#cassian andor hurt/comfort

[septimaseverinawannawrite]

Don't Leave Me Here

Changing format and style, because I want to keep my motivation strong. 💪👁👄👁

Fandom: Star Wars

Request: Nope. This is the very self-indulgent one shot.

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Summaries: Battle of Scariff brings hope to the Galaxy and the Rebels, but what about the Rogue One's crews, especially with your long-time-crush, Captain Andor.

Contents: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Mutual pining, Friends to lovers, Soft Cassian, Love confessing, Idiots in love.

Warning: Angst. Describing of Injuries, blood, pain and death. Crying. Anxiety. Cliché plot. Writer is being too over emotional and regret nothing.

Rate: M for melodrama

Words: 2,285

A/N: Alternate version of Rouge One 2016's ending. Because I had realised that I didn't write my own. Also, feel a little bit sad, because 2024 is feeling like eternity. But I'm gonna write Cassian's fix-it fan fictions, until I can't write. English is my second Language, please feel free to correct me, and let me know if I miss any CW+TW. Enjoy Reading 😊

🌹Click to My AO3

Death Star Plan was successfully stolen. The battle at Scariff had been considered as a big victory for rebellions. Everyone who stayed at Yavin IV was cheering and crying with joy. Some systems, even, officially declared independents over the Empire’s sovereign right there. Some systems, which tended to give up before, decided to maintain alliances. The spark of flame was reigniting again. The light at the end of the darkest tunnel was like a new dawn — hope.

But it just was at the very first minutes, when the Plan completely broadcast. The Rogue One crews returned with survivors – were not long enough after the battle ended – but mostly were casualties. All Medbay turned into a big, chaotic area; doctors, nurses, medical staffs, and medical droids managed to diagnose every crew’s condition from the worst to ‘nothing much to worry about’.

And the worst, whose state was severe, was Captain Cassian Andor. Y/N’s one of her old and good friends, since she had joined the Rebellions in the first month.

Cassian was a mystery (some even said he was scary), moody, tense and taciturn on the outside – for almost everybody on Yavin IV Base. Actually, he was not. He had a strange humour and points of views toward life, also knowledges in many fields which attracted his team, many women on the base, and Y/N.

As the volunteer at Medbay – after hearing there were survivors – Y/N ran and helped the staffs as much as her strength allowed. First time she saw Cassian, he was covered by blood and wounds, while she was pasting Bacta gel on a supporting crew. She didn’t spare a time to visit him, she must stay outside – standing by. When she finished all the tasks, she noticed that a doctor and assistances had taken care of Cassian already. She was about to visit him in a patient room, but it was forbidden.

Few hours later, the Rebellion Alliances had received the news; Princess Leia was being held in custody by the Empire. Was anything worst happened to the Alliances right now?    

Three days had passed by, Y/N had switched to the ‘autopilot’ mode on working in her station, doing routine. Thanks to all the works which kept her busy until resting time, they also made her forgot what she had dreamt in her sleeping.

On the fourth day, main crews on the cargo ship gradually came to consciousness. Y/N’s good friend at Medbay told her that late morning. She immediately visited them and listening to the incident near the broadcasting tower on Scariff.

Jyn told Y/N everything which Cassian did. She even encouraged her to hold tight on the hope. Chirrut said the force had been staying with Cassian, and the force always worked in many surprising ways. Moreover, the medical staffs allowed everyone, whoever cared about Cassian, to visit him. He was getting much better now, but still unconscious.

She didn’t want to dig up those memories of him being covered by blood and wounds four days ago. Nevertheless, she shook them out, made up her mind, and deciding to see him. Maybe Jyn and Chirrut were right.

            Y/N exited her station to the room where Cassian was placed. She noticed the one and only re-programming Imperial droid on Yavin IV. He stood and starred through the window, seem like he hoped his Captain was waking soon.

“Y/N.” K2SO greeted, “I have calculated the possible that you are going to visit Cassian today, the percentage is…”

“Don’t tell me.” She cut the droid. “Let me go inside without your statistic. My head is aching enough.”

Keying a code, going inside, she cursed herself for being rude to K2SO. Somehow, after visiting Cassian – she would apologise to the droid – since she had forgotten his good intention, underneath the sarcasm.

As Y/N approached the bed, all Cassian’s blood and wounds were cleansed. BPM pulse and body temperature had not become normal yet. He would not wake up within two or three days, according to the report. Numerous I.V.s were still plugging into his veins, also a bandage on his torso.

Y/N sat on a chair beside the bed, examining Cassian’s state closely while she tried to hold back her tears, but it was failed. She could not help herself. All tears ran down her cheeks like a great flood. Four days and three nights felt like months. She let vulnerability got her by sobbing uncontrollably, started talking to him and wishing he could hear;

“Cassian, I know you are willingly to do anything for the Rebellion. I’m really proud. But why do you always run into suicide missions?” Her voice was depressed. “Sometimes, you don’t have to prove that you are one of the best rebel spies by destroying yourself. Mon Mothma and many commanders speak of you highly… even princess Leia…”

Tears still ran down, while she was reaching for his hand, biting lower lip and shook her head.

“I survived the first month because of your helps. You introduce me to many things I know just a bit or haven’t known before, so I can fit in. When I feel down, blue, even black, you cheer me up with your eccentric jokes – and if you are out for a mission, you always say goodbye… this time… you don’t even give me a chance…”

Y/N recalled what was happening when Rogue One recklessly leaved for Scariff, after most allies and commanders objected. She was there. When the meeting ended, she sought Cassian or whoever in his unit. Too late. They had gone.

“I want to blame my stupid brain for bringing the pain that I do not desire to feel. That isn’t a reason. Those words in my mind – I wish I could tell you, after all of these years…” Y/N softly squeezed his hand “Since here we are, only you and me. When you wake up, we are going to be the same. It’s now or never.”

She paused for seconds, took one deep breath, and let all her feels breaking control.

“I love you, Cassian. More than a good friend. I love you with all my heart, my soul, my breath, and my entire existence. You are the one. Every time you come back, I just don’t want to hug you – I want to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow, jumping into you, embracing you in my arms……”

            Y/N kept confessing her feelings toward Cassian until she recognised she was going to weep again. She stopped, stood up, leaned forward to kiss Cassian’s forehead gently, and whispered before leaving.

“Just don’t leave me here…”

            She dried her eyes, leaved Cassian behind, and repressing the desire to look at him again. As she exited, K2SO still had been on the spot. She sighed, walking toward the droid.

“I’m sorry Kay. I shouldn’t say such things. Well, I don’t have any excuse.”

“At least you didn’t hit me. I don’t expect anything. I have calculated, there is a high chance that you’re going to apologise. So, I forgive you.”

Y/N could swear to Kriff that K2SO mentally shrugged, judging by his tone. She crossed her arms and faking a smile.

“Then we’re even.” Looking on the floor, she gazed up at K2SO again. “Tell me, have you calculated when Captain Andor is going to wake up?”

“I did, but I think you don’t need it anymore.”

She raised her eyebrows. The droid did say nothing, just looked into the room. She followed suit, shook her head, and suddenly rushing inside.

Cassian opened his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he glanced around. The last thing he remembered – before everything turning black – was K2SO and Jyn helping him into an escape pod, also thinking about Y/N and regretting that he had not bid a proper farewell yet. And how the Kriff he could be here now, at the medical section on Rebelli—

“Maker!” she exclaimed, stopping him from the train of thought – While she was restraining herself from hugging him.

Cassian swore in his native tongue. Unbelievably, his eyes might be deceiving him – Y/N was here – impossible. This place could be wherever the creatures went after the death.

“No, this isn’t true. Scariff was destroyed by the Death Star… You can’t be here.”

Y/N wanted to punch him in the face, but it could send him back to the unconsciousness again. She tried to keep calm, but instead, her tears explode again.

“Don’t you dare say such a thing—”

His mouth was gaping a little, looking downward at his own body. His torso and his head still hurt. He felt everything which plugged on his arm, thinking backward – moreover, before he could open his eye – he could hear Y/N said something… about the relationship, and love. Especially what he had been holding on for a long time, the same thing she had blurted out. He thought they were an illusion.

He sat up, his back and his bone were cracking loudly. He breathed deeply, restraining all the agony. Y/N supported him; holding his upper body and adjusting pillows.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He paused, as she was sitting beside the bed, “This mission is important. We must do it fast. That fucking weapon is too dangerous… like I’ve told you before, if we waited for permission, the Empire could be a hundred steps ahead…”

“No hard feelings. You survive, wake up and healing. The Empire is going to fall. Those are all I want.”  

Seeing Y/N sniffed, sobbed and looked down at the floor, Cassian’s eyes were softer than ever. He reached out to take her hand, that grab an edge of the bed, caressing it gently.

“Please don’t cry. Kay tells me once that tears can drain oneself, and… You deserve all happiness in the galaxy.”

She gazed into his eyes. Perplexing spread on her pale face.

“What Kay’s randomly statistic has to do with my happiness?”

Cassian sighed quietly. Smiling, he whispered in Kenari, decided to speak all his heart out.

“Come sitting here.” He patted a space on the mattress. Although she was still dazing, she consented. Here, it was closer than ever, every time they interacted.

“Your happiness is my happiness. Your pain is my pain.”

She gasped. Something was dawning in her mind, but he still kept continuing;

“I thought I was dead or dreaming. It is not. I hear what you have said. I feel all the things you have done. I’m not going to leave you here anymore. I love you, Y/N; with all my heart, my breath, my soul, and my entire existence.”

“Cass…”

“Please don’t leave me here, too.”

His voice was filled with pleading and the utmost longing. His eyes had not brightened yet, but they were brighter than ever – before he disappeared as the council was dismissing.

“I’m not gonna leave you. Ever.”

All the affectionate and things which left unsaid within their eyes were exploding. Her lips were parted – trying to reply – but his hand slowly moving to her face. Caressing it tenderly and trailing downward from her cheek to her chin, he tugged her weave behind her ear. Cassian and Y/N could feel their breaths upon their own skins. Their eyes were exchanging feeling from through all of these years, as she put her hand on his shoulder.

Cassian didn’t hesitate. He leaned in to capture Y/N lips softly. It was like a butterfly pecking on flowers, an index finger touching a velvet cloth. They paused for seconds to catch the breath. She sensed that the temperature in this room was rising and warmer than before.

“I won’t do this again…” He whispered, looked into her eyes and circling his thumbs over her cheek and her hand.

“You don’t have to…”

“I’m not gonna be reckless. I will ask Mon Mothma and other commanders for table-work. More time on base, less time t—”

Y/N sealed Cassian’s mouth with her lips, lightly pushing him back on pillows. His eyes were widening, but he grinned while kissing her back. His hand on hers moved from to the back of her neck, gradually pulling her down to deepen the passionate kiss.

“There is ninety-nine per cent that Y/N is gonna kiss you like this, Cassian.”

Y/N was abruptly jumping back to a chair. She almost fell from a sickbed, as she heard K2SO’s voice. Cassian, also the same, but he gripped a metal beside tightly enough.

“Kay!” Cassian hissed the Droid, who was standing near infirmary’s trolleys.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have disturbed you both, since you have always wished the scenario like this, should I?”

“Go visiting others.” He ordered. The droid did as he was told – turned around and walking out. Both Cassian and Y/N heard K2SO talking to himself, distinctly, like the droid wanted them to hear.

“Humans are such the peculiar life-forms. I will ask technicians on loading how to understand the humankind programme.”

“Maybe I will tell the technicians to not upload that.”

Cassian sighed loudly, shook his head, and turning to Y/N for opinion. But what he saw was she had been covering her face with her hands in shyness.

“No, I’m gonna tell them myself.”

Cassian joyfully laughed. She still sat and posing as the same. If his eyes were not deceived him, he saw the redness on her temple, her ears, and her neck.

“I should tell you how I feel earlier. But, it's okay, you are lovely when you are like this.”

“Stop it.” She glanced and swiftly pressing the comm, calling a doctor, before Cassian could tease her more.

At the point, she didn’t doubt why K2SO just being K2SO. Because the one who had reprogrammed this imperial droid was just the same as him.

Thank you for reading Your likes, comments and rebloggings are appreciated! 🥰🥰🥰

[mylovelies-docx]

Social Cues

A/N: Wow. Okay. So it's been a couple of years since I've written anything and since I promised everyone that I was working on a Cassian fic.

Welp. Here's that fic now - only two years later than I was expecting.

My bad.

Take this 20k fic as an apology/your due/something that I wanted to give you years ago.

Plot: You and Cassian go undercover as a married couple, but things take a turn for the worst when your past finds you.

C/W: Angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, reader has an abusive mother (featured heavily), gendered reader (daughter), no use of Y/N, *SMUT* (18+, Minors DNI), Not beta'd, also not proofread (if I spent any more time on this, I would never get it out here). Probably more, let me know if I need to include something.

I started writing this before the show came out (which I have not watched... I know, I know.) Anyway, as is always the case with any Cassian fic that *I* prefer, there is no such thing as canon.

“Married,” you echo quietly in disbelief. You have never been more shocked in your life; and when you quickly glance over, Cassian apparently hasn’t been, either. His jaw is tense and his eyebrows have raised slightly.

General Draven had just dropped the specifics of your mission, and it was not one that you could have anticipated. You and Cassian were to pose as a married couple that had just moved into an affluent neighborhood full of Imperial officers, weapons dealers, and senators.

In other words, right into a Sarlacc pit. Only this situation was thrice as deadly.

“With all due respect, General, this isn’t something either of us have experience with. Would it not be better to send Rishi and O’tal?” Cassian suggests diplomatically. 

You nod your head at Cassian’s idea, showing your support. Rishi and O’tal are a real married couple in intelligence for the Alliance, so they are uniquely fit for this specific placement. 

“They’re currently on assignment right now. And besides: you two are the best intelligence officers we have. Mothma and I don’t want this handled by anyone else.” Draven’s compliment of your abilities would have been more than enough to placate you if you weren’t still reeling from the previous revelation.

“Yes General, I know what you’re saying and I thank you sincerely for the commendation, but I’m still unsure if this is a wise decision,” you rebut. You have never once doubted a mission assignment, and you know Cassian hasn’t either, but this was territory neither of you have ever found yourselves in. “This will be the first joint mission for either of us. Would it not be possible for a different relationship? Perhaps a hired guard would suffice for one of us?”

Sure, you’ve seduced and courted marks before, but bringing along a partner that you needed to present a sense of physical and emotional intimacy with? That is something entirely out of your realm of expertise.

Draven is stationed at the head of the table, using the projection screen in front of him to present information, schematics, and diagrams. From his vantage point, Draven watches a slight frown mar Cassian’s face at your suggestion, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears.

“I understand your hesitancy, Captains, but rest assured that we have exhausted all other avenues,” Draven consoles. “But you both will be in control of the gritty details, so you can make it work. We’re only providing the accommodations and whatever alibis you require.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Cassian acquiesce with no further argument. You look at Cassian out of the corner of your eye, hoping he can’t see the real reason for the hesitation.

This is going to be an adventure neither of you can prepare for.

***

“This is going to be a difficult enough mission, so I think sticking as close to the facts as possible is our best option,” you explain to Cassian, jotting down bullet points and ideas on your datapad to relay back to Mon Mothma and Draven so that they can fabricate your history once it’s been decided.

“I estimate a 33% chance of your entire plan falling apart, Captain (Y/L/N),” K2 chimes in.

“Agreed.” Cassian ignores K2’s comment and speaks directly to you. “We can use our first names for simplicity, but we need a surname,” Cassian recommends from the co-pilot's chair. 

“Would you like to know why?” K cuts in.

You appreciate the fact that you and Cassian are on the same wavelength about using your own names. You haven’t discussed it with him yet, so your similar logic on this bodes well for the rest of the discussion and the mission as a whole.

“Why don’t we just stick with Andor, for simplicity’s sake? It’s a common enough name and you’ll respond right away if someone calls for us. Plus, we both go by so many codenames that no one will ever think to search for us by this one.” 

You’re swiping away on your datapad to avoid either of them seeing your reddened cheeks, so you don’t see Cassian’s ears flush subtly at your suggestion as well. Your heart flutters madly, causing a pang in your chest to the beat of your ‘new’ name.

Cassian clears his throat and readjusts in his seat. “That could work,” he remarks coolly while rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

K2 turns his head quickly to observe Cassian, the metal joints whirring with the motion. The droid begins to speak and Cassian glares at him, but there is no reigning in K2.

“Because two can keep a secret only if one of them is dead,” K elaborates on his one-sided talkingpoint, still observing Cassian’s reaction to your recommendation on becoming Mrs.Captain Andor, however temporarily.

You hurry on to get your mind off the impossible fantasy the name has conjured up for you. “Great. I’m just trying to think of the likely scenarios that will be brought up at dinner parties or Imperial galas. Obviously how we met, connections to the Empire…”

K is just being a bugslut with his next comment.

“And I’d prefer if it was Cassian who remained living.”

The aforementioned man shoots K2 another glare, wordlessly saying “behave”. The droid shrugs his large mechanical shoulders and mimes a zipping motion with his fingers over his audio port.

You roll your eyes at K2’s insistence that your plan will be a failure and at his obvious distaste for you. You’re unsure what it is about you that he finds so distasteful, but you find yourself wishing he tolerated you a little more. Perhaps then, Cassian would join Rogue One more often on small adventures and get-togethers.

Being around Cassian is easier than being with anyone else; you don’t seem to exhaust yourself as quickly or as often with him. He is a source of calm, controlled energy that speaks to the weary parts of your soul.

Focus. 

“So. Instead of saying we met during a Rebel council meeting, how about we meet in the middle of truth and lie? Keep the time frame the same, just change the location. So for instance: we met five standard years ago at the launch of an Imperial class-II Star Destroyer. There were so many of those around that time that no one should question it – and even if they do, we could pretend we were too drunk on Merenzane Gold or love or whatever to notice anything but each other.” 

You are proud of yourself for keeping this discussion so professional despite your intrusive thoughts. Your heart is racing and your hands are slightly trembling with anxiety, but your voice is steady and you still sound confident. Maker! Why can’t you find the same focus and steadfastness that you have on missions? You can only hope that your professionalism will kick in once you land and begin the assignment in earnest.

“You were wearing a pink dress,” Cassian murmurs, staring distantly at the stars passing over the cockpit’s transparisteel. He mutters it to himself mostly, but you still hear.

You snap your head up, eyes large and mouth slightly parted, finding that he has his hand spread across the lower half of his face with his head turned away from you. You had been operating remotely for the Alliance for a while in various social circles and planets prior to settling down on base. You had just finished with a mission and were wearing a pink dress when you met Cassian for the first time during a debrief of your findings.

You shouldn’t be surprised that a man who had grown up as a spy can recall details as small as what you had been wearing, since you can also do the same. But you had been absolutely nothing to him then, so why would he bother to pay you any attention?

“And you had your A280-CFE heavy blaster strapped to your thigh,” you divulge. 

Your mind is still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Cassian had been watching you for far longer than you realized. He turns his head to look at you in surprise and catches your eye. Your puzzled expression is revealing too much of your thought process, so you drop your gaze from his and return to your holopad.

K2 breaks the tension with his usual tact.

“There’s a 93% chance you’re both lying to yourselves.”

“That’s enough, K,” Cassian reprimands, not for the first time.

“I’m only stating facts and highly calculated odds,” K defends himself.

“Facts as you see them,” you point out distractedly.

“Oh, I see a lot more than you do. A lot more.”

You’re still too self-involved to reply further and Cassian steers the conversation back to a safer topic: your mission. 

“Anyway.” He clears his throat. “Let’s say we were dating for...six months? Eight months? Enough time to get to know each other, but short enough to accommodate our ‘love at first sight’.” Cassian lets out one compact ‘ha!’ at the notion of falling in love with a total stranger without knowing who they were.

“Eight months seems reasonable. That would give me a few opportunities to let you meet family and friends, and vice versa. Speaking of: do we have any?” you question, back to yourself after banishing any and all thoughts of Cassian’s motivation to study you so intently. You can only hope to gather more data as the mission progresses.

“Hmm,” Cassian ponders, unsure what option would be best. He scrubs a hand across his stubbled chin and cheeks in thought. “No family seems suspicious, but we don’t want to create too many to keep track of.” He reasons out. “These people are well-connected and will be looking into our history, so we need to think of how our team back at base can create the strongest alibi.”

“True. And there’s no doubt they would recognize our infamous friends by name. That really narrows down our options.” Your lips are pursed to the side in thought and your chin is resting on your closed first. 

Your thinking pose works because you have an idea come to mind. Cassian stops his musings on ‘our friends’ to find your delighted expression when he turns at your little ‘a-ha!’ and finger snap.

“Do you remember anything about my mission on Aria Prime? My alias had a few family members we can repurpose.” You’re relieved that you’ve figured out a way to use established plants and make the intelligence officer’s work back at base easier.

“Antolin and Mauria, yes?” He confirms.

“Yes,” you verify, flustered yet again by Cassian’s attention to detail. “I’m glad you read my report – makes this easier for us.” 

“I read all your reports,” Cassian remarks before realizing his error. “I mean. I-I read all the reports. Everyone’s. It’s best to have a clear understanding of the bigger picture,” he corrects hastily.

You’re struggling to understand why, why, why, but your heart flutters nonetheless at the small thrill you receive. 

“Like I said,” K-2SO’s modulator is pitched to where only Cassian can hear, “lying to yourselves.”

***

This discussion had started a parsec ago, but is still going with no end in sight. Neither of you can agree on this, but neither are willing to yield.

“The more we use pet names, the less people will remember our real ones. First introductions we only give our names once and then use only nicknames after. People like them will be too embarrassed to have forgotten a name and won’t ask for them again.” 

Cassian is making excellent points, but your insides squidge in a nice uncomfortable way whenever he offers up an example. You can’t help but remember all the times your marks had forgotten your name, so they used demeaning pet names to refer to you. Maybe that’s why you were so easily onboard for using your names on this mission when you’ve never done it before. One: because it’s easier, and two: because you don’t feel as if you hear it spoken often enough.

Three: because you don’t want Cassian to forget your name when this war eventually claims your life.

You’re making yourself unduly anxious with the thought of that eventuality, and your response comes off melancholic. “They won’t remember me anyway.”

Cassian is thrown off by this. How could anyone forget you? He had a hard time not thinking about you some days. 

“Why do you say that?”

You give him a sad sort of expression, a wry smile turning your lips. “Isn’t that our job?” you question him. “Making yourself completely unrecognizable to the point that if your target ever saw you again, they wouldn’t even notice?”

Cassian can see where you’re coming from, but the look on your face and the tone of your voice makes him wonder at how lonely you feel during missions.

“As long as you are yourself around those you care about, it makes it worth it. Yes?” Cassian counters.

A small, wondering smile graces your lips as you lean back against the hold and look up. “Yeah, I guess so…”

You’re thinking of all the fun you have with Jyn and Bodhi when she drags you both away from base to explore, or when you’re all laughing at the exasperated look on Baze’s face when Chirrut walks into blaster fire with only his prayers to guide him. 

Or when you catch the relieved look Cassian throws you after a near-miss, like he’s impossibly glad that you’re okay. You always point finger-blasters at him with a smirk, trying to diffuse the situation, but he usually just shakes his head and tells you to focus.

Ahh. There you are, a voice in your mind whispers suddenly. It’s a cool and sinister voice, one you had not heard in some time.

You startle, knowing that the disembodied voice cannot see you physically does nothing to prevent a sense of overwhelming fear from taking over. You try to take a series of deep breaths to calm your racing heart and slow the pounding of blood in your ears. Hoping repetitive and familiar motions will calm you down and refocus your mind, you begin to rub up and down one arm with your knuckles. With the amount of pressure you’re using, you’ll end up with bruises but the dull pain helps.

Cassian sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns toward you, you’re already up and walking to a more private area.

“E-excuse me,” you stutter out. Your legs feel weak and you run one hand along the wall to keep you steady.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asks, preparing to stand up and follow you.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘m fine. Just give me a moment.” Your voice is quiet, but you throw a shaky smile over your shoulder to try and stop Cassian from following you. You make it to one of the rooms and slide in, the door hissing closed behind you.

“That,” K2 says.

“What?” Cassian asks his companion, confused by the non sequitur.

“That is precisely why I don’t trust her. She hides too much,” the droid explains.

“She’s one of us, K,” Cassian defends. “We all have secrets.”

“Yes, but our secrets don’t make us run away. She’s hiding something big: I know it.” The droid asserts, giving his head one sharp nod to drive the point.

***

You survey the progress of your “home” being put together from the lofty heights of the balcony overlooking the foyer. Everything is white and gray and black, mimicking the Empire’s color scheme.

You hate it.

The only pop of color is your elaborate dress. The emerald gown is the height of Coruscant fashion, and you needed everyone who saw you and Cassian dock to know that you are important people.

Your quarters span the top two levels of one of the tallest towers in a swanky residential sector. The prestigious location alone should influence everyone’s opinions, but you also need to look the part of a spoiled and arrogant wife. So you have to dress and act accordingly.

You sense Cassian walking up behind you; his presence is unmistakable and you recognize his gait as his shoes tap against the expensive flooring. 

Your fingers grip the balustrade imperceptibly tighter, the only reaction you will allow yourself. Since shutting down on the U-wing to try and prevent the voice’s return, you’ve been able to keep your thoughts and emotions in check: no racing heart, blushed cheeks, or errant feelings. This is the only way you know how to keep your mind your own.

Cassian places his hands on either side of yours, trapping you between his warm body and the railings. His chest is pressing into your back and his sharp chin is resting on your shoulders. You weren’t prepared for this level of fake intimacy so soon, so your breath hitches in your throat and escapes as a soft gasp. You feel his warm breath fan across your ear as he pretends to nuzzle into your neck.

“Kay and I placed the data collectors throughout the public rooms.” Cassian mumbles, moving from one side of your neck to the other. You tilt your head in the semblance of allowing him room to kiss along your skin, growing hot where his breath fans now and goosebumps where it had once been. “We’re ready for the company to arrive.”

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. You’re developing a pit in your stomach at the proximity, but you grasp Cassian’s hands under yours for the illusion. Your palms are sweating and you’re sure that Cassian can feel it, but he continues resting his lips near your ear.

You glance down at the individuals moving your furnishings throughout the rooms, catching one gray-skinned and multi-eyed lifeform watching the two of you surreptitiously. You scowl down at them, feeling Cassian’s head turn enough to give them a side-eye as well. They turn back to arranging the many fire-waters and spirits you bought in preparation for your first gathering as new residents.

Some aliens begin making their way from where they were setting up the sleeping quarters behind you and Cassian. As they’re passing, Cassian pulls away from you. You take a deep breath to recenter yourself and cool your skin.

“Come, Love. Let’s break in the new bed,” Cassian says, loud enough for the passing workers to overhear.

You feign a saccharine smile and allow him to place his hand on the small of your back. Cassian leads you to your shared bedroom, dropping contact as soon as the door closes behind the two of you. You both sweep the room for any foreign devices and find none. You remain standing on opposite sides of the room, aware of the awkward atmosphere.

“I am sorry for that. A few of the workers were watching us,” Cassian apologized. One hand is scratching the scruff along his chin to hide his discomfort.

“I saw. It was an effective way to give them observations to take back to their superiors if some are spies like we suspect.” You carefully place yourself on the edge of the luxurious bed, taking this time to rest your feet before you need to get ready for the evening’s plans.

“Yeah…” Cassian draws, giving you a quizzical look. 

He knows that you’re on a mission now, but your tone and mannerisms are throwing him off. He always felt at least a sense of comradery with you, but this pliant and civil manner you’ve taken up bothers him for reasons he won’t can’t name.

You ignore his probing eyes. The voice in your mind is too recent an experience to let yourself relax even slightly. Your muscles are rigid from the straight posture of the elite woman you’re playing and from the stress of keeping your mind calm and under control. A headache is starting to form.

“I take it that K is situated?” You inquire of Cassian as you stand with bare feet. You pad over to the extensive closet space, selecting an outfit for tonight.

“Yes. He’s taken the ship to the lower levels and will stay there while we’re here; he’s close enough if we run into any issues.” 

Cassian’s voice is still low as he follows you to the wardrobe, just in case any of the movers are lurking outside the door. You both stand back to back as you each survey your arsenal of clothing for this mission. You run your hands lovingly over the soft fabrics, happy that your sensitive skin won’t have to endure anything rough for this mission. Cassian’s clothed shoulder blades scrape along your exposed back, sending imperceptible shivers down your spine. 

You quickly pull out a beautiful dress and move away from Cassian. You call over your shoulder to him as you near the refresher. “I’m wearing pink, unless you don’t have anything to match.”

“Of course I do. You selected the wardrobe,” he reminds you. 

You hadn’t seemed yourself since the ship, which Cassian picked up on immediately since you were so sure and confident at the beginning. He is trying hard to understand your abrupt change.

You shut the door on Cassian and take in the immaculate space around you. You hang the dress so it can air out while you apply your makeup and arrange your hair and try to enjoy the solitude while you can, knowing that tonight and all the nights to come will wear you thin. 

***

Cassian comes in a while later, taking note of your elaborate hairstyle and details of your thoad-eye makeup. He feels the nearly overwhelming need to comment how stunning you are and how similar you look now to when he saw you that first time, but holds his tongue. He doesn’t want to make this any more awkward for either of you.

You had been staring listlessly into the mirror before you until Cassian walked in. You can barely recognize the person staring back; hollow eyes, down-turned lips, dull skin. She isn’t you, but she is who you need to be until you’re sure the phantom hasn’t found you.

You move your eyes to study Cassian as he stands in the doorway. He looks handsome in his party-ware, the organic tones complementing his features and your pastel gown nicely. But you don’t dwell on how the sight alone of Cassian in something other than his everyday wear threatens the stability of the winged creatures in your stomach. You want them to be dormant, need them to be, but something about the man behind you sets them to tittering.

Since closing yourself off from your emotions and the galaxy at large, you have come to realize that you haven't been as careful as you should have. Despite your better judgment and without conscious effort, you have formed attachments in the Rebellion. Found yourself building relationships that mean something to you. Your fellow rebels from Rogue One are your life-line in this never-ending war.

Your bond with Cassian is one you are especially fond of.

You have grown to care for the man in a way that you know you shouldn’t. Your detachment now allows for you to reflect on your feelings in an objective way, understanding that you put yourself and the entire Rebellion at risk without fully realizing.

It stops today.

You harden what little bit of your heart you can still feel and fill in the small, Cassian shaped hole that had started to carve itself there.

You take your eyes from where they had locked onto his own. You can sense his hesitation to approach you and his inner turmoil that feels so like your own had earlier in the day. So while dabbing under your eyes for fallout and around your lips to neaten the line, you speak up.

“I’ll be done in time to greet our guests with you, but I need a few moments.”

Your voice is flat and devoid of any warmth that it once held for the man. Cassian notes immediately that your countenance has taken another turn, one that has pulled you even further away from him. His chest tightens. He sets his mouth in grim acceptance and leaves with a small nod in your direction.

***

All throughout the evening, a sense of foreboding had settled itself deep in your bones. You can feel it getting heavier and heavier as the party drags on, weighing down your body and worsening your already sickening headache. You continue to laugh and smile demurely despite it, but the bright light from the chandelier hanging above your head is sending bolts of pain behind your eyes.

In order to present a united front to these Imperial officers and sympathizers, Cassian has his arm wrapped around your waist and you’re resting your hand over top of his on your hip. The warmth of his hand as it caresses your curves sends heat between your thighs completely against your will. Your mind and heart know what you can’t have, but your body has wants of its own.

When an interesting piece of information comes up in conversations, one of you will squeeze the other’s hand in silent communication to pry further. It arose through no effort on either of your parts, but Cassian feels the rightness in the subtle exchanges. It feels like you’ve been partners for longer than a day, fake married for longer than a day, fake intimate for longer than a day with the way it feels to hold you. 

He can’t get over the rightness of having you in his arms. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt, even with the few past partners he’s allowed himself to have between missions. He can feel the heat of your skin beneath his palm and through the fabric of your dress, making him want to pull you all the more closer as the night wears on and the open windows bring a chill to the crowded room.

You’re both in the middle of a conversation with a commanding officer when it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room, like a cabin losing pressure out in space. Your eyes widen and your heart races as your sense of foreboding from earlier ramps up into full fight-or-flight mode. You’re hastily scanning the faces in the room, terrified.

Cassian feels you tense in his arms. With a quick glance at your face, he knows something is wrong. Your eyes are flickering around the room and the pulse in your neck is prominent against the stiffness of your body. He tries to catch your eye or squeeze your hip, but he gets no response.

Quickly and subtly shifting your body behind his, he excuses the two of you from your conversation. You don’t feel yourself moving, too caught up in trying to find the source of this feeling. 

You’re intimately familiar with this presence, having spent years in its company. You had tried so hard and traveled lightyears away in order to escape, but all your efforts seem futile now. You should have gone into hiding, should have locked yourself away on a little no-name moon, should have done something more. 

A whimper escapes your mouth without permission, and Cassian’s heart lurches at the frightened sound. He’s always known you to be the bravest, strongest person he has ever met, but the woman in his arms right now looks like a scared child, looks like someone he doesn’t know. He would take your cold and detached manner from the previous day over this. 

Because this? This scares him. And Cassian does not scare easily.

He leads you into a secluded area of the penthouse, away from prying Imperial eyes and whatever has caused your body to convulse with tremors. He still has his arm wrapped securely around your waist holding you close to him, and his other hand has a gentle but firm grip around your upper arm that is pressed tightly into his side. Cassian is practically dragging you away as your knees refuse to hold you up.

Cassian finds a small cupboard furthest away from the party. He looks around to be sure no one is near enough to listen in, and pulls you inside. A dim light turns on above your heads and Cassian places you gently against a wall. You start to slide down, but he puts his arms under yours, giving you support.

You can still feel her, can sense her proximity and her sinister presence in the back of your mind. It’s been so long since you were last with her, but your body must have known somehow that she was drawing nearer. Your headaches and anxiety that had only heightened throughout the party should have made you think.

But you didn’t.

Having Cassian at your side had made you feel safe, no matter that you were actively avoiding having any feelings for him. You have known his character well from watching and interacting with him over the years, learning to trust him and his calm and reserved nature. You were remiss in thinking that you could keep yourself and your feelings away from him during this mission. 

Now that the walls you carefully constructed on the ship have crumbled around you, you can’t help but feel again. Can’t help but feel the warmth radiating from his chest and into yours from where he’s standing so close to you. Can’t help but feel his breath against your face as he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong. Can’t help but feel the pressure in your head slowly dissipating as you force yourself to breathe in time with Cassian’s instructions.

You readjust against the wall after a short while, standing taller and trying to regain feeling in your legs. Cassian’s hand shifts from the wall and cups the side of your face so that he can look into your eyes. You can see the question in his concerned gaze and answer in a still-weak voice.

“My… my mother. She’s here.”

Cassian’s brow furrows slightly as he wonders what that could mean for you and this mission. He opens his mouth to ask for more details, but you shake your head.

“She’s - we’re - I don’t know!” You cry out softly. You bring your hands up and grasp the lapels of Cassian’s shimmersilk jacket as you try to ground yourself and explain. “She’s in my head, Cassian. I can feel her. I can hear her. I couldn’t get away, and now she’s found me.” 

You suck in a deep breath through trembling lips. You look deeply into Cassian’s eyes, watching as a dawning understanding fills them. 

“I’m scared, Cassian,” you admit.

Cassian wraps both of his hands around your head with his palms against your neck, using his thumbs to sweep softly under your eyes, catching the tears that had fallen without you noticing. Your breathing is still stuttering in and out of your lungs, and Cassian can feel your pulse as he continues to stroke your cheeks.

“I know. I know, Princessa. But it’s okay, we can figure this out together, hm?” Cassian murmurs to you. 

You nod your head and close your eyes as you lean back against the wall, drained of energy. Cassian takes both of your wrists into one of his and holds them against his chest when he feels your grip slacken, hoping that you can feel his heart’s rhythm and use its steady beat to come back down from your adrenaline rush.

“What do we need to do?” Cassian asks after a moment. “I can signal K and we can leave right now.”

You shake your head as you look back at him. You can’t let this opportunity for information slip away because of you. And you’re definitely not giving K-2SO any more reason not to like you.

“No. No, Cass, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just… give me another moment or two. Please,” you implore. 

Rational thought is coming back to you as you finally match Cassian’s heartbeat and breathing. You start to feel embarrassed about your breakdown, but Cassian’s sympathy and understanding prevent you from doing so. You’re now focusing on the shift in your mission.

“The good news is I’m using my real name, so she can’t ruin us immediately,” you begin slowly. “The bad news is now we have to contend with her story and timeline of events. I haven’t been with her since I ran away, Cassian. I haven’t spoken to her in years, but she’s been in my head a few times since then.”

What you have to tell Cassian next is hard, but he needs to know. For your own selfish needs, you want somebody to know what you’ve been through. 

“She… she studied under the Sith in her childhood, but never completed training. When she had me and realized I was force sensitive…” You’re pleading with your eyes and your grasping hands on his jacket once more. “She raised me on the Dark Side. To become the Sith she never could be.”

Cassian tries to pull away from you, shocked and angry by your perceived betrayal. His face hardens and his hands drop away from you, but you’re quick to hold tighter to him, keeping him from leaving you.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Cassian! I never joined the Rebellion for her or anyone else. I stopped training and cut myself off from the Force after my 16th year because I knew what she was teaching me was wrong. I joined you because I wanted to make up for all the awful things she made me do, to give myself over to a cause that I believe in.

“I never intentionally put the Rebellion in danger. Every time she found my consciousness, I shut myself away from whatever I was feeling that let her in and left the base until I was sure she hadn’t found me,” you explain. “I don’t know why she’s here now, but it can’t be good. We have to find out, and I’m the best shot we have.”

You can see Cassian’s mind moving at lightspeed to determine if he can trust you. You’ve never given him any reason not to, but this secret is explosive enough to shake his faith in his own discernment. His eyes are shifting between yours, staring into each to find any trace of duplicity. You keep your expression honest and open. It’s the first time you’ve ever presented your emotions – true and real emotions – to someone. You’re vulnerable in this state, but Cassian needs to see it.

And he does. Cassian’s shoulders drop imperceptibly and the tension you can feel under your hands loosens.

“Does Mon Mothma know? She’s the one that recruited you, yes?” He asks, looking for a solid reason other than his gut instincts to guide his decision.

You nod. You hadn’t told her the full truth all those standard years ago, but she knew enough to think of you as a worthwhile risk.

Cassian exhales and reaches for your hands where they clutch at him. He gives them a squeeze in acceptance and you can’t stop a small smile from coming to your lips in relief.

“What’s your plan?” He asks you, deferring over to you on how this mission should move forward now that there’s a massive obstacle to manage.

“I think…”you hesitate, already dreading the series of events your next words are going to set in motion. “I think I need to get close to her again. Not ‘close’!” You reassure Cassian when a troubled look comes over his face. “Just make her think I’m still on the Dark Side. Being here already lends itself to that.”

“I don’t know. Putting yourself directly in her path like that is dangerous,” Cassian reasons.

You give a short laugh and look at Cassian with amusement. “We’re Rebel Intelligence currently undercover with elite Imperial officers and weapons dealers. I think we’ve been in danger.” 

Cassian mimics your small grin and rattles your hands around a bit. “Smart aleck.”

You’re feeling better than you have been since the U-wing. A weight has lifted from your shoulders and now you can breathe easier, safe in the knowledge that someone knows your secrets. Knows a large part of you, and doesn’t hate you for it.

Cassian’s smile fades. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever this moment is, but you need to go back to the party. 

“I’m going to signal K-2SO; we might need him for security.” At the thought of K running his mouth off near all these officers, Cassian decides that he’ll instruct the droid to disable his modulator. “Are you ready?” he asks.

Your face drops into a determined expression. You gather all your strength and prepare to greet your mother. You’re going to need it.

***

“Well there’s my darling daughter!”

You keep your expression neutral, but quirk one eyebrow up as you look to the direction her voice is coming from. You watch as your mother saunters over to you, pulling along a middle-aged man in an Officer’s uniform; he must have been her way in, since you hadn’t seen her during your reconnaissance phase. He was of low-rank and low-importance, but you invited him because he could still harbor important information.

Your mother has aged: wrinkles line her eyes and crease her forehead, gray hairs are dyed an unnatural shade, and the skin on her neck and hands is thin and dry. Her dark robes swathe her frame in an abundance of fine fabric, perhaps to distract from all that you are observing.

“Mother,” you reply in a clipped tone. No one but Cassian notices the beginnings of sweat on your forehead. He leans in to place a kiss on your hairline, wiping away the droplet with his dry but soft lips. You grasp his hand tighter in appreciation.

“I knew I would find you here…” she taunts, but trails off as she eyes Cassian beside you. 

You stiffen because you know that look. You angle yourself to where your breasts are pressing against Cassian and you lay a possessive hand over his chest, clearly indicating he was ‘yours’ in the only way she really understands. 

But she hasn’t changed in all this time, so she tries her hand with Cassian. Even though her escort has an arm around her stomach in a not-so-subtle effort to keep her close to him and away from your partner - or anyone else in the room that catches her eye.

“My, my. Who is this handsome man you’ve conned into spending the night with you, daughter?” She addresses you, but bats her eyelashes coquettishly at Cassian. “I’m sure you’ll have much more fun with me, young man. I can give you anything you want,” she tries to whisper seductively, but fails in your opinion. 

Her date looks at you and Cassian contemptuously, as if you were the ones to blame for her behavior.

Your mouth curls into an uncontrollable sneer and your expression morphs into one of disgust and anger. How dare she proposition Cassian in such a way? What a lewd and demeaning way to come onto someone! 

All fear is forgotten in your outrage. You’re about to respond with vicious words as you start to move your hand towards the poisoned blade hidden under your dress, but Cassian stops you as he tightens his arm around your waist and pulls you further into him so that you’re basically looking over your shoulder - you’re full front is pressed against his as he takes his own hold on you. His hand snakes down to cup your ass in a proprietorial way to show your mother that he already has his hands full. 

Your heart quickens at the possessive act. Focus.

Cassian gives an uninterested nod as his greeting, making a show of looking her over and finding her lacking. It’s cruel, but it fills you with a spot of joy.

“The husband, actually,” he remarks coldly. “Weapons Specialist.”

“Oh.” She pouts for just a moment, disappointed that he wants nothing to do with her. “Well!” She claps her hands together and steps out of her date’s arm. “I’m sure you gentlemen won’t begrudge me a moment with my long-lost daughter,” she bids. She flaps her hands around as she says, “You boys talk amongst yourselves.”

She walks off, expecting you to follow like a kriffing Kath Hound. One of your eyes twitches in agitation as you look to Cassian. He uses one hand to adjust a piece of your hair, wanting to draw attention away from his lips as he mutters to you.

“Do not let her get to you. I will be right here when you return.”

“I don’t think I can follow through on the plan. I don’t think I can get close enough without failing,” you whisper. 

You are terrified of this woman and what she can still do to you, what she can still make you endure because of her connection to the Dark Side. But… you can’t really sense anything from her. You allow what diminutive control you have on the Force to surround her and probe for information, and you find very little. 

You’re wondering now if whatever prevented her from completing her training as a Sith has been depleting her midichlorians since then as well. Her voice in your mind has been diminishing for quite some time now; the event today having been the first time in over a year, when you used to hear her every other month.

A hypothesis begins to form. But in order to explore further, you need to follow your mother.

You rub Cassian’s cheek with the palm of your hand in farewell and his stubble is rough against your skin. He takes your hand from his face and places a soft kiss on your knuckles, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

 After your revelations in the cupboard and dispensation of some of the fear you had been holding all your life, you’re finding it easy to fall into this level of intimacy with Cassian -- false as it may be. You are no longer held back by thoughts of your mother reentering your life and wreaking havoc for the Rebellion. She’s found you here with Imperialists, ‘married’ to a war profiteer, and presumably on the same side.

But Cassian is still Cassian and you are still you. Public displays of affection make both of you uncomfortable, but you’ve been pushing it aside for the sake of the mission. You let go of each other and walk away from him, but you can still feel his eyes on you as you go to your mother.

“I never imagined you as a credit-seeking harpy, daughter of mine. Always so toffee-nosed and self-important. You never agreed to a single match I tried to make for you,” your mother starts in as soon as you’re close enough to hear. Some party-goers glance in your direction, but your glare sends them looking away.

“Perhaps you never set your sights high enough, mother. Maybe I sought better for myself than you could provide?” you retort, channeling Cassian’s cool demeanor into your character for this mission. 

You had never imagined as a youngling that you could ever be brave enough to face your mother in this way; she had dominated and dictated every facet of your life, refusing you free-will and a normal childhood. But you need to complete this mission and find out why she’s here, so you don’t have time to dwell.

She looks at you now with thinly veiled contempt. You imagine she thought you would still be that girl who was too afraid to speak out against her. And if it wasn’t for this mission and Cassian dragging you from the party so you could collect yourself, you would still be.

Your hands are trembling where they’re hidden behind your back and beneath the capelet on the dress, and gravity seems to have broken: incredibly strong at your feet and incredibly light on your head. It keeps you rooted to the floor while also making you feel like you’re floating away. Rationally you know it’s your fear response, so you work on taking inconspicuous breaths.

“‘Sought better for yourself’; don’t make me laugh! Those ‘friends’ you had were barely sentient! Let alone have any connections to elevate you anywhere,” your mother mocks.

You’re momentarily dumbfounded: how did she know about your friends? You made sure to never mention them or hang out with them when your mother was on-planet. “What friends?” you ask quietly.

“Don’t play ignorant with me, daughter, it’s so unbecoming of a Sith. Did you forget? I’m in your head.”

You jerk away from where your mother has leaned in towards your face, taking a step back. Her last words had been inside your head. 

“I’ve missed this, daughter,” your mother coos telepathically. She brings a wrinkled hand up to cup one side of your face while you’re struggling to breathe. “I’ve missed having you under my thumb.” 

At this, she drives her thumb into your cheek, pushing your head roughly to the side. She has a firm grip and directs your face back to where you have to look at her. You’re breathing fast and shallow, panic taking over. Your hands have flown to take a hold of her wrist and forearm, struggling to remove her nails from your soft flesh.

You finally wrench her hand away, just in time to feel a strong arm snake around your waist and pull you backwards. Cassian steps in front of you in a protective stance, one arm still holding you against his back and the other pointing his blaster in your mother’s face.

If looks alone could kill, your mother would have evaporated under Cassian’s glare.

You can feel his breath escaping him in angry heaves, nostrils flared. His mouth is set in a thin, angry line, and you can hear his teeth gnash together as he clenches his jaw. His eyebrows are furrowed over his hard, piercing stare, your mother the sole object of his ire at the moment.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look at Cassian as her focus is still on you. Staring down certain death and one of the most intimidating men in the galaxy, she doesn’t move a muscle except to smile cruelly.

“They were so heartbroken when I told them you were dead,” she mocks as you stare at her from around Cassian. “It was quite fun to watch them suffer.”

They thought I was dead? Your hands grasp Cassian tighter at the thought. Is that why they never tried to contact me? 

Feeling your shaking hands on his back and unsteady breaths against his neck, all Cassian wants to do is blast a hole through your mother. As soon as he saw her lay a hand on you, he was racing over to the altercation – blaster drawn and heart on his sleeve. He knows how strong and capable you are, but this mission is asking more of you than he can stand to watch be taken away. 

He feels your warm hand slide around his where it grips his blaster. You bring his arm back down to his side and step out from behind him.

Your nerves are shot and you’re so nauseous that you could vomit at any moment, but you need to take control of the situation again. Your mother is making you look weak and incompetant in front of the Empire’s largest figures. The party had come to a screeching halt when Cassian drew his weapon.

“It’s alright, my love,” you say loud enough for those around you to hear. “I believe our guest has forgotten who is in charge here.” 

You snap your fingers in K’s direction where you see him stationed against one of the columns beside the entrance. You’re elated when you see him actually heed your command and stalk over. He grips your mother’s arm and waits for your command.

“I do believe it’s time you and your date left now,” you say as you wave your hand in a dismissive gesture.

Your mother is absolutely fuming as K2 leads her out of the hall, stopping to grab her date as he tries to make himself small amongst the crowd. You can see her trying to move her arm out of the droid’s grasp, but she’s unsuccessful. Her date’s jacket sleeve is nearly ripping at the shoulder from how unwilling he is to be pulled along by her.

Cassian is immensely proud of you for standing up to your mother. After he watches her being dragged out by K, he turns to you with a glimmer in his eye, only to notice the sallowness of your skin and the movement of your throat as you swallow multiple times.

Cassian immediately turns to your guests and makes an announcement so you can sneak away unnoticed. “Now that we’ve weeded out the undesirables amongst us, it’s time to get this party started. Fosu–” Cassian calls to the Ortolan leading the live band “–let’s go!” 

You make your way out of the crowded hall with one hand fisted over your mouth and the other holding your stomach. You hear the band start up as you reach the nearest refresher and bolt inside. As soon as the door slides closed and you’re alone, you promptly empty the contents of your stomach into the vacc tube.

-------

You’re shivering against the wall when Cassian comes in some time later. Your body has lost all ability to function after trying to purge itself of these mephitic feelings, so you’re collapsed into a seated position on the floor with your head leaned back to rest against the wall. The expensive stone interior of this refresher is beautiful to look at, but severely uncomfortable to sit on. 

Cassian crouches down next to you and hands you a crystal flute full of water. You give a small smile in appreciation and sip from the cup, closing your eyes as you feel the cool liquid slither down your raw throat and into your empty stomach.

“You did good,” Cassian says to you.

You peep open one tired eye and look at him. His face is sincere and his eyes hold no hint of the disappointment you feel for yourself. You scoff at his words and close your eye again.

“The entire mission has gone completely barvy because of me,” you mutter harshly. If your mother hadn't shown up, you would have completed this mission without any problems. But as soon as you felt her presence and realized that she was in the same room, you broke down. And when she spoke to you and grabbed you...

At the thought of your mother’s touch, the anxiety in your stomach rumbles into nausea again. You press a closed fist up to your mouth to fight off the feeling. “I can’t even think about her without wanting to spew my guts up.” You roll your head to the side so that Cassian can’t see the self-deprecating expression you know is on your face. “How pathetic is that?”

A warm, rough hand encircles the wrist that still hovers in front of your mouth. The firm pressure brings your face up and forces your eyes open. Cassian is leaning towards you with an arm outstretched to you and balancing on one knee. You can’t help but feel bad that he’s ruining such a nice suit just to get you to look at him.

“Nothing about you is pathetic, Princessa,” he urges. “The way you handled that situation? There is no one else in the galaxy who could have gotten through the way you did.” He moves his hands in an exaggerated gesture to emphasize the shape of the galaxy around you, but your wrist is pulled along for the demonstration since it is still held between his fingers. 

“I didn’t really do anything. I asked K to kick her out for me. I’ve probably lost any ounce of power and respect we scrounged up in such a short time.” 

Your eyes are downcast as you say this, so you don’t notice Cassian’s other hand reaching up from where it was hovering over his bent knee. He oh-so-gently grabs your chin in the same place your mother had, but the difference between the two touches are immense. His thumb ever so softly brushes along the side of your mouth where a bruise is most likely forming, and his fingers perch below your chin as he pulls your face up to meet his gaze.

“If anything, you gave us more respect. You effortlessly took away all her power and turned her into the laughing stock of the party; these sorts of things are the highlight of any event for these people. You’ve just ensured that they’re all going to be coming back just on the off-chance that something like that happens again.” 

His eyes are so intense on yours and his hand so kind against your abused jaw that it brings a flush to your face. You shouldn’t be relishing in the closeness you’re feeling in this moment because he is only trying to comfort you and get you ready to be hostess of the party again, but you can’t help the warm feelings and fluttering of your heart at his proximity.

You think he must have noticed your blush and became embarrassed for you, because he drops his hand from your face and rises from his crouch. Cassian clears his throat and pulls your wrist up towards him, indicating that it is time for you to stand as well. You push against the wall with your free hand and stand in front of him.

You’re unsure of what else to say besides a whispered, “Thank you.”

Cassian nods his head in acknowledgement and drops your hand. The loss of contact stings a little.

Cassian quickly starts ruffling his hair and jerking his clothes until they’re disheveled. Your questioning look is answered a second later as the same realization comes to your mind. A married couple locked in a bathroom together for some time after an apparent power move? Everyone at the party is going to think that show of dominance got Cassian hot with desire for you.

Your blush reappears with a vengeance as your hands remove some pins from your hair and ruffle through it. Your heart thunders in your chest as you grab Cassian’s shoulder as he is preparing to unlock the door. He looks back at you and you drop your hand.

“It.. it would be more believable if some of my makeup…” you flap your hand towards his face, indicating what you mean.

Understanding crosses his face as he slowly leans towards you. You take your thumb and smear it across your lips, dragging the lip color from its place and around your mouth in a facsimile of the chaos a kiss would create.

You take your makeup covered thumb and firmly glide it across Cassian’s lips. The contrast between the softness of his delicate skin and harshness of his stubbled chin remind you that your face and neck need to be more red.

Making to take your nails and redden up your skin, you’re stopped by Cassian’s question of, “Can I?”

You look up to see his hands reaching for your face and you allow him to hold you. He brings his face into yours and presses his stubbly cheek into your skin. You hold back your gasp of shock, but the inhaled breath allows in the intoxicating smell of him. You close your eyes in order to maintain some semblance of control over yourself. Your hands are itching to run through his hair and dishevel it even more, but you refrain in case it makes him stop.

Cassian is nuzzling into your neck now and you can feel a slightly shaky breath leave his lips and fan across your ear. A shiver races down your spine and lands hotly in your lower abdomen. The sensitive skin of your neck is red now from both his ministrations and your increased temperature.

All too soon, Cassian pulls away. You're warm all over except for the irritated skin on your neck that feels cool without Cassian’s warmth against it. He looks at you unsurely, probably worried that he overstepped a boundary.

“Your hands wouldn’t have left the right pattern,” he mumbles out. 

He doesn’t seem unsure of himself, but not wholly convinced that you necessarily wanted him to do that. You nod your head too quickly when you agree with him to reassure that you do not mind. At all. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, but swings out one elbow as an offer to you. You take a deep breath to calm down and place your arm within his before exiting.

***

Weeks pass and you and Cassian have been inundated with dinner offers, gala invitations, and special meetings from members of the Empire and their allies. It seems that Cassian was correct in saying that everyone at the party - and not at the party - would be clamoring to get into your good graces after taking so much power away from a prominent member so easily. 

When the topic is brought up, you always smile and laugh haughtily so they think such a thing was no big deal to you. The problem is that it was a big deal. You never stood up to your mother like that when you were younger - you always took the abuse until the day you jumped on a random cargo ship and ran away. You had always thought you were weak and powerless against your mother, but Cassian and these Imperial scum are beginning to make you realize that you’ve grown enough that she no longer holds power over you.

This realization makes you feel strong and more competent than ever. You’re fully ingratiating yourself with the beings around you, pretending that the Empire is the only way forward and that the Rebellion is just full of useless chizks. 

Ha! If only they knew they were being played like an Ewok drum by one of those ‘useless chizks’.

As you’re laughing at what some high-brow weapons dealer is saying, you glance around the room to find Cassian. You were separated when someone dragged you away to have a ‘female talk’ that was excruciating to sit through. You spy him across the hall, but your heart drops as you watch him follow a beautiful Twi-lek into a side office.

Over the past few weeks, you and Cassian have gotten close. Or you thought you had. You were both becoming increasingly comfortable in each other’s arms and Cassian had even taken to kissing your lips when others were around.

You couldn’t help but take those little kisses and tight hugs personally. You know that, rationally, he is only doing those things to keep up the pretense of a happily married couple, but your touch-starved heart was going soft for the Rebel captain.

And maybe it’s that soft heart that makes you excuse yourself from the current conversation. That soft heart that makes you follow in the pair’s footsteps. That soft heart that constricts and feels as if it’s crumbling away when you hear the soft murmurs coming from behind the closed door you have your ear against.

You’re unable to make out anything being said, but the closeness that whispering requires crushes your soft heart. You know this is a mission and you both need to get intel at any cost. Cassian is one of the best spies in the Rebellion – kriff, the whole galaxy – so it shouldn’t come as any surprise that seducing a target is one of his methods. 

But we’re supposed to be married, you reason out. Happily!

You hear the Twi-lek whine. Your chest tightens and your eyes start to burn for no reason. You shake your head to try and force the tears back. Taking a deep breath, you channel your current persona and feel her wrath and anger at the situation funnel through you.

You twist the handle and barge into the room. You stand scowling at the two as you eye them up and down. Cassian is unruffled and holding onto the Twi-lek’s shoulders as if to keep her at a distance. The Twi-lek, on the other hand, has her dress pulled down past her shoulders to expose her chest and her hands clasped onto Cassian’s lapels and fingering the buttons of his shirt.

Their eyes turn to you: Cassian’s relieved ,and the Twi-lek’s shooting daggers.

“Husband,” you deadpan, “what’s the meaning of this?” 

But you’re not looking at your fake husband, you’re eyeing up the female who still has her dress around her waist and her dirty hands on your man.

“Princessa,” Cassian seems to plead with you. You flick your eyes away from the Twi-lek and onto him. Princessa has become a normal term of endearment from Cassian since your heart-to-heart in the fresher, and you can’t get enough of how ardently he always calls to you. But now the name sends a pain through your heart, because you’re just now realizing he may have used it for others during missions as well.

Your eyes threaten to start burning again, so you look away from Cassian and back to the one that pulled him in here. You notice that she was hanging out with the one that pulled you away for that ‘talk’, making you think that this had been their play all along.

Your nostrils flare as you stare her down. “Fix your gown, find your friend, and leave this house. I will not repeat myself,” you growl at her. 

The Twi-lek’s eyes widen a fraction at the venom in your voice, hopefully understanding the danger that your persona emanates. She pulls her hands from Cassian and slips them through the sleeves of her dress before scurrying from the room.

You turn to watch her leave, narrowing your eyes as you catch hers as she shuts the door. You hadn’t only turned to make sure she left, you also turned so that you didn’t have to look at Cassian. You didn’t want to look closer and see what they were up to.

“Thank you,” Cassian murmurs as he walks up to you. “She seemed to think that I would sneak off with her willingly.”

“Didn’t you, though?” 

Your question catches him off-guard and you see his furrowed brow in your peripheral. You tried not to put any emotion into your words, but don’t know if you succeeded or not.

“What do you mean?”

“You were gathering intel, right? It’s part of the job to seduce targets.” You’re still looking to the door and away from him, but Cassian turns his body fully towards you and raises a hand in your direction. You lightly step away as you finish. “I just didn’t know our cover had changed, is all. I won’t interrupt you next time.”

Cassian calls out for you, but you’ve already left the room.

***

No one notices anything out of the ordinary after you re-enter the party, but you can feel eyes on you the whole night. Whether they’re Cassian’s or others’ is hard to say – once you returned to mingling with the guests, you started wrapping them around your little finger.

You aren’t discriminating against anyone that seemed interested in you. Any being that you felt had even an inkling of knowledge about something and would only give it up if persuaded, you flirted with. Subtly, of course, since you are ‘married’, but enough to let them know you find them just as interesting as they find you.

You’re only laying the groundwork tonight, so you don’t have to worry about planning any rendezvouses. You wish that Cassian had discussed seduction with you while you were both laying out plans on the way to Coruscant. 

No. 

You wish that seduction wasn’t part of the plans at all. Because as selfish as it is, you want Cassian all to yourself – if only for this mission. 

Stop lying.

As selfish as it is, you want Cassian. Period.

***

You don’t enjoy yourself tonight. Not like any of the other events had been times to enjoy, but at least for those few weeks Cassian had been at your side for most of them. Even so, you can’t pinpoint exactly when Cassian began this part of the plan, which means you are too distracted to be doing your job correctly. You internally berate yourself for the slip up. 

It’s late by the time you and Cassian are standing on the landing platform waiting for your cruiser to arrive. The wind this high up causes you to shiver and cross your arms to try and protect yourself from the chill. While you’re thankful for your thin clothing inside the incessantly warm buildings, walking out into the brisk night air always catches you by surprise. Cassian in the past has always draped his jacket over your bare shoulders when he noticed that you were cold, but he refrains tonight. He stands several feet away from you with his hands clasped behind his back and his jaw tight.

The tension roiling between you is uncomfortable. There were no soft touches or easy conversations between you this evening like you have grown used to. After you left the office and Cassian behind, you had avoided him at all costs. But you’d catch him staring at you as you laid a hand on someone else’s shoulder or whispered into another’s ear. 

You know that he’s upset with you for tonight, but you don’t know what for specifically. Did he think you were too bold in your attentions? It’s not like you had snuck off into a private room with someone in full view of the entire party. 

The thought briefly crosses your mind that you’re trying to make Cassian jealous, but it’s quickly brushed away. Why would it make Cassian jealous to see you flirting with others? It’s not like this is a real relationship anyway… no matter that you were starting to think it was.

Your transport arrives and the doors slide open. The warmth of the ship draws you in and you clamber in on your sore feet. The high-arching shoes you’ve been wearing are kicked off quickly so that you can pull your legs up to rest on the seats beside you. You’re fully reclined when the journey to your suite begins, but Cassian is still rigid in his seat in the farthest corner of the ship from you.

The warm transport grows stifling as you feel the heat of Cassian’s gaze on you. Your eyes are closed where your head is resting on the hull, but you’re too tired to open them and stare back.

“Go on and say whatever it is you’re upset about,” you challenge wearily. The events from earlier in the night and your subsequent ‘star of the party’ mode had worn you to the point of exhaustion. You were ready to be alone and to sleep for the next standard year.

“You do not think that was too much?” Cassian hurls at you. “You throwing yourself at them? We are supposed to be happily married. Why are you not acting accordingly?”

The force of his anger surprises you; you knew he was displeased with your actions by the look on his face throughout the event, but you didn’t think he was angry enough to yell at you. Nerves begin to course through your blood at his raised voice. It reminds you too much of your mother’s anger when you were younger – you have been invisible ever since then, so no one has had a reason to scream abuse at you. 

Until now.

Despite your weariness and building anxiety, the growing sense of your own power helps to bolster you. You will not let him lambaste you for putting your all into this mission. You’ve been here too long as it is, and you need to get away from Cassian so that you can get back to the right headspace without thoughts of him getting in the way of your duties. You’ve been too consumed with the feelings that his touch and presence bring you when you’re together. Too consumed with the thought that maybe he finds your presence just as all-consuming as you find his.

Your hands tremble slightly with nerves and anger as you plant your feet on the floor and turn to face him with a fierce stare.

“You will not speak to me that way, Cassian. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. And I do not need you questioning me when you’re the one that started seducing targets without consulting me! I also thought the plan was to be ‘happily married’, but imagine my surprise when I found a half-naked Twi-Lek in your arms!”

The transport has arrived at your dwelling by this point, so you grab the hem of your dress and your footwear before stomping off into the entrance hall. You can hear Cassian muttering expletives under his breath as he races after you.

“If you would let me explain,” he begins after grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to face him. You jerk your arm out of his grip with a hiss.

“Don’t grab me,” you growl out. “We’re done for tonight. I’m sleeping in the guest quarters.” 

And you stalk away, leaving Cassian angry and alone.

***

Night turns into day, and the day turns into many more. Neither of you would admit to what was really the cause of the anger and the fight, not even to yourselves. 

You still attend functions and dinner plans, but the small and casual affection between you and Cassian has disappeared. Instead, quick pecks and a loose arm around the waist was the only physical contact.

You hate this. You hate that you’re acting this way - so unreasonably. If it were anyone else, you might even laugh at their blatant flirtations with others. But with Cassian… any time you see someone else on his arm or someone else whispering in his ear, you see red. The fire you felt that first night with the Twi-Lek comes back with a vengeance and you can’t help but feel stupid for it.

Your ‘home life’ isn’t any better. You both sit at opposite ends of the dining table, staunchly ignoring the other. At least, you try to ignore him. Cassian is still your friend, despite the silence lingering between the two of you. You want to break the war of no words, but it seems like every event resets both of your tempers.

You had yet to return to the extra cot in the master bedroom you used to share with Cassian.

It all came to a head one afternoon. The same Twi-Lek, Anansi, had put her hands all over Cassian in the middle of a crowded dinner party the night prior, eliciting murmurs from the other party-goers about your and Cassian’s physical relationship. Or lack thereof.

You had glared daggers at the both of them, catching Cassian’s eye and snarling your lip at him out of hurt more so than anger. If he wanted to flirt so openly and auspiciously with the targets, then so would you, you rationalized. You found the most eligible officer and made it abundantly clear that you were willing to do anything to stay with him just a little longer. So you went back to his quarters once the party was over. You didn’t stay over for long, stumbling back to your and Cassian’s penthouse long before the suns even rose.

You don’t even fully undress before you fall into a deep sleep. 

You neglect to leave your bed in time for the first meal of the day, but you make it to the small offering a few hours later. Cassian is already seated at the head of the table, so you avoid his eyes as you move to your place across from him.

Nothing is appealing right now, the firewater moving its way out of your bloodstream making you slightly dizzy. You glance up when Cassian’s utensils scrape across his dish.The noise sends shivers down your spine.

“Could you not?” you question quietly.

Cassian looks up with a quirked eyebrow. “Why? Enjoy yourself a bit too much last night, baby?” he taunts, scraping his plate again.

You send him a deadly glare, daring him to do it again. “I’m sure nowhere near as much fun as you had with Anansi last night. Another office, really?”

Cassian slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up forcefully. “At least I didn’t take her home, unlike that officer. Couldn’t even leave the party with your own ‘husband’ – you just had to leave with him. Did you at least get anything from him?” he demands, glowering from across the spread of food between you.

You smirk at him. “Oh, I got plenty from him last night,” you taunt as you stand as well.

You’ll be the first to admit that was a low blow, but Maker did it feel good to give right back as good as you were getting.

Cassian growls and stalks over to you. The sight of his taut shoulders and ridged jaw send you backwards until you’re up against a low table against the wall. His hands land either side of your hips, caging you in. 

Your heart is thundering and you’re slightly shaking with adrenaline. A warm sensation fills your gut and you can’t believe that his anger is making you feel this way.

“Yeah?” Cassian asks in a low voice, his breath fanning across your lips. His face is so close and his eyes are staring deep into your own. “I bet I can give you more.”

And with that, Cassian’s lips are on yours and it’s hard to even breathe. Your arms snake up around his neck and pull his lips closer to yours, deepening the kiss. His hands move from the table and grab onto your hips, allowing him to grind against your abdomen. A hungry growl escapes his mouth when you bite his lip at the action.

Cassian reaches down to your thighs and hauls you onto the table that had been digging into your lower back. You gasp into his open mouth when he spreads your legs wide and settles between your thighs.

The days of anger and pent-up frustration explodes between you both and there’s no stopping the desperate kisses and wandering hands. You grab the side of Cassian’s face with one hand and slide the other down his chest to lay flat on his lower abdomen. You feel his muscles tense as your fingers slip under his waistband to tease him, forcing his hips to rock into you.

Cassian leaves kisses from your waiting mouth and along your jaw until he reaches your ear. He whispers huskily, “I bet he didn’t kiss you like this.”

You groan as Cassian sucks harshly on your neck, leaving red marks. The dress you have on rides up your legs and bunches around your waist as Cassian’s hand trails up the outside of your thigh. When he reaches your hip, he lets out another low groan at what he finds. Or doesn’t find.

“Nothing on underneath? Did you leave him a souvenir? ” he breathes harshly into your mouth, using his other hand to palm your breasts through your dress.

“Ha,” you laugh shakily. You can do nothing except throw your head back against the wall as his fingers travel towards your wet folds. Nothing had prepared you for this interaction with Cassian, but kriff were you glad you weren’t wearing underwear.

Cassian’s thumb presses harshly on your clit and you grasp his wrist tightly to keep him in place. He slowly teases one finger into your aching hole and grabs your neck to force you to meet his eyes as he feels you flutter around his finger. A small whimper escapes you at the hungry look in his eyes and the second finger nudging at your entrance.

“I know you didn’t get this wet for him,” Cassian purrs, still staring into your eyes. It’s hard to keep them open as he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, but the look he’s giving you is impossible to look away from. 

Your free hand that had been on the table below you to keep you upright takes his hand at your throat and makes him squeeze. You gasp softly at the pressure and Cassian’s eyes blaze. He forces himself closer to you, moving his thumb harder and faster against your nub and forcing your chests together so that there is no space between you. Your eyes slam shut when he scissors his fingers to open you wider and you hear the noise of your juices echoing throughout the room from his movements.

His hand around your throat pushes you back against the wall so that Cassian has a better angle at which to see his fingers moving against you. His mouth waters at the sight of his hand glistening down to the wrist. 

You’re rising higher towards your peak, but not quite there when Cassian leaves you altogether. You cry out at the loss of contact and immediately open your eyes to glare at him. Only he’s no longer face-to-face with you – he’s down on his knees and propping your thighs onto his shoulders. Cassian licks his lips as you stare at each other across the distance of your quivering body.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and when he licks his lips it sends another flood of heat towards your pulsing pussy. “Tell me how much you want it,” Cassian murmurs as he kisses your inner thighs while still looking up at you.

“Yes,” you breathe, panting and squirming to get his mouth closer to where you want need it. 

“‘Yes’ what, Princessa?” he questions while blowing lightly along your slit.

“You. I want you,” you gasp out. “Now. Please.”

And that’s all it takes for Cassian’s mouth to finally close in and taste you. Your hands fly into his hair and your shoulders are bearing all of your weight as you lean into the wall for support. You tug and pull at Cassian’s hair, ensuring that he’s in just the right spot at all times. A harsher pull at a particularly good lick causes Cassian to moan into you and you nearly come just from the sensation.

He suckles your clit into his mouth and pushes his fingers back into you. You cry out at his ministrations and try to grind against him, but his arms are pressing you down securely and you can hardly move.

“Yes. Please – please. Cassian!” you chant, trying hard not to dig your nails into his scalp and shoulders as your hands grab onto him. You’re so close that you can taste it.

“Did you scream his name last night? Or were you pretending it was me fucking you?” Cassian nips your folds when you don’t answer immediately, causing you to jerk and moan.

“I-I didn’t– Ah!” 

Cassian once again pulls away from you, raising his eyebrows in challenge. You’re determined that this is the last time he leaves you right on the edge, so you lean over and grab him by the shoulders and haul him up to you. You wrap your legs around him to keep him in place and begin to undo his shirt.

You deliberately let your hands press and knead as you tease him, wanting him as needy as you are. Cassian grabs your jaw and kisses you hard as you reveal his chest. He treats you in kind by pulling the straps of your dress off your shoulders and below your breasts. He palms them with both hands, tweaking the nipples when you reach for his pants.

Cassian rutts into your hands as you work him out of the confining fabric. He’s hot in your hand when you finally release his cock and pump his length. He groans into your mouth again and moves a hand down to yours and pulls it away. 

You try to fight against it, but he guides your entwined hands to your center and makes you soak your palm with your own fluids. Getting the gist of his actions, you rub yourself with his guidance. You’re panting into his mouth as he continues to kiss you. 

You deem your hand thoroughly soaked and place it back on him. He pumps into your fist until his cock is coated in your essence. You reach your free hand around his waist and pull him into the crux of your thighs, guiding him to where you desperately ache to be filled. Cassian pulls your hand away from him and places it against his neck, while his other hand keeps him positioned at your entrance.

He edges into you and stops when he meets a slight resistance. He looks into your eyes for permission to continue, and you nod your head vigorously.

With your acknowledgement, Cassian thrusts in to the hilt. You keen loudly at the sudden intrusion, but the fullness quickly turns all discomfort into an overwhelming need. You open your eyes from where they had closed suddenly and see Cassian already looking at you. He grabs one of your legs to hitch it up further around his waist and uses his other hand to cup your jaw and lean you back against the wall.

Cassian follows you and leans all his body against you. Your naked flesh moves against each other when he begins thrusting into you quickly. You gasp and shake against him, using your arms to keep his mouth on yours as you climb higher and higher once again.

Cassian can tell that you’re close. He raises your leg even higher and places one knee on the low table you’re fucking on, causing him to reach such a deep angle that you see stars with every movement. He’s practically on top of you now, bearing all his weight on his other arm that is grabbing hold of the back of the table to give him even more leverage.

He uses this new angle to thrust hard, slow, and deep. Your eyes water as the head of his cock slams into your g-spot over, and over, and over again. You can barely breathe with all of the pressure against you, but you drag in just enough air in order to scream as your orgasm washes over you. Your arms and legs go rigid around Cassian, forcing him to stay close as he continues to pump into you.

He can feel you pulling and squeezing his dick as your walls try to milk every last bit of pleasure, which leads him to his own finish. Cassian comes inside you hard, groaning in satisfaction. He continues to push into you softly as you both ride the last waves of your highs.

Your legs lose all muscle control and the one not being held up by Cassian drops down against the table. You’re gasping hard, trying to draw in a breath that will allow your head to start clearing from its post-coital fog. You can’t for the life of you remember ever having better sex.

Cassian slowly extracts his length from you and you cry out at the hollow feeling. He chuckles darkly. He pushes the hair that had fallen into his face back with both hands, removing all contact with your skin. “You won’t forget about your ‘husband’ now, will you?” Cassian smiles ruefully.

It takes you a moment to process the thinly concealed venom in his words. You still in disbelief as you puzzle out his meaning. 

Wait… wasn’t that? Didn’t he–?

Your face burns with embarrassment at having been caught out. You’ll admit you were angry at your ‘husband’ at the beginning of this experience, but you threw your anger out the very high-rise window of this dining room as soon as Cassian kissed you.

You replay the words he had said during sex in your mind. You had been too busy at the time to pay much attention to what he was actually saying. He really thought you slept with that officer last night? A Rebel captain, sleeping with an Imperial officer? Who did he take you for?

You thought… but that look in his eyes when he entered you. The-the kisses and the closeness and the feelings. The intimacy that comes along with sex. Doesn’t he…? 

You sit upright and grab the fabric of your dress to cover your breasts. The movement of your hips causes Cassian’s cum to leak out of you, and you watch his eyes trail the droplet as it races downwards.

You don’t understand. You don’t.

Did he not kiss you because he wanted to? Because he has feelings for you? Or did he only do it out of anger?

Your feelings for Cassian have grown over the weeks you’ve been together on this mission, and you thought he felt a similar way. All the intimacy in public and pretty words – even if it has been a while – were they really just an act this whole time?

You stand slowly, feeling your eyes grow hot with tears to mimic the warm wetness between your thighs. You bite your lower lip as you look at the floor by Cassian’s feet.

“I–” you start. “I didn’t sleep with him…” You look up to see Cassian’s eyes widen a fraction. You can’t tell if it’s in disbelief or surprise. “You really think I’d do that?” You question him.

“I don’t know…” Cassian whispers, shaking his head imperceptibly. His hair falls back into his eyes, but he doesn’t make a move to fix it.

You look away from him and towards the skyline outside, avoiding his gaze. You tug your dress back onto your shoulders and wrap your arms protectively around yourself once again.

“I thought you – I thought we… I don’t have sex with just anyone, Cassian.” 

Your voice comes out as a whisper and you wrap your arms tighter around your chest. Your heart constricts in fear and anxiety as you utter your next words. 

“I really like you, Cass. I kind of thought the feeling was mutual…because of – you know.” You shrug your shoulders self-consciously. “I thought as soon as you... felt that I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, you stopped pretending to be mad at me.” You look back to him with sad eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. “We were pretending, right? Because we were jealous?”

Cassian repeats your name in a whisper, sounding like an apology, beginning to lift a hand towards you but seemingly thinking better of it. He closes his mouth and shakes his head in a definitive ‘no’.

That hurt. That hurt bad.

Tears overflow your lashes and a small hiccup leaves your throat, but you nod your head and turn to leave. You feel ashamed of the feelings you had poured into your love-making, realizing that he hadn’t felt it. Realizing that he hadn’t done the same.

You shuffle softly to the door, your steps quiet. Your shoulders rise as a hiccup escapes your lips. You press one hand against your mouth to stifle the sob that is sure to follow. You’ve nearly reached the door when you hear Cassian take in a shaky breath.

“She said she was looking to sell weapons and wanted to know if I was interested. I went with her under the assumption that we could gain ammunition for the Rebellion.” Cassian says to your back. 

His voice is soft. Pleading. Begging you to turn around and understand. Cassian doesn’t know why he had said those things to you just now. Why he had to go and ruin one of the best things that had happened to him in a long time.

He sees you pause in your steps, so he takes a deep inhale to calm his emotions before continuing. He needs to get this right so he doesn’t lose you.

If he hasn’t already.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he begins. All of his focus is centered on you, so far away. “I can not begin to apologize enough for the things I just said to you. Because I was jealous. Very. But those words – that is something you do not deserve. It was uncalled for to act in the way I did. I was angry at myself for not being brave enough to tell you how I feel. For letting you leave with someone else when all I wanted… when all I feel...is...” Cassian shakes his head in confusion while trying to come up with the right way to say this.

You take a moment before asking the question burning burning between you. 

“...How do you feel?” 

You wring your hands nervously in front of you while awaiting Cassian’s answer. Your heart is racing and you begin to feel light-headed from the anxiety coursing through your body in anticipation.

You feel more than hear the quick footsteps that stop just a hair's-breadth away from your back.

“Like…” Cassian begins, struggling to find the right words to convey just how attached he is to you, “like the galaxy wouldn’t be worth saving without you in it.” A tell-tale warble in his voice sends a stab of pain through your chest.

There’s a light touch at your waist, like he’s afraid that you’re going to run away at the slightest movement. That touch sends the chill that had seeped into your skin burning away and leaves you feeling all the warmth that had disappeared when you sat on that table alone. You let out a sob before spinning around to wrap your arms around his neck and cry into his neck.

Cassian hugs one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders so that he can cup the back of your head. He squeezes with all his strength and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. He whispers “I’m sorry” over and over while you shudder against his chest. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I should not have accused you of sleeping with an enemy when I know you would never.” Another kiss to your temple, then one to your cheek. “I let my jealousy overrule my thoughts. I am so sorry.”

You hiccup again as you turn your face to press your forehead against his neck and bring one of your wrists down to wipe the tears from your face. “We were both wrong,” you tell him. “I misread the situation and didn’t give you the opportunity to explain. I just jumped to my own conclusions and caused this whole mess. I’m sorry.” 

Your throat is raw from your earlier activities and your crying spell, but you feel so much better now that your feelings are out in the open and you’re communicating about how’ve you’ve wronged each other. 

Cassian pulls away slightly and moves his hand from the nape of your neck to smooth along your cheek to collect the tears that are still there. His eyes are soft and sorrowful as he sees what he’s done to you. He makes a silent vow to never be the reason you cry again.

“It hurt to not be near you these past days,” Cassian whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “We’ll promise to talk everything out from now on, yes? 

“Yes.”

You both close your eyes and breathe each other in.

***

You wake late in the evening, the suns a few moments from setting. You feel Cassian’s warm breath against the back of your neck and his whole body as he cradles you from behind. You smile at the closeness, once again relieved that you both apologized and confessed your feelings for each other. 

Cassian escorted you back to the master sleeping quarters when he realized just how exhausted you were after this morning’s events. He’d slipped your dress from your form and pulled the covers up around your shoulders when you slid onto the bed. He crawled in on the other side and moved closer, placing a kiss in your hair before wrapping his arms around you.

You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe. If the universe was kind, you would willingly spend the rest of your existence just like this. You turn over as softly as you can, not wanting to jostle Cassian. When you’re looking into his peacefully sleeping face, you can’t help but lift a hand and trace along his features with the back of one finger.

Cassian’s eyes open for a brief moment before closing again, a hum escaping his lips. You laugh softly at his unwillingness to wake up and continue your tracing.

“We should probably check on the status of everything,” you whisper. “We’ve been MIA for a while now.”

“We have, haven’t we?” Cassian’s gruff voice responds. He lets out a deep sigh and pulls the arm that was around your waist up to catch your hand. “Tickles,” he murmurs while twining your fingers together and leaving them to rest on the pillow between your faces.

What’s a few more minutes going to hurt?

***

This is not good.

Cassian had just called you over to review footage and audio that has been recorded inside your suite from the past couple of days. You noticed an odd gap of time between when one crewmate entered the hallway leading to your private quarters and when they returned. This in and of itself wouldn’t have been enough to warrant any worry, but you saw them slip a piece of your Rebellion issued surveillance equipment into one of the pockets of their uniform as they walked away.

There is no way some common staff member could have found some of the only evidence linking you and Cassian to the Rebellion. No way unless they were smart enough and trained in the same occupation as you. 

You’ve masqueraded as household staff enough times that you should have realized that this was a distinct possibility when hiring a crew to keep up appearances.

You’re barely getting over your shock as you move to watch the next clip of the Adarian’s movements around your quarters. You take note of every movement of their cranial aperture as they scan their surroundings for sounds. Cassian had risen from his seat beside you in order to confirm that one of your signal jammers had indeed gone missing and to then send an encrypted message to Mon Mothma and General Draven to let them know you are now compromised. 

Cassian is just returning to you when you come to the last holovid recording. He’s too riled to sit down again, so he stands behind your chair and lays a hand on your shoulder. You place your hand over his and worry your lip.

You watch as the Adarian closes their eyes and presses their head against a wall adjacent to the entryway from the landing pad. You're wondering what they could be hearing when Cassian’s hand grips your shoulder.

You look up at him and open your mouth to ask what the problem is, but he stops you.

“Look at the time.”

You furrow your brows and glance at the timestamp. Your blood runs cold in your veins.

“They heard us...” you breathe to Cassian as you tighten your hold on him.

“I mentioned buying ammunition for the Rebellion…” Cassian remembers out loud. Your lip is nearly bleeding with how hard your teeth are working it.

“Kriff,” you mutter.

Cassian flexes his fingers under yours before sliding back across the room to update the message to your superiors about your immediate removal from the situation. You ponder the implications of ending the mission here, now, and realize that if someone knew enough to plant a spy within the staff that the Rebellion hired directly, then they knew enough to be dangerous.

You stop Cassian before he can send for an escape vehicle. “This is the only one that has shown any subversive behavior.” You begin. “We need to follow them and find out who planted them here.” Your eyes bore into his as he takes the time to deliberate between escape and possible death.

Cassian finally assents. “They’re to finish their shift in the next standard hour, so we’ll have an opportunity then.”

You spend what little time you have planning the recon details with heads together and hushed voices.

***

The alias given by the Adarian, Sulet, didn’t turn up anything useful when the Rebellion ran the initial background check before they were employed, so you are now confident that this is a false identity. Their history is incredibly detailed and in-depth, so whoever they work for has good connections.

You and Cassian follow Sulet onto a hyperbus that takes you to another sector close by, where they are soon picked up by a private hovercraft. You have to commandeer a speeder left nearby, deftly connecting wires and slinging yourself onto the vehicle. The small seat has you pressed up against Cassian’s back and feeling his muscles move as he steers. 

Cassian follows the craft from a distance that still allows him to watch its movements, but not be detected by the passenger. The insane traffic pattern soaring between the buildings on different levels makes you glad that Cassian is the one driving and not you, since your eyes are watering from the wind. You have a hard time focusing on anything further away than Cassian’s elegant neck and windswept hair. You burrow your head between his shoulder blades to escape the biting wind as you both race after the hovercraft.

You feel the speeder slow as the hovercraft drops Sulet off at some upper level quarters. The prime location and size alone tells you that they have the credits to employ their own personal spy.

You watch from above as the Adarian looks around furtively and moves inside.

“What do you think?” You ask Cassian.

“It could be a trap,” he replies. “They were smart enough to figure out we’re part of the Rebellion, they had to have known we’d be able to follow them at any point in time.” He peers down at the unassuming penthouse below.

“Especially with that device and what they heard this morning after we… after.” You blush profusely at the memories that are only hours old and remembering how loud you were when you came on Cassian’s hard…

Stop it.

“We need to be careful,” Cassian murmurs. “Backup will not arrive for a while yet.”

You nod against his shoulder blade and have him settle the speeder down onto the same landing pad the hovercraft dropped the Adarian off. You grasp your blaster firmly in your hands, ready to defend yourself. Cassian follows you as you both dismount and make your way slowly and cautiously to the doors.

You settle either side of the opening and look into each other’s eyes, signaling your readiness after not hearing anything from inside. You both jump away from the wall and bring your blasters up, pointing directly into the darkened living space. There is no sign of movement, the Adarian nowhere to be found.

Sparing a quick glance at Cassian, he motions for you to search your half of the room. You nod. Creeping along the wall, you scan behind the sofa and nudge the window coverings.

Nothing.

You look over to Cassian and find him already looking your way. He shakes his head, not having found anyone either.

“I don’t like this,” you mouth. Cassian agrees with another head shake.

You’re just turning to face the closed door keeping you both out of the rest of the home, when the door suddenly flies open and there’s a blaster pointed right at you.

Your eyes widen in surprise. Your training kicks in and your blaster seems to aim itself while you dodge for cover. Your blaster isn’t the only one that had gone off – Cassian slams into the cushions behind you and rolls down to crouch on the floor with you, his blaster smoking.

Adrenaline is high as you and Cassian take turns to give covering fire as you make your way slowly back towards the landing pad and your stolen speeder. You’re hunched behind a sturdy end table, waiting for your blaster to cool off, while Cassian fires on your assailants. He’s positioned not far from you, his back to the exit to cover your next move so he doesn’t see the figure land just outside the doors.

“Cassian!” you yell desperately, reaching a hand towards him to drag him down and out of the way of blaster fire. Your gun is still too hot, incapable of taking out the figure that has the two of you pinned down. Your hand clutches Cassian’s shirt, twisting him and throwing him down to the floor on your other side. Unfortunately, his weight destabilizes your center of balance, causing your bent legs to give way and making you topple sideways over Cassian’s now prone figure.

A sharp pain slams into your left shoulder blade. You cry out, but still whirl around to fire, hoping beyond hope that your blaster has had enough time to equilibrate. A bright red beam soars from your gun and hits your opponent square in the chest. They go down with a soft thud, leaving your escape path clear.

You turn back to Cassian, planning to grab him and run, but you’re frozen by the look on his face and his hands around his throat. Cassian sputters as if he can’t breathe, trying desperately to claw at his throat to relieve whatever invisible force is closing his airways.

Force.

Maker be damned.

You move your eyes back to the doorway where all your adversaries had seemed to pour only moments ago. Bodies litter the ground, the Adarian’s among them, courtesy of your and Cass’s excellent aim, but there was one person still standing.

A familiar figure you hadn’t seen since you kicked her out of your ‘home’ at your first party.

Your mother stands there, one hand directed at Cassian, fingers curling inward.

“Daughter,” she greets smugly.

“Let him go.” Your voice comes out as a hiss, spitting venom towards the woman in front of you. You already have your blaster pointed directly at her head.

Your mother clucks her tongue. “Now, now, dear. You wouldn’t want to make me kill your husband now, would you?” 

Her fingers come closer together, and Cassian falls to his knees. Your heart twists in your chest at seeing Cassian in pain, but you dare not take your eyes and your aim from your mother.

“Stop.”

“Lower the weapon and I’ll let him go,” she croons with a smile on her face. She is enjoying watching you plead for Cassian’s life. You’re tempted for a split second to do as she says, but Cassian interrupts you before you even move.

“No. Princessa, no,” he gasps. “Kill her.”

Your eyes meet his, and you see determination blazing through him. His strength lends you the power to turn back to your mother and pull the trigger.

Instead of your finger squeezing the trigger, you feel it extending away. You curse and try with all your might to fire your blaster.

Tutting softly, your mother shakes her head.

“I was giving you one last opportunity, daughter.”

Her fingers close the gap between each other and Cassian slumps to the floor.

“NO!” you scream, panicked. You watch Cassian’s chest for any sign of movement, but before you can confirm anything, you feel your own throat being squeezed.

You gasp and turn your focus back on your mother, trying desperately to think of any way out of this before you, too, lost consciousness.

A short sigh leaves your mother’s mouth. “Look what you’ve done, now.”

“Me?” you struggle past your lips. “This is all you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “This is all because of you. Everything I do is because of you.”

Rage burns through you and your words come out icy. “Everything you’ve ever done is all for yourself, mother.” You take as deep of a breath as you can to continue. “Nothing you ever did benefited me.”

“I made you strong,” she growls.

“You abused me!” you cry. Big, fat tears drop from your eyes and what little breath you’ve been able to pull in leaves you in stuttered breaths. “My entire childhood was ruined because of you! My only solace, my only happiness, my only friends. You made them think I was dead!”

“Friends,” she scoffs, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “We don’t need friends. We’re better than everyone else! They should worship us, our strength, our power! We are above them!”

“No,” you whisper out. “We are not better than anyone. We are not anything! You! You think that way. You hurt and maimed and killed so many people because you thought it was entertaining! Because you thought it would teach me ‘strength’.” 

There’s blackness creeping along the outsides of your vision, all the air you’re expelling in your tirade causing a loss of oxygen in your lungs and brain, your heart pumping overtime to accommodate. You gasp big, heaving breaths as you collect yourself.

Your mother stands rooted, anger apparent in the severe set of her mouth and deeply furrowed brows. Her eyes could set the whole city on fire.

You know that there is no coming back from this moment – that whatever happens here, there will only be one of you to make it out alive.

The problem you’re facing now is that you haven’t used your power in years. Over a decade, maybe. The mental muscles you used in adolescence have atrophied in the years that you’ve pushed this part of yourself into the background, trying to forget. 

You pull with all your might, forcing your awareness to focus on your mother. You search deep within her, past organs, past muscle, past tendons. You reach into her cells, finding those miniscule particles she had taught you were the key to your powers. 

You call out to them. Asking, begging, pleading them to obey you. Wanting them to do something that will stop your mother.

Stop her from killing you now. Stop her from hurting Cassian any further – if it wasn’t already too late. Stop her from continuing on this dark path that can only lead to death and destruction.

You feel a rush when the little beings begin to vibrate. It begins as a quiet little shiver, but slowly builds.

Your mother’s eyes widen in fright, her focus broken between cutting off your air or protecting herself from you.

“What are you doing?!” she shouts, arms quivering. She can barely stand, her legs are bowing at the knees and she begins to sink down onto the ground.

The shivering envelopes her cells, vibrates her muscles, quakes her entire body, until she can no longer maintain her hold over you. She collapses forward, crying helplessly. 

The rage you’ve suppressed for your entire life boils through your veins, setting you alight. You feel good. Strong. Stronger than you’ve ever felt; the trials and tribulations she put you through growing up not even comparable to your feelings now. 

“Please. Please! Daughter, stop! Stop!” she sobs into the carpet, curling into herself as if to protect herself from a violent beating, from a violent person. 

But no other threat exists. Only you.

“Why?” you whisper hoarsely, voice barely loud enough to cross the distance between you and your pathetically weeping mother. “You never did.”

With a violent yank, you grab onto the essence within your mother, pulling it away from her and towards you.

She screams for a split second as the power leaves her body, and then she falls unconscious. All the power that once filled her now dances around you. You can feel the energy they house, their want of a new host, their preference for you.

You allow them in.

There’s a tingling sensation across your skin, a warmth enfusing into your blood. You shiver softly, close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. You feel at peace, calm. All your worries have disappeared knowing that your mother could never hurt you again.

A pained groan fills the silence that had settled around you. You jolt, realizing that you need to check on Cassian.

Feeling immensly guilty for taking so long but also incredibly grateful that he is still alive, you rush over to his side. He still lays on the floor with his eyes closed, but you see his chest moving rhythmically with each breath. As you place a hand on his chest, Cassian’s eyes flutter open.

You grin down at him, enjoying the contact as he places his hand over yours.

“You…” he breathes. “You did it.”

“Yes,” you say. “I did. Finally.”

Cassian smiles up at you, pride evident in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Princessa.”

The warmth from both the power and Cassian’s hand travels to your heart, filling it with love and hope for a long life with the man here with you. 

“Come on,” you urge gently, tugging Cassian into a sitting position so that you can help him stand. “Let’s get back to base so that you can rest.”

Cassian comes to his feet and you pull one of his arms over your shoulders, allowing him to place his weight against you. You both begin to shuffle away when Cassian turns his head to look back over his shoulder.

“What about her?” he questions.

You glance back as well to see the crumpled woman on the floor. You no longer feel any fear, or anger, or hatred towards her. You feel nothing at all.

“I honestly don’t care,” you reply. “When our backup gets here, they can take her or leave her. I don’t care what happens to her after today.”

Cassian reaches across his body and clasps your hand within his. He gives a firm squeeze, then interlocks your fingers. Placing a soft kiss on your temple, he urges you to keep moving forward.

As you both walk into the fading sunset, you see a picture in your mind. A murkiness around the edges trying to invade the focal point of the image. But that center pulses with an overwhelming feeling of love, and safety, and contentment. 

You and Cassian stand together inside the image, holding onto each other and never letting go.

[mosylufanfic]

Rebelcaptain + 90 🥹 (also hi love your work <3)

90: "You can tell me anything."

Send Me a Prompt for 100 Ways to Say I Love You

Things Unsaid

The door to his room unlocked and zipped open, but Cassian didn't lift his head. He just kept working, doggedly throwing algorithms against the newest iteration of Imperial code, hoping for a crack.

She paused just inside the door, probably waiting for some kind of reaction. He studied the results on his pad. 

Her boots crossed the room, and she came around the side of his chair, leaning her butt against the edge of his desk. She crossed her arms, her gaze drilling into the side of his head.

With a sigh, he set the datapad down and lifted his eyes to hers. "Surprised you're not in the brig. Assaulting a superior officer and all."

She shrugged. "She was asking for it."

"She had a point."

Read More on AO3

[willie-the-tree]

Back to re-reading all my bookmarked Rebelcaptain and Andor fics!

Here’s a short and sweet one shot from @unstable-reality

It features all my favorite things, namely (1) Cassian whump & (2) caretaker Jyn. What can I say I’m a woman of simple tastes.

[uwingdispatch]

Endlessly

Endlessly

Notes: Cassian Andor/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, disabled reader, domestic fluff, fluff and angst

**CW: **chronic illness, migranes disability, implied sexual intimacy, 

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You’d had plans this weekend. You and Cassian were meant to be in hyperspace right now, on your way to visit friends. But you knew this morning you’d have to call off the trip. You’d told Cassian to go without you. That you had Arseven, your support droid, and could call someone if there was an emergency. But he wouldn’t even consider it.

And as the sun begins to set you’re thanking the stars that Seven has somehow convinced the pharmacy droid to give you just enough migraine tablets until your doctor can see you next week.

In the kitchen the kettle whistles and you grit your teeth, hissing as you squeeze your eyes closed. Cassian curses as he rushes from where he’s sitting to stop the noise.

You open your eyes when you hear him set a tea cup on the living room table. He sits down next to you on the sofa and you curl into his body, laying your head on his chest, the softness his clean cotton t-shirt cozy and warm.

“Sorry about the kettle,” he says. “I wish you would let me take you to the clinic. At least let me make you something to eat.”

“Seven will be back with my meds soon,” you say. “I shouldn’t have let my prescription lapse.”

Tenderly, Cassian cups your face in his hand, kisses your temple. “I should have reminded you.”

“You know I hate when you do that. It isn’t your fault.”

“You just don’t seem like yourself, my heart,” he says, holding you close. “You’re sure you don’t want to see a doctor? There’s a Navy neurologist who owes me a favor—”

The door clicks and slides open and Arseven rolls straight into your living room, whistling and chirping her concern.

“You are a miracle, Seven,” you tell her as she hands you your pills. “This will help so much. Can you bring me my canteen? I think I left it in the bedroom.”

Kay lumbers in from the garage. “No improvement?” he asks.

He’d found you in tears last night, after Seven had docked into her charging station. You hadn’t wanted to wake Cassian as he’d been sleeping poorly over the last few days, dealing with a nasty bout of insomnia. But Kay had heard you when you dropped a bag of ice on the kitchen floor. Despite his own medical protocols, he decided to wake up Cassian himself.

“Not yet,” you say. “But soon, I think. Thank you for taking Seven to the pharmacy.”

“I can’t remember the last time you had a headache this bad,” Cassian says.

Seven hands you your canteen as she rattles off a date in beeps and chirps. It’s a date long before the little astromech had been a mainstay in your life, and Cassian appears startled.

“How do you know that?” Cassian asks.

Seven whistles low: Medical records.

You watch his face while he puts it together. He’d been on Tatooine when that happened. And you hadn’t heard from him for two weeks. “You never told me you were sick while I was gone.”

“When you got back, I was just so relieved to see you. And I wasn’t sick anymore, so…I didn’t want to put that on you and chase you off again.”

You take your meds and close your eyes. With any luck the pain will abate soon and you’ll be able to eat something and keep it down. Seven tells you to call if you need anything before retreating to the backyard where she’s been helping Kay with a project in the garden.

“Hey,” Cassian whispers, caressing your face. “You could never chase me off. Not then, and not now.”

You thread your fingers through his long, dark hair and he brings his forehead to yours. There is nothing he could say that isn’t said in this touch.

“I believe you,” you say.

“Is the medicine helping?”

“It is.”

“Can I make you dinner?”

“Stay here with me, Cass,” you say. “Just a little bit longer.”

*

It was raining when he called, late into fall, the kind of night where you could see your own breath when you went outside to pick up a parcel that had been delivered. It had been a few weeks since you’d heard from Cassian, and it was just like him to call at midnight and tell you he needed to see you.

You’d been starting to wonder if something horrible had happened. And you were tired—this was the second time he’d disappeared like this with no communication. And last time he’d said it wasn’t something he did regularly, it had been an emergency. And you'd believed him—you still believed him—but you didn't know how much of this your heart could take. You hadn’t quite been together a year, but your relationship had gotten so intense so quickly and now you weren’t sure what to do.

But this was Cassian. Of course you told him he could come by.

When there was a knock at the door, your stomach flipped. Still you let the door slide open for him. He looked half-drowned, his hair dripping wet, his jacket soaked. When you took his hand, it was freezing cold.

“You came here on that?” you asked, noting the speederbike parked outside. “In the rain?”

“I needed the clarity,” Cassian said. “And my speeder is in the shop. It’s a long story.”

You let him inside and he shrugged out of his wet jacket and hung it up—something he usually didn’t do. Somehow this worried. you.

Pulling you toward him, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before stepping back, realizing he couldn’t kiss this better. Knowing you had every reason to be upset.

“I know what this looks like—” he started. But you cut him off.

“Just tell me,” you said. “If this isn’t going to work out. If there’s someone else. Just tell me, Cassian. I’m exhausted.”

“No,” he said. “Of course not. There’s no one. Nothing like that. I just got caught up in something…delicate.”

“You mean dangerous.”

“Yes.”

You turned from him for a moment, mumbling that he was dripping all over you floor. As you went to the hall closet, you wondered how he could possibly make sense of this. Despite the baggage each of you brought to the relationship, you’d gotten through the high holidays with just a few hiccups. You’d both grown comfortable. He was at your place more often than not before this disappearance. More than once he’d used the word forever. So this? It was not only a breach of trust, but anxiety-provoking. Painful, even.

You returned with towels, throwing one to the floor where a puddle had started to form. Cassian took the other and began to dry off. Somehow, for a moment, everything seemed normal. But the truth still hung in the air like a fog.

“I didn’t hear from you for three weeks, Cassian.”

He let out a long breath. “I lost my comm on Tatooine. Mos Espa. I owed someone a favor. Someone you don’t say no to. I didn’t want to contact you on any comms I wasn’t in complete control of. Safety in Mos Espa—”

“I know about Mos Espa.”

“So you understand.”

“I understand that you’ve told me that this is the kind of thing you left behind.”

“It is,” he said, hanging his damp towel on a hook next to his coat. “It’s not who I am anymore. It’s not who I want to be, at least.”

“Okay.” Your breath hitched at the idea of Cassian owing favors to a cartel on Tatooine.  “Where’s Kay? I couldn’t reach him either.”

“He’s been with Jyn. Sensitive Navy business. I don’t even know exactly what they’re doing.”

“I hate this.”

“I know, my heart.” He held out his arm. “May I?”

You nodded and he pulled you into his embrace.

“I thought you were ignoring my messages,” you said. “I thought maybe you were leaving and didn’t want to deal with a goodbye.”

“I do hate goodbyes,” he said. “But I’d never leave you like that.” He paused. “Truthfully, as long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave you at all.”

From the corner of your eye you spot a pair of his boots, left here before his unplanned trip to Tatooine. You’d looked at them every time you left your apartment, wondering where he was, what you’d done wrong, whether he was okay. But now you remembered the night he told you about the Imperial prison, how he escaped with Melshi, no shoes on either of them, how their feet were raw and bloodied when they finally made it to safety. How all of this had spilled out of him when you told him you liked his new boots. You took a deep breath, considering how much of his life he’d offered to you, the kinds of things he didn’t tell anyone else.

Cassian caressed your back, his hand running softly over your thin t-shirt as he held you close. “I don’t owe any more favors to anyone you wouldn’t want to invite to dinner,” he said.

And you laughed then, looking up into his warm, brown eyes. You knew he was a skilled liar—because he’d told you as much. It came with the job, with what he used to do. But he’d also told you he’d never lie to you, and he’d never given you any reason to doubt his honesty.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You replied, “I know.”

“I tried to send you a message from the ship’s comms, but I was out of range. It couldn’t find your device,” he said. “I just had to hope that when I got back I’d still have your trust.”

You reached to touch his face, every fiber of your being knowing that had any other man done something like this you wouldn’t have even let him in the door tonight. “You’ll earn it back,” you said.

“I will,” he said. “You have my word. This…was unintentional. But you deserve better. I know that.”

“Then you’ll do better,” you said, letting him lean in until his nose brushed against yours.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

And when you said yes he kissed you with a desperation you hadn’t experienced before—somehow both apology and catharsis, his lips capturing yours deep into a promise you wouldn’t soon forget.

“You’re shivering.” you said, pulling back for a moment, noting the goosebumps along Cassian’s muscular arms, realizing he’d only been wearing a white undershirt under the wet jacket he’d shed as soon as he’d come in the door. “Take off your shoes. Let me get you warm.” You took his hand, leading him to your bedroom.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to,” he said as you ease his t-shirt over his head.

“Cassian,” you said, “all I want right now is you.”

*

You’d forgotten that this medication had a tendency to knock you out. And when you wake, still on the couch, the sun has fully set. Your tooka-cat has curled up around your knees and you can feel him purring. You sit up, trying to shake sleep from your head.

“I was wondering if you’d wake, my heart” Cassian says. He’s at the kitchen island, slicing fresh bread. “Do you think you can eat something for me?”

You smile. “Yeah…I’m pretty hungry actually.”

“Good,” he says. “It’s just some noodles and broth. I threw in some of the veggies Seven brought in from the garden. You think you can handle that?”

Cassian brings you a bowl of noodles and a slice of buttered bread. He’s taken to wearing an oversized cardigan around the house, and there’s something sweet and vulnerable about it. You know the hardened soldier is still in there, but it’s good to see how comfortable in himself he’s grown since you first met. How much his walls have come down.

The tooka jumps up and heads to the kitchen, crying for his dinner. You’re about to get up to feed him but Cassian eases you back down onto the sofa. “Eat, darling. I’ll take care of the little beast.”

You hear him pouring the kibble, cooing at the pet he always claimed to dislike but who had taken to him the first night you’d let the man into your home. When Cassian returns to your side, he has a bowl of noodles for himself. You eat together in comfortable silence for a while. Outside, the rain has started to come down.

“This tastes like home,” you say.

Cassian looks startled. “Like home?” he asks.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” he says, resting his hand gently on your knee. “It’s just that…my mother used to say that. There was this one meal my father used to make, back on Ferrix, before things got bad. It wasn’t anything fancy, but…she always said that it tasted like home.” He pauses. “Stars, they would have loved you.”

You place your empty bowl on the table next to his, reach out to take his hand, and squeeze. He pulls you toward him, presses a sweet kiss to your lips, caresses your cheek with his fingertips, his hands so soft now, so far from the years of combat and struggle.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “I’d really like to take you to bed.”

“Would you?” you ask.

He kisses your jaw, your neck, pushes aside the collar of your shirt to kiss your collarbone. “I would.”

You stand, offering him your hand as he gets up from the sofa, leading him to the bedroom where your clothes soon find their way to the floor. The rain is coming down hard as you ease your way under the covers, Cassian on top of you, your hands sliding from his firm chest to his bearded jaw and into his hair.

“I love you,” he says, his hand making its way over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

And he kisses you again before you can tell him that you love him, too. Because he knows. You both know. As he ducks under the covers you hear him whisper something in Kenari, a term of endearment and a promise. A word that doesn’t have an equivalent Basic, the closest word being “eternal.” But so much sentiment is lost in that translation.

And as the rain pounds on the transparisteel of your bedroom windows, you thank the stars that this gentle man somehow managed to make it across the stars to you. That you both survived all that you did to hold each other close both in times of crisis and in times like this as he kisses your tummy, whispering words you can’t entirely make out as he eases his way toward your pleasure.

Tomorrow, you think—tomorrow you will take care of him the way he took care of you today. Maybe a small outing, something to make up for your missed trip. Because even though he’s the first one to tell you that he doesn’t deserve happiness, that there’s blood on his hands, that he’ll never wipe the slate clean—he’s wrong. Cassian deserves the galaxy, and if you can, you’ll give it to him.  

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this fic makes you feel seen and loved, especially as we enter the holiday season which I know can be difficult for a lot of us.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @zinzinina @princessxkenobi @aerynwrites @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @multifandom-fic-rec-blog @septimaseverinafavfanfic @feyredarling92 @againstacecilia @elasticreality @zombiedixon89 @forresway @diaryofkali @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian @slytherinlyn314 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @lyuir

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

(My) Top Three Whump Fics

It was so hard to choose - I have an entire google docs file with 200+ fics that I love. So here are just three of my favourite whumpy fics that were written/posted this year!

Number One

Title: ‘We’re In This Together’ by Padria95 (Rogue One)

AO3 Summary: The Empire still looms over their heads, but Jyn can't help thinking that she can't really remember a time when she felt happier. Friends surround her, mission after mission with the Rebellion is successful, and she and Cassian are both lowering their walls to let each other in.But then, a series of unfortunate events strikes. First, a rescue mission that Jyn and Cassian do not return from unscathed. And then, when they’ve barely had time to recover from it, an entire Alliance base faces destruction. Cassian races to save their allies, forced to confront an entire fleet of Star Destroyers in only a single ship. Sure, it might be the Millennium Falcon, but it’s still just one ship. Cassian has always made it back to Jyn, has always come back for her. Will he be able to one more time?

Notes: An awesome fic depicting the blooming relationship between Cassian and Jyn. So tense and brilliantly written medical scenes. Both Cassian and Jyn whump! 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9913952/chapters/22216826

Number Two

Title: ‘Handle With Care’ by quill_le_hedgehog (The Boys)

AO3 Summary: After Hughie's injury in 'The Bloody Doors Off', Butcher, Starlight, and the rest of the team must work together to get him back to their bunker and help him recover

Notes: Sweet and angsty with a side of great characterisation and writing. I find that some people go ‘overboard’ with Butchers dialogue/mannerisms (e.g, c*nt being in every line of dialogue) but Quill here writes him brilliantly!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41981595/chapters/105394308

Number Three

Title: ‘The Weight of the Dead’ by Taste_is_Sweet (Rogue One)

Ao3 Summary: Cassian knows exactly what he wants to have happen after he dies. Jyn has some feelings about that.

Notes: This is another fantastic one - it’s a Rogue One fix-it of sorts that explores Jyn and Cassian’s budding relationship, as well as Melshi’s friendship with Cassian. Plenty of hurt and comfort as well as an exploration into death rituals of Star-Wars cultures. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43660129

[wild-karrde]

If I might recommend my own series? 👀 It’s a collection of (unrelated) one-shots surrounding my many different blorbos - I’m especially proud of Drifting On The Winds (Tech angst) because he’s my favourite to write

HECK YES YOU CAN! In fact, it is HIGHLY ENCOURAGED!

This is QUITE the collection and seemingly has a little bit of everything! As someone that thinks about Kino Loy A LOT and is constantly hoping he's safe and alright, I can honestly say you're fic No Way Out GUTTED MEEEEEE. I know it's short, but OOOOF OUCH that moment of realization, and the outcome are DEVASTATING. And it's so beautifully written! Thanks so much for sending this in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[jomiddlemarch]

The other night I was having trouble going to sleep and then I imagined setting up a nice house/apartment for Cassian Andor with a bed tucked under a curved stone eave and piled up with quilts and blankets, a window-sill full of plants, a table and two chairs (so Jyn or Bix or hell, this is my bedtime AU, Nemik) can come over/live there and eat dinner there with Cassian and I drifted off trying to decide whether to give him a hand-knotted rug under the bed so he could walk around barefoot when he woke up or whether that would be too fussy.

[kaylakenobi]

⚠️ANDOR EPISODE 12 SPOILER⚠️

.

.

.

.

"Kill me, or take me in."

Screaming crying throwing up punching the air rolling on the ground slamming my head against the wall ripping my hair out throwing myself into a volcano

[ghostofskywalker]

🎃 ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*

Can I pretty please request something with Cassian andor??? It can be literally anything the Cassian tag is dryer than a desert 🥲

happy halloween 👻 hope you enjoy, it's some fluffy hurt/comfort

You should have known trying to hide anything from him would be an impossible feat, but you were willing to try anyway. 

K2 and Cassian were sitting in the cockpit of the ship and arguing about which was the best route to take back to the base, so you thought you were safe as you sat down on the makeshift bunk and pulled out the medkit that was stashed below it. The wound on your upper arm stung and continued to bleed, but you were sure that with a little rest and a well-placed bacta patch, things would be good as new in a rotation or two, with no other fuss or extreme worry needed. 

You hissed under your breath as you pulled the fabric of your sleeve away from the cut, and in an instant, Cassian was by your side. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Cleaning up a stab wound and putting bacta on it,” you said matter-of-factly, not really looking up at him as you focused the task in front of you. 

Cassian paused before rustling around in his pocket, and you could hear him pull out his comm device. “I’m alerting the medbay that we’ll be coming by the moment we dock,” he said, reaching out to take the bacta patch from your hand as he put the comm back. 

“Cassian, it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t need to go to the medbay.” 

“Really?” he asked, the look on his face one of admonishment. “Because this looks pretty bad to me.” 

“Nah, it’s just the blood,” you said, reaching into the kit for a wipe. “Once I clean it up it’ll be fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” 

“I will always worry about you,” he said, sighing in exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell me that you had gotten hurt while we were out there?"

You shrugged, a smile spreading across your face despite the pain. “Wow, you’d think this is our stab wound.” 

Your attempts to lighten the mood clearly did not work, and Cassian just looked at your with his eyebrows raised. As the two of you stared at each other and more time passed, it was clear that you were not going to win this time. “Fine,” you huffed playfully. “I’ll go to the medbay when we get back to base.” 

“Good,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now let me help clean your wound.” 

As his gentle hands began to wipe away the blood and affix the bacta patch to your injured arm, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the galaxy you got so lucky to have him as a partner.

[pedropascallme]

Silence the Night

Pairing: sick!Cassian x gn!Reader

Summary: “Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely.”

Warnings: None :) Comfort and fluff with sick Cass.

AN: Post-Andor S1, pre-Rogue One. Yeah this plot makes little to no sense but give a girl a break. Sometimes I need to write silly little things about my silly little babygirl. 

“Let me in.”

You flipped yourself over, staring at the ceiling from the comfort of your bunk having been pulled from your admittedly light sleep by the familiar voice on the other side of the door. There was no time for idling in the rebel barracks; meals were eaten quickly, conversations were cut short, sleep was not a given, and neither was coming home at the end of the day. Suffice to say, despite the stifled urgency in Cassian’s voice, you hesitated to let him in after the rude awakening he had caused you after a day of running in every direction. 

You heard a near whine of your name as Cassian continued his plea for you to open up. “I know you’re here. Come on!” He knocked on the metal that divided the two of you, then let out what you assumed was a sneeze. Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely. His sunken eyes were red around the edges and glassy. You frowned.

“See, there you go!” He pushed past you and into your room, “Not so hard to just open up.” He stripped off the tan jacket he loved so dearly and threw it onto the chair pushed into the small desk that took up the far-left corner of the room before falling backwards onto your bunk, arms spread above his head. He had gotten as comfortable in your room as you had in his; most intervals between flight patrol were spent together, most meals were eaten together, most secrets shared. He was the first person that had made you feel like you were meant to be rebelling, he had put effort into showing you that you had a place in these barracks and in this fight—and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, though he could be a pain in the ass.

 “Cassian,” you closed the door, flicking on the overhead light as you turned to face him, watching him blink to get used to the brightness, “why are you here?”

“Ouch.” He moved a hand to cover his chest, shielding his heart from your words.

“Why are you here right now?”

“To hang out with you.” He rolled over on the mattress and shifted his body upwards to grab your pillow and cradle it to his chest.

“I can’t—” You hardly managed to get the words out before he was tsking you.

“You’re not on the schedule for the next 8 hours.” He chided.

“I want to use those to sleep!”

“So, sleep. I’ll stay here.” He sat up and patted the place beside him to coax you toward him. You crossed your arms. 

“Cassian.” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” He sneezed again, trying to muffle it in his shoulder.

“Are you sick?” 

“No. Allergies.” He was trying to sound confident, but the quick counter gave away his defensive attitude. 

“You’re an awful liar. Get off my bed.” You walked over to him, attempting to pull him off the bunk to no avail. 

He protested by going limp and falling onto his back. “Let me stay.” He looked up at you, brown eyes pleading and hair falling over his forehead. “I can be quiet.”

“No, you can’t. And I’m more worried about you getting me sick.” 

“I won’t!” He sneezed, then smiled at you sheepishly.

You sighed, looking over at the clock on the desk and taking in the fact that arguing with Cassian had, per usual, taken up far more time than it was worth. You sat next to him, defeated. He hummed in content.

“I’m going to sleep.” You waved him off as he sat up to meet your gaze. “Are you just going to sit and watch me? Like some beady-eyed porg?”

“I’ll sleep, too.” He resigned to the fact that, although he had won a battle, you would not forgo the rest you so desperately wanted. You made a noise of approval, reaching for the pillow he had moved to the foot of the bed so that you could put it back in its necessary position. You crawled under the sheet and watched as Cassian took off his boots before turning off the light and coming to lie next to you. He positioned himself above the sheet, letting out a string of coughs and resting his head at a distance from yours on the other pillow.

“Don’t cough on me.” You mumbled, closing your eyes.

“I didn’t cough on you.” 

“You coughed near me.”

“That’s not at all the same thing.” He turned his head to look at you, waiting to see if he could goad you into another argument. You swatted at his chest. 

It wasn’t unusual to share a bed with another person on the base; between away missions and overcrowding and all the drills, you couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the times you had huddled into a cot with another rebel. It was always more welcome when that rebel was Cassian, not only because of the familiarity you felt around him, not only because of the attraction to him that you tried to keep at bay, but mostly because of the blanket of protection he seemed to offer you. He was by no means a watchdog—he slept far too deeply to offer any sort of intruder alert—but his frame felt like a sort of safe haven from the galaxy at large. You had never found the courage to admit that to him, and expected that if you ever did, the confession would be met with his usual ribbing. 

Cassian made a low rumbling sound, turning his head away from you to face the wall. You groaned, turning on your side toward him. “Cough.” He did. “Don’t torture yourself on my account, Cass.” You settled back into the mattress in your new position, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t want to disturb you.” He whispered, ignoring the fact that you had addressed him at a normal volume, keeping up the front of really not wanting to get in the way of the sleep you craved. You kicked him lightly from under the sheet and he sneezed in your direction. 

“Don’t be a baby,” you kicked at him again, “and get under the blanket.”

“Why?”

“You’ll sweat out whatever it is you have.” Ultimately, your true intention was to be closer to him, to have him surround you more, but the concept of him recovering from whatever it is he had caught was an appealing one if this is how he was going to act while ill. He relented, pushing himself off the bed with his shoulders and feet to shimmy the sheet down and back over his legs and torso. You remained on your side with him on his back, trying to ignore the way his profile looked and the sounds of chatter and machinery outside your room. It was hard to imagine a life beyond all the pandemonium; at this point in your life, you had gotten used to the all-encompassing cacophony of the galaxy. Having been so young when the Senate came crashing down and the Empire formed from its ashes, there were times where it felt like noise was the only constant, and there was worry that accompanied the thoughts that maybe you would only ever know the tumult of the Empire—the screams and jeers and hushed conversations over fears that, at a certain and much earlier time, would have felt so outlandish, were now just a backing score. You rubbed your eyes and went back to tracing the shape of Cassian’s nose with your eyes. He turned himself on his side to face you, opening his eyes and staring back at you.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, for some reason now genuinely feeling the need to stay hushed.

“We should see if there’s any soup tomorrow…” You murmured, trying to bury yourself into your pillow. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to have been caught staring after putting up such a fight to allow you to fall asleep, it was more so the thought of having been using him as a distraction from the doubt you were plagued with.

“You’re also a terrible liar.” He traced back of his hand over your cheek in an effort to get you to emerge from your pillow. You turned back to him, grateful for the contact he was giving you. You took his hand from your cheek and clasped it in your own.

“What if it’s all for nothing.” You managed to whisper. You didn’t need to clarify what it was you meant, he of all people knew that any effort against the Empire was a long shot.

“It isn’t.” He was blunt, and you didn’t have to look at him to know his face was painted with the same thousand-yard stare you had grown accustomed to seeing him wear. Sometimes you felt guilty when it came to burdening Cassian with your cynicism and all the dread you harbored. He had told you about his childhood, about his foray into the rebellion, detailed how he had overcome all odds—and all you had given in return was your hesitation. 

“And if it is?” He examined you, his smile faded slightly, and even in the darkness of your room you could see how his eyes darted over your face.

“At least we’re doing it together.” He squeezed your hand. It wasn’t a complete answer, not that you had expected one. Nobody on the base would ever bring themselves to really contemplate the repercussions of the whole operation, of any greater failures. Still, the confidence in Cassian’s voice was enough to bring you peace of mind for now, at least. The two of you stayed like that, looking at each other, fingers intertwined and breathing in sync. 

“I feel safer with you, Cassian.” You broke the silence, feeling that now was as good a time as any to disclose the information to him. He said nothing, continuing to look at you and ruminating in the quiet. For a brief moment you felt the sting of rejection, but before you could come to terms with the idea that your confession had gone unheeded, you felt Cassian wrap an arm around you. He pulled you closer to him, pushing his other arm underneath your side to fully sweep you into his embrace. You felt his legs tangle with your own and the room felt soundless; something about how you felt his breath fan the top of your head or how his hands felt spread over your back made you feel a stillness you hadn’t thought possible. 

“You are safe with me.” He mumbled into your hair, and you leaned into him in an attempt to get as close as you possibly could. You felt his heart beating into you from the position you held, and you made a small sound of what was meant to be appreciation. You basked in the quiet, the calm seeping into your aching body and taking hold of your mind, settling your thoughts and insecurities. All you knew in this instant was Cassian, and his warmth, and his voice, and the way he smelled like smoke and x-wing grease and Alliance issued soap. You breathed deeply against him. He made another guttural sound.

“Cough, Cassian.” You whispered against his chest, and he did, trying not to interfere with the comfort you both felt in the newfound arrangement you had found yourselves in. “I was serious about the soup.”

“Mm,” he grunted, “like you were serious about sweating it out?” You smiled, moving your face slightly upwards so you could feel the soft skin of his neck against your nose. He kissed your forehead, his lips making gentle contact and staying pressed to you for a stretch. “Terrible liar.” He chuckled, letting his head drop comfortably on the pillow you now shared. You wriggled an arm out from between your bodies to swat at him again. He sneezed.

[vibrantbirdy]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank the stars, you think.

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

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

"What the hell was that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But today, the man is almost impossible to read.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 year later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just need more time to...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck the Empire."

That'll do it, you think, grimly.

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

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

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

Insurrection is. Dissent.

So today, Cassian dissents.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels like freedom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's instinct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thinks again of his father.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again,” the General seethes.

He wants to. Cassian really, really wants to.

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

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

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

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

You've come back for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cassian?”

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

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

K-2SO is uncharacteristically silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Andor, let me...”

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

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

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

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

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

It's enough for now.

To be continued

[persimminwrites]

thinking about the portrayal of grief in andor

thinking about cassian traveling to morlana one to search for his sister. his determination to find her even though deep down (i believe) he knows it's futile. even though he knows it's reckless to mention kenari and his connection to it. there's a dogged insistence to continue looking for her - a desperation to his actions that he may not be fully aware of because it would be so much harder to come to terms with her death than it is to put himself in danger.

thinking about a young Cassian getting on that crashed ship after one of his people is killed. his anger and frustration and grief spilling out as he begins destroying the thing that brought death to his life. he's confused and distraught and he lashes out physically.

thinking about bix chained to a wall as she's forced to stare at timm's body, unable to go to him - to hold him, forced to be at a distance from him, forced to grieve for him at the tail end of being angry with him for his actions.

thinking about cassian choosing 'clem' as his cover name when he joins the aldhani mission. he picks it on instinct even though he knows that a cover name isn't supposed to have a connection to your personal life. he can't help but reach for the comfort of his father's name when pushed into an uncertain situation.

thinking about lieutenant gorn aiding the rebel alliance. an imperial officer whose love was killed by the empire that he serves. he grieves his love and he grieves for the aldhani people. he carries the weight of his own past actions that played a part in the tragedies that have befallen the aldhani people and he becomes vengeful, knowing and not caring that his actions will likely lead to his death. he only cares about hurting the empire on his way down.

thinking about vel shouting a broken 'no' when taramyn dies in front of her. she never gets to go to him and is forced to leave his body there to finish the mission. she has to harden herself to the loss of the people around her because everyone is always at risk of dying. vel is always grieving. she grieves for her friends even when they are still alive and standing in front of her because she knows that death isn't a matter of if but when.

thinking about cassian and vel watching nemik be crushed by the weight of imperial credits they just stole. vel is forced to decide between the surety of mission success and potentially saving nemik - sweet, wonderful nemik who has more hope and faith than anyone else. Cassian making the decision for her to find the doctor because he told nemik he would sleep when it was over but not like this.

thinking about cassian sitting outside while the doctor tries to save nemik, unable to be at his side, to watch, but unwilling to abandon him even though the job is over.

thinking about vel staying by nemik's side until his death, being forced to listen to and carry his dying wish. her insistence in carrying it out. she holds out his manifesto to cassian and won't back down until he takes it even when there are other concerning things going on.

thinking about cassian immediately refusing nemik's manifesto. he doesn't want a reminder. he does not want to carry the weight of someone's dying wish with him, someone who was so bright and full of life and hope in the short time that he knew him. when vel insists, he takes it. and we see him carry it with him for the rest of the show. he carries that manifesto even when he runs away, seeking an escape. he returns for that manifesto after escaping prison. he listens to that manifesto the night before breaking bix out and it gives him purpose. it gives him comfort. it reminds him of a man who he only knew for a short time but who impacted him deeply. and even though cassian does not carry the physical manifesto again, he carries nemik's words with him for the rest of his life.

thinking about cassian returning to ferrix, his home, and being reminded of clem's death as he walks through the streets avoiding imperial troopers. he is helpless against the onslaught of memories just as he was helpless to do anything but watch all those years ago.

thinking about maarva being unable to walk through the main square where clem was hung. she walks the long way around. until aldhani. aldhani gives her hope and she is able to walk somewhere she wasn't able to before and she is able to face that street and think of clem and she is able to smile.

thinking about all of the prisoners on narkina 5. they are forced to come to terms with the fact that they're already dead, dead men walking. they grieve for themselves. they grieve for those around them. they are pushed to desperation, and they turn that grief into defiance. they fight for their freedom because there is only one way out and they're already dead so what does it hurt to fight to live.

thinking about cassian learning about maarva's death. he is quiet. he is unmoored. he was coming back for her.

thinking about B2EMO not wanting to be alone. he just wants maarva.

thinking about ferrix's funeral traditions, about a community surrounded by grief. it's in the walls that house them. the people of ferrix are surrounded by the dead and their memories become their strength.

thinking about the portrayal of grief in andor and how it shows so many reactions and coping mechanisms and journeys of healing and acceptance along with those who can't find acceptance.

grief is a weight and andor shows us that there are so many ways to carry it.

[mosylufanfic]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso Characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Random Rebel OCs I made up who are dead now Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, (sort of), Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Shower Sex, sad shower sex is that a tag, author loves the trope of 'let's fuck to prove we're still alive' and here we are, I don't know what else to tag this Summary:

“We’re okay.”

She’s quiet for a moment as she clings to him, before she finds it in her to echo, barely above a whisper, “We’re okay.”

It could almost be relief. But it’s a lie, she knows, that they’re both pretending to believe for each other.

Or: the aftermath of a mission gone very wrong.

--

Is this your story? Let me know so I can tag you!

[willie-the-tree]

Hello! A new whumpy Rebelcaptain fic for ya. Mind ye tags.

Cassian, Jyn, Melshi, Bodhi, and Tonc all survived Scarif and continued to fight for the Rebellion. But, in 3 ABY, one of Cassian's missions goes severely awry. His friends must rescue him. How much of him will be left by the time they do?

[marvelous-llama]

Non K-Pop fics recs

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

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pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

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