#reminder that i make all my art with night light on my device

[gorekody]

Little Miss lizard arm

[letmesleeponu4sumtime]

20220207

I’m snacking right now; gunpowder tea and cinnamon hotteok. I just had lunch, I made myself spring rolls with a side of kimchi. I’m sleepy, the weather is fluctuating a lot. Two days ago it was 65 degrees, these past two days it’s been 78-80 degrees. Fall and winter are kind of obsolete in California

_+As I pour my second cup of tea, Ryuchi Sakamoto’s “12” plays in my AirPods. I think this is my favorite album of his

I’ve been reading a lot of Health Gossip so yesterday I took my first olive oil bath and did an oil pulling. I want to make olive oil baths a part of my weekly routine. I felt so anew afterward. I listened to a semi-ambient playlist I made and soaked for about 20 minutes. My hair is so soft and hydrated

_+I’m loving this tea. You must drink it while it’s still hot enough to burn your tongue to get the balanced floral notes. I always let tea sit out...This reminds me of something I read somewhere on the internet where this woman’s mother dies and she visits her house and is reminded of her through all the full cups of tea she left around. I guess she often got distracted, I see myself in that

Today I was thinking about the art of practicing self care while at work as I recalled my olive oil bath from last night. It was a random thought. I feel like every time I scroll on Tik Tok cursed videos will slip into my carefully curated peaceful algorithm of women “looksmaxxing". They go to bed with all these devices on that are supposed to enhance your appearance over time. For example chin straps, mouth tape, head wrap, face masks, red light therapy masks…while I deeply enjoy the concept of self-care and looking after yourself and they can be quite entertaining to watch on occasion there is an insane obsession with looking perfect that exists on the internet. God forbid you get caught in a bad photo or look like you worked 40 hours that week (because you did). Despite generally hating photos of myself, I think there is something so beautiful about someone that looks human, that looks like they live in their body. Our bodies aren’t cars or vehicles that exist solely to do worldly tasks before we retreat back to the internet at the end of the day. They’re our homes. Yes, take care of yourself and indulge in excessive treatments from time to time, if it makes you feel good but there has to be an intrinsic motivation behind it. The concept of self-care that’s become mainstream is an aesthetic, not a practice with its only reward being extrinsic. When making self-care intrinsic it’s much deeper than an Aesop or Barbra Sturm face mask, lighting overpriced incense in Tekla PJ's. It’s the hard stuff; sitting in silence, reflecting, putting your phone down, having real conversations….I don’t know..just thinking out loud...

[yodeler12]

An interaction between Tim and Damian popped into my head so I thought to put it and others that came up down for ya'll.

The different dynamics of the two pairs of Batboys when they're taking care of each other.

Dick and Jason in Dick's apartment

Dick: (has a nasty headcold, whining) But Jay Jay...

Jason: For the love of.. no. Your fridge is filthy Dickwing and you have nothing in here except leftover pizza. I'm making you Alfred's chicken soup and then you... will... sleep. Even if I have to duct tape you to the bed.

Jason: What the hell why don't you have any pots in here?

2. Jason and Dick in Jason's apartment

Jason: (on Day 3 of nursing a concussion) Fu*k off you mother hen, why are you still here?

Dick: I have to make you lunch, which is hard enough with the lights off without you whining. I told you, I'm not leaving until you can at least make yourself soup. Now, I'm going to put on an audiobook for you, which one do you want?

Jason: Falkner by Mary Shelley?

Dick: Sure bud, I'll find the one with the best narrator for you, now lay down.

3. Tim and Damian in Tim's room at the manor.

Damian: Timothy... what do you think you are you looking for?

Tim: Damian, where is my backup tablet?

Damian: Tt... do not be foolish Timothy. Grandfather and I both told you that you had to limit your screentime to six hours a day. Since we feared you jostling your legs retrieving your backup devices, which I remind you are both in traction rigs and not to be moved without due care, last night we scoured the entirety of your bedroom and especially your bed for all of your hidden devices. They have been placed upon the dresser where they will stay until your screentime may begin.

Tim: Damian, I have two broken legs, what do you expect me to do all day?

Damian: I have brought your lunch, grandfather made your favorite. Afterwards we shall draw and listen, I have found a podcast you may like. If you attempt to retrieve your devices, I am not above placing Alfred upon your chest to immobilize you further.

Tim: Sigh... alright Dames, thanks for lunch.

4. Damian and Tim in Damian's room at the manor

Damian: What's the meaning of this Timothy?

Tim: You're still suffering from the aftereffects of fear toxin Dami, the tremors will keep you from painting.

Damian: Art distracts me Timothy, I need distraction from... what do you propose as an alternative activity.

Tim: For too long I have been remiss in my duties as an older sibling to you, it's time to show you, Avatar. I've cleared my afternoon, so we should be able to at least get through Book One.

Damian: Tt, I have not always been impressed by your media likes Timothy, this had better be good.

[afiandx]

AFI and fire

"Answer That And Stay Fashionable"

(no fire)

"Very Proud Of Ya"

This Secret Ninja: Like raging fire, you burn what's left inside of me.

Fishbowl: And I may sit but someday I'll stand: I'll muster up the will and fire myself through.

"Shut Your Mouth And Open Your Eyes"

Keeping Out of Direct Sunlight (An Introduction): We are the ones who have a fire inside.

"Black Sails in the Sunset"

Porphyria: The fire tomorrow is born of the night; in darkness together, we ignite.

No Poetic Device: Set fire to my home before I turned and walked back in.

"The Art Of Drowning"

Smile: I'll set the world on fire and in burning light I'll write my first love song and I will feel warmth.

6 to 8: (On the way) I saw five hours of sleep (on the way) but your fire makes it all worth while.

"Sing the Sorrow"

(no fire)

"Decemberunderground"

The Missing Frame: Will the flood behind me put out the fire inside me?

"Crash Love"

Breathing Towers to Heaven: Blessed be the ghost the fire claims today.

"Burials"

(no fire)

"AFI (The Blood Album)"

White Offerings: If I were only here, I'd try, I'd try to gift you paper birds I free and you'd set fire to my sky, oh but I will offer you

"Bodies"

No Eyes: You were invited, and I have no excuse for giving fire to every coolly measured line, every blush beyond the lines, reminding me that you aren't mine.

Other Songs:

(no fire)

[semimedieval]

i looked at my old playlists and they were so dogshit nonspecific lyricsmatching and vibes that i got mad and would like more than anything to make new ones. unfortunately i extremely need to finish this response.

however just as a sample

you're not going to be difficult to love - a playlist for mina and leander

townie - mitski | i'm holding my breath with a baseball bat / though i don't know what i'm waiting for / i'm not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be these foolish things - frank sinatra | a twinkling piano in the next apartment / those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant / a fairground's painted swings / these foolish things remind me of you a case of you - joni mitchell | you're in my blood like holy wine / you taste so bitter and so sweet / i could drink a case of you, and i'd still be on my feet a complete list of fears… - the yellow dress | keep us sheltered from the darkness, and the things that lurk outside / and this growing sense of distance that keeps building in my mind you and i part ii - fleetwood mac | i wake up with my eyes shut tight / hoping tomorrow will never come / for you, you, you, you, you and i that’s what you get - paramore | now i can't trust myself with anything but this / and that's what you get when you let your heart win changes - phil ochs | moments of magic will glow in the night / all fears of the forest are gone / but when the morning breaks / they're swept away by golden drops of dawn / of changes not a day goes by - stephen sondheim | not a day goes by, not a blessed day / that you're still somehow part of my life / and you won't go away woke up new - the mountain goats | the first time i made coffee for just myself, i made too much of it / and i drank it all, just 'cause you hate it / when i let things go to waste the ghost of you - mcr | at the end of the world, you are the last thing i see / you are never coming home, never coming home / should i? should i?

a person she can't stand losing - a playlist for mari and jasper

it froze me - the mountain goats | yeah, i saw you in the blazing light / i saw you, i saw you all right / it froze me first day of my life - bright eyes | and you said, 'this is the first day of my life / i'm glad i didn't die before i met you' silver dollar - sierra ferrell / all that i want is a place i can come to / to give away the love i have inside of me stay young, go dancing - death cab for cutie | 'cause when she sings, i hear a symphony / and i'm swallowed in sound as it echoes through me i want to be here - neko case | the hungry fools who run the world can't catch us / surely they can't ruin everything folk art masterpiece - willi carlisle | you can't account for taste, but i know my north from south / and it's a folk art masterpiece when she opens up her mouth summertime - mcr | when the lights go out, will you take me with you? in our bedroom after the war – stars | we won, or we think we did / when you went away, you were just a kid / and if you lost it all, and you lost it / well, we'll still be there when your war is over i was made for sunny days – the weepies | found a book you gave me / when we were first in bloom / when I thought that you might save me / from the dark side of the moon / instead we both went walking / through the shadows and the gloom / and we never did stop talking / and you still light up the room.

you and me on this pier - a playlist for lark and quartz

annie's song - john denver | you fill up my senses like a night in the forest / like the mountains in springtime / like a walk in the rain futile devices - sufjan stevens | and i would say i love you, but saying it out loud is hard / so i won't say it at all / and i won't stay very long she lit a fire - lord huron | she lit a fire and now she's in my every thought in dreams - sierra ferrell | i hope i'm in your dreams the way you are in all of mine wax & wane - alana henderson | will the fact I cling too tightly / to my dreams come back and bite me / am I trying to make a science of an art? expert in a dying field - the beths | how does it feel to be an expert in a dying field? / and how do you know it's over when you can't let go? i don't really love you anymore - the magnetic fields | because i am a gentleman / think of me as just your fan / who remembers every dress you ever wore the big sleep - streetlight manifesto | and if you go, i'll be gone / and you'll be left alone to live your life as you please / but one day we'll agree that i was always meant for you star - mitski | that love's gone / we just see it shining / we've travelled very far, i'll / keep a leftover light / burning, so you can keep looking up

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Jessalyn Gilsig, Big Shot

Actress Jessalyn Gilsig, who you may recognize from Glee, currently stars in Disney+’s Big Shot opposite John Stamos. Audiences will also know her from Nip/Tuck, Vikings, Scandal, Friday Night Lights, Heroes, Boston Public, and NYPD Blue, among others.

How are you? Seriously, how’re you doing?

I’m fine! Thank you for asking. I think I am like a lot of people—I move in and out of a place of deep gratitude and then worry and concern for the world. It’s a bit of a seesaw, but I think it’s the only way to be right now.

Which of the roles you’ve played over the years challenged and/or taught you the most, and why?

Gosh, they all teach me something. I do think Gina on Nip/Tuck challenged me to really advocate for my characters. When I first read the role, you could tell she was just a device, another conquest of the main characters. For some reason, that really woke something up inside me, and I was determined not to allow her to be written off so easily. She was only supposed to be in two episodes of the show and instead made it to the end of the series, or almost—until she was fucked off a building (can I say that?).

Can you show us a photo from the set of any show/film that you haven’t shared before and tell us the story behind it??

This is from Vikings, which we filmed in Ireland. The little girl in the photo is my daughter, who was an extra on the show that day, and it was so special to be able to share my world with her. We even ended up in a shot together, which I treasure. Living in Ireland with her while we filmed the show was one of the most special periods of my life. It was such a great adventure to be away from our normal life and exploring a new country, just the two of us. I still can’t believe we got to do that.

Do you have a routine or ritual to prepare yourself for a scene? Does it differ depending on the character and setting?

I have a few things I always do. I’m very visual, so I mark up my script a lot; I look for the beats and the progression of the scene. I often write the words “truth, love, open, listen” or something like that. And I am the kind of actor who does need to focus and think, “where am I coming from? Where am I going?” Some people I work with can be scrolling through Instagram, put down their phone, and dive right in, but I need a little more prep than that!

You’re putting together a basketball team, but no one on your team can be a professional athlete. Who’s on your team (players can be real or fictional)?

Wow. Ok. My friend Peggi. She played D1 for Georgetown and is the most competitive person I know, so she is definitely a starter. Then I just watched “Last Chance U,” and so Deshaun Highler is on my team. I think Frances McDormand would be up for a laugh so she can play. RBG because she wasn’t afraid of anything and also seemed like a lot of fun. And she can bring Kobe with her. Oof, now I’m sad. Ok, everyone can play. No cuts.

Can you teach us a Québécois saying or phrase that you use often?

“Bein zut alors,” pronounced BAH ZOOT ALOR. It’s basically a more polite way of saying “fuck.” It’s pretty useful and satisfying to say.

What’s a fact about the making of Big Shot that fans would be surprised to find out?

Probably that John Stamos is not a sports fan, and I am. It’s kind of funny how shocking that is to people. But it plays right into the show. It’s our stereotypes that keep us apart; never assume you know someone without giving them a chance.

What’re you overthinking right now?

Probably this interview! I am an over-thinker, I guess; I have a hard time shutting my brain down. Having a child was such a good remedy for that because I had to learn to be present and not worry about tomorrow or the next day. Children are so present for a good seven years of their lives, and they really call you out if you drift away. I liked being reminded to just be, get down on the floor, do a craft, and let go of time. Tomorrow will come whether you worry about it or not.

You painted and provided art for the film The Station Agent. Can you share a photo of a piece of art that you’ve made recently, and/or can you make a quick sketch of whatever/whoever is on your mind right now?

I haven’t painted in a long time. I thought I would during the pandemic, but instead, I doodled a lot. Here is a small sampling, and the pencil drawing is from a class I took which I really enjoyed. My dream is to really immerse myself in art classes someday. I have so much to learn. But it’s a great outlet for me, especially when I am on set and have so much downtime.

What would you do if you had to go back in time and relive high school with all the knowledge you have today?

Can you imagine if you knew then what you knew now? You’d be like, “ok, that’s a waste of time, you seem interesting, let’s hang out, who wants to buy a bitcoin?” But you can’t do that. It doesn’t work that way. What I love about life, and especially what I do for work, is I still get to play. I still get to be surprised and scared and learn and grow, It’s just now I don’t have a curfew, and I can eat cereal for dinner. Being a grown-up is just fine with me.

Thanks for taking the time, Gislig! Big Shot is now streaming on Disney+.

[talkfastromance4]

Flowers 4+1// ashton irwin oneshot

A/N: this is my first ever 4+1 fic so I’m kind of nervous, thank you Angie @littledrummerangie for the idea! This is also SUPER indulgent as being a birthday fic for me and a birthday fic with Ashton😅 since mine is the day before his. This has everything I love in it, flowers, hot tubs, a cabin, christmas, love… This is 4 times Ashton gives you flowers and 1 time you give him flowers

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

Enjoy!💕

*****

One

The first time they met was when Andy and Sarah invited Ashton to help her move into her new place. The movers basically set all the boxes and furniture into her house and then left her to her own devices. She called Andy and Sarah for help and if they had any reinforcements it would be greatly appreciated. 

She was trying to find wine glasses when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it she had to look up at her guest. His copper brown hair fell in waves and necklaces hung perfectly down his neck, his hazel eyes were bright and friendly.

First, she noticed how good looking he is and the second thing she noticed was the mason jar filled with orange and peach flowers. 

“Uh, hi can I help you?” she asks suddenly feeling very self-conscious of her ratty t-shirt and paint splotched shorts. 

“I’m Ashton and I’m your honorary mover,” he smiles. “Andy called me. You must be Y/N.”

“Must be. I mean--yes, I am! And oh, right, wow. Sorry, please come in and thank you for helping,” she says, moving aside to let him in.

“Yeah, of course. These are for you,” he holds out the mason jar. “A housewarming gift.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the flowers with both hands. Their fingers brush. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?” his eyes bore into hers and she’s momentarily frazzled. 

“Apart from my mom or grandpa but...um, I’ll put these in the kitchen. Andy’s in the bedroom putting the bed together if you’d like to help in there.”

She escapes into the kitchen where Sarah is wiping down the fridge. 

“Who was at the door? What pretty flowers!” 

“Your friend Ashton and he gave me these,” you touch one of the roses before burying your nose in the plumage. The petals tickle your nose and the scent is wonderful. 

“He’s sweet like that,” Sarah smiles. “Did you find the glasses?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, setting the flowers on the counter by the sink. “They’re probably in the bathroom or something.”

“We’ll find them.”

The four of them continue working on unpacking and it isn’t until about 10 o’clock when Andy and Ashton enter the living room.

“The bed, vanity, and dressers are all assembled,” Andy announces wiping at his brow. 

“We’re the poor man's Avengers,” Ashton laughs. “We put the bed in the middle of the wall and the vanity next to the window. Best lighting to do make-up.”

“That’s...perfect actually, thank you guys,” Y/N smiles, balling up the newspaper and shoving it in a large garbage bag. She just finished placing her books on the shelves, she’ll sort them later in the week. 

“We were thinking of getting pizza,” Andy says.

“Pizza sounds great! Here, I’ll give you some money--”

“No, my treat,” Ashton says, “you’ve been working hard.”

After eating pizza they all went back to unpacking and Ashton made comments about the art pieces she has. He asks where she wants each one hung up. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll put them up later,” she waves her hand at him. 

“It’s my job as honorary mover,” he grins. 

Midnight came upon them sooner than she would like. Andy and Sarah headed out because of Pebbles, she’s been cooped up all day so it was just Ashton and Y/N. He asked questions while unpacking to get to know her better and he was very open to her questions. 

He stayed until 3 in the morning but he made sure to get her number before he left. She took a photo of the flowers on the counter before going to bed.

Two

She changed her outfit about a dozen times. Her bed was covered in discarded clothes and she still had to put on her makeup. The clock on her wall ticked reminding her that Ashton would be here in a little less than an hour. 

It’s been six months since he helped her move in and in that time, they became close. He showed her all of the best coffee shops and bookstores he knew of. He introduced her to the rest of his band and they accepted her kindly. 

She accompanied them on outings, parties, and Ashton always made sure to stick close with her. He knew she was shy around new people so he always made sure to include her in conversation. 

One night when he was walking her back to her door after going to dinner with the band and their significant others, he was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and she’d find him staring at her across the table. 

“So, I’ll see you Monday, right?” she asked, shuffling through her purse for her house key. 

“How about Saturday?” 

“This Saturday? I thought we were going to try that new restaurant Monday with Andy and Sarah?”

“I mean, we can do that, too but I was thinking...Saturday could just be us. You and me.”

The air changed between them and she stopped looking for her keys. She turned to face him but she couldn’t quite read his expression. 

“Oh, okay. Did you want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to ask you on a date here,” he laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ask me on a...you are? Oh God, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“You could never ruin anything,” he smiled. “But, would you like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” his hazel eyes were hopeful and Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

“I’d love to Ash,” she smiled. 

And now here she is, half naked and indecisive on what to wear. She shouldn’t be freaking out like this, it’s Ashton. But it’s also *Ashton. Ashton who can always make her laugh and he makes her feel safe and they always have fun together. But it’s also Ashton who gives her butterflies whenever he touches her lower back and her heart race when he gives her a hug. 

Her phone buzzes and it’s Ashton letting her know he’ll be there in forty-five minutes. She lets out a loud groan and goes back to her closet, maybe a new article of clothing she’s never seen will just reappear. 

To her astonishment, there was a maroon dress that she wore to a wedding. 

“Might as well,” she sighs and puts it on. It really doesn’t look half bad as she looks at herself in the mirror. 

She rushes to put on her makeup and by the time she spritzes on her perfume, the doorbell rings. She checks that she has everything in her clutch and moves to the door. 

It’s like a deja vu moment from six months ago because he’s handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His necklaces are perched perfectly in the V of his white button up shirt and it contrasts nicely with his skin. These flowers are full of pink and white flowers with a hint of peach thrown in there. The ivory paper crinkles when his fingers squeeze it, his eyes widen at the sight of her. 

“Wow, you look...wow.”

“You’re pretty wow yourself,” she giggles then glances at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Um, yes,” he holds his hand out, the flowers bumping your chest. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she laughs, taking them from him and buries her face in the center of it. “They smell wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

He follows her into the house, she doesn’t see him glance down at her ass in the dress. He’s rubbing his neck again when she looks at him getting a vase from the counter. She fills it with water and arranges the flowers. 

“So, where are we going?”

**

They’re sitting outside the restaurant, it’s a warm breezy summer night. The rustic atmosphere feels comfortable but when she flicks her gaze at Ashton over the drink menu, he’s drinking his glass of water heartily. His other hand is tapping against the table, it’s a thing he does when he’s nervous. 

“Thirsty, huh?” She tries to ease his unusual activity and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, throat’s a little dry,” he clears his throat just as the waitress comes by. 

She takes their drink order and Ashton requests a pitcher of water if it’s available. Their roles are reversed, she��s the one doing most of the talking and he’s the one who’s listening. She can tell he’s still being reserved so she takes out her phone and points it at him.

“Smiiile!” She sings turning on portrait mode. 

“Why?” He laughs nervously but it makes him smile so she snaps the photo. 

“Because, the lighting is perfect and you look cute,” she flirts with a smile.

Ashton laughs again but it’s his real laugh, the laugh that always gets her laughing. She snaps as many photos as she can and it seems to have done the job of making him act like himself. Even though they’ve hung out nearly everyday, the evening still had the air of a first date. 

They even tried each other’s food. She stabbed her chicken and noodle with her fork, blew on it, and fed it to him across the table. 

“Wow, that is really good,” he hums in approval. He swirls his own noodles on his fork and feeds her slowly. 

“That sauce is amazing,” she moans, loving the lemon flavor. 

They share a dessert of chocolate mousse and split the strawberry. After dinner, he took her to the art museum. They're open later in the summertime. There were only a few people meandering in the open space and standing stagnant in front of pieces. 

“This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, taking her hand easily in his own. 

Her butterflies returned and he lead her all the way to the back. It was a Claude Monet exhibit and she tried to look at the paintings but Ashton was on a mission to a certain piece. He stops in front of it and she stares in amazement at the painting. It’s of Claude Monet on his boat. She gasps, staring at it and Ashton is staring at her. 

It’s the painting she tried to replicate when she was younger in her art class. It’s the painting that introduced her to Monet because the style was similar and it always stuck with her. She told him she wanted to find the painting when they first met and stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“You remembered this?” she asks, stepping closer to it. She makes sure their hands are still locked together, his thumb is rubbing her skin in soothing circles. 

“Your eyes always light up when you talk about things that matter to you. They’re always so bright when you talk about him...and when I give you flowers.”

“Ashton this is…” she shakes her head at a loss for words. She gazes upon the painting, loving the visibility of the palette strokes and the blending of the colors. Tears formed in her eyes. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she wipes the stray tear that slipped from her eye.

“Hey,” he says softly. His fingers graze her cheek tilting her face towards him. 

His thumb rubs at the leftover tear, his own face inching closer to hers. She closes her eyes, exhaling when his lips brush against hers. He squeezes her hand, his lips controlled and gentle yet also hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters. 

They unabashedly makeout in front of the paintings and in her mind she’s thinking of what they look like to an outsider. Still life man and woman lost in each other.

Three

The holidays arrived faster than she wanted them to. She still had a ton of shopping to do for her family but at least her flight is scheduled. Ashton is accompanying her on the trip and she’s so excited for him to meet her family. 

“Make sure you aren’t doing anything the weekend before the holiday,” he tells her unravelling lights from her box of Christmas decorations. 

“How come?” she asks searching through the tv for the claymation movies she loves to watch.

“That’s when I’m going to give you my present.”

“You need a whole weekend to do that?” she laughs. 

“I won’t say anything more than that,” he smirks at her. 

“I can help with that--”

“I got it sorted,” he waves her off, “you enjoy your movies.”

“Have I told you you’re the most amazing boyfriend?” she wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton shifts the lights into one hand so he can hold her against him with his free hand. 

“You’ve never told me that,” he grins and kisses her. 

“I’m sure I have,” she mumbles between kisses. Her hands slip under his shirt, thumbs grazing over his warm skin causing Ashton to grunt at the contact.

His hand rubs up her back and into her hair, he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “Let me finish putting these lights up and we can get back to this, baby.”

“We could get to this faster if you let me help,” she stresses, pinching his skin. “You never let me do anything.”

“You do plenty, baby,” he smiles, kissing her forehead. 

She sighs and retreats to the couch curling up to watch the movie and Ashton wrap and weave the lights around her tree. Two and a half movies later he was finally finished and turned the lights on. The white light reflected on her wooden floor and she beamed at his job well done.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!” she throws her arms around his neck in a big hug. 

“My pleasure,” he chuckles and kisses her temple. She starts to give small kisses to his neck, featherlight and ticklish on his skin. “Get outta here, you know I’m ticklish.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases continuing her small attack of affection. 

Ashton shifts her in his arms making his way to her couch and drops onto the cushions. She situated herself so she’s straddling his waist. His hands smooth over the curve of her ass while his lips suction kisses along her jaw and to her neck. She shivers at the contact, tugging at his curls when he sucks a mark.

“This is what I’m gonna do about it,” he says gruffly and rocks her against his hips. 

“Okay,” she sighs, enjoying his mouth on her neck and the bulge in his pants rubbing against her core with each rock he makes her do. She moans when his hands move to her thighs and gives her a squeeze. 

Needing more of him, she drags his head away from her neck so she can feel his lips on her own again. She rolls her hips against his without his help and his hands slip under her shirt, moaning when he feels she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Damn, baby,” he growls cupping her breasts together. He tweaks her nipples and she squeaks in his mouth. “You like that?”

“Feels good,” she nods nipping at his lip. His phone rings and buzzes in his pocket, the vibration adds another element to her arousal.

“Leave it, they can leave a message,” he pants, sucking another kiss from her. 

His phone stops ringing only for hers to start on the coffee table behind them. She breaks the kiss and turns around trying to see the caller ID.

“Leave it,” he repeats, squeezing her breasts again.

“It could be an emergency,” she reaches for her phone to see it’s Sarah calling. “Hello?” She picks it up staring at Ashton and he smirks, lifting her shirt up. He takes her nipple between his lips and she scowls at him. “Oh, that was tonight? Um, yeah he’s with me. We’ll be right over. Okay, yeah…” she sighs when his teeth tug on her nipple. “See you soon.”

She tosses the phone to the couch and tosses her head back relishing in his mouth on her sensitive bud for a moment longer. Their physical relationship is progressing slowly, they’ve almost had sex three times (now four if Sarah hadn’t called) but she likes the pace they’re going at. 

“We need to go to Andy and Sarah’s,” she strokes his cheek curling his hair around his ear.

“Why? I’d rather stay here,” he shifts his mouth to her other breast, his tongue rolling over her nipple salaciously. 

“Mm, me too but it’s their Christmas party tonight. And we’re late by two hours,” she snickers, fingers still tangled in his hair. She has goosebumps from what his mouth is doing to her.

“I’m sick, can’t go.”

“Ashton!” she laughs pushing his head away from her chest. “We won’t see them until after the holiday. Come on, let’s go.”

She crawls off him, turns her tv off and changes her top, and puts on a bra. When she comes back Ashton is still sitting on the couch. She leans over the back of it next to his head. 

“Do I have to drag you off this couch?” she murmurs in his ear.

“I need a few moments,” he huffs, shifting his legs. 

“Oh,” she giggles, seeing exactly why because he still has a prominent bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry. Can I help?” she kisses down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. 

“You helped make this problem,” he laughs, turning his head to kiss her lips. 

**

The Christmas party was a hit and it’s the weekend before Christmas. Y/N was awakened by Ashton petting her hair and kissing her cheek, he used the spare key she gave him for emergencies.

“What a way to wake up,” she smiles, pulling him on top of her. His strong arms are caged around her head and his body weight makes her feel protected. 

“Your coffee is all ready, now you just have to pack and we’ll be on our way.”

“No breakfast in bed?” She traces his eyebrows. 

“I can make you breakfast in bed tomorrow*,” he nuzzles his nose against hers. “There’s a present by your coffee mug if that will help you get  your cute ass outta bed.”

Then his weight is off her and she’s left scrambling out of bed to follow him into the kitchen where her coffee is already in her to-go mug with a card and a bouquet of red roses and cranberries inside to make it more of a holiday special. He’s standing next to the small gifts with a grin on his face. 

“I love these, they’re so pretty,” she gushes, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She loves the sweet smell of a rose. 

“You’re so pretty when I give you flowers,” he comments, lifting up the red envelope. 

She holds the flowers against her chest and unfolds the envelope. Inside is a white card with writing formed in the shape of a Christmas tree, a star placed on top. The words read:

“TO A 

KIND

STRONG

BRILLIANT

SO BEAUTIFUL

AND TRULY AMAZING

GIRLFRIEND”

Ashton wrote his own inscription inside in his nice loopy script:

‘The past year with you has been one of the best of my life. Our friendship was the perfect foundation for a relationship and I can’t imagine what my world would be like now if you weren’t in it. So this weekend, it will just be me and you in our own little cabin, no interruptions. xx Ash’

“A cabin?”

**

After the 2 hour and 40 minute flight to Seattle, she and Ashton arrived at the cabin where a dusting of snow covered the ground and a wreath was on the door. Y/N was floored at how beautiful it was and Ashton took her hand leading her up the wooden steps. He took a key out and unlocked the door. 

It smelled like cinnamon and Ashton with cozy couches and armchairs, a large rug in front of a stone fireplace and a massive kitchen with a grill attached to a chimney. A Christmas tree was set up with presents scattered underneath and there was a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. 

“Ash…” she begins and then can’t find more words. 

“There’s more, c’mon,” he smiles, leading her up the winding staircase and into a loft area where a futon was and empty bookshelves. There were a few guitars on stands placed in the corner and some incense sticks. “What do you think?” He leans against the railing and Y/N ventures into the room.

“I think it’s wonderful, but there aren’t any books. Is this someone’s cabin and you’re renting it? I can chip in--”

“No, no. It is someone’s cabin...mine.”

She whips around from looking out the half circle window overlooking the backyard where she saw another grill and some chairs. 

“This place is yours?”

“Yep. I come here when I need to get away and just let my creative ideas flow. You can fill the bookshelves if you’d like.”

“Ash this is…” she shakes her head then launches herself into his arms for a hug. “This is incredible. And we’re here the whole weekend? Just us?”

“Just us, angel,” he nods, rubbing at her back. “There’s also a hot tub.”

His voice changed at the mention of the hot tub because she didn’t bring a suit. 

***

Ashton’s plan for Friday evening was to unpack and go into town for a nice meal. After dinner, they changed into their sleep clothes and snuggled on the couch with hot chocolate watching the first Home Alone movie because they’re her favorite movies. Her mind was on that hot tub and her stomach twisted with excited nerves at the thought of using it. She wanted to use it now but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth each time she tried to bring it up. 

She was also thinking of how this would be their first time sleeping together. Ashton never stayed the night because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She found it sweet but it also increased her infatuation for him even more.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, he had her lean on him while they walked to the bedroom. The bed was huge with a large comforter and even fluffier looking pillows. It looked heavenly and she slipped inside willingly. She rolled over and became awake again at the look on Ashton’s face. 

She tossed over the blanket on his side of the bed and patted the space below the pillow inviting him in. He crawled in carefully and shut the lights off and they were in darkness. Ashton remained sitting against the headboard and Y/N reached out for him in the dark. His forearm was warm and soft.

“Are you going to sleep like that the whole night?” she whispers, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No,” he whispers back, sliding further down the bed. Her hand now rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating. He turns on his side clutching her hand in his. “Is it weird I’m nervous? I feel like I’m fifteen.”

“You first slept with a girl at fifteen?” she laughs.

“No, I meant--being around girls at that age made me nervous,” he chuckles. 

“I’m nervous, too. But in a good way. Just warning you, I’m a kicker so I apologize in advance.”

“Why are we still whispering, we’re the only ones here,” he says, raising his voice to a normal level. That only makes her giggle more. 

“I don’t know, it fits the mood with you regressing back to fifteen years old. Our parents could walk in at any moment.” She scoots closer to him, so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face. 

“I hope they don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer in the dark until he finds her lips. It’s a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that took her breath away slowly and made her heart smile. 

She keeps him close with her hand pressed to his cheek. They kiss and talk in hushed tones until she falls asleep and Ashton tickles up her back until sleep finally finds him, too.

Saturday morning did indeed include breakfast in bed. Ashton made pancakes, bacon, coffee and a small bowl of fruit. His itinerary for the day consisted of lounging around the cabin watching holiday movies and then he was going to make her a steak dinner. She insisted on helping him in the kitchen amidst his protests.

“I’m not a good cook but I’m a very good listener. I’m your sous chef.”

“What does ‘sous chef 'even mean?” he asks getting the ingredients out of the fridge. 

“It means ‘under.’”

“Ah, so you’re under me, huh?” he winks. 

“Let me help you cook and I just might be,” she challenged with a smile. Ashton shakes his head, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. 

She followed his instructions with the garlic and mashed potatoes. The dinner was exquisite paired with a delicious white wine. They each had a full glass, their bellies full and face warm from the wine, they were extra giggly and extra flirty. 

“How about that hot tub?” he asks, circling the rim of the wine glass with his finger.

“Did you pack a suit?” She raises her eyebrows. 

 “Nope.”

“I didn’t pack a suit either,” she points to her chest.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he gulps the last swallow of his wine, eyes on her.

“What a shame.”

He sets his glass on the table and takes her hands in his, his eyes looking almost apologetic. “You can wear a t-shirt and shorts. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kisses both of her hands. 

“Go get the water ready.”

Twenty minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Ashton is already in the water. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, his face even redder from the steam, his eyes hold hers steadily. 

The confidence she had in the bathroom is gone. She wanted to come out here and just get in the water completely naked, but now she’s nervous because what if she was reading the signs wrong? What if he doesn’t really want to have sex with her?

“Um, can you close your eyes while I get in?” she asks.

“‘Course,” he closes his eyes.

She takes a deep breath dropping the towel. The air kisses her skin and she climbs up the steps carefully. The water is hot as she descends into the tub, she bends down so only her head is exposed above the water. Ashton remains still and she inches closer to him until their knees touch.

“Hi there,” he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

First she nods then realizes he can’t see her so she clears her throat. “Yes.”

He opens his eyes slowly, and they look so pretty in the nighttime sky. He’s looking at her like he’s staring into the full face of the moon, his eyes are full of wonder and adoration and her confidence starts to rise within her. 

The longer he looks at her, the more bold she becomes and she rises up from the water. Her breasts are completely exposed. Ashton licks his lips, his eyes lowering over her wet chest. She doesn’t want to break the spell that’s cast between them so she moves towards him slowly, her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms remain on the sides of the tub. 

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?” 

“Touch me.”

In a flash, his lips are on hers and she’s pressed to his chest. His large hands cover her back, one dips over her ass and she gasps when she feels his hard-on against her thigh. He lifts her effortlessly in the water so she’s straddling him. 

Instinctively, she rubs herself against him groaning at how he rubs against her most sensitive area perfectly. 

“Need you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Bed,” he gasps.

They exit the tub excitedly, drying off as quickly as they can and she presses herself against him in front of the bed. Their bodies are warm from the tub and he lifts her in his arms again. She loves feeling his muscles wrapped taut around her, he knees onto the bed and stays there. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they remain kissing.

“Do you have something?” she asks, pulling away to catch her breath. She twists his chest hair in her fingers.

“Um, yeah. Shit, hang on,” he sighs, slipping her back onto the bed. She watches him appreciatively as he skimpers to the kitchen pulling his coat off the hook.

“You have a really nice butt,” she compliments when he returns with a condom in hand. 

“Thanks, babe,” he laughs then stops at the foot of the bed staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks suddenly self-conscious. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She smiles and pulls him on the bed with her again, connecting their lips. He rips open the condom and rolls it on his length. He kneels on the bed again and she’s quick to climb on top, moaning at his shaft rubbing between her folds. 

“Such a pretty moan,” he praises, grasping his cock in his hand. He teases her hole with his tip, nudging it inside a few times. Her lower body meets his in a desperate way, small gasps coming from her each inch he goes in deeper.

“Please, Ash...want all of you,” she knocks her forehead against his.

He takes a deep breath and pushes all the way in, his eyes watching her as her mouth opens and her eyes close at being filled. Their bodies tremble together and they remain still, experiencing being connected for the first time. 

“Good?” he asks, rubbing her nose affectionately.

“Mhm,” she nods and starts to roll her hips against him. “Ohhh…” she lets out a shuddering breath.

He follows her rhythm easily, arms wrapped around her, enjoying the way she rides on top of him. He kneads her ass as she moves, her breath picking up and when he can’t take it anymore, he rises on his knees, her legs fall on either side of him and she gasps. 

He rests her on her back gently, resting his chest against hers so that they’re still touching and rocks his hips in even thrusts. He slips his tongue in her mouth just as her legs wrap around his waist. She moans when he picks up the pace, her lower half meeting his thrusts perfectly. 

“Are you close baby?” he pants feeling her walls start to flutter around him. “So good for me...so perfect...taking me so well.”

“Don’t stop,” she moans tilting her head back. Ashton pounds into her faster, each time he thrusts in she clenches around him a bit more tightly. 

“Fuck…” he hisses when she clenches and stays that way. Her moans are loud in his ear and he always wants to be the one that makes her sound like that. He can’t hold his climax off with her sounding like that and he’s coming with her. “I love you,” he groans loudly in her neck.

When they recollect their breathing she holds his face in her hands.

“What did you say?” she gasps out, eyes wide with lust and surprise.

“I love you,” he breathes, stroking her temple with his thumb. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted to tell you that this weekend, too. It’s hard for me to say out loud and with just us--”

She kisses him fiercely. 

“I love you, too.”

Four

When she went to work there was a flower arrangement at her desk with a note from Ashton wishing her a great last day before her vacation for her birthday and his birthday. Hers was the day before his and everyone wanted them to do a joint party when they found that out. 

“No, that’s weird,” she scrunched her nose at the suggestion.

“Yeah, we aren’t siblings. That’s gross,” he agreed.

She took the week off for their birthdays so they could maybe go to the cabin or even rent a house on the beach. She loved her birthday but whenever she made plans, they always fell through or people never showed up.

She texted him that the flowers were beautiful and she couldn’t wait to spend the day with him the next day. When she got home, he was already there wearing an all black outfit with his shirt open. He knows how much she likes seeing his chest. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” she holds up the vase of pink peonies showcasing them. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Kiss me first,” he puckers his lips at her.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles and steps on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They always kiss each other hello. 

“Now, go get changed. We’ve got plans,” he grins.

“What kind of plans?” 

“Look on your bed and see,” he nods to her room down the hall. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.”

She shakes her head and does what he says. On her bed is a dress she always ogled when they were at the mall, Ashton clearly bought it for her. He spoils her too much. Next to the dress is a black satin blindfold. She narrows her eyes at the blindfold but quickly changes into the dress.

“What is this for?” she asks, stepping out into the living room with the blindfold in her hands.

“For your eyes. Turn around.”

“Are we roleplaying?” she asks, turning her back to him.

“No,” he laughs, placing the fabric over her eyes. 

He helps her walk to his car and she’s asking him so many questions. He refuses to answer them and laughs at her outlandish predictions of taking her away to a private island. 

His hand is firm in hers when they’re walking to wherever they’re going. She stumbles a little because she doesn’t know the terrain but it feels like pavement under her feet. 

“Are we there yet?” she asks.

“Almost. Okay, there’s a few steps. Up, up, up, up, and last one. Good. Okay, I’m going to take it off you now.”

She feels him move behind her. He unties the blindfold slowly and it drops from her eyes. She blinks slowly to get used to the light and is met with all of their friends and family before her. There’s flower arches behind them and they’re all wearing flower crowns on their heads. 

“SURPRISE!” They shout and she gasps when they start to sing Happy Birthday.

Sarah wheels in a cake with flowers sprawled over it and her name in the middle. Y/N grasps Ashton’s hand in her own, tears forming in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her waist, his chin rests on her shoulder as he sings softly in her ear.

“...dear Y/N...Happy Birthday to you…”

She wipes at her eyes overcome with emotion from the surprise and that Ashton went through all this trouble.

“Make a wish, angel,” he murmurs in her ear.

She closes her eyes, thinks of a wish, and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and she twists around to give Ashton a big kiss. There’s even more cheers for that and then she’s whisked away for hellos and hugs. Flowers are hanging from the ceiling like vines and she’s never been surrounded by so many flowers. 

“Were you surprised?” Sarah asks as a waiter starts to cut the cake.

“Totally surprised. But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she gives Ashton a side eye.

“You told me you wanted to spend it with me, so your party with everyone else is today,” he smiles. 

“And all these flowers? I love it all so much, thank you.”

“Your eyes will have that shine all night,” he grins, kissing her nose. 

One

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ashton laughs behind her as they trek through the woods by the cabin.

After her surprise party, on her actual birthday they spent the first half watching movies and the second swimming at the beach. They had a late flight to go to the cabin. Upon arrival, Ashton spent the last hour of her birthday pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers. When the clock struck midnight, she flipped him over with a smirk.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she whispered and slid down his body so she could please him. 

She loves hearing his moans just as much as he loves hearing hers. She loves how one hand is fisted in her hair and the other rests behind his head watching her go down on him. 

“Yes, I know where I’m going. Come on birthday boy.” She ducks under a branch then sees the clearing ahead. 

“I’m twenty-seven, I’m not a boy,” he grunts.

“Sorry, old man,” she teases and he smacks her ass playfully. 

When they come into the clearing, there’s a red and white checkered blanket in the grass with a large basket in the center. Wildflowers surround it in purples, yellows, oranges and a few reds. It’s a magical place. 

��Did you do all this?” he asks seeing the set up. 

“I did. Come on, there’s more.”

They kick off their shoes and sit on the blanket. She opens the basket taking out his favorite foods and a wrapped gift. 

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything,” he sighs while taking the gift. “You’re more than enough.”

“I know, but it’s part of my love language. And it’s homemade anyway,” she shrugs. “Open it up.”

He unwraps the corners before tearing the paper all the way off. He stares at it in his hands for a long time. She made him a shadow box frame with a picture of them when they were at the beach during sunset. It was their favorite picture and surrounding it were dried flowers. 

“Do you know what these are?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Flowers?” he chuckles touching the glass. 

“This one is from the first flowers you brought me when you helped me move in, these are from our first date, this is from Christmas and the small cranberry. These are from work and my birthday, and these are from Valentine’s Day. These are all the flowers you’ve given me,” she smiles and he looks at her stunned.

“You kept them all?”

“You’re the only one who ever bought me flowers and I loved them all so now you have them, too.”

“This is incredible, I love it. Thank you,” he reaches over to give her a kiss. 

“Wait, there’s more,” she grins and reaches into the basket again. She pulls out live flowers arranged in a pretty bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Baby,” he stressed in astonishment and set the picture frame next to him. 

He pushes her back on the blanket kissing her with all he’s got. The flowers get crushed and some stick in her hair but they’re surrounded by love and the sweet smell of flowers and kiss with passion.

“Happy Birthday my love,” she gazes up at him and sticks a flower behind his ear.

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr-blog1​ @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

[certifiedskywalker]

Another Memory - Kylo Ren

forthesakeofstarwars said: If you’re still taking requests, can I send one in for Kylo Ren, in which the reader is dating him and she’s sent out on a solo mission one day? She gets injured on the field and hides it from Kylo when she returns, but he finds out anyway. He was upset at first that she didn’t tell him about it but than he takes care of her and helps her wound to heal.

AN: Guess who got too carried away? Me, this guy, I did!

Magma burns. That’s what it felt like. Searing, beyond white-hot pain that shot through your lower abdomen with each aching step. You heard once of Mustafar, the lava rivers and lakes that dotted the scorched landscape like bright death traps. Within your stomach, you imagined a crater, akin to the magma pools of that dastardly planet, spewing concentrated bolts of flame towards the rest of your internal organs.

“Commander.”

Through a grimace, you dipped your head at the two lower ranking officers that acknowledged your presence with a salute. Unbeknownst to them, you were in near-debilitating pain with your right shoulder pressed against the wall of the ship’s hallway for balance. As they passed by, you stood up right and muscled through scream of hurt in your stomach.

“As you were,” you snapped back. They walked off with a little more speed than when they came upon you. You took a small bit of pride in their fear before pressing your shoulder back against the wall. Out of all of the First Order’s officials, you were the least frightening. The towering Captain Phasma and the biting voice of General Hux made even you, a being well trained in the darker arts of the Force, shake from time to time. And that was not even considering the short-fuse temper of Kylo Ren.

At the thought of him, you felt yourself weaken. A groan slipped out past your lips and you pressed yourself impossibly closer to the wall for support. If he saw you like this you would never live it down. Another wave of searing pain rushed through your abdomen, this time mingled with a twinge of shame. Eyes squeezed shut, you gritted your teeth and forced the stinging tears behind your eyes to stay there. 

If only he had stayed. Stayed in your shared bed, tangled with you in sheets until the comm stopped blinking and whirring for his attention. How you wished he had ignored the device, the mission he was given, and stayed with his hands on you. But then your comm had started to blink, coaxing you out from under him and the messed sheets. You should have stayed instead of going to...you couldn’t even recall the name of the planet now.

Overwhelmed by the pain left behind by the blaster bolt that had charged through your gut, your brain worried itself with keeping you on your feet rather than the destination of your mission. Despite the battle scar and trip to the infirmary that danced in your near-future, you had been successful. The insurrection and rebels that had amassed against the Order had been dealt with. Though they had not gone down without a fight.

Seemingly triggered by the memory of battle, your wound screamed with a heat painful enough to pull the air from your lungs. With a gasp, your knees hit the cool, tile floor of the ship. Black spots dotted the edges of your vision as you fought to stay conscious. Focusing on deep breaths, you reached out to the Force for aid, for the power to push your body through the pain; a skill you had learned from Luke Skywalker so long ago. 

You fell back on his old lessons only when the situation was dire. Passing out in the hallway, surrounded by inferior officers was truly dire.

“Commander?”

With an aimless, wandering hand, you pushed the concerned officer to the side.

“Leave me,” you hissed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm of breaths. The Force seemed to recoil from you as a fresh and overwhelming wave of pain cut through your abdomen. Your vision began to blur. “No, no, no.”

Murmurs from the officers and troopers around you muddled in your ears. Each comment or quip sank into a thick mud, unheard by you. Harsh and growing shallow, your breathing was the one sound you could hear clearly. A haphazard, unsteady beat of air down your throat and into your chest. Desperate to stay lucid, you closed your eyes and willed your body to stay aware. Get to your feet, your mind echoed the mantra, get to your feet.

You pushed up on your knees and, shaking slight, moved to stand. With a careful step forward, you opened your eyes. Bright lights installed in the ceiling shown in a staggering display. Darkness swept over your vision, but you weren’t sure if you shut your eyes or succumbed to the agonizing heat in your stomach. Your knees impacted the hard floor once more and, in a brief moment of audible clarity, you heard the gasps of those surrounding you.

Then you heard a deeper, familiar voice; one laced with worry. “Y/N?!”

Grey walls and bright lights enveloped you when you opened your eyes. Steady and mildly annoying, a beeping vitals monitor served as a reminder that you were alive. That, and the dull aching all over your body. Most of the lingering pain was concentrated in your abdomen and your knees. You didn’t dare to look at the mess whatever medical droid made of your wound; there would be a scar, no matter the make and model of machine. 

“What happened?”

You let your head fall to the side, your gaze shifting from the unentertaining ceiling to your right. Sat beside you, masked in a shadow of his own creation, was Kylo Ren. The soulless visor of his helmet was fixed on your face. In any other position, the intensity of his hidden gaze would have set you aflame. Now, you felt only shame. 

“Tell me.”

“The mission was a success,” you replied curtly, ignoring the truth he wanted.

“That’s not what I meant.” Coldness edged Kylo’s tone, mostly due to the modulator embedded in his helmet mouth piece. You hated how it changed his voice and, despite it’s mechanic alteration, how it was still so wonderfully familiar to you.

“The dissidents fought back,” you explained, “nothing I’m not used to.”

“You’re hurt.”

You can’t help but laugh at how plainly he makes the statement. “I hadn’t noticed.”

At your mocking tone, Kylo stands. You watch as he moves towards the entrance to your infirmary room and forces the door shut. The metal screeches against the floor until the two sliding doors meet in the metal. Kylo’s arm falls as he turns to face you once more.

A biting comment makes its way to the tip of your tongue. Just as you’re about to spit it out, Kylo moves again. He brings his hands up towards his helmet and you hear the telltale hiss of release as he lifts the metal from his head. The comment dies between you lips the moment you catch a glimpse of his skin. A breath of relief takes it place.

Without hesitation, and slight shame momentarily forgotten, you meet Kylo’s eyes. Dark, wavy strands of hair covered part of his face, nearly obscuring the med-tape covering the gnash the scavenger girl carved into his cheek. Against the uncomfortably thin sheet of your infirmary cot, your finger itched to traced the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw. The want became nearly unbearable when he moved to stand by your bedside once more.

“You should have come to me when you returned.” Without the modulator and helmet, Kylo’s deep voice was smoother. Akin to fine granules of sand running through your fingers rather than grating gravel. You felt comforted by the sound, even if he was chastising you. 

“I thought you were still out on your own mission.”

“You couldn’t sense me? My presence on the ship?”

When you shook your head in reply, Kylo frowned. Disappointment flashed in his brown eyes but did not linger; nor did the downwards turn of his lips. Quickly, Kylo collected himself and plastered on that flat expression you assumed he wore often beneath the mask. He took a step closer to your bedside, resting his heavy helmet on the end near your feet.

“I could sense you,” he said lowly, “your pain. How you were thinking of me.” Heat rose to your cheeks, spreading to every inch of your skin. The warmth further dulled the ache in your abdomen. Your attention was fully focused on him now. 

“Is that why you came to my rescue? You were a little late if you…” You trailed off as Kylo’s leather-gloved hand brushed against your cheek. A shaking breath rattled in your chest and you closed your eyes for a long moment to search after your words in the dark. 

“I’ll never be late for you again,” he murmured when you opened your eyes again. Sincerity dripped from his tone, filled the dark depths of his eyes. His hand brushed against your hairline at you stared up at him, covered fingertips dancing down along your jaw. “Never again.”

“And I’ll find you the moment I return from missions.”

Kylo nodded and you saw the slightest up tilt in the left corner of his mouth. An almost smile. The same expression he would often give you when you came to him, ready to share a bed for the night. If you were lucky, you would get a half smile, large enough to bring out the lines in his face; the evidence you had that he could be happy.

“Good,” he replied, pulling his hand away. 

You watched as he plucked the glove from his fingers, exposing the skin of his palm to you when he reached out. Picked up by the vitals monitor was the quickened pace of your heart as Kylo tugged the thin sheets tucked around you down from where they rested. Cool air kissed the skin of your nearly naked chest and then your bare abdomen. You wanted to recoil, hide from him despite knowing he had seen you far more exposed before.

His eyes held your gaze before you lost your nerve. Daringly, you glanced down at your abdomen and eyed the dark red, inflamed scar left behind by the blaster bolt. The medical droids had done well, better than the last time. There was still ample room for improvement. Displeased, you looked away, back up at Kylo.

“Another memory,” you mused bitterly, “though yours is far more handsome.”

Kylo let out an amused huff before studying your new scar. He leaned forward and let his bare fingertips traced the outer edges of the puckered mark. His touch did not hurt but the vitals monitor alerted you both to an uptick in heart rate again. In response to his fingers, your body tensed; wound itself tight like bacta-gauze around a bleeding limb. Enjoying the sight of your body reacting so precisely to his touch, you saw Kylo wore another almost smile. 

“Do you want it gone?” 

His question catches you off guard. Is he serious? When he moves his eyes from your wound to meet yours once more, you see that he is. The almost smile is dropped, his brows are relaxed, and he reads as unconcerned.

“Yes,” you say, more curious to see what he means than to actually have the scar removed. Kylo nods and moves his bare hands away from your abdomen, though just barely. Palm facing down towards your wound, Kylo’s hand hovers. A moment passses and there is nothing but the want to make a teasing comment.

Then you feel it. It, the Force, is warm as it licks at your wound. Licking is the only way you can describe the feeling though it is not wet. Only warm, comforting, and moving. You gasp and your eyes lift to study Kylo’s face. His eyes are closed, lashes fanned out against his cheeks as he focuses all his energy, the Force, on your scar. 

You feel a shift in the air as he lifts his hand. When he opens his eyes, he does not meet your gaze but peer at the scar. Or where the scar was. A few inches above your hip, fresh, unharmed and unblemished skin was shown. It was as if you had never been struck at all. The dull pain that gripped your torso was relieved like a dark cloud being brushed from the sky.

Speechless, you barely react when Kylo leans further down. His hair falls around his face as he pressed his warm lips to the spot where the scar had been. The ends of his hair tickle your skin but you’re still too enthralled to twitch at the sensation. Kylo turns his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are knowing and his mouth quirks up into the slightest of half smiles.

“Beautiful.” 

Falling from his lips, the word thrusts you back into another memory; this one not embodied or immortalized in a scar. You are back, caught in the morning before you mission, with your skin pressed against Kylo’s. Sheets are scattered around you and he is kissing your bare shoulder when he says it over and over again, punctuated by a new kiss each time.

“Beautiful.”

When he says it for a second time, you’re back in the present, in the infirmary. Kylo has straightened his posture and is reaching for his helmet now. You move, sit up in your cot and throw a hand out to his. Your fingers wrap around his wrist and gently squeeze.

The touch brings his eyes to yours. His mouth is open slightly, shallow breaths coming and going as he waits for you to say something. To say what he is thinking, wanting, too.

“Stay.”

Wordlessly, Kylo moves to meet you in the middle. Before you can react, his lips find yours and you are falling back against the cot. You are lost in him again and more than enjoying the feeling of it. When you feel his bare hand against the skin of your waist, you smile into the searing kiss. What another good memory this will make.

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2021, Day 6 - Formal Night

(Have a RobStar/BBRae double date for this prompt as a two for one special!)

---

"Do we have to go to this?" Beast Boy whined, fidgeting a little as Raven straightened his bow tie.  "Can't we just like, video conference in or something?"

"Metropolitan Society of the Arts hasn't quite nailed down simulcast technology yet," Robin said in explanation, helping the changeling into his dinner jacket.  "We could watch the livestream, but it'd be really laggy, and we'd lose connection more often than not."  He brushed Beast Boy's sleeves off when he was done.  "Besides, this is culture.  It's good for you."

Beast Boy gave an uncertain whine, but made no further comment, as Raven withdrew to slip her faux-fur-lined shawl around her shoulders and Starfire moved in to futz with his hair, smoothing it down into a semblance of orderly flatness.

"Do you not like the opera, Beast Boy?" she asked him, making sure his hair was to her satisfaction before stepping back and tugging up her long gloves again.

"Never really been my thing," he admitted, reaching up and feeling the slicked-down hairdo.  "Always puts me to sleep."

Robin wound an arm inside Starfire's, his jacket sliding neatly against the silk of her gloves.  "I wouldn't blame you," he laughed.  "Opera is kind of an acquired taste."

Starfire beamed at him, her eyes sparkling.  "It reminds me of the poetic ballads we would perform upon royal holidays," she commented.  "I am very excited for this."

Beast Boy shrugged, grabbing up his wallet and shoving it into his back pocket before reaching to grab Raven's hand.  "Well, as long as you guys enjoy it, I think I can manage."

Raven gave a wry smile as she entwined fingers in his.  The contented feelings of love and happiness from their double dates were like a warmth on her senses, familiar and comforting.  Starfire's eager excitement and the anxious thrill racing inside Robin at the thought of doing something with her she loved never failed to make the empath feel... more at ease, somehow.

The looks of adoration they traded with each other, the casual level of comfort they felt... She and Beast Boy were still navigating their awkward newfound feelings for each other but Raven very much hoped they could reach that level of ease with each other.

Beast Boy did like to cuddle, so that was a good start.

She squeezed his hand encouragingly, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I snuck your gameboy into my clutch," she told him.  "If you can stay awake until intermission, we'll sneak off and find a quiet corner."

He looked confused and bewildered a moment, but then seemed to light upon her insinuations.  "Ohhh, leave the happy couple alone for an hour, I get it," he said with a grin.

Fortunately Robin and Starfire were busy fussing over who was going to hold the tickets and didn't hear their private exchange.

*** Starfire's eyes were shimmering; she clutched hands over her heart as she listened with rapturous emotion, her Tamaranian powers almost haywire inside her with the strength of her feelings.

Beast Boy was snoring lightly in his seat, his head slumped over the top and drooling a little from his mouth, but Raven didn't seem to mind, leaned against his shoulder and quietly listening to the music with a faint smile.

Starfire could feel Robin's eyes on her instead of the performers, watching her reaction to every line, every moment, but she barely paid attention, so enraptured she was with the moving story and the beauty and technique of the singers' performances.

The main soloist was onstage now, pouring her heart out into a powerful aria about difficult love and Starfire felt herself ache for the poor fictional girl, doomed to forever be apart from the one she treasured and adored.

She clapped vigorously with the rest of the audience as the act concluded, peeking aside at Robin when he stood up, and doing the same.

"What is this called?" she asked, observing the same phenomenon from patrons down below on the floor.

"A standing ovation," he explained, saying it into her ear.  "It's basically used to compliment the performer, tell them they did a really great job."

Starfire beamed and clapped harder, joining the chorus of appreciation for the soloist, who stepped forward and took a quick bow as the lights came up.

Beast Boy snorted and startled awake, shaking his head and quickly wiping the drool away with his sleeve.  "What'd I miss?" he asked.

Starfire jumped into an explanation at once, her dress swishing around her ankles as she turned eagerly to Beast Boy.  "The heroine and her lover both snuck away from their houses for a secret rendezvous, in which they proclaimed their eternal affection for each other.  But the heroine's stern guardian found them out, and attempted to duel the lover to the death.  He barely escaped with his life and now the heroine has been locked in her room and has conveyed that she feels she cannot live without him."

"Oh."  Beast Boy scratched his ear.  "So pretty normal stuff, then."

"It was so moving!" Starfire exclaimed, her voice almost breathless.  "The lyrics of the aria were so beautifully poetic!"

Behind her, Beast Boy observed Robin, his eyes shining at Starfire like she was the beautiful piece of poetry.

He smirked a little to himself.  "Yeah I'll bet.  Hey Rae."  He nudged Raven conspiratorially.  "You remember where the bathrooms were?  I uh... kinda need to use the men's room.  Fast."

She caught on to his excuse, rising from her seat with him.  "Well don't pee on the floor, I'll get you there," she assured him, trying to hide her grin.

She quickly enveloped them in black energy and teleported them away.

***

He'd known Starfire was a sap—known for ages, really—but it still surprised and alarmed him when the Tamaranian princess burst into tears at the conclusion of another powerful number.

"Woah, woah, hey!" he said in concern, turning in his seat towards her at once as the applause filled the auditorium, almost drowning him out.  "Star, are you okay?"

She hiccuped, her breath hitching and stuttering as she tried to get her words out.  "It is just—so sad!" she managed around choked sobs.  "They can—never tr—truly be accepted by their families!"  Big wet tears were sliding down her cheeks, running the mascara Raven had so painstakingly helped her apply earlier that evening.  Starfire fumbled in her clutch purse for a tissue, her hands shaky, Robin eventually producing his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing away at her eyes, worry pinching between his brows.

She looked at him gratefully when he finished, whispering a strained, "Thank you."

He nodded silently but sent an anxious glance back towards the door that led into their private balcony box.  Raven and Beast Boy had been on a long bathroom break.

Where the hell are they?, he wondered anxiously.

Turning his attention to his distraught girlfriend, Robin wrapped arms around her shoulders and waist, rubbing up and down her back, trying to soothe her back to emotional stability.  She calmed as he held her, her sniffles settling down, quieting into a somber ease.

"Sorry," he said.  "I should have warned you this one had a tragic ending."

"It is not that," she mumbled, hiding her face against his lapels now, vibrating the words against his chest.  "It is.. very silly but... these kinds of... melodramas about love and romance," she began, raising her head slightly, looking into his face with sad green eyes.  "It just brings up... old buried feelings," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Starfire took a deep breath, wringing her gloved hands.  "For the longest time... I feared you did not have any desire to be with me," she admittedly quietly.

That stung like the knife the heroine had stabbed herself with in Robin's own heart, and he gripped her tighter, fiercely.  "I know," he whispered in apology.  "I was stupid.  I kept putting up excuses for why we shouldn't be together, and I hurt you with how long I stalled, afraid of my feelings."  He shook his head.  "Afraid of myself, of being vulnerable."

"That is not how you feel now," Starfire said with conviction, looking at him adoringly.

He grinned.  "Nope," he agreed.  "I can say it now.  I love you, Starfire, and I never want to be without you again."

Her smile cracked her face and she flung herself at him, capturing his lips with a kiss as the audience applause and cheers down below became deafening.

***

Raven had the audacity to look completely unbothered as Robin stalked up to her, with Starfire trailing behind, leaned up against the wall just outside the men's bathroom with her arms crossed casually.  Beast Boy sat indian-style on the floor next to her strappy sandals, thoroughly engrossed in his handheld gaming device, beeping softly as he mashed buttons.

Robin set annoyed eyes on them.  "And where exactly have you two been?" he demanded.

"What?" Raven replied, shrugging.  "Starfire gets a little overpowering on the senses when she's emotional.  I figured I'd spare myself the headache."

"Besides dudes," Beast Boy piped in, not looking up, "we figured you two could use some alone time.  You guys haven't been on a real date in ages."

"Is that what you were doing?" Robin pressed, still a little irritated.  He nodded his chin towards Raven's shoulder, where her dress strap was askew, down around her upper arm.  "Having alone time?"

Raven coughed lightly and surreptitiously reached to fix her strap and cover it over with her shawl.

"The sentiment is appreciated," Starfire spoke up, eyes soft but strained, "but I was looking forward to spending the time with the both of you."

"Well, the night's still young," Beast Boy said, standing up, his Gameboy loose in one hand.  "I'm sure we can find something to do that we'll all like."

"Oooh!" Starfire exclaimed breathlessly, turning to her date.  "Robin, there are newborn giraffes at the Jump City Zoo!"

"Sounds good to me!" Beast Boy said, immediately grinning.  "Rae?"

"Nice quiet evening with only a few people and lots of calm content animals?  Sounds up my alley," she quipped.

Robin had trouble finding his words for a moment, having been quite distracted by the warm golden chandelier light glistening in Starfire's red hair and the adorable eagerness with which she looked at him, and stammered a bit before his brain shook itself back into order.

"Uh... that's—I mean—uh... uh yeah, sounds—sounds good to me."

She gave him a peck on the check affectionately, amused by how easily she could still flummox him, and slipped her gloved arm through his elbow, settling comfortably into his side.

"Would we not be overdressed, though, in this attire?" she asked, slight worry wrinkling her brows.

"You should keep the dress on," Robin blurted, then blushed heavily and trailed off into babbling again.  "It—I mean it uh—it suits you, green always—uh it looks—it looks really great on you and—"

Beast Boy rolled his eyes.  "Ugh, they're like the model couple, it's disgusting," he commented aside to Raven.

"Revolting," she agreed with a smile.  After a pause she shouldered away from the wall.  "C'mon," she urged.

Giggling, Starfire tugged her still-blushing boyfriend along as the two couples made their way through the glimmering tiled halls of the theater towards the exit.

---

So I’m not saying that Raven and Beast Boy totally had sloppy makeouts in the men’s bathroom but... yeah I’m totally saying that lol.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Baby, Please Come Home // A Very Harry Potter Christmas (D.M.)

Summary: For as long as you have loved Draco Malfoy, you had celebrated Christmas with him. This year, however, things could be different.

A/N: Here is my fic for A Very Harry Potter Christmas orchestrated by @whack-ed and @jamilelucato! My prompt is day five: digging out christmas ornaments. I hope you all like!

Warnings: fluff, christmas decorations, missing someone, lots of feelings

Word count: 2k (I’m sorry it isn't longer!)

There was one time of year that you simply adored. From the moment the hands of the clock ticked over to the first of December, childish excitement and glee filled you.

It was the build-up combined with the shopping and innocent secrets to do with gifts that had your stomach in a whirl and your heart pounding. Each year you tried to outdo yourself; searching for the one gift that would bring out the shine in Draco’s smile, though he liked to remind you that you were indeed the cause of such a shine.

This year felt different, however. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited, and it wasn’t that you weren’t prepared. It was the fact that there was worry brewing deep within you that Draco would not be able to make it home in time for Christmas.

Sending him away had been hard on you both, but it had to be done. An opportunity such as the one he had been offered was not something to be missed. Invited back to the school of witchcraft and wizardry that had educated him so thoroughly, Draco had been offered the chance to lecture some of the advance students in the art of healing.

The letter offering him the job arrived on the doorstep in the last week of August. Thinking back to it, you remember the trembling of his hands as he read over McGonagall’s words and what she was proposing. There hadn’t been any other answer than yes. You had seen it in his eyes when he handed you the letter; promising not to go, but to stay with you.

A shake of your head stopped his rambling; kept him frozen to the spot as you called him a fool for thinking he would turn this opportunity down. Draco had argued; he didn’t want to leave you for so long, knowing he would miss you too much. Whilst it flattered and sent your heart racing in your chest, you urged him to accept, telling him how good this would be for him.

Eventually, he relented. Draco wrote back to McGonagall, accepting the job offer and tell her he would see her on the first day of term.

Three months on and it was hard. It had been hard to wave him away; bag in hand, filled with his belongings. Draco had left you with a long, hard kiss, promising to be back in time for Christmas.

December brought with it colder days and longer nights. It brought with it frozen breath and warm scarves. To you, December was the month of traditions.

The first weekend in December was time dedicated to decorating the house you have shared with Draco for the last two years. Moving in together once spotting the perfect cottage for you to make your first home.

The attic is warm and musty when you open the door, switching on the small light. Wiping a hand across your forehead, it takes no time at all to spy the boxes. They’re piled up to the left of the door, strings of red and gold tinsel peeking out of the top as if they were too excited for the holiday season to descend and chose to start the decorating without you.

As you place the final box in the living room, your phone rings. The smile that crosses your face when you see Draco’s name flash on the screen is large and filled with love.

“Love,” You greet.

“Darling,” He replies, “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” You comment, opening the closest box to you. “How are you? How is Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts is fine. It’s just not the same without you.”

You smile though he cannot see you. It had been at Hogwarts that your friendship first developed which then grew into a relationship in your Fifth Year when Draco quietly confessed his feelings for you. He had wanted you to know the truth, he said, in case things start to take a turn for the worse.

Things did take a turn for the worst; a war broke out, but you persisted. You kept your hold of Draco, standing by his side through it all. Even now, years later, Draco reminded you that he would never be able to pay you back for the kindness you showed him through those years.

You laugh, memories of the enchanting castle and searing kisses behind tapestries taking over your mind, “Do you remember-”

“That night in the Room of Requirement?” Draco finishes: laughter lightening his voice as he remembers the very same night.

You snort, “I think we missed all our morning classes the day after.”

“We did,” Draco confirms; his voice warm, “But I would do it all again.”

Heat fills your face and you’re suddenly hit with how much you miss him. It came and went in waves; each one stronger than the last but as you look at the numerous boxes labelled ‘Christmas decorations’ in Draco’s elegant scrawl, you cannot help but miss him fiercely.

If he were here right now, music would be playing, and smiles would be bright. Draco’s area of expertise was always the tree; it was his job to place the tree topper on at the end. The tree would be glowing with its lights, the tinsel would be shimmering away, but the tree was not complete until Draco had placed the golden tree topper on.

A deep ache fills you at the awful realisation that it may have to be you to finish the tree this year.

Quietly, you mumble into the phone, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. So much. I’ll try to be home as fast as I can,” Draco whispers; his voice filled with promise.

“I know you will,” You murmur, willing yourself not to cry on the phone to him.

“How is the decorating going?” Draco asks, desperate to change the subject and not linger on uncertainties.

You laugh mirthlessly, glancing around the bare living room filled with boxes, “I haven’t started.”

“What?” Draco exclaims, shock resounding through his tone, “You’re usually done by now and I’m trying to persuade you otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders even though Draco can’t see you. “I don’t know,” You state, trailing off before picking your train of thought back up, “It just didn’t feel the same without you.”

Draco is silent for a minute. No sound comes from his end of the phone until you hear him whisper, “Darling…”

“I know, I know,” You repeat, “You’ll try to be home as fast as you can but love, please come home.”

Draco hangs up, whispering an ‘I love you’ before coming off the phone. Pulling the device away from your ear, you stare down at your wallpaper. An image of you and Draco from last Christmas – his arm hooked around your waist with his body angled towards you. Hermione had snapped the photo without either of your noticing. The smile on your face the result of whatever draco happened to be whispering in your ear.

Looking around the too-large living room, you found it hard to remember a single Christmas without Draco. The boxes of Christmas decorations all called to you; all wanting to be put up and shown to the world.

Digging through the first box, you feel tears spring to your eyes as you hold the first ornament daintily in both hands. A grand glass bauble given to you by Draco; inside holds a small winter scene that never fails to remind you of a winter holiday shared some years ago. Draco bought it on a whim; being reminded of the very same holiday. He had presented it to you, smiling through the kiss you had given him before placing the bauble on the forever green tree.

Sighing, you fold your arms, protecting yourself from the dread wanting to crush you. He had to come home for Christmas; he simply had to.

-----------

The day continues to be slow; small decorations placed on the mantle piece and bookshelves. It is just about as much as you can handle without Draco by your side.

As night descends, you climb the stairs, filled with the increasing hope that Draco would be home soon to finish adorning your home with Christmas cheer.

Settling your head on your pillow, you automatically reach out to the other side of the bed, already beginning to dream of a morning when you wake to find him lying beside you.

A crash and a bang from down below has you leaping out of bed and reaching for your wand. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hold your wand to your chest, ready to hex whoever it may be in your home. In your head, you go through possible reasons for anyone to enter your home. The war had been over for years; Draco had repented – there had been no sense of danger for a long time.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you tiptoe downstairs. Pausing at the door to the living room, you spy a figure rifling through the boxes of decorations still left to put up. The figure is tall and lithe, yet it is too dark to see any defining features.

You let out a screech as you force your way into the room, wand at the ready.

“Darling! It’s me!” The voice shouts, hands coming up to rest above their head.

“Draco!” You shout, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the sadness in your voice, and I knew I had to come home to you.”

“And give me a heart attack?”

Draco smiles bashfully, “That part was accident, I promise.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Darling?” Draco calls.

“Yes?”

“Will you put your wand down now? There’s no threat.”

“Oh,” you gasp, realising you still had the wand pointed at the love of your life. You drop your wand, placing it gently on the chest of drawers before turning back to face the man who had stolen your heart and had yet to give to back.

It is then that you realise who exactly stands before you with a boyish grin and mischief bright in his grey eyes. You launch yourself into his arms; Draco catching you in his own. He laughs, the sound loud in your ear. His strong arms are tight around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, feeling evermore at home in your arms.

“You’re home,” You whisper, voice full of awe.

“I’m home,” He confirms, lips brushing over the soft skin of your neck making you shiver.

Stepping away from him, you take your first look at the newly decorated living room. A dark green wreath sits on the living room door, centred perfectly. Next, your eyes spy the garland wrapping around the mantle piece, warm lights shining from it as they reflect from the metallic snowmen standing behind it.

It’s like a winter wonderland.

Draco keeps a tight hold on you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You spin his arms, your face a picture of wonderment, “Draco, did you do all this?”

Draco leans down, pressing a long awaited kiss to your cheek before replying. “I started it without you, but I think I need your help for the rest.”

“Why?”

“You sounded so sad on the phone. I know how much you love traditions and decorating the house is one of ours. I asked McGonagall to leave early, and she said yes.”

“She said yes?”

Draco nods, smiling, “She said yes, so I walked to Hogsmeade and apparated home… to you.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” You whisper, voice truthful.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

You smile, leaning into his warm body. Turning your face to him, you smile widely before pulling him in for a long kiss. Breaking away, you ask, “What else is there left to do?”

He laughs, ducking down for one more kiss before answering, “Just the tree. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Leaving the warmth of his arms, you wander over to the box of decorations you had brought downstairs only yesterday. Reaching for a golden bauble, you hold it out to Draco, “More than up for it.”

*****

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kylosleftbuttcheek @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sycathorn-slush @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach​ @dracomalfoyswifey​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​

[escher-room-with-a-view]

elaborating on my autism headcanons!!

- sarah -

her special interests are usually between one and three. once she develops a special interest, it stays with her for years; in fact, some of her interests, like reading and writing, have been with her for as long as she can remember. her other special interests are theatre and arts and crafts; the latter is quite a broad category, but it includes things like sewing, felting, embroidery, watercolor painting, book binding, and making collages. sarah delves further into her interests the more they’re encouraged, but she also uses them as coping mechanisms to feel better about or distract herself from the real world around her. in the cases of acting and crafts, she uses these to express how she feels, whereas reading and writing are used more as forms of escapism. her favorite genre of literature is fantasy, though she doesn’t mind any particular fantasy subgenres and is willing to broaden her knowledge of the genre by reading most of them. meanwhile, she isn’t anywhere near as selective when it comes to theatre. so long as there’s a soundtrack and cast that resonates with her, she doesn’t care if it’s opera or ballet, tragedy or comedy, contemporary or dating back thousands of years. indeed, she doesn’t ever feel like her knowledge of theatre is complete—and while it feels unattainable, she’d like to develop at least a cursory knowledge of every play there is.

sarah stims by talking to herself, chewing on her lips or hair, pacing, doing needlework, doodling, and absentmindedly writing. she also has echolalia, repeating the same word or phrase to herself either out loud or in her head; certain phrases can get stuck in her head for weeks on end. she’s rather quiet when she talks to herself—in fact, most of the time, she just whispers or mutters. furthermore, when pacing, she walks in circles or back and forth. she doesn’t use stim toys very much because they don’t appeal to her, though she does like the idea of making her own stim toys and other objects, such as slime or reversibles.

her relationship with routine is complicated. on the one hand, she doesn’t take change well and has difficulty adapting to new situations, especially those that are unfamiliar and stressful. this means that, to some extent, she prefers it when things stay the same. however, this is more of a general status quo sort of sameness that she likes to maintain. on a smaller level, she’s easily bored by sameness and likes it when at least one novel or interesting thing happens each day. for instance, if sarah has gone to the same school her entire life, she’s going to be upset—even devastated—if circumstances force her to change schools without any sort of preparation or warning. however, if her commute to the school every day is identical, she’ll grow bored of it easily and may one day consider taking a different path there just to see what happens.

sarah tends to struggle with eye contact and, on the rare occasions that she wants to maintain it, has to force herself to do so. it makes her immensely uncomfortable to look someone in the eye for an extended period of time. while irene sometimes mistakes this for her not listening, sarah is trying to explain that it’s not something within her control.

she is hyposensitive to (and indeed fascinated with) colors and lights. however, loud noises bother her and can be painful for her. sarah also prefers not to be touched unless she initiates the contact first. being touched without her permission startles her and makes her immensely uncomfortable, as does being surrounded or cornered; all of these can easily overwhelm her in the right circumstances. she hates haunted houses for this exact reason. her hyposensitivity also extends to texture and physical sensations, albeit not in the same way; rather than being obsessed with or actively seeking out sensations and textures, sarah is so hyposensitive to both of them that she sometimes doesn’t even notice sensory input unless it’s excruciatingly painful or needs constant adjusting. her senses of taste and smell are neither above nor below what’s considered average, though she has a preference for sweets, white meat, and anything crunchy. 

something else that she and jareth have in common is the fact that their living spaces, specifically their rooms, both have to be organized in a very specific way. any alterations in this organization are bothersome and overwhelming to the both of them; this includes rearranging or removing objects, changing the location of the room entirely, or changes in things like how much light or air the room receives. 

- jareth -

he tends to have a lot of special interests at a time, and they change often. his current ones are architecture, illusions, astronomy, fashion, humans/anthropology/sociology, various pseudosciences, and surrealist art. however, in the past he’s been interested in ornithology, geology, romanticism in art and literature, the labyrinth’s prehistory, wordplay and rhetorical/literary devices, cats, different types of governments, letter writing, collecting trinkets and antiques, choreography, and many, many more. living for such a long time has provided him with the opportunity to both develop and engage in a wide variety of passions. in fact, some of these past special interests still remain with him today and simply aren’t considered his “main” ones anymore because they’re not as strong.

his favorite pseudosciences are graphology, phrenology, and astrology. he also likes to try and determine the future via methods like alectromancy, astromancy, augury, scrying, and lithomancy.

he stims using crystals/via contact juggling. this is usually when he’s understimulated, absentminded, or just needs something to occupy himself with. it’s also enjoyable to him. he has other ways of stimming, though, many of which are meant to self-soothe. for instance, feeling nervous or excited might drive him to shake one leg or hand; he also feels compelled to chew on things in such instances. when overwhelmed, he scratches his arms as one would if they had an itch. jareth is trying to stop doing this and is thus looking for alternatives. he views stim toys as some of humanity’s greatest inventions. if he lived aboveground, i imagine he’d have different versions of the same stim toys for different purposes: neutral colors when he needs to prevent overstimulation, bright colors when he’s just stimming because it makes him happy.

he doesn’t mind loud noises, but he is sensitive to bright lights and colors. in fact, he’s so nonchalant toward noise that, when he listens to music, he likes for it to be as loud as possible. in his mind, good music is never quite loud enough. there are certain textures and tastes he doesn’t like, which drives him to be very selective with what he wears and what he eats. with regards to clothing, he likes silk and leather but can’t stand wool, denim, anything baggy or distressed, or velvet. because he conducts magic through his hands, he has sensitive palms; his gloves allow him to touch things without being bothered by them, while also allowing him to use magic undeterred. he’s especially sensitive around food, preferring things that are bland or savory and refusing to eat anything with a consistency that’s too soft. for instance, he finds eggs revolting in most forms.

without a routine, jareth tends to become dejected or burnt out. unfortunately, though, his frequent executive dysfunction makes it difficult for him to plan out and adhere to routines without frequent reminders—which, when they come in the form of goblins, usually annoy him more than anything else. this is why he hasn’t had a proper schedule in years. it’s a bit of a vicious cycle; his unhappiness has led to a lack of motivation, and his difficulty creating something he can stick to has made him even more unhappy. he works best with clear, written instructions that are placed where he can see them. he especially needs specific times to eat and sleep; without them, irritability and physical discomfort set in. in the event that he does have a routine, changes that might seem small to others are often nerve-racking to him.

though he sometimes uses eye contact and close proximity to others to intimidate, he genuinely feels uncomfortable without eye contact and has difficulty remembering to mind others’ personal space most of the time. he can be quite touchy-feely when he cares about someone—even platonically—and isn’t afraid of showing it, but he doesn’t really know when or if to back off unless explicitly told to.

- didymus -

when it comes to special interests, he and sarah have a lot in common. they both love drama and literature; however, didymus has a particular interest in folklore, both that of humans and that of the labyrinth. he only has two special interests: literature (including plays) and history. both of these influenced his desire to become a knight and continue to influence his behavior, as he seeks to emulate the idea of a noble and valiant knight to a T. he has some difficulty responding appropriately to or understanding various social cues. as a result, he spends most of his nights and some of his mornings scripting out how his day is going to go: how he’s going to speak to other people, how they might respond to him, and how he’s going to respond to their responses. whenever didymus makes a new friend, he puts effort into studying their mannerisms and personality so he can adequately pinpoint how they might behave toward him and thus figure out how he’s going to interact with them. furthermore, he speaks and acts like a gallant knight from a fairytale or play because of his constant reading. his consumption of literature provides him with a consistent model of behavior that’s bound by a set of rules, unlike the behavior of people in the real world—which can often be unpredictable, and whose rules are less coherent. as a result, didymus believes that emulating the kinds of characters he admires will make others admire him in turn, and make him easier to understand. 

his favorite earth authors are william shakespeare, miguel de cervantes, and alexandre dumas. he is also especially fond of arthurian legend and various human mythologies, such as norse, celtic, and japanese.

one of his favorite ways to stim is by chasing or wagging his tail. he also stims by absentmindedly practicing swordfighting moves with his cane, scratching behind his ear with a hind paw, pacing, and talking to himself. pacing is the only one out of all of these that doesn’t lift his spirits; rather, he does it when he’s thinking because it helps his ideas flow. didymus is most inclined to chase his tail or scratch his ears when he’s bored, practice his parries when excited, and talk to himself when he’s overwhelmed. in the last case, this is often combined with pacing; together, both stims provide a good release for emotions he has difficulty expressing otherwise. when didymus talks to himself, he is unlike sarah in that he doesn’t do so quietly. his volume remains the same as it usually is in a conversation; when he grows passionate, it raises accordingly. sarah introduced him to stim toys; his favorite ones are the ones that make noise, whether they click or woosh or do something else. he also uses dog toys as substitutes and enjoys the ones that squeak, though he has to keep his own set somewhere where ambrosius won’t find it.

his strongest sense by far is his sense of smell; it isn’t necessarily a lot of scents at once that can be upsetting for him, but rather scents that he finds unpleasant. these include sharp or chemical smells such as vinegar, ammonia, spices, perfume, citrus, alcohol, cleaning products, and herbs. aside from these, there aren’t any smells he can confidently say he doesn’t like. he also has hypersensitive hearing and prefers soft classical music, hymns and chants, or music that dates back thousands of years. he hates the sound of bells chiming, loud drums, or thunder; the last of these especially bothers him, though he would never admit it. he was once bothered by the sound of metal objects clanging together when he was a kit, but he appears to have outgrown that in particular. he has poor color vision, as do most canines, so bright colors don’t affect him at all. he finds flashing lights mildly frightening in some cases and annoying in others.

to didymus, routine is the thief of joy. he craves adventure every day and hates when things are the exact same; even having to do the same task in the same way as he did the day before, for instance, is enough to bore him out of his skull. as a result, he likes to mix up how he does things by placing his daily activities in different orders, doing them with his friends, or replacing some activities with others entirely. for instance, he, hoggle, and ludo take turns with household chores—not only so that they can share responsibilities, but so that didymus can have time to go off and pursue his knightly dreams. much of the time, his friends are willing to accompany him on his adventures so long as he’s able to keep them safe—and so long as they can be home by dinner.

he doesn’t really like eye contact, but he tries to maintain it because he thinks doing so is respectful. he does see one perk to his small stature; he’s too short to meet eyes with most people, so his lack of eye contact usually isn’t judged. it wouldn’t be either way because almost everyone in the labyrinth either is ND or knows someone who is ND, but he really does want to maintain eye contact because the books he reads make him think that it’s the proper thing to do. his friends are trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to make eye contact if it makes him uncomfortable; however, because he seems to believe that it’s a rule, he has difficulty convincing himself not to follow it. in fact, didymus is very much inclined to follow the rules that are provided to him and becomes anxious when encouraged or required to break them. without clear rules, the world becomes nonsensical and unpredictable—and therefore upsetting—to him. it was his idea to propose a set of rules for his friends’ home; they accepted and have worked together to write them down so that guests know how to behave.

he gets along really well with the wiseman; despite his typical impatience, didymus is one of few people who actually have the patience to listen to the wiseman. in fact, didymus isn’t just patient with him; his ramblings actively intrigue didymus, and whenever he has the opportunity he makes his contributions as big as he possibly can. didymus really appreciates it when his friends let him infodump, and he figures it’s only fair that he should let others do the same. in fact, didymus also places a lot of value on fairness; it’s the whole reason he opposes jareth in the first place.

[tteokdoroki]

⤷ 𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 : WRITTEN CHAPTER

⤷ CHAPTER SUMMARY: convinced by eijiro to tell hawks how you truly feel, you decide to give him a call  and let it all out.

author’s note(s): ok so this chapter i thought would be hard to convey just over text so i decided to do it as both, however tumblr is poopy so the confession is split between part seventeen.five and part eighteen ! nonetheless please let me know how if you liked it turned out :(( ily !! ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY

previous | part eighteen - keigo takami | next

word count: 1.2K.

with shaky breaths, your tongue darts out to wet the dry planes of your lips— nervous building up as the pressure your teeth use to sink into the swell of your bottom lip. you shouldn’t be nervous. this is keigo, kei, the guy who sung songs about chicken wings and moved so fast his brain couldn’t catch up with his words. the guy who held you tight in his arms while you shook with fear, who stared at you warmly to calm your nerves on set.

keigo takami was the guy you’d fallen head over heels for.

you shift from under the blankets, the sight of your phone screen lighting up pulling you from your flurry of thoughts. the darkness of your room is brightened by keigo’s contact photo flashing before your eyes. 

it was a picture of him that you’d taken on a lunch date one day— his golden avian eyes that held nothing but the sun were focused on the delicious meal in front of him, a small, earth shattering smile painting his sweet lips. you could look at the photo for hours; but choose to answer the call before your mind can get away from you.

“kei,” his name falls easily from your tongue, tasting of familiarity and comfort, as if it were the only name you were made to say. you could never get tired of saying it, hearing it. “i missed you...”

keigo chuckles from over the line, the sweet melody reminding you of the songbirds that play their tune for you every morning. sinking into your oversized sweater, you suppress the urge to squeal like a school girl and roll over into your sheets— even the simplest things about him have you reeling from the other end of the phone. “missed me? baby bird it’s only been a few hours since you last saw me,” his timbre voice fills the air in your room, resting in every inch and every corner— surrounding you as if he was right there with you. “what is it about me that you miss baby? is it my eyes? my voice? my touch? my...”

which each suggestion, his voice drops an octave, making your heart thump louder in your chest to the point that you’re afraid he might hear it. an embarrassed heat burns at the tips of your ears, flustered without him even being there with you. “keigo takami,” you scold him gently, knowing that if he could see, the smile that spreads across your lips would betray you. “don’t you dare go making me flustered, i’m trying to tell you something important!”

“i’m all ears baby bird.”

he falls quiet, nothing but the sound of ruffling sheets and static between you. you know what you want to say, you’d practiced every word for hours with eiji over the phone before; but now that you were face to face or rather— voice to voice— you couldn’t even think straight. your palms are sweating, heart rattling against your rib cage and now your throat is dry. 

what can you say? what can you do? you don’t want to leave him hanging but you don’t know if you can form a proper sentence but it seems your mouth has a mind of its own; speaking before your thoughts can catch up with it.

“yn? baby?”

“keigo takami, i think i have feelings for you.”

you smack a hand over your mouth, just hard enough to send you flying back into your bed sheets and pillows. you had a whole speech prepared, a confession that could win oscars if you really wanted it to but of course, you’d gone and messed that up too. 

the silence that crackles in the air causes your mind to race with anxiety, how much of a fool you’d look if keigo didn’t feel the same. after all, he was the hawks, a pro hero who was just as good as anyone out there. number two on the ranks and at the top of the game, he could have any girl, any guy, any person he desired. so why on earth would he choose you?

“you think, or you know?” the pro whispers into his device and you could almost hear the smirk entangled with his very tone. he’s teasing you. hawks was always one for jokes and humour; one thing you loved about him was his ability to keep any situation light hearted— but for a second you wished that he took the situation seriously.  fumbling with your fingers, you debate on whether or not you should ask keigo to forget you ever said anything, you could deal with the repercussions after drowning yourself in mina’s ice cream later, but keigo seems to have other plans. “i like you too baby bird, i know i do.” he mumbles as if he’s gone shy, now he’s the one waiting anxiously for your response.

you release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, clutching at your chest as fresh air fills your lungs. “that makes two of us then,” you hum warmly, feeling your body warm up at the idea of your favourite pro liking you back.

but keigo doesn’t stop there, it’s almost as if he’s gripping the phone tighter— desperate to convince you that you’re everything that he needs. “i have for some time now yn, i don’t know when or how it happened, but i’m glad it was you. your heart and your soul are kind, half of me doesn’t want to taint it but the other half of me is a selfish bastard,” the hero you’ve come to care for pauses, mulling over his next words in a way that has you sitting up to prepare yourself. “that selfish side of me, that half of me needs you, wants to make you happy. that’s if you’ll let me, songbird...”

you find yourself nodding over the phone and it takes a second for you to realise that keigo can’t see you. desperately you wipe at your eyes, cheeks stained with tears you hadn’t noticed were falling and heart feeling more full than it’s ever been. 

you feel set free, cut from the restraints of your past love for bakugou— ready to make new ties with keigo.

“i want you too kei, more than anything.”

hawks lets out a contented sigh from his end, mumbling sweet words to you not long after. “then you can bet your ass i’m taking you on a date as soon as we’re both free, i’m gonna show you how much i care about you. how much i desire you, baby bird.”

the rest of the night is spent full of giggles and blushes and teases, keigo’s words burning a smile into your cheeks. eventually, he sends you to bed with the promise of a kiss as soon as he sees you next, hanging up the phone shortly after. 

plugging in your phone, you situate yourself amongst your pillows, ready to sleep with a smile on your face— when your phone lights up with a tweet notification from none other than the bird man himself.

‘sleep well, my baby bird, dream of me.’

it reads and despite the likes and retweet that flood the poor tweet, you know keigo wrote it especially for you. adding it to your bookmarks, before sending one of your own and drifting off to sleep.

‘goodnight bird boy, see you in my dreams.’

⤷ TAGLIST: ✈️ CLOSED

@underratedmage @darlingstudies @iambashfulperson @jqnposts @ih8beefnoodles @miniatureland @ozzy-bozzy @someweirdshitman @bro-vocaine @air-wreckaaa @xxangelofpunkrockxx @hyperkaiperrose @sailor-moons-butt @montechristos  @semiathleticnerdykid @headfirst-halo @sasukelore @patricia-ceballos @jadenyukis-bodypillow​ @leel-lol @bokutosuwus @moonlightaangel @atsumumu @cathy8taffy @sya-arts-blog @rosa-gamer @yuesphere @ela-ena @d3ad-b3at-b1tch @starry-yui @cowward @actuallyazriel @bunny-on-crack @yourlocalbabybird @moon-spirit-yue @chaichai-the-weeb @tuddles-on-ice @tamaki-amajiki-anon @loser-keiji @witcherydotcom @s4kurajima @nishinoya-is-baby @astroninaaa @witches-brewe @skyrina @underoosjae @darlingely @mirukosyn​ @peachpetalhoney @kayisweird

[iguessitsjustme]

Plane thoughts (sorry for the long post):

1. Why do people pay so much to board earlier? I was in the last boarding group and I got to sit on my ass listening to my music while everyone else boarded. Then when I was on the plane, I didn’t have to wait for everyone else to board because everyone was already on it. So I basically left the gate, got on the plane, then we were on our way. Trust me on this guys. Last boarding group is the way to go.

2. I actually really enjoy flying. It’s the airport part that gives me anxiety but planes? Planes are so fucking cool

3. Humans are amazing. Look what we did. We created magic and can now lift ourselves in the air.

4. So many people have to work together as a team in order to get just one flight off the ground. Isn’t that so cool? People working together to ensure everyone participating in the magic can do so safely.

5. A sunset above the clouds is stunning. I wish I could paint this.

6. I know I would fall straight through those clouds but I want to jump down on them anyway they look so soft.

7. If I were a poet I would write a poem about how these clouds are mountains and how small I seem in comparison. But also how wonderfully significant we all are.

8. There is something slightly dystopian about flights now referring to tray tables as “device holders.”

9. There is a line for the bathroom but I have a bladder the size of a walnut. This should be fun. And I also have a window seat and the two people next to me are asleep.

10. Nothing quite like leaping over a sleeping child while his father watches from the aisle as you attempt to leave your seat

11. It’s almost 8:00 PM and I got no sleep last night so it’s bedtime. Gotta dig out my frog eyes so I can hopefully get some shut eye and wake up as the flight lands.

12. Wait I just saw the drink carts. I must get some water. Then it will be bedtime.

13. It’s dark now but there’s splashes of light shining up through the clouds making them glow. I don’t know what’s doing it cause it’s just in spots but it looks really cool.

14. My hands are currently drier than sand on a beach during low tide. I need lotion but you’ll never guess what I don’t have. By the time my flight lands, I’m gonna have cracked hands. Luckily I think my mom has hand repair lotion I’ll be able to steal.

15. Okay the sunset over the airplane wing looks like half of an upside down rainbow and that’s also really fucking cool

16. Tried to take a photo but that won’t do it justice. Also my phone camera was being really fucking weird.

17. Reminder to self. Look up history of air travel. How did it evolve into this? I would like to know.

18. Seriously. What are those light spots in the clouds? It would be cool is those are places it’s raining. Reminder to self. Look that up too.

19. I just fell asleep for five minutes and when I woke up the clouds were gone. Which is sad but I guess also good cause clear skies are better if you’re flying. But I’ll miss the clouds.

20. Somewhere in the sky right now, my older brother is flying. Somewhere else in the sky, my sister is also flying. We are all together defying them laws of gravity. Separately. We live so far from each other but right now we all are in the same location and that location is: up.

21. Okay I thought it was so cool how me and two of my siblings are all currently in the air on separate flights heading to the same destination that I wrote a poem about it. It’s not a good poem as I am not a poet but whoever said art has to be good should be shot. Art should be art.

22. Oh looks like only twenty minutes left. I probably got a restless thirty minute nap in. That seatbelt ding woke me up. I was dreaming of the hotel bed so I guess the good news is I’ll get to it soon. But that’s still probably a good hour and a half away.

23. I still miss the clouds.

24. I wonder if my siblings have started their descent yet. I think my sister flew the same airline as me but I’m not sure. I know my brother didn’t. I’ll have to check if my parents know what airline she’s flying cause if it’s the same I’ll wait for her flight at her gate before heading over to the rental car place to meet my older brother. Yes a plan. I like plans.

25. Executive decision to not wear my frog eyes through the airport. Can’t wear them with my hat and I’m worried I’d lose them. And I can’t possibly lose my frog eyes. They are an extension of my being. I need them. (I seriously can’t sleep without them) Also I can’t wear my frog eyes and my glasses and because it’s now nighttime I definitely need my glasses.

26. I’m not sure if this is true or not but I’m pretty sure it is. Did y’all know that in order to land plans, pilots actually stall the plane? Reminder to self to look this up too. I read it in a Nancy Drew book as a kid and I want to know how accurate that is.

[ahkaahshi]

exploration [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, light degradation, dirty talk, mean-ish?? then nice dom sakusa, rough sex, orgasm denial, being stimulated in public, swearing

word count: 2.9k

overview: you wanna try new things. some of them work and some of them don’t, but it’s all a learning experience.

notes: yall my heart just went 🥺 soft sakusa 🥺 yet again (I'm rlly weak for him obviously I have no issue admitting it) but I wanted to give him a lil edge too ya feel? I rlly banged this out with my last two braincells so I hope you enjoy :)

As you wander around the large, open space in the elegant, modern art museum, heels clicking against the cold, concrete floor, your (e/c) eyes drift from one painting to the next. The steady, gentle rhythm of some, ethereal lounge music echoes around the room just under the hum of conversations taking place nearby. Though they’re speaking of things mostly foreign to you, since they’re members of a much higher society than that in which you live, you can’t help but find yourself somewhat entertained by the gossip you hear circulating amongst the women as they chat over a few too many cocktails.

Spending the evening perusing expensive artwork in such a luxurious venue, wearing a dress you hope looks fancy enough while you rub shoulders with the elite is definitely not a normal occasion in your day to day life. However, with your boyfriend’s constantly climbing popularity as a professional athlete, his name was starting to show up on more of the guest lists to exclusive events such as this exclusive art showcase you find yourself at now. While it’s interesting--to an extent--you do find yourself growing bored from time to time. Earlier, your beloved’s teammates had been around to entertain you, but they’d since left to help themselves to the open bar.

Not even moments after you let out a soft sigh and readjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, you feel a familiar vibration emanate from deep inside of you. The intensity and location of the sensation make one hand fly to your mouth to stifle a small squeal that escapes your throat while the other grips the chiffon of your dress’s skirt. Turning away from the few gazes that have fastened on you at your reaction to what seems like absolutely nothing, you look through the doorway into the next room to see your boyfriend watching you with rapt attention.

His hand is buried in the pocket of his sleek, black trousers, thumb resting atop the button of the remote he’s using to make the vibrator nestled inside of you jump to life. With the way he’s been using your desire to do more exploration in terms of kinks and sexual fantasies to keep you on the brink of an orgasm all night long, you’re starting to regret suggesting the idea of a bullet vibrator earlier today. By this point, your panties are uncomfortably wet and you’re on the verge of getting on your knees in front of the event’s other patrons and begging him to fuck you.

You’ve been holding yourself together the entire evening, even keeping your drink from spilling when he decided to turn it on right as the bartender handed it off to you, but you’ve had enough now. You figure you’ve been good enough for him to reward you, since you haven’t complained once or let on to the dirty game the two of you were playing to see who caved first and asked to go home. You don’t mind letting him win this round, since you know you’ll get what you want either way.

As nonchalantly as you can when your core is abuzz with stimulation and your stomach is clenching from the sensation, you make quick strides across the room to where he’s standing. He seems to sense what you’re about to ask him, so he turns off the vibrator and places his hand on the small of your back when you arrive at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine softly, running your fingertips along the soft material of his crisp, button-up shirt he’s wearing beneath a suit jacket.

He raises a dark eyebrow at you and hums questioningly in response, waiting for you to admit defeat.

As much as you don’t want to say it, in this case, you’ll have to put your pride aside to get what you want. Reminding yourself that you’ll find a way to have your fun with him in return at a later point in time gives you some comfort as you move your head closer to his ear.

“Can we go home, baby?” you ask in a demure tone.

“Hmm? Why would you want to do that, (f/n)?” he wonders, his hand remaining annoyingly still where it rests against the back of your dress.

You refrain from letting out a sound of disapproval at his coy attitude, since you know anything you say can and will be held against you in the bedroom in this game you’re playing. Instead, you whisper, “So you can take this tiny, little thing out of me and stuff me with your big cock instead.”

That does it. His fingers grip your waist on their way to meet yours so he can interlace them and lead you back to the entrance of the museum. His teammates urge him to stay and have a few drinks with them, but he’s quick to wave them off and make a hasty exit.

When Bokuto tries to follow the two of you to persuade you to stay, Atsumu grabs his arm and puts his attempt to a halt by hissing, “The man's on a mission ta get fucked, dude. Let ‘im go.”

To that, the tall, white and black-haired man whistles lowly, nods, and heads back to the bar with his teammate for another shot.

You and Sakusa are quick to locate his car, and he unlocks it with a chirp so you can both slide into your respective seats. Before fastening your seatbelt, you lean over towards him to steal a few, long-awaited kisses from his lips that he returns with fervor, giving you a glimpse of the impatience that had apparently been dwelling within him all night long. When you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, though, he’s quick to retreat from your affection and stick his key in the ignition.

“Omi,” you cry softly, brows furrowing and lower lip protruding with dismay. With the way your core is on fire at the moment, you want nothing more than for him to at least give you some relief in the car. The fifteen minutes it’ll take for you to get home are going to be painstaking at this rate.

His dark eyes flick over to you, narrowed ever so slightly with irritation as he responds, “Being a brat isn’t going to get you what you want.” The two of you lock eyes for a long moment in a silent battle for dominance before you relent, sit back, and buckle in your seatbelt. “Good girl.”

Your body warms at the praise, and grows even hotter when he slides his hand over onto your thigh after reversing out of the parking spot and shifting back into drive. His focus doesn’t leave the street ahead as his fingers find the slit in your skirt and navigate the short stretch of skin between its peak and your valley. Instinctively, you grasp his wrist to guide him closer to your underwear, but he stops.

“Don’t touch me while I'm driving, princess,” is the firm command he utters that makes you release your grip, “You’ll distract me.”

Your fingers dig into the smooth, leather seats as you try your best to restrain yourself, but each stoplight you hit makes you squeeze your thighs together with impatience, trapping his hand between your supple skin. Since he can see how desperate you are, he prods at your clit through your soaked panties, eliciting a gentle moan from you. With the way you've been waiting for him to touch you all night, anything you can get from him feels amazing.

Though he’s being silent, he’s trying his best to contain himself at hearing the pretty sounds slipping out of your mouth and feeling how wet you are. He didn’t realize quite how worked up you were until now.

“Baby, I want more,” you utter after no more than just a few, short minutes of toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He scoffs, “I’m not giving you more. Can't have my leather seats getting ruined by you making a mess when you cum, dirty girl.”

You clench around the slim vibrator at his words and groan when he withdraws his fingers from between your legs. Thankfully, you can see your neighborhood come into view, and he's parking outside your house before you know it. Anticipation sends another painful throb through your walls as you unbuckle your seatbelt, dart out of the car, and hurry towards the front door.

Sakusa seems to be in less of a rush, though, since he takes his time opening the door, removing his shoes, and loosening the tie around his throat. Your tugging at his arm to lead him towards the bedroom only earns you a warning glance, so you wait a few, painfully long seconds for him to finish what he’s doing. Your patience is quickly rewarded, though, when he guides you into the room, yanks down the zipper on your dress, and pushes you onto the bed.

His lips crash against yours as you sling your arms over his shoulders to bring his body down towards yours. Each of his kisses are deep, passionate, and add more fuel to the fire that’s been burning between your legs. Feeling needier than ever, you hastily undo the buttons on his shirt while he unclasps your bra and rids you of your panties in a flash. He swallows the loud moan you release when his fingers slide into your weeping pussy to retrieve the vibrator that’s been lodged inside of you the entire night.

Your hips buck against his fingers as they slide out of you, removing the small device and tossing it aside, so he allows you a sliver of relief by rubbing his fingers coated in your essence against your clit. He watches your expressions of pleasure and the way your muscles twitch as you chase the high you’ve been after all night. The sight of you with your face flushed and eyelids squeezed shut as your lips part to utter more delightful sounds of pleasure makes his erection throb painfully in his pants.

“You poor thing,” he coos, removing his fingers from between your legs, “So desperate to get fucked. Take my pants off and I'll let you cum on my cock since you’ve been a good girl all night, but not until I say so.”

In your hazy state of mind, you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and set to work undoing his pants. He slides his shirt off before discarding his trousers and littering your neck with more kisses as he slowly inches closer to you. You exhale breathily when you feel him slide the head of his dick from your clit down to your entrance, teasing you by remaining just outside.

“Kiyoomi!” you complain in a moment of sexual frustration, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

To this he responds harshly, “Quit whining like a little brat or else I'll fuck your mouth instead so I don’t have to listen to you.”

He sees a look of shock pass over your features like a dark storm cloud drifting in front of the sun, and he worries for an instant that he’s overstepped a boundary. But, to his relief, you rest your head back against the soft covers and breathe, “I'm sorry, baby.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises in a much gentler tone and places a peck against your sternum before lifting your hips up towards his.

A drawn-out moan spills out of your mouth as he pushes his cock inside of you, giving you the sensation of being full that you’ve so desperately been craving all evening. His gaze remains on yours, and you watch the subtle crinkle of his nose and twitch of the moles above his eyebrow that always accompany a low groan of satisfaction during moments like these. After he’s bottomed out, he allows you a moment to breathe before he begins thrusting into you rather roughly.

Any words you want to say you’re unable to form as he indulges your tight pussy, spreading your legs further with his hand so he can reach deeper and deeper inside you with each snap of his hips against yours. “Well?” he goads, his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear when he moves his head there so he can latch onto your tender skin with his teeth, “Let me hear you, baby. Now.”

You mewl loudly at the sensation of him sucking on your neck in combination with his cock hitting your cervix, sending small jolts of pleasure skittering across your skin like electricity. “Faster, please!” you manage to squeak as your hands move onto his back, fingertips pressing into his muscles, which ripple with every thrust inside of you. His skin feels unbearably hot against yours, causing beads of sweat to form on your bodies.

He obliges your request and picks up his pace until all you’re able to do is let your head roll back and moan unintelligible words while he attacks the sensitive skin on your throat. Every grunt he utters sends tingles down your spine, and you can hear his breathing become more labored whenever he starts succumbing to the satisfaction he’s reaping from being sheathed in your velvety walls while they clench deliciously around him.

Following a particularly rough thrust that nearly has you seeing stars, he mentions, “You were being so expressive about your desires earlier, princess, but you can’t even speak now? Nothing shuts you up quite like having my cock deep in your pussy, huh?” You nod in agreement, since you’re not able to form any coherent words as you rock your body against his.

After a few minutes, you feel the pressure you’ve been holding in your stomach all night long threaten to loosen up, and you whimper, since you’re right on the edge of the orgasm you’ve been waiting too long to experience. Sakusa notices the anguish etched into your features when he takes a pause from decorating your neck with love bites, and rubs your clit with precise movements, targeting your most sensitive spot.

“Cum for me like the good girl you are, princess.”

His husky command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out with ecstasy as you pull him closer to you and buck your hips against him feverishly. The feeling of your pussy pulsating around him bring him to his orgasm faster than expected, and a stream of curse words and praises fall from his mouth onto your ears. He knows you’re on birth control, so he finishes while nestled deep within your core, painting your walls with his release.

The sensation isn't one you’re used to feeling, since he often opts to pull out anyway, but you enjoy coming down from your high while he’s still inside you. Feeling that you’re still connected in the vulnerable moments that follow your sex sessions brings you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Once you’ve had some time to regain your breath, he withdraws from you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. “How was that?” he asks as he lays down beside you and grabs a few tissues to clean up the fluids seeping out of you, onto the duvet.

“Great,” you hum softly, “I enjoyed it. How did it feel for you?”

A look of concern crosses his features as he discards the used tissues in a nearby trashcan. When he turns back to face you, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes and comments, “I’d prefer not to treat you like that.”

“Baby, I know how much you care about me. You’re not hurting my feelings; it’s just roleplaying.” A short pause in your conversation ensues as he contemplates your words while you run your fingers along his neck and jaw. “Would you be open to trying it again, maybe, or was it just not for you?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable speaking to you in that way. I didn’t like calling you a dirty girl or saying that I was gonna fuck your mouth. Seeing your face when I said that nearly made me stop.”

Upon noticing the uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze, you gently coax him to bring his face closer to yours by lightly pressing your fingers against the back of his neck. You then close the gap between your lips once more with a long kiss that you hope communicates to him at least a sliver of the immense amount of love you have for him. His hand cups the side of your face when you pull away, making you smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t do it again if it makes you uncomfortable,” you reassure him, “But will you call me a good girl and take control like that more often? I think I enjoyed that part the most.”

He nods, sending a ripple through the dark sea of waves atop his head, and presses another kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” you utter when he pulls away.

“I love you too, (f/n). Let’s go in the shower now.”

You let out a low murmur of disagreement and pull him closer to you so that his warm body's hovering over yours once more. Giving him a playful tug on his lower lip with your teeth, you mention, “You made me wait too long tonight for one time to be enough, baby.”

masterlist

dedications: this work is dedicated to the lovely @ohbyunhunn​ :) I hope you enjoy since you were havin a rough day ❤️ thanks for listening to all my whack ideas n supporting me anyway bb 😌

[tropicpdf]

pictures of you / lucifer & mars

600 words / rated g / toyhou.se version

Lucifer's D.D.D. was a precious item that he didn't dare let out of his sight, lest one of his brothers find it and somehow crack the password. It wasn't a very difficult password, being the birthday of a beloved friend, and Mars had figured that out quite easily. Because of that, and because of Mars' often close proximity to the man and his phone, they could do whatever they wanted with the device.

The first time they changed his wallpaper, it was a photo of a rabbit. Simple, and very much like Mars, they decided with a nod before setting the phone down again. When Lucifer came back into his office and sat down, he eyed the other. Mars merely smiled, leaning back against the armchair. His intuition was one of his best attributes, so of course, he immediately knew something had changed. He picked up his phone then, and sighed upon seeing the change in wallpaper. "You don't think it's cute?" Mars asked, looking at him.

"I don't really care, to be honest. I'll just change it back if I want to."

Mars huffed and crossed their arms over their chest.

Then, Mars decided they would keep changing Lucifer's wallpaper until the man found one he enjoyed enough to keep. Stupid photos found on the internet, cute animals, nice scenic views. Every time, though, Mars would find the phone clad with the original wallpaper again. Even pictures of Lucifer's brothers were promptly changed. The human rattled their head in an attempt to formulate some sort of clever idea, but decided it was best to just keep going on and not put that much effort into it.

That night, as Lucifer changed into clothes to sleep, Mars grabbed his phone off the nightstand with a mischievous grin. They pressed the home button and the screen lit up, and while that grin lowered just a bit, their cheeks heated up. 

He always changed it back to the same picture: a gorgeous painting of a peacock showcasing its feathers. But, this time, it was a picture of the two of them.

It was from a date just about a month ago, when a new exhibit had opened up at a museum in the Devildom. Mars had plenty of photos on their phone from the day, a lot of them being candids of Lucifer taking in the art. It was rare for Lucifer to be taking photos when they spent time together, but that day, he actually opted for one himself. With a large arched window showcasing the stellar rose garden outside of the museum as a backdrop, he had taken a picture of the both of them. Mars always smiled so wide in photos, and even Lucifer wore upturned lips.

It was sweet, to say the least.

Mars never expected Lucifer to be the sentimental type.

"Are you going to change that one?" Lucifer asked. Mars looked up to find him settling in bed next to them, pulling up the covers to cover them both.

Mars shook their head and cradled the phone in their hands, admiring the picture even as Lucifer turned off the lights.

"That day was really fun," they said absentmindedly. "The garden there… Reminds me a lot of a museum back home."

"Then I suppose we'll have to take a picture there too someday," Lucifer murmured.

"This almost makes me feel bad. My wallpaper's an anime girl."

Lucifer chuckled and gently kissed their forehead. "I see where your priorities lie."

Mars smacked his chest but smiled all the same.

[writewithurheart]

Hearts of Kyber

a/n: Hello lovely readers!! I’ve been working on this work for the last couple months (and especially the last couple days). It has been an absolute pleasure working with these amazing artists who are astounding. I hope you love what we’ve put together!!

Corporalki: @kazandthecrows

Materialki: @anubem (art link) @generalstarkov (art link) @pijoshi (art link) @mitdemadlerimherzen (art link | art link 2) @erandraws (art link) @nannadoodles (art link) 

Summary: When an Imperial pilot defects, the Rebellion sends its best spies to find out what he knows. They discover the existence of a planet-destroying weapon known as the Death Star and a scientist who holds the secrets to its only weaknesses. Guided by the pilot, Wylan, and a former storm trooper, Matthias, Kaz Brekker leads a team to uncover the secret that can save the Rebellion before it’s crushed for good.

A Grishaverse Rogue One AU for the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 

Read on AO3 or below the cut 

Part I

Inej barely remembers those early days with her family living in the heart of a city. She gets flashes of memories - playing with dolls, toddling after her father, parties full of boring adults who couldn’t care less about her. What she thinks of when she remembers her family is what came after: the travelling band of performers they joined. It’s there that she felt comfortable. The troupe was her family: they encouraged her, taught her tricks of the trade, and were the ones who trained her as an acrobat. They travelled from system to system, performing in cities and small villages alike, on hot planets and cold. She had careful rules to follow about her interactions whenever they landed. 

Despite all the restrictions, she remembers feeling carefree. The caravan was her domain and she was empress. The day her life changed was just like any other. She remembers her mother running a hand over her hair, whispering that they were going down into town. Her sleepy head full of cotton can’t remember her exact words, just the feeling of warmth, the comfort of routine. Only recently - on her eighth birthday - had she earned the right to sleep in instead of joining her parents’ customary outing.  

Sometimes in her waking hours, she forgets that happened years ago and in her half-waking state she thinks she can still hear her mother’s soothing whisper and her father patting her hand as he tucks her treasured stuffed bear under the blankets of her bed so she has company. 

Inej’s eyes fly open as the harsh lights of simulated daylight jolt her unrelentingly from her sleep into the cold reality of her life. 

She rolls up to a seated position and runs her arm over her sleepy face. She makes no effort to make herself presentable and glares at her arm with the repulsive peacock feather tattoo. It’s been eight years since that morning when her whole life burned around her, her whole extended family vanished in the blink of an eye and she was sold into the slave markets of the Hutts before she was even aware what that meant. 

“Inej Ghafa, the mistress will see you now,” a mechanical voice says over the speaker hidden in her room. Luxurious drapes and curtains cover the mechanical aspects of the room, but can’t hide the prison-like nature of a room without windows in a pleasure house. This has always been Inej’s cage. 

Of course, to the Empire, this isn’t slavery. She has an indenture that she’s working off, this was a choice she made. Inej stands. The words are bullshit. It’s a pretty story told by those who believe themselves to be above such terrible things just because they use different words. Inej is old enough to know what happens in the different rooms of the pleasure house she currently calls home, but still too young to be expected to participate fully. But she knows her days are numbered. 

Girls in this trade grow up quickly. She’s still a tease, only suffering a a groping hand here, a leer there, the occasional bit of voyeurism which makes her skin prickle and means she can never feel comfortable in any room, including her own.

Inej dresses with practiced movements in the ridiculous trappings Madam Helene requires. There are far too many bells on the outfit, too many dangling bits that can tangle for it to really be the exotic outfit Helene claims the clients want. She hates the way the silk feels against her skin when it used to mean the soothing comfort of performance attire. 

For now, her role is to just be an ornamentation for the pleasure house, but madame makes sure she knows what could happen the moment she steps a toe out of line. She’s not above selling Inej off before her time, the cost of which would do nothing to lower the exorbitant cost of her supposed indenture.  

Inej keeps her head down and walks quickly to the main room. In the early hours, there are few patrons who might be looking for a companion, but Inej has learned to keep her head down in any case. She’s short and skinny - underdeveloped to most tastes - so aren’t many interested in her and the ones that are she should avoid with even more care.  

There’s a boy in the room with Helene: a boy with a familiar cane. Inej is so surprised to see him that she forgets to look away meekly when his dark eyes meet hers. She tilts her head in curiosity. Last she saw, he was slipping out of a back hallway which she knew allowed Helene to eavesdrop on clients as they spent the night with girls, or that she offered to well-paying customers who took pleasure from that sort of thing. 

He looks just as cold as he did that night, but she vividly remembers the surprise in his eyes when she spoke from over his shoulder. He wasn’t a regular customer at the brothel but he was on good terms with a couple members of the staff and she’d seen him exchange kruge for information on more than one occasion. Last she saw him, she’d offered him help. 

“Ah, there’s my little Suli Lioness.” Madam Helene smiles benevolently, but her perfume chokes Inej as she wraps an arm around her. “Inej, do you know who this is?” 

“They call him Dirtyhands,” she answers, voice proper and meek as Helene likes. All the other girls have told her not to ask questions any time she tries to find out more. She can’t help but wonder if offering herself to him was a mistake, but she knows this place will kill her if she doesn’t find a way out. 

“Hmm…,” Madame hums. She turns to the boy with a set face and Inej’s chest tightens in apprehension. “I’m afraid your offer will not be accepted, Mr. Brekker. Inej is precious to me.” Her bejeweled fingers dig into Inej’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly part with her.” 

The boy raises an impeccable eyebrow. “I was under the impression our negotiations were finalized.” 

Helene releases an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you silly boy. Did you know the Empire has offered quite the reward for you?” 

Inej tenses. She knows that Madame is fickle in her alliances, but she’s never openly invited storm troopers into her house: they don’t pay well. 

“You’d better run, little boy, if you want to get out of here before they can grab you.” 

Two doors into the main room slide open with a whoosh of air to reveal armored bodies with blasters levelled at the boy. Inej’s quick eyes note that the door closest to Brekker has no guard, instead being left clear if he wants to escape. If she were him, she would be running but instead he looks bored as he stares back at Madame. He lifts his wrist to check his time piece, an old fashioned analog device that hasn’t been used in decades. 

There’s a pulse of static followed by a volley of blaster shots. Inej jerks down out of the way but is shocked to see that none of the shots were aimed at them. 

“You should have taken the money, Helene,” the boy shaking space dust from his jacket. “We could have continued this lucrative partnership.” 

Madame pales and looks around at the rumpled crew of men who are all standing around. Most have holstered their guns, but a tall dark-skinned man walks up to them and gestures Helene back away from Inej. Madame drops her grip as if she can’t get her distance fast enough. She turns to the boy. 

“Please! You have to understand, the troopers would have killed me if I didn’t.” 

The boy looks at her impassively before shrugging. “Per Haskell is still willing to buy out her indenture. I’m sure we can agree on a more reasonable price.” 

Inej snorts. She can’t help it. They’re literally haggling over the price of her indenture after not killing one another. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. The boy looks over at her. Although his face is a mask which reveals no secrets, Inej sees a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes before he focuses again on Madame Helene. 

“Congratulations,” the dark-skinned man who shooed Madame Helene away says, leaning down to her, even as his eyes stay on the boy and madam. “You’re being rescued.” 

She looks around at the rag tag group she’s now willing to bet are Rebellion spies and wonders if this will actually be any better. Beyond them, she spots a couple of Helene’s girls with their bloodshot eyes, thin skin and haunted looks. It’s enough to remind her that is it. This is what she wants: a chance to save her father and get revenge on the Empire which has caused her so much pain. 

Inej straightens as much as she can. It looks like she’s joining the rebellion. 

...

Three years later… 

“You ever wonder if Kaz is actually a demon?” Jesper asks speculatively. He points his blaster to the sky and stares down the barrel. It’s in the best possible order he can make it. The sights are calibrated, the lazer refined and the trigger pull smooth. He couldn’t ask for a better weapon. 

Other than it’s partner, which is still in his holster and also freshly taken care of. 

“You’re supposed to be watching his back, Jesper,” the Wraith’s voice reminds him, tinged with annoyance. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling over so he can look over the side of the building to where Kaz is meeting with his contact. “You know, I’m still not sure why all three of us need to be here for one pilot.” 

“If you want, we can always switch positions,” Inej offers. “You can play get-away pilot.” 

Jesper snorts as he lines up his sight again. “Yeah, right. That’s all yours, spider. Besides we needed the sniper position here, remember?” 

There’s a long suffering sigh over the radio and Jesper grins. Through the scope his eyes bounce to Kaz. He can’t see his face, but Jesper knows he’s got that stone face of annoyance, which, as it turns out, is not so different from his normal ambivalent face except that it includes the slight twitching of the vein at his temple. 

Inej claims he’s seeing things, that it’s all in Jesper’s head. According to her, Kaz’s tell has to do with his eyes or some other sappy thing like that because they’re both secretly in love with each other. Jesper thinks they’re both idiots and he likes to think that one day, if he makes a bad enough joke or an inappropriate enough comment, that vein on Kaz’s temple is going to burst. 

He thinks it's good to have goals like that. It makes the dirty work they do for the Rebellion more palatable. 

“I still think it would be better to have me on the ground,” Inej grumbles. “You know I’m no good at the piloting stuff.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to come. If I recall, Per Haskell offered you leave and instead you came here.” Jesper notices the stiffening of Kaz’s shoulders. His informant is still calm, if a little jumpy-looking, so he knows that’s not the source of the tension. His eyes scan the street and see nothing alarming. 

Jesper hasn’t asked but he knows there’s something going on here that they’re not sharing. Inej has been wound tight since they started to hear rumors of an Imperial weapon strong enough to take out a planet. While it was still just a rumor, Kaz and Inej were chasing the thread down with a vengeance. It’s what brought them back to this city world where they had found Inej three years ago. 

Now if only his sneaky little cohorts would share the secret with him. That would be great. 

Jesper grumbles to himself. Like that would ever happen. He looks through the scope of his rifle. The tell tale of white of stormtrooper armor catches his eye and Jesper focuses on the location. The odd trooper presence in a city like this isn’t necessarily something to make note of. It happens on occasion, but this is a pair and he can spot another pair making their way in what looks to his eyes like search patterns. 

“Heads up, Kaz. We might have company.” Jesper says as he keeps an eye on the soldiers. “Moving in pairs. Looks like a search pattern.” 

They’re too far away to hear the words that are spoken, but Jesper can guess what it is from here: “Hey! You there!” 

He watches as Kaz drags their contact into an alley as the storm troopers converge from two directions. 

“I’ve lost sight of you, Kaz.” Jesper sights the troopers through his scope and taps a finger against the trigger. Killing troopers brings more attention than Kaz likes. They work in secret. “Exit strategy?” 

Through Kaz’s comm he hears the panicked pleas of Kaz’s contact swiftly silenced by a laser bolt. He grimaces at the additional body count as Kaz’s gravelly voice comes over the comm. 

“I’ve got it. Jesper, join Inej. Meet me at the rendezvous point.” 

He takes one last look at the troopers closing in on the alley and then stands. If Kaz needed help, he would ask. The man had a thousand and one plans. There’s no way he didn’t account for a way out of this trap. It sounds like he’s probably climbing, a feat considering his bum leg from when he landed on it wrong a couple years back and it never healed properly.  

“You know, for once I’d like one of these missions to go smoothly,” Jesper mutters under his breath as he hightails it back to the ship. He stows his blaster and keeps it from sight as he moves through the crowds. Seedy cities have been a second home to him for years, since he left the Imperial flight academy, if he’s being honest. He liked the anonymity the city gave him. It always felt better than the emptiness of the moisture farm he grew up on. He hates the heat and the sand. 

Oh, God, the sand. 

He walks aboard the ship with the swagger of a drunk who won big at the betting table. He nods jovially to those he passes. There are a couple glances down to the pistols at his waist, but that’s normal on a large port like this one. Intergalactic travel to major cities has always been fraught with trouble and this one isn’t especially savory. They don’t have the clearance for savory. 

Inej sits on the ramp of the ship, sprawled out across it like a cat. She opens her eyes as he arrives and stretches. “Ready to go?” 

“Shouldn’t the get away pilot be ready to run?” Jesper teases as they walk up into the ship and Inej diverts to the cockpit, starting the take off procedure. 

“I spent the last hour bemoaning my terrible coworker who insists on gambling at each port and always staggers back drunk, occasionally with unexpected company. I’ve already got tower clearance to leave. And taking off won’t set any red flags with the Empire so we’re clear.” 

Jesper drops into the copilot chair as Inej goes through engine checks. “You did all that?” 

“You’re not the only one capable of sweet talking people, Fahey.” She shoots him a look and he chuckles. 

“I remember when your first attempt to blend in. Didn’t you end up stabbing someone?” 

Inej scowls at the memory. “And no one has tried to grab my body since then without a threat of a knife point.” 

Jesper chuckles. “Fair enough.” He shifts as they fly high enough to leave the atmosphere and then drop back down, drifting through the carefully mapped out empty space of blind spots that allow them to drift down to the meeting point. Despite it taking them almost no time to get there, Kaz is already sitting against a crate on the roof of a run down building, cane held out in front of him with his hands crossed on top. 

Jesper moves back toward the loading bay and opens the doors. He leans against the side of the doorway as the ship turns to face Kaz. “Hiya, honey. Miss me?” 

As always Kaz rolls his eyes at Jesper’s attitude as he climbs the ramp. “We’re clean. Any trouble at the port?” 

“Nope,” Inej reports from the cockpit. “Just a couple nosy traders looking for a good time. Sent them after Jesper.” 

“Har har,” he shoots back as the ramp closes with a firm whoosh of pressure stabilizing. He turns to Kaz who has dropped onto the bench and closed his eyes. His lame foot is extended slightly in front of him, a tell that it’s aching from the exercise of escaping the troopers. Jesper can also see where his blaster sticks out from under his jacket, the clip of the holster no longer in place. He definitely used it. “Did you get the intel?” 

Kaz nods. 

“Where are we headed?” Inej asks. From the body of the shuttle, Jesper sees her hand hover over the hyperspeed settings, preparing to change the destination of their jump. 

“The pilot is on Jedha.” 

They both freeze and you could hear a pin drop in the shuttle. Jesper glances at Inej and sees the same worry painted in the lines of her face. “Are you sure?” 

Kaz finally opens his eyes and leans forward. “It’s been confirmed. That’s the second source and this one claims to have actually seen the pilot.” 

“But he’s a defector, why would he go there?” Jesper asks. 

“Jedha’s not a stronghold for the Empire, but they do trade there.” Kaz answers, as if that explains the reasoning. 

“But it’s a Shu stronghold. They’re cut off. We haven’t had contact in years.” Jesper glances at Inej in the cockpit. “Nina was there when the communications shut down. She wasn’t able to get out and no one’s been able to go in.” 

Kaz rams a gloved hand over the top of his cane. “That isn’t strictly true.” 

Inej whips around. “What?” 

He sighs. “We have a way onto the planet. The problem will be finding the defector and getting him to talk to us.” 

“And getting off planet again,” Jesper cuts in. “Or have you forgotten how the Shu seize whoever and whatever they want? There’s a reason we don’t have an outpost there.” 

Kaz stares at him with those cold, blank eyes and then turns toward Inej. “Set the course.” 

For a long moment, Inej doesn’t move. Her fingers tap against the control as she gazes at Kaz with an inscrutable expression on her face for a moment before she turns back to the controls and the ship lurches into hyperspace. 

Jesper crosses his arms as he faces Kaz from across the ship. “You knew we were headed to Jedha.” 

Kaz stares back at him for a moment and then closes his eyes. He leans back against the side of the ship. Jesper wishes he was surprised about the lack of communication. 

He sits down next to Kaz. “This way on to Jedha...does it have anything to do with Nina?” 

Kaz cracks open an eye. He looks Jesper over and shuts them again. “She was able to get one message out since the Shu shut down. The last message that got out - the one that opened a path - the agent was lost. Haven’t heard anything since.” 

“Nina?” 

“Under orders to lay low.” 

“Are we taking her out with us?” 

Kaz’s hands tighten on the head of his cane. “We’ll see.” 

...

There was something happening. Nina looks around the marketplace covertly as she examines the fruit in the stall in front of her. It’s the same bland, slightly bruised fruit that they always have. Two years on this desert planet and she’s still not used to the blandness of the food. She’s missing the lush variety of Aldaraan and the sweets she used to eat by the bushel. There’s no sweets here in Jedha, especially not in the mostly abandoned temple. 

She exchanges a coin for two shrivelled pieces of fruit and a smile with the vendor. She slips off the main thoroughfare and into the archway that leads into the dilapidated temple. Like most of Jedha, it’s covered in a fine layer of sand and dust, and shows the wear and tear of years of war. 

She tosses a piece of fruit to the tall and skulking shadow that leans against the archway. Matthias catches the fruit of the air. He pulls a wickedly long knife from behind his back and cuts the fruit into meticulous pieces, eating with precise movements to stop the juice from creating a sticky mess. 

Nina is far less careful. She bites into the fruit and does her best to stop the overripe fruit from spilling juice down her chin. It’s a messy process and her fingers will end up coated in sugary sweetness. It’s her little act of rebellion that makes Matthias shake his head in her direction, when his eyes aren’t sweeping the plaza. 

“There’s something in the wind,” he says as he slowly eats another slice of his fruit. Nina’s is almost gone. She’s sad for that. 

“Rumors.” Nina glances at the gangsters on the corner of the street with their strange metal suits. They’re looking antsy, searching the street. “There’s not much chatter. Something about an Imperial pilot. Broke through the Shu blockade.” 

Matthias’s eyes drift back across the crowds of people. Nina rearranges her robe and leans against her staff. Two years posing as acolytes of the temple and proselytizing about Sankts has her accustomed to her character. No one bothers with a monk spouting ideas of an old religion they no longer believe in. 

“The Empire is still confined to their kyber shipments,” Matthias observes. He casually cuts the seeds from his fruit. “Their shuttle routes haven’t been altered. The Shu though.” His eyes dart to their locations around the square. “They’re looking for someone.” 

“A defector,” Nina says. 

Matthias finally looks over at her in surprise. “Yours or mine?” 

“Does it matter?” she asks. “Either way, we need to find them before anyone else.” 

“Do we?” Matthias grumbles and slips his knife back into the sheath hidden somewhere on his person. “It’s not like anyone’s come to get us in the last two years.” 

Nina rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument before. “Come now, druskelle. Where’s that attitude of dedication to the Empire?” 

He snorts. “It died two years ago.” One of the Shu guards moves and Matthias’s attention strays. “Think it’s important enough that they’ll risk their peace with the Shu?” 

Beneath the question is the unspoken one that neither of them have put words to, but they both know is lingering in the back of their minds: Is this defector more important than they are? Nina’s last mission was to get a contact off Jedha to the Rebellion. Matthias had saved her from capture by the Shu and they hadn’t been able to risk an attempt to leave Jedha since then. The Empire had some sort of deal with the Shu that allowed them access to the Kyber mines but that was it. 

“Perhaps it’s time we went to collect tithes, Brother Helvar,” Nina announces. She pulls up the hood of her robes and leans on her staff as she walks out from the temple. Matthias follows behind her with grumbled complaints under his breath. The occupants of the city are familiar with their dynamic, although they’re sure to vary the times they depart the temple. Routines are too predictable. 

Matthias doesn’t speak even as Nina stops to talk with every friendly face she sees. For the first year, he had complained at every moment, even as she explained to him the importance of blending in, of becoming part of the populace. Now he even lets the children climb on him when she stops to share a story about the saints. 

“They’re jumpy,” Lin shares with Nina in whispered tones, her eyes darting around the square even though there don’t appear to be guards around right now. “Jan said he saw stormtroopers preparing to enter the city.” 

Nina performs a blessing on an elderly man. “Any idea what they’re looking for?” 

“A pilot.” Lin shifts her daughter around on her hip. “Imperial pilot. You don’t want to get between the troopers and their goal. The Shu are looking for him too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of their way.” 

Matthias moves closer. “And the pilot?” 

Lin glances at him and then back at Nina. She’s always been more skittish around men. It’s a look Nina’s uncomfortably familiar with and one she knows speaks to a violent past interaction. The way she grips her daughter just a bit closer breaks Nina’s heart. 

Nina nods encouragingly. 

“Down by the old refractory.” Lin freezes up as soon as the words escape her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise at what she just divulged. She darts away in a panic, leaving Nina and Matthias to continue to serve the poor with their usual tithes. 

By unspoken agreement, Matthias follows Nina’s lead as she takes them on a winding path. The last year and half of long meandering routes work in their favor as Nina leads them with more purpose. 

It feels good to have a purpose again. She hasn’t had contact with the Rebellion, but if this is big enough that the Empire is willing to fight the Shu for the interloper, then it’s big enough for the Rebellion to also be looking. The Empire has the strength to use brute force. The Rebellion will send Kaz Brekker. Per Haskell would be an idiot to send anyone else. 

As they get closer to their destination, Nina slows her pace and purposefully plays up her monk persona, passing out alms and blessings in equal measure. Matthias moves gruffly in her wake, watching her back in a way that might be suspicious if it hadn’t been his stable characteristic for the last two years. The Shu are used to their dynamic of the devout believer jaded sceptic. They had adopted the personas for safe passage before the Shu blockade and been forced to maintain it since then. 

It was useful, despite neither Nina nor Matthias being well versed in espionage. 

By the time they reach the old refractory buildings, Nina and Matthias are moving at a crawl, speaking to every person they see. Nina’s eyes scan the faces for one that looks out of place, one that screams uncertainty or distrust. 

She gets pointed down a dark alley by one of the urchins after she shares with him one of her precious jojo beans. It’s the closest she can get to her sweets in this city. She glances at Matthias and he nods. His body is intentionally relaxed, ready to move as necessary in response to a threat. 

Nina leads the way into the factory, looking around carefully as they move into the space. She breathes in deeply and sinks into the meditative state. The air around her settles, buzzing with the life force of the inhabitants of the city. In a couple of breaths, she narrows it further so she can feel the interior of the building. 

Matthias mutters under his breath, something about religious mumbo jumbo and insanity. 

Nina turns sideways and opens one eye to glare at Matthias. He rolls his eyes and gestures at her to continue.  

Her use of the Force is unrefined, based more in the faith that it will work than on actual knowledge about what she’s doing. It’s an old religion and the order they’re with is still respected even if not believed in. Okay, so maybe respected is pushing it. They’re disregarded as religious fanatics who don’t do much of anything. 

She follows the light of the Force through the factory, letting it guide her feet, trusting it to protect her from bumping into any of the clutter. Dimly, she senses Matthias grunt as he moves something out of her path before she hits it or it hits her. She keeps her focus on the life signature that shines like a beacon, coming to a stop once they’re in sight of the huddled mass. She opens her eyes and peers into the gloom. 

“We’re here to help you,” Nina says. Her soft voice carries around the large space. She ignores Matthias’s mutter about talking to herself. 

“Who...who are you?” A tremulous voice asks. It sounds younger than Nina expected, more uncertain. She thought a defector would be more hardened, more convinced of their path to go against the Empire in such a way. 

Nina squats down to look at the hunched over figure. Matthias has one hand hovering over his hidden firearm, the other on a dagger. She’s deep in her meditation of the Force and senses no danger from the huddled figure. 

“You’re the pilot, right?” Nina asks instead of answering. 

His eyes look her over, lingering on her and Matthias’s matching robes. “You’re priests?” 

He inches forward. There’s enough light cast on him that his Imperial uniform catches her eye, answering the question he avoids. She smiles softly at him and holds out her hand. Behind her Matthias shifts, disliking her proximity to perceived danger, if she has to guess. 

“Word on the street is you’re a defector. We’re here to help.”  

...

Wylan doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his life. Which is bizarre because this is a desert planet. You'd think it would be warm but instead he's found himself huddled in dark corners, scavenging like a rat for scraps for the last couple days while he tries to escape notice from the Shu. Jedha was supposed to be a safe haven for him, somewhere the Empire couldn't touch. The Shu had tried to grab him first, had detained him and demanded answers to their questions about the Empire. His protests that he wanted to defect fell on deaf ears. Then they'd dragged him into a cave with a beast they called Bor Gullet. 

It's a blur after that. 

He remembers waking in a cell to garbled words, a blurred hologram of his father glaring disdainfully down at him. A comment about the Empire being grateful to the Shu. Wylan doesn't know how he escaped. There's a memory of loud noise, a flash of heat, and dirt. Then it's all dark and cold. 

He'd avoided people after that, stuck to shadows, and only ventured out when the emptiness of his stomach threatened to eat him from the inside out. 

He doesn't even know how long it's been since he escaped the cell...or was released...he doesn't know. 

Then the woman appeared, like an angel out of the darkness and she promises salvation. 

Wylan knows enough of his father's games not to immediately trust the gesture. "Who are you?"  

“We’re with the Rebellion,” she says with a smile. 

The monk behind her rolls his eyes and turns away. They don’t look like any monks he recognises. The only person he’s heard of who truly follows the old religion is the Darkling and Wylan’s not so unfortunate to have ever seen him in person. “You don’t look like Rebels.” 

“He’s right. We don’t,” the man tells her. 

The woman looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Matthias Helvar.” She turns conspiratorially back to Wylan and there’s a friendly glint in her eye that makes him want to trust her. “Once he was the most devout of you all. Rose through the ranks of the Empire almost as high as they come. You want out of the Empire. We can help.” 

Wylan’s eyes drift over the man’s features and there’s something that reminds him of the way General Brum’s men carry themselves, the elite of the troopers he’s only seen from a distance. Wylan wants to string words together but they slip away like soap and water. 

“Will you come with us?” She prompts, yet again. 

He can’t combine the fears and hopes and questions into coherent sense. All he can do is nod in agreement. Whether they harm him or save him, he’ll be dead or caught if he stays here on his own. He needs allies and he’s not in a mental state where he can do much of anything himself. 

“Good,” she says. She pulls him forward and manhandles Wylan into a monk’s robe over his tattered pilot’s uniform. “I’m Nina. This is Matthias. We’re going to get you out of here alive. Good?” 

Wylan nods. She shoves a basket into his hands and drops additional bits of clutter from the warehouse floor into it. 

“We should be heading back,” Matthias rumbles. 

“Walk between us,” Nina instructs, pulling the hood of his robe up. Matthias mimics the movement. “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to anyone. Just stay in step with us. We’ll speak for you if it comes to that.” 

Wylan has enough sense to nod along. He knows talking will only give away his current state of complete confusion. He can see the looks Nina and Matthias exchange in response to his silence. He’s not so lost that he doesn’t understand what’s going on but the thoughts take too long to reach his lips and disappear like fragrance on a breeze. 

The ground is dusty and uneven under Wylan’s feet. It captures his attention as he walks, so different from the metal hallways and corridors he’s used to walking.  His feet catch from where they scrape the ground and he tries to tell his body to lift his feet higher, but they don’t seem willing to respond any more than what they do by instinct. When was the last time he walked on anything that wasn’t steel? 

He’s so preoccupied by swirls of dirt that he walks right into a wall. 

Well, not a wall, but the giant monk - Matthias. He bounces off the man’s back, which feels like the equivalent of walking into a wall. The man doesn’t even move in response to him walking into him at full speed, but Wylan almost falls on his butt, and would if it wasn’t for Nina catching him. 

She steps past him to stand next to Matthias. She pushes him further into the shadows behind Matthias as she looks past him to see what’s grabbed his attention. Wylan shuffles sideways and ducks down so he can look around the hulking figures. 

The white helmets break through his current haze and Wylan stumbles backwards. The Storm Troopers followed him. He can’t allow himself to be captured, not after he finally escaped that place and his father’s restrictive control. 

“Wait!” Nina whispers harshly, but Wylan’s body is moving without his consent. The urge to get away is too strong. It drives him, haltingly, step-after-step through twisting and confusing alleyways. He’s not sure where he’s going except away. If he can get to a port, he’s sure he can fly a ship. 

Another flash of white Imperial helmets send him careening in another direction which leads him into a square. The sudden exposure leaves him disoriented and he spins around looking for another exit as a child is ushered into one house and shutters are slammed shut. Wylan gulps. He walks back and turns, running into someone for the second time. This time the person rocks as he crashes into them, but Wylan’s still the one wheeling back. 

He blinks at the man, carrying some sort of stick. He looks like he could belong here except that his eyes are too intent. It’s the kind of gaze you couldn’t stand for too long but are also scared to look away from. It takes him a second to notice the tiny girl at his side. She’s looking around, causally flipping a blade in her hand. The other rests on a blaster. Now that he realized that, Wylan notices the man is also armed. 

“Wylan Van Eck?” The man asks. 

Wylan blinks at him in shock. He’s helpless to do anything but nod. They’re not Empire and they don’t look like the Khergud who grabbed him, so they can’t be that bad. Or at least are likely better than the alternative.  

“Right. Time to be off. Let Jesper know we’ve got the package.” The man turns abruptly. 

Wylan glances at the girl who steps aside and gestures at him to follow. He hasn’t decided if he will when there are footsteps behind him. He twists back to see who’s following and breathes a little easier when the monks appear. Maybe monks are better than whoever the man is.  

Maybe he’s dead anyway. 

“Oh good. You’re here.” The man says. “We can all go then.” 

Nina smirks from where she’s bent over catching her breath. “Nice to see you too, Kaz. Been ages.” 

...

It’s convenient that they were able to find the pilot and Nina in one place. He would have trouble getting Inej and Jesper out of here with just the pilot. They’d had no communication with Nina, no way to get in contact with her once they were in the atmosphere. Kaz takes it in stride and moves back the way they came. The rest will follow and someone will make sure the pilot comes along with them. 

It would have been a fantastic escape. In and out with no trouble whatsoever. It would have been too lucky for him, so the storm troopers that come streaming racing around the corner where Nina and her friend emerged are hardly a surprise. The real unlucky bit is that they also appear in the two other access points to the square. 

The pilot looks ready to bolt. Nina and the second monk steps forward. Kaz respects the bulk of him and hopes that he’s good in a fight. If it were just him and Inej, they would split up and meet at the rendez-vous. The pilot is going to be the issue. 

“Halt. Surrender or you will be terminated.” 

Inej pushes Wylan behind her and toward Kaz. The boy curls in on himself. How he ever got up the courage to desert the Empire, Kaz hasn’t a clue. Now they just need to get him out of here with whatever valuable knowledge is worth breaking the standoff with the Shu. 

Kaz pushes him into a doorway, out of sight of the blasters. “Stay down.” 

The boy whimpers. 

Nina steps forward, hands raised in a deceptively helpless gesture. “Calm down. We’re all friends here.” 

“Stand down or we will open fire,” the trooper repeats. The entire line readies their weapons. Their blasters might be unreliable and clunky, but with so many firing, they’re bound to hit something. 

“You don’t want to shoot us.” Nina tries again. 

“That’s what you’ve got?” the second monk asks incredulously. 

She glares at him. Kaz watches Inej palm a blade and twirl it effortlessly in one hand. The harsh sunlight glints off the edge of the blade: steel instead of a laser edge many prefer. He knows she likes the way the old fashioned blades feel in her hand. They look like they belong in her grasp. 

Nina steps forward again, closer and closer to the troopers. “You’re not going to shoot us.” 

“Hand over the pilot.” The trooper says. From across the square, Kaz can hear the gun prep to fire. This isn’t working. 

“Yeah. That’s not going to happen,” he drawls from the back of the group. The second monk glares at him, but Kaz just twirls his kane, unbothered. It was going to come down to this anyway. There’s no point holding it off as more backup and fire power arrives to support the troopers. 

Shadows fall across the square and Kaz gets his first look at the notorious Khergud soldiers who have kept Jedha independent for the last two years. “Imperial Troopers. You have no authority in our city. The pilot is ours.” 

Nina, her monk, and Inej grow tense at the new party. Beside him the pilot starts to mutter under his breath, rocking back and forth. 

This actually works to their advantage as the troopers are forced to divert their attention. The Khergud fires directly at the troopers before jumping into the air. The troopers open fire, most on the Khergud, judging them to be the bigger threat. 

Inej seizes the moment to dive forward into the fight, taking out two opponents in moments before she’s engaged by one of the Shu soldiers. She moves like an acrobat, twirling through flailing limbs that breeze past her. She’s a force of nature. 

Kaz is distracted from his awe by a guard landing a few feet away and leaping for Wylan. He dispatches the soldier with a few whacks of his cane. He crumples under a well-placed hit to the temple. 

More troopers race toward the noise. They stop around the corner of an alley, firing from their protective spots and forcing the monk and Kaz to step back to cover. They lob a grenade into the square. Kaz takes two steps forward and hits it back with the metal head of his cane. It soars in a perfect arch back to the troopers, who scramble for cover too late. 

The monk nods in acknowledgment and moves to relieve Nina from her two enemies. Inej falls back as she takes out her opponent and the rest are distracted by Nina and the monk. She moves to stand alongside Kaz, stretching out the muscles she just used as she slips her blades back in their many holsters. The explosion rocks the block which takes out one contingent of troopers but they're met with more troopers and Shu, crawling out of the cracks like cockroaches. 

A moment later shots arc over their heads, rapid fire, each one hitting its target and leaving the recipients incapacitated.  

Kaz relaxes infintestimently. He'd been prepared to dive for cover. His hand twitches toward Inej but he knows she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need him trying to tackle her and throwing off her center of balance.  

A figure emerges along the roofline, a rifle resting against his shoulder. “There were an awful lot of explosions for people who were supposed to be blending in.” 

“I hope you’ve got an exit plan, Brekker,” Nina says. She diverts to the Imperial pilot after a glance at the monk. 

He nods and moves for the alley. “This way.” He glances at Inej and up at the roofline. She nods and follows his tacit directions. Kaz leaves her to do what she does best: cover them from the shadows. 

Kaz walks with purpose through the streets. Now that fighting has broken out, it appears that no one is holding back. Shu are fighting stormtroopers, troopers are fighting the Khergud and civilians are running for cover. Jesper’s  and Inej’s shadows move with them. The monk - who Kaz Brekker suspects is the Druskelle Nina mentioned before she went dark - leads the charge, with his long legs that eat up the ground in long strides. Nina covers their escape with a simple bo staff. 

“Where are we going?” The monk asks as he fires off a round of shots. 

“Left!” Jesper shouts as he crashes to the ground on the back of a Khergud soldier. “I don’t know why we ever thought this was going to be a quiet mission. And I still say we need a demolition expert.” 

“We’re spies, Jesper,” Kaz growls over the sound of battle. 

Jesper shoots him a cocky grin over his shoulder. “But this is so much more fun.” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” the monk mutters. 

“Kaz.” 

He looks sideways, unsurprised to find Inej at his shoulder, silent as always. He follows her gaze upwards and nearly stumbles to a stop. “Jedha doesn’t have a moon.” 

Nina and the monk stumble to a stop. Jesper glances up for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It appeared out of nowhere. It’s too big to be a ship but moons don’t move.” 

“That’s it,” Wylan whispers. The pilot suddenly jolts into motion. “We have to go. Now!” 

Kaz is forced into an ungainly run. He tries not to notice Inej hovering at his elbow, keeping pace with him as they race toward the ship. The Imperial pilot is ahead of them all, heedless of laser bolts. Jesper yanks him back by the collar to direct him to the correct ship. 

As he reaches the ramp, Kaz starts to hear screams. 

“Jesper, get us out of here!” Kaz yells. Inej hits the control to shut the ramp as Jesper guns the engine. 

“What do you think I’m doing, Brekker? Buckle up. This ride’s about to get bumpy.” 

... 

The whole world has turned upside down. Matthias isn’t sure what he’s doing, to be perfectly honest. Staying with Nina was a mutually beneficial proposition. They were stuck on a foreign planet, where the only people they could trust were each other. He’d become accustomed to their partnership and been shocked by how much he relied upon her. Now, looking at this ragtag group - so different from the ordered discipline of the elite Druskelle guard - Matthias is at a loss for how the Resistance has managed to become a thorn in the Empire’s side. 

He will admit that they were, like Nina, surprisingly capable and effective. However, he can’t hide how scandalized he is by their lack of any sort of recognizable chain of command. The trio moves like his old unit in that they’re so familiar with each other, they don’t need to shout out commands. But their actions of Jedha display an alarming disregard for a cohesive plan and seem to thrive on the chaos of the moment. 

“What was that?!” The boy with the cane asks, turning around to stare at the group before his eyes zero in on the unfortunate pilot. 

Matthias hasn’t gotten much from the boy, except that he stepped back from the fighting yet was clearly capable of surviving physical confrontation. Nina and his two companions seemed to defer to him as some sort of leader, which spoke to a sharp mind. Nina called him Kaz, which would indicate one of the high level members of Rebel Intelligence. He’s heard him referenced as a nightmare or a demon, spoken of in whispers and myths more than anything else. 

All in all: Matthias expected someone older. 

“That was the Death Star,” Wylan whispers. His eyes look haunted. 

Matthias frowns. “Impossible.” He starts when five sets of eyes jerk towards him in the silence of hyperspace. He grits his teeth. The word wasn’t supposed to be spoken out loud. “They’re decades away from creating that technology.” 

Wylan is shaking his head. “No. They found a scientist. Got him to create what they needed. I...I was able to get away. To warn the Rebellion. It’s a planet killer.” 

“A planet killer?” The small girl repeats. 

“Is that even possible?” Nina glances at him for confirmation. Matthias has no answer. It was only an idea when he was with the Druskelle last. Brum used to talk about it, but it was never close to a reality. Not then. 

“Why don’t you ask Jedha?” Kaz says. 

“We don’t know that it destroyed the whole planet,” the small girl points out. 

The boy doesn’t look away from where he stares out the window at the white streaks of stars passing in hyperspace. “At the very least, we know it destroyed the city. If the Empire has a weapon like that, we’re left defenseless.” 

“That’s why I was sent to find you,” Wylan says. He freezes when all eyes turn to him and he curls in on himself from his spot beside the pilot. Matthias has spent years in Imperial bases and has no idea how this pilot managed to get into the program, let alone became important enough to have access to this top secret project. It seems highly suspect to him. 

“Sent?” The boy asks, finally turning so his whole body faces the pilot. Matthias does have to admit he cuts an intimidating figure even as he leans on his cane. 

The pilot swallows. “The scientist. I was supposed to get to a contact they had with the Rebellion. There was someone I was supposed to connect with...the Wraith? But I got redirected…” He frowns. The more the pilot seems to search for words, the harder they seem to come. 

Matthias has seen this before. “He was captured by the Khergud. They most likely probed his mind using Bor Gullet. That’s how they dealt with any Imperial or Rebel spies they found.” He leans back against the steel hull. It actually feels good to be back in space again after being grounded for so long. 

It feels like freedom. 

The boy looks at Nina. She nods in confirmation. “It’s true. We only escaped detection because of the temple.” 

“Because all she would talk about was the Force,” Matthias mutters. He adjusts his muscles so they’re loose and he can react in an instant if needed. Nina drops into the space beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow as she settles in like a cat that can get comfortable anywhere. 

“I saved your life,” she says without opening her eyes. 

He grunts and doesn’t let his smile emerge.  

“The Wraith,” Kaz repeats, focusing on Wylan again. “What were you supposed to tell them?”

Wylan still looks nervous. “Well, I was supposed to pass on...a message...There’s a way to destroy it. A weakness.” 

“A weakness?” 

Wylan yanks at his hair. It’s useless to try to force him to remember more in his state. Matthias watches the trio of rebels to see what they’ll do at this obstacle. 

“He didn’t tell me,” Wylan whispers, clearly realizing this might not endear him to his rescuers at this point. “I was supposed to...bring someone back. They wanted...they wanted someone to rescue them, and they would share the weakness. I was just supposed to be the messenger. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 

Kaz scowls and glances at the girl who looks at the man in the pilot’s seat, all having some sort of silent conversation. Matthias watches the interaction with interest.  

“Where is this base?” Kaz finally moves closer, crouching so he can look Wylan in the eyes. 

“Eadu.” 

Matthias vaguely recalls the outpost. Far from most of the known universe, it’s one of the Empire’s research bases. There’s not a huge platoon placed there for protection. It’s a secret base, kept out of the way, and by necessity sees few changes in personnel. There were a couple training missions on the planet to diversify the team’s experiences and analyze security procedures. 

“We don’t have anyone on Eadu,” the girl notes. 

“Because Eadu’s on lockdown. Nothing in or out that isn’t high level.” The boy flying the craft throws over his shoulder. “Out of the flight academy, I only stopped there once because they needed a supply run immediately. They didn’t even let me off the shuttle. To be a pilot there, you’d have to have some pretty impressive clearance.” 

Matthias alters his assessment of the crew that got them off Jedha. To get through the Imperial Flight Academy is impressive. The man also demonstrated impressive aim and combat skills. Despite not being highly regimented, they do appear to be a solid team. He glances down at Nina. 

“So in order to get the information on the weakness, we have to go to Eadu,” the girl says. She’s twirling a knife in her hands, one with a true steel blade like he hasn’t seen in ages. Her comfort with it is another mark in their favor. 

“Jesper’s right. It’s impenetrable. We haven’t managed to get anyone on the inside.” Kaz taps his fingers on the head of his cane. 

“So we go.” The girl shrugs. “We redirect. We need to find a way to beat this thing or millions more are going to die.” 

“Procedure is to report for further orders. We’ve got the pilot.” Kaz looks at her with a heavy look. 

“Matthias can help.” Nina elbows him as she speaks up. 

He scowls down at her as everyone turns to stare at him. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to betray him. 

“I’m not a traitor.” Matthias glares at the lot of them. 

“You’ll help,” Nina says with a self-assuredness he’s come to hate over the last couple of years. Because as irksome as it is, she’s usually right about these things. They both know it. 

“We’re supposed to just trust a stranger on your word?” Jesper asks. 

“Get twisted, Fahey. You know my word is good.” 

Kaz and the woman - whose name Matthias still doesn’t know - have another silent conversation. She turns to look at him, her eyes speculative. Kaz leans closer to her. “You think you can do this?” 

She doesn’t take his eyes from Matthias. Her knives continue the casual twisting in her hand. She shrugs and looks back at the mastermind. “It is our kind of job.” 

Kaz nods. “Jesper, alter course. Van Eck, help get him close without being seen. Matthias, you need to tell us everything you know, and quickly.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life very unpleasant.” 

“How do you even know the pilot is right? How do you know there really is a weakness? This could be a trap.” It sounds like the kind of thing Jarl Brum would think up to capture Rebel spies.

“Faith,” Nina says. “This is the right choice.” She finally sits up and stretches. 

Matthias rolls his eyes at her religious display. He sighs. “I can tell you what I know. It could still be a trap.” 

“The pilot is Wylan Van Eck. He’s on my list of potential informants. He became an Imperial pilot because of familial connections. It’s how he has access to sensitive information. We know they’re working on something on Eadu. If this is what he says, then we need that information.” The girl explains it in an even voice. 

“And if there isn’t a secret weakness?” 

Kaz and Inej exchange a long look.  

“Then we find another way to blow it up,” Jesper supplies. 

Matthias isn’t sure he likes the looks of glee on their faces. 

“So how do we get in?” 

The girl turns to look at Matthias, her dark eyes just the slightest bit terrifying now that he’s actually getting a good chance to size her up. She tends to fade into the background and let her comrades take charge, but definitely is not to be underestimated. He stares at her and then glances at Kaz. 

“Inej is a ghost,” Nina says. “She can get in and out without anyone noticing.” 

He looks her over, still assessing. This moment, more than any in the last two years of surviving, feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. The last two years he could justify to his superiors: he was surviving a hostile planet, he had to get close to Nina or he would have died, he was trying to learn the secrets of the Rebel scum. This was different. If he does this, he’s helping the Rebel cause. He’s actively going against everything he’s ever learned.

Nina hits him in the shoulder, as if sensing his internal conflict. She twists upright to look at him and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

He can hear her voice in his head, berating him for his strict no-nonsense rules and his consuming hatred for anything that goes against the order of the Empire. There were countless debates as they marched through Jedha, each an intellectual exercise. He can honestly say that he doesn’t believe the Empire is never wrong, but is that enough to make him give up their secrets? 

“They murdered everyone in Jedha,” she whispers to him softly. “Lin, Mauri, Katya…” She closes her eyes against the pain. 

He wants to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. Nina feels everything so deeply, unable to stop herself from connecting with everyone she meets. He wants to protect from that pain, to comfort her. Those lives lost today. They were innocents. People that should have been protected and instead… 

He opens his eyes and nods his agreement to Nina. 

She grins, life and joy filling her back up as she bounces around in her seat, the way she gets excited whenever they found something reasonably sweet on Jedha. “Matthias meet Inej. Inej, meet Matthais. He’s a little shy but he knows what’s at stake.”

It’s like shedding a piece of armor or throwing off the last vestiges of who he once was. There’s no turning back now, and he has surprisingly little regret as he opens his eyes and asks the first damning question: “Where do you want to start?”

<hr>

Inej barely remembers those early days with her family living in the heart of a city. She gets flashes of memories - playing with dolls, toddling after her father, parties full of boring adults who couldn’t care less about her. What she thinks of when she remembers her family is what came after: the travelling band of performers they joined. It’s there that she felt comfortable. The troupe was her family: they encouraged her, taught her tricks of the trade, and were the ones who trained her as an acrobat. They travelled from system to system, performing in cities and small villages alike, on hot planets and cold. She had careful rules to follow about her interactions whenever they landed. 

Despite all the restrictions, she remembers feeling carefree. The caravan was her domain and she was empress. The day her life changed was just like any other. She remembers her mother running a hand over her hair, whispering that they were going down into town. Her sleepy head full of cotton can’t remember her exact words, just the feeling of warmth, the comfort of routine. Only recently - on her eighth birthday - had she earned the right to sleep in instead of joining her parents’ customary outing.  

Sometimes in her waking hours, she forgets that happened years ago and in her half-waking state she thinks she can still hear her mother’s soothing whisper and her father patting her hand as he tucks her treasured stuffed bear under the blankets of her bed so she has company. 

Inej’s eyes fly open as the harsh lights of simulated daylight jolt her unrelentingly from her sleep into the cold reality of her life. 

She rolls up to a seated position and runs her arm over her sleepy face. She makes no effort to make herself presentable and glares at her arm with the repulsive peacock feather tattoo. It’s been eight years since that morning when her whole life burned around her, her whole extended family vanished in the blink of an eye and she was sold into the slave markets of the Hutts before she was even aware what that meant. 

“Inej Ghafa, the mistress will see you now,” a mechanical voice says over the speaker hidden in her room. Luxurious drapes and curtains cover the mechanical aspects of the room, but can’t hide the prison-like nature of a room without windows in a pleasure house. This has always been Inej’s cage. 

Of course, to the Empire, this isn’t slavery. She has an indenture that she’s working off, this was a choice she made. Inej stands. The words are bullshit. It’s a pretty story told by those who believe themselves to be above such terrible things just because they use different words. Inej is old enough to know what happens in the different rooms of the pleasure house she currently calls home, but still too young to be expected to participate fully. But she knows her days are numbered. 

Girls in this trade grow up quickly. She’s still a tease, only suffering a a groping hand here, a leer there, the occasional bit of voyeurism which makes her skin prickle and means she can never feel comfortable in any room, including her own.

Inej dresses with practiced movements in the ridiculous trappings Madam Helene requires. There are far too many bells on the outfit, too many dangling bits that can tangle for it to really be the exotic outfit Helene claims the clients want. She hates the way the silk feels against her skin when it used to mean the soothing comfort of performance attire. 

For now, her role is to just be an ornamentation for the pleasure house, but madame makes sure she knows what could happen the moment she steps a toe out of line. She’s not above selling Inej off before her time, the cost of which would do nothing to lower the exorbitant cost of her supposed indenture.  

Inej keeps her head down and walks quickly to the main room. In the early hours, there are few patrons who might be looking for a companion, but Inej has learned to keep her head down in any case. She’s short and skinny - underdeveloped to most tastes - so aren’t many interested in her and the ones that are she should avoid with even more care.  

There’s a boy in the room with Helene: a boy with a familiar cane. Inej is so surprised to see him that she forgets to look away meekly when his dark eyes meet hers. She tilts her head in curiosity. Last she saw, he was slipping out of a back hallway which she knew allowed Helene to eavesdrop on clients as they spent the night with girls, or that she offered to well-paying customers who took pleasure from that sort of thing. 

He looks just as cold as he did that night, but she vividly remembers the surprise in his eyes when she spoke from over his shoulder. He wasn’t a regular customer at the brothel but he was on good terms with a couple members of the staff and she’d seen him exchange kruge for information on more than one occasion. Last she saw him, she’d offered him help. 

“Ah, there’s my little Suli Lioness.” Madam Helene smiles benevolently, but her perfume chokes Inej as she wraps an arm around her. “Inej, do you know who this is?” 

“They call him Dirtyhands,” she answers, voice proper and meek as Helene likes. All the other girls have told her not to ask questions any time she tries to find out more. She can’t help but wonder if offering herself to him was a mistake, but she knows this place will kill her if she doesn’t find a way out. 

“Hmm…,” Madame hums. She turns to the boy with a set face and Inej’s chest tightens in apprehension. “I’m afraid your offer will not be accepted, Mr. Brekker. Inej is precious to me.” Her bejeweled fingers dig into Inej’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly part with her.” 

The boy raises an impeccable eyebrow. “I was under the impression our negotiations were finalized.” 

Helene releases an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you silly boy. Did you know the Empire has offered quite the reward for you?” 

Inej tenses. She knows that Madame is fickle in her alliances, but she’s never openly invited storm troopers into her house: they don’t pay well. 

“You’d better run, little boy, if you want to get out of here before they can grab you.” 

Two doors into the main room slide open with a whoosh of air to reveal armored bodies with blasters levelled at the boy. Inej’s quick eyes note that the door closest to Brekker has no guard, instead being left clear if he wants to escape. If she were him, she would be running but instead he looks bored as he stares back at Madame. He lifts his wrist to check his time piece, an old fashioned analog device that hasn’t been used in decades. 

There’s a pulse of static followed by a volley of blaster shots. Inej jerks down out of the way but is shocked to see that none of the shots were aimed at them. 

“You should have taken the money, Helene,” the boy shaking space dust from his jacket. “We could have continued this lucrative partnership.” 

Madame pales and looks around at the rumpled crew of men who are all standing around. Most have holstered their guns, but a tall dark-skinned man walks up to them and gestures Helene back away from Inej. Madame drops her grip as if she can’t get her distance fast enough. She turns to the boy. 

“Please! You have to understand, the troopers would have killed me if I didn’t.” 

The boy looks at her impassively before shrugging. “Per Haskell is still willing to buy out her indenture. I’m sure we can agree on a more reasonable price.” 

Inej snorts. She can’t help it. They’re literally haggling over the price of her indenture after not killing one another. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. The boy looks over at her. Although his face is a mask which reveals no secrets, Inej sees a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes before he focuses again on Madame Helene. 

“Congratulations,” the dark-skinned man who shooed Madame Helene away says, leaning down to her, even as his eyes stay on the boy and madam. “You’re being rescued.” 

She looks around at the rag tag group she’s now willing to bet are Rebellion spies and wonders if this will actually be any better. Beyond them, she spots a couple of Helene’s girls with their bloodshot eyes, thin skin and haunted looks. It’s enough to remind her that is it. This is what she wants: a chance to save her father and get revenge on the Empire which has caused her so much pain. 

Inej straightens as much as she can. It looks like she’s joining the rebellion. 

<hr> 

Three years later… 

“You ever wonder if Kaz is actually a demon?” Jesper asks speculatively. He points his blaster to the sky and stares down the barrel. It’s in the best possible order he can make it. The sights are calibrated, the lazer refined and the trigger pull smooth. He couldn’t ask for a better weapon. 

Other than it’s partner, which is still in his holster and also freshly taken care of. 

“You’re supposed to be watching his back, Jesper,” the Wraith’s voice reminds him, tinged with annoyance. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling over so he can look over the side of the building to where Kaz is meeting with his contact. “You know, I’m still not sure why all three of us need to be here for one pilot.” 

“If you want, we can always switch positions,” Inej offers. “You can play get-away pilot.” 

Jesper snorts as he lines up his sight again. “Yeah, right. That’s all yours, spider. Besides we needed the sniper position here, remember?” 

There’s a long suffering sigh over the radio and Jesper grins. Through the scope his eyes bounce to Kaz. He can’t see his face, but Jesper knows he’s got that stone face of annoyance, which, as it turns out, is not so different from his normal ambivalent face except that it includes the slight twitching of the vein at his temple. 

Inej claims he’s seeing things, that it’s all in Jesper’s head. According to her, Kaz’s tell has to do with his eyes or some other sappy thing like that because they’re both secretly in love with each other. Jesper thinks they’re both idiots and he likes to think that one day, if he makes a bad enough joke or an inappropriate enough comment, that vein on Kaz’s temple is going to burst. 

He thinks it's good to have goals like that. It makes the dirty work they do for the Rebellion more palatable. 

“I still think it would be better to have me on the ground,” Inej grumbles. “You know I’m no good at the piloting stuff.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to come. If I recall, Per Haskell offered you leave and instead you came here.” Jesper notices the stiffening of Kaz’s shoulders. His informant is still calm, if a little jumpy-looking, so he knows that’s not the source of the tension. His eyes scan the street and see nothing alarming. 

Jesper hasn’t asked but he knows there’s something going on here that they’re not sharing. Inej has been wound tight since they started to hear rumors of an Imperial weapon strong enough to take out a planet. While it was still just a rumor, Kaz and Inej were chasing the thread down with a vengeance. It’s what brought them back to this city world where they had found Inej three years ago. 

Now if only his sneaky little cohorts would share the secret with him. That would be great. 

Jesper grumbles to himself. Like that would ever happen. He looks through the scope of his rifle. The tell tale of white of stormtrooper armor catches his eye and Jesper focuses on the location. The odd trooper presence in a city like this isn’t necessarily something to make note of. It happens on occasion, but this is a pair and he can spot another pair making their way in what looks to his eyes like search patterns. 

“Heads up, Kaz. We might have company.” Jesper says as he keeps an eye on the soldiers. “Moving in pairs. Looks like a search pattern.” 

They’re too far away to hear the words that are spoken, but Jesper can guess what it is from here: “Hey! You there!” 

He watches as Kaz drags their contact into an alley as the storm troopers converge from two directions. 

“I’ve lost sight of you, Kaz.” Jesper sights the troopers through his scope and taps a finger against the trigger. Killing troopers brings more attention than Kaz likes. They work in secret. “Exit strategy?” 

Through Kaz’s comm he hears the panicked pleas of Kaz’s contact swiftly silenced by a laser bolt. He grimaces at the additional body count as Kaz’s gravelly voice comes over the comm. 

“I’ve got it. Jesper, join Inej. Meet me at the rendezvous point.” 

He takes one last look at the troopers closing in on the alley and then stands. If Kaz needed help, he would ask. The man had a thousand and one plans. There’s no way he didn’t account for a way out of this trap. It sounds like he’s probably climbing, a feat considering his bum leg from when he landed on it wrong a couple years back and it never healed properly.  

“You know, for once I’d like one of these missions to go smoothly,” Jesper mutters under his breath as he hightails it back to the ship. He stows his blaster and keeps it from sight as he moves through the crowds. Seedy cities have been a second home to him for years, since he left the Imperial flight academy, if he’s being honest. He liked the anonymity the city gave him. It always felt better than the emptiness of the moisture farm he grew up on. He hates the heat and the sand. 

Oh, God, the sand. 

He walks aboard the ship with the swagger of a drunk who won big at the betting table. He nods jovially to those he passes. There are a couple glances down to the pistols at his waist, but that’s normal on a large port like this one. Intergalactic travel to major cities has always been fraught with trouble and this one isn’t especially savory. They don’t have the clearance for savory. 

Inej sits on the ramp of the ship, sprawled out across it like a cat. She opens her eyes as he arrives and stretches. “Ready to go?” 

“Shouldn’t the get away pilot be ready to run?” Jesper teases as they walk up into the ship and Inej diverts to the cockpit, starting the take off procedure. 

“I spent the last hour bemoaning my terrible coworker who insists on gambling at each port and always staggers back drunk, occasionally with unexpected company. I’ve already got tower clearance to leave. And taking off won’t set any red flags with the Empire so we’re clear.” 

Jesper drops into the copilot chair as Inej goes through engine checks. “You did all that?” 

“You’re not the only one capable of sweet talking people, Fahey.” She shoots him a look and he chuckles. 

“I remember when your first attempt to blend in. Didn’t you end up stabbing someone?” 

Inej scowls at the memory. “And no one has tried to grab my body since then without a threat of a knife point.” 

Jesper chuckles. “Fair enough.” He shifts as they fly high enough to leave the atmosphere and then drop back down, drifting through the carefully mapped out empty space of blind spots that allow them to drift down to the meeting point. Despite it taking them almost no time to get there, Kaz is already sitting against a crate on the roof of a run down building, cane held out in front of him with his hands crossed on top. 

Jesper moves back toward the loading bay and opens the doors. He leans against the side of the doorway as the ship turns to face Kaz. “Hiya, honey. Miss me?” 

As always Kaz rolls his eyes at Jesper’s attitude as he climbs the ramp. “We’re clean. Any trouble at the port?” 

“Nope,” Inej reports from the cockpit. “Just a couple nosy traders looking for a good time. Sent them after Jesper.” 

“Har har,” he shoots back as the ramp closes with a firm whoosh of pressure stabilizing. He turns to Kaz who has dropped onto the bench and closed his eyes. His lame foot is extended slightly in front of him, a tell that it’s aching from the exercise of escaping the troopers. Jesper can also see where his blaster sticks out from under his jacket, the clip of the holster no longer in place. He definitely used it. “Did you get the intel?” 

Kaz nods. 

“Where are we headed?” Inej asks. From the body of the shuttle, Jesper sees her hand hover over the hyperspeed settings, preparing to change the destination of their jump. 

“The pilot is on Jedha.” 

They both freeze and you could hear a pin drop in the shuttle. Jesper glances at Inej and sees the same worry painted in the lines of her face. “Are you sure?” 

Kaz finally opens his eyes and leans forward. “It’s been confirmed. That’s the second source and this one claims to have actually seen the pilot.” 

“But he’s a defector, why would he go there?” Jesper asks. 

“Jedha’s not a stronghold for the Empire, but they do trade there.” Kaz answers, as if that explains the reasoning. 

“But it’s a Shu stronghold. They’re cut off. We haven’t had contact in years.” Jesper glances at Inej in the cockpit. “Nina was there when the communications shut down. She wasn’t able to get out and no one’s been able to go in.” 

Kaz rams a gloved hand over the top of his cane. “That isn’t strictly true.” 

Inej whips around. “What?” 

He sighs. “We have a way onto the planet. The problem will be finding the defector and getting him to talk to us.” 

“And getting off planet again,” Jesper cuts in. “Or have you forgotten how the Shu seize whoever and whatever they want? There’s a reason we don’t have an outpost there.” 

Kaz stares at him with those cold, blank eyes and then turns toward Inej. “Set the course.” 

For a long moment, Inej doesn’t move. Her fingers tap against the control as she gazes at Kaz with an inscrutable expression on her face for a moment before she turns back to the controls and the ship lurches into hyperspace. 

Jesper crosses his arms as he faces Kaz from across the ship. “You knew we were headed to Jedha.” 

Kaz stares back at him for a moment and then closes his eyes. He leans back against the side of the ship. Jesper wishes he was surprised about the lack of communication. 

He sits down next to Kaz. “This way on to Jedha...does it have anything to do with Nina?” 

Kaz cracks open an eye. He looks Jesper over and shuts them again. “She was able to get one message out since the Shu shut down. The last message that got out - the one that opened a path - the agent was lost. Haven’t heard anything since.” 

“Nina?” 

“Under orders to lay low.” 

“Are we taking her out with us?” 

Kaz’s hands tighten on the head of his cane. “We’ll see.” 

<hr> 

There was something happening. Nina looks around the marketplace covertly as she examines the fruit in the stall in front of her. It’s the same bland, slightly bruised fruit that they always have. Two years on this desert planet and she’s still not used to the blandness of the food. She’s missing the lush variety of Aldaraan and the sweets she used to eat by the bushel. There’s no sweets here in Jedha, especially not in the mostly abandoned temple. 

She exchanges a coin for two shrivelled pieces of fruit and a smile with the vendor. She slips off the main thoroughfare and into the archway that leads into the dilapidated temple. Like most of Jedha, it’s covered in a fine layer of sand and dust, and shows the wear and tear of years of war. 

She tosses a piece of fruit to the tall and skulking shadow that leans against the archway. Matthias catches the fruit of the air. He pulls a wickedly long knife from behind his back and cuts the fruit into meticulous pieces, eating with precise movements to stop the juice from creating a sticky mess. 

Nina is far less careful. She bites into the fruit and does her best to stop the overripe fruit from spilling juice down her chin. It’s a messy process and her fingers will end up coated in sugary sweetness. It’s her little act of rebellion that makes Matthias shake his head in her direction, when his eyes aren’t sweeping the plaza. 

“There’s something in the wind,” he says as he slowly eats another slice of his fruit. Nina’s is almost gone. She’s sad for that. 

“Rumors.” Nina glances at the gangsters on the corner of the street with their strange metal suits. They’re looking antsy, searching the street. “There’s not much chatter. Something about an Imperial pilot. Broke through the Shu blockade.” 

Matthias’s eyes drift back across the crowds of people. Nina rearranges her robe and leans against her staff. Two years posing as acolytes of the temple and proselytizing about Sankts has her accustomed to her character. No one bothers with a monk spouting ideas of an old religion they no longer believe in. 

“The Empire is still confined to their kyber shipments,” Matthias observes. He casually cuts the seeds from his fruit. “Their shuttle routes haven’t been altered. The Shu though.” His eyes dart to their locations around the square. “They’re looking for someone.” 

“A defector,” Nina says. 

Matthias finally looks over at her in surprise. “Yours or mine?” 

“Does it matter?” she asks. “Either way, we need to find them before anyone else.” 

“Do we?” Matthias grumbles and slips his knife back into the sheath hidden somewhere on his person. “It’s not like anyone’s come to get us in the last two years.” 

Nina rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument before. “Come now, druskelle. Where’s that attitude of dedication to the Empire?” 

He snorts. “It died two years ago.” One of the Shu guards moves and Matthias’s attention strays. “Think it’s important enough that they’ll risk their peace with the Shu?” 

Beneath the question is the unspoken one that neither of them have put words to, but they both know is lingering in the back of their minds: Is this defector more important than they are? Nina’s last mission was to get a contact off Jedha to the Rebellion. Matthias had saved her from capture by the Shu and they hadn’t been able to risk an attempt to leave Jedha since then. The Empire had some sort of deal with the Shu that allowed them access to the Kyber mines but that was it. 

“Perhaps it’s time we went to collect tithes, Brother Helvar,” Nina announces. She pulls up the hood of her robes and leans on her staff as she walks out from the temple. Matthias follows behind her with grumbled complaints under his breath. The occupants of the city are familiar with their dynamic, although they’re sure to vary the times they depart the temple. Routines are too predictable. 

Matthias doesn’t speak even as Nina stops to talk with every friendly face she sees. For the first year, he had complained at every moment, even as she explained to him the importance of blending in, of becoming part of the populace. Now he even lets the children climb on him when she stops to share a story about the saints. 

“They’re jumpy,” Lin shares with Nina in whispered tones, her eyes darting around the square even though there don’t appear to be guards around right now. “Jan said he saw stormtroopers preparing to enter the city.” 

Nina performs a blessing on an elderly man. “Any idea what they’re looking for?” 

“A pilot.” Lin shifts her daughter around on her hip. “Imperial pilot. You don’t want to get between the troopers and their goal. The Shu are looking for him too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of their way.” 

Matthias moves closer. “And the pilot?” 

Lin glances at him and then back at Nina. She’s always been more skittish around men. It’s a look Nina’s uncomfortably familiar with and one she knows speaks to a violent past interaction. The way she grips her daughter just a bit closer breaks Nina’s heart. 

Nina nods encouragingly. 

“Down by the old refractory.” Lin freezes up as soon as the words escape her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise at what she just divulged. She darts away in a panic, leaving Nina and Matthias to continue to serve the poor with their usual tithes. 

By unspoken agreement, Matthias follows Nina’s lead as she takes them on a winding path. The last year and half of long meandering routes work in their favor as Nina leads them with more purpose. 

It feels good to have a purpose again. She hasn’t had contact with the Rebellion, but if this is big enough that the Empire is willing to fight the Shu for the interloper, then it’s big enough for the Rebellion to also be looking. The Empire has the strength to use brute force. The Rebellion will send Kaz Brekker. Per Haskell would be an idiot to send anyone else. 

As they get closer to their destination, Nina slows her pace and purposefully plays up her monk persona, passing out alms and blessings in equal measure. Matthias moves gruffly in her wake, watching her back in a way that might be suspicious if it hadn’t been his stable characteristic for the last two years. The Shu are used to their dynamic of the devout believer jaded sceptic. They had adopted the personas for safe passage before the Shu blockade and been forced to maintain it since then. 

It was useful, despite neither Nina nor Matthias being well versed in espionage. 

By the time they reach the old refractory buildings, Nina and Matthias are moving at a crawl, speaking to every person they see. Nina’s eyes scan the faces for one that looks out of place, one that screams uncertainty or distrust. 

She gets pointed down a dark alley by one of the urchins after she shares with him one of her precious jojo beans. It’s the closest she can get to her sweets in this city. She glances at Matthias and he nods. His body is intentionally relaxed, ready to move as necessary in response to a threat. 

Nina leads the way into the factory, looking around carefully as they move into the space. She breathes in deeply and sinks into the meditative state. The air around her settles, buzzing with the life force of the inhabitants of the city. In a couple of breaths, she narrows it further so she can feel the interior of the building. 

Matthias mutters under his breath, something about religious mumbo jumbo and insanity. 

Nina turns sideways and opens one eye to glare at Matthias. He rolls his eyes and gestures at her to continue.  

Her use of the Force is unrefined, based more in the faith that it will work than on actual knowledge about what she’s doing. It’s an old religion and the order they’re with is still respected even if not believed in. Okay, so maybe respected is pushing it. They’re disregarded as religious fanatics who don’t do much of anything. 

She follows the light of the Force through the factory, letting it guide her feet, trusting it to protect her from bumping into any of the clutter. Dimly, she senses Matthias grunt as he moves something out of her path before she hits it or it hits her. She keeps her focus on the life signature that shines like a beacon, coming to a stop once they’re in sight of the huddled mass. She opens her eyes and peers into the gloom. 

“We’re here to help you,” Nina says. Her soft voice carries around the large space. She ignores Matthias’s mutter about talking to herself. 

“Who...who are you?” A tremulous voice asks. It sounds younger than Nina expected, more uncertain. She thought a defector would be more hardened, more convinced of their path to go against the Empire in such a way. 

Nina squats down to look at the hunched over figure. Matthias has one hand hovering over his hidden firearm, the other on a dagger. She’s deep in her meditation of the Force and senses no danger from the huddled figure. 

“You’re the pilot, right?” Nina asks instead of answering. 

His eyes look her over, lingering on her and Matthias’s matching robes. “You’re priests?” 

He inches forward. There’s enough light cast on him that his Imperial uniform catches her eye, answering the question he avoids. She smiles softly at him and holds out her hand. Behind her Matthias shifts, disliking her proximity to perceived danger, if she has to guess. 

“Word on the street is you’re a defector. We’re here to help.”  

<hr> 

Wylan doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his life. Which is bizarre because this is a desert planet. You'd think it would be warm but instead he's found himself huddled in dark corners, scavenging like a rat for scraps for the last couple days while he tries to escape notice from the Shu. Jedha was supposed to be a safe haven for him, somewhere the Empire couldn't touch. The Shu had tried to grab him first, had detained him and demanded answers to their questions about the Empire. His protests that he wanted to defect fell on deaf ears. Then they'd dragged him into a cave with a beast they called Bor Gullet. 

It's a blur after that. 

He remembers waking in a cell to garbled words, a blurred hologram of his father glaring disdainfully down at him. A comment about the Empire being grateful to the Shu. Wylan doesn't know how he escaped. There's a memory of loud noise, a flash of heat, and dirt. Then it's all dark and cold. 

He'd avoided people after that, stuck to shadows, and only ventured out when the emptiness of his stomach threatened to eat him from the inside out. 

He doesn't even know how long it's been since he escaped the cell...or was released...he doesn't know. 

Then the woman appeared, like an angel out of the darkness and she promises salvation. 

Wylan knows enough of his father's games not to immediately trust the gesture. "Who are you?"  

“We’re with the Rebellion,” she says with a smile. 

The monk behind her rolls his eyes and turns away. They don’t look like any monks he recognises. The only person he’s heard of who truly follows the old religion is the Darkling and Wylan’s not so unfortunate to have ever seen him in person. “You don’t look like Rebels.” 

“He’s right. We don’t,” the man tells her. 

The woman looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Matthias Helvar.” She turns conspiratorially back to Wylan and there’s a friendly glint in her eye that makes him want to trust her. “Once he was the most devout of you all. Rose through the ranks of the Empire almost as high as they come. You want out of the Empire. We can help.” 

Wylan’s eyes drift over the man’s features and there’s something that reminds him of the way General Brum’s men carry themselves, the elite of the troopers he’s only seen from a distance. Wylan wants to string words together but they slip away like soap and water. 

“Will you come with us?” She prompts, yet again. 

He can’t combine the fears and hopes and questions into coherent sense. All he can do is nod in agreement. Whether they harm him or save him, he’ll be dead or caught if he stays here on his own. He needs allies and he’s not in a mental state where he can do much of anything himself. 

“Good,” she says. She pulls him forward and manhandles Wylan into a monk’s robe over his tattered pilot’s uniform. “I’m Nina. This is Matthias. We’re going to get you out of here alive. Good?” 

Wylan nods. She shoves a basket into his hands and drops additional bits of clutter from the warehouse floor into it. 

“We should be heading back,” Matthias rumbles. 

“Walk between us,” Nina instructs, pulling the hood of his robe up. Matthias mimics the movement. “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk to anyone. Just stay in step with us. We’ll speak for you if it comes to that.” 

Wylan has enough sense to nod along. He knows talking will only give away his current state of complete confusion. He can see the looks Nina and Matthias exchange in response to his silence. He’s not so lost that he doesn’t understand what’s going on but the thoughts take too long to reach his lips and disappear like fragrance on a breeze. 

The ground is dusty and uneven under Wylan’s feet. It captures his attention as he walks, so different from the metal hallways and corridors he’s used to walking.  His feet catch from where they scrape the ground and he tries to tell his body to lift his feet higher, but they don’t seem willing to respond any more than what they do by instinct. When was the last time he walked on anything that wasn’t steel? 

He’s so preoccupied by swirls of dirt that he walks right into a wall. 

Well, not a wall, but the giant monk - Matthias. He bounces off the man’s back, which feels like the equivalent of walking into a wall. The man doesn’t even move in response to him walking into him at full speed, but Wylan almost falls on his butt, and would if it wasn’t for Nina catching him. 

She steps past him to stand next to Matthias. She pushes him further into the shadows behind Matthias as she looks past him to see what’s grabbed his attention. Wylan shuffles sideways and ducks down so he can look around the hulking figures. 

The white helmets break through his current haze and Wylan stumbles backwards. The Storm Troopers followed him. He can’t allow himself to be captured, not after he finally escaped that place and his father’s restrictive control. 

“Wait!” Nina whispers harshly, but Wylan’s body is moving without his consent. The urge to get away is too strong. It drives him, haltingly, step-after-step through twisting and confusing alleyways. He’s not sure where he’s going except away. If he can get to a port, he’s sure he can fly a ship. 

Another flash of white Imperial helmets send him careening in another direction which leads him into a square. The sudden exposure leaves him disoriented and he spins around looking for another exit as a child is ushered into one house and shutters are slammed shut. Wylan gulps. He walks back and turns, running into someone for the second time. This time the person rocks as he crashes into them, but Wylan’s still the one wheeling back. 

He blinks at the man, carrying some sort of stick. He looks like he could belong here except that his eyes are too intent. It’s the kind of gaze you couldn’t stand for too long but are also scared to look away from. It takes him a second to notice the tiny girl at his side. She’s looking around, causally flipping a blade in her hand. The other rests on a blaster. Now that he realized that, Wylan notices the man is also armed. 

“Wylan Van Eck?” The man asks. 

Wylan blinks at him in shock. He’s helpless to do anything but nod. They’re not Empire and they don’t look like the Khergud who grabbed him, so they can’t be that bad. Or at least are likely better than the alternative.  

“Right. Time to be off. Let Jesper know we’ve got the package.” The man turns abruptly. 

Wylan glances at the girl who steps aside and gestures at him to follow. He hasn’t decided if he will when there are footsteps behind him. He twists back to see who’s following and breathes a little easier when the monks appear. Maybe monks are better than whoever the man is.  

Maybe he’s dead anyway. 

“Oh good. You’re here.” The man says. “We can all go then.” 

Nina smirks from where she’s bent over catching her breath. “Nice to see you too, Kaz. Been ages.” 

<hr> 

It’s convenient that they were able to find the pilot and Nina in one place. He would have trouble getting Inej and Jesper out of here with just the pilot. They’d had no communication with Nina, no way to get in contact with her once they were in the atmosphere. Kaz takes it in stride and moves back the way they came. The rest will follow and someone will make sure the pilot comes along with them. 

It would have been a fantastic escape. In and out with no trouble whatsoever. It would have been too lucky for him, so the storm troopers that come streaming racing around the corner where Nina and her friend emerged are hardly a surprise. The real unlucky bit is that they also appear in the two other access points to the square. 

The pilot looks ready to bolt. Nina and the second monk steps forward. Kaz respects the bulk of him and hopes that he’s good in a fight. If it were just him and Inej, they would split up and meet at the rendez-vous. The pilot is going to be the issue. 

“Halt. Surrender or you will be terminated.” 

Inej pushes Wylan behind her and toward Kaz. The boy curls in on himself. How he ever got up the courage to desert the Empire, Kaz hasn’t a clue. Now they just need to get him out of here with whatever valuable knowledge is worth breaking the standoff with the Shu. 

Kaz pushes him into a doorway, out of sight of the blasters. “Stay down.” 

The boy whimpers. 

Nina steps forward, hands raised in a deceptively helpless gesture. “Calm down. We’re all friends here.” 

“Stand down or we will open fire,” the trooper repeats. The entire line readies their weapons. Their blasters might be unreliable and clunky, but with so many firing, they’re bound to hit something. 

“You don’t want to shoot us.” Nina tries again. 

“That’s what you’ve got?” the second monk asks incredulously. 

She glares at him. Kaz watches Inej palm a blade and twirl it effortlessly in one hand. The harsh sunlight glints off the edge of the blade: steel instead of a laser edge many prefer. He knows she likes the way the old fashioned blades feel in her hand. They look like they belong in her grasp. 

Nina steps forward again, closer and closer to the troopers. “You’re not going to shoot us.” 

“Hand over the pilot.” The trooper says. From across the square, Kaz can hear the gun prep to fire. This isn’t working. 

“Yeah. That’s not going to happen,” he drawls from the back of the group. The second monk glares at him, but Kaz just twirls his kane, unbothered. It was going to come down to this anyway. There’s no point holding it off as more backup and fire power arrives to support the troopers. 

Shadows fall across the square and Kaz gets his first look at the notorious Khergud soldiers who have kept Jedha independent for the last two years. “Imperial Troopers. You have no authority in our city. The pilot is ours.” 

Nina, her monk, and Inej grow tense at the new party. Beside him the pilot starts to mutter under his breath, rocking back and forth. 

This actually works to their advantage as the troopers are forced to divert their attention. The Khergud fires directly at the troopers before jumping into the air. The troopers open fire, most on the Khergud, judging them to be the bigger threat. 

Inej seizes the moment to dive forward into the fight, taking out two opponents in moments before she’s engaged by one of the Shu soldiers. She moves like an acrobat, twirling through flailing limbs that breeze past her. She’s a force of nature. 

Kaz is distracted from his awe by a guard landing a few feet away and leaping for Wylan. He dispatches the soldier with a few whacks of his cane. He crumples under a well-placed hit to the temple. 

More troopers race toward the noise. They stop around the corner of an alley, firing from their protective spots and forcing the monk and Kaz to step back to cover. They lob a grenade into the square. Kaz takes two steps forward and hits it back with the metal head of his cane. It soars in a perfect arch back to the troopers, who scramble for cover too late. 

The monk nods in acknowledgment and moves to relieve Nina from her two enemies. Inej falls back as she takes out her opponent and the rest are distracted by Nina and the monk. She moves to stand alongside Kaz, stretching out the muscles she just used as she slips her blades back in their many holsters. The explosion rocks the block which takes out one contingent of troopers but they're met with more troopers and Shu, crawling out of the cracks like cockroaches. 

A moment later shots arc over their heads, rapid fire, each one hitting its target and leaving the recipients incapacitated.  

Kaz relaxes infintestimently. He'd been prepared to dive for cover. His hand twitches toward Inej but he knows she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need him trying to tackle her and throwing off her center of balance.  

A figure emerges along the roofline, a rifle resting against his shoulder. “There were an awful lot of explosions for people who were supposed to be blending in.” 

“I hope you’ve got an exit plan, Brekker,” Nina says. She diverts to the Imperial pilot after a glance at the monk. 

He nods and moves for the alley. “This way.” He glances at Inej and up at the roofline. She nods and follows his tacit directions. Kaz leaves her to do what she does best: cover them from the shadows. 

Kaz walks with purpose through the streets. Now that fighting has broken out, it appears that no one is holding back. Shu are fighting stormtroopers, troopers are fighting the Khergud and civilians are running for cover. Jesper’s  and Inej’s shadows move with them. The monk - who Kaz Brekker suspects is the Druskelle Nina mentioned before she went dark - leads the charge, with his long legs that eat up the ground in long strides. Nina covers their escape with a simple bo staff. 

“Where are we going?” The monk asks as he fires off a round of shots. 

“Left!” Jesper shouts as he crashes to the ground on the back of a Khergud soldier. “I don’t know why we ever thought this was going to be a quiet mission. And I still say we need a demolition expert.” 

“We’re spies, Jesper,” Kaz growls over the sound of battle. 

Jesper shoots him a cocky grin over his shoulder. “But this is so much more fun.” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” the monk mutters. 

“Kaz.” 

He looks sideways, unsurprised to find Inej at his shoulder, silent as always. He follows her gaze upwards and nearly stumbles to a stop. “Jedha doesn’t have a moon.” 

Nina and the monk stumble to a stop. Jesper glances up for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It appeared out of nowhere. It’s too big to be a ship but moons don’t move.” 

“That’s it,” Wylan whispers. The pilot suddenly jolts into motion. “We have to go. Now!” 

Kaz is forced into an ungainly run. He tries not to notice Inej hovering at his elbow, keeping pace with him as they race toward the ship. The Imperial pilot is ahead of them all, heedless of laser bolts. Jesper yanks him back by the collar to direct him to the correct ship. 

As he reaches the ramp, Kaz starts to hear screams. 

“Jesper, get us out of here!” Kaz yells. Inej hits the control to shut the ramp as Jesper guns the engine. 

“What do you think I’m doing, Brekker? Buckle up. This ride’s about to get bumpy.” 

<hr> 

The whole world has turned upside down. Matthias isn’t sure what he’s doing, to be perfectly honest. Staying with Nina was a mutually beneficial proposition. They were stuck on a foreign planet, where the only people they could trust were each other. He’d become accustomed to their partnership and been shocked by how much he relied upon her. Now, looking at this ragtag group - so different from the ordered discipline of the elite Druskelle guard - Matthias is at a loss for how the Resistance has managed to become a thorn in the Empire’s side. 

He will admit that they were, like Nina, surprisingly capable and effective. However, he can’t hide how scandalized he is by their lack of any sort of recognizable chain of command. The trio moves like his old unit in that they’re so familiar with each other, they don’t need to shout out commands. But their actions of Jedha display an alarming disregard for a cohesive plan and seem to thrive on the chaos of the moment. 

“What was that?!” The boy with the cane asks, turning around to stare at the group before his eyes zero in on the unfortunate pilot. 

Matthias hasn’t gotten much from the boy, except that he stepped back from the fighting yet was clearly capable of surviving physical confrontation. Nina and his two companions seemed to defer to him as some sort of leader, which spoke to a sharp mind. Nina called him Kaz, which would indicate one of the high level members of Rebel Intelligence. He’s heard him referenced as a nightmare or a demon, spoken of in whispers and myths more than anything else. 

All in all: Matthias expected someone older. 

“That was the Death Star,” Wylan whispers. His eyes look haunted. 

Matthias frowns. “Impossible.” He starts when five sets of eyes jerk towards him in the silence of hyperspace. He grits his teeth. The word wasn’t supposed to be spoken out loud. “They’re decades away from creating that technology.” 

Wylan is shaking his head. “No. They found a scientist. Got him to create what they needed. I...I was able to get away. To warn the Rebellion. It’s a planet killer.” 

“A planet killer?” The small girl repeats. 

“Is that even possible?” Nina glances at him for confirmation. Matthias has no answer. It was only an idea when he was with the Druskelle last. Brum used to talk about it, but it was never close to a reality. Not then. 

“Why don’t you ask Jedha?” Kaz says. 

“We don’t know that it destroyed the whole planet,” the small girl points out. 

The boy doesn’t look away from where he stares out the window at the white streaks of stars passing in hyperspace. “At the very least, we know it destroyed the city. If the Empire has a weapon like that, we’re left defenseless.” 

“That’s why I was sent to find you,” Wylan says. He freezes when all eyes turn to him and he curls in on himself from his spot beside the pilot. Matthias has spent years in Imperial bases and has no idea how this pilot managed to get into the program, let alone became important enough to have access to this top secret project. It seems highly suspect to him. 

“Sent?” The boy asks, finally turning so his whole body faces the pilot. Matthias does have to admit he cuts an intimidating figure even as he leans on his cane. 

The pilot swallows. “The scientist. I was supposed to get to a contact they had with the Rebellion. There was someone I was supposed to connect with...the Wraith? But I got redirected…” He frowns. The more the pilot seems to search for words, the harder they seem to come. 

Matthias has seen this before. “He was captured by the Khergud. They most likely probed his mind using Bor Gullet. That’s how they dealt with any Imperial or Rebel spies they found.” He leans back against the steel hull. It actually feels good to be back in space again after being grounded for so long. 

It feels like freedom. 

The boy looks at Nina. She nods in confirmation. “It’s true. We only escaped detection because of the temple.” 

“Because all she would talk about was the Force,” Matthias mutters. He adjusts his muscles so they’re loose and he can react in an instant if needed. Nina drops into the space beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow as she settles in like a cat that can get comfortable anywhere. 

“I saved your life,” she says without opening her eyes. 

He grunts and doesn’t let his smile emerge.  

“The Wraith,” Kaz repeats, focusing on Wylan again. “What were you supposed to tell them?”

Wylan still looks nervous. “Well, I was supposed to pass on...a message...There’s a way to destroy it. A weakness.” 

“A weakness?” 

Wylan yanks at his hair. It’s useless to try to force him to remember more in his state. Matthias watches the trio of rebels to see what they’ll do at this obstacle. 

“He didn’t tell me,” Wylan whispers, clearly realizing this might not endear him to his rescuers at this point. “I was supposed to...bring someone back. They wanted...they wanted someone to rescue them, and they would share the weakness. I was just supposed to be the messenger. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 

Kaz scowls and glances at the girl who looks at the man in the pilot’s seat, all having some sort of silent conversation. Matthias watches the interaction with interest.  

“Where is this base?” Kaz finally moves closer, crouching so he can look Wylan in the eyes. 

“Eadu.” 

Matthias vaguely recalls the outpost. Far from most of the known universe, it’s one of the Empire’s research bases. There’s not a huge platoon placed there for protection. It’s a secret base, kept out of the way, and by necessity sees few changes in personnel. There were a couple training missions on the planet to diversify the team’s experiences and analyze security procedures. 

“We don’t have anyone on Eadu,” the girl notes. 

“Because Eadu’s on lockdown. Nothing in or out that isn’t high level.” The boy flying the craft throws over his shoulder. “Out of the flight academy, I only stopped there once because they needed a supply run immediately. They didn’t even let me off the shuttle. To be a pilot there, you’d have to have some pretty impressive clearance.” 

Matthias alters his assessment of the crew that got them off Jedha. To get through the Imperial Flight Academy is impressive. The man also demonstrated impressive aim and combat skills. Despite not being highly regimented, they do appear to be a solid team. He glances down at Nina. 

“So in order to get the information on the weakness, we have to go to Eadu,” the girl says. She’s twirling a knife in her hands, one with a true steel blade like he hasn’t seen in ages. Her comfort with it is another mark in their favor. 

“Jesper’s right. It’s impenetrable. We haven’t managed to get anyone on the inside.” Kaz taps his fingers on the head of his cane. 

“So we go.” The girl shrugs. “We redirect. We need to find a way to beat this thing or millions more are going to die.” 

“Procedure is to report for further orders. We’ve got the pilot.” Kaz looks at her with a heavy look. 

“Matthias can help.” Nina elbows him as she speaks up. 

He scowls down at her as everyone turns to stare at him. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes to betray him. 

“I’m not a traitor.” Matthias glares at the lot of them. 

“You’ll help,” Nina says with a self-assuredness he’s come to hate over the last couple of years. Because as irksome as it is, she’s usually right about these things. They both know it. 

“We’re supposed to just trust a stranger on your word?” Jesper asks. 

“Get twisted, Fahey. You know my word is good.” 

Kaz and the woman - whose name Matthias still doesn’t know - have another silent conversation. She turns to look at him, her eyes speculative. Kaz leans closer to her. “You think you can do this?” 

She doesn’t take his eyes from Matthias. Her knives continue the casual twisting in her hand. She shrugs and looks back at the mastermind. “It is our kind of job.” 

Kaz nods. “Jesper, alter course. Van Eck, help get him close without being seen. Matthias, you need to tell us everything you know, and quickly.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life very unpleasant.” 

“How do you even know the pilot is right? How do you know there really is a weakness? This could be a trap.” It sounds like the kind of thing Jarl Brum would think up to capture Rebel spies.

“Faith,” Nina says. “This is the right choice.” She finally sits up and stretches. 

Matthias rolls his eyes at her religious display. He sighs. “I can tell you what I know. It could still be a trap.” 

“The pilot is Wylan Van Eck. He’s on my list of potential informants. He became an Imperial pilot because of familial connections. It’s how he has access to sensitive information. We know they’re working on something on Eadu. If this is what he says, then we need that information.” The girl explains it in an even voice. 

“And if there isn’t a secret weakness?” 

Kaz and Inej exchange a long look.  

“Then we find another way to blow it up,” Jesper supplies. 

Matthias isn’t sure he likes the looks of glee on their faces. 

“So how do we get in?” 

The girl turns to look at Matthias, her dark eyes just the slightest bit terrifying now that he’s actually getting a good chance to size her up. She tends to fade into the background and let her comrades take charge, but definitely is not to be underestimated. He stares at her and then glances at Kaz. 

“Inej is a ghost,” Nina says. “She can get in and out without anyone noticing.” 

He looks her over, still assessing. This moment, more than any in the last two years of surviving, feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff. The last two years he could justify to his superiors: he was surviving a hostile planet, he had to get close to Nina or he would have died, he was trying to learn the secrets of the Rebel scum. This was different. If he does this, he’s helping the Rebel cause. He’s actively going against everything he’s ever learned.

Nina hits him in the shoulder, as if sensing his internal conflict. She twists upright to look at him and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

He can hear her voice in his head, berating him for his strict no-nonsense rules and his consuming hatred for anything that goes against the order of the Empire. There were countless debates as they marched through Jedha, each an intellectual exercise. He can honestly say that he doesn’t believe the Empire is never wrong, but is that enough to make him give up their secrets? 

“They murdered everyone in Jedha,” she whispers to him softly. “Lin, Mauri, Katya…” She closes her eyes against the pain. 

He wants to wrap her in his arms and pull her close. Nina feels everything so deeply, unable to stop herself from connecting with everyone she meets. He wants to protect from that pain, to comfort her. Those lives lost today. They were innocents. People that should have been protected and instead… 

He opens his eyes and nods his agreement to Nina. 

She grins, life and joy filling her back up as she bounces around in her seat, the way she gets excited whenever they found something reasonably sweet on Jedha. “Matthias meet Inej. Inej, meet Matthais. He’s a little shy but he knows what’s at stake.”

It’s like shedding a piece of armor or throwing off the last vestiges of who he once was. There’s no turning back now, and he has surprisingly little regret as he opens his eyes and asks the first damning question: “Where do you want to start?”

... 

Look out for Part II on 9/9!