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whatapunk · 3 years

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Chapter 3!!

I’m not sure how well I did it (as dialogue and I do NOT get along), but writing drunken Kanan/Rhia/Hera banter was a blast for me. I’d also like to point out that I mention the Gorse conflict several times in this chapter and I think most people in the kanera fandom are familiar with that story, but if you haven’t read A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller you should give it a go! Especially if your soul needs every scrap of kanera you can find. As always, thank you so much for any likes and reblogs! You guys are the freaking best.

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: m for the profanity, possibly for non-explicit intimacy later

Word Count: 3217

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2

Chapter 3

“Force, Rhia, that was delicious.” Kanan placed his fork on his plate and pushed it away from him, feeling more full than he’d been in months. She smiled her thank you at his compliment.

Kanan swirled the contents of his drink around, examining them before taking a sip. He could already feel the alcohol, and he was only one and a half drinks in. He thought back to nights at the bar on Gorse and how many drinks he’d put away all while still being remarkably coherent. He also thought of all the nights he’d spent on the floor of that bar and decided he’d made a good trade-off in his adulthood.

Rhia stood and collected the plates and utensils, taking them over to the sink. Kanan watched her, his thoughts back on the lost memory of her cooking him breakfast that had suddenly made its home in his brain again. He smirked and let out a quick chuckle, realizing the image of her standing at the sink now matched the one in his memory like a mirror- just, with more clothing. She looked back at him.

“Something funny?”

“It doesn’t feel all that different,” he started. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Us, I mean,” he explained. “I had all these things I thought up to say to you but then you were just…” he trailed off, unsure of his next words.

“Just what?” she asked. He shrugged but smiled down into his glass as he drained it for the second time.

“I don’t know. Just you,” he said, his voice just beginning to be swallowed by alcohol-induced giddiness. “I kept thinking about what I should say to you earlier when I was meditating,” he said, ignoring or just not noticing the increase in the height of her already raised brow. “But then I got here and you were making dinner and suddenly we’re just shooting the shit like I’m 22 and you’re…” he paused, frowning. “How old are you again?” he asked, surprised he’d forgotten. He blamed it on the alcohol. She grimaced.

“I’m glad you’ve forgotten,” was all she offered up as an answer. He moved on.

“I’m just saying, you haven’t changed. At all,” he finished. He could hear his tone shifting, becoming lighter than it had been all day. Again, he gave credit to the alcohol. Rhia smirked but otherwise left the comment unacknowledged.

“Since when do you meditate?” she asked as she rinsed the dishes off.

“It’s new,” was all he added.

“Is that a jedi thing?” He looked at her, a little surprised. Rhia knew who Kanan was, but it was still somewhat new to him to hear people talk about it openly.

“It is. I’m sort of a jedi again,” he said and laughed at his own statement. He reached back and rubbed his neck. “It’s weird.”

Rhia finished washing the plates and walked back over to the table. On her way, she grabbed the glass bottle off the counter. She poured her own drink and didn’t bother to look at Kanan. She capped the bottle and set it near the center of the table.

“You know, I don’t really drink… at all anymore,” Kanan offered, eyeing the bottle.

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhia replied simply, quite relaxed. She’d meant it; she had no interest in trying to get Kanan drunk, especially if it was happening as quickly as it seemed to be. However, if he chose to get drunk, she certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

Kanan reached out slowly and grabbed the bottle, a peaceful look on his face. He poured another drink for himself and took a sip.

“You’ll never believe this, but-” and he laughed, caught off guard by how funny his next statement would sound to Rhia. “I have an apprentice- a padawan,” he said, slipping back into his chuckles. Rhia’s mouth all but fell open.

“You what?” she asked in disbelief. “You have a padawan?” Rhia was joking, but she was also very serious. Kanan finished laughing and looked up at her, nodding.

“Yep. And you know, I’m not a half bad teacher honestly,” he said, feeling prouder than he expected to. It was Rhia’s turn to laugh. “I’m serious!” he protested.

“Kanan,” she began. “Who put you in charge of their child?” she asked in the middle of another fit of laughter. Kanan’s face remained tranquil, but he did get a little more serious.

“Well… he doesn’t have parents- not anymore,” he said. Rhia stopped laughing and her expression softened.

“Well that’s… that’s good of you,” she said and took a drink. The more somber moment passing quickly, she looked back up at him with sudden realization. “Shit Kanan, you’re not just a master, you’re like a father aren’t you?” Kanan let out a short laugh that morphed into a sigh.

“Yeah I.... I kinda am. We’re kind of like parents,” he said, his grin turning huge.

“We?” Rhia asked, interested. Kanan looked quickly down at his drink for another sip.

“Yeah uh,” he began awkwardly. “Me and Hera we’re kind of… together.” Rhia smiled at him.

“She’s pretty impressive, Kanan,” she said and he smiled back at her, letting out a breath. “Way too good for you,” she added.

“You are not wrong.”

“Though, I assume she still fits your type,” she said and Kanan immediately rolled his eyes.

“Rhia, I don’t have a type,” he said adamantly, but she’d started giggling. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be people with ‘daddy issues,’” he said, making air quotes. Rhia’s laughter filled the room.

Back on Gorse one drunken night, Rhia had begun taking a long oral history of Kanan’s ex-partners. After around a dozen stories that all pretty much began and ended the same way, Rhia surmised that Kanan seemed to be attracted to lovers who tended to have some either spoken or unspoken issues with their fathers. Kanan protested adamantly and continuously, and this had only worked to confirm Rhia’s suspicions. Upon inquiring about Rhia’s father, Rhia gladly told him that he’d passed away when she was a child. Kanan then accused her of lying to prove her point, much to Rhia’s amusement.

“So,” Rhia began, fighting down a burst of laughter, “you’re saying Hera has a really great relationship with her dad then, yes?” Kanan didn’t look up and tried desperately to hide the fact that he was holding back laughter. He took a drink, hoping to hide his creeping smile behind his glass. In the silence, they both eventually burst into laughter.

Kanan was definitely feeling it. His head felt like it was suspended in a bacta tank and there was a permanently peaceful look on his face. Having been so tense for weeks, this was undoubtedly a welcome disposition. There was something to be said as well for Rhia and the conversation they were having. Not only had it felt so nice to tell her about his family now, she’d made it feel so natural and ok. Not that he’d done anything wrong, but many exes could easily have turned bitter or offered fake support. Rhia, however, had been warm and normal. Telling her about Hera and Ezra felt just as natural as any of their conversations had been seven years ago. Still, there was no doubt- as much as the thought of Hera right now made his heart swell, his reverence toward Rhia in this regard had begun to sow seeds of conflict in him.

Their laughter subsided. Rhia met his eyes from across the table and the seeds began to grow. Kanan downed the last of his drink and gave all the signs of being about to leave. Just before he stood up, however, a very special voice spoke to him from the doorway.

“I wondered where you were,” Hera said, causing Kanan to go from surprised to smiling like an idiot in record time.

“Hera!” he said, and noted the volume in his voice had risen for no reason. He really couldn’t hold his alcohol anymore. Hera’s eyes widened knowingly, going from him to the bottle, and she smirked.

“Captain Syndulla,” Rhia stood up welcomingly and offered her a hand. “I didn’t really get to introduce myself earlier. I’m Rhia Denley,” she said, not seeming at all three drinks deep. She took Hera’s hand gently and the twi’lek returned a smile.

“Hera,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you. I rarely get to meet a friend of Kanan’s,” she added. Rhia turned back to him and they both looked at him as he grinned drunkenly.

“That’s not surprising,” Rhia said. “He never had many of those,” and both women laughed at his expense. “Please, sit,” Rhia insisted, offering her a chair. She then went to the cabinet and pulled out another glass. Placing it in front of Hera, she began pouring. Hera held up a hand at a half.

“Oh that’s plenty, thank you,” and Rhia stopped obligingly.

“We were just talking about you,” Rhia began and Kanan shot her a look, concerned about exactly which part of their conversation Rhia was about to share. Rhia pretended not to notice. “I can’t believe Kanan has a padawan. You should have known this man on Gorse!”

Hera looked at him with pride, but she also took note of the fact that Rhia knew he was a jedi. She then realized Rhia had said “Gorse.”

“I did know him on Gorse,” Hera started. “Or, well, I met him on Gorse.”

Rhia looked at Kanan subtly and for the first time all night, the warmth in her face faltered slightly.

“It was after you… left,” Kanan offered, jumping in. “Maybe like a month after you left. I ran into Hera and swept her off her feet of course.” Hera snorted and Rhia followed.

“I know there is no kriffing way she followed you anywhere,” Rhia said, taking a drink. She turned to Hera, all but pretending Kanan wasn’t in front of her. “He was in trouble wasn’t he?” she asked flatly. Hera laughed.

“Something like that.” Kanan threw out his hands in dramatic disbelief.

“What? You were in trouble- we all were!” Kanan griped. Hera nodded, appeasing him.

“That’s true. Gorse was a mess,” she said and took a drink.

“What happened there?” Rhia asked. Kanan looked at her and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“You remember that explosives guy, Skelly?” At the name, Rhia threw her head back in a resounding affirmative.

“Skelly! Man that guy was a fucking wack job,” she said and Hera laughed, clearly agreeing. “You met him?” Rhia asked.

“Oh yeah. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I have to agree. Skelly nearly got us killed a handful of times.” Rhia was definitely interested now.

Over the next hour or so (eventually none of them was really aware of the time), Hera and Kanan regaled Rhia with how they met on Gorse and the entirety of the disasters and successes of that highly unplanned mission. Eventually Hera emptied her glass and didn’t object to another, nor did Kanan.

Truthfully, the drunker Rhia got the more her insides were a battlefield of emotions. Here she was with two people whose company she was enjoying immensely. But she couldn’t deny that everything that had once attracted her to Kanan was still alive and well. In fact, he’d only seemed to change for the better since she’d last known him. Additionally, she was falling in love with Hera almost immediately. The twi’lek had come off as calm and quiet, and while she definitely embodied those traits to an extent, she was also assertive and commanded attention, even when she appeared meek. Rhia understood why Kanan was with her, and she could only imagine the luck he felt at having met her, let alone being her partner.

Rhia poured another glass, attempting to drown her thoughts, at least until she could be alone with them. She’d lost count of how many drinks they’d each had, but the bottle was approaching its final drops, a sign that the number was quite large. Kanan’s eyes were drooping and she wondered how long he’d last before he’d try to sleep on the floor. Hera was feeling it too, but she’d paced herself and remained relatively composed. Her speech gave her away though; each drink she took seemed to chip away at her filter. It just made Rhia like her more.

“Did you know him when he was Caleb Dume?” Hera asked abruptly, looking at Rhia with an interested expression. Rhia was a bit caught off guard and looked to Kanan for a hint at how to proceed. He met her eyes but said nothing.

“I did,” Rhia started, “or at least I think he was between ‘Caleb Dume’ and ‘Kanan Jarrus,’” she offered. Hera seemed to be contemplating this.

“I didn’t go by ‘Kanan’ yet, but she outed me,” Kanan said, pointing an accusatory finger at Rhia. Rhia rolled her eyes yet again.

“Hera,” she said, turning away from Kanan. “You should have seen this kid,” she started and a few drunken giggles made her pause. “You think he’s bad now? Everything annoying he does now, he did times a thousand when I met him,” and she slipped back into giggles with Hera. Kanan shook his head but smiled. Hera’s face lit up at a thought.

“You knew him when he was a kid?” Hera asked, excitedly.

“Well, not exactly. He was 17 but he was absolutely a kid that’s for sure,” she said grinning back at Kanan. “Though,” she went back to Hera, “if you told him he was a kid he’d get so offended,” she said and cackled with the twi’lek.

“He told me he hates that! Like, defensive much?” Hera said with a laugh. Kanan looked at both of them.

“I’m right here, guys,” he offered, but Rhia and Hera were still too busy laughing at the thought of young, defensive Kanan.

“Hera, do you know what this little teenager did nearly the moment he met me?” she asked. “Keep in mind, I’m quite a bit older than him and I was definitely too old for him when he was seventeen.” It was Hera’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh kriff, he tried to hit on you didn’t he?”

“Don’t tell me-” Rhia started, egging Hera on.

“He did the same thing to me!” Hera nearly shouted and the two women doubled over in laughter.

“Wow,” was all Kanan could say, returning to his glass. Eventually Rhia and Hera finished laughing and dabbed the tears from their eyes.

“So how did you figure out he was Caleb?” Hera asked.

“Well, at the time he was running with the smuggler Janus Kasmir,” Rhia started. Hera nodded.

“He’s told me about him.”

“So at the time I was part of a crew on a transport that he and Kasmir hired. Only,” she looked and spoke directly at Kanan, “they failed to tell us just how hot they were before we took off,” Rhia joked, as if she still held it against him. “I’d done some bounty hunter work before, so after even the slightest bit of research I found his goofy little face all over the holonet in an instant, and he hadn’t even bothered to disguise himself!” she all but yelled.

“I’d changed my look!” Kanan argued. “I’d started wearing a ponytail then,” he said with drunken confidence. Rhia and Hera shared a knowing look.

“He looked nearly identical,” Rhia continued. “So, I told our captain we needed to drop them, only-”

“He was a huge asshole,” Kanan cut her off. She snorted.

“Indeed. I didn’t tell him Kanan was a jedi, but he’d figured out that if I was so eager to get rid of them, he must be worth a lot. So, he intended to collect with the Empire. And do you know what this fucking maniac and Kasmir did to me?” she asked Hera, getting heated. Hera’s eyes were wide and she shook her head, invested.

“Look-” Kanan had started, but Rhia continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Those two idiots stunned me- even though I was going to help them! Next thing I know, I'm waking up on the floor of an escape pod with a crick in my neck!" she said, finishing her story with a drink. Hera frowned and looked at Kanan with goofy disapproval.

"Kanan!" she chastised him. He held his hands up in defense.

"We didn't know you were planning on helping us!" he spoke in a way that said this was not the first time he'd had to defend himself here. "The captain was your boyfriend. We assumed you'd just go along with him, so we took you hostage. And it worked!” he added. Rhia narrowed her eyes at him with a smirk.

“It did, but I hadn’t thought about turning either of you in until I woke up in that pod,” she said, laughing and lost in the memory for a moment. She drained her glass.

Hera watched the red-haired woman with great interest and warmth. She’d gleaned from their awkward meeting earlier that day that she and Kanan had some sort of history, and she’d felt the early pangs of jealousy when she’d found them here alone, drinking. But Rhia had a friendliness to her that seemed to quiet any other negative emotion in the room. There were still quiet thoughts in Hera’s mind relating to Rhia’s pleasing face and her tall, muscular frame that made her feel like competition. Not to mention, her vibrant hair, which seemed so deeply red at times and other times, when her movements caught the dim lighting just right, seemed almost reflective and chromatic. Regardless, Hera mostly felt like she’d formed a fast friend, and it was nice to be around another woman her own age. The alcohol didn’t hurt either.

“So what happened next?” Hera asked, interested in the end of the story.

“Well, we did a job or two together, just so I could get some cash now that I was crewless and shipless,” Rhia said, giving Kanan another quick look. “But it didn’t last much longer and I left him and Kasmir. Though, I did hear about some low-profile work on Gorse back then and I told him about it. I never thought he’d actually listen to me,” she finished, giving Kanan a small smile. There it was again, that competitive feeling inside of Hera.

“And then you ended up there at the same time, years later?” she asked, drawing Rhia’s attention back to her.

“Somehow, yes,” Kanan said, a little quieter than he’d been. A comfortable hush fell over the table. Three drunken adults sat, enveloped in warm intoxication and warmer memories. It hurt each one of them a bit to notice the emptiness of the bottle in front of them. The realization that the night was drawing to a close began descending on them, and Rhia, noticing the small bit left in each of their glasses, held up hers in a toast.

“To old and new friends,” she said, looking from Kanan to Hera. They both smiled back at Rhia and drained their glasses with her, adding the slightest bit of fog to their already foggy brains.

#i'm sorry this is so long #unless you like that #in which case you're welcome #star wars #star wars rebels #rebels #star wars fanfiction #rebels fanfiction #fanfiction #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #endings

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imaginethisgalaxy · 5 years

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Kanan Jarrus x Reader Word Count: 6,136. Good grief. Prompt: An anonymous request came in for #12 on this list (“We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way.”) with Kanan an entire lifetime ago, and now I’m finally posting it. No, I have nothing to say for myself, but I am sorry ...? Warnings: NSFW. Very NSFW. There’s oral sex and penetrative sex (with a female reader -- I couldn’t figure out how not to make this sound stilted and weird without specifying, I’m sorry! I’ll keep experimenting to get to that point someday). I had this image in my head that I absolutely could not get rid of, so I ran with it.

Please note for the record that my ride-or-die Kanera loyalty battled it out with the thirst for like, a solid year until I could finish this, if not longer. The thirst eventually won. ... also I didn’t edit this because I don’t love myself enough.

You are not a spy. You have, in fact, never been a spy -- which is what makes Kanan’s request that you accompany him on an extended mission all the more perplexing. It’s a simple enough objective: go to Spira, pose as an officer and his paramour on holiday, gather as much accurate intel as possible, and encourage anyone you can to believe as much false intel as you can reasonably drop into a conversation. Playback, they had called it, one of the oldest tactics in the espionage book. You still aren’t sure you’re the right person for the job, but Kanan could not and still will not be deterred, so you’ve long since given up trying. “You’re the right type,” he’d assured you. “You pay attention to details, you look plenty unassuming when you don’t have a blaster in hand, and in the right clothes you’ll look like the kind of girl who belongs in an officer’s club. I’ll be with you the whole time. You’ll be fine.”

What you hadn’t counted on -- what you’re still trying to deal with -- is how intense an experience it is pretending to be someone you aren’t. In particular, pretending to be the object of Kanan’s only-slightly-overblown affection is more than you bargained for. His hands are on you constantly, right at home on the small of your back or against your waist. He has developed a habit of leaning in entirely too close to speak to you, letting his lips brush against your skin, encouraging you to laugh at whatever he says to throw off any onlookers. It works; in the past week no one has so much as batted an eye at the two of you, which seems impossible but somehow isn’t. You spend your days charming officers and their companions, tucked safely into Kanan’s side and generating the proper amount of misleading gossip about the unscrupulous rebels running amok in your home system.

By the time you realize that the smiles you’re letting him have when he has you pulled into his lap at a table full of Imperials are genuine, it’s far too late to turn back and go home, or to vehemently deny the warmth that blooms in your chest whenever he pays you attention. So you let him press absent kisses to your bare shoulders while swapping fabricated stories with your newfound “friends” and pretend that nothing is wrong ... or, you try.

He is much more handsome than he has any right to be, in his fancy embroidered tunic. You know you are dressed specifically to match him in an expensive shimmersilk gown (totally devoid of a back, much to your near-constant discomfort -- the only time you feel comfortable in it is when the warmth of his hand skirts across the skin there, and then you are uncomfortable for other reasons) but you somehow feel like you clash with his apparently-effortless charm. It’s obvious to you that this isn’t what he’s normally what he’s like; you have also, after all, spent plenty of time holed up together in the suite you’ve managed to scam your way into drinking Old Janx Spirit this week. Even so, you manage to feel self-conscious about it anyway.

You know logically that you’ve had probably just a tad more Corellian wine than you really ought to have, but it would have been rude to refuse and you told yourself that you would be fine. It is not until Kanan ushers you up and guides you securely under his arm and against his side to walk you back to your shared suite that you realize exactly how intoxicated you are, leaning heavily into him. You're not that drunk -- you’re quite lucid, actually -- but if anyone asks you to run in your heels right now you’ll probably last all of four seconds before planting yourself face down on the plush hallway carpet.

“That Vice-Admiral’s wife is trying to pickle me,” you groan quietly, and he laughs. You can feel the rumble of it in his chest against the side of your ribcage, and it’s somehow soothing.

“You’re doing better than me.” Kanan leans down a little after he presses the call button for the turbolift, so only the two of you can hear. “Last night when you wandered off with the other two to do whatever it is women need to be in packs for in the ‘fresher, the old man was trying to feed us all Whyren’s Reserve.”

“Stars,” you huff, pulling away from him a little to lean on the wall and wait. “I don’t know how you said no. I’d have done it. I felt like if I turned her down she’d get suspicious.”

“Who says I said no?” He grins down at you, and you narrow your eyes. It makes him laugh, moving to cage you against the wall with one arm and pull you into him with the other for the benefit of the other people lingering in the hall, and to discourage them from paying you too much attention. A thrill runs right up your spine when he leans in to speak next to your ear, close enough to the skin of your throat that you can feel the heat of his breath. “The Force can be helpful if you’re trying to keep your wits and someone’s trying to get rid of them.”

You forget, sometimes, that he’s a Jedi -- was a Jedi; the Jedi don’t exist the way they used to anymore. “Some of us don’t have that,” you murmur into his shoulder, swallowing hard when you feel him laugh gently against your skin before pulling back to look you in the eye.

“No, but you’ve got me. I won’t let you get in over your head.”

He has no idea that you already are in over your head. The thought threatens to suffocate you, or perhaps it’s his closeness that has you completely out of breath all of the sudden. When the turbolift announces its arrival you duck under his arm to dart inside, twisting out of his grip so quickly that he actually looks startled for the half-second you can still see his face. You brace a hand against the wall of the lift, the other pressed to the space just below where your ribcage joins in the front as if it will help you to breathe easier.

His steps follow yours more closely than you would like, and you hear him pressing the button for your floor without a word to you. You don’t know if you want to cry or throw up or both -- you have been able to deal with his closeness for more than a week, but now it’s unbearable. Idly, you think perhaps it’s the wine. Maybe you’ve just had too much to drink, and it’s going to your head, ruining your concentration. It’s been so easy to pretend until tonight. You can hear him say your name, but it takes him another try to get a response out of you.

“I can’t,” you breathe, looking up at him and trying to get your composure back. Despite the effort, your voice shakes. “This is impossible. I can’t, I can’t.”

Kanan’s brow furrows, reaching out to try to touch your shoulder, but you angle yourself away, a hand still pressed against the wall of the lift like you think you might fall over. “What,” he tries, “what’s going on with you? What can’t you do?”

“This, Kanan, any of this. Please.”

“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice quiet. Reaching out to put a hand on either one of your shoulders, he doesn’t let you squirm out of his grasp again. He’s trying to ground you, you realize, and you are equally embarrassed and relieved. “Listen to me ... whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as it seems. You’re doing fine. We wouldn’t still be here if you weren’t. Take a breath.”

You breathe as deeply as you can, feeling much too hot under the open concern in his face. You don’t know how to tell him that being himself is making things worse for you, that you feel like your skin is on fire where he’s touching you, that you -- that you love him, you think distantly, and it’s the first time you’ve really admitted that to yourself. Swallowing thickly to keep yourself from either being ill or bursting into tears, you shake your head a little to try to clear it. “I’m sorry,” you settle for saying, “I think I’ve just had too much to drink. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Kanan doesn’t look like he believes you, but he doesn’t press the issue. “Let’s just get back, and we can figure things out.” When the lift finally reaches your floor you let him usher you out and down the hall, stepping as carefully as you can in your heels while still looking natural. The moment the door to your suite is open you lift the hem of your dress and kick them off into the entry corner, deftly avoiding what you’re sure is going to be a long line of questions you aren’t prepared to answer by ducking into the refresher and locking the sliding door behind you.

Setting the water in the sink to run cold, you place your hands under the tap and wait as it slowly cools from room temperature. You only withdraw them when it’s so cold that it almost stings, shaking the excess off before pressing your cold hands to the sides of your neck. Tipping your head back, you look at the polished tiles of the ceiling and try not to let the great sigh that rushes from you sound too loud as it echoes off the hard surfaces all around you. This might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever managed to do. Bad enough that there’s a larger rebellion out there that’s floundering no thanks to your inability to commit to espionage without losing sight of your job long enough to fall in love with your partner -- you wince at the thought, leaning back against the frigid tile of the wall. It’s not as if you can very well help it, though, is it? Maybe you can -- Kanan likely can, you realize, and something settles like ice in your stomach with the realization that he can’t possibly feel the same way you do.

“This probably doesn’t help,” Kanan says, so close to the door it makes you jump, “but there isn’t really anywhere else for me to go. We’re going to have to talk about this eventually.”

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” you reply, but you hear the wavering in your voice in the echo of the refresher and know he knows you’re lying. “It doesn’t matter.” That sounds a little bit more correct, but the soft thud of something against the door tells you it’s not working.

Kanan sighs, and you can hear the frustration in the way it turns into your name even though the sound is muffled. “I told you I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, and I meant it, but we have to work together on this. I can’t do anything for you if you don’t talk to me.”

You know he’s right. You hate that he’s right. Fighting the burning sensation in the back of your eyes, you check yourself briefly in the mirror before you disengage the lock and let the door slide open, only slightly startled to see him so close to where it once was that you’re almost sure you could have taken his nose off. You open your mouth to try to say something, anything, but manage only a very weak beginning to a statement that goes nowhere. Trying to brush past him proves futile, as the moment you pass him on your way to the larger part of your shared suite his hand closes around your arm -- not hard, but enough to stop you.

“Whatever’s going on, you need to spill it. You’re my partner, you have to let me do my part in this.”

“There isn’t anything to do,” you insist again, and you can see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes at you. “It’s not on you, it’s on me. I didn’t know this was going to happen; if I did I would have fought you harder on this.”

“Hey, I’m still about eight steps behind you,” Kanan half-laughs. “I still don’t know what happened.” His hand retreats from your arm just long enough to move up to your shoulder, its mate coming up to join it. You start to find somewhere, anywhere else to look but at him, but feel his palms slide up to the sides of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eye. All at once the wind is out of your figurative sails, and there is nothing you can do about it.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, fighting the trembling in your legs with everything you have. “I’m so sorry, Kanan.” “What would you even need to be sorry for? Don’t be sorry,” he chides you, but gently enough that you know he isn’t upset. “I just need you to talk to me.”

His thumb skims the line of your jaw, a gentle back-and-forth that is too soothing for you to tell him to stop. The silence that hangs between you is much too long to be normal, and when he says your name to bring your attention back to him, your breath catches in your throat. It’s now or never, and he won’t drop it.

“This whole week … we were pretending to be lovers,” you begin carefully, swallowing hard under the gentle pressure of his hands. “But I’m not pretending anymore, and I have to know if you feel the same way.” You leave the bolo-ball in his court, as if you don’t know what the answer is already. He can’t possibly feel the same way. You feel the flexing of his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck as he processes it, prepare to pull yourself away when he rebuffs you and beg him to let you call to be extracted, but the rejection you’re expecting never comes.

“You can’t really think all of that was just for show,” he says finally, something like awe in his tone. You’re so taken aback by the revelation that you’re sure your eyebrows are actually in your hairline, but he doesn’t seem particularly fazed by it if they are. “Why do you think I asked you? It’d be easy to pretend with you.”

You aren’t even breathing, lips parted as if you want to say something, but there is too much to say and somehow you don’t have the words for it. Following his gaze as it drops to your mouth, you watch it linger there for a moment before he leans carefully in, lips hovering above yours. The breath you manage to pull in shakes, and you exhale his name, barely above a whisper.

"Do you have any idea," Kanan questions, "how much I think about this?" His voice is low, harsh, like the control required not to close the scant distance between you is equal to the effort needed to move mountains. Your hands move up to pull gently at the front of his fancy tunic, to keep him from retreating, to wordlessly beg him to do it so you don’t have to. His forehead touches yours briefly, breathing in deeply enough that you can feel his chest fill with air beneath your hands. The seconds of silence between you stretch out for too long before the tension finally becomes too much. You are the one to move first, hands sliding up to the back of his neck to keep him right where he is and closing the gap between you. He yields immediately, slow and careful but showing no signs of retreating. His hands fall far enough to grip your waist, pulling you to him with care, calloused palms wandering the line of your torso as his tongue delves gently into the space your mouth has allowed it.

As the pads of his fingers find the warmth of your bare back something in him shifts; you feel it in the way his kiss becomes more intense, less controlled. The room spins, and you have to let your hand move to grip him right back to keep from sliding right down to the floor. Kanan presses the tips of his fingers into the soft curve of your shoulderblade beneath your skin, the hand not occupied there pressed to the small of your back to hold the line of your body tight to his. You find the closure of his tunic and pull at it without thinking, managing to get it halfway open before you realize what you’ve done. It doesn’t seem to put him off at all; in fact his hands are dipping beneath the edges of that backless gown -- far enough that you can feel the goosebumps pressing up from your flesh, nipples pebbled painfully against the soft shimmersilk of that flimsy bodice.

You feel him pull away from you and you can hear yourself yourself make a displeased little noise about it, but he keeps you at arm’s length all the same, only a little breathless. “Tell me now if you don’t want me to.” Kanan watches you intently, as if searching for any sign of regret or unsureness. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Please,” you manage, fingertips grazing the line of his collarbone beneath the open fabric of his tunic as if to keep you grounded. Your head is still swimming, and full sentences are hard, but you know he won’t do it if you don’t say it. “I’ve been thinking about this for days. I want to. I need to.” He opens his mouth, and you know he’ll ask again, so you cut him off. “Kanan, please.”

Your partner needs no further convincing.There is almost a type of reverence in the way his hands travel up, slowly slipping the straps of your dress from your shoulders, fingertips grazing the too-hot surface of your skin as he coaxes it into little more than a puddle of shimmersilk on the floor. He allows the backs of his fingers to run down the length of your arm to your hands, closing his around yours in order to pull you closer and exhibiting what you’re sure is an incredible amount of self-control in not acknowledging your bare chest, eyes on yours. You don't put up a fight in the least, allowing yourself to be pulled in, letting him cross your joined hands behind your back as he leans in to seal a kiss over your mouth so utterly searing that you finally understand what people are talking about when they say someone steals their breath.

The ache in your chest is unbearable, the tension that coils in the very pit of your stomach is making your head swim -- you might collapse under the sheer pressure of wanting this, wanting him. As soon as his fingers extricate themselves from yours so that he can run them along the expanse of your back, your own find their way into the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing him as close as he can get, seeking friction though you know you’ll find none in this position. It’s a thought that tears a frustrated whine from your throat even as he bites gently at your bottom lip. As if he knows, he gently slides a knee between your own, allowing you to part your own thighs and grind against his. The moan that sweet pressure coaxes from you is much louder than you mean it to be, but the way his fingers dig into your skin -- and the hard length of him, heavy and warm through the fabric of his pants -- tells you he enjoys it immensely. You know, distantly, that your hands are working his tunic the rest of the way off and that he isn’t fighting you on it, but it doesn’t really hit you that your bare skin is against his until you realize how warm he is against you, that you can feel his heart beating in his chest when he’s pressed this close.

You know that he's lifted you, but spatial awareness is long gone -- it's something of a surprise when you feel yourself all but thrown onto the bed, its decorative pillows scattered and shoved to the floor as you spread your arms to catch yourself. You start to admonish him but you don’t get a chance; the idea fizzles out and is replaced by a long string of deeply obscene thoughts as you watch him lean over onto the bed, one knee perched on its edge, hands reaching for your hips. Leaning back until you are flat against the bedspread, you watch as he leans down and presses open-mouthed kisses to the flushed skin of your midsection, working his way down to the line where your hip bones sit. He nips at the skin just above the waistband of the flimsy garment covering your sex and glances up at you for any sign of apprehension before -- finding none -- hooking his fingers under the waistband and dragging the neutrally-colored scrap down your legs. You don’t see where he throws them and when his hands return to part your thighs you can’t find it in you to care.

When he grabs onto your legs where they meet your hips, you immediately know what’s coming, but gasp anyway at the sheer force with which he yanks you closer to the edge of the bed before kneeling between your knees. The line of kisses and careful bites he makes his way up your thigh with send fire blooming across the surface of your skin, and you only have to say his name once to get him to quit teasing you. You think that you’ve never been more grateful for anything in your life until a moment later, when his tongue slides between your folds. You arch off the bed so violently he has to hold you down by the hips and you stand thoroughly corrected. “You’re not going anywhere yet,” he practically purrs, and you swear it’s almost enough to make you come undone to hear him talk that way after a week of unresolved tension.

Leaning in for another taste, he avoids giving the one place you want him most any attention. He deftly maneuvers around the little bundle of nerves, applying just enough pressure with his tongue to tease at it, to stimulate it indirectly, but never there. It’s already driving you up a wall, fingernails scraping at the bedspread as you grip it in an attempt to stay still for him. Your hips rock into his ministrations almost by themselves, still held under control by the force of his hands. He is intent to take his time, it seems, all long languid strokes of his tongue against the smooth slickness of your inner folds. You want to beg him to give you what you want, but all that you manage is a gasping whine that sounds only vaguely like his name. It’s enough to spur a growl against your skin before he finally -- finally -- teases your swollen clit with his tongue, swirling, pressing, lapping with deliberate strokes. The cry that tears itself from your throat is much louder than you intend but he makes no move to quiet you. Instead, he reaches to the hand you have digging into the plush fabric of the bedspread to tangle your fingers together against your hip. It is reassuring for all of a moment before you are lost again, back as taut an arc as you can manage as he suckles the little pearl at the apex of your sex, teeth grazing.

You know your fingernails must be digging painfully into the flesh of his hand, but his pace is uninterrupted, so he must not care. Eyes fluttering shut, you try to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around Kanan's head to keep him right where you want him. Maybe it's the Force, or maybe he's just done this a lot -- you try not to dwell on it -- but you feel him pull away just long enough to toss your legs over his bare shoulders, as if he’s keen to stay there for the rest of the cycle. The outright moan you treat him to is pornographic enough that you reach up to cover your own mouth, but his hand closes firmly around your wrist, startling you slightly. “Nope,” he half-groans against the juncture of your leg and hip, “none of that. I want to hear everything.” There is a sort of squeak in the affirmative from you, which he must assume is agreement because he’s pressing a kiss to the joint before ducking down, his lips and tongue returning to their place between your thighs, dedicated to tasting every part of you that they can reach -- and then some, if he can manage it. It makes your legs shake in a way that amazes you, like you need to stretch but can't move. You can feel your breath quicken under his ministrations, short deep gasps for air as his hands skirt up your sides and down again.

“Stars, Kanan,” you huff, more to the ceiling than to him as you squirm and arch against the bed. He groans against you, signaling that his name is clearly the way to go, and your insides lurch at the idea that you can make him fall apart, too. You take a shaking breath to say it again, but he chooses that moment to run his fingers along the warm, wet folds of your pussy before pressing slowly inside, and then you do say his name, just at the head of a breath that shakes with your whole body.

He is careful, deliberate about the slow slide of his fingers in and out of you, and when you look down between your thighs again he is watching you more intently than you've ever been watched in your life. His pace quickens when he's satisfied that you've adjusted, pressing his tongue once more to your clit with languid licks. The first time he actually sucks at the sensitive organ, your hips buck up so hard he has to hold you down with a considerable amount of effort, but the hum he treats you with sends heat right to your core. He's enjoying this -- enjoying you -- and it's almost more than you can bear to think about. Your body twists as much as it can in his hold, and before you can say anything to him about it, your orgasm catches you by surprise, ripping through you with all of the savage force of a geomagnetic storm as you cry out, swearing more vividly than you intend. It only serves to spur him on, fingers moving to work you through your release as you clench around them.

You're almost relieved when your body finally loses some of its tension, boneless and gasping for air against the bedding as Kanan draws away from you, watching the rise and fall of your chest like it's the only thing in the world. When you finally feel like your limbs aren’t lead -- how long has it even been, how long has he been waiting for you to show him you’re okay? -- you reach out to him. He moves in immediately, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses up your stomach and chest before, finally, he allows you to pull him against you and to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue and, Maker help you, you might just crave it from now on. Your hand snakes between the two of you, down the lean muscle in his torso to the closure of his pants … and further, palming him through the fabric. The quiet groan of your name against your mouth is music to your ears, and you can’t stop the smile that turns the corners of your lips up. It doesn’t escape his notice.

“You’ve been holding out on me. How long have you been planning that move?” Kanan asks, amusement cutting the tightness in his voice only slightly.

“About a week,” you manage, only half a laugh as you squeeze the outline of his length gently for emphasis. He exhales hard, like he might have laughed if you hadn’t done it, grinding into your grip and dropping his head against your shoulder.

“You’re trying to kill me.” It earns him an actual laugh and some mercy as you move to unfasten his pants and push at the waist, coaxing them off his hips as much as you can without his assistance. He’s all too happy to help you along, shucking both pants and underwear in one move and dropping them somewhere out of sight. He’s on you again in seconds, pressed flush against you as his mouth slants over yours. It’s brief, and he moves quickly to your jawline, your throat, the valley between your breasts -- he bites at the flesh of one, a hand moving to knead and roll the other as his lips work their way to your nipple and suck gently, warm and wet for the brief moment before he pulls free and leaves the hardened peak to the now-chill air in the tiny space between you. “Do we need -- I mean, are you --” Oh. You hadn’t even thought about it.

Moving your hands up to the base of his skull, you tip his face to look at you. “I’m covered,” you say with a small smile. He opens his mouth for another question, but you stop him. “I trust you, Kanan.” You can actually, physically see him swallow as soon as you’ve said it, see the shift in the way he’s looking at you -- mostly like you’re about to be eaten alive in the best way, but with the same kind of affection he’s lavished on you in the sight of a dozen Imperial officers over the last week.

Something in your stomach does a somersault, and then you’re pulling him against you again, kissing him like you need it to survive. His hands work their way down between the two of you, rubbing gentle patterns into the juncture of your thighs to distribute the wetness there before hooking a hand under your leg to open you further and beginning the slow, careful press inside. There isn’t pain, not really -- just the sensation of being stretched around the girth of him -- but Kanan’s fingers trail soothingly along your thighs all the same, the constant steward of your comfort. You can feel the humid heat of his breath against your throat as he groans once he’s fully seated inside you, teeth dragging briefly against your collarbone as he waits for your go-ahead.

“Kanan,” you murmur finally, hands brushing the planes of his shoulders and roving upwards, into the roots of his hair, thumb pressed against the jumping of the pulse in his throat. “Please?”

Nearly immediately, he retreats and plunges back into you -- and again, and again with a focus that forces the air from your lungs. You’re distantly aware of your hips lifting from the plush bedding to meet his, the drag of his hips against yours almost overwhelming. You lose track of what’s happening quickly; there is the sharp pressure of his teeth against your throat, the wandering of his hands as he eventually moves his hands to your hips to hold you in place as his every thrust jostles you.

His limbs slide against yours, sweat-slick and shaking as you wrap a leg around his hips to spur him on, to seek the friction of his hips against yours as you both race to release. It feels like every nerve ending is slowly burning under the surface, a tangled, undulating knot of sighs and open-mouthed kisses anywhere that can be reached. The cadence of his hips becomes erratic, the tension in your lower belly wound nearly as tight as it can go.

You hear your name, as if from far away, although you know his mouth is against your shoulder. It’s hard to focus, hot all over and so close to the edge, but you manage to eventually pull together the fragments of the sentence he’s trying to pull together in the haze of imminent orgasm. “I -- can I --”

Oh. “Yes,” you manage, “please, yes -- stars, Kanan --”

All at once, you feel him filling you, heat and pressure as his hips stutter against yours. You feel yourself grind against him unbidden, seeking that one last push over the edge and are rewarded with release at last, although less intense than the first. His breath catches as he presses his mouth against the meeting of your neck and shoulder, feeling you clench around him as he works the both of you through the last waves of pleasure. For a long moment, neither of you makes a move.

Kanan drops his forehead to your chest eventually, and you suddenly become aware of the hammering he must feel there before he presses an absent kiss to the space between your breasts. You take a deep breath, about to say something, before he very carefully extricates his limbs from yours, pulling out of you at last. The absence of him makes you gasp, overstimulated and frankly exhausted from both the physical exertion and the tension that immediately preceded it. Your eyes close as you try to will your heartbeat to slow, bringing an arm up to cover them more completely against the light of the room.

You’re halfway to blissfully dozing when you feel something warm between your legs and physically jump, startled right out of that reverie and sitting up on your elbows. Kanan laughs, reaching out to hold you gently in place as you finally focus in on his face, slightly alarmed. “I thought I lost you for a minute, there. It’s just me.” The hand not against your hips is holding a damp cloth, and your heart does a funny little turn at the idea that he had absolutely planned to take care of you whether you knew it or not.

“I was falling asleep,” you manage, brain still not quite caught up.

“I noticed.” He nods slightly, as if to indicate the crux of your thighs. “I just figured you wouldn’t want to sleep like that.” Your partner watches for any indication that you might stop him before -- exceedingly gently -- he finishes cleaning you up, the sticky remnants of release wiped away with minimal discomfort. You make no move to stop him, nor do you protest as he does away with the cloth and crawls his way back up the expanse of the bed to you.

Kanan’s arm wraps around you without preamble, and you find yourself smiling before you can catch yourself -- there is the question of what next, where are we, what are we doing, but it can wait. Turning carefully in his grip, you face him, and he dips his head to bring his mouth to yours without hesitation. It isn’t anywhere near as fierce or as lingering as when you’d finally come together, but your head swims all the same. He breaks off before you think to, allowing silence to settle over the both of you for what seems like a long time.

“You alright?”

“You’re asking me that now?” You prod at him teasingly, and he scoffs, but you’re both grinning, so he must not take it personally. “I’m alright.” A beat, and then you think better of it. “I’m great.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says casually, a hand moving up to brush against the bare curve of your side. You roll your eyes, and he pokes you much in the same manner as you had, coaxing a laugh from you. “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“Me too,” you admit, the sentiment tinged with sheepishness. “I was just …”

“I know,” Kanan murmurs. “You don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I know,” you murmur in turn, shimmying to press the line of your body against his again and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You feel him shuffle only a little awkwardly against you before the bedding begins moving, finally settling over you both as he returns his hands to your skin, dropping a kiss to your shoulder right above the line of fabric. Your eyes fall closed at the sensation, and you can’t find the motivation to open them again, stifling a yawn before repeating yourself quietly.

“I know.”

#kanan jarrus #kanan jarrus x reader #kanan jarrus imagine #star wars rebels #caleb dume #caleb dume x reader #caleb dume imagine #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert

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notfallplan · 6 years

Text

Hold My Hand

Summary: Dia knows this isn’t her type of scene, not the type of people she’d ever interact with but for some reason and luck, she’s outside of a music festival waiting for her date. (based off from the punk rock set)

Pairing: Kanan Matsuura/Dia Kurosawa (KanaDia)

AO3 LINK

Notes: if you follow me on twitter you already know what this is about.

Dia scans her surroundings, all she sees are big, burly men with tattoos all over their arms, loudly guffawing at whatever their mates have said, some teenage boys with the same haircut- probably annoying and should avoid, and women in leather jackets and ripped jeans with multiple piercings on their faces (hopefully she can befriend one or two), and even though she’s almost wearing the exact same outfit as them, she can’t help but still feel so out of place.

I am out of place, she knows this isn’t her type of scene, not the type of people she’d ever interact with but for some reason and luck, she’s outside of a music festival waiting for her date.

Yes, she has a date, when she first realized it, she has to say it multiple times for her to actually believe it.

She didn’t plan on it actually, she was just at this underground concert with her best friend Mari, who loves dragging her to metal concerts even though she has never been fond of it no matter how much her blonde friend forces her to listen to it.

She had a drink or two and Mari- a good friend that she is, didn’t stop her, “Dia I just want to see you lose control for once!”

And lose control she did.

She remembers jumping and screaming, Mari even said she got pulled up at the stage but she doesn’t remember that (Dia doesn’t know whether she should be thankful that she doesn’t remember and that Mari could be lying or be mortified), but she does remember seeing a blue-haired girl in a ponytail, with headphones around her neck, wearing a leather jacket and a very, very short, shorts, she swore a spotlight suddenly lit up on the girl and that she heard angels singing instead of someone on stage screaming on top of their lungs only for it to come out as if they’re taking a huge dump, and before her drunk self can think of any better, she started walking towards the girl and by some luck, bravery but mostly because of alcohol, she flirted her and got herself a date.

And next thing she knew, she just woke up with the girl’s number written on her arm with black lipstick.

The days before the date, she had to ask Mari to play one of her music so loud just so she’d wake up from whatever dream she’s on, she actually felt their old traditional house shake, and she just knew that this is real.

The girl, whom she just got to know by the name Kanan through their back and forth texting, decided to take her on this music festival, she agreed instantly without any thought, her mouth just blurted out a quick and loud yes over the phone, that she quickly clamped her hand on her mouth, but god was hearing Kanan’s giggle so worth it.

And at that moment, she just knew she has a huge gay crush on this girl.

She looked up at the list of performer’s who’d be there, and once she saw it, she feels dread at the pit of her stomach and her Britney Spears poster on her room staring daggers at the back of her head, “they’re all heavy metal bands” she says, dumbfounded.

Dia doesn’t hate rock, metal or any kind of heavy music per se, but rather, it’s just not her type, and if she has the choice, she would never ever listen to them or actually attend any of their concerts.

She then spent the remaining days, looking up at the bands and trying to listen to their music, watched youtube videos and observed the strange habitat of metalheads during a concert.

“They sure do like, having their bodies too close”, she frowns and feels uneasy at the thought of huge men being way too close to her.

She shudders.

After thorough research for her date, she’s glad to say that she has never been more scared in her entire life.

Mari dragging her to underground concerts was one thing, everyone in there are always drunk and it was dark and she was always with the blonde to keep her in check. So this time around, she’s deathly afraid she might look like a huge fool in front of this very , very cool girl that she so wants to impress because she's Dia Kurosawa, the calm and collected school president, and she is very, very, very cool too.

Well that’s what Ruby says and Ruby doesn’t lie.

And now the day has come, and she still remembers the disaster this early morning was. She and Kanan are supposed to meet at the entrance of the festival at 5 o’clock and it was only 9 a.m. and she was already freaking out.

She thrashed her room, flipped everything upside down to try and find a good suitable outfit but alas, all she has are pink and red flannels,overalls, skirts that touches her knees, jeans and Britney Spears inspired outfits (it’s not for cosplay she’d say). A week of research but she failed on the clothing department and at that point, she was just ready to cancel the date and fly out to Antarctica and live the rest of her life in igloos along with her sisters, the penguins.

But for some reason god decided to take pity on her when she heard the doorbell ring and Mari’s high pitched voice screaming at her. Her friend brought her own clothes for Dia to try out because she just knew how much of a disaster lesbian Dia actually is.

(It's not like Dia bombarded Mari's phone with multiple texts with just the word HELP.)

Mari helped her with her hair, makeup and sorted out her outfit for the day. She’s grateful for her friend no matter how annoying and aggravating she can be, maybe penguins and Ruby aren’t her only sisters but also this one annoying goldilocks too.

And now, Dia finds herself outside of the festival, wearing this cool leather jacket that has a bit of red in it a white top under it, her favorite red flannel tied around her waist, a very short skirt and boots to finish her “I’m punk rock actually” look.

Mari dropped her off fifteen minutes before it hits 5 o’clock because Dia wants to get a feel of her surroundings first and mentally prepare herself.

“Good luck Dia, make sure to not accidentally take part in the wall of death!”

“Wall of what?!” Dia exclaimed

“Ciao!” and with that the blonde girl drive off.

Now, as Dia stands there, alone, five minutes remaining until Kanan shows up (hopefully she isn’t tardy), she can’t help but feel fear dread take over her body and her palms feels like it can end drought and oh god, I’m sweating, I’m sweating.

She’s nervous, she’s scared. This is her first date, and with a beautiful girl at that, she just hopes god is still out there with her, please don’t make me look like an idiot.

She gulps and grips the pink lollipop, courtesy of her little sister Ruby who gave it to her before they left and said it might help to calm down her nerves, she’s not exactly right but she does appreciate the gesture.

She fishes out her phone from her jacket’s pocket and saw it’s already 5:01, she’s late.

She feels someone in front of her and she looks up and she freezes.

“Hey Dia”

Her heart stops.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit late, I went to see my friend first to get our tickets but she had a hard time trying to find a parking space”, Kanan laughs exasperated. She’s wearing the same kind of outfit when she last saw her but this time the purple headphones is now red, my favorite color, Dia wants to say it’s just a coincidence but it’s not a coincidence.

And seeing Kanan up close, in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, she looks and seems like a delinquent on the surface and she thinks of how she would have never interacted with anyone like Kanan, how people like her usually gives her the vibe of violence and rule breaking, and just a group of people that Dia would rather drop dead than be seen hanging out with them and or probably be the one to call on the police on them.

But Kanan, Kanan gives off this homey feeling that Dia loves and can’t quite understand as to how someone she’s only communicated through calls and texts makes her feel so light.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

Dia swallows, she can feel her face heat up, probably from the heat and her palms are still so sweaty, and she laughs softly and shakes her head, “No, no, it’s fine I just got here actually.”

Kanan beams and Dia feels her knees go weak, “Alright, lets go then!”

The blue-haired girl held out her hand, and Dia, for a few seconds, just looked at it.

“Is there something wrong? Am I being too forward?” Kanan asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

Dia immediately blurts out a “No!”, she looks down and she knows this time her face isn’t hot because of the heat.

“I just…” I don’t know whether or not to tell her, she might find me weird or gr-

“Don’t worry, I’m nervous too,” Kanan smiles at her, teeth and all, and she swears those pearly whites are reflecting the sun’s rays, “which means my palms are a bit sweaty too, so we can be gross together unless that’s not what you were thinking and I’m being weird.”

Dia’s eyes widens, she can feel her heart thrum so hard against her chest, that she’s afraid that even with all the noise surrounding them, Kanan might hear it.

“You’re nervous?” Dia asks.

Because how could she be nervous? Do punk rockers even get nervous?

The punk rock girl nods, and amethyst eyes meets emerald ones and it feels like she’s in a Taylor Swift song from her early albums, “You’re beautiful and really cool” Kanan mumbled as she starts scratching the back of her head, “and I’d really want to get to know you more and I’m just afraid I might not be doing a good job at this whole date thing.”

At this point, Dia’s heart just wants to be let out of her ribcage and slap Kanan’s face with all the love it can give and maybe she just wants to kiss the heck out of Kanan right here and right now.

Get a hold of yourself Kurosawa.

And so Dia just takes Kanan’s hand, she wasn’t lying, and she looks forward and she bites her lip to stop herself from grinning too much.

She pulls the punk rock girl along to the entrance and says, “You’re really beautiful too Kanan and don’t worry, you’re doing an amazing job.”

Kanan squeezes her hand and with her back turned, she wasn’t able to see the soft smile and pink cheek of the blue-haired girl.

They first get some water bottles before they get into the pit and Dia finishes the lollipop Ruby gave her, for as much as she doesn’t really want it, it was given to her by her little sister. As she eats, Kanan brings out her map of the festival and Dia sees some dolphin stickers next to the band names.

“I picked out some of the bands I want to see for tonight, is there any band you would like to see? And don’t worry, if its conflict with the band I want to see, it’s okay, I’d tag along with you wherever and whoever it is okay?”

Dia softly says an okay, and as she looks at the map with all the different bands, even with her research she still doesn’t know which bands are worth more listening or seeing to, and honestly, she’d rather sit out of it if she can.

But Kanan might get suspicious her, after all, she did say during her drunken state how much she just loves metal bands and has been playing along with it the entire time Kanan and her were exchanging texts, that she has to have her laptop next to her the entire time so she can quickly search up whatever it was Kanan was talking about.

“Uhm, how about we just go along with all the bands you want to see?”

Kanan tilts her head to the side, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I like all of the ones you picked honestly.”

“Well if you say so, come on then!” Kanan takes a hold of her hand this time and they both start running towards the first stage Kanan wants to get into.

They try to push forward, to get to the front of the stage but with their enemies having such huge and sturdy bodies, they were only able to make it into the middle.

“Well looks it’s center for us then, if you’re unable to see just tell me okay?”

Dia laughs, “what are you gonna do? Carry me?”

Kanan hums and says, “Yeah, you can sit on my shoulder”

Dia feels like she’s going to choke with her own saliva that she starts dry coughing.

She hears Kanan laugh and she pouts as she lightly punches the girl on the arm.

“I’m not kidding though.”

Before Dia could reply, they hear everyone start screaming along with the beat of the drums and the strum of the guitars.

“It’s starting!!” Kanan happily shouts.

Dia just gulps and she looks up at the sky, god please don’t let me die.

The first few minutes were okay, everyone was jumping and has their arms up, and dear god, some of them need to learn what a deodorant is, there were some light shoving and everytime she releases an “ow” Kanan is quick to pull Dia towards her body and glare at whoever it was and how much she wishes that she’d just stay like that the whole time, with Kanan’s arms around her.

She sees Kanan shouting, and screaming some of the lyrics and she tries too, really, she knows this song, barely, but she remembers some of the lyrics but she feels like a puppy barking while the rest are roaring tigers.

This is not her type of scene, but as she looks at Kanan, who has this huge grin on her face, her face flushed, and a huge grin on her face as she screams along with the vocalist, Dia feels that maybe, just maybe, going to this sort of things more would be okay, as long as the punk rock beauty is with her.

They run back and forth to get to the stages with the bands Kanan wants to see, it’s exhilarating and fun, as they always dash around with their hands clasped together, never letting go of one another.

They always only make it to the middle, but Kanan says it’s okay, and it’s more fun to be in the center of things.

“This one goes pretty hardcore, have you listened to them Dia?”

So the other ones before this aren’t even that hardcore?

“Not really?”

“Ahh I hope you like them, they’re one of my favorite bands!”

Dia thinks it’s okay, that it’s actually more hardcore than the other ones they’ve seen but as it goes on, the music gets wilder, louder and the crowd starts being more aggressive and she can’t quite know what’s going on at the front but she can see some people hit and slam each other with their own bodies that she just wants to go home and hide under her bed, but she has to remind herself that this is called “moshing” according to her research and that it’s normal for these people.

She then hears a booming “pick a side motherfuckers” from the lead vocalist, now she’s heard profanities before and has even said some herself but that one feels like the crispiest profanity she has ever heard.

“Do you want to participate in that?” Kanan shouts.

“Participate in what?”

“The-“

“GO BACK MORE MOTHERFUCKERS”

Everyone around them starts going to the side leaving a huge space in the middle now and Dia just goes with the flow of things and starts walking to the side that is until, she realizes that can’t see where Kanan is anymore.

“Kanan?” she shouts. She searches for a blue in the crowd but it proves to be difficult for it’s has now grown considerably darker despite way too many lights on the field and she’s far too short and everyone is just so suddenly taller than her.

“Kanan?!” she shouts again.

“NOW I WANT YOU TO KILL THOSE FUCKERS IN THE MIDDLE”

“What?!” Dia feels her chest tighten, her breathing becoming very fast, her head becoming light but eyes keep searching the crowd.

She feels bodies press on to her as more people walk to the side, she tries to push away but to no avail, she’s just being shoved even more and she wants to cry, she can already feel her eyes becoming hot and tears prickling the corner of her eyes.

Dia then hears the start of a fast drum beat and an even louder and crazier strum of guitars and before she can comprehend what’s going on, she hears a loud “FUCK IT UP!!” and everyone around her starts running to the middle, she closes her eyes and braces herself for the impact of what’s about to happen but all of a sudden she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her and her head being tucked at the chin of the person holding her.

She suddenly opens her eyes and sees the color of Kanan’s jacket, she feels her lips quiver as she wraps her arms around Kanan’s waist and buries her head to the girl’s neck and Dia is bombarded with the scent of bubblegum and a strawberry scent perfume and Dia has never felt so safe and just so at ease despite of what’s happening around them.

She feels some light shoving but it isn’t as bad compared to the person protecting her, for she can hear Kanan groaning and holding her tighter.

It’s the longest one minute of her life, just standing there, in Kanan’s arms, with people around them looking so rabid and wild as they run towards the middle, to “kill” those poor souls who thinks they can get through whatever this is alive.

And Dia feels conflicted whether she’s in heaven or hell, for as chaotic as everything is right now, at least she’s being held by an angel.

She can feel everything calm down now, and everyone around her are slowly going to back to as normal as they are in these type of things.

Kanan is the one who lets go first, and Dia can’t help but feel empty all of a sudden, as if life has been sucked out of her, but as soon as she felt that, it is quickly replaced with a warm feeling in her stomach as Kanan holds her hand and starts walking to the exit.

“Let’s go Dia.”

Dia snaps out of the state she’s in, and pulls her hand out of Kanan’s hold and shakes her head, “No, no, I’m okay, see? You didn’t need to protect me, I was actually worried about you. And you like this band right? Come on Kanan let’s go back there.”

She hears Kanan sigh, and Dia just snaps her mouth shut.

This is it then.

But as she looks at Kanan’s amethyst eyes, holding nothing but kindness and adoration, she thinks of how doesn’t deserve that at all.

“It’s okay Dia, let’s just go okay?” and with that Kanan slips her hand to Dia’s again.

Dia squeezes Kanan’s hand and mutters a soft, “okay.”

They walk together hand in hand, she sees people bustling around, and trying to get on the stages of the band they want to see.

She looks at Kanan, and the blue-haired girl’s face looks calm and serene, maybe she hasn’t caught on at all.

But then she notices they’re headed off to the exit of the festival and she stops, “Kanan?”

“Hmm?” Kanan next to her and doesn’t let go of her hand.

“Are we leaving already? You still have three bands on your list to see right? I thought we were just going to take a break.”

Kanan chuckles, and Dia blushes, “no, I figured we’d go somewhere else that suits you, like a nice restaurant that has live music or something.”

“What? Why?”

“Well the night is still young, our date still isn’t over and Dia please, I know you’re not into these kind of things.”

Dia sputters, “w-w-what? Of course I’m into these kind of things!”

“Oh yeah? What do you think of Slipknot?”

“I might not have heard of them but I love My Chemical Romance and the likes”, Dia proclaimed.

Kanan chortles, “Oh yeah? Have you seen them?”

Dia lets go of Kanan’s hand and folds her arms on her chest, “I haven’t yet, but soon.”

“Soon huh? Like during their reunion?” Kanan teases.

The brunette’s arms falls limp on her sides, “huh?”

And with that, Kanan guffaws.

Dia feels her face heat up, that she feels like smoke is coming out of her ears with how embarrassed she is.

People are staring at them and Dia thinks of how moving in Antarctica is the best choice after all.

Kanan continues to cackle and Dia can see how there are tears at the corner of the girl’s eyes.

“Stop laughing at me you jerk!” Dia pouts.

Kanan’s laugh starts to subside, and wipes the corner of her eyes with her fingers, “I’m sorry Dia, it’s just that, My Chem has been disbanded for a while now and I didn’t think you’d still try to keep up the act.”

Yep, Dia sure wants to live with her fellow penguins now.

Dia turns away from Kanan and hugs herself, trying to keep it all together, I’ve completely humiliated myself in front of the coolest and most beautiful girl I know, this is it. This is how I die.

And for the second time today, she feels Kanan’s arms around her, as the blue-haired girl enveloped her to a hug from behind.

“Hey” Kanan coaxes, “don’t worry about it. I actually thought it was cute and amazing, but at the same time I feel like I’m not worth any of this trouble but here we are, you pretended to like something you don’t and I honestly admire that and..”

Dia raises an eyebrow, she turns around, without escaping from Kanan’s embrace, they’re so close together, she sees Kanan’s cheeks are red, and Dia feels her pulse quicken, somehow, she doesn’t care at all if Kanan hears and feel how fast her heart is beating.

“And what Kanan?” Dia asks, softly, her emerald eyes searching Kanan’s for what ever it is the girl might be feeling.

But Kanan’s purple ones are clouded with something that Dia can’t decipher, something Dia has never seen before, there’s intensity behind them and she thought she’s seen all kinds of emotions in a person’s eyes for it’s one of her tactics when she’s interrogating students.

Kanan inhales, “and”, exhales, “it might be too early to say this but I think I’m falling for you.”

Dia swears everything around her goes still, the noises fades, and she doesn’t care if there are people looking, for what matters right now, is the girl in front of her.

It’s like seeing Kanan for the first time again, with the light of the moon blanketing the two of them along with the different lights of the festival, that Dia feels like everything is just an illusion, that she’s still somewhere in that underground club, drunk out of her mind with Mari still giving her drinks.

But the arms around her shoulders, Kanan’s heavy breathing and that sweet bubblegum, and her heart that she feels like she’s consumed ten cups of coffee due to the words that the girl in front of her had said, resonating so much in her that she thinks otherwise.

This is real.

And, “Can I kiss you?” she asks, her mouth moving faster than her brain.

Kanan’s eyes widens, and Dia’s about to bolt, but the blue-haired girl must have seen the panic in her eyes for she holds Dia in place and says, “yes.”

And before Dia could react any further, Kanan places her hand at Dia’s nape, and their lips meets for the first time.

Dia closes her eyes and melts into the kiss. She has never kissed anyone before, she’s read people kissing and or just gathered descriptions from her country songs, she always dreamed of that fairytale like kiss, something grandiose that’ll sweep off her feet, and at this moment, with hers and Kanan’s lips moving together in sync, as if they’re meant to do this, her arms wrapping around Kanan’s neck and her mind just screaming Kanan, Kanan, Kanan, she knows, that nothing can compare to this.

Kanan is the first one to pull away, and Dia feels light headed as she comes back to reality. She hears people howling and clapping, and she doesn’t know if it’s directed at them and if so, should she be embarrassed or offended by it.

“You okay?” Kanan asks, her breathing heavy.

All Dia can do is hum, still feeling and she hears Kanan chuckle as she takes her back in her embrace.

“Let’s go to this restaurant my friend loves, I heard there’s a band that’ll cover Tim McGraw tonight.”

Dia chokes, and Kanan chuckles, she swears it’s unfair how angelic Kanan’s laugh is for if this is anyone else, she would have ended them.

She feels something light press on the side of her head, and Dia thinks it might be early to say it too but,

“I think I’m falling for you too.”

#kanan matsuura #dia kurosawa #kanadia #diakanan #matsuura kanan #kurosawa dia #aqours #love live sunshine #fic #and so she writes

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tourlouxx · 7 years

Text

Ex’s

So I was wondering what it would be like if Kanan ran into one of his ex-girlfriends, so I wrote it down.

Enjoy

It was a busy day in the streets of Lothal. Kanan, Hera, Zeb, Sabine and Ezra were in Capital City’s biggest market looking for some much needed supplies. They had been eating ration packs for the past few weeks and everyone was sick of it. Well, everyone except Hera. After all these years Kanan was still surprised at how delighted she would get when any type of food was put in front of her, even if it made the rest of them want to puke, and they were no strangers to hunger either.

Kanan scanned the different fruit and vegetable stands looking for the ingredients necessary for a stew he hadn’t had in years. For some reason, he was really craving it recently. It went back to his days as a bachelor, working on some diner in a backwater world. He wasn’t a bad cook. People seemed to really like his food and, hey, he liked it too.

He was going through the recipe in his head when Sabine’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Kanan?”

It came from behind him, turning around to look at her he found her staring at him with a strange pleading look in her eyes.

“Yeah?” he responded.

“There’s an art store there” she said, gesturing towards it, “Can I go check it out?”

Oh of course. Art supplies. As if she doesn’t have enough already, he thought musing to himself. But he was in a good mood, and Sabine was a good kid. She deserved it. “Sure”

“Can I go with her?” Ezra said.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go with you guys. Zeb! Hera!” He called back “Keep looking for the supplies we’ll be right back” At Zeb’s grumbling response they went on their way.

The art store wasn’t much. It mostly had traditional paints used for Lothal folklore art (Kanan was surprised the Empire hadn’t cracked down on that yet). It also had drawing pencils, sketchbooks, water paints, etc… Pretty regular art store if you ask him, but, of course, Kanan was never much of an artist.

As soon as they got to the store, Sabine launched herself into the place. Her eyes glued to the different materials in the various shelves. While, Ezra mysteriously stayed at his side staring at the store from where they were both standing. Silent. Huh

“So…” Kanan ventured, raising an eyebrow.

“So what?”

“Aren’t you gonna go take a look?”

“Oh no…” He shrugged “I’m not much of an artist. Besides, I just wanted to get out of the streets. My hands get itchy when I’m around big crowds”

Kanan hummed and nodded in understanding. After years in the streets, pickpocketing was as natural to Ezra as breathing, he had needed it to survive. Shaking the habit must be tough, but he was still making the effort, which they all appreciated. The less attention drawn to themselves the better.

“You should still get something” Kanan insisted, “You could use a hobby”, which was true, Ezra was a busy kid. Between missions and training, Kanan wondered what he did whenever he did have time off.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean something to do in your spare time, you’re really busy. You could use something to help you cool off you know?”

“I already have hobbies”

Well, that was a lie if he’d ever heard one.

“Really?”, Kanan said, incredulously, “Like what?”

“Uhhhh… I clean the ship”

“That’s your hobby?”

“Yeah…”

“And you actually enjoy doing it?”

“Yes” Ezra said, with as much fake confidence as he could muster. Crossing his arms across his puffed chest.

“Then why do you whine every time Hera asks you to do it?”

“Uhhhh… it’s… you know…”

“Ezra” Kanan interrupted him, Ezra had clearly lost this battle “Go pick something, I’ve seen you doodle I know you like it”

“It’s fine, Kanan” He said, in an exasperated tone, “It’s money we could spend on something else”

Kanan sighed, So that’s what this is about then. The kid still had trouble letting other people take care of him, but this was an old argument. He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and released it.

“Ezra”, Kanan said, slowly and patiently “We’ve talked about this. It’s no trouble”

Ezra sighed then looked up at him “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” He responded, chuckling slightly “Go!” he encouraged Ezra by pushing him slightly with his hand on his back.

Before Ezra went to explore he turned around “Hey Kanan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks”

The made him smile “No problem, kid”

The minutes ticked by as the kids went through apparently every item this store had to offer, leaving Kanan alone. He rested his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Today was a good day. It was just him and the kids and no one was going to attack them. Today was a luxury.

He smiled to himself. They really were like a family. He did consider them his kids.

“Oh my gods! Kanan?” A familiar voice cut him out of his trance and made him open his eyes.

The sight was of a dark skinned woman with deep blue eyes and a curly long hair. One that he recognized.

“Jadah?!”

Before he could say anything else a sharp pain struck him across the face. Yep, he was pretty sure he was gonna be walking around with a handprint on his face for the rest of the day. He instinctively reached up to grab it, trying to soothe it.

“Ok,ok” he muttered, putting his free palm up in defeat. “I deserved that”

He did. He really did.

“Yeah you certainly did” She said, as if echoing his thoughts. “After what you did to me I’d say you deserve more”

“What did he do?” Sabine’s voice came from behind him. He turned around to see her and Ezra standing right behind him, art supplies long forgotten. Great, he thought. Just perfect.

He had kept drunken past mostly hidden from the kids. He wasn’t proud of it. It was a dark time in his life. And now his past was staring at him in the face, in the form of a very beautiful woman who he had slept with a few alcohol-fueled nights then left behind as soon as he could. Although, in his defense, he had thought that she was a little insane at the time.

“Well, for starters, he...”

“WOW WOW WOW”, he interrupted her as soon as she started speaking, he doubted anything she was going to say was appropriate for the kids. His breakup with Jadah (or, well, his leaving Jadah) was due to a horrible misunderstanding. One that he did not want to explain in front Sabine and Ezra, “They don’t need to hear it”

“They don’t need to hear WHAT, Kanan?!” She snapped “The fact that you propose to me then left without so much as a note?”

“Ugghh” he groaned. Rubbing his face with his hand. He really wished the kids weren’t here.

“Wow Kanan” Said Sabine behind him

“I didn’t propose” he muttered into his hands

“What?” Jadah said, clearly annoyed

“I didn’t propose!”

“Oh yeah right now you’re just denying it!”

“No, I am not!”

“Oh yeah? How was I supposed to interpret ‘I want to marry you?’ huh?”

“I said COULD, I COULD marry you!” then he leaned in a spoke between clenched teeth “And considering the situation we were in I wouldn’t have taken it very seriously”. They had been together three nights the ‘incident’ happened in the last one.

“Oh so you’re saying I’m the fool for thinking you loved me while I had my lips around your...”

“Can we PLEASE not do this in front of the kids?” He interrupted.

“WOW Kanan” Said Sabine again, this time there was a slight chuckle in her voice.

“Sabine!” He said warningly, shooting her a look. Ezra looked puzzled. She just looked amused

“Who are these kids anyway?” She questioned, frowning as she said it, “Are they yours?”

“Uhhhh….”He hesitated, looking back at them. They just shrugged “Kinda?”

“What? How old were you when you got her pregnant? 13?”

“I’m taking care of them.”

“Who’s dumb enough to entrust you with their kids?”

“I’m a different person now.”

“HA! Like I would believe that”

“I am.”

“Really? What sort of life changing decisions have you made since we last saw each other?”

“I quit drinking” Karabast, the kids would now know he was a drunk. Great. Just fantastic.

Jadah was taken aback, her eyebrows flew up in visible surprise “Wow” was all she could say. They hadn’t been together for that long, but she knew the type, the drunk drifter. Who spent all the money they won on booze. But she had given herself to him in hopes he would be different, she was thoroughly disappointed.

“Yeah” He said, grabbing his neck with one hand, looking down. “It became a real issue”

“Well what changed?

As if on cue Hera’s voice cut his response. “Kanan are you in here? What’s taking so long?,” As she saw the scene before her there was a slight pause and the she asked “What’s going on?”

Kanan sighed, then “She did”. Zeb was right behind her. Now everyone would see him humiliate himself. Great!

Hera walked over to Kanan’s side, put an arm around his waist and gave him a questioning look. He just gestured to Jadah in response, he was red. She then raised her free hand towards Jadah, inviting her to shake it. “Hey, I’m Hera”

“Jadah” She said, accepting the invitation.

“So… you and Kanan are… what exactly?” She said, a slow smirk tugging at the side of her lips.

Kanan turned to glare at her. Of course she knew what they were. She was probably enjoying this.

“Someone who he owes an apology to”

“Huh! I bet he does” She laughed and gave Kanan the do-this-or-no-sex-for-a-month look, at that point he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Listen, Jadah. I’m sorry, I really am. I was an asshole back then and you deserve to hate me. I am a different guy now. Hera and I have lived together for six years now and we have our own little family. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know, but… I’m still asking for it” He meant every word.

Hera’s arm tightened around his waist, she looked up at him and smiled. There was pride in her eyes. He smiled back.

“Wow, so you have changed.” Jadah said in disbelief.

“I have” He shrugged.

“Apology accepted.” She smiled.

He reached away from raise his arms in invitation for a hug. She accepted and hugged him then pulled back

“Have a nice life, Kanan”

“You too”

And the she walked away.

They all watched her leave and then Kanan sighed and buried his head in his hands. That had been embarrassing and a reminder of the time of his life when he was wandering pointlessly around the galaxy hurting people in the process. It was not a nice reminder. The one thing that made it better was when Hera put her arms around his waist again and nestled by his side. “You did good” she whispered. Yes, he would always be grateful for her. Without her he’d probably be dead in a ditch somewhere. Death by alcohol. Or drugs. Or worse.

He leaned his head against Hera’s and their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes and focused on her presence, that always managed to calm him down. They were both enjoying the silence Sabine’s uncontrolled laughter broke it.

“YOU…” She said in between breaths “You… proposed…while… while… SHE WAS GIVING YOU A BLOWJOB?!” and now everyone was laughing. Even the store manager who, apparently, had been listening to the whole thing. Kanan wanted the ground to swallow him up, or a lighting to strike or really anything at this point.

Hera was doing her best to contain her laughter but some giggles slipped out. She gave him a sympathetic grin and said “Come on, luv. Let’s go home.”

#this is my attemp at comedy #star wars rebels #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #ezra bridger #Sabine Wren #Garazeb Orrelios #Kanera #comedy #tourlouxx writes #i hope this is funny to someone #swr

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