NEVER BREAK THE CHAIN

NEVER BREAK THE CHAIN

➢ 01. WORLD GONE WRONG

a/n: guess who watched too many jurassic park movies and then took one look at din with an idea.. this was just a funny fic at first and then it kind of became something else entirely. i had been plotting it for a long time, but i'm finally ready to write it. hopefully y'all enjoy!

dedicated to: @softanon for listening to me ramble about this fic and working some kinks out of it. you're amazing babes. thank you!

summary: years after you lost contact and parted ways, din comes back into your life. in the most drastic way possible. all starting with the offer of a new position as head of a genetics lab.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, broken hearts, alcohol, bad explanation of genetics/science, the beginning of the end.

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“Can anyone tell me what the difference between genomes and genes are?” Twirling the pen between your fingers, you watched the students raise their hands one by one, each of them exhibiting the same amount of confidence. 

Others refused to meet your eye, suddenly finding other aspects of the lecture hall far more intriguing. You didn’t blame them. Back when you were in their spot you wouldn’t be the first to answer the question either. Too afraid of what might happen if you did. You picked at random—a younger man who funnily enough wore a dress shirt and pants.

“Genes are a segment of DNA while genomes are the entire genetic material of an organism.”

“Correct!” you said. “Now, we’re talking about genes specifically today, because the lab I’ve constructed for next week allows you to pick apart and study aspects of DNA from different species.”

A single glance at the clock told you that time was almost up. You reached for the stack of worksheets you printed out—almost killing the staff printer in the process—and handed them to the first student you came across. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the man sitting towards the door. A briefcase on the desk in front of him and his tie dutifully pressed down along his shirt. You weren’t sure why it took you so long to realize that he wasn’t a student, but there you were—attempting to identify the symbol on his bag.

“Professor?”

Your attention snapped back to the class. “Yes?”

“Will this be a part of the midterm?”

“No. This is just something we’re looking over.”

The man had yet to leave, his eyes watching you as you maneuvered around the room and a thought in the back of your head told you to run. Once class is over you should grab your things and take off with the rest of the students. But like an idiot, you decided to do the complete opposite. Dismissing the class, you answered questions here and there for those that needed clarification about the upcoming class. All of which you were happy to answer, but the man still had yet to leave and he’d begun to make his way to the front of the room.

Heading directly towards your desk.

“Do we have to bring anything extra to the lab?”

You couldn’t recall the students name, but you recognized the denim jacket she wore. “No. We’ll be heading down to the campus labs for this one so everything will already be there.”

She nodded. “Have a good rest of your day professor.”

Waving, you felt the weight fall on your shoulders as no one but you and him remained. He stood quietly beside your desk, the symbol on his bag much clearer and yet still a mystery; it would help if he talked, but something told you that he was doing this on purpose. 

So, you chose to ignore his presence. Instead focusing on the task at hand, which was shoving all the ungraded papers into your bag—your hot cup of coffee having gone cold. If you had the chance, you’d escape to the cafe across the street, but it seemed you wouldn’t be so lucky.

He dropped a packet on the desk in front of you, jolting you out of your numerous escape plans. “You are the only certified geneticist that works on campus, correct?”

Some fucking decency would have helped his case. Dropping the remainder of your papers into your bag, you shoved it onto your shoulder—intent on leaving him here. You knew his pitch before he even said it. First they confirmed exactly who you were so they didn’t look stupid when attempting to recruit you. And then they started their grandiose rant. Going on and on about how their company wished to shape the world; how they were a year away from issuing needed change. Half of the time you never listened to what bullshit they were spouting—like a hose that never turned off quite right.

“I’m not interested,” you said, turning on your heel and heading directly towards the door.

He blocked your way out. “I promise what I have to say is worth your while.”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

“Can you please let me—”

“No,” you stated. Fixing him with what you hoped turned out to be a withering stare.

“You’re one of the top geneticists in this country; graduated with a doctorate degree in the field before coming to teach here. You could have applied your skills at a lab but you—” Shoving past him you made it five steps out the door before he ran in front of you again. “Please. Just hear me out.”

“I don’t see why I should.”

Maybe you were being harsh, but after years of turning down offer after offer, people didn’t seem to understand that you didn’t do this to change the world. Half of the time change ended in disaster. So you chose to offer your knowledge to others who might need it more than you—students that could actually apply their skill somewhere. You were never one to take orders lightly. Never one to follow the rules. Working for a company would only hinder you in the long run than help you reach your final goal.

“We were given a recommendation to come recruit you.”

You sighed, stopping to finally regard him. “Look, I don’t know who put in this recommendation, but that won’t make me change my mind. I’m happy being a professor.” 

Thankfully he allowed you to walk past him this time, but you didn’t get very far.

“He told me to tell you that it came from Rook.” Freezing, you whipped around to face him, the disbelief clear on your face. “He said…you’d know what that meant.”

“He put in the recommendation?” How was that possible? The last you heard from him was…the night before he left—the night that everything changed and life shifted entirely. “He’s…working for you?”

“Well not yet,” he replied, grasping for a small envelope in his bag. “He still has to go through the final stages of training, learning what his job will be, but when he asked if we’ve hired geneticists your name was the first one up.” He handed the dingy looking white paper off to you, a scrawled out name on the front clearly marking it as his handwriting. “He said to give that to you if I found you.”

The breath caught in your throat as you looked down, the name Bishop written across the front in pen. You knew that handwriting better than you knew your own, having seen it on small notes you found scattered across your shared apartment. Fuck it was nearly a decade ago and still…you felt your heart twist violently in your chest—the memory of him, so real that you swore you could touch it. He’d always been there in a way. At the back of your mind and for so long you figured you’d never encounter him again.

Given that his path led him across the oceans to a different country. While yours left you to remain right where you were. Living on the campus where you met him, teaching the same classes you took with him—connected to him even after he couldn’t promise you forever.

“Why?” Your voice had gone soft, eyes tracing over every curved letter of his writing.

“You’re the best. That’s all he told us.”

Typical of him to give the simplest explanation possible. You wanted to bet that if you opened the envelope you’d find nothing but a few words written on the paper. Even when you were with him he didn’t talk much about what he wanted for himself—more about what he wanted for the both of you. A house, a family. Hell, maybe even a dog. You were both lost in the fantasy land of falling head over heels for one another that you never stopped to think of the all too crushing reality.

It swept you away from him faster than you could call out his name and…that was it. He was never to be heard from again.

So why now?

“Where do you work?” you asked, hesitant about even considering this job. Changing positions now would make it a nightmare for the students.

“G.I.” He fumbled for the business card in his pocket. “Genetics Incorporated. Which was founded—”

“Yeah I know about G.I.” It had been your dream job ever since high school. A chance to finally put the science you found so fascinating to good use. “I can’t believe you bastards are still around.”

The man’s pale skin flushed red. “Well…we made it somehow.”

“Don’t you mean you made it by stealing ideas from other scientists in order to make your name worldwide?”

Their history was dark and it spread throughout the years. Part of why you didn’t join their ranks was due to their previous court cases. Being sued over scientific ideas that were stolen never shed a good light on the company, but there they were. What the fuck was he doing working for them in the first place? He must have known their history—their past with the scientific community. You turned around and ran when they first offered you a position; already knowing what side of history you preferred to be on.

“What exactly are you working on?”

The man stumbled over his words, referencing the now slightly crumpled packet in his hands. “It’s highly classified material, but they told me to tell you that they are attempting genetic splicing with different organisms.”

“Gene splicing?” you exclaimed, snatching the packet from him. “That’s never been attempted before on anything except plants.”

From what they gave you it seemed like a bullshit version of a professor’s published paper. They wanted to give you as many flowery and enticing words as possible with little to no information. So when you joined you felt like you made the right choice. You’d seen it so many times it was hard to keep track, but as you turned to the last page you noticed a different type of genetic code. One that wouldn’t be seen necessarily in plants but in…animals.

“What would they need the DNA of reptiles for?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Ah…I’m afraid that’s above my pay-grade.”

Reading through this packet wasn’t what you really wanted to do. But you couldn’t open his letter here. Not when you were on the brink of actually running away from yet another job prospect. You know why you chose teaching as your profession, why you still remained someplace where life was good. Fear kept you here. Except the mere idea of seeing him again, of getting a chance to finally hash out the past both of you ignored for so long—it made you want to say yes without an ounce of hesitation.

Only you were never that person.

“Can I think about it?” You already knew what your answer would be; you just needed his final push.

The man nodded. “Of course! The number is on the business card when you’re ready to talk more.”

You left before he could say anymore, his letter clutched in your hand and a new feeling in your heart. One you weren’t sure you particularly liked very much.

After a grueling drive home, you finally shut the door on your apartment and nearly slid down to the ground. The work day kept you on your feet for hours at a time, but receiving this letter…it tipped you over the edge. Yanking off your shoes, you walked barefoot to the fridge and pulled out a beer, needing a bit of alcohol to entice you enough to open the letter. Liquid courage is what he used to call it.

His voice was still in your mind after all these years. His words now echoing back to you, whispering in your ear and telling you not to be such a chicken shit. To take the leap for something you’d wanted since you were practically a kid. Swallowing the beer, you collapsed on the couch and let out a breath you’d been holding in since seeing his scrawled handwriting. It didn’t hit you until that moment that…you missed him. As mad as you were at him for leaving, you still longed to be in his presence.

“No time like the present,” you whispered, turning the letter over and ripping open the back.

A small folded paper was pulled out, nothing on the back except a small ink stain. Your hand shook slightly as you opened it up, terrified of what you would find yet excited all the same. Only he could give you that rush—still after all these years.

Bishop,

It’s probably strange hearing from me after all these years, but you were the first person I thought of. I’ve got no idea if you’re still pissed at me, or if you’ve moved on. But this isn’t about that. This is about that dream you told me about. A chance to change the world.

Well…we’re in a world gone wrong and the way I see things, what they’re doing here could make it right.

So why are you still overthinking this? Don’t give me that look. I know your looks better than you do and you’re giving me that one. There’s no need to be afraid. There never was. It’s you and me Bishop—always has been.

Take the leap honey.

I know you can.

—Din

You scrubbed at the tears that fell, hiccuping as you read and reread and reread his words. You knew that if he were here, he’d tell you to finally live your life the way it was meant to be lived. A part of you wanted him to be here in person, just so you could fight with him, but he was only there through his words. Even after all these years your heart still fluttered as he called you that nickname. Bishop. It felt silly that one small word could become your entire world.

All because of him.

“Fuck,” you whispered, glancing at the business card on the coffee table in front of you. “What have you gotten yourself into Din?”

You understood the discrepancy and secrecy that came with a job this big, but the fact that they refused to even let you in on a little piece of it made you uneasy. Secrets were one thing. Keeping the entire mission for a company large enough to cause real world change under wraps was something else. Normally you would have ripped up the papers by now. On the very principle that you stood by your morals no matter what.

Din working there changed things for you though.

He must trust them to some degree to recommend your name among the many that they no doubt cherry picked from graduating classes. You weren’t a young bright-eyed scientist anymore. Those days passed the second you watched him leave you—making a choice that impacted the both of you without even asking. You understood the harsh reality of the world now. Even if you didn’t want to.

Agreeing to this—leaving your stable job for this, meant you were choosing a man over your beliefs.

If the younger version of you could see you now, you were sure she’d cuss you out without question. But you weren’t choosing just any man. You were choosing Din. The man who was always meant to be your future. Funny how the universe continued to pull the both of you together.

Glancing down at the letter still clutched in your hand, your eyes traced over the three words he used to say to you when you were terrified of making a choice. Take the leap honey. You rarely took the leap anymore. Why bother taking chances on things that could more or less go horribly wrong? What was the point in the end? But Din pushed you to take chances, to stop obstructing your own path and focus on the future you were meant for.

Perhaps this was his way of doing just that. You wanted to ask him. Confirm that…yes he was once again nudging you in the right direction. Except the only way you could do that was if you saw him in person again, and the only way that would happen was if…you took the leap.

You smiled, wiping the last tear off your cheek before reaching for your phone—the business card laying beside it.

“Even when you’re not here you’re still annoying Djarin,” you muttered, staring at his words one last time before dialing the number you knew would seal your fate for good. 

The phone rang, breaking the silence in your small apartment and striking nerves through your heart. “Okay Din,” you breathed, shutting your eyes for a moment. “It’s you and me.”

Hi there!

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For What It's Worth - Part 6

Rex x Reader

Summary: You start feeling the effects of having your handsome trooper home full-time, and you and Rex entertain an unexpected visitor, but not for long.

Warnings: Whoops, I spilled a little plot in the cheesy romance fondue, this is getting longer than I intended and I'm not sorry, reader is afab, a roving asshole makes an appearance, character is insensitive to reader's experience, politics, trying to use injured people for your marketing optics will get you a Rex-sponsored kick in the ass, allusions to sex, mature sexual content in later chapters, minors: get out

Tag List: @bambiswriting @jessyhazy

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list, please comment below or message/ask directly.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You had been overjoyed when Rex had come back from his briefing much earlier than you expected, a knowing grin barely hidden on his lips, and asked if he could impose on you a little longer. You’d hobbled over - your damn ankle had still been giving you trouble - and thrown your arms around him. He chastised you for aggravating your ribs, but he couldn’t hide the giddy tone in his voice.

Having him in your house for the past week had been heaven, but your heart had become the latest on an impressive list of broken body parts when he walked out the door to do his duty. Now, with his promise to stay, that part of you had been miraculously healed. 

“You’re only allowed to stick around if you sleep in the bed with me,” you said firmly. “That couch must have been murder on your back this week.”

Rex chuckled, “You’ve clearly never slept on a GAR cot, cyare. My back has survived much worse than your couch can dish out.”

But still you insisted, “I’m serious Rex. I’m healing nicely-”

“You’re still wincing every time you stand up, and stumbling when-”

“Healing nicely,” you repeated. “And unless you want to head back to that cot, I suggest you park your armor in my room, and come keep me company while I make lunch.”

Your tone didn’t really allow for argument, but Rex still sighed at your stubbornness and took his sweet time answering, “Fine, cyarika. But if it becomes an issue even one time, if I so much as steal the covers and give you a chill, I’m moving back to the couch.”

You snorted, “Good luck getting the blankets away from me, captain. You’ve never faced a battle like this before.”

You turned to head to the kitchen, to start on the simple stew Rex had bought ingredients for - a stew that you suspected was becoming one of his favorite dishes. But gloved hands and plastoid covered arms seized you gently from behind, and your bare feet left the floor. You squealed as Rex supported your knees and back before heading away from the kitchen.

“You won the fight to get me in bed, don’t push it, cyare,” his knowing eyes smiled down at you. “Give me ten minutes for a shower, then I’m cooking.”

“Oh c’mon!” you griped as he deposited you on the couch. He placed you on the cushions as delicately as a leaf might land on a lake. “Rex, I’m doing so much better-hey!”

Staunchly ignoring you, Rex began wrapping you in your favorite fluffy blanket, flung to the floor in your rush to greet him. He disregarded your squawks of protest as he leaned you forward and put another pillow behind your head, tucked your feet, and turned on the netscreen, flipping to one of your favorite channels. He handed you the controller and smoothed down your hair. 

One of your least favorite things about your job as a medic - it made you a terrible patient. You knew it, your doctors knew it, and your family and friends definitely knew it. But knowing it didn’t automatically banish the icky feeling you got when someone treated you like an invalid. Your hackles rose, and you glared up at your boyfriend.

“Listen here, captain-mph!” you were silenced by the truly glorious feeling of Rex’s lips pressing firmly to yours. Warmth gathered in your belly, and sparks shot off behind your closed eyes. It was the first time since the attack that he’d allowed himself to kiss you with any firmness at all, preferring to kiss your hands and wrists, perhaps your unscathed cheek, for the entire week. 

You were a little dazed as he pulled away, a small bit of triumph in his eyes. It had been too long, dammit. You were brought back down from the clouds, however, by his low, firm voice.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that the dishes from last night have been done,” he fixed you with a disapproving eye, one that had caught and punished many more serious shenanigans than secret chores. You sank back into the cushions a little. “Or the fact that the oven’s been scrubbed to hell, or that the floor’s been swept. You didn’t even try to hide the laundry you folded.”

He gestured towards the basket at the end of the couch, and you crossed your arms, stuck out your lip. You weren’t proud of pouting, but you were kind of running out of options.

“You are the only man in the galaxy who would possibly notice that the oven had been scrubbed.”

“You were supposed to relax,” his absurdly calm demeanor was not helping.

“I’m bored, Rex,” you whined. “And I feel bad, watching you run around my apartment, doing all my chores. I was trying to be helpful.”

He sighed, and leaned back over you with a hand perched on the couch behind your head. He tilted your chin up and looked resolutely into your eyes. You could feel the warmth of him through his glove.

His warm words poured over you like honey, his tone not exactly forceful, but definitely unyielding, “I do your chores because I love you, cyare. Because you are ner karta, my heart, walking around in the world, and right now, my heart is recovering from a terrible experience. So I’m doing what I can to help my heart heal, to protect it and make sure it’s strong and healthy again.”

He kissed your forehead, a whisper of touch against your stitched up wound, “I’ve got two more days of leave, and then I’ll be taking my post with the CG. You’ll be alone again for most of the day when I do. Give me these two days, please.”

Well. How the hell were you supposed to argue with that? You pulled your petulant lip back in, and nodded.

“Thank you,” he breathed, relieved. He pressed one more kiss to your yearning mouth before going to take his shower.

You slumped back into your pile of pillows, glaring at the brace on your arm. You’d ended your round of the tough painkillers the day before, and today, you were more alert than you had been since the assault. Sweet and darling as your boyfriend might be, you were now realizing the trouble you were in with him being around full time, fussing over you.  

You could also admit, at least to yourself, that maybe you were being contrary with him because you were getting a little…pent up.

And judging from his lovely (not to mention attractive) speech about protecting his heart, you didn’t think Rex was going to be willing to help you with this problem anytime soon.

**********

Lunch had gone off without a hitch, and Rex was happily dozing with you on the couch, so full he might have fallen asleep if not for the knock at the door. 

You had fallen asleep, and you shot up with a surprised mumble, “Mmm… Rex, s’Tia…”

He smiled. You were adorable. Then he turned to the door and called, “Come in, Alentia!”

She poked her pretty face through the door first, and smirked when she saw you on the couch, your loyal soldier sitting protectively at your side, “I brought a guest, is that okay?”

Rex turned to you, and watched as you glanced down at your comfortable, well worn attire and fussed with your messy bun. He heard you whisper to yourself, “Fuck it, it’s my house,” before calling, “Sure, that’s fine! Just hope they’re not expecting much!”

“Oh, I’d never!” came a friendly voice from behind the door. You smiled and rolled your eyes good naturedly, and Alentia opened the door fully, bringing with her a male Twi’lek carrying a bag of groceries. The family resemblance was uncanny. 

Rex prepared himself for the shock, maybe even the fear at seeing a clone in a domestic dwelling, but the Twi didn’t look the least bit surprised. In fact, he barely glanced toward Rex. Alentia took their bag of goodies to the kitchen, and her companion made his way over to the couch, where he crouched down next to you in a quick, agile movement. He looked you up and down, running his hands across your brow. You batted his hands away, annoyed and flustered, but he continued flitting around your face, down your neck, tilting your chin, assessing the damage so long Rex almost got up and pulled him away.

Instead, you smacked one of his hands, "Okay that's enough! Let me breathe!"

The frustration in your voice didn't seem to bother him, “Force, honey. Tia said you were looking better. How banged up were you before?”

You paused, squinting at him, before relaxing your shoulders and pushing his face back with your hand. He nearly toppled over, “Still prettier than you.”

He laughed and took a seat in a neighboring chair, “So, you wanna tell me what happened? Tia’s been remiss with details.”

“I’ll give you an abbreviated version,” you conceded warily. “After we stop being rude and make introductions.”

Your voice was firm, and Rex watched as you pointedly stared the Twi down. You gestured back to him with your hand, “This is Rex, my boyfriend. Rex, this is Shor Ryesim, Tia’s much older brother.”

Shor placed a hand over his heart, acting wounded, “Ouch, kiddo. 8 years is not that much older.” Then he leaned forward and held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Rex.”

“Likewise,” Rex nodded curtly and shook the offered appendage. He didn’t know why, but there was something about Shor that he didn’t quite trust. He had an urge to retrieve his armor from the other room. 

“Oh!” Shor lit up and began digging in his pockets. “Got something for you, sweetheart. Just off the presses this morning.” 

He held out his hand, and cradled in it, was a pristine white button with a clone helmet on it. HUMAN RIGHTS ARE NOT OPTIONAL flashed in red. You flinched, looking a bit ill.

In a flash, Rex had reached over and snatched the pin, before grabbing your hand, “You alright cyare?”

Shor put his hands up and waved them back and forth, “Whoa, man, what's your deal? I was just trying to help replenish the collection! You know what those pins meant to her.”

“They’re why she was attacked in the first place!” Rex felt his voice rise. Anger boiled in his stomach. How could this prick be so insensitive?

Alentia came hurrying back into the living room. Her eyes zeroed in on the pin in Rex’s hand. She threw her arms up in the air, “Stars, Shor! I told you to leave it at home!”

“I thought it’d cheer her up!”

“It’s not an appropriate gift after what she went through!”

“But-”

“It’s fine,” your quiet voice cut through the noise of the bickering siblings. Rex’s heart stuttered when he saw your blank, shuttered eyes. You smiled, and it didn’t reach past the corners of your lips. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. Thank you for thinking of me. Rex, would you go put it on my desk please?”

He hesitated, but got up off the couch at the sight of your trembling jaw. He went as swiftly as he could to your bedroom, tossing the offending piece of political jargon onto the desk and heading back. 

In the living room, you were recounting what had happened to you with that same empty expression. Shor was looking properly sheepish, and Alentia had a hand around your shoulder, having taken Rex’s place on the couch. He chose to stand and watch from the far side of the room, close enough to reach you if you needed him. 

“...And then, some troopers must have heard the commotion, because they stunned the idiots and took them away,” you finished your watered-down version of the attack.

Shor stood up, clearly outraged, “This is appalling! Our government refuses to acknowledge those fighting for us as full citizens, and now full citizens are getting attacked in the streets for their commitment to justice!” He started pacing around the room. “You’re not the only one, kiddo. We keep hearing reports of citizens being assaulted for being suspected of clone sympathy. There’s too many of them for it to be a coincidence.”

“Shor is the head of a pro-clone citizen’s movement,” you supplied Rex, though not with the enthusiasm he’d have expected. “They petition the senate and hold protests and boycotts to try and pressure those who can affect change.”

Rex turned to the pacing Twi’lek. “And you don’t think this attack was random?”

“You think they targeted her on purpose? Like, they’d been following her for a while?” Alentia was appalled.

“Possibly,” came his answer. “Her backpack would have been something they could monitor, identify her by. She was stationed at the same clinic for a week. It wouldn’t have been difficult.” Shor shook his head, “There's a rumor that there’s a lot of appeals to young people by the anti-clone crowd. They put them through initiation, have them go rough someone up on the street, before they officially become part of the group.”

“They…” you whispered, shaken. “They beat the hell out of me as part of some sick initiation?”

Rex’s blood ran cold, “Has anyone informed the CG of this rumor?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

He grit his teeth. Fox had to know about this, had to be made aware before the-

“Are either of you, by chance, attending the protest against the rally they announced for next week?” Shor asked, before brusquely reaching out and grasping your arm. You winced at the sudden contact, and Rex lunged forward a step. “Because, sweetheart, if you were to speak at the podium I’ve set up, about your experience, about what these bastards put you through…”

But you started shaking your head furiously, alarmed, sliding away and shrinking in on yourself with each passing word.

That’s it, Rex thought. The time for company was over. He moved to kneel by you, and Alentia gave up her seat without a word. She at least seemed to be thinking of your well-being. He grasped Shor’s wrist with bruising pressure and removed his grip from your arm.

“No,” Rex answered for you both, and if he’d crossed a line with that he’d apologize for it later. He didn’t bother looking back at Shor’s reaction. “She won’t be well enough to go out for anything next week, and I’ll have orders to fulfill. My leave ends soon.”

You were staring up at Rex, glassy eyes vague and dazed. He put his hand to the back of your head and gently laid you back to recline on the couch again.

“She needs rest,” he informed their company. “I’m sorry to be abrupt about it, but do you think you could both head home? Thank you for the groceries.”

Alentia nodded immediately, “Of course. I’ll come check on you both tomorrow, and we can talk about your schedule. I don’t like the idea of her being alone all day yet.”

Rex threw a grateful smile her way.

“I’m right here, you guys. You don’t have to plan babysitting shifts,” you said, but your raspy tone and the grip you had on your blanket contradicted your point. 

“I’ll be in the area, planning the protest,” Shor shrugged. “I can look after her for a while too.”

Rex was sure his face was turning red, but Alentia answered before he could, “I think we’ve got it covered.”

“Of course.”

Alentia gathered their things up to go, but her brother, who it seems could not take a fucking hint, tapped on Rex’s shoulder.

“Can I speak to you a moment?” he asked, and though Rex felt he would rather eat a seppie’s blaster bolt, he wanted this weirdly persistent person out of your apartment. At least by talking to him, Rex would be close enough to toss him out on his sorry ass.

He followed Shor to your entryway, where he turned and spoke in a hushed tone, “Look, I know she’s been through a lot, and clearly, you’re not my biggest fan-”

“Glad to see you noticed.”

“Yeah, well,” the Twi shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s a weird, macho, threatened-by-other-guys thing-”

“For me to be threatened,” Rex growled low in his voice. “You’d have to be threatening. I just don’t like seeing the woman I love made to feel uncomfortable.”

But this Twi’lek, it seemed, was impervious to the point, “Fighting for a just cause is uncomfortable! She could do so much good if we just got her up on that stage-”

“No.”

“Look, I know she’s wounded. That’s actually a positive thing for us, if she gives a speech. The optics would be-”

Rex saw red, “I don’t give a damn about the optics or the rally or anything else! I care about her!”

Shor just looked confused, “But surely, as a clone, you want to see change here. Payment for the war you never chose, but were forced to fight in. Reparations for the hundreds of men you’ve seen killed…men who bore your face-”

“Enough,” Rex snarled, and he seized Shor’s arm. “I am not your prop, anymore than she is, and I will never force her into a situation where she feels unsafe. My brothers and I were born and bred for war, to fight for a Republic that does not recognize us. We don’t need people like you to tell us that. Our lives are not a slogan you can slap on a pin. Yes, we hope for change, for a future. But there is one thing you will never understand, not in the core of your being: We will never put any of that before our brothers, our family. We will never choose a movement over the people we love.”

He wrenched Shor over to the door to your apartment, and turned the latch, “I appreciate your wanting to see us as human, I thank you for trying to win us freedoms we don’t have,” he said, before pushing him out the door. “But do not think you understand what it is to be a clone.”

Shor stared at him, gobsmacked, outraged, as people like him always were. 

Rex didn’t care, “I am a soldier,” he held his head high, squared his shoulders. “A veteran of a hundred battles, a leader of thousands of good men. And if you ever grab my girl without her permission again, I’ll show you exactly how I climbed the ranks so quickly.”

The door shut before the Twi’lek could say another word.

Silence. Blissful, resounding silence, until… 

“Rex?” came your voice.

He turned, and there you were, some color returning to your face, your eyebrows drawn and worried, “I’m alright,” he said.

You nodded, “I know. But he shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

“He shouldn’t have said those things to you either,” Rex ran a hand over his head. “I should have stopped him from touching you. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, “You didn’t know what our relationship dynamic was, I get it. He’s always been like that, ever since Tia and I were teenagers. Brash, wordy, convinced of his own righteousness. It makes him a decent force for change, and at least he’s focusing that energy in the right direction, but as a friend…”

“He’s shit,” Rex didn’t care enough about the guy to sugarcoat.

You nodded, “Weirdly, he doesn’t get touchy with me unless I’m dating someone, which till now wasn’t often. Tia thinks it's some hazing dominance thing with other guys. She doesn’t understand it. As she says, ‘It’s not a Twi’lek thing, it's not a Ryesim thing, it’s a Shor thing.’”

A thought suddenly struck him, “Is Tia going to be alright with him?”

You chuckled, “Oh yeah, he’s getting the stuffing torn out of him right now, I guarantee you. Tia gets pissed whenever he acts like a jackass, which is a lot of the time. Their mom guilts her into letting him visit her sometimes. Then Shor fucks up, runs away to joins a cause, and comes back sometime later, pretending he’s grown up.”

And Rex thought he had a complicated family life. You tapped the cushions with your foot, “Come sit with me, trooper.”

He did, and you laid your legs over his lap. He took a deep breath, “So…I take it you’ve been to some of his pro-clone protests?”

You quirked a brow, “Course I have. I can’t go to a lot of events because of my work schedule, but sometimes Tia and I go together, to show our support.”

“I…” he furrowed his brow. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

You threaded your fingers through his, “I know. But this matters. You matter. Your brothers matter. I promise to be more careful, but I cannot promise to stop fighting for you. Not when I know how far you’d go for me.”

He nodded and sighed, conflicted, “I don’t want him over here again.”

“I think he may have gotten that message,” you giggled. “I thought he was going to throw up when you grabbed him.”

“It’s not funny,” he said, even as he smiled.

“You’re right,” you said, and your voice took on a dark, coquettish tone. “It’s hot.”

He turned to stare at you, “That’s not funny either.”

“I’m serious,” you pressed, your hand releasing his and trailing up his arm then down again to his thigh. “I’m an evolved woman, but seeing my big, strong boyfriend defend my honor against that asshole? I thought I was worried about keeping my hands off you before, but now…”

“We can’t,” Rex insisted, but it came out hoarse and cracked. He felt the blush on his cheeks, the pressure growing against the zipper. Shit. “I’m not going to risk hurting you.”

You hummed, “You won’t hurt me, Rex. It would actually make me feel a lot better.” You shifted to climb on top of his lap, intent clear in your eyes. The little shorts you were wearing started to ride up, giving him a view he hadn’t seen since he left for his last deployment. You bit your lip, and Rex couldn’t stop the little noise that had built up in his throat. He had to move fast. His hands grabbed at the blanket, wrapping you snuggly and pressing you against him. 

“We have to wait, ner karta,” oh, your ass was wiggling in his lap. He was sure you could feel the hard cock twitching beneath you. “Hold still.”

You grinned, “Will you make it worth my while if I wait?”

Stars…as if there was anything he wouldn’t do for you. Rex gripped the back of your head, brought you down for another one of his firm yet controlled kisses. You let out a little groan as he pulled back. 

He barely recognized his own voice, gruff and full of promise, but the fierce look on his face apparently had you transfixed, “I’ll make it so good for you, cyarika. If you can just be patient for me, if you can wait until you’re strong enough, I’ll lay you down on that bed and I won’t let you leave until I make up for all the time we’ve lost.”

Rex gently, softly laid an open-mouthed kiss under your ear, and you gasped. You squirmed against his lap, but he gathered you up and settled back on the couch, focusing on the screen before him.

He knew though, you recognized a challenge when you saw one. Your breathless voice reached his ears, and his heart rattled against his chest.

“Alright, let’s see how long you can hold out, captain.”

Poe Dameron- He's Mean- Part 1

Summary: It's in the title, people! Is this too long for just being angsty drama? *shrug*

Content: mean Poe, oc (secondary character), enemies to maybe more than friends (~2,100 words)

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As soon as your boots hit the ground, Commander Dameron is on you like a fat roll on a Hutt.

He’s gripping his helmet in one hand, gesturing to you. Your back is still at the ladder you used to descend out of the cockpit and he is close, too close, and speaking very loudly.

“If I give you an order to wave off, then you will wave off. Is that understood?” You see him swallow, his deep, soulful eyes full of anger. 

With Commander Dameron you either get this, or a dismissive look that says you should not be in his breathing space.

“I couldn’t break formation, Commander,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but Maker, he is in a mood.

“That was not a standard formation,” he yells. “I thought Blue Leader would have taught you better.”

Behind him, Blue Leader, who you’ve known for years despite her only recently transferring here, steps up to him. “Talking shit about me, Dameron?”

His jaw tightens. “Jallea, tell your pilot she’s flying like a cadet and not like someone fourth in line for command of a squadron.”

A small crowd has formed within ear-shot to hear Commander Dameron, who’s not usually a fan of rules, reprimand someone in public.

Jallea’s eyes widen. “You fly like an insane person, Poe, and you’re the best we have. So, I don’t think you’re in a position to criticize my pilot.”

He bites back a sigh. “Fine. Just, don’t get in my way next time,” he says to you.

“I was nowhere near you, Commander,” you say.

His eyes cut back to yours. “You’re a liability to the Resistance.”

Everyone’s breath stops short. You immediately want to cry, which is embarrassing. You’re used to this side of Commander Dameron, but even for him…

Sensing the mood he’s created, Poe stalks off through the hangar and disappears into the hallway.

Your body goes almost numb, almost fades away to nothing. Or at least that’s what it feels like.

“I’ve only been stationed here for a couple of weeks, but I really thought Poe Dameron would be different,” Jallea says, in friend-mode now and not Blue Leader-mode. “I’d heard-“

“It’s me,” you say quickly. “We had a misunderstanding when I first got here.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me about it on our way to the debrief?”

You hand your helmet and flight gear off to one of the hangar droids. “Nothing to tell really. I was top of my class in flight school and was assigned to Black Squadron.”

“So you knew Dameron? He usually gets to pick his own squad.”

“That was the problem,” you say as you walk together. “He was ordered to take me on. The first time we flew together, he was on my ass about every little thing. I found out he’d been trying to dump me on other squadrons before I’d even gotten here.”

Jallea winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m sure you’ll get along with him fine. Everyone does.”

There’s a lump in your throat as you walk by his x-wing. 

She leans in and squeezes you. “I think you’re a badass pilot. Your maneuvering is better than mine and you always keep it clean out there.”

“Thanks,” you say with an unconvincing smile.

“Maybe Poe’s just-“

“Mean,” you say. “He’s mean.”

————

That night, exhausted as much from your day as from the verbal beating you’d taken in the hangar, you stay in. You’re in bed, scrolling through an old flight manual when there was a buzz at your door.

You get up and open it. And freeze.

“Commander Dameron,” you say, trying to recover, “is everything okay? I didn’t hear an alert.”

You look down the empty corridor behind him, folding your arms when you see that everything is normal.

“No alert,” he says. He’s not smiling or friendly, but he’s clearly cooled off from earlier. He seems a little awkward, which makes you feel awkward. “I just stopped by to apologize.”

You stare at each other for a moment.

“Apology accepted, Commander” you say.

He smiles joylessly. “When you use my rank like that, it kind of makes me think you’re just accepting out of duty.”

You shrug, agreeing with his assessment.

He smiles and you hear him exhale softly. “I guess I deserve that. Look, I didn’t mean what I said. Of course you’re not,” he almost stutters, “you’re not a liability to the Resistance.”

You know he’s telling the truth and that he feels bad. You drop your arms.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.” Your mouth softens out of its stiff frown. “For real this time.”

“Poe,” he says.

“Poe.” You say.

He looks down the hallway, then turns back to you as if he’s going to say more. You wait.

“Have a good night,” he says and abruptly walks away, leaving the scent of his leather jacket and something… you shut your door against it. Something distracting, something your body reacts to, something you should not be thinking about.

—————————

For days afterward, you avoid Poe. You can tell he’s doing the same. Easy to do since a wave of First Order ships is cruising too close to the planet and every available pilot and fighter had to be out around the clock.

It’s demanding, draining, and rewarding.

Another mission down, you climb out of your x-wing and as soon as your boots touch the ground, Poe is there.

You brace yourself, but he actually has a slight smile on his face. “That was good flying today,” he says.

You squint at him. “Is this a trick?”

He laughs, his dark eyes happy to be looking at you for a change. “No.”

There’s something about seeing him laugh, a beautiful side of him everyone else gets to see, but never you. It hurts. You’re not ready to think about why that might be.

You drop the smile that had started to form on your face. “Thank you, Commander. Excuse me, I have to report some things to maintenance.”

“Is everything good with your x-wing?” He does a cursory look at your craft.

“Yes, just a few routine fixes.”

You can’t really be doing this, right? Standing here, having a normal conversation with Poe Dameron.

“Have a good afternoon,” you say to him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but you walk away quickly. People look at you, probably disappointed they didn’t get a chance to see you get a slap on the wrist again.

After you make your report you duck back into the hangar. You know everyone will be in the mess hall or out celebrating. Which makes it a perfect time to do a little work, unbothered.

You change into your work clothes, already oil-stained from the last time you were out here, and pick up a set of tools. You have one side panel off and are working on a second when you smell him. His x-wing is on the far side of the hangar, though. Weird.

“Aren’t you celebrating with us?”

You turn when you hear Poe’s voice behind you. Maker, he’s handsome, even in the too-bright lights of the hangar. It’s like you can’t even look directly at him.

You automatically scan his face, but he looks like the normal, friendly version of himself. It unsettles you a little.

“I’ll be out when I’m done here,” you say, which is a lie.

“That’s a lie.”

Damn.

You point to the wiring you’re working on. “Probably, but I need to reroute some of these, in case I need a power boost and some things, I only trust myself to do. Have a good night, Commander.” You turn back to him, waiting for him to leave.

“Poe,” he corrects you. 

You say nothing, but you can feel him still standing there.

You start to strip some of the wiring, distracted now. You turn your head.

“Still here,” he says.

But why? You don’t want to ask. He’s probably waiting for you to make a mistake so he can gloat about it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shrug out of his jacket and toss it aside. He rolls up his sleeves, Maker save you, and walks next to you. He puts his hand next to yours, steadying the spot you’re working on to make it easier for you.

You withdraw your hands.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

He scratches the stubble on his jaw. “I thought I was helping you.”

You take a half-step back. He sighs.

“Look, your idea’s good. I actually did something similar to mine. You have to clip these and then bundle them all together. It’ll go faster if I’m here. Then we can go celebrate.” He smiles.

He actually smiles. The smile he has when he’s talking to someone he wants to be talking to.

Sensing your feelings, he takes his hands off your x-wing. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, clearly still doing so. Or maybe he’s just considering his words to you for once. “I don’t want to make excuses for myself, but when you were supposed to transfer under my command, I was going through some things. You would’ve been replacing someone I was friends with. Someone I considered a sister. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know that,” you say, knowing what happened without him saying the words. “I’m sorry.”

He nods. “We lose a lot of people. Which, in theory, means I should appreciate the ones who are still here, right?” He smiles, a little sad. “You look like you’re waiting for me to add something negative. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“Honestly, I find that difficult to believe.”

“Luckily, I’m very charming,” he teases you.

“I’ve seen that, but don’t worry about me. As long as we can keep it professional, then we can call it a truce.” You give him a thin smile.

“About that.” He scratches his head, messing up his hair a little bit. “I meant what I said, that was very good flying today. I know Jallea is your mentor, but if you ever want to branch out, learn to play a little less by the books, let me know.”

You bite back the ‘no’ on the tip of your tongue. It would be rude after such a nice apology. But you both know you’d never accept.

“I can have you transferred, temporarily,” he offers.

Your eyes widen.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” he says with a sigh. “I was planning on talking about this over drinks, but you never showed.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure him, “you don’t want to bring business into a party.”

“It’s not all business,” he smiles. “I do want to have a drink with you.”

You clear your throat, thinking. “Thank you for telling me about your friend, and for your help. But I promise you, that’s enough. Frankly, I would settle for you completely ignoring me.”

His eyes glance over you. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

“Just give it a try. Maybe it’s easier than you think,” you smile.

You knew how to hold yourself fast against his anger or derision. But whatever he wants from you now, you don’t know how to defend against it. His piloting skills are nothing compared to his personal gravity. Poe is drawing you in and he knows it.

His gaze drops to your lips. “Come have a drink with me.”

“No,” this time you let yourself say it, your heart racing.

“I expected that,” he says. He bends down and picks up his jacket, holding it in his hands. “But if I see a request for you to fly with Black Squadron, consider it approved.”

“Thank you,” you say. He thinks you’re a liability, you remind yourself.

“And there’s a drink waiting for you, on me,” he smiles at you, “always.”

“Right. Thank you.”

His eyes search yours. “It doesn’t have to be at the cantina. It could just be us. We could sit outside, or I know a quiet spot here.”

“You don’t have to,” you say awkwardly, “I mean, I’m going to be working on this for the rest of the night.”

He reaches out his hand, rubs his fingers over your arm. “You had some dirt or something,” he smiles at you, then looks at your x-wing again. “Are you really not going to let me help you with this?”

“I’m really not,” you say, “but thank you for the offer. All of the offers.”

“You’re going to take me up on them.” He puts his jacket back on. “Every one.”

He holds your gaze for a moment before leaving the hangar. He looks back at you before he heads outside, you can tell he’s smiling even from this distance. You wave at him.

You’re halfway through your repairs when it dawns on you.

Was Poe Dameron flirting with you?

Part 2 here

Poe Dameron- He is a baby

Content: Thoughts on a sick day with Poe, fluffy and suggestive (~600 words)

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Poe Dameron is a giant, inconsolable baby when he is sick. You have to take the day off to take care of him because even though his words say, "I'm fine, please, sweetheart, go to work." His expressive eyes say, "do not abandon me because I am dying."

He is not dying. He will be fine.

He doesn't want the soup you bring him. He doesn’t want the hot tea with slices of fruit. He wants you and only you.

He wants to wrap his too-hot body around yours. He pulls you close to his clammy skin, clothes long abandoned during a feverish nap earlier in the day. In his sleep, he tugged at yours until you’re naked too. He finds every cool spot on your body with his hands and arms and legs, and overheats it.

Poe is always loving, but when he is sick, he is needy. He is also dead weight, his leg slung over you, arms wrapped around your body.

You fall asleep too, despite not even being sick. He’s just so hot that it’s like being folded into a warm cocoon. He hums gently as he sleeps and by evening, his body is back to its normal temperature, still warm but not a burning hot fire. 

He kisses your neck, still wrapping you in his body, the big spoon to your little one. You wake up.

“Feeling better?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he finds your hands with his and holds onto them. His voice is still a little raspy. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

You smile and squeeze his hands. “I didn’t really have a choice. You’ve been holding me hostage for like, six hours.”

“And I plan to keep you here for another eight to ten.” He nuzzles your neck, gently scratching your skin with the scruff he was too sick to shave off this morning. “Baby?”

Your eyes close as his lips trace along your skin, but you know exactly what Poe's thinking with that tone of voice.

“You thought you were dying three hours ago,” you remind him.

“We have something worth celebrating then.” He nips at the skin of your neck. “We can make up for the time we lost with me being sick.”

“Lost time?” You laugh.

“We spent all day in bed and we have nothing to show for it. It’s criminal.”

You shift your weight, turning to face him. You study his face, then lay the back of your hand over his forehead. “How are you fine all of a sudden?”

He shrugs. “Always been like that. As long as I can sleep it off, I’m not usually sick for more than a day. And when I have someone gorgeous to keep me company, I’m feeling better within a few hours.”

“Poe?”

“Yeah?” He busies himself kissing your shoulders and collarbone.

You brush your hand over his hair. “Why don’t you go take a shower first? You were all sweaty and gross.”

“Counteroffer. We shower together.” His hair tickles your face.

You smile and push his head off of your neck to look at him. “While you shower, I’m going to run out to the hangar quick, check on a few things, and by the time you’re done, I promise, I’ll be back here in bed waiting for you.”

“No way. I think you’re sick now too. You should definitely take the day off tomorrow.” He snuggles his mouth back against your neck, working his way up to tease your earlobe. “And it’s only fair I stay home and take care of you.”

**Poe Dameron Masterlist** *masterlist*