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penvisions · 11 months ago

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 12}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The job Din took to get credits takes a turn for the worse, the crew turning on him in a way that insights your direct involvement. It leads to a heavy conversation between the two of you.

Word Count: 11k (holy crap!)

Warnings: sexual content (!!), dry humping, talk of sexual intimacy, talk of previous sexual experiences, talk of sexual boundaries, description of male and female bodies, orgasm, sexual innuendos, sexual teasing, description of injuries (brief), canon typical violence, fighting, use of blades / knives, description of being stabbed / cut, description of being impaled (!!), tense situations, stalking, san fights(!), unsavory characters

A/N: took a few liberties with episode six, i hope y'all don't mind! a few things were changed in order to accommodate san's presence. i hope y'all like this once, a lot of stuff happens but that seems to be the way these are gonna go as we pick up plotlines from the series! there's a BIG scene that i hope people enjoy, lemme know what you think, pls? i'm so nervous to move the story along in this way but it felt like the right moment for these two

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || kofi

You were quiet as you boarded the ship, thoughts buzzing into white noise that you couldn’t begin to decipher. This…this was a mess. This was far more complicated than a simple rescue of a man that had been taken by rivals. This was an elongated interaction with people from Din’s past and people who had no respect for him despite knowing nothing of him but stories from a time past.

Realistically, you knew it would be a different dynamic between you both with other people around, with going back to a routine of sorts for Din to collect credits and take jobs. Bound to be a harder living now, in the wake of his separation from the Guild. But the people he had sought out to work with? It was all too nerve-wracking, too risky. Ignoring the fact that one of his past involvements was a part of the crew assigned to the job, the issue that concerned you the most was that Mayfeld had once been Imperial.

He could’ve been one of the people sent after you, could’ve been one of the people informed of your survival, one of the people who could recognize you. And that, paired with the presence of the Child, was too risky for you. Tempting to pull Din aside as ask him to drop you both off somewhere to wait for him to complete this job. But even that could bring more attention to you, and you were frustrated to be in such a plight.

The sounds of Zero up in the control room filtered down into the hold and you shook your head to rid yourself of the dizzying thoughts that were taking over, consuming from the inside out. If the ship was a part of the job, there wouldn’t be any time to ask for alternative surroundings. You would have to deal with whatever was about to transpire head on, whether you were a part of the job directly or not. Your involvement was inevitable. The voices of the people you would have to endure for the next few rotations were a drone from just beyond the ramp.

The droid climbed down the ladder and walked past you without so much as a glance, but you could hear him speak as he descended the ramp toward the group gathered outside as they went over things.

“Despite recent modifications, the ship is still quite a mess.”

A few more moments passed before the group was entering the ship. As soon as you heard steps on the ramp, you quickly climbed the ladder and sealed yourself in your room. Standing before the crate Din had given you, you reached down to unclasp it and began to dig around. The rattling of your painkillers could be heard before your hands closed around the bottle.

“She’s not a part of the crew, she doesn’t need to know any details.” Xi’an’s trilling voice floated up from the hold and seeped through the open door that Din had just walked through.

“Bet she’d be a good lookout, sure put you in your place. Could be an asset if we get bogged down. Not too bad on the eyes either.” The countering voice of Mayfeld sounded before the door hushed shut, drowning out Xi’an’s heated next words. It allowed for their voices to become muffled and when you didn’t look up from where you kneeled in front of the crate a sigh fell from Din.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say right now, other than that this is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t know she was still a part of the crew.” You pulled the bottle from beneath the clothes it had been under, still not looking over toward his armored form close to the door.

“She’s not the problem, not the only one anyway.” You grumbled as you tried to get the cap off the bottle, but your hands were shaking. “He’s Imperial, do you have any idea the kind of danger that puts me in, that puts ad’ika in?”

“He’s some front line soldier, the chances of him knowing about-“

“It doesn’t matter!” You pushed up quickly, turning to face him, pills forgotten. “There’s still a chance!”

“Did you even think this through before you contacted Ran?”

“Of course I did.”

“D-“ You clenched your fists, trying to keep your emotions in check, trying not to say his name aloud should anyone overhear. Pinching the bridge of your nose to stem off the headache that was forming, you decided to be completely honest with him, to tell him that he was being reckless. “Mando, you didn’t. You have a child aboard the ship.”

“And I will protect him at any cost. Protect you at any cost.” He regarded you quietly, taking in the way you slammed the crate closed and began to pace back and forth in the small space. You were wound up, the clasps on the trunk tinkling as they vibrated, his eyes glancing at them and then toward your clenching hands. The energy flowing off of you was palpable and for a second, he was in awe of the natural way you manipulate it without even thinking. You had forgone hiding your powers in favor of giving Xi’an the same treatment she had treated you with, it had been rather telling of your emotions to push back against her so easily. “I didn’t know they’d need the ship.”

“I-I don’t like this. It’s too much of a risk.”

“I understand that you’re afraid-“

“Of course I’m afraid! My entire fucking life has been thrown off by the Empire and one of the people who served for them is aboard the ship!”

The errant items around the room were floating in the air with the energy from your emotions. You didn’t even notice you had been causing it until Din stepped closer to you and reached out for you. You glared at him and before you could say anything, he was gripping your face in his gloved hands and stooping in low to peer directly at you. The visor so close that you could see the reflection of your panicked eyes staring back at you. You looked so scared, face contorted in a concerning display.

“Please calm down, mesh’la.”

“You should’ve told me, before you contacted Ran.”

“I should’ve, I wasn’t- I didn’t think.”

“I know it’s not my place, but-“

“You deserve a say, you have a say. I will heed anything you have concerns about.”

“Where are we going?”

The pause he took told you enough about the matter. You weren’t going to like it; with the way he was hesitant to inform you was all the answer you needed. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, gloves brushing the braid your hair was up in and pinned around the back of your head.

“A New Republic prison transport ship.”

“They have you breaking into a prison ship to free an inmate? Okay, that’s- Okay…do you want me to stay on the Crest or do you want me-“

“I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to do it. It’s up to you, mesh’la.” You guided his hands from around your body, gripping them tight with your own. With a questioning glint in your eye, you removed his gloves and tucked them into his utility belt. His hands rose to cup your face once again, eyelashes fluttering at the bare feel of them. His thumbs brushed your cheeks in a soothing motion.

“I would feel better being with you, I don’t trust them. And that’s not to say I don’t have faith in you, but…”

“I understand, I have faith in you too. I would like it if you were aboard the ship with ad’ika, but it won’t be taking off unless you and I are both back on board.”

“I…will stay, but you contact me the second anything goes awry. Promise me, please?”

“I swear to you.” He watched as you brought his hands up and pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of his knuckles. The modulator in his helmet crackled, the sound bringing a smile to your face as it revealed something about him. That he liked your touch on him, the affection you were giving him.

The visor stayed focused on you, but you were sure his eyes were traveling back and forth between your lips on his skin and shine of your eyes as they glinted with a promise.

Metal doors slamming open had you following right on Din’s feet, down the ladder and into the hold.

Burg was standing in front of the cabinet where Din kept most of his weaponry and supplies. It was right outside of his quarters, and your eyes trained on the control pad for it, checking that the lock was still engaged.

It had been an brief conversation that ad’ika would be kept away from the people aboard the ship. A worry about Xi’an and her knives along with concern about him getting overwhelmed and exposing his own powers. You could hold your own, should they decide to try and test you. Though the idling fear of them talking about the exchange between you and Xi’an was a low thrumming in the back of your mind.

With a press to his vambrace, the cabinet swiftly closed before the Devaronian could get his hands on anything. Mayfeld and Xi’an both looked over from where they were seated around the makeshift table as you stepped off the last rung of the ladder and stood beside the imposing figure of Din.

Burg huffed, a frustrated sound coming from low in his chest. He turned around to stand over Din, trying to intimidate him once again. As his hand flew out to mess with the controls closest to him, the one leading to the closed off quarters, you and Din both stepped forward, you move in front of the door, behind the tall man. At the contact of Din restraining Burg from moving any further, Mayfeld decided to jump in with repeated utterances of ‘hey and okay’.

“I get it. I’m a little particular about my personal space, too.” As he spoke, Din sidled around Burg, urging him away from the door. You stood your ground as Din stood beside you once again. “So let’s just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don’t have to see our faces anymore.”

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian and his little shadow.” Burg rumbled as he stared you both down, unwavering in his direct contact.

“Well, apparently they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy.” Mayfeld leaned back a little, raising his arms out. “So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

You bristled internally at the hurled comment, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up as you felt energy wash over you. The ill-mannered attitude and crack of a ‘joke’ sitting like lead in your stomach and heart. Too many of Din’s kind were gone, mostly wiped out. Those that prevailed, did so with such a vibrance for their way of life and continuation of religion and culture. While you may not be Mandalorian yourself, you had been rescued and cared for one in your darkest hour and for years after. Endless respect and admiration for your guardian and Din beside you stirring the need to protect.

You were about to take a step forward when you felt Din brush his hand against one of your own. Xi’an took notice of the small movement event as she laughed along with the guys and continued to balance the point of a knife on her outstretched hand. A hard tint to her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Well, you flew with him, Xi’an.” Mayfeld rolled his head to look over at her across the makeshift table they were both seated at. Clear, now, of your metal working tools and the armor you had been working on before anyone had boarded. “Is he as good as they say?”

“Ask him about the job on Alzoc III,” She turned her focus back onto the blade, ignoring the way you were standing guard over the doors still, how close you were to the armored man in question.

“I did what I had to.”

“Oh, but you liked it.” She spun the knife around to grip the handle, pointing a finger toward him from across the space, her voice hinting at something more. With a telling smile that allowed a glimpse of her sharp canines, her eyes flitted from his visor to you behind him and back. “See, I know who you really are.”

Her words were for you, though her eyes never left his figure. Taunting,

“He never takes off the helmet?”

“This is the way.” She mocked in a low timbre, bringing a closed fist to the front of her chest.

“I wonder what you look like under there.” Mayfeld pinned him with a look, something behind his eyes you weren’t too fond of. “Maybe he’s a Gungan.”

“You ever seen his face?”

Xi’an gasped, the sound drawn out and breathy as she caressed one of her lekku with a gentle hand.

“A lady never tells.”

She had to be lying, he wouldn’t have removed it for her. He wouldn’t remove it for anything, it was his sworn Creed. And yet, doubt painted your thoughts in a dark swath. Jealousy lit up ugly inside of you, making you question the tentative stepping stones you’ve already waded on. Made you feel inadequate in the face of seeking him out in such a way. Though he had done nothing to prompt the feelings himself, it was all based on her and her reactions. The intimidation you felt from her garnering negative emotions in the wake of rediscovering yourself and your own notions of things taken from your life and tainted in the worst way.

“What about you, surely you’ve been privy to it?” Mayfeld’s eyes found your own, a smirk pulling at his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him, not willing to play into his teasing with so much as a shake of your head. It was none of his business, none of anyone’s business but Din’s. The lack of respect they had for his way of life, his religion, his Creed was sickening. Their collected ignorance a telling sign that they didn’t care about anything that didn’t directly serve them. Then the insinuation of intimacy and the breaching of personal boundaries had your shoulders knotting tight, fingers tapping against your thigh.

“Aw, c’mon, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here. She trusts you, for whatever reason, what’d you have to do to gain that?”

“Do not incite her, in any matter.” The modulator crackled with the force of his words, as if they were being spoken in that dark voice through clenched teeth. You let him take the figurative step of telling them to control themselves, having worked with at least one member of their little quartet before. He knew better than you, what type of people Ran employed and kept in his company.

“You gotta show us something. Come on. Just lift the helmet up.”

Burg loomed closer, form so large in the space of the hold.

“C’mon, let us all see your eyes.”

At a small nod from Mayfeld, Burg reached out a hand with a confidence.

Din immediately slammed a hand over his wrist and pulled him forward, using the loss of the man’s momentum to shove him away. You stepped back, trying to stay out of the way. Burg quickly gathered his bearings and lunged, only to be kicked back into the small alcove beside the quarters. Trying to catch himself from falling on his back, Burg’s hands shot out and gripped the wall, fingers dragging over the controls for the door. They flew open behind you to reveal ad’ika standing atop the cot, face contorted and nervous.

He looked from you to Din, sounds falling from him that made no sense. Reaching out mentally, you tried to sooth him, to let him know everything was okay.

But everyone’s attention was on him, and it made him freeze in his spot.

“What is that?” Mayfeld wondered, unbridled excitement coloring his tone as he stood from his seat and began to move closer. You moved to block his view into the quarters, blocking ad’ika from the lingering stares as you felt panic wave off of his small form. One of his small hands reached out for you, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

Din didn’t move as Mayfeld walked past him, Xi’an rising from her seat behind him and following.

“You get lonely up here, buddy?” Mayfeld approached, peering over your shoulder with an intensity that unnerved you.

“What a minute, did you two make that?” He turned to Xi’an, close on his heels. Her curiosity getting the better of her in the moment.

“Don’t.” You said, reaching out a hand to keep him a few paces away.

“What is it? Like a pet or something?” He pestered, waving his hand up and around, watching the way large eyes followed the movement over your shoulder.

“Yeah, something like that.” Din finally spoke, though it wasn’t what you expected. He was trying to play this off, like it wasn’t a secret that had been unearthed. Hoping that the initial reaction would wane into one of indifference.

“No? Okay, what about you, is that thing yours?” Mayfeld’s eyes roved up and down your body, lingering in places they shouldn’t. “Bet it was a hell of a good time, making something like that. I wouldn’t mind a partner as submissive as you seem to be for him.”

“Watch it.” You growled, words forcing their way through clenched teeth. You could hear the crinkling of leather as Din did his best to keep his hands to himself, willing you to deal with the unsavory attention lest the entire job blow up. You closed your hand, feeling the energy around you and manipulating it, Mayfeld gasped as the air in his lungs was suddenly gone. He stopped trying to get ad’ikas attention and clawed at his throat. His face reddened as he struggled to breath but at a nod from Din you ceased the action.

“Didn’t take you for the type.” Xi’an moved into his personal space, face only a few inches from the front of his helmet. As if she wanted to touch him, her hands twitched at her sides. “Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

Quickly gathering breath back into his lungs, Mayfeld didn’t drop the teasing, though it was less direct.

“Me, I wasn’t ever really into pets. Didn’t have the temperament. But I’m thinking, maybe, I’ll try again with this little fella. Take him off your hands and babysit.” He tried to get around you, but you flung him back, his feet sliding across the durasteel flooring.

“Do not touch him,” Your entire body was alight with the instincts to protect, to hurt those invading personal space and boundaries time and time again in such a short window.

Zero’s voice broke the tension with the announcement of dropping out of hyperspace.

The ship lurched, jostling everyone with how rough it was.

The ship careened, gravity shifting from underneath you. Your stomach was in your throat, and you were reaching for the small being tossed from the cot. Your fingers just grazed the edges of his tunic as he flew past you. Your back knocked into the door frame, but you kept as quiet as you could, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. The Child cried as he landed harshly on the floor, right where Din had been thrown to his knees, barely able to catch himself from flattening completely.

As the ship landed and docked onto the top of the transport ship, stable for the time being, Din carefully cradled ad’ika in his arms and pressed him into your own. You curled your arms around him, sitting atop the cot and murmured soft words to him as he clung to you.

“That useless droid didn’t even give us a proper countdown.” Xi’an hissed as she straightened up herself, having been tossed over the makeshift table and across the hold.

“Alright, Mando, we’ve got a job to do.”

He stepped away from you, his visor lingering on you before he turned to face the watching group. As he did so, he pressed something along his vambrace, controlling the bottom panel of the ship and it opened up to reveal an entrance aboard the ship below. He connected a device to the seal of the entrance, the small screen blinking red in rapid succession. You watched as everyone exchanged looks, communicating something you weren’t privy to as they collected around him and peered down.

As soon as the device displayed a green screen, the entrance unlocked and opened with a hiss.

Disengaging the device, Din gathered up the cable and stepped aside.

“It’s me?” Mayfeld asked, looking around at the faces trained on him.

“Always you.” Burg announced, as if leading the job wasn’t something Mayfeld was quite used to. Didn’t know that it was his responsibility to lead in ways other than with his words. He lowered himself to the ground and took a cautionary glance into the space below. Deeming it clear, he braced his arms along something and dipped out of sight. Xi’an and Burg followed after him.

Din’s figure paused as he stood around the entrance, looking over to you for a moment. You were already watching him. You stood, closing the distance, adi’ka held close to your chest. Leaning up, you pressed your forehead to the front of the helmet in what was quickly becoming your greeting and farewell with the man.

“Keep in contact,” You spoke quietly, not wanting the others to overhear you despite them no longer being in the same space. He nodded once, before he jumped and disappeared through the opening.

Beeping sounded from your vambrace, alerting you of an incoming call. You quickly pressed the button to allow the audio transmission to filter through. You had been trying to distract yourself by working on the chainmail, something repetitive enough to keep your mind occupied while you waited for Din’s return or a communication from him.

“Sarad, I’m locked in a cell. They’re coming back to the ship.” A heavy sigh separated his announcement from the orders he gave next. “Take out the droid and put the ship on manual lockdown, make the settings ask for either your chain code or mine to operate. We have fifteen minutes until the Republic Army descends.”

You left all of your supplies and materials out in the open on the table and quickly checked on adi’ka, making sure he was secure in Din’s small room. You handed him a snack, hoping he would sleep with a full stomach and through whatever was about to transpire. Making your way up to the cockpit, you could hear Zero talking to the others.

“You have a potential problem. He has escaped.” Zero was announcing over the comm line as you silently entered the control room. You raised your saber in your hand, blade not yet engaged. You brought it down swiftly, bringing it to life and beheading the droid in a smooth motion. His voice box tittered and the entirety of his body sparked before he fell to the floor of the room.

You set the ship according to Din’s instructions and jumped down through the open space in the hold before you could catch your breath.

The lights were flickering, power being shut off and you could hear corridor walls slamming shut. The lights kicked back on, bathing the entire ship in eerie red hues. Closing your eyes, you focused on the situation at hand, centering your self before you began to move about the foreign ship.

As soon as you found an access point, you connected your vambrace to the source. You searched the stored files for a layout of the ship and downloaded the display. Holding it up, you began to run down the hallways, leading you toward where you could feel the presence of Din.

You comm sparked to life as soon as you rounded a corner.

“Xi’an is two turns away from you, mesh’la.”

“Copy that.”

You stayed one hallway behind her, keeping tabs on her and the path she was winding around the ship. A silent stalker she had yet to sense was just around the corner. You could only hope she would lead you toward Din, the hallways closed off every so often, creating a labyrinth. As she moved about, more would hiss shut behind or in front of her, as if guiding her toward her assailant in an unnerving way.

She suddenly stopped, turning and throwing three knives down the hallway you were just hovering on the edge of. Looking at the map displayed from your vambrace, you turned and decided to get ahead of her and take her down. Just as you heard her steps approaching your position, she whirled around and began flinging knives out. Din was an intimidating figure on the other end of the hall, she was trapped between the two of you. She tried to stave you both off, but it was clear she was better at throwing than direct defense.

Metal clanged as knives bounced off of Din’s armor, but one landed into the unprotected part of his shoulder, and he stumbled back. She advanced quickly, and they found themselves in a stalemate, his own knife held under her chin and one of hers at his inner thigh. She caught sight of you in the corner of her eye and with a smirk she plunged it deep into his leg. He shouted out in pain, leg weakening as blood discolored his trousers. She pushed off of him and charged at you, but you engaged your saber and rushed toward her.

She flung two knives at you, but you easily cut them in half and they fell to the floor.

“You think you’re so much better than me?” She snarled as she managed to swipe the back of your hand, saber slicing into her shoulder. She jumped back, trying to get some distance but you advanced, blade humming ominously. She hollered loudly, glancing away for the barest second back at where Din was kneeling on the ground and trying to shake the feeling back into his leg. “That he’s going to stay with you but he’s going to run, he’s going to run from you just like he did with me.”

“You’re nothing!” You didn’t bother rising to her taunts as you swopped the glowing blade low, jolting her back to avoid her ankles getting singed. But you had grazed her, the leather of her boots singed with a line that was smoldering. While her focus was down, she braced herself and her knees bent.

“You kriffing bitch!”

“Shut. Up.” You punctuated your words with swiped of the glowing blade to cut her belt from her. You kicked it away, standing unnervingly close to her and peering over at her with a glare. The pulsing energy from the saber lighting up your eyes to show her that you were so far beyond reasoning with. She lunged at your legs with a screech, but you flicked out a hand and she flew back a few yards.

She struggled but once her balance was her own, she was back up on her feet and jolted forward. The blade hummed as you moved against her, the singing of her shoulder pulling a guttural noise from deep in her chest and she ducked before crashing her body into your legs, causing you both to tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The handle of your weapon flying out of your hand and clattering into the wall. The blade disengaged, but not before it cut a swipe into the metal.

Your back hit the floor hard, knocking the breath out of your lungs and you gasped. Vision blurring but you reached out and gripped the back of the headwear she wore. Jerking her back, you flipped to pin her face down. She groaned out, body sore from the rough motion. Her breath catching in her throat when you realized you had made good on your threat, back on the space station. One of her knives was gripped tight in your hand, held beneath her chin, blade chilling her skin where it pressed.

She used the hand that wasn’t pinned underneath her body to dig her fingers into the cut at your thigh, pulling a strangled grunt. You leaned back on your heels, trying to move far enough back that her hand fell away from you, bloodied and dripping. You panted as she twisted underneath you and shoved at your shoulders. Just as your back hit the ground a second time and she hovered over you, her legs pinning you down harshly. Crying out at the sting of a blade embedded in your shoulder. She forced it with both of her hands, digging it impossibly deep into the muscle.

You heard Din call out, could see him try to close the space between your two scrambling forms and his own.

Your other hand shot out, reaching out and the saber handle zoomed across the floor toward you. Past Din who was splashed red with dark blood.

Xi’an screeched at you as she tried to get a hold on your hair to slam your head into the ground.

But the second it was in your grip, you engaged it.

Everything fell silent save for the humming of it.

Errant blood escaping from the puncture bubbled and fizzled, rank smelling steam bursting into the air between you both. Her body fell limp above you, her middle catching on the hilt of the blade and she hung only slightly above you, unconscious. Shoving her from you and powering the weapon down, you scrambled up to your feet. You looked over her toward Din, seeing him holding a wide hand hard against his leg.

“Is she…?”

“No, I didn’t hit any major organs. She’ll need medical attention soon though, to avoid going comatose.”

“You need medical attention too, that’s a lot of blood.” You looked up from the splatter of it on the floor, up the expanse of his leg where it stained his trousers, to the dark visor of the helmet. Ripping the bottom of his cape off, you fastened it into a tourniquet around his thigh. He grunted as you tightened the knot around his muscle, wanting to ensure he didn’t bleed out.

He told you of his plan to leave them here, lock them in an empty cell to be found by those coming to the ships call for aid in the face of danger. To be caught and held responsible for their crimes.

“Qin” Din’s voice boomed across the hallway, the suddenness of him speaking since falling silent while set to the task of gathering the others into the very cell they had locked him inside. He motioned for you to stay back as he rounded a corner, his ripped cape swirling behind him as he calmly approached the man whose rescue this was all about.

“You killed the others.”

“They got what they deserved.”

The sound of an upset snarl was followed by the clicking of two blasters being drawn. Your heart stuttered, but you knew that Din had the situation under control.

“You kill me, you don’t get your money. Whatever Ran promised, I’ll make sure you get it, and more.” An argument of the most logical approach, knowing that he was overpowered and at a disadvantage. “Come on, Mando. Be reasonable.”

The clunk of a blaster being tossed to the floor calmed you a bit, your nerves loosening as you realized this was going to go easier than expected. Seems like the man knew all too well the capabilities Din possessed, perhaps someone else he had worked with in the past and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. Reading the room and how upset he must be with how things turned out, with how quickly they had fallen into chaos.

“You were hired to do a job, right? So do it. Isn’t that your code? Aren’t you a man of honor?”

Unnerving laughter filled the air, making the hair on the back of your neck rise up.

But Din remained silent, unwavering, intimidating in his lack of engagement. You had experienced it firsthand, and it was easy to give into the stoic figure he made in his armor, the black stare of the visor as his helmet trained your every move.

“Board.” Was all he said, a hand signaling you to fall into step behind him.

“You’ve got yourself a little shadow, now that’s something new.” The twi’lek commented before he began to climb the ladder up into the Crest.

“Don’t engage with her, she took down Xi’an and she won’t hesitate to do the same with you.” An impressed sound hummed from him as he settled at the makeshift table. Eyes moving about the space to take in the environment, sus out any hidden threats or people lingering from the crew that had been assembled to come to his rescue. As comfortable as he could manage, he ignored Din’s warning and spoke directly to you the second the man was out of earshot, having moved up into the cockpit to get the ship in motion.

“What’s a pretty little thing doing with a big bad man like Mando?” He smirked at you, eyes roving over your figure in a way that made your skin crawl.

At your silence and scrutinizing gaze, he looked you over. From the ripped fabric of your trousers to the braid of your hair, over the entire length of your body. You didn’t show the discomfort at his roaming eyes, simply taking it in stride. Knowing that if he were to try anything, you wouldn’t be reprimanded for retaliation.

“You know, I never expected Mando to be so free with his space. My sister tried for years to get him to let her stay aboard this hunk of junk he calls a ship. Always met on his terms, never giving anything more than he was willing to, even if she pushed.”

“But you, you’re different. I can sense it. I see things he has no relation to scattered around the ship. Your mark on his space, it means a great deal whether you realize it or not. But he’s a selfish man, and he’ll make that known to you sooner or later.”

You didn’t engage, only spared a glance over at him when you readied yourself a serving of the tea given to you by the clinic. The painkillers they provided you with had been doing a good job of staving off the cramping in your middle, but nausea and a gnawing feeling in your stomach prevailed.

You turned to face him, stilling as you took in the defeated air about him. He had his freedom, he had his life back after having been caught, but he didn’t look happy. He lacked something that didn’t light his eyes through all the way, and you felt bad for him. He may not be the best person, but you could see that something was missing and he felt the space whatever it was left in its wake. He was watching you, his eyes trained on the way you picked him apart at the very seams. Calculating how he displays himself versus the things you see in him that he does not.

He shifts in his seat, anxiety at your scrutiny given voice.

“I’m selfish too.” You said before ascending the ladder and leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

“You keep that little shadow of yours close, no tellin’ the attention she’s garnered from being at your side.” Ran chimed after Din, aiming the thinly veiled threat at the man’s back. Turning to face down the ramp, hand hovering over the panel that controlled it, Din took notice of how the man was gazing up toward the windows of the control room. A glint to them that unsettled him, like you were something to own and control, to be used to get back at him.

He was silent as he boarded the ship once again, guiding it into flight immediately. Ships beamed in from hyperspace around you, focus on the space station none the wiser behind the Crest.

“Hey, I have a question.” You announced, securely seated behind the man as he directed the ship into hyperspace. The controls beeping and toggles switching underneath Din’s hands as he controlled the ship and set a course. He made a low hum, to let you know that he heard you and was waiting for your next words.

“What do you want me to call you around other people?”

“Mando is fine.”

“That makes me uncomfortable. It’s informal, it’s on the cusp of an insult, to associate you only with what you’re known as. You’re much more than that.”

“I don’t see it that way, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it that way.” He was quiet for a beat, chair turning back around as you walked up beside him. Emotions flitted across your face and you frowned when he turned back toward the control panel. You watched as he punched in coordinates from within his mind, a system of planets further out from the mid rim popping up on the screen. His fingers hovered as he slowly panned across the options displayed in front of him, thoughtful. “What did you call Akiz?”

“Cabur, kebiin, nuhunla jag.” You reached for his shoulder, palm going over the pauldron in a caressing motion. Thoughts and memories pulling you back into the past.

Protector, blue, funny man.

“And what did he call you?”

“Kih goran. Mir’sheb. Ner kar’ta.”

Little blacksmith. Smartass. My heart.

“I’ll respond to whatever you choose to call me, mesh’la.”

“Why…um, why…do you call me that?”

“Because you are.”

His visor turned to you, and you felt a pull toward him but took a step back instead. Overwhelmed by the honesty in his voice, the sincerity with which he shared his reasoning with you.

“O-oh, okay.” You could feel heat rising up the column of your neck, surely visible to the man seated in front of you. A way for him to know that his words had an effect on you.

“She was a youthful indiscretion.” He broached the silence of you tending to the cuts he sustained. The one on his thigh had been quickly tied off but now needed proper attention. He had removed the armor fastened about his legs while he waited for you to change and return to the hold. His boots were inside his quarters, not wanting them to get jostled about in the open space of the hold. He wasn’t sure where ad’ika had gone to, but nothing was clanging nor was he making noises like he needed something. He may have followed you up to your room, curious as to what you stored in there along with the pull of your larger cot with softer blankets.

“I believe…that she was once something you wanted so you sought it out.” Your attention was focused on the contents of the first aid kit Din typically kept inside the weapons locker. It was laid out on the floor beside you, some wrappings already torn into and pressed to your own injuries.

“But, seeing how she is and everything insinuated, it was all fast and rough and passionate. And whether the attraction deteriorated over time and taken over by disdain, there was feeling there.”

He was quiet as he watched the way you carefully wiped the wound free of blood splatter that had stained the skin. Gentle fingers applying bacta cream to the wound, trying not to irritate it, before wrapping gauze around the diameter of his thigh. Cutting off the roll and knotting the end of it to keep it secure but not too uncomfortable or damaging, your hands stilled on him.

“There was, it was fleeting. More about the…familiarity we had with each other than anything beyond general attraction.”

“But you sought her out, time and time again.”

“Only while working with the group, the second I left, I ceased it all.”

“But it was, wasn’t it? Rough and about power, to see who could overpower the other and take pride in the ability to bring each other down in such a way.” That was what had bothered you so much about seeing them interact with each other. The way she tried to overpower him, the way that he let her attempt to with no reaction. Knowing that if he were to show a reaction, even small as one could be, it would be like giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she had succeeded in getting under his skin.

“That…was a big part of it, yes.” He admitted, after a few bated breaths.

“I may never be able to give that to you, that type of dynamic.” You admitted softly, feeling self-conscious for the umpteenth time since first stepping aboard that lone space station. Din’s past lying in wait to take you both off guard in the most unexpected of ways.

“I’m not asking that of you.”

“But you liked it, obviously. It was intense enough for her to linger on the interactions, to feel cheated by your disappearance.” You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating the route of the conversation. Trying to hold your emotions in check, your own inner turmoil at the subject matter in order to show him and yourself that it was normal to talk about these things, to discuss these things with those you wanted to be with.

“San, please look at me.”

“Din, you-I may not ever be able to be that willing, to give over control completely.”

“I’m not asking to take control; I’m not asking anything of you. It’s- that’s not what I’m-I’ve changed. This, what we’re doing- It’s all on your terms, your comfortability, your willingness. Whatever you want to give me will be enough, even if it’s nothing at all.”

“You-you would really be okay if I were to not want to explore that with you?”

“Y-yes, mesh’la, of course.” He stuttered as you stood up from where you were kneeling by his feet, where you had lowered yourself to tend to his injuries. Not breaking your focus from the helmet tilted down at you, something in your eyes he hadn’t seen before. His visor was trained on you as you stepped into the space between his thighs, hands resting atop his shoulders, fingers spreading along the cowl that covered his neck. Words seemed to flee him as he could only sit there and feel you untangle the fabric from around his body, folding it carefully and setting it on the makeshift table off to the side.

You paused, bottom lip between teeth as you thought something over. You felt like you were out of your element, unprepared for the yearning and heat that had suddenly taken over. Filling the space between every nerve and nestling right behind your ribs with a weight you were sure you couldn’t shake even if the desire to do so crossed your mind. Looking over at him, right into the dark line of his visor, you leaned in and whispered to him.

“But what if I wanted to?”

The weight of your words hung in the silence between your bodies.

“Th-then we would go at your pace, as I said before.”

His hands remained balled at his sides as you began to unclasp the securing mechanism on his cuirass. As soon as the first one was undone, one of his reached up to hold the panel of armor in place. Your hands focused on removing the back panel he wore when the second clasp over his opposing shoulder was loosened. With a soft reverence, you set the panel down atop his cowl, to avoid it potentially scratching on the material of the crate. Hands trailing over the one he held to his chest, you took the weight of the cuirass from him and stacked it atop the other.

Before he could lower his hands back to his sides, you loosened elastic bands that held the armor plates over his forearms. Slipping them over his hands, and then removing his gloves with the same focused attention. You fiddled with his hands for a second, tangling your fingers with his own, the contact sparking heat as you recalled how efficient he had been fighting with Xi’an, with stalking and intimidating Mayfeld, the tense conversation with Qin. The hands so softly brushing against your own were capable of so much, of such strong and powerful things. And yet, they yielded so easily to your own, he allowed you to touch him, to disrobe him, to see him. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

The padding he wore underneath was warm from the heat of his body, the velcro snicking loudly in the quiet of the hold. The sound sparking warmth low in your middle, the fact that he was letting you disrobe him of his armor, an intimate thing for someone of his beliefs, was not lost on you. You guided his hands to your body, resting them on the flare of your hips. His hands curled around them, holding to where you let him touch. Fingers digging into the material of your trousers and the belt loops around your waist.

The pair of pauldrons were the next to be carefully removed. You stepped closer into his space, his legs spreading to accommodate you and you felt the sparks reach up into your sternum. A stuttering gasp fell from your lips when you felt the twitch of him where the front of your thighs pressed into the inner most part of his own.

“S-sorry.”

You leaned down, hands hooking over the broadness of his shoulders. Running the tip of your nose along the exposed skin of his throat, down to where it connected with his collarbone. Placing a chaste kiss there, you let your lips brush against him softly as you spoke.

“It’s okay, I want to feel you.” He twitched again and the sparks bloomed into a simmering heat. “If you’d let me.”

Whatever answer he was about to speak died in his throat as you reached for his belt, the buckle clinking and effectively shutting his thoughts down. Loosening the belt, you untucked the long sleeve he had on, exposing his toned upper body. His shoulders and chest were broad even without the protection of his prized armor. The cut from one of Xi’an’s knives was red and irritated, you were thankful she didn’t douse them in anything before hurling them. The skin around it was splattered with a bit of dried blood and you reached for the cloth once again to wipe it away.

Chest adorned with dark hair that you ran a hand over in a petting motion. He twitched against your upper thigh, and you looked down to see the outline of him through the fabric. Feeling the way he was practically throbbing at your attention, you reached a hand down and were about to caress him when one of his hands stopped you.

“Don’t want you feeling like you have to, just because of what happened. Or to…prove something.”

You shook your head, letting him know that’s not what was fueling your attention. Hands resting firmly on his chest, bare skin on bare skin you looked right into the visor.

“I want to. I-I may have been thinking about it the past few days. But seeing how quickly things can fall apart, I want to know you in this way, to show you that I care about you in this way.”

He nodded once, listening to you, believing the earnest words you spoke to him. You reached down to rid yourself of the tank top that was stained with your own blood. The fabric hushing as it moved over the bacta patch in your shoulder. As soon as the clothing was added to the pile of his armor, his hands were on you, pulling you tight to him. You gasped at the press of your nearly naked front to his, heat simmering into something almost overwhelming, nerves lighting up.

He surged up, arms holding you to him underneath your thighs. Tightening your arms around his neck, and your legs around his middle, he made sure you were secure before he walked you over to his quarters.

“Is he-“

“He’s in my room, wanted to see the lights through the small window.”

“Good,” He rumbled as he gently laid you down atop the cot, taking in the way you looked in just your bandeau wrapping and sleep shorts. Soft, tan skin on display for him. The dark smattering of his chest hair, the hair that trailed below his belly button and down beneath the band of his underwear. His hips bones visible, his stomach a little soft, his muscles strong and defined. It made you feel honored that he would share his body with you, allow you to see him in his purest form.

You reached for him, tugging him into the space between your legs by the belt loops of his trousers, knees dangling over the edge of the cot.

“Not everything.” You whispered, tone lifting at the end in a hesitant question. Self-conscious of the bleeding that had been slowing, body still adjusting to a natural rhythm of hormonal changes after so long. Afraid of moving too fast, of being too much, of not being enough. Wanting him despite the trepidation of this being the first time you were sharing yourself with a man in this way, given the choice to.

His fingers deftly worked the buttons and shimmied the clothing down his legs, revealing the toned muscles that had only been glimpsed at through the cut in them. He was beautiful, a pillar of strength and skill, the build of him telling of his training and lifestyle. The bulge of him against the black fabric of his boxer briefs was obvious and your eyes stayed trained on it. He looked so big and you wanted to feel him against you. Kicking your shorts from where you had removed them from your hips, you pulled him down onto the cot.

His visor was aimed at the damp spot darkening the light fabric of your underwear.

“Mesh’la-“

He groaned, words drowned out by the sound as you hooked your legs around his waist and ground up into him. His hands supported himself on either side of you, hovering over you in the small space, as his body folded over you.

He rutted against you, body taking over as the heat of you so close was all he could feel paired with the softness of your skin. The dim lights in the personal quarters bathing you in an ethereal glow. You keened as the heft of him moved against you, the hardness between his legs making desperation form low in your middle. You gasped, head tossing back with his slow movements, legs tightening around his waist.

He groaned, a deep, gravelly sound that shot straight down to your core. Slick seeped into the fabric of your underwear, and your hands shot out to hold him tight to ground yourself. The action pushed your chest together, breasts jiggling with his motions as the thin fabric of your bandeau did nothing to hide the perk nipples that shown through.

The tip of his cock caught on the hood of your cunt, the pressure spinning your head despite the thin layers that separated you. The feeling of him hot and hard against your aching clit pulled a throaty grunt from you, fingers curling into the muscles of his arms, nails digging into his skin. The front of his helmet thudded against your forehead, drawing your eyes to the visor so close. You wish you could see into it, through it, the way his eyes had to be blown out. You wondered what color they were, not for the first time, and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as pleasure tingled all over.

“Good, mesh’la,” He panted, modulator crackling with his heavy breaths. Your hips bucked as he ground into you, body spurred on by the need to feel him even closer. But not yet, it would be too much too soon. One of his hands hovered over your chest, fingers reaching but pausing as if he was unsure if he was allowed to touch. “You feel so good.”

“Please touch me,” You arched your back, pushing your chest up to where his hand hovered. When his palm cupped one of your breasts, a moan tore from your throat at the sensation. Your hips lifted instinctively, seeking him out for more more more. You breath quickened as your stomach pulled taut, so close to the edge. It was overwhelming in the best way, the pleasure sparking steadily between the feeling of him rutting between your legs, the way his thumb brushed over your nipple as he palmed your breast. He was everywhere.

“Din, please,” Your eyes watered, the sensations all consuming. He pressed closer to you, hips undulating as he chased his own pleasure. He stilled his hips and ground against you, nudging that little bundle of nerves just right. Muscled tightening, back arching, legs caging him in as close as possible, you tried to tell him, let him know how good he felt when your release washed over your senses like hot water.

The keening sound that fell from your lips trailed off into a whimper as he thrusted against your slick covered underwear, guiding you through your orgasm. His hand at your chest flew to support himself once again, not able to keep up as his own release began to bear down on him. Once, twice, three more times before you could feel the hot, thick spurts of his own release as it collected at the front of his own underwear where he was pressed against you. Moaning your name, long and low, it would simmer in your mind for days.

He panted against you, chests bumping as you breathed heavily and looked up at him with blissed out eyes and an expression so soft that his heart skipped a beat where it thudded against his ribcage.

Gasping as he lifted his hips away from where they pressed against you, little aftershocks of pleasure rippled over your body. Hands reaching, you pulled the ruined underwear from around your hips and shimmied them off. Din’s helmet immediately turned as he didn’t want to overstep eliciting a soft laugh from you as he took the fabric you shoved against his hand dangling at his side as he stood.

When he went to step away, your expression fell. He must’ve sensed the shift in the air, the hesitancy and nervousness for his departure so soon after such an intimate moment.

“Just gonna go clean up, get you something to change into. Please don’t worry, mesh’la.”

Moments later, he returned to the dark quarters. You had pulled the covers back atop the cot and turned the lights off, getting the space ready for sleep. He skimmed his warm palms up the length of your exposed legs, a damp washcloth in warm against you as he gently wiped away your drying release from between your legs. The fabric of the cloth right against your clit in a brief pass had you gasping out, and he chuckled lowly. He swapped out the cloth for a pair of new underwear in his grip. He tapped the side of your thighs for you to lift your hips and he settled them on you.

Getting situated underneath the covers took a little shifting as you both tried to lay in a way that irritate new injuries. He ended up on his back, not able to lay side by side with you as both your thighs were bandaged opposite each other. You folded yourself over his chest, head resting in the crook where his shoulder met his neck, injured leg thrown over his middle. His heart was beating fast beneath you, and you buried your face into his skin and breathed in deep.

Content, safe, satiated. Everything felt right with the world in that moment.

“I’ve never removed it be with her, I never removed anything.” He spoke quietly into the darkness, his hand gently caressing your hip, not wanting to wake you lest you had fallen asleep. His body was alight with tingles, energy ebbing and flowing over his skin from the realization of what you two had just shared. It had been the most intimate he had ever been with anyone, had ever wanted to be with anyone.

The hum that vibrated into his skin was all the answer he got as sleep pulled him under to rest alongside you.

You stared. Unabashedly.

Maker, you couldn’t help it. You like to think of yourself as having self-control and a good sense of strength but… you were realizing how false those notions were as your eyes remained trained on the sight in front of you. Din was kneeling on the ground in front of an open panel along the floor of the hold. He was leaning slightly into the exposed space, his back arched slightly and his backside suspended in the air. The fabric of his pants was pulled taut over his form in such a way that you couldn’t even begin to decipher the mumbled words falling from the man’s mouth as he fiddled with something.

Desire flared strong in your middle, stretching down to pool between your legs and you felt your mouth go dry. He shifted slightly, leaning forward a bit more and his backside canted up just enough for you to see the barest outline of-

“San!” He called out, making you jump and scramble to look like you were busy. You took a few hurried, quiet steps toward where the crate that doubled as a table was set up and began to gather the mess from yours and adi’ka’s lunch. You didn’t dare turn around, listening intently to the hush of his movements as he extracted himself from the space he had been leaning into behind the paneling.

“San, I was calling for you, didn’t you hear me?” He was suddenly behind you, making you jump slightly.

You were still flushed, which drew his attention to your face.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm.” You replied simply, not able to face him.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Concern flowed from him, his words soft but holding a tone that booked no argument. Wanting to know if you were alright, for you to be honest with him. You worried for a second if he thought you were having regrets about the night before, but it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be that, that had been…wonderful and so enticing. He had been so warm, throbbing against you where you needed him the most, his hands and the sounds bleeding from the helmet as he moved against you…

“San, why you won’t look at me?”

You turned before the words even registered completely, pinning look and desperate eyes on display for him. Unable to hide that you wanted him, even if it was still new. For both of you, a tentative bridge formed between you that you wanted to explore further.

“That’s what’s wrong with me, I was watching you while you were crouching and it- you looked, you looked good okay.” One of the cannisters fell from your grip, nervous energy lighting you up.

He was suddenly in your personal space, you back pressed up against the siding of the hold space. But you didn’t feel threatened, you felt excited. Pulled into his front by a hand snaking around your middle, you looked up at him, the visor glinting in the lights turned on all around.

“You’ve been watching me this whole time?” He rumbled, voice dark as he realized you weren’t injured or sick. That you were turned on, just by looking at him as he did the most mundane things to fill the time of space travel.

“Y-yes, you-you fill out your pants very well.”

“Hmm, never realized.” He tilted his helmet to the side, thoughts swirling around your mind stalling at the adorable motion.

He leaned in, as if he was about to press the front of his helmet to your forehead but he detangled from you instead and was rummaging through an open crate that contained his multitude of tools. You stayed where he had ushered you, body thrumming with the lingering heat of how he had been on you in seconds, of your confession.

“He’s watching, don’t want to scar him.” Din said by way of explanation as he nodded his head toward the open quarters. Adi’ka was in his hammock, head poking out of it and peering at you curiously.

“Din Djarin, you tease!” You tried to hide the smile pulling at your lips, but you knew it was a futile attempt. His chuckle and your light laughter urged adi’ka to giggle his own amusement.

“Ni mirdir vi ru'kir nuhoy o'r te oriya.” You looked over at him briefly, fingers skimming over the tools laid out for sale atop a table, attention captured by the environment that reminded you of the good parts of your childhood. Working on something that interested you, spurred on by the kind and encouraging words of your mother who hadn’t yet turned on you.

I think we should sleep in the city.

“Vi ganar te Crest.”

We have the Crest.

“Vi ganar a prudii, par jaon Tuur'ika jii.�� Liser’t copad at alorir bic norac.”

We’ve had a shadow, for over an hour now. Don’t want to lead them back.”

“Ni kar’taylir.”

I know.

“Vi ru'kir ve'ganir a yamika, nayc? Hiibir baatir be te prudii. Dinui at jor'adir. A pel haav, nadala skraan, a holo net, nadala pirun…”

We should book a room. To shake off the shadow. A reward to celebrate. Soft bed, fresh food, a holo net, a hot bath…

“Nadala pirun?” Something simmered behind his words, the hint of a promise in yours stirring something in him. The glint in your eye as you successfully negotiated what you wanted, as if he had been willing to turn you down after asking after it. He would give you anything you asked for, you were discovering, as long as it was within reason. Wanting for you to be comfortable and feel like yourself in any way. You were grateful for all that he offered you, for the chance to discover yourself after so long, and who could argue with a night spent in a fancy hotel?

“One with a lot of bubbles and water so hot it steams up the entire fresher.” You finally turned your attention to him, switching back to speaking in Basic, a pair of goggles in your hand. “Maybe I’ll let you join me.”

Walking away from him and back to where the vendor had appeared from the back, leaving him to his thoughts of your offer.

He was unnervingly still the rest of the time spent in the shop, keeping a healthy distance as you talked to the discussed what the pieces you provided were worth, the materials they were made from, the techniques used to create them, all to help him gauge what he could sell them for. He agreed to give you a handsome sum for the pieces you were selling, enough to make you internally question how long it had been since he’d been able to offer this kind of work.

“If you’re ever back this way, don’t hesitate to drop by. My partner and I would be willing to buy whatever you have, the craftsman ship is exquisite, truly.”

You both left the shop, walking side by side through the bustling street, full of people in the midday hour.

“How much did he offer you?”

“Oh, like four thousand per piece? Which is pretty high considering most plated armor goes for about six for a full set, but he liked that it was handmade, the quality of the metal. He really liked the stitching pattern I used to give the pieces more durability that will enhance the longevity of them.”

“I’ve been in the wrong line of work then.”

“Nonsense, how much do you average for a job?”

“Depends on the risk. More often than not, like back on Sorgan, what is offered is enough and then shelter and food are appreciated. Not particular about rates or standards, but the Guild would offer one to two thousand for intermediate quarries.”

“How very admirable of you, burc’ya.”

Friend.

That’s what he was, to you. Perhaps it was a tame way of describing his place in your life. But it was a start, it was comfortable. Being around him, getting to know the intimate parts of each other’s lives, sharing parts of yourselves with each other that no one else knew of. A bond that was growing with each passing day.

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sullustangin · 1 year ago

Text

For @starknstarwars

This was my gift for the SWTOR Summer exchange. I got the lovely Sixth Line to work with, and it was a joy to make something for one of the nicest folks in the SWTOR community.

Summary:

Vexa Pasan dutifully performs her meditative exercises, but her mind wanders. The Battle for Odessen will eventually come -- and then where will she be?

Fic:

One eye cracked open. The blue one. Halfway. Didn’t want to be too obvious.

The rocks, a few yards away from her, were all in flight.

There was one for each of them: Vexa herself, Papa, Master Praxis, BD-4, Zallia, Master Nightstar. Six for the Sixth Line. (She’d considered adding one for Theron, but then she’d have to add one for the Commander, and then she’d absolutely have to add one for Lana, and that was getting ambitious, even for Vexa.)

And all of the rocks were all off the ground and steadily rotating around her.

“It counts!” she crowed to herself. Slamming the eyelid shut, Vexa squeezed her face all tight to make sure she didn’t jinx it. “BD, can you take a holo? I’m not gonna be able to hold this until Master Praxis gets back.”

She knew this, because Zallia was on Odessen, and the two of them had a habit of wandering off whenever they were in the same vicinity without an immediate mission. (Most of the time. Sometimes, they did wander off right before a major mission, and Theron stomped around until they shook loose from somewhere in the base.)

The droid whirred happily and with a ‘beep!,’ the moment was captured for posterity and for Morff Praxis. A job well done.

On the other hand, maybe she should have asked Papa. He was just a dozen yards away, trying to lurk and hide as best as his large form could.

Pasan Powin didn’t know it yet. And maybe Vexa wouldn’t tell him until she was too old to hide it. But there were a lot of benefits of being able to sense people and read their identity like the spine of a library datapad. Everything was laid out: names, titles, and depending on how ‘dense’ they felt, how many years. Or least, how many lightyears they’d travelled, as Zallia would put it. Some people had more than others, even if they were the same age.

Vexa was rather pleased she’d come up with the datapad comparison herself. It would be useful in explaining it to a non-Force User one day.

(Some of the best things were the secrets you kept to yourself.)

…The Commander was much, much heavier than she looked. So was Theron, but somehow…. They were like acrobats, keeping each other flying through the air, defying gravity, always making the next handhold, the next knee hook over the trapeze --

Master Praxis… well, he looked as heavy as he felt now, most of the time, so that wasn’t exactly a big surprise.

(If the adults still thought she was ignorant of what Master Praxis had done as The Hand and as a spy, they were really trying to pretend her childhood would last forever here on Odessen. Giving her Holonet access in her room for ‘homework’ was apparently part of this delusion.)

When Master Praxis didn’t look drained, Zallia was in the room, and she was the strangest adult Vexa had ever met, Imperial or Republic.

In so many ways, Zallia was the worst adult: she couldn’t get to work on time, she couldn’t dress as anything other than ‘smuggler,’ she always seemed to be out of credits, she was always on the verge of losing her contracts, she drank a little too much (a lot too much), and she said things that would get Vexa into trouble if/when she repeated them….

And yet she knew exactly how the universe worked, and she was the very best pilot the Alliance had, and she helped Vexa make friends, and the Sixth Line just couldn’t work without her. Somehow –

What was it Master Nightstar had said? “Affinity and balance.”

Master Nightstar worked very hard to keep herself light and unburdened. Attachments worked against her mission. Strangely, Lana was the same way: she was free of weight. Lana rarely mentioned her life before meeting Theron and the rest of the Sixth Line. Master Nightstar and Lana (“just Lana, thank you. No ‘Lord Beniko,’ please”) were sparring partners and well-matched. Lana was a Sith and had done things, but they seemed to fit inside her without too much trouble.

But for Master Nightstar, there was perhaps one very deep, well-hidden weight inside of her… one she never revealed to anyone. Vexa could feel it, but she couldn’t identify it. Sometimes, it unbalanced her, and she stumbled in saber practice against Lana (who always stilled her hand for the other woman).

The feeling – it felt like her own mother and the space left behind.

And how Vexa felt about it. How it gave her weight.

She could tell how much the datapad’s storage unit weighed; she couldn’t tell what was on it.

Vexa didn’t want to dwell on that anymore, especially since Papa was relatively close. Grief kept itself very well-fed, and such feelings started both of them down grumpy paths.

Zallia weighed differently than anyone else, as if she had a different storage system.

Hmmm.

…Vexa didn’t like it when she noticed her own father.

That was when she thought she weighed most like Zallia. Different storage systems, similar weight…and maybe because of the connection between father and daughter ---

Oh, she was going to have to explain this to Master Praxis or Master Nightstar one day, if only to make herself less uncomfortable with the comparison. Her father was nothing like Darmas Thane. Never! Ever!

…

But sometimes the lightyears between father and daughter, both for real and not for real (like, a metaphor: raining cats and dogs) were very similar.

The rocks hit the dirt, and Vexa felt the impact and imagined the little ‘poofs’ of dust that came with it. She finally opened her eyes.

Oh.

Wow.

That wasn’t a little ‘poof’ of dust or a series thereof.

That was a massive ‘poof!’ of dandelion fluff exploding as a few of the rocks had landed on small bunches of them.

Where had they come from?

…where had they all come from?

…Vexa had read about Jedi Masters who could meditate for extended periods of time, but she very much doubted she’d managed to meditate for three-quarters of a year from the hot dry days of Odessen summer to its spring.

Vexa had started this exercise in a dusty little clearing just off the side of the main door to the speeder pool.

Green was everywhere and all around her. Grass of deepest emerald. Wildflowers, small and white and tall and yellow, even blue ones. Even the bushes that Master Nightstar had been fairly sure “weren’t going to make it” (due to an incident involving Theron and a speeder bike with a stuck throttle) had grown and flourished in the short time that Vexa had been meditating. They were blooming out of season.

…

In the Pasan family records, the garden bloomed on the day of her birth.

She’d done it. Not her father. Not her mother. Her.

In her pride, Vexa couldn’t stop herself from looking right at her father. She turned around and defiantly sought his face, demanding his attention. Did he see? Did he see her?

Did he see her?

Papa had given up his attempts to be stealthy and had found a few outdoor storage crates to perch upon. He sat, hands clasped in front of him, as he watched his daughter become a Jedi, just like her mother before her, before him.

Vexa was going to be a Jedi Master. She was going to save a lot of people. She knew it.

And not even Papa could stop her now. Not with spring all around her in the last, dry gasps summer before the autumnal rains finally arrived on Odessen.

Papa steadily walked toward her, his eyes on her. Yes, he did see her. And her.

There was no profound proclamation. Simply: “It’s time to make supper.”

He didn’t like this at all.

Mostly, he was mad at himself; Morff shouldn’t have left Vexa for so long…even if it was to make sure Zallia was fine (more than fine. Exceedingly FINE, stars). Now it was suppertime and she was gone…

And he was very discontent.

A garden had bloomed.

He had missed it. He didn’t think Powin did (because Powin would love to think he was suave and sneaky and smooth, and he just wasn’t when it came to Vexa, especially as she was getting older).

Now the garden – how could he describe it?

Morff stroked his beard in consternation as he watched the garden wither, as if some darkness was attacking it at its roots. If this was what he thought it was, it was indicative of some deep problem within her –

It was when she was breading the Baatu chicken that the image overwhelmed her vision.

Vexa saw the brief spurt of blood on the beautifully tiled floor, before her father could get to her, before the wound could cauterize.

Her mother screamed –

Vexa flexed her hands and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, before returning her attention to the chicken. The egg yolk dripped from her hand into the crumbs. Its viscosity rolled over the crumbs, sticking to them---

The blood spurted onto the dry dirt, out of green skin, and it behaved like the yolk and the crumbs, the dirt rolling up into the slick blood before it dried down in the heat –

Vexa closed here eyes and flexed her now-cold hands. Dinner. Focus.

Papa noticed. He always did. “What’s troubling you, child of mine?”

“Visions. The same sort that began my journey as a Jedi.” Vexa didn’t want to tell him the details.

They lapsed back into silence as she continued breading the cutlets. The thoughts seemed wary to come back now that someone else had been alerted to their existence.

They talked about Divinia a lot, these days. How she always masqueraded while she was in the Sith Empire. How Light she truly was. How Light she knew Vexa was.

They didn’t talk about the end. It didn’t matter – it was one moment in time that changed it all …but nothing could be undone. Nothing could be fixed.

…but why was it coming to her now, paired with a vision of her father falling in battle on Odessen? Near the dirt by the speeder pool.

Where a garden used to grow…

Fear of loss. Of the attachment being severed. That led to the Dark Side. Maybe her father slipped that much further down after, now unable to clamor toward the Light that Divinia had lived in and that drew Vexa into its mantle.

It was fear. It wasn’t the future.

Unless it was. Jedi had a bad habit of seeing beyond themselves, interpreting what they saw as incorrect. Master Praxis had warned her of this, while at the same time acknowledging…. He was confident in his own visions on certain matters. “One will come to pass on Odessen,” he had said, and Vexa totally noticed how his eyes trailed after Zallia as she crossed the docking bay, datapad in hand to talk to Aygo.

So that was a bit of a wash, in terms of assuring herself it wasn’t going to happen (but then again, one didn’t need the Force to see Master Praxis and Zallia coming, really).

Zallia could be delightfully direct with others. Vexa sometimes ached for that liberty of speech, even if the audacity made her squeal and the adults groan. Other times, she did like the waltz of the Sith, with careful words and deliberate steps. The elegance reminded her of her mother and how she got what she wanted and needed, without need for violent or cruel action.

…today, while covered in egg, panko, and a little bit of chicken fat, Zallia’s route seemed the best. “Father, when it comes time to defend Odessen –”

“I want you nowhere near here,” Papa cut her off before she could finish the question. “You are a padawan, not a knight. And I’ll not lose you yet –”

“But what if I lose you,” Vexa pressed the question to her father. “Should you die –”

Despite the mess on their hands, Papa grabbed Vexa’s wrist. “Please don’t think it –”

“I need to know whether –” Now Vexa’s courage quailed; she thought of a little bird with a feather atop its head, wobbling in fear. She’d found the word in a holonovel. But she was brave, just like both her parents, and --- “If you were to fall… would you expect me to fall to the Dark Side? Become like you?” A split-second hesitation and then the searing point of the question: “would you want me to?”

Powin Pasan had always been torn about his daughter’s path. If she was Sith, he could always protect her. He could always watch over her and guide her to be a reasonable and sane person in their complicated culture. But if she was a Jedi, she would fly free and inevitably part from him, once the Eternal Empire was defeated.

Sith do not do well in letting go. It is not part of their understanding of the universe.

Morff Praxis knew that was part of why Powin didn’t want him to train Vexa. He would lose her, though not in the same way he had lost her mother, but in a way, the permanence would be the same.

But then there was Vexa’s nature, which the Light called for, LOUDLY. VERY loudly. Apparently, from the moment she entered the galaxy.

There was always going to be a war for Vexa Pasan. The events of her life drove her down one path, but the nurture of those around her -- not to mention her own choice – was driving her another way.

…There was always a waxing and waning of faith. It was to be expected; only the greatest of Jedi were utterly steadfast. Mistakes were made, doubt appeared…

Morff let out a sigh of relief as he sat down on the crates not far from the garden patch. Yes, it had withered, for a while.

But then it had started to bloom again, as if a crisis had passed or a vital question had been answered.

As long as the garden could return, especially out of season, then all would be well.

#swtor #swtor fan fiction #oc: vexa pasan #oc powin pasan #oc: morff praxis #smuggler saga #starknstarwars #giftfic

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cienie-isengardu · 7 years ago

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Star Wars Ladies from Rogue One Ultimate Visual Guide

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hwalovs · 3 years ago

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A Smuggler and A Jedi 2/?

CHAPTER TWO: CYMOON ONE

Pairing; Luke Skywalker, Reader Word Count; 9.7k Warnings; Slow burn, Smuggler Reader!, angst, fluff, cursing, some blood, another battle sequence.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

ONE THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

In your book of people who you like and don’t like, General Draven was one who didn’t belong on either. He could be one of the many great generals, but he could also be the most idiotic man you’ve ever met. Being close with Han almost made that seem impossible.

Not even a full rotation from destroying the Death Star, and you’re already being sent to one of the most dangerous and heavily guarded Imperial-controlled planets in the galaxy. By none other than General Draven, getting the thumbs up from Chancellor Mothma and Admiral Ackbar.

And, seeing Han in anything other than the Millennium Falcon was like watching a taun taun trying to swim for the first time in extremely unsafe waters.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” You say softly, bending down to Hans' eye level. He gives you a sly grin in return, slowing the ship's descent onto Cymoon 1.

“Deviate from your approved flight path, and you will be terminated. Welcome to the Corellian Industrial Cluster.”

“This is a bad idea,” you comment after the monotone voice cuts off. Scoffing, Han continues with a slow descent from space, the industrial factory-like city coming into view slowly.

“Please-” he says, his voice cocky, “I’m piloting- and acting, what could go wrong?”

You respond with a cocky laugh, pushing away from the seat and leaning back on your heels. The under armor that hides your outfit was uncomfortable, and the holster that wraps around your waist was heavier than usual. A blaster was hidden discreetly along your back, its hilt digging uncomfortably into your skin.

“A lot, actually,” you mumble under your breath, turning to walk back into the main hold, ignoring Han's outburst of offended laughter.

Leia and Luke were both putting on the remains of whatever armor littered the floor. Leia talking sarcastically under her breath, and when she pulls on the helmet, turns towards you. Her eyes showed through the small slit in the middle of the helmet, and you had to hold back laughter at seeing her petite form in such clunky armor.

“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” you tease, sliding past her to grab the last bits of armor left out for you on the small table. The armor was a clash of dull iron plating and dark cloth that looked a little too dirty to wear. There was a thick piece of fabric that wrapped around your neck like a scarf and wearing it made the back of your neck sweat. The entire get-up made sense for the envoy on Tatooine, especially for working under Jabba The Hutt.

Little R2 was trilling and beeping as he made his way around the cramped space, Luke chuckling under his breath and replying. The little protocol droid didn’t go anywhere without Luke and didn’t let the other go too far without worrying. When he turns towards you, he grabs the helmet gently from your hands, smiling softly.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” You ask, reaching forwards to move the scarf back into place, covering the dull yellow jacket that hides underneath. Shrugging, he reaches to tap the bottom of your chin, tilting your head up slightly.

“I think you worry too much.”

“I'm being serious, Luke.”

“So am I, you worry too much.”

He slides the helmet onto your head, tapping the top twice with his knuckle. Waving his hand away, you sit still as he continues to cover the exposed parts of your normal outfit, his eyebrows furrowed.

“This is worse than the trooper gear,” he comments, smirking as he steps away to slide his own on.

It was weird to not have Chewie or Threepio here, but knowing they couldn’t be too far away with the Falcon made your nerves lighten up in the smallest bit.

The roar of Tie Fighters zipped by, and you could hear the loud blaring of the machines as Han finally lands the ship on the main dock, the entire hull jolting roughly before coming to a standstill, his figure appearing from the cockpit, a sly smile on his face.

“Who would’ve thought I’d have bodyguards?” He teases, bumping your shoulder playfully before standing in front of the door, messing with his commlink before glancing over his shoulder at the rest of you.

“Don’t get used to it, droid-brain,” you grumble, quickly reaching forwards to pull Leia’s chest piece into place, smiling at her from behind the helmet and positioning yourself behind Han. Leaning over, you grab the three spears that lean against the wall, unstrapping them before handing one to Luke and Leia, who nod to you in thanks.

When the main doors opened, you had to squint your eyes at the harsh orange light from the sun, the dust in the wind made your vision blur, but you had to combat the urge to scrub at your eyes by gripping the thick metal spear tighter. R2 rolled past your legs, casually gliding next to Han as he fixed the sleeves of his tunic, smirking at the tall, older, man in front of a group of Stormtroopers.

“Greetings in the name of the Emperor. He thanks you for joining us here today and hopes our negotiations prove swift and fruitful. I am Overseer Aggadeen. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?” He said boldly, his hands clasped in front of him. The Stormtroopers that stood behind him held their blasters at the ready. Aggadeen had to speak louder by the end, a Tie Fighter flying lowly past, the engine roaring in your ears, it almost felt like it was echoing through the metal, bucket-like, helmet.

“The official Emissary of his high exaltedness, the illustrious Jabba The Great, mightiest of all Hutts, Master of Tatooine, and Grand Warlord of the Outer Rim. But, you can call me Han.”

It was hard to choke back laughter at Hans's voice, the way he exuded fake confidence in the way he lied through his teeth. Biting your lip harshly, you vaguely looked down when he reached forwards to shake Aggadeens' hand, slightly bowing before him.

You think he's actually going to try and be professional for this since his role was easily the most important, but with a sly smile and small head tilt from Han, you toss the idea right out the window.

“Han Solo, a pleasure to meet ya, Aggie. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Been a pilot for Jabba for a lotta years-”

“Yes, I’m certain you have. But we don’t hear much about smugglers or gangsters in this sector. Except when they're being executed. Now, if you’ll follow me.” Aggadeen said, his frown deep. Han almost starts to stutter, but the protocol droid that was behind Aggadeen made his presence aware with a hum and a high-pitched, modulated crackle.

“Identity confirmed. Han Solo. Small-time smuggler and galactic pirate”

“Small-time?” Han's voice cut in, his eyebrows furrowing as he glared at the droid.

“Known associate of Jabba the Hutt. Currently with a bounty on his head of 50,000 credits.”

The hair on your neck stood, and your grip on the spear tightened. Aggadeen stopped his stride towards the large main doors to look at Han. the troopers beside your friend turned their gaze, and Han just smirks, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head lightly.

“Ah, I can explain that- it's a funny story really-”

“Some other time, perhaps,” his voice was rough now, his hand moving to clasp behind his back, his gaze moved to you and the others, before looking at the weapons in your hands. His eyes, pale blue and surrounded with light wrinkles, narrowed before shifting back to Han.

“Your “Bodyguards” must leave their weapons here. You will all be scanned for blasters. If you have hidden ones, best to turn them over freely. We wouldn’t want to start the negotiations on a sour note. Now would we?” There was a mock in his tone, and you scoffed lightly, almost annoyed to listen.

“No, we wouldn't want that. You heard the man, bodyguards. No guns.”

With much hesitance, you hand over your spear to the closest Trooper, a crackle comes to life in your ear, and you can hear Leia's calm, quiet, voice breakthrough.

“We're going in. Everyone, hold your positions.”

You can briefly feel Luke's arm brush yours as he walks past, and you sigh in relief when Threepio's voice chirps back through the com.

“Oh thank the maker. I was half expecting they would kill you all on sight.”

“How chipper,” you grumble lightly, hearing Leia’s voice break through again harshly, but it didn't stop Threepio with his ranting.

“The subterfuge must actually be working. They believe you truly are the envoy from Jabba. When of course the real envoy was intercepted days ago by the rebel fleet.”

“Threepio- shut up-”

“Yes, of course. I’m just thrilled to see us finally operating like a sufficiently lubricated machine. It would seem the tide of war has finally turned in our favor. In short, I dare say, I have a very good feeling about this.”

Your shoulders shook lightly with the small giggle that left your lips, Threepio’s voice finally cutting out and the line going silent. Leia caught up to your side, and you briefly glanced at her while walking into the large building.

The entire place seemed to be hollowed out, tons of conveyor belts climbing and crisscrossing for what seemed like miles above you. Each conveyor had the cockpit for Tie Fighters, large thin robots with an array of tools bolted to the floor as they got to work crafting the Imperial Fighters. The whirring and crackling of electricity and power tools echoed throughout the building, blue sparks lighting up like blaster bolts in the darkness. It would've taken your breath away if it wasn't something the Empire had conjured up.

It seemed the door you came in was one of the only ones, you can barely note any other exits or entryways when glancing around lightly.

“I hope you boys are prepared for some vigorous negotiating,” Han said, his voice breaking through over the noise.

“If you think Ol’ Jabba is tough to bargain with, well. Who do you think taught him all that?”

Aggadeen didn’t flinch when he heard it, but he did turn his head with tense shoulders.

“It appears you have some misconceptions about what will happen here today, Mr. Solo. There will be no bargaining.” He finally stopped firmly, turning to stare down Han with a stern voice.

“The negotiator will deliver the Empire’s terms and you will accept them. Your organization will provide whatever raw materials we require and will take the pay you are given, without complaint. This is the largest weapons factory in the galaxy, one that runs nonstop, day and night. All fully automated. We have an entire Empire to keep armed and ready. We haven’t the time or inclination to bargain with every two-bit Hutt or Moff who gets in our way.”

“And yet, here we are,” Han said, motioning behind him to the three of you and little R2.

“An envoy from all the way out on the scuzziest edges of space. You boys must be pretty desperate if you’re reaching out to somebody like Jabba to be a supplier. I suppose having a ship the size of the Death Star blow up in your faces, tends to run your resources a bit dry, am I right, Aggie?”

Aggadeen seems to ignore this and continues walking to a shielded room at the end of the small runway through the factory. The Stormtroopers from behind you seemed to be closer than they were previously, and the tense feeling in your shoulders almost made your neck hurt, but instead, you focused your attention on Han and Aggadeen, who turned and motioned to the concealed meeting room.

“The negotiator will arrive shortly, you will await him within.”

Han didn’t move, nor did the Troopers or Aggadeen, who dropped his arm when nobody moved forwards.

“I bet it's nice and quiet in there,” Han said, crackling his finger absentmindedly.

“It is shielded, yes,” Aggadeen responded, his expression dropping down in annoyance.

“You know- I kinda prefer it out here where it's all loud and noisy.”

Aggadeen looks confused now, but the split second it crosses his face, he wiped it away with a harsh sigh.

“Don't be idiotic. Why in the world would we hold negotiations on the factory floor?”

“Don't you remember? You said it yourself, we aren't here to negotiate. Artoo.”

Your nerves were jumping now, and you can almost feel a buzz in your legs when waiting for R2’s move. Instead, the droid turns, opens a small compartment near the bottom of his unit, and begins to ooze out a green liquid that coated the Troopers’ shoes.

“Your droid appears to be leaking fluids.”

“Um,” Han hesitates, looking at the droid with furrowed eyebrows.

“Artoo?”

Then, the small compartment closes and a new one opens, a small strobe appearing and lighting the fluid with a spark of electricity, the troopers yelping and falling in pain as they get electrocuted. Both Luke and Leia kick the Troopers that were next to them, and you bend forwards to elbow the trooper behind you in the stomach, he yelps, and you use the opportunity to turn and grab the underside of his helmet, forcefully bringing it to your knee and sending the Trooper unconscious to the ground.

Han, already punching the trooper next to him, grabs the small blaster from the inside of his vest, cocking it and pointing it at Aggadeen, who was pale and fearful as he tried to back away.

It felt nice to finally rip off the helmet, brushing away the hair that fell into your face and rolling your shoulders. Even though the planet was hot and humid, it felt cool and refreshing against your cheeks.

“Which way to the main power core?” Han said. Aggadeen scoffs and tries to maintain his composure.

“Rebels,” he spits, “you’ve just doomed yourselves. This moon is the most heavily guarded base in the galaxy, you cannot possibly escape alive.”

Sighing, you crack your neck, grabbing the blaster from your back and ripping off the chest piece, “Let us worry about that, yeah? Which way.”

When Aggadeen looks toward you, he frowns and sends you his best glare, “I am a sworn officer of the Empire. I will never tell you.”

Patting the top of R2, the droid opens the compartment once more, the strobe flickering to life, zapping and crackling. With a sigh, Aggadeen frowns and points to his left, looking back at Han.

“That way.”

Leia, already moving past you, punches Aggadeen to the ground, quickly pulling off the uncomfortable armor and rushing into the lit hallway. Luke was already waiting for you and Leia, his yellow jacket already back on his shoulders with a blaster in hand. His saber, clipped to his belt, lightly tapped his leg as you all ran towards the power core. You throw off the final leg brace, laughing as you run in between Leia and Han.

Bits of Leia’s hair were falling from its tight braid, framing her pink cheeks. Her normally pristine white outfit had bits of discoloring, oil, and dirt covering the bottoms.

“Nice work, Artoo,” you chide, looking at the droid with a smile. Luke turns to smile, and he reaches down to lightly pat its head.

“We’re in, move to phase two,” Leia commands through the com, finally bringing her hand up to shift it into a better position.

“Threepio!” Han grumbled through the commlink, “You worthless rust bucket, you better not have damaged my ship.”

You slap his arm, glaring at him. You’ve repeatedly told him to not insult the droid since Threepio has done more good than he has, but he always brushes you off, saying it's only a droid.

“For once, sir. The Millennium Flacon actually appears to be in good working order. As we hoped, Chewbacca was able to pilot us undetected through the moon's orbital debris field. At present, the Falcon and I are safely hidden amongst the rather extensive refuse fields that surround the factory.”

As he kept chattering through the link, you all managed to map your way through the continuous hallway, slowing to a stop when the subtle noise of Troopers could be heard. The halls were brightly illuminated and clear of any objects, leaving no room for any cover.

“If I may say so, Captain Solo, I do find it rather disconcerting that your vessel continues to be so easily mistaken for garbage.”

Han looks offended by your side, and you slap a hand over your mouth to not give away your position. Han could be so sensitive sometimes.

“You’ll be garbage if you mess this up goldenrod!” He hisses, glancing around you to look into the main room. There was a pause from the other end, using the time to peer into the room and gauge how many troopers there were.

“There are automated sentries patrolling this area. I am not certain how much longer I can remain undetected. I suggest you act quickly.”

You wave at Han, who was ready to fire back another insult, and lightly press the side of your own commlink.

“Just be ready to hit the auto-pilot as soon as we give you the signal,” you say softly, looking away from Han and into the room where the troopers patrolled.

“Yes Ma’am, of course. May the force be with you, Ma’am. May the force be with us all.”

When the troopers all file out of the room, Han and Leia enter first, R2 slowly following behind. Giving one last look down the hallway, you can lightly feel Luke's hand touch your back, and when you turn, he gives a small smile while leading you into the room. His cheeks were pink, and the short bits of blonde hair that fell into his face was a bit wet with sweat, but he still looked handsome.

“This is it. The Central Power Station.” Han said, looking up at the large, battery-like, object.

It reached all the way to the ceiling, the center buzzing and casting a light blue haze over the entire room, when you walk closer to it, it gives off a warm wave, and you can almost feel the energy buzzing around it.

“Plugin Artoo, and shut down all safety restraints,” Leia said, moving past Han to sit at one of the control panels, brushing her hair from her face and getting busy with recoding the hard drive.

“Luke, we’ll rig this thing to blow. You keep an eye out for troopers, (y/n)- try not to touch anything,” Han grumbles, not sparing you a glance. Scoffing, you walk up to one of the monitors and code in to get to the mainframe system, looking out for the right codes to rework. Smiling, you lean down to set your blaster against the side of the console, moving your attention back to the screen of codes.

“Shut up bantha breath,” you spit, sending him a glare and shaking your head. Leia, who was snickering, doesn't give you a glance and continues her work.

You can briefly see Luke walk down a set of stairs, but you don't pay him much thought, he had the Force, right? He’d be fine.

“Hey- why do you think the Empire has such difficult mainframes?” Han retorts, throwing his hand over his shoulder as he worked his way past the main security system and into the mainframe.

“So people like us don't hack in and- are you joking right now?” You turn your head at him, glaring. He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders while sparing you a glance.

“It's not a crime to lighten the mood.”

“Why ask stupid questions then? Why do you think the Empire has such difficult mainframes?” You mock him boldly, scrunching your eyebrows and raising your pitch, lips pouting and chest puffed.

He stopped and stared at you, mouth dropping open before pointing at you accusingly.

“I do not sound like that!”

Leia throws her hands up, smiling with a laugh as she pushes away from her spot and looks between you both.

“Are you done? Because the countdown’s started, we have ten minutes before it overloads.”

Looking at her, you give a tight-lipped smile and nod, “Time to get moving then.”

Pushing away from your spot, you grab your blaster and cock it, hearing the quiet, high-pitched hum as the blaster warms up.

“Luke! Let's go!” Han calls, glancing toward the stairs as he made his way to the main entrance.

You can hear Han and Leia talk quietly between themselves, her eyes hard as she stares up at him. You can faintly see Han blush, and you snicker under your breath while walking towards the same stairway Luke disappeared into not too long ago.

From your place at the top, you can see Luke making his way towards you- with a group of different species of the alien following.

He shines with a small smile, eyes determined as he softly grabs your wrist when passing, stopping just before Han and Leia, who were still talking quietly while peering out into the deserted hallway.

“We ready to go?”

Both Han and Leia freeze when seeing the group, and Leia’s eyes flicker between you and Luke when she sees that he hasn't let go of your wrist yet.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you defend, throwing up your free hand while shrugging your shoulders.

“I found a few more passengers,” Luke continues, gesturing behind him.

“A few?”

Leia overlooks the group again, before the corners of her lips downturn and she lightly grabs Hans bicep, her voice soft, “Slaves. Luke-”

“They’re coming with us, Leia,” voice rough, Luke lets go of you and walks to peer into the hallway, eyebrows furrowed.

Han is quiet, but when he looks at you with a gaze you haven't seen in years, you can feel your stomach twist. Yet that look is gone before you can blink, and his voice cuts through the silence.

“The more the merrier, kid. It's time to go.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you hold back your smile- wondering how Chewie is going to react to the extra passengers.

“Threepio!” you call, pressing your finger into the side of the commlink, “Hit the autopilot, get the Falcon in the air.”

Han isn't far behind with his own set of commands, either.

“Chewie, you stand by to clear that roof as soon as we give the signal,” He continues his rant as you all turn down a previous hallway, keeping an eye out for any troopers you may come across, “Then, the Falcon swoops in to pick us up, we hit the hyperdrive and we’re outta here just bef-”

Chewie cuts him off, frantically roaring into the commlink. You wince at his volume, all coming to a stop just before another hallway, the group of aliens looking between you all confusingly.

“A ship coming in? What ship?” Han asks, turning to face both you and Luke, who was silent the entire walk, only giving you short glances.

There's a short pause, before Chewie's voice crackles through and Han’s face completely drops, almost looking pale.

“Vader?”

Leia spins sharply to look, not believing what she was hearing for a moment.

“Did you say Vader?”

“Chewie- stand down! Do not fire! You take a shot at Darth Vader and the whole factory will be on alert!”

“Are you crazy?!” Leia growls, forgetting the mission for a split second, eyebrows furrowed in anger as she angry speaks to Chewie, her voice solid and commanding, “Chewbacca, If you have a shot at Vader, I order you to take it, forget about us, killing him is more important!”

Han tries to get through, but Leia glares at him, stopping him, “Do you hear me, Chewie? Take the shot! Now!”

There's silence on the other end, and Han scoffs, glaring at the princess. There's no guilt or remorse on her face, and that seems to anger Han more.

“Me? I'm the crazy one?!”

“You can be kinda crazy-” you try to say, but he glares at you, pointing an index finger up to silence you.

“Okay-” you reply, surrendering and crossing your hands. Luke sighs next to you, and when looking at him, already find his gaze on you. There's a look on his face you can't decipher, and when stepping closer, he leans back.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, ignoring Han and Leia, who continue to bicker back and forth.

“He knows I'm here.” Now you understand that distant look on his face, the underlying worry in his blue eyes.

“Chewie! Come in Chewie!”

There's silence throughout the entire factory. Usually, you can hear the faint hiss and hum of the pipes within the walls or the groan of the upper conveyor belts from when you first arrived.

But it was silent.

Until the lights cut out, replaced with red ones, a loud alarm shrieked down the hallway. Luke, who grabs onto you immediately, looks between the small group.

“Alert! This factory is under attack! All guards to their stations!”

“We’re in trouble,” you comment, reaching to grab the sleeve of Luke's jacket.

Han turns, already rushing down the hallway.

“We’ll have to blast our way out, we still have the Falcon. Threepio!”

With the red flashing light illuminating the hallway, it was harder to tell where you were going. It made you think of the Death Star, with the maze-like hallways and the troopers that hide around each corner. Han lead the way like he always did, with Leia hot on his heels. You and Luke fell behind them both, with R2 separating.

“Threepio, get us outta here! Hit the autopilot!”

“I did, Sir. I pressed the button... Five minutes ago. I’m afraid nothing happened,” he replied, his voice soft and almost fearful. Han groans, anger seething through his voice, “You useless sack of springs! What did you do to my ship?!”

“Oh, dear. It appeared the Millennium Falcon… is being dismantled by native scavengers. They must call these trash fields home.”

Scoffing with a smile, you bark through the coms, “Well, go out there and stop them!”

“Me? Go out,” Threepio sounded confused, and Han laughs sarcastically, turning down another hallway.

“There's a blaster in the cockpit! Do whatever you have to do!”

“Oh. Oh, Dear.”

“Threepio?!” You shout, almost running into Han's back when he comes to a full stop, bringing his blaster up to fire at a group of Stormtroopers. Luke and Leia begin firing as well, and you herd the refugees back into the hallway before firing at the troopers, almost being grazed by another blaster bolt. Your previous had healed, but it was still hard to stretch your shoulder sometimes, the muscle sore.

Han begins moving to a separate door, opening it and beckoning everyone to file into the room, following once everyone had piled in. Breathing heavily, you drop the blaster to your side and rest your hands on your knees, clenching your eyes shut to adjust to the bright light that filled the room.

“Great work, Han, if your plan was to get us trapped! How do we get out of here?” Leia asked, glaring over at Han while facing the door. Glancing at the brunette, you rise back up and stand next to him, following his gaze.

“Heh,” he chuckles, waving lightly, “we Walk, your highness.”

It wasn’t just any room you all had filed into. It was a room full of Walkers. With large platforms leading up to the top of each machine, the entire room was full of them. Each one was unmanned and ready for use.

“Oh yeah,” you say softly, placing your hands on your hips and overlooking the many walking weapons.

“Everybody on board! Move!” Han shouts, each creature rushing to the closest machine and beginning the climb onboard.

“An Imperial walker? Can you even drive one of those things?” Leia asked, staring wide-eyed as she surveyed the entire room. It seemed this is where the Walkers were held while being constructed since most of the Walkers weren't fully completed.

Both you and Han look at her with smirks, when Leia looks back at you both, her shoulders drop and she sighs.

“I can drive anything, let's go!” Han shouts, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the Walker. Leia turned back to the almost empty room, looking around with furrowed eyebrows and a worried look in her eyes.

“Wait, where’s Luke?”

With the sudden slam of reality, you look around the room to find the yellow-jacket boy to be missing. Somehow, someway, he had been separated.

“Why does he always do this?!” You yell, groaning and pressing against the commlink, sliding into the top entrance, the entire command section dark.

“Luke! Where are you? Maker help me if you’re dead somewhere- Luke!” You yell, groaning when hearing the crackling response. He wasn't answering.

“He better be kriffing dead- because I swear I’m gonna kill him-” you seethe, pushing Han to the side so you’re able to start up the Walker. It grumbles and roars to life, the console blinking awake as the controls unlock to allow piloting.

“What's got your pants in a twist, huh? Luke’s always running off,” Han teases, smirking as you both get to work preparing the machine. Leia settling in behind you both, and you can barely see the sly smirk she's sending you from over your shoulder.

“Every time he disappears, something bad happens- and don't deny it because it's usually you fueling the behavior.”

Scoffing, Han holds in hands up in surrender before pressing down on the petals on the floor, the front legs of the machine lifting, taking its first step.

“If I didn't know any better, I’d say you like the little farm boy,” Han coo’s in a faux tone, puckering his lips and leaning over to bump shoulders with you.

Your stomach drops through the floor, like? Absolutely not.

“No-” you spit, controlling the back legs, “He’s a better fighter than you ever will be- we need him-”

“Hey! I am a fantastic fighter!”

The entire building shakes once more, and when you both move the machine to crash through the wall, you almost vomit at the sight of Luke across from Darth Vader, saberless and falling against the wall. You quickly push yourself up, looking back to Leia with a smile.

“Luke!”

“Watch out, kid. This thing handles like a drunken bantha!” Han calls through the com, just barely missing Luke's form when stepping into the hallway. You manage to throw open the main hatch that leads to the top of the walker, pulling yourself up and ducking when the broken wall almost knocks you off. Leia calls your name, and you duck down to grab the blaster she throws up to you.

“Don't die!” She calls. You smile, giving her a two-finger salute.

“I would never!”

It was havoc when sliding down the side of the Walker, grabbing onto the gears in the knees before dropping onto the concrete floor. Rubble covered every inch, and the smoke clouded your vision as blaster fire began raining from all different directions. The refugees, previously armless now carry all sorts of makeshift weapons. Pipes, broken parts, even pieces of sharp rubble. They begin attacking the Stormtroopers, yelling out and charging forwards from behind the walker.

“(Y/n)!” Luke calls, blaster in hand as he runs over to you, grabbing your hand and looking around wildly.

“This way! Follow the walker, and keep away from-”

The sound of squelching fletch makes your ears ring, looking next to you, one of the slaves was impaled- right through the chest. The bright blue blade hummed and crackled as the clothes and flesh both burned, the body falling lifelessly to the floor when the saber is ripped back from its torso.

“Vader. Oh no,” Luke finished, his grip on your arm tightening.

You liked to pride yourself on helping the rebellion destroy the Death Star, it gave the smallest hope that perhaps Darth Vader was on it- maybe he died in the explosion and it was one less threat to worry about.

But seeing his looming figure meters away, lifeforms dropping one-by-one as he set his sights right on you and Luke, made the oxygen vanish from your lungs. He was so much taller- so much bigger and so much more threatening when he was so close. Bright red saber in one hand while choking helpless figures in the other.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Sure, you had no problems lighting up Stormtroopers and battling the empire. But that and the presence of Darth Vader? You had a problem with this.

Maybe you should’ve stayed on the Walker with Han and Leia.

“Luke,” you say softly, trying to wiggle your hand from his grasp, but he continued to stare at Vader, eyes dark with a raging hatred you’ve never seen him bear. It was when a blaster bolt whizzes past your head that you rip your hand from his grip, ducking down and retaliating a few shots in the direction it came from.

“-Help me kill him,” you hear him say, still not looking at you. Scoffing, you grab his hand and begin to drag him away. Away from Vader and the increasing number of Stormtroopers that appear from behind.

Luke finally snaps out of his trance, gripping your hand and shooting any threats that follow the both of you. The commlink crackles in your ear, but you ignore it, “it” being Hans cackling laughter as he stomps on stormtroopers and walks through walls.

He lets go of your hand when you dive behind crates that were lined up, dodging the incoming fire as the cries and loud thumping of the walker continue. You’re heaving, resting your head on the metal box, and closing your eyes to try and regain any sense of stability.

“We’ll figure our way out of this,” Luke says, his voice clear over the loud noise. You give a sarcastic laugh, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Won't we?” He has his eyes closed, head resting against the box as his grip on the blaster tightens. His eyebrows furrow, and you ignore the want to grab his hand in comfort.

“This is my fault- I’m not my father, and I’m not a Jedi. I’m just-”

“Luke,” you interrupt, but he ignores you.

“I’m just a stupid farm boy from Tatooine. I don't belong here.”

You scoff, his gaze finally flickering over to you, and you give him the best reassuring look you could.

“You know how to fly one mean x-wing, though.”

He smirks, looking around before his gaze lands on something further away. When you lean forwards, you groan and shake your head when his bright eyes and smirking lips turn back to you.

“Yeah, a pilot that can bullseye womp rats.”

A little further away, is possibly twenty speeders, newly built, lined up neatly. They were all in one large storage crate, probably going to be shipped out to the Imperial stations across the galaxy.

It made one hell of a good escape plan, though.

“Are you kidding me?” You ask, looking at him with raised eyebrows. He doesn't give a reply, just dashes through the line of fire and behind the crates' large swung open doors. When he turns to look back at you, you’re already peering out to find the right time to do the same.

Stormtroopers were everywhere, pair that with the impending doom Vader brought, and the constant screams of pain and terror from the remaining refugees. You couldn't see Vader anymore, or the Walker, but the large hole in the wall on the other side of the large warehouse gave you an escape. It was hard picking the right time to run. Sometimes you forget Luke has the Force, just concluding he was gutsy and had a ton of luck on his side.

When it did come, you rush across and cover your face when hearing the whistle of blaster bolts, you almost crash straight into Luke, who holds your arms to stop you.

“Do you-”

“Are you seriously about to ask me if I know how to drive one?” You deadpan, smirking and tapping his cheek lightly, leaning in close to whisper, “You have no idea what I can do.”

You ignore his pink cheeks, chuckling and rushing to the closest speeder, swinging your leg over, you survey the control panel. You holster your blaster once more, quickly running your hands over the switches to try and familiarize yourself with the speeder in the little time you had.

It was a newer model, the base body being designed after the 74-Z model, but modified to be faster and more maneuverable. There were two turrets on the underbelly, and from the overlook, the speeder was in full working order.

When kicking the speeder on, it hums and lifts from its resting point, the panel flickering to life.

Luke was seated on the one next to you, already powering his on and turning the turrets on.

“Now what?!” You call over the engines, turning your turrets on and waiting for him to tell you any sort of plan he might be conjuring up.

“We bullseye some womprats!”

Smiling, you nod, moving the speeder back to let Luke pass you, immediately driving into the line of fire.

Your speeder shot out from cover, eyes watering, you tilt your head down and shoot down any troopers that were in your way. Faintly seeing Luke ahead, driving straight towards where Vader was last seen- you had no plan on going near him.

You pilot left, barely missing a large pile of rubble, and manage to shoot down multiple troopers. The escape up ahead, accelerating, you crash through a group of troopers before almost crashing into Luke, who was holding his saber. He holds it triumphantly before the crackle comes back to life in your ear.

“No word from Chewie or Threepio. Luke- (y/n), please tell me you’re still with us.”

You kiss your teeth, “Now you’re worried? Where the humor from before?”

“Now is not the time! We barely managed an escape from the Dark Lord- where are you?!”

“On our way, Han. Just made a small detour,” Luke cuts in, giving you a smiling glance before speeding past, igniting his saber to cut down a trooper.

“No sign of Vader, let's move out.”

You can barely see the Walker’s silhouette in the distance, they must be making their way to the trash fields.

The whistle of a blaster bolt flying past your head almost makes you fall off your speeder, the sound catching Luke’s attention. He looks back, glaring before slowing enough to get next to you. He kept about two feet between your speeders.

“We’ve got company- I counted five gaining-” More bolts fly past, and you both accelerate.

“That's not too bad- best chance we have is to split and pick em off,” you yell, glancing behind.

“(Y/n!),” Luke calls, voice stern. When you look back, you try to hide the twist in your chest. His eyes are soft, but full of concern and worry, his hair being pushed back from the wind.

“Call out if you need me.”

You smirk, beginning to pull your speeder away, “Shouldn't that be the other way around?”

“I’m being serious! I’ll always listen for you!”

You ignore the heat that creeps up your neck, nodding and giving him a two-finger salute.

“See you!”

You don't wait for his reply, turning your speeder sharply and grabbing your blaster from its holster, looking back to see that three of the five troopers broke away to follow you.

You groan, why couldn't it have been two?

Cocking your blaster, you turn and aim at the closest trooper, shooting at the front turret- cursing when you miss.

You turn sharply again, one of the outer troopers crashing into the side of the factory, the speeder catching into flames upon impact.

“Yes!” you cry, dodging around one of the assault tanks. You shoot down more troopers in your way, turning once more to shoot at the speeder closest- and you hit your mark. The driving trooper falls lifelessly from the bike, it rolling and catching into flames.

One left.

“We’re taking heavy fire up here, guys- at this rate we’ll never make it, where are you!?!”

You try to reply, but a blaster bolt hits one of your rear boosters, losing most of your forward momentum.

“Kriff!” You yell, trying to stabilize the speeder the best you could but it wobbled, and you could hear the hissing engine ramp higher and higher.

“Oh- not too far away-” you hear Luke's voice break through the commlink.

“I’m in a bit of trouble- maybe in a cycle?” you comment through your teeth, when turning to look at the trooper, you can see his speeder gaining, so you brake. You manage to slow enough to get next to him, shooting at his helmet- but it skims the back, and he uses that miss to send an elbow into your jaw. Yelping, you turn your face away and ignore the ringing in your ear and the throbbing pain. You shoot again, hitting his torso and kicking at his leg. He fell from the bike, body rolling before the Speeder wobbles and crashes onto its side, exploding behind you and accelerating once more.

“Well stop fooling around and give us some covering fire already!” Han's voice crackles through again.

There's another smaller explosion by the scout walkers, that must be where Luke was. Checking the turbine pressure and coolant. By the looks of it, the bike won't last for much longer. The shot must have hit the coolant pipes because it was slowly overheating in the engine. You needed an escape back to the Falcon, and quickly.

There had to be three more assault tanks and two more scout walkers firing at Han and Leia, which didn’t account for the ground support Vader must have sent in. The factory was supposed to overload any second, and when looking at the giant building, it looked completely fine and in full working order.

“How long until overload?” You ask, hands gripping tighter onto the throttle when swerving around a collapsed scout walker. The commlink crackles for a moment, before coming to life.

“Should be any second- stay away from the factory,” Han’s voice sounded strained.

You managed to steer behind the assault tanks, meeting back up with Luke, not too far away from the Walker, which still took heavy fire. He continues to slice through the tanks’ turrets with his saber and nods to you when making eye contact. Most of the assault tanks on the ground were taken care of, now it was time to make a path for the walker to get to the trash fields.

“Vader’s at our feet- how many times do we have to kill this guy before he stays dead?!”

Both you and Luke start towards the Walker, but you could hear your engine straining, and the smoke that came from the back was growing each second. The bike wouldn’t last much longer.

“It’s Vader all right. I see him, hold on-” Luke's voice is full of concern, he steers around a smoking assault tank, out of your line of sight.

“No kid, stay back. We’ve taken too much fire. The drive control systems are shot. I’m gonna try to set her down but it-”

There was a snap, the sound of groaning metal collapsing in on itself, and the Walker's knee’s buckle, its body crashing into the ground. It dives headfirst, its back foot being severed, smoke and dust clouding around the head.

“Han!” You cry, eyes burning as you drive straight into the dust cloud. You couldn’t see Luke- or anything.

Everything seems to have gone wrong- your bike’s only remaining booster gives out, the bike wobbling and almost rolling as you slow enough to jump off of it. Dropping your blaster, you try and cover your face the best you could. Rocks and sharp metal scratch and rip your clothes, cutting your arms and cheeks.

Shaking your head, you groan and rub the dust from your eyes, grabbing your blaster from beside you and getting your feet under you. Vision blurry and ears ringing, you rush forwards and shoot down a trooper as he runs at you, finding Leia firing at other troopers, an unconscious Han in her grip.

When Leia saw you, her face fell in relief, ploot dripping from her cheeks. Her clothes were ripped, and Han looked worse.

Blood dripped from his nose and forehead, clothes ripped and he seemed to be fully unconscious.

“Hey! Bantha breath!” you cry, looping your arms under his arms and letting him lean almost all of his weight on you. Leia, who turned back to see the refugees on the walker made it out, shoots down any of the troopers who try to come close.

Han groans softly, his head falling back as his eyes squint open. He grabs onto the back of your shirt, finally looking down at you.

“Damn,” he wheezes, blood on his lip, “you lived.”

“Oh haha you’re so funny,” you seethe, fingers gripping into his vest. Your eyes burned, and a lump was beginning to form in your throat.

“Run!” Leia called, pushing you lightly. Nodding, you strain to hold Han’s weight, dragging him past the fallen vehicles and into the mountains of trash. You stop momentarily, watching the refugees run past before turning and seeing Leia, who was talking to Luke.

He still sat on his speeder, looking at the still-standing factory.

They must have stopped the overload.

“Luke! Come on!” You yell, meeting his eyes before his lips thin, eyebrows furrowing. He gives one last glance to Leia, says something, before he throttles the bike and races towards the factory. She calls to him, before yelling and turning to run towards you.

She slips her free arm under Han, helping you pull him into the fields and towards the Falcon.

“We can't leave Luke,” you say, looking at Leia with clouded eyes. She only stares back, lips thin before she shakes her head.

“We’re never leaving him behind- no matter what he says.”

It was no surprise the Falcon wasn't in the air when you saw her. Parts of the siding were gone, and the remains of aliens littered the area around the main ramp as you and Leia dragged Han onboard. Threepio was right- she did blend into the other piles of trash. You briefly saw Chewie, who was waist-deep within the Falcon, trying to fix her enough to jump into lightspeed. Threepio sat in a small pile of scattered parts, that must be why he wasn’t answering- the trash people got to him.

Laying Han down in one of the seats behind his usual one, you sit and begin the startups for lift-off. Leia sat next to you, rubbing her hands over her face before doing the same. The coms were down, and so were the deflector shields. Soon, the control panel blinks to life, the engine humming and growling to life before she slowly ascends into the air.

When the factory finally explodes, you cant help the drop in your gut, the way you looked out to try and spot Luke- of course, he would go and make sure the mission wasn’t for nothing. Of course, he went and gambled with the idea of dying for the rebellion. It was Luke Skywalker. He dabbled in the idea all the time.

“Maker help me if he doesn't get here in time,” you grumble, ignoring the tight lump in your throat, the way your vision blurred when hearing Han groan in pain from behind you.

“You get Luke- Chewie!” Leia yells, turning to peer down the hallway briefly before opening the boarding ramp once more.

You didn’t need any other signal, jumping from Han’s chair and dashing down the main hold, past the other refugees, and to the open ramp.

Luke wasn’t there.

“Kriff!” You yell, carefully going down the ramp and bending to peer into the trash fields. It was windy, the main thrusters blowing dirt and debris around. You could finally see Luke, who ditched the speeder and threw himself into the falcon, landing on his side. You grab his jacket, pulling him against you and reaching up to slam your hand onto the closing switch, the ramp groaning as it lifts both you and Luke.

“Go, Leia! Hit it!” You yell, inching into the main hold with Luke still clutched against you.

“Chewbacca!” You could hear her yell, “I need that hyperdrive working, now!”

You finally manage to sit up, Luke laying on the floor next to you, clutching his side. Chewie growls and barks back to Leia, his voice muffled from being in the floor.

Ignoring the twist at seeing his jacket dirty, splotches of blood seeping into the bright yellow fabric, you glare at him and sit up, pushing back the want to hug him.

“You,” you say softly, turning to look at him, “are the biggest kriffing idiot I’ve ever met.”

He only gives a lopsided smile, reaching a hand up to rub the back of your head, “but we got it done- didn’t we?”

“We’re not out of the swamps yet, you bantha,” you seethe, getting up to run back into the cockpit, sitting down next to Leia and preparing for the jump to lightspeed.

She gives you a brief glance, the Falcon flying through the upper atmosphere.

“What did he say?”

You shrug, eyebrows furrowed, “Probably something not worth quoting.”

“That's what I thought- Is Luke okay?”

“From what I saw, he has an injured side, he’s lucky to not be dead.”

Leia nods, groaning when finally breaching space, seeing the two incoming Star Destroyers. “You know,” you say softly, hand already clutching the lever for hyperspeed, “they really need to give it a rest.”

“Chewie! We’re out of time!”

“I’m making the jump, maker helps me if this doesn't work.”

You pull the lever, clenching your eyes shut when feeling the familiar lurch, Leia celebratory cry made you smile. Open your eyes to see her bright smile, falling back in relief against Chewie’s chair.

The stars extended, and you were finally away from the disaster that was Cymoon One.

“Maybe this ship isn’t so bad after all,” Leia says softly, looking back and patting Han’s knee. He stirs, groaning while he leans back, swatting at her hand.

“Is it wrong I like him better this way?”

You laugh, leaning back in your chair and trying to forget that Luke was hurt, Han was hurt, and you had probably a dozen refugees waiting for you.

“No, I like him better this way too.”

“It's a miracle.”

Groaning, you push away from the top of the Falcon, back crackling as you drop the grease-covered tool and pull off the goggles that covered your eyes.

“It’s a miracle you’re able to walk around right now,” you counter, watching Han pull a part off the Falcon and wave it around, confusion on his face.

“No, It’s a miracle this thing even flew!” he turns to look at Chewie, who was welding a different part of the Falcon.

“Were you blindfolded when you put it back together? I don't even know what this is!”

Chewie barks back, Han wincing and waving off the Wookiee as he lightly touched the bandage on his forehead.

“Not so loud, Chewie, my head is still killing me.”

You scoff, picking up a different tool and taking the part from Han’s hand, putting it back in its place and screwing it down.

“You should be in the Med-wing, me and Chewie can handle this- you’re not even fully healed,” you look back up at him with furrowed eyebrows, reaching up to tap his forehead. He swats your hand away, laying his hands on his thighs as he watched you work.

“I gotta be sure you do this right, She has specific parts!”

“Han, you didn’t even know what this part was, you just don't wanna be tended to,” Han scoffs, pushing you lightly before handing you a different part, his hands already attaining grease.

“Ever since the mission you’ve been so touchy-”

“No,” you cut him off, sending him a glare, “I’m not touchy, I’m worried you’re gonna get another concussion since crashing the walker.”

“For your information,” he spits, crossing his arms, “I didn’t crash the walker. It was Vader. Him and his, whatever you call it- his laser sword.”

“You mean Light Saber?”

When coming back from Cymoon, Han didn’t stay in his bed for longer than two days, charging out and demanding to be released so he can overlook you and Chewie repairing the Falcon. It was annoying, he was still hurt, blood sometimes seeping through the white gauze and needing to be taken back.

“I still don't believe it, Hand me that macrofuser,” he asked, hand outstretched towards Chewie, who dropped the tool into his hand with a growl and bark.

The hanger was mostly empty, save for the random pilot or ground crew who kept checking to see if the X-wings were in working order. Something to do, while the meeting on the top floor continued about the Cymoon mission, and where to go from there.

You haven't talked to Han about what happened, or Leia. Luke was the main thing on your mind recently, ever since his silent treatment on the Falcon, you’ve been meaning to talk to him. While tending to Han in one of the cabins in the back, Leia went to talk to him, which caused him to lash out and give everyone the silent treatment.

Since then, you’ve drowned yourself in fixing the Falcon when you weren't with Leia talking with Chancellor Mothma or Admiral Ackbar. You hated the whole political side of things, but Han refused to step into any meeting, so you were the unlucky one out of the duo to participate.

The meeting had ended a while ago, but Leia stayed back to continue to push another mission, another punch at bringing the Empire down and bringing freedom to the rest of the galaxy.

“You’re gonna look like Jabba if you keep frowning like that.”

Throwing a tool in Han's direction, you hear his yelp and the loud clang it made when hitting the Falcon.

“Uncalled for!” He yells back, peering over the side to see what you were doing. You managed to wedge yourself into a small compartment, rewiring parts to allow better distribution of coolant that came loose after being raided by the trash aliens.

“Why don't you just talk to the kid, by the time you get the guts- you'll be old and gray and fading into dust-” you throw another part at him.

The last thing you want is to play around with your relationship with Luke.

“Speak of the farm boy- Luke! Where’ve you been?!” Han shouts from above you. Dropping the tool and pulling yourself out of the compartment, you spot Luke pulling on his flight suit, eyebrows furrowed and looking upset.

He glances towards you both, before giving a tight smile and making he was towards his X-wing, R2 rolling up a little ways behind him.

“Seems like he’s leaving,” Han grumbles, looking at you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide off the side of the Falcon, bending your knees when hitting the floor and jogging over to where his ship was.

“Luke?” You call softly, refraining from grabbing onto his hand. He sighs, turning to face you, helmet in hand and a distant look in his eyes.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I have some things I have to do,” he doesn't say anymore but glances to his ship when R2 trills, being lifted into his spot.

“But,” you pause, finding your mind blank, “you’re gonna come back, right?”

Your voice is soft, and you feel that lump in your throat again when he looks away, instead of gazing at everything but your face.

“Is this even a good idea?” You speak up again, reaching forward to lights grab the sleeve of his flight suit.

“I don't even know who I am- how am I supposed to fight in a rebellion?”

“The entire Empire is looking for you, what happens if they catch you, huh? Leia won't be able to think right if her best pilot is out and the entire rebellion is rooting for you-”

You stop when he grabs your cheeks, thumbs brushing on the underside of your eyes. His eyes are sad, but he manages to show a smile, his voice soft.

“I don't even know who I am, I just know I’m not who I’m supposed to be. I’ll be back.”

You pull away, letting his hands drop from their place, stepping away from him and nodding.

“Take care of yourself,” your throats burning. Vision blurry but you blink it away, clenching your hands and watching R2’s head pivot. You can't help it, but you send him a two-fingered salute, sending him a lop-sided smile.

“Yeah, you too.”

You turn and walk back to the Falcon, not looking back when Luke slides on his helmet or climbs into the cockpit. You climb back up the ladder that leans against the side of the Falcon, taking mental note of the parts you’re going to need to get her back in full working order so you and Han can leave and deal with Jabba.

“You like him.”

You laugh, throwing your head back and looking at Han with wide eyes, shaking your head and sitting down next to him.

“No, I’m just worried for the rebellion’s best pilot, two very different things,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders and dropping back into the small compartment.

“and, or, you like the kid, just admit it.”

“Over my dead body,” you grumble, being worried is a natural concept when having friends. You worried for Han, and for Leia, so yeah you’re going to worry for Luke. After everything that went on while on Cymoon One, of course, you’re going to worry more, he was bruised! He was injured in the factory explosion!

You’re just worried about him. Right?

#star wars #star wars imagine #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker x reader #leia #han #save threepio #the poor droid gets no break

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cafeacademic · 3 years ago

Note

CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWERS!! Could I please get prompt 39 with Tech. TYSM <3

hehe happy Tech Tuesday everyone! Enjoy some absolute filth with this fine man.

Pairing: Tech x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

Prompt: 39. “Thanks for letting me sit in your lap.” / “You’re welcome. I’ve been told my face is more comfortable if you want to try that out, too.”

Written for my 104(ish) follower celebration! Have a request? Check out this post for some info and send it in! I'd love to check it out!

It would be wrong to say that you weren’t happy that Crosshair was back; quite the opposite. When he had first woken up, you had slammed into his arms and pulled him in for a tight hug, which he tensed at, but allowed you to continue nonetheless. You loved watching him interact with Omega, the two of them bonding in their own special way. Everything felt whole again.

But the ship was too small. It was originally only meant to hold four people and a droid, so you never expected the lap of luxury. Now, however, with six adults and a child all milling around the ship at any given time, you couldn’t help but long for the days when you could stretch out across two chairs in the cockpit.

Those days had passed, however, and you were instead perched gingerly across Tech’s thighs as the Marauder cruised through hyperspace. Hunter was in the copilot’s seat, and Wrecker and Crosshair were chatting in the two seats in the back. Omega was helping Echo oil his joints, and the whole environment was peaceful, domestic even.

That was, except for the way your heart was hammering out of your chest.

You tried to keep from shifting on Tech’s lap so as not to make him uncomfortable, but it was difficult. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him, even through his armor. He would mutter to himself occasionally as he worked through something on his datapad-- a new plan for improving the rear shields of the ship, he had told you. If the ship lurched, he’d absently grab your hip to steady you, and you’d try and prevent the flush you felt creeping up your neck.

The close proximity was getting to you, only exacerbating the little crush you’d had on the man since you joined the team. You were lucky he was so oblivious because the rest of the squad had definitely figured you out and definitely teased you relentlessly about it. When Tech had gestured for you to perch on his lap while he flew, Echo had sent you a knowing glance, and Wrecker stifled a laugh. You had glared at them at the time, but now you would’ve taken their teasing over the agonizing closeness, the way you could sometimes feel Tech’s breath ghost over the back of your neck, the way that--

The ship launched out of hyperspace, and you nearly flew forward and into the ship’s console. Tech was too quick, however, and caught you by the ribs, fingers lingering dangerously close to your breasts. You sucked in a breath, hoping he simply chalked up your tension to the shock of nearly being thrown to the ground.

“Here, sit like this,” Tech said, maneuvering you so that you were straddling one of his thighs. The new position let him have both hands free to fly the ship, and he reached around you to flip a few switches. You watched his fingers work, trying desperately not to think about what other things they could do. Tech shifted his thigh underneath you, and you had to bite back a groan at the friction. Unlike the boys, you chose to forgo your armor while flying, instead preferring to change into a thin pair of leggings and a sweater. As you held back a whimper while Tech’s thigh pressed against you, you were sorely regretting your choice.

Luckily, Tech’s landing was smooth, and the ship settled neatly in the space behind Cid’s bar with ease. As soon as the ship touched down, Omega was tugging at Crosshair’s sleeve, reminding him that he promised to help her practice her aim. She nearly dragged him off the ship, Wrecker following behind them. Hunter stretched and swiped the goods Cid had requested from the back of the ship, going to collect their payment. Echo sent you one last look before announcing, quite obviously, that he was leaving. You scowled at his retreating form.

“I’m sorry, I hope that wasn’t too rough of a ride,” Tech said, startling you out of your thoughts. You spluttered, and Tech, realizing his innuendo, turned bright red. “Oh! That’s not what I meant. I only meant to say that I hope you didn’t get hurt during the landing,”

“No, I’m fine!” you said, a little too defensively. You sprung up from Tech’s lap and he swiveled his seat so that he could face you. His legs fell to either side of the chair, and you swallowed hard at how comfortable and at ease he looked, even as the blush was receding from his cheekbones.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, before you remembered to speak.

“Thank you for, uh, letting me sit in your lap,” the words left your mouth before you could fully comprehend them, and the way Tech’s eyes went wide nearly had you sprinting out of the Marauder to hide your face in shame. As you mentally berated yourself, a small smile crept into Tech’s expression.

“You’re welcome,” he cleared his throat slightly before continuing. “However, I’ve been told my face is more comfortable if you’d like to try that,”

You were sure your jaw hit the floor. Tech just looked at you, a smile playing on his lips. You had half a mind to shake him and ask if he was feeling alright. The only thing you could do, however, was gape at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I may have misread the situation,” Tech stammered when you didn’t respond. “I apologize if I made you--”

“Please,”

You wanted to sound composed like you were cutting his spiraling train of thought off with a confident quip. Instead, it came out as a strangled plea, your voice laced with desire. The smile returned to Tech’s face, and he let himself slide gracefully down onto the floor. He grabbed your hand and yanked you down with him, and you tumbled into his lap.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, face just inches from yours.

“Maker, yes please,” you murmured in response, and Tech collided his lips with yours. It wasn’t a chaste kiss, as you expected your first kiss with him would be. No, this was needy and heady and oh gods, his hand was sliding up your shirt to cup your breast.

“So soft,” he muttered reverently, and you shivered at the praise. He kissed you again, expert hands grabbing anywhere he could.

“Fuck, Tech. Tech!” your moan turned into a high-pitched whine as he rolled one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and your head fell back in pleasure.

“Stars, need to taste you now,” he groaned, helping you shimmy out of your leggings and grabbing your thighs. He pulled you up close to his face, hot breath ghosting over your pussy. Your panties were soaked, and Tech latched two fingers onto them and pulled them off your body, tossing them somewhere in the cockpit.

“Do you mind if I keep my goggles on?” Tech asked, and you could barely form a response as he dug his fingers into the meat of your thighs. “I’d like to be able to see what I’m doing,”

He took your moan as a yes, and didn’t hesitate any longer before pulling you onto his face and lapping at you like a man starved. You nearly doubled over, bracing yourself on the pilot’s seat as Tech swirled his tongue around your clit.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, and you felt more than heard Tech’s chuckle. He traced his tongue up your slit, gathering all the wetness that was rapidly accumulating. You whined as he flicked his tongue over you, now purposely ignoring your clit in favor of making you squirm. “Mmm, stop teasing,”

“I just want to make sure that you have time to get comfortable,” Tech said teasingly, his voice rumbling against you and making you buck your hips. You grabbed his hair in retaliation, but the way he groaned into you was so sinful you kept your grip firm in the hopes that he’d continue making those noises.

You moaned when he finally went back to working at your clit, tracing circles just around the bundle, making sure not to give you exactly what you wanted just yet. He pulled you in closer by the thighs, ensuring that you couldn’t squirm away from him.

“Just like that, cyare. Keep making those pretty noises for me,” Tech said, still not giving you any direct stimulation. Your legs were shaking and you braced hard against the pilot’s chair to keep from completely collapsing.

“Fuck, Tech, I need--” your voice dissolved into a high-pitched moan as Tech finally wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, his grasp trying to bring you impossibly closer to him. Your hips spasmed against his face, the feeling almost overwhelming.

“Taste so sweet. Could do this for hours, cyare,” Tech’s voice rumbled against you, and the blissed-out way he spoke sent you over the edge. Your grip on his hair became so tight that you worried you were going to do real damage, and you chanted a mixture of praises as he worked you through it. Your thighs twitched around his head, and Tech groaned as you soaked his face.

When you were finally starting to catch your breath and your vision had cleared of spots, you grabbed Tech's arm. His tongue hadn’t stopped all through your orgasm, and you were starting to jerk from oversensitivity.

“Tech, come on, s’too much,” you groaned as he continued licking broad strokes through your cunt. He laughed as you twitched, his grip on your thighs too tight for you to push him off. Every touch felt like it was intensified tenfold, and you were rapidly hurtling towards another orgasm before the aftershocks of the first had even subsided.

“I think you have one more in you,” he said, swirling his tongue around your clit again. You tried to protest, but Tech shifted you upwards, nose pressed against your clit as he pressed his tongue inside of you, slowly fucking you with it.

Your grip on the pilot’s chair slipped as you came again, and you had just enough sense left to put out your arms to brace your fall. You could barely hear Tech’s praise over the rushing of blood in your ears, and you felt lightheaded as he continued to devour you.

You were panting when Tech finally released his bruising grip on you after he had sufficiently cleaned you up with his tongue. He sat up, and you felt another wave of arousal wash over you at the sight of him, mouth and chin covered in your slick, grinning like a madman. He wiped himself off with the back of his hand, watching you blink as you slowly came back to your senses.

“Oh my god,” you said dreamily, reaching out to cup Tech’s face. His grin turned a little shy, and you kissed him gently, tasting yourself on his lips. Tech smirked as you pulled away.

“I can assume you found that sufficiently comfortable?”

#tbb tech #tech #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #tech x you #tech smut #tbb tech smut #tbb fanfiction #star wars tbb #tbb x reader #tbb smut #the bad batch x you #the bad batch smut #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars smut #tbb fanfic #cafeacademics 104 celebration

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monako-jinn-stories · 3 years ago

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Boba Fett X GN!Reader FanFic

The Tribute

Ahh the final part!! I really loved the words shared between them in this chapter, they feel so raw and emotional to me! I hope you all enjoy!

Master List

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven (PG)

Chapter Seven (18+) ~ Final Part

“Alright, you ready to go, buddy?” you say, and the droid beside you jumps up and stands ready.

“Yes, although I cannot say I’m a fan of Tatooine. The sand gets inside my joints,” Todo says.

“Well, I’ll give you a nice oil bath when we get back, how does that sound?” you say, and he bounces happily.

“Oh, that sounds perfect! Bane would never take care of me like this.”

“Well, I’m not Bane, am I?” you say before looking out of the viewport again. Mos Espa sits below you, and you let out a sigh, remembering the last time you were here. It’s been three years, but seeing the city again makes the betrayal sting once more. You’ve moved on, though. You’ve made your own life, become your own person. You’re strictly here for business, you don’t even need to go anywhere near the palace, and so you won’t.

You fly down to the landing area, and take a deep breath before you stand. Looking at the door, you wonder if you really want to go out there, or if you should just bail on the job. You haven’t been paid yet, so it wouldn’t really matter, it would just look bad for your reputation. But you’re being ridiculous, no one would even recognize you now, so there’s nothing to worry about. Plus, you have a family counting on you, you can’t let them down. With a glance down at Todo, who was waiting at the exit, you put your helmet on and finally head out.

Everything is just like you remember, and also very different. The air feels more free, like there are no longer bad tensions between each of the districts. You have no doubt it’s due to Boba and Fennec’s leadership, and you can’t help but feel a pang of hurt, knowing that you, at one point, could have been by their side to help accomplish this. But things changed, and you aren’t here to dwell on what could have been.

As you walk deeper into the city, you notice that the streets look more alive. The people look happier, and businesses seem to be prospering. A few people smile and wave at you, and you give them simple nods in response. You aren’t here to make friends, you’re here to collect something and then leave. You keep reminding yourself to just focus on the job, that Tatooine was never meant to be your home, and that there’s nothing for you here except this job.

As you make your way to the meeting spot, you catch a sense that you’re being watched. You slow your steps, stopping and looking around. You spot someone walking up to you, and instantly recognize them as one of the mods that Boba had hired. You can’t help the prick of fear that you suddenly feel. You worry that he will somehow recognise you, or question you about who you are.

“Good day,” Skad says to you, “can I be of any help to you?”

“No, I’m alright,” you respond, thankful for the voice modulator in your helmet.

“You sure? Mos Espa can be a maze to new visitors,” he says, offering you a smile and a hand.

“Thanks, but I’ve been here before,” you say, starting to turn before he stops you again.

“Oh, I didn’t recognize you. How long ago?”

“A few years,” you say, getting slightly irritated. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to meet someone, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Wait, before you go, perhaps I’ll recognize you without the helmet,” he says, looking at you curiously.

“Sorry, but the helmet stays on,” you reply. “Come on, Todo.” The droid looks at the mod one last time before bouncing after you. You glance over your shoulder, looking back at Skad who is still watching, before you round a corner and keep heading towards the meeting spot.

“I’ve got my eye on this newcomer,” Skad says into a wrist comm. “They weren’t too keen on revealing their identity.”

“Not everyone likes to show their face, Skad,” Fennec responds. “Besides, I doubt they’re any danger.”

“They said they’ve been here before. Something was familiar about them.”

“Well, if you really want to keep watch, then you can. But I’m telling you, not much is going to happen.” The comm ends then, and Skad just starts walking down the path you had taken, curiosity over taking him. He wants to know who you are, and why he feels like he’s seen you before.

You walk around a corner and see the building that used to be Madam Garsa’s cantina. It’s been repaired and turned into a new cantina, and the music can be heard from your spot in the street. Looking around, you start walking again, slipping into the cantina and hoping not many people would notice, though a stranger with a helmet would likely catch anyone’s attention.

When you step inside, you take note of how people do in fact notice you, but pretend like they don’t. You let out a sigh before moving to sit in the corner previously agreed on for the meeting, and lift Todo up to sit next to you. He looks around, rubbing his arms together nervously as you wait. You yourself try to relax, not make yourself much of a sight to those around you. You don’t want any trouble, you just want to get the job done and leave.

As you look around, your eyes land on a familiar face, and you instantly sit up straighter. You’re thankful for the helmet to hide the smirk that grows, and the small huff you give. He turns and looks at you, and for a second you panic. There was no way he could recognize you, not when you hid your face like this. Your clothes were also quite different than before, and he wouldn’t have any way to know that you had acquired Todo after the battle. You hold your breath as he begins walking over, a smile on his face as he sits down.

“So, you must be the person I’m supposed to drop this off with,” he says, reaching into his pocket to set down a data stick.

“Yes,” is all you say, worried that if he hears too much of your voice, even modulated, he’d recognize you.

“Well, here it is. Though I will ask if you’d like to stick around for a drink, make this more of a friendly trade.”

“I-sorry, I can’t.”

“Oh, got some more business to do?” he jokes, waving over a waiter. He orders a drink, slipping the twi’lek a tip before settling back into his seat.

“No,” you admit, and instantly regret it.

“Oh, so I’m just not handsome enough for you?” he jokes again, thanking the twi’lek as he brought the drinks over. He slides you one, and you grab it, debating in your mind whether to accept it or not.

“It’s not that, you’re perfectly handsome,” you say.

“Why thank you.” You don’t stop the hidden eye roll you give him, ignoring his attempts to charm you.

“I just don’t know if I’m comfortable with revealing my identity.”

“Why, are you a wanted criminal?” he asks, slightly more serious this time. “I mean, that won’t matter here. I’m the marshal of Freetown, Mos Espa isn’t my territory to arrest people in.”

“I’m not wanted, I’m just…an old resident,” you settle for. He looks at you curiously, taking a sip of his drink.

“Something’s awfully familiar about you,” he says, shifting to look at you better. “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” you say, and Todo turns to look at you. You look down at him and nod, assuring him that it’s alright. You lift your hands up and slowly remove your helmet, and the man’s mouth drops slightly.

“Y/n?” he says, and you give a small smile.

“How’ve you been, Cobb?” you ask, and he just shakes his head.

“Everyone was wondering what happened to you. Some of us thought you died, some thought you were kidnapped by the Pykes, and Boba still won’t talk about it…” he says.

“There’s a reason for that,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright at least,” he says, sitting back with a smile. “Still as good looking as the day I first saw you.”

“Hmm, unfortunately I’m not looking for a partner right now,” you respond, and he gives a slight chuckle.

“That’s alright, I had to shoot my shot anyhow.”

“Better than you getting shot. I heard about your little face off with Bane, and I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Ah, a little blaster shot is nothing for the marshal,” he says with a laugh.

“That’s good to hear,” you say before your smile falls. “Look, I was serious about not being able to stay. I…Tatooine isn’t really a place I want to be.”

“I understand,” Cobb says. “Just be safe on your travels, okay? And come visit me sometime.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” you say, replacing your helmet and standing to leave. Todo follows after you, glancing back at Cobb who is still sitting in the corner.

“I have a bad feeling…” Todo says.

“Cobb’s fine, he’s a trustworthy friend,” you respond. “Though that guy from earlier might not be.” The feeling of being watched returns as you step outside, and you glance around again. The suns have set, and the only light is that from the street lamps and windows. Hopefully the dark will aid in helping keep attention from reaching you, though whoever is watching you seems to be determined. You make your way back to your ship quickly, but something stops you from leaving the planet. You look out the viewport towards Boba’s palace, and a feeling of longing settles over you.

It’s been three years since you saw him, and yet your love never fully faded. He’d betrayed you and hurt you, all because of his love for you and, he thought what he was doing was best for you. You had tried to understand like he asked, but you never fully did. Perhaps, maybe, you could try again.

You glance down at Todo who was shaking sand out of his joints. You give a small smile, standing up and grabbing the oil and dropper. Sitting on the floor, you motion for Todo to come over. He happily abides, sitting in your lap as you clean out the sand for him.

As you go through the motions, your mind wanders back to the possibility of seeing Boba again. Would it really be the worst idea? Perhaps you could go, but keep your helmet on and only reveal your identity if you are comfortable enough. Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Hopefully it will all work out how you want it to.

~~~

“You’re never going to believe who the newcomer is,” Skad says to Fennec when he returns to the palace.

“Obi Wan Kenobi?” Fennec asks jokingly, but he shakes his head and keeps a serious expression. Fennec sits up straighter from where she sat eating her dinner.

“Who is it? It better not be a Pyke spy.”

“No, it’s definitely not someone working for the Pykes,” he says. “It’s y/n.” Fennec stares at him for a second before bursting into laughter. She drops her fork and tilts her head back, her body shaking with how hard she was laughing. After a minute she calms down and wipes a tear from her cheek.

“I’ll admit, you’re good at pranks and jokes, but this one…wow that was funny.”

“It’s not a prank or a joke. I’m being dead serious,” he says, and again Fennec meets his serious gaze. Her own expression drops, and she lets out a sigh that almost sounds like defeat.

“We can’t let Boba find out.”

“Why not? Maybe seeing them will help-”

“No, because if they wanted to see Boba, they would have come to see him. And they haven’t. Plus, it’s been three years. I’m willing to bet they’re only here for some kind of business and will be leaving in the morning.”

“But Boba deserves to know,” Skad argues, but Fennec just shakes her head.

“If Boba knows that they came back and didn’t want to see him, then he’ll be hurt, and I don’t want him to be distracted by this.”

“Fine, but if he finds out some other way, then I’m telling him you were the one to keep it from him,” Skad says before walking away. Fennec lets out another deep sigh before looking down at her half eaten plate. Even though she herself misses you, she also knows what the consequences could be if Boba hears about you, or if Boba sees you. They’re the leaders of Mos Espa, an even more broken heart is one more distraction Boba doesn’t need.

The next morning, you wake up to bright, hot, twin suns glaring in through your viewport. You curse to yourself as it seemingly blinds your drowsy eyes, wishing your bed was in a better spot farther back in the ship. Todo stirs from where he had been resting, his lights looking brighter after a recharge.

“Good morning, y/n. Are we headed off to deliver the data stick to our client?”

“Not yet,” you respond, stretching before standing and looking out the viewport. You squint in the direction of the palace, letting your eyes adjust to the light. Were you really ready to do this, even if you kept your identity hidden? Would you be able to stand in front of Boba again and talk to him? And if he asked for you to come back, would you be able to make the best decision for yourself?

“You’re deep in thought,” Todo says as he turns on his boosters and hovers in front of your face. You give him a small half smirk before turning him to look out the viewport as well.

“Have you ever been there?” you ask, pointing towards what used to be Jabba’s palace. Todo nods, turning back to you.

“That was Jabba the Hutt’s palace once, and now is ruled by ‘the name we shall not say’.”

“Mm, yes,” you say, still looking towards it. “I’ve decided I’m going to go there today.”

“But what about ‘the name we shall not say’? They will likely be there.”

“I know, but I…I miss him. And Fennec. They were my family at one point, and that’s something you never forget.”

“Will you be okay?” Todo asks, and the droid holds concern in his robotic tone. You finally look away from the palace to smile at him. He hovers a bit closer to you, holding your cheeks with his arms.

“Yes, Todo, I’ll be okay. I’ll wear my helmet unless I feel like I can reveal my identity.” You pull him in for a hug, and he gladly returns the gesture. Never in your life did you think you’d bond with a droid like this, but here you are, hugging one like a lifelong friend.

“May I come with you?” Todo asks, and you nod.

“Of course, you’re my partner.” Todo lands and bounces happily as you turn to begin getting ready. You start to walk out of the exit but pause, an idea forming in your mind. The desert is hot, and that far of a walk from your ship's current spot to the palace would definitely get dangerous amounts of sand in Todo’s joints, possibly damaging something in his operating system.

Instead of walking, you decide to fly your ship over. It doesn’t take long, and so you don’t have a lot of time to debate whether this is actually a good idea or not. You also make sure to have your helmet on before you get near, in case of someone looking out and seeing into your viewport.

Landing in front of the palace, it suddenly dawns on you that this is really happening. You really are about to see Boba for the first time in three years. How would he react to you if you didn’t reveal who you are? Would he be welcoming? And what if you did show him it was you? Would he be upset or happy to see you?

Todo touches your leg with one of his arms, and you look down at him. If he had a way to show expressions, you were certain he’d have one of concern right now. You reach down and pat his head, a reassurance to both of you before you stand up. You take a deep breath before moving to the exit. Todo follows along timidly, almost walking on your heel.

When you reach the palace door, it begins to open, and you wait for it to rise before stepping inside. The halls are still dimly lit, and you follow the path to the throne room as though you’d just been here yesterday. Boba is sitting on his throne with Fennec standing by his side. When she looks at you, you see the tiniest bit of surprise flash briefly in her eyes before she covers it.

Kriff! you think to yourself. How in the galaxy did she recognize me?

Boba, on the other hand, has his face currently covered by his own helmet. You have no way of telling whether or not he recognizes you, and it bothers you. He seems to study you for a second before reaching up and lifting off his helmet. You subconsciously hold your breath, and when you see his face, it takes all your strength not to rip off your own helmet and run into his arms.

“Welcome to our palace, traveler. How may we assist you?” he says, and his words feel genuine, like he isn’t trying to hide the fact that he knows who you are. You look from him to Fennec, visibly turning your head before looking back at him.

“I-I’ve come to visit,” is all you can think to say. Boba raises his brow before looking at Fennec.

“Visit? The city or the palace?”

“Uh…well, neither,” you say, cringing as you make this worse for yourself. “I’m actually just here for a business exchange, but-“

“Business? What kind of business?” Boba says, sitting up and leaning forward. His expression loses a bit of its kindness, instead being replaced by intrigue and slight warning.

“Is the business legal?” Fennec adds, and you quickly nod your head.

“Yes, it’s all perfectly legal,” you say quickly, maybe a little too quickly. Boba looks to Fennec again, but she stays back. This was a clear sign that she knew who you were, otherwise she would be threatening you by now. Or perhaps not, you don’t know how things have been running since you left.

“I was retrieving information for a family on their lost member. We believe they were captured by slavers and may be being held against their will.”

“Ah, I see,” Boba says before his eyes take on a look of realization. “You’re the Freer. You’re the one who finds missing people and frees them from slavers.”

“Yes,” you respond, and Boba stands and walks over to you. Your heart starts to race, and he reaches out his hand to offer it to you. You reach out your own before quickly realizing your mistake. Before you can pull it back, he clasps his hand with yours.

The feeling that shocks you when your hands meet runs throughout your entire body. You don’t even have to question whether or not Boba felt it too, as his eyes immediately dart up to look into your helmet's visor. He just stands there, staring at you, not saying a word, but still holding your hand.

His thumb slowly starts to trace shapes on your skin, as if he was remembering the way it felt in his hand before. His fingers move to brush against your wrist, sending a chill down your spine. After a while he looks down at your joined hands, and raises them up. Gently, he presses a kiss to the top of your hand, and a single tear falls from his eye.

“I never thought you would return to me,” he mumbles, and instinctively your other hand goes up to cradle his face. He leans into it, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“I told you that I wasn’t ready to love you before,” you say, and he opens his eyes, looking back into your visor. You pull your hands back, and slowly remove your helmet. The gasp that leaves Boba’s lips as he takes in your appearance was quiet, one that only the two of you knew of.

“You’re just as amazing as the day I first saw you,” he says, and your cheeks warm at his words.

“I should have told you that I would come back when I was ready.”

“I always had hopes that you would,” he admits, “but I never thought they would actually become true.”

“No matter how hard I might have wanted to try, I could never have stopped loving you, Boba,” you say, and he practically melts at your words.

“Mesh’la,” he says, “I’ve thought about you every day and night since you left me. I’ve done nothing but regret my actions, but I do not believe I deserve this, for I haven’t done anything to earn your return.”

“You suffered a loss, we both did. My return will hopefully be an end to that suffering.”

“It most definitely is,” he says, and his hands find the sides of your face, a thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes dart down to your lips. You can see the want, the desire, in his gaze, and you lick your own lips in anticipation.

“May I?” he asks, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You just nod, and close your eyes as he gently leans forwards and presses his rough lips to your soft ones. You sigh into it, relishing in the familiar feeling that you’ve been missing since you left. The warmth of his body close to yours, the soft motions of his lips against yours, it was like your life had been on pause and now it was playing again.

The kiss is broken all too soon for the both of you, but now isn’t the time for a make out. Now was the time to talk, to sort things out. Fennec had left the room long ago, knowing that you and Boba deserved your time together. He slowly reaches down to grab your hand before leading you to the very first room he’d ever taken you, the room with the small dining table.

You each sit on a side, looking around the room and awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze. The silence is heavy, both of you knowing you there’s a necessary conversation to be had, but neither of you know how to start it.

“So…” he begins, scratching the back of his head, “the droid you have with you. How long have you had it?”

“Oh!” Todo says, speaking for the first time since walking inside. “They found me after they fled Mos Espa. I was Bane’s droid before, but since you killed him, I no longer had someone to serve. That was, until y/n found me.”

“You don’t serve me,” you say, looking at him where he now stood on the table, “you’re my partner. We work together.”

“Ah, I see,” Boba says, running a hand over his head. His eyes dart around the room again, and you sense that he has another question for you, but is nervous about asking it.

“So uh…do you have, a um…other kind of partner?” You don’t respond right away, instead just looking at him as if he’s stupid. He looks up at you, waiting for your response, and you just raise your brow at him.

“Boba…I returned to you. I kissed you. No, I don't have a romantic partner.”

“Good good,” he says quickly, “that’s good. Well, I mean, in a way, since I want you to be mine, but not good if you were wanting to be with someone. Unless that someone was me, then it’s definitely good-“

“Boba,” you say, cutting him off. He stops talking, his mouth hanging open as his own face warms in slight embarrassment. You laugh quietly, reaching over and taking hold of his hands.

“I’m glad I can still make you ramble nervously,” you tease, and he lets out a huff.

“Well, I stopped practicing my flirting skills after you left. Didn’t want to use them on anyone else.”

“Hmm, well before you try to flirt with me, we need to have this conversation.” Boba lets out a reluctant sigh at your words, sinking into his seat slightly. “Boba, a lot has changed, especially with myself. I’ve grown, and I have become who I think I’m meant to be.”

“You’re a hero to people,” he says, sitting up again. “I’ve heard stories of you, of the Freer. I should have guessed that it was someone like you who was doing this work. It’s honorable, more honorable than anything I’ve ever done.”

“You saved Mos Espa, and perhaps the rest of Tatooine, from the Pykes,” you argue. “That’s quite honorable if you ask me.”

“Mm, either way, this isn’t about me,” Boba says.

“It’s about us,” you say. “My job requires me to not really have a home. I’m constantly flying around, going to different planets and hiding from angry slavers. Relocating families who now have to hide from slavers.”

“I’m alright with that.”

“I just…I don’t know how well…this would work,” you say, motioning between the two of you. “I don’t know how much I could give to you while being away so much.”

“Anything you give me would be more than enough, y/n,” he says, squeezing his hands around yours. You look down, shaking your head and giving a soft sigh.

“You deserve someone who can be here to love you,” you say.

“But I don’t want that if it’s not you. I never got over you, mesh’la, and I never will.” Boba stands from his seat, walking over to you before kneeling by your side. He reaches up to brush his hand against your cheek, and you watch him with slightly wide eyes. “I love you, with all of the heart that I have. My every breath is breathed for you, in the hopes that you will be mine once again someday.”

“Boba…” you start to say, but he raises a hand and you wait.

“If you do not feel the same, if you do not love me like I love you, then tell me. I will not be upset, and I will let you go if I must. But I need you to know how I feel, mesh’la, my love.”

“I…” you start, but purse your lips for a second, trying to think properly. He waits, his eyes patient as you sort your thoughts. Did you really love him? Could you love him like he loves you? This was more than you had planned on, you hadn’t even known whether or not you would reveal your identity. Or maybe you had, and you just hadn’t been conscious of your decision.

You break from your thoughts to look down at him, still kneeling by your side. You reach out your own hand, holding his cheek. He leans into it slightly, bringing up his own hand to hold yours in place.

“Can we take it slow again?” you ask, and his eyes light up instantly. He nearly falls into you as he stands up and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. You laugh into it, enjoying his boyish eagerness at your response. When he pulls back, he has one of the happiest grins you’ve ever seen.

“Of course, little one. We can go as slow as you need.” You smile at him, your own grin covering your face. You stand and wrap your arms around him, and he holds you closely and securely.

“Thank you,” you whisper into him, and he pulls away to look back down at you in awe.

“No, my love, thank you.” He leans down and presses his forehead to yours, sharing a keldabe kiss with you. The love that radiates between you is strong enough to feel without force-sensitivity.

“If I may interrupt for a second,” Todo says, and you and Boba pull apart to look at him. “Shall this wait until we finish our job?”

“Oh, kriff, right,” you say. “I forgot about that.”

“Would you like some company finishing it?” Boba offers, but you shake your head.

“I like to work alone-well, just me and Todo. It’s just more efficient.”

“Alright. When will you be back, mesh’la?”

“That all depends on where this person is. I’d say no more than two standard months, likely less than one.”

“Oh,” he says, some of the excitement leaving his eyes before he regains himself. “Well, as long as you’re safe and happy, I won’t hold you back.”

“You’re not going to lock me in the armory again?” you say, and it’s meant to be a joke, but he cringes at the comment.

“I never did get to apologize properly,” he says. “I…I should have listened to you. But at least I’ve learned, and you’ve been able to grow into who you’re meant to be.”

“Thank you, Boba,” you say. “And I’m glad I got the chance to grow as well.” You walk out of the room and head out to your ship. Boba walks with you, and smiles at you when you turn back to him.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you say, taking a step towards him and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Mesh’la, I will always miss you when you are not by my side,” he says, and your cheeks warm again before you step away. Todo is impatiently bouncing at the top of your boarding ramp, waiting for you to join him. When you reach him, you turn and give Boba one last wave before closing the ramp and flying off. Your heart beats happier now, knowing that you once again had a place to call home, and people to call family.

~~~

It has been almost a year since you returned to Boba, and like you asked, things are being taken slow. But now, as you lay in your shared bed, you wonder if it’s time to take the next step. You and Boba have yet to be intimate with each other, and you would be lying if you said you never dreamt about it. Lately, your dreams had woken you up with a longing to feel his skin so close to yours, hot to the touch as his warm breath fanned over wherever he left kisses. It was becoming a desire you could no longer wait for, and so tonight, you decided, would be the end of the wait.

You don’t do anything too special for him, as to not raise suspicion. You want to surprise him, and see how he reacts. You put one of your nicer outfits on, but make sure it’s not too fancy. You cook a nice meal, but nothing too big or extravagant. Boba doesn’t seem to notice, and when you head back to your room, Boba only thinks that you’re going to relax together, read your own books as you often do. You bite your lip in anticipation, a wave of nerves and excitement rolling over you as you think about where the night is about to go.

***

“Boba,” you say as he walks in behind you, “could you lock the door for tonight?”

“Lock it? Why, are you planning on torturing me?” he jokes, but locks it as he speaks.

“No. I was actually hoping we could try something new,” you say, turning and looking at him. His expression is curious, but his eyes seem to study you more closely, and something starts to work in his mind.

“Hmm, something new…” he says, stepping closer to you slowly. You try to hide the catch in your breath as he reaches out and slowly runs his hand up your arm. An involuntary shiver runs through you, and he smirks slightly as he sees it.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the little act you’ve been putting on tonight, would it?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. You lick your lips and feign innocence, batting your lashes at him.

“What act?” you ask, and he gives a huff as his hand trails down your side.

“Playing games now, are we?” he asks, his voice deepening slightly. “Don’t worry, I’m a fair player. Though I don’t always follow the rules.”

“And what do you mean by that?” you say, breathing deeply as his body moves closer to yours. You step back, your leg hitting the edge of the bed. Your blood races under your skin as you feel a slight bit of arousal start to build.

“I mean that if I want something, for example you to quiver and shake from the pleasure I give you, then I will make that happen.” he says, his voice a hot whisper by your ear before he pulls back to give you a serious expression. “However, everything I do, I will only do if you are comfortable with it. I will stop if you need or want me to. If it gets too much, tell me. Your comfort is my main priority.”

“Boba, there are so many things I want you to do to me, but knowing that you’ll be ready to stop…that means more to me than I can express.”

“How about we start crossing some things off your list, then?” he says, smirking before lifting you up slightly and throwing you farther onto the bed. He crawls on after, settling himself between your legs as he kisses you passionately. You feel yourself growing more aroused as his own excitement becomes evident. You use all your self-control to keep from reaching down and handling him, telling yourself to be patient.

“Boba,” you say, breaking away from the kisses. He pulls back to look at you, and you bite your lip, looking down sheepishly.

“I-well…since I was a slave before we met, and I never was with anyone, I’ve…never done this. Can we…can we go slow?”

“Of course, my dear. Just tell me if it gets too fast,” he says, and you nod before leaning forward and pressing your lips to his again. You let your lips bruise his, eventually deepening the kisses. Your tongues dance together, and your ears burn when you involuntarily let out pleasured moans. But your ears burn even more when those same sounds come from Boba, rumbling deep in his chest.

“From the moment I saw you,” Boba mumbles against your lips, “I knew you were the most gorgeous person in the entire galaxy. Never has anyone held such stunning looks as yours. Perfect body, perfect features. I was speechless.” You can’t help the soft moan that falls from your lips at his words. You feel your cheeks heat at the comment. You’ve never received praise like this before,and to come from a king? They made you burn with pride.

“I’m ready for another step,” you say, and Boba pulls back to look at you.

“What would you like me to do, mesh’la?” You bite your lip, suddenly becoming shy. Asking directly for things felt weird, but knowing that he would only do something that you were okay with made you feel better about it.

“I…c-can you…touch me?” you ask, and he gives you a soft smile while nodding.

“Would you like for us to take our clothes off or leave them on?”

“Off,” you say quickly, earning a slight chuckle from him. He sits back, and you strip your clothes from your body as he removes his. When he turns back to you, he keeps his eyes fixed on yours.

“Now, before I touch you, are you okay with me looking at you?” he asks, and you nod, feeling like your cheeks must be aflame at this point. His eyes slowly trail your body, and your own gaze slips over his. He was beautiful, even more so than you could have ever imagined.

“Stunning…” you hear from above you, and look up to see wonder in his eyes. He meets your gaze again before leaning back down eagerly.

After reattaching his lips to yours, he moves his hand down slowly, and you let out a soft moan when his fingers find your sex. Slowly, he begins to use his hand to tease you, building up your arousal. You can’t stop the rise of your hips to work with his movements, and it elicits another soft whimper from you. He smirks against your lips, pulling back to look down at his hand.

“And here I feared I’d lost my touch,” he chuckles, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers touch that oh-so sensitive spot.

“I think it’s-kriff, safe to say you haven’t,” you breathe out, rocking your hips more into his touch. Though this was your first time with someone else, you’ve touched yourself before and know a lot of what you like, but Boba seems to be able to read your mind and body just as well. Your thoughts go fuzzy as you focus on the feeling of his hand on your sex, driving you closer and closer to a release that you couldn’t wait for.

Boba switches up techniques, and a gasp leaves your mouth as your eyes roll back and your head drops against a pillow.

“Kriff, Boba…” you pant, the new motions working you better. “I’m getting so close.”

“Mm, do you want me to slow down or stop?” he asks, and you nearly yell your answer.

“No! Gods no, keep going!” you practically beg, and he lets out his own sound that almost seems like a determined growl before he continues his workings. You pull him closer to you, connecting your lips as you chase your high. He notices when your body starts to quiver, and he keeps his pace steady, not wanting to overwhelm you. You grip onto his arm that’s propping himself up, and the coil snaps in you as your climax crashes over you. A long, drawn out moan leaves you as you cum, and Boba helps you ride it out before he slows his actions. He pulls away to look at you, and you smile lazily up at him.

“That…was perfect,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Can we do more?”

“Of course, little one,” he chuckles, “but give yourself a few minutes to recover.”

“What if I touch you?” you ask, and Boba tilts his head as he considers it.

“I might still have skill with my hands,” he starts, “but I don’t know how long this old man can last, or how many rounds he can go.”

“Why don’t we test it out?” you suggest, but he’s still reluctant. “Do you not want me touching you?”

“No, it’s not that,” he says quickly, “I just want this to be about you. I want to take care of you.”

“Well, what if I want to take care of you?” you say, and he smiles down at you.

“If you insist,” he says. “Where would you like me?”

“Lean back here,” you say, quickly setting up a pile of pillows for him. He moves to where you want him, and looks at you patiently. You crawl over and position yourself between his legs, feeling the heat pricking at your ears again as you look down at him. He’s already aroused, and you don’t quite know what to do, as you don’t know what he likes. You look up at him questioningly, silently asking for what he wants.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with doing is alright, mesh’la,” he says, an answer to your silent question. “Feel free to try anything you like.” You nod, licking your lips before slowly taking a hold of him. The hum of pleasure from him at your touch gives you a small boost of confidence, and you start working him up.

Unlike you, his hips remain still, but when you glance up at him, his eyes are blown out and half lidded. You move your spare hand to sprawl out on his chest, feeling his muscles ripple underneath. You also feel the groans that are barely loud enough to hear as they lowly rumble in his chest.

“You’re doing great, mesh’la,” he says, and his voice sounds slightly strained. You smirk a bit more, quickening your pace. His hips give a slight twitch, but he keeps mostly still. You can tell he wants to last, and that he doesn’t want to do anything that might accidentally startle you. You appreciate his efforts, but wonder what he might eventually look like when you’re more experienced and comfortable with each other’s bodies.

“Can I…do more?” you ask, and he opens his eyes that had previously been shut. He raises a brow and nods, waiting to see what other ideas you have. You lick your lips before letting out a shaky breath, calming yourself before making your move.

When your tongue meets his sensitive tip, Boba sucks in a sharp breath, and when your mouth closes around him, a deep and loud groan fills the room. You look up at him through your lashes before giving an experimental slow bob, and his eyes flutter shut as his head drops back.

“Mesh’la,” he says, his hand moving down to hold the back of your head. You pause, looking up at him questioningly.

“Is this alright,” he asks about his hand, noticing your stopped movements. You smile around him as best you can and give a nod, bobbing on him in the process. He grits his teeth and you feel him twitch slightly in your mouth. You fall back into a rhythm, and soon enough he’s barely holding back his hips.

You’re confident you have him on the edge, and when you attempt to push him over, he suddenly pulls you away. You look at him in confusion as he pants below you, but a smirk slowly forms on his lips as he catches his breath.

“I have another idea of how you can help me finish,” he says, sitting up and bringing your face to his. He kisses you softly before pulling away and motioning for you to lay back down. Once you do, he settles between your legs again and looks down at you.

“Can I enter you?” he asks, stroking a hand up your leg and back down. You bite your lip and quickly nod. He nods back before taking your legs and pulling them up to rest against his shoulders. The angle gives him perfect access to your entrance, and once he makes sure you’re both ready, he slowly nudges his tip against you.

You let out a soft moan as he slowly pushes in. He pauses to let you adjust once the head of his cock is fully inside you. The feeling is foreign, and you feel a slight sting as you stretch, but after a minute you nod, letting him know he can continue you. He repeats this, burying himself slightly and letting you adjust, until he’s fully buried in you.

“Maker, you feel amazing,” he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of your neck where his head rests. Your cheeks warm as your body clenches around him in response, and he gives your collarbone a small nip before dragging his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

After you fully adjust to him, you move your legs to wrap around his hips. He slowly pulls out a small bit before pushing back in. Each of his thrusts is slow, but each one also gets longer. He pulls back more with each one until he reaches just the tip, and then starts to set a pace.

Your mouth drops open as he thrusts into you, already hitting that one spot you had only ever heard rumors about from others. It was already driving you crazy, and you felt close to the edge, even though you’d only just started.

Boba keeps his slow pace for a while, making sure not to pick up speed in case you need him to stop, but after a bit you grow slightly impatient. You appreciate his care and concern, but you aren’t as fragile as he thinks. You decide to give him a bit of encouragement, bucking your hips up to meet his while pulling him deeper with your legs around his waist.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, eyes going slightly wide as he grips the sheets slightly harder beside your head. “I guess you want more, huh?”

“Yes, Boba, please,” you say, and he happily gives in to your wish. With his quickened pace, another moan leaves your lips before he’s silencing you with a kiss. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers digging into him as you try and pull him closer.

His chest presses up against yours, and you feel the vibrations of his groans as they roll through him. One hand snakes down to stroke his chest, his muscles rippling under your touch.

“I’m close again, Boba,” you breathe out, and he pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“Can I touch you again?” he asks, and you quickly nod your head. You let out a soft cry as his fingers play on your sensitive spot again, and you feel your climax about to tumble over the edge. He pushes you closer and closer, and with one perfectly timed thrust and rub against your sensitive spot, you feel yourself clench around him and cum.

The moans that leave you are long and loud, and as you quiet down, you feel his thrusts go sloppy. You can see that he’s on the edge as well, and he quickly blurts out a question.

“Where-can I-“

“In me,” you respond without thinking, and he lets out a strange sound that was like a whimper and groan mixed together. With a few more pumps into you, he lets out one last deep groan as he cums deep inside you.

He nearly collapses on you, but keeps himself propped up on shaky arms. After you catch your breath, you lift your gaze to look into his eyes. He looks down at you as well, and lets out a small huff.

“Guess this old man can last longer than he thought,” you say, and he slowly pulls out of you before laying next to you. He pulls you into his arms, having you rest on his chest.

“Hmm, but I think there may still be room for improvement,” he responds, stroking a hand down your side. “Are you alright? Did anything hurt?”

“No. Well, at first when I was getting adjusted. But after that I was fine,” you explain. “I…I’m glad I did that with you.” A silence falls over the two of you as you lay there in each other’s arms. You trace mindless shapes on his chest while he does the same to your side. Nothing feels more right to you than this.

***

“I trust you, Boba. To take care of me, to love me,” you say, breaking the silence.

“And I will do just that,” he says, lifting your chin so that your lips meet in a sweet, soft, loving kiss. You smile and melt into it, a new wave of joy washing over you.

When you had met Boba, you were merely a tribute from the Zygerrians to him, a gift to be used how he pleased. But now, you were his love, and he gave you the most raw gift he could. He gave you his loyalty, his heart. Boba's tribute to you was his love.

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years ago

Text

Eunoia

The Mantis crew decides to take a well deserved break. Word Count: 2422

Warning(s): straight fluff, short Requested: yep This can be read for a female, male, non binary, or any other reader.

Eunoia is the shortest English word containing all five main vowel graphemes. It comes from the Greek word εὔνοια, meaning "well mind" or "beautiful thinking”. It is also a rarely used medical term referring to a state of normal mental health. In rhetoric, eunoia is the goodwill a speaker cultivates between himself and his audience, a condition of receptivity. In book eight of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle uses the term to refer to the kind and benevolent feelings of goodwill a spouse has which form the basis for the ethical foundation of human life.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･ *

Cal is actually not as observant as people think he is. You know because you’ve been leaning against his doorway, watching him, for about two minutes now and he hasn’t noticed a thing.

Maybe if you were in his position you’d be the same. That seems about right. He’s hunched over his desk with the lamp on bright, tinkering with something that you can only assume is for BD-1. He’s probably lost in thought. Maybe he’s dreaming of better days. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out which wires and bolts connect to which. There’s no way to be certain from your position. He’s the mechanic, you are not.

So why have you been watching the redhead from his doorway for three minutes now? A simple answer. He is your friend, and you enjoy his company. Even when he’s not giving you attention, completely unaware to your presence in moments like this one, lost in his own world, it’s his warmth that really counts. Cal is such a relaxing bout of fresh air compared to everything else in the galaxy, in your life. It’s like being at a great party, but whether you enjoy it or not, stepping outside and tasting the air and the smell of something wonderful. Even if you had a day full of talking to people and had become burned out, talking to Cal would have been no problem at all. Maybe in a way that makes him your favorite person.

Yeah, maybe.

BD-1 jumps onto Cal’s desk. His head looks at the boys hands, cocking about as if observing. Then he meets your gaze, only to find a smile. One index finger raises to your lips, prompting the little droid to stay quiet about this, before you turn away and head towards the main part of the ship.

“Where’s Cal?” Greez gruffs upon seeing you. He’s shaking spice onto a steaming brown plate, which puts a pep in your step. Greez’s cooking always makes life better.

“In his room,” you answer. You turn from the doorway to the counter, where something hot does cause stringy, swirly puffs of air to waft upwards from a large metal container. With your back to Greez, you pull a plate for yourself and begin hulling it full of food. Some sort of rice or grain?

“Hmph, that reminds me,” the Latero begins mid-chew. “Me and Cere was talking about taking a vacation.”

“Vacation?” you scrunch your eyebrows and put the lid back on the container. “Where to?”

“The beach maybe?”

You scoff as you turn around and lean on the counter. One hand holds the plate while the other uses your index finger to prod at the mush. It smells alluring. The individual pieces of it stick to your skin. They burn and sting, but it’s so small it doesn’t bring much of a reaction. “I don’t know a lot of beaches.”

“Well, ya know,” Greez shrugs. “Just a thought.”

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･ *

It was more than just a thought. Six days later, the Mantis touches down on Scarif. But first there’s the issue of landing.

“Watch that tree,” you point, leaning over Cal’s shoulder as he co-pilots beside Greez. A second later, the ship gives a great rock and the palm tree crunches beneath it. “You weren’t watching the tree.”

“Sorry,” Cal offers sheepishly.

“What?” Greez says. He’s the one in main control of the ship. He’d never let Cal take over the whole thing. “What he do?”

“Ran over a tree,” you snort.

“Cal!” Cere scolds, turning around in her chair.

“I said I was sorry!” Cal defends.

“I’m telling the wookies what you did,” you whisper.

“Don’t,” Cal whispers back, though it’s still desperate.

The Mantis parks itself in a field of tropical emerald on the cuff of a beach. The sand is white, the waves cyan and royal blue and sloshing. There’s several beaches on the planet. All of which are very beautiful. Would be a true shame if anything were to ever happen to Scarif. It’s so different compared to so many other planets in the galaxy- not occupied by Imperial forces or scumbags.

Greez waves everybody off. Cere exits first. Cal is ahead of you, but he steps to the side and rather gentlemanly insists, “You first.”

You hum and move past him. The Scarif air hits your face with a warm breeze. It smells of salt and water and some kind of flower. The horizon goes orange and pink and salmon with the setting sun. It is... serene. It nearly knocks you off your feet. It takes his voice to realize Cal is beside you at the bottom of the ramp.

“Woah,” he offers simply, in as much awe as yourself.

“Woah,” you repeat in agreement. It’s still for a second. “Come on. Let’s join them. Or else I’ll have to cast a Jedi mind trick on you.” Your fingers wiggle up and down by Cal’s face for dramatic effect.

Cal rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he utters with a push on your elbow, urging you forward into the sand.

Okay, so maybe you like Cal more than just a friend. But who can blame you? Things had been feeling different between you two lately. You’d always gotten along pretty smoothly. You made up for skills that Cal seemed to lack himself, and his abilities- human and nonhuman- never ceased to amaze you. He was a friend. And then, when you tended to the stab wound he’d gotten from Vader, there was a moment where you held each others eyes. After that, the joking became more constant. The little touches on the shoulders and elbows and forehead taps happened more often. And you started watching him from his doorway sometimes and... and at some point you just caught feelings.

Cal Kestis seemed to feel the same, but who could really say? No use poking that bear right now.

The sand is soft, even beneath your boots. Cere stands in front of the water, just breathing in the air. The light breeze makes her vest ripple. It’s tempting to just join her.

“Gotta say,” you hear a familiar voice say from your left and below. “We picked a nice place.”

“Maybe we should stay a while,” you joke, though you secretly hope for it, to Greez.

“Yeah,” Greez rolls his eyes. “Until this moron gets us into trouble again!”

Cal perks up. “What did I do?”

“Anybody who can lift things with their mind is gonna attract some attention, kid. You just brought it on us.”

“So true,” you jump on with a smirk to Cal.

“Alright,” Cal turns away towards the beach. You position yourself so you’re closer to him, and Greez takes the opportunity to waddle away further ahead to waves.

“Sorry for bursting your bubble, Cal,” you continue with a smug grin. “Maybe in the next life, don’t be born with force powers? Just a suggestion.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Cal tells you, though he’s smiling too. His pale green eyes spare a glance at you, thick lashes dancing on his boyish face.

Your knees bend until you collapse on your bottom in the sand. It’s so soft, it doesn’t even resist your weight. It makes way for you easily, like a blanket. “I do.”

Cal joins you in the sand quickly enough. You’re both face to face, the wind in your hair and the water at your side. It crashes every few seconds, but it’s peaceful. Some kind of bird flies overhead, and butterflies are in the forested area behind you. The light of the sunset illuminates Cal’s hair more than usual. The brightest points of his eyes are highlighted.

“He loves you,” you offer.

“You think so?”

“I am one hundred percent certain... Just don’t touch the ship.”

Cal raises his hands as if surrendering. “Understood. Hands off.”

You turn your head to the water. Greez and Cere are standing ahead, most likely having a conversation of their own. The tide carries so much of the stress your shoulders hold away from you. Everything with the holocron, the empire- it was ridiculous what living in hiding could do to a person. It’s hard to imagine how Cal did it for so long. How painful that must’ve been for him. How painful it is to imagine him in pain.

“How’s your stomach?” you decide to ask at last.

Cal tilts his head for a second. “Better.”

“Perfect?” you raise your knees to your chest and rest your arms on them.

Just then, a little whirring noise pulls both of your attentions away. BD-1 bounds down the ramp of the ship, twirling around in observance as if excited. “Hey, BD,” Cal greets. “I know, buddy. I know.” The droid places itself in Cal’s lap, still looking around at the change in scenery.

“We’ve never been able to do this before,” you tell him. “I mean, I wasn’t here for the whole adventure. But I was here after and before and... and just... we’ve never done this.”

Cal is quiet. “I haven’t either.”

You look at him.

“Taken a break. I guess time on Bracca was the closest thing.”

You smile softly. “I’m sure it was really nice.”

Cal rolls his eyes along with his head, though the corner of his chapped pink lips turn upwards. “As nice as it could be with the Empire.”

“That’s pretty nice.”

Cal and you huff a humorous puff of air in unison.

“What were you doing before the Mantis?” Cal suddenly asked.

“Oh,” you roll your eyes and wave your hand. “Not important. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come on!” Cal shifts.

“I’m serious!” you defend. “It’s boring stuff. You wouldn’t want to hear about it. Not as interesting as the force.”

“Well anything related to you is interesting,” Cal says casually, one of his palms lifting in the air for effect as he shifts again.

Well that makes your face feel hot. Anything related to you is interesting. How often do people get to hear that? And how casually it comes out of Cal’s mouth, the shrug of his shoulders that you tie so easily to him, that’s how you know it’s honest. Not only have you heard something intimate that not many people will in their whole lives, but it was also heartfelt.

“Yeah,” you mutter, though it sounds distant and far away as you watch Cal’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to mind. Then you snap back to reality. “This is gonna be good.”

Cal watches you pop to life, standing up entirely and running towards the water. BD-1 perks up as well to watch you just in time to see your much bigger form nearly knock the Latero over. And, much to Cal’s surprise, the little droid jumps from his lap and bounds after you. The red head decides he’s next to follow.

“BD-1,” he rasps, also nearly pushing Greez to the ground. “Don’t touch the water!”

But it’s too late. However, nothing happens. BD-1 stands in the shallow waves, unelectrocuted and unbroken. He doesn’t spark a bit, only cocking his head in wonder at his friend.

“Think fast!” a voice calls.

A splash of warm and salty water slaps against Cal’s face. He cringes, turning his shoulders away on impact with a little gasp that makes his throat burn. “Hey!”

Another splash.

Cal turns to you. You’re standing with your hands on either side of yourself, open and matching your smug and proud face. Your boots are still on, which can’t be comfortable given that they’re now submerged in water. BD-1 is on the back of your shoulders- something Cal thought was only between him and the droid. Apparently not.

“What’s wrong, Cal? Can’t handle the current?”

Cal stills himself. Then he bends down himself and flicks water upwards.

“Hey! No!”

He does it once more.

“No!”

So you too repeat your original actions and begin forcing salty liquid up into the air in Cal’s direction as well. BD-1 grips onto your collar for stability while you both go to town, careful to not open your mouths too wide and taste the saltiness.

“Be careful you two!” Cere calls from the shore. Neither Cal nor yourself heed her words, continuing on in disrupting the tide.

“They’re fine,” Greez assures with the wave of one of his many arms.

“Are you sure about that?” Cere responds with a hand on her hip as she watches you tackle the Jedi to the sandy terrain below the shallow water.

“Completely fine.”

You push both of Cal’s shoulders down jokingly, careful not to subdue his head under the water. He cranes his neck to keep it above the waves. Through his soft lashes, Cal can just see your smiling, evil intentioned face with BD-1 on your shoulder gazing at him.

Honestly, it feels just how it did last week- the last time you had watched Cal in his room. Gazing at him, admiring him. Just now you get to touch him, relax with him, splash water at him, even. You wish you could capture this moment if not forever, then for a while, and Cal wishes the same.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･ *

Sorry it’s short. Idk if it’s my best work certainly but I haven’t written for Cal or Star Wars in a while. But I didn’t kill the reader in this fic or have someone sick or in danger! So it might be my first ever straight fluff? I don’t know. But what a good character to do it with. I’m glad to give Cal a break. And i hope the requester enjoys.

#cal kestis imagines #cal x reader #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis fluff #fluff #cal kestis imagine #jedi fallen order imagine #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi fallen order fanfiction #fanfiction #cal kestis fanfiction #cal fanfiction #cal imagine #cal imagines #imagine #star wars fanfiction #jfo fanfiction #star wars fluff

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daniveigt · 2 years ago

Text

This side of us - Chapter 1

Summary: Yn solo and Poe Dameron have been friends since they met. But if you look closely you'll see that maybe they love each other. or not?

Warnings: star wars references. a little sad, but nothing too heavy. yn does not speak as a way to deal with feelings.

Word Count: 2K

A\N: I started writing this fanfic today and I'm already finishing her 2nd episode. I'll try to do something small, with less than 10 chapters, but in a detailed way that explores the novel and all the last 3 films in the Star Wars saga. Tomorrow I'll try to bring the next chapter. English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistake. I'm new to the Star Wars world too, so if there's any mistake in history, tell me!!! I hope you like it, I love you poe dameron

GIF It's not mine! credits to the creator,

No one never understood what was going on between Poe dameron and Y/N solo. Even the elders of the resistance, who saw the girl grow up, didn't understand what was going on. Since the day Poe set foot at the base of the resistance he and Y/n they became best friends. Those who saw from afar thought they were just friends, but for those closest to the two they saw that they had something else.

Even for Leia it was obvious. Poe arrived after what happened at the Jedi temple. She'd rather not think about it. Sometimes she'd rather think her son was on another planet doing something instead of being on some empire ship. And the brother was somewhere training younger Jedi.

Leia embraced Poe as her son. Especially after her saw how he helped Y/N after...

Y/N was a little older than Ben. Her uncle, Luke, trained her a little earlier than her brother. The day Ben left, she was gone of the temple. She had completed her Jedi training. She was coming home with BC-2, her droid. When she got home she was greeted by her parents crying. Not happiness. It was the first time she saw her father cry. And the last time she saw her mother cry was in the birth of, well, him.

She didn't understand. She had seen her brother the day before. He was fine. He had joked about some other Jedi student, who for some reason couldn't carry the saber. They laughed, she cried when she said goodbye. She hugged her uncle and promised she'd be back in a month.

Why didn't they send her any transmissions? She would have come back, talked to him. Your brother would understand you. Wouldn`t? He was afraid, he must have thought he let his uncle down and ran away to the evil side of the force.

She didn't say anything for six months. It was her way of dealing with the situation. In the third month they received the news that they most feared for an empire spy. He was being trained by Snoke.

2 weeks after that news Han Solo and Chewie left.

She understood. For some reason she always understood people. It was their way of dealing with it. Leia got into work. She said it was just work, but Y/N knew that while she was working, she was looking for him.

What about Y/N? She helped with the resistance. Going on missions, helping some refugees from cities taken by the empire, and running all over the base when she was left with nothing to do.

When Poe arrived he wondered if he had made the right decision to join the resistance. He was 23 years old and had lost so much. It was presented to everyone except Y/N. The younger people at the base did not understand her, especially why she did not speak. The older ones knew, but they didn't say why.

The younger ones said that since she was a Jedi and could not say anything if she did could die, others said that her voice could kill everyone. Poe thought this idea was stupid, just another gossip. He had seen her from a distance, and had already realized that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Their first interaction was in a meeting. Actually, it wasn't exactly an interaction. He was talking to one of the mechanics after the meeting, and as he looked into his eyes he saw a flash of fear and gave an apology and left. When he went to protest he felt a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise he turned and saw her, C3-PO and her droid, BC-2.

"Hello Mr. Poe Dameron. Miss Y/N would like to congratulate you on your flight on the last mission." As C3-PO spoke, Poe couldn't take his eyes out of her eyes. He knew she was pretty, but when he saw her up close he ran out of air. Y/N also looked at him, but in a more uncomfortable way. It's been so long for her since anyone actually looked at her. Suddenly Poe became aware that he was not breathing and pulled the air in a very noisy way. "An, it's... An, o-thank you lady, hm Lady Y/N." Poe had a shock, because he realized it was the first time a woman had him stutter. And Y/N hadn't even exchanged a syllable with him.

"She also wanted to ask about the maneuver you made when that ship came towards you, could you explain?" C3-PO said again and Poe explained quickly, leaving no opportunity for him to stutter again. Y/N heard everything looking directly at his face, paying more attention than she paid for in the Jedi lessons with Luke. When he finished explaining C3-PO looked at y/n, in which she waved and the droid returned to look at Poe. "Thank you Mr Poe Dameron, mrs y/n is grateful. If you'll excuse me, I have some obligations to deal with right now. I hope I helped you Ma'am." Then the droid left, leaving Poe and Y/n.

They stared at each other for a while longer when she realized she should leave. She turned to leave and for the first time in 6 months, in a hoarse whisper she said, "Thank you." Poe listened, and when he heard he shuddered and realized he needed to meet this woman. Y/N didn't even realize she'd spoken, she thought she'd just waved. She was so tired of the mission, she just wanted to get out of that meeting as soon as possible. But when she saw the incredible new endurance rider in the corner, looking a little lost, she knew he needed to exchange some interaction with him.

As soon as the meeting was over she pulled the protocol droid into an empty corner and asked him to mediate the conversation. She realized that she had "talked" to someone besides her mother for the first time the next day. She was so ashamed that her hands trembled all day. She thanked her that she didn't have to go out with the x-wing that day, because she knew that before she left the hangar she would lose control.

Leia meet Poe 3 days later. She had finally taken some time to talk to the new resistance star. Where she was going she hear about the amazing new pilot. She called the boy into her office and talked. They spent 30 minutes talking nonstop. It seemed little, but they met and Leia could already see the good-hearted man and the boy hiding behind his face. She had a brief perception with the force, that this man could one day take her place as a general. Who knows even maybe with YN´s help.

As Poe was about to leave he turned around and asked Leia, "General, do you know Mrs. Y/n?" "Yes, I do, why?" Leia realized that Poe did not know that Y/n was her daughter, but did not mention this fact. She wanted to know what he was going to say. "She, um, talked to me. I mean, she didn't talk to me. C3-PO spoke for her. But, um I... You know what? I have to go, have a good day, General!" And so Poe left leaving the woman surprised.

Her daughter didn't talk to anyone but her, she knew. Even if it was by C3-PO it was already a major breakthrough. She saw an interest in Poe for the girl, but kept that information to her.

3 weeks later she had one idea. She was going to send both in a mission. Leia sent them together because she realized that even if they didn't talk they felt comfortable with each other. At all the meetings they sat nearby, at lunchtime they sat together. If Poe was somewhere Y/N was next to him, and if Y/N was somewhere, Poe would be there.

The mission was pretty simple actually. Go to this uninhabitable planet, where it had been the last base of the resistance and seek some plans and reports of ancient missions. But it would last at least two weeks to get back and going. Poe accepted and went to pack his things. He didn't question it. He wasn't excited about the mission itself, but he knew it was an oportunnity going in a mission with Y/n. He wanted to at least try to talk to her. She didn't have to answer if she didn't want to.

But Y/N knew her mother was up to something. She wouldn't send a Jedi and one of her best pilots just to pick up some old plans that no longer make sense these days. "What are you up to?" Her hoarse voice because of disuse brought a shiver all over her body, but she ignored him. Her mother looked at her and smiled. "Nothing dear. Now go and pack your things. Before you go come here to say goodbye to me, all right?" Y/n stared at her mother a little more and headed out towards his room. Together some clothes, took a blaster and the saber. She stopped by the office, hugged her mother and she said goodbye with a look saying 'take care'. She didn't want to lose another son.

Poe was waiting outside the ship assigned to them. For some reason the news that he was going on a mission with the girl had already spread all over the base. Had he just received the assignment for the mission, how everyone already knew? And how did they know he was going with Y/n? Some of the mechanics and pilots who passed him wishing good luck. But he knew it wasn't good luck for the mission. He knew it was 'good luck to deal with the girl'. He understood the message between the lines.

Y/n knew about all the theories that they had about her, but she knew she had more important things to deal with. Like a brother in the empire, a missing uncle, a missing father who refused to say where he was and only responded to her broadcasts by telling the latest news and that he was fine. And the war she knew was imminent.

The girl quickly passed through all the corridors and went to the hangar, finding Poe and her droid playing. It was kind of funny. Y/N put her hand on his back and Poe who was kneeling to reach the time of the droid. Poe looked up and found her eyes. She waved toward the ship. A small one, but one that had enough room for both of them and the droids.

"Yes, of course, let's go. Come BB-8." Before he even got up right he had already taken the bag off her shoulders and walked to the entrance of the ship leaving no time for her to deny the attitude. Y/N, confused, went up the ramp and while Poe kept her purse she began to turn on the ship and close the ramp. While Y/N sat in place of co-pilot Poe came to take control of the ship. "Let's get this baby off the ground."

Y/N took a deep breath, knowing it would be a long 2 weeks without speaking.

#star wars #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #solo reader #leia organa #ben solo #kylo ren #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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willowcrowned · 4 years ago

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I just wanted you to know that I absolutely LIVE for your time-travel fics. They are so great please never stop. I especially love the ones where Luke travels to clone wars era and is just there standing awkwardly cause he doesn’t know what’s going on and everybody else doesn’t know what’s going on... well yeah you get the gist.. anyways you are an amazing writer and I love all of your fics <3

ahhh thank you so much! You can have a little ‘luke goes back in time and says fuck’ au. as a treat.

“Why is Master Windu handing the prisoner off to us?” Anakin grumbles. “We’re on medical leave.”

Obi-Wan gives a sigh that means that as much as he agrees with Anakin in principle, Anakin is being too bitchy for him to admit to it. “And Master Windu is in the middle of a campaign. He doesn’t have time to investigate rogue Jedi.”

The rogue Jedi in question is dressed entirely in black, sitting cross legged on the floor of the cell. He’s also staring at Obi-Wan and Anakin with an expression that’s equal parts mystified and horrified.

Anakin turns off the ray shield. “Well?”

The rogue Jedi huffs. “Well, what?”

“What do you mean, ‘well what’?” Anakin crosses his arms, annoyed.

“You’re the ones who wanted me here,” the rogue Jedi points out unhelpfully. “I thought I was your prisoner— involuntary guest, if we’re being polite.”

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth twitches in what counts as a full smile for him— at least when he’s supposed to be interrogating someone.

“Well,” Anakin says, “who are you?”

“Luke Lars,” the man who is purportedly Luke Lars says. He’s clearly lying.

“Who trained you?” Anakin asks.

“No one,” Luke says, still clearly lying. “I found this lightsaber this morning. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Obi-Wan pulls up a holo-recording of Luke doing a triple backflip, decapitating six droids at once and crushing a seventh under his boot.

Luke stares at the recording, deadpan. “Beginner’s luck. Can I have my robe back now?”

“Why?” Anakin asks. “Need a blaster?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Actually, it has some gum in it.”

Obi-Wan walks over to where they stored Luke’s robe, retrieving the gum and tossing it to him.

Luke catches it easily and pops a piece in his mouth. “Thanks. Hey, you’re Obi-Wan Kenobi, right?”

“That I am,” Obi-Wan says, bemused. “Why?”

“You remind me of an old friend,” Luke says.

“Should I be flattered?”

Luke blows a bubble, then pops it. “Maybe. I mean, he was a reticent bastard who had a habit of disappearing, but he was a good man. Sometimes I can still hear his voice.”

“He’s got you pegged,” Anakin mutters to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan makes a vaguely offended noise, but doesn’t push it. “Well, Luke Lars, I’m sorry to say that we’re not going to be able to let you out until you tell us the truth.”

“I figured.” Luke shrugs. “It’s fine. This is a pretty nice cell.”

Anakin snorts.

Luke gives him a strange look. “You’re Anakin Skywalker, right?”

“Yes.”

“What year is it?”

“1011,” Obi-Wan says, brows drawn together slightly.

Luke frowns. “Uh, what calendar?”

“Standard Galactic.”

Luke makes a face. “Well that’s not much help. What’s going on right now?”

“Do you have amnesia?” Anakin asks, looking at Luke with a mixture of confusion and worry.

“Sort of.”

“The Clone Wars have been going on for thirteen months,” Obi-Wan answers, sounding completely unruffled, which means that he’s very confued.

Luke frowns again, eyes going distant. He comes back to himself after a moment. “I can’t do math. Can I have some flimsy and a pen to work it out?”

Anakin looks to Obi-Wan, who shrugs. At least they’ll be able to look at the paper and see if they can get any clues from it. Anakin pulls a notepad from his pocket, along with a pen, and hands it to Luke.

Obi-Wan looks at him strangely. “Since when have you been keeping that in there?”

“Since I started having to pass notes when I get captured,” Anakin replies snippily.

They both watch Luke, who is working out the problem exceedingly slowly.

“I swear I can do actual math,” Luke says without looking up, having noticed their staring. “I just can’t do addition. Besides, I can pilot. That’s the one I picked.”

Anakin blinks. “What?”

Luke looks up at him. “Is that not a thing yet? You can do math, pilot, or have a good relationship with your dad?”

“What?” Anakin repeats.

Luke shrugs. “It was a joke where I grew up. If you’re not into core-style relationships— same species, different sex, you know— you only get one.”

“What.” Anakin repeats for the third time.

“I got it!” Luke says excitedly. “So we’re— yeesh, that is not good.”

“What?” Anakin asks. “What’s not good?”

Luke gives him a calculating look, then shrugs. “The central heating here. I’m cold.”

“That’s what I keep saying!” Anakin agrees after a moment. “Core people like it too cold.”

Luke makes a face. “Ugh, I know. I grew up on Tatooine and it was terrible, but at least it was warm.”

“Wait, really?” Anakin says, “Me too. Worst. Planet Ever.” He looks over at Obi-Wan, who has a strange look on his face. “What?”

Obi-Wan blinks, coming out of whatever reverie he was in. “Nothing.” He frowns. “Luke, may I take a blood sample?”

Luke frowns at him. “Do I get a choice?”

“Yes,” Anakin says, at the same time as Obi-Wan says, “I’d rather you agreed.”

Luke frowns. “Please don’t.”

“As you say.” Obi-Wan frowns. “Anakin, I believe you have some paperwork to get to. In fact, so do I.”

Anakin makes a face. “See you around, Luke.”

“You know where to find me.” Luke grins.

Anakin snorts. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

#asks #anon #luke goes back in time and says fuck au #this is in no way edited #or thought out #star wars

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giggles-and-freckles · 4 years ago

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Can you do "I'm just a little cold, I'm okay, really. Let me sit with a blanket or something" with anakin (cause desert kid) and obi wan and cuddles?

from these extremely exhausted starters

“And that one?”

“Bassin Minor.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin tried not to sink too deep into the pride Obi-Wan seeped into their bond. “You’ve been studying.”

“You don’t let me do anything else,” Anakin said to shield his own joy at Obi-Wan’s praise. He was a teenager now; Obi-Wan didn’t need to know that Anakin still cared about his opinion.

“Ah, yes,” the older Jedi surveyed the star map thoughtfully. “I had a lapse and momentarily forgot what a terrible, totalitarian teacher I am.”

“I don’t know what that word means, but it sounds like something you’d be.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you should focus on your politics now that you’ve mastered constellations.”

Anakin shifted in his seat. “Politics are stupid.”

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan beamed in jest. “A lesson better learned early on.” A dismal frown replaced his smile. “Unfortunately, they still dictate a large part of our lives.”

“I dictate my own life,” Anakin said with all the confidence of a thirteen-year-old who knew everything. He leaned back in his seat and put his feet on the holo-projector.

Obi-Wan shoved them back to the floor.

“We’re landing soon. Get your parka.”

It was music to Anakin’s ears. It seemed like they’d been flying forever and he wasn’t even being allowed to pilot, so all he had for entertainment was a star map, a broken mouse droid (which he’d finished repairing six hours ago), and Obi-Wan.

Anakin needed off this kriffing ship.

He stood from his seat, quickly–and immediately fell back down. His head suddenly felt heavy and his vision swam. Weird.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan called from the small room in the back of the ship. “Parka! Some time today, please.”

“Coming,” Anakin groaned, standing again–slowly this time–and holding his head as he walked.

Every step toward the back room tugged at muscles that shouldn’t be sore. Maybe he’d just been sitting too long, but it seemed strange for him to suddenly ache all over, when he hadn’t even done any physical training in a few days.

“Here,” Obi-Wan shoved a parka into his chest as soon as he got in the doorway. “Make sure it’s zipped.”

“Okay, okay,” Anakin mumbled, sliding it over his robes.

“If your feet get cold, tell me. I don’t want a repeat of–”

“Master. I’ve been to Halak IV before.”

“Yes, and I practically carried you the entire way back to the ship because you were whining.”

“Oh,” Anakin grinned sheepishly, tugging on his earmuffs. “Right.”

Obi-Wan moved past his Padawan into the main hall. “I’m going to check on the cargo bay and see if everything’s secure for landing. You go ahead to the cockpit and supervise the autopilot.”

“Can’t I put it on manual just for landing?” Anakin pleaded.

“No. Now go.”

Anakin watched his Master walk away with a sour pout. Obi-Wan was no fun when he was stressed–and he was almost always stressed.

He made his way to the cockpit and settled into his seat. Supervise the autopilot. Stupid.

Nothing was visible through the thick atmosphere they were flying through, but they must be getting closer to ground-level because the air in the room ran cold and Anakin barely managed to contain a shiver.

It was strange, because even though his body was freezing, his head felt warm–and still so heavy. He leaned against the back of his seat and tried to pinpoint the pressure. Maybe this atmosphere had less oxygen than they had anticipated?

That could be a problem.

“Hey, Master?” Anakin tried to shout to the back of the ship, but quickly clamped his mouth shut. Obi-Wan had always been impressed with his ability to speak at obscene decibels, but suddenly, Anakin found that his throat was tight and unable to produce more than a whisper.

It had been a little sore earlier, but this was ridiculous.

He rubbed at his throat with a frown and tried again. “Master Obi-Wan!”

The throat only tightened and the pressure in his head amplified. He was so distracted by the pain, he didn’t manage to catch himself before shivering along with the next wave of chills that overtook him.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan’s voice came from behind him.

Anakin spun around his chair and winced. When his feet planted themselves on the ground, the room didn’t stop spinning. “I think–” He pressed on his temple, willing the pain to go away. “I think we read the–stats wrong. The atmosphere seems...ugh, highly pressurised. And not oxygen based.”

Instead of insisting they hadn’t read the stats wrong because Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t do anything wrong as Anakin expected, the older Jedi only stood in the doorway of the cockpit and studied his student with a frown.

“What?” Anakin asked, uncomfortable under his gaze.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh? Nothing.”

“You’re shivering.”

He shrugged as casually as his headache would allow him. “Just cold.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look like he was listening. Instead, he dropped into a crouch in front of Anakin’s chair and laid a palm against Anakin’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Concern flickered through their bond.

Anakin pulled away. “I’m fine.”

“Have you been feeling like this all day?”

“I’m fine, Master.”

“You’re staying on the ship.” And, like that, Obi-Wan was back on his feet and walking out of the cockpit.

“What?” Anakin cried, jumping up to follow. Immediately regretted it. His head–ow, ow, owww.

He fell back into the seat with a groan. “Master!” he yelled, his voice straining and stretching

“You have a fever, Anakin,” Obi-Wan called from the main room before striding back into the cockpit with a heap of emergency blankets. “I’ll drop off the supplies. You stay and rest.”

His voice came out garbled behind all of the blankets, but Anakin understood enough to scoff in protest. “No way, Master! I’ve been stuck at the Temple for your last two missions. I–oof.” His words were cut off as Obi-Wan unceremoniously dropped the heap of fabric into his lap. “Master Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t Master Obi-Wan me. You’re sick and I won’t have you going out into the freezing cold and getting even sicker. Now strap in. We’re landing.”

Anakin made sure to click his seatbelt as loudly as possible and give a disdainful groan to make sure Obi-Wan knew just how unfair this was.

…

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep or how long Obi-Wan had been gone, but it had felt like hours since his Master had gotten off the ship and locked it behind him, leaving Anakin frowning under a few hundred tons of blankets.

But suddenly, he was being lightly jostled and–

“Master?” he slurred, blinked up at the face hovered a couple inches above his.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back. “You’re awake.”

“Why are you on top of me?”

“I’m trying to undo your seatbelt.”

“But you always say that safety is–”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed, but the corners of his lips quivered. “We’re on the way back to Coruscant. The mission went off without a hitch. I have auto-pilot set. Go to the back room and sleep.”

“Not tired,” Anakin lied.

“Bed.”

“I'm just a little cold, I'm okay, really.” Anakin scrambled to sit up and realised he was, in fact, very cold. “Let me sit with a blanket or something.”

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, gently. Why was Obi-Wan being so nice? “I’m worried about you. I’d feel better if you were getting real rest in a real bed.”

“That’s not a real bed,” Anakin pointed out.

“Please.” And something about the way he pleaded instead of demanded it. Like it was a personal favour he was asking his Padawan to complete–

“Okay.”

Anakin didn’t need help walking to the back room, but he let Obi-Wan guide his shoulder anyway, because something told him it’s what Obi-Wan needed.

And it definitely didn’t count as a real bed, but maybe Obi-Wan had been right, because it sure looked more inviting than the stiff seat in the cockpit. He stumbled into it and Obi-Wan’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” the older Jedi asked and, for the first time in Anakin’s life, he thought maybe his Master looked a little unsure of himself.

“No.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan nodded quickly to himself. “Okay. Okay.”

“Master?”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“You said that three times.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed and then chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry.” Then, he looked back at Anakin. “Do you need more blankets?”

Anakin grinned, looking down at the mountain of fabric on top of him. “I think I’m set.” But his teeth chattered anyway and Obi-Wan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t have any medicine,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself, his eyes flickering around the room as if he had the ability to speak it into existence. “I could comm Bant and see if she could–

“Obi?” Anakin asked, too tired to be embarrassed by the old nickname that tumbled through. “I’m okay, but would you–would you just stay?”

He felt like a youngling again–like the nine-year-old who had known nothing about this life and had relied completely on his Master. Obi-Wan had been there for him every single time, even in the midst of losing his own Master. It was something Anakin had only recently found the time to process and be grateful for.

Obi-Wan’s face softened and Anakin felt warmth through their bond. “Of course.”

Anakin moved as far toward the wall as he could and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows lifted of their own accord, like he’d only just realised what Anakin meant by ‘stay.’ In that moment, Anakin’s bravery crumbled–he was so stupid. Too old to ask Obi-Wan to sleep with him. Too grown, too big, too independent–

Obi-Wan climbed into the tiny bed and rested his back against the wall, dropping his hand to rest on Anakin’s head, his fingers absentmindedly moving through the small curls that had formed in the absence of a haircut.

“Hey, Master?” Anakin said, his voice coming out quiet and croaky. Relieved. At peace. Safe.

“Yes, young one?”

“You’re good at taking care of people.”

The tiny movements in his hair froze for a moment and Anakin wondered if he’d said something wrong. But then–the movements resumed and Anakin didn’t need to see his Master to sense his smile. Obi-Wan’s smiles were always like this. The genuine ones anyway. Blinding and merciless in the way they spread through a room, touching every heart in their path and almost always pulling smiles in response.

Anakin thought he was pretty lucky to get to be on the receiving end so often.

#my fic #I guess obi & ani cuddles are just the vibe for the week #obi & ani #the PADAWAN years #soft sweet boys #I just wrote this one in my classroom bc one of my students walked up to me and was BEAMING that he passed a hard test #so I gave him a fist bump and told him I was proud of him and I watched this kid STRUGGLE to not grin at me #and I was like oh #OH #that’s anakin skywalker #anon you know my heart bc platonic cuddles are my THING #this one got obnoxiously long SORRY #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #writing prompts #sw fanfiction

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mylovelies-docx · 4 years ago

Text

Silent Lovers

Inspired by THIS post.

Just a cute little fluffy piece I wrote. It hasn’t been proofed, so any mistakes are mine.

Word Count: 2350

Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff!

You fell in love with him just a little bit more every day.

His actions, his mannerisms, the glimmer in his eyes spoke of a man infinitely amused and in awe of the universe around him despite everything it had put him through. Poe Dameron may have been the Resistance’s best pilot, but he was also the reason so many people joined in the fight. Including you.

_____________

You had seen him buying galactic fruit from a bazaar on an allied planet that you had called home for years. His insignia emblazoned jacket marked him as a good guy, but his smile marked him as a kind man. His straight white teeth were easily visible, and his deep smile lines indicated a lifetime of grins.

You were too far away to hear their conversation, but you could tell that the stall owner was quite taken with him. They were laughing boisterously and exchanging quips rapid fire, pulling others around them into the conversation. The gravity of Poe Dameron sucked you in as well, and you orbited the outskirts of the group.

Poe was recruiting new members to his cause using only his charisma and charm. He never faltered on reasons to join and never stumbled through the sales pitch. He was confident in himself and his ability to sell the war efforts to this small group of traders and civilians. He succeeded, too.

You gained passage on a cargo ship heading to the Resistance base to supply yourself as a new recruit. Working as a mechanic for most of your life lent itself as a boon to your placement on base, and having sufficient flight and combat skills meant you could also be a substitute pilot on missions when required. But with so many X-wings coming in damaged and in need of repair after skirmishes with the First Order, your feet were planted firmly on the ground. Which was alright by you since all of your new friends were fellow mechanics or mission control crew.

It was also fine by you since you were able to discreetly observe Poe Dameron in his natural element as Commander and pilot. There were so many talented mechanics that you weren’t able to gain access to Poe’s X-wing, and therefore you were unable to get to know him up close. But you were content to watch from the sidelines and learn who he was by watching his interactions with others.

___________________

He had a smile or a special handshake with nearly everyone when things were calm. You could tell that he genuinely enjoyed speaking with and knowing everyone he worked with; whether that be the droids helping to repair his ship or the runners that brought out rations who were too young to fight. You enjoyed seeing his smile, since it was the first little thing you fell in love with.

Poe also had a habit of singing - quite loudly - when he was working on a task and feeling particularly playful. He was actually a good singer, but when Snap or Jessika gave him a look to shut up, he purposefully sang off key and out of tune to irritate them further. They would just roll their eyes and pretend to be annoyed, but they smiled when they looked away. Poe noticed these smiles and grinned even wider when he caught them.

Poe had even gotten his little droid, BB-8, to beep along with him. Poe would start whistling a tune and BB-8 would pick up right alongside him. It was cute to see the droid sway back and forth while it was ‘singing’, but your focus was drawn to the sound of Poe’s voice as he started up the chorus.

Whether or not his singing was out of contentment or playfulness, you loved to hear it. You often hummed along to yourself, five or six stations away on the opposite side of the hangar, far out of reach of Poe’s ears and eyes.

You loved to hear him sing, because that meant everything was okay for the moment. Your heart skipped a beat every time you caught even a note.

__________________

The constantly tousled brown curls that rested on Poe’s head were disastrous to your heart, as well. Anxious or nervous, laughing or silly, Poe was notorious for running his hands through his hair and shaking out the curls. You saw him do this on many occasions, unfortunately they were mostly out of stress and fear.

Before an important mission, Poe would give his team a pep talk and try to instill a fearlessness in them. He would be serious and stoic, resting a hand on someone’s shoulder and pointing and motioning with the other. He would clap twice then rub his hands together feverishly, dismissing his squadron and turning his focus onto preparing himself. Poe would take a deep breath with his hands on his hips, then on the exhale scrub his hands frantically through his hair. His face was always set in a determined expression, but you could tell by the chaotic set of his curls how anxious he really was.

On one such ritual, Poe caught you staring from across the hangar. You froze for a second, mentally berating yourself for watching him for too long.

Heart in your throat and stomach somewhere around your knees, you gave a weak smile and two thumbs up. Your first interaction with the man you were silently in love with.

Poe gave a little huff of laughter and mimicked your gesture. With a small grin on his lips and in seemingly better spirits, he climbed into his X-wing and pulled a helmet over his beautifully disheveled hair.

******

Poe Dameron knew a lot of people, but he didn’t know you. You, who he’d never seen before until that day. You were cute in an unassuming way; flushed cheeks and messy hair, grease stains on your clothes and face. The little thumbs up you had given him was enough to get him in his cockpit and out into the fray. You had no idea how much he had needed encouragement from someone other than himself in that moment.

After that mission, Poe took to watching you. You didn’t know each other, but he liked to think he knew you just by observing.

He fell in love with you a little bit more every day.

Your expressions, your posture, your smile that lit up a room and illuminated everything within its path. You may have been one of the best mechanics on base, but you were also one of the loveliest people Poe had never met.

______________

Poe was not typically shy; he had a loud mouth, a hot temper, and no impulse control. But when it came to you, he was a nervous wreck. Every time he got up the courage to introduce himself, someone either came along and roped him into a mission or you were so busy that you didn’t hear him clearing his throat behind you. (Those times were mortifying: Snap and Jess would chortle unabashedly at his misfortune, dying over the way he would ring his hands behind his back as he waited for you to turn around and notice him. Poe only ever stuck around for a few seconds until his courage was gone, but those few seconds were embarrassing.) He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt your work when you were so invested.

Your eyebrows would furrow together and create a little line right in the middle, tempting Poe to smooth it out; your mouth would curl up like you had witnessed something distasteful, begging Poe to give you something more to your liking, but sometimes you’d bite your lower lip and stick your tongue out in concentration, sending Poe’s blood careening through every vein; you would be hunched so far over your work bench that you basically had your chin pressed against the table, but Poe loved the way your face softened as you finally figured out what was wrong with the part in your hands.

One time, Poe sat huddled in the hangar with a group of pilots, waiting on the sudden storm to pass so that they could go out and train, when he noticed you run off into the rain. He sat mesmerized with a goofy grin on his mouth as he saw you fling your arms open and raise your face into the oncoming water. Your eyes were closed and your mouth was open in a wide smile full of pretty teeth. You spun in a circle a few times and nearly lost your balance, sending you into a fit of giggles that, unbeknownst to you, Poe joined in on.

Jessika shoved an elbow into Snap’s waist when she caught their Commander with such a gooey expression. They both gave each other a look and brought Poe back into the conversation.

******

You really didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore. Poe was all you could think of in your spare time and you ran the risk every day that he would catch you watching him again. But you couldn’t help it; he was just so handsome and good. You couldn’t get over this stupid, silent crush no matter how hard you fought it.

He doesn’t even know who you are, just that you’re some nerfherder that he caught staring at him.

A few months had passed since that happened, and you were no closer to knowing Poe on a personal level. Interestingly enough, though, Jessika Pava and Snap Wexley were becoming fast friends of yours. You were a bit intimidated at first, but they were both nice and funny, so you quickly let down your guard and hung out with them. They often brought up Poe, which made your cheeks warm everytime. You didn’t miss the knowing looks they gave you when you turned your face down and away from their prying eyes.

_________

It was an uncommonly windy day on D’Qar, so all of the pilots were grounded and unable to practice maneuvers. Everyone was resting on or against a pile of supply crates in the hangar, chatting and having a good time. You didn’t want to interrupt them, but you needed some materials from the crate that Jessika was situated on. Since you knew her and knew she wouldn’t be bothered by your interruption, you made your way over to the group quietly.

Poe was standing beside Snap on Jess’s other side, so you sidled up behind her and whispered in her ear:

“Boo.”

Jessika jolted off of the box and whirled around to face you. You were laughing so hard that you were bent over at the waist with tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from seizing the prime opportunity.

“Maker! You scared me half to death!” Jessika scolded, wagging a finger at you. Her heart was still racing, but she couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologized, wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You were still grinning from ear to ear and huffing out little breaths of laughter, causing Poe’s heart to constrict in his chest at the sight. You were so cute it hurt.

You were so close it hurt. You weren’t looking at him, but he could see your face up close for the first time, and it took his breath away. He had seen a million beautiful people across the galaxy, but there was something about you that was special in a way that none of them had been.

Jessika glanced quickly away from your smiling face to catch Poe with his mouth slightly open and eyes wide with longing. Finally, she had gotten these two idiots within speaking distance.

“Whatever: I forgive you. By the way…” Jessika said. Her eyes darted towards Poe, and yours followed along. Your breath stuttered out of your lungs as Jess grabbed Poe by the arm and tugged him closer. “Have you met Commander Dameron?”

Jessika released Poe’s arm and shoved him closer towards you. Poe nearly stumbled over his feet at the sudden pressure. He turned to give Jess a quick glare, but faced you again immediately. Your eyes were wide and your face was either still flushed from laughter or from nerves; either way, Poe was enamored.

“Poe,” he introduced. He extended an open palm towards you, hoping like hell that it wasn’t sweaty. His heart was racing, but a crooked grin stretched across one side of his face in anticipation.

“I know,” you replied, extending your hand in return. You cringed at your reply, pausing your hand on its way to meet his. You made a quick finger blaster with that same hand to point out that you had caught your slip. Poe chuckled adoringly at this gesture and proceeded to clasp hands when yours returned to the correct position.

You were absolutely horrified by what came out of your mouth and whatever the Maker your hand just did. Your social anxiety was at an all time high right now, and you weren’t making it any easier on yourself. You were shaky and you just knew that your underarms were pouring liquid, so you kept your one arm extended to shake Poe’s hand and the other crossed over your chest to grasp your opposite bicep. Even through the nerves, you could feel how warm his hand was.

Poe had a large and calloused hand, proof of all the years he had spent fighting. It radiated heat into your own palm and you didn’t know whose hand was providing all the sweat. Despite the awkwardness you had shoehorned into this meeting, you were thankful that it was finally happening.

“(Y/N),” you supplied.

“I know,” Poe grinned.

You had both fallen in love from a distance and now had the opportunity to fall in love up close and personal, building on top of the foundation you had both laid together silently and without the other’s notice.

You were no longer silent lovers, appreciating and admiring from afar, but finally intimate acquaintances.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron/reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron/you #poe dameron x y/n #star wars #star wars fan fiction #sequel trilogy

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elderbwrry · 3 years ago

Text

Girls' Night

tags: the knights of ren, All Women Knights of Ren, Girl's night, Girl's Knight, haha please like me, Fluff and Humor, Adversarial Kylux, Very much a WIP, Kylux, although fair warning it might not be that relationshippy

Read it on ao3

Summary: Hux is surprised by what the Knights of Ren get up to in their free time - it's strangely humanising. Unfortunately, Ren is still being the Lord of all Assholes. Hux needs a way to get back at him. It gives him an idea.

Hux marched down the corridor in the Finalizer's quarters deck, the section dedicated to command personnel. The immaculately tiled and polished floors glinted as he whipped past them. He was walking a little faster than usual, he noticed with distaste, but it wasn't surprising; this was his last task before he could officially count his shift as “over” and, instead of standing stiffly on the bridge checking reports, he could settle down to checking them in the comfort of his quarters. His sofa beckoned, along with another three hours of beloved admin, then five necessary hours of sleep before his next shift.

Moments ticked by as he had to pause and wait for a security door to open, and he felt his frustration manifesting itself in his brow. He was currently delaying himself by heading approximately six minutes out of the way of his own quarters, all to give Ren little more than a telling off. This wasn't the first time the glorified poser had caused him this kind of issue – trust Ren to get in the way, he excelled at it – but it was the first time Hux was personally carrying the message round to his quarters that he needed to file a report for the mission he returned from over a week ago.

Hux had tried the usual ways of getting hold of Ren; on his return to the ship, Hux had informed him a report was due; an automated reminder had been sent; a follow-up reminder had been sent; Hux sent a reminder himself. Today, when his agenda noted that Ren still remained unresponsive, Hux hailed him over internal comms. No reply. He called Mitaka in, intending to send him to Ren's quarters, but the poor man had paled at the knight's very name. So, Hux had dismissed him, and undertaken to deliver the message himself.

Hux didn't bother to wonder the reason why Ren wasn't completing the report – undoubtedly it was because he was irresponsible, disrespectful, possibly illiterate – he only amused himself to wonder what foolish excuse would be employed this time. “Meditation,” Hux's mind supplied in a mocking approximation of Ren's voice without that ostentatious helmet, “important Force matters,” “training,” “I was just really tired and forgot :(”

He was just shaking his head disapprovingly at the imagined pout as he drew up outside the door itself. He pressed the button to request entry, pushing it harder than necessary until his thumb joint hurt, as if somehow that would convey through the automated, equalized buzz sound how annoyed he was with Ren taking up his time like this.

The door puffed open, and Hux's mouth was already opened to give Ren a piece of his mind when he realised that the person in front of him was not, in fact, Ren. Instead, stood before him was a woman nearly a head shorter than himself, her long, black hair piled on her head in a decidedly non-regulation messy bun, drawn away from her face, on which was slathered some kind of light pink paste. She was wrapped in a fluffy, pink dressing gown, under which appeared to be heart patterned pink pyjamas.

Hux's planned rebuke of Ren fell away into an, “Uh.” Usually, he had time to prepare himself for any kind of non-work-related interactions, but he had planned to go into this with a clipped, righteous annoyance and come out of it with a self-indulgent bit of riling Ren up, and now that Ren was not available for that, he had nothing.

“Yes?” she said, about as neutrally as Hux supposed anyone would, when called upon while attired as she was.

“I must have the wrong quarters,” was what he managed to reply.

“These aren't mine,” she explained, pointing behind her, around a corner which Hux couldn't see, “You looking for Kylo?”

“Yes,” Hux said stiffly, “is Ren here?”

The woman leaned back inside the door, around the corner Hux still couldn't see. “Kyle!” she called, “visitor.”

“He's not getting up, wet nails!” someone called back, another female sounding voice.

Just what was happening in there? How many women were there, and what were they doing in Ren's quarters, of all places, clad in such unofficial wear? Hux shuddered to think. Was he also going to have to remind Ren of the rules against fraternisation with inferior officers? That was sure to be a fun conversation of Ren not giving a kriff and Hux being able to do little but barb his words and maybe mention the situation to Snoke. Odd, though – Hux had never thought Ren had showed any preference for women... or perhaps that had just been wishful thinking.

The woman before him remained still for a moment, her brown eyes glazing over just slightly in a way which made Hux think she wasn't entirely mentally present. Then the look was gone as soon as it had come, and she frowned, annoyed. “He wants you to leave,” she informed him, “but he wasn't very nice about it, so you're coming in.” She turned and retreated back inside, beckoning casually for him to follow.

After a moment, once Hux's brain had caught up – Ren had just communicated with the woman through the Force, and now he was being invited in against those wishes. He slipped through the door, letting it puff closed behind him.

The first fact of the place was that Ren's quarters were larger than Hux's. Hux had known this, of course – he'd scoffed over the confirmation for the allocation when Ren had first transferred over, perfectly happy to take moderately sized quarters himself – but, as he walked down the grandly inlaid corridor from the entrance antechamber to what was presumably a living space, it contributed to the sense of an impending mystery as to what, exactly, he was about to discover. He hoped it was nothing too debauched.

“You're that General, aren't you?” the woman a step in front of him asked over her shoulder. “Hanks? Hugs?”

“Hux,” he corrected. He disliked intensely when people got his name wrong. He was the General of the ship they were all currently hurtling through space on, he was the General Starkiller – how could she not know who he was? “Who are you?”

“Ushar,” she replied easily. No rank, no designation of any sort, no actual deference to him as a General; all things Hux made a mental note of for later, when he could check the ship manifest.

“Might I ask what you're...”

Hux had begun to speak with an acerbic self-confidence – it was his ship, and he demanded to know what was happening on it – but it all became clear when Ushar opened the door to the central living area and the situation was revealed. It was the second time Hux had been caused to falter in his words in the last five minutes, and he didn't appreciate it. “What is this?” he asked, minorly horrified, as he took in the scene before him.

Ushar shrugged. “Girls' night.”

The room looked like some kind of stereotypical, tacky imitation of a Zeltronian spa had taken over. There were tall glasses of something bubbly scattered around, half-drunk, the bottle chilling in a bucket of ice on the coffee table, which was scattered with cosmetic items. A holo-romance was playing off to the side. Boxes of chocolates fountained forth crunched up wrappers. There were four women – two humans, a zabrak and a twi'lek – lounging around in the pit of cushions the room had been turned into. The cushions were allpink to match the identical pink bath robes and headbands and fluffy slippers the room's inhabitants were sporting. And, at the centre of it all; Ren.

“You...” Hux started, under his breath just enough that no-one would take notice of the stammering. He had certainly not expected this. “I...”

Ren, clad too in pink fluffy bath robe, seemingly with nothingunder it this time, finally took notice that Ushar had led Hux in, as he sat up quickly and angrily, removing slices of some green vegetable from over his eyes. The woman who had been painting his toenails – black, possibly the only thing that could reconcile the Ren Hux was used to with this strange, pink perversion before him – protested, but he ignored her, instead hurrying to his feet and wading his way out of the pillows.

“I told you to make him leave,” Ren growled at Ushar, but the effect was considerably diminished thanks to his appearance. The bathrobe he wore was the short, fun kind of style which only came to his knees; the pink headband kept all his hair back from his face gave him a kooky sort of bird's nest; his face was slathered with a light green version of what Ushar had on, all except for comical spaces around his eyes and lips.

Ushar glared at him. “You shouldn't have ordered me like that, then,” she said, going over to sit next to the zabraki woman, shuffling in closer than was strictly platonic and picking up one of the glasses. “I'm not some stormtrooper.”

“You're ruining the night,” Ren brandished the vegetable slice at her. It wobbled.

“You'reruining the night!” the woman Ushar was sat next to shot back. “He's here after you!”

“Yeah, Kyle,” the twi'lek said from the sofa in a tone that was very much mocking, but still friendly, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Who were these people, that they could speak to Kylo Ren like this and get away with it?

Ren turned back to Hux, glowering. The face paste made him look like a clown. The outside finally reflects the inside, Hux thought to himself while wondering if Ren had waxed his legs or if they were just like that naturally, and had to force himself not to laugh. He obviously didn't mask his expressions quite as well as he should have, however, because Ren seemed to sense that Hux was amusing himself at his expense. Seizing Hux's upper arm in a grip to rival that of a hangar-bay droid, Ren manhandled Hux back to the door of the room, away from the group.

“Unhand me, you oaf,” Hux admonished, shaking Ren off him and lowering his tone a little so as not to disturb the ladies, who, in their disregard of Ren's plumped-up edginess, had endeared themselves to him.

“Why are you here?” Ren demanded before he'd even finished speaking, also at subdued pitch.

“Why are you here?” Hux returned, hissingly. “Who are these people? Why are you not completing the mission report which you have had no fewer than five requests for? Why the hells are your quarters this gods-awful colour?”

Ren took a moment to glare at Hux.

Hux interpreted this as having the upper hand. “Well?”

“I'm not completing any more of your stupid kriffing reports,” he said as if it were obvious. “I told you that already.”

Hux cycled through his memory quickly. He remembered Ren slamming down the last report onto his desk and threatening something similar, but he'd disregarded it, because reports were Necessary, and it was not a possibility for anyone to simply not do them.

“You will do the report,” Hux replied.

“No.”

“You'll do it now.”

Ren snorted. “No.”

Hux bristled. “Ren, I have been forced to come down here – well out of my way – to extract this report from you, only to find you sitting around like some... pampered princess, when I could be-”

“Good point actually, let's return to it. What are you doing down here?” Ren frowned and crossed his arms, but his lips curled cruelly, ready, Hux was sure, to make some insult about his doing such menial work.

“That brings me to the next matter,” Hux plucked the opportunity of throwing in this additional argument, squaring up. “You have intimidated my administrative staff to the point where it is necessary that I waste my time in a way which is thoroughly unacceptable to me.”

Ren widened his eyes in mock sympathy. “Did you forget how to use a comm?”

This only pissed Hux off more, because something about the movement was ridiculously attractive. He wasn't sure whether it was the slight shrug which emphasised Ren's muscular arms, the fact that the pink really brought out the rich shade of his hair, or even the cruelty behind the act itself, but it could not stand.

“I'm quite familiar with the comms system,” he spat, “it seems that you are the one having trouble, since you failed to reply to my hails. As my co-commander,” (Hux had practised in his bathroom mirror not grimacing as he said this) “you are expected to answer your comms when I call. It is highly unprofessional of you to shirk your duty like this.”

Ren momentarily pursed his lips. His next words were caustic. “I don't intend to waste my life away at work like you do, slaving over a tablet until I look like the living dead. At least I know how to relax.”

Hux's eye twitched. “I know how to relax.” An imagined image of himself on his icy blue sofa in his black and red robe, his cat to one side, his data-pad in hand, appeared in his mind. That was relaxing.

“No you don't,” Ren scoffed. “You should see the bags under your eyes. You look more drawn out than all the Starkiller blueprints put together.”

Mentally, Hux's self-image adjusted so that his porcelain skin turned grey, the lines of his face more prominent, the room dark until only he was visible by the harsh light of the data-pad. It could not have been more different than his current surroundings of pink and fluffiness and companionship and soft lighting.

“Get out of my head, Ren,” he said, putting the warping of his imagined scene down to some Force meddling.

“I'm not in your head,” Ren replied, “you're just sad and lonely and jealous that you have to go do a report while I have a nice night with my knights – my friends. You,” he pointed sassily, “could never have this,” he pointed back to the ladies. “Now kriff off, I'm not doing the report. Maybe you should do it yourself, since you have such a boner for that kind of thing.” The door far behind Hux puffed open, presumably manipulated by the Force.

“I expect the report before the end of my shift tomorrow,” Hux said, voice dangerous and low. How dare Ren speak to him like that. How dare he judge what Hux did to relax, while he was being a layabout with these random, cool ladies... doing... fun things like... painting nails and getting tipsy... and watching holo-dramas... and... he wasn't jealous.

“Leave,” Kylo told him.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “You will regret this, Ren.” He turned on his heel and marched from the room, commenting to himself once more as the door puffed closed behind him, “You will regret this.”

[line break]

Kylo watched Hux retreat from the room, waiting until the door had closed to turn and make his way back to his knights. He flopped himself back down onto the floor, jostling Ap'lek's sofa cushions in the process.

“Ah kriff,” he complained as he saw his black-smudged toes stretched out in front of him, “he made me ruin my nail paint.”

“I'm not doing them again,” Trudgen said, tossing the little black bottle at him, shifting around to watch the holo and grabbing a chocolate. “You shoulda been more careful when you got up instead of rushing off to be a bitch.”

Kylo sighed over-dramatically and called out, “Cardo!” She and Kuruk were in the kitchen, probably making an unsightly mess of the place, but Kylo knew only she would be willing to finish the paint for him. Of course, he would have to take the chance that the stuff would end up even more smudged than it already was, and, now he was thinking about it, he would probably be better off just dipping his entire feet in nail polish.

A chocolate wrapper hit the side of his head. He turned to see Ushar had thrown it. “Just do it yourself,” she told him, “it's not like it's hard.”

But he wanted to feel spoiled, that was the whole point of this spa evening anyway. He called Cardo's name again, whinier this time.

“What?!” came the shouted reply, “We're making mug muffins!”

Vicrul frowned, straightening up a little where her arm was thrown around Ushar's shoulders. “In the microwave?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh,” Vicrul shrugged, settling back down again. “Good luck cleaning that.”

Kylo groaned, letting his head fall back onto the sofa cushion behind him. First Hux was on him about a report, then none of his knights would do his nails for him, now Cardo was splattering his lovely microwave with chocolate batter. This was all Hux's fault. Kylo wasn't sure how yet, but it was.

He opened his eyes to see Ap'lek looking down at him, where his head rested by her left elbow. “What's this about a report then?” she asked flatly. Kylo just groaned again and re-closed his eyes.

“You can't be procrastinating this stuff again,” Ushar nagged him over the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a smell of chocolate, and a thunk-clink of a tray with spoons being set down on the table as the cooks brought the muffins through. “Your job is important, here, Kylo. Snoke wants you to do well.”

“To hell with Snoke,” Kylo mumbled, hoping the crusty fart wasn't spying on his thoughts as they spoke. Paperwork was a fate worse than a fate worse than all the Sith hells combined.

“Then we want you to do well,” she continued.

“Plus we blew up so much shit on that mission,” Vicrul added, and Kylo opened his eyes to glare at her as she accepted a mug from Kuruk.

“You have to tell the General about that some time, why not put it in a report? You'd save him lots of time, probably. I bet he'd be so appreciative.”

Kylo accepted a mug proffered by Kuruk and waved it about a bit. “Since when do we care about saving Hux time? I meant what I said, he loves paperwork so much he probably,” he picked up a spoon and stabbed it into the fluffy top of the muffin, watching steam come out as he tried to pick a suitably ridiculous image of Hux. “He probably sleeps with all the files strewn over his bed and like,” he made a face, “rubs them on his body, gets all cozy with them at night. I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure he does paperwork on his data-pad,” Ap'lek said, and she was right, though Kylo resented that she'd killed his roll.

“Just do the kriffing report, Kyle.” Trudgen hadn't pulled her attention away from the holo enough to face him as she'd said it, but apparently had been paying enough attention to comment, “Anything to stop him showing up and interrupting us. Girls' night is a no-business zone.”

Cardo chose that moment to vault over the back of the sofa and land heavily on the cushions. “Ooh, General Hux came over?” she asked cheerfully. Her hands were, predictably, still coated in chocolate powder. “I can't believe I missed him, I want to see if his hair is gelled that solid from close up.” She grabbed her mug and dug into the muffin.

“The General shouts too much,” Kuruk said, sitting cross legged on a cushion by the coffee table. “He should check his blood pressure, it can't be good for him.”

“Hey, a bit like you!” Cardo added, “You must call me through next time. He's cute.”

Kylo opened his mouth – partly to gape at what had just been said, and partly because the muffin was too hot and he hadn't had the impulse control to prevent eating a large spoonful. “Hey!” he started a few times, mouth full and burning. Finally, he was able to swallow. “He is not cute, and there will be no,” he wobbled his mug and spoon in a no-fingered version of quotation marks, “next time.”

“Then do the report,” Ushar shot back.

Kylo made a loud complaint noise.

“He's not gonna do it because he wants the General to come over again,” Ap'lek teased, and, to Kylo's horror, all his knights laughed. Traitors. He didn't want Hux to come over again.

“I don't,” he replied vehemently, “I want him to kriff off and stop annoying me.”

“I think that's against his job description,” Kuruk said, prompting further laughs.

“You should just do it,” Ushar said, getting to her feet after a moment more.

“Hey, where you going?” Vicrul asked sadly, not letting go of Ushar's hand.

“Babe, I gotta peel my face.”

“Wait, let me come with, it's really satisfying.”

The two disappeared off, and Kylo had to add 'his knights screwing in his bathroom' to his list of sub-par things to happen this evening. He wasn't going to do the report. He couldn't be bothered, he didn't want to, he hated writing things and making them sound 'formal'. No, tonight he was going to finish his mug muffin, paint his nails and fall asleep with his knights in front of a trashy holo-romance. Hux would get the hell in eventually and do the report himself. Give it a few more days, and Kylo was sure Hux would drop the issue.

#kylux #fanfiction #my writing #girls night #armitage hux #kylo ren #knights of ren #the knights of ren #star wars #star wars sequels

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monako-jinn-stories · 3 years ago

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Boba Fett X GN!Reader FanFic

The Tribute

Ahh the final part!! I really loved the words shared between them in this chapter, they feel so raw and emotional to me! I hope you all enjoy!

Master List

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven (18+)

Chapter Seven (PG) ~ Final Part