#ssr1

[streetsolo]

will you be my valentine? (cassian x reader)

Prompt: Hi can I request Cassian/Reader, um perhaps where reader has had a crush on her idol Cassian for the longest time and reader is probably just like a technician or something she doesnt see enough to impress him Requested by: Anon Characters: Reader, Cassian Andor, K-2SO Word Count: 949 Click here to read on ao3

Working for the Alliance had always been your dream job.

Well, scratch that.

You had always wanted to be a technician, and once you found an in with the Alliance, you felt as though you had finally found a purpose in life, what you were born to do, helping to bring down a fascist regime with just your humble little skill set.

But time had a way of making you take things for granted, as time so often did, and it wasn’t long before you set your sights on something else.

Or rather, someone else.

Cassian Andor was one of the chief intelligence officers for the Alliance. You didn’t know what he did exactly, but considering how much time he spent with General Draven and Mon Mothma, you knew that he was someone of note. This was actually pretty convenient for you. You wished that he was just another cargo pilot, another technician, someone equal to your lowly status. It might have made approaching him a bit easier.

Instead, you contented yourself to watch him from afar.

At least, until Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t really that different from any other day, except there were less people working than usual. That really didn’t bother you any, considering you spent most of your company around droids. They didn’t seem to get the point of this “holiday” any more than you did.

That was probably why you felt a little safer venturing over to Cassian’s U-Wing. He and K-2SO had been grounded on base for the last few days, and the shuttle looked to be in pretty bad shape. You stood there for a few moments, surveying the damage, before a mechanical voice spoke up from behind you.

“And what are you looking at?”

The voice was both indifferent and accusing at the same time. You spun around to find yourself dwarfed in K-2SO’s mighty shadow, and you quickly forced a smile to your lips as you looked up at him.

“Sorry, I was just looking at the damage. It’s in pretty bad shape. What happened to it?”

“That’s classified.” The accusing tone was dropped in favor of total ambivalence.

“Oh.” He seems to be waiting for you to leave, and you avert your gaze before you gesture back to the ship you had been working on.

“I see. I’ll just, uh, I’ll just leave you to it, then. Just let me know if you need any help.”

He doesn’t reply as you slink back to your own ship and start working at double the pace, just in case he happened to be watching you. That droid seemed suspicious of anything and anyone, although you didn’t know how much of that was simply a byproduct of his reconditioning.

In fact, you’re working so diligently that you don’t notice that Cassian himself had stepped out onto the landing strip. You don’t notice him talking to K-2SO. You don’t notice K-2SO pointing in your direction, and you don’t notice Cassian Andor heading straight for you until you almost slip off the ladder you were on as you jump down from the cockpit.

“Hi there.” Your voice sounds too high pitched, even for your own ears, and you quickly swallow the lump in your throat as you face him directly, trying to remain as cool as possible. “Anything I can, erm, anything I can help you with?”

“Kay says you were inquiring about our ship?” He arches an eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem mad. Just curious.

“Just checking her out.” Your hand flutters in the air in a desperate attempt to seem nonchalant. “Seemed in pretty bad shape. I didn’t know if you needed any help.”

“I think we’re fine, thanks.” He seems ready to start walking away as he lingers for a moment, surveying the droids that were working on the rest of the ships parked nearby. “Thank you, by the way.”

You blink at him stupidly. “Thanks?”

Cassian lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “Well you spend so much time here working on these ships, making sure they’re in top condition. I don’t know when the last time the Alliance has properly thanked you for your work, but we appreciate it. The pilots appreciate it. I appreciate it.”

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks. You hadn’t expected Cassian, of all people, to notice how much work you put into your ships, but evidently, he had. Then again, he was a spy. It was his job to notice everything around him. And that, it seemed, included you.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Maybe you were a droid, because it seemed, at least in that moment, that your circuits malfunctioned and something that you never imagined yourself ever saying comes out of your mouth instead.

“If you really want to thank me, you can come with me to dinner tonight.”

You had no idea what had gotten into you, but Cassian just chuckles in response. He casts a long lingering look in your direction before he finally dips his head forward in a nod. “All right, it’s a date.”

Fortunately, he turns to head back to his ship, sparing you the trouble of having to put together a coherent response. You would have to converse with him later, of course, but future problems were future problems.

Right now, you needed a shower. There was no way you were going to go to dinner with Cassian Andor reeking of fuel oil.

Thanks again for the prompt, anon!! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!! 

[streetsolo]

new friends (Chirrut x Baze & Deaf!Reader)

Prompt: Hello there ! ^.^ I wanted to know if you could write a Chirrut/Reader where the reader is deaf or mute ? Or maybe she/he can have another handicap ? I know it’s something that really matter to you, and I truly think that there should be more writings about all sorts of disability. And since Chirrut is blind, I think it’s a good challenge for you to write how can the reader and him can possibly communicate with each other. Anyway, please don't mind my english, it's not my native language ! ^^' Requested by: Anon Characters: Baze Malbus, Chirrut Imwe, Reader (Deaf, uses sign language, and anosmic) Word Count: 1347 Click here to read on ao3

“May the Force of others be with you.”

Chirrut said it over and over again, although no one was really listening. His voice mixed into the crowded stream of voices and sounds all around him, from the brush of long robes being dragged along the pavement to the sound of hurried footsteps as people made their way from one side of NiJedha to the next, probably heading away from their Imperial invaders as swiftly as their feet could carry them.

You didn’t hear him. You didn’t hear any of the sounds that surrounded you. While the Force had decided to deny Chirrut his sight, it had decided to deny you sound.

It also chose to deny you the gift of smell, but that you had been born with. While a hindrance, it didn’t manage to impact communication the same way losing your hearing had. You knew sound; knew the shape and the form of it in your head. You had been able to hear when you were a child, but had steadily lost your hearing until the only thing that pulsed in your eardrums was the steady beat of silence, occasionally interrupted by the loud burst of static that accompanied a shell exploding nearby.

Imperial weapons were loud. You felt the tremor in the ground, and, occasionally, felt the spray of hot sand scatter against your face. The reactions of other people, the direction they ran in, often gave you a good indication as to which way to head in order to escape danger, but you could not hear their shouts.

You probably had a voice that you could still use, but as you could not hear it, your voice had fallen into disuse. Instead, you had decided to speak with your hands, what little you did speak. There were over nine thousand forms of sign language in the galaxy during the 19th Imperial Year, the time of the Galactic Civil War, but you only knew one. While the Kallidahin and the Twi’leks were the most common users of sign language in the galaxy, none of them lived on NiJedha in order to teach you their language.

No, the only sign language you had managed to learn was a rudimentary form of Galactic Sign Language, or GSL, that you had managed to pick up from a Wookiee who was stranded on NiJedha for a few weeks after his ship had crashed there.

You wondered what the growl of a Wookiee sounded like. It was infamous, according to some, although its iconic roar never reached your ears.

While most didn’t have the time to spare struggling to communicate with you, Chirrut Imwe was the exception to the rule. You had been sitting alone at the base of a large abandoned structure when he had approached you, his staff dragging through the dirt until it tapped against the edge of the large stone ledge. He had held out his hand and guided himself into a seating position while you curiously watched on.

His lips moved. In the back of your mind, you thought that you could almost hear something, a steady hum that separated sound from useless noise, but even if you could hear that he was talking, your ears wouldn’t give you his words.

You started to lift your hands to reply to him before you realized it would be a useless attempt.

You could not hear his words.

He could not see yours.

Chirrut’s forehead puckers as you take your hand in his, spelling out letters into his palm.

D-E-A-F.

Chirrut’s puzzled expression remains and you drop his hand back into his lap. It was worth a try but so very few people knew even basic fingerspelling. Not that you really blamed them, though. After all, most people were able to afford basic cybernetic enhancements to bypass such physical hindrances. Sign language had prevailed in the galaxy because it was as much a cultural value as it was a physical one, but that didn’t help you now.

And it certainly wouldn’t help you on NiJedha.

Something seems to click as Chirrut lifts a hand into the hair. He reaches out slowly, hesitantly, before he puts his palm flat against your ear as he shakes your head. You grab his other hand excitedly as you hold it against your face as well so that he can understand that you’re eagerly nodding your head up and down.

The corners of his lips pull up into a smile.

For the rest of that day, you communicate in this rudimentary way, using whatever sort of pantomime and physical body expressions you could in order to communicate. Chirrut, it seemed, was able to understand at least some basic sign language; what he did not, you carved slow, Aurebesh letters into his open palm. It may have been a slow way of communicating, but it was communicating, and you were grateful for it.

At least until Chirrut got up and started to walk away. He made some gesture with his hand that you didn’t understand; you weren’t quite sure if he understood it either. He gestured out, away before looking back towards you again, but you weren’t quite sure what he meant. Before you had time to ask, he had turned his back and walked away.

You thought about calling out to him with your voice, but it was still tender from disuse and you didn’t want to disappoint yourself by making an abomination of a sound, and so you kept silent, figuring that that was the last time you had seen your new friend.

Until he returned later that night with a much larger man in tow. At first you were frightened; it would be quite easy for him to take advantage of your situation, considering you could not call for help. Not that anyone would come to your aid, but you were easy prey, and falling victim to someone with nefarious intentions was always on the forefront of your thoughts.

But Chirrut was smiling, and you forced yourself to return it.

As the man approaches, he stops in front of you. He was tall, very tall, with unkempt black hair that was swept behind him by NiJedha’s coarse breeze. He thumps his chest once, and his large, awkward fingers spell out a name.

B-A-Z-E.

He points to the man beside him. C-H-I-R-R-U-T.

You knew that much. Chirrut had carved his name into the sand with his staff earlier that day, but you couldn’t help but marvel at his friend. He wasn’t used to signing, you could tell by the awkward way he held his hands, but it was something.

Baze points to himself, then to you. Then to Chirrut. He points his mouth and opens and closes his jaw a few times. You understand as you nod your head.

And that was how you told Baze and Chirrut your story. That was how they, the Guardians of the Whills, told you theirs. And at the end of the day, Baze turned and gestured between the three of you as he allowed he held out both index fingers in front of him in a hooked C-shape. With one palm facing up, he hooked the second C into the first before reversing the position of his hands and doing it again so his bent index fingers lazily slid over one another.

Friend.

You smile as you hold up your hand, palm towards you, intertwining your index and middle fingers as if you were swearing a promise.

Best friend.

So, yeah. Not being able to smell is a thing, it's called anosmia, and if you're born with it, it's called congenital anosmia and doctors don't know what causes it but I have had zero sense of smell since I was a baby, although I join the ranks of Bill Pullman and Ben of Ben and Jerry's (you ever wonder why Ben likes so many chunks/textures in his ice cream? Now you know!) I'm also culturally Deaf, though medically more on the scales of hard of hearing since I didn't lose my hearing until later and still have some concept of sound. I can still use my voice but I prefer to use ASL to communicate. Any questions, let me know! Cheers!!

[streetsolo]

Cassian Andor and Han Solo are not friends... but maybe they can put aside their differences long enough to trade advice about how to handle a rebellion princess and a rogue spirit.

“You two seem to be getting along,” Han noted as he watched Jyn’s retreating form through the hangar. Cassian let out a small grunt of agreement, though his eyes were shining with amusement.

“Did I tell you she took off to the Outer Rim to help with an extraction just last week?” he asks. Han looks reflective, but eventually shakes his head to indicate that he hadn’t. “I didn’t find out about it until she was halfway there. No one asked her to go. She just hopped on a ship and headed off.”

Han lets out an appreciative laugh as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I know how that is.” Cassian gets the feeling his friend wants to say more, but holds back.

“How is this Princess?” he asks, but Han just shrugs as if that’s a question he doesn’t know how to answer.

“You know how she can be,” Han eventually replies. “She’s a rebellious spirit. She-” He suddenly pauses as he wipes his temple with the palm of his hand. “Oh no.”

“Wha-?” Cassian doesn’t even have time to turn around as the short figure strides up beside him.

“Han, there you are. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” Princess Leia stood with her hands on both hips, drawing herself up to her full height.

“And you didn’t think to check the hangar first?” Han asks with a light chuckle. Cassian smiles appreciatively, but Leia’s scowl only deepens.

“Is this where you’ve been hiding?” she demands. “You promised to help Kes Dameron-”

“Today?” Han asks, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “I thought that was tomorrow.” Leia says nothing as he stares him down, perhaps willing herself to see through the lie or forgive him for it. “Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” He tilts his head to the side as he shoots Cassian a look.

Cassian sends him off with a brief chuckle in return.

“Andor,” Leia says lightly with a quick bow of her head.

“Princess,” Cassian replies, before he turns to see a tall, dark Imperial droid heading straight for him. “What are you doing here, K? I thought you were fixing up the ship.”

“Well I was,” K replies. “But your wife seems to have taken it. She says she promises to return it before the end of the day, but we’ve all heard that one before, haven’t we?”

Cassian doesn’t even try to conceal his grunt of frustration as he wipes his face with one large hand. “Do you know where she went?”

“As long as she doesn’t disable the tracker she doesn’t know I installed on the ship, then yes, we should.”

“Good,” Cassian says as he takes a step forward. Suddenly he stops, seemingly changing his mind, as he turns back to K. “Quick, we’re leaving in ten. Ask if there’s anyone else who wants to come.”

In the distance, he could hear the slap of a wooden staff echoing against the walls of the hangar. He laughed and shook his head as he turned and headed towards the nearest ship.

[helengarner]

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