#these luxurious drapes will be no different from rags????

[amora-ledezma]

King Of My Heart

Warnings: Mentioned Cheating

Genre: Established Relationship, Misunderstanding, Angst/Reverse Comfort, Fluff at the end

Song lyrics will be at the end of this post

Synopsis: (Based on the King Of Hearts being beheaded because the Queen of Hearts suspected him of being unfaithful to her) She’s done it. Riddle’s mother has finally gotten him to doubt you. It’s up to you to assure him.

Or, the one time Riddle’s mind got plagued with doubt and the umpteenth time you remind him he’s your everything.

»»—————————　🥀　——————————-««

She’s done it. The wrench had finally done it.

Riddle’s mother has planted enough doubt into her son’s mind to drive him paranoid.

She’s planted enough doubt in his mind to make him believe you weren’t happy with him. He believed you wanted anyone else.

She’s made him believe you’d turn around and run into the arms of the nonexistent person he believed you were cheating with.

Moments molted into hours. You mind was running so unbearably fast that you can’t even finish one thought without another coming through right away.

You remember the angry sound of his shoes against the marble floor. The way the doors slammed open to reveal him.

Riddle, with his face painted red with rage and… tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be angry or cry.

Worried, you asked him what was wrong.

“Y—YOU KNAVE!” He marched up to you, hiccuping from the tears running down his face.

“YOU UNFAITHFUL,” He had grabbed you by the collar and dragged your face to be right in front of his.

“SWINE!” Riddle bellowed, the hand that grabbed your collar trembled. Even with what he thinks you’ve done, he can’t bring himself to hurt you.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY AND MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME?!” You worriedly tried calming him down, you tried to wipe his tears, just for your hands to be slapped away like they’ve touched blood as velvet as his hair. But most of all, you were preparing for the inevitable.

“I’VE OUGHT TO CLEAVE OFF YOUR HEAD RIGHT HERE AND NOW!” He said, reaching for his pen.

You stand there in shock and disbelief. You ask him what was he talking about. “SO NOW YOU DECIDE TO ACT AS IF YOU’RE INNOCENT! YOU’VE BEEN OUT AND ABOUT, PULLING MY DORM MEMBERS ALONG!”

He took a deep breath. Then another. A million more. Then he spoke, more composed.

“Now tell me,” He said, suddenly calm.

He didn’t think you were worth even being angry at anymore.

And it was somehow me terrifying than his earlier outburst. At first, he just seemed irrationally angry, but now? He looks absolutely heart broken. And you think your heart might have broken too from the mere sight.

“Who’s the man you managed to bewitch? Might it be Spade?” He asked, letting out a scoff, you notice his fingers turn white as he gripped his pen too tightly.

“Trapolla?” He looks away, jaw clenched.

“The Seven forbid, was it Clover?” He started trembling again.

Your world shattered. You loved him more than life himself and there he was, accusing you becoming unfaithful.

Then the realization dawned on you.

His mother. His wretched mother—

You had just met her last week, and saying she didn’t like you was an enormous understatement.

But even if she did cause this, the fact that he was convinced in 5 days at most told you: you were severely lacking in proving he was all that mattered to you.

“Riddle.” You wince, it came out harsher than intended.

“How could I throw away the loyalty I swore to you the day we got together? The loyalty I swore to you when we decided that we’d be richer than any royalty upon a golden throne so long as we have each other? Now that I’ve realized how I haven’t been able to prove my devotion to you,” you linger on the revelation.

“I don’t know what to do with myself.” You laugh humorlessly at your faults.

“Sometimes you feel like a full on rain storm and I’m merely a house of cards.” You cautiously reach out to him, slowly as to give him the chance to back away.

“Riddle, King of my heart, my body and soul.” He didn’t back away, you rub his cheek tenderly; you were glad you were slowly easing away his doubt.

“Nothing can challenge my devotion to you, love.” Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“How can I be sure you mean every single word you say? How can I be sure you aren’t saying these words just to continue your…affair?” His eyes became cold again.

.

.

.

“I think beheading me would be too light of a punishment. Death would be too merciful.” You say, eyes downcast.

“If you wish to inflict pain onto me, leave my life and I will cease to live.” You breathe out.

“These luxurious drapes would be no different from rags, the golden pieces I wear would be no different from insignificant stones under your shoes.” Tears started pooling around your eye line at the thought of him leaving you.

“I’ve made you my temple, my mural, my sky.” The tears started falling. You desperately wish you could stop them.

“You are free to so what you want with me.” You grab his hand and pull it closer to you.

“But that will not stop me from begging you not to leave.” Your lip trembled.

“Please.” You plead.

“Riddle, every breathe that leave my lips, every beat of my heart, every. Single. Thing I do is yours.” You’re on your knees now, you don’t remember when you dropped to your knees but you don’t care.

“I am yours. Yours to keep,” you take a shaky breath.

“…and yours to lose.” Your voice breaks as you cry into the hand you grabbed.

You feel something trickle onto your intertwined hands.

You look up and see Riddle’s face painted with tears again.

Only this time, it wasn’t accompanied by anger.

“D-do you truly-?” The dam broke, the onslaught of his tears didn’t seem to have the intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I d-do not know what came over me.” He said, his voice teary and shaky.

He dropped to come face to face with you.

“Riddle. Every word I have said came straight from my heart.” You say, laughing a bit through your tears.

“Dearest, I truly am sorry for my behavior, I-!” Another sniff, he wiped a sleeve over his face.

Without another word you pull his head into your lap. He started telling you what his mother said, how she commented on every relationship you had with anyone who wasn’t him, how utterly stupid he felt he actually convinced himself you were being unfaithful to him!

He chattered on, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to have your lover back. Instead, you listened attentively. Nodding along and humming.

The floor was cold, but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter. Nothing ever did when you were together.

.

.

.

*

“Riddle?”

“Yes, dearest?”

“I love you. You ought to know and remember that, hm?”

He laughed. A boyish, melodic laugh.

And by The Seven, you think you fell deeper.

“Yes, dearest. I’m sorry once again.”

“You’re forgiven…if you stay for a bit and cuddle with me.”

“It would certainly be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Ugh.”

A giggle.

The cuddling session in your bed was well worth the fight you two resolved a few hours before.

Yes, hours. You found that when given the chance, Heartslabyul’s Dormleader, Riddler Rosehearts, can and will talk one’s ear off.

It was quite endearing.

»»—————————　🥀　——————————-««

List of songs: King Of My Heart(“king of my heart, my body and soul”), Tolerate it(“I’ve made you my temple, my mural, my sky”), Sparks Fly(“The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm and I’m a house of cards”) all songs by Taylor Swift

[lerikwrites]

Linens

[A snippet of a possible series of one-shots about LU Wild being trans and dealing with a sudden and completely unexpected "cycle". Tw: dysphoria, mentions of unsafe binding, internalized transphobia, and uncomfortably feminine coded words for periods]

It had to be some sort of sick joke. An impossibly personal final “fuck you” delivered by the Goddesses. Wild scowls at his reflection in the river in front of him. The reflection staring back at him is just as angry, but the low light made it difficult to tell if his face had softened its angles. Tilting his head to one side and then another he scrutinizes the curve of his jaw. It isn’t noticeable, he tells himself, at least not enough that anyone has commented on it, yet. With a huff he scrubs the last of the thick, dark blood a little too forcibly out of the linen rags and wrings them as dry as he can. They are still too damp to store and he doesn’t have the luxury of hanging them with the rest of The Chain’s laundry. He squints up at the trees swaying above him in the twilight breeze before scrambling up the nearest trunk to drape them across the most hidden branch. Not as sanitary, but much less likely to be accidentally discovered by a team member. They had set up camp earlier in the evening before Wild slipped away to attend to his new Old Problem.

-

Two days ago he found himself staring at the red spots in his trousers in shock. They had stopped at an inn and Wild was thanking every deity he could name for having privacy in his panic, then cursed them all back over for bringing back one last memory. Womanhood. Memories of painful wrappings rubbing his chest raw on training days, washing bloody linens in secret, and Robbie’s intense scrutiny of the scars on his chest were now colored with a context he wished he had never recovered. That pitying look Flora had once given him when he asked why he was allowed to be her personal guard unchaperoned and her refusal to give a straight answer suddenly made more sense. She must have known, but who else did? Wild sat there frozen as each spiraling thought brought flashes of Before showing him the deal he made with the Royal Guard when it was found out that he had joined with a false identity. The lengths he went through to never speak aloud lest he accidentally reveal again the terrible secret that should have gotten him discharged from the Royal Guard or even killed if it weren’t for his skill and reputation. He touched the scars of his chest through his shirt and felt the edges of another missing memory fraying at the ends of his thoughts. The frustration that there was somehow still more his mind was hiding from him made him ache. Wild had never joined the rest of The Chain in a public bath so the differences between his body and theirs never came up. Why he couldn’t stand the thought of being bare in the water was written away as anxiety left over from the Shrine of Resurrection. He hadn’t pressed the issue, so they didn’t either. All of them have enough trauma and triggers to know when to simply let certain things be. It was a fuzzy wrongness that left him to slip away and wash alone when he needed to. It was too much all at once and the wave of shame, fear, guilt, and the exhaustion of a lifetime of hiding pulled tears into his eyes and constricted his chest. With shaking hands he frantically swiped through the inventory on the Sheikah Slate to look for something, anything he could use to hide away what he knew would be coming in the next few days. In a group of men, he flinched at the thoughts curling at the edges of his mind, there was no need for supplies for a "woman’s" bleeding. Using medical wrappings felt wrong but there was no other option available. Maybe the woman who had checked them in had supplies for guests? Wild took in a deep steadying breath and gathered himself back up to exit the toilets behind the bathhouse. He passed a sunny Wind on the way and forced a tight-lipped smile at the pirate. Wind’s own smile faltered but Wild walked faster before he could ask any questions. The rest of The Chain were bathing without him as usual so he should have enough time to find a solution before anyone noticed anything amiss. He made his way to the inn’s counter and waited awkwardly while the young woman from before helped an elderly couple check in. He rehearsed his question over and over in his head in an attempt to calm his nerves, yet felt them tick up at every repetition. When the couple stepped away Wild lurched forward to the counter’s edge a little too quickly and the woman took a step back in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled and forced himself to meet the woman’s eyes.

“What can I do for ya?” she pulled on a barely-there customer service smile. It was already getting late and she looked tired. 

Wild tried to smile back at her and placed his hands on the counter to keep from fidgeting before he spoke, “Do you have, ah, linens?”

“Linens?” she tilted her head, “Did your room not have the proper bedding?”

“No, no,” Wild quickly scanned the room to see if Wind had decided to follow him. He paused and waited for the elderly couple to step out of earshot. “Linens,” he repeats quietly with a deep flush, “for bleeding.”

The woman’s eyes widened, “Are you injured, sir?!”

Wild flushed deeper and fought the urge to not duck behind the front of the counter, “No! For, uh,” he floundered for a moment as she looked him over from across the counter with concern, “linens for women’s…needs.”

She blinked at him and her face went through a series of expressions that Wild did not like. Confusion, calculation, and finally settling on distrust. “But your party is made up of men and boys,” she stated and narrowed her eyes.

“She’s coming later,” Wild blurted out.

“She can get them herself when she checks in tomorrow morning.”

“She’s coming tonight,” Wild’s voice raised slightly higher in pitch in his panic.

The woman crossed her arms, brows drawn together in outrage and lips downturned in disgust, “You have a woman coming into this establishment, to join a group of men. Tonight.” Each part of her statement was punctuated with sharp consonants and gritted teeth. Wild’s face paled and eyes widened when he realized the many layers of insinuation being woven into the statements passed between them. His eyes darted around the room once more and he pulled his hands back off the countertop. The woman waited with a tapping foot and a snarl that was growing by the second.

Wild dumped an obscene amount of rupees onto the counter between them, “Please,” he begged, at a loss to find any words that would make the situation any better. The conversation was going worse in ways he simply could not keep up with and he was getting desperate.

“Double it,” she snapped, “I’m the one who has to clean your rooms tomorrow.” They stared each other down for a few moments before he crumpled and complied.

Wild winced at the growing pile of money and threw an opal on top for good measure. With an incredulous scoff she stashed the rupees and gem in a drawer and glared at him again before throwing a handful of fabric at his face, “Never come back here again, you hear? And you better clean up after yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Wild squeaked and ducked his head.

“Get outta my sight.”

“Yes, ma’am”

The young woman’s jaw dropped, “Not a ma’am!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Excuse me?!”

Wild ran out the room.

-

[parasite-core]

hey! this is chance & here’s the prompt for week 6. what are your oc's bedrooms like? messy? neat? carefully designed? or a collection of their favorite things? you can verbally describe or use photos, whatever you think is best.

Hi Chance! Thanks as always for the fun prompt 😊

I especially like this one because I do think about what a lot of my OCs bedrooms look like but I rarely get to talk about it~

Roland: he created his room personalized when he made his demiplane, the Shining Cathedral, so his room very much reflects his tastes. There’s a large stained glass window of a rising phoenix that opens out to a balcony, a four poster bed with delicate light blue fabric draped from it. The ceiling has a mosaic of another phoenix, set flying against a brilliant sun. He has a desk covered primarily in books and paperwork generally, and a small silver wyvern figurine he picked up in a dragon’s lair during his adventures.

Sai: only recently got a room of her own in Korvosa so she hasn’t had a chance to really personalize it yet. She has a few ragged stuffed animals and dolls she’s picked up during her adventures and patched up, a simple bed, and some animal pelts.

Kiyo: much like Sai their room in the shared home in Korvosa is not very personalized yet. They generally share Lalaith’s room, and keep a few easy to transport alchemical tools there. Their actual home looks a bit like a hoarder’s den due to their century living there and just naturally accumulating things. There’s just a general sense of clutter, at least in the upstairs rooms, they keep the downstairs better maintained as that’s where patients typically are treated. Their bedroom is a bit like Howl’s from Howl’s Moving Castle, just miscellaneous stuff collected from over the years everywhere. Lalaith has determined she is going to help them declutter.

Calio: his room in the Dancing Hut was created to his preferences, so it’s gothic styled with high vaulted ceilings and lit by sconces along the walls that are stylized coming out of skulls. There are large windows covered by thick black drapes which overlook a snowy landscape outside (all illusory since they’re in the Dancing Hut). His bed is extremely large (*specifically* large enough for a winter wolf in their wolf form to fit comfortably with a human also on the bed), it’s a four poster with silky black sheets and an excessive number of black and red pillows. On the wall behind the bed is a large painting of an icy landscape with a full moon and an aurora across the sky. He has a book shelf with reading material and a few trinkets. Most importantly, in the mouth of a skull on one of the shelves is a button that makes the bookshelf open, revealing his hidden alters to Norgorber and Urgathoa.

In Grimm Labyrinthus Calio’s room is nearly identical to his room in the Dancing Hut, except the windows all reveal a landscape from different places Calio has been on his journeys: overlooking Rasputin’s prison camp in Russia with the spectral cathedral finally bound to the material plane, a dark icy landscape with a fortress in the distance that Dragonkin swoop in and out of on Triaxus, the bone covered gateway to Whitethrone where he first met Greta, a clearing in Taldor with a portal looming ahead spewing Irriseni winter cold all around.

Draven: she lived in barracks for the last year so she didn’t have the luxury of decorating, and she had to keep her quarters up to a certain standard. Since retiring with Leto and building their own home together, she’s had to figure out what she likes after years of just focusing on being Iomedae’s sword and shield and little else. She keeps some house plants in their room to brighten things up, although she is not very good at keeping them alive. She and Leto both keep their personal weapons and armor stored close at hand—just incase. Their bed is simple, just a regular bed large enough for both of them, nothing fancy, not a four poster or anything like that. Not that they didn’t at least consider a four poster bed, but Draven might have pointed out she’d probably break the posts during *certain* activities given her let’s say above average strength. Leto has a number of figurines on display—Draven thinks they’re cute (and that Leto’s cute when he gets all info dumpy about them). They also have at least one cat, and have little ledges/shelves built for the cat to jump up onto at various points around the walls.

[kevinszabojrplumbing]

Fabric to Have in Your Home At All Times

You know that fabric is the backbone of any well-designed space. Whether for crafting, mending, or decorating, having a variety of fabrics on hand allows you to change the look and feel of your home instantly. As an avid DIYer, you understand the importance of keeping your fabric stash stocked for any project that sparks your creativity.

Here are the essential fabrics you should always keep in your supply closet to whip up anything – from ancient pillows to complete upholstery makeovers. Get ready to refresh your space instantly; thanks to these versatile textiles, you'll turn to time and time again.

 The Role of Fabric in Your Home

Fabric plays a vital role in interior design and creating a cozy home. Having a variety of materials on hand allows you to make quick changes that transform the look and feel of any room.

From upholstery and drapes to bedding, the fabric you choose has a huge impact. Natural fibers like cotton and linen are lightweight, breathable, and perfect for casual, relaxed spaces.

Wool is ideal for warmth and works well for winter accessories. Silk, on the other hand, brings luxury and sheen.

 Fabrics to Have on Hand at All Times

Fabric is essential in any home; you use it to upholster furniture, make curtains and bedding, sew clothing, and craft decorations. Having a variety of fabrics on hand allows you to easily change up your space or make something by hand when inspiration strikes.

Consider having these fabrics:

Denim

Denim is a durable cotton twill perfect for placemats, rag rugs, upholstery, and jeans. Vintage denim with fraying edges adds rustic charm.

 Linen

Linen is a breathable natural fiber perfect for warm weather. It's crisp, airy and relaxed. Linens are perfect for curtains, tablecloths, and upholstery. The looser weaves mean it wrinkles easily, but that's part of linen's casual charm.

 Felt

Thick felt is fabulous for rugs, chair pads, and crafts. Wool felt is the warmest, but you can also find felt made of recycled materials.

 Cotton

Cotton is a natural fiber that's breathable and soft. It's ideal for sheets, towels, t-shirts, and more. Look for high thread count cotton sheets and towels for extra softness.

 Flannel

Soft, warm flannel is ideal for pajamas, robes, blankets, and plaid shirts. Cotton flannel gets softer with each wash. Use flannel for cozy layers in chillier weather or chilly rooms.

What you'll want to know about different fabrics is how much they shrink, fade, pill or wrinkle. Pre-wash fabric before sewing to avoid surprises. Consider a fabric's durability and care requirements before using it in high-traffic or outdoor areas.

With a selection of fabrics at your fingertips, you'll be inspired to create comfortable styling items for your home. So start collecting, get sewing, and make your space cozy.

 What to Know About Different Types of Fabric

To make a house into a home, fabric plays an essential role. Having certain materials on hand always allows you to spruce up any space quickly. Here's what you need to know about different types of fabric.

 1.      Cotton

Considered one of the most popular materials on the phase of the earth, cotton is a light and natural fabric. This feathery fiber is plucked out from the seeds of the cotton plant through ginning.

Cotton boasts of durability, versatility, and comfort. It can be easily found in almost any clothing: dresses, shirts, underwear, etc. Cotton also yields several fabrics, including chintz, muslin, and chino.

 2.      Leather

You've probably heard of leather, but do you know how it is made? Leather, at its core, is a type of fabric made from the hides and skins of animals, including pigs, cows, lambs, and crocodiles. No matter the type of animal skin used, it will always need various treatment methods. It is well-known for its durability, wrinkle-resistant, and stylish abilities.

 3.      Satin 

Satin, surprisingly enough, is not made from fiber. It is one of the three significant textile weaves made when each strand is well-knitted. Initially, it was made from silk; however, these days, it can be made from wool, cotton, and polyester. It is matte on one side and glossy and slippery on the other.

 4.      Silk

Silk is considered one of the most luxurious natural fabrics. It is a soft fabric with a shimmering look and smooth feel. It comes from the silkworms in South Asia, China, and Europe cocoon.

Moreover, silk should be a top priority if you ever need a durable, hypoallergenic and robust fabric. This fabric is mainly used in shirts, wedding gowns, lingerie, scarves, ties, and suits.

Other fabrics include synthetics, linen, denim, lace, crepe, and chiffon.

 Final Remarks

Fabric does so much to make a space cozy and livable, providing warmth, decoration, or functionality. Have a selection of natural and synthetic materials to prepare for any project - you'll be glad you did. Now, get out there and start creating! Make pillows, repurpose old clothes into cleaning rags, sew curtains or a quilt. The possibilities are endless once you have the suitable materials. What will you make first?

 Written by Taylor McKnight, Author for Rocky Woods

[honeesucker]

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto Kōtarō x F!omega reader

Genre: A/B/O AU 🐾 | Smut, 18+ // minors DNI!

WC: 3,057

My whole body was shivering despite it being a sweltering sunny day, my mind was hazy and clouded with the need to submit to an Alpha. 

To be overtaken, pounded into until I was a dumb mess of omega mush and knotted until I was fat with pups.

Fucking hormones and omega instincts.

Fucking expired heat suppressants.

Stupid fucking idiot me for not noticing until it was too late.

My rational mind fought off the swarm of nuisance thoughts as I hurried my way back to my apartment carefully avoiding anyone’s gaze, suffocating my scent glands in a thick hooded sweater and scarf I had kept at the bakery for the unexpected colder days. It didn’t do much to ward off the curious glances and sniffs from the passing Alphas and others on the street, but luckily none acted on instincts, I didn’t stick around long enough to trigger anything in them.

My thighs were sticking together uncomfortably beneath my summer dress as the slick pooled in my panties and ran down the sides. The friction against my sensitive core only added to the ache, and I had to fight every ounce of instinct in me to hold back the whimpers, to not just fall on the ground and present myself to the next suitable Alpha that crossed my path.

I just needed to get home unscathed and get on my pharmacy app to order a fresh batch of suppressants, wait out a week for them to take full affect and I’ll be good to return to my normal, uncomplicated life.

I had been lucky in avoiding anymore people. No one was waking along the final stretch that led to my apartment building; a high-rise nestled just outside of the main district of downtown but still fairly luxurious for an apartment building. After a rough time in my earlier years out on my own, I decided once my bakery was successful enough I would splurge and put myself in a comfortable apartment with extra building security for my own peace of mind. I made my way to the door where the Beta doorman was waiting with it open for me, smiling until he caught the edge of my currently overwhelming scent.

“Quick, quick in miss Y-N,” Ferris ushered me through the door and shut it behind us. Walking me to the empty elevator and pushed my floor, nearly the top, at 27 of 35. “You shouldn’t be out wandering around in such a state, it isn’t safe for you!” The older man patted my hands in his with a worried expression. I just smiled and nodded along to his worrying over me.

“I know Mr. Ferris,” I sighed, “there was an unfortunate mishap with my medication so I’m gonna be staying cooped up for a bit.” He just nodded and ushered me along, and I gave a small wave and smile as the doors closed and he gave me one final wave off. I sighed, releasing the death grip I had on the jacket around me, still covering my scent glands as best as I could, but not with so much force around my throat. I’m surprised I didn’t pass out from self-asphyxiation on the way home.

After a few minutes in the elevator my floor was finally reached with a gentle ding! and I was hurrying out into the hall to make sure I was alone. With no one around I felt safe enough to walk briskly to my apartment without any further paranoia. I was reaching my door, just about to press in my key code and slink into a week of needy depression when I heard the door slighty adjacent to mine across the hall open behind me. 

My whole body froze like a bunny caught in a wolf’s gaze.

Fuck.

“Hey hey hey, my sweet little Y/N!” A bright, jovial baritone rang out behind me, and soon I felt the looming presence of the man I feared most coming into contact with at this very moment right at my back. The immense heat radiating off of him in waves with his sweet, clean scent with mint, along with a headier male musk underneath. “You’re home early! Sorry to be a pest but did you bring any pastries home with you? I have such an awful craving right now and-” my kind, handsome neighbor regarded me silently, and what I didn’t see were his sweet golden eyes darkening to a dangerous lustful shade as he leant forward and took a gentle sniff in. A ragged breath leaving his chest as he inched forward just enough for me to feel his clothing ghosting against my back. “Y/N? Are you okay? You smell.... you s-smell so good. Different,” he slurred behind me, leaning down to rub his cheek against the top of my head and nose my hair as he took in deeper breaths. I was completely frozen, in fear or need... I couldn’t decide.

Maybe both.

When my neighbor let out a deep, rumbling groan from inside his chest I leant more towards need in my current aching state as I instinctively pressed my body back against his. “Y-Y/N you shouldn’t be out right n-now in your state s’not safe y’know...” his voice trailed off, a pained mixture of a whimper and a growl leaving his chest as I reached forward and punched in my key code to my apartment.

“Ko,” I heard the Alpha behind me purr as his name slipped from my mouth, my voice and body trembling. “I had a bit of a setback as you can tell, so no pastries today,” the whimper that left him made my cheeks warm because it wasn’t hormonal, it was just Bokuto being a pouty baby who wanted a soft bread or sweet cake.

“Mm s’okay Y/N...” Bokuto’s voice trailed off as he placed his large hands on my hips, palms swallowing my sides and pressing tightly into the plush flesh, fingers gripping down with a bruising force. He was leaning forward and placing soft kisses along my shoulder and up my neck until he licked a small strip up along where my scent glands were and I couldn’t stop the full-body shudder than shook me. “D-do you want me to stop?” His voice was a whisper, still heavy with need but more Bokuto than Alpha was talking to me. I shook my head, stepping into my apartment and allowing the Alpha to come in with me, slipping out of our shoes in a tangled mess of legs, and laughing as Bokuto hastily locked the door behind him.

“I know we’re both kind of teetering on the edge of control right now,” Bokuto continued gently, hands still gripping my sides tightly as he allowed me to set my things down on the bench in my entryway. A low growl leaving him when I almost slipped out of his hold. “But I need to know it’s not just your omega pushing you into this Y/N. I’ve admired you since I first met you, wanted you,” Bokuto was peppering my neck and the side of my face with butterfly kisses, “but if you tell me to stop, to leave... I will. Nothing will change between us if you put up a boundary for yourself right now but everything will change for the worse if you force yourself into something you don’t want...” I couldn’t believe the articulated thoughts of pure, sweet kindness coming out of Bokuto’s mouth but I was so happy to hear them. I’ve had such a huge crush on my long-time Alpah neighbor since he came knocking on my door one late evening when I was testing recipes, a mess of apologies and need as he caught a whiff of the new cakes I was trying to perfect and the poor thing had just returned home from an away game with his volleyball team, starving and exhausted. He spent the night giving me feedback on my testers and I let him sugar-crash on my couch, waking him up with a healthier breakfast more suitable for an athlete in the morning. 

We’ve been close since that day.

Well, close but not as close as right now... despite the aching deep in me that always welled up inside whenever we spent time together. My omega whimpering at how perfect of an Alpha Bokuto would be.

“Y/N?” Bokuto was asking once again, I could feel his hands shaking as his control over his instincts began to slip. 

I simply nodded.

“Y-yes Ko,” I swallowed hard when his hands gripped tighter on my hips, crushing me further against him as his arms snaked up my body to wrap me in a tight hold from behind. “I want this - I’ve wanted this, w-wanted you...” I couldn’t form full thoughts, not like he deserved to hear but we were both in a compromising state of mind right now. “P-please Alpah, need you so badly,” that was all it took to have me turned around so fast in his arms, his lips crashing against mine in a mess of teeth and saliva as pure need took over us both. One of his hands was fisted in the hair at the back of my head, the other cupping the side of my throat, his thumb stroking along my jaw as he deepened the kiss like he was trying to crawl inside my body through my mouth. 

He was pushing me back toward my couch, his hands now fumbling behind me to pull the zipper of my dress and have the fabric pooling to the ground. He growled into my mouth as he hooked two fingers in the hem of my lace panties to pull them down and off while his other hand guided me down softly onto the couch. He had me draped over the arm of the sectional as he layed down between my legs, I was able to peek open my heavy eyes in time to see the primal look on his face before he licked his lips and leant down to lick a long strip up my soaked pussy, the sensation sending electric shocks through my whole body as I arched off the couch with a yelp.

Bokuto let out a deep, rumbling growl with a whisper of “so sweet,” before diving back in and devouring my sopping pussy like a man starved. His mouthed latched around my swollen clit with a pressure that had me seeing stars as he suddenly plunged two thick fingers into me, curling upward against my sticky walls, quickly bringing me to the edge. He didn’t relent his assault on me, mouth staying locked on and fingers curling cruelly as my body shook and arched up off the couch with a shrill scream, my whole body convulsing with wave after wave of electric pleasure shocks. Bokuto removed his fingers slowly and licked them clean, blowing a cool stream of air against my sensitive clit, causing me to whimper in his hold as he delved his tongue into me to lap up more of my slick. I was a whimpering mess above him, wriggling to be free of the stimulation to the newly over-sensitive area but he kept his pink muscle deep in my pussy as his nose occasionally brushed up against my clit causing my hips to buck further against his face. The groans he was letting out were downright sinful and soon had me back on the precipice of another impending orgasm. Bokuto reached one hand up to thumb circles on my clit as he kept himself deep in my pussy, soon I was bucking up against his face as another heavy wave crashed down on me. I was panting and swearing and pleading to be released because the pleasure was stating to morph with a tinge of pain as he kept up the relentless assault.

“K-Ko please no more,” I was whining above him, my chest heaving with broken breaths. Bokuto’s mouth was shiny with my slick as he crawled up my body and crashed his lips down on mine. I could taste myself on his tongue, in combination with feeling his still-clothed cock straining against his joggers, had me mewling with need and bucking up to meet his bulge.

“You say no more but your body is begging for me,” Bokuto muses. “Do you want me to stop?” His golden eyes were looking down at me, dark and swirling with lust as a beautiful half-smile graced his face. I shook my head and he just chuckled. “Use your words baby, ask for what you want,” he cooed, leaning down to pepper kisses and gentle nips along the side of my neck, stopping to suck on a particular spot once my let out a gasp and wriggled beneath his large body caging me in.

“Mmphf, p-please Ko, Alpha, need you,” my cheeks were burning but I didn’t care, my whole body was on fire for the man on top of me, crying out to him for any crumb he’d give me, “need your cock-mm-need to feel so full with you please Alpha, please,” Bokuto crashed his lips back down against mine with an urgent need while he ground his hardened cock against my slick-covered core, the friction of the fabric bringing another whine from my throat.

“How can I say no to such a pretty omega begging to be knotted, hm?” Bokuto was nuzzling down into the crook oh my neck, “pretty omega, perfect omega, my omega.” I didn’t realize when he had shimmied out of his joggers but soon I felt the large tip of his cock pressing into my hole, even with two orgasms and the slight stretch from his fingers earlier it still burned so wonderfully to be full of Bokuto’s cock, every inch of his cock catching on my walls and dragging new sensations forward as I clawed at his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him in an attempt to be closer to him, to pull more of him inside of me. “Such a needy slut for her Alphas cock, hmm?” I nodded my head so vigorously, rolling my hips to coax the man above me into moving. “Poor thing, I’ll give you everything you need...” with a quick snap of his muscled hips, his thick cock was driven deep, the head pummeling against my cervix with blinding pressure as he slammed his hips over and over into me, heavy balls slapping against my slick-coated ass sending shivers up my spine. “Fuck, ‘mega, you’re so tight-fuck- so fucking perfect, so perfect for me.” Bokuto was all bared teeth and snarls above me, leaning down to kiss and bite over his earlier marks along my neck. I craned my neck, exposing more of myself to his assault as he kept up the brutal pace inside of me. It didn’t take long before I was crying out with the sudden hit of an orgasm I didn’t even feel the buildup to, the walls of my pussy were sucking a Bokuto in deeper with each of his thrusts, and soon I could feel the way his hips stuttered, sloppy and less practiced. I didn’t realize his teeth were on me, biting deep into the flesh of my neck where my scent glands were, blood spilling out of the wound and into his mouth and down my neck and chest as Bokuto marked me as his, licking one long, final strip up my neck across the wound, sealing it.

There was a final quick snap of his hips, until Bokuto’s large knot stretched me with a burn that had me whimpering, gasping when it popped through the small opening of my pussy, slick helping to coax it inside as my walls clamped down on him and his knot further in another orgasms as he emptied ropes of hot, white cum deep inside of me. The continued short, sharp thrusts Bokuto made as he continued to empty himself inside of me brought on one more orgasm, my whole body siezing and shaking, walls clamping down around the fleshy member knotted inside of me, my chest was heaving with deep breaths as my eyes edged with black and every small twitch Bokuto made inside of me had me crying out - with pleasure or pain or both - I couldn’t tell. He leant down to scoop me up, our bodies still connected as he sat down on the catch and allowed me to stradle his lap, nestling me tightly against his chest as he kissed my hair and whispered such sweet things to me over and over, petting my hair, my face, peppering kisses along my cheek, jaw, down my throat and to my shoulder, gliding over the mark he made earlier with a gentle ghost of a kiss. My whole body felt like a live-wire ready to make contact with the wrong type of metal at any given moment, but Bokuto kept rubbing small patterns over my exposed skin, kneading his fingers deep into muscles I didn’t realize were sore, kissing un-kissed inches of skin over and over until he felt me relax in his arms, felt my body droop with exhaustion as I rested my head on his shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck as I bit back into him, giving him a small omega mark. Bokuto shuddered beneath me, gripping me tighter as I licked up the blood and kissed over the already-healing mark, nuzzling back into him.

“Y/N~” Bokuto said in a whisper sing-song voice, shaking me gently, “I think we can separate now baby,” he said, trying to lift me off of him gently.

“Mm, no Ko,” I grumbled, a gentle growl leaving my throat, “wanna stay like this  a little longer.” Bokuto just nodded, rubbing my back and resting his head on my shoulder.

“Yeah, a little longer baby,” he mused, “but then can you bake me something?”

You just shook your head, your body shaking with held-in laughter as you agreed to bake him as many sweets as he wanted just as soon as you could walk. Bokuto offered to do all the heavy lifting if you just told him what to do - and you relished in the idea of sharing the kitchen with Bokuto - with your Alpha.

What a sweet start to something beautiful. 

[seijorhi]

The Fall

Somebody said Devil Kuroo and I have not recovered since. Anyway, enjoy my first offering for the Spooktober event!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader

TW Dub/non-con, blood, gore, minor character death, religious themes, nsfw, mild smut

It’s subtle, the shift in the air as two polished black shoes cross the threshold. The candles on the altar spit and sputter, and a shiver trickles down your spine. 

You wonder if the humans scattered along the pews can sense it too, if they can taste the bitter, metallic tang in the air, feel the same prickling sensation at the nape of their necks as  tiny hairs stand on end. The woman seated two rows in front of you stiffens, her breath catching between her sobbed prayers, but she doesn’t turn and neither do you.

Do they have any idea the evil that’s trespassing on holy ground? The danger that they’re all in - the danger that you’ve inadvertently brought upon them?

This is all your fault.

His footsteps, slow and measured echo mockingly throughout the nave, but you’re rooted in place. It’s instinctual, you think; the fear that sinks its claws into your heart, seeping into your veins like ice. 

There is nowhere left for you to run. 

You have no more aces hidden up your sleeves. 

The wards that protected you, kept you safe and hidden for years are broken, and your friends-

Blood slicked floors, body parts strewn across your apartment. A howling scream pierces the air around you, and it takes a moment to realise that it belongs to you. You fall to your knees, bile rising in your throat as you stare in wide eyed horror at the grisly mess he’d left in his wake. 

He could have killed them with a snap of his fingers, but he’d taken his time, hurt them, ripped the spines from their bodies slowly, keeping them alive as they screamed and begged through tears and snot and blood and vomit…  

He’d left them for you to find like a gruesome homecoming gift. Punishment, you think, for daring to hide you from him. 

It’s late, well past midnight. The only people in the crumbling, dilapidated church at this hour are those with nowhere else to go. Vagrants, the helpless, those lost to grief and addiction seeking the barest semblance of comfort amongst the burning incense, high ceilings and grimy, stained glass windows. 

And you. 

Though you suppose you fit into the former. Where else could hope to hide now that your sanctuary has been torn to pieces? This is the last place you’d choose to go, even now the long healed scars on your shoulder blades sting and burn, a painful and persistent reminder that you no longer belong amongst these hallowed halls.

Foolishly, you’d still come. Consecrated ground was supposed to protect you, however temporarily.

He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here, it’s not possible, but-

Dressed in a crisp black suit with a blood red tie, the handsome figure settles himself down on the pew beside you. A smirk curls at his lips as he stretches long legs, crossing his ankles and leisurely fixing the sleeves of his jacket as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

You don’t dare draw breath. Sitting stiff and ramrod straight, you stare at your trembling hands curled into fists on your lap, the ancient golden pendant lying broken in your palm. There’s dried blood smeared across the back of your hands, flecks and splatters hidden among the dark fabric of your skirt. The sight of it makes your stomach churn.

His chin tilts, golden, cat-like pupils settling on you. You fight the urge to fidget, to flee, fingernails biting into the soft, delicate skin of your palm as he studies you. 

“Hey, angel,” he purrs, his voice like warm honey. “It’s been a while.”

Finally you tear your eyes away from your lap, meeting his smirk with an icy glare. “Don’t call me that,” you snap bitterly. 

He laughs, stretching back to drape his arm over the wooden backrest of the pew, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulders. “But I like calling you angel, and I’ve missed you.” The last part is growled, a low and rumbling timbre, too deep, too rich to be mistaken for anything close to human. It makes your hackles rise and your stomach clench uneasily. Unbidden, memories flash to your mind- his teeth at your neck, his sweat slicked body moving atop yours. Unbearable, searing heat flooding your core, large hands encircling yours to hold you down as his hips eagerly rut up against your ass, “Give into me, angel, you know you want to.”

His grin widens, and you know that it’s deliberate. 

You don’t have the luxury of anger, not when the fear so visceral it threatens to choke you demands attention. He’s smiling amiably, but you’re not so naive as to believe that he’s not furious with you, that there won’t be punishments that await you for your escape.

One hundred and twenty years might pass in the blink of an eye for him, but it wouldn’t make a difference if it were only one, or even a single month, a day. You ran from him, and for every moment you were not at his side he would make you suffer - excruciating pain inflicted with pleasure until your mind broke and you couldn’t distinguish the two, until you were a babbling, beautiful mess begging for mercy.

Until you regretted ever even considering leaving his side after all that he’d done to keep you there.

He’d promised you as much a long time ago, hissing the threat into your ear as he forced you to ride his cock.

You’d fled anyway. And now, you’re trapped with nowhere left to run, and he knows it just as well as you do. But it’s not yourself that you’re scared for. 

There will be plenty of time for that later.

Six innocent, oblivious humans dot the derelict pews, and the Father you’d watched tend to the burning candles and incense at the altar, meeting your stricken gaze for just a moment before returning to the task at hand. 

It is for their sakes that you are afraid.

“A church, angel?” he sounds amused. “You know, I expected you to run after you found the dead witch and her partner, but here?” he tuts, shaking his head with a sigh. Pain, raw and visceral stabs at your heart and your shoulders shake with barely concealed anger, hands clenched so tight that blood seeps from the crescent shaped cuts in your palm. He eyes the gold pendant flecked with crimson in your grip, and for the first moment since he arrived, you watch that cavalier facade slip - a flicker of something dark and jealous twisting at his features. “They were the ones who kicked you out, don’t you remember? They ripped those lovely wings-”

“You tricked me, Kuroo! You lied!” the words spill from your tongue before you can hope to stop them. His golden eyes widen for a split second, surprised by your outburst, but it only lasts a moment before he’s smirking indulgently at you once more. Too late you realise your slip. The devil has a thousand names, but Kuroo was the one he gave when he first came to you. 

You haven’t uttered that name in almost two hundred years. 

“Did you think that the grace of God would protect you here, angel?” He slides closer, long, nimble fingers plucking the cross from your hands only to cast it aside. The faint metallic clinking as it falls and clatters across the marble floors makes you flinch, but he pays it no mind. “Did you truly believe that there is an ounce of anything holy left in this crumbling, decrepit shithole? And even if there were,” he pauses, leaning down to whisper in your ear as a warm palm slides up your thigh, “did you really think that would be enough to keep me from you?”

“K-Kuroo,” you gasp as he leans down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, his mouth laving wet, hot, open mouthed kisses against the delicate skin there. His fingers delve under the hem of your skirt and it’s pure, unadulterated fear that hits you like a tidal wave, compelling you against your better instincts to claw at his wrist, halting him in his tracks.

He stills, warm breath fanning across your skin as he exhales sharply, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The flames from the candles on the altar sputter once more before they swell with frightening intensity, surging as the temperature in the chapel spikes. 

“Angel,” he purrs lowly, the barest hint of an underlying threat lacing the endearment, and it feels as though there’s an invisible hand inside of your chest, clenching around your frantically beating heart. It’s a mistake, you know that even as his other hand reaches for your chin, gripping it tightly as he forces you to meet his molten gaze. “If you keep denying me what I want, I will raze this fucking church to the ground and let them all burn.”

This time you don’t so much as flinch when he tugs your panties to the side, rough fingertips brushing teasingly along your slit. “You’re going to let me defile you, sweet thing. You’re going to remember why you fell for me.” 

His eyes are blown wide, dark pupils almost swallowing the gilded irises. Gone is the perfectly crafted human facade - this is the beast that lurks beneath, and you have run from him for long enough. Your heart hammers against your ribs, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, fighting back a shiver as he tracks the movement with predatory focus. You know as well as he does that the games are over, and you have lost.

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to run, but you cannot move.

His breath is ragged, a flush of pink dusting at his cheek as he stares at you, an unholy desire burning in those bottomless depths.

One beat passes, and then another-

He closes the gap between you two, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss isn’t sweet. It isn’t tender, but it sets you alight nonetheless. Without warning his fingers plunge into your plush, velvet walls and you gasp for him, clutching at his jacket sleeve.

“And when I take you, fuck you on these floors until you sing for me, angel, you’re going to love every second of it,” he snarls.

[serahlink]

Dancing in The Dark |Assassin!Reader x Royal Vampire Prince

Summary : In a world ruled by ravenous vampiric royals, you are sent to assassinate their new heir, only to have your plans suddenly go awry when you’re dragged into the ball by no one other than your Highness himself.

Word Count : 2,302

A/N : this is for a gender neutral reader or for anyone of any gender really. :) so I hope all can enjoy this enemies royal core thingy.

There were many nights where you took your resting spot at the top of your league’s tower balcony and looked down at the castle across the kingdom. Unlike the mangled dead forest you’ve grown up in, the lights were always bright, boisterous and proud around that damned castle. The people were no different either. Each year almost tons of high class and rich people would come gather for a ball. It was the most grand day of the year after all, as it was the only night where it is said the prince would come out of hiding for once to dine and dance with everyone else.

Just thinking about that pampered fancy pants boy made your blood boil. To think he can live it up in the glamour his castle had to offer while your own people can barely scrounge for scraps down here was enough for you to want to take your pristine knife to his throat. Needless to say, when you got the opportunity to do so, you clutched tightly to it.

You can’t remember much of your childhood. From what the people who took you in told you, they mentioned finding you abandoned at the end of the dead woods, where they were surprised you weren’t starved to death or mangled by a wolf. They took you in and from then on, they raised you to become the best assassin you could be. It was the least you could expect from being taken in by an underground assassin’s league, or as they’d like to call it, a revolutionary squad. A group of people who are destined to change the order for their own idea of good and who are frankly tired of bloodsuckers running it all.

They assigned you with the job the night before you were sent off away from the woods and from your home.

“Kill the prince,” You remembered them saying bluntly. Instead of using your own weapon, they provided you with a wooden stake. “Use this to kill him.”

You asked them why you couldn’t just slash his throat with your knife and be done for, but they instead scoffed. “It’s more efficient. Vampires do bleed, but a stake will surely do the trick.” Although you already knew this, you surely liked the idea of using your own blade. Still, you took the stake reluctantly.

With no more need to stall at home, they had sent you off with a proper disguise. Obviously you couldn’t show up to a grand ball in rags with a stake tied to your belt. Instead they provided you with a formal outfit that while anyone else would find grand, you found way too tight and fancy. Through a broken glass, you saw your reflection and fought the urge to barf. Never did you want to see yourself look like that ever again.

The castle was a long ways off, far away from the dead woods you claimed as home. Just as all royals do, you arrived in a carriage thanks to the courtesy of some other higher ups that actually were involved with the group. Out the window, you slowly saw the brightness of the castle and all other attendants too close for comfort.

This was it.

The deep breath you took in was clean, way too clean. You got out and as you began walking your way up to their royal highness’ palace, no one seemed to bat an eye. You blended right in. You couldn’t help but smirk just a little. None of these pampered bastards knew what was coming. That you were coming.

The inside of the castle was more grossly exquisite than you could’ve imagined it to be. The gold and white color schemes were nearly blinding, almost evangelical. Most others were dancing already while some were enjoying a feast or talking amongst one another. You didn’t really take notice to any specific people, as you were only here for one person.

“Your Highness, Astrid Federline.” One of the staff introduced.

Instantly, as if beckoned by his name, you snap your head around to see the smug prince in all his glory. Astrid Federline was sashaying down the royal staircase, looking over knowingly at the flustered maidens who were gawking over him. You didn’t get what their was to even look at. So what if he was pale as the moonlight? Who cared if his hair looked like blonde silk itself and draped just over his shoulders in the best way? What was there to see if his narrow blue eyes grinned over at you? Nothing. Nothing at all, as far as you could tell.

Soon enough, his gaze moved from the ladies and paused when it came to you. Those eyes, a mystery just as he was, narrowed at you. His face faltered, merely a second, before his lips quirked up again with newfound curiosity. All of a sudden, he was coming to you.

Your hand jolted to where your stake would be and thankfully, it’s small bump reminded you that, yes, it was still there and open when the opportunity was right. You relax, and just as he approached you, you forced a smile.

“Lovely ball, your Highness.” Speaking those words were the worst part of the job. You bow anyway, and when you pull back up, he’s smiled at you. You didn’t expect him to be so tall.

“Of course it is.” He proudly said. “Just like every ball before it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” You said truthfully. “I’ve never been to one.”

“I see.” Astrid hummed before he offered you a hand. “Care to let me show you the wonders the ball has to offer?”

You eyed his hand with much hesitation. Maybe this was his way of being a gentleman, each giving a maiden a certain special treatment before acting like it never happened. Not that you’d care, he’s falling easily into your plan. He’s only making it easier for you.

You took his hand then and he smirked, gently grasping it and then taking you into a different direction. You arrive at the food table, where a bunch of pristine foods you’ve never seen before and never thought you’d be able to taste were laid out in front of you.

Your mouth watered. The food was very tempting.

“Go on,” said Astrid with a wave of permission. “Take what you please.”

You turned to him with an arched brow, yet he only nodded. The food was still there when you turned back and did not get eaten any faster. First, you scan the foods until one catches your eye. Some long red thing.

“That’s crab.” He pointed out.

While you’d roll your eyes originally, you were indeed curious. You’ve never tasted this crab meat before. Straight from its place, you take a leg and begin gnawing on it. You jolt as the sharp shell hit the roof of your mouth, glaring down at the food.

“You need to crack the shell, you know.”

“I know that.” Wasn’t your fault that crabs had shells apparently.

Astrid sighed and took the crab leg after your couple failed attempts to crack it. He used what you could only guess was a metal opener to crack the shell, revealing its meat.

You snatch the leg away from him, muttering a thank you.

The meat better be worth while, going through all the trouble to embarrass yourself and nearly blow your cover like this. Just as your tongue and teeth bit into its flavor, you could easily confirm that, oh god yes it was worth it.

It was unlike anything you had eaten before. You couldn’t get more meat into your mouth quicker, savoring the taste as much as you could before it could leave.

Astrid chuckled, “Good, I presume?”

You turned back and narrowed your eyes once you saw the smirk. “It was fine, I suppose.”

“Good then.” He said and just as another dance was coming up, he turned to you. “You aren’t too full for a dance, are you?”

A dance? That was the only thing your league hadn’t prepared you for. Hell, you never really danced ever. “I,” You fumbled. “-Actually I think I am.”

“Come on.” Astrid insisted. “The night is ever so young. Besides, a dance would make your first ball, wouldn’t it?”

Not with you, or anyone. You wanted to say, yet you couldn’t pass up his offer. Something told you he’d keep on insisting. Besides, that would make for an awfully good dramatic death scene wouldn’t it? One and two and one and— STAB. Perfect.

Reluctantly, you do agree. The soft strings pluck, pianos ring and Astrid lead you to the dance floor with your hand in his. Although the dance was awfully simple, your feet couldn’t comply. You were outside your energy yet each time, Astrid strayed you back to where you were supposed to be. The swaying made you feel like you were on air, constantly being held upright by his hand. Yet you knew you needed to keep an eye on the ground and your weapons carrier place, you could only seem to look up.

Tilted downward, Astrid’s eyes look down at you. Something about it made you feel like the only person in that room. Everyone else was merely blurs to you, the only focus being you and him. You remind yourself then, of course it’s the main focus. You’re there to kill him, not live up some false royal dance.

The strings reach a higher octave and you are thrown into a dip. Your arms throw themselves to whoever they could latch on, which happen to be Astrid’s neck. He looked down on you with much amusement before throwing you back up, your body ended up bumping against his chest.

“I know what you are.” He said as his dancing led the two of you away from the crowd and near a balcony. Still in his arms, you scoff.

“Really.” You respond, yet he chuckled, much to your annoyance.

Astrid’s smile tightened. “You think I’ve never had an assassin placed on my head before? You’re wrongly mistaken.”

“And yet you send no guard on me. You give me the punishment of feeding me luxurious food and a dance. Do all of your assassins get the special treatment or am I lucky?”

A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Lucky, according to you.”

“Then allow me to apologize for calling the night short but I have a prince to slaughter.” You said, as you launched out from the dance and swiftly to take the stake you kept to your thigh.

Astrid himself grinned, his eyes holding a glint they didn’t have before. “This prince wouldn’t happen to be drop dead gorgeous, charming and witty, would he?”

You scoffed, watching his every move. “Not at all.”

The lunge you decided to take for him backfired, as he managed to dodge and slip you back into that dance, wooden dagger still in hand.

“Do you always dance yourself out of being killed?” You struggle against his grip, trying to remain confident. “I’ll have you know that I’m not as easily persuaded by good looks and swift moves like those maidens out there.”

“Then shall I dangle some crab meat above your nose?~” His teasing jab to your gluttony was enough for your anger to forcefully yank one of your hands out of his grip. You throw the dagger straight for his throat, yet you miss by what seems like yet another swift dodge.

How does this prince keep evading you?

“Temper, temper~” He grinned, throwing you back into another dip. The weapon you once held is tossed to the very edge of the balcony, where it hangs on by nothing more than an invisible thread. “To think the revolutionaries would send someone as hot headed as you are.” He smirked, “Pathetic, if I could say personally.”

You throw yourself out of the dip. “I’ll show you pathetic!” You snarl, and make a head start for the stake. It slid and in just a second to spare, fell all the way to the bottom of the castle’s yard.

Your eyes shot wide as saucers and your throat dried. Your fate was sealed. Either you were going to be killed or thrown in a dungeon somewhere. Either way, you’d die.

“With those eyes, you look like a distressed rabbit.” Astrid remarked.

He walked over to you. You expected him to throw you over the edge, just like that stake, except he doesn’t. He offered you his pale hand.

You eye him, as if he were crazy.

“Come on.” He said. “Up.”

When you don’t take his hand, he took yours instead and lifts you up to your feet. “You assassins are too serious nowadays. You’re at a ball of all things, might as well enjoy it.”

You look at him questionably. “I try to kill you and when I fail, instead of throwing me away in a dungeon or killing me, your answer is to throw me back into the ball? Are you as mad as they say?”

He grinned again. “Maybe I am. Plus, it’d be a pity if I did, wouldn't it? I’d hate to have to deal with the rest of your little club if they found you dead.”

“We are a league.” You correct him sternly.

“A hell of a one, for sure.” Astrid hid his chuckle. “Where were we last?”

“I was trying to nab that head of yours.” You recount, still freshly annoyed.

“Dancing.” He corrected your sentence. “We were dancing.”

He then took your hands and since you didn’t have any weapons on hand, you had all but none left to do but to follow his lead again.

“I’m surprised no one told you that you are absolutely brash when you dance.” He muttered near your ear. You roll your eyes.

“You won’t be saying that the next time I’m here.” You promise. “A stake would be deep in your chest before you could even get a word in.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be waiting.”

[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!

[amerrierworld]

in dreams (pt 3)

The Hobbit fanfiction

Part 1 | Part 2 

Summary: You sneak away in the night to get some alone time, and Galadriel finds you.

Characters: Galadriel x fem!reader, Bilbo

Word Count: 3,107

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT - This is a continuation of the previous two parts but this is far less G-rated!!!

You didn’t see Galadriel for the next few days, and you grew a bit more worried about having to leave before you could see her again. Thorin was on the brink of a breakdown if he didn’t get your group out of Rivendell as soon as possible. He had decided you’d pack up and leave altogether tomorrow night, just before dawn, so no one came looking for you before you’d left. 

“I could stay here for ages,” Bilbo sighed. The two of you had snuck away from rowdy Dwarves to enjoy a cup of tea on the last peaceful evening, enjoying the crisp air. 

“Maybe you will, one day,” you smiled at him, relaxing into your chair and curling up under a blanket. “Sad to think we have to leave here and go into who knows what kind of danger.”

“Agreed,” Bilbo responded. “But we haven’t left yet. So let us enjoy it while we can.”

Moments later his head tipped back in the chair and he began snoring quietly. You giggled, and moved your blanket to drape over his knees before sneaking away to wander Rivendell, in hopes of seeing Galadriel again. 

You went back to where you had first met her. The basin had been moved from the pedestal and it seemed eerily quiet compared to just a few nights ago. Your heart twinged with disappointment but you could feel in your bones that she hadn’t left yet. She was still close, somewhere.

Your feet carried you down staircases and paths until you entered a well-lit cave. Moonlight poured in on a pool with crystal clear water. The rock had been hewn and polished to make steps and clean edges all around and there were shelves and baskets set up, clearly indicating this was used as a bathing area.

Ecstatic to get some alone time, finally, you stripped and quickly dipped into the water. You didn’t know how long it would be before you got to enjoy some peace and quiet like this again. 

There was a multitude of different soaps lined up for your choosing. The smells varied in anything from pine or citrus to roses and lavender. It was by far the most luxurious bath you had ever come across. Bilbo would be envious if you ever told him about this place, and you smirked at the thought.

You floated on your back in the middle of the pool for a while, enjoying the way your muscles were relaxing and all the sweat and grime that you found impossible to scrub away before finally melted off of you. 

You swam a couple laps, the pool was large enough for it, before sucking in a breath and falling slowly to the bottom of the pool. All you could hear was the rushing in your ears. You felt completely suspended in time, content and at peace with yourself. Rivendell really was a magical place of healing, you decided.

When you rose up and brushed your hair back with your fingers, a figure had appeared in the entrance, and you shrieked in surprise. You ducked into the water until the tip of your nose was immersed and you looked wide-eyed at the familiar intruder.

“M-my lady,” you stuttered, slowly coming up until your head was above the water. Had you been trespassing? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.. I didn’t know anyone else would be here tonight. Please don’t tell Elrond.”

Galadriel was dressed in white, as usual, but with a dark silvery-grey cloak draped over her shoulders. Her circlet was off, and her hair was loose, cascading down her back like a river. 

“You are not imposing, dearest,” she said, a crinkle of amusement apparent in her voice. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh, really?” you asked. “Well, I haven’t been anywhere outside of Rivendell today. For the past few days, in fact.”

You found it hard to focus knowing you were entirely naked under the water, and you couldn’t be sure how much she could see from where she stood.

“I apologize for not coming sooner,” Galadriel spoke softly, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. “I could not find a time for us to be.. alone.”

“Well, great timing, I guess. We’re leaving tomorrow night,” you grumbled. “In secret. So much for spending time together.”

Galadriel’s eyes flashed, and you could see her shoulders slump in disappointment. 

“Y/N..”

“It’s fine, really. You’re here now, and I’m not going to be any time soon.”

You raised a hand to flick damp hair out of your face and you noted Galadriel’s eyes following the movement. You blushed, but your confidence grow as her stare darkened.

“Why don't you come in? The water’s lovely,” you muttered softly. You stood up a tad more, so your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, water dripping down your skin. 

This time you heard Galadriel breathing; a sharp intake of breath that left you smirking. She inched forward, her bare feet shifting closer and closer. Then she took the steps into the pool, far more graceful than you had ever seen anyone else stepping into a pool.

You gawked like a fish. The cloak came off and landed in a damp heap by the edge of the pool, and water soaked her dress to the point where it became basically transparent and skin tight. 

Slowly, she waded through the water towards you, much like you had seen her walk down that bridge just a few days ago, elegant and steady in her steps. 

“Your dress,” you whispered in an attempt to save the precious fabric. She cocked a slim eyebrow.

“Perhaps you could assist me with it,” she replied. Blushing furiously, you could feel your body heating up despite the coolness of the water.

Galadriel watched as you approached, your hands reaching down to the hem of her beautiful dress and pulling the wet fabric up.

“Slowly,” she ordered in a whisper. Your heart was beating frantically, but you did as she said. But as you did so, you decided to take advantage of the moment, hands finding her bare skin under the water and trailing up her calves and thighs.

Galadriel gasped, startled by your boldness and by the feeling of your hands on her skin. You could feel silky smoothness as you brushed your hands over her hips, and her abdomen fluttered with a shaky breath when you rubbed your thumbs close to her belly button. 

By the time you were gripping her waist, your hands were out of the water and the crumpled dress was dripping heavily. Once your hands reached her ribs you were both trembling with want. Your thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts and you were suddenly frozen in place. 

Galadriel aided the last stretch, reaching down to find the hem and pulling the rest of the dress over her shoulders and head until she was fully nude. Her wet hair flicked water droplets in the air as she pulled it over and away. The dress floated away to the other end of the pool somewhere, but neither of you seemed to notice.

Your hands were still on her ribcage, feeling her torso rise and fall with each breath. Then, her hand reached to cup your face, and you felt that same shock from the first time you touched course through your body, but with less surprise this time. It felt welcomed, and familiar. 

She coaxed your mouth open with a brush of her tongue against your lips and then sought to devour you whole. Her kiss was hungry, passionate, and your nerves felt electrified from your mouth to your fingertips and toes. 

Egged on by your ever-growing arousal, your hands began exploring. You couldn’t do much to respond to the kiss because Galadriel towered over you and gripped you with such strength that you mewled into her mouth, but your own hands were less controlled.

They ran across the smooth skin of her back, scratching lightly until you felt her shudder against you. Groaning approvingly, you reached down further and cupped her ass to pull her closer. Your bodies met in a rush. Your fingers pulled at her cheeks and inched closer to the juncture between her thighs, rubbing and teasing the skin.

Galadriel pulled away at the feeling of you so close to where she wanted to be but not quite. Her head tipped back, soaking more of her golden hair in the water and exposing a long, beautiful neck that quivered as she swallowed hard while you explored her.

You took the opportunity to reach forward and kiss her breasts. Lightly at first, as you got accustomed to what she liked and what she responded to, but then her hands gripped your shoulders, dug into your skin, and pulled you against her even further, as if to mold both your bodies into one.

Taking the hint, your lips closed around a rosy nipple and sucked. A hard cry escaped Galadriel’s mouth and her hands buried in your hair, pulling and scratching at your scalp. Her hips rubbed against you, trying to find movement, but your hands were still gripping her from behind and didn’t let her get the friction she wanted.

Galadriel cursed under her breath, or you assumed it was a curse from the tone of it, since it was in Elvish and you smirked before your teeth replaced your lips around her nipple, worrying it gently. That earned you a delicious, ragged whine, and you felt pride and lust fill your heart. You gave the same treatment to the other and felt her tremble and weakly buck her hips against your body.

You yourself were on fire. Your clit was throbbing under the water, and you wanted nothing more than the two of you to come over and over again. But you weren’t going to pass up an opportunity like this. You pulled away and Galadriel, stoic, noble and fierce Lady Galadriel, whimpered at the loss. 

“Shh,” you hushed her. “Let me.”

She let you lead her back up the steps of the pool, to the point where her hips were at your eye level, and you got her to sit down. Legs half immersed in the water, nipples peaking from the breeze and arousal, she was the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen. Her arms reached back to support herself, and the moonlight reflected her dewy skin, accentuating her breasts, shoulders and neck. 

You edged closer, hands massaging and rubbing Galadriel’s stunningly long legs as you neared her. She could barely breathe as you edged them apart, spreading her stance, glistening in the light. You hoisted one leg over your shoulder and Galadriel nearly fell back when you gently pulled apart her folds to press a light kiss on her clit.

Everything was wet. Everything seemed to be dripping, and Galadriel felt nearly scalding hot as you rubbed and explored down her slit with your fingers. 

She was quiet, holding her breath and keeping her eyes screwed shut, but her body betrayed her. Her muscles spasmed and trembled as you explored her, feeling every inch of her and mouthing at the soft flesh of her thighs and hips as much as you could. 

Galadriel moaned, loudly, and her hand pulled at your scalp sharply. Suddenly, a thought flashed through your head. A thought and image of fucking her with your fingers, and your face flushed at the thought. It wasn’t your own, it was like someone was pleading you for it inside your own head.

Startled but more than a little turned on by the feeling of sharing your mind with Galadriel, you did as she asked. By the looks of it, it seemed she hadn’t even registered that she was begging you telepathically, which made her startled cry from you slipping two fingers inside all the better.

She began rocking back and forth and you held onto her tightly, your free hand holding her leg over your shoulder, and your lips suckling at her clit. The water began sloshing in waves around you at the movements you were making and it became extra slippery with the added arousal dripping from around your fingers.

You could hear her pleading in your head, the only actual sounds she was making were broken whimpers and needy breaths. Your head was spinning with arousal and you thought about touching yourself under the water, but decided against it. She was so close, you could feel it.

You pushed a third finger in, curled upwards and pressed as hard as you could, and suddenly something snapped. A white-hot flash of desire shot through you as Galadriel came all over your fingers, trembling, sweating, gasping. It took very long for her to come down, and even longer for you to settle the churning nerves inside you.

You had felt her orgasm inside yourself, but you hadn’t actually had a release, which made it much, much more agonizing. 

You lowered her leg down into the water again and pulled her from the edge to be immersed in the water again. She slumped down with no hesitation or protest and dipped down to kiss you hard on the mouth.

“By the Valar,” she breathed. You giggled, hands winding in her hair. The locks had become tangled with her incessant thrashing about, and you began combing through them. 

When Galadriel brought her thigh up to let you rest on it under water, the arousal flooded back through you, rubbing against her leg. This time, she felt it too, and her eyes darkened immediately.

You opened your mouth to say something in polite protest, to say it was okay to not deal with you tonight because she seemed exhausted, but there was no quarrel to be had with the Lady of the Golden Wood.

She lifted you up as if you weighed absolutely nothing, and carried you through the water to the edge. Your foot brushed something soft and realized with amusement that Galadriel’s wet dress had floated back towards the two of you. You hoisted it out of the water to dry somewhere on the ground just as Galadriel pulled you up and sat you on the edge of the pool. 

Coaxing you to lay back, Galadriel could still reach over and kiss you firmly on the mouth with her towering length. Which is why you found it so hard to focus and barely registered her touching your cunt until her fingertips pressed against your cunt hard, aided with leverage from the rocking of her hips. 

You tore your mouth away from hers as your back arched off of the cold rock, and her lips sucked along your jawline and neck. The stimulation was overwhelming, but you wanted more, needed more. And this time Galadriel felt your pleading too. 

Her motions stilled in realization, her grip hard and her eyes wide. She could feel your mind, blooming open for her, begging for release from the deepest parts of you. 

Something feral snapped in the Elf Queen, you watched a shroud of darkness pass through her eyes and she grabbed your hips, flipping you over and pulling  you flush up against her front. One hand grasped your breasts and neck, palming your nipples and pulling your hair. The other ruthlessly rubbed at your clit. Your legs trembled in the water as she picked up speed, pressing and rubbing and circling your throbbing clit until you saw white and a loud, pathetic cry escaped your throat. 

But as you came, Galadriel didn’t stop or gentle her motions, instead she slipped two fingers inside that immediately pressed up and rubbed against that sensitive place inside of you. From the way she was gasping, you knew she could feel how intense your orgasm was within herself too, and the feeling of your bond blossomed and overwhelmed your senses.

You weren’t sure if you blacked out once Galadriel bit your shoulder, or if you were mumbling anything coherent as you came down from your high. You could barely feel your legs, but you felt relieved and overwhelmed all at the same time. 

Galadriel was panting as she turned you in her arms. You reached up to kiss her, your hips and legs bruised from the edge of the pool and Galadriel’s strong grip, but you didn’t mind the soreness one bit. 

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you whispered against her lips. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see Galadriel’s had gotten misty. You weren’t sure if the sorrow you were feeling was hers or your own. 

“Oh, meleth-nin,” she murmured brokenly, wrapping you up tightly and kissing your face everywhere she could. 

“Come with us,” you pleaded, knowing it was not possible in the slightest that she could. She knew this. Her hands brushed back your hair and cradled your face gently, so unlike the passionate and unruly persona who had taken over her lust just moments ago. 

“We will meet again,” she muttered. “You know it, in your heart.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I like it,” you pouted indignantly. She chuckled that beautiful and familiar chuckle and pressed her forehead against yours.

“Be safe, my darling,” she whispered. “I will be watching over you.”

Your own eyes were getting teary now too, and you pulled away to look her in the eyes. You suddenly felt exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in her arms. 

“We should sleep,” you suggested. Then, you remembered Galadriel’s dress was a complete disaster now. You paled a little at the realization.

“Not to worry, dear one,” she chuckled again, seemingly having understood your expression. “I am inventive.”

And that was how, scandalously so, the Lady Galadriel wrapped herself in naught but a silvery cloak, held together with your belt that you offered her. You dressed in your own clothing awkwardly as you hadn’t fully dried off and you carried Galadriel’s wet dress in your hands. 

You kept whispering that you had to hurry up before someone saw you as the two of you snuck out back towards the main buildings, but Galadriel only laughed. You realized Elves, especially the Lothlorien Elves it seemed, had no shame whatsoever, as Galadriel hoisted you up bridal style, and marched to her quarters. 

As soon as the doors were locked behind you, all the damp and uncomfortable clothing came off once again and you slipped under warm silken sheets. Galadriel pulled you close, and you wrapped an arm around her middle, pressing your head against her chin and jaw and kissing her there softly until you drifted off.

A/N: You asked, I answered :3 We love Galadriel!! I have a sudden urge to binge all 6 films again..

[aenwoedbeannaa]

A Dying Breed | Sneak Peek

Summary: Your medallion hangs around your neck, the Cat putting a target on your back.  Even among Witchers, you are a dying breed.  Everyone knows that men can be monsters; and yet they persecute you for taking on Contracts to kill them.  When you run into a certain Geralt of Rivia one evening, you are ready for the fight of your life.  But, maybe, it is not exactly the fight you expect.

A/N: This is just a quick sneak peek of this monster of a fic.  I don’t want to post it in chapters, because I want to make sure you all get the full story.  Still, it’s been so long since I’ve posted, I wanted to give y’all something.  I hope you enjoy! (Also, let me know if you’re excited for this - hopefully it is something you’ll be interested in.)

The School of the Cat – the most infamous of the Witcher Schools.  It is said by many that none survived; that the school and its corrupt and evil Witchers was destroyed.  Most of your colleagues were dead, true.  But you – you are very much alive.  

Silent and quick like a storm, you could creep in and kill a target and be gone before anyone knew you were there.  The fact that many of those targets happened to be human was the reason for your alienation from Witchers and humans alike.  That was, until you were needed to depose some corrupt noble or other.  

Humans can be monsters, too.

The words rang in your ears every time you crept silently through the night like this.  They were words taught to you by the older, more experienced Witchers of the Cat School.  That statement was undoubtably true, and yet you were warned time and time again that because of them, you would have no friends outside of the School of the Cat. Witchers from the other schools would view you was breaking the Code, and humans would only befriend you so long as they needed you.  

The solitude had not been so bad at first.  In fact, you came to treasure it.  However, the solitude turned more and more to loneliness as word travelled, bringing you the information that another, then another, of your fellow Cat School Witchers had been killed.  Despite the fact that you had not seen most of them in years, each death cut another hole in your heart, leaving you feeling empty.  Now, you truly had no home to return to, for the School of the Cat had no grand keep.  The School of the Cat was wherever its Witchers were – and now, there were so very few of you left.  

You push the thoughts from your head as you creep over damp stones, being sure to tuck yourself against the sides of buildings, hiding yourself in their shadows.  The shadows were your home – where you feel safe.  No one can hurt you if you just stay in the shadows, which move and vanish like living things.  

Tentatively, you lean out, peering around the corner of the building you are using for cover. You can see the manor not far off. Unlike a country manor, which seem to sprawl endlessly, taking up as much land as possible, this Novigradian manor is built right into the city. Instead of taking up the land, it seems to stack atop itself repeatedly.  Instead of grand gardens, there are balconies draped with ivy and flowers.  Instead of rich wood, the walls are brick – all different shades of red and brown, a mosaic.  

Unfortunately, there are candles ensconced on nearly every balcony – no doubt to show off the vibrant flora even in the evening hours.  The lanterns hanging near each doorway bother you less, however.  You were not planning on entering that way anyhow. The School of the Cat taught you many important lessons – but one of the most important is that there are far, far more effective ways of entering a building than sneaking through a doorway. A house made of brick was excellent for climbing, after all.

From where you are standing, you let your eyes scan the aggressively beautiful exterior.  Your blood boils at the thought of the man inside living in undeserved luxury while there were beggars in rags on the streets. With that anger comes a rush of adrenaline.  After you are done here, there will be one less slimy noble taking advantage of all those with less than him, using them like pawns to climb to the top of Novigrad’s crime scene by night while playing the wholesome successful merchant by day.

You spot a few places that are still cloaked in shadow.  The parts of the large home facing the street are lavishly decorated and lit to show it off, but the sides that are not so wonderfully situated are dark. How foolish, you think as you flutter across the street.  You light the front of your homes to signal your wealth, leaving the back completely unguarded. Granted, most of the Novigrad gangs knew to stay away from the man.  But certainly, he must know he has enemies who could hire someone more… capable.  

Your feet fall silently on the still wet cobbles.  It rained earlier, bringing cooler, crisper air that signals the coming Autumn.  The change in the air is pleasant on your skin, even beneath your leathers and hood, but the rain is going to make your climb significantly harder than it would otherwise be.  There is no winning in this life.

As you near the house, making sure to remain cloaked in shadow, something in the air changes. You call it your sixth sense – your Witcher sense.  You have not heard a sound, even with your enhanced hearing, and yet the hair at the back of your neck stands on end.  Someone is close; someone is following.  

You sigh as both irritation and resignation wash over you.  You do not want to fight.  More specifically, you do not want to kill anyone except the man with the Contract on him. But, now that you begin to walk in a slightly zigzag path, you can hear nearly silent footfalls behind you – starting and stopping as you do.  

It is one of Ettrian’s cronies, you assume.  For that, you give the man credit. Silent guards that creep through the night are more effective than the ones who stand with rarely used weapons out front of the main entryway.  Your hands find the two daggers strapped to your thighs – one steel and one silver.  Your silver sword is not slung across your back now.  That, you only use for the non-human kind of monsters.  The daggers, slightly longer and more curved than ordinary daggers, are much better for this type of work.  

You breathe in slowly as you draw both from their sheaths, still reluctant.  Sure, any crony of Ettrian is most likely a whoreson, but still – people do what they must to get by.  But still, you wonder where a Novigradian crime boss could get a bodyguard as swift and silent as this one.  You have to focus, straining your ears to hear the steps behind you. You rarely have to do that.  

Unless…

The thought crashes against your skull as your heart rate quickens, it is a Witcher.  

[semperintrepida]

Æ Kyra

shopping, Kyra

Kyra secretly likes shopping for clothes more than she ever lets on. And now that she's the Archon of Mykonos, and the consort of the greatest misthios in the known world, she has ample means to indulge.

For so many years, it was a struggle not to end up wearing rags. She had no home in which to spin and weave, and it would take nearly all her time to produce enough cloth for a single chiton. She was hard on clothes. Fighting was hard on clothes. She learned to patch up linen and which shades of brown and grey hid bloodstains best.

Clothes are valuable. It's said that in Athens, stealing a man's cloak would earn the culprit 150 lashes in the city's centrum. (Her punishments for such crimes on Mykonos are less violent, but the thieves are still made to work until they could restore the victim's loss.) So it's a luxury now, to have more than one chiton. To have a trunk full of chlamys in different fabrics and colors. To have some pretty jewelry to go with the twist of travelers' silver she still keeps wrapped around her arm.

Sometimes she sits on the dais in her megaron and strokes the soft fabric draped over her thigh, marveling that this is her life.

But the shopping she enjoys most is a kind of hunt, and one not even for her benefit. She loves shopping for Kassandra. It's a challenge, finding things Kassandra actually likes and isn't just humoring her by wearing. In this, Kassandra is true to her Spartan heritage, never expressing any material desires. "I have everything I want," she answers whenever Kyra asks. "I have you."

So it is that Kyra prowls the agora on occasion, looking for items as unique and beautiful as Kassandra is. A leather quiver made of oxhide, carved with intricate spirals and set with silver fittings. A necklace of carnelian beads and lynx claws, strung on silver wire. (She'd added the claws from a lynx she'd hunted herself, after it began stalking around the edges of the school grounds where the orphans liked to play.) But her greatest find in the agora was an outfit of pure white linen: strips of fabric that crossed over Kassandra's breasts but left the artistry of her shoulders, arms, and stomach bare, accented with a golden neckpiece and a matching waistbelt, bracers, and greaves. An outfit worthy of her Dikastes.

When she saw Kassandra wearing it for the first time, it took her breath away. Kassandra looked as if she'd descended from Olympos, and she smirked as she turned in a slow circle, showing herself off. "Do you like what you see?"

"Oh, very much so," Kyra said, and heat swirled forth from the depths of her belly.

Maybe shopping for Kassandra was for her benefit after all.

[headcanon asks meme]

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1  C.2  C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict. 

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.  

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check! 

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding. 

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well. 

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him… 

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance. 

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all. 

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin. 

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!” 

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?” 

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course). 

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright. 

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. 

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin. 

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal. 

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-”

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap. 

There laid a rat. 

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face. 

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away. 

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry. 

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus. 

Remus’ smile dipped lower. 

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!” 

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still. 

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach. 

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop. 

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful. 

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train. 

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all. 

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret. 

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck. 

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open. 

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow. 

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively. 

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now. 

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first… 

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do. 

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[kevinszabojrplumbing]

Fabric to Have in Your Home At All Times

You know that fabric is the backbone of any well-designed space. Whether for crafting, mending, or decorating, having a variety of fabrics on hand allows you to change the look and feel of your home instantly. As an avid DIYer, you understand the importance of keeping your fabric stash stocked for any project that sparks your creativity.

Here are the essential fabrics you should always keep in your supply closet to whip up anything – from ancient pillows to complete upholstery makeovers. Get ready to refresh your space instantly; thanks to these versatile textiles, you'll turn to time and time again.

 The Role of Fabric in Your Home

Fabric plays a vital role in interior design and creating a cozy home. Having a variety of materials on hand allows you to make quick changes that transform the look and feel of any room.

From upholstery and drapes to bedding, the fabric you choose has a huge impact. Natural fibers like cotton and linen are lightweight, breathable, and perfect for casual, relaxed spaces.

Wool is ideal for warmth and works well for winter accessories. Silk, on the other hand, brings luxury and sheen.

 Fabrics to Have on Hand at All Times

Fabric is essential in any home; you use it to upholster furniture, make curtains and bedding, sew clothing, and craft decorations. Having a variety of fabrics on hand allows you to easily change up your space or make something by hand when inspiration strikes.

Consider having these fabrics:

Denim

Denim is a durable cotton twill perfect for placemats, rag rugs, upholstery, and jeans. Vintage denim with fraying edges adds rustic charm.

 Linen

Linen is a breathable natural fiber perfect for warm weather. It's crisp, airy and relaxed. Linens are perfect for curtains, tablecloths, and upholstery. The looser weaves mean it wrinkles easily, but that's part of linen's casual charm.

 Felt

Thick felt is fabulous for rugs, chair pads, and crafts. Wool felt is the warmest, but you can also find felt made of recycled materials.

 Cotton

Cotton is a natural fiber that's breathable and soft. It's ideal for sheets, towels, t-shirts, and more. Look for high thread count cotton sheets and towels for extra softness.

 Flannel

Soft, warm flannel is ideal for pajamas, robes, blankets, and plaid shirts. Cotton flannel gets softer with each wash. Use flannel for cozy layers in chillier weather or chilly rooms.

What you'll want to know about different fabrics is how much they shrink, fade, pill or wrinkle. Pre-wash fabric before sewing to avoid surprises. Consider a fabric's durability and care requirements before using it in high-traffic or outdoor areas.

With a selection of fabrics at your fingertips, you'll be inspired to create comfortable styling items for your home. So start collecting, get sewing, and make your space cozy.

 What to Know About Different Types of Fabric

To make a house into a home, fabric plays an essential role. Having certain materials on hand always allows you to spruce up any space quickly. Here's what you need to know about different types of fabric.

 1.      Cotton

Considered one of the most popular materials on the phase of the earth, cotton is a light and natural fabric. This feathery fiber is plucked out from the seeds of the cotton plant through ginning.

Cotton boasts of durability, versatility, and comfort. It can be easily found in almost any clothing: dresses, shirts, underwear, etc. Cotton also yields several fabrics, including chintz, muslin, and chino.

 2.      Leather

You've probably heard of leather, but do you know how it is made? Leather, at its core, is a type of fabric made from the hides and skins of animals, including pigs, cows, lambs, and crocodiles. No matter the type of animal skin used, it will always need various treatment methods. It is well-known for its durability, wrinkle-resistant, and stylish abilities.

 3.      Satin 

Satin, surprisingly enough, is not made from fiber. It is one of the three significant textile weaves made when each strand is well-knitted. Initially, it was made from silk; however, these days, it can be made from wool, cotton, and polyester. It is matte on one side and glossy and slippery on the other.

 4.      Silk

Silk is considered one of the most luxurious natural fabrics. It is a soft fabric with a shimmering look and smooth feel. It comes from the silkworms in South Asia, China, and Europe cocoon.

Moreover, silk should be a top priority if you ever need a durable, hypoallergenic and robust fabric. This fabric is mainly used in shirts, wedding gowns, lingerie, scarves, ties, and suits.

Other fabrics include synthetics, linen, denim, lace, crepe, and chiffon.

 Final Remarks

Fabric does so much to make a space cozy and livable, providing warmth, decoration, or functionality. Have a selection of natural and synthetic materials to prepare for any project - you'll be glad you did. Now, get out there and start creating! Make pillows, repurpose old clothes into cleaning rags, sew curtains or a quilt. The possibilities are endless once you have the suitable materials. What will you make first?

 Written by Taylor McKnight, Author for Rocky Woods

[shimmersing]

Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

“Until then, feast, celebrate, and hope we live to see a kinder age.”

The Organa throne room was packed with jubilant soldiers and subjects, all of whom gave a cheer as the Duke offered his grand benediction. Erithon and his crew shared a good-natured shout with the rest, and Aitahea’s smile was punctuated by her bright laughter. They’d returned from the assault triumphant and celebratory, Brant Sonn leading the troops in song as they had marched victorious through the Organa streets. Erithon had marveled when Aitahea had raised her own voice to join the soaring anthem. When she’d caught his astonished stare, Aitahea had laughed and leaned close to make herself heard over the other voices.

“Did you ever hear a lullaby called ‘Star by Star’?” Erithon had nodded, still confused. “It’s the same melody, simply with different words. Listen.” And he had, snippets of some long-lost tune floating in and out of recognition as her voice had spiraled around him.

Once the forces had arrived at the palace, the Duke himself had announced that they would carry on with plans for a grand ball that was scheduled that evening – not to mention the revelries rippling throughout the region as news of their victory spread. After the hearty dismissal, Aitahea accompanied Erithon from the throne room, leading them toward the central hub of the castle.

“It seems the Duke insists on our remaining in the castle as guests,” she explained. “Our belongings have been brought from our ships.”

He blinked, surprised and uncertain. “Uh. Okay. Used to packing in my own kit; how’s that work?”

The Jedi placed a soothing hand on his arm. “We’re guests of House Organa. It’s all very auspicious; they work with your protocol droid.” She hesitated a breath, in the pause slipping her hand back to her side. When he caught her eyes again, they were warm but reserved.  “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms. The guest wing isn’t far.”

“Thank you.” He offered her the lead and fell in easily at her side. “I’ll admit, a shower with real water is awfully tempting. What are the odds?”

“Quite in your favor. I think you’ll be more than pleased with the accommodations,” Aitahea agreed as they crossed the wide expanse of the central hall. Subjects and nobles alike bustled through the vaulted space, making hasty preparations for the celebrations. No one seemed to take notice of the disheveled pair as Aitahea played impromptu hostess, answering Erithon’s faltering questions about protocol among the nobility as they navigated the grand hallways.

“Fortunately, it’s easier than several thousand years ago. At one time, there was a complex system of obeisance based on the height, metal, and number of gemstones on a noble’s coronet.” Aitahea lowered her voice conspiratorially. “It only ended after an entire household suffered severe neck injuries.”

Erithon couldn’t help but arch a brow. “You’re making that up.”

“I would never!” She wed a flutter of lashes with a too-innocent smile. “You can ask the Duke himself.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll ask him about that the next time I invite him on a wild glooth hunt. You can come, too,” he taunted.

Aitahea’s eyes sparkled. “I’d be delighted.” She slowed to a stop near a set of elaborate doors. “This is the Apalis Wing. There’s a private bedroom suite for you and each of your squad members; your belongings should be just inside. The keypad will prompt you to create a new code for the lock upon entry. If you need anything else, you can use the comm unit to contact the castle steward.”

Erithon pushed open the doors and whistled low. “Can’t imagine needing much of anything else here.” The room was filled with elaborate furnishings and sumptuous fabrics, hinting at other luxuries through the open doors of the private suites. He wandered inside, looking back at the Jedi when she lingered at the threshold. “What if I need… you?” He held his breath after the last word, unexpectedly shocked that he’d had the audacity to say those words in that order.

Her gaze flickered away for a moment, aglow with reserved pleasure; when she returned her eyes to his, both her smile and blush remained sweetly steady.

“I’ll be right across the hall.”

“Great.” Erithon started to breathe again, exhaling a chagrined chuckle. The sudden rush of his own pulse in his ears was impossibly loud. “Uh, thank you.”

She took a step back, holding his gaze as she began to turn away. “See you this evening.”

When Elara and Jorgan arrived a few moments later, he was still standing in the doorway, ruefully staring across the empty hallway. Erithon’s squad mates exchanged a look just as Erithon roused at their approach.

“Oh. Hey.” Erithon shuffled from one foot to the other. “Uh, how long have you been there?” Jorgan folded his arms, and Elara smiled broadly.

“Long enough, sir.”

By the time the door clicked shut behind her, Aitahea was already halfway across the common room to her private suite, hands stuffed into her thranta’s nest of sweat-stiffened hair in search of the pins that held it securely in place. Quickly abandoning that effort, she instead grimaced at the grit under her fingernails while she dictated a brief message to her private comm. Then she turned, looking for the refresher door, and caught sight of herself in a tall mirror. She nearly recoiled at the unfamiliar reflection: sallow skin smudged with soot, ragged hair that no thranta would deign to call a nest, thank you very much, and -

Aitahea took a breath, wrinkled her nose, and dissolved into laughter.

There is no emotion indeed!

Sinking down onto a gilded chaise, Aitahea wriggled out of her cloak and draped it over the back. After another bout of giggles passed, she again began trying to release her hair from its bonds, this time teasing out the tangles with gentle fingers.

A more measured glance around showed that her meager personal belongings had been supplemented with the palace’s own necessities, all organized meticulously in her rooms. Over the holo earlier, Tharan had exclaimed about the opportunity to rub elbows with some of the nobility who, according to him, were more than eager to ‘part with some of their fortunes for a connection on the cutting edge of science.’ He - and presumably Holiday, in one format or another - had settled into their suite, but the third set of rooms remained empty of their last companion: Qyzen.

The Trandoshan had declined the Duke’s invitation to both the palace and celebration, despite having the Duke’s personal thanks for his role in the hostage crisis and the battle that had followed. He’d hunched down at Aitahea’s shoulder as the column of soldiers had begun to file into the castle. Voices had dropped to muttered whispers as they’d passed by the warrior and Jedi. “Apologize if others stare.”

Aitahea had whirled, a sudden protectiveness sharpening her expression. “Never apologize for others’ conduct, my friend.”

Qyzen Fess had remained silent for a long moment. “With Herald’s leave, will find more private camp on Organa lands.”

“With delight, Qyzen,” Aitahea had answered. “Raise me on the comm any time.”

He’d given a nod, then a shrewd glance with his good eye. “Remember promise.”

Aitahea had smiled sheepishly. “I will. Good hunting.”

Now, she could sense her friend moving steadily away from the Organa compound, into the deepest stands of the surrounding forests.

Markedly nearer, Erithon’s bright presence beckoned, unaware, and she swallowed hard against an unfamiliar but not unwelcome tenderness. She put her hands to her still-flushed cheeks, warmth lingering in the wake of his hesitant question. “What if I need… you?” Why would he –

The urgent chiming of Aitahea’s private comm startled her from her reverie, and she absentmindedly answered the summons to see Yuon Par’s face resolve from the bright static.

“Oh! Yuon!” Even from systems away, her master’s warm expression at once soothed Aitahea’s frazzled nerves. “I was moments from contacting you. We’ve only just returned from the field.”

“We’ve received reports of developments on Alderaan and had suspected your involvement. What’s happened?”

“I was engaged in an… unexpected diplomatic incident.”

Yuon pursed her lips wryly. “…Padawan.”

Feeling like an initiate, Aitahea attempted to conceal a self-conscious squirm by pulling her half-unraveled hair over one shoulder. “It’s the lieutenant.”

Yuon’s face bloomed into a delighted smile. “That’s marvelous!”

Aitahea couldn’t help but agree, feeling her face color – yet oddly grateful it wouldn’t show up in the holo. “I miscalculated when assisting the Duke, and he happened to be part of my rescue.”

“This doesn’t sound like anything that’s been in our intelligence.”

Aitahea related their efforts on Alderaan so far: the Wolf Baron’s hostage-taking, Aitahea’s attempt at diplomacy, her subsequent rescue, and their success in the battle for the highlands.

“I see. This same man, met as a child, again on Taris, now here on your own childhood home.” Yuon smartly ticked off items on her fingers. “And now after he rescues you from peril, you in turn tend to his grave injury on the field.”

“Well, when you describe it like-”

Yuon’s peal of laughter interrupted Aitahea’s mumbled protests. “You must admit, it does sound a little like a holodrama. Has the military’s public relations recruited him for a poster yet?”

Aitahea coughed sharply, recalling her indulgent vision of him the day before, helmet doffed not unlike the covers of a number of romance holos she’d seen. Sometimes Yuon was unsettlingly astute – even for a Jedi.

“You didn’t hesitate like this with previous lovers,” Yuon continued, both a little too suddenly and far too matter-of-factly for Aitahea’s taste. The consular gaped at Yuon’s visage, hands pressed to her blazing cheeks.

“Master!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, youngling.” Yuon looked uncharacteristically wistful for a moment, then shook her head and continued. “We may be Jedi, but we’re still feeling beings. The Jedi way isn’t the eradication of emotion, but the control of it.”

“That’s precisely my concern. Even with our best intentions… My-” she broke off, shaking her head, and tried again. “If I were to pursue… this, I would want to be able to devote- no, I mean, plan… I can’t help but be afraid-” She wrinkled her brows in frustration and waved a hand as if to clear the air of her uncertain words. “This is the wrong time.”

Yuon’s expression softened. “You’ll find that there is rarely a ‘right’ time, my student.”

Aitahea drew her arms tight around herself. “I fear that as well.”

“Fear will draw you closer to the dark side than love ever could.” Eloquent as they were, Yuon’s words were more troubling than comforting.

“Passion, yet serenity?” Aitahea wondered aloud, her frown softening into something more introspective.

“That sounds more like my Padawan.” Yuon nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Take your time. Restore yourself. Alderaan was your home before you came to Tython. Are you comfortable there?”

Aitahea paused to consider. “The warm welcome was a little abbreviated, but we won a generous lead in the conflict here for House Organa and the Republic, nonetheless. I couldn’t be more pleased with our progress.”

“I’m not asking about your mission, Aitahea; I’m asking about you,” Yuon pressed. “We can feel your protection, and we sense the burden you bear. I worry for you. We all do.”

“I hope to get a little rest before the gala this evening.” While she explained the Duke’s planned celebration, Aitahea’s gaze lingered on the unfamiliar gown that had ostensibly been delivered along with the rest of her things, hung on a changing screen, nearly aglow in the low light. According to the note attached, it was ‘a gift in recognition of service to House Organa, compliments of the Duke and his family.’ It was unquestionably the height of Alderaanian fashion, the simplicity of its lines embellished by an array of wings picked out in strands of tiny gems. The generous cut of the skirt and sleeves mimicked her usual robed silhouette, but the bared shoulders and lustrous gems were considerably different from her typical somber attire.

It delighted her enormously, yet left her worrying about how it might appear, a Jedi accepting gifts of such luxury. She’d admired the ladies of nobility as a child, coiffed and dressed in gowns just like this, but so far, she’d attended less than a handful of anything resembling a formal function. She’d rarely had the opportunity to wear anything other than the functional robes of her order, and certainly never something so breathtaking.

And, she thought with smug sensibility, someone you’d like very much to see you wearing it.

“Consider it a diplomatic event! Celebrating another successful joint mission between the Jedi and Republic. It’s good for morale.” Yuon gave Aitahea a pert smile, once again unreasonably astute. “I’ll be looking for photos of you on the holonet tomorrow.”

Aitahea smothered a choked giggle behind her hands. “Master.”

Yuon gave Aitahea a blithe wave, laughing her farewell. “Have a lovely time, my Padawan! May the Force be with you.”

Aitahea smiled fondly and picked up the comm to disconnect the call. A blinking light reminded her that Erithon’s holo remained unviewed, and she intended for a moment to finally watch it. Her gaze slid from the communicator to the glittering dress before drifting over to the refresher door, halfway open and boasting of long-lost comforts. Aitahea dropped the device gently on the bed, humming the refrain of a lullaby.

Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

[tikoy]

Kinktober 2020 Day 10

Day 10: Scissoring/Tribadism

Series: The Arcana game

Nadia Satrinava x unnamed female apprentice

First person POV

Warnings: Sex

Rating: Explicit

--

“FINALLY!”

I grinned and tugged Asra along as soon as I saw the city gates. He laughed and let himself get dragged as we ran. It had been weeks since we’d left Vesuvia. I’d pestered Asra to show me to the places he’d been to, but we’d barely made it to six before our dwindling coin forced us back. He promised me more adventures once we’d accumulated enough funds again, insisting that there was no need to rush. Those lands wouldn’t vanish, and we had time enough to visit all of them. It was bittersweet to head back however. Once I’d gotten a taste of travel, I’d gotten hooked.

The familiar scents of spices and smoke greeted us when we entered the marketplace. Children and adults alike rushed by as they carried all sorts of goods. Our favorite baker waved at us, offering his batch of newly baked bread. My stomach grumbled,  but I passed on the offer. The sun was nearing its height. If we hurried, we could still make it to the castle for lunch. Asra had other plans however.

“I think I’ll go buy some food then go sleep in the cart,” he said. “You can go on ahead.”

I frowned. “But Nadi’s expecting us.”

He shook his head. “Expecting you, not us. She wouldn’t mind me being there too but…”

“Dinner then? Or lunch tomorrow? I’m sure she’s missed you too.”

He smiled and ruffled my hair. “Alright. I’ll be there around the evening. You’ve got your gifts in your pack?”

Old habits died hard it seemed. I smiled back and patted my bag. “Yes, yes, master. See you later then!”

The snow white gates loomed taller as I walked closer. Earlier last year, the sight of them would have filled me with dread. Now however, they filled me only with longing and warmth. I’d barely crossed the threshold when I heard a familiar voice shout my name. Portia. I grinned and held my arms wide open for the approaching redhead. I stumbled back as I tried to brace myself. No matter how much one tried, you could never fully prepare for her hugs. I nuzzled close as she squeezed, smelling the combination of cookie dough and flowers. As we hugged, a shadow soon loomed over us.

“Nadi,” I called, beaming up at her. “I’ve missed you.”

She was as beautiful as ever. Her purple hair wound up in braids and decorated with a few crystalline beads. She wore a currant-red riding jacket with a ruffled blouse and a pair of white pants. I let go of Portia and embraced my lady love. She smelled of old parchment, jasmine flowers, and sandalwood. In her arms I sighed and relaxed, relishing the warmth of her body. After a few moments, I pulled away enough to look at her face.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome back, my darling.”

Her teeth shone pearly white against her dark red, sumptuous lips. I pressed close. Even after a hundred kisses, I still got tingles. Before I could deepen it however, Nadia pulled away. She squeezed my cheek affectionately and pressed her forehead against mine.

“Come, let’s eat lunch first,” she insisted. “You must be famished.”

Lunch dragged longer than expected. The food was as delicious as ever but I spent more time snuggling up against Nadia than eating what was on my plate. I toyed with the beads in her hair, eventually messing up her braids. She frowned half-heartedly at me and ruffled my hair in retaliation. In between bites, I told her of the places Asra and I had seen, of the people we met. I’d barely heard of the distant cities before but Nadia was familiar with nearly all of them. I smiled, fondly listening to her supplement the details of my stories or to explain the significance of what I’d seen.

“Darling,” she pressed, “as lovely it is to see you smiling, you really should eat more.”

“But you’re being so distracting~ It’s more entertaining to listen to you.”

“Nearly two months away and once you return, you’ve become a flatterer.”

“I’m not singing false praises you know.” I reached across the table and held her hand. “You’re just that wonderful.”

I pressed a few kisses on her hand before entwining it with mine. Her smooth, soft hands felt wonderful. She squeezed back affectionately. She tried to pull away, but my grip held fast. She raised a brow at me, amused.

“What shall be the ransom price for my hand then? Another story? A kiss?”

“Hmm. Feed me.”

“I spoil you too much.”

Despite her words, she used her free hand to pick up an olive and pressed it against my lips. The difference between the cool smoothness of the olive and the warmth of her fingertips was exquisite. I kissed her fingers as she pulled them away. Next came a few morsels of meat. I ate each bite, licking the sauce away from her fingertips. The way her breath hitched was almost as sweet as the sauce. As she fed me a slice of peach, the juices ran down her hand. I grabbed it, and carefully, lovingly , cleaned each finger with my tongue. Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip as she watched.

“All done~” I relinquished her hands. “Thank you, Nadi~”

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I really shouldn’t let you get away with all these things… You get more and more impetuous the more I let you.”

After the meal, she brought me to the baths. I sighed at the sight of the pools of water. Water had mostly been a luxury during our travels. Most days, we had to make do with a wipe with a clean rag. I longed for a good long soak. A tug at my clothes brought me back. Nadia was slowly unbuttoning my blouse. I smiled back and did the same for her, easing off the brightly-colored clothes to reveal the smooth skin underneath. Her body was unspeakably beautiful. I sighed and pressed a tender kiss against her collar.

“I love you so much.”

We made our way to the washing pool. The water was cool and refreshing, though it made my skin pebble. I dove in a few times, letting my body soak in as much of the water. Warm arms soon wrapped around me and pulled flush against an even warmer body.

“Come,” she whispered. “I’ll wash your hair.”

She pulled me out of the pool. I sat in between her legs as she massaged a solution onto my scalp. I sighed and leaned back as she combed through each strand. Next, she rubbed scented soap across my body. I tensed and sighed whenever her fingers seemed to drift towards my breasts. After a more pronounced flick, I keened and squirmed against her. She gripped both my breasts, thoroughly working soap into them.  She toyed with my nipples, pinching and flicking them until they became firm stubs. I hissed her name and squeezed her arm but she merely chuckled. Her hands then moved to my thighs, rubbing and squeezing as she got closer to my core. I all but sobbed when she finally got to my clit. She paid me no mercy, relentlessly rubbing at the bundle of nerves until she tore an orgasm out of me. I screamed and trembled and mewled as I came, holding on to her to keep myself from collapsing.

“N-Nadi, Nadi, Nadi…” I sighed, reaching up towards her.

I kissed her clumsily, a mess of tongues and teeth. I pulled her down on top of me, enjoying the way our bodies pressed flush against one another. Her weight on top of me was delicious. I ran my fingers through her hair and wrapped my legs around her hips, desperately pulling her closer. When at last we had to break apart for air, our faces remained close enough to feel each other’s warm breaths. It was she who devoured me again after, conquering my mouth with her wicked tongue, and my body with her clever hands. She draped my knee on her shoulder and aligned her core with mine. Our skin was slick with soap and sweat as we created delicious friction. Her name became my every breath. I sobbed with each spark, each flare of pleasure. The fire in our loins threatened to become a conflagration.

We came soon after each other, screaming each other’s name into the dimming room. We huddled close, warming each other as the fire died down. Orange light filtered into the room, signaling dusk. Once we had enough strength back, we made our way to our room to rest. Before dinnertime, Portia knocked at our door but neither of us woke. We stayed in each other’s arms, naked underneath the sheets.

--

I love Nadia.

That is all

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Princess

again, not putting the whole request here just the first little bit 

Alpha!Todoroki x Omega!Reader 

another Mideavl AU because someone needs to stop me  

word count: 2,100

warnings: Kidnapping, implied torture, starvation. implied sexual assault 

Summary: The Alpha prince Todoroki is in need of an omega, and as unfortunate as it may be, that means the royal family has to deal with an omega dealer. one way or another this is sure to be a life-changing day for you. 

Enji was happy, a rarity in the kingdom. Enji had been trying for a long time to produce an Alpha heir. And he had finally done it. His youngest son, Shoto had just presented as an alpha. Enji himself was an alpha, and he was of the belief that only Alphas should rule. So the king was happy, and when the king was happy, everyone was. And when everyone was happy, there was money to be made. There was a party to be held in a week and  Elise was heard just for that reason.

If Alphas were rare then Omegas were unheard of. And Elise was the only Omega trader in all the land. He hardly had to ask for an Audience with the king to receive one. He was old and ragged but he was treated with the utmost respect. even the king must bow down to him, and that was the best feeling in the world. 

Elise hated leaving his omegas behind but the Pens weren't exactly mobile, so he came alone and left with a royal entourage. Elise sometimes wondered if he was meant to be an Alpha, the drive inside of him to collect omegas was extremely alpha like, he had such a nose for those delectable little things. The whole march back to the pens Elise thought about the Omega's he would present to the tropes. He thought of the new Omega they had bought. Things had started so smoothly with her. Her parents were practically giving her away, a few shillings latter and he had a new, beautiful Omega. She was easily the prettiest little thing in his collection. But she was a cat, lashing out at any and everything, howling and spitting. One might even call her feral.

Enji was embarrassed about how little he knew about his own son. When Elise asked for the King to choose an Omega for his son, he realized how clueless he was on Shoto's tastes. So he did what a king did best, he delegated. Natsuo probably knew Shoto better then he did. Probably. So Natsuo was chosen to Travel back with Elise, not alone of course. Unfortunately, Natsuo also knew very little about his brother, but maybe the Captin of the guard Izuku Mydoria would have more insight to the Cold Prince's preferences.

The walk to the Omega cages was short, only a day and a half and the pay off made the journey worth it. Natsuo's head was spinning, he had never smelled an omega before let alone ten. The mixing scents of Grapefruit, Pine, and Sugar were almost too much for him. Elise showed off his best Omegas, the ones who had been broken In and were ready to find an Alpha mate. Izuku wasn't as distracted by the Omegas as Natsuo. He watched with sharp eyes as the Omega performed their complex mating dances. But he wasn't focusing on their spins or dips. He looked at the bruises on their legs and the ribs that showed through their ragged clothes. Omega's were treated worse than cattle.

“what happened to your hand?” Natsuo asked pointing at a Handler. Izuku flicked his eyes to follow Natsuo's finger. The Handler tensed and hid his bandaged arm behind his back.

“answer the prince,” Elise hissed, fire burning in his eyes.

“One of the new Omegas my prince, She went into heat, I tried to help her and she lashed out.” he explained quietly. Elise should have known the new bitch was the problem.

“She has yet to be broken In,”  Elise hissed. Izuku shot a look to Natsuo. they could save an Omega before it was too late.

“the prince may enjoy taming a wild little thing, show us to her,” Natsuo demanded. A blood vesicle near Elise's temple pulsed. This was bad, what was he going to do if she bit the prince?

“I just need a little more time with her then She'll be a perfect mate,” he assured them

“Time is the only luxury we cannot afford, Show me to the Omega,” Natsuo demand. Elise sighed.  He couldn't very well say no to the prince. He leads him through the pens to the omega.

“she's in there my lords. This is as close as we can get, safely.” Elise said

“open the door I want to meet her,”  Natsuo demanded. “now.” he could smell the omega threw the cage doors, it was intoxicating. Elise ground his teeth but opened the cage door. And you had the audacity to hiss at the prince and his guard.

“If you come near me I'll take that handoff instead of just marking it up to you bastard,” you shouted standing up to your full height. You were as weak and as beaten down as the other Omegas but you wouldn't know it just by looking at you. There was a fire in your eyes.

“Oh she'll do Nicely for the prince,” Izuku said.

“yes, get her ready for travel,” Natsuo agreed, nodding his head. You hissed again getting in a fighting position. But Natsuo wasn't afraid of you, he should have been, just because you were small, and sickly didn't mean you couldn't put up one hell of a fight. Natsuo approached you slowly with his hands up while Elise disappeared into the shadows to prepare your cart and figure out a price.

“I'm not going to hurt you, We want to help. Get you out of here,” Natsuo assured you taking a step forward, you attached quickly scratching at any inch of bare skin you could claw at, He didn't fight back, he didn't even try to restrain you. You stopped fighting him to catch your breath,

“I want to help you, Now come with me,” he smiled kindly at you. Blood dripping from his cheek where you had caught him with your nails.

You decided trusting Natsuo and Izuku was a good idea the second you entered the castle. They gave you a bath with warm water, you reveled in the feeling of being clean. Scrubbing the dirt from your body. Then they dressed you in the softest, most comfortable dress you had ever even dreamed of. And the food. Anything you wanted and as much as you wanted. And all you had to do was ring a bell. You could get used to a life like this. You gorged yourself until you couldn't force down another bite.  The bed was almost better than the food. You had never slept so well in your life.

When you awoke, bright sunlight streamed through the heavy drapes that covered your windows. It must be noon already, Natsuo stood at your doorway

“I was just about to wake you, we have to get ready for the Ball tonight,” Right the ball where you would be given away to an Alpha, Natsuo promised he would help you escape before the end of the night. You would be given to the crown prince, Shoto. Then you would fade into the crowd, never to be seen again.  

A group of four or five attendants followed Natsuo into your room they swarmed you without a second thought they attached you with powders and perfumes, brushes and Lace. The Dress they stuffed you into wasn't nearly as comfortable. You caught yourself in the refection, you looked like a completely different person. Then just as quickly as they had appeared, the flock of women disappeared.

“they are demons aren't they?” Natsuo chuckled. “come along, The first few guests have already arrived,” you spent the first half for the ball by the Buffet table stuffing your face with delicate pastries called Cream puffs. You ignored The noblemen who tried to start conversations with you and the Ladies who commented on your dress. You were only distracted from the food by a strange new scent. At first, you thought it was another batch of Cream puffs straight from the kitchen but when you turned you saw it wasn't food, it was an alpha.

Shoto was still getting used to the scents of people, they were so intense. He caught your scent the moment he walked into the ballroom. He was hooked instantly. He knew he had to find the source of the aroma that instant. But he kept getting stopped. Everyone wanted to talk to the crown prince and everyone wanted to tease him with the gift they had oh so graciously got him. He tried to be polite but it had been hours and he was getting frantic. The Alpha inside of him was impatient. Finally, he found you. He saw your shoulders tense as you smelled him his breath caught in his throat when he saw you. He had never seen a woman so beautiful.

Neither of you could seem to form words. Both of you took small steps toward each other until you were inches apart.

“Hello, I'm Shoto Todoroki,”

“(y/n) (l/n), It's a pleasure to meet you,” Shoto found himself staring. of course, he had never met an Omega before so he had no way of knowing you were any different from the countless betas here but you knew at once he was an alpha. 

Shoto’s inner alpha wanted you, bad. it took every ounce of his self-control not to sink his teeth into you right that minute. “can I have this dance?” he asked holding his hand out. 

you expected at once letting the strong alpha pull you on to the dance floor. you had never danced before. Shoto didn’t seem to notice you tripping over your own feet or stepping on his toes. he twirled you around the ballroom floor. 

He opened his mouth to ask you something, anything but he was cut off before he could say anything by a loud blaring of trumpets. No, this was all too soon he was supposed to go to the front of the room and receive his gifts but he didn’t want to leave you, he felt like he might die if he was separated from you now. his fingers dug into your waist holding you protectively. 

The crowd was looking at him expectantly but he couldn't take his eyes off of you. Natsuo tapped his shoulder “mind if I cut in?” he asked teasingly, He did mind actually. buy you let go of Shoto and came to Natsuo’s side, Shoto hadn't known Natsuo had brought a date. He felt like he was going to be sick, but there was nothing more he could do, he let the crowd push him towards his father. Shoto barely passed comments on the gifts as they were presented to him. Most people thought of him as stoic anyway, his attention was only piqued when he heard the word Omega.

His inner alpha couldn't help but be excited, his father had found him an Omega. The crowd parted to reveal the Omega in question, it was you. He had to stop himself from lunging at you. Turns out he didn't have to, the onlookers pushed you into his arms. He felt pride as his fingers found home on your skin.

The rest of the Ball was a blur, Todoroki didn't really care, you were by his side, nothing else mattered. He tried his best to talk to you but he found himself tongue-tied.

You weren't following the plan, you knew that. Natsuo kept looking over your way as a sort of signal to you but you ignored him you wanted to stay right where you were. Todoroki was so quiet but that only made you want him more. Your inner Omega wanted to crack past that shy extortioner and get to know him.  Finally, Natsuo marched up to you and your Alpha.

“Excuse me, I need to borrow your Omega for a quick second dear brother,” Natsuo said through gritted teeth.

“No,” Shoto said fiercely. Natsuo's eyes widened, he wasn't a man accustomed to hearing no, especially not from his younger brother

“excuse me?”

“It's alright Natsuo! I've u-uh changed my mind,” you said trying to be delicate, it looked like Shoto was about ready to rip his brother's throat out.

“are you sure (y/n)?” Natsuo asked, not taking his eyes off of Shoto.

“positive,” you said slipping your hand into Shoto's. Natsuo nodded and left.

“what was that all about?” Shoto asked still not relaxing

“oh your brother is such a Sweetheart he saved me from that awful Man I think I'll always be in his debt.” you gushed squeezing his hand. He seemed to relax at that.

“I suppose I am in his dept too, after all, he brought you to me.” with that, he kissed you.