Authors notes: i am so happy with this one hehehe. So many cliches in one.
Wordcount: 2k
Warnings/Tags: fluff, making out, oblivious female reader, plan-gone-wrong, possibly OOC Cass, reader wears a dress.
Synopsis: Cassian messes up, and you both have to maintain your cover at any cost.
Masterlists
So far as missions went, this one was one the few that you actually found yourself enjoying – well, enjoying in the sense that you had a comfortable hotel room, food, and wore something besides tattered clothing and a thick coating of grime. Dealing with the imps? Not as pleasant.
Your eyes lifted beyond the rim of your champagne flute, searching over the heads of the officers. You had stopped listening to the women that surrounded you a while ago, after the little information they knew had dried out, and they had turned to piling on the compliments for your apparent fiancé instead. It was almost pitiable how little their husbands must pay attention to them, given their propensity for gossip and misplaced adoration, but you were finding it difficult to disagree with them.
It was the one part of the evening that had felt the most natural somehow – the compliments and adoration positively dripping from your tongue whenever you caught sight of Cassian in that suit. Not that you didn’t appreciate his good looks usually, but there was something in the way that the black fabric broadened his shoulders and had him standing just a little straighter that had had your legs crossed for most of the evening. Not to mention the unbelievable ease at which he had fallen into the role of your husband-to-be. Whereas you had been a stuttering mess when such a ruse was suggested in the breifing, he had stepped into it as if it was nothing to him, every compliment, every touch, every gentlemanly act perfectly natural, as if he had been doing it for an age. The more you dwelled on the fact, however, the more your chest ached. It likely was nothing to him…
The liquid in your glass sloshed a little as you jumped at the pair of hands that landed firmly on your shoulders. Pursing your lips and swallowing thickly, you did your best to compose yourself. The roughness of the palms immediately gave up who the offender was before you heard the thick accent.
“Forgive me, ladies, but I fear I must steal my wife away from you for a moment.”
You could hear the strained smile in his voice before you had to turn around, thankful for the opportunity to escape as you slid the half-empty glass back onto the table as you offered them a similarly tight smile.
“I’m not your wife quite yet,” you chuckled softly, finally twisting in your seat to look at Cassian, your easy smile faltering when you saw the alarm flashing in his eyes. It was subtle – so much so that you knew that the women around you were too enamoured with him on the whole to have paid the slightest bit of attention – but you saw it clearly. Something had gone wrong.
“Until next time, ladies,” you tried to brush it off, laughing hollowly and trying not to rush your exit, taking the time to quickly return the friendly cheek kiss of one of the wives, not missing the clenching jaw of your accomplice.
The arm that securely wrapped itself around your waist likely appeared as nothing more than a lover’s clinginess, but the rigidity of the hand on your hip as it steered you towards the door attested to the opposite. “Don’t rush,” Cassian murmured quietly, leaning in and brushing his lips against the shell of your ear, playing the move off as affection with a worryingly practised ease. “Just follow my lead.”
You chuckled again airily, disguising your nod as you leaned further into him, offering some of the officers he had been talking to an hour or so prior a friendly smile as you passed them.
You didn’t hesitate as you reached the corridor, following him as he picked up the pace minutely, keeping subtle tabs on the lingering few that had obviously escaped to the darkened corridor to breathe.
“Cassian,” you started quietly, your heart starting to pick up against your ribs, “What’s—”
Before you could finish your sentence, the arm around your waist tightened, tugging you with him into an alcove you hadn’t even noticed. You say alcove, it was more of a small room, you guessed it was usually used for storage when they were not hosting grand galas, but you had barely any time to think about it before your back hit the wall, knocking some of the air from your lungs.
“Cass!” His name came out as more of a hiss as you scowled at him, searching his face in the pale moonlight for any semblance of an explanation. He was too busy checking around the corner again to pay much attention to you, however. For a brief moment, you wondered if that is why he was standing so close to you, his knee practically propped between your legs as he caged you against the cold wall.
“Cassian—” you attempted again, the frustration growing in your voice as he continued to ignore you, your chest heaving from the rush of it all, “—what is going—”
“Kiss me,” he whispered, his eyes wild as he turned back to look at you.
Your stomach dropped, something in your chest clenching painfully at the mere suggestion – “What!?”
Cassian shushed you again as your voice rose. If you were warm before you were practically boiling now, your skin burning as you tried to piece together what possibly could have happened in the last 20 minutes for you to end up here.
“They’ll stop if they think we’re just two lovers sneaking off. It’s this or fight our way out.”
You stared at him dumbfounded, your lips parting and closing a few times as you struggled to form a thought let alone a sentence.
And then his lips were on yours.
You stiffened for half a heartbeat before something in you unraveled under the heat of it — whether from adrenaline or the way his hands framed your hips with startling confidence, you weren’t sure. The kiss was supposed to be a cover, a performance. But Cassian didn’t kiss like a soldier on a mission.
He kissed like a man who had been holding himself back for far too long.
His mouth slanted over yours with purpose, pulling a soft gasp from you as your back pressed against the cool wall behind you. The brush of his fingers over your waist felt anything but rehearsed, each movement slow and reverent, like he couldn’t help himself.
Heavy boots echoed down the hallway just beyond the curtain.
You felt him tense, but still, his lips never left yours.
Then the footsteps faded.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
“Cassian,” you gasped, trying to pull away, though the attempt was half-hearted at best, every now-weak muscle in your body screaming for you to make the most of it while you could. Your words stumbled between the heat of his kisses. “They’ve- gone—”
He hummed, the sound low in his throat, “I know.”
But his hands didn’t loosen their grip. If anything, they only grew bolder, fingers sliding from your waist to trace the curve of your sides – slow, deliberate. His touch was warm and commanding, sending a shiver darting up your spine.
your breath hitched, a soft moan slipping out before you could even think to swallow it. The sound should’ve embarrassed you. Maybe it would have, had your mind not been drowning in the dizzying closeness of him – his scent, his breath, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. Every inch of him pressed into you, and yet somehow it still didn’t feel like enough.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped out, his lips brushing against yours with each word, his breath warm against your cheek, still tinged with the scent of wine, “and I‘ll stop.”
You spared him your answer by leaning forward again, closing the narrow gap to press your lips back to his. His response was instant, his fingers digging into the skin so tightly you were sure it would mark, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Instead, your own fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, disturbing it from the slick gel that had held it so neatly all evening.
One hand crept lower, his knuckles grazing against your hip slowly until his palm found the split in your dress. His fingers curled around your thigh, his calloused palms scratching the soft skin as his fingers slid beneath the confines of the fabric, hoisting your leg up to hold against him, the motion pulled you flush against him, stealing the last bit of distance between you.
He leaned into you, voice nothing but gravel and heat. “You drive me insane.”
And with that, he kissed you again – slow at first, but deep, hungry. Like he had all the time in the world to explore every part of you, and fully intended to.
You found it within yourself to pull away the little you could again, still very much pressed between him and the wall, “But, you’ve never even suggested that I was anything more than a partner.” The words came out more of a question as you fought for breath, barely waiting for a response before you kissed him again, completely intoxicated despite the fact you had barely had one glass to drink.
“For a spy—” kiss “—you are terrible—” another kiss, this time his teeth catching your lower lip, “—at reading people.”
You frowned into his advances, your lips stopping as you pulled away again, brows furrowed as you tried to catch your breath again. “What are you on about?”
“What am I on about?” he echoed, voice still hushed. “Whose idea do you think it was to set this ruse up as an engagement?”
Your heart thudded painfully, your mind racing at a million miles a minute, fingers still tangled in the collar of his jacket. That’s why he hadn’t reacted at the briefing.
His brow ticked, his lips brushing just barely over the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trying to be professional. You know, partnerly. Respectful. But I’m not made of stone.”
Your breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing into you harder than any touch. His fingers flexed slightly against your leg, still holding it up against his hip. The closeness was unbearable – and somehow not nearly enough.
“You could’ve fooled me,” you whispered, voice barely audible as your own restraint began to crack under the heat of him.
Cassian let out a soft laugh against your cheek. “And you – maker, you think I didn’t notice every time you found a reason to brush past me? Or the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching?”
“I didn’t—” You started, but he cut you off with another kiss – less rushed now, slower, deeper. He pulled away again just briefly to wet his lips, his forehead just millimeters from your own. “I didn’t act on it because I thought if I ever started… I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
Your hand rose, trembling slightly, brushing his jaw. You felt the clench of it beneath your palm, the freshly trimmed stubble rough against your skin, the tension singing through him like a wire pulled too tight.
“Then don’t stop,” you said softly, your eyes searching his. For a moment, the world around you had ceased to exist, nothing mattering beyond the man before you.
But the sound of boots passing by the alcove again had you both tensing, heads turning to watch the shadows of feet passing beneath the half-draped curtain partially concealing you both before you snapped back to one another.
“We should escape now, right?”
He nodded, quickly dropping your leg and smoothing out his hair again as you pressed down the fabric, your skin burning again as he grabbed a hold of your hand, his fingers entwined with yours securely as he moved to peek around the alcove again, checking the coast was clear. “Probably, yes.”
I love sibling tropes in media so much because it’s such a special bond. It’s not like the one you share with a parent, a friend, or a significant other. It’s like I’ve known you all my life, and all I’ve ever known is you. When I thought the world was out to get me, you were there. When I was at my lowest, you were there. When I found happiness, you were there. When I got back on my feet, you were there. For better and for worse, you were there. And when death meets us, I won’t even be able to erase the stain you left on my life and it’ll be enough for me to find you back in the next one.
✮ warnings: post-partum/childbirth, a very tender cassian *sobs*, a lil silly at the end, etc.
✮ word count: ~1,150
author's note: hi all! i've been in a rut lately and can't really write fully fleshed out one shots/chapters as of late but i found this lil draft & thought it was cute (the thought of cass so tender like this.. hhhnh)
ps- iykyk: ironically enough, this 'concept' was written months ago in my journal. 🥲
The room is dim while machines hum low as they monitor with soft, steady beeps. There's a faint smell of antiseptic and fabric softener lingering in the air. The quiet in the medcenter room is not one of tension or waiting, but one that feels like serenity and security.
Half-dozing off, you're propped up on a few pillows, hair damp from the sweat that wouldn’t stop hours ago. You’re wearing one of Cassian’s shirts now because the hospital gown made you feel like a patient instead of a person. Your newborn baby is asleep on your chest, impossibly small and impossibly real.
Cassian leans on the edge of the armchair nearby. He hasn't taken his eyes off you in.. he doesn’t know how long. Time stopped feeling real the moment your baby's cry broke through the air for the first time.
He's worn out from today too but refuses to sleep. Instead, he just watches protectively over the two of you. His eyes land on you first. In your half asleep state with your mouth slightly parted, wearing his shirt. Then at her, the tiny rise and fall of his daughter's breaths against your chest.
You look like a dream, like something he never thought he’d deserve. He still couldn't believe this wasn't a chapter of a story from someone else’s life.
You shift again and whimper quietly from the soreness and pain radiating throughout your body.
Cassian is on his feet before he even realizes it. He crosses the room, hands hovering before they land. One softly carressing your cheek while the other cradles the baby's head. Carefully, he eases the baby from your chest, gently shushing under his breath like it's muscle memory. “It’s okay, love. I’ve got her. You sleep.”
Your brows twitch as if you might protest, but your body's exhaustion immediately gives in, leading you into a soft slumber. He rocks side to side with the baby now cradled in his arms. She's tiny, warm, red-faced, squishy and a part of you, a part of him.
His.
He swallows down the knot in his throat and an emotion that feels too big to name, his heart swelling at the reality of it all. He carries her over to the armchair he’s been using as a perch all day before sitting down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then another to the tiny bit of hair that’s still drying from earlier.
She makes a face in her sleep. One that looks like a pout, like the one you always make when you're tired. Cassian melts.
“I know,” he whispers, voice hoarse from everything. “It’s a lot. You had a big day, hm?” His hand cups her back while his thumbs rub tiny, careful circles.
“I’ve done a lot of things in my life,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “But this... this is the only one that made me feel… new. Like I get to start over."
Then, there's a little noise that escapes your lips as you shuffle in your sleep—a half-moan that makes his eyes shift to you instantly, protective as always. Your head turns slightly, and your lashes flutter. He waits with his breath held.
There's a pause.
You settle back into sleep.
He softly exhales before coming back to you with the baby in his arms. He carefully climbs beside you into the narrow medcenter bed, maneuvering slowly like he’s defusing a bomb.
He finally manages to lay the baby back onto his chest comfortably and places his arm onto her back. You let out the tiniest sigh and nuzzle into his shoulder, your hand finding his thigh under the blanket.
“You can keep sleeping, love.” he murmurs. “I’ve got you both.”
Cassian is still tired but doesn’t sleep, not that'd he even want to.
He just watches the way his daughter's tiny chest rises with his. And he watches the way your body curls instinctively around him and the new life between you.
It’s the safest he’s ever felt.
He kisses the top of your head, one hand still steady on the baby’s back while the other tugs absently at the edge of her swaddle.
After a moment, he whispers:
“Thank you. For her. For you. For this.”
Cassian closes his eyes for just a moment as he let's it all sink in. There’s nothing left to chase—he’s home.
[end]
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꩜ BONUS:
It's around midnight when you’re half-dozing off again, shortly after having fed your daughter who's now tucked on your chest. But it's then when you feel a tiny squirm.
You groan. “Cass…”
Cassian’s halfway into a nap beside you, but immediately sits up like someone screamed. “What? What’s wrong—what is it?”
“She peed. I think. Maybe worse.”
Cassian blinks. Processes. “I can do it.”
You blink back at him. “…You can?”
He’s already standing. “Yes. Of course. It’s a diaper. I’ve done worse.”
“You’ve hotwired Imperial transports under fire.”
“Exactly,” he says, scooping her up like a soldier on a mission. “How hard can it be?”
Answer? Very. Very hard.
You watch from the bed as he carefully lays her on the changing pad. He opens the supply bag the nurse stocked for you and squints at its contents like he’s about to interrogate them.
“Okay,” he mutters, taking a deep breath.
You stifle a giggle as he untapes the diaper slowly, then freezes.
You peek with one eye closed. “Is it bad?”
“It’s… fine.”
It's not fine. The moment the diaper opens, she starts kicking, hard. Her feet are flailing like she's trying to start a fight with Cassian. Her little heel smacks right into the dirty diaper and smears it across her own thigh.
He recoils. “I had a plan,” he huffs, fumbling for wipes. “She ambushed me.”
“She’s a baby, Cass!"
“She’s a saboteur.”
Your daughter who's still squirming lets out a high-pitched squawk as he cleans her off thoroughly.
He looks personally betrayed. “She’s slippery,” he grumbles, grabbing a fresh diaper and fumbling with the flaps.
But finally, he gets the new diaper on. It’s a little lopsided but it fits securely over her as she fusses between tiny grunts and whines.
Cassian scoops her back into his arms, looking half-wild and flushed with sweat, before crossing the room toward you with the most defeated expression you’ve ever seen on him.
“She did that on purpose,” he mutters, placing her gently back in your arms. “She waited until I was overconfident.”
You smile up at him while he huffs. Though, you don't let him sulk for long before you guide him back down beside you again. He curls up quickly, tugging the blanket up, one arm already across your waist, eyes trained on the baby like she might attack again.
She yawns, big and gurly before stretching one tiny arm in Cassian’s direction. He can't help but melt. Again.
“…She’s trying to apologize, Cass" you say, softly.
“Mhm. That’s what the gurgle meant.” he answers, stifling a smile before pressing a kiss to your temple.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
Late into the night, when the sky's dark blue glow leaks in through the window, you hazily wake up when you feel the bed shift. Cassian is easing back beside you, daughter in his arms, cradling her like she's a constellation he somehow caught with both hands.
She lets out a sleepy grunt with one tiny fist stretching sharply across his collarbone. Cassian winces for a second.
“She’s plotting again,” he mutters, not expecting a reply.
You grin, eyes still closed. “She gets that from you.”
