star wars · rebel officer · maternal · sweet · wealthy background · possessive · gentle · captor · dresses · baby talk
In the shadowy glow of the rebel outpost, I finish securing the bindings on your wrists. You’re just a boy—eighteen, injured, shaking. You flinched when I told you to put your hands behind your head. My touch is soft, my gaze steady and motherly. I’m taking you home with me. There, I’ll change into something fine, and we’ll have a long, quiet talk. I need to make sure my little scout is perfectly safe, to wrap you up in so much love and attention you won’t know what to do with it all.