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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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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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antianakin · 2 months

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I hope you don’t mind me asking—but I have GOT to hear your thoughts on the newest Acolyte episode having the line that basically indirectly blames the Jedi for their own genocide. Like—it’s not OUTRIGHT—but it’s still so obviously blatant that’s what the showrunner was winking and nudging at to the SW audience that hates the Jedi. 😭💔🤦‍♀️

It was disgusting, to be honest. 😒

I'm not watching the show, so I just found a post that talked about the line and to be honest, it's no worse than what we've been getting in so much other media these days. The Ahsoka show had Ahsoka condemn the Jedi for "failing" because they wouldn't train literally everyone to wield the Force, indirectly blaming them for what happened to them while directly exonerating Anakin for betraying them and murdering their children by claiming it was just "destiny" and done "for love". The Ahsoka show also had a fallen Jedi character claim he only missed "the idea of" the Jedi, but that the "truth" of them was that they were weak and had no future and that they were just part of an endless cycle of violence that made them not really any different to the Sith. Jedi: Fallen Order has a fallen Jedi character who condemns the Jedi for having been fallen " long before the Purge. Stifled by tradition. Deafened by our past glories." Jedi: Survivor had a fallen High Republic Jedi character condemn the Jedi for allowing the Empire to rise and calls them failures.

So this is so far from the first time the Jedi have gotten blamed for their own genocide recently. It's not even the first time we've heard this kind of condemnation from a High Republic character. Headland stated from the beginning that the whole point of this show was to criticize the Jedi and show the how things "went wrong" in order for them to become the Prequels Jedi, which means it's not at all shocking that there's a pretty explicit implication about the Jedi ultimately being responsible for their own genocide. That's always been her agenda, her ultimate theme and message with this story. Nothing about this is new or unique or shocking at all. It's a little disappointing that this is what Star Wars is becoming, but it's not ALL that Star Wars is becoming.

We still have the Obi-Wan Kenobi show, which made sure to place the blame squarely where it belonged and had a character whose entire motivation was grief over the deaths of the Jedi. We have Visions, which, despite including stories written by almost 20 separate teams from different countries, ALWAYS understands who the good guys and bad guys are in Star Wars and regularly includes stories that resonate with Lucas's actual themes from his films (they're also generally just exquisitely made short stories with some beautiful animation). And we have shows like Andor which mostly just ignores the Jedi entirely because they aren't relevant to Cassian's story and because it's trying to tell the story from a different perspective, but it follows the exact same themes as Lucas's original films did and is a beautiful follow-up to some of the themes that existed with the Prequels Jedi.

And while things like Rebels, Jedi: Fallen Order, and Jedi: Survivor have their moments of Jedi criticism, they're VERY small and the main characters are still Jedi who are incredibly proud of BEING Jedi and have to go through all the same tests that any Jedi would've gone through and they come out the other end as wonderful, selfless, compassionate Jedi. There's themes of having to let go of those you love (whether through death or just relationships drifting apart or people needing to go their own way for a while even if it means leaving you behind), of having to let go of your anger and fear before it consumes you and turns you into the monster you seek to destroy, and of mercy and acceptance and understanding being central to healing the galaxy's wounds. So while these stories aren't 100% Jedi criticism free, they are probably 99% Jedi positive and at most 1% Jedi critical.

So as frustrating as it is that Jedi criticism has become so common that there is an ENTIRE SHOW built around it as a foundation, it's also so so easy to disregard it and ignore it if you want to. The Acolyte is, fortunately, not all that connected to the main storylines. You do not need The Acolyte in order to understand or enjoy a lot of the rest of the story. You can completely ignore The Acolyte and pretend it doesn't exist and it will change NOTHING. Go rewatch The Obi-Wan Kenobi show, or Visions, or Andor and remember how good Star Wars can be when it's written by someone who CARES about the story and the message it was always supposed to send to people.

#star wars #jedi #pro jedi #anti acolyte #anti the acolyte #acolyte negativity #the acolyte negativity #acolyte salt #the acolyte salt #acolyte critical #the acolyte critical #leslye headland critical #headland critical #anti headland #anti leslye headland #anti ahsoka show #ahsoka show negativity

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year

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Small fun fact about me:

My mom is neurodivergent too! And not only that, but

Me and my mom share a special interest.

[A short post about me, my mom, hyperfixations, and how acceptance can help you grow]

For the last ten years, both me and my mother have had a hyperfixation on Marvel movies and Superhero movies in general.

And if anything, she's more fixated than I am.

This started at the same time, despite my mother never picking up a comic in her life. It happened when we first saw the Avengers in theatres in 2012.

Since then me and my mother have seen every Marvel movie on the day of release, or even a day before release.

When I was in high school, I remember her specifically pulling me out of school early to take me to the marathon premiere of Thor 2 and The Winter Soldier.

She's seen every Marvel media to date outside of the Netflix series. She's already finished Secret Invasion.

In recent years, we've gotten Unlimited movie memberships, and because we live in NY we can often see movies the Thursday before the Friday release, so we go to the movies almost twice a month, and we see movies repeatedly.

I saw ATSV three times in theatres while she saw it twice, and saw GOTG a second or third time. We recently saw Blue Beetle the day or two after release. She keeps me CONSISTENT.

The reason why I theorize about Marvel media and Spider-man media is largely because of her.

For years she was the one I theorized with. I've spoken to her about whether or not Peter set Miles up (she isn't convinced), or argue with her about whether or not Khonsu from Moon Knight is cool (he is).

She watches more Marvel fan content than me and inhales all the essays, reacts, and Easter egg videos on YouTube.

She's the same with recent Star Wars, she's seen Andor and Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, and currently working her way through Asoka.

And she knew about my past fixation on Loki in specific. She even knows about Hobie and Diane.

I told her I want to go to NY ComicCon as my spidersona and she was like "... You'd have to work on your roller skating" and I was SHOOK she remembered that about Diane because she's right.

But yeah, we've always been REALLY REALLY close over marvel stuff, and it's amazing having a parent who has the same fixation as you. It's like a natural thing, and I can speak openly about my theories or interests and she'll be like 'Oh yeah I noticed that incredibly niche moment where Hobie did that one specific thing, what of it'

I'm never treated weird for my fixation. Cause hers is stronger. I told her I didn't want to see GOTG again and she was like HUH and I was so heartbroken that I went and saw it anyway 😭😭

Some of my favorite moments with my mom are in movies theatres. And because we share this niche interest and neurodivergency, we're able to have these in-depth conversations about these characters we've formed bonds to together.

When Loki the show came out we'd been waiting literal years for it - like literally since 2013 talking about it. And I had a lot of mixed feelings about it.

But I could talk about those feelings and thoughts and characterizations with someone I know wouldn't ostracize me, knows the material as well as I do - if not more, and cares about these characters.

Because of that, my theorizing skills were able to grow all throughout my teenage years.

Because my hyperfixation was nurtured instead of demonized.

And I just think that's SO COOL.

Just wanted to share. Here's a photo of Miguel because I hate consistency [this is a hobie household]

Bye.

#neurodivergent #neurodivergency #neurodiversity #adhd #autism #actuallyautistic #actuallyadhd #hyperfixations #special interests #autistic experiences #spiderman #marvel #atsv #across the spiderverse

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jadelotusflower · 3 months

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So I finally watched Andor...

...and naturally I have thoughts (hey, it’s me). Maybe they're belated, seeing as this show was released almost two years ago, but I've been on the outskirts of the Star Wars fandom for a while now. This in and of itself isn't usual - I tend to drift between my core fandoms in phases, but since TLJ the GFFA hasn't really been a pleasant place to be so I haven't really had a reason to drift back to it for any length of time.

Which isn't to say I've avoided Star Wars altogether, dipping in when something piques my interest like Obi-Wan Kenobi (which I liked aspects of but ultimately felt like just a setup to the show I actually wanted to watch), and have absorbed some of the rest through cultural osmosis. Andor is a show I've been meaning to get to for a while, although it has been praised to the point of being overhyped (and there was a whiff of Not Like Other Star Wars to the critical reception) so I was concerned it would not meet expectations.

But I was pleasantly surprised as how much this show felt spiritually and aesthetically in tune with the original trilogy, and especially A New Hope, as opposed to Disney!Star Wars. Even if the tone and content of Andor is very different, it feels in conversation with the OT in a way the rest of Disney’s output has not - building on the story we already know, rather than trying replace or rewrite it as something else.

Aesthetically, we have the 70's vibe of the set design and costuming in middle-class Coruscant, the stark white jumpsuits and surrounds of Narkina 5 evoking Lucas's early film THX-1138, even the way we are plopped right into the middle of the story with very little exposition, but still eased into the narrative is very reminiscent of the first act of A New Hope. Thematically, of course we’re seeing the Rebellion in its earlier stages - small disparate cells of seditious activity directly acting against Imperial interests that will become the somewhat ragtag but nonetheless organised and unified Alliance.

While Star Wars was a cinema pastiche throwback to Flash Gordan serials and Campbell’s hero’s journey as an antidote to the grimdark antiheroes of the 70’s, in many ways Andor brings things back full circle to the grit of neo-noir. It holds a mirror up to the OT and lets us see the other side of the coin - and the full cost of victory. So many people have to die for Cassian to make it to the Rebellion - just like Cassian himself will die for the Death Star plans to make it to Leia, like Obi-Wan will die to ensure those plans make it to the Rebellion, and squadrons of rebel pilots will die so Luke can ultimately destroy the Death Star.

A stone is dropped in a pond, and we see the ripples but the stone itself sinks.

Overall thoughts

Tony Gilroy is the showrunner here, a veteran screenwriter notable for the Bourne films, and we can certainly see this influence at work. He also wrote The Devil’s Advocate, which is by no means good but I do enjoy in all its ott mythological monologues-and-accents glory, and seminal romcom (of my childhood at least) The Cutting Edge. He also wrote and directed Michael Clayton, which I have not seen but was nominated for several Oscars, including Original Screenplay, Director, and Best Picture (Tilda Swinton won for Supporting Actress).

Of course he's also a credited screenwriter on Rogue One, and I understand his contribution was mostly to the infamous rewrites/reshoots. I desperately want to read a full breakdown/bts of what went down with that film (well all of Disney-led Lucasfilm really) and see the deleted/original material, because I am fascinated. It's also interesting to note that Gilroy took over showrunning duties from Stephen Schiff pre-production. The show does very much feel like Gilroy wanted to make his own stamp on the Andor character and use him as a vehicle in his spy-thriller/political intrigue wheelhouse.

Reading some of Gilroy’s comments around the series had made me wonder how much of Andor being reflective/referential to the OT was intentional (on his part at least), and arguably Gilroy did overwrite the character of Cassian Andor so…there’s nuance. But as a story, to me it felt in tune with what I love about Star Wars rather than at odds with it, and that's what I appreciated most.

But first things first. B2EMO made it to the end! Finally, my expectations are subverted in a good way, because I love this little droid with all my heart. There are several key elements of Star Wars to me that separate it from other sci-fi/space fantasy and that is Jedi, distinctive aliens, and sentient droids. Obviously there's no Jedi here (nor does there need to be), my issues with the lack of aliens I'll address below, but when it comes to droids B2EMO fits right in, and we can assume is a precursor to Cassian's relationship with K-2SO.

Overall I thought the show was excellent (with a few caveats). What's impressive is the sheer number of characters and plots interwoven together, every conversation servicing character, the overall theme or setting something up that will pay off later, playing with coincidence and fate (the will of the Force), the interlocking domino effect. Arvel Skeen recognising the tattoo on Cassian's arm leads to a conversation of his history, but also sets up Skeen later offering to take and split the haul with Cassian (and getting killed for it). The raid on Aldhani triggers the Empire’s harsh new measures that gets Cassian sentenced to six years in prison, but also inspires the rebellion on Ferrix (via Maarva). The Aldhani heist is a triumph for Vel, but traps Mon’s financial contributions to the Rebellion by the Empire’s crackdown on banking, leading her and her daughter into an unwanted family alliance.

I'm a big proponent of Star Wars Dialogue is Good, Actually - not saying there's not clunkers or stilted scenes (the PT moreso than the OT) but there seems to be this weird consensus that Lucas-era dialogue sucks despite being some of the most quoted/referenced movies of all time. Lucas was creating a modern myth, of course a lot of it is arch and operatic. I love the dialogue in Andor too - which rightly gets high praise, and while it's arguably tighter, in many ways it's no more naturalistic than that of the Saga with everyone constantly speaking in metaphor, it's just pitched differently because this is a different genre (and the acting is uniformly excellent because they are actually interacting with each other and being competently directed).

There’s layers of meaning in almost every scene and subtle moments of foreshadowing that I really enjoy - Karis Nemik muses on the role of mercenaries in a rebellion that must use every tool and weapon at its disposal, and obviously Cassian starts out as that mercenary who will be pulled into the wider struggle, but this also foreshadows the importance of Han Solo - at first only out for the promise of a reward but ultimately instrumental in bringing the Empire down. But it’s not because he’s treated as a tool - as the Empire treats its workforce as tools - but because he’s treated as worthwhile, he’s valued as a person. The Empire casts people out while the Rebellion draws them in.

We also see this in the arc on Narkina 5, and the Empire’s tightening grip backfiring against them. In order to force the prisoners to speedily produce parts for the Death Star they work in close-knit teams, creating a close camaraderie ultimately allowing them to escape - because when you turn people into cogs of a machine, the machine can be turned back against you. Contrast this to the jockeying over position and territory and power in the ISB - they serve the Empire, but never at personal cost.

We see the Republic of affiliated systems from the PT turn into an Empire of conquered planets, where local cultures are subsumed into homogeneous Imperial rule. Even Corpsec is replaced by Imperial oversight, and we know that the Senate on Coruscant will be dissolved completely in ANH. But ultimately this ferments rebellion and unites the outcast and oppressed - the Keredians on Narkina 5 hate the Empire for their prison polluting the waterways, and so let Cassian and Melchi go. Cinta’s whole family was killed by stormtroopers turning her single minded focus to destroying them. The people of Ferrix respond to Maarva’s call and riot against the Imperial forces even though it will mean violent reprisal.

The Empire forges the weapons that will be used against them. As Nemik’s manifesto states: “The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear.”

And yet we're not there yet - it's important that this is still a Rebellion and not an Alliance, a disparate collection of segmented sedition with a myriad of agendas we see run by Saw Gerrara, Anton Kreegyr, Luthen Rael. They won't be a genuine threat to the Empire until they join forces, share resources and intelligence, and unite behind a collective goal. Although there may be sacrifices in this as well - Separatists, Partisan Front, Sectorists etc mentioned by Saw will either coalesce under the Alliance to Restore the Republic or be driven further to the fringes.

The thrust of Nemik's manifesto is that freedom is a natural state of being, while oppression is unnatural, and even though Andor has nothing to do with the Jedi it nonetheless echoes their philosophy: that the Force is in a natural state of balance, while the existence of the Sith who tap into the Dark Side upset this balance. As we see in Return of the Jedi, the balance is ultimately restored by the return to that natural state buffeted by the most powerful forces - friendship, love, sacrifice - forces that ultimately drive Cassian as well. While much has been said of the moral ambiguity and nuance of Andor, it's not incongruent with the OT, if anything it reinforces its power and message.

HOWEVER, I have my nits to pick - the lack of aliens is a serious flaw (and in particular, the lack of familiar aliens). In some cases they can get away with it and make subtle commentary - Coruscant is stark and grey as the centre of bureaucracy in stark contrast to the vibrant metropolis of the PT. Seeing the streets populated almost exclusively by humans where once it was a melting pot underscores the Empire’s segregationist policies. However the dearth of non-humans elsewhere - Ferrix, Aldhani, even the prison labour camp Narkina 5 - is disconcerting. These are places meant to depict the oppressive rule of the Empire and this undermines the strength of the rebellion as a group of diverse species fighting against the Imperial monoculture. It's odd, for example, that we see all the characters from Ferrix return except Vetch, the muscle employed "just to stand there" by Nurchi (a nice moment with Cassian!), and that Maarva's funeral procession seems entirely human.

Ultimately, I think the setup is much stronger than the payoff, and while I appreciate the slow burn, the show does have sometimes have difficulty juggling the plots. Once set up, characters are parked waiting to be incorporated into the narrative (it feels like we watch Syril stare at his cereal forever) and looking back not much actually happens to a lot of them- there are a lot of threads left hanging and not much resolution. Which is of course because this was only intended to be season 1 of 5, with each arc a year of Cassian’s life leading up to Rogue One. But sadly Andor has been given a second season only, leaving 12 episodes to wrap everything up, so ultimately I fear the show will feel like a slow setup and rushed conclusion, which is a real shame.

Cassian Andor

I’m went into this as someone who doesn’t really have a strong connection to Cassian as a character - I certainly liked him in Rogue One! But let’s just say he’s not my blorbo. And this not the backstory I would have expected for the character five years before Rogue One as someone who has “been in this fight since [he] was six years old.”

Diego Luna has such a charismatic presence and it is nice to have a more internal, insular character, but it’s kind of sad that Cassian is really the least developed character in a show ostensibly about him. It’s not really his story, but he’s the fulcrum (pun intended) around which most of the other characters pivot; this is a story of the rebellion of which he is just one part. So, I can see if Cassian fans may have been upset by his lack of focus, and I personally would have wanted to delve a bit deeper into Cassian Andor on a show called Andor, you know? And it does feel a little bit skeevy that the actual Axis (pun intended) of the show is Luthen in his middle age white man glory, with a whiff of Gilroy’s self-insert about him.

I do wish LFL would abandon simply naming their shows after the main character - presumably it’s for general audience recognition and algorithmic reasons, but my god how boring. If the show had been marketed as the ensemble it actually is I would take less issue with the lack of Cassian focus. But sadly I’m not sure we know that much more about Cassian at the end of the show than we did at the end of the first three episodes - or really, what it adds to his character and arc we see in Rogue One.

Yes he’s further radicalised by his experiences and is now presumably "all in" on the rebellion, but the events of the show are kicked off by Cassian searching for his sister which is a motivation that is all but dropped thereafter - although at one point I was half-expecting (dreading) it to be revealed that Luthen's assistant Kleya Marki was Kerri (and sidebar, Kleya - what a stone cold bitch! I love a stone cold bitch).

This plot will likely continue in season 2, but it felt a bit undercooked and too deep in the subtext given the prominence it had in kicking off the narrative. We get a flashback to Cassian’s childhood, but ultimately it feels like lipservice to his Indigenous heritage rather than true engagement since we don't see him reflect on it in any way, nor does it seem to have any impact on his choices throughout the series that seem primarily motivated by his life and relationships on Ferrix.

We get a strong start to Cassian and Luthen that peters out - he's intent on recruiting Cassian, but then writes him off when Cassian flees after Aldhani and wants him killed, then goes all the way to Ferrix for him, but is about to leave without actually doing anything? I know Luthen's meant to be ambiguous, but this is one area where plot is obviously driving things not character. I get that it was important for Cassian to be the one to go to Luthen at the end and choose the Rebellion unfetted, but the relationship is undercooked. I almost feel like the series is a procession of things that happen to Cassian rather than a journey I was on with him. There's external forces, but very little internal focus.

However, what I did love about the show was the thematic resonance that was happening on a macro and micro level - while the show as a whole is a mirror/reflection of the OT, we also see dichotomy in the character pairings that are mirrors and/or foils of each other in various ways - we have the two sides of the conflict being Empire and Rebellion (with Cassian stuck in the middle), and we are also shown conflict within those two sides.

Cassian is without a reflective character pairing because his true mirror is Jyn Erso, and seeing Cassian’s struggles here does give real weight to his “you’re not the only one who lost everything” speech - in many ways the show is his journey from being Jyn, to being the man who says to her “we don't all have the luxury of deciding when and where we want to care about something.”

Mon Mothma and Luthen Rael

The most obvious mirror/foil pair as the two sides of the Rebellion, although arguably we have a third prong in Saw Gerrara, and kind of a mirror in Luthen as Cassian’s mentor as Saw was Jyn’s - and I do wonder about the show that was a two-handed prequel with Cassian and Jyn growing up in different factions of the Rebellion, but alas.

The artifact Luthen gives Mon represents “a sun goddess and a serpent sharing the same mouth” representing their differing philosophical approach to fighting the Empire. As mirror characters they are alike in many ways - both of the privileged class and living double lives on Coruscant, but while Mon makes political efforts to move the needle on the Empire's activities in the Senate while also funneling money to direct but small rebel efforts, Luthen outright pokes the bear, sacrifices allies, and knowingly making things worse to swell the ranks of the rebellion on the hope it will speed up progress. There's more than a hint of the incrementalism/revolutionary dichotomy here.

It also raises a lot of interesting questions without (rightly) providing many answers - the struggle of the oppressed, the moral weight of insurgency and revolution. Is it right to intentionally provoke an oppressive power into reacting with violence in order to fuel a greater pushback against them? Is short term suffering justified if it achieves eventual victory, and is it right for the few to decide what is a justifiable sacrifice? What are our responsibilities to each other under the threat of/struggle against authoritarianism? As social commentary it's more timely than ever.

Whether Mon or Luthen is right for the viewer to decide, although as Leia tells Tarkin in ANH: "the more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers." On the other hand, we know Mon survives to the end of the Empire while Luthen (I assume) will not. She will become a leading figure in the Alliance, and eventual Chancellor of the New Republic, while he will be another stone at the bottom of the pond.

This is foreshadowed in the dialogue (with a direct mirror reference):

“I’m condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else’s future. I burn my life, to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see. No, the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror, or an audience, or the light of gratitude."

Arguably however, the mirror is the show - we are the audience.

We know Cassian joins Luthen at the end of season 1, and will meet Mon in season 2, so it will be interesting to see him struggle between these two philosophies, although we can infer from Rogue One that he aligns himself (out of necessity) with Luthen's veiwpoint:

"We've all done terrible things on behalf of the Rebellion. Spies, saboteurs, assassins....And every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause that I believed in. A cause that was worth it. Without that, we're lost."

Ultimately, the Rebellion needs people like Luthen and Cassian to make not only the physical sacrifice, but the moral one as well (noting our first introduction to Cassian is him killing an informant so he can escape) - people who play the Empire's game so Luke can ultimately reject the Emperor's.

But I had mixed feelings on the Mon Mothma storyline. It feels a bit off for Luthen to be her entrée into the Rebellion, when we know she’s been on the ground from the very beginning with the Petition of the 2000 (cut from ROTS, but still canon I assume). She just felt very isolated and fragile which is at odds with her quiet steel that we see in Return of the Jedi and Rogue One. I could maybe see this Mon in the early dark days, but only 5 years before ANH? A scene with Bail Organa would not have gone amiss just to give breadth to her rebellious activities.

We get to see Luthen visit Saw Gerrara on Segra Milo, why not give Mon a scene with Bail to show she has other irons in the fire rather than relying on Luthen? In Saw we see the rough and tumble of disparate rebel factions, I would have liked to see the political machinations of Mon and Bail to serve the metaphor even further.

She is more than just a bank for the rebellion, and I think in the effort to contrast Luthen and Mon there was a bit of disservice done to the latter.

And Mon’s loser husband - ugh. Okay they’re in some kind of arranged marriage but there’s very little substance, nothing us particularly revealed about Mon by including him. Other than her cleverly using his gambling debts to deflect her rebellion spending at the end, the story wouldn’t really have changed by him not existing, and in fact would have been improved by focusing more on Mon’s difficult relationship with her daughter.

But on a purely shallow note, I want her wardrobe!

Dedra Meero and Syril Karn

In some ways Cassian and Syril are the narrative foils and there are parallels between them - their conflict instigated in the first episodes, their maternal relationships, both essentially exiles for the middle section before both end up back on Ferrix where Cassian saves Bix and Syril saves Dedra. But I feel Syril and Dedra work better as mirrors, and their arcs also parallel and intersect.

In the Empire, Dedra and Syril are two sides of the other coin (there's quite a few coins in this metaphor). Regimes need bureaucracy, and you have the true believers, the status-climbers, and those just going along to get along. In Dedra we have the talented star of the prestigious Imperial Security Bureau, and in Syril the over eager Corporate Security officer, two arms of the Empire’s control, although the latter we see becoming obsolete as the former gains more control.

But they're both middlemen who chafe against the inaction of their superiors, both desperate to rise above their station (although those stations are quite far apart). Throughout the series their plots are mostly in parallel; they are reflections of each other without even having met.

It's uncomfortable to watch both of them on screen - all unblinking stares, sucked in cheeks, and pursed lips - fittingly repellent. I’m surprised Gilroy has said he wrote Dedra to be relatable - she skeeved me out from the first, someone clearly ready to step over anyone and everyone if it served her purposes rather than someone gradually drawn further into an authoritarian regime. There's the slight subtext of sexism - there's only one other women in the ISB briefing and Pendergast alludes to it, but that certainly didn't engender any sympathy or admiration from me.

In episode 7 Syril’s mother Eedy says “Everything says something, Syril” and chastises him about tailoring his uniform (just as he did in the first episode, a neat little character tell), and immediately after we see Dedra donning her uniform perfectly in sync with the rest of the ISB. He’s trying to stand out from the crowd, she’s trying to fit in - or, from a different perspective, Syril adjusts his collar to resemble the Imperial style as a signifier of where he wants to be, while Dedra is already there and still looking higher.

But both are thinking outside the rigid Imperial lines and command structures, both on the hunt for Cassian - although for Syril it's personal and Dedra it's about climbing the ranks. Both take it upon themselves to investigate against orders, but Syril’s attempts are clumsy and random while Dedra’s are clinical and targeted.

She identifies that “systems either change or die” to push the ISB’s fragmented and bureaucratic inefficiencies into a cohesive power structure, but while it wins her approval it doesn’t earn her any loyalty; her troops abandon her to the mob on Ferrix. Inexplicably though, Syril does manage to gain the loyalty of Sergeant Mosk, who was also punished for the initial blunder on Ferrix, but ultimately draws Syril back there to in search of Cassian.

The point at which they first intersect in episode 8, Dedra is on an upswing, she holds the power and sends Syril further down, but when they meet again in episode 11, the roles are reversed as he is the one to save her from the mob.

I just hope they’re going somewhere more interesting than his creepy crush.

Vel Sartha and Cinta Kaz

One of the major faults of Rogue One was its Smurfette Syndrome, where Jyn is a great female character surrounded by men, but Andor has pleasingly course corrected from this. See what happens when you don’t have one woman having to embody everything and bear the weight of her entire gender in the narrative (and therefore, also bear the criticism)? Andor happily treats its women as characters, not faux-empowering meme-fodder. Although there is perhaps some valid commentary that it’s still white women on the whole - Dedra, Mon, Vel, Maarva - who get the meatier roles, and I have my issues with Mon’s characterisation, but one thing I will give Disney LFL credit for is it’s ongoing efforts towards gender parity.

In Vel and Cinta we have two more sides of insurgency - from wealth and privilege in Vel, the cousin of Mon Mothma struggling with the weight of it all, to Cinta with her cold fire and unwavering drive, her family killed by stormtroopers and for whom the struggle will always come first.

Cinta’s cool reserve is a contrast to Vel’s nerves (as seen in the Aldhani raid); they’re coming from very different places even if their cause is the same. There may even be a bit of classism in the subtext - Vel leads the mission on Aldhani after asking for the mission from Luthen, when really Cinta is the one who is most committed, and she has to push Vel though several times when she falters.

Vel still has one foot in the Imperial world and the complications of rebellious machinations - worried for Mon and her family, wanting to prove herself to Luthen, jockeying with Kleya - but for Cinta none of that matters, she loves Vel but there's often a sense she's disappointed in her. There's a dichotomy within Cinta - she's not unfeeling, showing kindness to Cassian when he joins their group, yet accepting the mission to kill him later without hesitation.

It seems to me that Cinta is the revolutionary Vel wants to be but can't quite divest herself of enough to become - the metaphor is made explicit with these two - Cinta tells Vel: “I’m a mirror. You love me because I show you what you need to see.”

Which is a pretty interesting dynamic, especially as a romantic one, and I’m interested to see where it will go (and hope that Cinta will get more focus, even though I do love Vel a lot too).

Their storyline did run out of steam by the end through, was there any point to either of these characters being on Ferrix at the end? It very much felt like all the plot lines were being forced to intersect at the climax without all of them necessarily needing to. Although Cinta stabbing that guy in the heart was pretty cathartic.

Bix Callen, Maarva Andor, and Ferrix

I loved Ferrix as a location, with its own distinct aesthetic, culture, and populace - the work gloves all hung on the wall, the metal tapping warning system, the daily hammer and anvil (the Time Grappler, according to Wookieepedia), funerary practices. etc. The first few episodes set up Cassian’s community on Ferrix which we come full circle on in the final two, but I did have some trouble keeping track of who was who at that point.

It is interesting that the trope of “just another brick in the wall” is turned on its head here - rather than representing a cog in the machine, in Ferrix ashes of the deceased are mixed with brick and added to a wall in remembrance - a literal touchstone for Cassian as he remembers his adoptive father Clem. A wall is strong, a bulwark against outside forces, and every brick added makes it stronger. Stones dropped in a pond, bricks built into a wall - reminders of the dead that spur the will to fight.

I do love the relationship between Maarva and Cassian, especially in a franchise that has never really had an interest in mothers and sons. And we have another mirror in the overcritical and cold relationship between Syril and Eedy as the inverse of Cassian’s complicated but loving one with Maarva - contrast the reception Syril gets when he returns home to the one Cassian gets from Maarva, as ultimately Eedy's pointed disappointment is sharp where Maarva's is borne from love and concern for Cassian.

But again there’s a disconnect with the history we’re shown - Maarva and Clem kidnap/save Kassa from Kenari but we don’t really get any sense of how Cassian feels about it or the connection he has to his heritage/childhood. I’m not saying I need everything spelled out, but sometimes I feel the show does err too much on the side of subtext, and as a result we don’t delve as deep into some of the relationships as we could have. Even her final message to Cassian - that she loves him more than anything he could ever do wrong - is a beautiful sentiment, but is it earned? He hasn't really done anything wrong, arguably she did wrong by him by taking him from Kenari but it's never even mentioned, it doesn’t even seem to be a factor in their relationship as adults.

On the other hand, I didn’t mind the treatment of the post-romantic relationship between Cassian and Bix - there’s a sense of history there but it didn’t need to be explored further. Bix's involvement in the Rebellion is interesting though, it's implied she was recruited by Kleya through the black market but are her motives purely profit or does she have rebellious fervor? Luthen knows of Cassian through Bix - did she see him as a candidate for the Rebellion or just another person from whom Luthen could obtain tech? What piqued Luthen's interest from what Bix said about him?

I don't think all these questions need answers, but it is unfortunate that she does get a bit Damseled, spending most of the runtime threatened, captured, and then tortured. On the other hand, there's less to criticise in employing that trope when it's not the only one at work and the breadth of female characters on the show.

I do wonder if we will see Bix, Brasso, and B2EMO again though, or if they’re a part of Cassian’s past he had to leave behind to fully commit himself to the Rebellion.

On nostalgia, fanservice, and the state of the Star Wars universe

A tangent into my frustrations with the sequel trilogy, skip if you’re allergic to salt.

Andor has been lauded for its lack of fanservice, although I’d actually argue it’s a show that (perhaps despite Gilroy's intention) is rooted in nostalgia. Well, perhaps not nostalgia per se, but it’s a show that relies on the audience’s knowledge and affection of Rogue One and the Original Trilogy, and it’s successful because it manages to feel authentic and fulfilling rather than ham-fisted and overly meta - a story set in the Star Wars universe, not about the Star Wars universe.

I know Gilroy intended this to be able to stand alone, but would the story have the same resonance if we weren't aware where Cassian's path leads, that the efforts and actions of Mon and Luthern, Vel and Cinta, Nemik, Bix and Kleya, are ultimately justified? Perhaps it would work in a generic sci-fi setting rather than the GFFA, but would we feel as much watching it? Personally, I think not.

Because nostalgia isn’t inherently bad. It’s a vital part of how we consume media - the stories that resonate with us in childhood will continue to resonate in adulthood because they are foundational, it's a shortcut to that incredible feeling of discovering something new that's nonetheless something very old. It's partly why Star Wars was such a success in the first place - a mix of myth and fairy tale, matinee serial and Kurosawa - a familiar story told in a new way. And like in Hadestown, "we're gonna sing it again and again."

The problem with nostalgia is when it’s empty; window dressing intended to evoke that feeling but without any substance behind it, so it feels cheap and unsatisfying. Andor doesn’t completely escape from this (blue milk, mouse droid), but most inclusions feel organic.

Sometimes I think we go to far decrying fanservice, and of course it's subjective - as I like to say, everyone hates it until they’re the fan being serviced. But there is criticism, and then there's dismissing any references to existing material as mere "fanservice" and therefore contemptible. For example, I’ve seen the treatment of Luke, Han, and Leia in the sequel trilogy defended because to actually have them interact at all would be “silly fanservice” rather than natural because, you know, they’re family.

The difference, for me, is does inclusion of a known character/object/trope/line of dialogue serve the character and/or story, or is it Leo DiCaprio pointing meme, designed for “hey it’s the thing” nostalgia and YouTube compilations with no substance behind it? Ultimately, is the inclusion Watsonian or Doylist - and if the latter, what of the former justifies it.

Mon Mothma or Saw Gerrara in Andor doesn’t feel like fanservice even though they’re existing characters, because it makes sense to include them in a story about the Rebellion’s beginning and they had a part to play in Rogue One, to which Andor is ostensibly a prequel. Conversely Leia and Vader’s inclusion in Obi-Wan Kenobi (even if I did enjoy them both) tip over in the side of fanservice because they really have no place in Obi-Wan’s story at that point and require fanwanking around their dialogue in ANH (and to be fair, Lucas was guilty of this as well). I don’t need to see random object or minor character no 6 from the PT/OT/Clone Wars, iconic catch phrase shoved where it doesn’t make sense, or obscure Legends reference divorced from context, just tell me a good story! Give me characters to care about! Make me feel something! Andor did that, where much of the other Disney Star Wars content has not.

This is my fundamental, and possibly at this point, irreconcilable, issue. Disney wanted to get away from Lucas-associated Star Wars as quickly as possible, replacing every character, planet, and theme with their own wholly Disney counterpart, killing off Han, Luke, and Leia so the old and classic couldn’t distract from the shiny and new, tearing down the conclusion of the original trilogy only to try and tell the exact same story (just not as well). They did it so quickly and so shoddily that many were understandably unsatisfied, leaving Disney to frantically course correct, going back to the well and shoving nostalgia bait into every conceivable project even (especially) if it had no place.

If they’d actually had any sort of plan for the sequel trilogy, if they’d made their focus to conclude the Skywalker Saga in a way that even approached emotional resonance, imo the vast majority of the audience would be happy to move on and embrace the next chapter - new characters, new stories. But people can’t move on from the characters they love because the treatment of those characters and the post-ROTJ timeline was so unsatisfying. Luke wouldn’t have needed to show up in The Mandolorian to try and placate the fans if treatment of the character in the ST hasn’t been so abysmal.

So LFL have been stuck in this weird ancillary storytelling space, where every project seemingly needs to be adjacent to the Skywalker Saga but not actually engaging with the Saga direct - Han has a prequel film no one asked for, Rey is a Skywalker for name recognition only, Luke pops up in pointless cameos but isn’t there when he arguably should be (just recast the damn role already!), we get young Leia in a story where she has no place rather than in one she does, who knows what’s going on with the whole Ashoka/Thrawn/Heir to the Empire stuff, Boba Fett is There with a parade of Hey it’s that character/ship/thing with no contribution to the actual storytelling.

What does this have to do with Andor? Well, Andor is perhaps the only quality tv product of the Disney era, which is fitting since Rogue One is imo the only quality film of the Disney era (TFA being retroactively diminished by what came after). Andor is the type of story Star Wars should be telling - expanding the universe, using known elements and characters where it makes sense to do so, not a collection of ideas on a whiteboard thrown in front of an LED screenstage and a bunch of meaningless easter eggs.

To be fair, this does seem what they are attempting to do with The Acolyte (which I am actually enjoying!) but the planned Rey-focused post-ST film…eh. Admittedly I never bothered to watch Rise of Skywalker, but where can the story possibly go? Is there any investment at all after the mess that was the sequel trilogy? I can’t see how the narrative can possibly be redeemed at this point, which is a shame because I do believe it started with a lot of promise in The Force Awakens that was squandered by a lack of vision, planning, and oversight, and the bizarre need to brutalise and kill off the legacy characters, marginalise the genuinely original and interesting new characters, and waste the immense acting talent they had at their disposal.

They’ve made no meaningful in-universe progress after the ST, the New Republic and Jedi have to be rebuilt again, except Rey is going to do it this time somehow, so what what the point of the last 30 years in the timeline? It’s different with Andor - we know where his story ends, but the series only makes Cassian’s sacrifice stronger, there’s emotional resonance in seeing his journey to Rogue One in knowing that it’s in service of the overall victory of the Rebellion (however undermined that victory is made by the ST).

But I digress. This rant really ended up being kind of off topic - apologies.

Anyway. Andor is good! I liked it! Looking forward to season 2!

#this turned into a dissertation lol #star wars andor #andor series #star wars #cassian andor #mon mothma #luthen rael #syril karn #dedra meero #vel sartha #cinta kaz #long post #meta #jlf posts #jlf watches #jlf watches andor

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hottpinkpenguin · 5 months

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Reasons, Ch.6 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. Word Count: 2,260 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence; cursing Taglist: @mithicakurogo @nonniecannie @freerangesweets @zbeez-outlet @chicken-fifi @queerponcho @theatergirlmgm @oh-yeah-i-exist @shakespeareanlead @idontevenknow1359

The sound of waves licking the sandy beach below had become a steady soundtrack that pounded around your head all hours of the day and night. You’d at first been mesmerized by the planet Niamos - to think, its inhabitants lived within full eyesight of an ocean at all times - but now, almost three and a half months after your frenetic arrival, boredom mixed with fear had gotten inextricably mixed with the sounds and smells of the ocean and you realized that you hated it here. Especially without Cassian.

He hadn’t stayed long, maybe two days. He’d dumped you in this beautiful, empty house and left with barely a word…

“I need to see my contact on Coruscant.” His dark eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and cold. “Need to sort out safe passage for you. Get forged papers, new documents. It’ll take a while.”

You’d breathed in a heavy, long breath. Exhaustion had settled deep in the center of your bones, but what choice did you have? You were a fugitive now.

You nodded numbly, looking longing out through the perpetually-open wall of glass at the ocean stretched out to the horizon line.

“I’ll go pack,” you replied, sliding out of the chair you were in and heading towards the bedroom you were staying in. “Won’t take long.”

Cassian caught your hand as you turned away. His touch sent electricity ricocheting up your arm, stealing your breath. You turned back to him, wondering if you looked as hopeful as you felt.

“I’m going alone,” he clarified. His voice sounded sad and far away, but those dark, bottomless eyes revealed nothing.

You didn’t know what to say. What to ask. Where would you stay? Here, you supposed, only because there was nowhere else to go. You’d realized very quickly that the Galaxy was massive, and you’d never left Ferrix before. The only person that you knew out here was Cassian, and laying claim to ‘knowing’ him felt like a lie. You felt that now more than ever. You didn’t really know him at all.

You felt yourself give a shrug. Half resignation, half confusion. Cassian watched you quietly as you slid back into the chair, your eyes returning to the waves. Each time a new wave boiled up from the ocean depths, crested, and then crashed in a spray of foam on the seashore, you felt a new emotion rise up and crash open inside you. Grief. Rage. Despair. Terror.

You don’t know how long you’d sat there, staring at the sea. After a long while of sitting still and thinking, you said the only thing that really mattered to you anymore. “Don’t forget to come back for me.”

Cassian hadn’t said a word after that. He’d simply slipped out the door without so much as a backwards glance. Leaving you to the empty house that looked out over the empty ocean…

The realization that Cassian wasn’t coming back for you had hit you somewhere around week seven. He hadn’t left a way for you to contact him, or vice versa. He hadn’t sent anyone to check on you. He hadn’t squirreled away a secret note or some small token of his remembrance. It was like he’d never been here at all. And that was by design. He was covering his tracks. Sure, you were on the run. But so was he.

You wondered where in the escape things had gone sideways. He’d seemed so deliriously guilty about getting you tied up with the Empire when he’d broken into your home on Ferrix. He’d been tender in taking care of you after hyperdrive sickness, and then he’d brought you here. To safety. Because he cared… right?

There was one moment that everything had pivoted. You could barely bring yourself to think of it. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment (and desire, if you were completely truthful) each time you relived that kiss. It had to be the kiss. You’d crossed a line, you told yourself. Cassian was just trying to save your skin, and you’d gone and made it some sort of tragedy-romance mashup of bad luck and bad decisions when you’d slapped your lips on his. I’ve always been a good actor. You’d never forget those words. He’d been acting as the good guy, trying to make up for his wrongs by pulling you out of Ferrix. But that’s where it had ended. You’d fallen for his show, and you’d ruined everything. And now, you were alone. Just you and the ocean.

Three and a half months was a long time to be by yourself. You’d managed to get by on the credits you’d had the sense to pack before fleeing your home, but that supply was dwindling. Pretty soon you’d have to make a choice: go home, or set up shop here. You’d have to fix droids. It was all you knew. But setting up shop somewhere new was bound to be fraught with challenges. You didn’t know the market, didn’t have a customer base. There were bound to be other droidsmiths on Niamos, so you’d be making enemies while you were bowing and scraping, taking whatever anyone would throw at you, all in the name of buying trust and goodwill and maybe, hopefully, a repeat customer.

But worst of all, setting up shop here felt final. Setting up shop here meant that you wouldn’t be leaving. That this was home now. And, at the end of the day, that meant that Cassian wasn’t coming back.

You hated him for leaving you, but not enough to give up all hope. Not yet. You counted the credits you had left. One more week, you thought to yourself. If he’s not back by then, I’ll start looking for shop space.

An empty promise, you knew. You’d made the same one for the last four weeks.

* * * * * * * * *

Cassian felt fire burning in his veins as he held Senator Mothma’s gaze, her last words hanging heavy in the darkness between them.

“I cannot afford to wait another week,” Cassian growled through gritted teeth, his hands trembling at his side. “It’s been almost four months already, Senator.”

Senator Mothma fidgeted uncomfortably with the large hood that obscured her face from the ambient light of a Coruscant night. They were quite alone in the rancid-smelling alley that Cassian had chosen for their meet-up, but the hum of the city-planet rang in their ears. A reminder to be quick, and be on their way.

“I’m sorry, Cassian, I truly am, but I simply canno-”

“Senator, with respect, I am tired of your apologies.” Cassian was pacing now, his voice breaking free of the constraints of whispering. His temper was fracturing with impatience. “My contact on Niamos is in constant danger, and you’ve kept us waiting for four months for papers!”

“Cassian, please.” The Senator cast a shifty glance around. No one was listening, but the last thing either of them needed was to make a spectacle of the exchange. A Senator caught in a clandestine midnight meeting with a known Rebellion agitator would do neither of them any good. To say nothing of the warrant for Cassian’s arrest and the bounty price of half a million credits on his head. Or the Senator’s deeply scrutinized allegiances and alleged ties to the Aldhani incident.

Cassian tried to calm himself, but he was beyond reason. All he could see was your eyes, the way you’d crumpled when he’d told you he was coming to Coruscant alone. It had nearly broken him to leave you there, but the brutal calculus of life as a wanted criminal demanded the utmost adherence to scruples. Cassian couldn’t risk your life just to keep you near him. It would have been easy - too easy - to delude himself into thinking that the safest place for you was by his side. Right where he wanted you. But he’d already proven himself near-fatal to you, almost getting you good and shot on Ferrix just by trying to pay off his massive debt with some traced credits. And all that had been before that goddamned kiss. After that, he was sunk. Totally enraptured. He knew it from the instant he felt your lips on his. No, he was in far too deep. If it was the last thing he did, Cassian Andor meant to make good on his promise to you: he needed to get you set up somewhere safe and then make it so that you never saw him again. It was the best way - the only way - he could see to keep you safe. And as badly as he wanted you, he wanted you alive. More than anything, that was what mattered.

He reminded himself of all of this, one painstaking bitter pill at a time. Slowly, incrementally, he felt the fire begin to burn off as his mind cleared to reason. When he finally felt calm enough to speak, he rounded on Senator Mothma.

“Senator, it gives me no pleasure to do this, but I simply cannot wait any longer. If I don’t have the papers I’ve requested - and paid for, mind you - by tomorrow, I’ll have to take matters in my own hands.”

Senator Mothma inhaled, her chin jutting out proudly as her eyes simmered. “And just what does that mean, Cassian?” Puffed up and haughty, but Cassian saw a flicker of fear in the back of her eyes. She knew a threat when she heard one. And Cassian had been honest about one thing: it really didn’t give him any pleasure to play this hand with the Senator. She was a noble woman, strong in her beliefs and an astoundingly deft political operative. Smart and confident. Cassian respected her immensely. But, when all was said and done, she was proving to be a hindrance. Cassian had promises to fulfill. Or rather, promise. Singular. Your safety. He was determined that nothing - not the Senator’s delicate political situation, not an outstanding warrant for his arrest, not an entire garrison of Imperial Storm Troopers - would stand in his way.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out, Senator.”

For a few tense seconds, the two of them sized each other up in the hazy darkness. Cassian’s gaze was steely, his resolve never stronger. Three months, three weeks, two days. His internal clock screeched like a tea kettle. Too long.

After a few breaths, Senator Mothma deflated slightly, her head sagging on her proud neck. The way she crumpled, like a kite that’s lost its breeze, reminded Cassian of the way you’d looked as he’d left you alone by the seashore on Niamos. The memory brought the threat of tears to his eyes.

“I’ll get them to you,” the Senator agreed. Her voice sounded stretched and thin. Cassian felt a pang of guilt for having to push her to this. He knew what she was risking - her career in the Senate, her daughter’s and husband’s safety, her own life - to get these forged identichips. Ever since the Empire had assumed power, identichips had become mandatory for Imperial citizens to carry at all times. Forged chips had quickly flourished as one of the most lucrative corners of the black market, but the Empire had expended considerable effort on quashing that enterprise in its infancy. Those willing to alter identichips were few and far between now; those willing to forge entirely new ones, even fewer. Only the very wealthy had enough credits to realistically purchase such a service, but forgers made themselves extremely scarce in efforts to avoid Imperial imprisonment. Not that Cassian blamed them - wasn’t that the fate he was trying to save you from, after all? - but their secretiveness had proven an unexpected time suck on his plans. Months had dragged by before Senator Mothma had even made contact with one, and now her order hadn’t been delivered on schedule. Cassian wasn’t sure what it would cost her to extort the identichips tonight, but he couldn’t allow himself to backtrack now.

“Thank you.” He exhaled heavily, unsure if he felt relieved or more terrified than before. He’d been focusing for so long on getting the identichips that he hadn’t let himself think too hard on what would come after. Were you still on Niamos? Would you still want his help? Had the Empire found you? Were you still alive at all?

Unwilling to follow those thoughts any further, Cassian simply handed Senator Mothma a small strip of paper with a ship’s name and docking location scribbled on it. “I’m leaving at midday tomorrow,” he told her as she crumpled the paper and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. “Make sure my chips are on board by then.”

She nodded again - a sad, completely exhausted acquiescence - and turned on her heels, vanishing into the foggy street. Cassian watched as she left, listening to the sound of her retreating footsteps. She was walking away with the power to make or break him, Cassian realized. If she didn’t deliver those chips, and Cassian couldn’t get back to you…

He wasn’t sure what that would mean for him, except that his heart turned to ash in his chest whenever he thought of that possibility. Steeling himself against the mix of dread, relief, and adrenaline sitting on his shoulders, he turned the collar up on his coat and turned in the opposite direction from the Senator. He threw up a silent thought for you - all alone by the seaside in a beautiful, empty house - hundreds of thousands of miles away, but somehow still the closest thing he had to home.

*more chapters coming soon! please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters

#cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor angst #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #andor imagine #andor #diego luna x you #diego luna x reader #diego luna fanfiction #diego luna imagine #diego luna

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fluffyprettykitty · 1 year

Text

Badlands

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Cassian Andor x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1200 words

Outline: Your boyfriend and fellow rebel convince you to spend a couple days in the desert to help him with his mission.

Warnings: swearing, drug & alcohol use, oral (f+m receiving) m x m (both men are presented as bi), dirty talk, penetration, rimming, fingersucking, breast worship, a little bit of everything just cause. If I missed anything major let me know.

Author’s Note: who cares about timelines when some people are hot. happy fourth and whatnot!

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・Cassian Andor Masterlist ・❥・Poe Dameron Masterlist

You can't remember how it all started all you knew was that your head was on Cassian's thigh and his head on Poe's thigh, mouth open sucking on Cassian's cock while Poe was licking your pussy.

It was slow and sensual, a change of pace from fifteen minutes ago when they were both switching positions and taking their turns penetrating you.

In the middle of the desert after a long journey when Cassian told you that an old friend would be joining you in the bewilderment, you could have never predicted this. Not even when you saw them kiss clearly putting on a show for you.

Poe had brought along with him very strong beverages and some herbs that were supposed to be stimulants,' they were supposed to help with your mission. ' The mission that had no details or end goal.

That mission.

Well now as you are kitty licking Cassian's cock while moaning from the pleasure on your pussy coming from Poe's devilish tongue, you knew all that was bullshit.

Once Cassian had found out you were chill with pretty much every single little thing in the bedroom, and after your first successful threesome with a lady he picked up from a casino, he was dying at a chance to bring along his old friend.

Poe was shamelessly flirting with you, licking his tongue all over his lips looking at you, calling you pretty and gorgeous, and petting your hair while looking deep into your eyes. He missed no opportunity to adjust himself in front of you, squeezing his cock when he caught you looking.

Oh, you were drooling.

You knew from the moment Cassian told you to stay inside the tents this morning that he was planning something.

And when Cassian poured half of a bottle of wine down your breasts just to watch your nipples get hard and Poe to chant a prayer, you knew you'd wish to stay in that dessert forever.

Now, Cassian is skillfully sucking on Poe's cock and you try to look saving information in your head for later to suck him exactly as he does to see if he'll notice.

You all looked beautiful like that, in a circle, naked and spent, the soft night light illuminating the tent. It was finally cold enough for you to be able to stay naked without sweating too much, the heat at the dessert was relentless and Poe's teasing all afternoon had driven you insane.

When earlier Poe slipped a thumb inside your mouth and Cassian only chuckled you knew it was about to start. Poe almost ripped apart your clothes trying to get fast access to your breasts. The dripping wine had him feral already and he couldn't wait for any more questions m

For the next half an hour, you were sitting on the couch with two men sucking and pulling on your nipples like their lives depended on your nectar.

The stimulation was insane and your hands gripped at their hair as this image would haunt your days forevermore.

Once satisfied, they both licked and sucked on your clit, their tongues dancing together looking at you, four pair of brown eyes, as if you were their treasure.

And you cummed. Two times one for each guy as they both stayed loyal and focused on their goals. His hands caressing your thighs and your breasts. Some fingers slip inside your mouth from time to time.

And then it was time for their fingers.

Cassian went first looking up at you with a smirk. "She's pretty when you stretch her out. She gets all impatient and whines that she can take it all dry." You rolled your eyes and almost blushed not wanting Poe to think anything differently of you.

"You just take forever. "

"Oh, don't push me, mi amor."

Poe looks at your inviting cunt begging for some extra touch. "I can't blame him though, I've never seen such a prettier girl. Makes me wanna ruin you again and again until you can do nothing but plead."

"Won't take her long. She always thinks she can take some much but. " Cassian continues, his mocking of you building a different kind of fire in your chest. "She always proves me wrong in the end."

You whimper and try to hide your eagerness but when Poe slips his finger inside you, your body naturally grinds on him and that bastard boyfriend of yours laughs out loud.

"She's desperate and yet she's the one always calling me a slut. If I didn't fuck her every hour of every day I think she'd be grinding my jacket whining."

You open your mouth to complain but just like that Cassian pushes his finger inside your cunt, next to Poe's, and the difference in textures has you moaning.

"Oh, she's about to start begging so bad. She won't stop until you shove your cock so deep inside her she's lolling her head."

A minute later and Poe was bottoming out with Cassian shoving his cock inside your mouth almost straddling you not letting Poe win first. Your mouth takes him in with love, your back hitting the low pillows now.

But the way he moaned when Poe started teasing Cassian's anus had you trying to clench on Poe's cock.

Keeping your focus on your boyfriend's cock was hard as Poe was setting a fast and brutal pace.

"Ruin her. If she doesn't choke you're not going fast enough. "

"Her pussy is so wet and tight." His hands are on your hips squeezing the skin between his thick fingers.

"Can barely stay in. Keeps slipping out." Poe complains as he is pushing inside again and then Cassian grabs your head and starts fucking your face allowing Poe to play catch up.

"Breathe through your nostrils. I promise you won't die before taking both of our cocks in your tight little hole."

His cum shooting inside your throat was the only way for him to stop. Rapidly he switched around and started kissing you passionately, tasting his cum in your mouth.

"I'm gonna fill her up, Cass. "

"Oh, I wanna see her leak."

You groaned at his word and Poe completely lost control of his hips as he started using your body as his pleasure.

"I need..." you whine shouted arching your back. "To cum." You rolled your eyes as Poe's thumb came in contact with your cunt. He rubbed it for less than a second and there you were screaming his name.

"Fuck baby, you're so pretty when you orgasm. So dumb fucked. "

And he shoots his load inside you, slowing down his movements shouting your name with a groan before he collapses on your chest.

"Fuck baby, fuck."

And he slipped out of you as he landed by your side wrapping his arms around your chest. Cassian made an enthusiastic sound as he watches Poe's cum dripping out of you and into your thigh.

"You're getting us both tomorrow, mi amor. Gonna have to spend all night stretching you out."

"I'm calling dips on that ass. "

"Not if I get there first."

"If you want some as well all you can do is ask pretty boy."

And that's how the rest of the mission went with those pretty boys taking turns on your holes until you were practically too weak.

Not a bad way to relax though.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#selenewrites #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x y/n #cassian andor smut #cassian andor fic #andor fic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x cassian andor #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #cassian andor #poe dameron

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light-yaers · 2 years

Text

Maroon.

Masterlist | AO3 | Ko-Fi

Cassian wasn’t like the others. He was like the red clay beneath the white salt on Crait outpost. He was maroon, and he used to be yours.

Or: the time you and Cassian met, up until the Battle of Scarif.

Warnings: major character death [follows Rogue One: A Star Wars Story], grief, trauma, implied sexual content, masses of angst.

A/N: I will just say that I think this is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Also-- I do attempt to say something in Kenari in this work. I got it by combining Portuguese and Spanish words. It’s not real Kenari. It’s just the best attempt I had.

Word Count: 10k+

maroon.

Red.

That’s the only colour you can see now. Sketched upon every surface, splattered on every flight suit, hidden beneath every fingernail.

You see it so often now that the entire world seems red. The sky had an ominous haze to it, foggy, with a sickly shade of pink that resembles evaporated blood; sucked up by the clouds; preparing to rain down upon all that you find holy.

Cassian sees it too, but in different ways.

His red is made up of Ferrix bricks, and the clay that makes up Rix Road. The maroon tinge of grease on his palms, the luminescence of the whiskey that Maarva used to love, B2EMO’s distinctive paint job.

He described them all so well that you could imagine everything so vividly. Often times, you found yourself spacing out on perimeter searches and ground missions, mapping out the Ferrix roads and Bix’s section of scrapyard inside your head.

He didn’t tell everyone about his life.

You were special, in that sense.

It had been a while, you knew that, since he’d left his home. For a few months, he worked closely with a higher-up— Luthen Rael— until his expertise was needed elsewhere.

The more time passed, the more savvy the Empire got when it came to double agents. Luthen was under a constant watchful eye now, too far gone to try and bite back against the thumb that he so callously lived beneath.

It just wasn’t worth it; for him; or for Cassian.

You were there when they dropped him off on base; an outpost on Crait. There was nothing much there, bar the salty taste of the air and the vast wasteland.

But, there was red. Red everywhere. The clay that lay beneath the thick, ice-like layer of salt that covered the planet, exposed by footsteps and tank wheels and X-wing take-offs.

So. Much. Red.

And then, there was Cassian.

He jumped off the lander hesitantly, strength lined his shoulders and jaw. All he held was a bag of personal belongings, and the eyes of someone who had seen too much, too far, for how old he was.

But, he still hadn’t seen salvation. None of you had.

“Lieutenant,” your commander said, jumping off the ship behind Cassian. You nodded at him on approach, not yet acknowledging the unknown rebel.

“Commander. Glad you made it back safely,” you said respectfully.

“Almost didn’t, but—,” he smacked his hand on Cassian’s shoulder, alerting you to each other. “Andor here got us out of an Imperial mess,”

You regarded him then, taking in the complexity of his gaze. “You’re a pilot?” you chided.

“Anything that can run, I can fly,”

“You’ll fit right in,” you smiled, and Cassian’s shoulders instantly relaxed. You stuck your hand out to him in proper greeting. He smacked his palm against yours, shaking your hand softly in return.

“Lieutenant,” Cassian said.

“Andor,” you replied.

You were one step closer to friends.

Being on a planet such as this left you with free time— the worst disease you could ever want when in the rebellion. Free time meant suffering souls. Free time meant overthinking.

Cassian was in briefings. Having not been on base before, he was subjected to different training. Security, what to do in the event of an attack or ambush, dormitory regulations and the like.

A few hours after greeting him, you were in the landing bay, going over the mechanic rounds for the fifth time. You’d got so bored that you’d taken to memorising the mechanic teams shift rotations. You were in communications, a Lieutenant, but when things were stale it often left you lonely.

“Lieutenant,” your commander called, but you were so zoned out you hardly heard. “C-26!” he boomed, prompting you to drop your data pad abruptly. It crashed to the floor, a few buttons pinging off and rolling in all directions.

You internally cursed.

“Commander,” you turned to him, noticing Cassian behind him as you did.

“I know things are dry. Show the new recruit around, will you? The escape routes, the fire doors, the dormitory building,”

You saluted him, gaining back some of your composure. “Yes, Sir,”

He left as soon as he’d arrived, leaving Cassian and you in the landing bay alone. As soon as he was gone, you instantly relaxed, letting out muttered curses beneath your breath as you dropped to the floor, looking for stray data pad parts.

“He’s a real stick in the mud,” Cassian spoke first, peering down at you as you scrambled on the floor.

“He’s a very good commander. You’ll learn that with more time here,” you snapped, annoyed more at yourself than at Cassian. He huffed behind you, amused.

“Is it always this… quiet?”

“No. This is abnormal,” you admitted, standing up and assessing the data pad parts in your palm. “Luthen’s off the radar, you know?”

Cassian nodded gravely.

“It was getting too hot,”

“What work did you do with him?” you asked, trying to be as unbothered as possible, but Cassian immediately stumbled.

“Why do you want to know?”

You laughed, a belly chuckle. “This isn’t some random planet, Andor. Nor a back alley. This is the rebellion. We share here. We’re on the right side of the war,”

Maybe this was a test. Your own secret one to assess him. To work him out. To see what game he was playing. Everyone did it, even if you were all on the same team.

Cassian regarded you quizzically, trying to work you out.

“You already know,” he replied. You smiled. He’d caught on immediately.

“Aldhani. That’s a feat,”

“So I’m told,”

“You were there. No point in pushing away congratulations from the rebellion. You deserve it—,”

“No, I don’t,” he cut over you, stiff as a board, as hard as steel. His gaze had turned soured, his eyes stone cold.

Silence descended the landing bay. You reattached the buttons on your data pad quickly, the clicks of metal upon metal clanging throughout the empty bay.

“Come on. There’s much to see,” you said finally. The two of you started the tour of the outpost.

He never mentioned home, never mentioned Maarva or Bix or Ferrix, in the first few months. Only after you’d been assigned a few dual missions, scouting patrols, being a pilot and comm unit, did he finally open up.

You did, too.

“My mother is from Sorgan,” you said gently, five hours into an eight-hour perimeter scout.

It was customary to split up tasks on the outpost. It wasn’t like other rebel bases. There weren’t masses of cadets around to borrow.

“She never liked grey. Only greens, and blues, and the oranges of the sunset. My father was from Yavin. Same greens, same trees, but completely different ways of living. She moved there for him, uprooted her small village life because she fell in love as soon as she saw him,”

You loved talking about your parents.

You missed them. They were some of the first to join the Alliance, and some of the first to die. You were raised with rebellion in your blood, brought up by your godparents and moved from base to base with them.

Crait outpost was their attempt at keeping you safe, but all it did was drive you insane. Why someone such as Cassian was here, you didn’t know— it was effectively a ghost town now, with no more than one hundred officials on base, and only acting as a secure link for meetings to take place, or for transport missions.

“They were rebels?” Cassian asked, sat in front of you and piloting the ship. The space was small, compact, and your flight suits were stuffy, but this was the only time you felt free.

Shoved in a tiny ship, scouting the outer atmosphere of a planet that you knew like the back of your hand— but you were in the sky, dotted amongst the stars. You craved this.

“Yes. They died rebels, too,” you said it quickly, getting it out of the way. All rebels had lost someone; maybe everyone; who was close to them. It was customary.

“And now, you will finish what they started,” Cassian said, no hint of falseness in his voice.

You glanced to your left, catching his reflection in the control console. It was the only way you could see each other sat like this. His reflection was wobbled, warped, but you still got to see his eyes.

You sort of loved them, really, over the months you’d got to know them with increasing intensity.

“That’s the plan,” you leaned back in your seat.

The urge to say what about you? was overwhelming, but you bit on your tongue. Getting personal was not obligatory. Being more than acquaintances was less normal than this, but you opened up because this felt different.

Cassian felt different.

You swallowed through the silence, through the cogs whirring in Cassian’s brain.

Until they finally clicked.

“I had a mother. She wasn’t my real mother, but she was as good as. She was all I ever knew,” he started, and you breathed out slowly as relief washed over you.

This went two ways.

Good.

“Maarva was the bravest person in the galaxy. That’s not an exaggeration, it’s the truth. A daughter of Ferrix. Died with honour. She protected me through it all,” he listed off everything he wanted, recalling small details and going on tangents whenever he pleased.

You listened intently, laughing at his funny stories, envisioning the copper streets of Ferrix.

“I was a pain in her ass, I knew it. From age fourteen I was scaling over the wall in the scrapyard to find Bix. We were just kids,”

“Was there something more?” this is the first time you properly interjected. He perked his eyebrow up at you in the console reflection.

You squinted back at him, amused.

“Come on. A man like you has to have some broken hearts behind him,” you let out, smiling uncontrollably. He does the same.

“For a little while, yes,” he admitted.

“Knew it,” you muttered, and Cassian leaned forward slightly. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was shocked, because you read him so easily.

A silence descended across the tiny cockpit, encasing you both in a feeling of knowing. Knowing each other, knowing the stars in the sky, maybe even knowing that all of this was temporary; probably.

“When I left Ferrix for the last time, I put her on a ship with Brasso, Bee, some others,” Cassian continued slowly, leaning back in his chair and letting out a sigh. “I promised I’d find her,”

He hadn’t.

“There’s still time,” you said strongly, meaning every word.

You knew Cassian well enough by now to know that, when he put his mind to something, more often than not he ended up succeeding. It’d been a long time since he’d left Ferrix; many moons had passed and grown and disappeared in that time; but not Cassian’s love for Bix.

Not his allegiance to justice, or the rebellion. Not his skill and brash nature and overly annoying attempts at getting you to laugh during meetings with General Mon Mothma or other higher-ups.

You meant every word, every breath. If he tried to, now, he would find his family again.

“My time is for the rebellion, now,” he replied finally, sending you a soft smile into the console reflection. “Wherever they are, they’re safer without me,”

There was nothing you could say to make it better, nothing you could offer to give him even a shred of hope when you knew it was pointless. He was here, and they were elsewhere; that was the way he wanted it, as much as it pained him.

You remembered that perimeter search well. You dwelled on it often, mostly when Cassian was off world for missions and you weren’t in contact; or when he was pissing you off to oblivion that you wanted to blast him between the eyes.

But, upon every landing; every return to Crait that he graced you with; his hugs got even tighter.

When the Death Star hit Alderaan, he was away. You fretted, you cried in private, worried for his safety and whether the Empire would hit his planet next. But, when he returned, you were the first to sprint out to his ship.

He dropped himself from the cockpit, skipping over the last two ladder rungs, and almost tripping upon landing, as he scrambled to you— sprinting, full pelt, directly towards each other.

He dropped his helmet to the ground, unbothered, before you embraced with an unceremonious smack into each other.

“Thank the stars,” you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. He laughed, but it wasn’t full of comedy; it was relief filled.

“Did you miss me?” He squeezed you harder.

“Shut up, Cassian.” You squeezed him harder right back, until you were just two rebels, standing in an almost empty landing bay, clutching onto the other like he was the very air that you needed to breathe.

On base, you would work around each other in the way giggling school kids would. He would come to the comms rooms just to ask you one question, before hitting you with a joke on his way out. You’d head to the Admiral’s quarters with a message to deliver, only to be hit by Cassian’s gleaming gaze as you entered the room.

He was higher-up than you, a Captain, hot shit. But he never looked down on you; not ever.

“Captain Andor,” you announced. He stood up straight from his position, leaned down, next to the Admiral.

“Lieutenant, how can I help?” He smiled at you jokingly. When formalities came into play, he loved chalking it up, making it worse. Purely because neither of you were like it behind closed doors.

“I’ve intercepted a relay from a close-by Destroyer. I think it’ll interest you to listen, considering we had a tip from someone on a planet close by about the defector,”

The Defector. An Imperial pilot that randomly decided to join the side of the rebellion. He’d been the talk of the Alliance since Alderaan had been hit.

“Good work, Lieutenant,” Cassian started rounding the circular table that separated you. “Tell me everything you’ve heard,” he stopped to peer down at you, smile on his face, before the two of you left for communications.

It wasn’t long after that when he left again. On another mission, out amongst the stars while you played the housewife, fixing the same coolant compartments over, and over again, and trying not to go crazy. You could count on one hand the months that you and Cassian had known each other, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into the trap—

The trap of care and concern. In the rebellion, it was the worst trap of them all.

Against protocol, Cassian sent you message relays this time. Maybe it was due to everything feeling less stable, everything going to shit. The Death Star was in full flight; citizens were at war with their own minds, worrying about whether they’d be the next planet to be destroyed by the power of a dying star.

Jedha City, that’s where we’re going. Saw Gerrara is close, as is the defector. I’m with someone who’s very valuable to the cause, someone who can get us close to Gerrara. I’m safe. I miss you.

You read them at night, over, and over again. Every crumb and speck of communication that he could muster or even allow.

Jedha City, that’s where he, K-2SO, and this mystery helper were. His written words allowed you to imagine him, surrounded by sand, by the wind, by the ruins of old temples and all that sandstone that made up the planet, and the city itself— alone, yes— but also being him.

Cassian was brave, Cassian was fearless. He was born to be a rebel, and, despite his troubled upbringing, he was still kind. That was a good sign of his character.

“C-26,” your commander approached you one morning. You were alone in comms, choosing to stay during breakfast to get more done. The quiet was the only place where you weren’t reminded of Cassian. “A word?”

“Of course, Sir,” you swivelled on your chair to peer up at him.

“We just received news,” he started, but the tone of his voice shifted immediately. Your heart dropped. “Jedha City has been hit by the Death Star,”

Words couldn’t describe the jolt that slashed its way through your entire body.

“We haven’t received word from Andor or Kay-Two, but due to their mission parameters, their location was on world—,”

“Stop,” you let out harshly, trying to come to terms with the words he was saying. He stopped when you asked, standing up straight as he waited for you to reply. “You think they didn’t make it out, is that what you’re saying?”

“I just want you to prepare for the worst,” he replied sullenly. “That’s what I’m saying, C-26. I know you and Andor are close,”

“That’s irrelevant—,”

“No, it’s not,” he said strongly, taking you by surprise. “I’ve been at this outpost with you for close to two years, seen you when you’re bored stiff and wondering what the hell your purpose is,” you listened to his every word. “As soon as Cassian showed up, that all changed, don’t deny it,”

“I’m not,” you said defensively, standing up abruptly to face him, but there was part of you that had completely shut down.

This wasn’t the time where you needed someone else to confirm just how close you and Cassian were. This wasn’t the time where you needed someone to drill into you about the extent of your lonely, prior life on this outpost— only gleaming brighter after his very arrival.

You needed to raise your guard and focus on your breathing and not spill your guts all over the floor by your commander’s feet.

“We’ll find out in a few hours,” he added, finally. “Feel free to take some time.”

“With all due respect, Commander, I’d rather be so busy that my fingers go numb than sit in the silence of the landing bay and wait for him to come home.”

He nodded at you, taken aback by the power laced between your words.

“As you wish,” he said, softer this time. “Back to work, then, C-26,” he gulped after speaking, like he didn’t want to have the formality of it all right now. Not while you were tensing every muscle in your body to stop yourself from screaming, and he could see that pain written all over your face.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathed out as you sat back down, swivelling yourself back towards your screens. Your fingers got to work, and your commander disappeared once more.

You stayed at your desk for eighteen hours straight. You looked up images of the Death Star hitting Jedha City. You reached out to other bases to see if they had any updates themselves. You scanned the skies with radar until the clockwise motion of the visuals had fucked up your eyes for the night.

When you dozed, dreams finally took you.

You and Cassian are on a forest planet, somewhere that looks like Yavin and Sorgan combined. He looks younger, almost, less stressed by his years as a rebel. His clothes are clean. Gently, he turns to you as you both stroll through the lush greenery, sticking out his hand for you to take.

“Come,” he urges, as you slip your hand into his grasp. When he smiles, it’s like nothing can ever be wrong with the world. “I have to show you something,”

You follow him as he leads you to a clearing; large and built from limestone. It’s moss covered, dazzling in the sun rays as the vibrant green lights up the entire clearing. It’s soft, it’s warm, and you have Cassian’s hand in your own— there is nothing that could have made you happier.

“Here,” he says, tugging you forward with more excitement. You squeal as you stumble into him, but he simply repositions himself and holds you to his chest warmly.

You both look out over the horizon. You’re at the top of a cliff; steep and deadly should you fall; but quiet and beautiful where you’re stood. You see mountains on the horizon, snow-capped and covered by a subtle fog. The sun is setting as you breathe in sync, as Cassian gently drops his cheek onto the top of your head.

“This view,” he says. “This view reminds me of you,” you watch in silence, a warmth cascading through your gut, as the sky changes to a glowing red. “The colour red reminds me of you. Maroon, burgundy, whatever shade, it doesn’t matter. When I see something red, I think of you, wherever I am in the galaxy,”

You peer up at him, eyes glassy with emotion. “Red reminds me of you, too,” you admit. “The red of Ferrix bricks. The clay that makes up Rix Road. The maroon tinge of grease on your palms,” you pick up his hand softly, but it is spotless. “The luminescence of the whiskey that Maarva used to love. Bee’s paint job,” you list everything one by one, certain that you’re thinking on the spot, but there is an odd sense of Deja vu that falls over you.

Gently, smiling, he takes your chin into his hand, resting his thumb just below your bottom lip. His eyes skim every feature on your desperate face, every wrinkle and bump and scar and bruise. The sign of a rebel is etched on your skin, while he is completely perfect. The small scar above his eyebrow is gone. The collection of dirt stains from clay don’t litter his face.

He is perfect, but not his usual perfect. He is perfect in aesthetic ways, not in the ways that make Cassian; Cassian.

You suck in a breath as he starts to lean forward, softly, gently, your gut lurching within your body with the desire to absolutely crumble against the feel of his lips on your own.

“The red of the Death Star ray,” he whispers, just an inch from your face.

“What?” you gasp suddenly, tugging away ever so slightly.

“You remind me of that red, too,” he smiles at you so genuinely that you feel sick. “The red of the Death Star. The red of the Death Star that killed me,”

“Cassian—,” you stutter, pulling away from him. He’s still smiling, and you feel like you might vomit your guts upon the forest floor at any moment. “No,” you find your words. “You’re not my Cassian,”

“Here it is, now,” he says, turning back to the horizon. The sunset that once faced the sky has now been replaced— by an explosion the size of a small moon. Debris already litters the crater, as the impact of the ray heads in every direction on the planet.

You look at him, distraught, but he’s in some kind of trance.

“Look at that,” he breathes out, before turning back to you. “What a beautiful way to die.”

You woke up to beeping. Incessant and shrill, you shot up in your chair as you realised what had happened. You’d fallen asleep at your desk, drifted into dreams that were unable to replicate Cassian in person. Quickly, you shut off your systems. When the beeping stopped, you leaned back in your chair and tried not to think about how your fingers were shaking, how your heart was beating out of your chest.

Inhale. Shake. Exhale. Shake. Inhale. Shake. Exhale. Cry.

You wiped away a stray tear, not wanting your own subconscious to be your downfall. You wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t let it show. He had to be alive, somewhere out there, he had to still be completing this mission.

What a beautiful way to die.

You switched off the light by your desk, knowing it was time to call it a day. You wouldn’t be of help if you were sleep deprived. Hoisting yourself from your chair, you left communications glumly. Your back clicked when you stretched yourself out.

The bays were empty. You had no idea what time it was, but from the quiet of the outpost, you guessed everyone was in their dorms. Gently, you placed your hand on one of the X-wings in the bay. It was customary for pilots to swipe the noses of their ships before take-off, just for good luck, just for the hell of it.

You always oddly loved the way Cassian did it. Before every perimeter search or recon mission, the methodical way he so delicately placed his hand and dragged it against the smooth metal of his ship reminded you of the soft way he draped his arm around others; around you.

Oh, Maker, please let him be alive.

Back in your dorm, you didn’t sleep— but you still dreamt. You dreamt of him, of the real Cassian, not the one that had infiltrated your mind beforehand.

In the morning, a knock woke you from your dozing. As the door wooshed up, you were hit with the face of your commander. You saluted him immediately, standing to attention.

“Sir,”

“At ease,” he said breathlessly. He’d run all the way here. “There’s a call for you,”

“Sir?” you let out, but he was already smiling.

“It’s Cassian.”

The two of you sprinted to the control room, hearts in your throats. Your commander was older, but not by much. Your godparents had placed you under his command for a reason, and you knew this was one of those times. His softness was needed, as too was his formality and allegiance to the rebellion as a whole.

He cared; and that’s what mattered in the long run.

You rounded the corner to the control room and almost stumbled, but he grabbed your waist before you could trip. “Come on. He’s on the General’s frequency,”

The General’s frequency? This was a line solely reserved for Alliance Generals to talk to one another undisturbed. This was unheard of; Cassian was a Captain; you were a Lieutenant.

As you passed the control table, you slowed your breathing. A comm headset sat atop a desk, just waiting for you. Your commander stayed behind you, filling the room with a calmer energy. “Go on, C-26,” he urged, and you almost burst out laughing; from relief.

You peered back at him, sending him the softest smile you had within you. He reciprocated in full.

“I’ll leave you be,” he decided, before stepping back slowly. When the thud of his boots disappeared down the corridor, you finally allowed yourself to pick up the headset.

You slipped it on, feeling the pump of blood in your ears and the incessant beat of your heart as you prayed to the Maker. Then, you clicked the relay button.

“Cassian?” You whispered pathetically, but there was no other way around how you felt.

“Meu korazon,” his voice trickled over you like honey, in some language that you couldn’t identify. He’d called you it many times before—it was a long time joke that he never told you what it meant, but you still felt warm whenever the name cascaded over you. The relief in his tone is what got to you the most.

“What does that mean?” you asked, on the brink of tears. Cassian chuckled; it was a sound you loved.

“Nothing,” he let out, changing his tone. “I’m just happy to hear your voice. Meu korazon,” he repeated. You shut your eyes, trying not to utterly explode into tears. You’d never felt more relieved in your life, never been happier to hear someone’s voice.

“Where are you?”

“Yavin 4. We got off Jedha in time, just before the planet was destroyed,”

“We?”

“Me, Kay, and some stragglers we’ve picked up. The defector is with us, and two protectors of the temple from Jedha. And—,” he stopped, sucking in a deep breath. “Jyn Erso,”

“Erso?” You let out instinctually. Everyone knew of Galen Erso, Imperial weapons designer, the man responsible for the fucking Death Star.

“It’s complicated, not something that I can explain over a comm relay,” he admitted, and your heart sank. You knew things were escalating, knew missions were in place. You waited for orders to rally every single day, knowing that it was only a matter of time before a strike occurred on the Death Star.

“Are you coming back?” You whispered. “To Crait,”

He went silent for a moment, and you knew what his answer would be.

“No, I’m not,” he let out. Your heart broke, the blood rushed to your head. “You’re coming to Yavin 4 instead.”

The shuttle came for you as soon as possible. Your commander had set it up without question, knowing that it was time for you to get involved elsewhere. This wasn’t just about Cassian; it was about you. You packed in record speed, bringing the limited items that you owned and fitting them in one bag alone.

Before you left your dorm, you etched your name on the underside of the small desk in the corner. Others had done it too, names like Lynx 2BBY. You added yours, scribbling 0BBY next to it, knowing that you wouldn’t be coming back again. You had more purpose than this, more than working behind the scenes when you knew you were capable.

Cassian knew it too. Knew that you could do more; wanted to do more; to end this war once and for all.

You jumped on the shuttle before your commander, but he stopped by the hull door. You turned back, rucksack on your shoulder, and peered down at him. “You’re not coming, are you?” You knew. He shook his head with a small smile.

From this position, you were closer to his height now, basically the same. It felt odd, being able to look him in the eye fully; it also felt needed.

“There’s still work for me to do here,” he said finally.

It sunk in then that this might be the last time you saw him for a long time. Depending on how things went, depending on the mission at hand with Jyn Erso.

“Thank you,” you said. “For being the best commander to work beneath, and for being my friend,” you meant it.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he smiled, before saluting you once more. You saluted back strongly, before the hull door slowly rose, cutting you off from each other.

He waved as you took off, flying high above the outpost until you left the atmosphere.

You arrived at the hight of the meeting. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa were present, amongst others. The room was packed to the brim as you entered at the back, rising onto tiptoes to see better.

“There’s no choice but to retreat! The Empire will stop at nothing to ensure every base, every planet that we inhabit, is dead and gone—,”

“There’s a flaw!” A young woman spoke up, someone that you knew to be Jyn Erso. You stepped through two others, looking out into the light. The breath hitched in your throat when you saw Cassian next to her. “There’s a flaw planted specifically for this use. We need to gather a team and strike it while the iron is hot,”

“With all due respect, Gerrara and your father are dead, Erso,” Tynnra Pamlo spoke up softly, but with purpose. “How can we believe these claims? When there is so much at stake and our resources are already running so thin,”

“I can vouch for her,” Cassian stepped forward abruptly. You flinched as he did, his eyes skimming the crowd of higher-ups and rebels— until his gaze finally hit yours.

He stopped, going silent for a moment as a few sets of eyes hit yours from following his own. Jyn followed his gaze, too, and when her stare hit yours, her expression softened. Perhaps, Cassian had told her about you. He’d gone to all this trouble just to get you here; had called you over the General’s frequency to ensure that you knew he was alive and well. Had called you meu korazon, whatever that may mean.

My heart. My heart.

You smiled at her, before glancing back to Cassian.

“Go on, Captain,” Mon Mothma urged him, and the moment ended. “Continue.”

“I can vouch for Jyn,” Cassian repeated. “I was there, both on Jedha and on Eadu. I saw the hologram with my own eyes,”

“That’s all well and good, Captain, but there is no evidence. It’s been destroyed. We simply have no choice,” Vasp Vaspar chimed in, but he looked almost apologetic.

“You’re asking us to invade an Imperial installation based on nothing but hope,” Pamlo spoke up again, looking directly at Jyn. Jyn smiled sadly, strongly.

“Rebellions are built on hope.”

It wasn’t enough.

“So, it is decided,” Pamlo spoke again. “We will scatter our fleet, retreat to safer planets, hide away— until we are strong enough to fight back against their weapon,”

“No— please, Senator—,” Jyn persisted, but Pamlo held up her hand.

“All those in favour of retreating?”

The majority put their hands up. The room fell silent.

“It is done.” Pamlo left first, followed by the scattering of cadets and rebels.

You fought against the dissipating sea of people to get to him. Cassian caught your eye, pointing to the door, so you followed the rest of the gaggle back to the landing bays. Your heart was in your throat when you made it out, glancing and scanning over all the pilots, mechs, and techs that left the meeting with upset frowns on their faces.

When Cassian emerged, he pushed himself through the crowd and broke into a run immediately.

“Cassian—,” you breathed out, but the air was ripped from your lungs when he bombarded you into an embrace. He held you for a long moment, so hard that you could feel his heart as it pumped in his body, syncing up with your own. “Thank the stars,” you let out from relief; a saying that you’d said to him so many times before, on missions where he almost hadn’t made it home.

“Did you miss me, meu korazon?” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

“I always miss you,” gently, he brought his hand to the back of your head, stroking your hair softly. You nuzzled your cheek into the nook between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in.

This felt different. They said that distance made the heart grow fonder, but you and Cassian weren’t like normal people. Perhaps it was the threat of death that kept you so close, the worry that one of you might never return when they left. Either way, it had come to this. You thanked the Maker for him.

When he pulled away, he raised his hand to your cheek. You smiled; before punching him in the stomach swiftly.

“Hey!” He yelped.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not die?” You exclaimed.

“I didn’t!”

“You almost did!” You pointed at him threateningly.

“But— I didn’t,” he said, straightening himself out as his surprised tone mellowed. He smirked at you, but you shot him with a look of fire.

“Don’t you dare make that face at me,”

“What face? This is just my face,”

“You know exactly what face I mean, hot shot. That little smirk,” you imitated the smirk. “Like you know everything, like you’ve just thrown an insult at me and are proud of yourself,”

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?”

You almost swallowed your tongue, stepping back and immediately feeling your ears go boiling hot at his comment. You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way his gaze was eating you up inside. It skimmed down your body and all the way up again, divulging all your secrets within seconds.

“No, you haven’t,” you almost spat it out, knowing that the heat was growing onto your cheeks as well. “You should more often, you piece of Bantha shit,”

His smirk turned into a full grin, which then prompted chuckles to burst from his lips. You rolled your eyes at him, pissed off and flattered and wanting him all at the same time.

“I hate you, I swear,” you said through clenched teeth. A lie.

“Don’t swear it. You know you don’t hate me, meu korazon,”

“Tell me what that means,” you uncrossed your arms, stepping closer to him again. “Tell me, Cassian.”

He sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly the roles had shifted. His ears got warm; his cheeks went rouge. He kissed his teeth as he accepted this; he had to tell you the truth after so many months.

“It means—,”

“It means cooler than him,” Jyn spoke up suddenly, approaching you both gently. “Because you are definitely cooler than him,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile. She stuck her hand out to you gently, which you took happily. “Everything he’s told me about you has been good,”

“I should hope so,” you joked, as the two of you looked back at Cassian. He looked awkward, or caught out, or both.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” his voice trailed off, as he placed his hands on his hips and looked uncomfortably around the bay.

Eventually, others gathered. You were introduced to Bodhi, the defector, a scrawny pilot with a big heart; Chirrut and Baze, the temple protectors; a few others who wanted Jyn’s plan to be set in motion. It was clear that they’d all been through a lot— Jedha, Eadu—and now their want to do something good had been denied.

Throughout the solemn chat, you stuck by Cassian’s side. At one point, he placed his hand on the small of your back, peering down at you like you were pure gold. This was the Cassian that you adored— tired, but still fighting. There was dirt on his forehead and some dark circles under his eyes, but he still looked perfect.

“I knew they wouldn’t believe you,” he said to Jyn, peering down at the floor with his hand on his hip, the other on you. Gently, you wrapped your arm around his back, too, just so he knew you were there.

Jyn stepped forward, a look like fire on her face. “Thanks for the support,” she said stubbornly. Cassian met her eye.

“But I do,” he said strongly. “We do,”

Men and women gathered, over thirty of them, all ready to stand up and fight for the cause that they believed in. When Cassian spoke, you held onto his every word. He was impossible not to listen to, impossible not to go utterly silent whenever a speech erupted itself from his mouth.

Jyn approached you and Cassian after it was decided; they would all fight.

“I’m not used to people sticking around,” Jyn smiled, a smile that you knew to be genuine. She turned to you gently.

“Welcome home,” you let out.

What ensued was a heist of epic proportions. You helped Bodhi locate a stray passenger lander, watched as he powered it up, checked the fuel gage and coolant compartment. You sat in the co-pilot seat, going through checks.

“I thought you were in communications?” Bodhi asked somewhat frantically. He had a rapid way of talking, but he was sweet.

“I am,”

“Then how do you know so much about ships? Do you pilot as well?” you scoffed at his question.

“In the Alliance, we’re all all-rounders, truthfully. But—after my parents died—I wasn’t allowed to fly anymore,” you admitted.

“Why?” you shrugged, sad whenever you remembered your godparents taking that away from you.

“My guardians when I was growing up, they just want to protect me. I just wish—I wish that they’d realise I’m good for more than this,”

“This is legendary,” Bodhi said suddenly. “Hijacking an Alliance lander, going to Scarif for the Death Star plans. This is what someone like you was made for,” you knew you’d only just met him, but your heart reached out to him.

You placed your hand on his forearm, nodding at him in appreciation.

“Thanks, Bodhi.” You smiled at him, eyes glassy.

“This is what I’ve been saying for almost a year,” Cassian’s arrival made you flinch. You swivelled around to meet his gaze, looking at him knowingly as he peered down at you proudly. “You’ve always been capable of so much more, but you’ve been held back your entire life,”

“Who are your guardians? Are they here?” Bodhi asked. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“They’re both Admirals,” you confessed. “They’re not posted in this system, they’re elsewhere, but,” you glanced back at Cassian, shooting his own smirk back at him. “What they don’t know, won’t hurt them,”

Cassian pointed at you, leaning down affectionately, and bringing his fingers to hold you by the chin. His thumb rested just below your bottom lip; just like the dream; but this was real.

“This is why I love you,” he said lowly. Bodhi turned away with an awkward smile on his face.

“Tell me what meu korazon means, you coward,”

“Not until you ask nicely,” Cassian joked, shifting his thumb ever so slightly upwards, so it was swiping against your lip. You fought the urge to smash your face onto his; he was so close, it would be easy, and he’d definitely expect it. “You’re looking at my lips, meu korazon,” he whispered, and you all too late realised that you had been staring at his mouth.

It was hard not to.

“Because I’m waiting for you to tell me what it means,” you lied.

“I’ll go find Jyn—the ship is ready to fly,” Bodhi said quickly, removing himself from the cockpit as soon as possible. Cassian laughed to himself, a knowing laugh that radiated through every pore in your body.

“I forgot he was still there, truthfully,” Cassian let out. You held your breath with embarrassment, falling into him ever so slightly.

“We’re awful people,”

“We’re only human, you can’t blame us,”

“I can, and I will blame us,” you chuckled out, bobbing your shoulders softly with built up laugher. You had to bring a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling to oblivion.

“Hey,” Cassian said, annoyed suddenly. “Don’t do that,” he grabbed your hand gently and pulled it away from your mouth, holding it in his own. “I was about to kiss you, that’s just not fair,”

He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Your heart jolted beneath your ribcage, lurching forward so quickly that you’re surprised you didn’t kiss him as soon as his words had stopped being spoken. He was looking at you like you were gold, like you were the red of the sunset that both of you loved, the maroon clay that laid beneath the salt on Crait, where you’d both met all those months before.

“Tell me what meu korazon means, and you can kiss me all you like,” you whispered, giving him an ultimatum. He let out a soft huff, peering down at the floor as an excuse to lay his forehead on yours.

His hand wound its way onto your cheek, his thumb swiping there instead.

“You’re impossible,” he let out. You shut your eyes, feeling the strength in his arms as you laid your hands on his biceps, just to hold him as he squatted on the floor by the co-pilot chair.

“That’s why you love me,”

“I do,” you opened your eyes. “I really do,” he admitted. “My heart. It means—you’re my heart, meu korazon.”

My heart, my heart. How many times had he called you it? He’d started after a trip where his cover had been blown. He’d come home, beaten and bruised to within an inch of his life. You cared for him for days, fussing over him in the med-bay, reading him books as he lay in bed.

That’s when he’d called you it for the first time, all those months ago. Since then, you’d asked around about it. What language it could be, if anyone knew what it meant, since Cassian had been so against telling you every time you’d asked.

Now you knew why. He’d been waiting for to realise it, waiting for you to understand that you were his heart, his body, his love.

You kissed him before you lost your nerve. It felt like coming home. It was everything you’d ever wanted and more. He was soft, but you felt the fire within him. One that started in both of your guts and grew outwards, overtaking every sense and controlling your every move.

When you pulled away, you took the time to indulge in the way he looked. A deer in headlights, flushed, breathing heavily.

“If you’d told me that sooner, I would have kissed you sooner,” you let out, a few chuckles escaping alongside the words.

“We’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he smiled, holding you close.

You both stayed like that for a while, laughing subtly at the fact you’d finally done it—you and Cassian had finally told each other the truth, spilled your guts upon the floor for each other, felt the other in a way that you’d both so desperately wanted behind closed doors.

When the shuttle engine started, all of you held your breath.

“Cargo shuttle, read back, please. What’s going on out there?” the control tower spoke through the pilot comms. Jyn approached Bodhi, squatting by his side to hear better. “That ship’s off limits, no one’s supposed to be on board until further instructions,”

Bodhi clicked the relay. “Uh—yes, yes, we are. Affirmative,”

“That’s an impounded Imperial ship. What’s your call-sign, pilot?”

Bodhi looked to Jyn, stuttering over his words. You watched her mouth we have to go, while Bodhi continued to struggle with what to answer.

“Say something,” Jyn whispered, fierce. “Come on,”

Bodhi exhaled shakily. “Rogue,” he glanced around for approval. “Rogue One,”

“Rogue One? There is no Rogue one,”

K-2SO switched on the radar scanner, evidently running out of patience. “Well, there is now,”

The shuttle took off abruptly, rising into the sky as fast as Bodhi and K2 could get it off the rebel base. As soon as you left the atmosphere, you were punched into hyperspace. You stood with Cassian by the cockpit, watching the blue lights of lightspeed cover the ship windshield.

You were going into the belly of the beast, right into the enemy’s hands, but you’d never felt more part of something.

Flying through Scarif’s shield was up there as the scariest moment of your life, but still you all persisted. Cadets in the back got on their gear and checked their blasters, dusting off their helmets and preparing themselves both mentally and physically for what was about to come.

Upon landing, Cassian took you aside gently.

“I need you to stay here,” he explained. “We need someone on the ground with Bodhi while Jyn and I find the data inside. It’s too risky having more of us inside the building,”

“Okay,” you said, just so he knew you understood. Gently, he placed a communicator into your hand, wrapping your fingers around it slowly.

“For you and me. You need me, you call me,” he whispered. Once again, this was not allowed, but he was doing it for you.

All of a sudden, everything hit you all at once. He was leaving, the same way he did every time he took off from Crait outpost and went off world. He was leaving, and he may not come back this time. Really not come back this time.

You peered up at him with all your strength, widening your eyes to get across every fibre of your love for him, everything.

“Come back to me, Cassian.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he laid his hand on your cheek. “I promise,”

“Because, I swear, I’ll kill you otherwise. I really will,” you let out, stuttering over your word and trying not to crumble completely.

Cassian leant forward and kissed you simply—as if it was the most normal thing he could ever do. When he pulled away, that fucking smirk was on his face again. The one you loved to hate, but dreamt about when he wasn’t around.

“What a beautiful way to die, meu korazon.” he said.

And then, he was gone.

And all hell broke loose.

First, it was the troopers. There were so many of them, all with their blasters firing. You stayed with Bodhi in the ship while cadets fought them outside, knowing that you needed to be here for the transmission of the plans. It was essential.

Then, it was the walkers. They bombarded over the landing bays and destroyed ships and people alike. Smashing their bulking feet down upon the ground without so much as a second glance.

Chirrut and Baze were dead. You struggled to breathe.

Come on, Cassian.

Bodhi had sent distress signals to all branches of the galaxy, praying for rebels to arrive. It was a call to action, a cry for help. You needed all the help you could get, as the war raged outside and you focused on not losing your cool.

“Bodhi!” you screamed, just so he could hear you. You were sat at the secondary comms, heart in your throat at what you were hearing. The tears came faster than you could have imagined. “They’re here! They heard us!”

Above Scarif’s shield entrance, two dozen rebel ships had arrived. They were there to help, there to answer your call. Bodhi grabbed his comm immediately, knowing what to do.

“Rogue One to the Rebellion!” he yelled.

“This is Admiral Raddus to Rogue One!”

“Raddus, they have the plans. They found the Death Star plans. They have to transmit them from the communications tower! You have to take down the shield gate, it’s the only way we’re gonna get them through!” he spoke quickly, efficiently, and for a moment you allowed yourself to feel relieved.

“Pull up a hammerhead corvette—I have an idea. Stand by Rogue One, we’re on it!” Raddus replied. Bodhi bowed his head in thanks.

After the battle for the past hour, the fear of death from every trooper and walker and higher up on this godforsaken planet, you were hopeful—you were hopeful.

“This is for you, Galen,” Bodhi whispered to himself. It was go time.

“Bodhi, we need to tell Cassian—,”

“Grenade!” he yelled over you, as the tinker of metal upon the hull of the ship alerted you both to the danger.

You had seconds to live.

You did the first thing you could think of; you clipped a blaster to you hip and jumped out of the shuttle; right before it exploded and blasted into a thousand pieces. You fell onto the sand of the landing pad, covering your head and ignoring the agonising sting of burns on your back.

All around you, troopers and cadets lay dead on the floor. Debris littered the sand. The once beautiful seclusion of the bay, surrounded by swinging palm trees, had been obliterated.

And Bodhi. Bodhi lay, burning, on the hull of the destroyed and on fire wreckage of Rogue One.

It was hard to hope for the best when all you wanted to do was join him. You felt the guilt first, then the grief, then the excruciating pain of all the losses you’d endured. You knew what you’d signed up to, knew this was always inevitable, but that didn’t stop you from feeling broken.

When you moved, your skin burned. But still, you moved. You moved into the tree line, into the last of the greenery that surrounded you. You think your mother would have done the same, and your father; hidden in the foliage; made friends with the leaves as you focused on not dying.

You gulped down the pain, knowing that you needed medical attention; badly. It would have to wait.

You grabbed the communicator Cassian gave you and turned it on. You clicked the relay.

“Cassian,” you croaked. “Cassian—everyone’s dead,” you said, not even knowing if he was listening on the other end.

Static was all you were met with, until he finally replied.

“I know,” was all he said. “So is Kay-Two. But, you are alive,”

“And you,” you said bluntly, struggling to be emotive when your energy was all but gone. “I’m trapped, at the landing pads. There are walkers, and—there were troopers—Bodhi. He’s—,” you stuttered through the words, trying to hold it together.

“Use that big brain of yours,” he urged you forward. “I know you can get out, meu korazon. Through the shield gate, back to the Rebellion,”

“Not without you,” the tears came thick and fast as you realised what was happening. “Where are you, my love?” you struggled to get it out.

“We’re at the communication tower. Krennic—he got me with his blaster,” you stifled a sob. “We’re waiting now, for the shield to go down. We’re so close,”

You allowed yourself to picture the perfect outcome: Raddus manages to open the shield gate, allowing the Rebellion into the atmosphere. They blast away the last of the enemy, kill Krennic where he stands, destroy their ships and leave them marooned on the planet to rot.

You find a ship and pick up Jyn and Cassian from atop the tower. They crawl into your ship and fall to the ground, hugging, safe, while you fly them far away from this god-awful place—back home; back to Yavin 4.

You kiss Cassian a thousand times; you kiss him until your lips go numb and your belly hurts from all the laughter that he causes to burst from within you. He touches you softly and warmly, keeping you safe while also letting you roam free; the way you’ve always wanted to live.

You destroy the Death Star. You destroy the Empire, together. Alive.

“Okay,” you said, shutting your eyes and dispelling the last of your cold tears. You sucked in a shaking breath, forcing yourself to stand. “I’m finding a ship and getting off this fucking planet. And then—I’m coming back for you, Cassian. I will always come back,”

“Meu korazon, I know,”

His comms cut off. You forced yourself to move.

You blasted your way through the last trooper stragglers, going from landing pad to landing pad, looking for a ship. When you found one, you thanked the Maker within your heart. Somewhere deep down, you let yourself rejoice.

Just this once. Only for a second.

You’re working on autopilot when you entered the beat-up lander, praying that the engine is still usable. It stopped and stuttered to life, while you worked on powering up the comms systems. The static pinged abruptly, and you fiddled with the frequency knob until you could hear Admiral Raddus.

“Admiral, this is—,” you stopped. You didn’t know what to say. “I’m on landing pad four. How is the shield gate plan going?”

“Tell me your call-sign, Lieutenant,” he pushed you, replying over the static. You sat in the pilot seat, looking out the dirtied windshield.

“Rogue Two,” you made it up on the spot. It was fitting.

“Rogue Two, copy. Look at the sky,” he said knowingly.

You leaned forward, looking at the sky above. The blue haze of the shield gate had all but disappeared, after a Star Destroyer had crashed directly through it. It was still falling—in that slow motion sort of way that is both menacing and beautiful.

“They did it,” you whispered, but your comms were still on.

“The plans are being transmitted and uploaded as we speak, Rogue Two,” he announced. You thanked him, before clicking off your relay and got to piloting.

Before you could think, you took off in you ship. Quickly, you headed to the tower. If they were still up there, there was a chance that you’d be able to pick them up. You prayed, you hoped, you dreamed.

Cassian.

“Cassian,” you said over yours and his comm. “I’m in an Imperial lander, circling the tower. Where are you?”

Only static came from the communicator.

“Cassian, come in,” you urged, as tears fell from your distressed eyes.

Nothing.

“Cassian!” you shouted, you screamed, you raged.

“Rogue Two—get out of there!” Admiral Raddus exclaimed over your ship comm. “They’re here. The Death Star is here,”

You ceased to breathe. On the horizon, you saw it. Hulking, large, a sickly shade of grey and the size of a fucking planet as it loomed over everything. It covered the sun, casting a shadow over the entire planet.

“Rogue Two, that’s an order!” another voice came over your comms, but it wasn’t Raddus. “Don’t you dare disobey your commander,”

“Commander?” you replied, eyes still glued to the horizon as you circled the tower for a third time.

“The shield gate is down. Leave the atmosphere, Rogue Two. Now,” he pleaded, and you wanted to rip the control console before you. You wanted to destroy every scrap of metal, every bolt, every button, and scanner that resided in this grim ship.

You only wanted him. You needed him.

“I can’t, Sir,” you croaked.

“Yes, you can,” he urged. You could picture his face, concerned and worried and on the brink of a meltdown in his X-wing, up in the stars. “Yes, you can!” he exclaimed again, shouting at you full pelt.

With every wasted second, the Death Star was gaining power and would soon blow. It would destroy the planet in minutes, seconds. Immediately.

“Please,” he let out. “You have so much more to do in this life.”

You grimaced when you left the tower, heading for the upper atmosphere. You could see the collection of rebel ships, above the destroyed shield gate. Admiral Raddus, Bail Organa, your commander. They were all here—they’d all responded and helped.

You didn’t say a word as you entered space, letting the darkness encase you. You ignored the stars; the stars weren’t the same without him here. They would never be.

You blocked out the frantic comm relays from your ears. Something about Vader himself, something about the plans still uploading—nothing about Cassian. You turned off your comms altogether; you would follow the rebels back to base when you saw them jump into hyperspace; but this time was for you and Cassian.

Picking up your communicator, you looked down at the planet beneath you. Somewhere, Cassian was still down there. Jyn was still down there.

“Cassian,” you tried again, hating the sound of the static after each word. “Cassian,” your voice wobbled, your tears started to fall again. “My love, I need you. You said, if I needed you, to call you. I’m calling you, Cassian. I need you,”

The air shifted when the Death Star fired on Scarif.

You watched in horror as the initial blast slowly erupted, crumbling the crust of the planet as if it were nothing but a piece of paper that had been stabbed by a sharp lead pencil.

“Do you see it, meu korazon?” Cassian’s voice croaked over the comm. You almost vomited up your heart. “The colour of the sky. It’s red, but still soft. It reminds me of you,”

You bit away the want to scream.

“Describe it to me,”

“The skies used to look like this when I was a boy—on Kenari. They were so soft, so red, casting a glow over our forests and reflecting off the waxy leaves that we used to build our homes,” his voice was beautiful. You memorised every syllable and note and croak that he could muster. “My sister would clap at the sunset, every night. It happened so fast. One minute, the sky was still blue, the next a pale pink, and then—you,”

“Me?” you sniffed through your tears. You couldn’t see properly.

“You. That shade of maroon, the deep kind. The kind that warms you. The kind that I see whenever I close my eyes. You,”

The explosion was spreading fast, forcing the water from the vast ocean of the planet in all directions.

“Where are you, my love?” you asked. You wished you hadn’t.

“On the beach, meu korazon. It’s beautiful. I’m with Jyn,”

“Good,” your voice shook.

The first of the rebel ships flew into hyperspace around you. Time was up.

“Cassian,” you wobbled. “I love you,”

“I know,” he said, huffing slightly. “I’ve loved you since you dropped that data pad and scrambled on the floor to pick up the buttons,”

“Meu korazon,” you stuttered out.

“Meu koraz—,” the communicator went dead.

All you could hear was static, the ugly kind, the kind that made you want to vomit up your heart and use it to drive the ship home.

“Cassian?” you shut your eyes, feeling every muscle in your body give up. The air was ripped from your lungs. “Cassian!” you let out a scream so shrill it could’ve curdled cream.

Below you, the last of the planet was being destroyed. The crust crumbled like breadcrumbs, scattering out into the stars, while the core lay slowly dying. The light of a dying planet—it was maroon.

Just like him.

Admiral Raddus’ ship blasted into hyperspace quickly, so you had no choice but to follow. There were only a few ships left now, including the looming Star Destroyer on the horizon that you knew wasn’t the ally.

You blinked away your tears, punching your ship into hyperspace as you collapsed onto the console. You wept, you cried so badly that your throat went red raw. The communicator was flush in your palm, cutting off the blood circulation and turning your knuckles white all the while.

You could no longer dream.

When you returned to base, you didn’t speak for four days. You went back to work, helping Mon Mothma with a statement and planning the first stages of the attack on the Death Star. Despite doing it without words, Mon Mothma still chose to rank you up.

Captain. You were a Captain now, just like he was.

“Congratulations, Captain,” your commander approached you in the comms room. You were alone, but you preferred it that way. He was staying on Yavin 4 until rebels were needed at Crait once again.

He saluted you, and you silently laughed, allowing yourself a small smile.

“How does it feel, hm?” he sat next to you, smiling at you sullenly.

You said nothing, still not comfortable with the sound of your voice after you listened to it for so long—screaming, wailing—a few days prior. It made you feel sick.

When you didn’t reply, your commander shuffled to find something in his pocket. “I thought I’d bring these for you. He was always leaving his stuff around, you know? His dorm was next to mine, and it was gross,”

Gently, he dangled Cassian’s dog tags before you. He never wore them, there was no point when he was always on recon missions. It would be a dead giveaway. You sucked in a deep breath as he slowly lowered them into your palms. They were cold, freezing cold, like they’d been left in the snow for days. You instinctually warmed them with your fingers. Turning them over, you read his name.

Captain Cassian Andor.

You were speechless, and not just because you’d decided not to talk for days on end. There were no words that would be thanks enough for what your commander had just given you. You had nothing of Cassian’s, nothing to remember him by, until now.

Gently, you skimmed your fingers over the metal over and over again, furrowing your brows when the tears started to well behind your eyes.

You looked up at your commander. “Thank you,” it burst from your lips, a coarse whisper, but words, nonetheless. He smiled.

“There she is. I was starting to miss her,” he said fondly.

He left you to have some time, smiling as he exited the communication bay. You exhaled shakily as you finally put them around your neck. They were cold when you shoved them beneath your shirt, resting them over your heart.

This was the Alliance. The Rebellion. And Cassian had fought valiantly for what he believed in. An excellent pilot, a stellar fighter, the man you loved and who loved you back. It seemed only fitting that he would return to the sky, where he came from.

Scattered amongst the stars forevermore.

Meu korazon.

278 notes · View notes

dindadjarin · 2 years

Text

A Chance Encounter – 1

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

summary: what happens when a mandalorian walks into your mechanic job in Ferrix asking for a spare part? well you help him of course, and try not to develop a crush.

an: ok, so this is something my clown brain came up with after watching Andor. I kept thinking about a 25-ish year old Din Djarin who’s starting to make a name for himself as a skilled bounty hunter, but isn’t very skilled yet. He gets his razor crest damaged and happens to find Ferrix as the closest planet. Like I said, I’m a clown. I hope you like it. This is supposed to be a 5ish part story but it’ll depend if it’s actually good/liked lmao.

Masterlist — • — Part two Part three part four

-----

“I’m heading out for lunch!”

“Okay!” You shout over your shoulder, eyes focused on the datapad in front of you. You were just finishing up signing for a new shipment that just got delivered to Bix’s Salyard.

“You sure you’re not coming along?” Bix asks you, even though she already did several times in the last 5 minutes.

“No, I’m fine for now. Have fun!” You tell her, raising your voice and smiling even though she can’t see it. “And thank you.” You say to the delivery man who brought the boxes in.

He left them in a pile near Bix’s office, one on top of the other. The shipment is full of second-hand parts that arrived after many delays. To say you’re excited is an understatement when you can’t wait to inspect and organize them. The back door to the main garage is open and cold wind comes through it making you shiver even while wearing a thick sweater under your work overalls.

A second later you walk to the boxes, ready to take the one from the top, but it turns out to be heavier than you thought it would be. Your knees almost buckle under its weight, just as the sound of footsteps comes through the open door. Your first thought is that Cassian has dropped by to ask Bix for a favour, and your voice is strained from the weight on your arms when you speak.

“Just a moment!” You say, maneuvering the box to an empty corner of the garage, but it becomes lighter a second later as the person who walked in takes half of the weight from you. With the new help –probably Cassian’s– you place the box down in the designated place and turn to your left to thank your helper.

“Bix isn’t here, Cassian.” You say, wiping your hands on your overalls. You look up and come to face to face with the dark visor of a Mandalorian helmet, “Oh you’re not Cassian.”

Awkwardness creeps up your neck. The man in front of you wears red and well-worn beskar armor, an Amban rifle behind his back. The shop’s lights reflect off his shiny helmet, the one part of his armor that looks the newest, maybe because it’s not covered in paint like the rest. You first thought is that he is probably a bounty hunter, but you don’t let any of your intrigue show on your face. Instead, you put on a smile. “Thank you for the help. What can I do for you.” You place your hands on your hips and assume a more relaxed stance.

“I’m looking for a part.” His voice is smooth despite coming from the modulator in his helmet, it’s got a deep tone to it –but young. Not that you can be sure though since you can’t see his face. His short reply is followed by his open palm that shows you a round piece of metal, less than 4 inches in diameters –it has a scorch mark by the edge where a chunk has been chopped off.

You take it from him and inspect it. “One of your capacitors got shot.” You state, looking from the part to him. “I’m guessing your nacelle got damaged too if this is busted.”

The Mandalorian only tilts his helmet ever so slightly and you smile, amused.

“Well, I think I have one of these lying around here, lucky for you. Ships rarely have this specific type of capacitor anymore.”

You turn from him, scorched part still in your hand and move towards the back of your workshop where you have 5 crates full of trinkets and incomplete parts. One of them is labeled Engines and as you start to look through it you can hear the Mandalorian’s heavy boots trail behind you. “I’m guessing from this part alone, your ship is pre-empire? Maybe a LAAT?”

“Razor Crest.” The modulated voice says which makes you look over your shoulder to him.

“That’s a sweet ship.” You go back to searching for the part –it’s only a couple of minutes until you do. “Aha! Told you I had one.”

“How much?” He asks.

You stand and turn back to him, eyebrows furrowing in the middle. “What do you mean? I still have to go and fix it.”

The Mandalorian leans his weigh on his left leg and tilts his helmet again. “I can do it.”

You chuckle at this, “Yeah right, and the nacelle?”

“It can fly without it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.” Your shoulders move up and down in a shrug as you sidestep him and walk back to the open garage door –your voice trails behind you as you continue to speak. “It will fly, with your engine and capacitor exposed to the elements, an easy target for any shot. But that’ll only make your engine blow up. Nothing too bad right?”

There is a long sigh behind you, and even though you should know better than to annoy a Mandalorian, you can’t help but laugh quietly. He has a Razor Crest, a frankly amazing antique you’ve only heard and seen few pictures of, you’ll be dammed if you didn’t get to see it in person. Even better: fix it.

“What’s that going to set me back?” The Mandalorian’s voice comes out slow, like he is considering changing his mind and let you fix it.

“Tell you what,” You smile at his visor again. “You let me fix your ship and I won’t charge you.”

His helmet tilts, and you’re almost sure he’s thinking Are you serious right now?

“I’m being serious. Fixing a Razor Crest is payment enough.” You hold the new part up again and wave it around. “What do you say?”

A long sigh, then an even longer pause.

“Sure.” He finally concedes and you feel your face light up, even when you know the man in front of you is probably rolling his eyes.

“Alright.” You say with another shrug, as if you aren’t excited beyond words for the opportunity. “Let me get my toolbox. You can grab a piece of scrap metal from the back, I’ll need that for the nacelle.”

It takes a couple of minutes, but in little to no time the two of you are walking out the garage door that you close on your way out. The Mandalorian holds the piece of scrap metal under his arm as if it weighs nothing, which surprises you. You’ve seen the garage’s staff struggle with pieces like that even when they have help. You keep your toolbox on your right hand and point at his leg with your left. You feel bad that you didn’t notice he was almost limping from the angry cut on his right leg. You could have offered him a Medpack.

“That wound looks painful. Rough bounty?” You ask him as you walk to the shipyard. It’s a tough bet to assume he’s a bounty hunter, but from the rumours and stories you’ve heard, there’s nothing you do know about Mandalorians. They keep their word; you know that much.

Another sigh from the beskar-clad man. “Not really.”

“Oh.” Is all you say, fixing your gaze straight ahead, that is until the Mandalorian speaks again. Unprompted.

“There were others after the same bounty.”

You nod your head, understanding the hunter’s predicament. “They’re the ones who shot your capacitor.” Out of your peripheral you see him nod. “I can tell you’re not much of a talker… sorry for the questions.”

Before either of you can say anything else, the shipyard comes into view, and in the far side you can spot the Mandalorian’s ship. A shiny and beautiful relic of the time before the Empire. You approach it slowly, with barely contained excitement, and drop your toolbox in favor of running your hand over the hull.

“Woah.” You gape at the shiny ship, looking over the yellow designs on the side. “A pre-empire ship, I’ve never seen one up close before. She’s perfect.”

“How did you have the missing part then.” The Mandalorian’s tone is almost curious.

“So I can be ready should the opportunity to see one present itself, and it did!” You smile over your shoulder as you walk around the ship, taking it in until you spot the hole on the left nacelle and the incomplete capacitor. “Here we are. See, you’ve got to fix the nacelle otherwise your capacitor won’t stay in place.”

You open your toolbox and take out your gloves which you put on quickly so you can get to work. The Mandalorian walks behind you and places the piece of scrap metal on the ground.

“You’re not just going to stand there, are you?” You ask him, digging your hands into the engine and taking out the capacitor to fix. “You gotta help me out, so next time you can do it yourself. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

The Mandalorian chuckles, and it makes you glance at him with a grin. He has a sense of humor under that armor then. He then helps you get up to the engine; with his hands one on top of the other, palms up, he gives you the push upwards that allows you to climb on top of one of the nacelles. Moments later, the Mandalorian takes a ladder out of his ship and uses to pass you your toolbox and linger close to where you begin your work.

You use a screwdriver to take apart the capacitor and clean the new spare part on your overalls before putting it in place. As per your request, the Mandalorian hands you the screws and bolts that you need until the part is put back together.

“You live here in Ferrix?” He asks you while you concentrate on your work. So he does talk, just not all the time.

You nod once, securing one of the main bolts before you speak. “Yeah, for a couple of years. I showed Bix I was a good mechanic and she hired me to help her, have been here since.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t ask anything else, and silently hands you whatever too you need to continue your work. It remains like that for a few more minutes, and you enjoy the silence –it’s not uncomfortable, it feels like the opposite.

Once happy with the fixed capacitor, you grab it with both hands and place it back in the designated compartment inside the engine.

“Even if it’s secure here,” You motion to the two bolts that are holding the piece in place, “The nacelle is what keeps it safely attached to the engine. It doesn’t give it room to move forwards or backwards.”

You look over your shoulder at the Mandalorian’s visor as you speak, pointing and the things worth noting and getting a warm feeling on your chest when you notice he is paying close attention to your every word. It’s almost like he likes new knowledge, and somehow despite not being able to see his face, you can tell he’s focused on what he’s learning.

“Can I ask you something?” You say, while put some tools away and take out the ones you need for the next part. “I know you must get this question a lot of times but I… I genuinely don’t know.”

“The helmet.” Is all the Mandalorian says, and you nod your head.

“What happens if you take it off?” You ask, securing the last bits of the engine in place.

“I would be breaking my Creed.” He explains, his voice gentler than you were expecting. You imagined he would be annoyed with you.

“You wouldn’t be a Mandalorian?” You pause your work to look at him over your shoulder.

“This is the Way.” He nods once before he looks away.

You nod in understanding, trying to imagine what you would feel if you were in his shoes but quickly going back to work. “Can you bring the scrap over?”

A few moments later, the two of you move back to the ground and together to cut and bend the piece of scrap metal to the ideal shape that would cover the exposed space in the engine. You use your torch to heat up the metal and the Mandalorian uses one of your hammers to shape it. Then with the help of your stick welder, you attach it over the scorched hole. It’s almost an hour of hard work, but the end result is as satisfying as all of your other repairs. You’re impressed by your skills, and you show it with an proud look up at the engine.

“Well, I guess my work here is done.” You tell your companion while you gather your tools from the ground and place them inside your toolbox again. “Looks as good as new.”

“Please accept some credits for your work.” The Mandalorian starts to reach inside his pocket, but you shake your hand. He sighs, exasperated.

“Work?” You wave his words away with a bat of your hand. “Please this was like a holiday, and it means more experience in my pocket. Thank you for letting me fix it; it’s a real life classic.”

The Mandalorian nods, though it’s not without reluctance, “Thank you.”

“You should get your wound cleaned up too, you know.” You glance at the cut on his leg. “There’s a market two streets down and to the right, if you need supplies.” Your hand motions the direction for him, pointing at the streets you’re referring to.

“Thank you.” He says again. “You’re very kind.”

“You’re welcome. Get the Meiloorun pastries while you’re there, they’re incomparable.” You smile, taking your toolbox in one hand and offering him the one that’s free. “Safe travels.”

The Mandalorian nods and shakes your hand once. The leather of his gloves feel rough and worn out on your skin, almost like your own when you put them on. He lets go of your hand and you smile one last time, knowing he will be very pleased with your repairs.

Knowing Bix might be back from her lunch break, you decide to head there to leave your toolbox before you grab something to eat. The thought of inviting the Mandalorian for lunch appears briefly in your mind, but you squash it down quickly. He can’t take his helmet off, how would he eat in public? You shake your head to yourself and smile when you spot Bix opening the boxes you had left behind.

“Guess what?” You ask her, putting your toolbox down by your station.

“You went on that much needed lunch break?” She raises a stern eyebrow, always concerned with the way you put your own needs second.

“Nope.” You risk a smile as you shake your head. “I fixed a Razor Crest, Bix. A real one!”

“What?” Bix turns from the box to face you. “What was a Razor Crest doing here?”

“A bounty hunter needed a repair.” You shrug, toning down your joy and satisfaction from a job well done. “Want any help?”

“Yes, actually.” Bix smiles, pointing at the door. “Go get some food, please. You can’t check out these parts if you pass out.”

“You and your lunch breaks, Bix.” You roll your eyes but smile at her as you make your way to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The streets are busy with the rush of people coming and going from different cantinas and food stands around the garage. You’re quick to spot a short line of people to your favorite stall and join the queue until it’s your turn. The old lady –Cateea– who handmakes all the food tells you about her day as you sit down and eat your lunch next to her. She tells you her daughter is now engaged, and though she’s very happy for her, she will miss her terribly once she leaves.

“She’s going off-world?” You ask her, a frown pulling at your lips.

Cateea nods, sadness glazing her eyes, but she shakes it off her features as she takes another order. “Nothing else we can do about it. She’ll visit often though.”

You offer her your brightest smile. “Of course, she will. Look at the lovely company and food she’ll have waiting for her here.”

Cateea chuckles at your words and after a few minutes you bid her goodbye, knowing you must get back to work. You can’t help but look around as you walk back to the shop, trying to spot a shiny helmet standing out from the crowds, but no such luck. Stop it, no crushes allowed.

Once back at Bix’s Salyard, you move towards the back where your workstation is, spotting Cassian talking to Bix in her office on your way. Everything is just as you left it earlier, except for a leather pouch and a small paper bag that now sit on your desk. You take the first and find more than a handful of credits inside, while the paper bag contains two Meiloorun hand pies. The Mandalorian. You must give him credit for his persistence, he got the last word in the end, and though he shouldn’t have, you’re grateful for the extra credits that’ll add to your savings to get off-world.

You find yourself smiling as you gaze down at the two items, wondering if you’ll ever see the intriguing man again.

part 2

#i haven't really written for din in a loooong while so pls be kind haha #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandolarian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin x gender neutral reader #gn!reader

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