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beskarandblasters · 9 months

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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!

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moonlight-prose · 6 months

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✧ LOVE BETWEEN ✧

a/n: i am iffy about this fic as a whole. last night writing wise wasn't the best for me and my mood has been...oof. but i will forever love cassian so much. so i couldn't fully skip this day without finishing his fic. i need to write so much more for him and the wips in my drafts are screaming. so i guess it's time for a rewatch of andor! i hope you enjoy my loves. (also the gif has me frothing at the mouth).

day nineteen - dry humping | kinktober 2023

summary: "there remained an unspoken pull between the two of you that kept you tightly wrapped around one another. your souls knotted so tight there was no undoing what had been solidified. the unspoken future you had always planned."

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: cassian andor x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dry humping, fluff and angst, cassian being head over heels.

There remained an unspoken pull between the two of you that kept you tightly wrapped around one another. Your souls knotted so tight there was no undoing what had been solidified. The unspoken future you had always planned. More often than not, he found himself in your home. Seeking out the pleasure of your company as you both drank the shittiest caf in existence, but it was all you could find.

He would tell you the goings on around town, the things you might have otherwise missed, and you’d speak to him about your dreams. What you wanted to strive for, what life could be like if the Empire wasn’t currently destroying everything. You spoke about anything and everything, divulging things to each other that felt too private to tell anyone else.

Tonight he sat on the shitty couch, jacket discarded onto your separate chair, and eyes tracking your every movement as you fluttered around in the kitchen. The scent of your caf wafted through the house. Burnt and bitter and familiar. You poured some into his mug before heading over to your spot beside him. The blanket already pooled around his waist.

“How is Bix?” you asked, feeling him shift to face you better as you settled, dragging the rough fabric up around your legs.

He shrugged, taking a sip and wincing at the taste. Yet another familiar movement. “She and Tim are…”

“Complicated?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes shifting to meet your gaze. “You could say that.”

“He loves her.” You set the mug on your small table that tilted slightly. “It’s obvious.”

Cassian’s voice came softer, eyes tracing the curve of your body as the blanket slipped down a bit, revealing the curve of your breasts in your top. “He does,” he murmured, fingers tightening around his mug when you shifted even closer. The air between the two of you, now warm.

Silence filled the space, laying over you like a different kind of blanket. One that offered softness, comfort. A place where you knew you could be yourself and voice what you wanted out of life. Cassian felt the same. He sunk into the couch, sipping on the caf still despite its awful flavor; a gesture that warmed your heart. The nights were a time you looked forward to most. When you could finally relish in the presence of the man you’d loved for as long as you could remember.

But to Cassian you were a friend.

Simply the person he sought out when he needed someone to make him feel like his feet were firmly planted on the ground. He wasn’t the greatest friend and he knew that. He knew that he oftentimes brought more trouble than necessary, but with you he laid his troubles by the door as if they were a coat to be hung. Something he would pick up on his way out. In order to keep that smile on your face. The joy that pressed into his chest, filling him with a feeling that he found himself running from most days.

Yet when it came to you…he didn’t want to run anymore.

You didn’t notice him setting his mug on the table, too invested in the paper beside you, something scribbled on it. “I forgot to tell you—”

Grasping the back of your neck gently, he dragged you closer, his lips finding yours and drawing out a sharp gasp from your mouth. It was a meager attempt to display those feelings that ate away at his heart. Something to show you that he came here each night for a reason. You. He came to hear your laughter, to drink your shitty caf, and watch you light up at his stories.

He came to feel the warmth of your love on an otherwise cold planet.

Seconds passed and for a moment he worried you didn’t want this. That he’d overstepped his boundaries and pushed the limit of your friendship too far. Your hands sliding into his hair and dragging him closer put a stop to those thoughts instantly. A soft moan echoed in the back of your throat, punching the breath from his lungs as he practically climbed over you. His hand grasping onto your waist, sliding your leg over his hip.

“Cas—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he mumbled breathlessly, shifting to pull you up into his lap, until your knees were pressing on either side of his hips, chest pressed to his. “Ever since that fucking dinner.”

You laughed softly, fingers tracing his jaw and Cassian forgot how to breathe for that mere moment. “The dinner wasn’t so bad.”

“Bix cooking is never a good thing.”

Another giggle filled the air as you leaned down to steal another kiss. The taste of your caf, so much better coming from your tongue. He found that he didn’t mind the flavor. As long he got to kiss you afterwards. Sucking in a breath, he bit at your bottom lips, hands sliding to grasp at your hips, pushing you even closer until no space remained.

“I met you,” he replied, watching your eyes darken with lust, lips parting when he dragged you over his already hard cock. “The only good part of that night.”

Heat flooded the back of your neck, spilling into your cheeks and overheating your body. Yet you’d never wanted something more in your whole life. He captured your lips in another kiss, hips bucking up to meet yours, a sound being pulled from your chest. Heady and wet. Similar to the way he devoured you. As if you were the only source of life for miles—kissing you until you had no choice but to gasp for air, yanking on his hair to separate yourself.

“I want—oh—” Your clit caught on the seam of your pants, the press of his cock driving you insane as he dragged you across his lap again. A deep moan bubbling up in your throat, eyes fluttering shut when pleasure burst across your senses.

“I want to see you,” he said, chest heaving and eyes dark with need.

“I’m here.”

His lips curled up, grinding into you and watching your face contort, eyebrows pulling together while your mouth dropped open. “No. I want…to see you.”

The meaning registered in your brain slower than you would have liked. Yet once it did, you couldn’t find the words to respond. Each of them more incoherent than the last. He wanted to watch you cum. To witness you at the peak of pleasure, knowing that it was caused by him.

“Cassian,” you gasped, grinding down until sparks shot up your spine. Slick flooded your panties, no doubt soaking through to his pants. You dragged yourself along his lap, arms curled around his neck and lips brushing his as he panted into your mouth.

“Take what you want,” he said hoarsely, helping you guide your movements as he bucked up into you with each shift. “Use me.”

“Maker.”

You went lightheaded. The rush of need plowing through your body as he led you through the movements. Your legs were slightly shaky, eyes squeezed shut and lips scratching along his cheek. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Cassian held you like you were precious kyber. Something he could one day lose in the middle of terror.

“I’m gonna, Maker I’m g-gonna—fuck Cas—”

Licking a hot trail up your throat, he felt you shudder above him, your cry bouncing off the walls of your house. He watched the bliss wash across your face and wanted to see it again. As many times as you’d permit him. Pressing his hips up and grinding roughly against the seam of your pants, he felt his body lock up—his rough moan pressed to your chest. His cock twitched in his pants, cum soaking through the fabric.

It would get uncomfortable soon, but he had you on top of him, pressing kissing down his neck and sucking on the skin. Drawing out another soft moan.

“That was new,” you said softly, smiling into his shoulder. He chuckled, hands moving to cover your ass. “Although I wouldn’t mind adding that to our nights.”

“Shitty caf and a good fuck?”

You slapped his shoulder, body shaking as you laughed and he couldn’t stop himself from joining. Feeling a type of joy that only came around you. He wanted to lock it in his chest. To remember what this felt like even when he wasn’t there with you. But to Cassian there was no place he’d rather be.

“Perfect,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his, sealing your future with a kiss he felt down to his toes.

#cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x y/n #cassian andor x you #cassian andor #cassian andor smut #star wars smut #my writing #kinktober 2023 #posting this late but i really wanted to get it out today

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kitschykryptid · 21 days

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fic rec masterlist (nsfw)

love love love all of these (yes i will keep updating lol i have to go through all my liked works)

Star Wars:

Poe Dameron:

The Bet series by no-droids

Mandalorian:

Rough Day by no-droids (my fucking favorite series. so hot)

Best Kept Secret series by lincolndjarin

Cassian Andor:

The Sun on Both Sides by no-droids

Kylo Ren:

Little Tease by loki-hargreeves

Rough Landing by bastillia (part one is on ao3 make sure you read that first - feral for this piece)

Anakin Skywalker:

I dream of you, almost every night, hopefully, I won't wake up this time by tulipsbymybed

One Night by dont-feel-so-good-peter

Stranger Things:

Steddie:

Smoke by roanniom

Head Filled With Demons by justmeinadaze

Steve Harrington:

You sound pretty hot when you shut up by wroteclassicaly

Harry Potter:

Sirius + Remus by hpimaginesandblurbs

Draco Malfoy: (can you tell i love him? lol)

Draco Malfoy by hpimaginesandblurbs

2 part Draco Blurb by hpimaginesandblurbs

between belfast and cardiff by prsfphone

Snow White by coffee-imagines

Tom Riddle:

His Angel by ameliasbitvh

Nameless/Short Blurbs:

The Bong by triplexhoneyypot

Play With Me by hatterbby

Others:

Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth) "Use that on me" by your-setting-lotion

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pedrito-friskito · 11 months

Note

cassian andor + smut prompt #10

i am a whore <3

nonnie if you're a whore I'm a whore 🤍

you called - cassian andor x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (this one got away from me can you tell?)

warnings: unprotected p-in-v, brief oral (f receiving), jealous/possessive!cassian

“Two shots of Corellian whiskey, please,” you ask, stepping up to the bar beside Cassian. The sound of your voice almost makes him jump, but he hides the movement smoothly, adjusting in his seat. From the corner of his eye, he watches you lean back against the bar, propping your elbows on it. You wait for a few other patrons to pass before you drop your voice low. “You’re late.”

“I am not late,” he grumbles, polishing off the rest of his own drink. “I’ve been here waiting for you for hours now.”

You scoff a laugh, shaking your head. “After all this time and you still think you can lie to me, Cassian? You don’t think I had a lock on your ship the moment it entered the atmosphere?”

He balks, tries to hide it and fails. You’re good. Too good. He doesn’t say a word, shakes his head as the bartender returns with two shot glasses, placing them on the bar between you and him.

“That Fondor looks like it’s more mod than original,” you comment, reaching for one of the shots. “Where’d you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it,” he shoots back, watching your brow raise. “It’s on loan, from a friend.”

“You don’t have friends, Cassian,” you quip, tossing back your shot. You slide the second one over to him. “Just people you owe money to.”

“I don’t owe you any money,” he mutters, unable to stop himself from giving you a cheeky grin. “What does that make us? Friends?”

“You know exactly what we are,” you return, giving him a sideways glance before setting your glass back down. “The mark just walked in. Keep an eye out, will you?”

“I always do,” he replies, and then you’re gone.

This is an old habit for Cassian. He’s known you a long time; you grew up on Ferrix same as him, but you managed to get off-world far before he could bring himself to. By the time he first met up with you on Coruscant, you had already started to make a name for yourself in the Capital’s underworld, and Cassian was in awe. He longed to get the hell off of Ferrix, to go somewhere warm and easy and carefree. He knew Coruscant wasn’t that place, but judging by the amount of credits you were raking in, it was a step in the right direction.

You sent for him often, over the years. He was the only one you trusted to watch your back, to keep a careful eye while you gathered intel, traded information with some of the shadier types in the galaxy. Most jobs went off without a hitch, but there were more than a handful of times where Cassian had started bar brawls to get you the hell out of dodge. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet, but after everything that’s happened to him, he wouldn’t be surprised.

This is the first time he’s seen you, since everything happened on Ferrix. Maarva, Bix, B2. Luthen and his newborn rebellion. Cassian doesn’t totally know where he stands, what he’s doing, what his next move might be. But when he picked up your signal, Luthen loaned him the ship with little protest, and he was jumping through hyperspace an hour later.

You call, and he comes. It’s how it’s always been.

There had always been something between you, Cassian knew that much. His reputation might not have been the most pristine, but you never seemed to mind, having a bit of a rep yourself.

But tonight…He could hear the unspoken in your voice, the strain of the events of the last time you met up. The job hadn’t been the issue - it had gone perfectly, in fact - but after, you asked him to walk you back to the apartment you had on the other side of the district.

He’d done as you asked, going so far as to bring you right to your front door. You’d asked him if he wanted to come inside, and before he could get the word yes past his teeth, you’d grabbed him by the front of his collar, and kissed him.

Clothes scattered on the floor, you’d stumbled your way to your bedroom. It was…blissful, in a word. It was everything he felt like he was missing, and that unspoken thing rumbled through you both, but there in your bed, he didn’t think it needed to be spoken aloud. It just…was.

Morning had come too quickly, and when he woke, you were gone. No note, nothing, just his clothes folded and stacked on the table beside the bed. He’d dressed quickly, and got on the next ship to Ferrix.

He wants to ask. He wants to know why you didn’t stay, why you didn’t leave him any sign that you wanted him to stay. But after everything that’s happened, it feels inconsequential, almost.

Cassian drinks down the shot, setting the glass down on the bar with a little too much force. You’re easy to spot, weaving your way through the bar to a man lurking in the dark corner. Brow furrowing, his hand brushes over his coat, where his blaster sits, tucked against his hip. He’s gotten quick on the draw, since he last saw you.

The man spots you as you draw closer, and Cassian bristles at the recognition on his face. He’s glad to see you, and it only becomes more and more evident as the two of you move closer and closer together, heads bowed as you speak, the man’s hand moving to rest on your hip. Then it moves up your back, pressing into the dip of your spine, and Cassian grits his teeth.

Something like jealousy flares in his gut. No, not something like it, but the thing itself.

He wants to touch you like that again, like he had that night. Seeing someone else with their hands on you…his fingers twitch over the blaster again.

No, something else warns him, a clearer voice in his head. That won’t go well, and you know it.

So instead, he watches. He leans back as casually as he can, one elbow leaned on the bar, tapping his other hand against his thigh. The conversation doesn’t last much longer, and before he knows it, you’re returning to his side, a contented grin on your face.You toss your hair over your shoulder as you wave down the bartender again. “Another round.”

“Got everything you needed?”

“And then some,” you reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Thank you for coming, Cassian.”

He just nods. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“We’re not friends,” you say, shaking your head as the bartender brings you another two shots. You toss them both back quickly. “I thought we made that clear the last time you were here.”

“The last time?” he repeats, lifting a brow. “You mean when you dragged me to bed and disappeared the next morning? That last time?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out with such venom, but it does. Jealousy has taken hold of him and refuses to let go. His blood boils with it.

You narrow your eyes at him, your tongue poking between your lips to wet them. He watches the movement and ignores the way it makes his trousers tighten. He’s mad at you, he’s so glad to see you, he’s infuriated at you for leaving him alone last time, he’s so in love with you he might burst into flames.

“You’re jealous,” you determine, and though everything in him screams YES!, he rolls his eyes, turning half away from you. But you don’t let him go far, grabbing his shoulder and spinning his stool back in your direction. “Tell me I’m wrong, Cassian.”

Your hand moves from his shoulder to his thigh, and Cassian’s jaw goes tight. “We are not friends.”

“No,” you agree. “We’re more than that.”

“And your way of telling me that was disappearing the next morning, waiting three months, and then calling me to be your sidekick again?”

Your face falls, and you step back, removing your hand from his leg. “Come with me.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel and stalk out of the bar. Cassian only finds it in him to move when you reach the doorway, and then he’s all but chasing you, walking the almost familiar path to your apartment. You take the stairs, seeming to float up them as Cassian almost struggles to keep up. He loses you for a moment, but when he reaches your door, it’s open, only closing when he steps inside.

He calls your name, hears your quiet in here come from the direction of your bedroom. The place looks the same as he remembers and as he rounds the corner of the hallway, stepping into your room, he finds you perched at the edge of your bed.

“I left in the morning to get us breakfast,” you admit, looking up at Cassian, your eyes shining in the dark. “I’m not here a lot, and there wasn’t any food, so I went to get us something. When I came back, you were gone, and I realized I’d made a mistake.”

He says your name again, softer, and you shake your head.

“And then I started hearing the rumours, about Ferrix, about you. I heard about Aldhani, about Narkina-5, all of it. I even called Brasso, and that was when he told me about Maarva. I’ve been trying to call you ever since then, but nothing was going through. Then I met Vel, and she gave me the right frequency to contact you.”

Cassian sighs, leaning against the doorway. He never even questioned how you’d gotten his contact info after he was off Ferrix…he just…

You called, he came.

“You met Vel,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

You nod. “Hell of a woman.”

Cassian nods. “So you know, then. About the Rebellion.”

“I do. Figured I should put my talents to good use. Better than ripping off ex-senators and making credits I don’t need. And, if it keeps me closer to you, then it’s a win on all sides, as far as I can tell.”

His stomach drops into his toes. “You’re joining?”

You nod again. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. I tried to resist it, I really did. But now…everything else seems…”

“Meaningless?” you supply. You pull your eyes from his. “For what it’s worth, Cassian, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I’m sorry about Maarva, Ferrix, all of it. ”

“You didn’t cause it,” he replies, propping his hands on his hips. “I did that all by myself.”

“Come here,” you say, your voice going soft and your eyes meeting his once more. “Please?”

Slowly, he closes the distance. He watches you reach for him, your hands moving to the belt that holds his blaster, undoing it quickly and letting it slip to the floor. He tries not to groan when your hands move under his loose shirt, fingers curling around his hips.

Silently, he shakes his coat off, letting it drop to the ground before he hooks two fingers in the back of his shirt, pulling it forward off his torso. It joins the pile on the floor and then he hisses, your teeth sinking into the skin over his hip bone. He lets one hand dive into your hair, holding you against him, feeling your tongue soothe the mark you’ve left behind.

“Promise me something,” he whispers, and you tilt your head back, pulling your mouth from his skin long enough to meet his eyes.

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I promise.”

You kiss your way across his waist, fingers working the button on his trousers while you distract him with your mouth. He’s got both hands in your hair now, silk between his knuckles, and it almost pulls his focus completely, enough that you have to repeat the next words out of your mouth.

“You never answered me.”

“Huh?”

“Back at the bar, I said you were jealous. You never answered me.”

You pull his zipper down, snap the elastic of his boxers against his skin. Cassian hisses. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was,” you agree, nipping at his hip again. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls, just hard enough that your head tilts back and he bends slightly, pulling his body away from yours, but putting his face close enough that he can feel your breath on his cheek.

“You have any idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you? Someone else put their hands on you?”

You inhale sharply, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, and Cassian prods it with his thumb, pulling it free, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the plush of your lip. “Show me.”

And he does.

He makes quick work of your clothes, shucking his trouses off once you’re naked on the bed. You don’t let him go far, surging up to kiss him when he steps back to undress completely. Your hands are in his hair, same as his are in yours, and Cassian groans when you tug, both of you finding similar pleasure in the movement.

The first night was different. You’d stumbled your way through the dark, finding your peaks quickly. You’d fallen asleep after, and Cassian had watched you for a while before drifting off. That unspoken thing lulled him to sleep.

But now, he turns the bedside light on. The room illuminates with a soft orange glow, and he leans over you, until you fall back against the pillows and blankets, laid out for him, reaching for him. He molds himself into your palms, covers your body with his own.

The first night, he hadn’t had the chance to taste you. Refusing to miss out a second time, he arranges you on the bed, pushing your knees apart to make room for his shoulders, tracing his mouth along the inside of your thigh, eyes darting between your glistening cunt and your face, the way your eyes roll back in your skull when he buries his head between your legs and sucks your clit between his teeth.

He wants to feel you cum on his face, to feel your thighs tremble around his ears, but you have other ideas. You haul him up with a gasp, fitting your mouth to his and licking your taste out of his mouth. “I wanted to-” he starts, but you cut him off, reaching between your bodies and squeezing your fingers around his cock.

“Plenty of time for that later,” you murmur, lips at his jaw, words spoken into his skin. “Right now I need you inside me, Cass.”

He groans as you stroke him, curling your wrist just right, but then he pulls your hand away, pinning your wrists either side of your head. Using his knees, he spreads your legs wide and drops his hips, the tip of his cock dragging through your wetness.

“Please,” you beg, your own hips lifting, chasing him, trying to notch his cock at your entrance. He teases you a moment longer, waits for the angle to be just right, and then he pushes into you. Your fingers flex against the bedsheets, mouth dropping open with a moan as his hips press into yours. Your legs twitch, one calf wrapping around his thigh. “Cassian, fuck, oh my-”

He covers your mouth with his, swallowing down your words and moans. You tighten around him, impossibly so, and he starts to move, finding his rhythm, filling you to the hilt with each thrust only to pull out almost all the way and do it all over again. Over and over and over, and you’re babbling into his mouth, straining against his hold. He leans up just that much more, pulling his lips from yours, both of you staring down at the spot where you’re joined, where he’s disappearing into you with every move.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this, yes?” he grunts, hearing you gasp as he gives you one particularly hard thrust. He feels your head wobble with a nod, but he wants to hear it. “Say it.”

“Only you, Cass,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as you go even tighter around him. “Oh gods, fuck, only you.”

Pleasure coils like a serpent at the base of his spine, and he drops, trying not to smother you with his weight, pressing his face into the arch of your throat. You moan loudly as he releases your hands, curling his own around your shoulders while yours find purchase in his hair again. The bed shakes with your movement, both legs lifting to wrap around his waist now, your ankles hooked together at the small of his back. “Please, please, please, please, please,” you beg and Cassian bites at your pulse, groaning into your skin as his release threatens to overtake him.

“Cum for me,” he says, and you obey.

Your back arches and you make the sweetest sounds. He wants to bottle them, keep them for himself. He rides out your orgasm, keeping his own pleasure at bay until you’ve caught your breath, sighing at the press of him inside you, pulling him close. “Now you,” you whisper, nipping at his ear, lifting your hips so he gets that much deeper inside you, the warmth enough to swallow him whole. “Let me feel you.”

You call, and he comes.

He growls into your throat, fingers digging deep into your shoulders. You press kisses along his cheek, the space below his ear, his temple. Murmurs of how good it feels, how you missed him, how you’ll never let him go again, it’s the backdrop to the pleasure roaring through his body. It makes every muscle in him tense up before he relaxes completely, sinking into your embrace.

His eyes drop shut as he softens inside you, completely spent. Your fingers comb through his hair, soft kisses still scattered across whatever skin you can reach. After a few minutes, he finds the strength to roll off of you, falling onto the bed at your side.

You kiss his mouth before you get up, disappearing into the fresher for a moment, coming back with a glass of water for you both to share. Cassian gulps down the liquid as you slide back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over you both. You go to turn out the light, but he stops you.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

#my fics #sleepover sundae #cassian andor #cassian andor fic #cassian andor smut #cassian andor angst #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #you called

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dameronscopilot · 11 months

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PLEASE can I please request Cassian x fem reader that involves thigh riding and the use of „good girl“ because I‘m a slut for this man

fell into place

cassian andor x f!reader

summary: in which a tight space and Cassian's firm thigh lead to an inevitable outcome. so maybe you don't hate him quite as much as you think you do.

word count: 1.1k

18+

content: NSFW, smut, enemies to lovers vibes, thigh riding, oral fixation, coming untouched, coming in pants, dirty talk (mentions of: unprotected sex, creampies, masturbation)

a/n: i haven't written Cassian in so long, but this idea literally tackled me to the ground and held me hostage the moment i read this ask. thanks nonnie!

Cassian Andor is the bane of your existence.

Between his arrogant, reserved nature, his do-or-die attitude, and every stupidly handsome hair on his annoyingly pretty head.

Fuck him.

Fuck him and his cocky little smirks and the way he purposely let his beard grow back in just to drive you halfway out of your mind.

Fuck the way he thinks he can show you up in every flight and blaster drill, only to still have the audacity to give you something akin to bedroom eyes when you pass him on the base late at night. The way he sometimes tilts his head when he looks at you from across the mess hall the next morning, a small smile tugging at his lips—as if he knows the muffled little sounds as you fingered yourself in the privacy of your quarters were his name.

Over and over and over and—

Fuck his assumption that you’ll let him in, just because you’re as broken as he is. Maybe a little bit more, really.

It’s these thoughts that are playing like a mantra in your head as you find yourself in a precarious position: wedged in a narrow, inconspicuous trench on the outskirts of an Imperial camp. With nowhere to run and your cover nearly blown in broad daylight, the two of you had no choice but to backtrack and slip into the small, overgrown, and undoubtedly long-forgotten hiding spot to wait for the safety of nightfall.

And it would be fine—frustrating, but fine—if it weren’t for the fact that the trench was clearly made for one person.

…which is why you’re now awkwardly wedged in Cassian’s lap, straddling one of his thighs and forced to stare at his infuriatingly handsome face far closer than you’d ever allow yourself to on a normal day when you life isn't at risk.

Faced with the option of entirely wrapping your legs around his waist or plopping your ass in his lap, this had initially seemed like the safest choice. But as Cassian groans quietly at the discomfort of the hard dirt beneath him and shifts his body slightly, you quickly realize that this was a losing battle from the start.

Cassian may look like he’s of average build on the surface, but fuck if he’s not a wall of solid muscle underneath his clothes. In your attempts to avoid eye contact with him, you find yourself distracted by the tendons in his neck, so you’re already mentally scolding yourself when you feel it—the firm, unforgiving press of his thigh against your core.

Fuck.

Memories of the way you’d spent the night before leaving for this mission flow into your mind unbidden, despite your best attempts to clear your head.

Your legs spread wide across your bed, slick arousal painting the inside of your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you. The delicious stretch of the toy as you eased it into your dripping entrance.

—how hard you came when you closed your eyes and imagined it was Cassian’s cock splitting you open, legs trembling and fingers shaking as you screamed his name into the pillow.

Cassian grunts, moving again, and a small gasp escapes your lips at the pressure of the material tugging against your clit.

“Can you sit still?” you snap, heart fit to burst out of your chest as it treads a frantic beat.

He’s silent for a moment before moving again, ever so slightly, leaving you helpless but to exhale a sound caught somewhere between a moan and a growl.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asks quietly, his breath hot against your ear as you tuck your face into the space between his shoulder and neck.

Later, you’ll blame it on the fucked up adrenaline rush from the danger surrounding you. How goddamn lonely you’ve been since you joined the Rebellion. The unfair way the rough caress of Cassian’s voice sets each and every nerve ending in your body alight.

You can think about how much you’re going to regret this later, when you’re not trapped in a trench with a man who you’re convinced you can’t stand. A man that you spend a whole lot of time thinking about…considering how much you swear you hate him.

Your response is a pointed cant of your hips, warmth curling in your abdomen at the feeling of your cunt freely dragging across Cassian’s thigh, your folds sliding through the slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, carefully bringing his hands up to grasp either of your hips. The calluses on his thumbs scrape against your skin at the waistband of your pants where your shirt’s ridden up. “You’re stunning, you know.”

“But,” he adds in a low tone as you let out a choked out whine when he tightens his grip and guides your next stroke, “you’re really gorgeous like this, when you loosen the slack on that silly leash you keep yourself on.”

“Cassian,” you gasp out when he presses his hot lips to the exposed skin on your neck, kissing and nipping his way down to your collarbone.

“I know,” he whispers, “Riding my thigh isn’t enough. You need me to fill that pretty cunt.”

You whimper, fisting a hand in his hair, and he chuckles, one hand slipping under your shirt to tease at your peaked nipples.

“I’ll fill every tight little hole of yours with my cum for when we get back to the ship, if that’s what you want.”

“Please,” you nearly cry out, almost forgetting the Imperial troops stationed nearby.

The hand currently squeezing and kneading your breasts slips away and clamps over your mouth as Cassian gives you a warning look, and you nod, continuing to chase the pleasure building between your legs.

His pants are probably soaked with your arousal, too, at this point. And the thought makes your cunt throb. Another desperate sound crawls up your throat ahead of your impending orgasm, and Cassian slips two fingers into your mouth. He hums in satisfaction when the only muffled noise left is the wet slide of you eagerly sucking on his fingers, a sloppy trail of drool sliding down your cheek.

And then your climax hits you so hard your vision goes white, your entire body shaking with waves of pleasure that leave you boneless.

Cassian grasps your chin as you make no secret of the way you adjust yourself to sit fully in his lap now, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You reach between your bodies, surprised to find the hard outline of his cock slightly softened now. Amusement rumbles in his chest as your fingers glide over the sticky area where he came in his pants.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he assures you, eyes sparkling with mischief before he leans in to kiss you once more.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» CASSIAN ANDOR MASTERLIST

#cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor smut #diego luna fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut

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candyfloss5000 · 5 months

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Does anyone else make private tiktok videos about their ocs cuz youre too scared that people you know will see them and make fun of them??? Just me??? Okay😭

#Star wars #Star wars oc #OC #orignal character #Doctor who OC #Sarah jane adventures #Doctor who #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Obi wan Kenobi x reader #Tenth Doctor x reader #Fourteenth Doctor x reader #Eleventh Doctor x reader #Cassian andor x reader #The doctor #Ninth Doctor x reader #Twelfth Doctor x reader #Thirteenth Doctor x reader

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writingdumpster · 1 year

Text

for so long

pairing: Cassian x reader

warnings: non graphic injury description, heated make out

summary: When you defy an order and risk your life on a mission Cassian accidentally confesses his love for you in his anger.

word count: 1,325

Your ship pulled off the ground and you watched as Hoth disappeared beneath you. It was a gunfight on the way back to the ship, but you and Cassian were safe and you had retrieved the drive you came for successfully. It was a successful mission, and it would be difficult for anyone to argue otherwise. Nevertheless you were being yelled at. K-2 was piloting the craft, leaving Cassian free to focus his attention on you.

“I told you to leave! It doesn’t matter what I do! I gave you an order!” Cassian yelled at you. You had taken a seat on a stool at the holotable. He was still standing, unable to calm himself enough to sit down.

“So, I was just supposed to leave you there?” You asked. “We got away fine, Andor. I don’t get what the problem is.” You were exasperated by Cassian. Sure, the mission hadn’t gone to plan, but it wasn’t that bad. Everyone was okay and you’d gotten what you came for.

“The problem is you almost died!” Cassian shouted.

“You almost die every day!” You snapped.

“That’s me, not you!” Cassian yelled back.

“So, you’re allowed to be in danger, but I’m not? Why?” You asked angrily.

“Because I love you!” Cassian shouted without thinking about it. The ship fell silent.

“You love me?” you murmured in question.

“I…I did not mean to say that. I’m…sorry,” Cassian said as he avoided eye contact with you.

“Cassian,” you called. “Do you really love me?” Your voice was light and sweet. It was the same voice you used with him whenever you were patching him up.

“I…We’re partners,” Cassian deflected.

“I know that, Cass.” The use of the nickname made Cassian’s heart skip a beat. “I asked if you love me.”

“Y/N, we should not talk about this,” Cassian said. He hadn’t made eye contact with you once since his confession. You stood up and approached him. There was only about a foot of space between you. Cassian turned his head to look at K-2 in the cockpit.

“Cassian, look at me,” you requested. Cassian pressed his lips together tightly before turning his head to look down at you. You reached up and cupped his jaw in your hand, his stubble scratching your palm lightly. You started to lean towards him slowly.

“Y/N, we can’t,” Cassian whispered. You could feel his breath against your lips.

“Why not?” You asked, maintaining your closeness. Cassian didn’t move away either.

“We’re partners,” he said. You gently ran your thumb along Cassian’s cheek. It was only another moment before you felt his hands gently resting on your hips. His touch was light. He was nervous. He still wasn’t sure he should be allowed to touch you at all.

“Do you love me, Kassa?” Cassian blushed brightly. He’d told you his birth name once during a late night stakeout. He didn’t think you even remembered it. He loved the way it sounded coming from you though. It made him feel like you really knew him. Like you were his family.

“Yes,” Cassian admitted quietly. “I love you.” You smiled softly. You leaned forward and kissed him passionately, tongue pushing into his mouth. He hummed in pleasure when you tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. You released his lips but kept your foreheads pressed together.

“I love you too, Cassian,” you said.

”I’ve wanted you for so long,” Cassian murmured as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling your body against his. Your hands found a place on his broad shoulders. You slid them to the collar of his jacket. You started to push it off him. He quickly began to aid you, but you stopped him when you saw a blood stain on his shirt.

“Cassian, you’re bleeding!” You exclaimed. He glanced down.

“It’s a graze,” Cassian said. “We can deal with it later.” He tossed his jacket all the way off. You lifted his shirt. He continued to help you but his expression dropped when he realized you were just examining the wound.

“Baby, I’m fine,” Cassian sighed as he tossed the shirt off. You smirked.

“‘Baby,’ huh?” You teased him as you carefully examined the blaster graze and burns around it. Cassian’s cheeks warmed.

“Is that alright?” He asked. His hands moved to your waist as your eyes searched the rest of his body for other wounds he was ignoring.

“It’s alright, honey,” you said with a smirk. Cassian grinned. “Now sit down. I’m going to get a medpack,” you finished. He huffed quietly. He didn’t release you. “Let go, Cass,” you said in a sing-songy voice.

“Can’t it wait?” Cassian pleaded. He leaned forward and began pressing his lips to your exposed neck. “Aren’t we in the middle of something more important?” You gave his biceps a squeeze as you pushed him away from you.

“We can get back to this once I’ve finished patching you up,” you promised. “Sit.” Cassian pursed his lips, but took a seat and waited for you to return with the medpack.

When you did you sat across from Cassian. The graze was just above his waist on the side of his body. You dug out the antiseptic and found a small cloth.

“Lift your arm,” you instructed Cassian. He sighed but did as you asked. You leaned towards him and began carefully cleaning the wound. About ten seconds into your work he put his arm down and reached out to push a loose piece of hair behind your ear, leaving the hand to rest on your cheek once he had. “Cass,” you warned.

“What?” Cassian asked, feigning innocence.

“Just let me finish taking care of you,” you told him.

“I want to take care of you right now,” he said, moving his other hand to your thigh.

“I’m serious, Cass,” you said. “We aren’t doing anything until I’ve got you all bandaged up.” He pouted as he pulled his hands back, earning a giggle from you.

“You’re laughing at me?” Cassian exclaimed.

“You’re just so cute, honey,” you said. His cheeks heated at the compliment. You removed a piece of ash lodged in the wound. He winced.

“Sorry, Kassa,” you cooed. “I know it hurts.”

“I’m alright, baby,” Cassian said. “Don’t worry about me.” You put down the antiseptic and took a bandage in your hand.

“I’m always going to worry about you,” you said sweetly. He took a piece of your hair in his fingers and was twirling it around his finger. You put your hand against his side again. You were about to put the bandage on.

“You’re taking a long time,” Cassian complained.

“Quiet, you,” you said. “I’m almost done.” You laid the bandage down over the wound carefully and sealed it to Cassian’s skin. You leaned down and pressed a kiss over the bandage before sitting back up and looking at him with a smile.

“Are you done? Can I kiss you now?” Cassian asked eagerly. You chuckled lightly.

“Yes, Captain Andor,” you teased. “You can kiss me now.” Cassian growled.

“You can’t call me that now. K2 is still here,” he groaned. You giggled when you realized how he felt about the title. You recalled that after your first week of working with him he asked you to stop using his title.

“Just kiss me, Cassian,” you murmured.

Cassian didn’t waste another moment before pushing his lips against yours. His lips were warm despite the fact that you’d just departed the cold of Hoth. You took his bottom lip in your teeth and tugged for a moment before he took control and pushed his tongue into your mouth.

You were growing lost in the feeling of Cassian’s mouth against yours, totally and completely addicted to his taste already. Time or space didn’t seem to exist anymore. There was nothing but you and Cassian. You were his and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

#cassian andor x reader #andor x reader #cassian andor angst #diego luna x reader #star wars x reader #cassian andor fanfic #cassian andor fluff

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merrymermaidstuff · 11 months

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ

𝑫𝒊𝒏 𝑫𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏:

The Sweetest Melody by @noisynaia

White Fields by @noisynaia

Simply Din Djarin by @absurdthirst

Pretty Picture by @groguspicklejar

Competing For Christmas (Series) by @something-tofightfor

𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒓:

For so long by @writingdumpster

About you by @amywritesthings

Hold me through the storm by @archieimagines

𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔:

Clumsy by @marvelsswansong

Lunchbox by @writingforcurrentobsessions2

Chocolate by @bits-and-babs

Ice breaker by @bluehourbucky

𝑱𝒐𝒆𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓:

Sharing is caring by @noisynaia

Fondness by @nonexistent-introvert

Comfort you by @northernbluess

Tommorow never came by @noisynaia

Muscle memory by @tieronecrush

𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓:

The best thank you by @augustghosts

Soft by @mewhenimsad

𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏:

Summer heat by @toasty-melons

Cruel intensions by @ourautumn86

#fic rec #din djarin x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #cassian andor x reader #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #abby anderson x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x f!reader

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biggestsimponhere · 10 months

Text

Photos of the star wars men being boyfriend coded. I love them sm.

Reblog with more cause there are simply never enough.

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 9 months

Text

Star Wars Masterlist

One Shots

Pasaana Festival - Poe x Reader

Change Your Name... - Poe x Reader

The Spice Runner Story - Poe x Reader

Back Home - Poe x Reader

Confusion In The Force - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

The Younglings - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

You Did What? - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

Reckless - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader (Ft Anakin)

Homesick Padawan - Young Anakin, Reader (ft. Obi-Wan)

Mission Jealousy - Cassian Andor x Reader

Crossed Lines - Cassian Andor x Reader

Side Quest - Reader, Boba Fett, Fennec (all platonic)

Imagines + Mini Fic

Imagine Cassian helping you dress a wound after a difficult mission

Imagine Poe watching you fix a busted electrical box in the Millennium Falcon

Imagine feeling uncomfortable on a planet in a galaxy far away (Poe Dameron)

Imagine Poe’s reaction after he finds you packed to leave

Imagine having to leave on a Jedi mission suddenly (Obi-wan)

Imagine Obi-Wan confessing that he’s in trouble

Imagine Obi-Wan helping you out of a situation

Imagine Obi-Wan trying to understand what is troubling you

Imagine getting a holo-call from Boba Fett and Fennec Shand

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beskarandblasters · 1 year

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amywritesthings · 1 year

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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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silver-pieces · 1 year

Text

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.

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