Hi! Could I request a Zeb x Reader where the reader is plus sized, and has a history of being romantically rejected. They have no idea that Zeb returns their feelings, so they don't realize right away that he's flirting. No age gap, please.
PS, I love your previous Zeb x Reader fic....it was such a sweet story ❤️
Doubts
summary: reader catches the eye of a certain Lasat, even if they don’t initially believe him
relationship: Zeb Orrelios x gn!reader
warnings: mentions of alcohol, i don’t drink so idk how bars work lmao
word count: 5.1k
A/N: i‘m glad to hear you liked the other fic!<3 it‘s been a hot minute since i‘ve written for zeb :‘) this one got a little away from me tbh and i really leaned into the plus size aspects, hope that’s okay 😅 (also i couldn’t find any info on how to get in/out of an x-wing starfighter without an external ladder so i improvised). this one is set after the fall of the empire when zeb is in a pilot/trainer for the new republic
[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]
(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)
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It’s been an exhausting week at work and your favourite bar is closed for renovations, so you decided to try one a coworker recommended. She was supposed to come with you, but ended up bailing on you to go on a surprise weekend retreat with her boyfriend. Of course you’re happy for her, but you can’t help feeling jealous. The last years, or decades really, you haven’t had any luck in your relationships. You’ve always been on the heavier side, but lately it feels like your physique and your age might as well be a repellent by how many ‘no’s you’ve heard.
Pondering what you’ll have at home for dinner, you let your thoughts wander. You’re pulled back to reality when someone walks into the bar, taking a seat at the other end, and he immediately catches your attention. It’s been a while since you’ve last seen a Lasat, and this one is certainly easy on the eyes. The way he carries himself is different from your average Coruscanti inhabitant. He has a “been there, done that” air, like nothing could bother him, and you find yourself intrigued.
From where you sit, you shoot glances at him every so often between nursing your drink. At some point, he catches you staring and smiles back at you, and you look away, flustered. He doesn’t seem completely taken aback though, and you consider going over to him, but a group suddenly arrives and they all gather around him, laughing and talking.
Of course he‘s not alone, you think, swirling your drink in the glass. Besides, it’s not like he would have accepted a drink or a chat if you went up to him anyways. You sigh into your glass. When you look back up again, he’s gone.
After finishing your drink, you set some credits on the bar and head home. On your way back, you watch your reflected image on a storefront, grimacing at what you see. Maybe if you were thinner, you’d be more confident to ask a handsome stranger for a chat, to pay for a drink. Maybe they’d even buy you a drink for a change.
You go to that same bar a couple more times in the following weeks, telling yourself you’re waiting for renovations at your usual place to end, but deep inside you know you’re hoping to meet the Lasat again. Unfortunately, there’s no trace of him. Makes sense, it’s Coruscant after all. Just how many people pass through every day? It’s a number you can’t even grasp. Worst of all, the amount of times you’ve been rejected is also so large already that you’ve long stopped counting. And in the last few years you’ve stopped trying to initiate, too.
As time goes by, you start to forget him. One day you’re at work, at one of the bigger news outlets, the Daily Kloo Horn. There’s a new photographer on the team, a young Rodian. She’s hard working and polite, and as the art director, you’ve been showing her the ropes on her first days. She knocks and walks into your office.
“You know that article about the New Republic Starfighter Corps?” she asks.
“Yes?” You look up from your station and see how she’s fidgeting with her lanyard.
“Well, they’re here. Can you… Can you come with me? I’m a little nervous.”
“Of course,” you say with a smile. She sighs in visible relief.
The two of you head down to the lobby, where you expect to find the human pilot they’re interviewing. Trapper Wolf, if you remember correctly. What you did not expect, however, is for him to come accompanied: the Lasat from the bar is standing next to him, chatting with Wolf. And he’s wearing the same uniform as the pilot, but blue instead of orange. When you make eye contact, you smile politely, and he seems to perk up at your sight. Maybe he recognises you, too? The thought makes your heart jump a little.
The journalist that will be conducting the interview arrives as well. They walk ahead and introduce themselves to the two, and thank Wolf for coming. You stay a little further back with the Rodian until the interviewer turns around and waves her to them. You give her a double thumbs up and she gives a weak laugh, then follows the other two to one of the conference rooms.
You stand where you are for a second, weighing in your mind whether to greet the Lasat, who also stayed back. The thought that he might actually not recognise you hovers in your mind, that you’re once again drowning in your own delusions. But he makes that choice for you, walking up to you.
“Hey, fancy meeting you here,” he says. His voice is deep and rich, without being raspy.
“I could say the same to you,” you reply with a polite smile. You let your eyes roam the lobby, no one seems to be paying attention to you two. “The interview might take a while. There is a caf shop nearby if you’d like to wait for Mr. Wolf. They have excellent cake there.”
“Yeah? Anything in particular you’d recommend?”
“Hmm.” You think it over for a moment. “Oh, they have a meiloorun tart that is heavenly.”
“I love meilooruns.” You miss the way his eyes roam up and down your body as you start counting on your fingers.
“They also have a Jogan fruitcake that’s pretty popular. Oh, and there’s this one layered cake with three different types of chocolates, and–” You stop yourself, looking away. This really isn’t the time to ramble, much less about food. He’ll think you spend your day eating cake and drinking at night. Hiding behind a mask of professionalism, a practiced smile settles on your lips. “What I mean to say is that there’s plenty of choices.” You take a step to the side to point at the street, gesturing as you speak. “You’ll want to go to your left here and walk up to the crossing, then turn right.” He listens attentively. “It has a green and yellow sign, you can’t miss it.”
“Green and yellow, got it.” He looks to where you just showed him, then turns back to you. His mouth opens like he wants to add something, but he hesitates a second too long.
“Alright then, I should head back,” you excuse yourself.
“Ah, okay.” He seems a bit surprised.
You give him a small wave and he waves back, looking a bit lost.
As you cross the door into your office you realise you never even asked for his name. With a sigh you plop down onto your chair, wishing you’d had the confidence to ask him out for a drink after work. What even were the chances of meeting him again, at your workplace of all things? Surely there’s no way you’ll get another shot.
The next morning, you go to work as usual. You don’t even get to set down your bag in your office before there’s a ping of your desk comms. You check the channel; it’s the reception.
“Hello?” you pick up, somewhat confused as to why they’d be calling you.
“There’s a gentleman here asking for you,” the receptionist says, and your confusion deepens. There’s some unintelligible exchange with a deeper voice. “He says it’s Zeb from the Starfighter Corps. He was here yesterday?”
You gasp in surprise, looking down at yourself, and inwardly groan at having chosen a rather plain outfit today.
“Are you coming or can I send him up?” they ask, then add in a lower voice, “Or should I send him away?”
“No, no, I’ll be there in a minute,” you’re quick to answer. “Thank you.”
You make your way to the lift, checking yourself in the mirrored wall to see that everything looks good. With a slight scrunch of your nose as you look at your reflection, you smooth over your stomach several times, your confidence faltering with every second that passes, so you tear your gaze from your image; it's too late to turn back now. You’ll just say hi and hear him out, he probably has questions regarding yesterday.
When you make it to the lobby, you see the Lasat leaning on a column, again in his uniform. You find yourself checking him out a bit before he sees you, deciding he looks good in it. When he spots you, he straightens up, smiling at you. You notice he’s holding something behind his back.
“Hello again,” you greet him.
“Hi, uhm.” He sheepishly scratches his beard. “I hope I’m not interrupting a work meeting or something.”
“Actually I just got here earlier, so it’s all good. What can I do for you?”
“I went to the place you told me about yesterday.” He brings his hidden hand forward, and you recognise the logo on the bag. “And you were right. The cake was really good. So I went again today and thought I’d bring you a slice, too.”
“Oh.” You feel heat rising to your cheeks, but quickly dismiss any ideas you’re getting as him just being nice. “Thank you.” You take the bag and peek in, the tart looks delicious as always. “I also forgot to ask your name yesterday.”
You introduce yourself, showing him the ID on your lanyard.
“Art director, huh,” he reads out loud, then looks back up to you. “I’m Garazeb Orrelios, but you can call me Zeb.”
“Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Zeb. And thank you for the cake.” Other people in the lobby are starting to stare, and you shift uncomfortably. “Was there anything else? I really should get going…”
“Right.” He adjusts one of the straps on his uniform. “My team will be on Coruscant for a few more days. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink at that bar from last time, today or tomorrow?”
“Oh,” you exclaim again. You were not expecting that. You wonder why he’d invite you out. “I might have to stay a little later today for a project, but I should be able to make it at around eight? Or is that too late?”
“Eight works for me.” He clasps his hands together. “And sorry for dropping by unannounced. See you tonight then.”
“See you tonight,” you reply with a smile, and wave at him the same way you did yesterday as he leaves the building.
You turn around, a million questions in your mind. The receptionist, who followed the whole exchange, shoots you a look with wiggling eyebrows. You playfully roll your eyes at them. Surely there must be some perfectly logical explanation for this encounter.
When you make it back to your office for a second time that day, you sit down and unpack the meiloorun tart. It looks great, and tastes even better. You savour every bite as you read through some documents, humming a little tune to yourself.
The day goes by pretty quickly despite being packed. Your last meeting ends up being longer than anticipated, and when you finally make it out, it’s almost eight. You curse under your breath as you pack your things, hurrying out to hail an air taxi. By the time you make it to the bar, you’re slightly out of breath, hungry, and a bit sweaty. You enter the place, the dim light and smell of spotchka surrounding you, and for a moment, you consider bailing. But then you spot Zeb in one of the booths, waving at you, and there’s a slight flutter in your gut.
You head to the Lasat and take a seat across from him, readjusting your clothes maybe one time too many, catching his attention for a second.
“Hi,” you say finally.
“Hey.” He clears his throat as he shifts in his seat, straightening up slightly. “Glad you made it.”
“Sorry about that, the meeting ran longer than expected.”
“No worries, you’re here now.” He waves a waiter over. “What would you like? My treat.”
“Oh, that’s really not necessary, but thank you,” you refuse politely, and he looks slightly confused. You give the waiter your drink order and so does Zeb. “So, what did you want to talk about?” you ask once it’s just the two of you again. He blinks at you.
“What do you mean?”
“My guess is you had questions regarding the interview with your colleague?”
Zeb chuckles, unsure at first, but then a bit fuller when he sees your confused face. “Is that what you think this is?”
“What else could it be…?”
He runs a hand over his face with a groan, slumping forward. “I asked you out. For drinks.”
“Yes?”
“I was hoping this could be, you know…” He leans in and makes a vague gesture with his hand, not wanting to finish his sentence, but you keep looking at him quizzically, and he finally sighs. “You know… a date?”
“Oh,” you say first, leaning back as you think it over. “Oh.” That would explain why he’d bring you cake to your work place and offer to pay for drinks, but it still doesn’t make sense, not really. “Are you sure?” you ask after a moment.
He chuckles. “Yes? I’m pretty sure I am.”
You look down at your hands in your lap, the way your thighs touch in the middle, your stomach rolls evident over your waistband, how you take up more space on the seat than is probably the norm for a single person. “Why?” you ask in a small voice, without looking up.
Zeb’s brow rises in surprise. Did he need a reason? “I just… I just saw you that one time and you caught my eye, so I wanted to see you again.” Heat prickles on your cheeks but you don’t believe him quite yet. He laughs a bit under his breath. “The truth is, you were still wearing your lanyard that time and I recognised the logo. So when Wolf said he had an interview at the Daily Kloo Horn, I tagged along, hoping to see you again.”
You look up at him, a small smile on your lips that doesn’t meet your eyes. “Well, I’m flattered, but…”
The waiter appears suddenly, placing your respective drinks in front of you, and a little bowl of nuts and crackers in the middle, then leaves again.
“Listen, if I’m not your type, I get it, we can just have one drink and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“That’s not it,” you’re quick to interject, picking at your nails. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed later on.”
“About what?”
“Because, you know. I’m… I look… like this.” You gesture down towards yourself and his eyes follow your torso to where he can see, then back up.
“Like what? Hot?” he says, completely serious. Your eyes go as big as dinner plates for a second and you open your mouth to say something but close it again. You look down at your drink and bring your hands around the glass, not knowing how to answer that. He leans back in his seat, giving you a grin. “I already told you that you caught my eye. And I like what I’m seeing. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you here.”
You swallow, daring to look up at him. You still don’t believe him, even though you really want to. Besides, you know that he also caught your eye, so maybe there’s potential here after all. Some of your past relationships ended because your partner would be okay with (or rather, tolerate) your weight at the start, but at some point expected you to get thinner, like you were some long term project. And when you didn’t change for them, they’d leave you. So him calling you hot from the get-go is…. new.
You take a sip of your drink and lick your lips, it’s tasty. After taking a deep breath you bring your eyes back to his. “It’s a date then,” you say, voice still a little shakier than you’d like.
“Good,” he says and takes a sip from his own drink.
A conversation starts, a bit awkward at first, but you quickly fall into a comfortable dynamic. You learn that he trains pilots for the Starfighter Corps, and he’s currently on Coruscant to check on a new group at the Academy. You tell him about yourself as well, about where you grew up and how you ended up at your job. Time goes by fast, and after several rounds of drinks, you decide to call it a night.
Once you’re outside, you take a deep breath of the cool night air.
“Do you live nearby? I’ll walk you home,” he offers.
“Actually, it’s on the other side of the district, about right… there.” You close an eye and point at a distant point on the city landscape.
“Then I’ll fly you.”
“Oh, you really don’t need to,” you say, shaking your hands in front of you. “I can just get a taxi.”
“Have you ever flown in an X-Wing before?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his face.
“You know I haven’t,” you laugh.
“Let’s go then.” Zeb doesn’t wait for your answer and takes your hand, guiding you towards a nearby landing pad. Once more you feel the heat on your face as you look down at your hand in his much larger one.
When you spot his ship, you stop a moment to admire it, recognising the signature shape from the images of fights against the Imperial TIE fighters. You walk up to where he’s waiting for you after opening the cockpit, a retractable ladder hanging from the side. He extends his hand and you take it, and he helps you get into the back seat. Then he climbs in himself. After pulling the ladder back inside, the dome closes with a click and a hiss.
“Be sure to buckle up,” Zeb instructs, and you do so. You keep your bag in your lap, hugging it to your chest, not wanting to press any buttons by mistake. As he takes off, he asks where to, and you give him directions to the nearest landing pad to your home.
The trip is short, but exciting nonetheless. Despite the slow speed, you can feel the ship’s power as it cruises low over the city. The lights from below reflect on the concave transparisteel, creating a blur of reds and yellows. Sitting here behind Zeb, you realise how safe you feel, and there’s a sudden wave of sleepiness that overcomes you, but you fight it.
After landing, he gets out first with practiced ease. It takes you a little longer to figure out where to step. Once he’s on the ground, he makes sure you’re taking the ladder one step at the time. You reach the last rung and jump off, but it’s still higher than anticipated, and you feel yourself falling backwards. A pair of strong arms catch you mid-air, setting you down onto the floor gently.
“Whoa there, you okay?” he asks, and you feel your skin tingle from how easily he caught you.
“Yeah, thank you.” You readjust your jacket. “Guess I’m not built for X-Wings after all.”
“Usually there’s a proper stair to get in and out,” he explains as he locks the ship. “That is the emergency ladder, sort of. But you did great.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
You wait for him to reach you and you start walking towards your apartment, in comfortable silence at first, but then an image pops into your mind; X-Wings vs. TIE fighters.
“You mentioned earlier that you used to be part of a crew in Imperial times,” you start, recalling what he told you over drinks. “Have you ever fought TIE fighters?” You realise it might be a sensitive question but you look up at him expectantly anyways.
“Heh, did I,” he chuckles, a fond warmth in his face as he thinks back to his former crew. Then he looks down at you like he’s about to tell you a secret, leaning in slightly. “You remember the Battle of Endor?”
“Of course I do.” It’s only been a few years, but you’re sure it’s still pretty fresh in the collective memory of the galaxy.
“We were there,” he confesses, and you gasp in surprise.
“No way.” You look ahead, imagining what it must have been like to fight the Empire head on. “That’s so cool.”
He shrugs. “We just did what needed to be done.”
You counter with an incredulous huff. “And yet you’re choosing to spend time with me? Despite being such an adventurer?” You turn a corner, but he takes a hold of your arm to stop you and turn you around towards him.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he retorts, a serious look on his face. “I’ve seen your name before on the holonet. You’ve also been there when the lies of the Empire were uncovered.”
“But our editors chose those topics. We were just doing our jobs. And we were here on Coruscant, in the comfort of our houses. It’s not like I was out there actively stopping the Empire, not like you.”
“Trust me, every little action is important. More happened behind the curtains than we’ll ever know about, and no one can take credit for it. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen or that people weren’t helping,” he says, and you believe him. He looks down at his hand still on your arm, and retracts it. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay…” You slowly turn and continue walking with him at your side. You don’t make it much further when you come to a stop. “This is me,” you say, pointing to a building entrance. You fidget with the hem of your jacket, not really wanting to say goodbye yet. Gathering whatever courage you can muster, you add, “I don’t normally do this after the first date, but… Do you want to come in for a little longer?”
Zeb looks surprised, but not opposed to the idea. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, you know…” You give a small shrug. “I’m having a good time.”
He smiles. “So am I.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” you say with a smile of your own and head to the door, unlocking it.
The lift is on the lobby level so you both get in and you press the button to your floor. The doors close and you feel the pull upwards. Now that it’s just the two of you in a relatively small space, you can hear your heart hammering in your ears. Sneaking glance to the side, you can feel the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He’s so tall and big, and the way he caught you earlier, like you weigh nothing… You clear your throat, looking at the floor number on the little screen, begging for the lift to be faster.
When you finally make it, there’s a ping and the doors open. You get out first, walking down the hallway until you reach your apartment. Zeb visibly looks away when you type in the code, and follows you inside.
“Sorry about the mess,” you say after leaving your jacket and bag by the door, then quickly collect some empty cups from the caf table. “Please, take a seat. I’ll make us some tea.”
Zeb walks further into the living room, curiously checking the room. He lets his eyes roam the place, full of artful decorations, frames on the wall, and little knickknacks on every shelf.
“Somehow this place feels very you,” he says as he stands by the large window overlooking this side of the district. “I didn’t know being an art director paid this well. It’s quite the view from up here.”
“The pay is good, but not that good,” you laugh as you come from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. “This used to be my parents’ place, I don’t think I could afford this neighbourhood.”
Zeb takes the mug and sits down next to you on the couch, the only light in the room from the small wall lamps and the city outside, painting the room in a dim golden hue.
“After my siblings and I moved out to study they wanted to get a smaller place,” you continue explaining. “So they bought this apartment. After I got my degree, I stayed here while they travelled.” You end up telling him a little more about your childhood and your family when he asks about it. “As you can see, my life is pretty boring,” you conclude your retelling with a chuckle.
“Ah, there are days I crave boring.” Zeb shakes his head with a dramatic sigh, continuing to sip his tea.
“I’m sure it’s physically demanding but it also must be very rewarding to train the new generation, is it not?”
He smiles, looking out into the city. “Yeah, it is.” Then he looks back at you. “After the Battle of Endor I considered retiring. But after a little break, I felt like there was still so much to do… When Hera called, I answered.”
You almost choke on your tea at the mention of that name. “Hera?”
“Oh, yeah, the crew I told you about back in the day? It was hers.”
You blink at him, mouth agape, setting down your mug. “Hera as in General Hera Syndulla? Legendary pilot and hero?”
“The one and only,” he says with a grin, lifting his mug as if toasting to her.
“Zeb!” You give him a playful shove. “That’s incredible.”
“You wanna meet her?” he asks slyly, leaning back into the couch.
“Of course!” you respond enthusiastically. “And not just for work. Oh, I can already see her picture on the first page,” you start fantasising about an exclusive interview, but shake your head. “No, no, more importantly, I’d love to meet her just for myself. I’m a fan.”
“I’ll give her a call,” he says as if it’s no big deal, but you can tell he’s pleased with having something to impress you. After downing the last of the tea, he sets the mug down as well and extends his arm on the backrest behind you, a smug grin on his lips.
“What?” you chuckle, getting flustered from his intense gaze.
“You just fell a little for me, didn't you?”
“Oh, quiet you,” you say with no bark whatsoever, and there’s a comfortable silence for a moment. Things are going well, so you lean your head against Zeb’s chest, and his arm goes around your shoulders to hold you there. His hand gives your upper arm a gentle squeeze, and your insecurities rain back down on you when you feel the contrast of his strength against your squishy self, so you pull back.
“I’ve had a really good time tonight, Zeb,” you start, pulling back from him. He tilts his head at you.
“That sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
“But… I just want to make sure you’re really okay with this, with… Me.”
“I already told you I liked you when I saw you, and after today, I’m very sure.” You avert your gaze, but his free hand comes to your chin and makes you look back at him. “That’s the second time you’ve said that today. What is it, really?”
You scoff lightly, pushing his hand away. Is he really making you say it out loud?
“I’m big, Zeb. Heavy,” you admit, unable to look him in the eyes. “And that has been a problem in the past, so I just want to get it out of the way from the start instead of getting my hopes up–”
“That’s it?” he interjects, and for a second you can feel anger bubbling up at him dismissing you when you’re being vulnerable. But before you can say anything, he stands up and extends his hand to you. Confused, you reach out and take it. Zeb leans in and pulls your arm over his head, using his other arm to hoist you up over his shoulder and you shriek in surprise, to which he snickers. Carrying you like that, he spins once, walks to the kitchen and sets you down onto the counter, standing between your legs, with one hand on either side of your hips.
“See? Not an issue,” he says with confidence, and you feel like you’ll melt into a puddle right then and there.” Whoever made it a problem in the past was the problem.”
You lean forward until your forehead rests on his chest. “I might have fallen a little for you right now,” you mutter, mirroring his words from earlier, and he laughs.
“Good.” Zeb leans back slightly and brings his hands to the outside of your thighs.” That was the idea.”
You look up at him and bring your hands to his chest. “How long will you be staying on Coruscant?”
“Until the end of the week.”
“Where are you going after?” you ask, fidgeting with the straps and pockets of his uniform.
“Hosnian Prime, mostly. But I might get sent out somewhere else on short notice. It’s how it usually goes.”
You heave a sigh. “I’ve never been a fan of long distance.” You realise what you’re saying and add, “I mean, if you want to actually give this a try, that is. Or maybe I’m just getting way ahead of myself–”
“I do want to try,” he assures you. “I’d love to stay here.” His face saddens a bit, ears drooping ever so slightly. “But I probably should get going now.”
“Right, it’s late.”
At first neither of you moves though. With your hands still on his chest, you pull him down to you and place a quick kiss to his cheek. A proud little “heh” escapes him, and he steps back so you can slide off the counter.
“Give me your comlink, I’ll add my number,” you say. He hands it to you and you type in your channel frequency. “Call me next time you’re around?”
“I promise.” After pinging your own comlink so you would have his number too, you hand him back the device. As he pockets it away, he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “And next time, I’ll take you out on a proper ride on the X-Wing.”
“Can’t wait,” you say as you look up at him with a beaming smile, taking his hand in both of yours and giving it a squeeze.
You walk Zeb to your door and say your goodbyes. After the door closes, your heart beats against your rib cage, threatening to leap out, overfilled with hope and promises.
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A/N2: the daily bugle, the daily kloo horn… haha get it? please tell me im funny :(
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