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jetiisyandereclones · 2 years

Text

Jessie x Reader

A continuation of my Kix x Reader fic

@professional-yearner

Warnings:

Smut

NSFW

18+

Part 1 (Kix X Reader)

Kix POV

Jesse looked… amused to say the least.

Kix had come back to barracks from their booze run mind 1000 miles in the sky, his face dreamy.

“What happened to you? Find the worlds best spice Stache?”

Kix just floated to their table and sat down, his dreamy face contorting into slight worry, his eyes unfocused, in deep thought.

“I, think I just met someone…”

“HAHHHAA! Awww, you’ve got your first puppy love. C’mere, Vod, don’t be shy. Let’s hear the details. Who was she? What did she look like. She must’ve been good, you look like you can’t get out of your own head!”

Kix just hummed. He had expected this sort of reply from his brother. Jesse seemingly never had much interest in forming any attachments beyond what would get the latest pretty face in his bed for the night, then out of it again before morning.

His brother was kind of a man-whore like that.

He passed Jesse the bottle he had requested, debating on whether to tell him about her.

He loved his Vod, but Kix didn’t think he could understand the fixation he already had on that woman.

Kix himself didn’t understand it.

It had been half an hour! Just half an hour and already he felt pain, like he had been separated from his love for a hundred years.

Kix was also worried. That scar had been nasty. Angry red and raised, it screamed of badly healed infections. Not to mention, she had implied that it had not been the only instance of at home healing she’d had to endure!

What else did the woman go through, what more had a lack of resources forced her to do?

He was brought out of his thoughts by his brothers low whistle.

Looking around, Kix saw Jesse homing in on yet another pretty face. He saw his brother give his signature smirk, a slight ‘come hither’ motion of the head, and Kix knew his brother would be getting very close to that woman. If only for a while.

It wouldn’t surprise him if Jesse took her for a ride in the bathroom stall or some back alley, then came straight back, shamelessly moving on to whatever attractive being took him next.

He’d always had such a way with people, and they always seemed to flock to him with a few smooth words and pretty praises. Many of which, Kix had been witness to.

Amazingly enough, none of his ‘bed’ partners ever seemed to mind the shortness of it all.

The distance.

Kix watched as Jesse led the giggling, blushing Twi’lek outside, to where he knew was a secluded area. He didn’t even think they knew each others names.

That’s just how Jesse was. He always seemed to reel in like-minded partners. All kinds would find themselves bent over, satisfied and then left with a kiss on the cheek and a sly “see you around”

To Kix it was all so, cold. Impersonal. He didn’t know how Jesse could take it.

He had once asked His brother, why so distant, so many?

————————————————————————————————————————

They were drunk and on leave at 79’s. His brother had come back from the second person of the night, clothes messy and red stains all over his neck.

Kix pointed out the lipstick and Jesse groaned.

“I TOLD him not to leave marks. I gotta get these off.”

Jesse ducked into the bathroom. Kix knew that he didn't want to scare off any potential partners by making them think he was taken.

When he got back Kix saw that his brothers neck was still red. His face annoyed.

“He left bite marks! How did I not notice him biting me! Togrutans, vod!” Jesse slammed back into the booth seat, taking a swig of his Corellian rum.

Despite his annoyance, Kix could see the veiled want in his eye. The dreaminess.

“Why don’t you ever stay with them? You really seemed to like that one”

They both spied said Togrutan making his way out of the bar.

Their flirting had been masterful, slick and quick.

The Togrutan had a full face of makeup on, with patterns drawn on his face markings to paint a beautiful scenery. Jesse had locked onto him in an instant.

Kix didn't have to have see or hear his brothers interaction to know that they’re be going for a fuck very soon. Jesse had that look in his eye he got whenever he saw a target, and he never missed.

At his questioning, Jesses shoulder slumped a little, almost defeated. For once he answered genuinely, the booze making him honest.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I don’t wanna, but I just…can’t. I get in, I get out. That’s all it’s ever been. I did like that guy, but not in any way that would make me wanna stay. I liked all of them, took care of all of them, but I never wanted any of them. Not really.”

Kix had never seen his brother look defeated. His eyes sad and lonely, if only for a passing second. Before he knew it, Jesse was straightening up, rubbing his eye and rolling his neck as if to loosen it and banish all his sorrows, a smile plastered back onto his face.

“Besides, we’re here for a good time. Not a long time. Why waste what little fun we can have on just one person”

Kix saw through his brothers façade. Jesse was lonely. Wanting.

He slung an arm around his Vod’s shoulders, eyes warm and empathetic.

“We’ll it seems for now your just going to have to deal with my company. Your neck starting to go a VERY impressive shade of blue, I’m pretty sure the natties can see it across from the bar.”

Jesse groaned, leaning back.

“It could be worse. At least you won’t be leaving any time soon!”

Kix made noises of insult, playfully punching his brothers shoulder, lightening the mood again.

Deep down he had known Jesse was right though, and it stung. He had never really taken to anyone he had met, and he had met a lot.

He just sat and talked and let them go, usually into Jesse’s arms, and that had been alright. He didn’t feel like he missed much.

They had spent the rest of the night people watching. Taking bets on who would be punched or slapped first and stumbled home in the early hours of the morning, ready to once again put on the face of the GAR and go on another mission for the Republic.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Kix was sure Jesse didn’t remember that conversation. He never brought it up again but every so often he would catch sight of the longing in his brothers eyes as he watched a young couple, on a date or expecting or with a large and rambunctious family.

Jesse wanted it. Kix knew he did, but it was all but out of reach for a majority of the clones, so he gave up on the idea and moved on.

Kix decided that while his brother was, occupied, he would do some research on his pretty darling.

He never asked the woman for a name, but he had taken note of her name tag.

Using that and the employee database for the store she worked at, he found her easily enough, less than impressed with company security.

He got everything he needed. Full name, and socials. From there he went to her Hyper-Com account.

Bingo.

Address, likes, dislikes, family, friends and just about any and everything else he’d need.

Scrolling through Y/N’s timeline, he came to find out that she lived with another woman. As far as he could tell, she had as many scars and stories to tell as his love. Her eyes were tired and her mannerisms spoke of a person who had grown up rough. She was someone he could respect, someone he would easily call friend or even sister.

The two ladies seemed to be very close. One particular post showed Kix that his darling had once been part of a wealthy family, but was cut off due to differences in ideologies and political opinions, the poor thing. She was left with nothing.

Her friend had taken her under her wing. Taken her into what was now their home and taught her how to survive by herself.

Then Kix found the injury posts. Detailed paragraphs about what had happened and advice to other people on how to deal with it, targeted heavily towards her neighbors in the same community.

It was more of a group chat than anything, with advice and care instructions being swapped between those who had to take care of themselves. Grandparents showing teen mothers how to help their babies through their first colds, experienced older women showing the youngers how to protect themselves, and disturbingly, there was even one post about how to perform an emergency abortion using home grown plants.

Most of the information was problematic due to the fact there was a high risk to the self-procedures, but Kix couldn’t deny that in a pinch, they’d work.

His clever girl.

He saw her update when she’d gotten her scar. Saw the recording of how it happened.

She had tripped trying to prevent her friend from falling, and crashed onto a glass table, slicing her forearm from wrist to elbow. He couldn’t stand the screaming and blood, not from her. But that’s okay, he didn’t need to see to know what came next.

Instead, the medic went through some of her other posts.

Kix couldn’t help but admit some of his darlings shenanigans were amusing. Night outs leading to bizarre situations like donkey jousting, getting stuck in trees with a very mean snapping crab, storming her old workplace with an army of tookas, being thrown down the stairs encompassed in bubble wrap and using drones to steal fast food and street signs.

Kix liked those posts. She looked happy, and so did her housemate. Their smiles taking years off of their faces.

He didn’t like to think of all the injury and sickness posts she needed to make. Allergic reactions, dislocated and broken bones, how to reset a nose, and how to get rid of itchiness in old scars were common ones.

He swore that once he had rescued his darling from this state of living, she would only ever receive the best of care, no matter what the situation was.

—————————————————————————————————————————

He was looking at a video post of his Y/N teaching her housemate to properly mix some sort of death grip alcohol drink that could put a rancor to sleep, when Jesse mad a reappearance, the Twi’lek no where to be seen.

Like a cat, Jesse stretched across the booth, looking to all the world an incredibly satisfied man.

He cast a curious glance at Kix’s holopad, noticing the two girls.

“She’s cute, that one in the green. Whose account is this.”

“Y/N, the woman I met”

“Oooh, which one is she?”

“Not the one in green. These two live together.”

“She’s pretty. A little pale though, wouldn’t you say”

Kix looked at the screen. His Vod was right. She had a slight whiteness that could suggest oncoming sickness.

“She works a lot. Probably exhaustion.”

“Hmmm. You mind if I look up her housemate. I wouldn’t mind getting to know her, you know what I’m saying?” Jessie nudged his brother, who seemed more wound up than usual.

“Play nice, Jesse. If things go right, I may actually get this one”

Jesse looked at his vod, shocked.

He knew about the clones…tendencies. The sudden romances, the devotion, the love.

Most would call it rushed and illogical. Dangerous and unhealthy. But the clones were stubborn and willed. They lived short lives and if they thought they were going to get even the smallest chance at love, at something soft and sweet and warm and caring, the they’d grab on and not let go. He guessed being a throwaway pawn in a war did that to you.

Of course, he also knew about the clones eventual plan for the Jedi, as well as any other partners, or “darlings” as he’d heard them called, but it was surprising to see his brother, who, like himself, had never truly taken to anyone romantically, finally find his one.

Jesse smiled at Kix.

“She’s lucky to have you, Vod.”

—————————————————————————————————————————

Jesse POV

Jesse had done some research on his vod’s darling, on his behalf. Kix was a medic, and not very good at digging up information. Jesse, however, was.

He’d found out a lot about his brothers love. She was a bit of a spitfire to be honest. Dry wit and sarcasm permeated her being when dealing with most interactions.

Jesse had found another of her online accounts, a video sharing platform, where she posted a lot of content that included her and her housemate and all they’ve been through.

Jesse thought he’d bust his gut at how hard he laughed when a pipe burst in their apartment during a storm. They were just so…dramatic.

He was starting to get attached to Kix’s darling. She was definitely someone he could see himself being friends with, but her housemate, she was something else.

Where Kix’s darling was the apprentice, her housemate was the master of living their lifestyle. It was apparent that Y/N had taught Kix’s love everything she knew, and what a teacher she was.

Jesse slowly started to show more and more interest in her. She was constantly on his mind.

His undoing was when he’d found her more… private accounts.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Jesse was panting, his shirt rucked up round his chest.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. He had been casually lurking on Y/N’s page again when he came across it. It was a video post, she was answering some questions from her followers about sexual health and safety for beginners, when she answered a question about her experience in the porn industry.

Jesse sat up straight at this. He hadn’t come across any evidence to say she was a dancer or had done adult films. Y/N answered that while she hadn’t professionally done any adult entertainment work, out of desperation she had started an only fans, not thinking it would go anywhere. Now she has a small but consistent following.

Jesse didn’t hear what she said about dealing with creeps and stalkers. His mind was elsewhere.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it. He was trying to find out about her, for once not trying to find a way into her bed. But curiosity got the best of him.

Looking in the description he found that she had included a link to her only fans. It was guarded by a paywall, but Jesse was all too willing to pay.

After getting to her page, what he saw made him harder than any of his quickies had managed before.

It was his beautiful darling, elegant, wrecked and wild. Every position and kink he could ever want to try was there.

Knowing he was alone and unable to help himself, Jesse picked out a video to his liking. A, somewhat simple one. His darling was in dark red lingerie, soft thighs spread and a vibe pressed to her clit. She was flushed and stunning, her pants and whimpers going to straight to his cock. But what got to him the most, and a testament to her acting, was how genuine she sounded. No over exaggerated, and emotionless screams of ‘yes!’ And ‘more, PLEASE’ that he was all too familiar with. Just breathy moans and darling sighs.

One of the clones hands made its way down to the top of his pants, pulling them down just enough to expose his leaking erection. He slowly jerked himself in time with his darlings thrusts.

Every time she bucked, so did he. When she whimpered, he groaned. In his head they were preforming a sensual and emotional dance, their love and devotion flowing into each other as they came with a cry, Jesse’s eyes watering as his love squirmed and burrowed into her pillow, like it was a mans arms.

Like it was him.

He sighed as he came down from his orgasm, occasionally giving himself a light pump. He had all night to himself, maybe he’d take a look at what else his darling had prepared, as if she had known he would eventually come looking for her.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Jesse had started to tag along with Kix on his “surveillance” missions. They got to see their loves in every little moment at home and every painful moment at work and every moment after that. It went on for weeks. They saw everything.

EVERYTHING.

Out of respect for Kix and affection for his darling he would always look away during private moments between the pretty woman, and his vigilant vod.

One such occasion, his darling Y/N and Kix’s love had come home for a night at the bar. Perched on an abandoned and crumbling townhouse, Kix and Jesse were offered the perfect view into most of their living rooms. The more private areas of the house were monitored as well, cameras being hidden by Jesse to capture every corner and detail.

Knowing the girls routine well by now, the clones split up to offer each other some privacy.

Jesse set up in his usual spot, clocking in on his darlings actions.

She stumbled in to her bedroom, carelessly ripping off her clothing and dropping onto the bed.

Jesse likes to imagine he was stumbling with her, kissing her breathless as he playfully ticked up her sides and tummy.

Gods, he wanted her so bad. She was all he could think about. There wasn’t anyone who could please him anymore. Before he would usually be able to get it up for any pretty face but now, even the sexiest of people held no interest for him, no matter how hard he tried for them.

He had become addicted to his Y/N. His sweet, sensual, tough darling, who was at this moment, dragging her hand up the inside of her soft thigh, teasingly pulling up her shirt and kneading her tits, one after the other.

Jesse followed along, mirroring her actions, eyes glued to the monitor. Vaguely he could hear Kix’s whining, his Vod had been having the same types of fantasies he had.

Focusing back on the monitor, he looked just in time to see Y/N slip her fingers inside her glistening Pussy.

‘Mmmm, good girl’ Jesse groaned, stocking his cock in time with her fingers. But it wasn’t enough. Not for her and not for Jesse. His poor loves hand was too small. Her fingers too short and slim to truly bring her any pleasure. Jesse would help her with that, once they bring them home.

He would work her slowly, lovingly. Stretching her open, licking her, nipping and kissing at her delicious core, while grinding into the mattress, begging to please her with his aching cock.

She would say yes, he was sure of it. He would show her how capable and skilled he was.

Oh, the things they would do together. The force itself wouldn’t be able to pry them apart once they started to make love. He would bind them together forever.

But until then, Jesse had to make these private viewings suffice.

They never really brought him to full pleasure. His darling always put on a show for him, but until he was able to cradle her in his arms, their combined spend leaking out of her as he kissed her tear stained face and rubbed and nuzzled away the soreness and tenderness; until he could wake up still inside her and ready to make love again, the early morning light casting a halo around her, he would always be left hollow cold and wanting.

Jesse watched as his Y/N started to desperately circle her clit, mewling as she came around her fingers. Watching her pulse and contract, desperate to clamp down and lock something into place brought Jesse to his own completion, the first one in a while.

“MMMNPH, that’s it. That’s it sweet girl. Kriff, it’s all for you. I'm Just for you” Jesse panted out, his cum splashing up his stomach and chest. It was always a lot. He came a lot and it took a while. So Jesse worked himself through his orgasm while watching Y/N work herself through her own.

He also definitely heard Kix’s hoarse cry from across the building. He wasn’t too embarrassed. Living in a group barracks their whole life left little privacy to the clones who wanted to have some fun for the night, but didn't have any credits for a room. So they couldn't really afford to be shy. Their moans and praises ringing out through the room while some of the brothers tried to sleep, and others used the fuel of the mystery person to get themselves some much deserved relief.

He remembered with amusement the time he had brought someone to the barracks, who ended up doing the walk of shame with about three other people in the morning, none of whom had been particularity quiet.

There were a lot of sour clones that day.

While cleaning himself up, he watched as his love changed, and snuggled in for the night. Jesse had long since noted her favorite position, how she liked to braid her hair loosely and her aversion to pants while sleeping.

All this he took into account for the day he could finally bring her home, becoming part of this routine. Kriff, he even had their rings picked out. He had gone with Kix to help with his and spotted the perfect ones. A claim, engagement and wedding band. Three for her, three for him, and he’d wear them with pride.

It must’ve been half an hour of just watching Y/N sleep, her calm, smooth face youthful, and adorable, even the small string of drool. He sighed. He would be there with her, soon. He would give her the world.

‘Goodnight, my love’ he whispered, tracing her features on the screen before shutting it down and going to look for an equally flushed Kix.

Seeing him there, he slung an arm around his brothers shoulders, Kix’s eyes still dreamy and distant.

“C'mon vod. Let’s go get a drink”

—————————————————————————————————————————

They had been talking about the future. They’d gotten the encrypted com that had been sent out to all clones, telling them that they were green lit to bring their darlings back to Kamino.

Nursing their drinks, Jesse and Kix talked about what they’d do once they had their darlings, their plans for the future.

“We can’t just up and take them! People will notice!” Kix exclaimed, exasperated.

“Why not? It’s not like we’re taking them away from much.” Jesse was confident that his darling would not put up too much of a fight.

He’d seen her say online about how she wished she had a better life where she didn’t have to worry about where her next meal was going to come from after paying rent.

He would give her the best he could. the best home, the best food. she would know nothing but luxury and devotion under his care.

Kix was about to retort when his com link started beeping. The two clones thought it was another transmission from Coruscant. what they heard though, made their blood run cold.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Gods, she looked so, broken. Jesse was on the verge of tears. His love had been so alive and happy just hours ago!

Now, she looked like at least 80% of her bones were broken. All because just drunk one idiot couldn't wait for a public speeder or taxi.

That bastard would pay for this, he’d make sure of it. For both Y/N and Kix’s darling.

Kix had kept his love under nearly the entire trip so far. The poor thing was confused and angry at first. She had tried to stab him when they initially brought her back around after she was brought on board the star cruiser.

She hadn’t been very successful though. Kix worked wonders with feisty patients. Being used to clone soldiers, the woman was a kitten in comparison. Kix had his darling purring and sleepy in no time, gently crawling into bed and cradling her head to his chest after he’d stabilized Y/N.

Jesse wished he could hold his love like Kix was. Her injuries were extensive though. She needed a bacta tank, so all he could do is sit, pressed against the glass as he watched his loves twisted body put itself back together, cradled and embraced by the healing blue liquid.

He spoke to her as she floated there, separated by inches of glass. One of his vod’s wife told him that when she was pregnant they’d talked to the baby. Said that the ad’ika could hear them. Jesse imagined his darling Y/N could hear him the same way.

He wanted to bring her back to him. Let her get familiar and comfortable with his voice as he told her stories about all the things they would do together. What their new life would be like and how he couldn’t wait to marry and cuddle and love with her, happy and healthy and safe.

He talked and talked and talked, until his throat was dry and scratchy, until his tears stopped and he could only stare at her.

He’d hold her extra tight and long after she got out, then he would hold her hand as he guided her to their future together.

#yandere clones #yandere clone family au #Yandere Jesse x reader #Yandere kix x reader

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laughingphoenixleader · 2 years

Note

#7, 8, 14 and 21 for the oc ask game, specifically for Aanika and Daesha!!

absolutely!!

7.) What are 3 foods they can’t live without?

Okay I’m gonna go with if they lived on earth bc I don’t feel like doing a bunch of research lol.

Aanika: Ice cream, especially Italian ice. She just has a thing for it. Any kind of African food—as someone from Africa, she loves it all! And I’d say pink lemonade. Girl is a big fan.

Daesha: Well, she considers a life without coffee to be one not worth living, so there’s that lol. And macarons are her favorite dessert! Her mom’s are the best and she will not accept criticism. She also loves croissants—but it’s her best friend who absolutely nails those.

8.) What will always make them smile? What will always make them cry?

Aanika: Fun fact: she’s a triplet! Her brother and sister always make her smile—she loves them so dearly.

And for what makes her cry…holodramas. She will silently cry in any sad one she watches. Or she’ll cry because something’s so beautiful. Never obnoxiously, never dramatically, and never loudly—you’ll just look over and see tears running down her cheeks.

She’s my sweet summer child and I adore her

Daesha: Whenever she can tell that even one customer clearly loves her caf/her caf cantina in general, she’s absolutely thrilled and will glow for hours.

Daesha isn’t a crier. But sometimes when she’s having an off day or is on her period, she’ll cry over sad pictures of animals. She loves animals very much.

14.) Choose an AU you think would be interesting for them to be a part of. Who would they be?

Daesha: Oooh. Hmm. I think Daesha would make a GREAT Tiana in a Princess and the Frog AU! I just realized she reminds me a lot of her and that makes me very happy, because Tiana is my beloved. Who would her Naveen be, though? Force only knows. Or maybe me. That remains to be seen by you. *winks*

I mean a coffee shop AU wouldn’t even be an AU for Day so lol (also new nickname just dropped!)

Annika: Annika’s a bit harder for me. Hm. I’d say that she’s make a great Cress in a Lunar Chronicles AU if that were a thing! And she’d be thrilled to be in a soulmates AU lol my girl is a huge romantic!

21.) What are they most afraid of? What made them fear this?

Annika: Anything happening to her siblings. Experiencing a horrendous breakup again. Pretty self-explanatory.

Daesha: Losing her caf cantina somehow. And the typical Twi’lek fears—being kidnapped or harassed or sold into slavery and etc. Her caf cantina means the world to her and is her pride and joy, and…she’s a Twi’lek.

OC ask game here!

#thanks for the asks my beloved!#star wars #fanfiction #ocs #oc #my writing #my oc #my ocs

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sansaorgana · 1 year

Text

— I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND

PAIRING — Obi–Wan Kenobi x fem!Jedi!Reader

SUMMARY — You’ve always loved him and he’s always loved you but it was forbidden. However, in the new reality without the Jedi Order, you might get a chance at love.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I'm a sucker for older Obi–Wan, what can I say...? 🥰 I think it’s also my first fic where the Reader is actually a good Jedi and not a dark side leaning character lol

WARNINGS — every trigger included in canon that is related to the Order 66

WORD COUNT — 4,260

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND

“No,” he whispered and you froze for a second. You needed time to process his answer because his voice was weak and his eyes were pleading you to keep going but his words were contradicting all of that. You batted your eyelashes and moved back. “We can’t,” he added and his voice broke.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled and looked away, feeling the tears forming in your eyes at the loss of the almost kiss. “They can forbid relationships but they will never forbid the feelings. I can’t stop this, I have tried,” you confessed. “I care about you, I always will care about you. And not being able to be with you the way I want to be will only make it worse. I don’t see how it’s going to help me to deny myself the privilege of having you.”

“You will always have me,” Obi–Wan extended his hands like he wanted to hold yours but you moved away. That would be too much to let him squeeze your fingers while knowing perfectly well that you two would never be anything more than two friendly Masters of the Jedi Order. “You will always have me as your friend.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” you dared to look at him again and he opened his mouth a little like he wasn’t prepared for your sharp tongue. “Just tell me one thing.”

“Yes?”

“If we weren’t Jedi, would it change anything?” you took a deep breath in, waiting for the answer but he took his time before giving it away.

“It would change everything,” Obi–Wan nodded.

“Thank you,” you turned around to walk away. “See you later at the Council meeting.”

��You weren’t much older than Anakin Skywalker and you certainly weren’t as strong with the force as him. You were a skilled Jedi but only a few could match with Obi–Wan’s former padawan. However, you were granted a title of the Master and Anakin Skywalker wasn’t.

“I just don’t understand why,” he whined for the hundredth time this day. You rolled your eyes at that and were very tempted to show off your new rank by disciplining him but you knew it would be a bad idea to tease Anakin this way.

“Maybe that’s why,” you only said. “You want it too badly and that’s your pride speaking through you.”

“More like ambition, I’d say,” he corrected you while playing nervously with his mechno-arm.

“The same thing,” you smiled kindly at him. “You have to be patient, Anakin.”

“You sound just like him.”

A bolt of electricity went down your spine. You tried to avoid Obi–Wan so much these days that you felt odd even when he was only mentioned in a conversation. Thankfully, not many people noticed your sudden isolation from each other because they were too busy with the Separatists.

“Maybe we just both sound like Jedi Masters,” you winked at Anakin and he blushed slightly.

“Oh, shut up,” he leaned on the wall.

“Not a proper way to address a Master,” you continued because he reacted to the first joke better than you’d expect.

However, you two were interrupted by your young padawan, Drina.

She was eight years old, just a beginner – so cheerful and full of life. A purple skinned Twi’lek girl with big yellow eyes and dotted pattern on her lekku.

“Master! Master!” Drina ran up to you, barely catching a breath. “Master Kenobi said that yellow lightsabers are for the Jedi Sentinels! Does it mean I’ll be one, too?” she tugged on your tunic.

“Drina,” you laughed and caressed her head, “you can’t choose your path based on the lightsaber colour you wish to have in the future,” you explained, noticing Obi–Wan approaching you from the corner of your eye. You swallowed thickly because it made you nervous. He was smiling at Drina, though, and you couldn’t stop thinking how adorable it was.

“But only a yellow one suits my eyes!” she whined. You and Anakin laughed at that.

“Jedi Sentinels are the balanced ones. As skilled in combat as acquainted with the ancient knowledge of the Order,” you explained.

“That sounds like double the work and effort,” Drina sighed and pouted. “Nevermind, I’m going to do that.”

“And I’m going to help you,” you held her hand and looked down when Obi–Wan stood next to Anakin. “I think it’s time for you to train now,” you quickly made an excuse and left as fast as possible, dragging your padawan behind you.

“What will happen now?” Drina’s big yellow eyes filled with tears as she looked up at you. Your heart squeezed in your chest. You were everything she had and your responsibility was to protect her. “Are you going to die?” her lower lip trembled.

You looked down at your leg. It hurt badly, the blood was everywhere and you wouldn’t even try to stand up in such a state.

“I hope not,” you answered with honesty.

“Can’t you heal yourself, Master?” she asked.

“I don’t think I have enough strength,” you confessed weakly and finally let go of your lightsaber’s handle. It hit the ground and Drina widened her eyes at the sight. “I’m sorry, little one,” you smiled sadly at her and tried to extend your hand to caress her face but you found your arm too heavy to move it up.

“Master, no! What will I do now?” she sobbed and moved closer to you.

You were up in the mountains of Tython where you took her for an educational trip – a nice break from the ongoing war. However, the moment you landed on the planet’s surface, you could feel that something was wrong. There was a disturbance in the Force. It was evening already, you just went to sleep instead of worrying about it (you blamed it on the ancient spirits of the planet) and early in the morning you took your padawan to the mountains.

The lack of any contact with the outside world didn’t worry you more than usual because on planets like this, it was quite normal to have problems with connection. And then you met a squadron of the clones that wasn’t supposed to be there. They were clearly waiting for you and they were hostile.

Now they were lying dead all around you but you felt like you would soon join them. And what would happen to poor Drina? She was too young to fly back home on her own.

If there was still any home to fly to…

“Master, I will try to heal you,” she offered her help.

“No, Drina, that’s too much for you,” you tried to stop her but you were growing weaker and weaker. She put her small purple hands on your leg and closed her eyes, focusing hard on the task like her life depended on it. Well, to be fair – it did. She wouldn’t survive without you.

To your surprise, you soon found your strength filling your limbs back again. Little Drina was way more talented with the Force than anyone would expect. You smiled to yourself as your legs moved a little which was a good sign.

You asked her to stop but she kept going until she pushed herself to the limit and lost consciousness. You pulled her body on your lap and caressed her lekku gently.

“My brave girl,” you whispered before taking your lightsaber from the ground and standing up. You took Drina’s body in your arms and began to slowly walk back to the ship.

She healed you but not completely and it still was a painful and slow process, however now you were quite sure that you’d manage to at least get back to the ship. Then you’d worry about what to do next.

After a long while of walking in silence, you heard a noise. Someone was around and you didn’t know what had happened but the fact that the clones had been trying to kill you and your padawan meant that you couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

You still had Drina’s body in your arms but you made sure that your hand was near your lightsaber, just in case a quick action would be required.

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice asked and your eyes widened at the sight of Obi–Wan emerging from behind a big rock. “Drina?” he looked at your padawan with fear in his bright eyes.

“Stay away,” you drawled out and took a step back.

“Is she alright?” he asked, ignoring your hostility. There was so much pain in his voice, so much sadness…

“She’s exhausted. She saved my life, I was hurt in combat,” you answered but still kept taking small steps back. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m so glad you weren’t there… At the Temple,” his hands were shaking as he extended them, trying to reach out for you.

“What happened?” you swallowed thickly, fearing the answer.

“Treason. Not many of us left. It was a purge. Even the… Even the padawans…” he couldn’t finish and you just stood there, petrified. You didn’t know what to say.

“I should have been there. I would have saved them,” you finally opened your mouth.

“Don’t be stupid. No one would be able to save them all. You saved your padawan, that’s what matters.”

“What about Anakin? Have you saved him?” you asked, unsurely.

The fact was, you couldn’t sense Anakin’s presence no longer in the Force. And if he was alive, he’d be by Obi–Wan’s side, right? They were always together.

“It was him.”

Oh.

There were so many questions to ask but it was still too early to find the right words. It was still too early to even believe in what Obi–Wan had said. However, you were glad that he had found you.

“Why are you here?” you asked again.

“I had to make sure you were safe,” he approached you and you allowed him to take Drina from your arms.

“Do you know a place I could go? A place where they don't find me?” you tried to be hopeful for Drina’s sake.

“Maybe. I’ll think of something,” Obi–Wan promised and you followed him down the path leading to your ships.

He would think of something. You didn’t have to worry and overthink. You just had to let it happen. He would take care of it. Of Drina.

Of you.

Drina was still unconscious and you were sitting by her side, caressing her cheeks and making sure her body functions were working properly while the Jedi survivors had a meeting in a room next to you.

The door opened with a whoosh sound and you looked up to nod your head quietly at the people leaving the room. Obi–Wan sat next to you on the edge of Drina’s bed and leaned in to whisper.

“I’m going to Tatooine. We think it will be the best for Anakin’s brother to raise his son but I’ll be watching over him from afar. That’s the least I can do…”

“Don’t blame yourself,” your lower lip trembled. The pain in his voice was making your heart break even more.

“You can come with me,” he added, “but it won’t be an easy life.”

“No one said it would ever be easy again. Never has been anyway,” you shrugged your arms. “But I can’t do it alone. Not while taking care of her,” you pointed at Drina.

“I think we should find her family and give her back to them,” Obi–Wan pointed out. “She will be safer with them than with us.”

“No,” you protested, almost desperately. “You can’t take her away from me. She’ll be the safest with two Jedi Masters around to protect her. I can’t abandon her.”

Obi–Wan only nodded.

You sighed out of relief that he’d take you with him. Suddenly, you wanted to laugh, too. Laugh at your old self being in love with him and then avoiding him on purpose. If only you had known how stupid these problems were in comparison to your current ones. You didn’t even think of love anymore.

Only survival.

Drina woke up on Tatooine. She was extremely hungry and weak but you managed to quickly bring her back to health. You had to explain to her without the gruesome details about the tragedy that had happened because she couldn’t run around and show off her Force tricks anymore. You were hiding.

Obi–Wan’s new name was Ben, yours was (Y/N/N). Drina chose to be just Rina. You lived in a small and shabby house on the outskirts of an awful town full of mobsters. Ben found a job at Tibidon Station – a disgusting place, really.

You and Rina were growing edible mushrooms in your small garden and then you were selling them on the market a few times a week. It was boring and it didn’t bring much credits but at least it was something to do.

Your former padawan had adapted to the new life surprisingly quickly. She was obedient and hard-working, realizing perfectly well the importance of the situation. Only sometimes, when you were lying in bed at night and trying to fall asleep – you had to share a bed because the place was so small – she would mention in a quiet whisper that she hoped to dream of a yellow lightsaber.

“She needs a new pair,” you sighed and played with the credits in your hand.

You didn’t have many and now Rina needed new shoes. She was growing fast. Faster than you’d like her to.

“Have you thought of making her shoes on your own, Mrs. Kenobi?” the woman working at the store asked you.

“Oh, I can’t even sew a button,” you chuckled at that and the woman looked you up and down with disapproval in her eyes.

She couldn’t know that you had better things to do when you were young. Maybe you didn’t know how to sew a button but you knew how to fight with a lightsaber.

To blend in as much as possible, you and Ben pretended to be married and Rina was supposed to be your adopted daughter. People still had their gossips, though. One of them was that you were from a rich family somewhere far away and ran off to marry Ben. That would explain why you were hiding and why you couldn’t even sew a button. But the existence of Rina didn’t quite fit the story.

“Anyway, I’m not going to complain about spending credits on a child,” you handed the woman all the money. “Rina, come here,” you turned around to wave at the girl.

She ran up to you as her lekku bounced happily in the air. She began to try the shoes on until she finally found the perfect pair. You thanked the woman and left the store.

“Thank you, aunt (Y/N/N),” Rina smiled at you.

“You don’t have to thank me. Shoes are a necessity,” you answered.

You went back home and started to prepare dinner because Ben would be back home from work soon. Rina was usually reading books in the meantime but this time she followed you to your small kitchen.

“What is it, Rina?” you asked her while chopping the mushrooms.

“How does it make you feel to be called Mrs. Kenobi?” she asked and you froze for a second.

“It’s been a year now,” you admitted. “I got used to it.”

It was a lie, though. It still felt odd. Back in the day you used to fantasize about being called that. In secret, of course. You had never expected your dreams would come true in such a twisted way.

Recently, when the first wave of grief started to fade away, you found your old feelings creeping back to you. It was making things more difficult and pretending to be Ben’s wife felt more painful. He was a broken man, you couldn’t burden him now with your feelings, too.

Rina wasn’t easy to deceive, though. She had known you too well.

“I just think… If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives hiding here… We might as well become a real family, aunt (Y/N/N),” she shrugged her arms. “Maybe it would make it a bit less sad,” Rina added and left the kitchen to go to her books.

You continued to chop the mushrooms and tried not to dwell too much on it.

Ben always smelled bad after work so he would usually take a quick shower before dinner. However, you were poor and water on Tatooine was valuable. So, even after taking a shower, he would still smell like fish and sweat. You had grown to tolerate it and at this point you couldn’t even feel it anymore.

“Aunt (Y/N/N) bought me new shoes today,” Rina raised one of her purple legs to show off.

“Rina, put your foot down, we are eating,” you scolded her.

Ben only nodded and smiled at the girl and went back to eating. He wasn’t very talkative these days.

You missed Obi–Wan. He was funny and sassy, loving to joke around and tease. He had always made you laugh.

“Can I lay in the garden for a while and watch the sky?” Rina asked when you were taking the empty plates off of the table.

You nodded at her to agree and she ran outside. Poor girl didn’t have many interesting things to do. You wouldn’t let her explore Tatooine on her own for several reasons, she couldn’t train to become a Jedi and she lived on a shithole planet of the galaxy. Reading books and staring at the sky were her favourite activities.

You took the plates to the kitchen and began to wash them when Ben stood next to you.

“Need some help?” he asked.

“No, you go rest after work,” you cracked a smile at him.

He was about to walk away when you dared to clear your throat and he looked at you, confused.

“Actually, I want to talk,” you took a deep breath in.

“What is it?” Ben lowered his voice and watched you carefully.

“Will it always be like this?” your voice broke suddenly. There was no answer from him so you continued. “I know it won’t ever be perfect, we will never be happy again. But… Will it always be so… sad? Will we live like this until the end of our days? I don’t mean to say to move on, it’s not possible but… We have one life, Ben.”

“You know we can’t leave Tatooine. It’s too dangerous and Luke is here,” he reminded you softly.

“I’m not talking about leaving but maybe we could… Maybe we could somehow improve our life here,” you sniffed back your tears.

“How?”

“We aren’t Jedi anymore,” you pointed out, “does it change anything?”

You could feel your face heating up after asking this question. Yes, of course, despite the years, you still remembered.

How could you ever forget about that almost kiss?

After a long and awkward silence, Ben finally spoke up.

“I had no idea you’re still having these thoughts,” he admitted.

“I can’t stop this, I have tried. Just like I told you back then,” you reminded him, “I will always care about you.”

“I can’t love,” he lowered his voice to almost an inaudible whisper. “I broke everything I allowed myself to love.”

“You didn’t break anything. It was not your fault,” you put the dishes away and dried your hands before reaching out for him but he moved away.

“It’s easy to say for you, (Y/N/N). You saved Rina. You did all you could do. I failed. And my failure caused all of this,” he clenched his jaw.

“That must be difficult to be burdened with the weight of the universe,” you dared to touch his arm and he flinched but he didn’t push you away, “let me help you to carry it.”

“Whatever you feel towards me, I feel the same. But I can’t burden you with any of it. I can’t let you get too close. I can’t risk ruining it, too,” Ben held your hand gently and you almost gasped at the gesture.

You had never held his hand like this, however back in the day you were often helping each other in combat. You had been cherishing these moments, you mesmerized how his hands felt.

And they changed.

They had never been soft, of course. But nowadays they were rough like sandpaper from all the hard work at Tibidon Station.

“We are good friends. Let’s not ruin that,” he said.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” you swallowed thickly and refused to let go of his hand. “We have never been friends. We have always been an almost. What’s stopping us now?” you furrowed your brows. “I know what, Ben. You think you have to punish yourself but look around. Isn’t that a punishment enough?”

“It was love that made him do what he did,” Ben looked down, battling with his thoughts.

“If you say so…” you decided to give up the fight. There was no point of pushing him into anything although your heart was breaking. “If you ever change your mind, though… I’ll be around. I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him before leaving the kitchen to tell Rina to go back inside.

A few weeks have passed. Not much has changed between you and Ben but you could feel him observing you from the corner of his eye more often.

On that evening you were sitting surrounded by materials that you had recently possessed and sighing. You finally decided to learn how to make clothes on your own after seeing the prices at the market.

Rina promised to help you but she was only ten years old and reading books was more exciting than watching you fail over and over again. It was frustrating but you knew you couldn’t quit. You needed a new apron, Ben needed a shirt and Rina – a new pair of trousers. Buying them all was impossible at the moment. You were always short on money.

“Stop staring, it’s making me nervous,” you gave Ben a scolding look. He was leaning on the wall and watching you work.

“It’s difficult to believe that the same clumsy hands once were so skilled with the lightsaber,” you heard him say.

You raised your head and looked at him, surprised.

“Have I just witnessed you smirking?” you asked. “Also, what do you mean by once? I am still skilled.”

“No doubt,” there was irony in his voice.

“I’d beat you easily,” you bragged.

“Yes, you would. Because I’d let you,” he sat down next to you and you huffed.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Remember back then at the Temple? You finished your training with Anakin and I challenged you for a friendly duel? I won so effortlessly,” you reminded him as your eyes sparkled at the memory.

But Ben didn’t say anything, he was just staring at you in silence and you didn’t know why. His face didn’t look as sad as always and his eyes followed your every movement, though.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Yes, I remember back then at the Temple,” he nodded with a shadow of a smile, “and how you won,” he added and you smiled with a triumph on your lips. “I let you win.”

Your smile faded away instantly.

“Why?” you demanded an answer.

“I was always letting you win. I’m not saying you couldn’t do that without my help but we’d never find out. I just loved to see that sparkle in your eye after your victory way too much,” he confessed and you didn’t know what to say. However, he continued to tell you even more. “And almost every mission you were sent to, I was assigned to something nearby. Because if you were in trouble, I wanted to be around. At the Council Meetings, I was watching you from across the room; your focused profile, your furrowed brows, slightly parted lips, your hair, your hands tapping on the chair…”

“Why are you telling me this?” you put down all the needles and materials to focus more on the conversation between you two.

“I want you to know that whatever you’re feeling is truly mutual. Watching over Luke is important to me but you and Rina are my priority, (Y/N/N),” he leaned in so close that you forgot how to breathe for a moment. “I have never doubted the teachings of the Order until you.”

“Funny,” you chuckled, “for me it was the opposite. Remember? I was such a rebel at the Academy until they made me work with you. You made me a better person. You made me see the sense of it all,” you admitted. “There was just this one rule I couldn’t live with…”

“You were right,” Ben interrupted you and you shut your mouth. “I wasn’t letting you close because I was punishing myself. But by punishing myself, I was also punishing you.”

You cracked a smile at him and he smiled back softly. You felt butterflies in your stomach and your hands were sweaty.

“I think normal people kiss in situations like this,” you whispered.

“We will never be normal,” Ben caressed your cheek with his rough finger and you sighed, “but we can try,” he added before leaning in and joining your lips together.

It took the world to end for him to finally do that.

MASTERLIST

#obi wan kenobi x reader #lilysfiction

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niles-rainbow-room · 2 years

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Woah! It’s been a while!

So. Sorry about being gone, burnout is horrible. But while I’ve been gone, I’ve been binge watching the clone wars series! I’ve always been a big Star Wars fan, love the movies and the new stuff.

As I was watching the series I thought about making Star Wars OCs, and then… that’s what I did!

This is Chiddopi, she’s the favorite! I use her for everything, tbh.

These are her parents before and after they were stranded on a remote planet for about 30 or so years. Her dad (left) is named Dun’cucra, and her mom (right) is Isufo

This is Kadira before and after he moved to Coruscant after a failed arranged marriage to Isufo

This is Vrusos (left), the lady Kadira married once he was on Coruscant, she owns a crime syndicate, and that’s the kid they have, Xubree (right)

This is Genjol Portsey (left) and her adopted kid Tukraa Meziir (right). Genjol is the luckiest storm trooper alive, i.e. she survived serving the empire, Moff Gideon, and the first order. Her kid however is a huge rebel fan.

This is Martea Dutlen, a forgotten Jedi that isolated herself on Hoth to study right before Order 66 happened.

Also Chiddopi was mainly raised by 2 repurposed B1 battle droids her parents owned since they were stranded on that planet. She later gets a Droideka when she’s older but I hate drawing them, as I’ve learned.

The droid with the spot is named B1-882, nicknamed “BB” or “BB-2”, The standard droid is named B1-780, nicknamed “Eighty”, and she named the Droideka “Dekki”

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soggy-platee · 3 years

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It Goes Both Ways

Rating: M (Somewhat graphic talk of injury)

Pairing: Din x GN!Reader

Summary: You take a hit for Din, feelings and angst ensue.

Note: Hello sorry this is literally all angst, a tiny bit of fluff. I can't stop myself, I just love the whole "feelings being revealed through injury" trope. If anyone wants, I was thinking about a smutty part two to this one! Let me know. Also, y'all were so kind with Doubt, so thank you!

...

The fight went bad from the second it started.

Well, before that, if you were being completely honest. Everyone in the cantina had been too still, too tense when you and Mando entered. It was so clearly unnatural for the usually boisterous atmosphere of a Nevarro night.

Yet somehow, you both missed it.

The kid was really to blame. He had been a ball of energy all night, practically bouncing off the walls of the hull while you and his father did everything in your power to get him to calm down. You were both annoyed and tired as your set out to meet the contact, should have known there was no hope of success. When the eight men in the cantina converged on you both, you were immediately thrust into the defensive. Exactly where you knew Mando hated to be. You had taken down several attackers, using your blade to slash and hack until it broke off in the chest cavity of some blue creature. You had lost just a moment as you attempted to wrench the hopeless blade from the now lifeless corpse, but it was enough time for a rough tug to pull you to the ground and a heavy weight to climb on top of you. You remembered the previous night almost fondly as opposed to the impossibly tight grip on your throat now.

Your fingers dug into the hand around your throat to no avail as the man- a Twi’lek, you now realized- bared his teeth down at you. Hot breath brushed over your face and you grimaced even further. Eyes rolling, you managed to steal a glance at Mando who was engaged in his own battle. There were two on him, one managing to get Mando’s arms behind his back in a tight hold while the other approached with a raised blade as you looked on. Fear shot through you at his vulnerable position and you doubled your efforts.

Your fingernails finally caught purchase on the arm that held you down at the same moment you bucked your hips with everything you had. A hiss came from above as you managed to pull one leg above the hips holding you down. Twisting hard, you flipped the man into the floor at full speed, his cheek cracking against the hard dirt. On your hands and knees now, you whipped your head up to see the armed man raise his blade and prepare to strike at Mando’s exposed neck. The fabric of his cowl would do nothing to stop the glowing, razor-sharp weapon that was mear inches from him now.

You shot up, your boots digging into the dirt as you righted yourself directly into a sprint. It happened in a split second. You reached Mando just as the blade completed its arc, half-throwing, and half-pressing yourself in front of his armored chest in a protective stance. You followed your first instinct, forearm coming up to block the blow.

White-hot pain bloomed along your arm, reaching all the way to the bone, as the blade cut through you like butter. Gasping at the initial shock, you managed to get a gut punch into the man in front of you before dropping to one knee. You clutched your forearm, trying your hardest to not collapse and curl up right then and there. You dimly registered fighting directly behind you through closed eyes, hoping to God it was Mando dealing with the last guy.

No offense to him, but you felt like you had done enough.

A wave of nausea came over you as you dared to open your eyes, taking in the bloody mess that was now your arm. The cut wasn’t overly long, but it was deep. You knew you had felt it hit bone, but jeez, you didn’t think you would be able to see it.

A blaster shot from behind you gave your enough adrenaline to rise on unsteady feet, turning to see Mando with his arm still raised, blaster smoke rising from the body of the final hostile in the room.

He turned to you with an immediacy that made you sway, the speed of the movement causing another wave of nausea to rise up. You doubled over as he approached, pressing your good hand to the back of your mouth. He was mumbling something as he approached you, Mando’a you would realize later. His hands found your hunched shoulders as you finally heard a word you recognized well,

“Cyare-hey, hey, look at me-”

With your hand still planted firmly over your mouth, you glanced up at him. You were taken aback by just how shook up he looked, even underneath the armor. His hands were tight around your shoulders, almost bruising you with their intensity. His chest was heaving, but it couldn’t be from the fight now. His voice nearly shook.

The pain almost blinding you was nothing compared to the icing feeling that crept down your spine at the sheet panic he was radiating. It wasn’t right, you had never seen him simply break like this.

You had seen him trembling underneath you, above you as he came, but he was still always in control when you were together. This was different.

This was frightening.

His hand pulled up to cup your jaw as you faced him, tilting it back and forth, frantically searing you even though the source of your pain was obvious. You wanted to say something, anything, to get him to calm down. But when you managed to pull your hand from your mouth, all that escaped was a low groan of pain.

Well that didn’t work, you thought faintly before your face collided with Mando’s chestplate, blackness overtaking you a second after.

…

The swaying was what woke you. A constant, fast motion shook you all over. Most pertinently, it was shaking the hell out of your arm. Something was wrapped around you, holding you close to a hard metal surface.

Why did it hurt again?

Ah yes, the cut.

The cut. The fight.

Mando.

You forced your eyes open, instinctually pulling away from whatever was retraining you. A gruff voice spoke to you as you turned your eyes to face the dark fabric of Mando’s chin.

“Stop.”

His faceplate didn’t even turn to you, just one word directed outward to the now-dark street ahead of you. He was carrying you through the town bridal style, your damaged arm tucked up into your chest as your calves swung with each footfall.

The memories of the night flooded back to your in greater detail, mainly your injury. An injury, you now noticed, hurt a lot less than it had...a few minutes ago? An hour?

Your confusion formed a question. Fighting the dryness in your voice, you huffed out, “How long was I out?”

“Not long.”

Another short answer, again not facing you.

A frown tugged on your lips, brows furrowing. Had something happened you didn’t remember? Why was he suddenly pissed at you? Finally, you glanced down at your arm. Wrapped in several bacta patches, secured with more bandages.

When the hell did that happen?

“Cantina had supplies”

Sometimes his ability to read you pissed you off.

You finished the trip in silence, doing your best to let off a pissed-off vibe. It was childish. You knew how to communicate, you knew Mando hardly ever did. But you were tired, hurt, and you didn’t know why that was such a huge problem to him. You had saved his ass, anyway.

You should be the pissed one if anything.

You approached the Crest’s ramp and you prepared to be set down, tensing your legs and starting to push off his chest with your good arm.

His grip simply remained firm, however, showing no indication he would be letting you down. You twisted your head in an attempt to look him in the visor, confused as all hell. His face remained stubbornly to front, much to your continued irritation.

You pushed off him a few more futile times, wiggling your hips in an attempt to loosen his hand around your knees.

Nothing.

You just slumped in his arms then, waiting for what seemed like the world’s slowest ramp to hit the ground.

He stomped into the ship and didn’t set you down until the ramp started to raise. His demeanor still remained stony, but he set you down with a gentleness only reserved for you and the child. He steadied you as your feet hit the ground, but his hands pulled away as soon as he confirmed you could stand alone.

Before you could even speak, he was gone, heading to the ladder of the cockpit.

That was it, you had absolutely had enough.

You threw your good hand in the air before shouting across the silent hull.

“Yeah, thanks for the ride, I’ll just go fuck off then.”

It wasn’t your best line, but you were pissed. And confused.

And hurt more than anything.

To your credit, the words were enough to stop him, hand on the first rung of the ladder. You stood expectantly, breathing heavily from your words and your injury.

Silence.

You made an incredulous sound, turning around and folding your arms to the best of your ability.

“Leave it to me to fuck up and save your ass, my bad, it won’t happen again.”

You winced as the words left your mouth, it was mean. It was terrible. You didn’t mean it. You would lay down your life for him at any moment and he knew it. Well, you thought he knew it. You thought he would do the same for you, too. But here he was, acting like you were a liability. Like he didn’t care about you at all. It made you defensive. Maybe you misread things between you too. Maybe you were just sex to him. Maybe you didn’t go any further.

That was fine, you could handle that. You just needed him to tell you, and not do whatever this was.

Leather creaked as his hand tightened on the metal with your words, but silence persisted. The fight in your was waning as your thoughts continued to run wild.

Your next words came out more defeated than aggressive, “If I’m an issue, just tell me. I’m gone.”

That sparked something in him, hand flying off the ladder as he whirled to face you. The movement caught you off guard, combined with the weakened state it made you stumble back a step Then another, then more as the suddenly fervent Mandaoliran stalked toward you across the hull. Your back hit the wall before he finally stopped a foot away from you, helmet tilted down at you as his shoulders rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths.

His helmet searched you, looking you up and down while his hands came to hover near your shoulder. He didn’t touch you, however, simply grasping at air several times in contemplation before fisting them once more at his side.

“Of course you’re an issue, you are the issue -my issue.”

His tone was unreadable, half-angry, half-desperate.

You gaped like a fish in his face, trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. Where was this coming from?

Your silence rushed him forward. Pushing a finger into your chest, he rambled, “You did fuck up- saving me. I didn’t want you- you shouldn’t have- I didn’t need it.” He spat the final words, but there was something underneath it, far too similar to his tone earlier, his panic.

Still, his words reignited your anger and confusion. “What do you mean you “didn’t need it”. That knife was going for your neck!”

He threw his head back, hands coming up to grip the sides of his helmet.

“Exactly! A knife which you jumped in front of, with no plan, no defense. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I didn’t want you to die, idiot! What the hell did you think I was thinking?”

He stumbled, whatever retort he had dying soundlessly on his tongue. Then, he spun from you, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. His next words were quiet, dismissive but firm.

“I didn’t ask for that. Never do that again.”

You literally could not comprehend his train of thought. Did he want you to just let him die? You grabbed his shoulder with your good hand, trying to force him to face you to no avail.

“You don’t get a say, you don’t have to ask. Don’t you get it? If I want to take a hit for you, that’s on me.”

He rounded on you once more, helmet coming so close that it nearly made contact with your forehead. “You don’t get to make that choice”, he growled, low and urgent.

Oh, now that was fucking golden.

“What? I don’t get to make my own choices with my own life? Is that what it’s come to now? Clearly, you don’t trust me, but I at least thought you could afford me my own autonomy.”

Finally, his hands came up and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you with intensity as he shouted in your face.

“Would you just listen to me? I won’t- cannot lose you. Not for me. Not ever.”

Your shoulders tensed in his grip and your eyes shot wide. His words startled you, the meaning washing over you in steps. They first relived you, convinced you that you felt the same way about each other, regardless of the fact this was the first time you were both voicing such outright feelings. But they also struck that same anger in you.

“So you get to protect me but I can’t do that same for you?”. Your voice was calmer now, eyes searching his visor for some sign he understood how unfair- if touching- his words were.

His hands loosened on your arms, shoulders dropping from their tense state. His helmet dropped from your gaze, swinging loosely before he sighed, “...Yes.”

His voice upturned at the end, almost in question of his own words. Of course. He knew how stupid it sounded.

Anger left you at his defeated look, head hanging between his shoulders. You raised your good arm, slowly placing your fingertips on the bottom of his helmet. He tensed for a moment at the touch, but you pushed gently enough on the metal that he simply followed your guidance. His visor came to face you once more, the blackness reflecting the look of concern in your eyes. You could only imagine that his held the same look.

Gloved fingers found your bad arm, still drawn tightly to your chest. They brushed over the patches gingerly, making their way to your hand and intertwining with your own digits. Your eyes fluttered at the touch, the familiar feeling melting away the residual pain like water down a stream.

He sighed heavily, before speaking with a subdued sincerity.

“You make me so fucking scared, pretty. I’ve never-I didn’t know that feeling until you and the kid. I can’t focus on anything else. I can’t lose you- can’t live without you.”

His fingers tightened around yours as he spoke, and your soft smile was reflected in silver back at you.

“Do you not think I feel the same thing, feel the same way about you?”

He gave your hand a squeeze before breathing, “...I do.”

Your smile faltered at his admission, worry coloring your next words.

“Then why do you think I could live without you?”

It was times like these you cursed his helmet, his creed. You wanted- needed to know that your words were getting across to him, that he understands just how fucking much he meant to you. While his face was unreadable, a short breath through the modulator and another sharp squeeze of your hand told you that you had hit the mark.

You took a deep breath before saying, “Listen. We protect each other. Equally. That’s how this works. You can’t stop me. So if you want to keep me out of harm’s way, then you have to keep your own metal-ass safe, yeah?”

You swore you heard a chuckle from underneath your helmet at your comment, and you broke into a grin. You pulled your good hand from his and placed it behind his helmet, tugging it toward you and resting the cool metal on your forehead. His hand mimicked your position, coming up to intertwine with the hair at the base of your neck.

You let your eyes slip shut before saying, “Do you understand now, dummy?”

His hand gripped your hair tighter, pressing your closer. His words were thick when he spoke, “I do.”

You released your grip on him, righting yourself, but his hand simply slid down your back. He still held you close when he said, “And I’m sorry… for the way I acted. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I was just…”

He faded off, but you knew where he was headed. You chuckled and flashed another smile, “It’s alright, make it up to me by taking the next knife, huh?”

The usual huff of laughter at your stupid comments didn’t come however, his helmet simply tipped down to take you in, hand tightening on your lower back.

“Actually…” he started, voice growing lower, softer, “I had another idea about how to make it up to you”

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #pedro pascal #din djarin

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darthmaulification · 3 years

Note

(Idk why I thought this but I think it’s funny) Imagine din and reader going back to visit Karga for a job and reader is a apparent heart throb to most of the villagers (not that she knows) and like “hi mrs. Parker” Friday style, these women are see them walking by going “hi Reader~” with cara teasing of reader the whole time having to tell the ladies that reader is already taken with din.

A/N: you are my very first request, so i decided to do a full, bonifide one shot! thank you so very much!! 🥰💕💕

oddly enough, din doesn’t show his bucket in this until the very end. 💀 it became really cara-centric for some reason. hope that’s okay! 😖

also, the trope of “everyone collectively loves person, but person is so utterly oblivious to it” is, without fail, one of the funniest bits any piece of media can pull lmao.

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: references of sex (kinda), saucy language, gender neutral!reader (my first time writing a gn reader 😲), reader being completely “no thoughts head empty” type of oblivious, cara just brutally teasing reader, soft!din makes an appearance!, cara is also kinda a bisexual icon???

word count: 1,775

“... What do you mean?”

Cara looks at you strange. She searches your face for a few seconds longer, eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if you’re serious.

“Are you fucking with me?” She deadpans evenly, and you tilt your head slightly, blinking. You slowly shake your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No...?” You drag out the word and Cara barks a sudden, loud laugh at your genuine confusion, tossing back her head as she does. She straightens up in her seat, still chuckling lightly, and picks up her glass of spotchka. Cara leans against the backrest, draping her free arm over it.

“You’re really not fucking with me, huh?” She mutters with a grin, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a low, long sip, her eyes not leaving yours. You frown, puzzled.

“Cara, I have no ide—"

“Everyone wants to fuck you.” Cara interrupts and it takes a moment for the blunt, vulgar words to register, but when they do you feel heat rise in your cheeks. You visibly recoil, sputtering out an answer.

“I— What are— There's no—” All Cara does as you fumble over your words, getting more and more red in the face, is shrug, an easy grin on her face.

“Yeah, everyone wants to get in your pants, can’t say I blame ‘em.” Her grin turns downright predatory and it gives you the final push to spit out a reply.

“WHAT?” The word comes out incredulous and far louder that you had meant, causing you to cringe at the sound of your voice reverberating in the cantina. People glance over at you and you give the crowd a sheepish, nervous smile. Thankfully, everyone turns back to whatever they were doing, no questions asked. Then your head whips back to Cara, whose all smug-looking, to shoot her a glare. Your face is positively burning, and you just know she can see it.

“Are you fucking with me?” You throw her own question back at her, but it falls flat because all it does is grow the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Cara’s face. She shrugs, gesturing around lazily to the room at large.

“Jax, the Rodian over there, gives you puppy dog eyes, Kol and Zaltor— the Trandoshans, not the Togrutas, by the way— look at your ass every time they get, that pink Twi’lek gal over there practically fawns over you— think her names’ Numa or Nima or something, the Duros over there...”

Cara continues listing off more and more names, and with each one (some who you know and have spoken to) you feel yourself getting more and more flustered. You sink low in your chair, staring wide eyed into your spotchka, hands on your temples.

“Good Maker.” You groan, placing your hands over your face and slumping onto the table. Cara (finally) stops listing literally the entire population of the village and gazes at you quizzically. She tilts her head.

“Don’t like being the sex idol of the town?” She teases and you groan again, louder this time. You glare up at her through your fingers, still furiously blushing. Oh, how you wish Din was here to beat the snot out of Miss Dune...

“No. This is a nightmare.” You growl out, going back to digging your face into the table, hoping the sandstone would just swallow you whole. Before Cara can reply, a new voice sounds up.

“U-Um, hi.” You stiffen and turn your head to the side to see two Twi’leks, one taller than the other, standing next to the table. They seem a bit nervous, fidgeting with their lekku and rocking on their feet, but something tells you they’re here for... something. The moment you meet Cara’s gaze, your face blanches.

“Kill me now.”

“Hey, pretty ladies.”

You groan and Cara flirts at the exact same time, Cara’s strong voice unfortunately gaining the upper hand. Both Twi’lek giggle, and the taller of the two, the lavender skinned one, flutters her eyelashes. Even more unfortunately, you make eye contact with her. She flushes when you meet her gaze.

“O-Oh my— Stars, um hi!” She and her companion devolve into giggles again and you force yourself to sit up. Giving them a forced smile, you rest your hands under your chin and elbows on the table.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” You ask through gritted teeth, attempting to keep your strained voice relatively nice, while also fighting back both the blush that’s still on your cheeks and the urge to shoot Cara with your blaster. Thankfully, the Twi’leks have gotten over the apparent “meeting their idol” giggles, because now the shorter one places a dusty tan hand on the table and leans in. A bright, stunning smile spreads across her face, but something flirty burns in her eyes.

“Mm. Me and my sister here have just been seeing you around so often.” She says, voice a obviously practiced mix of playfully coy and feigning ignorance. You glance from her, to her lavender sister, then to Cara. And your luck must really be in the gutters, or maybe Cara just wants to torture you—or both— but the mercenary only offers you a grin, lifts her spotchka to her lips, and sips. Your hands curl into fists.

“Yeah, I—”

“You’re talking to Mando’s squeeze, babes.” Cara interrupts yet again and all three sets of eyes land on her. Two of them moon-eyed and incredulous if not also disappointed, one of them so embarrassed that Carasynthia Dune, you are a dead woman—

“Really?” The lavender Twi'lek’s eyes are so blown wide you almost think they’d roll out of her head. Her sister looks just as awestruck, and both look a tad bit fearful. You go to speak, but Cara (you’re really starting to hate her) opens her mouth again and beats you to the cut.

“Mm hm. Y’all are hitting on the Mando’s sweetheart. Pretty bold, honestly, he’s real protective over this one.” The blush you put all your hard work into smothering returns full force at Cara’s words, and the Twi’leks start looking a bit flustered themselves, though for another reason.

“So sorry!” The lavender one breaks first and goes running off to a Rodian and Zabrak sitting at a far table. She leans in close, seeming to whisper something into their ears, and suddenly all three of them are looking at you with a strange mix of disappointment, lust, and fear. You hastily look away and hide your face behind your hand.

“Aw. Shame.” The tan Twi’lek purses her lips, pushing herself off the table, and you begrudgingly force yourself to look at her. She gives you that stunning smile again and winks.

“You know I’m here for you.” She says and sashays off to where her sister is. Across the room, she gives you another wink and flutters her fingers. Pretty sure that all your bloods’ in your face, you turn to Cara, slowly.

“Cara.” You say her name lowly, looking her dead in the eye. She’s grinning, and blows a lock of her hair out of her face. She feigns an unassuming, innocent look, but both you and her know better.

“Yeah?” She’s walking on thin ice and she knows it, but you also know she’s never been afraid of risk.

“I’m going to kill you.” You say, coming across as deadly serious as you possibly can. Cara’s grin widens, her eyes twinkling, and she downs the last of her spotchka.

“I know,” She starts and she shrugs, “But you know I couldn’t resist.”

You want to reach over and smack her a good one, but a voice alerts you to a certain someone at your side.

“Hey.” Din’s low, modulated voice gentle pulls your attention to him and you turn your head to look up at your silver-clad lover. Even with the dark T-visor, you know exactly where to look to find those soft, doe eyes beneath it. A small smile creeps across your face.

“Hey.” You reply and he offers a hand to you, which you gladly accept. Like always, his hand is large and warm and strong, and it makes you feel completely at peace. Din helps you up to your feet, settling you close, but not too close, to his side.

“I got the next few pucks, and the kid’s already in the Crest, so we’re ready to head out...” Din trails off and tilts his head, and you can feel his curious gaze roam your face.

“Your face is... pretty flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He asks it so gently and sweetly, his gloved hand still holding yours, that it’s almost enough to make you forget why your all disheveled in the first place. Letting out a forced, somewhat breathy laugh, you pull your hand away to cross your arms over your chest.

“Um, yeah, yeah— I’m good.” You assure him, but Din knows you so he turns his attention on Cara, whose sprawl in her seat, looking like a satisfied loth cat.

“What did you do?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral, but there’s a hint of that good ol’ Din Protectiveness seeping in too. Part of you celebrates that Din’s finally here to beat up Cara, but all the other parts of you just want to hop on back the Razor Crest and get the Hell out of here. Cara lazily raises her hands in mock surrender, tilting her head into her shoulder.

“Just playing, that’s all.” She replies, eying your spotchka from across the table. She and Din are in some type of staring match even as she reaches and snags your drink. You don’t care enough to protest. Din stares at Cara for a few seconds longer before he shifts on his feet and turns back to you.

“Ready to go, cyare?” His voice is like warm like sunshine, and it makes your entire being light up. You nod and smile, uncrossing your arms to grab his hand. His thick fingers close around yours, encasing your hand in his.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You reply as you both start walking, tethered to one another by the most sacred link you can while in public. Din and you walk side by side, a Mandalorian and his beloved, through the cantina and out the door.

Cara watches you leave, then looks around at all the inhabitants of the cantina who had also watched you and the Mando leave hand-in-hand. She nearly laughs at all the looks of disappointment. You really were the village heart throb.

And as Cara downs the last of her (your) spotchka, she ponders,

Dammit. Wish it was me instead of Mando.

#star wars #star wars din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #cara dune #anon #anon ask #request

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mandos-sluts · 3 years

Text

The Visit Part Two

This is Part Two of a three-part series

The Visit Part One

The Visit Part Three

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, dubious consent, fingering, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, hint of voyeurism, mentions of sex work

Summary: All you want to do is forget about your encounters with Din, so you go out with your friends in search of a quick hook-up to take your mind off of it. Upon seeing Din at the bar, you decide to try and give him a taste of his own medicine.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!! Also we love feedback <3

You awake feeling well-rested. The sleep helped. You don’t feel as bad as you did last night, but you still basically want to crawl under a rock and die.

You can’t focus during your combat lesson with Luke, all you can think about is how much you want to erase the prior day from existence. Sensing your anxiety and distraction, your Master cuts the lesson short.

The two of you walk side by side out of the arena and down the corridor. Your sweating, your hair is a mess, and all you have on is a sports bra and spandex. All you want to do is get back to your room and shower.

You're walking beside Luke, looking down at your feet, barely registering what he is saying to you. You bring your head up and you almost faint at the sight of Din walking toward the two of you.

Panic engulfs you and you feel like turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction, but you’re stuck, stuck walking next to Luke, watching Din stride tall and confidently closer and closer.

“Din!” Luke says cheerfully as the three of you stop in your tracks.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you two again.” Din responds in his low voice as he brings his hand out and shakes Luke’s hand. You put on the saddest fake smile and shake Din’s hand, looking anywhere but into his visor.

“How was your visit with Grogu today?” Luke asks.

“It was great, thank you.”

“Well I’m very happy to hear that.” Luke says as the three of you continue your separate ways.

Your heart breaks at Din’s indifference toward you, and it makes you want to cry. It’s truly as if nothing happened between the two of you. He didn’t get the chance to fuck you yesterday so he went out and got a sex worker, and now, your existence means nothing to him.

Ugh why was he even here? Ever since you were a child the “no attachments” concept was drilled into you. Why is Luke letting this guy visit Grogu? Whatever. You need to do something to get your mind off of the situation.

*************************************

It’s Saturday night and your friends are forcing you to go out. At first you really don’t want to; your experience last night at the cantina was horrible, and you would prefer to avoid it all together. But you sip a few drinks with dinner and have a change of heart.

Instead of dwelling on this horrible situation, you figure that you should do something to distract yourself. Going out with your friends, letting loose, and hooking up with someone else will relieve your tension and hopefully make you forget about your regrettable encounters with Din. Screw him, you shouldn’t let yourself be sad over some random guy who didn’t give a second thought to you.

You decide to pregame the night, and are already quite tipsy by the time you and your friends arrive at the cantina. You look good, like, really fuckin hot. You’re wearing a simple, short, light pink silk dress.

The cantina is not as crowded as last night, but it’s still pretty busy. Your friends grab a table and you walk up to the bar to get a drink.

“Hey, y/n, how you doin tonight?” The bartender greets you.

“Great, thanks.” You say with a soft smile, thinking about what you want to order.

The bartender shifts over and continues talking to someone on the other side of the large Twi’lek standing next to you. “But yeah, wow, that’s really cool. You must get hot wearing all that–”

Just then, the Twi’lek grabs their drinks and walks away from the bar. You turn your head to see who the bartender is talking to, and it is none other than Din Djarin, standing just a few feet away from you. You don’t freak out as much as you think you might, and you have the alcohol in your system to thank for that.

“–Hey, y/n, do you know Mando? He’s visiting the Academy up the hill.” The bartender asks.

You turn to look at Din. “Mando? What’s th– ohhh. I get it. Mando as in Mando-lorian. Clever. Kind of. I mean, not really, but….Later!” You say to the bartender as you stutter your way out of that situation.

Fuck. That was so awkward, you didn’t even order a drink. You're embarrassed, but also hurt. Din didn’t say a word to you, not even a hello. His disregard for you makes you all the more determined to find a hot guy who can distract you from that beskar-covered jerk.

You do a lap around the bar, surveying your options. You spot a tall, handsome boy in a group of guys, probably tourists. Had you not been buzzed, and had that uncomfortable situation not just transpired, you would be very reluctant to just blatantly walk up to a stranger and introduce yourself. But you really don’t care; you know you’re hot and bagging him shouldn’t be any trouble at all.

His back is to you as you make your way to him, he’s talking way too loudly with his frat-boy friends. You gently run your hand down his bicep.

“Hi.” You say sweetly.

The boy turns around and his eyes widen as he looks you over. “Hey.” He says with an eager smile.

You grab his arm and get on your tippy toes, leaning in close to his ear. “Can you buy me a drink?”

“Yeah, a-absolutely!”

You and he walk up to the bar. Din is on the other side, and you notice he’s watching you. You do your best not to look at him, still you can’t help but glance at him every so often, and when you do, his visor is patently on you.

The boy you’re with puts his hand around your waist as you order your drink. “I’ll have a spotchka, please” You tell the bartender.

“Make it a double.” The boy says as he winks at the bartender.

You put your elbows on the bar in order to push your boobs up slightly. Gazing at you, Din observes one of the silky spaghetti straps of your dress fall from your prominent collar bone down your smooth shoulder. You make a point to leave it there a while before pulling it back up.

The bartender brings you your drink and you bring the glass up to your lips. Din watches as the boy puts his hand on the bottom of your glass and tips it upward, trying to get you to drink more. You swallow as fast as you can, trying not to choke as his hand continues tilting the bottom of the cup higher and higher. Din’s fist clenches at the sight of you coughing while some of the liquid falls out of your lips as your mouth overflows with the drink; it dribbles along your throat and runs down your chest. Coughing and trying to catch your breath, you set the drink on the bar as the boy looks at you with a satisfied half smile.

What a dick move. But honestly, you don’t care that he’s a asshole trying to liquor you up, you just need to get laid. In fact, if you’re going to be fucking this pretentious kid, you’ll need to be a little drunker.

“C’mon. Finish this and then let's go dance.” He says picking the glass up and bringing it back to your lips.

You chug what’s left and then, walking behind you, the guy guides you to the dance floor with his hands on your waist. You’re a little nervous as you realize that this area of the bar is closer to where Din is sitting, allowing him an even clearer and more direct view of you. His eyes stay glued to you the entire time you move through the cantina.

The boy pulls you against him and the two of you start grinding to the beat of the music. You can feel the alcohol warm your insides and ease your apprehension. Instead of trying your best to avoid looking at Din, you decide to do the opposite, and stare directly into his visor while you dance on this guy.

His hands are all over you. They make their way from your hips to your stomach, and they dance around your tits, pulling your soft silky dress as they explore your body. His lips are against your hair and he’s mumbling things in your ear that you’re not at all paying attention to.

It’s not too long before you feel his boner poking your ass. You bite your bottom lip promiscuously as you stare into Din’s helmet, the alcohol fueling your staring contest with him. *see gif* You’re relishing in this moment— in the fact that he is watching you dance on this hot guy.

To be honest, though, you really have no idea what Din is thinking or feeling, his helmet and his laid back position don’t tell a thing about where his head is at. It’s not even clear that he’s looking at you, but you can tell he is. You can tell that his eyes are locked on your form.

“Maker you’re so fuckin hot.” The boy whispers in your ear.

Din stands there watching you; watching this guy's skinny fuckin hands roam all over your pretty figure and smooth skin. He watches his hands run down your body and tease your inner thighs, right at the hem of the dress.

Then, Din observes him flick his head up, and turns to see that he is gesturing for his friends to watch. The kid's buddies are standing at the edge of the dance floor, elbowing each other, laughing and smiling, watching the drunk hot girl grind brazenly on their friend. Din looks at the stupid boys. He could kill them all so easily.

As he’s watching them, Din notices a few of their mouths drop, and looks back at you to find the guy you’re dancing on slowly lifting up your dress, exposing your black lace underwear as he nods at his friends and smiles.

Grinding on this guy, you feel slightly discouraged as Din breaks the staring contest to look elsewhere in the room. But then you see him abruptly get up and walk toward the dance floor. You lose him in the crowd, and then feel a large hand grab your upper arm and yank you away.

You trip over your feet but Din's hold on your bicep keeps you from falling forward. He doesn’t even look back at you as he drags you through the mass of people. Most move out of his way as soon as they see him coming, and those who don’t are shoved aside. He drags you out the door into the cold, dark air. Din finally propels you upward onto your feet after he turns into the dark alley next to the cantina.

“Din! What the fuck!” You’re finally able to yell.

“That fuckin guy was lifting your dress up in front of the entire bar.” He informs you in a frustration-laced voice.

“So?”

“So, you're okay with that? He was putting on a show for his friends.”

“….whatever.” You mutter looking down at your feet as your face turns red and shame creeps into your chest. You didn’t even realize the boy was doing that; you were so focused on keeping Din’s attention.

“Pfft, okay, if you’re fine with being paraded around by scummy guys–”

“I don’t need your slut shaming, Din. And speaking of sluts, why don’t you go find yourself one?”

Din pauses for a moment and you can feel the energy around you shift. He creeps closer to you, and you instinctively step back as he closes in on you until you’re against the brick wall, unable to move.

He lowers his voice. “Speaking of sluts, you said you were only one for me. So why the fuck are you letting that guy put his hands all over you?” Din says slowly as he grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the wall.

“Get off of me.” You return, trying to shake free from his grip and push him away.

Din grabs your wrists and slams your arms into the wall by your head, and he positions his knee tightly between your legs, inhibiting your movements completely.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Din purrs in your ear. “Were you jealous seeing me with that other whore? Aww, you left too soon, pretty girl.” He says as he begins rubbing his leg against your crotch.

“N-no...but I will say that it’s very audacious for you— a guest at the Jedi compound— to bring a sex worker back to your room.”

Din scoffs. “I’m not an idiot.” He spits out. “I didn’t bring her onto the estate. She sucked me off in the bathroom and then I left.”

“Well, congratulations.” Is all you can think to say

“I imagined it was you.” Din utters as he brings his helmet just inches away from your face. “Yeah, I imagined it was you on your knees on that filthy bathroom floor, gagging with my cock down your dainty little throat.” He says as one of his hands wraps around your neck.

You let out a whimper at his words, arousal shooting straight to your pussy as he continues to drag his thigh against your crotch.

“And then today, I jerked off the second I got back to my room after running into you and Luke. I couldn’t fuckin help myself, baby. It made me so fuckin hard seeing you like that. It was so fuckin cute how nervous and shy you were. You were panting and sweating, your hair was so messy, you were barely wearing a fuckin thing. I know that’s how you would look after I fucked you.”

His words turn you on more and more, pulses of arousal twitching your cunt.

“And I know that your Master thinks you’re a good little girl, huh. He doesn’t know how much of a fuckin whore you are, he doesn’t know that you asked me to tie you up and fuck you.”

A high-pitched moan flees your mouth, prompting you to take your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to keep it together.

“Come on, pretty girl.” Din growls as his hand slides down to your waist and grasps it tightly. “I said I’d show you how Mandalorians fuck, and I’m a man of my word.”

“Th-that why you hired a sex worker last night?” You say quietly, not wanting to let him off the hook for it just yet

“I didn’t know you were gonna be there, princess. I didn’t even know if I would see you again. I was ready to toss that bitch aside as soon as I saw you, but you fuckin bolted.”

Din moves his hand that was on your throat down to your groin, bringing his knee down slightly to make room for his fingers. You gasp as you feel his gloved digits rub your wet panties around your cunt.

“Come on.” Din breathes in your ear. “You’re dripping wet. You need to get a cock in this desperate fuckin pussy.”

“Ah-I have options.” You counter, trying to hold out for a little longer.

Din scoffs. “That boy in there can’t fuck you like I can and you know it.” He says as he pushes your panties to the slide, exposing your bare, wet pussy to the cold air. Din starts circling your clit as he picks up his head to watch your expression. Your mouth falls slightly open as breathy whines fall out.

“HEY!” You hear someone yell in the distance. “Mandalorian, what the fuck are you doing with my girl!”

Your head turns to see that guy you were grinding on approaching you and Mando. Great.

Just then, Mando starts pumping two fingers in and out of your hole fast. "Ah!" You inadvertently moan out.

“Get lost, kid.” Mando says casually as his arm clearly drives up and down under your dress.

Your mouth falls wide open at the sudden stretch and pounding of your hole, and you try your best to stifle your moans as you dig your nails into Din’s arm. You regrettably make eye contact with the kid as Din conspicuously continues his brutal finger fucking.

“N-no fuck you, we– we were dancing. Who do you think you are taking her from me?” Anger and offense cover the boy's face, pride shaken at the scene in front of him.

Din lets out an annoyed sigh. “If she wanted to go with you, she would. Now get the fuck out of here. Unless you want to watch her suck my cock.”

The guy grunts and turns around to walk swiftly out of the alley.

Din’s pace slows down just a tad, and you’re able to catch your breath. He leans his helmet against the wall next to your head. “Fuck. I wanna break that kid’s neck.” He whispers.

“Ah. You should.” You purr.

Din removes his hand from your cunt and takes a small step back. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s go back to my room” He says. Din walks to the center of the alleyway and then stops.

You take a few steps toward the street. “Okay...let's go.” You say softly, noticing that Din isn’t following.

“Come here.” He says holding his arm out.

Confused, you walk into his arm and he wraps it around you tightly.

“Hold on tight, okay?” He says as he motions for you to wrap your arms around him. Why is he taking you in for this awkward side hug? He just said he wanted to leave.

“Wha–”

Just then you’re lifted into the air, grasping onto Din for dear life as he jet-packs towards the Academy.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Visit Part Three

*************************************

Masterlist

*************************************

Taglist:

Permanent:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten

The Visit Series:

@autumnleaves1991-blog @ikinmahlen

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sporadicthingcollection · 3 years

Text

ABCs of Sex: Cad Bane (F!Reader)

Taken from the-coldest-goodbye's NSFW alphabet!

Obviously filthy, so if you're in public, use text-to-speech you coward look at your own risk.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Gruff. Distant. You just saw him in the most vulnerable state one can be in. He’ll get you a towel, but don’t expect conversation. He needs some time in his own head, not being touched, not being bothered. He needs to rebuild the emotional wall between the two of you.

...But as you drift off to sleep, he can’t help but watch.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His trigger fingers are the fastest in the galaxy in more ways than one. He can outshoot a man one day and make you convulse around them the next.

On you, he likes your tits. They're soft, squishy, they make great pillows... What's not to like? And, as a reptile, they're not something he's predisposed to like, so you know they're something special.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum looks different depending on where he is in his breeding cycle. Outside of the season, it’s less viscous than a Humans and is a translucent beige color. During his fertile period, the volume increases and it gets thicker, taking on a faintly cyan tint.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s got a fetish for Humans and Near-Humans. Always has. Maybe it’s just the omnipresence of Twi’leks as sex symbols across the galaxy. Maybe it’s that there are more mammals than Duros around. In any case, his own species doesn't do it for him and he's still mildly embarrassed by it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, he’s been around the block more times than he can count. He reckons he’s experimented with damn near every sentient species in the galaxy -- and only a few were paid for, as he’d tell you with a smirk.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Akk doggy style. That way he can grip your hips, anchor a hand in your hair, and plunge into you. He misses your lovely face, sure, but the sounds you let out more than make up for it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Cad Bane is not a man who cracks jokes. He’s deadly serious... which sometimes makes you laugh. It annoys him when you do, but he can always shut you up by kissing you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't have any, but on a partner, he's fascinated by it. On your head, it's soft, but below, it's coarse. And it's all over your body! It’s so much more interesting than smooth nothing.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not very. This man does not make love, he fucks. And he expects the same from his partner. He’ll pay you compliments, but there’s an undertone of smugness to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when you find out what izrin means.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Maybe once every few days, until his cycle hits the fertile period. Then it’s damn near every day unless he wants a case of bluer balls than he already has.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Biting is the one he's most accepting of. He likes drawing your blood and feeling you squirm as he warms his fangs in your supple flesh.

The one he's annoyed by is when his fertile phase hits and for a week it's no thoughts, head empty, just the drive to fuck you until your belly swells with his baby.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Against the portside bulkhead. Easy to get to, easy to pin you against, and your moans echo so deliciously in the small space.

But at the same time, there’s something to be said for tossing you onto the bed of a dingy flophouse and fucking until neither of you can think straight.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He likes it when you get aggressive. Not towards him, but towards other people. Threaten someone with violence and he might get a bit hard. Shoot a man dead before he can get to you? He's taking you right then and there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

You once suggested he fuck you with the barrel of one of his LL-30s. The idea was interesting, but the thought of it going off and frying your guts made his skin crawl.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive. He likes seeing the way you peer up at him, mouth full and eyes scrunched as you take him.

(He also would never admit it, but when he does go down, he’s constantly worrying he might nip something sensitive of yours. Fangs, y’know?)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The man’s default setting is quick and rough -- enough for everyone to get their pleasure and get out. But, over time, you can bargain him down to slow. Sensual, though? When nerfs fly.

...Which, given that the planet you were just on was holding a nerf flinging competition, might not be completely out of the cards...

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As stated above, quick is the default setting. On a bunk, in a closet, behind the bushes, across a speeder bonnet... Just name the time and place.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try anything at least twice, but he's not an active experimenter. He knows what he likes and will stick to it until asked. Or dared.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on his cycle. Out of the fertile period, two rounds or so. He's not a man out to prove anything. He’s done when he’s done.

But during? A ten minute refractory period. No thoughts, head empty, dick's working great. He will fuck you until he passes out mid-thrust.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nah. Why would he need toys when he's got the real deal right here?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He wants to tease you. He really does. But he's greedy and doesn't like to wait for you to break. Just a bit of begging on your end and his patience is up.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not silent, but he’s not too loud either. Lots of grunts and growls and uttered words in a language you can’t follow. Very animalistic.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's actually super cuddly, but not out of any sort of affection. You're a warm-blooded mammal and he's a reptile. He'll hold you tight and steal your warmth until you pry him off of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's got a very spindly build, and that extends to his cock. It's not thick, but it's decently long. It has soft ridges on the sides and the head is more conical than a Human's.

It's also slightly prehensile. He's not grabbing pencils with it, but he has muscles to move it and hold its position.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderately high. He's not constantly fiending for it, but when the opportunity presents itself, he's not saying no. It gets higher when he's fertile, which happens every few months.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not for a while, usually. He needs time to clear his head, sift through his thoughts, rebuild the emotional wall between the two of you. And keep an eye out for any interlopers.

But the times where he does pass out right after, he drapes his arm across your body and curls around you, pulling you in tight, burying his face in your hair.

---

To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#cad bane #cad babe #cad bane x reader #emberly writes #headcanon

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kanerallels · 3 years

Note

OKAY OKAY ROUND TWO OF THIS! Kanera fix it or Kanera and waffles! Whichever works <3

*has no self control* *writes my first fix it* This was hecking fun! I hope you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 2,455

Tags/Warning: rated T (for time travel! *insert Hulk gif here*) and also near death

This wasn’t how Kanan wanted things to end.

He'd wanted more time. He'd wanted to explain things to Hera, to tell her how much she meant to him.

But things had moved too fast for him. Kanan was too late.

He felt the heat of the fire from the fuel pod singing the tips of his fingers, and concentrated on pushing it back with all his strength, his hands shaking slightly and his face twisting with the effort. The fire billowed high above him, but Kanan wasn’t afraid. Just full of regrets.

Behind him, he heard Hera scream his name, her voice full of raw desperation and fear. Kanan knew, without even needing to look, that she would run towards him and she did, her steps barely audible above the roar of the flames.

Turning without looking, Kanan diverted part of his concentration and caught her in her steps, holding her back with the Force. He felt her struggle against the grip, panic and fear pulsing through her.

Slowly, on some instinct he didn’t understand, he turned to face Hera. Maybe it was because of how much he ached to see her. Maybe it was to give her one last glimpse of him. Kanan sensed her desperation, her fear, how much she wanted to reach him.

But he couldn’t let her. There was too much at stake. So with a quick thrust, he sent her flying back to where Ezra was waiting, ready. His apprentice caught hold of her, holding her back. Kanan felt a flicker of gratitude-- he could always count on Ezra.

An odd tingling sensation swept across his eyes, and for a moment he thought he was crying. But crying had been impossible ever since Malachor. Since he’d been blinded.

Even as he thought the word, it was like a cloud was swept away from his eyes, and he could see. Kanan had no idea how, but he accepted it calmly, as he’d accepted his fate.

His gaze locked onto Hera first-- Hera, clad in an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit, a look of complete horror and fear in her eyes, with the slightest hint of surprise and awe as she looked at him. Kanan took her in, drinking in the very sight of her. She was older than she had been when they’d first met, and had only grown more beautiful. And Kanan had only grown more in love with her.

Behind her, holding her back, was Ezra-- Force, Ezra. He was so tall, so grown-up looking. Kanan was well aware he’d only ever pictured the little boy from Lothal, and he felt pride stirring in his heart. Stay safe, kid, he thought. You know what to do. I love you both.

And so he released his hold on the flames and used all his power and strength to send the ship that held Ezra, Sabine, and Hera flying away from the fuel depot. It would be enough. It had to be enough.

They would be safe. And they would keep fighting. Hera always did.

That was Kanan’s last thought before the flames swallowed him.

But it wasn’t his last thought.

Even as the fire swirled around him, he heard a strange whoosh, and the sound of boots impacting on metal, and suddenly the fire was gone. And Kanan was somewhere else entirely.

“Did it work?”

A young male voice came from behind Kanan, stunned but excited.

“Of course it worked, idiot, he’s not dead and we still exist,” said a dry female voice that sounded… bizarrely familiar. Almost like--

Kanan turned towards the sound and someone tackled him to the ground, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, sorry-- eyes closed,” the young man ordered. “If you look, I’ll tell Hera.”

“What does that even mean?” Kanan demanded-- although it was a fairly compelling argument. Trying to shove the young man off of him, he said “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“Saving you, you dumb--”

The young man cleared his throat loudly, cutting off the woman. “We were sent here to save your life.”

“What?” Kanan’s jaw dropped, surprise flashing through him. “Wha-- no, I was supposed to die. It had to happen, to save Hera and Ezra and Sabine--”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the woman said, “They’re FINE, trust me. Well, other than the fact they think you’re dead.”

The young man groaned. “Okay, you should probably stop talking now. I’ll handle this.”

“You’re not much more diplomatic than me!”

“Everyone’s more diplomatic than you, Depa.”

“Depa?” Kanan asked, a frown knitting his forehead.

He heard his two rescuers freeze, and a muttered curse. “Yeah,” the young man said cautiously. “That’s her name.”

“That was my master’s name,” Kanan said, his mind racing. There was no way that could be a coincidence. Sure, there were probably other people in the galaxy named Depa, but--

“You can probably stop sitting on him-- he’ll behave,” Depa said dryly. “Right, Jarrus? That means keep your eyes close, and NO PEEKING or I’ll punch you out.”

“You can’t punch him out,” the young man said with a sigh.

“Why, because he’s an old geezer? I’m not afraid to hit an old man.”

Kanan sensed the young man rolling his eyes. “He’s not even that old right now! Okay, I’m gonna let you up-- please keep your eyes closed.”

The young man scrambled off of him, and Kanan slowly rose to his feet, wincing. He’d been burned, he could feel that much-- his hands, the back of his neck and his face especially. But somehow, impossibly, he was alive.

“I-- thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how or why you saved me, but thank you.”

“Someone had to,” Depa said, her voice surprisingly sincere. “And Force knows you needed help.”

“True,” the young man agreed. “But we don’t have all day here-- we need to get you back.”

“Back?” Kanan asked.

“Back to Hera and everyone else,” the young man elaborated. “If you follow us, we can get you out of here and back to them. They should be expecting you. Hopefully. We’re pretty sure Ezra warned them.”

“Reassuring,” Kanan said, keeping his eyes shut. “Which way are we going? And where are we, exactly?”

“This way,” Depa said, giving his shoulder a slight nudge in the right direction. As Kanan started walking, she added, “And we’re in some dumb alternate dimension.”

“It’s a world between worlds,” the young man corrected from ahead of them. “And it was really hard to get here. You wouldn’t believe all the stuff we had to do to get here. But it led us to where you were, which makes it worth it.”

“Why?” Kanan asked, releasing the question he’d been turning over in his mind. “Why did you come to save me? Why you in particular?”

He heard the young man’s footsteps stutter, like he’d paused in his steps. “Oh. Um…”

“Subtle, Jacen,” Depa said sarcastically.

“Jacen?” Kanan felt a grin cross his face. “So that’s your name.”

Jacen let out a sigh. “Nice one, Depa. Look, D-- Kanan. You’re… really important. To a lot of people. And they couldn’t just lose you if there was something that could be done.”

“So we did it,” Depa said matter of factly. “As you do. Oh, we’re here! This is your stop.”

They came to a halt, and Kanan sensed… something. Like a light at the end of a hallway, beckoning him forward. “And this is where I’m supposed to go?” he said warily. “It’s safe?”

“Trust me,” Jacen said. “She’s on the other side. Hera is. Your family is waiting for you.”

Kanan nodded slowly, his mind spinning. Despite the obvious strangeness of this whole thing, the way it had caught him off guard, there were a few things that he had a strange feeling about. Like he was two steps away from putting something together, something incredibly important. “Wait-- before I go through there. Will I be able to see?”

“I-- oh. No,” Depa said, her voice soft, almost shaken. “You never could after Lothal. That was the last time.”

“Then I at least want to see the faces of the pair that saved my life,” Kanan said. “If you’re alright with it.”

“I’m not sure--” Jacen began.

“Oh, shut up and let him,” Depa said, her voice exasperated. “What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, I-- I want him to.”

There was a short pause, then Jacen sighed. “I know. Me, too. Okay, go ahead.”

Kanan’s eyes flicked open. He was in what looked like outer space-- pure black, only broken up by strange white lines outlining paths. And, every now and then, circular doorways. “Huh,” Kanan murmured, his gaze sweeping across the place. And then it landed on the duo standing in front of him, and his eyes widened in surprise.

They were both a couple years younger than him. Jacen was a tall young man, tan-skinned except where it was green, especially along his pointed ears. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, and scruffy goatee were a deep shade of green, and his eyes were almost an almost disturbingly familiar shade of turquoise.

Depa was a young Twi’lek woman with green skin, pink patches here and there. Her eyes were brown, and widened slightly with shock as they met his. “He really does have your eyes,” she said, her voice stunned.

“Wow,” Kanan breathed, any doubt in his mind swept away. “Are-- are you two-- Wow. Words fail me.”

Depa let out a snort. “Same here. But about that haircut. Mom was right, it really is awful. Worse than the one Jacen gave himself when he was eleven. It was really bad, be glad you didn’t see it.”

Kanan chuckled, then glanced at Jacen. “I-- and you two came here to save me?”

Jacen shrugged. “We wouldn’t exist if we didn’t. Well, I would, but Depa wouldn’t, and that’s a downside. Kinda.”

Depa punched him in the arm, and Jacen let out a yelp, darting away from her as she took another swing at him, and Kanan could only shake his head because of what he was watching. “This is unbelievable.”

“I mean. Not that unbelievable,” Jacen pointed out, a smile crossing his face that Kanan had seen a thousand times in the seat next to his own.

“Wow. You look… just like your mom. Both of you.”

Jacen’s eyes went wide. “R-really? Um. Everyone says I look like… you.”

“That is Hera Syndulla’s smile right there,” Kanan said, and he knew it to his core. “Looks just like hers. But yeah, I can see our resemblance. Well. For now.”

The smile faded off of Jacen’s face, and he said in a low voice, “We can’t stay.”

Nodding, Kanan said, “I know. I should probably get going, too. Just--” he paused, looking at his children for the last time. “I’m proud of you two already.”

“That is so typical of you,” Depa said, rolling her eyes in a completely Hera movement. “Do you have any idea how many kids you’re gonna adopt? Hint-- it’s a lot.”

“No spoilers,” Jacen ordered. “We should go. But before we do--” he turned to Kanan. “When the time comes, tell Ezra that he doesn’t have to be you. He has to be him, and no one else.”

“Oh, and don’t worry,” Depa said breezily. “You’ll find him eventually.”

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” Kanan demanded.

“You’re about to find out,” Depa said with a wink, and that, Kanan knew, she’d gotten from him.

Leaning forward, Jacen said, “She’s your most infuriating child. Yes, more so than the Mandalorian.”

Kanan shook his head, grinning. “I can’t wait for you two to come along. I really can’t.”

Shrugging, Depa said, “You might not have to wait that long. Now get out of here, we’ve all got places to be.”

“Right.” Kanan turned towards the doorway, which was a blank white, and glanced back at his kids one more time. “May the Force be with you,” he told them.

“You always say that,” Jacen said with a slight grin. “See you soon, Dad.”

Kanan nodded, then stepped through the doorway.

Everything was dark as he stumbled out into what was some kind of clearing, or something. But he felt the sunlight on his face, and knew why it was. His eyesight was gone again, and he was okay with that.

A shriek cut through his thoughts, and he jerked his head up as someone shouted his name. “Kanan!”

It was Hera, her voice holding shock and joy and love, and Kanan heard her run towards him. But this time, he was running, too, and felt her slam into him. “You’re here,” she choked out, a sob shaking her body. “Ezra was right. I didn’t think--”

Kanan cut her off with a kiss, pulling her closer as she kissed him back. Breaking away from the kiss, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Hera let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words, love.”

“I-- wait.” Kanan froze. “How long was I gone? How long since the fuel depot?” Panic raced through him.

“Only three months,” Hera assured him, clearly catching his fear. “You’ve missed a lot. There’s some things we should talk about.”

“I bet,” Kanan muttered. “Okay, let’s go talk.”

Hera stepped away from him, but caught hold of his hand so she could lead him. “Right this way, dear.”

Kanan relished the sound of her voice as he walked with her, willing to wait through whatever they had to talk about next.

Well. Almost willing. “There’s… one thing that I have to ask you,” he said. “There was this weird thing that happened while I was gone-- it’s a long story. But something that happened made me think-- it might be stupid, but I just need to ask--”

Cutting him off, Hera said, “Just ask, love.”

“Right.” Taking a quick breath, Kanan asked, “Are you… pregnant?”

He felt her stop in her tracks, shock radiating through her. “I--” Hera paused, then let out a sigh. “I was planning on telling you myself, you know. Not sure I should be thanking your Jedi instincts on this one. But… yes. I’m pregnant.”

Holy. Kriff. “I’m gonna be a dad,” Kanan whispered, the words surreal but beautiful. They were real. I actually saw my kids. Which means-- Jacen.

A smile slipping across his face, he bent down and kissed Hera again. He knew things had to have changed, and he had a lot to catch up on. But he was with the woman he loved, and he had a lifetime to look forward to. They could handle it together.

#kanan jarrus #swr #star wars rebels #hera syndulla #star wars #kanera #kanera is love kanera is life #jacen syndulla #depa jarrus #kanera oc child #swr fan fic #111 followers celebration #this is late but i had to publish it before kanera week. i had to!#but it's also the last celebration fic! go me!#sorry it took so long #kanan lives au #it was dope. the end

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

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eyayah-oya · 3 years

Text

The Father You’ll Be

Boil/Waxer with a side of Cody/Rex

Rating: G

Warnings: there is brief mention of the cadets dying during the Battle of Kamino. Nothing graphic, but there are mentions.

for @clonehavensotm

Ao3 link

Boil walked into the barracks and began stripping off his armor, desperately ready to go to sleep. After a long day of fighting, the 212th and the 501st worked with Rancor to clear up the debris around Kamino, until they’d been awake for approximately two and a half day cycles. Every step felt heavier than the last, until Boil felt like he was about to fall asleep where he was standing.

At least, he felt that exhausted until he realized Waxer was no longer behind him. Nor was he anywhere in the barracks.

For several moments, Boil debated the merits of just falling into bed without Waxer, but the longer he stood there without knowing where he was, the more agitated he became. With a heavy sigh and a silent curse, Boil put his armor back on and marched out into the hallways of Kamino. Several other vod’e tried to reach out and stop him, to try and drag him to bed, but Boil just shrugged off their concerned hands and continued on to the mess hall.

Boil sighed heavily when he couldn’t find Waxer in the mess hall, nor could he find him back in the area they had been cleaning up. He would not be able to settle down properly until he at least knew where Waxer was and what he was doing.

There were many places on Kamino that Waxer could be hiding. He tended to go for a run after a high-risk battle, just to help himself settle. But he could also have gone to the training halls to work out his energy, as there were most likely plenty of brothers who he could spar against. Boil really should have expected this kind of reaction from Waxer. This battle was different from any other they’d fought in before. There was more at stake, more at risk if they failed. Worse casualties. They’d lost far too many ikaade when the droids crashed through one of the domes, and several barracks were overrun by droids—

Boil froze.

He knew exactly where Waxer was.

With a quick about-face, Boil marched towards the Littles’ barracks. Waxer always had a bleeding heart for anyone who was in need of help, but especially animals and children. Numa was a perfect example of that (Boil conveniently neglected to remember how enamored he had been by the sweet Twi’lek girl). After the kind of loss all clones had experienced that day with the death of their vod’ikase and ikaade, Waxer would want to comfort the Littles.

“Boil? What are you still doing awake?”

Commander Cody was leaning against the wall, guarding a doorway with Rex by his side. They both looked exhausted, especially since they’d been working with Rancor command while Colt and Havoc were in the medbay getting patched up. Boil did not envy their jobs. The two of them were effectively coordinating three battalions in the cleanup efforts with the help of Commander Blitz and ARC Hammer. They were also the ones dealing with the casualty reports.

“Sir,” Boil snapped off a salute. “Just going to find Waxer, sir.”

Cody’s brow furrowed. “He’s not with you? I thought I assigned the two of you to the same work crews.”

“You did, sir,” Boil answered. “I got to the barracks and turned around and he wasn’t there. I have a pretty good idea of where he disappeared to, though.”

With a strained look in his eyes, Cody nodded. It was likely that he, too, had guessed where Waxer was, and the Commander definitely wouldn’t get mad at either of them for being in the littlest cadet dorms. “Make sure he gets some sleep tonight. A pile of Littles will probably help more with that than anything else at this point. Hell, I might even join you later. We lost too many of them today, and it’ll be nice to see them and make sure they’re holding up well.”

“I’m sure they’d love that,” Rex murmured. “The Great Marshal Commander Cody coming to visit them and hug and hold them. They’ll love you for that.”

Cody sighed and thunked his head back against the wall. “You’re never gonna let me live the hero worship down, are you?”

“Nope,” Rex huffed a weak attempt at a laugh. He sounded exhausted, just as worn as the rest of them, and more since he was also dealing with a padawan commander who stumbled upon a bunch of cadets killed by Grievous. Boil had heard the rumors, and he was so glad neither he nor Waxer had had to see any of the bodies of their little brothers. That would have crushed them both.

“Bring Commander Tano,” Boil said spontaneously. He shifted back on his feet when both the Commander and the Captain looked at him in surprise. “Well, I think it would do her good to see the cadets, too. And I’m sure they’d like to meet a shiny Jedi. They probably have only ever seen General Ti from a distance.”

“Ahsoka would like that, I think,” Cody answered, looking to Rex for confirmation. Boil wasn’t sure why. It was well-known among the 212th and the 501st that both Rex and Cody had adopted the young Jedi and loved her as fiercely as any nat-born loved their children. Ahsoka looked up to Cody and probably spent just as much time with him as she did with Rex.

“We have some a few tasks left to do before we can bunk down,” Rex said slowly. “But then we should be free to come join you. Ahsoka is debriefing with the Generals and checking on the injured in the medbay, but I’ll try to wrangle her into coming with us.”

Boil nodded. “I’ll go find Waxer and let you know which barracks he’s hid himself in. I’ll see you soon, sirs.”

Cody and Rex waved him off, and Boil continued down the hallway, each step heavy with grief and exhaustion. He counted off the doors until he reached the bunks for the youngest cadets decanted and poked his head into each one, looking for the tell-tale sign of a puppy-pile of vod’e flopped all over Waxer.

It wasn’t until the fifth barracks he checked that Boil finally found him. Waxer was telling a story about one of their many missions, watered down so that it was appropriate for little audio receptors. He had a pair of Littles curled together under each arm, and two sitting on his lap while another dozen or so piled around his legs. His armor was neatly stacked on a nearby pod, and it was clear that Waxer was planning on spending the rest of the night here with the little ones.

“And then these great big, hungry monsters started chasing them through the streets of Nabat. They were closing in on Commander Cody, and his blaster wasn’t working against their tough skins. He was trapped, weaponless, and about to be eaten. And do you know what happened?”

One of the Littles on his lap perked up and grinned. “He punched them?”

“Or kicked them!”

“Nah, he used his blaster to beat them up!”

“You saved the day, Waxer!” a Little chirped from where he was practically buried underneath his brothers.

“Thank you, 53, but no. I was actually on my own adventure with Boil at the time. I heard about all of this after it happened,” Waxer grinned. He looked up, caught Boil’s eye, and shrugged apologetically.

Boil found he couldn’t really be mad at Waxer. Not when he was helping the little vod’ikase. With a heavy sigh, Boil stripped off his armor and set it next to Waxer’s while he distracted the little brothers.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Waxer continued his story with a wide grin. “General Kenobi leaped in front of the charging monsters, without his lightsaber—“

“No!” a Little cried. He was curled up on his brother’s lap, tucked snugly under Waxer’s right arm, but when he shouted, he sat bolt upright, horror written on every tiny, adorable feature.

That one is going to be Cody’s. He’s going to adopt that Little next, Boil thought to himself. As he sat down, he and Waxer exchanged a knowing look, even as his lap was immediately overrun by Littles looking for a comfortable place to curl up. If Cody managed to adopt this one, General Kenobi would stand no chance at ever running away from medical or losing his lightsaber in battle again. The large, sad eyes pleading with him would be his downfall. Boil made a note to tell Cody all about this one.

“It’s alright, 2467,” Waxer soothed and kark, the kid even had Rex’s and Cody’s numbers combined into his. “While it’s always a bad idea to go into a dangerous situation unarmed, the General had a few tricks up his sleeve. So, there they were, cornered by starving beasts, when General Kenobi holds up his hand, just like this.” Waxer demonstrates with arms raised in a decent imitation of the General when he was doing his Force magic stuff.

“What happened then? What happened to Commander Cody and General Kenobi?” a Little from the pile at Waxer’s knees piped up.

“With the power of his mind,” Waxer said, “he spoke to the monsters and lured them away from Commander Cody and the rest of Ghost Company. He led them deep into an alley, where there was only one exit. And then he ordered Ghost to shoot at the walkways above him.”

“NO!” 2467 shouted again. “He can’t do that! The General’s supposed to be safe!”

Kriff it, Boil was going to help Cody sneak the whole squad onto the Negotiator, so he could adopt this one. After all, they would never split up a batch.

“Commander Cody was worried, but it all turned out okay. The General used the Force to leap high over the new blockade Ghost Company created, and he landed safely outside by Commander Cody, while the monsters were stuck. And of course, Commander Cody handed the General his lightsaber and they went on to save Nabat. The villagers were all safe and could move back into their homes without worrying about those awful clankers taking over their homes.” “Wow!” one of the Littles in Boil’s lap whispered.

“I’m gonna be just like Commander Cody when I grow big and strong!” another said, leaping up to demonstrate various kicks and punches. They weren’t very coordinated yet, and it was absolutely adorable to watch.

“You better keep practicing, vod’ika,” Rex called from the doorway. “Someday, you’ll be just as good as Cody. I know it.”

He slumped against the nearest pod and began taking off his armor. Ahsoka slunk into the room behind him, and as soon as the top half of his armor was off, she attached herself to his back. Her thin arms wrapped around his waist, and her face was pressed tightly in between his shoulder blades. Boil would be willing to bet all the credits he never earned that she’d likely been crying as soon as she got away from the Generals. But here among vod’e, she was safe to express all the awful emotions she had pent up in her heart. Boil had learned over the course of the war that Jedi struggled with all the death far more than any vod. They felt each death as if it were their own unless they shielded themselves so completely from the Force that it rendered them entirely useless. To feel the lives of children slip away? Boil couldn’t imagine.

“Captain Rex, sir!” the Littles all shouted, and they tried to detangle themselves to salute, but Rex immediately waved them back down.

“At ease, cadets. Do you mind if we join you? Commander Cody should also be coming soon.”

“Really?” The enormous eyes were filled with hope and disbelief that one of the greatest soldiers in the GAR would be coming to visit them.

“Yes, really,” Boil answered. “I invited him. I hope you don’t mind?”

Immediately, the little cadets were all wriggling around in excitement, talking loudly over one another about how cool and heroic Marshal Commander Cody was. It was karking adorable.

Boil slid into the newly freed space and wrapped an arm around Waxer. Immediately, he felt him relax into his hold, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. Rex plopped down against a wall, and immediately pulled Ahsoka into his lap, cradling her tightly against his chest. She went almost desperately, needing the grounding contact of one of her adopted dads. Boil knew that as soon as Cody arrived, she would somehow manage to wrap herself around both of them. They’d probably end up buried beneath a pile of vod’ikase, but Boil sincerely doubted any of them would mind in the slightest. He might not have the Force, but he could feel himself relaxing in the presence of such innocence and enthusiasm. Waxer had made an excellent choice to come here. Boil was glad that he had followed.

He would always follow Waxer. Whether it was on the battlefield or to a hoard of Littles that needed the comforting presence of their ori’vode, he would walk right beside him. Waxer was special. Boil didn’t quite know the name of what he felt for Waxer, but he knew that it was enough to just be near him. To press against each other tightly at night, and to shake apart together. To be together for the rest of their lives.

It was enough.

(Cody nearly managed to sneak the entire squad onto the Negotiator undetected, but at the last minute, General Kenobi caught him. And then proceeded to help them set up a nursery perfect for the 212th’s newest squad of cadets. No one could ever say their General didn’t have a bleeding heart, nor a soft spot for children. And just as Boil had predicted, Cody adopted 2467 and helped pick out the name Dara. They would be eternal, no matter what happened during the war.)

#clone/clone #clone shipping #boxer #boil/waxer #waxer/boil #clone trooper waxer #clone trooper boil #commander cody #captain rex #ahsoka tano #clone cadets #clone haven sotm

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Night Changes [Eight]

Summary: 34 ABY.

Warnings: Angst, smut (a large amount of smut!), fluff but it’s sad, I’m sorry this one hurts. WC—+12K

A/N: Wow I can’t wait to get your feedback on this. BUCKLE UP!

34 ABY - Location Unknown - Aboard Star Destroyer ‘Finalizer’

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the resistance on board,” A cold, modulated voice woke Poe from his troubled slumber—his pathetic attempt at rest, considering he was strapped upright, his hands and legs restrained from moving at all.

The First Order goons had been on him for hours before finally giving up, realizing with each slice into his skin or blow into his side that he only grinned wider. He wasn’t going to give up anything, even if they pulled his eyes from his head, and they seemed to understand that and left him alone, he wasn’t sure for how long now. He’d assumed they’d left him to die.

He tilted his head up, his neck protesting at the movement before his eyes landed on the figure across the dark room. The man was tall, covered from head to toe in black, his face covered by a dark helmet. The modulated, amused-sounding voice spoke again when Poe made no reply, “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” He admitted, glaring even though he was curious as to who this new arrival was. He didn’t seem bothered by Poe’s sarcasm.

“I’m impressed,” The First Order man stepped closer to him as he spoke, “No one has been about to get out of you what you did with the map.”

Poe looked where he guessed the man’s eyes would be, “You might want to rethink your technique.” He challenged, his body tensing in preparation for whatever violence it was about to endure.

Only, the man reached up a gloved hand, palm open towards him. For a beat Poe was confused.

For a beat, nothing.

And then the oddest sensation, like a hand dipping beneath his skull and squeezing his brain, and he almost gasped. He let out a small breath, his eyes dropping from the masked man because—he needed to focus, to push this pain away, to prevent...what was he doing to him?

The pain and pressure doubled and Poe slammed his head back into the headrest, unable to hold in his pained groan, his entire body protesting at the invasion. He tried to push at it, but there was nothing he could find to push against, it was invisible, it was nothing.

The man tilted his head, “Where is it?”

Ah, he was trying to get to the map. In Poe’s brain, using a-a something that he’d only ever heard tales about, never seen, thought was long gone. He hadn’t been prepared for this sort of attack, this form of torture that seemed to make his brain want to cooperate, just for relief.

He thought of you, then, and what you said any time there was a close call, an enemy with the upper hand. It spilled out of his lips, automatically, “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”

The pressure increased again and fuck, fuck if it didn’t hurt worse than any other pain in his life, the pain of losing Charlie, of losing you, the pain of stab wounds or blasters to the leg. This hurt so much worse and he wanted it to stop but he couldn’t let it—as long as he was in pain, the information was safe. He’d go down burning, he had to!

“Where is it?” The man sounded frustrated, his hand moving closer to Poe as that pressure continued to build and build and he had to swallow it, let it happen, let the pain exist.

He tried something, then, in desperation. Poe let his brain flood with the memories he had of you, each one like a movie, and thrust them toward his interrogator, let him see the most vivid thoughts he had instead of the location of the map.

Poe stared down at you, his eyes threatening to blur with the tears he was shedding, and he had to keep blinking to clear his vision. You looked beautiful, standing before him in a simple lace dress, your lower lip trembling as you gave your vows.

“...and that was how we met, on the day of your mother’s funeral—the woman whose ring I’ll wear now, honouring her. Honoring you. I’ve loved you my whole life, Poe Dameron...”

“Pretty,” The man murmured, and Poe wasn’t sure if it was working or not so he kept thinking of the day he married you, pushing the memories at the man before him.

You were wiping at your tears as he spoke, holding your hands tightly in his own and working hard to keep himself from sobbing through his vows.

“...you and I were never honest with each other like we should have been. We built up our whole lives around each other, and then we lost Charlie,” He paused there, leaving a moment of space for your brother. “And we crumbled, each in our own way because we didn’t have a solid foundation. The truth is, the day Charlie died there were only two ways that could have gone, and we both know that the version where you died, where he didn’t save you, was never really an option. And I was-was angry at him for doing it but angrier at myself for how happy I was that I didn’t lose you. And now we’ve come back to each other and we have that foundation and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

He pushed the memories from his mind. As if eager for the man to see the greatest moments of his life. Like a movie. Because he had to protect the map, he had to.

And he didn’t need to protect you any longer.

The last memory slipped through, he hadn’t meant to think of it. Tried not to, always-but he was weak and the pressure and pain were blinding him. It just appeared, and the man saw it, Poe knew he did when he saw his head tilt a little more as if interested in what he saw.

“Pity,” That cold, modulated voice didn’t sound like he thought it was a pity at all. “Well she certainly can’t have it, can she? Tell me where it is.”

The hand hovering in front of Poe’s face twisted and the pressure on his brain increased rapidly until he couldn’t bear it any longer and he let himself scream, and scream, and scream...

Right before he passed out, he thought first of BB8 hurrying away with the map on Jakku. And then Poe thought of you, his beautiful wife, and how fucking much he already missed you.

Life was now so surreal to Poe, in the best ways, that just the knowledge he could touch you whenever he wished made it difficult to stop himself from doing just that. A hand trailing down your back, a brush of his lips against your temple, his body pressed against yours, even reaching up to cup your cheek. And while you seemed to enjoy the attention, often shooting him little smiles that made his insides warm, he could see that currently, it was irritating you.

“Poe, we’re supposed to be blending in here and if you keep giving me those ‘I’ve seen you naked’ eyes it’s going to attract attention.” You carefully adjusted the scarf you wore, which served both to protect you from the suns of Tatooine, and keep anyone in Mos Espa from being able to identify you.

Poe wore one similar around his neck, his hair gelled back in a way he thought looked awful (and confirmed when he’d stepped out of the ship’s fresher earlier and you laughed, hard). Today’s mission was more personal, though it had been approved by General Organa. Jess Pava had located, purely by accident, the location of the Twi’lek man, Dario, who had tried to capture you and Poe back on Takodana months prior after giving over First Order intel. He was in hiding from both the Resistance and the First Order now.

Poe sighed dramatically, dropping his hands to his sides as you continued walking, his eyes sweeping the crowds of the busy city street, “I can’t help it. We’re still in the honeymoon phase.” He argued, and you giggled in response.

“We’ve been married five weeks, Poe, the honeymoon phase is the entire first year.”

Poe mulled this over, biting back his smile so as not to stand out to those passing by in the opposite direction. He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to marry him if he was honest. It all felt too good to be true, but if there was one thing he’d learned as a Rebel all these years it was to enjoy the good while he could—he wasn’t spending a lot of time ruminating. He was instead regularly replaying in his mind how quickly you’d said yes, the excitement and joy and adoration that had split your face into a wide grin as he kneeled before you the morning after your feelings for one another finally came out.

“Let’s get married, flyboy.” You’d said, and he’s not sure he would ever come down from the high those words provided.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind, after that. You had still needed a few days' rest to get your voice healed up, and Poe was only able to spend that day with you before being called back to duty. While he’d been gone on a mission, you had organized everything from the comfort of his room, first telling only your closest friends—Tahla, Temmin and Kare. Then you had located the base officiant to ask for her to wed you and Poe in a private ceremony upon Poe’s return.

It was amusing how everyone took the news. You’d described to Poe how Temmin and Kare had high-fived one another, while Tahla had merely laughed, nodding his head in an annoyingly knowing way.

When Poe had arrived back on base, he’d sought you out in his room to find you being examined by Tahla and a medical droid, the former happily declaring that your voice was as good as new. He had then congratulated you each on the happy news and assured you both that he could remain for the ceremony with a cheeky sort of grin.

Poe married you the very next morning. The ceremony was small, just you and Poe, your three friends and the officiant. BB8 had also been present, happily beeping the moment Poe began to cry-which was around the time when you’d surprised him by taking your father’s wedding band from his droid and presenting it for Poe. You told him that as much as you were meant to wear his mother’s wedding band, the same went for him wearing your fathers. You said Charlie would have wanted it to end up in his hand, regardless of who he married, anyway. Poe had replied that he was always going to marry you.

That had been, quite easily, the best day of his entire existence.

After the ceremony, Poe had whisked you off to a nearby beach, the flight a mere ten minutes, where you would enjoy a short three-day honeymoon together camping, surrounded by nothing but sand and water, sunshine during the day and the stars twinkling by night. Temmin had helped Poe to pack camping supplies and promised to keep BB8 safe as he and Kare went off with the droid on a mission alone.

He made love to you on that beach—sand got everywhere, of course, so he took you again in the water that you’d entered naked with the intent to clean up. And again in the tent after dinner. He woke in the middle of the first night and spent a good twenty minutes eating you out before you’d woken, your orgasm ripping through you moments later when you realized what he’d been doing. You’d returned the favour the next night, pulling Poe from a deep sleep by sucking his cock so expertly he saw stars, then drinking down everything he’d given you when he came while moaning sinfully.

“Alright,” You drew his attention from his thoughts—thankfully as he was starting to get hard thinking of the honeymoon. Stepping out of the way of foot traffic, you peered nonchalantly across the road at a grubby-looking cantina. “Jess said he’s in there about this time every day. We just have to wait for him to come out.”

“Uh-huh,” Poe stepped closer to you, an eyebrow quirked, “And not shoot him on sight, right Major?”

You bristled immediately, “I am not going to kill him. Here.” You jerked your chin up stubbornly and Poe chuckled, leaning down and capturing your kips against his softly.

When he pulled back, you threw him a mock glare, “You shouldn’t get me all worked up when you know we don’t have the ship to ourselves, Commander.” You made busywork of adjusting your scarf, eyes back on the cantina.

Poe grinned down at you, “We could knock Dario out-“

“Yeah? And what about our dear Captain? You think Snap would mind?”

He blinked, momentarily having forgotten Temmin was waiting on the ship for them, even though Poe had been the one to ask him along as backup.

“Shit,” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly.

He let you think he was annoyed at the lack of privacy, but the truth was Poe had asked Temmin along because he had become extraordinarily overprotective of you since the wedding. After the honeymoon, you’d rejoined him in the field and the first moment he saw you with your blaster at your hip, something inside of him had just...snapped.

He’d realized after your attack on Canto Bight that losing you wasn’t an option, that your life was worth more than winning the war to Poe. It had scared him, to think like that, and everything after that had happened in such quick succession that he’d pushed the thoughts back. But then that first mission together as a married couple had occurred and he realized how intense those protective, selfish thoughts were. And he was being selfish—because you were one of the best fighters, best pilots, the Resistance had. Which was why you’d been brought to D’Qar to join his team in the first place, of course. Limiting your fieldwork would have been as much as a disservice to the Rebels as it would have been to his marriage, so he didn’t even consider asking you to stop.

Well, he’d only considered it very briefly.

He knew what you would say, if he did ask, anyway. And truly, his belief in your capabilities hadn't diminished in the slightest; he simply couldn’t fathom the idea of you being hurt. Even here on Tatooine, he was keenly aware of all possible threats to you—to YOU, not to the Rebels, not himself. Hell, at that very moment he could see you were covered in a layer of sweat, courtesy of the over-hot planet, and the urge to whisk you somewhere cool and out of the sun was almost as powerful as his desire to complete this mission.

He was aware that his scales were not, in fact, balanced.

No, they’d tipped right over in your favour, though he kept you unaware of that knowledge, and every day now was a struggle when Black team was on a mission. The best he could think to do was bring back up, just in case, and always keep you close to him. If he had to jump in front of gunfire for you, he would in a heartbeat.

If he ever started to feel guilty over these feelings, he would think of your brother. Charlie would, no doubt, be thrilled that Poe and you had married, that Poe had officially made you his top priority.

D’Qar Five Weeks Ago

“I know I said you didn’t have to help,” Poe crawled towards you on the makeshift bed you’d put together inside the tent, his voice low, “But I’m glad you did, sweetheart. Got us to this part quicker.” He wiggled his brows at you and you giggled, your eyes following his movements hungrily as he climbed over your body.

“What if I tired myself out, flyboy?”

Poe smirked, pressing his body over yours, “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can take care of you, just relax for me.” He began to kiss a trail up your neck and along your jaw, lifting one hand to gently coax you to settle into the cushions. You allowed your warm body to go limp, signalling a trust in Poe he still had trouble feeling worthy of, and let out a small sigh of content.

He wasted no time in ridding you of your clothing, immediately devouring newly exposed skin with his mouth as he did. He was marvelling over how much his life had changed in the last week, how incandescently happy he was. When a whimper fell from your lips as he circled his tongue over one of your nipples, he drew back and saw your eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re such a tease.” You mumbled, reaching down to palm his erection over his khakis. Grinning widely, he leaned away and quickly stripped himself before bringing his body to settle over yours again, this time skin to skin. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh sweet girl,” He murmured into your ear as he reached between your bodies to run two fingers through your slick, “So wet for me already.” He withdrew his hand and gently rocked his hips forward, moving slowly as he sunk into you, a gasp falling from his lips at the sensation of your tight heat clenching around him. Perfect, you were utterly perfect.

Your back arched slightly as Poe filled you, angling to allow him to sink deeper, “Poe, Stars!” You whimpered, your hands sinking into his curls while he lazily worked his hips, drawing sweet little noises from your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d made love that day, yet the intense desire you felt for one another was clear, heavy in the air around you, drawing you back to each other as nothing else could.

Being with you like this felt too good to be true, the sort of euphoria that must come with a limit, and so he savoured every second, drawing each thrust out as long as he could as he peppered your pretty face with kisses. “I love you...wife.” He joked, and you giggled beneath him, your legs tightening at his waist.

“I love you too, husband.”

You pressed at his chest then, signalling your desire to flip over, and Poe clutched your hips as he rolled, keeping himself buried within you as he laid on his back. When you relaxed atop him, his cock sunk even deeper and he grunted at the sensation, “Fuck, baby, so tight for me.”

With a moan, you started to move, rolling your hips to keep him deep within you and chasing your own pleasure, hands braced on his chest to hold yourself steady. Watching as you rode him, your breasts jiggling temptingly and skin gleaming with sweat, was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He never wanted to leave this beach.

“That’s it, sweet thing, bounce on my cock,” He gritted out, lifting his arms and grabbing at your tits, “Be as loud as you need, baby, no one can hear us out here, fuck.” His head dropped back onto the pillows as a wave of pleasure seemed to roll through your body, the resulting tightening around his cock pulling loud grunts from him and threatening to make him cum.

You started a steady stream of moans then, your pace remaining consistent as you whimpered and cursed, the hands on his chest pressing hard enough that he could tell you were attempting to prevent him from taking over; you wanted to be in control. The realization made his cock twitch, and you seemed to sense his thoughts as you glanced down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze.

“Poe, I’m so close,” You sighed, and he let go of one of your hips to rub his thumb over your clit, circling just how he knew you liked it, how he’d learned over the past few days.

The resulting orgasm rocked your entire body before you seized up and he swore your pussy was gripping him almost too hard, and then he was coming too. It was different, in a good way—he wasn’t moving his hips at all, yet you were milking his cock as you came around him, your hips still moving back and forth, and the surprise of it made Poe come even harder, “Oh stars, sweetheart!” He grunted, his entire body twitching until you finally collapsed and he caught you, holding you close while you both panted heavily.

“Poe?” You whispered, your face nuzzled into his neck.

Poe’s arms tightened around you and he kissed your hair, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m starving. No more sex, please feed me.”

Laughing, Poe lifted you lightly, each of you groaning at the sensation as he slipped from you and your mixture of fluids spilled out onto his thigh.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s eat.”

It went without saying that you would enjoy one another for dessert.

You perked up suddenly, eyes still on the cantina, and Poe casually glanced over his shoulder. Spotting Dario ambling out of the door, he felt a lick of heat crawl up his spine; that asshole had pointed a blaster at you. He was going to turn you both over to the First Order, who would have tortured and killed you. Maybe Poe should have been more concerned that he would kill Dario, rather than arrest the motherfu-

“Let’s go.” You grabbed Poe’s arm and tugged, starting forward as Dario turned to walk up the road. Considering the Twi’lek was in hiding, he didn’t exactly hasten to return to the comfort and safety of his temporary home. It was easy to catch him up, and you tossed Poe a delighted little smile before surreptitiously unholstering your blaster and pressing into Dario’s back.

Dario made to turn, a small noise of surprise huffing out, but Poe threw an arm around his shoulder before he could see you and smiled. “Dario, dear friend, it’s good to see you.” He tightened his hold to an uncomfortable pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Dario grumbled, putting up no fight. His eyes widened when you used your free hand to search him for weapons and pulled out his old blaster, tucking it into your waistband.

“Fuck is right,” You hissed, pressing the blaster a little harder into his back, “You’re coming with us, Dario. The Resistance has questions for you.”

Poe smiled at you proudly as you each led Dario through the streets towards the waiting ship. He saw you biting back your smile—you were much better at acting appropriate in the field than he was, though he had to admire his strength; the urge to kill Dario on sight had almost made him see red.

But that would have made the mission a failure, as Dario could have information the Rebels could use, and getting him out of the reach of the First Order ensured that he could not give them information about the Resistance.

Still, Poe would ensure his capture was far from comfortable.

Poe’s hand had found its way to your lower back, where he pressed it gently as you walked along beside him from your post-mission check in with the General. “You didn’t need to punch Dario the second time, Flyboy.” You teased, the memory of Poe punching the traitor before pushing him into the base’s lock-up making your lips tug up at the corners.

He laughed, shrugging as you weaved through the busy hallways, both nodding polite greetings to those you passed. Everyone referred to you as Major Dameron, now that word had spread through the base these past six weeks that Poe Dameron and (y/n) Horn had been married. You knew for certain you’d never been happier in your life, and based on how Poe could barely keep his hands off of you, he was enjoying life just as much.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just tag along for your check-up?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at your husband with mild exasperation, “Poe, it’s an annual,” You reminded him, stopping in your tracks to step close to him and peer up at his handsome face, “Go work on your mission report and I’ll see you in the room later, alright?”

When he merely grinned at you mischievously, you giggled before sliding your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, something you noticed he did a lot, as though he were testing that he was still allowed to kiss you. He then cupped your jaw in his hands and met you again, this time in the sort of kiss that made your knees shake, his tongue tracing along your lips teasingly before he pulled back and pressed a more chaste peck to your forehead.

“See you later, sweetheart.” He murmured, his tone suggesting your evening would be a long continuation of that kiss. You felt very warm when you smiled up at Poe before spinning and walking down the hall to the med bay, fully aware his eyes were on your ass.

The med bay was fairly quiet when you arrived, the nurse at the main desk seemed to be peering off at nothing, lost in thought. You cleared your throat awkwardly and she started before a polite smile appeared and she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Sorry about that,” She said, and you waved your hand to show there was no need, “What can I help you with?”

“I have an annual, Major H-um, Major Dameron.”

The nurse smiled more broadly and winked at you before standing, “Come with me, dear.” She led you through to the back, past the emergency section and into the further depths where offices and operating rooms were located. She gestured for you to enter a doorway you had plenty of times before, where annual checkups and post-mission physicals were done. “The medical droid will start on your readings after you change into your gown and the Healer will be here shortly.”

You thanked the nurse before she left, then walked over to the bed and plucked the gown from where it was folded. You changed out of your clothing quickly before tugging it on, then hopped onto the bed to wait. When the droid came in moments later, you stuck out your arm and let it begin its work taking your blood pressure, a small sample of blood, examining your eyes and ears, everything all so routine you were as zoned out as the nurse had been when you arrived.

A younger female Healer walked in as the droid took your temperature, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Major. I’m Healer Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you, Healer Boyd,” You replied, watching as she looked down at the droids readings displayed now on her tablet. All was quiet for a few minutes until the droid was at the implant in your arm performing the routine scan. The droid beeped after the first scan, then scanned again and this caught your attention as you’d never needed multiple scans to get a reading on the birth control implant.

Healer Boyd glanced up from her tablet and walked over to the droid, “Let’s do that once more, please.” She directed, and the droid repeated the scan once more, then beeped indignantly. Her eyes narrowed fractionally in confusion and she stepped up to you, her hand reaching for your arm, “I’m just going to have a feel, seems the implant isn’t giving a reading—which I have seen before; we might switch it out today.”

Her fingers gently prodded around the skin until she pinched up a small section of your upper arm and the droid attempted the scan again. The Healer hummed when the droid beeped indignantly, and then walked over to a supply cabinet and began riffling around.

“I thought these implants lasted longer before needing to be changed out?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes the implant does have to get exchanged earlier, it’s not an exact science,” She turned and settled onto a stool next to you, offering you a smile, “But that’s why we do the scans. And of course, the implant still does its job while it’s in your arm. I’m just going to ask you to lie down for me while I do the switch...that’s great thank you.”

You closed your eyes once you were laying on your side, grateful the procedure was painless but not interested in seeing it for yourself. The Healer worked quietly while extracting the implant and you had begun to mull over how they even worked, your medical knowledge in the area fairly basic, when she made a sudden noise of surprise.

You glanced up at her, then followed her startled gaze to the implant held in the extraction prongs. Even you could tell it looked wrong like the tiny medical device had been set on fire, no longer sleek but rather mangled and lifeless.

Healer Boyd stared at the device for a few beats, then looked up at you. “I’m going to have to make a call.”

You waited impatiently for half an hour for Healer Boyd to return, no longer laying on the bed but instead pacing around the small room nervously. You seriously hoped you weren’t about to find out you had some sort of disease or illness, because that seemed like the sort of luck you would have. Though you hadn’t ever heard of any that disintegrated medical devices.

When the Healer did finally reappear, the expression on her face was tightly pleasant, like she was readying herself. “Major, I’ve just been in touch with Healer Martell and his team,” She began, gesturing for you to take a seat.

Tahla had gone back to the outpost he worked from the day after your wedding. So why he was the one Healer Boyd had called only further confused you. “Okay, why...” You trailed off, swallowing heavily.

“I believe you were told that the pollen you and Commander Dameron were exposed to during your mission earlier this year was very rare. So rare in fact that some after-effects are unknown,” She glanced at her droid, which moved forward and began to bandage up your arm where the implant had been removed from, first peeling off the gauze that had been placed there temporarily. You watched with narrowed eyes—they still needed to put in a new one. “And we haven’t ever had a situation where those who were exposed were left untreated for as long as you and your husband were. I ran a few tests on the device while I spoke to Healer Martell. It appears the long-term exposure allowed the pollen to...treat the device as white blood cells would a foreign contaminant.”

You stared, “The pollen destroyed the implant?”

“Yes,” She replied slowly, taking her stool and sitting on it directly in front of you now, “Of course, checking the implant was never a thought-we’ve simply never seen this before. Your implant hasn’t been working since around the time you and the Commander collapsed on base.”

You didn’t understand why she was sitting so close, nor why the droid had left your arm bandaged. “But I can get a new implant, right? Tahla assured me-assured us both, that we no longer have pollen in our systems.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unsure of what emotion you were even experiencing at the moment, just that you could feel it bubbling up inside of you.

“He was correct, you both are free of the pollen. And we can put a new implant in, however not at this time,” And she reached out then, her hand grasping one of yours firmly, “You’re pregnant, Major. Based on today’s check-up, it appears you are about six weeks along.”

Well, fuck.

The first thing Poe noticed when you walked into the room was the bandage on your arm. He’d been sitting at the desk, typing out his report, when you arrived, your expression unreadable.

“Sweetheart,” He shot out of the chair and crossed the room in two strides, one hand landing on your cheek and the other gesturing at your arm, “Did a med droid malfunction?”

You laughed, “No, I’m alright,” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, and your eyes were glassy, not meeting his but instead looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Do you think Charlie would be proud of me? Of how far I’ve come, that I hold the same rank as he did?”

Caught off guard by the question, Poe glanced behind him and found you were staring at the picture of the three of you he had on his corkboard. “Yes, of course, he would,” Concern now flooding him, Poe led you to the bed and helped you take a seat. You still didn’t meet his eyes, your expression torn. “Charlie was proud of you before you even joined the Resistance. Once you did join—hell, he bragged about you all the time.”

“And you? You’re proud of me?”

Poe stared at you for a beat before dropping to his knees in front of where you sat. Sliding between your legs, he gripped your thighs tightly, “What’s going on? Did you get pulled from duty? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, then dropped it to Poe’s shoulder where he could hear you taking slow, measured breaths. “They didn’t pull me. But they suggested different duties.” Poe wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pushing you back so that he could look at you again. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to his and then away. Poe waited as patiently as he could for you to elaborate. “They said—it might be best for me to keep away from the riskier missions. From combat. Because of my condition.”

Poe frowned, his stomach tying itself up in knots of concern, “Condition?”

He saw it then, a brief flash of the emotion you were holding back—joy. It was fleeting like you were scared of it, but it made the whole odd conversation you were now having with him make a little more sense, made your next words a little less shocking.

“I’m pregnant, Poe. My implant was destroyed by the pollen before we...” You trailed off, rubbing your hands over your face and then meeting his gaze again, “They said about six weeks along, so still early which is why I haven’t had any symptoms.”

Poe had lived his life since joining the Resistance with the knowledge that each day that he didn’t get hurt, captured, or killed, was a day to celebrate. After Charlie had died, and you had left, he realized that a single moment could alter his entire existence. One night could change everything, and he only had so much control.

You coming back into his life, that had been a gift. After forgiving one another for the past, you had a chance for a fresh start. And he’d been happy with that, just knowing you were his friend again and that you cared for him--it was enough.

But then you’d told him you loved him. And it had been like every moment, every breath he’d ever taken, had been leading up to that night-as right as it felt, that feeling of coming home, joining his body with yours. Finally saying everything he’d held in for so long, that was as good as life could get. It was perfection, and he had no right to demand more—until he did, and he asked you to marry him, and you’d said yes so quickly and smiled so widely that he remembers, distinctly, thinking to himself, ‘yes, this is enough.’

Pregnant.

The reality of having a child when you were soldiers in the war against the tyranny of the First Order, weighed heavily over the good news. But his first emotions, which hit him like a tsunami, were of radiant joy, the best kind of tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at you, his beautiful wife, his best friend, his soulmate, in wonder. Because surely, even though it was unexpected, life could not be this good? He wanted to ask you to pinch him, just to prove he wasn’t asleep and dreaming up this life with you, but he found words hard to come by, so he smiled broadly.

You had been watching him warily, but the moment his face split into a painfully wide grin, your own broke through and for a minute you just looked at one another, soaking up that happy, astonishing feeling.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed after a while, tears still blurring his vision, “Maker I—pregnant? Are you...how do you feel?”

“Physically, normal? I don’t know about the rest of me, I think I’m in shock.”

Poe reached one hand up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips, “Have you...did you, uh,” He paused, wanting to word this right. He knew he didn’t need to ask you but was determined to treat you with the respect you deserved. It was your body, your choice, and the reality was you had that implant for a reason—he could not just assume your willingness, he had to be sure, to let you know he supported any decision you made. “I will support you here, no matter what you want to do, alright sweetheart? I know this is...this is huge.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his and Poe saw a flurry of emotions cross your features as you considered the implication of his words. “Thank you,” You reached up and placed your hand over the one he had cupping your jaw, “This is huge...and unexpected, and fucking terrifying. I’ve thought about us starting a family, you know—one day. But this is, Maker, Poe, this is our baby. Ours.” You brought both hands cradle over your stomach, a mixture of protectiveness and happiness colouring your words.

The sight of your hands pressed where you were growing his child, the way you spoke so strongly, it did something to Poe. Like it was the final piece of his life, slotting into place and completing him, his chest expanding from the force of it all. He suddenly felt stronger, wiser—and more in love with you than ever, if that was even possible.

He reached out somewhat tentatively, placing a hand over the top of yours where it rested on your so far unchanged stomach, his eyes moving upward until he met your gaze. You drew in a breath at the expression on his face, your eyes widening.

“Ours,” He repeated, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Our family.” He leaned forward then, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the moment. You kissed him back eagerly, your eyes on his lips when he eventually drew back.

“I realize what this means—what keeping the baby will mean,” You admitted sadly, “Even without the Healer’s recommendation, I understand I can’t go into the field any longer. You and I were already blurring the lines of protocol to keep each other safe.”

Poe nodded in agreement, his hand tightening slightly at your stomach, “You are sacrificing a lot to do this, sweetheart. Please know that I understand and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy. I’ll talk to Leia in the morning, ensure we get you a good assignment here.” He felt a little helpless, now, realizing that you had nine months of pregnancy to endure and he could only do so much to help you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” You spoke almost as much to yourself as to Poe, your brows pinching together, “Family comes first, always. So we’ll figure this all out. Together.”

Outwardly, Poe nodded and smiled at you encouragingly. Inside, however, a spark illuminated the stark reality--that he was currently sitting with the love of his life, who was pregnant with his child, in the secret base for the Resistance.

Arguably one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.

34 ABY - D’Qar

Five months pregnant.

Shit, you were exhausted.

It had been another long day. You wanted to blame the baby for draining your energy, but you knew that it wasn’t realistic—you were more mentally exhausted than anything.

Anytime Poe was away for more than a few days at a time, your anxiety spiked and you had trouble focusing on much else. You had surprised yourself, when you first found out you were pregnant, over how quickly the resolve to pull yourself from combat and flight had come over you. You didn’t even miss flying because Poe would bring you out for ‘test flights’ whenever he could get the time, give you a chance to stretch your wings, figuratively, and break any monotony in your schedule.

But you didn’t find your new job boring, because you worked directly for General Organa. You advised and planned and aided her on the daily, in whatever capacity needed, which sometimes allowed you to get a glimpse of the kind of horrors the First Order was performing across the galaxy and it only fueled your internal fire to work hard-not just for her, but for everyone. For the oppressed, those captured, those who had been lost, and especially for your little family. If you could bring this baby safely into the galaxy and give them a good home, then it was easily worth the long hours.

But you worried constantly over Poe. He was out there with Temmin and Kare on dangerous missions; you could do nothing to calm your nerves, and it drained you. Sometimes there were several days between communications and you would inevitably begin to spiral, convincing yourself he was captured or dead, always waiting for the dream that was being married to your best friend to turn into a nightmare.

His missions lately had been especially dangerous, as Black team had been finalizing the search for pieces of a map that lead to Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother. The infamous Jedi went missing after a tragic event no one knew the details of. Even Leia kept that one close, and you never tried to ask. She simply told you that it felt necessary to bring Luke back, not only because he was her brother but to fight the First Order. That was enough for you—if you could bring your brother back, you would stop at nothing to do it.

When you reached the door to your shared room with Poe, your eyes fell heavily shut, relying on your memory of the space to shuffle forward, contemplating if you could manage a shower while this tired or if you should just go straight to bed. You were convincing yourself to shower when an amused voice cut through the air, startling you.

“Are you sleepwalking, sweet girl?”

Your eyes snapped open to find Poe sitting on the edge of the bed, his flight suit discarded on the floor nearby so that he only wore his briefs and a white tee.

“Poe!” You gasped, launching yourself across the room and into his waiting arms. “Stars, you’re home! I thought you’d be gone longer.” He pulled you onto his lap as you spoke, settling you against him and wrapping his arms securely around you before burying his face into your neck. He inhaled you deeply, a new habit he’d established since you’d left Black team as if grounding himself with you.

His breath was warm against your skin when he spoke, “We were able to wrap things up quickly,” He tightened his hold on you with one arm so that he could reach between your bodies with the other and gently place his hand over the slight belly you now had. “How are you two doing? You look so tired, sweetheart.” His tone was laced with worry that you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully quell.

“We’re doing good, Poe, really. Remember what Healer Boyd said—“

Poe sighed, his lips tugging up at the corners, “It’s exhausting work, growing a human?”

You nodded and gave him your best grin, though you imagined it was more sleepy than anything. You studied your husband, from the worry in his face to the bags under his own eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You had sensed there was something he wasn’t saying for a while now but hadn’t figured out how to ask him what was going on. You had no real reason to suspect he was keeping anything from you, it was more of a feeling, and you didn’t want to cause him further stress by accusing him of anything without a better idea of whether you were right.

You usually ended up convincing yourself it was just the weariness and nerves of becoming a parent, a feeling you shared. With how unexpected your pregnancy had been, and the fact that he was off-world more often than not, he must have been feeling a great amount of guilt and concern. So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, to distract yourself from everything. To welcome him home and show him you were just fine, that you missed him.

Every time he came home from a mission, the reunions ended up like this—it was like the relief only lasted so long, therefore you each needed to try and extend that feeling by getting yourselves as close to one another as possible. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, the assurance that you were safe and loved. Your hormones were such that even just a casual look from your husband ensured you became slick with need, and it was as though Poe was experiencing his own version of the same, meeting your insatiable desire with his own at every turn.

You loved the feel of him stretching you, tonight you’d barely been able to get out of your pants before he was pulling you back onto his lap and driving into you, the need to feel one another outweighing the parts that usually preceded; foreplay, clothing removal. You were already soaking and ready for him, rolling your hips as he scooted further onto the bed so that he could brace himself to thrust upward. When he found that angle, the one that made you see stars, you let yourself scream; for him, for more, for everything.

Poe delivered, never faltering in his need to ensure you reached your peak over and over, as though he couldn’t feel pleasure unless you did. You’d never known such an unselfish lover as Poe, and it made you love him even more. Even if sometimes, you thought you might combust from the way he pleasured you, or the way he spoke when making love to you.

The reality was, you and Poe had only just begun to explore one another fully when you found out you were expecting. Newlyweds, your relationship still fresh, and then you were with child—his child—and you discovered he wasn’t only passion and sweetness and slow lovemaking, he was also commanding, cocky, and you loved it when that side of him came out.

When you’d started to show—your belly bulging slightly and your breast swelling, that part of Poe seemed to evolve, as though the sight of you swollen with his child was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. And as you pulled your shirt over your head now, you saw that glint in his eye, the way his pupils blew out as he gazed at you, how he bit his lip before letting out a groan that you swore was the single most erotic sound in the galaxy.

“Like what you see?” You teased, running a hand down your body to rest on your bump, your hips still rolling.

Poe growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “Fuck, you are sexy,” He leaned forward and licked over your breasts as he pounded up into you and you whimpered. “Think about you t-the whole time, when I’m gone, sweet girl.”

“I know, Poe, I miss you too. Think about you when I touch myself-”

Poe’s half-lidded eyes widened, and he was suddenly flipping you carefully onto your back on the bed, his breathing erratic, “Is that true, baby? You touch that pretty cunt while I’m g-gone, wish I was here filling you with my cum?”

He started to rut his hips down at a near brutal pace and you cried out in pleasure, unable to find the words to respond. He didn’t like your silence—commanding, dominating Poe now in full force, and he leaned down to bite a mark into your neck, a snarl tearing from his throat.

He needed to hear you admit it.

“W-wish you could fuck me all the time,” You whispered, your voice cracking as he fucked you into the bed, “Isn’t nearly as—oh shit, Poe I’m gonna-“

Your back arched as the pleasure that had been building up inside of you finally snapped--that hot, wet sensation wiped all coherent thought from your mind, stars painting the inside of your eyelids. You heard yourself repeating his name as you soaked the bed with your orgasm, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock until-

“Oh sweet girl,” He groaned, his hips stilling as he pressed deep into you and spilled his cum, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm; you clutched him close. He didn’t allow any of his weight to fall over you, pulling out slowly before flopping down onto the bed next to you and tugging you into his side. “You okay? Did I got too hard?”

You were panting, completely blissed-out, and it took a moment for his words to register, “Oh, I’m more than okay, flyboy.” Giggling, you rolled onto your side and peered up at Poe, meeting his warm eyes and smiling. “How about you, are you okay?”

You didn’t mean for the level of concern to show in your voice, but it slipped out and he caught on to it immediately, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to consider your question.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke, “I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I worry about you...things are—they’re getting intense out there. Leaving you here doesn't feel as much like I’m keeping you safe as it once did. If this base is ever discovered, the First Order will make its destruction top priority. They won’t hesitate to kill every single person on this planet.”

His voice was heavy, the words coming out easily enough that you knew he’d been thinking this for a long time. He sat up, sitting crossed-legged on the bed and staring across the room at nothing, and you felt a sense of dread begin to grow at the back of your mind. You suspected you might be closing in on what he’d been keeping from you, and suddenly felt afraid to know.

“Poe, we have a lot of things in place here to keep us safe. There are escape plans.”

Still looking across the room, Poe gave a small nod of his head, “But none can guarantee your safety. I know you worry about me when I’m gone—well I’m fucking terrified for you, too. And I—I...” He stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as if he had to physically fight to keep the words in and you frowned, watching him.

You sat up, moving slowly and then reaching down to push the comforter off the bed—it would need to be laundered. You had a few extras for this exact reason. Poe was silent as you moved, his eyes staring unseeingly across the room.

“Poe,” You reached out one hand and touched his shoulder, keeping your voice level despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, “Just say...tell me what you’re thinking.”

Silence.

“Poe Dameron, look at me.” You commanded, and his eyes shot up to meet yours, widening in surprise at the fierce expression on your face.

“I—I’ve got another mission,” He began shakily, a hand coming up to rest over yours on his shoulder, “And it’s big. It’ll just be me and a lot could go wrong, and I can’t stand the idea of leaving you here, that you would stay here if something happened to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue that nothing would happen to him, that, of course, you would stay, only he turned suddenly and brought both hands to cup your jaw, the look of fear on his face like nothing you’d ever seen; you’re Poe didn’t scare, he laughed in the face of fear.

“Sweetheart, I’d be letting you down, letting Charlie down, if I failed to protect you. To protect our baby,” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you didn't like how it felt like he was saying something in that kiss. “I spoke to Leia, a few weeks ago. I asked her...begged her to help me keep you safe.”

Your frown deepened, “I work alongside her every day, Poe, I probably have the safest job in the entire Resistance.”

He shook his head, “What I mean is, I asked her where the safest place would be to hide you until this war is over.” Poe was looking at you cautiously now, and you leaned back to assess his face.

His words confused you. You stammered your reply uncertainly, “Hide me? What do you mean—I’m not going-”

Poe’s face tightened, tears now threatening and his voice came out choked, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to, sweet girl. I have to keep you safe, and the truth is if I do get captured and the enemy finds out about you, about both of you, I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Poe dropped one hand to press over your belly, the gesture both sweet and protective. Your ears were ringing, though, and you didn’t have time to appreciate it. “I don’t want to send you away, you know it’s the last thing I’d ever want, but if you go somewhere safe, then I-“

“You can what, Poe? Fight the First Order all on your own? You do realize what you’re saying, right? We both know how this war is going, it could be years before it’s over. Years before...and what if you get caught and they find out where I am? Then what?” You felt your anger and despair growing by the moment, no doubt exacerbated by the flush of hormones coursing through your system.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from yours briefly, and he gulped almost comically before looking back at you and continuing, “Well, Leia thought of that. She seems to think that...our minds aren’t always going to be safe, that the First Order has a weapon that could break through...so she knows where she is going to send you, but I won’t know. No one else will.”

You stared at your husband for a very long, tense moment.

“B-but if you don’t know where I am-“

Poe blinked and several tears began to stream down his face, “It’s the best way, the only way, to do this. And I promise I’ll fight every day to stay alive and then I’ll find you.” He tried to pull you close again only you resisted, pushing his hands away so that you could give him your harshest glare, which he flinched under the heat of.

“What if, Maker forbid, something happens to Leia? I could be anywhere, in any system on any planet, and you’d have no way to find me, you-“ Your voice started to raise, an almost hysterical surge of emotions bubbling up your chest, “It could be years before the war is over and then a decade before you’d be able to find me! That-that’s bullshit, Poe. You’re going to abandon us on some fucking random planet and we could never see you again!”

You were crying now too, the tears blurring your vision as you shouted, refusing to accept this plan. But the sad way he looked at you as he cried told you Poe was serious, that he saw this as the only way forward, and you wanted to fucking scream.

“Sweet girl, I will never abandon you. I love you so much that even if they do somehow capture me, I won’t ever break, I’ll keep fighting and then if I have to tear this entire galaxy apart, I’ll find you. I promise I will find you,” He wiped harshly at his face, then grabbed your hands and held them tightly in his own, his expression desperate, “I want to meet our baby and watch them grow. I want to give them a sibling or two, even, and grow old together. Leia has everything figured out--she’s even going to have my dad flown here; he can go with you, so you won’t be alone.”

You wrenched your hands from Poe’s and shot off the bed, your eyes widening in betrayal, “Leia has everything figured out?” You repeated, and you saw the realization of what his words had revealed flash across his face, “You-when exactly did you think I was going to get shipped off, Poe?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought back to the beginning of this conversation when he’d claimed to have a big mission in a few days. You gaped at him as the realization hit that he was here for the next several days to get you ready to leave.

To say goodbye.

You burst into tears, heavy sobs pulling from your chest because there was no arguing this, was there? If you didn’t go, he could be out there too worried about you to be focused and then it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? And he was right, this base, even if you were glued to Leia twenty-four-seven, was still a hot zone for attack should its location ever be revealed to the First Order.

And did you truly expect to raise your baby on this base? There wasn’t even any space in this room you shared with Poe for a fucking crib, no places you could go to play, no other children for your child to play with. You had known all this the moment you’d found out you were pregnant, but now the reality of it all was crashing down around you because you’d never thought it would mean having to leave Poe. Again.

Another thought occurred to you, and you ignored the way he was trying to soothe you, now sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping his distance, his expression making clear he wanted to pull you back into his arms.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

Poe tilted his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was staying, that I would have the baby and then you could go get shipped off somewhere safe with them, that I wanted to be the one to stay and fight?”

Poe gaped at you only for a beat, “You said—sweetheart, I asked you if you wanted this and you said you did, I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the baby, that you were okay with leaving the fight. I never wanted you to feel forced to do it!”

“I know,” You agreed evenly, your voice hardening, “But I didn’t know that it meant I was going to be fucking shipped away, Poe!”

You saw him falter then, his entire argument crumbling and he slumped where he sat on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, “You’re right...I’m so sorry, of course, I can’t just expect you to...Fuck.” His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his sobs, and for a moment you stared down at him, his words doing nothing to calm you.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Sure, it was a misstep for him to just assume as the mother that you would be the one to go away and raise the baby, it was old-school thinking. But you were aware of who you married, weren’t you?

He was the best pilot in the Resistance, the strongest fighter, the best of the best. If anyone was going to win this war, it would be your Poe—and while you used to think it would include you being at his side, fighting right along with him, that was no longer the reality. You couldn’t pull the best chance the Rebels had from the fight, and you couldn’t stay and fight yourself.

Which meant you had to leave.

You stepped forward and knelt before Poe, your hands tentatively touching his thighs and he started, his head popping up, “Oh sweetheart, don’t crouch down like that-“

“I’m fine,” You interjected, sliding between his knees and reaching up to cup his face, mirroring the way he’d embraced you so many times before, “And you...you’re right. I’m sorry for—well, I hate how you’ve just sprung this on me, but I know I can’t stay here and raise our baby like this.”

Poe searched your face and you wiped your thumbs under his eyes to clear away the tears, even as the reality of what you were agreeing to settled within you. He shook his head lightly, “I didn’t know how to do this. It’s the last thing...we only just found each other again, the idea of not knowing where you are, not being able to check-in, it terrifies me, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, nodding your head, “You aren’t going to be there when I...” You trailed off, the picture in your head of giving birth without Poe by your side too hard to say aloud. He understood, pulling you close against him as he dropped to the floor, hugging you tightly as you both sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmured, one hand stroking your hair, “I promise I will find you the moment I can, and I’ll never leave your side again.”

You couldn’t help but think, at that moment, that you had been right.

The dream really was a nightmare.

35 ABY - Aboard The Falcon - Sinta Glacier Colony

Poe looked up as a distant noise sounded, peering around Chewbacca to see a wall of Tie-fighters approaching where they were docked in the Falcon. He shared a terrified look with the Wookie.

“FINN! We’re about to be cooked!” He shouted back, hoping that the transmission of the message from their unknown spy in the First Order was nearly complete-they needed to get going.

“We’re almost there!” Finn hollered back, his voice cutting off as he ran to check R2D2, and after a tense moment...“We’ve got it, Poe!”

Poe didn’t hesitate, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly before launching the Falcon forward and away from the informant, the knowledge heavy in his mind that there was a good chance Ovissian Boolio was going to be murdered for giving them the message. But there was nothing to be done for it now; this message was of vital importance to the Resistance, they needed to get it back to base.

The Falcon raced through the bay as fighters gained on their rear. Poe had no doubt that Finn was hurrying to the shooter station, but maintained the high speed and steered as carefully as he could. They hit a corner a little close and there was a shudder throughout the ship as it made contact.

Chewie exclaimed worriedly at this, “I’m sorry, I know, I know!” Poe apologized, frantically readjusting as they heard Finn begin to fire from below. He could see a lot of bogeys on the radar still, “Finn, you’re supposed to be getting rid of those things!”

He heard Finn make a noise before he shouted back, “Got one!”

“How many are left?” Poe swivelled in his seat and started making adjustments to the ship's systems, an idea forming in his mind. Not his best, but definitely not his worst.

“Too many!” Came the response from below. Shit.

The next few moments were incredibly tense as they worked together to outmaneuver the enemies on their tail until each one crashed or was shot down by Finn. Adrenaline was running high aboard the Falcon now as the near-death moments started to pile atop one another. Mission success was currently not guaranteed. Your image appeared in his mind briefly, the memory of the last time he had seen you, the love in your eyes.

He swallowed, swerving the ship up and seeing another wall of fighters ahead, “How thick do you think that ice is?” He asked Chewie, who made a loud noise in caution but Poe only gunned it forward, until relief swept through him—they were able to break through, free of the station and in open space now.

There were still fighters in pursuit, though, so they weren’t in the clear yet. Poe gritted his teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see Finn standing behind him, before bringing the ship into light speed. When he pulled back out, most of the ships had managed to follow and after a bit of complicated flying, he put the Falcon back into light speed as Finn shouted in fear from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Finn cried, gripping the back of his seat. Poe fiddled with the controls, fully aware he was pushing the ship to its limits but not willing to go down without exhausting every last effort to survive.

“Light speed skipping,” He grunted in reply, reaching up to set his parameters with one eye on the fighters still in pursuit.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Poe hit the throttle forward, throwing the ship back out of light speed, “My wife.” He replied, leaning forward and steering around the onslaught of obstacles in their direct path, simultaneously readying the ship to jump again. He heard Finn begin to react to the knowledge the Poe had been married, surprise evident in his friend’s tone, but Chewbacca’s words of caution were louder and Poe glared at him instead, “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?”

He gunned it into light speed, then almost as quickly pulled them back out. His stomach was in his throat as a very large, very alive obstacle was now dead ahead, and Poe silently thanked you for having taught him about light speed jumping before readying the ship to jump again.

“Last jump,” He yelled, leaning forward, “Maybe forever-hold on!”

When they landed the Falcon back on Ajan Kloss, Poe was furious beyond all measure. It wasn’t just that he’d nearly died, again. Almost cost the lives of his friends, again. It was that Rey hadn’t been there, and she was one of the best pilots he’d ever met. She was almost as good as him, nearly as good as you had been. He was heartbroken that you weren’t there to fight anymore—but Rey was and yet she chose to stay on base and train when her joining them on a mission like this would have been a much-needed boost, a much greater chance at survival.

They hurried off the Falcon and Poe lingered momentarily to instruct the ground team, “It’s on fire! Whole things on fire!” Maker, he was getting tired of these close calls. He’d been through a lot—survived a great deal, over this last year, but today was close enough that he had felt the hands of death creeping toward him, momentarily.

When he turned away from the burning ship, Rey was approaching, her face excited despite the condition of the Falcon. He marched over to her with his face straining, attempting to keep his cool.

“Hi! There’s a spy?” She asked brightly, her gaze surveying his stiff posture.

Poe huffed, “Really could have used your help out there.” He admitted, unable to keep the vitriol entirely out of his tone.

Rey frowned, then attempted to change the subject. “How’d it go?”

Poe stopped before her, hands landing on his hips, anger flaring, “Really bad, actually. Really bad.”

“Hans ship!” She exclaimed then, gazing over at the burning Falcon and gesturing in dismay.

Before he could reply, BB8 came whizzing up to Poe, beeping excitedly in greeting. At first, he was happy to see the orange and white droid, until he looked down and realized it was pretty beat up. He glared up at Rey, “What did you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” She countered stubbornly, her arms crossing.

“Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is, Rey!” He exclaimed, gesturing at BB8 incredulously. This was why he found her difficult-here she was, safely on base ‘training’, with the one task of minding his droid. And not only did she fail at that, but she also dared to get angry at him for getting Finn and Chewie, the intel, and himself back safely to base.

“BB8 is not on fire, Poe!”

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire!” He shouted, knowing full well that this was about more than his droid and yet struggling to see past his rage and form a proper sentence in Basic.

Rey seemed to sense his anger and took a breath, steadying herself, “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me first, Rey.” He deadpanned, scowling.

Rey glared straight back at him, holding up her hands in frustration, “You know what you are—you’re difficult. A difficult, stubborn man.”

“You—you are-” Poe cut himself off as he heard Finn call for Rey from behind him, and instead stepped around her to drop before his droid, shaking his head. “You okay, buddy?”

BB8 beeped merrily, sharing with Poe what had happened that afternoon but cutting off to ask if he was alright. Poe sighed, running his hands over his face, but nodded to his droid.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about her a lot today,” He admitted quietly, “Now what happened to you?”

Before BB8 could reply, Chewbacca yelled to Rey and Poe heard his name mentioned before she was walking toward him again, this time with Finn in tow. “You light speed skipped?”

“Yeah, well it got us back here, didn’t it?” He shot back, his hackles raising again. Finn caught Poe’s eye, his expression bright with curiosity—he wanted to know more about you, no doubt.

“You can’t light speed skip the Falcon!” Rey cried in exasperation, her eyes wide and for one moment, Poe wanted to scream. He’d come this close to dying today and had managed to get them all home safely, even if it did mean the Falcon needed a lot of repairs. She couldn’t just thank him, maybe?

His voice was rough when he replied, “Turns out you can, actually.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you even know-“

Finn interjected this time, “Turns out our friend here hasn’t been completely honest with us, eh, Poe?” He grinned, glancing from Rey to Poe, then winked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

With a sigh, Poe frowned before responding. Stepping closer to his friends, he kept his voice low. “That information stays between us, and Chewie, Finn.” He’d mentioned you in the heat of the moment and wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about you. But he’d spent an awfully long time holding back his truth from Rey and Finn and it was starting to feel wrong.

“What information?” Rey looked between them, confused.

When Poe looked at her, he hesitated, his gaze hardening while he considered what he was about to tell her. He trusted Rey, and Finn for that matter, but he’d chosen to keep quiet about you all this time for a reason, and it was hard to break down those walls and talk about you. He’d built them up to protect himself, to keep his pain and sorrow buried down deep.

Poe pointed between them both, his jaw set, “Between us!” He growled, giving them both a harsh look.

Finn clapped Poe on the shoulder, eyes serious, “Of course it does, man. Between us.” He agreed, and Rey nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Poe hesitated for another moment, and then finally confessed.

“I’m married. You uh...you know about my best friend, Charlie...” Poe began and Rey’s expression became understanding while Finn merely gaped, his brows knitting together now in confusion.

“Charlie died,” Rey whispered sadly, recalling the conversation they’d shared a few months prior after Han had died and they were discussing loss. “And didn’t you say...you told us his sister died too—Maker, Poe-!”

Finn gasped, his face morphing in horror, “Brother, you aren’t saying your wife is d-“

Poe couldn’t even stand to hear the words, so he cut Finn off with a rough shake of his head, peering around to ensure no one overheard. “No, that’s just what Leia and I let everyone believe, who knew her. She’s alive.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but Rey kept frowning at Poe, her expression uncertain. “Why did people need to think she was dead? She was one of the best fighters we had, wasn’t she? If she’s alive, can’t she come back?”

Poe shook his head, the emotions he’d held in this past year threatening to spill, and he had to pull in a few breaths to focus. He wanted his friends to understand why he kept fighting, why living and winning were so fucking important.

“I had to send her away, not long before I met you, actually, Finn,” Poe smiled at him, “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I said goodbye, back on D’Qar. I had to ensure she was safe, even if I got captured. And no one could get her location out of me if I didn’t know it. So she’s out there, somewhere, and one day I’m going to ask both of you to come with me to meet her.”

He wiped aggressively at his face, hating the tears that spilled, and waited for their replies. At first, they were both quiet, regarding Poe with dawning comprehension, suddenly understanding exactly what he was saying.

Finn was the first to speak, his voice laced with sadness, “You haven’t seen her for over a year?”

Poe shook his head, and Rey reached out and touched his shoulder gently, her eyes softening, “You said you had to send her away...what does that mean, Poe?”

He gazed down at his feet for a moment, and when he looked up he guessed he must not have kept the emotion off of his face, as each of his friends looked at him in surprise, stilling entirely as they waited for him to reply.

“There wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could ever stop her from fighting. She was my second in command, and would still be to this day, only she-” He thought of you then, how you had long since delivered the baby, wondered how that had been for you, whether you’d recovered well. He knew his dad would be doing everything to keep you both comfortable and safe until Poe could come for you all. His heart still ached. “It’s a long story, I guess. But she got pregnant, and we both realized she couldn’t stay on D’Qar—which was the right call, because look what happened there. Leia smuggled her somewhere far away and didn’t tell me a single detail.”

Rey had brought a hand to cover her mouth in shock, while Finn’s grip on his shoulder had tightened substantially. They both stared at Poe, their expressions a mixture of sadness and joy that he felt every day.

“Poe, man, that’s incredible,” Finn breathed, shaking his head slowly, “You have...a family, you have-“

Poe cut him off with a small smile, “I’ve got a wife and a baby out there somewhere. They’re waiting for me to finish this fight and find them.”

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