to say. How much he started to fall in love with you. But it wouldn't be fair. You deserved to have a good man who would take care of you, and give you kids and a family. With the life he was living, he could never give you that. So, for now, he enjoyed this tender moment with you, pushing the day he would have to leave you deep into the back of his mind.
Taglist: @noodlecupcakes @lucy-sky
#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor x you#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor smut#cassian andor#andor#andor series#diego luna
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Beskarandblasters Masterlist
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Well hello! I've read your previous fics and they're fantastic! 💗 So, in occasion that you open the request for Cassian Andor, Could you please write super fluffy Cassian please? The details are your call! All I want is fluff. Thank you in advance. Have very, very nice days and good luck 🍀🍀🍀
Ok I LOVED writing this, thank you so much for the request. Fluffy Cassian has my heart 💖
A Peaceful Morning
Pairing: Cassian x Reader
Summary: Just a super cute morning in with Cassian.
Word Count: 619
Your eyes flickered open as the first rays of the sun peeked through the slats of your blinds, casting your room in a warm, deep orange. As you blinked your eyes open you gradually became aware of a soft warmth wrapped around your body. A familiar arm was draped around your waist, holding you tightly as you felt soft kisses being pressed gently across the back of your neck.
You hummed at the feeling, you’d never get used to being woken like this. ‘Good morning my love,’ you felt his lips against your skin as he spoke. Enjoying the moment you snuggled back further into his embrace, feeling his bare chest pressed against your back, his stubble tickled your neck gently as he continued to pepper kisses all over you.
‘Cass…’ you murmured. ‘What time is it?’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he moved to kiss your shoulder as you began to turn slowly.
‘But you’ve got to lea-’
‘Shhhh,’ he interrupted you. ‘Let's not talk about that,’ he littered more kisses across your collarbone as you fully turned over. ‘I just want to enjoy…’ he kissed his way up your neck, ‘a peaceful morning in bed…’ he reached your jaw and placed another kiss there before carrying on, ‘with my beautiful girl.’ He finished by finally pressing a kiss to your lips. ‘How does that sound?’
‘That sounds perfect,’ you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. You craved moments like this, quiet moments where the two of you were alone.
He moved away from your lips to continue his apparent quest to kiss every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips brushed across your cheeks, leaving no part of your face untouched. You giggled at the sensation, still not used to having Cassian shower you with love so often.
Your fingers danced across his upper back, as he moved his body so that he was above you, his arms braced either side of you. You whispered up to him, ‘I love you.’
‘Hmm? What was that?’ He asked as he kissed along your jaw.
‘I said I love you,’ you repeated slightly louder than before, one of your hands now entwined in his hair.
You felt his lips pull into a slight smirk against your cheek ‘I didn’t catch that, can you say it one more time for me,’ he pulled away slightly with a boyish grin plastered on his face.
You laughed and took his face in your hands, keeping his eyes on you as you clearly said ‘I love you Cassian, so so much.’ You laid a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before saying, ‘did you hear it that time?’
He chuckled and kissed you for what felt like the 100th time that morning. ‘Loud and clear, I love you too.’ His eyes stayed glued to yours as he stayed above you, his warm body glued to yours, making sure there was no space between you.
You stayed in each other's arms, sharing sweet words and kisses, time became irrelevant and you completely forgot about the mission Cassian would be leaving shortly for. He knew he was gonna be in some sort of trouble for being late but he’d take getting shouted out if it meant he could spend more time with you.
Eventually reality beckoned in the form of beeping coming from Cassian’s communicator. The two of you reluctantly untangled yourselves but the warmth of your love lingered, an invisible bond that only the two of you could understand.
‘I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he said with one last lingering kiss before he left, leaving you with your heart filled with hope for your future.
#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor x you#cassian andor request#cassian andor fanfiction#rogue one fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#Andor#Cassian Andor fluff
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In case you missed it, I posted this art yesterday in the first chapter of my new Cassian Andor fic 👀 👀 👀
It was buried beneath the “read more” tag so I figured I’d share it in its own post...because I love it....and because it’s sexy as hell.
I commissioned @amikoroyaiart to create 5 custom illustrations to go with this fic. I’m only posting the first illustration in full. The rest will be available to my Jedi Knight and Jedi Master tier patrons (they will also be getting the fic in a special format that I’ve never tried before).
Here’s a brief description of the story. I’ve loved writing it, and I hope you all enjoy reading it 💜
CASSIAN’S RECKONING
Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, and the rest of Rogue One survive the Battle of Scarif, delivering a major blow to the Empire. But Wilhuff Tarkin will not be made a fool. When Cassian falls into the Grand Moff’s clutches, he pays dearly for the Rebellion’s victory.
READ THE FIC ON TUMBLR | READ THE FIC ON AO3
#cassian#cassian andor#andor#cassian andor art#cassian andor fan art#cassian andor fanart#cassian andor fic#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian whump
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A Gift Worth A Thousand Words
Pairing – Cassian Andor x Reader
Summary – Cassian gives you a gift
Word Count – 885
A/N – This came to me in a dream lol
As much as Cassian wanted to stay in Ferrix and look after Maarva, there was always something about travelling the galaxy that appealed to him. He swears that he only does it out of necessity- to find his sister or to collect a sweetener for Maarv’s kaf that she can’t get locally, he even asks her for explicit consent to leave her for a short time despite her always waving him off and telling him he can do what he likes.
Although he deems these trips ‘necessary,’ sometimes he returns with a small trinket or some kind that he manages to pick up when he can on some worlds. These gifts were always for you. Cassian knew how much you wanted to see the galaxy, but being tied down with work on Ferrix meant that travelling was out of the range of possibility, so Cassian made it his goal to bring the galaxy to you.
You appreciated all the tiny figurines, postcards, and other touristy items he brought to you, but you anticipated his return more than any kind of knick-knack he gave you. Along with Cassian and whatever gadget he found, he brought stories with him to enthusiastically tell you and share every excruciating detail of the landscape so you could imagine it like you were there with him.
At the end of his tales, he would always look at you with that burning question, you could see it in his eyes, ‘come with me,’ but he knew the answer. He made the mistake of asking that one time and you had to disappoint him by saying that you would love to, but realistically it wouldn’t happen. Money was one thing, but Cassian made sure to let you know that that kind of thing wouldn’t be a problem with him, but there was also time- time that you truly couldn’t afford.
You heard a familiar knock at your door late one evening, one with enough force that it was distinctive to the person. When the doors whirred open to reveal your old friend, you both exchanged warming smiles with one another. Cassian invited himself inside when he stepped forward to wrap his arms around you, his jacket crinkling under your touch.
“It’s good to see you, Cass,” you greeted into his shoulder.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Cassian chuffed.
“You never do,” you smiled at him. Quickly, he pulled a small box from the inside of his jacket, handing the small object to you. “What did you bring me this time?” You queried but offered him no time to answer before you pulled the lid up from its hinge.
Inside was a small wooden disc with a string neatly coiled behind it. It was engraved with a sun protruding from a horizon, its rays beaming to the edge of the ring that encapsulated the carving. Around the very edge of the disc was an inscription of a language that you were unfamiliar with.
Cassian could see your brows furrow when you scanned the words. “Hapan,” he said. You looked up at him with even more confusion. “The writing is in Hapan. I went to Hapes,” he clarified.
“What made you want to go there?” You asked. He shrugged.
“I had something to do there. Also, I heard the sight-seeing is great there,” he explained.
“So, what does it say?”
For a moment, he paused, then spoke with the warmest and softest voice, “dawn brings light, dawn brings change, dawn brings hope.” He kept his vision locked to your eyes, reading whatever sign you could give him.
The wood of the pendant was smooth when you traced over the inscriptions with a finger. Whoever made it made it with care as there wasn’t a splinter or split in sight. You looked back up to see Cassian’s gaze staring you down with adornment. The same look he gave you every time he came back from adventuring to give you something. This time, however, the gift was even more sentimental than it normally was.
“Cassian,” you breathed. His hand found its way to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking over your skin.
“Come with me,” he said like he always says. Once more you had to disappoint the beautiful man and send him back into the unknowns of the galaxy where one day he might never return.
“Cassian, I can’t–”
“You don’t have to worry about credits. I have enough for the both of us for a while.”
“My job–”
“–Can do without you. I know how much you want to see other planets, you can do that with me– find your own souvenirs,” he said with sincerity. It wasn’t like he wasn’t sincere with the other hundred times he’s asked, but this time he had genuinely set his next destination on you.
He had taken your hesitation as an answer and closed in on the gap between your two bodies and pressed a warm kiss on your lips. Whatever words you had trouble forming before, he now helped you.
“I’ll come with you, Cass, I love you,” you said, cloaking his shoulders with your arms in a hug. You felt his hands climb up your back in return.
“I love you too,” he breathed into your hair, melting into your warm embrace.
#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor x you#cassian andor x y/n#cassian x reader#cassian x y/n#cassian x you#star wars x reader#star wars x you#star wars x y/n#diego luna x reader#star wars fanfiction#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor fluff#fluff#my fics
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i have fallen to my knees begging for nsfw cassian andor
your call to action has been heard, anon. i have arrived with a special delivery ❤️
Jealous Cassian Andor (NSFW)
Cassian Andor x f!reader
EXPLICIT 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT.
Content: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v, public sex, spanking, oral sex, rimming, anal sex, squirting, cockwarming
“No strings attached?”
“No strings attached.”
The Rebellion is no place for a relationship—it’s a simple fact both you and Cassian Andor acknowledge as you climb into his lap and straddle him in a dark corner at a lively cantina. But the heated, lingering gazes between the two of you have become too much to bear, and you’re certain you’re just as tired of pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt every night as he is of fisting his leaking cock. So you come to an agreement.
(You had intended to make it back to your quarters with him, or a fresher stall at the very least. But Cassian’s hard-pressed to find any reason to let you leave his lap once he slips a finger inside of your pants and feels how wet you already are for him. You thank the Maker for the terrible band playing on the other side of the room as Cassian lays his jacket over your lap and pulls down your pants just far enough to slip his hard length inside of you. Though you're fairly certain the table beside you grew suspicious when Cassian clapped a hand over your mouth when your cunt clenched down on his cock as you reached your climax.)
Cassian leaves on a month-long mission after your rendezvous at the cantina. Considering the dry spell you’d been through prior to that evening, you’re more than a little keyed up, so when one of the new pilots makes eyes at you from across the mess hall…well. You said casual, right? (And you had no doubts about what he was likely getting up to in his down time while he was away.)
He returns in the middle of the night, quietly making his way to your quarters. The door hardly has time to slide open before his lips are on yours, and you stumble back toward your bed with him. Cassian’s eyes rove hungrily over your naked body after he slips your clothes off, but he pauses when he notices how tender your ass seems to already be when he runs a hand over it. From somebody else.
Cassian knows he has no right to care, not at all. But he can’t help the shiver of satisfaction that runs up his spine after he finishes spanking your ass himself repeatedly—you’re reduced to a whining, crying mess, a gush of arousal sliding down the inside of your trembling thighs as he softly kisses your tender flesh, and your voice is caught between a moan and a sigh as you tell him, “Oh…so that’s how it’s supposed to feel.”
Days later, you find yourself on a light freighter with Cassian, the aforementioned pilot, and a few fellow soldiers. But Cassian has ulterior motives when he shoots a glance at the man before nudging you toward the bunk area… Admittedly, you can’t bring yourself to care when you find your legs splayed wide apart at the edge of the thin mattress, Cassian brushing a thumb over your ankle bone as he spreads your folds with his other hand. (When your breathy moans begin to make their way past the knuckles that you’re biting, Cassian shoots you a warning look and pulls a bandana out of his pocket, gagging you with it before he dips back down to continue sloppily lapping at your soaking wet cunt.)
You begin to grow suspicious when Cassian’s mood turns decidedly sour after the pilot lends you his jacket to wear midway through the mission when yours suffers an unfortunate blaster accident. But any questions lingering on the tip of your tongue are silenced when Cassian leads you to his quarters when you get back to the base, stripping you bare and placing his brown jacket over your shoulders. You climb on top of him, running your damp folds along his stiff length as he reaches up to palm your breasts from where they’re peeking out from beneath the jacket. And then he tightly grips your hips and impales you on his throbbing cock.
The pilot invites you out for a leisurely trek one quiet afternoon. You’re then thrown off when a visit to Cassian’s quarters afterward finds you under the warm stream of a shower, his lips attached to your neck as he gently cleans the grime from the day off of your body. It’s surprisingly intimate.
(Later, when he pulls you onto all fours on his bed and spreads your cheeks apart before murmuring, “I bet nobody has ever done this for you,” you hardly have time to register the possessive tone his words are laced with before his tongue begins to lick and prod the tight, puffy ring of muscle back there. And if you’d even entertained the idea of bringing it up afterward, all rational thought goes out the window when he begins pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy while he tongue fucks your ass, dragging an orgasm out of you that’s so intense you squirt—all over his sheets. His grin is nearly feral when you admit you’ve never done that before either.)
Cassian’s wholly unaware that you haven’t slept with the pilot since he came back from that one mission and made you cum untouched just by the way he spanked your ass. While you’ve remained friends with the pilot, you just can’t subject yourself to the frankly boring and somewhat abysmal sex he offers in comparison to Cassian. (You’ll gladly remain in denial about the fact that you’ve also developed feelings for Cassian along the way.)
Cassian, who once suggested you suck his cock while he devours your pussy. Cassian, who tied your wrists up at the head of his bed, gently kissing his way down your spine before scissoring your ass open with his fingers and slowly slipping his hard shaft inside for the first time. Cassian, who looked at you like you were a vision to behold as you reached over from the seat beside him in the cockpit of the ship he was flying on a recent mission, roughly palming the tent that had already formed in his pants after you started sucking on his fingers. (And then he nearly choked on his own saliva when you slipped down onto the floor in front of him and began to deep throat his cock while he pulled the ship into hyperspace. Ropes of his cum shot down your throat just as the ship exited—it was poetic, really.)
Cassian’s final straw is when he finds that you're sore one morning, failing to realize that you'd had an intense training session the night before and instead assuming it had something to do with the pilot. You can’t ignore the sharp expression that crosses his face and flares in his eyes, or the way he pulls you into his lap later, holding you close and kissing you deeply and thoroughly as he pointedly leaves his spent, softened cock inside of you, cum beginning to leak out from where your sensitive cunt is still clenching down on his length to the hilt.
"I want strings," he breathes out into the meager space between your lips when you finally pull apart for air. "I want you," he whispers, voice rough. "I want this," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth.
"Me too."
---
More Cassian:
Jealous Cassian Andor
Forbidden Relationship
MASTERLIST
#Cassian Andor#Cassian Andor imagines#Cassian Andor headcanons#Cassian Andor smut#Cassian Andor x reader#Star Wars imagines#Star Wars headcanons#Star Wars fanfiction#Cassian Andor fanfiction#Diego Luna fanfiction
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perfect stranger
Pairing: Cassian Andor x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 1200 words
Summary: Meeting a strange man in a quiet bar in a foreign town.
Warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, spit as lube, oral sex (m receiving), reader being submissive, dirty talk, pet names, breath play, biting, if I missed anything major please let me know.
Author’s Note: based on that scene when cassian goes to the bar :)
PS: dividers & banners by @saradika
Main Masterlist ・❥・Cassian Andor Masterlist
You had sworn yourself you'd never do anything like that ever again. And yet here you were a stranger's hand over your mouth, his cock deep inside your vagina, thrusting deeply into you.
You breathe deeper as the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out, somehow managing to hit deeper every time. One hour ago you had walked inside this bar, famous for loners and travelers and all you wanted to do was relax before your next flight back home.
Of course that wasn't possible, not when the mysterious dark stranger dressed in a long trench coat and a beard that hid most of his features stared at you in such a way that made your loins growl. He sat there sipping his drink slowly and you swore you wanted to become that glass.
Twenty minutes later you got up to head to the bathroom and there he was one arm above your head pining yours down, his hot breath against your mouth. "You're in need of some attention." He said as a statement and you couldn't help but notice how lovely his voice sounded.
"Can't talk when a man pays attention to you?" He chuckled and flared his nostrils and you know he had the strongest drink in the bar.
"Tell you what, if you want me to let you go right now just nod your head and I will. If you want me to continue, I will have to hear a little bit of your voice. Alright?" You tried to breathe and relax your body but you couldn't help but stare at his neck breathing in and out.
"Pl-pl-please." You breathed out, not wanting to miss an opportunity to get with him. His eyes glowed up and he slowly nodded. "Are you sure? If I start it'll be hard for me to stop."
"Please." You repeated and looked at him placing your hands on his waist. "Anything you want. Anything." He chuckled at your response and the next moment he shoved you inside the tiny cubicle, accentuated by the blue neon lights of the bar, and crushed his lips against yours. Rough unruly hair was brushing against your face as his open kisses traveled from your lips to your chin.
You moaned the first time he reached for your neck, one hand on your chin, leaving you a mess and desperate for oh so much more. He was gentle but hard with his kisses, wanting to leave bruises on your skin, wanting to devour you whole. You knew you weren't the first and maybe he picked up a different girl every night but fuck you deserved how good he made you feel.
Your trembling hands were trying hard to creep under his clothes but they felt like too many and you started getting frustrated.
"Easy, easy, I'll get what you need." He chuckled once again and took your hand placing it on the zipper close to his neck.
"That's where it opens." He instructed you correctly and you gasped at the sight of his toned chest. Your fingers immediately started caressing his skin as you reached further down slowing at his belly button.
Now there was only one thing you wanted to do and you started kneeling down which only had him smiling.
"Oh, that's what you like, huh? dreaming of sucking cocks at random bars?"
"My favorite thing in the world." You playfully retorted and looked at him. He helped you once more, pushing his pants down, a strange uniform of sorts that you had never seen before that made you believe he was a traveler from far away, and licked your lips when you finally saw his cock.
You wasted no time, tracing your fingers over his veins at first which had him cursing, and then slowly caressing his tip. Then you got to business, kitty licking his cock before using one fist down his length and bopping your head down the cock head. His hand naturally gets placed on your head, guiding you a little down his shaft but mostly he allows you to take control.
"You're so good baby, but fuck I need to get inside you. Now, on the wall." You let go and get up turning yourself around and placing your hands against the wall. One smack on your ass that has you whimpering and then Cassian is pushing your long skirt up your waist, twisting it inside your belt, and smacking your ass again.
"How long?" He asks and his one hand reaches under your thigh and up your pussy. "Has it been since you last got laid?" His mouth is right behind your ear and his deep voice has your legs trembling.
"M-months." You breathe out and his palm is now on your panties, soaking wet just for him. He slowly rubs his palm over your wetness and chuckles.
"I can tell. Can't find any good man to fuck that sweet pussy of yours?" You moan as cold air hits you when he pushes your panties to the side followed by his finger breaching inside your pussy.
"Ain't it sad? Thinking of how well I could be fucking that pussy every hour of the day if I had come across you earlier?" He twists his finger around your wall and your hand desperately tries to hold you on.
"I'm gonna treat her so good, don't worry."
And that brings you to now as he takes one of your legs and places it on the toilet seat so he can thrust inside you deeper, having first spitted again on his cock. His hands are on your hips, not letting you slip away from him.
You could have sworn you had promised yourself you'd get better and stop fucking random men in bars but somehow that information went missing from your head.
It's coming close now, you need to cum and shout his name that haven't even asked at all and you try to close your legs together. He pulls as he feels begin to orgasm and brings you to his body, one hand on your mouth, the other on your pussy, rubbing your clit. And you cum magnificently, your whole body shaking, your teeth biting down his fingers and his heavy cock pressed against your back.
He gives you a few moments to recover and breathe slowly holding you close.
"Be a good girl and get on your knees and open your mouth for me, okay?"
He whispers against your ear and you can't help but obey him, quick on your feet, getting down on the floor, butt naked, opening your mouth wide. He strokes his heavy cock a few times and hot glistening cum gets painted on your face, some inside your mouth and you gleefully lick it with your tongue.
You could have sworn that you'd never be this happy before as you watched his heavy features smiling just cause of you. And he placed a hand on your chin caressing your cheek slowly.
"I got a hotel room."
"I can get on the next plane."
"Good."
You could have sworn....
Oh, nevermind.
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#selenewrites#cassian andor#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor smut#cassian andor x you#cassian andor x y/n#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor imagine#cassian andor fic#andor x reader#andor#star wars smut#star wars#diego luna fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#cassian x reader#cassian x you#cassian x y/n
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