#also the way that Mon Mothma rolled her eyes when that happened

[darthyourmomgay]

When Vel went through the classic lesbian experience of someone asking you if you have a boyfriend yet while at a family gathering in the most recent episode of Andor.

[littleladymab]

OC Kiss Week - "War's Over"

Requested by @qt-kt, these are my Star Wars OCs  🥰 I'm in love with them a normal amount. Kaedmon is a Jedi (extremely former) who survived Order 66, and Uriah is an ISB agent (former). And yes I have like 2300 words of a rough timeline plotted for them.

Uriah will be up on the 21st for U and I've decided to replace one of my bonus characters at the end of the month with Kaedmon so you'll see her on the 27th for FebruarOC.

This is also the FIRST of the Kiss Week drabbles I wrote, and it is the longest. I decided to stick it at the end because it's just a good ending to the event! Thank you again so much to @ockissweek for organizing, best of luck with queuing everything, and I'm looking forward to next year!!

+++ 

Kaedmon pushes her way through the crowds, the death grip on her lightsaber hilt the only thing keeping her focused. It’s using all her concentration to keep the pain at bay, and if she lets that slip then she’ll lose the grip on it and with it any sense of composure she’s maintaining.

“Riley!” Someone grabs her by the shoulder and whirls her to face them, and it’s only because her hand is so numb that she doesn’t ignite the blade and run the Rodian through on instinct. “Woah, girl, breathe.”

She is breathing, her gasping inhales stymied by the respirator. She doesn’t feel like she’s breathing enough. “Vleewa,” she says as her brain catches up. Her heart rate doesn’t seem to be slowing down.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Vleewa says conversationally, pulling the lightsaber free. “When did you arrive on Jakku?”

“Where are the prisoners?” Stop, try again. “I got here yesterday.” Stop, try again. What was she looking for? “Observatory.” No. Stop. Try again. “Please.”

Starburst black eyes study her, and Kaedmon is helpless against the gentle movements her friend makes to put the lightsaber away in the holster. “You need to go to medical,” she says instead of whatever else she wants to say.

Kaedmon’s entire right arm aches at the thought. Is her shoulder dislocated? It might be dislocated, her wrist is definitely sprained, and now that she doesn’t have a deathgrip on something the numbness is turning to a violent tingling pain. There’s worse things that could have happened to it. Clamp it down, center her mind, pain is a backdrop. “I need to find—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Still, Vleewa doesn’t seem too keen on hurrying up as she begins to scroll through something on her data pad.

Kaedmon tries to breathe. Didn’t Vleewa tell her to breathe? She’s trying. She inhales. She inhales. She inhales, because it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and she knows the respirator is working because she can feel it struggling to give her oxygen. This is how I’m going to die, she thinks deliriously as her vision swims and Vleewa’s tan coveralls blend into the tan sand. Having a panic induced asthma attack in the desert after the war is finally over.

There’s a beep on her vambrace that draws her out of her spiral and she looks down at it as Vleewa gives a self-satisfied smirk. “Second recon group, northern forward camp. Though promise me you’ll go to medical after?”

“Yeah. Sure,” she answers for the sake of answering.

“Ugh, Jedi,” Vleewa grumbles with a roll of her eyes but there’s a twitch of a smile on the Rodian’s face. “Go on then.”

Kaedmon slips back into the crowds before she’s even completely dismissed, occasionally glancing down at the map on her vambrace. Nearly four klicks north by north east. If she runs she can make it in half an hour. Except that her shoulder sends bolts of pain down her entire arm if it is jostled, and like any military base she’s been on there are people by the dozens milling around in some state of activity.

Small fighters are taking off and landing with little regard to available landing fields, commanders barking out orders, and pilots and infantry cheering and celebrating.

Over every comm, Mon Mothma’s announcement rings on a repeat. A few holos loop the signing of the treaty.

The war is over.

Wrapping her pain in a tight little bundle in the back of her mind, Kaedmon begins to run.

The northern forward camp is eerily calm, pinched faced officers moving with determination and soldiers standing guard around the orderly ranks of tents for political prisoners.

In a makeshift square, three uniformed commanders stand fanned out around someone in piecemeal trooper armor. He stands at attention, hands folded behind his back, fingers of one hand clenching and unclenching. They don’t seem to be interrogating him — more like they are engaged in an exchange of information.

The man in the middle, a major according to the insignia, frowns at her approach. “Master Riley,” he starts and she winces; now all Command knows her as is the rank she never took. “Captain Askoaro said to expect you—”

But the man with his back to her tenses at the first sound of her name and spins to face her.

It’s him, she realizes with a jolt, as the shape of his profile comes into view. His hair is shaved to grey-black stubble and his cheeks are gaunt. But even without the Force to carry his signature to her, she’d recognize him.

“Kae,” Uriah says, completing his about-face just as she throws her good arm around his shoulder and yanks him down to her. He folds one arm around her waist and the other hand in her hair and crushes her to him. He tucks his face against her neck, pressing the edge of her mask into her cheek but she doesn’t care.

“You’re alive,” she gasps and his fingers tighten their grasp. “I couldn’t get through. No one could tell me—”

“Full planet communications are still spotty, Master Riley,” the major says, clearing his throat and the two of them jerk back upright to attention. He doesn’t seem overly bothered by their break in protocol or Kaedmon’s belated left-handed salute. “It has been hard to disseminate information unless it is vital to the New Republic.”

Kaedmon is still having a hard time regaining her breath, and it sounds loud in her ears as she tries to get herself back under control. She never was very good at that even as a Padawan. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to imply that I should automatically have been made aware of things.”

He waves her off, then says, “Agent Marcos, we’ll continue this discussion later. Take a few minutes. You’re dismissed.”

Uriah salutes, and a second behind, Kaedmon does as well. “Thank you, Major Wadan. I’ll report back to you shortly.” He waits until the three officers have departed before turning back to Kaedmon. That’s when the full extent of the damage is finally revealed in the shape of an angry red wound where his right eye should be.

She inhales sharply and reaches up to him with her hand, pressing it to his cheek and studying the still-healing scar.

He allows for the inspection, holding her gaze steady with the remaining eye before covering her hand with his own and pressing his lips to her palm. “What did you do to your arm?”

“I don’t know,” she says and means to shrug but she doesn’t want to jostle the hand on his face and the other is a dull, constant ache. “Dislocated I think. Maybe broke something. Worst part was, it was my own fault.” She lets the tips of her fingers ghost over his cheekbone. “That was my favorite eye.”

His huff of laughter ghosts over her skin and she shivers despite the heat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kaedmon frowns though he can’t see the twitch of her lips.

Uriah presses the pad of his thumb to the furrow between her brows. “I didn’t know you were stationed on Jakku.”

“I wasn’t. Jedi business in the Observatory with all that Sith shit. Happened to find a pocket of leftovers.”

“That’s when you caught your fall on your arm?”

She clicks her tongue, though it sounds mechanical and emotionless through the vocoder. “And your eye?”

He doesn’t respond right away, sliding his hand back through her hair despite the fact that it’s coated in sweat and sand. “Shrapnel. My own fault. I panicked.”

They move together, his forehead pressing to hers as her fingers scrape uselessly for purchase on his pauldron before curling around his neck. “My Commander finally caught on when we fled Coruscant. I thought he was going to kill me. He fully intended to, blaster to the eye. Bam.”

His fingers press to the ridges of her spine, grounding both of them in the moment. “I managed to use something as a shield, but it shattered. Still lost the eye, but I kept the back of my head so I guess that’s a win.”

This time her shiver is far from pleasant as she reaches out into the Force to take his fear in her hands and lift it from his shoulders. “What a pair we make.”

“I think we deserve a nice vacation somewhere that won’t try to kill us, and the worst thing we fall into is a soft bed,” he agrees.

“And a pillow to the face.”

Uriah considers this before nodding in agreement. “Honestly, it sounds awful and incredibly unsafe.”

“We’ll never unlearn how to turn anything into a weapon,” Kaedmon warns and Uriah lets out a soft sigh before pressing a kiss to her forehead. She makes an answering strained sound of frustration before pulling back to yank her respirator down. The dust feels like it immediately clings to the inside of her nose and mouth but she doesn’t care.

She misses his hair as she cups the back of his head and pulls him down to kiss her.

“Take me home, Kae,” he says, lips against hers. “When we get clearance to get off this fucking rock.”

Her respirator wheezes out of time to their ragged breathing. “I will,” she promises. “Maybe even before then.”

His smile is weary and his face hasn’t learned how to take the missing eye into account when forming expressions, but it’s still everything she knows and recognizes and the sight of it is instantly comforting. “Maybe.”

Home, she thinks as he kisses her again. They’ll figure that out together.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIII

Part I - - - - - - - - - Part XX - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The office was quiet but for the occasional shuffling of flimsi and tapping of datapads.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pointedly did not exchange a glance behind Padme’s back.

Senator Mothma set down her pad and broke the silence. “Padme...are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine Mon, let’s just go over the bill,” Padme responded stiffly.

Mothma hesitated. “That’s not the only reason I asked you here, Padme.”

Padme stood, chair scraping gratingly. “I see; I’ve already had the Chancellor pry me today in an attempt to exploit my ‘connections’ to the Jedi—as though they’re droids and not flesh-and-blood people who any average person could strike a friendship with—but I had thought better of you two; I suppose my faith was—”

“That’s not what I meant—” Mon pleaded.

“We’re concerned about you,” Bail insisted gently. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the Jedi that you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

Padme paused, then reluctantly sat back down.

“My apologies,” she muttured. “It’s been...a long day. I’ve been asked by the Chancellor for help in breaking some news that...I’d rather not.”

The senators waited patiently for Padme to collect her thoughts. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “General Kenobi has suffered from...force...I really don’t think there’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound bad.”

“I had heard rumors that he was missing at meetings the last few days...has something serious happened?” Bail asked, concerned.

Padme shuddered. “This office is...”

“It’s clean,” Mothma confirmed quietly. “I have it checked independently anytime I’m gone for more then 15 minutes, with random deep-scans.”

“Would you mind...”

Mon nodded and the three waited in silence until the Chandurllian senator’s pad trilled the all-clear.

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself earlier this week,” Padme confessed lowly. Mon straightened up in a sudden locking of knees and elbows, face drawn into tight lines. Bail’s hands flew to his mouth, tears forming.

“Knight Skywalker got to him in time, and he was in a coma until this morning when he apparently ‘ranted about ending the one’s responsible for the war’ and then vanished, along with Anakin.”

Mon grew very pale and Bail moved both hands from his mouth to his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Just...fuck.”

Padme nodded in agreement and Mon inhaled deeply.

Bail rubbed way tears and straightened up resolutely. “How can we help?” he asked Padme. “How does the Chancellor want to handle releasing the news?”

She smiled weakly. “He’s leaving the exact wording up to me, but wants to make the announcement during the next full Senate gathering.”

“What!” Mon half-shouted, shocked. “There’ll be a riot! Surely a bulletin—even a press conference would be better for encouraging a moderate reaction—people will be shouting before he’s through the first sentence!”

“I know,” Padme agreed with a grimace. “But he wants ‘transparency.’“

“He wants panic,” Bail fumed.

“I’m trying to decide if it would better or worse to include the part about suicide,” Padme said bitterly. “Mental health breakdown and disappearance of the Republic’s highest General doesn’t leave much room for confidence or privacy.”

Mon clutched Padme’s hand in support. “I’ll have a PR team on standby. We can prepare resources for anyone who has questions, avoid conspiracy theories from spinning out. I already had a project on the backburner to put together own set of holoclips of the Jedi working towards peace—a counter to the ‘warmongering’ narrative, so to speak. It should be easy enough to adapt.”

“The Chancellor’s going to turn this into another military spending bill,” Bail predicted grimly. “We’ll make sure there’s a proviso in there to provide actual support for the Jedi in the field; I’ll make sure to get a legal team on viper in the grass duty as soon as the responses start coming out.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, gripping Mon’s hand over-tightly in return. She turned to the Alderannian senator. “I’m sorry Bail, I know you two are close.”

Bail exhaled slowly. “This war...I’ve seen Obi-Wan survive so much, and everytime he pulls off the impossible...”

“He’s rewarded with another burden on his shoulders,” Padme finished sympathetically. “Yes, I’ve been watching the same thing happen to Anakin. It’s—if the separatist movement hadn’t resolved into such a democratic and humanitarian nightmare—”

“You should go home and get some rest, Padme,” Mon urged. “It’s late, and the we’re all going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some new information will materialize before the afternoon.”

“Why Mon, that’s almost optimistic of you,” Bail remarked dryly.

Mon flashed him a wry grin, looking at Padme out of the corner of her eye. “Well. She did say Anakin with AWOL—”

“Oh do be quiet,” Padme huffed.

Despite the ever growing desire for sleep, it was another long hour before the Senator from Naboo departed. The pair were just turning to their seats after escorting Padme out when Bail let out a startled yelp; Mon instinctively kicked at the sudden small green blur.

Fortunately, when you’re green and the height of most humanoid’s knees, you become quite experienced at avoiding such reflexive 

“Master Yoda! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Senator Mothma staggered backwards, reverting to defensiveness to cover up her embarrassment at attempting to punt the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Has his ways, a Jedi does,” Yoda replied mysteriously. Mon Mothma nodded seriously as Bail restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had spent far too much time around Obi-Wan for deliberate Jedi vagueness to hold much weight. 

“Can I—May I offer you a seat?” Mon asked, quickly recovering her diplomatic grace. “I’m afraid that you’ve just missed Senator Amidala, but I’m sure she would be eager to return; I understand she’s...concerned for Master Kenobi.”

The wizened Master shook his head, ears flopping as he hopped onto Padme’s recently vacated chair, standing on the cusioned seat as the two senators’ settled down. The sight should, perhaps, have been comical. But the weight of his gaze...Bail held his breath. Perhaps Jedi mystique did still have some affect on him.

“Come to speak with the two of you, I did. Missed Mistress Amidala, I have, I know. Deliberate, this was.”

Mon and Bail frowned, exchanging a slow look of pointed disapproval. Bail spoke hesitantly but with touch of reproach. “I’m certain she would prefer to be here, regardless of the news—Padme has suffered for her public defense of the Jedi, I should hope that that friendship is returned, especially in hard times”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “A great Jedi, she would have made, in another life. Vibrant, she is in the Force. Loud to a Jedi, regardless of sensitivity. But needed now, quiet is.” 

Yoda’s gaze pierced Bail and he warmed inexplicably. “Quiet the two of you are. Brilliant, wide but in the Force...” Yoda broke the gaze, growing contemplative.

“Unique in the force, each soul is. That can be read, rare is the mind. More difficult to discern, currents, intentions, manner, it is with some, it is with you. And now, Quiet we need.”

The two settled back, uneasily flattered. “Master Yoda—it’s an honor of course, to be considered an individual worthy of confidence, but why exactly do you have need of quiet minds? Of us?” Senator Mothma asked finally.

The diminutive Master sagged. “By actions you would do, trust you have earned. But always in motion, the future is. A heavy burden, to carry, I must ask you. Without cause, I would not ask. But once tell you this I do—” 

To the politicians shock Master Yoda’s simmed to glisten with unshed tears. “—Guarantee your safety I cannot.”

The air hung warm and heavy for a timeless moment and a chill ran up both their spines. But neither were individuals particularly given to indesicion in the face of looming danger. 

“How can we help?” Mon asked, the words echoing over far more than an hour. 

“We know something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Bail added softly. “Whatever we can do to right it—Obi-Wan is a friend, the Jedi are our allies, and the Republic is our duty.”

Mon nodded firmly.

Yoda stared at them each in turn, eyes searching and ancient.

“Working with the Separatists, the Chancellor is,” he said bluntly. “Evidence of this, we have, but not proof. Controlling, the Separatists, the Chancellor is. Evidence of this we have also, but not proof. The truth it is.”

“Evidence?” Bail parroted hoarsely, mentally assembling his own grim circumstantial coronation even as his understanding of the conversation’s direction fell apart.

The Jedi Master drew two small glittering objects from his pocket—a datachip and a microslide. 

“In the brain of a trooper, this we found.” he said gravely. “In the brain of all clones, this lies. Orders, it contains. Evil, is it. Free will, it can control. Decode it we have. To the Chancellor, tied these orders are.”

“Force,” Mon murmured in horror, responding automatically. “He already controls the public, and the courts—”

“And over half the senate,” Bail added bitterly.

“A Sith, he is,” Yoda continued with a sigh. “A Sith he has always been. A return to an Empire, he aims.”

There was a long heady pause as the two grappled with the return of the ancient boogeyman of the Republic and the repeated derailing of their night’s direction. 

“Fuck,” Senator Mothma said delicately, thinking wistfully of two hours ago when she had planned on confronting Padme yet again on her relationship with a young Jedi.

“Said the same, did we.”

The Alderannian Senator rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with consecutive massive shocks from the already unexpected conversation. “Is Obi-Wan alright?” he asked eventually.

The small Elder hummed thoughtfully in reply. Bail tensed.

“No and yes. Suffer much, he has. Broken he is, but not shattered. A plan he has. His idea to include you, it is. The bravest man in the galaxy, he called you.” Yoda said, offering Senator Organa a sad smile.

Bail leaned back, stunned. “Me? But—why me?” he asked bewildered.

“Know not, I do,” the Jedi said with a shrug. “Seen the future, he has. A future where saved his life, you did. Saved my life. Saved something too precious to name, you did. Matters little, it does. A future that must not come to pass, it is, even as learn from it. we do.”

“...I think you’re going to have to explain that somewhat,” Mon replied sternly as Bail’s head spun.

Yoda nodded and the three settled in for a sleepless night of planning treason.

Part XXIV

[bloodpacks-archive]

“you’ve got my devotion” from the lyric prompts with obi? 🥺

okay so this ended up being WAY longer than i thought it was going to be but i hope you guys enjoy it :)) and i once again missed obi and chandrila reader so here they are

(also quick warning! this fic does deal with injuries, specifically some accidental cuts from glass and shrapnel. if those concepts could be detrimental to you or your mental health, please don’t read this! thank you)

devotion - obi-wan kenobi x chandrila!reader

It’s not often that he’s as reckless as this. The cut above his brow—one he’d earned from droid shrapnel—stings as he moves, making him wince, and then making the cut only hurt worse. Ventress had leaped away a few moments ago, but not before sending another quip his way accompanied by a deadly smirk.

His breath hitches as he tries to stand, his leg sending sharp pains from a vicious and frankly unnecessary move to get his feet out from under him.

The door behind him hisses open, and he turns, finding Anakin and Ahsoka at the ready, blue and green light from their respective sabers illuminating the now dark room—Ventress had managed to take out the light above him, sending shards cascading about them. Now, he can feel the stinging on his face and arms as he attempts to stand again, wincing more and then remembering the cut above his brow.

Anakin rushes to his side, grabbing his arm to help him get upright. Obi-Wan should consider him lucky that there’s a senate meeting right now, otherwise he thinks a certain Chandrilan might’ve had a few words to say if she saw him like this.

Luckily, it’s Anakin who’s pulling him to his feet, and Ahsoka who rushes over to help. As Obi-Wan puts weight onto his left leg, air rushes into his lungs and his eyes screw shut—for his own sake, he hopes it’s severe bruising.

“If I have to give Ventress anything, it’s that she’s got some kick to her,” He says. Anakin huffs out a laugh from beside him, shifting his shoulders so Obi-Wan can better lean on him rather than Ahsoka.

The three of them hobble out together, failed senatorial assassination attempt behind them, and continue to make their way through the halls of the Coruscant Senate Building. Obi-Wan tests putting his weight on his left leg as they walk, the sharp pain turning more into a bearable—although notable—ache as they move.

“You know, Master, we could’ve come to help earlier,” Anakin says. Obi-Wan lets laughter fall past his lips, more of a rushed breath than anything.

“I had it handled just fine,” He replies.

“Is that why we’re helping you walk? Because you had it handled?” Ahsoka quips back. He gaze turns from Anakin’s proud smirk to Ahsoka’s defiant eyes.

These two, he thinks.

“It’s nothing some bacta won’t fix.” Anakin and Ahsoka make eye contact behind his shoulders. “Besides, Rex and Cody needed your help with the droids.” Silence settles as they continue on, they’re drawing closer to the 212th and 501st. Anakin breaks the silence to speak into his commlink, telling Rex that Kix needs to prepare to tend to a couple of lacerations and other injuries.

Finally, they come upon the two clone squadrons, Rex and Cody speak quietly to the side with a few senators and—

damn.

Rex looks up to see their hobbling group, and calls over to Kix, who already has his supplies—just as ordered. And as Rex calls, she turns around, her eyes meeting first Ahsoka’s, and then his. He watches as her shoulders sag, her eyebrows furrow and her eyes fall down to his limp.

He can’t hear the way she sighs, but he can certainly feel it in her expression.

“You look like you’re doing well, General,” Kix says as Anakin helps Obi-Wan sit back against the wall. Obi-Wan shoots him a look, silently telling him I can do it myself, but Anakin continues, ignoring Obi-Wan to stifle laughter at Kix’s comment.

“I’m fine, Kix, thank you,” He replies.

“The blood on your face says otherwise,” Anakin retorts. Kix looks between them with raised eyebrows before getting to work, leaning forward to disinfect the cuts on Obi-Wan’s face. Obi’s eyes flick to the side, meeting hers for just a moment. With the threat of the assassination gone, Senators Organa, Amidala, and Mothma had left to go speak with the troops and, of course, she followed.

The senators speak in hushed tones with Cody, Rex, and Ahsoka, Anakin moving to join them, but her eyes stay trained on him. He tries to keep his glances at a minimum as Kix spreads some bacta over the less severe of his cuts, but he doubt it does much good. Kix has a smirk pricking at his lips, trying his best to keep it at bay, but Obi-Wan still notices it. Kix leans up again, carefully wrapping bandages around the one deeper laceration across his forehead.

“You’re gonna have to change these bandages later,” Kix says, and then lets his focus fall to Obi-Wan’s leg, where the pain has mostly dulled. He puts pressure on a few areas on his thigh—causing a few sharp intakes of breath on Obi’s end—feeling for any obvious breaks. Kix sighs as he sits back, letting his eyes scan over Obi-Wan once more. “You’re gonna be fine, but if that leg doesn’t feel any better by tomorrow—you know where to go.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Thanks again, Kix.”

Kix offers a curt nod and smile to Obi-Wan before gathering his supplies and heading back to his squadron. Obi-Wan notices how his shoulders relax as he approaches Jesse, a solid clap on the back his only greeting towards his brother.

He sees movement from his side, and turns his head to watch as she crouches down in front of him, taking the place of Kix. He furrows his brows at her for a moment, but she just shakes her head at him, letting her eyes fall over him slowly, examining his cuts and bruises.

“You need someone to take care of you tonight?” She asks. His eyes widen at the comment, quickly flicking to the other people in the room to make sure none of them heard. They’re all much too engrossed in their own conversations, he realizes, to make any note of them.

“Well,” He begins, finally letting himself relax, “I’m not going to turn down an offer like that.”

She laughs quietly, ducking her head. “Very well, General Kenobi.” She stands, letting her gaze linger on him for just a moment. “Don’t get into anymore trouble on the way to your quarters, alright?”

He chuckles, the noise barely above the sound of his breath. “I can’t make any promises.”

She rolls her eyes at him as she walks away, and he follows her with his gaze for just a moment. She blends back in with the senatorial crowd, finding her place next to Mon Mothma as they continue to speak with Anakin and Rex. His eyes catch with Ahsoka’s, and she smiles at him—then turning sympathetic as she eyes his bandages.

He’ll be fine soon, he knows. He’ll have her taking care of him.

—————

The cool breeze on her Coruscant balcony feels refreshing against his skin. She’s inside, gathering new bandages and bacta for his forehead. His leg is starting to feel better, but as he leans against the balcony’s edge, he still finds himself favoring his right. He tests it again, putting his weight onto his left leg. It hurts, still makes him grimace a bit as he moves off of it, but it’s duller than it was before. He’ll take it.

Her footsteps are light as she moves outside, barely more of a sound than the soft pitter-patter rain tends to make on the duracrete here. He feels as her hand comes upon his shoulder, soft in her touch, moving up from his back and onto his arm.

“Sit.” Although her voice is delicate, there’s a feeling of commandment in it. He knows if she wanted to, she could command a room with ease, but here—there’s no need. He does as she says, moving away from the edge of the balcony and into the chair beside him.

She leans down as she stands between his legs, carefully unwrapping the bandage from around his forehead. He watches her expression, the slight purse of her lips, the knitting of her eyebrows—she doesn’t like seeing him like this.

“I’m sure you have other important things to do,” He says. Her eyes move down to his, narrowing ever so slightly. “I could take care of this myself, you know. No need to waste your time on my idiocy.”

She gives him a pointed look, and then fully unwraps his bandages, smearing some bacta onto his cut as she sighs.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I happen to enjoy my time spent with you.” She moves back for a moment as she grabs the bandages she’d placed next to them, playing with the ends. “If I could, I’d devote all of my nights to you.”

You practically have, he thinks.

“But normally I’m not-“ He cuts himself off, closing his eyes and sighing.

“Not what?” She asks. She moves forward to rewrap his laceration.

“Helpless?” He’s not sure how he meant to finish that sentence, but that’s the only word that comes to mind. Utterly helpless. He feels broken, like there had been a pressure building on him and in those few moments, when he’d chosen to go after Ventress and leave Anakin and Ahsoka behind, that had been when the pressure finally got to be too much.

These injuries—every cut, every bruise—they’re all the lasting effects of him being torn apart at the seams by an explosion he hadn’t even known had been coming.

She finishes, and then crouches before him, taking both of his hands in hers as she looks up at him.

“Obi?” She whispers. He looks down at her, tossing a weak smile as his eyes come to meet hers.

“I just wish to protect them,” He whispers back. “Anakin and Ahsoka,“ he lets out a shaky breath, “they deserve much more than I can offer them but god if I’m not going to give everything I have.”

A silence settles between them, her eyes piercing and beautiful as Coruscant shines on next to them.

“And you,” He says, “I hope that I’m never holding you back, or making you regret, or-“

“Obi-Wan,” She begins, “I give you my time, my devotion, because I want to. If I wanted to go out there, be more than a senatorial assistant, I would’ve already done it. But this—“ she squeezes his hands, “this has been my dream since long before I knew you. The only thing that changed about my dream is that you’re in it.”

He pulls her up, lifting her into his lap to wrap his arms around her. She’s careful of his left leg, because she knows, always knows what’s hurting. Obi buries his nose into the crook of her neck, happily overwhelmed by the sweet scent of citrus in her hair, and she does the same, letting her chin rest upon his shoulder.

“And I don’t know about Anakin and Ahsoka,” She begins, lips next to his ear, “but I know they adore you, my love. If they knew that you were risking yourself for them,” She pulls away, forcing him to look her in the eye, “I can’t imagine their response would be purely thankful.”

Obi-Wan bows his head, closing his eyes for just moment. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” She replies. His laughter is light as he gazes back up at her, and the smile on her face is sweet. “They—we all love you so much. We know you want to protect us, but every once in a while, let us protect and help you.”

His hands come up to cup her face, pushing pieces of hair out of the way. Her smile still pricks at her lips, and then he nods, and she moves forward, pressing her lips to his cheek, and then his nose, and then his lips.

And as she kisses him, smiling against him, hands light in his hair, he lets himself think freely.

He loves her, he thinks. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

And as she presses her lips to his cheek once more, he thinks something else. He’ll protect her, always. But in moments like these, he’ll let her be devoted to him. And just the same, he’ll devote every breath to her.

[anathtsurugi]

The Colder the Winter, the Warmer the Spring - New Chapter Teaser

‘I’ve Loved You Since Forever’ is an actual picture book. I just thought it was adorable and I wanted to see these two lovely idiots read it to their baby girl. I just composed a Star Wars version for the scene. Enjoy!

 As Zeb had guessed, they'd wound up with nearly a crate-full of flowers once word got around Base One that their little kit's first birthday had rolled by without them knowing. That and just what the Lasat birthday tradition entailed. The nice thing about Yavin IV was that there was no shortage of plant life to choose from, so the variety of flowers Ari received was beautiful.

 Sabine and Ezra managed to weave her a proper flower crown, which delighted the baby girl to no end. She had also received a steady stream of rough, but lovingly made gifts, little toys crafted from whatever might be scrounged up from the base or the jungle, nearly every single soldier in the cell eager for nothing more than a smile from the little one.

 From among the sweets Kanan and the others had managed to trade for, Ari also had her first taste of Christophsian sugar and Felucian swirlfudge, leaving her hyper as an overcharged MSE droid while the other rebels enjoyed the impromptu celebration of her birth.

 It was later in the evening than any of them wanted to admit by the time the party properly wound down. Zeb was left watching Alex cuddle a fussy Arkalia while everyone else insisted on cleaning up the Ghost. The kit was obviously exhausted, but plainly of a mind that she was not going to sleep yet.

 "Ah, Lia...ni Lia," his mate soothed the kit as he paced the common room with her in his arms. "I don't know what you want from me, dear heart. I've given you every song I know."

 "Hey, how about we give this a try," Zeb suggested with a snap, remembering something in the pile of presents on the table. Digging briefly, he came up with a little holoprojector.

 "That was...the one from Mon Mothma?" Alex tried to remember, coming to sit beside him.

 "Yeah," Zeb said as he set the small device up on the table, remembering the older woman's distant smile as she'd passed the little thing into his hands.

 "It's been in my family for a long time. An old holobook. I knew from a fairly young age there would be no next generation for me to pass it on to, but it has given me comfort in these dark days. I believe it is time for it to bring joy to another child, so I'm giving it to your little girl," the chancellor explained, her expression solemn, but warm.

 "This thing's old, so she said we'd have to do the readin' ourselves, but I don't mind that," he continued, smiling at his grumpy daughter as he leaned over to tickle her foot.

 "Nor do I," Alex agreed as the first image flickered to life above the projector – a view of a beautifully illustrated night sky bursting with stars, as if viewed while lying down on the grass and peering up through trees. As the words to accompany the image shimmered into being within it, he read them aloud. "I've loved you since forever."

 Once he'd read the words, the image shifted. The new holo was of a rainbow in a fresh blue sky, with a light dove and her baby winging through the air, the shine of their underplumage catching the light.

 "Before light doves flew over rainbows," Alex read as the words appeared, and Zeb saw the kit steal a glance at the holo, almost in spite of herself.

 With Alex's words, the holo began its next transformation. This time into a forest with a group of Kowakian monkey-lizards hanging in the branches. And at the center of the group was featured yet another parent and child.

 "And monkey-lizards swung on trees," Alex continued to read, pointing at the holo, drawing an indignant trill from the baby.

 When the image transformed again, it was into something much like the first – a holo of the night sky. Only this time two very bright stars stood out from all the rest.

 "There was you, and there was me," his mate read, kissing one of Kali's twitching ears. The kit batted at him before pointing back at the shifting image.

 The new holo was of a family of loth cats cuddled up together in an underground den. Arkalia cooed curiously when she saw it, though her eyes were starting to blink sleepily.

 "Before the suns rose in the skies," Alex narrated over the next change, a holo of several yellow and grey hreran bees buzzing their way over a field of flowers. The tiny princess reached out a paw to try and batt at the image, only a little confused when her fingers simply passed through it. "And honey came from hreran bees."

 The latest line led to yet another holo of the night sky. Only this time, the two stars had shifted a little closer.

 "There was you, and there was me," Alex almost seemed to sing, cuddling the baby even closer against him. Kali gave a wide yawn and a tired smile. The holo was soon swirling into its next set, an image of a convor and her chick tucked up safe in a nest.

 "I've loved you since forever, before the moons lit up the night."

 The image this latest line drew in was a holo of a herd of bantha roaming across a desert. At the edge of the holo was a tiny baby bantha following along after its mother.

 "And banthas wandered free."

 Once again, the image of the night sky swirled into being, the two stars much closer than before.

 "There was you, and there was me," Alex whispered in Kali's ear. Struggling to stay awake, she nearly missed the new image.

 This one was a holo of a loth wolf and its pup dashing across the grasslands of Lothal. When Zeb heard a quiet gasp of recognition, he glanced over to see Sabine and Ezra off in one of the connecting corridors.

 "Before loth wolves ran together," Alex continued to read, narrating another beautiful transformation into a nightscape. Only this was a night sky overlooking a gently lapping ocean as a shower of falling stars fell from overhead.

 "And stardust reached the sea."

 One more time, the holo shifted into the initial view of the night sky. Only now the two stars were right beside each other.

 "There was you, and there was me, waiting for the day our stars would cross...and you and I turned into we."

 Alex's voice trembled mildly at the last when he pressed a kiss to the top of Kali's head, but she wasn't aware of any of it. The little kit had finally fallen fast asleep.

 When his mate looked up at him, his lovely amber eyes were bright with a sheen of unshed tears.

 "I love you," he said softly, amazed. "I love you both...so dearly."

 "Gal L'ashkerrir an," Zeb returned, feeling the emotion he saw mirrored in those human eyes well up in his own heart. He didn't know if Alex was entirely aware that they weren't as alone as all that, but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much one way or the other. In this moment, he had his family. He was surrounded by the family who had accepted him after the loss of his world, and he had the man he loved more than life itself in his arms, with their daughter cradled perfectly between them. Whatever happened, he didn't think he could be any happier than he was in this moment.

 So he drew Alex to him and kissed him soundly, breathing in the contented sigh from his lips as he held him, both of them careful of the kit between them. But despite being so lost in the moment and in each other, they were both well aware when Kanan and Hera re-entered the room.

 "You know what? Why don't Kanan and I take Lia for tonight. You two haven't had any time to yourselves since the others have been gone," she said, a knowing look in her eyes as she easily lifted the slumbering kit from Alex's arms.

 "But- Kanan's only just got back," Alex tried to argue, though he didn't fight too hard to keep ahold of Arkalia.

 "We'll have time. But you two haven't even had your wedding night yet. You should take the time to enjoy each other. Trust me, Kanan and I have enjoyed each other plenty," she assured them as she gently laid the baby against her breast.

 Zeb shared a look with his mate at this. The human smiled helplessly for a moment before shrugging.

 "Well...I suppose we haven't truly been together since I was quit of the Empire."

 "It's true," he returned, pulling the man in for another kiss.

 "Though we assume that's going to be happening in your bunk," Sabine called out rather pointedly.

 "Mm," Alex agreed when he pulled back from him, a vaguely dazzled smile now on his face. "Suppose we can't be scarring the children."

 "Eh, kids can take more than you think," Kanan teased as he came up behind Hera.

 "Kanan," the Twi'lek scolded him mildly, accompanied by noises of disgust from the younger two Spectres.

-

So whatcha think? A good start to the fluff chapter?

The full chapter is available right now on my Patreon, so if you don’t think you can wait until next friday, go check it out. But we’ll be getting back to regular TCTW in just a week. Hope this suffices in the meantime. :D

[galaxysedginess]

Conversations in a Quiet Room

In a universe where everything is the same except Satine survives the Clone Wars and bears witness to the fall of the Republic.

Characters: Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bo-Katan Kryze, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze

Tags: Satine Kryze Lives, Post-Order 66, Reunions, Return to Mandalore, Fall of the Republic, Heart-to-Heart, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, The Twins Are Safe

Rating: G

Read on AO3:

Chapter 1: Transfer of Power

Satine discusses her contingency plan with her sister in the fallout of the Republic and the Jedi.

You'd have to be dead to miss the fall of the Republic.

It was on every holonet site, every sign, every screen; even in a neutral system. As for Satine Kryze, it was written all over her face.

"Jedi uprising." She sneered in internal disbelief, though she was positive her own advisors knew where she stood on that supposed fact, which was cutting through every possible news channel. She found it positively ridiculous how there only seemed to be one narrative on the matter. No debate, no explanation, not even an investigation. The Jedi, who despite their more recent actions as soldiers (per the Republic's demand, might she add), were typically the very last vestiges of peace in the corrupt government. Now, they were bad. Simple as that.

Of course, in an Empire there is no other point of view- just the Emperor's.

She may have not always agreed with the Jedi, but at their core, she knew in her bones that they were fundamentally good. One did not become a successful leader without having fine-tuned instincts.

But she still had to watch their temple burn. The news outlets framed it as a success for the newly anointed Emperor Palpatine, who heroically ridded the galaxy of a treasonous and dangerous cult. It was not reported as the tragedy it was. They did not talk about the young children that lost their home and loved ones at best and their lives at worst. They did not show the Jedi walking along their friends into battle to only have the very same guns turned on them in half an instant. They did not display the cries or the fear or the bloodshed. Instead, they kept reverting back to what Satine could only assumed was doctored footage of Master Mace Windu attempting to assassinate Palpatine. The footage cut out from there, erasing the rest of the scene without a trace.

And whether out of deliberate ignorance or general enthusiasm, people ate it up. It was easier to believe that the strange religion that outsiders did not understand betrayed its people rather than the government. It was easier to see the Jedi as dangers than it was an old man that supposedly navigated them into peace.

The term "peace" was now being thrown around hither and yon, it seemed.

Some folded because they had to and surely developed contingency plans of their own. Bail Organa of Alderaan was certainly no fan of the matter by glance alone. There was Mon Mothma, who was by far the boldest of his adversaries, despite technically walking in line with the Emperor's new ideals. Padmé Amidala had been one of them, of course, but...

Satine shivered at the thought of her friend's unfortunate loss. She hadn't even known Padmé was pregnant. It was another thing she could not fixate on for too long if she wanted to remain on task.

Wanted posters flocked everywhere in search of remaining Jedi stragglers. Despite the pain that it caused her to look upon such young and abandoned faces, she checked every single day for updates.  It did not mean these Jedi were necessarily safe or alive, but it was the only form of hope Satine had to go on. Mandalore would surely be confiscated by the Empire. Palpatine's very goal seemed to be acquisition at its finest.

It was only a matter of time as it had been a mere 3 weeks since the destruction of the Jedi Temple. The Empire was to be the way. As a leader of an entire group of people, she had to determine what was best for them. Her whole platform had been built on pacifism and maintaining the peace, but this Empire would not be responding with such kindness.

She did not doubt the fighting capabilities of her people, either, of course. They were Mandalorians, but there was not enough of them to take on the drones of brain-washed soldiers that would arrive at the front door the moment someone set a toe out of line.

"Those that attempt to disrupt the peace and bring chaos to our galaxy will be silenced." Slavery. He was going to enslave those that did not fall firmly into his shriveled grasp.

She never liked that man. Ever.

She looked out her balcony and at the morning sky that washed the city in orange and pink hues. It was beautiful and peaking through the skyscrapers, but her anxiety kept her from appreciating its true decadence. She could not allow herself to slow down and take a moment. There was too much to prepare for and worst of all, there was too much potential loss that was creeping in the corner of her mind. She tightened her grip on the railing to steady herself to Mandalore and to her people. That, in and of itself, was enough of a budding tragedy that did not require thought of a Jedi with soft eyes and sharp wit.

The Empire was coming.

"Satine?" Her sister's voice called from behind her, interrupting her array of thoughts. "Korkie said you wanted to speak with me."

She released a breath before turning to face Bo-Katan, who looked nothing like her, but had aged substantially in the past couple of years- ever since she distanced herself from Death Watch. Dark circles underlined her eyes, indicating she'd been sleeping approximately as much as Satine had lately. Despite their philosophical differences, both wanted what was best for Mandalore and both knew for a fact that this Empire was not that. Bo-Katan had changed her mind significantly ever since they began to work together on improving Mandalore's future. Fighting off Maul and his band of cronies certainly acted as a much needed force for the two of them to get along.

Still, in the amber lighting of the hallway, Satine could not help but see her little sister. Not the one that woke up one day and decided Satine was weak and went and joined a terrorist group, but the one that would come into her room when she was small and troubled with nightmares. The one that would give Satine her olives because she didn't like them and accept Satine's cucumbers for the same reason. The one that wanted Satine to take her to school or to read to her or sing with her.

She knew, of course, that Bo was no longer that little girl and to think of her in such a way was hurtful to the both of them in the long run. They were on the same side again, which would have to do.

"I did. The Empire is coming for Mandalore."

Bo snorted, "We've known that."

"I reckon they'll be here any day now." She twisted her hands nervously at what she was about to ask of her sister. Her sister, who was no longer a child, but still much younger than anyone that should take on such responsibility. She'd decided that for herself, in a sense, when she wanted to uproot everything Satine had built. She'd apologized since then in her own way and while Satine had mostly forgiven her, there was one final piece to that puzzle of redemption. She hadn't seen it until she awoke this morning and realized what needed to happen for Mandalore.

"You're afraid." She commented, "We all are."

"I need you to take my crown away from me." Somehow, she managed to look Bo-Katan square in the eyes when she said it. Despite all the practice of decorum and the schmoozing of politics, she could not fool her sister. If she did not make immediate eye contact, it would not resonate as an official decree.

"Excuse me?"

Now that it was said, it became easier to explain, for some reason. The first words were often the hardest to say, because from there, the frame of conversation was dictated.

"I'm a threat to our people, Bo. I've been nothing but a thorn in the Emperor's side during the Clone Wars. Had it not been for me, we would have been another system he would already possess. On top of all of that, I have considerably strong associations with a wanted Jedi Master of the High Council. I'm sure they'll see that as a reason to call be treasonous."

"And I'm your sister."

"Who has never publicly supported me." She didn't mean for it to sound like a slight, but it certainly came out that way. She didn't miss the way her sister's eyes fell just a smidge, but she continued on. "Which while I never would have believed that to be a strength until now. Nobody of the public knows you are on my side."

"Because you didn't want to be associated with me."

"That's not-" She clenched her fist and took in a calming breath. "I didn't want the rest of our people to be under the assumption that I'm in the business of being in peace with terrorists. Even if I know, in my heart, that that is not you. Your narrative in this is as someone who Palpatine likely believes he can manipulate."

Because you've been manipulated in the past.

"But you aren't." Satine said with a hardened edge to her voice.

"I'm no leader either." She squawked, "Politics and... And diplomatic solutions... And boring legislature... That's your ballpark, not mine."

"You do not see what I see when I look at you." She took her sister's hands in her own. "When I look at you, I see someone strong, adaptable, smart, and caring. All of which, might I add, are exceptional qualities to have as a leader. Also, when you're not trying to be a brooding troglodyte, people like you quite a bit."

A fond smile quirked at her lips as she rolled her eyes. She did not release Satine's hands. "And you think all of your loyal advisors and precious followers will listen to me if I snatch that crown from off your head?"

"Since when do you need to be well-liked?"

She shrugged, "You've got me there. And remind me again why you can't just pawn it off to me in an announcement?"

"Because then the Empire will know we are at least on speaking terms."

Bo nodded and seemed to weigh the heaviness of the conversation just then. She didn't want to be Duchess of Mandalore, but truthfully, when Satine was 18 years old and forced into the role after her Father's murder, she hadn't wanted it very much either. But she had a duty to uphold.

She waited for more protest, hoping and praying she had the words of encouragement to persuade her sister as well as herself.

"I know this is hard for you." Bo said. "I don't deserve this."

"Then earn it." Satine said.

The redhead released a breathy laugh and looked nervous for the first time in her life. It was a valid title to be nervous over. Satine remembered the night before her commencement. Satine hadn't been the world's favorable candidate either at the time. There she was, a young girl who seemed like an outsider that spent most of her days on Coruscant rather than her home world of Kalevala. Many viewed Satine as someone that wanted to crush Mandalorian tradition in favor of 'fluff' that had filled her head. She was labeled an idealist and a fool, but she fought (in her own way) tooth and nail to get where she needed to be.

And the hurt the hurt that settled over Satine as she thought about leaving Mandalore was immeasurable. It cracked her heart in ways she did not know were possible. She'd given up everything for her people. Everything. Now, it seemed she had to give them up if she wanted them to survive. It was a cruel and unfair joke, but she'd analyzed it from every angle. The Empire was coming and she knew they would not see her as someone they could work with. She was unsure if she could play into their game.  

Better for Bo-Katan to play the part of the obedient Imperial leader and to do everything to protect the citizens of Mandalore than for some stranger to come in and enslave everyone.

"What will come of you?"

That was a very good question.

"I can advise you- off the books, of course, because so long as I live and breathe, you will never be alone in this."

"Do you think..." She trailed off like she wasn't sure if what weighed on her should be said.

While Satine was always a huge proponent of strategizing conversations, there was no room for tactics here. "What is it?"

"Do you think Kenobi made it?"

That was a question that Satine had not been prepared to ask herself. While she'd never been the type of woman to lose herself in anything, much less a man, she could not deny that a piece of herself would die alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi. She could not seem to fathom it and to question his resilience felt like betrayal, but it had been weeks since the fall of the temple and the hunt for remaining Jedi began. Obi-Wan's name had been popular on the list of the 'Unfound' as they were calling it, but this did not guarantee his safety. It was a big galaxy, but the Empire's reach was far.

"I've not heard anything." She said quietly.

Bo-Katan nodded, "Sometimes, no news is good news, yeah?"

"Yeah." Satine swallowed what felt like her whole heart.

Actual good news would be better though.

[starforged]

general general and skywalker: a post-tros finnrey

He dislikes the desert. It’s too hot. There are two suns. Who just has two suns? And the sand, it’s everywhere. It’s in his mouth and his eyes and he doesn’t know how, but it’s in his pants. Against his skin in places nobody wants sand to be.

But…

It isn’t Jakku, so he supposes he can give Tattooine the smallest of passes.

Very small.

The cantina is full of tired humans and aliens, and some that look like they would shoot him if they could. It’s the only place with people. The only place where he can pay for information.

“Listen, I am General Finn. You know, of the Resistance?”

The barkeep, a gaunt Twi’lek with skin the color of dying grass, stares at him. Mostly, that tactic works. General, Resistance. Everyone eats that up, and it makes Finn’s life easier and keeps his pockets kind of heavy. Metaphorically speaking. Because credits didn’t actually have weight.

“Finn what?” the barkeep finally says in return. It’s not an answer to his question.

Finn blinks and takes a deep breath. “Just Finn. No, not just. General. Point being, I am looking for my friend. A girl. She carries a lasersword. There’s an orange droid. Can you tell me where she is?”

The Twi’lek holds out his hand. Rubs two of his fingers together.

Finn transfers over the credits.

“You must mean the Skywalker girl. Homestead has been empty for years, but I knew the family that lived there. Owen and Beru and their kid, Luke.”

This is too much information to receive all at once, and Finn doesn’t know how to process any of it. Skywalker girl? Luke? What?

--

Rey is waiting for him outside of the little home, built right into the sand. A moisture farm, the barkeep called it. Finn doesn’t get it, but there she is, standing in the middle of the sandy yard. BB-8 beeps with delight and rolls up the incline to him. He asks about Poe, who isn’t here with him.

Poe is busy. Everyone is busy.

“I’m confused, you’re a Skywalker now?”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t have anything to say about it. So her shoulders lift in a shrug and a faint smile paints over her lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.”

They’ve all needed time. She’s never told him all of it, what happened down on that planet’s surface while he had been on the destroyer. And then, a few months later, she was gone. Something she had to do. She’d be back.

That was three months ago.

And now here he is, on this dreadful planet, standing before Rey Skywalker.

They move towards each other at the same time, without having to think about it. Her arms loop rightly around his neck, his around her waist. They press together, too warm, but it feels like it always has: a missing piece slotting back into place.

“I missed you,” she whispers into his shoulder. When she pulls away, he tries to not feel disappointed. “Let me show you around.”

The machinery for the moisture farming is, surprisingly, fascinating. And it’s nice to talk about something that isn’t war or death or First Order or who the hell is gonna run the Republic now because most of the Senators were blown up and who is going to trust any of them. They’re no Princess Leia or Mon Mothma, who he hears was fantastic. This is just weird rustic living.

He hopes whoever his parents were or are, that they aren’t moisture farmers.

She makes him dinner. He helps to clean the dishes.

The room she lets him sleep in has old models of x-wings and other ships. There are spare parts buried in bits of sand, nothing that is good enough to salvage. The room vibrates with this energy of more.

Luke Skywalker must have been some kid.

--

“What are you really doing here, Rey?”

“I buried Luke and Leia’s lightsabers,” she tells him.

“In the sand?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“I don’t think they minded.”

She seems different. Well, they all are, so that’s a stupid observation. But she feels more calm, more sure of herself. This is not the Rey he knows. She’s still there, the bright eyed girl from Jakku and the angry girl during the war. There are just parts of her that he feels but doesn’t know. He wants to.

He’s always wanted to, and she was too wrapped up in her anger to understand that he wasn’t going to leave. That he wasn’t scared of her, but for her. She kept trying to be alone, and all Finn has ever known is working as a unit. As part of a whole.

He feels that this is what’s happening now, too.

“I’m sorry,” Rey says, cutting through his thoughts. There’s a certain flicker of grief that crosses her face, of regret and pain.

He reaches out, across the table, pushing her cup of tea out of the way. He takes her hand. It’s warm and rough. He remembers the first time he took her hand, when it had been rough and sweaty against his palm. “Me too.”

“Ben saved me,” she whispers. Her dark eyes are downcast, lips parted.

“Ben? Solo. Ben Solo, Han and Leia’s son? Our enemy? Who was hunting us?” Sometimes, Finn feels like his mind is splitting apart. When he thinks of Ben Solo, there’s only Kylo Ren. The ghost stories the troopers spoke of him in whispers during training. The feel of his blade striking against Finn’s when they fought. That mask.

But when Rey raises her gaze to his again, squeezing his hand, he sees parts of Ben Solo that are just Ben. It doesn’t change his opinion of him. The guy was a monster. And he is dead.

“He gave me his life. There’s this ache, like a part of me has been hollowed out.”

He swallows. Hard. “Tell me about it. All of it.”

She does. And he does his very best to understand the things he doesn’t get. He doesn’t ask many questions, afraid that she’ll shut down on him again. Shut him out again, and Finn doesn’t want that.

And he thinks, while she tells him her story, her past, her future, her other half, he understands what love fully is. Love is not a continuous act of sacrifice for someone else, but it is a helping hand and a listening ear and an acceptance of some things that he can’t change. He’s not jealous. No, okay, he is, because other half is such a serious notion and if Ben was alive… Finn would love Rey enough to keep an eye on a reforming monster so that she could be happy. And he would move on.

He can’t change who Ben Solo and Kylo Ren were to Rey anymore than he can change what Poe and Rose and Jannah are to him. He can’t change that her power is something he can’t exactly touch. He’s never wanted to change any of those things.

--

A month passes. It’s a hot, sandy month. Farming is hard work. But it’s good work.

--

A month passes. He begins to learn the names of the regular crowd at that cantina. They teach him card games and how to gamble. He’s terrible at it. Rey is great at it. Nobody likes to play with her.

Trusk slaps a card down, rattling some machine parts on the table. “Where’s the wife, Skywalker?”

Finn frowns. “It’s General.”

“General General?”

He realizes how stupid it sounds the second Trusk says it. “Yeah, yup. General Finn General.” It only takes him another second for him to register that Rey was referred to as his wife. The wife. To his husband. His cheeks burn hot, and he’s thankful for both the darkness of the cantina and of his skin.

--

Rey teaches Finn to lift rocks. Small ones, at first, because he tried a rather large one and nearly took out the rear section of their home. He learns how to build instead of destroy. He learns to reprogram. He learns that he is not a Jedi.

He learns that she has six different smiles and a storm in her heart.

--

“He’s still with me,” Rey confesses one night. It’s cool when the suns are down, and they sit outside.

“He’s always going to be with you,” Finn says.

“No. I mean - he became part of me, when he gave me his life force.”

“I - what.”

“And his ghost--”

“Nope.” Finn holds out his hands, shaking his head. “Nope, I don’t do ghosts.”

Smile number five comes out, brighter than any number of suns combined, a wide grin that stretches across her face and reminds him of how young they really are beneath the war wounds.

“Oh, so having him part of me is fine--”

“No that’s just weird. The Force is weird. Jedi are weird.”

“I just wanted to say that, if you kissed me, you’d be kissing part of him.”

Finn gapes. It takes a few moments for everything to catch up with him. Time, breathing, his brain. Rey’s cheeks are burning red in the faint light he can see her in. But her gaze is even, steady.

“Do you--” He coughs, because his voice becomes high pitched and he remembers coming into puberty all those years ago and how squeaky he sounded. He lowers his voice an octave. Manly, smooth. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

She takes her time, thinking that question over. He waits with a patience he didn’t think he could have in this situation, because really, all he wants to do is grab her and kiss her until they both run out of air. That’s all he’s wanted to do since the day she looked at him, him.

“You had something to tell me once,” she says instead of answering him. “What was it?”

All those missed moments, all of Poe’s butting in and the near death, and his desperation for her swell up inside of him. “I love you. I always have.”

“The thought of losing you hurts me,” she tells him. Her hand is over her heart. “Here.”

“What does that mean?”

They stare at each other, and his body is twitching to move, and his mouth is itching to kiss her, and his mind is screaming at him to do something, say something. Her eyes are glassy, and he’s ready to face the rejection. He can do that, for her. So she can heal.

“I love you.” Her voice is a whisper. “And I love him.”

Competing with a kind of dead man who may or may not live inside of her soul and also probably comes to visit when he isn’t around isn’t exactly an ideal situation.

“I know,” Finn reassures her. He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles, one by one.

One tear falls, then another. They make silent streaks down her face. “It’s not a competition.”

“I mean, I’d kick his ghostly ass.” His smile is fragile, wobbly. “Rey, whatever you want to do, I will be here for you. There’s no rush.”

“I know.” And then she closes the distance between them, her mouth on his in a gentle kiss, sweet and undemanding. She tastes of sand and soup and power. She tastes of love.

He tries his very best to not think about kissing Kylo Ren.

[fialleril]

redcap3 replied to your post “Following this post (months later because this got buried in my drafts...”

...is it crazy I kinda want to see post-Vader Anakin being set up for a blind date?

The whole thing is Han’s idea.

When he first suggests it to Leia, he says he wants to do something nice for the old man, which as cover stories go is frankly terrible. Leia only raises an unimpressed eyebrow.  It’s such a bad excuse it doesn’t even deserve a response.

Finally Han gives it up and admits that, okay, fine, he just can’t stand watching Rustbucket get flirted at every time they’re all dragged to some gala or top brass event. Anakin’s clueless act is just embarrassing, and worse, Chewie thinks it’s funny, that traitor.

Leia just goes on looking at him. Luke, though, says, “Uh, Han, I don’t think it’s an act.”

Han stares at him. “Oh come on, kid. No one is that clueless.” Then he stops to consider this, and who he’s talking to. Luke is a very friendly person, and very bad at recognizing the line between friendly and flirting. Half the Rebellion wants to date him and as near as Han can tell, he genuinely has no idea. But still... “Okay, fine, maybe some people are. But your old man was married. He managed to produce the two of you somehow. So he can’t be completely unaware of how these things go.”

Leia snickers at him. Han has the sinking feeling she knows something he doesn’t, but he knows better than to ask when she gets that look in her eye.

So he decides he’s gonna set Anakin up on a date, and Leia can laugh all she wants. He’ll be the one laughing when it works.

His first attempt is a guy named Rav who used to work maintenance in one of the hangars on Home One. These days he’s planetside on Coruscant. Nice guy, a few years older than Anakin, green eyes, a great ass. Han arranges the date at a bar so chill he frankly hates the place himself, but it seems like the kind of scene an older couple might enjoy. (Anakin’s only thirteen years older than you, a little voice in the back of his head says, but he ignores that. It’s too weird to let himself think about.) He tells Anakin that Rav wants to meet up and talk shuttle maintenance, which is such a damn obvious innuendo that he barely manages to restrain a cringe as he says it.

But hey, it works, and Anakin’s off to meet with Rav and Han congratulates himself on a job well done. Leia’s still smirking, but that’s just because she hasn’t yet learned what a great matchmaker he is.

Anakin swings back by Leia’s apartment about three hours later, early enough that Luke’s still there and Han is just a little worried. But it was only a first date, so...that doesn’t have to be bad, does it?

“How’d it go, Rustbucket?” he says.

Anakin shrugs easily and heads for the kitchen to start a pot of tzai. “Not bad. Rav’s got some great ideas for B- and Y-wing class fighters, but his views on TIEs are woefully misinformed.” He grumbles something under his breath. “I understand that there’s a need to bad mouth the enemy fighters in front of the troops, but you don’t need to buy into your own propaganda.”

Han blinks a little. Luke and Leia are snickering behind their hands, and for once, it’s real damn easy to see that they’re twins. He glares at them both.

“Well, all right, but...what about the, uh, social aspect?”

“Huh?” Anakin comes into the living room and sits in the chair across from Han and Leia’s couch. Han can never get over how the guy just...sprawls when he sits. It’s about the least Vader-like mannerism he can think of.

“Did you hit it off?” Han asks.

A brief frown crosses Anakin’s face. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind another chance to correct his opinions on TIEs.” Suddenly he brightens, “I did manage to get him the bartender’s number, though, and I’m pretty sure they’re going out this weekend, so I suppose that’s my good deed for the day.” He says this last very dryly. It’s something his therapist suggested, taking notice of his good deeds and letting himself be proud of them or something like that, and Anakin always snarks about it but Han is pretty sure he’s also following his therapist’s advice, so that’s something.

Anyway, that’s clearly not the important thing here. “Wait,” he sputters. “You...set Rav up on a date...with the bartender?”

Leia looks positively gleeful now and Han is pretty sure she didn’t plan this, but if it turned out she did he wouldn’t even be surprised.

Anakin, though, doesn’t seem to understand what’s got Han in such a fuss. “Sure,” he says with another shrug. “They made a cute couple.”

“I don’t believe this,” Han mutters. What kind of guy plays wingman for his own date? He scrapes a hand over his face and resolves to hold on to whatever dignity he can. “Okay, so Rav’s not your type, huh?”

Anakin only looks at him with an expression of such genuine confusion that Han can’t even convince himself the guy’s pretending. “My type of what?” he says.

A loud snort of laughter escapes Leia, and she tries to play it off as a sneeze. Han isn’t impressed.

“Never mind,” he mutters, and eventually the conversation moves on, but he knows Leia isn’t going to forget about this anytime soon.

*

So okay. Maybe he made a bad call with that first try. Maybe Anakin’s only interested in women? It’s a possibility. Fine. So this time Han will have to find the right woman.

He considers his options carefully. Luke and Leia’s mom was a politician and a founder of the Rebel alliance, smart as hell and also pretty damn stunning. (Leia definitely takes after her mother, he thinks, without the slightest hint of a goofy grin, no matter what Chewie says.) She must have had a terrible sense of humor though. Either that or she put up with Anakin’s awful jokes out of some never before heard of reservoir of patience and goodness. Actually, the way Anakin talks about her, that might be true.

So he’s looking for someone smart, driven, principled, but also somehow willing to endure endless terrible puns. That’s a tall order.

The first person he tries is Mon Mothma. It takes him a couple weeks to work up to asking her, because yeah, there’s nothing about this idea that isn’t awkward. But he’s got to admit, she does fit the profile.

So eventually he gets up the guts to suggest the idea of a date, and Mon Mothma laughs in his face.

Well, Han thinks, muttering to himself and wishing he could erase the last fifteen minutes of his life from existence. In hind sight, that was a pretty stupid idea. He’s never even heard of Mon Mothma going on a date.

“You’ve never heard of Dad going on a date either,” Luke says, smirking. Not for the first time, Han wonders what the hell he was thinking, making Luke his confidant in this. But he needed someone with more insight into Anakin, and he’d be damned if he’d ask Leia.

“That’s different, obviously,” Han says. “He spent twenty years inside a tin can.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let this go,” he says.

“Because people are always flirting with him!” Han says. “And he’s always pretending not to notice. It’s infuriating.”

“It doesn’t happen that often,” Luke says, and okay, Han thinks, that’s actually true, but still. It happens often enough.

Luke sighs. “If you’re so stuck on that, why don’t you just ask one of the people who’s actually flirted with him?”

Huh. That’s not a bad idea, actually. Why didn’t he think of that.

*

It still takes him a while to plan his strategy, but eventually he manages to set Anakin up on a date with a woman named Meera Yasko. She’s Corellian, he’s pretty sure, but she’s also whip smart and pretty attractive. She’s some kind of attorney at a non-profit or something, and Han’s never been especially keen on people of the legal persuasion, but he figures Anakin might like that.

The old man takes a bit of convincing, but Han is a master of smooth talking (don’t laugh, Leia!) and eventually he gets them set up at a nice swank restaurant and even orders a bottle of wine for the table as a surprise.

*

Anakin comes back from this date a lot more excited, and Han experiences a fleeting moment of smug hope, only to have it crushed beneath Anakin’s heel when it turns out the man is excited for all the wrong reasons.

Apparently, Meera is the chief counsel at a non-profit involved in education for underprivileged youth, whatever the hell that means. They’re an interplanetary organization, too, but it’s not the organization itself that really interests Anakin. Meera has the legal background to cover all of the complicated bits about starting a foundation that Anakin doesn’t really understand (and Han understands even less, if he’s honest), and he thinks they might really be able to get this off the ground.

“Wait,” says Han. “This? What’s this?”

He expects a glare or an eyeroll from Leia and maybe Luke, but instead, they look as curious as he feels.

“Oh,” says Anakin, looking oddly shy. “Right. I haven’t told you yet. I’ve been thinking, well, they’re paying me all this money that I don’t need -” (here he raises a hand to forestall Leia’s usual protest) “- so I want to do something with it. And I thought... Tatooine’s free now, but there’s not exactly a uniform system of education, and many of the communities don’t have necessary supplies or access to training for teachers or -”

“Dad,” says Leia, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

As it turns out, setting up an entire school system takes a lot of work. Who knew, right? It also takes a pretty shocking amount of money, much more than Anakin’s supposedly extravagant yearly salary. That’s not a problem, though, because Meera helps him set up a fundraising program that’s frankly terrifying in its efficiency.

They spend an awful lot of time together, but it’s mostly in her office or over working lunches. Still, Han holds onto hope for a while. After all, she at least was definitely interested. He knows that. But after several months, he finally has to admit defeat. Meera and Anakin have a pretty great working relationship, and Han would even venture to say they’ve become friends, but he still hasn’t seen any evidence that Anakin ever realized she was interested, and it’s pretty clear now that she’s not thinking about him that way any more.

Still. The Padme Naberrie Educational Foundation basically exists because of Han, so he’s counting this one a win.

*

He keeps trying.

There’s a woman named Jasta who likes to dance and, apparently, has terrible taste in art. Not his best choice, but hey, Anakin managed to set her up with a guy they ran into at the art museum, and he seems happy about that, at least.

There’s Varin, who’s an active duty lieutenant in the Republic navy and likes to spend her leave time volunteering with animals. Anakin introduces her to the recently defected Admiral Piett, and damn if the two of them aren’t getting married about five months later. So that worked out, Han thinks, rolling his eyes. But hey, Anakin got a cat out of the deal, which apparently his therapist thinks is great for him, so...there’s that.

There’s Piett himself, which Han still thinks made sense in theory, because Anakin is clearly fond of the guy. But, looking back, he can admit that it’s pretty likely even Piett didn’t know this one was meant to be a date, and Han suspects Anakin may have agreed to the whole thing as an excuse to set Piett up with Varin.

His last attempt is a Twi’lek woman named Dinsa Atray who’s frankly just a little bit terrifying, but then so is Anakin, so Han figures it’s a good match. They actually start meeting up pretty regularly, and Han is starting to feel pretty smug about it, even though Leia still isn’t convinced of his matchmaking skills. But his illusions are cruelly shattered a few weeks later, when dramatic and disturbingly well-documented accusations of sentient trafficking and money laundering bring about the abrupt end of Senator Orn Free Taa’s political career and, eventually, the beginning of his exciting new prison career.

(“Well this was fun,” Han overhears Dinsa tell Anakin. “Let me know if you ever want to destroy a man’s life and reputation again. I’m always game.” Yeah. Maybe more than a little terrifying.)

*

Three years into his self-appointed quest, and Han’s sitting at the dinner table staring at an invitation to the wedding of Mon Mothma and Meera Yasko. He has to admit, he didn’t see that coming. He wonders a bit sourly if Anakin introduced them, too. Honestly at this point he wouldn’t be surprised. The universe is trolling him, clearly.

“Hey, Rustbucket,” he says, because no one’s ever accused him of quitting while he’s ahead. “Who are you bringing as your plus one?”

Leia eyes him with fond derision, and Han gamely ignores her.

“Kadee, probably,” Anakin says. “She likes weddings. Why?”

“No reason,” Han mutters.

*

It’s three more months before he finally gives up. But he’s not going to admit that.

“You know,” he tells Leia, “I think I can declare this operation a resounding success.”

“Really,” says Leia with a smirk. “Because from where I’m standing it looks like you set my dad up on a dozen blind dates, and he still doesn’t even realize he’s been on one.”

Han waves a careless hand. “Well, from where I’m standing it looks like Operation Get Anakin Skywalker Some Friends was an unqualified success.”

Leia’s face softens and she leans up to give him a lingering kiss. “That’s sweet, Han,” she says, and when he grimaces she laughs. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

[gffa]

Scattered Star Wars novels thoughts: - I am almost finished with the Solo novelization, has anyone else read/finished it?  It’s been doing a couple of weird things that I’m not sure if it’s meant to be picked up on or if they’re just there to be Something Cool and I’m reading too much into things.  (I’m up to just past the Kessel Run/they just got to Savareen.) - I’m taking a break from the Aftermath series, because I finished Life Debt and enjoyed it a lot, but I wanted a bit of a palette cleanser before diving back in, so it doesn’t all blur together in a rush for me.  Because I never really got a chance to let my feelings for a lot of the stuff that happened there breathe--so AFTERMATH SPOILERS for the entire book. It’s easy to focus on the bigger political stuff because I have more investment in Leia’s story, but I wanted to talk more about Rae, who did finally give me an answer about, “How can she be a good person and still be loyal to the Empire, knowing the terrible things they do?”

(Aftermath: Life Debt | by Chuck Wendig) “It may have been necessary for a time.” is basically her answer.  And I’m not sure how I feel about it.  Do I feel like it’s a bandaid on a meta level, that it’s a half-measure on the part of the writing of the book or a half-measure on Sloane’s behalf?  I don’t have enough of reading her from other sources to be able to tell how well this fits with “this is the best justification the writing can do on this issue” VERSUS “yeah, Sloane’s kind of a terrible person”, I could better buy, “It was an ugly part of the perfect Empire in her head, not something she could do anything about right now, but it was always in her sights to make the Empire better than that.” and buy that she was a good person.  Is that what I’m supposed to be taking away from this?  Or am I supposed to be taking away that slavery was genuinely necessary in her eyes, that she believed it was necessary to enslave the Wookiees (even though they presented no real threat to the Empire), that it was necessary to enslave the Twi’leks (even though they presented no real threat to the Empire).  Because those are two different things!  As well as it’s very different if she’s working towards having the power to actually create that better Empire, keeping it in her sights, VERSUS “well this, is more convenient and it’s necessary right now”. Like, I’m not sure I understand why Sloane feels the Empire--who actively fucks over a lot of worlds and leaves them poor, just like she grew up, it doesn’t actually do anything to help them any more than the Republic did, does even LESS than the Republic did--is so great.  I get the idea that some of these poor people felt incredibly disenfranchised by the Republic (also like Ciena Ree) and so they believe in the Empire--but why does someone keep believing in it, when it’s failing EVEN MORE than the Republic did? But I guess that’s a question I could ask a lot of real life political views and I probably wouldn’t understand the answer any better. - OKAY, BUT ABOUT THE AFTERMATH CREW.  I really enjoyed Sinjir’s story a lot, his struggle between this bad person that he was versus this good person he wants to be, that they need his torture skills to get answers out of someone to help more people, but it makes him feel horrible even when doing it for a good cause.  OH SINJIR I REALLY FELL FOR HIM.  Because he cares about his friends, so he does terrible things for them, hurts people because they hurt his friends, and yet he really does want to be better than this.  I AM A SUCKER FOR THIS KIND OF STORY. I also appreciated his conversations with Temmin, that it’s not quite a close relationship or anything, but it was nice to see that Temmin had someone to give him some direct, honest advice. - I DID NOT EXPECT BRENTIN WEXLEY TO BE ALIVE.  Nor did I expect the sheer amount shit hitting the fan at the New Republic meeting, that I figured something probably happened to those prisoners, but I wasn’t expecting that.  To have brainwashed them into being unwilling sleeper agents, to try to assassinate Mon Mothma and a bunch of the people at the rally, to have Leia feel such complicated feelings for not being there, for Rax to have pinned this all on Rae, for Brentin to take Rae hostage so they could get to the end of this, to have them heading to Jakku, SO MANY INTERESTING THINGS AND AN EXCELLENT CLIFFHANGER. I do wonder if it’s going to ultimately be a coincidence that Rey was on Jakku or if someday they’ll tie it in to all the stuff that’s happening here.  So far, all the other stuff ties together--there’s something on Jakku that Palpatine was interested in, Rax was from there and so he’s connected to it, that’s where the last remnants of the Empire head because of Rax, so the last battle is there and all those Star Destroyers are the ones that Rey is scavenging, but is that just coincidence or something that will tie in directly to why she was left there? - I’m two and a half hours into Maul: Lockdown’s audiobook and OH MY GOD I cannot take this book seriously at all.  There was that post I saw going around the other day, about how a steady stream of angst numbs the reader to what’s going on, that our mental eyes adjust to the darkness, so instead we need moments of happiness and good times to make the angst actually felt.  This is a book that could REALLY have used that lesson--not just in angst, but in the grimdark violence of it. I shouldn’t be sitting here, listening to a book, while Maul fights a Wampa and literally tears its heart out of its chest and he “crushes it like a flower blossom” and be kind of laughing about it.  I shouldn’t be sitting here listening to a book where the other prisoners that are in there with him are killing someone and ripping the body apart to pull out the bones to fashion them into weapons, and rolling my eyes at it. It’s just a constant stream of Maul and violence so far, he’s not even allowed to use the Force because it would give away his undercover mission!  The only other recognizable character is Palpatine who is only mentioned, doesn’t actually appear so far. So, the book isn’t bad, it’d be an interesting read if you were REALLY into Maul as a violent, badass character.  I’m fine with listening to it as an audiobook while I work on gifs or play Farmville!  But I haven’t yet felt the need to quote any part of it, nor am I particularly invested in whatever Maul’s doing here.  (But, then, I’m not the world’s biggest Maul fan.  A little of that guy goes a LONG way for me.)

[moonprincess92]

Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are

the food travel au 

3 ½ month film schedule. 31 countries. 24 episodes.

2 people who might just fall in love along the way. 

(read on AO3) 

Chapter 1: London  Author: @moonprincess92nz 

It’s her first fucking day and she’s late.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT–” Jyn dodges through suitcases, around security guards and even leaps right over an empty bench at one point as she races throughout Heathrow Airport. She practically slams right through a holidaying family and nearly bowls into a couple of kids with giant backpacks on their backs, but nothing slows her down because if there is anything worse she can do than being goddamn late on her first day, she can’t think of it. Her rep is bad enough, she needs this job –

ARRIVALS, the sign blares. 

Her poor battered suitcase screeching to a halt next to her, Jyn stops to stare around at the hordes of people pouring out of the arrivals gate. The production crew is flying in mostly from USA, she thinks she is one of maybe three people who are from the UK. They told her to meet at the airport, and she checks the email on her phone for the billionth time before scanning the crowd once more.

Finally, she catches a familiar face.

He isn’t so much familiar because she knows him, but rather because she may or may not have binge-watched Cassian Andor videos on YouTube for about eight hours the previous night. Thing is, Jyn honestly wouldn’t call herself a foodie. She knows how to scramble eggs and burn chicken nuggets, but that is about the extent of her cooking skills. Half the time she doesn’t know how she even ended up getting this job, but there she was balls deep in some popular Mexican cooking show because apparently, his face wasn’t so bad to look at. It was only when her roommate barged unceremoniously into her room at four in the morning to ask, “Don’t you have to be at the airport by like, 7am?” when she figured that she might have a bit of a problem.

(“Shut up, Bodhi,” she threw back at him).

Operating on as little sleep as she is, seeing Cassian Andor in person kind of makes her ovaries feel like exploding.

SHIT.

Luckily, before she says something and makes herself look ridiculous, it appears that someone notices her. She hastily says her name, and she’s pulled into the sea of formal introductions by who is apparently their production manager, Mon Mothma. Jyn has never been good at this part. Sometimes, she thinks that she chose the wrong profession entirely – she should be working in a lab or office, somewhere with as little human interaction as possible – but rather unfortunately, she’s chosen a profession where it’s impossible to get by without kissing arse and playing nice with others.

She’s learned over the years how to put on a polite mingling face, but Jesus, it takes it out of her.

“Hi! I’m Luke, the social media manager!” a bright-eyed blonde says.

“Wedge Antilles,” their sound engineer introduces. “Looking forward to working with you!”

“… Kes Dameron. Sorry, I haven’t had coffee yet,” It turns out their head of security is about as sociable as she is this early in the morning.

Honestly, she’s doing fine until suddenly she’s face to face with Cassian Andor and that’s about when it strikes her what she’s really gone and gotten herself into. She’s standing in front of an honest-to-god celebrity, here. She’s never worked on something on this large a scale in her life! It doesn’t help that there’s really something about his jawline as well, but either way she is a professional, goddamn it. She holds out her hand and says,

“Jyn.”

Cassian quirks an eyebrow.

“Is that… your favourite drink, or…?” he asks in confusion.

“What? Oh, bugger,” Jyn curses as he tentatively shakes her hand. “I don’t mean gin, I mean – it’s my name, Jyn with a J – and a y – apparently my parents hated me as a child,” She tops it off with a slightly awkward laugh.

God, she is bad at this.  

“Oh. If it helps, I often get called Caspian whenever I go to Starbucks?” Cassian offers.

“Well, that was your first mistake going to Starbucks.”

“What’s wrong with Starbucks?”

“Talk about commercialisation!” Jyn points out. “Whatever happened to supporting your local businesses?”

Incredibly, he laughs. “I’m sorry, you’re the new camera operator, right?”

“Right, right – I was offered the job a little last minute.”

“Of course – Kay unfortunately got sick – that was the guy who was originally hired.”

“Ah, I see,” Jyn tries to lean casually on her suitcase. “I wasn’t given any details, just a contract and a place to meet – sucks to be him, amiright?”

Cassian frowns. “He’s my best friend.”

Jyn blinks. Of fucking course he was his best friend.

She just gestures vaguely behind her somewhere. “I’m gonna…” she says, weakly. He smiles politely back.

If it was at all appropriate for the setting she would be SCREAMING.

“… so all in all,” Jyn eventually says through Skype later that night. “within the first minute of us meeting, I convince him I’m an alcoholic, criticise him for going to bollocking Starbucks and also somehow manage to insult his best friend!”

Little Bodhi through the screen shakes his head. “Oh my god, Jyn…”

Oh my god, Jyn sounds about right. She snuggles down into the hotel bedsheets and is at least thankful that she’s on a production that can afford actual stars underneath their accommodation. The last time she had a job, she was put up in a student hostel, and she’s pretty sure she’s still washing fleas out of her hair to this day. Most of day one was dedicated to production meetings with only a few establishing shots being filmed that evening. After hours of listening to Mon Mothma drone on and on (3 ½ month film schedule, tight deadline, 31 countries, 24 episodes, etc., etc.) Jyn was thankfully able to clear her head down by the Thames. With only her and the essential crew, she was finally able to breathe as she captured her city by sunset.

She honestly doesn’t know what this job is really going to entail. The travelling she is relatively familiar with thanks to her job, but even then she technically hasn’t been out of the country since she was 16, and she mostly tries to forget her time with Saw anyway. She might not have had a family for a long time, but she’s at home here in London as much as she’s ever been. It’s the only place she’s ever felt truly safe, felt like she has ground beneath her feet and she’s a little (a lot) terrified to actually leave it.

But hell, bills need to be paid and a T.V. show needs to be filmed.

“What am I doing, Bodhi?” Jyn mutters underneath the blankets.

“I believe it’s called ‘flirting’,” Bodhi smirks back in their flat on the other side of the city. “and, if I might add, you’re not doing it very well.”

“Fuck you, mate.”

“Just calling it like it is.”

“Seriously,” Jyn stresses, then. “what am I doing here? I’m working on a travelling food show and I barely know how to cook!”

“You’re the camera operator, not the bloody caterer,” Bodhi says, exasperatedly. “I’m fairly certain you don’t need to know.”

“But–”

“Jyn, listen,” Bodhi cuts her off. “Lord knows I’d prefer to just wrap you up and bring you back home, but honey, you gotta stick with this, ok? No more flaking! You think you don’t fit in, fine – fake it until you do. Go get bloody lost in Germany or finally learn how to make pasta or something, I don’t care, just get out and do it, because we both know you’re not really living here.”

“I’m living!”

“You’re existing,” Bodhi sighed. “and I know your life has had its fucked up moments. I know. It sucks. But it’s time, Jyn.”

She snorts. “You know, when I called you it wasn’t for another therapy session. How much do I owe you this time?”

Her best friend rolls his eyes. “A lifetime of free pancakes.”

“You know I can’t make pancakes.”

“Lifetime supply of Jammy Dodgers, then.”

“That, I can do,” Jyn points at the screen.

Bodhi laughs, only it quickly turns into a violent yawn. “BLIMEY, I’m tired.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the hint,” Jyn smirks. “but, um, before you actually do go – on a scale of 1 to 10, exactly HOW bad was the flirting?”

“Minus 5,” Bodhi deadpans. “Don’t insult his friends next time.”

“Yeah,” Jyn grimaces. “I’ll do that.”

He grins. “Love you, Jyn.”

“Yeah. Love you, too.”

tellmewhatyoueatofficial check out that view! #tellmewhatyoueat #london #tower bridge #filming #cinematogropher #travel #sunsetwiththecrew #bts @jynserso

bodhitherook JYN BABE U MANAGED TO MAKE IT ONTO THE OFFICIAL INSTA ACCT  

bodhitherook also how the fuck are u not wearing a jacket

tellmewhatyoueatofficial @bodhitherook i confess we might have asked her to take her jacket off for the #aesthetic

bodhitherook WHO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT JYN BC CLEARLY THESE PEOPLE ARE TRYIN TO KILL U IT’S OCTOBER

jynserso pfffft sun was out, was a solid 15 degrees that’s basically sunbathing weather

jynserso but still calling you out @walkstheskies his name is Luke Skywalker go stalk him 

Jyn manages to corner Luke Skywalker in the hotel hallway.

“WHY ME,” she despairs. Her phone is open on the show’s official Instagram page, and it’s pretty clear what she’s talking about, although she quickly adds, “and before you say anything, I KNOW signing the contract means technically I consented to my image being used on multiple forms of social media, but still–”

Luke just shrugs happily.  

“I belong behind a camera, not in front of it,” she protests.

“Hey,” Luke counters. “you look beautiful in that shot! Also, I should be the one complaining, after you sicced your best friend on me.”

“Oh good, Bodhi did his job then,” Jyn says. She steps out of the way hastily as several of their fellow crew members run down the hall between rooms, someone cheering something about shots in the background.

“He’s sent me about a dozen messages insisting that I look after you and treat you right,” he laughs. “Nice guy!”

Jyn just smirks slightly before eyeing down the hallway once more. It’s been two days, and their insane shooting schedule is already starting to hit them all. Quite frankly, none of them have any business still being awake at this time, but it was a long day and apparently they are all still so hyped that trying to sleep with the racket they’re making would be fruitless anyway.

“We should get out!” someone calls enthusiastically from one of the open rooms, and Jyn turns to see their lighting director’s face beaming when she notices her. Shara Bey dashes over and clings hold of her shoulder. “Hey! Where should we go?”

“What’re you looking at me for?” Jyn asks in bewilderment.

“Well, you’re the local girl,” Shara points out.

Jyn stares at the over-tired, wired and enthusiastic faces all staring back at her. They’ve all spilled out of their rooms, nodding and asking and between this and the Instagram post, Jyn isn’t sure she’s been on the receiving end of this much attention in her life. There’s a reason she stays behind the camera! She glances at Luke, although the man just shrugs at her in response.

“I’ve never been to London! Where do we get good food around here?” he asks.

Shit.

“Uhhhh... I know a place that sells killer fish and chips?”

“It’s an adventure and it’s happening - c’mon, guys!” Shara leads the way. 

She ends up bringing them to The Cantina, of all places.

A fun fact to rattle off is that there are literally thousands of pubs throughout London, and somehow she always ends up here. Her and Bodhi almost haunt the place at this point. It’s objectively not the most popular in London nor even relatively famous, but in Jyn’s opinion it captures the very heart of British pub culture (you know, getting shit-faced and yelling about football). It’s kind of what the entire show they’re filming is supposed to be about, so… yeah, here they are. The place is always dark and a little shady, the music always slightly too loud and the lights slightly too piercing, but Jyn feels almost relaxed here.

“I moved back to London when I was 16,” she explains as they approach. Shara Bey has already filmed several snapchat videos of herself by this point and now seems to be flirting with the security guy. Most of their group is hanging onto her every word and she adds, “We’d come here on the weekends with our fake I.D.s and get hammered.”

“My kinda party,” Luke grins.

They all pile inside The Cantina, Jyn dutifully avoiding Cassian’s eyes. Honestly, she had no idea that he was even coming - did famous T.V. presenters even do that? - but someone called out to him just as they were walking out of the hotel doors to go catch a train and he dashed out to join them. After embarrassing herself so spectacularly, she figures the only way to handle tonight is the true British way: ignore all emotions and pretend everything is fine.

She notices a gap at the bar and she manages to quickly order two shots as everyone piles into the pub. She thought she had avoided all scrutiny as her colleagues get caught up in which drinks to order, but apparently nothing gets past the social media manager. Luke gives her a look of bemusement from over his shoulder and Jyn bites at him,

“What?”

“Steady on,” he says.

“Shut up,” Jyn accuses.

“You know, if you want to talk to him all you have to do is open your mouth and start saying words,” Luke says, slyly.

Jyn glares. “What d’you know? You know nothing.”

“I know that look! Trust me, I get it. I’m a huge fan too.”

Jyn finally meets his knowing gaze.

“You also watch three seasons in eight hours?”

“Without subtitles!” Luke nods. “My Spanish got a LOT better.”

“Stalk on Instagram?”

“I’m a social media manager,” Luke scoffs. “Raise me something actually valuable.”

“Imagine marrying someday?”

Luke laughs. “Jyn, we all know that he’s out of both our leagues, but with you… ehhhhh, there’s potential.”

“I’m sorry, EHHHHH?”

“I also said potential!”

Jyn was going to offer one of the shots to Luke, but with that statement, she keeps them both for herself. It’s true, she’s been filming this man for the last two days and she still technically hasn’t had any kind of one-on-one conversation with him that isn’t to do with camera angles. Besides the disastrous first attempt, that is. She isn’t even sure what’s stopping her at this point. It’s not like she’s kidding herself that something is going to happen – they’re on a schedule, they’re going to be travelling in a tight knit group for months without space to get away, and who even looks at her like that anymore? – so it’s not even the fact that he’s hot that makes her like this.

She’s just never done anything on this kind of scale before. These people all have established careers, been featured on Ellen, have followers on Twitter… this is the first time Jyn’s worked on a project where the director isn’t some uni student filming a sex scene in their parent’s garage. Bloody hell, what could she even say to him?

“Ok, look,” Luke sighs next to her. “exactly how many shots is this going to take? Because I will literally buy them all if it will get your ass over there.”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “but at least one more.”

tellmewhatyoueatofficial rumour has it that somewhere round here you can get some killer #fishnchips! @theofficialcantina #tellmewhatyoueat #bts #london #camden town #camden market #london pub #the cantina #filming #cinematogropher #travel  

Her ass inevitably did not end up over there.

“Ok, we’re going for the casual ‘we’ve just stumbled upon this place’ feel,” Their director, Draven, is running backwards somewhere behind her, trying to keep up with the action as Cassian walks down the street. She’s aiming for the vision of him being in amongst the crowd, just one with London, which is kinda contradicted by the fact that they have blocked off one side of the entire stretch of street outside the restaurant they’re currently featuring and their security guy is letting through a controlled amount of people to walk through their shot. Still, she gets to watch Cassian stroll down the footpath with his hands in his pockets, contently gazing around the streets, so she’s probably got the good end of the deal, here. Voiceovers will be added in later, so literally all he has to do is walk and smile as Draven yells out direction.

“Ok! You reach Rebel Rebel,” he calls out. Cassian pretends that his eye is caught by the actually previously chosen restaurant, glancing up at it. She zooms in on his face.

Yes. Definitely has the best deal, here.

“CUT,” Draven yells. “Perfect, we’ll shoot it once more, then head on in.”

They take a break before moving into the restaurant to do more filming and she listens to Draven rave to their producer about how big they’re expecting their audience to be for this particular episode. She probably doesn’t try hard enough to hide her scoff, but she’s exhausted from being up until 2am that morning and still too pissed off at herself to care. Despite all of Luke’s encouragement, she still hadn’t managed to get herself over to the table where Cassian had been sitting. She had an opening and alcohol, and yet…

“Look, I’ve worked on this show before and I’m yelling you,” Luke nodded at Cassian last night. “He’s a good guy! He’s worth getting to know.”

She was sure he was. It was just getting to the point of knowing him that worried her. She glances bitterly up at Rebel Rebel. Honestly, of all fucking places in London, they just had to choose the most cliché.

“Why do you not like this place?”

She whirls around in a slight panic, heart practically leaping into her throat. Cassian’s watching her curiously, water bottle in hand and please Jyn, please remember what proper words are.

“Who – who says I don’t like it?”

“That expression on your face,” Cassian points out.

She’s almost impressed that he noticed. “Is filming going to be this forced the entire time?”

For a moment she isn’t sure if he’s going to give her a real or diplomatic answer. She supposes his job’s on the line, but just as that thought occurs he admits, “A lot of things are pre-shot filming this kind of show. It’s like reality T.V., we pretend it was all filmed on the spot when actually we planned the entire thing. But the food and the reactions, that’s going to be real. You can’t fake taste.”

“What if you don’t like something? Are we allowed to include that?”

“Usually depends on who I’m allowed to piss off,” he mentions.

“Well, I dunno who chose Rebel, Rebel, but this place sucks,” If he can figure it out from the look on her face, then there’s no point denying it. Jyn points out the restaurant that is technically one of London’s top places to eat. Recommended on Trip Advisor, stars and celebrities were known to dine there and even Jamie Oliver did a special there once, but as far as Jyn is concerned the entire place was overrated.

“How do you know that?”

“Like I couldn’t possibly know great food,” She winces a little at the tone. Blimey, she needs to work on not sounding so defensive.

“Show me,” Cassian suddenly challenges. “After filming today, take me to the good food.”

He can’t be serious. Surely he isn’t? They have a schedule, they have deadlines, they can’t just go bloody rogue! Yes, fine, she does have somewhere in mind. She might consider wine and a can of tinned soup a decent meal, but that doesn’t mean she can’t recognise great food when she sees it. The memories suddenly hit her, of meat sizzling, of swinging on vinyl chairs and knives clinking against plates. She remembers being allowed to stand on a stool behind the counter to take customer’s money and running through the kitchens trying not to get caught by the chefs. Whenever she hears classical music she’s taken back and they’re literally only around the corner, but…

It’s a stupid idea.

She shrugs. “I think Draven’s gonna burst a blood vessel if we don’t get back to it.” 

JUST TAKE HIM TO THE FUCKING RESTAURANT JYN DO IT DOOOOOO IIIIITTTTTTT

FKJDJFKJDFJKFJKDF KILL ME Also are u still harassing luke to be nice to me bc honestly bodhi

Im just lookin out for mah gurl Also turns out he’s kinda funny so But not the point, just take him Jyn seriously

But it’s such a personal place and we barely know each other

Don’t make it about you then. Just say u know a place that’s better, bring ur camera and film the magic. Oooooh, get baze to make his special, that shit is GOOD Plus this way you’ll get to know each other eeeyyyyy

I’m going to regret this

No u wont 

It eats at her, until eventually Bodhi manages to make her snap. Damn it, it will not leave her alone and apparently, her way of asking people out these days is just turning up at their hotel room door and demanding them to come with her, since the moment Cassian answers her slightly too hard knock on his door she blurts out,

“Get your coat on, we’re going somewhere.”

Cassian blinks slightly, but seems entirely non-phased as he ducks to the side to grab a jacket and follows her out the door. “Where are we going?”

“To the good food.”

It’s a bit far to walk and she’s still not used to the T.V. glamour of being able to take taxis everywhere, so she drags him out into the cool, drizzly evening and onto the tube. Taking the Piccadilly Line into Covent Garden, the night is fresh and just starting to buzz when they climb up into the street. She wasn’t going to get her camera out until they reached Lahmu, but the side street they cut down is strung up with multi-coloured lanterns and his face is honestly too good to not try and capture.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure if we’re even allowed to do this,” Jyn admits, as she points out the way. “Like, filming outside of scheduled shooting. Have I just violated my contract or something?”

“Depends if Draven likes what he sees,” Cassian answers her.

“I’ll delete it later, then,” Jyn says, walking sideways as she filmed and hoping that nothing got in her way lest she accidentally go flying. “No one has to know a thing. And if you talk, I’ll kill you.”

He laughs a little into the camera. “I’m starting to think I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“But anyway, welcome to Covent Garden again,” she makes a deal out of saying, ensuring that she can still see his face through her lens. He pauses under a lamp post and thankfully, no one seems to recognise them in the dark and without the addition of an entire film crew. To someone else, they could literally be any random YouTube vloggers or something. “Naturally, this damn show only brings you to the touristy side of London, but there are some admittedly great places to eat in this area. Not fucking Rebel, Rebel though, I mean shit that’s actually edible.”

“We might want to edit that last part out.”

“Yeah, post can handle that,” She would wave a hand if she had one to spare. “Tell me, superstar Cassian Andor, how are you enjoying London so far?”

He smiles a little against the backdrop of lit restaurants. “It’s cold.”

“Of course it’s cold, it’s fucking England.”

“But it’s exciting,” he adds. “There’s so much history here, buildings that have been around for hundreds of years… it’s great to see.”

“You’re supposed to say you love the food, stop going off script.”

“Sorry – I love the food.”

“Good,” she says. “because if you don’t love where we’re going, then I’ll buy the next round of drinks.”

“Where exactly ARE we going?”

She points across the street and she films him turning and seeing the lit up sign of Lahmu. Owned for the last fifteen years by Baze and Chirrut Malbus-Îmwe, it’s known for its wildly eccentric yet still somehow delicious menu. Jyn leads Cassian there, waving to the matire’d on their way in and asking if Baze is around.

“You’re a regular?” Cassian asks.

“Kind of,” Jyn hedges. “it’s weird to explain.”

She doesn’t rest until they find Baze in the kitchen, the co-owner and chef shaking Cassian’s hand vigorously like any person who was vaguely familiar with food would. Jyn keeps the camera rolling the entire time until finally, he tries Baze’s famous Secret Special and the unearthly sounds that come out of his mouth Jyn deems a little too inappropriate for their G-rated show.

“This is fucking amazing,” he practically moans.

“I’m glad,” Baze says warmly as Jyn hastily cuts the recording.

“And you seriously won’t tell me what kind of meat this is?”

“Of course not, that’s the secret part.”

“It’s not going to have me arrested, right?”

“No. Well… I don’t think so, at least.”

Cassian just shrugs. “Good enough for me.”

Carefully working on packing the camera away in the bag she has strung around her neck, Cassian continues to enthusiastically shovel whatever mystery meat it is into his mouth. Over by the kitchen bench, Baze leans in and squeezes her shoulder.

“So can I expect to actually get on T.V. here, or not?” he asks in undertone.

“Probably not,” she admits.

“Ah, well. It was a nice idea while it lasted,” Baze sighs, gruffly.

“You guys are still doing well, right?” Jyn asks, casually.

“Stop worrying. We’re fine,” Baze shoots her a look. “Exposure never hurts, however.”

“Just let Cassian tweet about this place,” Jyn points out. “You’ll have people coming in hordes.”

Cassian cuts in to scoff, “I’m not THAT popular.”

“When you have a follower count with 5 digits or more, you’re considered popular, mate.”

Cassian protests, but honestly they’re mostly silent after that as he apparently just savours the flavours Jyn knows have to be hitting his tongue. She realises at one point that she’s closed her eyes and she hastily snaps them open because Jesus, Jyn, get a grip, she can listen to the boiling soup and scraping of pots without looking weird about it. It’s only when Baze moves away to carry on directing his kitchen, however, when she finally says,

“Look. I think we got off on the wrong foot when we first met,” she says. “I swear I usually know how to talk to people normally. I’m a big fan?”

Thankfully, he laughs and she lets out a slow breath of relief. “I’m honoured.”

“No really,” Jyn points out. “I don’t even speak Spanish, and I watched all three seasons of your last show.”

“That’s dedication.”

“Sorry again.”

“Hey,” he shakes his head. “It’s fine – I’m a big fan of yours too.”

“Piss off,” Jyn says before she even stops to think whether that might offend him or not. “I film obscure niche documentaries and indie films that lose money rather than make money, there’s no way you like any of that shit.”

“No really, I looked you up when we knew you were coming,” Cassian points out. “Or, ok, Kay sort of insisted that we look you up, he was feeling a bit territorial. But we watched a little of that one documentary you did on the abandoned insane asylum?”

“Oh god,” Jyn shivers. “that place was creepy as all fuckin’ hell. I had nightmares for weeks.”

“But the camera work was beautiful! Wait, exactly how creepy?”

“I’m pretty sure that one of the film crew got possessed.”

“You’re not serious?”

And it’s weird, but he finishes his Secret Special and she tells the quite frankly terrifying story of when one of her crew members had gone a little nutty and claimed that they were having visions of dead people and it kind of… goes well. Her heart is still pounding, but they’re finally talking. It at least makes her feel a little more grounded, a little more like she actually fits into this project that until this point made her feel like she was just floundering under water. This isn’t another weird documentary about haunted buildings, this is something that will eventually air on prime time British television…  

“So how did you end up as a T.V. presenter, of all things?” Jyn asks once his plate is scraped clean.

“I started in regular journalism. Believe it or not, but I’m not the best cook.”

“Shut the hell up,” Jyn insists.

“No really,” Cassian says, earnestly. “I can appreciate good food, but I still cannot make anything like my mother can.”

“Well, I burn toast so together, we’ve got this show covered.”

“Thank God, I was starting to worry.”

She laughs. Fucking laughs. But he’s laughing too, so she hopes it’s ok and he asks her then, “How did you get into camera work?”

“The professional answer is that I have always appreciated the entire filmography of whoever happens to be employing me at the time,” Jyn says. “The real answer is that I was running out of time to pick an elective at uni and I chose this random media studies paper on a whim.”

“So we pretty much started in the same place.”

“I guess, yeah,” It’s hard to imagine herself having literally anything in common with the celebrity, but what the hell does she know in the end? They’re quiet for a moment, Cassian moving to wash his own plate and Jyn pretending that she isn’t watching. It’s only when he’s finished and everything is put away when he turns back to her and says, 

“So what’s the story?”

“Sorry?”

“The story,” he reiterates and Jyn’s chest thuds painfully. “about why this place. Don’t try and tell me there isn’t a story.”

It’s true, there is one. And she honestly wasn’t sure whether she was going to say it when she first brought him in here, but there’s something that makes her want to say it now. She takes a deep breath and answers,

“My father used to own it.” 

He nods, but doesn’t say anything else. He waits, clearly willing to let her talk when she’s ready, and she eventually sighs in exasperation. “Fine, my father owned it and it’s how he met my mother,” she adds on. “I practically grew up here, but they died and it got sold when I was eight and it’s never felt exactly the same since. I guess I still try sometimes, though.”

It’s a very glossed over version of the story, but it will do for now. He nods in understanding before gesturing to her camera once more. “Do you mind?”

She frowns. “What do you want to film?”

“I have an idea – just roll with it?”

She humours him, once again pulling out the camera. She’s at least thankful that the kitchen lights are kind of perfect for filming as she sets it on top of an upturned saucepot in lieu of a tripod. She prompts, “What are you thinking?” and Cassian looks up right at her through the lens.

Blimey.

“We’re going to be taking Europe by storm, right?” he says, and she almost thinks his words aren’t even intended for the camera. “The idea is that we experience multiple cultures and different kinds of foods, but I love that there’s one thing that seems to be universal. No matter where you are in the world, food has this ability to connect things. We associate food with the places we come from, certain celebrations, smell with memories, a restaurant with home…” Her heart is definitely somewhere up around her throat and he smiles at her. “and that’s pretty awesome.”

tellmewhatyoueatofficial rumour has it if you order the #SecretSpecial you’ll become a changed person! #tellmewhatyoueat #restaurant #food #filming #locations #london #covent garden #bts @lahmurestaurant

k-lara7 omg I love this place!!!!

yavemiel @ pingou7 we are so going here next time you come visit me

bodhitherook I had no idea they were filming here @jynserso??????

doptimous Definitely would recommend @lahmurestaurant. The owners are so nice, you’re never waiting long and it’s honestly a great experience every time we go. 

In the end, Draven loves their side project so much that it turns into his idea.

They were all supposed to be on a flight to Cardiff at this point, but the network has apparently let them delay by twelve hours to allow them to shoot additional footage and anything that gets her favourite restaurant exposure is fine with Jyn. But despite their filming obviously fake candid shots outside the restaurant, Draven’s admitted that there’s a lot of charm in the real candid-ness of what they filmed the previous night and hopefully, a lot of their original footage will end up being used in the final cuts.

“I’m going to miss London!” Luke says cheerfully as they wait at the airport. Definitely not a big enough production for a private jet, they get a few looks waiting amongst everyone else but luckily at 4am not many people care all that much about the moderately famous food show host and crew. Jyn is attempting to sleep in her cold, plastic chair but it’s kind of hard when Luke won’t stop chatting.

“Do you ever stop?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” she mutters. She gets up and leaves Luke to his cheerful trawling through Twitter and notices Cassian slumped down near the phone charging station. With his hoodie pulled over his eyes it’s difficult to tell if he’s awake or not, but he stirs when she sits down next to him.

“Naturally the network couldn’t wait for tomorrow and literally had to book us on the next flight to Cardiff,” she says. “Who the hell even flies to Cardiff at this time in the morning?”

“Right?” he smiles a little. Then, after pausing he adds, “Hey, um… I’m sorry if I stepped over a line or something before. When we were filming at Lahmu. I know you didn’t really intend on it being a part of the show and it got kinda personal so I just wanted to make sure you’re…”

“It’s ok,” Jyn says softly.

She isn’t sure what it is. It’s 4am in an airport, it’s one of those liminal spaces where time stops existing and only vacant expressions and stress endures. But she turns to glance over at him and he’s looking at her and shitballs, her stomach twists itself inside out.  She still doesn’t know what to expect from this entire project and she certainly doesn’t expect anything ever from him, but a part of her is really, really pissed off to know that they have to part ways at the end of all this.

But then again also, they have 30 more countries to go.

Finally, the announcer is declaring that their flight is beginning boarding. All around, tired people stand and yawn, stretching and picking up suitcases and rousing sleeping children. Cassian sighs before pushing back his hood and giving her a determined look.

“Let’s go to Wales,” he says.

“Let’s go to Wales,” Jyn agrees. 

---

[theonewiththefanfics]

I’ll Always Come Back For You (one-shot)

Requested by the lovely @cassianandorxreader (I took your idea and added some bits, cause damn, am I Cassian trash! Can’t get enough of the guy. Hope you like it :))

Summary: Reader is Cassian’s girlfriend when a simple reconnaissance mission goes awry she gets captured by the empire. Cassian is not about to give up, even if it means going against the Rebellion.

Pairing: Cassian x Reader (also involves Rogue One gang; K-2SO sadly only mentioned)

Warnings: mention of torture, blood, swearing

Genre: a bit of angst, a bit of fluff

Word count: 4549 (Cassian is ruining my life, I can’t!!!!)

The town market was complete and utter chaos. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission turned into a full-on battle. They had not realised that the planet had recently been overtaken by the Empire, so now blasters shot in every direction.    Y/N was crouched down behind an overturned tent trying to spot Cassian or any of her Rogue One teammates. Internally she groaned. “Why did everything have to go to complete bantha shit today of all days…”

    A mission on special days was nothing new in Cassian’s and Y/N’s relationship, but today had marked their two year anniversary. As they had gotten on the ship Cassian, though he had tried to be inconspicuous as to what he had planned, had told Bodhi that they needed to be dropped off on another planet where a U-Wing would be waiting for them and he’d take her to somewhere special.    “You’ll love it, mi Corazon, trust me,” he had whispered in Y/N’s ear the previous night as they had lied together in their bed.    She hummed. “And if I don’t?” The teasing tone evident in her voice. To be fair, she’d be happy just to sit in their shuttle back on Yavin4 in the hangar and just talk, if only it meant to spend time with him.    “Then I’ll take you to the edge of the galaxy or as far as you wish, only to see you smile.” Y/N looked at the man with such adoration in her eyes, she couldn’t help the tears that had slipped down her cheeks.    “Mi Vida,” Cassian’s thumbs wiped them away, “what is wrong?”    “Nothing,” Y/N huffed a laugh and placed her palm on his rugged cheek, “you’re just so cheesy I can’t help but fear that one day our kids will melt in the Sun.”    Cassian stilled completely as Y/N fully realised what she had said. They hadn’t talked about their future because they didn’t want to instil useless hope. They were at war and any second could be their last, so Cassian and Y/N had made a promise to each other to spend every moment in the present.    “You want to have kids with me?”    She couldn’t read his expression. Y/N felt like her heart would break out of her with the force it was beating. She placed a trembling hand on Cassian’s chest and focused her stare there. “I know we have no idea what will happen to us. I mean we could be struck down by lightning right this second but,” she tried to gather her words, ”I’d like to imagine a time when all of this is over and we could start a family.”    Y/N didn’t look up to him. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if Cassian didn’t feel the same. Yes, she knew he loved her, but dating was one thing and starting a whole new life and bringing some more into the world was another.    “Mi Alma, look at me.”    Tentatively Y/N glanced up and saw Cassian’s own eyes filled with tears. “There is nothing in the galaxy that I would want more than to start our family.”    The two lovers couldn’t contain the large smiles that spread across their faces. They would outlive this war, they would make the galaxy safe and they would have a family of their own.

   Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes caught the sight of Jyn beating the living daylights out of three stormtroopers and right behind her Cassian was frantically scanning the crowd. A blast that whizzed right past Y/N’s head made her crouch down a bit more, but her aim didn’t falter as the beam went through her attacker’s head and she stood up.    “Y/N!” Cassian’s voice rang over the chaos.    “Go!” she motioned with her hands, “start the ship up, I’ll meet you there!”    Three troopers advanced towards her, but she rolled out of the way right as ten shots hit the ground where her body had been.    “Go! I’m right behind you!” she screamed at them as her feet carried her towards where Jyn was. With a last glance, Cassian ran to where they had left their shuttle. K-2SO had been critically damaged in a previous mission, so they had had to leave him behind on Yavin. He didn’t know where Bodhi, Chirrut or Baze were, he’d lost sight of them once the fight had started, but he caught the three figures running towards the ship as fast as possible.    Bodhi’s leg was injured, so his limping slowed the man down, to which Cassian quickly put an arm under his shoulder. Baze looked unharmed at all, while Chirrut sported a nasty cut on his forehead.    “Get the motors running,” Cassian instructed Bodhi, who despite the scarred flesh went towards the control panels with determination.    Baze’s gruff voice sounded from behind. “Where is Jyn and Y/N?”    “They’re coming, they were right behind me.” But as Cassian’s gaze scoured the alleyway there was nothing. The fight had died down and he could see Imperial ships lifting from the ground and up into the sky. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut.    Cassian stepped out of the ship.    “Captain?” Bodhi spoke up.    They weren’t coming. He couldn’t hear footsteps, not even one pair of them. The town had gone dead silent and that made ice fill his veins. Cassian’s feet acted almost on their own accord as he sprinted down to where the market had been.    Bodies of troopers and civilians alike littered the ground, yet he was looking for a particular red coloured jacket Y/N had been wearing. He feared the worst, of course, he did, it’s how being in the rebellion since the age of six will make you grow up, but he knew Y/N. If she was dead, then there’d be twenty troopers lying around her, yet nothing like that was even a remote part of the scene.    “Cassian,” called out a voice from somewhere behind him. He flipped over what felt like a dozen tables and rubble pieces when he found Jyn’s bloodied up form.    “What happened? Jyn, where is Y/N?”    She groaned in pain as her palm pressed against the nasty gash right by her temple.    “They took her, Cassian.”    If he had thought that fearing his love was dead could be the worst feeling in the world, this completely proved him wrong.    “What?” he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.    Jyn clutched onto Cassian’s arm as she slowly pulled herself up. “We got blitz-attacked. I didn’t see them coming, but Y/N did. She pushed me out of the way of a blaster, but one of those fuckers hit me on the head. The last thing I saw was her shooting three more, but one from the back knocked her out.”    She sighed. Y/N and Jyn had become fast friends, Jyn even thought of them like sisters. “I’m so sorry Cassian, Maker, I’m so sorry…”    “Don’t,” he stopped her. “Don’t apologise.”    Jyn was utterly confused.    “If they didn’t kill her, they’ll take her to one of the bases. Without a doubt, they will try and interrogate her, but she’ll buy us time with that. And while that is happening I’ll be damned if I don’t go after her and bring her home.”

   Cassian was more than angry, he was livid. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Mon Mothma had shot him down when he told her Rogue One would be going after Y/N.    “That is an order,“ Mothma’s voice was calm, but he could hear that she was on the verge of snapping. “Y/N was an amazing strategist and an incredible pilot, but we can’t risk losing all of you just to go after one person. You are expected back on Yavin4 as there is already another mission waiting here. And Captain, Maker help me, if you disobey this order I will demote you and permanently station you on the ground.”    He gritted his teeth, but in a voice that resembled the calm before a storm hit replied. “Put me on the ground all you want, but I will bring back my girlfriend.”    “Capta-“ but Cassian had disabled their connection before Mon Mothma could finish a word.    He looked at the team, expecting them to protest and try and reason with him, but only affirmative eyes looked in his direction.    “Honestly, Cassian,” Chirrut said, “if you had gone through with her order I would have personally kicked you out into the void.”    Cassian smiled and looked at the galaxy out. “Let’s go get my girl back.”    Bodhi immediately started fiddling with the control panel. ”We have enough fuel to make two jumps, so we have to be precise in where they are taking her. I knew that somed-“ he rose on his legs to punch a few buttons above his head,”- ay this would come in hand.”    No one knew what he was talking about. “What would?”    “This,” Bodhi pressed a button and flipped a switch and in the exact second the ship was filled with the voices of who only could be the people from the Empire.    Jyn grinned from ear to ear. “You tapped their communication systems.”    A shy smile graced the man’s face. “Didn’t work the first few times I tried this. To be honest, I almost connected it in a way they could’ve heard what was going on with us, but Y/N,” there was a slight pause as he looked up at Cassian, “let’s just say that without her, the Rebellion would be six steps behind.”    Cassian’s heart clenched. There was nothing in the entire universe that meant to him more than Y/N. He knew her piloting skills were beyond what anyone else had ever seen, but her heart, her compassion, that was her biggest strength. Everyone on Yavin4 adored the girl and Cassian knew that if he had followed through with what Mon Mothma had told Rogue One to do, there was a 90% chance that the rebels would start a rebellion in the Rebellion.    Y/N could always bring a smile on the faces of even the most serious people. She always lent a hand if necessary and her thought process and strategising had helped them beat the Empire in more than one battle. Hell, even K-2SO told Cassian that he would follow the girl to the depths of any battle. Without any nudging from Cassian himself.    So when he heard that they had a prisoner and she’d be moved to a base on Dantooine Bodhi had already punched in the coordinates and got them into light speed.    The calculations told them that it would take around fifteen hours, even in hyperspace to reach the outpost. Cassian wanted to pull his hair out. Two, three, maybe up to six hours of waiting he could manage, but fifteen?    Jyn’s hand rested on the taught man’s shoulder. “She’s tough,” the woman tried to console him, “she’ll get through it and will probably help herself out. I mean, look at what she did with Bodhi, Y/N’s helping herself without even being here.”    Cassian couldn’t help the faint smile that pulled at his lips. “Yeah, she always has a way of getting to the goal. I just hope she pulls through for us.”    “She will, and you know that better than anybody, besides she’s way too stubborn to give up. She’ll just take it as another challenge, like the time she literally willed the flu away, just because she had made plans with you.”    Jyn stepped past Cassian towards the back of the ship. “And now, I think it’s time to find our beautiful uniforms and gear up.”    The woman’s steps faded into the background as Cassian’s eyes were trained on the millions of stars and planets whizzing by. “We’re coming for you love, and nothing will stop us.”

   Y/N’s head lolled forwards, eyes closed and breathing getting more ragged by the second. They had started out with punching and kicking. When that hadn’t worked the sharpest tools she’d ever seen were brought into the room. She’d barely contained the screams as they pulled the blades across her skin, sometimes even pushing them in her stomach or legs or arms to the hilt, but they did it with precision. They knew where to cut and stab, so it hurt the most, yet didn’t even graze an artery or a vital organ.    And compared to what she was feeling right now, she’d take a stabbing any day of the week. When Y/N hadn’t relented they’d turned to poisons. She’d lost count of the syringes that had punctured her skin, but it made her feel like she was on fire. Like thousands and thousands of Dantari fire ants were crawling underneath her skin.    She was flushed red and sweat was dripping down her body, but the worst parts were the hallucinations. She’d seen Cassian die so many times now, she didn’t know what was more painful- to see him die the first time and experience how it would be, the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it or that every time it happened he looked at her with disgust in his eyes as he said “this is all your fault. You could have saved me if you weren’t so weak.”    Her heart was beating so fast she knew any second it could give out. They had administered yet another dose of one of the poisons, and this time it wasn’t just Cassian it was everyone else too. Baze, Chirrut, Jyn even K-2 was there and she saw them all on their knees, hatred filled eyes looking at her as the troopers aimed their guns and shot.    Tears were constantly streaming down her face as a soundless scream came from her throat. Y/N had lost her voice in what felt like the first ten minutes of the poison’s work time. Or had she screamed for hours before it gave out? Maybe it was days, but she couldn’t tell.    Time had blurred together as she saw her friends die non stop in a vicious cycle. Blaster to the head, knife right across their throats, Force choked by Vader and on and on it went and on and on she screamed and cried.    Her Y/E/C eyes lifted to see the doors slide open and once again Cassian entered the room, only this time he was wearing an Imperial officer uniform. Her heart clenched at the thought that a new cycle of her having to watch her friends defect to the Empire and blame her for the death of the Rebellion would start.    She closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry. Please, you don’t have to do this,” but even as her voice rasped out the plea Y/N knew that would not happen and the next time Cassian would be joined by another friend of theirs.    Leather-gloved hands cupped both of her cheeks making her look up at the man. He felt so tangible to her, so real. Maker, was the drug more powerful than the previous one. She could even feel Cassian’s breath fanning over her face when he called her “Princesa”.    “Please, Cassian, don’t do this, please, I’m so sorry.”    “Shh,” he shushed her, “it’s all right, we’ll get you out of here. Jyn, help me with the restraints.”    A figure in a black Imperial ground crew uniform stepped up. Both of them. Both of them already had turned to the dark side and that made Y/N cry even more. She was going to plea for them again when Cassian’s thumbs wiped away the salty tears.    “Please, love, stay with me. We’ll get you out of here, just hold on a bit longer.”    Y/N brain felt fuzzy. None of the previous hallucinations had said anything like that. She couldn’t understand what was going on until she made the connection. They were here to save her and when they’d be right at the edge of freedom the poison would deliver another blow of making her see her friends die while trying to save her.    One thing was having them just captured. It happened every day to a lot of people. It was war, but being the direct cause of their deaths, being the reason they would die for, all because she had gotten herself taken made Y/N snap completely.    “I’ll tell you anything you want, just please make it stop. Please kill me and make it stop.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to live through that because it would be such a Cassian thing to do. To have all of them come and save her.    “Love, love, please calm down,” Cassian’s grip tightened on her cheeks, his own eyes were starting to tear up, “Amor, please stop. It’s me okay? It’s me, Cassian. And Jyn. Well get you out of here, I promise.”    Y/N shook her head vigorously. “No, you have to leave, you have to go and sa-“    “Not without you.”    “Please just go,” she hung her head down, or tried to, but Cassian’s hands stayed on her cheeks, “I can’t take watching you die one more time, I can’t.”    “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not planning on dying, at least not today.”    The metal restrains unclasped from her hands and feet and her neck. Y/N’s body fell right to the floor only to be caught by Cassian. “Come on love,” he whispered in her ear, “we’re almost there.”    He brought them out into an empty hallway. That was Y/N’s first sign, that it was not real. They wouldn’t leave her completely unguarded. As they rounded corner by corner there were no troopers marching, no one was patrolling and she knew what awaited her, so Y/N just gave in. She gave up in trying to snap out of the horrible fantasy because it would happen again and again.    And then their ship came into view. This was where they were going to be stopped and Cassian and Jyn would be brought down to their knees and executed right there. But as her feet touched the railing of the shuttle no one stopped them. Cassian escorted her onto the metal bench while Jyn pressed the button to close the doors.    Y/N glanced to her right and saw Bodhi firing up the engines and lift them off the ground. She turned her gaze to the window as she saw the planet of Dantooine grow smaller and smaller until everything blurred from jumping into hyper speed. She felt a rough pair of hands start tending to her many cuts and wounds and as her Y/E/C orbs looked to her left the tender smile of Baze was looking right back at her.    Cassian had crouched down and took her chin between his fingers. “Love?”    His eyes, they were full of concern and love and adoration and relief to have her here with him as he looked at the woman he loved.    “Is this real?” Y/N whispered, not fully wanting to believe the scene unfolding in front of her. “Are you real?”    “Yes, Mi Vida. I’m real.”    “But you can’t be real,” she shook her head in disagreement, “you were on Terril, you ran to the ship, but Jyn and I we were attacked…”    “And there is nothing in this galaxy that would stop me from coming back for you.”    His eyes were full of sincerity and truth. “Besides, if I hadn’t made the decision I did, there would’ve been a mutiny on this ship.” Cassian’s eyes flitted to Chirrut and he nudged his chin in the other man’s direction. “He himself volunteered to throw me out into space if we didn’t.”    “That I did.”    And Y/N finally let herself believe they were here. They had come back for her and they were alive and on their way back home. A laugh escaped her lips before she tried to clasp her hands over her mouth in order to keep the rest of the tears at bay, that were now threatening to fall, before hissing in pain.    Cassian’s own face mirrored her happiness, but concern overcame his features as he took in the state of his girlfriend. Bruises, cuts and blood covered pretty much every centimetre of her body. They had left her face unscathed for whatever reason, but she still sported a busted lip and eyebrow.    “You probably have a few broken and bruised ribs, as well as the possibility of a broken wrist,” Baze, who both of the rebels had completely forgotten about, spoke up as he looked at the swollen part of the woman’s arm, “and way too many cuts and wounds that need tending and stitching. If you’ll allow me, I’ll clean what I can, but everything else is better off left for the medics once we land.”    Y/N only nodded as Baze set back to work and disinfected and closed some of the cuts. Once he deemed that everything else was not that bad or above his skill set, his large body stood back up and with a last small smile, he went to see Bodhi and their coordinates.    Cassian immediately took up the place next to Y/N. He expected her to start apologising and he was ready to argue straight back at her, but Cassian did not expect what actually came out of Y/N’s mouth.    “You are going to be in so much trouble.”    He was baffled. “What?”    “You,” she pointed her chin at him then turned to where Bodhi and Jyn were sitting in the piloting seats, Baze looming over like a mountain, “and you,” letting her eyes graze their faces before moving to nudge her head towards Chirrut, “and you are all going to be in so much trouble.”    “I-I’m sorry, love, I don’t understand.”    “Oh don’t play dumb, Cassian,” Y/N retorted but there was nothing mean or malicious in what she said, “you went against Mon Mothma’s orders. She would have never let you come after me. One person lost is nothing against a whole team.”    There was nothing sad about how Y/N said it, she was simply stating the facts.    “Well,” Cassian scooted closer to the girl, gently placing her injured arm on his lap, “as I said. On this ship, you are more important than anything else, and we are a team, which means no one is going to be left behind if there is even the slightest possibility of saving them.” He rested his head against hers. “And I am never going to let you slip through my fingers.” Cassian gently turned her left hand so that Y/N’s palm was facing up. With shaking fingers he pressed a simple silver ring that started as one band but then split in two crisscrossing each other, and right where they looped over a single diamond sat. “If only you’ll let me…”    Y/N lifted her other hand and rested it against his unshaven cheek, making him glance at her. “Only if you let me make you smile each day for the rest of our lives.”    Cassian didn’t think he had ever been as happy, not even when he realised she also wanted to have a future with him. He gently pushed the band onto her left ring finger where it fit perfectly. He knew they were at war. He knew that there was a large possibility that there could come a time like this again, but he also knew that no matter what they had each other.    The couple didn’t see their friends smile from ear to ear as Jyn turned to Bodhi and already started to plan the wedding while Baze and Chirrut whispered to one another like two schoolgirls, giddy with happiness. They didn’t see them jump out of hyperspace and land on Yavin4 and they didn’t care as Mon Mothma herself stepped onto the ship.    Y/N and Cassian had one another to hold onto no matter what the galaxy would throw at them and as the medics made Y/N lie down on a gurney to be wheeled to the hospital ward, she knew that no matter what, Cassian would always save her, the same way Cassian knew Y/N would forever be there to get him out of trouble.    “I should station you and your team on the ground and never let you fly a ship ever again, Captain,” Mothma’s voice was what made him look away from his fiancée as they wheeled her to the hospital, “but I won’t.”    Her lips were pulled in a faint smile and there was no anger evident in her features, just love and approval. “Unless,” Cassian tensed, “you don’t invite me to the wedding.”    He laughed and then nodded his head. “Of course.”    “Go,” she motioned to where they had taken Y/N. “Your fiancée will want to have something nice to wake up to.” And he had never followed an order as fast as he did right then.    As he ventured into the medical wing he asked one of the nurses how long would the operation last, but to his luck, she assured him that Y/N was in no need of a surgery, she would just have to stay here and be monitored for a few days.    Directing him to the girl’s room he felt elated. When his eyes found her lying form, she was stitched up, bandages pretty much covering her whole body, but there was that gleam, that same brilliant smile stretched out on her face as the Rogue One team sat around her and they all talked.    Cassian entered the room and he swore the way she looked at him would make him pass out from the love exuding in the room. She patted the place beside her, motioning for Cassian to come and when he stood beside her, gently he leaned down pressing their lips together.    There was nothing that would ever be able to rip them apart and Cassian had never been surer of a decision he had made as his brown eyes caught a glimpse of the diamond that sat on her finger glint in the light.   

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

so apparently my brain doesn’t comprehend the word “short” but to be fair, I had so much fun writing this I am so not ashamed of it :D I have a Kylo and a Poe fic in the works, but in the meantime you can keep sending in requests if you please so, I’ll just add them to the list. Also, I should be adding a new part to the series soon enough :)

P.S. If you wish to be tagged in future works send me a message

P.S.S. please do not repost without asking :)

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

One Last Hope: Chapter 2

(Not My Gif)

One Last Hope Masterlist

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

A/N: PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS! (Seriously I need to know if I should continue writing this or not)

Word Count: 4.7 K

           Sera leaned back in her seat as the ship continued its way through hyperspace. She could feel her eyes grow heavy as she watched the stream of star-lines blur past the cockpit window, but she didn’t dare close them.  Even with K-2SO in the co-pilot seat, Sera had learned her lesson about letting her guard down.  Their guest had remained quiet through most of the trip, but that hadn’t stopped Sera from having her blaster set to stun and within easy reach.

           Hopefully, when they got back to base, she’d be able to close her eyes for a few minutes. She hadn’t slept since she was first given her assignment.  

           Cassian Andor had finally come back from his mission, chasing smoke trails of a secret Imperial weapons project nobody in the alliance was even certain existed.  The only people who seemed to believe the rumors were Mon Mothma and General Draven.  Other low ranking officers, such as herself, had their own beliefs, but those in the high command were the only voices that mattered.

           But, Cassian had done it.  He had found the first real lead they had in months pointing to one devastating conclusion.

           The Empire was building a weapon; a planet killer.

           The moment the words had left his lips, the air had left the room.

           It didn’t feel real, but when Cassian continued to explain all scraps of data sewn together over the course of several months from sources throughout the galaxy, there was no doubt left in her mind.

           The planet killer was real, and they had to stop it. One way or another.  

           She took a breath and ran the facts over in her mind.

           Galen Erso.

           Imperial weapons designer.  The supposed leader of the project and possible ally.

           A pilot.

           Galen Erso had sent an Imperial cargo pilot with a message to Jedha in hopes of getting it to the Rebel Alliance.

           Saw Gerrera.

           Rebel extremist, labeled terrorist by the Empire, and by all accounts paranoid to the point of insanity. The pilot had been sent to find Saw Gerrera.

           Jyn Erso.

           Daughter of Galen Erso; smuggler, saboteur, rebel and possibly the key to all of it.

           Sera’s mission was a simple extraction.  Jyn Erso, otherwise known as Liana Hallick, had been imprisoned in the Wobani Labor Camp.  All Sera had to do was get her out without revealing the rebellion’s hand.  If the Empire dug too deep into who had escaped, they could discover what the rebellion was up to before they were ready.  

           Cassian had been against the mission from the start.  He was adamant they could get to Saw by other means that didn’t involve breaking the daughter of a known Imperial out of prison, but Mon Mothma herself stepped in to support it.  Jyn Erso was the best way to get to Saw’s men without bloodshed.  In addition, if the pilot had been sent by her father, it would be the easiest way to get him to cooperate.  They could then locate Galen Erso and bring him to the senate for trial.  

            Sera wasn’t exactly certain which part of the plan Cassian took issue with, but he had seemed to grow even more frustrated when her name had been added to the conversation.

           A beep came from the consul pulled her out of her thoughts and she eased the ship out of hyperspace, coming to stop in view of the giant red gas planet of Yavin, and the small jungle moon floating beside it.

             Home.

          She smiled at the sight before guiding to ship down towards the atmosphere.  

           “Base One, this is Lieutenant Sera Darros,” she said over the comm.  “Sending you confirmation code now.”

           She typed in the code and soon a familiar buzz came over the radio.

           “You’re approved for landing Lieutenant.  Report to dock seven and escort the prisoner to HQ.”

           Sera grimaced slightly at the word “prisoner”. She didn’t much like the idea of treating Jyn Erso as if she were a criminal.   From what she had read in the report, Jyn was a rebel just like the rest of them.  It didn’t seem right locking up their one of their own.  Of course, as Cassian constantly liked to remind her, just because you’re on the same side, doesn’t make you friends.

           She reached her hand tentatively to her cheek and prodded the skin, making herself wince.

           “That’s going to bruise,” K-2 said off handedly.  “Cassian isn’t going to like it.”

           Sera shot a glare at the droid, but it didn’t last.  He was right on both counts. She decided to ignore the comment all the same.

           “It’d probably be best you report to maintenance after we check in,” she said.  “I’ll take her in.”

           “That is a bad idea,” he said bluntly.  “The chance of her overpowering you and escaping is approximately 81.4%.  You’d better let me do it.”

           Sera rolled her eyes.  Yes, she was aware of the risks.   The state of her face was testament enough, but she also knew that Jyn would be more likely to attack Kay than her.  Besides, it was more than just getting her from point A to point B, it was about getting Jyn to trust them.  If Draven got his way than she, Kay, Cassian, and Jyn would be on the same mission together.  They would have to trust each other and that meant not treating her like an enemy.

           “I’ll be fine,” she assured.  “But if something does happen, you can give me a big “I told you so” speech later.”

           “Fine,” he said indignantly.  “It’s not like I am a security droid or anything.”

           Sera fought down a smile as they landed the ship.  He might have been complaining, but over the years, she had found it was his own roundabout way of showing that he cared.

           Sera unstrapped herself from her seat and slid down the ladder to the cargo bay while Kay did the last few checks.

           Jyn sat in one of the seats, finally glancing up when Sera landed on the ground.

           She offered Jyn a small smile, which was only met with a hardened gaze.  Sera knew she shouldn’t had been surprised, but she had hoped leaving Jyn unshackled would have lightened her mood a little.

           She let out a sigh and turned to her pack.  It was then she noticed that somebody had already shuffled through it.

           She shook her head.  She wondered how disappointed Jyn had been when she had discovered there was no weapon to be found.  She did a quick check to make sure nothing was missing before zipping it up and swinging it over her shoulder.

           “Alright, let’s go,” she said, turning to Jyn.

           To her slight surprise, she finally got a reaction as Jyn raised an eyebrow.

           “You really aren’t going to restrain me,” she asked.

           Sera shrugged.

           “I’ll have my blaster on you the whole time, if that makes you feel better.”

           Jyn watched her a moment and Sera could see the plan starting to form in the woman’s mind.  She knew well enough that, if she wanted, Jyn could easily over power her.  She could trip her on the tarmac when she wasn’t paying attention, wrestle the blaster away from her, use her as a human shield and make her way into the jungle.

           Jyn could do it, but then what would be the plan afterwards? Dump Sera somewhere deep within the trees? Wait for dark in hopes of stealing a ship? Or more likely, try to survive off of unknown plants on an unknown moon until she found an outpost she wasn’t even certain was there.

           Apparently, Jyn had reached the same conclusion. Her eyes narrowed, and she rose from her seat.

           Sera offered a small smile and pressed one of the buttons along the side of the ship, opening the cargo doors.  She lifted the blaster lazily and pointed to the exit.  

           “After you.”

           They were met by the familiar humidity of the jungle air, perfectly mixed with smell of local flora and the damp musk of rotting of leaves.  Sera could already feel the sweat starting to form on her brow, but she paid it no mind.  Over the years she had lived on several rebellion bases, but Yavin Four was the first one which felt like a proper home. Something about the ancient ziggurat rising out of the forest, as if it belonged to the landscape itself, made it feel real compared to the tents and ships of past settlements. It was immovable, solid, and she loved it.  

           “How’s the face?” Jyn asked casually.

           Sera looked at the woman and felt a wry smile spread across her face.  She knew Jyn meant it as a jab but decided not to take the bait.  She didn’t begrudge her for the hit.  She probably would had done the same, given the circumstances.  It was her own mistake for turning her back.  But, in her own defense, she had had other things on her mind.

           “Definitely stings,” she said honestly.  “I feel like I should thank you for not getting my nose.”

           Jyn shrugged.  

           “Bad aim.”

           Sera raised an eyebrow before letting out a small laugh and shaking her head.

           “Guess I’m just lucky.”

           She wasn’t sure if she was seeing things, but she thought she caught a small smile on the corner of Jyn’s lips.

            “Could be.”

           They kept silent the rest of the way as Sera guided them through the hangers and down to one of the bunkers.

           If Jyn was surprised as to where Sera was taking her, she didn’t show it.

           The door to the war room slid open, and they each walked inside.

           Sera recognized General Draven standing at attention in the center of the room, as well as several other high-ranking officers scattered around the space.  All of them were watching them both closely as they entered.

           Draven paid her little mind as his eyes focused in on Jyn. He glanced down to her wrist and quickly took notice at the lack of binders.  His jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his face neutral and made no comment.

           Sera took it as a good thing.  She knew Draven wasn’t overly fond of her, but he had seen she’d gotten the job done.  At the end of the day, that was all that mattered to him.

           Her eyes, then went to the side of the room where Cassian Andor stood casually in the shadows.

           He too kept his eyes on Jyn and gave an odd look when he saw she wasn’t restrained.  He then turned his gaze to Sera, but, instead of militant neutrality, she was met with surprised amusement.   It only lasted a second before he gave her a quick once over, scanning for injuries.  For a brief moment, she thought she was in the clear, until his eyes settled briefly on her face, specifically her cheek. He frowned slightly, his expression shifting to concern.

           Sera winced. She was in for it now.  She could practically hear the lecture already forming in his mind as Jyn took a seat across the table.  At the very least she had time to think of a good lie before they spoke.  Something that didn’t involve losing her nerve or turning her back. More importantly, something that didn’t put Jyn on Cassian’s bad side.

           “Lieutenant Darros,” Draven said, cutting into her thoughts, “you are dismissed.  Report to your station and wait for further orders.”

           “Sir,” she said with a salute.

           She gave Jyn once last glance, offering a small smile before meeting Cassian’s eyes once more.

           His expression had shifted again, this time into the unreadable mask of Captain Andor, intelligence officer for the rebel alliance.

           He gave her a small nod, which she returned before turning on her heel and leaving.

           There was no doubt in her mind.  She was definitely in for a lecture.

            Jyn kept her eyes forward as she made her way across the tarmac with Captain Andor.   She was trying her best not to think about what she had just signed up for.  The names and faces of people she had told herself to forget came streaming back into her memory. She pushed them down.

          She just needed to focus on the end result.  Once it was all over, she could go back to her old life.  She could disappear and pretend she had never heard of the Rebel Alliance or Saw Gerrera or Galen Erso.

           Galen Erso.

           She clenched her teeth as the name and the face fifteen years out of date echoed in her mind.

           Just don’t think about it.

           “Captain Andor!” a voice called.

           Both she and Cassian stopped mid-stride to find the source of the call.

           Jyn immediately spotted the red haired general from the bunker, and felt her lip tighten.

           “General Draven,” Cassian said. “Give me a moment.”

           Jyn simply nodded before Cassian dashed ahead to the boarding ramp of a battered U-Wing, unslung the duffel he carried over his shoulder, and hurried back in Draven’s direction.

           Jyn continued onward towards the ship.  It certainly wasn’t a looker, but then again, no U-Wing she had ever encountered was.  She liked to think they just came out of the factory that way; dented hull, worn seats, odd smell and all.

           She looked up the boarding ramp to the main cabin as she dropped her things.

           Towering above the communications console stood the security droid that had captured her on Wobani.  She couldn’t be bothered to remember what the lieutenant had called him.

           “I’m Kay-tuesso,” he said, in a polite tone that only made her feel threatened.

           Jyn didn’t respond, instead busying herself with her bag for no other reason than to give her mind and hands something to do.

            “I’m a reprogrammed Imperial droid.”

           “I remember you,” she said.

           “I see the counsel is sending you with us to Jedha.”

           “Apparently so.”

           “That is a bad idea.  I think so, and so does Cassian.”

           Jyn’s brow furrowed as she looked back to Cassian speaking with Draven.  They were huddled together close, making sure to go unheard by stray pilots and technicians. She felt her back stiffen in unease, but turned away all the same.  She would have to keep her eye on Captain Andor, even more than she was planning to.

            “What do I know?” the droid continued sardonically. “My specialty is just strategic analysis.”

           “C’mon Kay, don’t be rude,” a voice said from beside her.

           Jyn spun around, surprised to see Sera Darros had joined them with a sack slung over her shoulder.  Her surprised quickly turned into a frown as Jyn took a moment to properly examine the girl.

           Her red hair was done up in a ponytail now, making her look significantly closer to the seventeen Jyn had finally settled as her age.  Her nose was small and sharp with whispers of freckles hidden under weather and sun worn skin. The bruise Jyn had given her stood more prominently on her face, but it did little to deter the girl’s easy smile from reaching her wide eyes.

           Jyn was left with the impression of a battered doll which had accidentally been left in the dirt years ago, and whose owner still mourned its loss. She might had let her guard down, if it weren’t certain the girl had a compact blaster tucked neatly behind her back.

           “You’re joining us,” Jyn asked suspiciously.

           The girl’s expression fell as if hurt by her statement, but it only lasted a moment before she was once again all smiles.

           “Well, I hope so, otherwise I brought this along for nothing.”

           Sera brushed past her and started to move around the cabin, putting away her things, and making last minute checks on supplies.

           Jyn watched the girl carefully as she made her way through the ship and took satisfaction in seeing the outline of a blaster hidden in the girl’s pants. Sera moved with the fluidity of habit and Jyn caught herself wondering just how many times the teenager had done this.

           She had had time to run through the plan Lieutenant Darros had concocted a few times over in her mind on the way from Wobani.

           It wasn’t a bad plan, but it had all the hallmarks of a rebellion operation; quick, blunt, and meant to confuse rather than destroy.  The death of Stormtroopers at the hands of inmates was a side effect, not a feature.  Add the fact she clearly hadn’t been prepared for the troopers in the hallway and defector from the Imperial academy was no longer an option.

           The more likely scenario was she was like Jyn, lost at a young age and saved by the rebellion only to be used as another tool in their war.

           Jyn felt a sudden stab of pity for the girl as she saw her whole past in front of her.  A dead parent, maybe a sibling.   Spending more than one night huddled in an alleyway as Stormtroopers marched past.  Hiding in the dark.

           Hiding in a cave.

             Letting the tears stream down her face as she clung to a light in a small hatch until it opened and—.

           Jyn snapped herself out of the memory before it could go any further.

           Sera Darros was by no means the first to be used.  She wouldn’t be the last.

           Jyn shook her head, deciding to take a moment to examine the contents of Cassian’s bag.  Nothing but gear; weapons, portable medpacs, signal boosters and the like.  No holos of loved ones.  No trinkets or lucky charms. It was light, efficient and impersonal.

           She pulled out a blaster pistol, weighing it in her hand, before strapping it on her hip.  Unfortunately, her movements did not go unseen.

           “He’ll notice it’s missing,” Sera said.

           Jyn looked up to see the girl standing over her.

          She didn’t say anything waiting for the girl to try and take the blaster away from her, or yell to Cassian, but she did neither. Instead, she went to her own bag, riffled through, and pulled out her own blaster.  She turned back to Jyn and held it out to her.

           “Here.”

           Jyn didn’t say anything, glancing between the weapon and the girl holding it in confusion.

          How the hell had this girl lasted so long? She was starting to doubt her theory of the child soldier if she trusted this easily.  But, just like when she had offered her a hand, Sera kept steady.

           After a moment, Jyn put away Cassian’s weapon and took the blaster.  She wasn’t going to turn down having a weapon, but there was more to it. To her surprise, she found she was starting to trust Sera.  She certainly still had a lot to learn, but all her actions came from an earnest place. Jyn wondered just how much longer it would last.

           Sera gave her a small nod and continued with her tasks.  Not a moment later, Cassian came back to the U-Wing.

           “You met Kay-Tu?” he asked.

           “Charming,” Jyn said.

           Cassian gave an innocent “what are you going to do” shrug.

            “He tends to say whatever comes into his circuits.  It’s a by-product on the reprogram.”

           “Why does she get a blaster and I don’t,” the droid interjected.

           Cassian paused, and the easy-going nature of his expression faded as he turned to Jyn.  

           “What?”

           “I know how to use it,” Jyn said casually.

           “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he countered.

           All warmth was now gone and only the soldier Jyn had met in the bunker remained.  

           “Give it to me,” he said.

           Jyn shifted into a defensive stance and opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off.

           “I gave it to her,” Sera said.

           Cassian turned to her with a look of disbelief.

           To her credit, Sera stood firm, straightening her stance as she met Cassian’s gaze.

           It all felt rather familiar to Jyn as her eyes darted between the two of them.  She had noticed a similar exchange of looks in the bunker, but had given it little thought at the time, being more preoccupied by General Draven staring her down.  As she saw it now, she recognized it as a one between a father and daughter or an older brother to a younger sister.  One all naïve trust and the other trying desperately to make them to understand.

           Cassian’s expression shifted once more, his eyes hardening and his back straightening to attention.

           “That’s not your call,” he said sternly.

           Sera looked like she wanted to argue, but quickly realized there was no point.  She would only be talking back to her superior officer. Her shoulders slumped, and a detected look took over her features.

           Jyn watched the whole thing and felt a sudden swell protectiveness towards the girl.

           “We’re going to Jedha,” Jyn said sharply, “that’s a war zone.”

           Cassian turned his attention back to her, his jaw tightening, but Jyn’s resolve only grew.

           “Trust goes both ways.”

           His look didn’t soften, but she could tell she had won the argument.

           He once again, turned his eyes to Sera.

           Jyn could catch the girl trying to hide a smile as she gave him a small shrug.  Some of the tension in Cassian’s shoulders deflated, before giving Sera a pointed look which telegraphed very simply the discussion wasn’t over.

           Jyn fought the urge to laugh.

           Brother and sister, she settled. Definitely brother and sister.

            “You’re letting her keep it?” K-2 asked.

           Cassian didn’t answer as he slipped into the pilot’s seat.  He kept his attention on the consul, refamiliarizing himself with the controls.  It had been a while since he been behind the controls of a U-Wing.

           “Would you like to know the probability of her using it against you?”

           From his own experience he knew there was little he could do to silence the droid, but he shot Kay a glare all the same.  It didn’t work.

           “It’s high,” Kay warned.    

            “Let’s go.”

           “It’s very high.”

           Cassian tried to ignore the truth behind the droid’s words as he guided the ship over the canopy and up through the atmosphere.  It wasn’t until the view from the cockpit turned to star lines did he finally allowed himself a moment to think.

           His conversation with Draven on the tarmac came back to him, as well as the final orders which were now etched into his mind.

             Galen Erso is vital to the Empire’s weapons program.   There will be no extraction. You find him, you kill him. Then and there.

           The order did not bother Cassian. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been asked to kill for the sake of the rebellion and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

           Draven was not wrong in wanting Galen Erso dead.  After years living under the Empire’s influence, Galen’s efforts had cost countless lives and if he continued, would cost countless more.  Killing him was not only the practical thing to do, it was the right thing to do.

           Cassian was certain of this, but, all the same, he felt troubled. His mind then went to the woman sitting in the cabin behind him.

           Jyn Erso.

           There was something about her, something in her eyes which frightened Cassian. A fiery need he was certain would burn him if he stared too long.

           Had he imagined it? A part of him thought he had, given Sera’s willingness to put a blaster in the woman’s hands.  Then again, he was fairly certain Sera would trust a rancor not to bite her if it asked her nicely enough.

           He let out a small sigh and pulled off his headset before slipping out of the pilot seat.

           Sera was sitting across from the communications console with her head against the wall, and her eyes drooping with sleep.  She straightened a little as he stepped down and offered him a soft smile.  

           Despite the circumstances, Cassian felt himself return the look.

           “I’m pretty sure she’s knocked out,” she commented, nodding to the cabin.  “Can’t really blame her.”

           Cassian turned his attention in that direction.

           Jyn was in one of the seats against the wall. Her eyes closed, and her head rolled to the side.  A part of him was grateful.   He wasn’t sure if he was up to having to meet that need again so soon.

           “I suppose not,” he said, before looking back to Sera.  “Are you going to tell me what happened to your face?”

           “Depends, are you going to tell me what Draven said to you?”

           Cassian stiffened slightly, but he let it go.  It wasn’t a challenge on her part.  He knew she trusted him more than anybody.  She understood if it was important for her to know, he would tell her, and, in this instance, she didn’t.

           “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said easily.  

           Sera watched him a moment but seemed satisfied with his answer and nodded her head.

            “Now what happened?” he continued.

           She shrugged.

           “Nothing bad. Bucket-head just got a lucky shot.”

           “That’s a lie,” K-2 chimed in.  “Jyn hit her across the face with a helmet after Sera turned her back.”

           She shot the droid a betrayed look, but Cassian ignored it.  

           “Damn it Sera,” he cursed.  “What have I told you about being careful?”

           “I was,” she defended. “I just…I got distracted.”

           “Distracted?”

           “Checking on the Stormtroopers,” Kay offered.  “I don’t see why though.  They were assuredly dead before they hit the ground.”

           Sera didn’t say anything.  She turned away, looking straight forward trying to cover the sudden distant look in her eyes.

           The initial frustration Cassian had felt slowly dissipated, only to be replaced by guilt.  

           She still wasn’t used to killing.  A part of him was grateful for that and hoped she never would, but another part of him, the rebel, the spy, the solider, needed her to grow up.

           He breathed out a sigh.

           “You never turn your back on a prisoner,” he said calmly. “Do you understand? She could have shot you.”

           “But she didn’t,” Sera countered. “Give me some credit, I wouldn’t have turned my back if I thought she was going to kill me.”

           “So, what? You trust her?”

           “Enough to get us to Saw.”

           Cassian stared at her a moment and shook his head.

           He wondered if Sera would feel the same way if he told her what he had been ordered to do. But, he pushed the thought away, deciding instead to focus on the immediate present.

           “When’s the last time you slept?” he asked off handedly.  

           Sera gave the moment a brief thought, before shrugging.

           “Before I left.”

           Cassian nodded his head and made his way to the cabin.   As quietly as he could, he pulled out one of the spare blankets from one of the survival packs and walked back over to Sera, handing it to her.

           She took it gratefully and wrapped herself into a tight cocoon before laying her head against the wall.

           “Wake me when we get to Jedha?” she asked gently.

           Cassian felt the urge to laugh, but instead settled on a small smile.

           “Just close your eyes.”

           She must had been more exhausted than he thought as all she did was nod her head before drifting off.

           Cassian stood there a moment, his heart tightening at the sight.

           His mind took him far away, back when he was just a teenager himself.

           Sera was sitting in the co-pilot seat of a stolen freighter.  Only eight years old, wrapped in a blanket, her small head resting on Cassian’s rolled up jacket.

           He snapped himself back into the present and tucked the memory away.

           She didn’t need to know about his mission to kill Galen Erso.  He might not be able to protect her from most things in the universe, but he could spare her that.

           His eyes then turned to the other woman asleep in the cabin and he could feel his jaw tighten.

           He’d also spare her the wrath of Jyn Erso for a little while longer.  He knew what was coming for him if Jyn ever learned the truth.  Sera didn’t need to get caught in the crossfire.  

           Turning his heel, he made his way back to the cockpit and settled himself into his seat.

           It was a long way to Jedha

[fandom-imagines-stories]

She Was My Hope Chapter Four

Cassian Andor x OC

Series Masterlist

Words: 2226

Summary: Cassian and Reina begin to realize the connection between them. The two are given a mission to visit one of Cassian’s old friends.

Note: The sexual tension is killing me! I hope you all are enjoying this story as much as I am. I just went to go see The Last Jedi and I am utterly speechless. Let me know all of your thoughts. I really appreciate all of the feedback. Also, I recently join Commaful, so I'll be exploring over there as well. My name is Trials of Hope. See you guys next chapter.

Reina jolted awake, the most recent nightmare fading from her mind. They had been happening all night, each one worse than the last. But each time, Cassian was by her side, ready to chase all of the monsters of her memory away. He had moved her to her bed and resided in a chair across from her, usually waiting for her to stir or cry out.

But now, his head rested against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. Reina couldn't help but smile. In all their time together, she had never seen him so… relaxed. His dark hair stuck out in every direction and his tan skin reflected the light from the lamp on her desk.

His sleeping form tensed, his face contorted with fear and remorse. His feet shifted on the floor, kicking and fighting against an invisible force.

Cassian's eyes shot open, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. His hand reached for his blaster, hovering over its holster until he realized where he was. Reina laid in silence as his eyes locked with hers.

"You never said you had them too." She said her voice barely above a whisper. He shifted, leaning back against the wall, this time alert and stiff.

"We all have demons from the dark that we must face." Was all he said.

The morning following, Cassian found himself more observant of every person who passed by. His fists clenched every time a man's gaze traveled toward Reina and his pulse quickened whenever she was near. Reina made a point of avoiding his eyes, often staring off into the distance.

"Reina…" Cassian whispered. Her expression remained blank and unresponsive. He spoke louder, but quiet enough to not frighten her. "Reina."

"I'm fine." She blurted, coming out of her trance. She watched Cassian's brows furrow.

"I- I was just going to ask if you wanted a rag." He stammered. She looked down at her hands, slick with oil and arms caked with rust.

"Oh… yes. Thank you." He grabbed a towel from the counter and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed against each other and their eyes met. The gold flecks in Reina's eye shimmered with the light of a dozen suns. The dark depths of Cassian's chocolate eyes filled Reina with something she never thought she would feel again. Hope.

The rag fell to the floor and was quickly forgotten. Cassian's fingers intertwined with Reina's. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She pulled their hands apart and quickly picked the rag up from the ground. Cassian's face fell, but only for a moment.

"How long have you been in the rebellion?" She asked, hoping to fill the silence as she cleaned the oil off of her skin.

"Since I was six." He answered quietly. He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"My father never spoke much of the Rebellion." Reina mused. "But I knew he believed in it. He always told me stories of how everything used to be. The time of the Jedi…" Something stirred inside her. It was a feeling she felt every time she tried to recall the time before the Empire.

There was a sharp, quiet sound, like metal shifting on metal. Reina didn't notice, but Cassian stared curiously at the rectangular box Reina had insisted on bringing from Tatooine. For a moment, he could have sworn it had moved closer. Her daze was disrupted by a woman walking into the room, dressed in pristine white garments.

"Captain Andor," Mon Mothma started. "I was hoping to catch you in here. Good afternoon, Miss Tolderyn."

"Perhaps we should speak in the hall." Cassian suggested, brushing off his hands on his loose T-shirt.

"Actually, I'm glad to have found you both. This is a matter for the both of you." Her wise yet intense gaze made Reina shift nervously on her feet. Cassian listened intently as she explained the new mission. He was to meet with an old adversary of his and negotiate her offer of supplies for the Rebellion. Reina was requested to come along as the mechanic on board.

"I think that Miss Tolderyn has proven her abilities and since it is a simple trip, I believe now would be a good time to test her out on the field." Mon Mothma smiled warmly at Reina, casting away her doubt. "I expect you to be prepared first thing tomorrow." With a final nod, she left and Reina immediately started bustling around the room.

"I'm not even the slightest bit prepared!" She exclaimed. "What if something happens and I don't know what to do? Or what if I make it worse!" Cassian chuckled.

"Everything will be fine, Reina." He stepped in front of her to keep her from pacing. "It's a simple mission and the journey will only be a week or two at the most." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

"I haven't even left the base since you brought me here. And now we're to go galavanting off to a different planet? I just… I don't know if I can do this." She looked down at the floor. "I always thought that when I had escaped the Besais… I would go home."

His face fell. He had almost forgotten about his plan to return her to her home planet.

"Right… of course." He sighed, but she smirked.

"But I do like it here. I feel like a part of something… important." She took a deep breath. "I'll go with you. I want to help." She brushed past him and their eyes met once again. This time, Cassian was the first to look away, heart pounding and mind reeling.

"Careful Captain," Reina warned. "You almost looked like you'd miss me." He smiled and shook his head, not willing to believe the impossible notion that he could be falling for her.

Once the ship was packed with enough supplies, the crew prepared for departure. Reina made a few last check-ups on the ship to make sure that it was in good condition. Cassian found himself following her, simply walking by her side as she worked. Two men strayed away from them, discussing quietly amongst themselves.

"She's ready." Reina said, slapping the ship's metal side. K2 shook his head.

"Well, it is about time." He quipped.

"Reina was simply being thorough." Cassian hissed. REain's breath hitched. As he continued to scold the rude droid, she noticed the way his r's slightly rolled every time he said her name. She knew he had an accent, but she has never found it so intriguing before. For a moment she almost found it… attractive.

She quickly emptied her mind of the thought and followed Cassian onto the ship, unaware of the men watching her with grim faces and wicked looks in their eyes.

Cassian was to be the negotiator when they reached their destination, as well as the pilot. Reina, of course, was the engineer. The two others were considered backup in case the mission somehow went awry. K2 has just insisted on coming to make sure Cassian didn't get himself in any more trouble.

Reina curled up in the copilot seat, reminded of the last time she has flown. It was the very journey that the Besais had attacked. She could almost feel her father's hands guiding hers along the controls. The blaster echoing through the ship rung through her memory, causing her to wince.

Cassian reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it. Reina shook the memories away and pictured instead the glistening streams of Naboo and the forests outside the rebel base. The images always brought her peace.

She hadn't expected, however, Cassian's rare smile to emerge from her thoughts, nor his soothing voice softly coaxing her to sleep. Her eyes found his and hastily broke away.

"Do you know how to fly?" He wondered, breaking the silence between them.

"A little." She shrugged. "It has been a very long time." He leaned back.

"Why don't you give it a try?" He motioned to the ship's controls.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, I'm sure you'll be fine." Cassian begged.

"Doubtful." K2 noted from behind. Cassian glared.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt anything." Reina submitted. In a few quick motions, she had turned off autopilot and was gracefully guiding them through the stars. Everything her father had taught her felt fresh in her mind.

"You're a natural." Cassian laughed, his face bright with the smile that had been becoming more and more frequent.

Their destination grew increasingly closer until Cassian was able to land. The planet was lush with tropical forests and large, expanding seas with long bridges connecting the villages to the marketplace.

"Emre has arranged us a place to stay." Cassian announced. "I will be discussing with her in the morning, but for now I suggest we get something to eat and get some rest." He dismissed the men and turned to Reina. "We are to have dinner with Emre. She wants to meet you."

"Me?" Reina's brows furrowed. "What would she want to meet me? I'm just the mechanic." Cassian shrugged.

"I'm more curious how she knew you were coming." He started toward a large building, but turned back. "And Reina- you're not just a mechanic." He held up his jacket to protect the two of them from the rain and rushed across one of the many bridges into a stone building.

Inside was warm and decorated with red drapes and gold floors. It was luxury like Reina had never seen, even on Naboo. A tile mosaic in the entry depicted great temples and shining cities, all guarded by cloaked knights with weapons of light. The Jedi.

"Cassian Andor, I should slap you for making a lady wait so long." An older woman strut down the hallway with welcoming arms. Despite her age, she radiated beauty. She placed her hand on Cassian's cheek. "But it would be a shame to strike that pretty face of yours." She laughed and wrapped him in a merry embrace."

"It's good to see you Emre." Cassian responded with a deep laugh.

Emre had known him since he was a boy, just before his father joined the rebellion. She had been his mother's teacher when she was young. After his mother died, Emre moved and he and his father chose to fight against those responsible for his mother's death: the Empire.

Emre broke away from him and turned to Reina, engulfing her in a sudden hug. Reina tensed awkwardly and glared at Cassian, who snickered at her discomfort.

"I am ecstatic to finally meet you, Reina Tolderyn." Emre greeted brightly.

"How did you-" Reina stammered, but Emre took her and Cassian by the hand and dragged them down the hall into an extravagant dining room.

"Emre, we both know this isn't a social event." Cassian sighed grimly.

"Always so serious." The older woman scolded. "There will be no talk of business tonight. Just old friends-" she winked at Reina, "and new ones."

Dinner was a banquet of tender meats and bubbling wines. It was more food than Reina had ever eaten and by the time it was done, she was almost too full to move. Emre was an absolute delight, telling stories of her travels, and, to Cassian's dismay, some about his childhood.

"There was this one time I recall," she began, "when Cassian was no more than four years old. He insisted on carrying around this little toy blaster and jumping out to frighten people- he was quite the little rascal." She smirked and Cassian stared down at his plate, shaking his head. Reina could still see the small, amused turn of his lip. "Anyway, one time, he jumped out in front of this little girl, who promptly punched him right in the nose. The poor girl couldn't stop crying."

"Poor girl?" Cassian exclaimed. "I was the one with a broken nose!"

"A broken nose that you very much deserved." Emre chuckled. It was Reina's turn to snicker and smugly took a bite of her bread.

They were settled into lavish rooms fit for royalty. Cassian's was directly across the hall from Reina's and the two walked side by side, laughing and grinning the whole way.

"I am so glad I came here." Reina blurted, having had a few too many glasses of the fizzing drink Emre teasingly called 'Liquid Luck'. Cassian nodded and helped her into her room. Reina dived into her large bed, surrounding herself with blankets and pillows and Cassian said a brief goodnight before shutting the door behind him, settling into his own room.

"I do not trust those two men General Draven sent with us." K2 told a half-asleep Cassian. "I find that there is an 80% chance that they have a very different objective."

"They're just back up, K." Cassian groaned.

"That doesn't mean I have to like them." K went out into the hallway. In the absence of the blabbing droid, Cassian was finally able to fall asleep.

While the rebel captain slept peacefully, Reina met a rude awakening to a blaster in her side.

And as Reina was dragged down the hall, K2 turned the corner just in time to watch the men force her out of the building. He sighed.

"I have a very bad feeling about this."

[drinkupthesunrise]

If you're still taking fic requests... Wedge/Lando, one-upmanship. Or, you know, any pilot and Lando. I'm not picky. :D

Yes, I am still filling my prompts from ages ago, they are nice to chip away at. This has so little to do with the prompt you gave, spooky, that I don’t even know – I know I’m not exactly great at sticking to prompts but this is beyond that :D Anyway, it hopefully has several other things you like instead?

General warning that Wedge is not entirely in the fittest state of mental health here; nothing bad happens but things are discussed which might be unpleasant for some. (also on ao3)

TheX-Wing. Incom’sfinest achievement; the Rebellion stalwart. An all-rounder, not quiteas fast as an A-Wing but with more manoeuvrability, fire power tomatch any ship of its size, and one sizable advantage on the TIEfighter so beloved by the Empire. Shields.

Asfar as Lando is concerned, the things are death traps. His opinion onthis extends not just to the X-Wings, but the Alliance’sentire compliment of snubfighters. The Millennium Falcon is justfine, and whilst Han is stuck in the blasted carbonite, his to lookafter. So it makes sense to use it whenever the Alliance sends himout on a mission.

Thereare plenty of daredevil X-Wing pilots in the service, but Lando keepsgetting stuck with the same one flying his escort. A dark-hairedyoung Corellian, in a battered X-Wing that has seen one too manybattles. Lando is no stranger to dark-haired Corellians in batteredships, but this one doesn’thalf worship the ground he walks on.

(Hanhadn’tdone that, not exactly,but he’dalways regarded Lando with a gleam in his eye, like he couldn’tquite bring himself to tear his eyes away. The feeling had beenmutual. When Han had left, Lando had spiralled; he’d done a lot ofstupid things in the months that had followed, including a run-inwith Hera Syndulla – which he guesses is one of the reasons whyAntilles doesn’t trust him. He’d come good there in the end.

Butit’sdifficult to shake that impression, if Antilles had been told thetale; how he’d almost sold someone into slavery because he was moreconcerned with his own ideas than with anyone else’s safety.He’smade plenty of mistakes since, too. He might be with the Alliancenow, accepted a commission as a General, even if he refuses to bow toall their rules and regulations, but he can’t fight the naggingfeeling that he should have been here from the start. He made contactwith a part of the Rebellion before the Alliance was even signed; nowhe’s rocked up late to the party.

There’sstill time to make a difference.)

It’sthe chancellor herself, Mon Mothma – who Lando likes, because shetakes very little shit when he attempts to charm her, merely rollingher eyes and sending him on his way – who keeps assigning Wedge toaccompany Lando. So Lando can’t exactly do anything to countermandher orders. He’s stuck with this by-the-book pilot – whateverhappened to X-Wing pilots’ reputation as daredevils? – who’sgot a stick up his arse, and seems devote on infuriating Lando to thebest of his ability.

Atleast he’spretty. Or Lando might have tossed him out the airlock already.

.

Itmust be said that Wedge Antilles has one other great advantage; he’sone hell of a pilot. He flies an X-Wing like he was born to it, likehe’d never dreamed of doing anything else but flying.

Rightnow, he’sdarting under the belly of a mid-sized Imperial cruiser, leading amerry chase for the four TIE fighters that are following him. Theships defensive cannons are firing, but Wedge is dodging every shot,heading straight and single minded for the shield generators.

Landois keeping a close eye; the pilots in the TIEs are idiots, not theEmpire’sbest by a long way, but they still present considerable danger ifWedge takes his eye off the ball. “Rogue One, are you sureyou don’tneed assistance.” From the co-pilot’s seat, Chewie growls anegative before Wedge manages to respond with one.

“Yeahyeah, he’s capable, still doesn’t mean that what he’s doingain’t hella dangerous,” Lando shoots back, silencing the commsystem once again. The Falcon is far enough away, and hidden behind amoon, and for whatever reason the Imperials haven’t detected it.

Intelligencesaid this ship was full of idiots, washouts from the lower Imperialacademies, but Lando hadn’tthought they’d be this slow. The Falcon and a solitary X-Wingshouldn’t pose much of a threat to a ship like this, not if it wasmanned properly, and if the X-Wing and the Falcon were piloted by menlesser than Lando and Wedge.

Aping from the sensors say that the shields are down; time for theFalcon to move. Two of the TIEs veer off Wedge as they spot theFalcon, deciding to pursue the larger target. To their peril. Onequick word to Chewie and he’son it, targeting the rear gun on them, and taking down one, and thenthe other as Lando loops over the cruiser. “Rogue One, how’re youdoing with those TIEs?”

“Fine,get on with your half Falcon!” Wedge’s words are short andcursory, like he barely has time to contemplate Lando’s existence,and that he dearly wants to get back to his own concerns.

Landorolls his eyes, whilst a snort from Chewie indicates that he agreeswith Wedge, and that Lando should get on. So Lando flicks on an opencomm channel, and says, in the steeliest tones he can muster: “Thisis General Calrissian of the Millennium Falcon, representing theAlliance to Restore the Republic, and given that myself and my friendhere could shoot you out the sky right now, can we have your fullsurrender?”

“Die,Rebellion scum!” is the immediate response, but it’s followed bysome hasty clattering, so Lando waits patiently until someone withsense comes to the lead comm station.

“Thisis First Officer Helen, I’m authorised to offer you a conditionalsurrender on behalf of the bridge crew, will that do?” It’s anervous, young voice, this time.

Landosighs. He never planned to blow anyone out the sky; this crew is tooinept to deserve it. But they carry Imperial clearance codes, onesthat the Alliance needs for another mission. “I’lltake it for now. I’m going to dock, and I warn you; I have an angryWookiee on board who doesn’t like to be crossed.”

Chewieregards Lando with just a hint of betrayal; Lando shrugs. Chewie isintimidating, at least to those who don’tknow him. “Of course sir,” is the response.

“Andspace for my companion in the hangar, please.” A quick check onsensor logs reveals that all the TIEs have long faded to dust, andWedge is hovering a short distance away, lasers primed and aimeddirectly at the bridge.

Theship holds no surprises; the First Officer greets them, alreadyhaving stripped her rank insignia and imperial crest from her uniform– she had no great love for the Empire, Lando soon gathers. TheCommander is knocked out cold, the only one with real objections. Itdoesn’ttake long for Lando to find what he needs, and reach an agreementwith Officer Helen about bringing her crew back to the Alliance. TheCommander – along with a few of the soldiers with families who fearImperial reprisals were they to defect – are stuffed into an escapepod.

Aftereverything settles, Lando finds Wedge in the hangar, inspecting theLambda class shuttle that they’vesomehow crammed on board. “Good shooting out there,” Landocomments, the easy praise of a man who is used to leading.

Wedgejust huffs, running his hands over cool steel, and Lando wonders whatthe hell is his problem.

.

Ona planet which Lando barely remembers the name of – something likeCrestia II, or maybe III – Lando picks the most inopportune momentto ask “Sowhat the hell is Antilles’ deal?”

He’sgreeted with a groan from Leia Organa, who is his partner for thismission. She’s an effective one, able to slink past the localImperials – who don’t seem to be paying any attention to their‘most wanted’ posters – with the sweetest smile. Only that parthas all gone wrong, and now they’re in the middle of a firefight.“You’ve got great timing.” Readjusting her rifle, Leia takesaim through the scope and unleashes three perfect shots, each of themtaking out a stormtrooper below. “Gonna elucidate on that any, oram I supposed to guess which one you mean? We’ve got a few floatingabout the Rebellion.”

“Onlyone of whom you interact with regularly.” The glare with which Leiagreets that statement makes him doubt the veracity of it, andindicates that Lando is wasting his time by not explaining thingsproperly. “Wedge. I can’t figure him out at all.”

“It’snot that hard,” Leia replies, tone perfectly casual. “He’s gota case of survivor’s guilt the weight of a planet, a sense ofhumour black as carbonite diamond, a sense of loyalty so strong it’sa wonder it hasn’t gotten him killed, and the best – and justabout only – way of making him see sense is to screw him into themattress. I’d give that a try.”

Leiapunctuates her statement with a shot. Another stormtrooper goes down,but Lando can’tconcentrate on that. He’s taken completely aback by the crassnessof Leia’s words. The blushing princess, the favoured portrayal ofthe holo news even now, when she’s been outed as a Rebellionfighter for four years, is a complete fiction, he knows that. Butthis is something else entirely. “What?” Lando stutters,completely unsure of what he just heard.

Surelythe Princess of Alderaan didn’tjust tell Lando she’d screwed Wedge Antilles.

“Ittends to make him relax. And if it doesn’t, then you get a damngood night of sex out of the ordeal, trust me. You’ll feel a littlemore charitable towards him after that.”

Landofurrows his brow. “Yourcoping strategy for dealing with one of your senior pilots is to fuckhim?” The Alliance is hardly known for its conventional rules, butthis is beyond that. They are still a formal military, and shit likethis doesn’t fly.

“Offthe record off course,” Leia clarifies. “The Alliance neverformerly encoded fraternisation regs, for which a million youngsoldiers offer their unending thanks.” Lando had, briefly, been oneof them. But no one has yet held his attention for more than apassing second. Except Wedge. Who doesn’t seem to be a big fan ofLando. Which is Lando’s lot in life, honestly, to fall for men whohaven’t got a jot of interest in return. Honestly, Lando wouldsettle for working out how to have a conversation with the guy. “I’mfairly certain Luke gave it a shot when he was Wedge’s CO, and Monhas a soft spot for him and I wouldn’t like to say she hadn’t—”

Landoremembers his aborted attempt at flirtation with the Chancellor.She’sa fine woman, one who Lando would be delighted to be invited to herbed, but she made it clear enough that she wasn’t interested. Hedoubts that she goes around inviting junior pilots to her bed.

“Idon’t want to know how to screw him, I just wanted to know how tomake him less ascerbic! Or talk to me in the first place!” Landothrows his hands up in frustration.

“Sex.”Leia is chirpy and unrepentant in her answer. She takes a moment tosurvey the ground below, where a new legion of stormtroopers isslowly gathering. “Better get going, or we’ll really be introuble.”

Landofollows her lead.

.

It’sanother two weeks before Lando sees Wedge again. In that time, hedoes manage to verify that he was entirely wrong about the idea thatMon Mothma is above inviting junior pilots into her bed, because itappears she’s currently sleeping with WesJansonof all people. Lando tries another piece of flirting on her, but it’sshot down immediately; it seems that her tastes run very specificallyto dark-haired men in orange, and whilst Lando can also appreciatethe look, it’s not something he wants to try for himself.

Wedgemight not have much time for Lando, but the other Rogues don’tmind him, so Lando’s invited to participate in the card game thatthey’ve got going on in the corner of the pilots’ rec room. Themood is miserly. A report crossed Lando’s desk that morning; theRogues lost a pair of pilots in their last mission, and a resignationhad followed. It had cited the Rogues’ dangerous working practices,the increased jeopardy that came with being a Rogue, and well. Landodoesn’t think it went over well.

Mostof the Rogues are hardly the best Sabacc players in the world, butthey’repassable. A bottle of something makes its way surreptitiously roundthe table. Lando declines it after taking a whiff. He wants no partof that toxic mess, that smells like it might have been brewed in anengine.

Oneby one the Rogues fall away, bowing out as their credit lines runout, until it’sjust Wedge and Lando playing. Wedge’s strategy is gettingincreasingly erratic, risky, a contrast to the man Lando has observedin battle. He mentions something to that effect, and Wedge merelyshrugs.

“We’reas likely as not to die tomorrow, so why not?” The words are thatof a man with a maudlin sense of his own mortality. He lays one finalcard down; his daring has paid off. Lando knows he can’t beat it.

“You’vesurvived this long, don’t be so quick to throw that life of yoursaway.” Lando tosses his cards on the table, face down, in defeat.“See, you won this one.”

Wedgeclears the credit chits to his side of the table, without theslightest hint of satisfaction.  “Agame of Sabacc ain’t half as hard as surviving a battle.”

“Oddsare about the same.”

“Yeah,shit.” Lando raises his eyebrows. That’s not the Corellian spirit– how many times has he had to sit through Han’s ‘don’t tellme the odds’ speech? More than a few times, he’s thought that alittle more attention wouldn’t go amiss, but there’s somethingabout Wedge’s tone that unsettles Lando. “Yeah yeah.” Wedgewaves his hand with a false display of casualness that is so utterlyunlike him that the hair on Lando’s neck stands on edge. “Betrayingmy fellow countrymen by worrying in the first place. Well fuck them.This galaxy could use a few more people who give a shit.”

Wedge’seyes are dark, just a little hazy, and it’s clear that the alcohol,along with everything else, has gone a little to his head. He’snever been this candid in Lando’s presence before. “How about youdrop this maudlin attitude that you’ve been wearing all eveningthen, the one where you’re pretending that you don’t care aboutanything, because you aren’t fooling me, command, or yoursquadron.”

Leaningback in his chair, the barest hint of a smirk crosses Wedge’sface. The rigidity is gone, in its place – spurred on by the drink,no doubt – is a looseness that doesn’t quite suit. This Wedgecould be a whole hell of a lot of trouble in a completely differentway. “Yes sir,” he says with enough cheek to make even theeasiest-going senior officer stand on edge. “Didn’t know youcared so damn much. Should have joined us sooner, maybe, if you’regonna lecture me on my attitude – what right do you have to tell meshit? I’ve been through the wars, in this war—”

“Idid the best I could to keep the people I was responsible for safe.”Lando cuts Wedge off with a certainty that surprises even him. Heknows his words are right, the truth settling within him. He did allhe could. And Wedge is just trying to get a rise out of him, andLando won’t meet him. “And now I fight alongside you to try andbring them a galaxy in which they can be safe, and part of that meansensuring you are capable of doing your job.”

“I’mone of the best pilots in the fleet.”

“You’reno good to anyone if you’re constantly assuming you’ll go down inflames. That’s not bravery, or knowing the odds Wedge, it’s—”suicide.The word dies on Lando’stongue as Wedge stiffens.

Itwas the wrong thing to say. Almost say.

Itwas accurate, and that terrifiesLando.

“I’mnot—” Wedge can’t quite finish his denial. He can’t say it.It wouldn’t be true.

IfLando could prove it, if the Alliance wasn’tso desperate for Wedge’s skills, Lando would have him off theflight roster in an instant. But there is a war on, and that meansthey have to live with things that aren’t ideal.

“Forgetit.” Lando stands up, clearing the scant remainders of his creditback into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. Go to bed, sleep it off,get up tomorrow and go back to being an X-Wing ace, not whatever thisis.” Lando gestures at Wedge. “I don’t like you like this.”

Lando’sexit route takes him past Wedge, and Wedge catches his wrist in astrong grip as he attempts to leave. “Does that mean you like me?”Wedge is on his feet suddenly, in Lando’s space, eyes shining thatdark colour that Lando is never sure about, and Lando doesn’t havetime to form a response before Wedge kisses him.

Hegasps into the kiss, in shock and surprise, and Wedge’stongue flicks into his mouth. Lando can taste the alcohol on histongue, cheap rotgut in an idiotic Corellian pilot’s mouth, Landohas played this game before and it has not ended well. In lettingWedge kiss him, he’s making a grave error in judgement, the sort ofthing which is stupidly reckless.

Wedgebreaks away. He regards Lando for a single, too-long moment, beforestepping back and releasing his grip. Lando is still too surprised todo anything. Another moment, and Wedge is walking away, and Landodoesn’tknow what he’s supposed to think.

.

“Whatthe hell did you say to Wedge?” Leia hisses at Lando in passing.

“Nothing!”is Lando’s reply, but he’s aware of the futility of it; you’dhave to be a fool to not notice that Wedge has tightened up recently,coming into his own as the commanderof Rogue Squadron, not just a fill-in who doesn’tthink he’s supposed to be there.

Leia’smouth pulls into a wicked smile. “Ahh.” There’s an assumptionthere, that Lando has followed the advice Leia gave him, and it’sfaulty; but Lando has thought about it, can’t stop thinking aboutit, ever since Wedge kissed him.

Sohe lets her be, because honestly, she’snot wrong. Screwing Wedge into the mattress probably would do him theworld of good.

.

It’searly morning – or at least, it is by ship’s time, not that thatmeans anything to anyone really. Lando is taking one last look roundhis office, attempting to commit the whole thing to memory beforehe’s cast out into the desert wastes, when Wedge slips round hisdoor. “I hear they’re sending you to Tatooine,” he says.

Information,barely a week old, had confirmed that Han was located in Jabba’spalace. It was from a reliable source, but Lando and Luke knew enoughabout Jabba that mounting an attack without inside information was afool’s errand; so, it’s Lando’s job, with the leastrecognisable characteristics of the four of them, to infiltrate. Heleaves in three hours. “If we’re gonna get Han back, someoneneeds to go, and it might as well be me.”

Wedgenods. He does it like he understands the responsibility of goingafter your best friend and dragging them back from hell itself. Maybehe’sdone that. Lando doesn’t really know him well enough to say.“Tattoine’s a shit hole.”

“I’maware.”

Uninvited,Wedge takes the chair in front of Lando’sdesk, swivelling it around so h can rest his arms on the back of it.“Yeah, Luke will have given you the salient points, but he grew upthere. He can’t really explain what it’s like. Whatever he’stold you, it’s about a thousand times worse.”

FromLuke’sdescription – along with the scant information in the Alliance datafiles – Tatooine is only a step away from hell. But in some ways,so was Cloud City, built in the upper atmosphere above a planet ofTibanna gas. Tatooine is a habitable world, without any modifications– well, except the need to bring a bundle of vaporators along withyou – and there is food, water in the atmosphere, and it’s notlike the core of the planet wants to eat you whole. There are worseplaces in the galaxy, and Lando’s visited a bunch of them. Histolerance may be higher than the average person’s. “And you’rean expert?”

Fromwhat Lando knows, Wedge hasn’teven been to Tatooine, but he suspects he’s wrong about that too.“Not an expert, but Booster took me there once as a kid. Well,thirteen. He said I should see a bit more of the Galaxy. It was hell.I swore after that week that Booster was certifiable.”

“Booster?”There’s a man who Lando has heard of, who had dealings on Tatooine,but he can’t be the man who Wedge is talking about.

“Terrik.”Or he is.

Landolets out a low whistle. “Well,turns out there’s something interesting about you after all. How’dyou get tangled up with Booster as a kid and not end up a smuggler?”

“Hewas a family friend; my parents would have killed him if he evertried to recruit me.” Wedge is surprisingly nonchalant about hisconnection to one of Corellia’s famed smugglers. “And who said Ididn’t?”

Landofiles that piece of information away for later. “So,have you got anything useful to tell me, or have you just come hereto inform me that Tatooine is going to be hell to live with?”

Thatwas not the only reason Wedge came. He does turn out to have amoderate amount of semi-useful information, gleamed from his ownexperiences and from stories from Luke, and another pilot he knewonce, by the name of Biggs. Some of them even make Lando laugh. Thathelps. Dread has settled in his stomach, ever since he and the othersdecided that Lando needed to go to Tatooine, and Wedge’ssmile and quick words help lift it. It’s still going to be bad, butLando can forget, for just a little while.

AfterWedge finishes recounting a tale, he cocks his head at Lando. Hebites his lip, looking almost speculative, then asks: “DidI kiss you last week?”

Landojust – only just – keeps his mouth dropping from surprise. Hetries to play it cool. “Youdid. Was it that forgettable?”

Wedgeregards Lando with no small degree of scrutiny. Finally, he sighs.“Notat all. Thought I might have dreamt it though.” Lando loses all thewords he was going to say. Is that an admission that Wedge wanted thekiss, that it wasn’t some spur of the moment thing? “Look, I knowthat I have god-awful timing, but can we try that again when I’mnot drunk off my face and in a depression spiral?”

What—

Landoblinks several times at Wedge in quick succession. He’sstill there. Lando isn’t imagining things. But he heard right;Wedge wants to kiss him. “You really do have awful timing,” Landosays, because he is leaving,and who knows if he’llsurvive Jabba’s clutches, or if Wedge will still be alive when hecomes back. But they’ve still got a little time, so Lando standsup, making his way round the desk so he can drag Wedge out of hischair and tip his head up and kiss him.

Asoft moan emerges from Wedge’smouth, as he clutches his hands in the soft material of Lando’sshirt. Lando pushes him back against the desk, sliding a thingbetween Wedge’s legs and wondering why on earth he didn’t trythis sooner. Wedge’s mouth is sweet under his, kissing back with aquiet fierceness that Lando didn’t expect. It’s completelydifferent from their last kiss, which was uncertain and full of adegree of wild desperation on Wedge’s part. This time, it’smutual, wanted and appreciated.

Whenthey break the kiss, Wedge stares at Lando for a long moment,observing his entire face. A flush has coloured his cheeks, Landoknows that, almost embarrassing but not because he likes Wedge, morethan he ever thought he would, and he’sat a point in his life where that’s okay with him. “I know mytiming’s rotten,” Wedge whispers. His head fits into the crook ofLando’s neck almost perfectly. “How much time do we have beforeyou leave?”

Landochecks his chrono. “Notenough.” He strokes a hand down Wedge’s jawline; it’s sharp andstrong, and there’s the barest hint of stubble in a few placeswhere Wedge must have been in a rush that morning. A finger beneathWedge’s chin tilts his mouth up to meet Lando’s again. Landotries to memorise Wedge’s mouth, his lips, his taste; this entiremoment. It’ll be something to keep to himself, a memory totreasure, to remind him that there’s the potential for somethinggood in his life. “Force.” He exhales, lips not breaking apartfrom Wedge’s, breathing the words into his mouth. “You betterstill be here when I get back Wedge.”

“I’lltry and stay safe.” It’s all he can promise. Anything more wouldbe a lie, and Lando knows it. Wedge slips a hand round Lando’swaist, pulling him in close. “I’ll try. I’m not fucking aroundwhen I say it’s dangerous.”

“Iknow you’re not.” Lando sweeps a hand through Wedge’s hair;it’s surprisingly soft. “I just like to get a chance to see it…”He trails off. However he was going to end that sentence is too manywords, too soon. So he kisses Wedge again, silently counting down thelast minutes he gets to spend with this man he unexpectedly adores.

“Yeah,”Wedge mutters into Lando’s mouth, and maybe, just maybe, they’lllive to see it.

.

Alive– though only barely – Lando flies back to the Alliance fleet onthe Millennium Falcon, alongside Chewie, Leia, and an unfrozen Han,who seems to be recovering his wits at a pace. The Falcon docks withHome One, and Lando says his goodbyes to the rest of them quickly –Han needs to see a proper medbay before they all debrief, so he’sgot time – and heads to the Hangar.

RogueSquadron’sX-Wings are in the hangar, twelve of them, none looking the worse forwear. Lando breathes a sigh of relief. It’s no guarantee, ofcourse, but it’s a good omen. He rounds a corner and finds Wedge,sitting on a crate, consulting a data pad, biting his lower lip infrustration. A couple of the other Rogues are dotted about thehangar, decompressing in their various individual ways, but Landoonly has eyes for Wedge.

Wedgelifts his eyes at the sound of Hobbie’sindignant cry as Janson tackles him to the floor, and catches sightof Lando. He ignores his pilots, sets the datapad down and slips offthe box he’s sitting on, making his way over to Lando. Lando slideshis hands in his pockets, attempting to look nonchalant – he can’tlet his entire reputation go – but he can feel his mouth workingits way into a giddy smile, because force damn it, he really doeslike Wedge, and he’s missedthebloke, and it’sjust a delight to properly see him.

Wedge’space is just a little faster than ordinary; he stops a foot clear ofLando, appraising him. “You don’t look too badly off, for someonewho spent a couple of month’s in Jabba’s palace,” he says.

“Yeahwell, I’m pretty glad that Jabba’s dead.” Lando wants to reachout and touch, pull Wedge close. But Wedge is maintaining a distanceand they’re in front of not just Rogue Squadron, but dozens ofsupport personnel, and they never did have a conversation aboutwhether they wanted to make their relationship public.

Wedgeraises his eyebrows. “Dead?”

“ThePrincess. Things went a little awry.” Lando makes a motion with hishand, waving the details away. Wedge is familiar enough with theantics of Skywalker and co. “Glad to be back. Any hope of somepeace and quiet and a chance to catch up?”

“I’mbooked to run sims with the kids in half an hour, but my evening isclear and yours.” Wedge looks a little bashful, but Lando smiles inappreciation. That’ll give him a chance to get properly clean andhave some sleep. “And peace and quiet ain’t on the radar. There’sbeen no formal announcement, but something’s definitely up; Iexpect they’ll brief you on it first chance they get.”

Landogroans, just a little, though he didn’treally expect anything else. “It’s not the welcome home you mighthave wanted, but I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in my quarters andI’ve been looking for an opportunity to share it,” Wedgesuggests.

“Darling,”the endearment falls off Lando’s tongue with accustomed ease, butWedge’s eyes widen like he wasn’t expecting it, “your companyis the only welcome home I wanted.”

“Oh.”Wedge steps forward, into Lando’s space and says; “In that case.”His hands move to the collar of Lando’s cape, and he pulls the maninto a kiss. It’s a little rough, and they still haven’t quiteworked out the height difference – Wedge still seems unaccustomedto kissing people taller than him – but it’s niceand honestly? Lando really could get used to this. There’shooting echoing behind them – probably Wedge’s pilots, but Landocouldn’t give a fuck right now – he just concentrates on kissingWedge, long and slow, taking his chance because who knows if therewill be another, Lando is lucky to get this homecoming.

Theypart; Lando strokes a hand down Wedge’sjaw and looks him over properly. He’s smiling, eyes bright, and helooks a world away from the man who Lando left a couple of monthsago, who had darkness bleeding at the edge of his psyche. Landodoesn’t dare to hope that Wedge is completely shot of that suicidalideation, but he looks happier; Lando won’t have to worry abouthim, anymore than he already would, with whatever this thing that iscoming is. “It’s good to see you,” Lando whispers, leaning backin for another kiss.

Wedgeresponds by wrapping his arms around Lando’sneck and pointedly ignoring the loud jeers from his gathered pilots,and yeah; Lando likes this.

[poeticandors]

Little Hints

Cassian Andor x Reader

Request: Hey could you write something for Cassian/Reader, something along the lines of Cassian having a hard time verbalizing his feelings but he expresses them in other ways?

A/N: Hello everyone! I am excited to be able to write more and I will be getting to your requests now! I hope you enjoy this fic and please don’t hesitate to send in requests!

I do not own anything!!!

Captain Cassian Andor was head over heels in love with Y/F/N Y/L/N. He knew he was screwed the minute that they were first assigned on a mission together and he had heard her laugh after she had somehow gotten them out of trouble with some Stormtroopers. It was a heavenly sound and Cassian knew that all he wanted to be the reason that she was laughing and smiling. The only problem? He did not know how to tell her.

Cassian may have been one of the best intelligence officers in the Rebellion, but he was a complete fool when it came to Y/N. No matter how fearless he may have been when it came to going against the Empire, he was the complete opposite when it came to verbalizing his feelings towards Y/N. K2 had threatened him multiple times to tell her or else he would march right up to her and tell her himself.  But every time Cassian would walk up to Y/N with the intention of telling her how he felt, he would instead find himself becoming a blubbering mess and instead ask about their next mission or just make an excuse to walk away.  

The fact that he was intimidated by Y/N was very frustrating to Cassian and he found himself becoming moody about it more so than usual. Was it so hard to tell her that he thought about being more than just friends? That all he wanted to do was see her smile every day?

Cassian decided that he was going to finally tell Y/N how he felt. He was making his way through the X-Wing hangar in hopes that he would find Y/N and finally tell her that he cared for her more than a friend. No more games, it was now or never.

That’s what you said last time, he thought to himself.

Shut up, I’m really going to tell her.

I’ll believe it when I see it.

As these thoughts kept running through Cassian’s mind, he ran straight into Y/N, causing her to drop the data pad that she was holding. Cassian stared with his mouth agape before bending down and picking up the data pad, handing it back to her. Cassian tried to play off the shivers that went down his back as his fingertips barely grazed Y/N’s.

“Oh, Cassian,” Y/N laughed as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her other hand grabbing onto her data pad “Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going. Are you okay?”  

Lost for words after hearing Y/N laugh, Cassian just nodded and shifted awkwardly onto his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Cassian took in her appearance. Even though her eyes shone brightly, he could see the bags underneath from exhaustion. Her skin, usually glowing, seemed pale and she had looked as if she had lost weight.  Despite how tired she had looked, Cassian still thought she was the most beautiful person he laid eyes on.

He wondered, thought, if her being tired had anything to do with their last mission. He knew that Y/N had taken it pretty hard when she failed to save a child from crossfire between some Extremists and Stormtroopers while they were passing through. Cassian tried to comfort her, saying there was nothing she could have done and asked if she needed anything. Of course, she shook her head and spent the next few days isolated from everyone, including Cassian. Yet, here she was, smiling as if the incident never occurred.

Y/N continued to smile at Cassian as she spoke again,

“Always so quiet, Cassian. Am I really that intimidating?”

Cassian froze.

Shit, does she know?

“Uh, n-no I am just—“Y/N laughed again and placed her hand on Cassian’s arm, giving it a little squeeze.

“I’m kidding, Cassian.” Cassian breathed out in relief and smiled back.

Why does she have this affect one me?

“So, where are you headed in such a hurry?”

Just on my way to tell you that I love you and want to hold you in my arms every night while we fall asleep.

“Oh, right. I was just uh—looking for Kay. You see him?” Y/N shook her head,

“Nope, haven’t seen him. I can help you look for him if you’d like?”

Say yes, and then you can tell her how you feel.

“No, I think I know where he is. Thanks though, Y/N.” Y/N, still smiling, removed her hand from Cassian’s arm and pulled her data pad with both hands against her chest. He forgot all about it, but wished now that she would’ve kept her hand there as he missed her warm touch.

Just tell her. How bad could it be? The worst that could happen is that she says she doesn’t want to be with you.

“Ok, Cass,” His heart beat faster every time she called him that. Y/N was the only one allowed to call him Cass as she was the one to bestow the nickname upon him. Anyone else who called him that would get a scowl in return until they raised their hands in surrender and called him by his correct name.  

Quit being a nerf herder and tell her how you feel.

Y/N cleared her throat,

“Actually, Cass, I was wondering if you might have time to talk later. Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

Tell her.

“Oh, I don’t know, Y/N. I am supposed to be preparing for a mission and might just have to skip out on dinner.” Y/N’s smile dropped instantly and Cassian felt his heart shatter at the disappointed look that now lay upon Y/N’s face.

Way to go, instead of wanting to be the reason for her smile, you are now the reason for her being upset.

“Oh, of course, missions are important.” Cassian shifted his gaze between you and the floor, gave a tight-lipped smile, and nodded. It was quiet for a few moments before Y/N finally spoke again,

“Well, I’ll let you go then, Cass. Can’t keep K2 waiting, we both know how he can get when he is kept waiting.” Cassian looked back up at you and furrowed his brows,

“Hmm? What about K2?”

“You said earlier that you were looking for him?” Cassian’s eyes shot open in realization as he remembered that’s the lie he told Y/N.

“Right, well I’ll just- I’ll be going now. Like you said, can’t keep him waiting. Bye, Y/N.” Cassian walked past Y/N in a quick manner, but stopped to look back at Y/N, who gave a small smile when she called his name,

“Tell K2 I said hi, please.” Cassian felt the corner of his lip go up and nodded before he turned back to his fake search for the reprogrammed droid.

Idiot.

I know, I messed up.

She probably thinks you don’t like her now.

“Captain Andor, may I have a word?” Cassian stopped in his tracks and turned around only to find Mon Mothma standing behind him. He nodded and turned his body to face her properly, his hands moving behind his back. Mon Mothma walked up to him with her usual grace, giving him a small smile.

“I see Y/N is out of her room; that is good news.” Cassian glanced over at Y/N, who was now sitting down frowning at something on her data pad.

She has no idea how beautiful she looks with her nose scrunched up when she is frustrated.

“Yes, that is good news.”

“Well, let’s just hope she has all the support necessary to get through this tough time and that she will grace us all with her wonderful smile.” Cassian looked back at Mon Mothma, who was still smiling at Cassian. Cassian nodded an cleared his throat,

“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I need to—“

“You know, there are more ways to express your feelings towards another, Captain.” Cassian’s eyes widened and he began to stammer,

“Wha- uh, ma’am?”

“You don’t necessarily have to verbalize how you feel about Y/N, Captain. Little actions can have just as much meaning as actual words.” Before Cassian could respond, Mon Mothma excused herself and took off to talk with another pilot.

Cassian stood speechless in his spot and looked towards Y/N, whose gaze was still fixated on her data pad. He watched as the same piece of hair fall in front of her face, but this time she refused to push it back. Instead, Y/N sighed deeply and stood up from her spot, her shoulders sagging as she walked away.

Cassian knew he had to do something to get Y/N to smile as well as find a way to express his feelings. But what could he do? Suddenly, he began to smile as he knew just the thing, or rather things, to do just that.

Over the next few days, Cassian had done many different things to display his affection towards Y/N. He started off with doing little tasks, like making sure her droid companion had gotten checked for any damages and even made sure it had gotten tuned up a little. Whenever it was all fixed up, Cassian made sure that the mechanic and droid did not tell Y/N, as it was a surprise. Instead, he decided to leave a little note with the droid:

R4 informed me that you had been meaning to get him checked out for repairs, but have been struggling to do so. You’ll find that he has no damages and has even requested for a touch-up (you got yourself a very persistent droid). Now you have one less thing to worry about.

Cassian watched from afar as the droid rolled up to Y/N with the note taped to him. When Y/N saw the droid and read the note, Cassian swore his heart stopped as he watched the corners of her mouth turn up into the biggest smile. As she looked around to try and find out who could have been responsible, Cassian made sure to look busy as he wasn’t quite finished with his tasks.

The next thing Cassian decided to do was make sure that her U-Wing also underwent damage checks and made sure to that it was filled with gas as well as equipped with the correct materials. He even made sure to pack some of her favorite snacks in a little sack as he knew she would frequently forget to eat while she went on missions. Again, he left a note:

I seem to worry about you when we are not assigned for missions together. That’s why I took the liberty of making sure your ship wasn’t damaged. That way, I won’t go crazy thinking the worst while you are away. I hope you enjoy the snacks, I know sometimes the stress of missions can cause you to worry about others more than yourself. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.

When Y/N returned from her mission, Cassian watched as she walked down the ramp of her ship, chewing happily on a piece of fruit that Cassian had left her. She looked more energized than when she left and Cassian couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the possibility that he was the reason she was starting to look like her old self.

Lastly, he had decided to leave her favorite flowers in places that she visited daily, such as in her U-Wing, her favorite sitting tree, and her usual seat in the dining hall. Equipped with each flower were little notes as well:

Every time I see this flower, I am reminded of you and the moments we’ve spent together. Thank you for gracing me with your wonderful laugh and smile.

I know you like to spend time here to get away from the pressure of the Rebellion. I hope this can help relieve some of the stress and be a reason for you to smile.

I find myself falling for you more and more every time I see you smile.

Cassian figured that since he still had enough flowers, he decided to place them in a vase and sneak them into her quarters. This time, instead of a small note, he would leave a letter that expresses his feelings and instead of being anonymous, would be signed by him.

Cassian made sure the coast was clear before heading into Y/N’s quarters. He asked Kay to keep her busy while he snuck the gift into her room. When he walked into Y/N’s room, he wasn’t at all surprised to find how clean it was. The only thing that was even mildly messy was her bed as the sheets and pillows were thrown all over the place, a key sign of struggling to sleep.

Cassian’s eyes stopped at the little bedside table near Y/N’s bed and smiled as he saw the two previous notes from him sitting there and decided he would place the vase there. As soon as he felt like they were set perfectly, he pulled the letter from his pocket and was about to lean it up against the vase until,

“Cass?”

Cassian quickly turned around to find Y/N standing in the doorway, clutching onto the other flowers he had left behind for her as well as the notes.

“Oh, Y/N, I was just—“

“You did all of this for me?”

“W-well I, uh, yes.” Cassian watched as Y/N’s smile grew wide and she took a couple of steps towards Cassian.

“But why?” Y/N stopped in front of Cassian and he felt as if his heart was going to jump out of his chest.  Instead of speaking, he reached behind him and grabbed the letter that sat against the vase and gently handed it to Y/N. Y/N furrowed her brows, but took the letter graciously from Cassian and carefully tore the envelope. Cassian watched anxiously as she began to read the letter.

My Dearest Y/N,

You’re probably wondering why I have been leaving these notes instead of actually talking to you. The truth is that I find myself speechless in your presence and find it hard to speak to you without making a complete fool of myself. I find it easier for me to express my feelings with little hints and leaving these notes. It is a way for me to tell you how I feel without actually having to speak it, but I hope that after you read this and come find me, that I will have the confidence to do so.

Y/N, I am truly and unequivocally in love with you. The moment I first saw your smile, the only thing I knew in that moment was that your smile shone brighter than any star in the entire galaxy. When I first heard your laugh, it was such a beautiful sound that all I wanted to do was be the reason for that beautiful laugh to be heard.

I am also sorry about the events from the last mission. I wish more than anything that you weren’t dealing with the pain that you are now. I know that you took it hard but believe me when I tell you that there is nothing you could have done to save both you and that child. I love you and I don’t want to lose you, because ever since that day I realized I was in love with you, my life has been better.

I can only hope that you return these feelings, or I have just made a complete fool of myself. But, knowing that I have made you smile with these little notes has made it even more worth it than you’ll ever know. I hope that you’ll have me, Y/F/N Y/L/N, because you already hold my heart.

Yours,

Cass

Cassian watched as Y/N’s eyes were now filling with tears. He began to panic internally, thinking about how he messed everything up and what a complete fool he was thinking that Y/N reciprocated the same feelings for him. Just before he could apologize, Y/N threw her arms around his neck and smashed her lips against his.

Stunned, Cassian shakily placed his hands on the small of her back before pulling her closer, eliminating any space that may have been between them, and kissed her back with neediness he didn’t know he had. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair as he deepened the kiss and moved his hands to gather onto her shirt.

Cassian had lost all sense of time as he continued to kiss Y/N. It was as if everything had stopped around them and they were the only two beings left in the entire galaxy. He didn’t care. He wanted this moment to last forever, but he knew that all good things must come to an end.  

Cassian placed his hands on Y/N’s waist and gently pulled away from her so he could catch his breath. Y/N’s eyes were still closed and Cassian smiled as he gently kissed the top of her nose before placing his forehead against hers. Y/N removed her hands from the back of Cassian’s neck and reached for his hands so as to intertwine her fingers with his.

“I love you too, Cass.” He heard her whisper. Cassian pulled away to see Y/N with her eyes open, looking up at Cassian with the most adoring look, “I’ve also been trying to find ways to tell you, but I was afraid you would reject me as well. But when I finally got the courage to do so, you were in a rush to find K2 and—“

“About that, Y/N, I wasn’t really looking for Kay. I was on my way to tell you my feelings, but when I saw you smiling, I just got so intimidated and didn’t know how you would react. I’m sorry for lying.” Y/N giggled, and Cassian couldn’t stop himself from pulling her in for another kiss, this one being more soft and short.

When Y/N pulled away, she smiled brightly and Cassian lifted one hand up to gently trace her bottom lip with his thumb.

“Just promise me that you will not try to avoid me when you want to tell me you love me, Cass. Because there may be a chance that I will be trying to tell you that as well and I don’t want to have to be searching all over Yavin 4 for you.” Cassian laughed and pulled up one of her hands to his lips, placing the softest kiss upon her knuckles,

“I promise, my love.”

[thebargainingchip]

You’re Safe Now (Cassian Andor x Reader)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Reader

Word Count: 2532

Warnings: Fluffy fluff fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Nightmares, Slight Apraxia, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Torture

Summary: There are no bad days in the Rebellion, they're all terrible. Each one trying to outdo the previous. Y/N is genetically engineered soldier, the only one of her kind in the rebellion. She's been preparing for war since she was sixteen. With a hundred percent success rate Y/N is the best weapon that the Rebellion could ever ask for. But she's still human, with feelings and aspirations, a fact that everyone seems to forget, even herself from time to time, except maybe one person.

A/N: I was playing around with a story idea and accidentally wrote this, so here you go, a bit of Cassian fluff. Maybe I’ll write other parts with the same genetically engineered reader. Written in third person because I was to stubborn to change it. Feel free to request fics.

After giving up on trying to send the girl to medical, Cassian sighed and let her continue on to her new mission to find some food while he made his way to deliver his report of the mission to Mon Mothma. He knew he needed to tell the Senator about what he had seen while working with oe but he didn't know if they would even bother to listen. The mission didn't feel like it was over until he was done recollecting the main events of the mission and handed over the intel that they had managed to gather. Cassian knew that this mission had left him with immense guilt and even though he didn't feel fine, he knew he would be. "Thank you, Captain Andor. Your efforts on the behalf of the rebellion will not be taken lightly. I've noted that you and Agent Y/N work well together which is why I'm keeping the pair of you in mind for future missions. Not everyone can work with her." The Senator said when the meeting was drawing to a close. "She's a bit... intense but truly one of the best in the rebellion."  He answered back, the thought alone almost made him smile. He had never known someone quite like her, especially not in the life he lead. 

"Is there something else on your mind, Captain?" She asked when he hadn't yet left. Cassian folded his hands behind his back, now was the time to tell them, the opportunity wouldn't present itself soon enough again. "Senator, I don't know if you know this but Agent Y/N... I fear the weight of past missions have taken a toll on her. I would suggest that she be sent for a psychological evaluation or at least for an extensive debriefing." "I appreciate the concern, Captain, though, unfortunately, Agent Y/N doesn't have the luxury of time." The Senator explained gently. They knew, he could see the recognition in the Senator's face, she knew exactly what was happening. The rebellion has done a lot of inhuman things over the years for the greater good but this was a step too far. Cassian felt the anger well up inside of him but he decided not to let it take control, as he carefully constructed a reply that wouldn't be easily forgotten. "Senator I understand that Y/N isn't part of my devision but I believe she has sever PTSD that if left uncheck could lead to a psychological break. Although she is genetically engineerd to be the perfect soldier for the rebellion, she is still just a girl, not a weapon, something that everybody seems to forget." He said simply then when Mon Mothma was still thinking of an answer excused himself and left. He couldn't convince them anymore if those words didn't stick. He doubted they would do anything but he at least wanted them to feel the weightof their next decision if he coudn't completely sway them. 

He found the girl in the canteen, indulging the small cup of pudding that the base offered this time of day. She had discarded the ammunition packs and weapons and looked so much younger now that they weren't plagued by the stress of survival in unknown territories. "Are you even attempting to get to the medbay?" He questioned as he stood across from her. "Not actively but your not one to talk, I'm pretty sure that cut on your forehead needs stitches and those burns are truly nasty." She pointed out. "Fine then, let's go together." With a dramatically heavy sigh she stood and followed him.

"K2 is not very happy that he has to unpack the whole ship." Cassian informed. "What? He did nothing all mission long." She replied. "As I recall you were the one to tell him to stay on the ship and I quote, 'We could really do without an annoying bucket that would only slow us down'. I believe you hear his feelings." Cassian answered. "That's ridiculous, he doesn't have feeling he only has circuits with lots of doides capacitators, inductors, resistors and transistors." She rambled off. "Anyway, I think it's only fair that you apologise." "Fine." She grumbled as the doors to the medbay slid open to accommodate them. "Find me afterwards, I'm just going to take a quick shower." Cassian threw her way before she was out of ear shot as the doctor lead her away. "I'm not apologising now." She shot back with some form of unease. "No, I meant for dinner. You can't survive on pudding." He shot back. 

She did find him afterwards but not entirely what he meant as he found her sitting on his bed giving him the fright of his life when he came out the bathroom. He gripped the towel around his waist tightly. "This is not what I meant." He barked at her. "Why were you planning on showering some more? You did say you wanted to shower first, a task you have now completed." She rationalised. "Just wait outside while I get dressed." She stood, surprisingly without a protest or a witty remark and closed the door behind her as she exited his quarters. 

"You could've dried your hair properly." She shot at him as soon as he opened the door. "Not with you looming outside my door with no regards of privacy." "I would have waited." She offered. "No you wouldn't." He said. "Yeah no I wouldn't have." She agreed. They started making their way back to the Canteen again, mostly silent. He didn't know how but somehow she had also showered in the short time after there medical exam, even though he had finished before her. He was just starting to think that maybe she had rushed so that she could startle him purposefully when K2 found them. 

"K2, done are we?" "No thanks to you." He snapped and then slightly turned to look at Y/N who was trying to avoid his gaze. "Y/N." He greeted begrudgingly. "K2." She said with just as much distaste. "Y/N." Cassian said catching the girls eye and cocking his head towards the robot, she rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I called you an annoying bucket." She deadpanned and then after while turned to look at him. "What? I'm not apologising for calling you bad pilot, I was only speaking the truth." The droid shot back. "K." Cassian warned as Y/N scoffed. "As I recall you didn't use the words 'bad' and 'pilot', they were far more descriptive." She said begrudgingly. "Well what can I say, I have an affinity for language. It's built into my circuits." 

At the canteen K2SO grabbed a table for the two as they stood in line for food, trays in hand. "What did the boss say when you gave the mission report?" Y/N asked. "She seemed happy with mission's outcome, she said they would consider us for future missions." Cassian said as he held out his tray so that the server could scoop the food into his tray. "Together?" She asked in disbelief, Cassian nodded as she hummed in surprise. "What?" He asked. "It's just that's never happened before but to before I didn't have any incidents on this mission." She answered, as they walked back to the table, food in hand. "Incidents?" Cassian raised his eyebrows as he slid in next to K2SO and she opposite him. "I punched the last guy I had to work with in the face, the previous one I had to knock out and carry his ass all the way to ship and I'm not allowed to speak about the incident on Jakku." She said, loading a spoonful into her mouth. "I take it you don't get along with people easily?" K2 questioned. "What makes you think that?" She shot back, a true crafter of irony, his gaze sliding down to her food as a serious look settled onto her face. "People don't always like the missions that the rebellion gives me, so they try to stop me. I have yet to encounter someone who succeeds." She said, bringing perhaps the whole mood own around the table with her. "Any new missions, Captain?" She quickly changed the subject when she realised this, he was frozen for a moment, his mind still dwingling on her statement and what had been bothering him ever since he arrived. "Uh, no. I've been grounded until I've been evaluated, as after every mission." He answered, not much was said after that.

Their interaction seemed to be drawing to a close as the lot walked back to the housing wing. Everyone in the rebellion knew that managing a social life was nearly impossible because of the amount of missions that rolled in daily. There was something in the back of Cassian's mind that made him wonder if this would be the last time  they would properly see each other, after all they lived dangerous lives that could be snuffed out at any moment but he decided to extend an invitation to her anyway. They reached the split in the hallways where they had to head in different directions to reach their beds and turned to each other. "You know, if there is anything you wanted to talk about, you know where to find me." "After you've showered?" She offered with a devious smirk, he couldn't help but chuckle, turning to leave. She grabbed his arm before he could make it far, K2 had already begun walking down the corridor. "Cassian, you have a couch right?" The smile she tried to put on faltered as her eyes connected with his. "Of course." He answered realising what she was asking. When they reached his room, K2SO was already in the corner on shut down. 

"You should take my bed, I'll take the couch." He said when he closed the door behind her. "No I really don't wnat to intrude any further." She said, he was about to protest, she wasn't intruding, but he decided to leave it, h could see they were both tired and in the mood for proper sleep. 

He made sure she had a pillow, a blanket and some water and that she knew where the bathroom was before he turned out the light in the kitchen, all that was left was to put out the light in his bedroom to surround the studio-layout room in darkness. She was pulling her combat boots off when he crouched in front of her, her eyes shooting to his in surprise. He helped her as her hands struggled to untie the laces, her hands trembling to badly to be of any use. "The Senator said the rebellion is greatful for our efforts." He didn't know why he said thatmaybe to erase the guilt he felt or hers he coudl so clearly see were burning behind her eyes. "Our efforts?" She questioned as he pulled off the boot and worked on loosening the other one. "We killed children." She spat out, he stilled his actions, his eyes coming up to meet hers in the relative darkness. "Sorry, I don't think we need any reminders." She said, he nodded. "Did you hesitate?" She asked him, when he didn't answer directly she continued, "It felt like the world had stilled and I still made that choice and now life goes on like there aren't the blood of twenty dead children on my hands." She glanced down at the palms in her lap, Cassian's hands grasped her own in a gentle grip. "Not just yours, ours. We made that decision together for the rebellion, it will never be right but we'll just have to learn to live with it." He said gently, she nodded weakly, taking in a deep breath. He pulled off the last boot and stood as she dlid under the blanket. He turned out the last light and slid into bed. Thinking he would find it hard to fall asleep.

It was the scream that ripped him from his sleep abruptly, he sat up, his fingers grasping the blaster beneath his pillow only to see K2So coming into view. "I think she's having a nightmare." His mind seemed to orientate it as the scream faded. Cassian slipped from the decadent warmth of his covers and made his way over to the couh with some haste. Despite the fact that they had both been caught and tortured on the previous mission, he hadn't heard so much of a grunt from her when they tried all sorts of ways to make her talk. She had later explained to him that she had been trained to take torture, this raised some alarm as he crouched next to the couch to take in her tossing and turning form. Whatever she must be experiencing must be terrible to elicit this response from her. "No, please, I don't want to." She murmured, Cassian's hand rested on the side of her face, she flinched as soon as it made contact but seemed to relax when he followed it with. "It's okay, Y/N, it's just a nightmare." He wasn't sure he could convince himself with that. "Cassian?" K2 questioned expectantly. "Thank you, K. You may shut down." He said to the droid who walked over to the corner and proceeded to do just that. Y/N whimpered again, "It's okay, you're okay." He soothed her, as she relaxed considerably. He stood again and scooped the girl into his arms and made his way over to his own bed where he place the girl under the covers and slid in on the other side. He pulled her closer underneath the sheets, she pressed her faced deeper into his chest as soon as his arms looped around her waist. 

Y/N woke with a start, a hand rubbed her back as her breathing hitched in her throat. She was definitely comfortably warm and the voice assuring her that she was alright was also convincing her that she was safe. She knew that voice, in fact, she knew the inticing smell of the person who she pressed against. Her hands came up around Cassian to grasp the back of his t-shirt when he assured her again. She dug her face into his chest and memorised this moment. The security of it, the warmth, she had never felt anything remotely close and she didn't want it to end. She was almost asleep again when  K2's voice erupted in the room. "Really? This isn't the time for morning cuddles, Cassian. You know you have to meet General Draven in fifteen minutes and besides the cafeteria is about to close." Cassian quieted the droid with a harsh shush, as your face came up to slightly peer at the Captain himself. "But what do I know, I'm just a reprogrammed Imperial droid not your mother." K2 mumbled to himself as he turned around ignoring Cassian's warning completely.

"He's right." Cassian grunted, shifting slightly to look her in they eyes and tuck a stray lock behind her ears. "But you can stay if you want?" He offered as he slid out of bed. She merely grunted in return as she pulled his pillow in her embrace to hug it to her chest, a poor substitute.