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iellarenuodolorian · 4 years

Text

Mandoctober Day 7

Razor Crest

Words: 1.4k (wow, oops that happened)

Pairing: Din DjarinxFemale Mandalorian Reader

Warnings: injury, pain, nightmares, the slight angst is paired with fluff

~14 BBY

Six hours later the med droid finally came out to give you an update in its flat, monotonous mechanical voice.

“He is stable for now. He had extensive injuries that required him to be sedated in the bacta tank. He will not wake up for at least another twelve hours. I suggest you go home. We will alert you if there are any changes.”

With a sigh of resignation, you slowly stood up, muscles protesting from being in one position for so long. Ailyn would probably be needing help with his ship, and there was no point staying here. The droid wouldn’t let you in to see him anyway.

When you reached his ship, you finally saw how bad the damage really was. You couldn’t believe he had managed to land it. Ok, it was more of a crash landing, but he walked away from it...with your help. Honestly, you were joking with yourself because it was that bad, and the reality of how close you had been to losing him sunk in. There were holes everywhere in the hull, and so many of them that even if he had managed to seal off the cockpit it wouldn’t have been that much help to him. Whoever had gotten the best of him had to have been on kriffing good pilot, Djarin was a better pilot than you.

As you came closer, you found Ailyn in the cockpit laying on the floor with wires everywhere around her.

“Your boyfriend did a bang up job this time. How is he?”

“You know he’s not my boyfriend Ailyn. The droids say it was bad, and from looking at his ship I see why. The droid said he would make it, but he won’t wake up for at least another twelve hours. I have that much time to help you get as much of this put back together as we can.”

“Well then, grab a ‘spanner and start helping me rewire the central computer. Luckily, damage to the navicomputer and the targeting system was minimal, but all the connections to the central computer have to be reconstructed.”

“He would be that unlucky.”

“He is friends with you.”

You kicked Ailyn’s boot and made a rude hand gesture toward her.

“Yeah, and so are you so what does that say about you?”

“I’ve known you longer, your rotten luck doesn’t affect me now.”

Four hours later, the two of you had finished rewiring all the connections in the cockpit. One hour to run diagnostics and see which pipes needed to be replaced or patched for the cooling and other various systems, and two more hours to fix those. Ailyn had suggested using a special patch for the hull that would help reinforce it in the future. The yellow-orange stripes running diagonally down the sides and across the top of the ship would give it a distinctive marking, but as long as it helped hold the ship together better you hoped Djarin wouldn’t mind.

Patching the hull took the better part of five hours, and at that point you realized Djarin was supposed to be waking up sometime soon and you wanted to be there to find out what happened. You would never be able to repay Ailyn for helping you with this project.

“I leave today to travel to where my new clan is going into hiding. I will miss you ner vod.” Said Ailyn. “Make sure you tell him he owes me a favor and to be more careful with his ship. Razor Crest. She’s a beauty, I’ll give him that.”

“I will tell him. I will miss you more, ner vod. Thank you for your help.”

You gave your sister one last hug before going back to the medcenter to see if Djarin had woken up yet. No sooner had you walked in the door, than the droid walked over to inform you that Djarin was awake and that he had been asking for you.

When you walked into his room, he was eating, which meant no helmet. So you reached up to remove yours because at that point you had realized you had not eaten since yesterday. At his invitation you sat down on the end of his bed and pointed to the fruit he hadn’t touched yet, a silent question of if you could eat it. Between bites of fruit you told him about what happened yesterday with the meeting of the clans, and how everyone was being asked to go into hiding and not reveal their faces and names to protect the Mandalorian way of life until a plan was established to rid the Galaxy of the Empire.

“I was only on the fourth system on my list when I stumbled on a secret base. They had captured me and asked if I served the Empire or if I was independent. “ He told you. “I told them I hated the Empire because they were the product of the Clone War that took my parents away from me. They told me they were a small faction of rebels who were trying to form a Rebellion to fight the Empire. I laughed at them and wished them luck with their mission. They let me go, but I knew it was too easy. I was barely out of the atmosphere when x-wings came up behind me and tried to shoot me down before I could jump into hyperspace. I barely made it, as you saw. Did the Crest survive?”

You took a deep breath and tried to process what he had told you.

“Yes, the Crest made it. Barely. Ailyn and I patched her up and she’s almost as good as new. You just have to put the final minute details into place and make sure the settings are all to your specifications and you should be good to go. Ailyn says you owe her big time, by the way. She is already gone with her new clan.”

Djarin reached across the table and placed his hand on top of yours and whispered “I’m sorry. I know she is like a sister to you.”

You gave a small smile and grasped his hand tighter, not trusting your words.

“I need to finish packing and loading the last of my belongings into my ship. I leave in two days for my new clan.”

“The med droid said something about discharging me if I could keep food down. I want to spend as much time with you before you go, if you’ll have me.” The sad look in his eyes and the way he gripped your hand made your heart melt. How were you ever going to be able to say goodbye to him?

With a small nod you agreed to his request and left to take care of one last idea that had just come to your mind before Djarin was discharged. You went back to the Crest and installed a tracking beacon so that you would always be able to find him in the Galaxy. If you weren’t there to watch his back, who would? The mixing of all the different clans together was sure to cause problems, in addition to Djarin not always being the best at thinking a plan totally through.

You were putting the last of your belongings in a trunk when Djarin knocked on your door. You spent the rest of the night watching a few holovids and snacking on treats and enjoying each other’s company. You both finally fell asleep during the second ‘vid just before sunrise, but you woke up when Djarin started shouting in his sleep. You rushed to Ailyn’s bed that he had borrowed for the night to wake him up, and when he opened his eyes you saw pure terror in them with just a hint of tears in the corners. After holding him in a hug and running your fingers through his curls for a while he settled down. He refused to let go of you, and so you settled in beside him with his head on your chest and your fingers in his hair until you both finally fell asleep again. You wanted to ask what his nightmare was about, but if he didn’t want to share then that was his business. You were more than content to hold him for as long as he needed it. In another life maybe you could allow yourself to fall in love with him on a night like this, but for now you would hold on to these memories and trust them to give you strength when you needed it. With a kiss to his forehead that elicited a contented sigh from Djarin, you closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

Mando’a words:

Ner vod- my sister

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Thank you for taking the time to read my silly little story! It means the world to me 💙💙

#mandoctober #the mandalorian #din djarin #my writing #i feel like i stared at my iPad more than i actually wrote and its still this long #I don’t know how that happened ya’ll #i hope the next two days are better i feel like i actually have a real idea for those days #if you’ve been reading these please know i love you and thank you for reading

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nymphl · 4 years

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Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 14: Dirty & Clean

A/N: Hello xD It’s been a while since I last updated my chapters here. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to update now regularly every Friday, while I write the few remaining chapters. Anyway, this story has 24 chapters already posted on AO3 and I’m posting it now on Wattpad as well, in case you prefer to read it somewhere else. Just a brief warning for this chapter, although I don’t think it’s too much, but there’s a bit of angst and physical violence. Hux is definitely not his best self in this chapter.

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations; tros fix it; anti tros; nobody likes general pryde.

Wordcount: 4330

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

YOU COULD HAVE FAINTED.

Actually, you should have fainted. Nothing could prepare you for what was to come. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened already.

Part of you wanted to ask him what he meant by I have always known, another was so afraid you could not even open your mouth. You decided to wait for his answer. It would come sooner or later. He knew your unspoken question; he always seemed to know what was going through your mind.

When the General pulled your body against his — your back meeting his nude chest —, you could not help but shiver. He traced your arms slowly, lightly, as if you were about to become dust under his very touch. When he found your left hand and entwined your fingers together, you bit your bottom lip. When he placed a strand of hair behind your ear, you held your breath. When he ran his nose over the sensible skin of your neck and inhaled deeply, you thought you would die.

You would not dare breathing.

You could not.

“You are a terrible liar.”

You refuse to look at me when you’re not telling the truth.

He said it once. In your heart, it felt like a long time ago, but in truth, not even two complete months had gone by.

Your heart clenched — it became really, really small — at the memory. It was a very embarrassing night with all his questions about his sexual prowess and later if you had any children and if he had taken them away from you — in case they belonged to your late husband.

Fear crept through your veins at the possibility of that moment being a lie; a game well played to have your sympathy. Your trust.

It only got worse with his silence — with his fingers running over your nude arms slowly; with his cadenced breathing caressing your neck. It made you wonder which moments were real — if he knew the entire truth all along why would he keep the façade of a dutiful husband? Why didn’t he confront you? He should have done that, right? — and which were just a lie. Was everything just a lie?

“Was it a-a li-e?” Your voice broke at the end. Your throat felt dry, raspy. Sore. There was this overpowering need to cry, but no tears left. The burning sensation in the back of your eyes remained, though.

You breathed deeply and waited for his answer…

…which did not come, as usual. In an act that both surprised and angered you — for he was playing with your feelings, with your heart —, he bestowed your temple with a brief, almost reassuring really, kiss.

“Was it all a lie?”

This time his reply was quick, but it only left your even more confused.

“Was it?”

His retort made your heart race. It galloped inside your chest. It beat so loudly, pumping the blood to your ears in such a strident fashion that you could barely hear the water splashing against the riverbank anymore.

“You tell me, (Y/N),” he said, his voice a mere whisper against your neck.

You shivered…

…and tightened your hold around the sheets. They covered most of your body, but they could not — could never — conceal your shame. Or hide your regrets. They were so… kriffing many.

You should never have lied.

You should have told him the truth.

Hopefully, he would not kill you.

Hopefully, he would let you live.

Hopefully, he would stay with you.

Hopefully, you would still… fall for him.

Because you needed him like… You just… You just needed him.

“My feelings for you.” You wetted your lips. The words got stuck in your tongue, “…not a lie.”

He breathed harshly against your ear. His hand immediately left your arm — in that small, almost a mockery of a comforting caress — and wrapped around your throat. Instead of the light pressure he usually applied, this time he held onto you a bit more forcefully, cutting your breath short. A gasp died even before it could reach your lips.

Part of you wanted to grab his hand; to pry his fingers away from you, however foolish the thought was. You decided to relax in his hold instead. Fighting him would do you no good. That was what he wanted, after all — to show how much powerful he was, how much in control of your very life he was. A God. He decided whether you lived or died.

How ironic.

You started that lie — your first lied to him — because you wanted to live and look at where you were now.

A sob was born in your throat. The tears — refreshing and very much needed — were born in your eyes and found their way to your face, staining your cheeks and gathering at your chin.

When they dropped onto his hand, he loosened his hold slightly. You inhaled deeply and spoke, your voice firmer than before, “I know I love you.”

His grip on you tightened once again, bordering on unbearable this time. There was no need for a mirror to know your face was flushed. And, now, you could not help but claw pathetically at his hand, trying to loosen at least one his fingers.

He did it on his own. He let go of you and walked away. There was no need to look at him to know he had adopted that General instance of his. You took your time to inhale deeply through your nose and to touch your throat. You stopped halfway, though, letting your hand fall to your sides.

“I still can’t understand your reasoning.”

You swallowed.

You didn’t either.

Was it out of sheer, pure desperation? Or was it because you wanted him to let you live — he would kill you if he knew you were once married to someone who was part of the Resistance, right? Or was it because you wanted to keep him away from the First Order?

How long? you wanted to ask. But you felt weak and you did not want to lose your time with such a stupid question. In fact, you wondered if it really mattered. He said so himself you were a bad liar. If he figured out right away or one of these days, it changed nothing.

“Why didn’t you kill me then?” Your voice was still weak. Still filled with uncertainty. Rough around the edges. The fact you cried did not ease the burning feeling in your throat. On the contrary, it only increased.

Your heart sped at his lack of answer.

You finally got your courage to turn around and face him. He was already buttoning his black shirt and wearing his coat. It made you tighten your grip around the sheet.

“Why did you let me live if you knew all along?”

He ran his fingers through his ginger hair, combing it to near perfection; his impossibly blue eyes focused on you. When he spoke, you forgot how to breathe.

“I told you,” he started, throwing your clothes at you. You got them with one hand, the other held firmly onto the sheet. “I would have you no matter what.”

The way back in the gondola speeder was as quiet as possible. The General piloted the vehicle with his back turned to you, his shoulders squared; his posture was one of a proud man. In your place, you not only had the stance of a defeated party as you felt that way.

But considering your current situation, he had no other reason to feel any differently — to behave otherwise. He had caught you in your lie, after all. He had removed your mask and stripped you off the false security of your made-up stories.

You tightened your hold around your coat and let out a sigh. It was difficult to know if it was still dark outside when he was going deeper in the cave. Part of you wanted to ask where he was going, another did not want to even talk to him.

The earlier talk and the revelation — the fact you had been relieved of such heavy burden — should make you feel light… clean. Instead, his last words — his confession — made you feel dirty and insignificant.

I would have you no matter what.

It made you recall the first time he said those same words, in a different context. Both situations had your heart almost leaving you through your mouth.

Back then, I already knew you would be mine.

If at that time you felt slightly nervous and somewhat giddy, now you knew you felt… small, used and worthless. It was as if he wanted to have you just to prove something… to prove he could — and would — have anything he wanted and not because he felt something for you.

You wondered if at some point in your brief relationship he actually cared for you — loved you. Part of you was dying to ask if his words after you returned from Aurra’s bistro — the night he orchestrated to make her believe you were his weakness — were truthful.

She was right about one thing: my feelings for you.

Did he have any weaknesses?

You doubted.

Your hand shot to your face when you felt it slightly wet. You wiped the tears before he could notice — and even though he seemed lost in his own world, you knew he paid attention to everything around him — and straightened your back as he brought the gondola speeder to a stop.

He disembarked and offered his hand. Unable to distinguish pretty much anything in the darkened cave, you accepted his help, placing your fingers over his. It was not lingering, though, for he let go as soon as you firmed your feet on the rocky ground.

Slightly ahead of you, he highlighted the place with a small flashlight, guiding you towards the entrance of the cavern. You were surprised, to say the least, when you noticed the cave lead to the woods close to the Hospital.

You wondered why no one ever invaded the place, but that was a very stupid question. They did — Aurra owned it. The place was hers. And you suspected the General owned it now — through a bargain or otherwise, you did not know, you were not sure you wanted to know.

His alliance with the Syndicate and with the Resistance was still a mystery to you. He said so himself he was loyal only to himself — and to you, and you were dying to know if the last part was the truth or not.

The General lead you through the woods in silence. You walked behind him cautious of where you stepped. If you believed the beginning of your night was funny, now you were not so sure. In fact, you hated it. Right now, all you wanted was some sleep — preferably away from him.

Your hand shot to your throat and you wondered if his grip had left any marks. He caught your action out of the corner of his eyes and he suddenly shifted to face you. Taking two steps away, you let your hand fall to your sides.

He closed the space between you and brushed his fingers against your windpipe, pressing it lightly. They almost wrapped around your throat, but he seemed to think better and let go. His bluish eyes were intense on you.

“You should have shot me,” he whispered, flexing the fingers of his right hand slowly. Pensively. You could have said you were naked and away from the blaster, but you decided to stay silent. He seemed to have notice your reasoning, for he took two steps back and turned on his heels. He took the electronic cigarette from the pocket in his coat and lit it, bringing it to his lips, “Next time someone hurts you, shoot them dead. No pity, no remorse.”

You returned home only two days later.

The thought of seeing his face again — of watching the coldness in his impossibly blue eyes — had butterflies dancing in your stomach. You knew he had been to the Hospital, waiting for you — or watching you, it was difficult to know.

You wondered if it all was not a ruse. If he was not using you to get to the Resistance. It would be much clever than killing you — it is, using you to destroy his enemies. To destroy General Organa.

It had been a few days since you gave information concerning the shipment to arrive in Rioza and so far, you received no word about the success — or utter failure, it was now more than a mere possibility, almost a certainty — of the mission.

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

No.

He would not.

He would never.

Your hand found the small necklace you were using. Was it actually some old footage of Ben Solo or Kylo Ren — you did not know how to call him. Did the General really know him? Your knowledge concerning the First Order was ridiculous. Perhaps they have never interacted, and you fell for his lies like a fool.

Like you expected him to fall for yours.

You felt bad for judging him so harshly — it was bordering on paranoia, really —, but you could not help it. You pondered if he felt the same way when he realized you were lying about your relationship.

It is… if he was not playing you all along.

Would you ever know?

Would he ever let you know?

Would it make any difference?

With a tired sigh, you opened the front door and stepped into the kitchen. Unlike expected, D-Five did not greet you in his cheerful, dutiful voice. He was nowhere to be seen.

You removed your bag and walked towards your bedroom. The house was silent, which meant neither of them were in the surroundings. You shook your head, feeling utterly relieved and got rid of your clothes.

All you needed right now was a relaxing bath. You had barely slept in the last two days, you took a meaningless nap at the Hospital, but it was all so hectic with the new cases of that mysterious alien illness that you considered yourself lucky for even napping. Now, some children had been diagnosed as well and one died in your care.

Death was always something traumatic to you.

It did not matter it was expected.

It did not matter it was for the best.

You should have killed the General.

General Organa should have contacted you already.

You were unable to be impassible facing the loss of a life.

You should have shot me.

As if!

After you prepared the hot water, you immediately climbed in, not caring for the temperature — it was slightly hotter than what you were used to — and leaned your head against the border.

It took less than a few minutes for you to fall into an uneventful slumber. Even if you had taken a few minutes of rest in the Hospital, it was not enough to restore your energies. It did not help that the days were so hectic — that your superior continued to hide important information from her staff.

Between your personal problems and the professional ones, whenever you closed your eyes you would either see the General or a dying alien child.

A sigh left you as your eyes snapped open out of their own accord. You immersed in the already chilling water for a few seconds and then came back; your hair completely wet. All you needed right now was some vincha tea to relax your sore muscles and some sleep. The fact that your… — you did not know what to call him; surely, you should not call him husband — well, Armitage Hux was not home was a blessing of some sorts. You knew you were not ready to confront him.

You decided to go to bed without your tea — you were too tired to even think about boiling water and preparing the herbs —, but as soon as you left the refresher, you spotted him sitting at the armchair, an electronic cigarette resting between his lips.

You shuddered…

…and bit your bottom lip.

Not sure of what to say — how to start a conversation and should it really be you the one to say something? —, you stood quietly in the middle of the room, feeling worse than a bantha in a confined space.

It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

You shivered again, this time out of cold. Nights in Dantooine were usually chilly and the fact you stayed in the water until it cooled off did not help the tiniest bit. Shaking your head, you let the towel fall to your feet — even if you felt slightly nervous about being around him, there was nothing about you that he had not seen or touched.

Biting your bottom lip, you cast a glance at him over your shoulder. Relief flooded you as you found him concentrated on his datapad and his cigarette. Placed over the table near the armchair there was also a glass with a golden-brown liquid you quickly recognized as Corellian brandy.

You took the opportunity to open your wardrobe, only to find it empty. There was no sign of your clothes — of his clothes. You furrowed your brows. Your body went rigid when you looked at him and saw him approaching you, a dress and underwear in hand.

There was no time for you to open your mouth and ask what was the meaning of that, for he spoke for you, “We are moving out.”

Unable to process the meaning of his words — moving out? You lived there for what? Four years now? Five? Close to that, surely —, you merely snatched the dress from his hand and pulled it through your head; next you took your underwear from him. Your hair was so soaked, your clothes were quickly drenched in it.

“Where?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. What you wanted to say was that you were headed nowhere. With him or even alone. That was your home and you were not leaving it.

“Crystal Cave.”

“That is no place to live.”

He arched one brow, looking around. You bit your bottom lip, embarrassed. There was no need to hear his words out loud. His face conveyed such meaning astoundingly well.

You shook your head, discussing your living arrangements would get you nowhere.

“Where is D-Five?”

Instead of a quick answer, he brought the Corellian brandy to his lips. You felt your mouth dry, but you did not dare getting closer. Part of you even wanted to try that cigarette of his — you always heard it was relaxing and it was all you needed right now.

All traces of sleep had left you — even if your body was beyond wasted —; you were very much awake.

“He’s already in the Cave.”

The fact he had called the protocol droid he almost slipped you. Almost. You bit your bottom lip; you were dying to know if he said he because at some point he started seeing the droid as more than a secondary being or because he did not want to fight over semantics. Probably the second.

He finished the Corellian brandy and placed the glass over the table, the electronic cigarette already back to his lips. As he walked to the kitchen, the trail of smoke behind him made you stay a few steps behind.

“Why are we moving?”

He was not looking at you when he replied — which in itself surprised you, for you were not expecting a quick answer, or any answer at all, “The Cave has technological and training facilities that are… adequate at best.”

You furrowed your brows.

As a General of the First Order, he probably lived with the best the technology had to offer. Dantooine was just an old and scarred planet. And even when it was under the control of both the Rebel Alliance or the Empire, it never received the best devices. All it had were some second-hand apparatus that could never compare to those used in Coruscant, both in the Republic and Empire Era, or the Hosnian Prime, in the New Republic.

“You will have your own bedroom.”

You bit your bottom lip at his words.

Even if you were hurt and wanted to stay away from him — you were so confused you did not know what you wanted anymore —, the fact that he did not want to be near you was… confusing?

No.

It hurt you.

It shattered… the dream?

Was it a dream? Or a lie?

The made-up story you have woven in your head, for the both of you. Married. For three years and half. With growing feelings for each other.

And now… Nothing.

“Why didn’t you leave for good?”

He cast a glance at you over his shoulder. He exhaled the smoke, making you scrunch your nose. His eyes were intensely focused on you. In the bright light of the kitchen — so very different from the Cave — you could see how much darkened his irises were right now.

“You know the answer.”

His tone — whispered voice, so detached and cold — had you shivering.

You looked at the floor, focused for a moment in the indentation you found there. The house was decrepit. It looked as if it was taken from some horror holofilm, really. You wondered if that was what denounced you — there was no way a couple would live in a place like that for three years and half. The Cave seemed like a mansion now.

Shaking your head — you had no time to think about where your lies had gone to waste, they were never that good to begin with —, you cast a glance at him. He had shifted and was now facing you. He removed the cigarette from his lips and exhaled the smoke once again.

His words — coupled with his penetrating stare — from earlier returned to you.

I would have you no matter what.

They made your heart race. At the same time, it felt small. The thought of being only a possession — and not someone he cared about, he loved — made you gasp with pain. You grasped your dress, right over your beating heart and looked at him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You needed to know.

“Do you hate me?”

There was no answer from his part. Not immediate at least. And how you wanted it to be so this time. For better or for worse. You just… needed to know. Instead, there was only silence. Sepulchral. Melancholic. Somber silence.

His movements — the movement of his arm as he brought the cigarette back to his lips —, were almost too slow. As if he was a bit lethargic. His unreadable eyes, however, removed such assumption from your head.

He was his own master as always.

You were the one affected by that conversation.

Or lack thereof.

“I tried.”

His belated answer made you let out a deep breath. Your shoulders relaxed visibly. You let go of your dress and readied yourself for the next question.

“Do you…” You bit your bottom lip. The fact that he did not hate you did not mean much, right? It should not. Yet, you were a giddy fool right now. His answer to your next question would have the power to either crush your heart forever or cherish it for ages to come.

Do you love me?

You wanted to ask.

You wanted so badly to ask.

But you were afraid to know the answer.

I know I love you.

You said once — twice — and all he did whenever you told you had feelings for him was to back off. He never seemed to take very well to your love confessions. It was as if he was…

Afraid of your feelings?

Disgusted at them?

Probably the second option.

“Will you kill me?” you asked instead.

He shut off the cigarette and turned on his heels, heading towards the exit.

“No.”

He opened the door and held it open for you. You crossed the threshold, but instead of going towards the hover sled, you looked at him. The two of you were close now — more than you have been in days. You bit your bottom lip and raised your hand to touch his face. Your fingers skimmed his jaw lightly — as if afraid he would jerk away from you —; the facial hair gracing his features made you remember your conversation before everything went downhill. A sad smile tilted the corner of your lips.

The General froze under your touch. He barely dared to breath. He did not do anything to move you away, however.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his chest. You felt so tired, drained even. All you wanted right now was for him to hold you close and say he forgave you for lying — that he had feelings for you.

He knew your unspoken question. It would be heaven if he could answer it right now. Answer it positively.

Instead, he ran his fingers through your hair in a soothing caress. You grabbed his shirt and pressed your face against his chest. The first tears stained both the black fabric and your face.

“Are you using me to destroy the Resistance?”

He went rigid under your touch. His answer, however, came quicker than you expected — for you were expecting no answer at all, “No.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.”

You swallowed.

The General removed your face from his chest and tilted it slightly backwards. You expected him to wrap his hand around your throat, but he merely brushed your tears away. His bluish eyes conveyed nothing of his feelings — did he have any?

When he spoke, your heart almost stopped for a moment, before it went back to that galloping pace.

“You will have to follow your instincts.”

A/N - And that’s all for today. I promise this time I’ll adhere to schedule and update every chapter here on Fridays. On Wattpad, chapters will be posted every Wednesday. See you! xD And hopefully, by the end of next week, I’ll also post chapter 25 - Lost & Found on AO3.

Ah, you will also see that I decided I no longer will mark as italic the words related to the SW universe. It’s very inconvenient to keep revising and marking here every word and comparing them with my ms office because tumblr doesn’t keep the rich text.

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