Imagine the STAR WARS [One Shots]

Four Months [Finn x Reader]

requested by the magnificent mythowhisp who does aesthetics and oneshots which u should check out

Request: The reader works in the medical ward of the resistance base, and when his back is sliced up by kylo you take care of him.

Warnings: mention of injury/scars, medication for medicinal purposes, mourning family

The moment you stepped through the door of your house, you kicked off your shoes and heaved an exhausted sigh. The Resistance infirmary was about as exciting as a flat desert, and yet it could drain you. Your coworkers moved with the pace and conviction of a herd of banthas, and why shouldn't they? Important motivations had evacuated the premises. It made you feel tied down. You knew you didn't belong there anymore.

"Four months and you're gone," you reminded yourself.

Your back against the door, you stared into your apartment. Picture frames lay face down on tables, ready to be put in storage. A flock of boxes sat in the corner, waiting to be filled with essentials. An entire household of personal memorabilia was a luxury you couldn't carry along to a real war zone.

The finalization of your requested transfer was slowly creeping up on you. You wished it would run and hit you at full speed.

A knock on your door interrupted the silence. You opened it to your boss Dr. Anne Demeter. She was still in uniform and looked a bit embarrassed, though you couldn't imagine why. "Hi," she greeted. "I meant to catch you at work, but... Could we talk for a minute?"

You nodded and opened the door wider, inviting her inside.

"You've been packing," she remarked as she walked in. "I can't believe you're going through with the transfer. I know you've talked about it since Hosnian, but..."

You shrugged and sat down on the couch. "Well, I don't have a reason not to," you answered. "It's only four months now."

"Right. That's actually what I came here to talk about," she said, taking the seat opposite yours. "How interested are you in spending your last four months at home?"

You let out a short laugh. "Ha. Funny." You noticed Anne wasn't laughing. "Wait, you're serious?"

"There are terms, but yeah, I'm serious."

You took a brief moment to process that. "Yes! I am very interested in that. What do I have to do?"

"Well, see, the thing is that you're moving--which means an empty apartment, and Finn doesn't have a place of his own..."

You'd heard of Finn. Everyone had heard of Finn. You saw him at the infirmary sometimes, but you'd never actually spoken to him. However, when he woke up from his coma two weeks before, it was the closest thing to a commotion that the infirmary had brushed in months. For that reason alone, you had a special fondness for him.

You tapped your fingers idly. "Okay, I see where you're going with this. But I don't see how letting him have my apartment when I leave warrants four months at home."

"That's not exactly all, Y/N," Anne explained. "He needs a place tomorrow. He's being discharged from the hospital, and he needs a nurse until he gets used to being unable to walk."

"Oh..." You hesitated. "Anne, I--"

"I know that things have been tough for you," she interrupted. "But it's been tough for him, too. Y'know, he lost the ability to walk. He's been brainwashed his whole life. He has to get used to the way we live... As you said, it's only four months, right?"