#a long time spent in a galaxy far far away

[longtimespentinagalaxyfaraway]

Continuing Dawn of the Jedi with Volume 2: Prisoner of Bogan! Feat. bad photo of ashla and bogan donut holes, lol

[synqiri]

TODAY IS YESTERDAY'S TOMORROW.

in which dan heng falls in love with you, bit by bit, dawn after dawn.

PAIRING: dan heng x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none.

WORDCOUNT: 6.5K || CONTENT: slowburn, friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, mild canon divergence (i had to dilate the timeline a bit)

NOTES: this took. months. rmb to leave a comment or reblog 🫶🏻🫶🏻 and thank u sm to my pookiewookie ren @lowkeyren who helped beta/proofread ‼️‼️💗💗

dan heng expects little, stepping onto the astral express.

the redhead woman — who he now knows as himeko — is but two steps behind, and when he meets her gaze, she only smiles. he isn’t quite sure of what he thinks of her. there hasn’t been much of an impression to make, from their departure off that ipc spacecraft to his arrival on the express.

“take a seat wherever you want,” she tells him, gesturing around the parlour car. “i’ll go and fetch the others. i’m sure they’ll be glad to meet you.”

he doubts that somewhat, but does as she says. he picks the seat at one of the round tables, facing the glittering expanse that is the universe beyond the window. he wonders if the luofu is within any of the galaxies he is looking at too.

the train’s conductor greets him first, before himeko returns. it introduces itself as pom-pom, and if he is any surprised at the sight, he does well not to show it. 

“you must be the newest member of the crew,” a new voice pipes in. 

his gaze snaps up to you immediately. he hadn’t noticed you walking up to him, which is odd, for he is normally far more attentive than that. he sweeps his eyes over you quickly. you’re dressed plainly, and much more casually than anyone he’s come across thus far. your hair is done just as simply. there’s a grin on your face, suave and bright.

you offer him a hand. “himeko mentioned you’d be coming. call me [name].”

“my name is dan heng.”

he returns your handshake, and you seat yourself across him. 

“dan heng,” you repeat, deliberate and slow, as if you were testing the way his name rolls off your tongue. he feels your eyes on him just as his had been on you mere seconds before. “you have a nice name.”

glancing away, he speaks nothing in reply. what is he to say to that?

just then, himeko returns with a brunet man in tow, who introduces himself as welt yang. the greetings are kept brief, but now, he has acquainted himself with the entire astral express crew. together, everyone has lunch prepared specially by pom-pom themself.

when he is finished, you stand, and his gaze draws to you as you do.

“come with me,” you say, jerking a thumb toward the door on the other side of the parlour. “i’ll show you to your room.”

he stands, following suit. you decide to give him a tour of the express while you’re at it, walking him from one end of the train to the other. you have a way with words, he thinks, your silence never awkward and your chatter never grating.

“how long have you been a nameless?” he finds himself asking.

you hum, tilting your head slightly. “almost a year now, if i’m not wrong. before that, i spent about half a decade wandering the cosmos until himeko recruited me. what about you?”

he doesn’t quite know what to say. he had nowhere to go but the express, and he finds himself reluctant to tell you that.

at his complicated expression, you let out a low laugh. “you don’t have to answer that if you’re don’t want to. it’s all good — anyway, this is it. it’s a little bare now, but you’ll have time to decorate it as you please.”

sliding open the door, you reveal a simple, quaint bedroom specially prepared for him. it is not much different from a hotel room, but your words ring true. he’d have all the time in the universe to personalise it. that is, if he were to stay.

he shakes his head lightly. “there is no need. i’m only staying temporarily.”

“then, where else are you going to sleep?” you ask. raising a brow, the corners of your lips upturn just the slightest. “don’t tell me you’ll be sleeping in the archives?”

to your mild consternation, that is exactly where he chooses to sleep.

“are you sure you don’t want to use your bedroom?” you confirm with him for the nth time. 

it is not as bad as you assume it is, really. it is infinitely better than many of the places he has slept in.

“i’m sure,” he tells you. “it’s not worth the hassle.”

—

a new dawn begins. 

it is barely morning when dan heng steps out of the archives, bound for the kitchens. he hardly slept that night, only managing a fitful rest after hours of tossing and turning. the bed had been too soft, the silence too loud, and the calm too unnerving. it is… a lot to get used to.

he’d fix himself a simple breakfast before getting started on handling the data bank. that, is something he is looking forward to doing. 

as he walks by your bedroom, he realises your light is on, its glow shining through the crack under the door. he isn’t expecting anyone else awake at this hour, much less you.

your door slides open just before he passes.

“oh, it’s just you.” you smile, and it is beneath the light he can see the bags under your eyes. he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice them yesterday. you lick your lips, and your voice is slightly coarse as you speak. “good morning. did you sleep well?”

“probably about as well as you did,” he returns. 

you throw back your head and laugh, and he doesn't suppress the soft chuckle that leaves his lips either. shutting your bedroom door behind you, you decide to accompany him to the kitchens. he falls into step with you with ease.

“i never sleep well,” you tell him, combing your hair back with your fingers. “not anymore, at least.”

“do you have nightmares?” he asks tentatively.

you shake your head, waving your open palm in a so-so motion. “not really. maybe. one day, i just… couldn’t go to sleep anymore. you?”

he recalls all those nights on the rough, hard ground, chains around his limbs and a biting cold bone deep. any sleep he got had been stolen in slivers. after that, hopping from ship to ship, there hadn't been any chance for him to sleep more than an hour or two at a time. he nods. a good night’s rest was a luxury few seemed able to afford.

“the bed is… softer than i am accustomed to,” he finds himself admitting.

you let out a soft ah. “i know that feeling all too well.”

he goes silent then, and is thankful that you’re not one to pry. when the both of you arrive at the kitchens, he reaches for a loaf of bread. you put a hand on his arm before he can. he falters, glancing at you curiously.

“if you're not in a hurry, i can whip up something nicer to eat than just bread. i don't like to brag, but i’d say i cook pretty well.”

“it's alright. it’s nothing i’m unused to.” frankly, he’s had much worse. troubling you any further is simply unnecessary. “still, thank you. i appreciate the offer.”

you shrug with a crooked grin. “it’s your loss. at least toast the bread, won’t you?”

that, he can do. he even spreads jam over it.

days pass.

more and more mornings go by just the same, and the both of you fall into an easy routine. sometimes, the two of you talk and talk and talk until your coffee goes cold and his bread goes stale. sometimes, you don't exchange a word.

whatever the case, there is no doubt that you’ve become his friend.

he isn’t used to having friends. he isn't used to much of anything at all, really. he is stilted and awkward and stiff, and you are everything he is not — your grins come easy and your laughter rings carefree, your words charming and your movement fluid. it is obvious that whilst you are no older than he is, you have lived for far longer than he has. 

whatever the case, he cannot deny that he enjoys being your friend. 

“hey, we are friends, right?” you ask him one day, nursing a steaming mug of coffee in your hands. 

he dips his head. “i would presume so. why do you ask?”

“nothing, nothing. i was just checking.” you smile then, wide enough your teeth show and the corners of your eyes crinkle. subconsciously, he smiles too. just the slightest. “i haven't had a friend for a very long time now.”

neither has he.

—

the process of revisiting the route is not easy, mostly due to the numerous roadblocks caused by stellarons. sometimes, the crew encounters the huge monsters dan heng had defeated before. you are swift, quick on your feet and even quicker with your blade. he watches as the beast is eviscerated to bits.

“you fight well,” he compliments you, and wonders for how long you have been fighting.

“aw, thanks — you don’t do too bad yourself,” you say. 

he digresses. he had been careless, slipping too deep into the familiarity of a battle that he acted before he could think. yet that phantom memory was not his, and for that, he had almost been hurt. he can still feel the ghost of your touch on his wrist, from when you had pulled him out of an arrow’s path.

your voice draws him out of his thoughts then. “dan heng, watch this.”

grinning, you show off — tossing your daggers into the air, catching them with an elaborate twirl. after that, you sheath them as if nothing had ever happened at all. there’s something wild in your smile, vicious in your eyes. with the thrill of the fight still thrumming in your veins, you’ve never looked more alive.

noting the sweat that clings to your skin, he hands you a handkerchief before you resort to wiping it away with your sleeve. you take it, thanking him once more.

“i believe the entire area has been cleared. we should head back onto the express now.”

but you wave away his words, gaze trained on something behind him. “no, wait. not yet. what’s that?”

he turns, and all he sees is an enormous chunk of floating ice — encased in which is a living girl.

“you… truly do not remember a thing?”

the girl shakes her head, a frown marring her face. mr. yang had found a way to thaw the ice that enveloped her, and upon waking, a few major issues began to surface. namely, her amnesia.

“it’s all good,” you say kindly. “you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. you can call me [name].”

she beams, accepting the offer, and with that, the crew gains another member. 

“thank you! your name is really pretty, did you know that? mine is —” the smile on her face freezes. she falters. “mine is… uh… hm, do you have the date?”

“march 7th,” you supply helpfully.

dan heng steals a glance at you, surprised. he wonders what planet that calender system comes from. the astral express uses the one mandated by the ipc, and he had been taught the one of the xianzhou alliance. not that he ever had the chance to use it.

“you still keep track of the date of your home planet?” he asks.

shrugging, you nod. “yeah. old habits die hard, i’m afraid.”

“i guess you all can call me march 7th for now,” she says brightly. “to commemorate the day i was reborn.”

you laugh. “that’s cool. then, march 7th it is.”

—

a new dawn begins.

the astral express has stationed itself on herta’s space station for the time being, to help with its repairs, and to stock up on supplies. the girl with a stellaron sealed within her body — stelle, as she had dubbed herself — wanders both the express and the station, living as if it were her first time alive.

you seem particularly fond of her, dan heng notes.

he is being swarmed by a group of researchers whilst stelle sits in a corner, with you patching up her wounds. she had been fighting off a swarm of monsters in the storage facility alone, and the two of you only found her after the battle was basically over. then, the crowd began to gather before the three of you could return to the express.

“you’re the guard of the express, right?”

“i am, yes.”

“that’s so cool!”

he wonders how things have taken this turn. for the entire duration of the conversation, the researchers have been focused on nothing else but him. it’s unnerving. he cannot fathom their goal in doing so.

his gaze finds you easily. he watches as stelle leans over, muttering something he does not catch into your ear. you laugh, whispering back, and it is when you raise your head that your eyes meet his. amused, you raise a brow. he can read the question in your eyes.

need help?

shaking his head minutely, he suppresses the urge to glance away, mildly embarrassed at having been caught staring. 

you shrug, mouthing. your loss.

someone else clears their throat, drawing his attention to him. a man, this time, who’s smile reminds him of yours.

“can i have your number?”

an arm slings around his shoulders then, before he can respond to the researcher’s request. he staggers slightly, and he can hear the murmured chuckle under your breath. he relaxes into it, almost instinctively.

oh, he thinks. it’s only you.

there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes, a wolfish grin tugging on your lips. you dip your head, murmuring something into his ear just as stelle had done to you earlier. what leaves your lips is an apology. but what for? he —

— you kiss him.

his ears ring. faintly, he can feel several pairs of eyes boring into him, into you, and into what seemed to be a lingering kiss. yet all he can wrap his mind around is the tip of your nose against his skin, your warm breath fanning over his cheek. it is not a kiss. it is not a kiss.

“sorry guys,” you declare, twirling back to face the group of researchers. they stare at you, stunned silent. you don’t mind a bit, your smile only brightening. “but he’s taken.”

disappointment ripples through the small crowd, and they disperse quickly after that.

sharply, he exhales. you release him from your hold hastily. stelle bursts into laughter. 

“i’m sorry,” you say quickly. “you just looked like you needed help, and that was the fastest way to get them off your back. are you alright?”

he turns to you, dazed, body taut as a bowstring. he doesn’t think he’ll be alright for the next few system days, at the very least. “i — i’m alright. thank you for the assistance. though your method was certainly rather… startling.”

“that’s definitely one word for it,” stelle adds in, wiping a tear from her eye.

you roll your eyes. “stop being dramatic. they would’ve literally never stopped badgering him if they knew he was single.”

“what do you mean?” he finds himself asking. that was what they had wanted?

“i heard the lot of them making bets earlier, about who’d be first to get your number,” you explain. harrumphing, you continue, “but it’s not that i don’t see why. you are good looking.” 

stelle grins. “tall, dark and mysterious?”

you choke out a laugh, giving her a high-five. “right.”

it is then he is glad that your attention is not on him at that very moment. he's bewildered and flustered all the same. good looking? tall, dark and mysterious…? the both of you might as well be speaking in riddles. offhandedly, he thinks that if it were up to him, you'd be the one more popular.

“anyway, let's head back to the express now. dan heng, you coming?”

he nods, following after you two steps behind. and even as you chatter with stelle, he can't seem to will away the memory of your face mere inches from his.

—

you have missed breakfast for the third time in a row and it is mildly distressing. 

for five months has he been a passenger of the express, part of the astral crew, and for five months has dan heng had breakfast with you. he’s sure of that. though most days were repetitive and his memory blurred together, the morning was always a vivid constant.

“do you… know where [name] is?” he asks march that day, when she enters the archives in search of a book to read. 

she lets out a soft hum, her head dipping to her side. “she's probably with stelle. they've grown really close recently! why?”

“just curious,” he replies, casually. “it is unusual for [name] to not already be up at this hour.”

march laughs. “you know lots about [name], huh? by the way, how long have you two known each other? are you close?”

“it's only been a few months. we are friends.”

the door slides open then, and your presence filters through the air. he can see the grin on your face before he even turns to look. you seem to have awoken mere minutes beforehand, hair mussed and eyes slightly droopy with sleep.

“just friends?” you say, pouting playfully. “i thought we were best friends, at the very least.”

he says nothing to that, and march can't seem to stifle a giggle. swiftly, she plucks a book off a shelf and scampers away. he meets your gaze then, and you raise an eyebrow in question.

“you missed breakfast,” he says simply.

wincing lightly, you bring a hand to the base of your neck, expression sheepish. “ah. ‘m sorry, i overslept.”

“it’s alright,” he reassures you, gaze following your figure as you glide further into the archives.  

you jerk a thumb at his makeshift bed. “mind if i sit?”

he doesn’t. he shakes his head in reply, and with one smooth, sweeping motion, you settle yourself onto it. you move with a comfortable fluidity, so much so he assumes you have long since grown accustomed to things as simple as this. pressing down on his mattress, you watch it gradually regain its shape. then, you fluff up his pillow.

“i can’t believe you live like this,” you grumble, shooting him a dirty look. “there’s a perfectly good room for you to use.”

he huffs. “this arrangement is only —”

“only temporary, yeah, yeah, i know.”

with that, the topic is dropped there, and you move onto something else. you’ve recently been busy gaming with stelle, you tell him, oftentimes late into the night. you’d play and play and play until the moon dipped and the sun rose, until the two of you would black out from sheer exhaustion.

“that… doesn’t sound very healthy,” dan heng comments, a faint frown marring his face. “you should adopt a more consistent sleep schedule.”

you laugh, waving his words away. with a soft fwump, your back hits his bed, your arms spread wide and tangled in his sheets. you meet his gaze with a lazy, half-quirked smile. “sure, i’ll try. but honestly? i’ve slept more in the past few days than i’ve slept in years.”  

he only sighs. “whatever you say.”

he decides to carry on with his work, to before he had been interrupted by march and then you. he seats himself at his desk whilst you lounge on his bed. at first, you watch as he pores over books and archives, adjusting, keying in new entries, but you soon grow bored of it and turn your attention towards your phone.

“not gonna lie, your mattress is more comfortable than i expected,” you say suddenly. “it’s soft.”

it is. he can’t help but let out a soft chuckle.  

hours pass. a comfortable sort of silence has blanketed the room, after the short bouts of chatter he’d share with you died down and the sounds your game emits turn to nothing but white noise. he isn’t used to having someone in the room with him as he works, nor is he accustomed to spending so much time with someone alone.

it isn’t bad, he muses.

dinnertime approaches. he sets his pen down, getting up from his seat as he does. turning to you, he finds himself setting eyes upon an unexpected sight. 

you’re fast asleep, body twisted into odd angles but asleep nonetheless. your phone lies against your cheek, and you’ve somehow kicked his blanket onto the floor. he doesn’t know whether to wake you or to leave you be.

he sighs. he supposes you’d need all the sleep you could get. 

picking up the blanket, he sets it over your figure gently, careful not to rouse you. he then leaves for the parlour carriage.

he bumps into stelle along the way.

“is [name] not having dinner today?” she asks. “weren’t they with you?”

dan heng shakes his head lightly in response. “[name] fell asleep. i decided against waking them up.”

she nods approvingly. “that’s good.”

—

a new dawn begins. 

dan heng’s steps are light as he leaves the grand goethe hotel, only slightly behind march and stelle. the air is crisp, the sunlight warm, and light breeze teases the ends of his hair. it will be a good day, he thinks, almost certain.

the crisis in belobog has just recently been resolved with the help of the astral express crew. now, there is little left to do but enjoy the celebrations and festivities. even you will be disembarking from the express and meeting them for lunch.

you hadn’t joined him on the expedition this time, opting to give stelle the chance to. it has been an odd few days without you around, he muses. he hadn’t realised just how used he had become to your presence until you were gone.

whatever the case, you’d be here soon, and that is all that matters for now.

“i can’t wait to see everyone again!” march says, grinning. she practically skips down the street, twirling and humming as she does. “it feels like it’s been ages since we last saw them.”

stelle voices out her agreement. then, she suggests introducing the rest of the crew to the friends they have made in belobog. “[name] would love clara.”

he can’t help but smile at that. you would.

“how was the mission?” you ask, casually, a smile on your face as you stir your drink with a straw. “the other two said they had fun. stelle even has a new set of powers now.” 

dan heng can’t quite say the same, but overall, it was definitely an interesting experience, and he tells you as much. very briefly, he recounts all the events that have occurred from the moment the trio set foot onto jarilo-iv to the moment cocolia had been defeated. you listen with a child-like curiosity, eyes sparkling and all. 

the both of you are seated at a table in the administrative district, chatting over food and drinks. march and stelle left earlier, claiming they wanted to speak with everyone once more, whilst himeko and mr yang had yet to disembark from the express. 

“damn,” you say, a tad mournfully. “i would’ve paid to have seen y’all go against cocolia.”

and that is precisely what he doesn’t understand. you’d have enjoyed the expedition as much as everyone else had, and the team certainly had room for one more, so why hadn’t you simply joined them?

it seems you read his silent question right off his expression, and you sigh, glancing away with a helpless sort of smile.

“it was kind of cowardly, i admit,” you utter lowly. you’re murmuring, yet the bustle of the city fades into nothing but white noise, and he can clear your words clear as crystal. “still, seeing jarilo-iv in that state… i couldn’t bear to step foot on it until i heard the stellaron was gone. the snow reminded me too much of home. or at least, what used to be home.”

“your home planet?” he clarifies. a slight frown tugs at his brows. it isn’t like you to look so sombre. it’s worrying.

you nod. “yeah. y’know, where i come from, there used to be this saying about impossible things that would only happen ‘when hell freezes over’. guess what? it did. within weeks, my home became nothing but a chunk of ice. of billions, probably only a few hundred escaped.”

his mind draws to a blank there. his lips part, but nothing comes out. what can he say to that? he sighs lightly, weary, akin to the sound of yours. “would… would it be insensitive to say i’m glad that it was you of all people who survived?”

a sharp huff of a laugh flits from your lips, and the expression on your face has brightened considerably. you smile, and he returns it almost unwittingly. 

“no, not at all,” you reply. “i’m glad i survived too. i wouldn’t have been able to meet you or the rest of the crew if i hadn’t. anyway, it’s all in the past now. i’m more or less over it.”

then, you’re leaning toward him, eyes sparkling once more. 

“what about you? what’s your origin story?”

“it’s… a lot,” he tells you truthfully. huffing, he averts his gaze, face strangely warm. “i’d rather not dwell on it. the day i left my homeworld, i left my past behind and haven’t looked back since.”

you let out an understanding hum, taking a sip of your drink. 

“of course. after all, you can’t have your past following you into your future.”

—

dan heng awakens with a jolt, a chill lapping at his spine and cold sweat prickling at his skin. his body aches, head leaden, the traces of a life long past ringing in his ears. it is the third night in a row he has not slept.

he doesn't bat an eye at the person shuffling around by his desk, for it can be no one but you. still, he is not one without shame, and mild embarrassment at having been caught in such an unseemly state tinges his cheeks.

“nightmare?” you ask, knowing and gentle and wry. “wanna talk about it? march says it helps, but i wouldn't say for sure.”

you're draped over his chair, head propped up by a hand. there are faint shadows under your eyes and books scattered carelessly across the desk, and he assumes you had spent the entire night before right there. he had been reading, he recalls, and you had been studying the data bank for any information it had on the xianzhou alliance.

that stellaron hunter, kafka… unthinkably, his past has caught up with him in the form of her visit. he hasn't been able to rest easy since. 

“nothing much, just… old memories,” he says. 

you let out a soft hum. “about the xianzhou alliance?”

he startles slightly. how did you…?

“you have a slight accent,” you explain, shrugging. “it’s cute. i had a few other guesses, of course, but your reaction to kafka confirmed it for me. anyway, i know you don't like talking about your past, so i wasn't gonna bring it up unless you did.”

he can't help but let out a soft, breathless laugh. what is he to say to that? it seems you know him better than he had thought. offhandedly, he wonders if he knows you just the same.

“will you go?” you ask. at his questioning glance, you elaborate. “to the luofu with the others. i’ll be going as well.”

he shakes his head, sighing near inaudibly. “i'll be staying on board the express this time. the luofu is a grand and beautiful ship that i barely had the chance to see but… i can never return.”

a beat of silence follows his statement, and for a second, he worries he may have said something odd. he glances at you, meeting your gaze, and you get up from your seat then, stretching as you do. offering him a hand that he accepts, you pull him up with an easy grin. 

“that’s good. you can keep me company while stelle and march are out.”

a faint smile flickers across his face at that, the slight tension in the room ebbing away. it wouldn't be very much different from how the both of you usually spent your days anywayy. 

true to your word, you don't mention a thing about the xianzhou alliance after that. he follows you to the kitchens to grab a bite of breakfast. it’s barely dawn, he realises, and in the stillness of the express, it seems as if the universe contained no one else but you.

“you hungry?” you ask, already pulling out ingredients from the fridge. “i’ll make something simple. i don’t think you’d have much of an appetite right now either way, huh?”

he takes a seat at the aisle, letting out a soft hum in reply. “alright, sounds good. thank you.”

“of course. anything for you.”

he glances away, out into the expanse of the galaxy, a odd sort of warmth blooming within him. he doesn’t recall ever having felt this way, but… he supposes it is not an unwelcome development. he can’t help but smile. 

“how is it?” you ask, hands interlaced together as you watch him expectantly. 

the half hour you took to prepare breakfast had been whiled away in an instant, with light conversation and comfortable silence. he takes a bite out of it, and he’s pleasantly surprised.

“it’s good.”

you beam, pleased, gently urging him to have more. “i knew you’d like it. i was on my own for years before i joined the express, y’know? eventually, i got sick of eating plain rice and whatnot, so i learnt to cook.”

he dips his head in acknowledgement. he had never been particularly picky with what he ate, for he never really had the chance to enjoy food. still, even he can tell that your cooking is more than stellar.

“you cook well,” he says. 

you laugh. “then, that settles it. i’ll make you something nicer next time.”

—

a new dawn begins. 

“you know, when you mentioned your past being ‘a lot’, i’d never expect it to be this.”

dan heng lets out a low, shuttered breath. everything had happened too quickly, and it was only one thing after another, then another, until his origins had been laid bare for all to see. it’s odd, he thinks. it’s uncomfortable and familiar just the same. his true form, his true strength, his true self. he wonders what you think of him now.

the situation on the luofu has concluded, but everyone is still reeling from the aftermath. march and stelle opted to stay at the seat of divine foresight with the general to tie up loose ends, whilst he and you decided to get going first. 

you walk in step with him through stargazer navalia, on the way to pick up a starskiff that would return you to the express. you huff. “stelle has new powers, and you regained your old ones — don’t tell me it’ll be march’s turn next?”

“she did mention she wished to pick up swordsmanship,” he offers. 

“she’ll look cute with a sword,” you say, the sound of a laugh on the tip of your tongue. then, you turn to him, and he can feel the weight of your gaze on his skin before he even meets your eye. “jokes aside though, you feeling alright?”

“i feel fine,” he confirms. “just… tired.”

you nod understandingly. “of course. it's been a few very, very long days. i feel like i could fall asleep right this second.”

the two of you reach the port, and come to a console that would summon a starskiff. he keys in the coordinates to the astral express for you. even then, he can feel your eyes on him, steady, and everburning. he can tell you have something to say.

“what is it?” he asks softly. 

your head dips to a side slightly, a tiny, glittering smile on your face. “is it bad i think you look even prettier now? like, don’t get me wrong, you've always been good looking — but this? it's just… wow.”

he flusters, an unbearable heat crawling up his nape and dusted on his cheeks. partly due to the fact you find him attractive, but more so the fact you always have. he can't quite believe it, but who are you to lie? your word has always been true. 

his lips part, but no words leave, and you tap the top of your head, then gesture to his. “mind if i touch?”

he shakes his head lightly. he doesn't. 

one of your hands reaches to cup his cheek, and he leans into it instinctually. your other hand tangles itself in his hair, near the base of his horns. when your fingers trail the length of his scales, he shudders.

“it's feels cold,” you comment, voice barely a murmur. “it's very pretty.”

with his head in your hands, he couldn't have avoided your gaze even if he tried. he looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and seeing this, you only grin in return. perhaps it is his exhaustion, or perhaps it is merely wishful thinking, but your eyes sparkle with a warmth he chooses to mistake for affection.

“when you're ready… will you tell me about your past? i only caught bits and pieces earlier, and i’d much rather hear the full story from you.”

he dips his head in agreement. either way, there isn’t much left of the story left to tell, and even then, if anyone had to know, it would be you. 

the starskiff arrives then, and with that, the moment flickers away. 

you get into the ship first, and he's only a step behind you as you do. it's not very spacious, he notes, but it is good enough for two. 

“you can rest your eyes for awhile,” you tell him, patting the space on the seat next to you. “the express is still a few hours away.”

he smiles faintly. “don't mind if i do.”

dan heng doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember waking up.

it's comfortable, he thinks, mind hazy, sleep still lapping at the edges of his consciousness. his head rests against something soft, his tail curled around something warm. a hand taps on his shoulder gently. 

“hey, it’s time to get up.”

reality clicks back into place in seconds. his tail unfurls itself from your waist, and you stretch, standing, offering him a hand that he accepts. 

“did you sleep well?” you ask, something knowing in your smile, a hint of a laugh in your eyes. “you looked so comfortable, i almost didn't have the heart to wake you.”

he doesn't recall ever sleeping so well before. he nods.

“i did.”

—

“psst. hey, dan heng,” march whispers to him, urgently. she glances around in an exaggerated motion of secrecy, then relaxes when she seems to have found nothing of concern. 

dan heng gives her an odd look. there is no need for her to whisper. in fact, her hushed tone of voice makes it difficult for him to make out against the hustle and bustle of aurum alley. the both of them were in charge of keeping track of the shipments that were coming and going, whilst you and stelle were off planning the cycrane's delivery routes. 

he asks, “what is it?”

“are you and [name] dating?”

the question bursts out of her near explosively, as if it had been bubbling within her for quite some time now. he startles slightly, never having expected something like that to come from her. 

“no, we aren't,” he tells her, brows drawn faintly. “where did you get that idea?”

“you aren't? but i thought…” her eyes are widened comically, and she has her hand brought up to her face to stifle a gasp. she huffs then, coming to her senses, placing her hands by her waist. “i was sure you liked each other. stelle thought so too. i mean — it's all there!”

he sighs, rolling his eyes, yet an odd, fluttering feeling rushes across his skin. a tiny dash of thrill, he suspects, and a little pinch of something more. he wonders if stelle is asking you the same right that second. he wonders what you'd respond. 

“you can ask [name] yourself,” he replies instead. 

she grumbles. “well, if you say so…”

“march asked if we were dating.”

the words leave dan heng's lips before his mind even has the time to catch up with them. he had been stewing over his conversation with march for the entire day. it had sent him reeling. now, all the work that had to be completed has finally been done and dusted, and he finally has time with you alone. as always, you have made yourself at home in the archives, feet on his desk and draped across his chair as if it were your very own. 

you turn to him, surprised, an eyebrow raised. you let out a startled laugh. “she did?”

“she also said stelle thought the same,” he confirms. 

out of sheer interest, you swivel yourself around to face him, cross-legged, hugging the chair's back. he sits himself down on his bed, and pretends not to notice your stare.

“so, what did you say?”

really, what else was he to say? he supposes he can understand where they were coming from. of everyone in the crew, you are the one he is closest to. you are the one he trusts the most, and you are the one that knows him the best. not only that, those facts extend both ways. with all that said, it really wasn't any surprise that they had jumped to conclusions. the both of you almost acted the part already. 

he shrugs, a tad awkwardly. “i told her that we weren't.”

“shame,” you say, a slight lilt in your tone. you pout. “not even a chance? you know, when stelle asked, i told her i wouldn't mind either way.”

you chuckle at the look on his face. “think about it. would it really change anything whether or not we do? other than the labels, of course, but just because we aren't dating doesn't mean i like you any less.”

no, he supposes. there wouldn't be much of a difference at all. he's never really thought about it that way. 

his relationship with you is… unique, in a sense. be it as a friend, lover, or companion, you've become such an irrevocable part of his life that any instance without you just felt off. and somehow, he had gone from merely living one day after another to dreaming of the next dawn with you. 

… he wonders just when had he fallen in love.

“if that is the case,” he starts slowly, “then… i'd rather be known as your lover too.”

your lover, he thinks, testing it out in his mind. though it may just mean all the same to you, he can’t help but find a soft comfort in that title. yours.

he shoots you a mildly dubious look. “do you even know what a relationship entails?”

“of course i do,” you declare, puffing up proudly. the grin on your face is as silly as it is radiant, and you blow him a big, fat kiss. “what else is there to do but make you happy?”

dan heng laughs, expecting little else. to be honest, you already do.

fin.

[dindjarindiaries]

Right Where You Left Me

summary: Din reunites with you many years after your whirlwind romance for a mission you begrudgingly accept to help him with.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, injuries & blood, hurt/comfort

rating: T

word count: 15.387k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

As soon as you saw the flash of silver at the open doorway, you froze. Your grip on the rag pulsated, your stare assessing the silhouette that was too achingly familiar.

And immediately, you wanted it gone. Him gone.

“Get the hell out of my bar, Mando!” Your voice was a bark, as piercing as your threatening gaze. You tossed the rag over your shoulder and crossed your arms, defiant. Though you knew his real name, had even exclaimed it in private before, you still refused to out him by using it now in front of others—despite the hurt he had caused you.

Din’s amused huff wasn’t lost on you as he ignored your directive and strided into your establishment. “Nice to see you, too.”

It was only inevitable that he would show up one day, but to do so like this was simply insulting. The Din you knew was far from an asshole, but this version of him was already threatening to challenge that notion. 

“Is that beskar on your head keeping you from hearing me?” You took up the rag again and snapped it towards the doorway. Din froze and raised his gloved hands in surrender. “Get. Out.”

“I won’t stay long.” Din nodded his helmet. “Promise.” You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother hiding it from him. This was the honorable Din Djarin that you had known, and while it used to be endearing to you, it was nothing but annoying now.

“You won’t stay at all.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I mean it.”

Din shifted his weight between his feet. You hated how it made your chest ache for him. The years hadn’t erased that tell of his. “I only need a few minutes.” His modulated voice was getting desperate. “Please.”

Of course it was working on you, but you couldn’t let it. You had spent all this time building your resolve to prepare yourself for this day, so that you could confidently turn your back on him without remorse—just like he had done to you. “You should’ve thought of that before you left.” You threw the rag at him, and he caught it without so much as flinching. “Mind wiping those tables on your way out?”

Then you did it. You turned your back on him, intent on hiding in the back room for the next standard hour or so with a glass of the galaxy’s strongest whiskey.

But the strong grasp on your wrist kept you from getting anywhere.

You spun around, your gaze a raging fire as it met Din’s cold visor. He still had the rag clutched in his free hand, and you watched his hold on it tighten in your periphery. As much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, the feeling of his touch still sent as many shockwaves through you now as it did years ago.

Din’s low, modulated voice broke the tense silence between you. “Please.”

Your jaw ticked as you gave him a thoughtful once-over. It was only just now that you were realizing he had an entirely new suit of armor, having exchanged the ragtag tan flight suit and mismatched red armor for brown and pure silver. Something had changed, and it was no doubt that something that had his voice so strained and desperate.

Still, you tugged your arm out of his grasp and scowled. “I never took you for the type to put your hands on someone like me without permission.”

Din’s armored shoulders deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You waited for his excuse, but he didn’t give one. You raised your brow. “But?”

Din lifted the rag without looking away from you, his helmet tilting as he fumbled with the cloth between both his hands. “But what?”

You scoffed and shook your head, your gaze falling to the small amount of distance that was still between the two of you. “Fine. I’ll ask.”

Whether he was playing your own curiosity against you intentionally or not, it was a genius strategy. You couldn’t help yourself. You reached out for the rag and snatched it back from him, throwing it over your shoulder again and setting your weight on one hip.

“What brought you here?”

Din let out a soft sigh. His visor gave the room a careful stare before he leaned in closer. You nearly did the same out of habit. “I need your help with something.”

You crossed your arms and gestured with your chin to the doorway. “I’m retired. Can’t you tell?” You let out a terse laugh. “But of course the only reason why you’d show up here all these years later is for help.”

Din stiffened. The amount of pity you wanted to give him was exhausting. Old habits die hard. “I… didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

You lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, thank you for making the decision for me.” You turned and started to walk back behind the counter. “You’ve lost my interest. Your few minutes are up.”

Din’s gloved hands all but slammed against the countertop. You jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. “Your research.” His voice was even lower, even more secretive, than before—but it had only grown even more desperate.

You blinked a few times, fighting against your shock. Your tone matched his when you finally found words to say. “What about it?”

Din relaxed once you spoke to him. “Do you still have the list?”

Your brow furrowed. “The list of what?”

“M-count targets.”

You stepped up to face him across the counter so fast that the end of it jutted into your stomach, but you didn’t care. Your face was only inches from his helmet when you spoke through gritted teeth. “You should know better than to say that out here in the open.”

Din was unfazed. “Do you still have it?”

You searched the horizontal section of his visor before letting out a heavy breath. Your gaze fell to your hands, which were splayed on the countertop right next to his. “Even if I did, I haven’t updated it in years. I have no idea if any of the targets are still active.”

Din took a steady breath, his visor looking to the side as he processed your words. Meanwhile, you were doing the same with this entire situation. His sudden interest in this was baffling, and there was only one conclusion you could think of for someone like him. It made you grimace even more harshly than you had before.

“You want exclusive access to track them down, don’t you?”

Din’s visor snapped back to your gaze. “No.” His tone got sharper, finally matching your own. “You really think so little of me?”

“Seeing as you left me for this line of work without hesitation or care, yeah, I guess I would consider it to be a pretty strong possibility.”

Din looked down at his hands. His armored body rose and fell with another deep breath before he changed the subject. “I had an M-count target.”

You scoffed. He was proving your words right, and you hated how devastating that really was for you.

“I didn’t realize it when I got assigned to the job. I was told the target was fifty years old. But…” Din paused, and when he went on, there was a new emotional strain to his words, “it was a child.”

Your brow jutted up at that. A fifty-year-old child was certainly new, but in this galaxy, it was definitely possible, especially if they were non-human.

“I saved him, took him on the run, and returned him to his own kind.” Din’s voice nearly broke on his last few words. You tried to picture it; Din Djarin, running around the galaxy in that old-ass Razor Crest, all while taking care of a child. It was a hilarious yet heartfelt image, because it was something only he would do, especially after what he went through as a child.

You hated that you knew that about him.

You pushed these thoughts aside and prioritized one of the many questions that lingered. “His own kind?”

Din’s helmet tilted at you, as if the answer should have been obvious. “The Jedi.”

You were the one to grab his wrist this time, tugging him along the edge of the countertop until he was next to you again. Then, you pushed open the swinging door to the back room, waiting until it closed to question him. “You were really running around the galaxy with a Jedi youngling?”

Din nodded. Your eyes doubled in size as you balled up your fists at your sides, now coming upon a new, frightening conclusion.

“Din, not every child with an M-count is a Jedi, especially not on that list!”

Din didn’t say anything, not for a long time. Your brow began to furrow in confusion more than anger until he gave his helmet a quick shake. “Sorry.” He shifted his weight.

You narrowed your eyes. “What was that?”

Din hesitated before he went on. “You said my name.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a curt laugh. “Get a grip.” You set your hands on your hips. “Did you even hear the rest of what I said?”

“Yes. I can multitask. You know that.” The urge to roll your eyes at him again was too strong, especially once your ears started to burn. “Don’t worry. I spoke directly with another Jedi, and she said that he was raised at ‘the Temple.’” He shrugged. “Whatever that means.”

You ran your hand over your face in disbelief. “You just casually ran into a Jedi? In this day and age, when the Jedi Order is all but nonexistent?”

“Actually, I’ve met two.”

You scoffed and closed your eyes, exhaling an annoyed breath before smiling sweetly at him. “Congratulations.” You grew more serious as you hardened your expression. “But my point still stands. If your plan is to get this list and try to return all these kids to their ‘own kind,’ then it won’t work. Most of these children were never Jedi.”

Din held his hands on his hips, just above his belt. “That’s not my plan.” Worry strained his voice as he went on. “I just want to make sure they’re all safe.”

You blinked at him. “That’s it?” Din nodded. “What about hunting? Don’t you need to work?”

Din tapped a pouch on his belt. “I’ve got enough credits to last me a while.”

You gave him a cautious once-over. “How?”

Din huffed. “That’s a long story, and I promised I wouldn’t take up too much of your time.” He nodded towards your desk in the corner of the room, where your datapad was sitting. “All I need is the list.”

You bit the inside of your check as you took a deep breath. The nobility and meaning of what he was doing meant too much for you to just hand him a list that hadn’t been checked in years. It could send him chasing inactive targets, wasting precious time that could be used to save children in need.

“You need more than that.” Your tone was decisive as you spoke, leaving no room for argument—though you were sure Din would try.

And try he did. “Is that so?”

“It is.” Your gaze flickered over to your datapad. “I told you before, I haven’t updated the list in years. If you’re really gonna be tracking down these targets, then it needs to be checked.”

Din nodded. “Okay. How long will that take you?”

You shook your head. “Time isn’t a factor. Distance is.” You walked off towards your desk and explained before Din could ask. “I have to cross-check the names at an Imperial terminal.”

Din’s voice was behind you, getting closer to where you now stood with your focus on your datapad. “Do you know where to find one?”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “How else would I have made this list in the first place?” Din tilted his helmet, and you tried hard to fight your amused smile as you turned back to the datapad. “I’ve found a few, but I usually go to Ptelan.”

Din was right behind you, now. “Where’s that?”

“The whole other side of the Outer Rim.” You held back your sigh as you turned around to face Din, pasting on that sarcastically sweet smile again. “If your old-ass ship can actually make it that far.”

Din stiffened. Your mischievous grin started to fade even before he said the words in a low voice. “I… don’t have the Crest anymore.”

You attempted to keep the mood light as you opted for the likeliest explanation. “Did she finally die on you?”

Din sighed, but it was sadder than usual. “I guess you can say that.”

Your lips tightened at the thought of whatever you weren’t being told. You spoke as you opened your datapad to make sure you still had the list. “Let me just add that story to your ever-growing list.” Din chuckled, and you fought a relieved smile at the sound of it. “So, tell me about your new ride.” 

“I don’t have one.”

You paused, your gaze slowly peeling from the datapad’s vidscreen to Din’s visor. The implications of his words hit you all at once. “You took public transport to get here?”

Din set his hands on his belt. “That’s what I’ve been doing, and it’s what I’m gonna keep doing until my contact finds me another Razor Crest.”

You blew air sharply out of your nose. His stubbornness certainly hadn’t faded over the years. “So, let me get this straight.” You lowered the datapad and took a step closer to him. “You expect to show up here, years later, unannounced, have me hand over my most precious research, and then borrow my ship?”

Din’s helmet tilted. He was amused. “I never said anything about a ship.”

You laughed. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t getting to that Imperial base on Ptelan with public transport.” You waved the datapad in your hand. “And you don’t even know how to cross-check this with the terminal, anyway. This plan of yours is starting to look real lousy.”

“To be fair, I didn’t realize I was gonna need more than the list.”

You stared at him for a few solid seconds before you closed your eyes and lowered your head in defeat. Your grip on the datapad tightened as you came to terms with what you were about to say—and, more importantly, do. This is what you got for running as far away from your research as possible: a multi-day trip with your ex. 

Cursing under your breath, you circled your jaw and lifted your head back up to look at him. “The list is the least of our problems. I need to get the ship fueled up for us to go.”

Din’s gloved hands fell back to his sides. “Us?”

“I’ve seen your piloting.” You pulled the corners of your lips up in a smirk. “I’m not letting your recklessness destroy my ship.”

Din sounded concerned as he looked over his shoulder. “What about your bar?”

You shrugged. “I have plenty of managers who can step in while I’m gone. We shouldn’t be away for more than a few days, anyway.”

Din’s visor gave you a quick once-over before he nodded. “Okay.” He straightened his shoulders and tilted his helmet towards you in a way that, aggravatingly, made your knees weak. His voice was strained with meaning when he spoke. “Thank you.”

You avoided his visor as you returned his nod. “Let’s just make it quick.” You turned to your desk and picked up a datarod. “Take this and head to the hangar. My ship’s in bay three.”

You extended the datarod to him, and Din was gentle in reaching for it. His gloved fingers brushed yours as you made the exchange. You silently cursed yourself when the sensation sent a pleasant chill down your spine. Remember what he did to you, and don’t forget it.

You spun away from him again. “Get the ship fueled up while I pack my things. I won’t be far behind you.”

Din nodded, dutiful as ever. He set the datarod on his belt before he turned and strided out of the back room. As soon as the door swung closed, you braced your hands on your desk and closed your eyes to focus on your breathing.

All these years, you had planned on turning your back on him the moment you saw him. Now, you had just signed up for a multi-day mission with him. That meant seeing him constantly. Sharing an enclosed space with him. Reminding yourself of what you once had, both the good and the bad.

But what he wanted was too noble for you to ignore. You were willing to sacrifice your own heart for the safety of these children.

You pulled yourself together and packed your necessities. You triple-checked that you had the datapad in your satchel before you pushed your way out of the back room and tracked down today’s manager. The Twi’lek woman gave you a concerned look as you approached her.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Her green eyes gestured to the cantina’s entryway. “What was up with that Mandalorian?”

You sighed and wished that you knew as little about Din as she did. “Everything’s fine. Listen, I’m going on a quick trip. I’ll be back in a few days.” You nodded at her. “I need you and the others to keep this place running until then.” You tapped the comm on your belt. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”

The Twi’lek nodded, but her brow was still furrowed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You pasted on a reassuring smile and set your hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure.” You squeezed and lowered your hand back to your satchel. “I’ll see you all in a few days.”

You didn’t give yourself time to dwell on her worried expression. If you did, there was a good chance you would come to your senses and realize how bad of an idea this all was. Instead, you strided over to the entryway and walked through the door that had slid open for you.

The hangar was only a block away, and bay three was one of the first in the hangar’s circular structure. You walked in to see your faithful vessel sitting there, with Din easily maneuvering the fueling source away from the hull. Your mind was suddenly flooded with the many memories of this very same sight, but with him fueling up the Crest after yet another risky mission.

No. You didn’t want the warm, familiar fondness that was flooding through your chest. You swallowed hard and pushed it away, continuing your stride as you spoke to Din without looking at him. “Ready to go?”

Din huffed in amusement. “That was fast.” When you didn’t respond, he grew more serious. “Yeah, it’s all ready.”

“Good.” Your lips pulled tight as you dropped your satchel off in the hold. Your ship was only half the size of the Crest, considering the fact it was a singular deck as compared to two, but you still had plenty of room to work with. There was a closed refresher and more than one bunk, thank the stars, as well as a booth and a small table. This was all connected to the cockpit, which was conveniently fitted with two chairs.

As if he was always meant to be here.

You scoffed and all but threw yourself into your chair. It groaned with both familiarity and age when you turned and toggled around the controls, preparing for takeoff. Din’s bootsteps soon made their way onto the ship, and the sound was just as familiar as your chair had been. Like no time had passed at all.

Stop. You gave your head a small shake to snap yourself out of it. It’s been years, and he left you. Don’t get used to this again.

You tightened your hands around the joysticks and jerked the ship up. It was hard to fight the cruel yet amused smile tugging at your lips when you heard Din stumble somewhere behind you. He cursed before speaking up over the ship’s rumbling engines. “And you said I was a reckless pilot.”

You couldn’t hold back your curt chuckle, though you wanted to. Din took his place in the chair beside yours, but you kept your focus on the clouds you were currently soaring through. You still remembered the coordinates to Ptelan as you punched them in, even if it had been years since you last traveled there. It wasn’t long before the blue light of hyperspace was swirling all around you. It would continue to do so for nearly an entire day.

Suddenly, this ship was beginning to feel a lot smaller.

With the ship in autopilot, you rose from your chair and headed to your belongings in the hold. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two sparkling items leaning against the wall of the interior hull, a jetpack and a long, pointed spear. The former was something Din had been wanting for a long time.

So many stories left to tell, so much time spent apart, and yet so much distance now between you. It was hard to come to terms with that after you had once known him so well, and had him so close.

“I’m gonna freshen up,” you announced, rustling through your bag and the other compartments on the ship for your necessities. “We’ve got a while to go until we get there, so I recommend resting. I’ll make something to eat when I’m done.”

You turned to head to the refresher, but Din unknowingly stood in your way. His visor was trained on your gaze as he nodded. “Can I help with anything?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. “No.” You brushed past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you did so. “I’ll take care of it when I’m done.”

You’ve done enough is what you wanted to say, but that wasn’t a conversation you really wanted to have in such an enclosed space—especially with such a long trip ahead of you. Instead, you focused on washing up, hoping you could wash your thoughts of him away with the water. The refresher, unfortunately, was even more enclosed than the rest of the ship, which was only making it harder to breathe with the knowledge of who was outside it.

It would all happen again. As soon as Din had what he wanted, he would leave. Only this time, you wouldn’t give yourself the chance to be attached, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let yourself miss him. Not anymore.

Not that you had ever healed from the first time.

It was only when you finished washing up and drying yourself off that you realized the grave mistake you had made. Thanks to how Din’s mere presence had flustered you, you had completely forgotten to bring your change of clothes in with you. And there was simply no way you were going out there in nothing but a towel.

You leaned close to the door of the refresher, your eyes closing as you thunked your forehead against the cool metal. The embarrassment was already warming the tips of your ears as you raised your voice enough to be heard. “Din?”

There was a pause before you heard footsteps shuffling by the door. “Yeah?”

The gentleness in his modulated voice threatened to ruin you. With a heavy sigh, you went on. “Turns out I do need your help.” Your voice was a sardonic laugh. “Can you grab the pile of clothes by my satchel?”

“Sure.” Din’s response was immediate. You could still hear his footsteps as they made their way across the hold and then back to the door. “There. I set them on the floor.” There was an awkward pause, accompanied by a shifting of weight. “I’m… not looking.”

You let out a more genuine laugh that time and spoke before you could stop yourself. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me like this.”

Yeah, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. It stunned both of you into silence, but maybe that was a good thing. The towel was wrapped tightly around you as you opened the door and reached down to grab the clothes, shutting the door again just as quickly. For a moment, you leaned your back against the cool metal and let the material raise the hair on your skin. It was the cold reality you needed to ground yourself again.

You made quick work of dressing to save yourself from at least part of the embarrassment. Once you were decent, you stepped out into the hold, where you saw Din swinging his spear around. He turned to face you right away, setting the blunt end of the spear against the ground. It made a faint clanging sound, reminiscent of Din’s armor.

“That’s quite a weapon you’ve got there.” You spoke to him even while you stepped forward and focused on putting your belongings away. “Did you trade that for your rifle?”

Din didn’t answer right away. You stole a look at him over your shoulder in curiosity. His gloved hand was holding the spear even tighter, and his visor had fallen to focus on his boots. “Not intentionally.”

The pain in his voice struck you hard. You were caught between wanting and not wanting to know what happened. Curiosity and genuine concern for him were fighting a courageous battle, but your resolve to keep him at an arm’s length was even stronger—at least, for now.

You found something else to say into the strained silence. “Well, at least this one fits in with your armor a lot better.”

Din chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You listened to him shuffling around behind you as you started to prepare the broth and bread. The clink of metal told you he had set the spear against the hull again, and the shifting of weight that followed said even more. With a fond smile you couldn’t shake, you spoke to him again.

“If you really want to help…” you pushed two bowls and small plates out to the side, “you can set the table by the booth.”

Din was at your side in seconds to grab them. “Thank you.”

You huffed as he walked over to the booth. “You’re thanking me for letting you help?”

“I am. It’s rare that you ever ask for help.”

You gave the broth a harsher stir than necessary. “I didn’t ask. I offered.”

Din’s amused chuckle warmed your cold heart. “Right.”

It wasn’t long before the broth was steaming at just the right temperature. You brought it over to the table, and Din made room for you to distribute the broth equally between the two bowls. After setting a small loaf of bread on each plate, you sat down, wordlessly encouraging Din to do the same.

You were prepared to watch him eat the way he always used to around you. He would lift his helmet just enough to sip the broth and tear off chunks of the bread. That was all you ever got to glimpse of his face. His untrimmed jaw, the tip of his hooked nose, his warm lips that felt like home…

Used to feel like home.

But before you could even raise the first broth-soaked chunk of bread to your lips, you saw Din lift both hands to his helmet, preparing to slide it off completely.

Out of instinct, your free hand snapped around his wrist. Din froze, his visor finding your piercing stare. “What the hell are you doing?”

Din’s tense form relaxed, a soft laugh crackling through his modulator before the hand you weren’t restricting covered yours. “Relax, sweetheart.” The familiar nickname made your heart turn over in your chest. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

His words hit you with a dizzying amount of thoughts and emotions, but the most prominent of all was hurt. He had removed his helmet for someone else, that much was clear. Had you not been worthy enough to be the first?

You didn’t say anything in response, and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You let go of his wrist and let him follow through on the action.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, as much as you wanted to. Dark hair accompanied the dark stubble you had once felt against your own skin, falling in soft waves over his head and coating his upper law and jaw with sweet familiarity. The rest of the hook of his nose was long and gentle, leading up to a furrowed brow. You followed those lines to meet his eyes.

Time stalled, and your breath caught. His brown eyes had already met your stare, golden flecks glinting in the flashing blue light of hyperspace that illuminated the ship’s interior. Your gaze flickered between them, imagining all the different ways these same eyes might have looked upon you all those years ago.

You wondered if they had looked at you then the way they were looking at you now.

Din’s stare fell to the helmet he had set on the booth before focusing on the steaming broth and bread in front of him. You, however, continued to look at him, to study him. It was all you had ever wanted when he was yours, even if you had refused to confess that to him.

You were startled when Din’s natural voice broke the silence. “Your broth’s gonna get cold.” His amused tone was familiar, but seeing that same emotion in his eyes made your chest unravel with sweet warmth.

Then his words sank in, and you blinked a few times before looking down at your meal. Your ears burned both in embarrassment and from the tangible feeling of his eyes on you. “Sorry for staring. It’s just…” you stopped with your bowl near your lips to let out a soft chuckle, “I never really thought I’d ever get to see your face.”

Din offered the hint of a smile. “I understand.” He took a sip from his own bowl before raising his brow. “What do you think?” When you gave him a quizzical look, he clarified. “About what you’ve seen.”

You huffed and smirked at him. “Never took you for the type to fish for compliments, Djarin.”

Din’s face started to flush, though he tried to shrug it off. “It’s just unnerving to have eyes on me after so many years of not being seen. But I’m trying to get used to it.”

You finished chewing a piece of bread before freeing the simple question from your tongue. “Why?”

Din exhaled, his lips pressing into a firm line before he chuckled. “Add that to your growing list of stories that I owe you.”

You laughed and nodded. His response filled you with an odd sort of relief. He was promising an answer, and that meant it wasn’t something he wanted to keep from you.

The rest of your meal was eaten in silence, with you stealing looks at Din whenever you thought you could afford them. He was the first to finish, clearly hungrier than he would have ever let on about. You tried to suppress the natural worry that festered in your chest for him as you watched him stand from the booth.

“I’m gonna wash up, if that’s okay.” Din gestured with his head to the refresher.

You nodded. “Of course. I left my stuff in there, so feel free to use it. I’ll just be resting if you need something.”

Din bowed his head in gratitude. He took his dishes and rinsed them out first before disappearing inside the refresher. You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a breath, but the backs of your traitorous eyelids continued to show you the image of Din’s face anyway.

If that was all you could see whenever you closed your eyes, then you didn’t have a single chance of earning rest on this trip.

You focused on your mundane tasks and lost yourself in the routine. After washing out your own dishes, you set up the bunks, hoping to at least get some sleep during the course of this lengthy journey. A few minutes spent in your bunk, however, proved that rest would be impossible right now.

You took to pacing and flipping your blade in the air, warming yourself up for any potential fight that would come should things go south on Ptelan. They hadn’t before, but there was certainly a first time for everything. There was too much on your mind that threatened to drown you, and focusing on the shifting of your blade offered an escape.

Until the refresher door opened at the same time you paced forward, and you ran straight into Din’s firm form.

Even worse, as you clutched your blade and took a step back, you realized that he was more vulnerable to you now than before. His soft waves were wet enough to leave droplets streaming onto his forehead and face, and you followed one that fell down his jaw and over his completely exposed chest. Tanned, scarred skin was shining from the refresher’s humidity, ending only where Din had the towel he was borrowing around his waist.

And you were breathless. If you couldn’t stop staring before, you sure as hell couldn’t stop now.

“I’m sorry.” Din stammered. His face was even redder than it had been before, his gaze wandering. “I was… I needed to grab my blade so I could shave, and I thought you would be asleep.”

You managed to let out a curt chuckle. “Well, I’m awake.” It was then that his words hit you. “Wait, your vibroblade? For shaving?”

Din just shrugged.

“Absolutely not.” You spun around and headed towards one of your miscellaneous cargo crates. “I think I have one somewhere around here.”

“Have what?”

You scoffed. “A blade meant for shaving.” You found what you were looking for and checked it over to make sure it was clean. Din’s brow was furrowed now as you walked over to hand it to him. “You can keep it.”

Din looked between you and the blade. “You just happened to have one of these on hand?”

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Someone must have left it here.”

Din didn’t respond right away. You watched as his brown gaze darkened, a change barely visible in the blue light illuminating the hold. “Who?”

“Don’t know.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why does it matter?”

Din’s stare cut away from you, and it was the tick in his jaw that made the realization fall upon you.

You let out a scornful laugh and shook your head. “No, you do not get to be jealous.” Din’s gaze snapped back to you. You pointed an accusatory finger towards him. “May I remind you that it was you who left me, not the other way around?”

Din’s jaw circled as he kept focusing on something behind you. “You don’t have to remind me about the worst mistake I ever made.” His brown eyes found you again, both his words and his stare knocking the breath from your lungs. “I already think about it all the time.”

Your lips stretched in a heartless smile. “And yet it still took all these years for you to show up, Djarin. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Din stiffened, an action that was even more visible with the muscles rippling under his skin. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to change the topic, your focus going back to the blade in his hand.

“Do you know how to use one of those?”

Din’s own stare lowered to the blade in his hand as he shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

You snickered. “Yeah. I guess if you could use a vibroblade to shave, you can use anything.” Din let out his own huff of amusement as you studied the small scars on his face. You kept your tone amused as you gestured to what you were seeing. “I’m willing to bet half of those are from shaving.”

Din actually laughed at that, a sound that ignited a pleasant shockwave along your spine. “Surprisingly, no, I’ve never managed to nick myself badly enough to leave a scar.”

You furrowed your brow. “So, these are all from what? Taking hits to your helmet?” It was hard to understand how something as impenetrable as beskar could still leave his face vulnerable to scarring.

Din nodded. “Only in serious cases.” His gaze had fallen to the blade in his grasp again, as if he was growing shy under your observant eye.

But you couldn’t keep it from wandering. Your stare found a long scar across the bridge of his nose, one you certainly hadn’t seen before in those rare times when he would accidentally slip his helmet up a little too far. “How did you get this one?” You couldn’t keep yourself from reaching out to brush your fingertips along it.

Din drew in a quiet breath, and out of your periphery, you could see his chest stall for a moment. His brown eyes found you again, the warm depths of his gaze pooling into yours as he responded in a soft voice. “I got caught up in an explosion on Nevarro.” Your eyes widened. “I almost didn’t make it out, but…” he chuckled, “ironically, it was a droid who saved me.”

Your hand was still raised, fingers trailing over the smooth skin along his cheekbone as you grimaced. The worried question fell from your lips before you could stop it. “You almost died?”

Din’s gaze softened at the breathlessness of your words. You hated it, this constant worry and concern for one another, but you couldn’t stop it. As much as you had tried to bring yourself to despise him over the years, it had never worked, and knowing he had almost died in your absence was frighteningly unnerving.

Din tried to lighten the mood with a small smile stretched across his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t almost died before.”

You gave your head a small shake and let yourself get lost in the movement of your hand, which was now settling more firmly upon his cheek. “But I wasn’t there this time.”

Din’s hand wrapped gently around your wrist. His words were firm yet so achingly soft and genuine. “That’s my fault, darling.” He began to run his hand down your arm, his rough fingertips skimming the exposed skin that led up to the short sleeve of your casual tunic. “Not yours.”

And there it was, your ultimate undoing, the thing that had always made Din so different from anyone else. He owned up to every mistake he ever made. Usually, he would do whatever it took to make it right, which is why it stung even more that he had never bothered to come back for you over the course of all these years.

But that harsh reminder wasn’t on your mind right now. All you could think about was the electricity crackling between the two of you, the touch of your hands igniting sparks that drew you closer to one another. He was becoming dangerously irresistible, especially with the weight of such sweet familiarity sitting between the two of you.

It was worse now that you could actually see him. The longing in his eyes, the way they darkened as he mused upon whatever desires he had for you and flickered between your own eyes and lips…

Just like that, you were running back to him, back to the familiar and the home you had once made in him. He did the same and met you in the middle, his parted lips meeting yours and sealing the gap between you.

Unfortunately, it was the most complete you had felt ever since he had left you.

Your hand slid from his cheek to the damp, brown waves that fell over his ear, and the other ran over his scarred chest towards the back of his neck. You wanted him impossibly close, as if having him there would erase the years you had to spend without him. Din reciprocated the feeling with his own gestures, one of his hands also wrapped around your neck as the other held the rib cage that protected your wildly racing heart.

Before you could stop yourself, you pulled him backwards, and he followed. Two long strides with Din’s arms supporting your weight was all it took to set your back against the cold, metal hull. Your toes had been dragging against the floor with the ease of his grasp, but he helped you steady yourself on your feet without once having to separate his lips from yours.

But that stability was lost just as quickly the moment his tongue pushed through your parted lips. He could still devour you like no one else, doing so with a reverence that purified you. All the consequences of these actions were forgotten as your hand in his hair pulled him even closer, and he relented, his hips marrying yours.

It was that, and the hand that was now lowering from your neck along the curve of your spine, that forced you to break away from him with a breathless gasp of your only conceivable thought. “Din…”

Din. The man who was making you feel a way you only had years ago. The same man who had left you alone in your bed the morning he left and never came back.

What the hell am I doing?

The thought was enough to break you out of your lustful haze. Your eyes doubled in size as you lowered both hands to Din’s bare chest and pushed him back. He stumbled but easily got his footing, his own eyes widened as he held his hands up in surrender. The two of you were heaving from both the heat of the moment and your sudden outburst.

You wanted to speak, but you were thrumming with so many emotions that it was hard to choose just one. Din blinked a few times, one hand running through his damp hair as he also tried to find his voice. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He exhaled a breath and closed his eyes, leaving his hand in his hair. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking bold.” The ferocity of your words made Din’s eyes fly back open as his surprised stare met yours. “In fact, all of this is.” You waved a hand to the rest of the open hold. “This stunt of yours. Convincing me to come along with you somehow.”

Din shook his head. “That’s not—.”

“No.” You held up your hand to stop him. “It’s my turn to have the final word, since you so kindly didn’t give me a chance to the day you left.”

Din deflated at the truth of your words, but his sense of honor wouldn���t win you over this time.

“If you think that you can make things right by just showing up after all this time and apologizing, you’re wrong.” You hardened your expression. “If it’s my forgiveness you’re looking for, you’re never gonna find it.” You lowered your voice as it trembled in pure rage and true hurt. “Not even after slipping off that helmet for me.”

Din flinched, but there was no anger to be found in his expression. He simply nodded, bowing his head and drawing the blade you had given him from where he had slipped it between his body and the towel that still covered him. “Thank you for this.” Din gave the blade a small wave.

You gave him no response, instead crossing your arms as your gaze avoided him.

Din turned back towards the refresher, but he stopped himself before he walked through the door. “All I want is that list. As soon as you get it, I’ll leave, and I’ll make sure you won’t ever have to see me again if that’s what you want.” His voice wasn’t full of any bitterness. Instead, it was strained by his genuine desire to fulfill your wishes.

Din waited for your answer, but you didn’t have one to offer him. What you wanted was becoming more and more difficult to decipher, and this kiss had only made things even more complex. Din took your silence as your response and stepped inside the refresher, closing you off from him.

You lifted a hand to your face and closed your eyes, exhaling and wishing all your tumultuous thoughts and emotions would go with your breath. You were consumed with waves of anger and guilt for the things you had said and done. It was easy to hate Din at a distance, but having him back reminded you of exactly how much you had lost the first time he left.

Maybe it was really just the why you had been looking for all this time.

You numbly drifted back to your bunk, laying yourself upon it even though sleep was the last thing you were capable of doing. It was easier to hide from Din that way, to avoid the devastation he had hidden within the brown depths of his eyes that you had only just seen for the first time today. You had waited all these years to hurt him the same way he had hurt you, but now that you had taken the opportunity to do so, it didn’t feel nearly as fulfilling as you had hoped.

You were on your side facing the interior hull when you heard the refresher door open again. Din wandered to somewhere in the hold before he made his way to the bunk you had made up for him. It was built into the hull just beside yours, leaving one metal barrier between you. That wasn’t nearly enough to ease the tension that suffocated the air of your already modestly-sized ship.

You closed your eyes and flopped onto your back, letting out a sigh before you spoke loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Din’s response was immediate. “Don’t be. You were right, and I deserved that.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line and stared too closely at the top of your bunk. There were a dozen questions floating through your mind, but only one managed to free itself onto your tongue. “Can I just know why?”

You heard a shifting in Din’s bunk before he spoke. “What do you mean?”

You closed your eyes in a vain attempt to ward off your sudden embarrassment. “Why did you leave?”

Din was silent for a long moment. After a steady exhale, he finally said the words that your every breath hung from. “I shouldn’t have.”

You huffed. “That wasn’t the question.”

Din hummed, as if he was considering chuckling and thought better of it. “Right.” He took another brief pause. “I… was scared.” Your brow jutted up at that. Those were three words you had never heard your Mandalorian utter before. “I thought that pursuing the line of work I had been training all my life for would put you at risk. So, I did what I thought was best for you.”

“And left me without even trying to talk about it.” Your words weren’t as sharp this time, but they were still truthful. “You took my agency from me with that decision, Din.”

“I know.” Din’s voice was pained. “I’ve done more cruel things in my life than I’d like to admit, but… that was my cruelest.” He took another breath. “And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

You sighed, and oddly, the ever-present knot within your chest loosened. His words brought you a clarity and closure you hadn’t realized you needed. It wasn’t anything you had done that made him leave.

You blinked a few times and found your voice. “Thank you for telling me that.” You imagined Din nodding in response, whether he actually did or not. You took his silence as an invitation to change the topic. “Now, I believe you still owe me a few more stories.”

Din chuckled. The lighthearted nature of it filled you with relief. “Which one first?”

“Let’s go in order.” You thought back to the first mystery he had mentioned. “Tell me about your M-count target.”

It took a while for Din to say something. When he did, his voice was even lower than before. “Grogu.”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

“That’s his name. Grogu.” You smiled at the sudden fondness in his voice. “He’s tiny, and green, and he’s got these petal-shaped ears. Really big eyes, too.”

“What species is he?”

“Don’t know. Pretty damn cute, though.”

You laughed at that.

“The first Jedi I talked to said that he was raised at ‘the Temple’ and somehow escaped after the Clone Wars ended. It was about a standard year ago that I found him on Arvala-7. He was being hunted by the Empire for his blood, just like you had talked about with your research.”

You began to put the pieces together. “So, that’s why you’re doing this.”

“I don’t want any more kids to go through what he went through.”

You beamed, rolling onto your side so that you were facing the hold. “You really care about him.”

You noticed Din shift his legs to kick them out over the edge of the bunk, putting just a small sliver of his profile into view as he looked down at his hands in his lap and nodded. “I do.” He lifted his hand to run the back of his thumb over his forehead. “It wasn’t easy giving him over to the Jedi. I… still miss him.”

The corners of your mouth turned up in a soft, sad smile as you sat up on your own bunk. You mirrored his position, glancing over at him and hoping he could sense your comforting stare. He did, and this time, you were more content to let yourself drown in the warmth of his brown gaze. “I’m sure he misses you, too.” You looked down at your hands in sudden shyness. “I know the feeling.”

Silence blanketed the hold as the two of you processed your heavy words. You cleared your throat when it became too much.

“Okay, now that that’s covered… what about all those pretty little credits in your pocket?”

Din laughed. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me when I tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that a challenge, Djarin?”

Din gave his head a fond shake. “No. It’s just…” he exhaled and nodded once down at his lap, “I turned Moff Gideon over to the New Republic.”

You racked your brain for a memory to match the name to. “Gideon? Isn’t he…” you trailed off, still searching.

“The Imperial who led the Purge on Mandalore.”

You looked over a Din with disbelieving eyes. “How the hell did you manage that?”

Din’s jaw tightened. “He was the same one who was after Grogu, and he had taken the kid from me. I found a way to his light cruiser and detained him.”

Your brow shot up. “By yourself?”

“Well, I had some help.”

You splayed your palms out on the bunk behind you and leaned your weight upon them. “Sounds like another story we have to add to the list.” You both chuckled, despite the small ache in your chest. Gideon had taken so much from Din and his people, and you suddenly began to wish you were there for Din when he had to face him. “What about the Crest?”

Din inhaled air through his teeth. “Yeah, that one connects to the pulse rifle story, actually.”

“Ooo, a crossover event.”

Din chuckled, but the sound wasn’t as amused as you had hoped it would be. “It was destroyed by the Empire.”

Your eyes widened at him as your heart plunged into your stomach. “Destroyed?” It was hard to imagine the home Din had made on the Razor Crest being gone, especially with such a violent fate. “How?”

“Gideon’s cruiser made a single shot. That was all it took, really. I lost everything except that spear.” Din pointed at the spear that still rested against the hull before he drew something from a pocket on his belt. “And this.”

You narrowed your eyes as you studied the spherical object in his fingers. “What is it?”

Din steadied himself before he squeezed the metal in his palm. “The shifter knob. The kid loved playing with this thing.”

You softened, smiling as you scooted yourself just a bit closer to his bunk. “I’m glad it survived, then.” You glanced down at your feet, watching as they kicked in the open air. “I’m sorry to hear about the Crest, though. I know how much that ship meant to you.”

Din shrugged. “At least no one was hurt.”

No one but you. It wasn’t hard to imagine how Din had reacted to what happened. On the outside, he put his head down and kept going, but on the inside… it was like losing another home all over again. Like Aq Vetina, the childhood that was torn away from him.

And you hadn’t been there for him.

But that had been his choice, and he had acknowledged that. He chose on your behalf, and he would have to live with that burden, not you. It still didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Forcing all these complicated thoughts away, you focused on the story you desperately needed to hear, your gaze studying the sharp and gentle curves of his face as you prepared to say it out loud. “What about your helmet?” Your follow-up question came out quieter than you wanted it to. “Who was it for?”

Din’s stare caught yours, and the comfort you found there washed over you in a soothing wave of relief. “It was for Grogu.”

You exhaled a light, silent breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You may have chastised Din earlier for being jealous, but the truth was you were harboring that very same feeling at the thought of another lover seeing his face before you.

“It was the only way I could find Gideon after he took the kid.” Din’s focus fell to his hands, which were fumbling together on his lap. “I needed to get the coordinates from an Imperial terminal, probably like the one you use on Ptelan, and it required a facial scan.”

“Yeah.” Your voice was a mere breath. “That’s pretty standard protocol for those things.”

“I was hoping to get it done quickly enough to not be noticed, but… an Imperial commanding officer saw me. A drink and some blaster fire later, only one other person who had seen me kept breathing.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “One of the aforementioned allies?”

The corner of Din’s mouth raised slightly as he shrugged. “I guess you could call him that.” He grew more serious as he went on. “Then, when I was saying goodbye to the kid, he wanted to see my face.” Din nodded to himself. “So, I showed him. Grogu and the Jedi both saw my face, and a few others were in the room, too.”

You waited to see if he was done, and when he didn’t continue, you blew out a heavy breath. There was only one word you could come up with. “Wow.”

Din huffed. “Yeah, the feeling’s mutual.”

You gave him a once-over. “So, what’s up with the Creed now? Can you just start showing your face more regularly?”

Din shook his head. His brown eyes were lost, missing that golden sparkle you had already come to adore, as much as you tried not to. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find my covert, or at least what’s left of it, but—.”

“What’s left of it?” Your eyes widened in shock.

Din looked up at you with a wrinkled brow. There was an invisible burden weighing his shoulders down even further, and a remnant of grief in his gaze that struck you like a blow to your gut.

You softened. “I’m assuming that’s another story?”

Din forced out a chuckle. “A quick one.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall again, his chin tucked towards his chest. “Most of the covert was wiped out after they revealed themselves to help me get away from Nevarro with the kid.”

Your chest caved in with the heavy weight of sorrow. The urge to reach out and touch him had never been so strong. “Din… I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “It was their choice. They knew the risk, and I hadn’t even asked them for help. But…”

You know me. Those were the unspoken words that floated in the tense air between the two of you, now composed of something more familiar and wholesome than the anger that had transpired before. And it was true, you did know him, which is how you recognized the guilt that was painted all over his expression even if you had never seen it on his face before.

Din was clearly ready to move past the topic. “Anyway, it’s…  yeah. It’s complicated. All this shit with the Creed.” He snorted. “Never thought I’d be in this position.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “It has its advantages.”

Din gave you a hopeful glance. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned close enough to playfully rap your fingers against his arm. “As pissed as I still am about it, that was a hell of a kiss, Djarin.”

Din’s face began to flush even as he gave you a once-over. “I had a lot of years I was trying to make up for.”

You twisted your lips at that. Ignoring the small spark of hope that burned inside your belly, you prepared to snuff out his own hopeful flame. “Din…”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m a few years too late. I made that choice for both of us when I closed the door on what we had.”

You studied him for a long moment, your eyes still addicted to the sight of his face. Learning the tells in his expression was both easy and enjoyable, from the small tugs he gave the corners of his mouth to the furrow in his brow that had become almost permanently etched there. It was then that you thought back to the moment when you first saw him earlier, remembering how he had responded to your initial observation of him.

“I like it, by the way.”

Din’s brow knit together. You chuckled and set aside your pride as you continued.

“What I’m seeing.” You waved a hand over your own face for reference. Din began to flush even more as he smiled shyly down at his hands in his lap. “A lot, actually.”

Din beamed. “That means a lot coming from you, sweetheart.”

You tried, and failed, to ignore the burn that crept up your neck towards your ears. Your smile was impossible to repress as his words filled you with an intoxicating feeling that made you remember why it was so damn hard to cope with him leaving all those years ago. He was the heartbreak you could never quite get over, because he made you feel like you were his whole galaxy.

But one creeping thought broke you out of this trance and stole the smile from your lips. You watched your hands run over your thighs before you got the words out. “You had to go through all of this alone.”

Din tensed, a movement you saw in your periphery that broke your heart all over again. He steadied himself with a breath before responding. “I chose to be alone.” His tone told you everything his words hadn’t: I wish I chose differently.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the tragedy of it all. “I would have stayed, you know. I would have been there with you through all of it if you let me.”

“I know.” The strain of Din’s voice drew your stare back over to him. The way his handsome features were pulled taut in guilt and regret shattered you. “But that’s my burden to bear, not yours.”

You frowned, your sympathy for him being washed away by a new, smaller wave of frustration and anger. “That’s not true, Din.” Your use of his name earned you his gaze again. “You’re not the only one who had to live with the consequences of your choice. What you’ve gone through is way more tragic, but I still had to live on my own, too.” You shook your head at him. “And I didn’t even get a say in it.”

Din blinked a few times at you before he clenched his jaw and looked away. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as his shoulders shook with a trembling breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and you don’t have to accept it, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”

Din lowered his hands and folded them together, keeping his elbows against his knees as he spoke to the open air of the hold.

“I’m sorry.” His devastated yet sincere brown gaze looked in your direction, but it couldn’t quite meet yours. “I thought I was making a selfless choice, but it was actually a selfish choice. I gave in to my own fear instead of letting you help me through it. I made a decision that we should’ve made together, and what I chose ended up hurting you worse than the alternative would’ve.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle and ran the back of his thumb over his forehead. “And I’m so fucking sorry for that.”

You had always imagined how good it would feel to hear him try to apologize for what he did without giving him the relief of forgiving him, but as it turned out, you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. These words were nothing but sincere, and the true remorse within his gaze was impossible to ignore. Din had been mulling over what he did the same way you had ever since he left.

It wouldn’t solve every problem, and it certainly wouldn’t erase all the pain of the last few years, but you were willing to at least absolve some of the suffering he had been subjecting himself to ever since.

You maneuvered yourself close enough to him and his bunk to set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Din’s brown eyes finally found your gaze with a look that left you breathless for a moment. Once you had gotten your words back onto your tongue, you spoke in a soft voice. “I forgive you.”

Din’s stare flickered between your eyes, his shoulders and his brow lifting as the spark of hope returned. You pressed your lips in to a firm line to stave it off.

“I can’t do more than that, but… I hope that’s at least enough for you to start forgiving yourself, too.”

Din nodded earnestly. “It is.” He lifted a hand to cover yours on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

You returned his nod. It was hard to peel your gaze away from his, but you forced yourself to do it, just as you forced yourself to pull your hand away from him. “You should get some sleep. I can imagine you’ve been losing a lot of that lately.”

Din huffed. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He gave you a concerned once-over. “You’ll sleep, too. Right?”

This was another promise you weren’t going to make him, but he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know how hard it was to sleep alone after getting to sleep right by his side for so long. “Right.”

Din nodded once more, clearly satisfied enough with your answer to push himself back into his bunk. The movement concealed him from your view once again. You did the same, letting out a soft breath as you laid your head against the pillow and stared at the shining metal above you again. Each revelation Din had shared swirled around in your mind like a frightful, galactic storm.

There was so much you had missed, so many new wounds and scars across Din’s skin and soul that you hadn’t been there to heal. It made you frustrated, but it also made you ache. Above all, it made you want to be there with him the next time something like that happened to him, to shield him from the galaxy itself.

You just weren’t sure if your heart could take it.

You closed your eyes and willed sleep to come. With the knowledge that Din was so close by, it did, and—of course—it was the best sleep you had gotten in a long time.

You woke to the sound of light clanging in the hold. Sitting up fast enough to nearly whack your head against the top of the bunk, you spotted Din with some of your cooking supplies and relaxed. He glanced at you with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Sorry.” Din chuckled as he lifted what he was holding to show you. “I was hoping you would wake up to the smell of breakfast, not the sound of it.”

You let out a curt laugh and gave your head a fond shake. “It’s okay.” You rubbed your eyes and stepped out of the bunk. “I’m gonna freshen up and see how much time we have left.”

Din nodded as you stepped away to the refresher. It didn’t take long to reset yourself, and you were surprised to see that you only had another hour left of the trip. Thankfully, there wouldn’t be much to brief when it came to the actual mission. You would go in while Din guarded the ship, and after a few minutes, you would come back. Simple as that.

Stars willing.

You went back to the hold, where Din was just finishing with whatever he had fixed up for breakfast. “Thanks so much for doing this, Din.”

Din spared you a smile as he finished plating the meal. “It’s the least I could do to repay you for this.” When he spotted your furrowed brow, he waved a hand to the rest of the ship. “Coming all the way out here with me to get this list.”

You chuckled as you nodded to yourself. “Right.” You kept your tone playful as you accepted the dish he passed you. “It was for the kids, Djarin, not you.”

But Din just kept smiling, his admiration of you so obvious that it made your ears burn. “I know.”

You looked down, bashful, and started to eat your meal. Din did the same, and the two of you ate in peaceful, comfortable silence. It was so nice to have the tension between the two of you resolved, as if the weight of your past had finally been lifted and set you both free. You weren’t sure yet what the future would look like, especially with this mission on the forefront of your mind, but that didn’t matter. Sharing the same space with him was enough for now.

Once you had both finished, you got down to business. “We’re just under an hour away, now.”

Din’s brow shot up. “Wow.” He gestured towards the cockpit. “She’s a hell of a lot faster than the Crest ever was.”

You laughed. “Well, that’s because she’s not an ancient gunship that has to tow massive amounts of cargo and weaponry around.”

Din chuckled and raised his hand. “You got me there.”

You smiled and shook your head, forcing yourself to focus again. “It should be a quick and easy retrieval. You’ll stay on the ship and I’ll head inside to the terminal. I’ll only need a few minutes to cross-check the list.”

Din’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you sure you want to go alone?”

“I have to. It’s what I used to do before.” You shrugged. “Haven’t run into any problems doing this yet.”

Din released a steady breath, leaning closer to you without invading your space. “That wasn’t the question.”

You blinked at him, musing upon the same words you had thrown at him last night. You had been avoiding the truth without even realizing it. It had been years since you retired from missions like these, and that made the likelihood of something going wrong much greater. The quiet, creeping chill of fear and dread began to snake up your spine.

Din read your hesitance just as well as he read the rest of you. His hand found your shoulder just as yours had found his last night. “I’ve gone in disguise as an Imperial before, remember? When I first took off my helmet.” He nodded at you. “I’ll do it again if you want me too.”

You wanted to melt at his selflessness and the comfort his gaze was offering you, but instead, you held onto your resolve and shook your head. “I only have one Imperial uniform.” You set a hand over his. “I’ll be fine. I’m just second guessing myself.”

Din held your gaze so intensely that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “If anyone can pick up exactly where they left off like this, it’s you.” He offered another reassuring nod. “And I’ll be right here, ready to provide backup if I have to.”

You smiled, gently easing his hand off of you as his words sank in. “Thank you, Din.” You let out a sigh and willed your complicated emotions to go with it. “Let’s look at the schematics.”

Din accepted your topic change with grace, and he followed you up and over to the cockpit. You were able to pull up the schematics of Ptelan’s tiny, Imperial base in blue holographic light, both the hangar and the terminal marked by red dots. You talked him through the entire process, from your disembarkation to the data retrieval and exit. So long as nothing had changed too drastically over the years, it would only take a few minutes.

“I’m gonna get changed.” You gestured with your head to the refresher.

Din nodded. “I’ll clean up and help get things ready.” His gaze cut towards the dishes that still sat out in the hold.

You offered him a smile of gratitude before standing and digging through the cargo crate that contained the dusty Imperial uniform. Brushing it off and double-checking that you had all the pieces, you stepped into the refresher and exchanged your clothes for the stiff uniform. You smoothed out all the wrinkles and straightened your posture, recalling all the things that used to be like second nature to you.

A new wave of dread overwhelmed you enough to force your eyes shut. You steadied yourself with a deep breath. Think of the kids. They need you.

Then it was Din’s words that ran through your mind next. I’ll be right here.

You relaxed. You weren’t alone anymore—at least, not right now. It was more comforting than you cared to admit.

You gained enough faith to finally reemerge from the refresher. Din had already cleaned everything up and was running more drills with his spear when he caught sight of you. He stopped, his stare leaving a warm trail over your body that you tried, and failed, to ignore. You wondered if he understood the power of his gaze without a helmet to hide it.

“What do you think?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You acted casual as you put your normal clothes away and slipped your weapons into their proper places.

“Honestly?” You glanced at him over your shoulder and nodded. “I think you make everything look good.” You beamed at that. “But seeing you in one of their uniforms is… unnerving.”

You huffed. “Yeah, you and I are in agreement on that.”

The last thing you checked for were your code cylinders, which were thankfully all aligned inside your pocket. You grabbed your datapad and headed towards the cockpit, with Din following close behind.

“We’re almost there.” You sat down and fixed your attention to the comlink on your belt, removing their earpiece and fixing it into its proper place. “Let’s get you set up on the proper comm frequency, then we’ll be ready to land.”

Din nodded, obediently following all your instructions before he slipped his helmet back on and did a test run of the comms. He kept it on as the ship dropped out of hyperspace and headed towards the rainy world of Ptelan.

You had refreshed yourself on all your codes and protocols before, but they still came easy when you were prompted by their comms tower. It was too easy getting assigned to a bay inside the hangar and landing. The hardest part was taking a deep breath and preparing to disembark.

Din stood at the same time you did, his gloved hand finding your shoulder again as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be ready.” He nodded to affirm his words. “But you’ll be fine.”

You nodded. There had always been something about him that made you want to embrace your vulnerability, to confess every uncertain thought you had to him and let him fix it. This, however, wasn’t the time. You were more than capable of doing this before, and you would do it again.

“I’ll let you know if I need you.” You tapped your ear as you said the words. Din nodded once more, and as you stepped away to lower the hatch and set off on your small mission, you felt the warmth of his brown gaze behind his visor following you the entire way.

You didn’t want to stop feeling, not now, not ever, and certainly not after this little trip of yours was over. But there wasn’t enough time to dwell on that right now.

Your face went stone cold as you descended the ramp. The usual small group of Imperials came to greet you, a lower-ranking officer flanked by two stormtroopers. You nodded at them and stopped when they stood in your path.

“Welcome to Ptelan,” the officer greeted you. “What’s the reason for your visit?”

“A layover.” You gestured back to your ship. “I’ve spent a fortnight dealing out undercover inspections on various worlds, and Ptelan was the closest outpost for me to rest for a time.”

The officer nodded. “Understood. I don’t envy your position.”

You huffed, the dignified version of a laugh. “Nor do I yours. This planet is quite dreary.”

The officer snickered. “That’s an understatement.”

He stepped aside, letting you through. You steadied yourself with a breath as you walked forward, charting out the path a million times inside your mind. The mess hall wasn’t too far from the hangar, and given how unpopulated this particular outpost was, it was unlikely the terminal you needed was being used. Only a few minutes stood between you and the trip back home.

The trip when you would have to come to terms with Din leaving you again. 

You gave your head a small shake and willed your thoughts to dispel from your clouded mind. It would take all your focus to cross-check this list as quickly as possible, and you weren’t intent on spending an extra second you didn’t have to inside that Imperial base.

The mess hall was quiet, aside from the sounds of the few dispersed Imperial officers and stormtroopers eating their mediocre meals. You headed straight for the terminal, never once breaking your stride as you withdrew the datarod from your pocket. Each breath you took was magnified inside your own ears, the air rushing through your lungs in thunderous waves.

The work was instinctual, mechanical. Your face was scanned, and you tapped through the information to find what you were looking for. A few sly codes later, the updated list of names was running over the vidscreen, and you synced it with your datapad to correct the information you already had.

Just like always, you were done in a few minutes. You exhaled a light sigh of relief as you withdrew your datarod and stuck it back in your pocket. It would be your backup of the data in the event something happened to your datapad, which meant that you were keeping it just as safe as the device tucked in your arm as you turned around to leave.

Before you could slip out, an officer twice your size stepped in, trailed by two stormtroopers as he smirked at you. You stopped just a few feet short of running straight into him, straightening your posture even more and forcing yourself to make direct eye contact.

“Lieutenant.” The man’s voice was arrogant and low as he gestured with his gaze to the squares on your left chest. “You look to be in a hurry.”

You bowed your head for a moment. “Just eager to get some rest, sir.”

“What brings you to Ptelan?”

You repeated what you had told the first officer before. “A layover.”

The officer tilted his head. “From where?”

You told him the first planet name that came to mind. It was near the system, but lacked a strong Imperial presence from what you knew. You held your datapad closer to keep your hands from trembling.

“Ah.” The officer took a step closer to you, and you fought the urge to take a step back. “What did you need the terminal for?”

You lifted your chin higher. “I’m afraid that’s only for my commanding officer to know, Captain.” You narrowed your eyes just enough to look arrogant rather than aggressive. “Our work is delicate.”

“Do you see my rank, Lieutenant?” The captain’s lip snarled. “I am your commanding officer.”

Your jaw tightened. “If you must know, Captain, I was merely confirming the coordinates of my next few inspections.”

The captain reached out a hand to tap your datapad. “Show me.”

You swallowed hard and assessed the room all in a quick moment. He didn’t have much backup, and the few Imperials who had been in the mess hall when you entered were gone. There were only one or two more lingering, their attention drawn to the scene the captain was creating. It would be easy to take all these men down, and as long as you could still run as fast as you used to be able to, you would get to the ship no problem.

It was a split-second decision you had to make, and you did so without hesitation.

You drew your blaster and shot at the captain’s chest, needing him to be fully out of commission due to the size advantage he had on you. The two stormtroopers lunged towards you, but you ducked and turned just in time to shoot one of them down. The other began firing shots that you had to focus on dodging before you could take cover behind a nearby bench and take him down with another shot.

Only the two others in the room were left. You drew a blade from your boot and threw it at one of them, sinking it into the center of their chest as the other received a clean blaster bolt to theirs.

You only spared enough time for a few quick breaths before rising to your feet and running towards the exit. Din had been right; you weren’t so rusty after all.

The thought of him led you to lift your hand to your ear and speak. “Din, get the ship ready for takeoff. I’m—.”

You were forced to cut yourself off and come skidding to a stop when an entire team of stormtroopers stepped out in front of you. Backtracking towards the mess hall, you barely managed to escape their rain of blasterfire, the shots echoing down the corridor. You picked up one of the fallen stormtrooper’s rifles inside the mess hall and jammed the blunt end of it into the panel, sealing the door shut for now—and trapping yourself inside.

With the imminent threat taken care of, you were able to focus on Din’s panicked voice inside your ear. “What is it? Are you okay? I’m hearing a lot of commotion.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. The longer you and Din both stayed here, the more time they would have to get backup, and the harder it would be to get out. He might have been ready to come to your rescue, but you weren’t willing to take that chance.

The children whose names were written inside your datapad and datarod had to come first.

“I’ve been compromised.” You said the words calmly as you strided back over to the terminal. “I’ve locked myself inside the mess hall.”

Din’s response was immediate. “I’m on my way.”

“No.” You practically bit the word out as you activated the terminal once again and began feverishly tapping around its controls. “I’m transmitting the list to the ship’s databank right now. Once it’s done uploading, you need to get out of here.”

Even the crackling of the comm channel failed to hide Din’s disbelieving tone. “What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“We don’t have time for this, Din. If you stay and help me fight, they’ll have enough time to get backup, and who knows if we’ll ever make it out of here after that. You have the chance to go now, and I’m giving it to you.” You huffed to yourself at the cruel irony of it all. “You need to leave me here.”

“That’s not an option.”

Your head snapped over your shoulder when you heard a slicing at the door. The Imperials were beginning to carve a way inside. You tightened your jaw and worked even faster, your desperation mounting. “Those kids need you!”

“And I need you.”

His words gave you pause, as if he had the ability to make the entire galaxy freeze. You blinked at the vidscreen, your brain mulling over his words endlessly. The rawness of them, the vulnerability, struck you all at once.

“I’m not making the same mistake twice. I’m not leaving you again.” Before you could even think of an argument, Din repeated his words from before. “I’m on my way.”

You closed your eyes in selfish relief. He was finally choosing you. Above all else, for better or for worse, he wanted you, even at the risk of his own safety.

It healed the last broken fracture of your heart.

But the pressing matter at hand was quick in disrupting your emotional moment. The Imperials were almost done slicing their way through, and you were standing completely vulnerable to their next attack. You dove towards the nearest table and kicked it over, drawing your blaster and leaning your back against it for cover. After a few breaths, you rose enough to prop your blaster on top of the table, aiming it for whatever poor soul walked in first.

As soon as you saw the first flash of white, you pulled the trigger. The stormtrooper fell, but right behind him was a second one, a trooper who had uncharacteristically decent aim.

You ducked just in time to avoid most of the blow, but part of their blaster bolt still caught your arm. You gasped and clutched the wound with your gloved hand, baring your teeth as you glanced over at it. It had been enough to tear through your uniform and singe your skin, with a small circle of it hit bad enough to bleed.

Okay, so you were still a little rusty. But now you were also pissed off.

You set both hands on your blaster and rose again, firing in precise shots to take down two more troopers. They were the only two advancing on you, with the others distracted by something else—someone else, when you remembered you weren’t here alone.

Sure enough, there were sounds of panicked shouts and gargled last breaths, all without blaster fire. You stood and rushed out with your blaster raised to get a closer look, just in time to see Din run his spear through the last stormtrooper standing there. His visor snapped up at you before the trooper’s body even hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Din’s modulated voice was a mere breath as he hurried over to you.

You didn’t address his question. “Let’s get out of here.”

Din’s visor found the wound on your arm in record time. “You’re hurt.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Barely. Come on, Mando.” You took his gloved hand and began to lead the way back to the ship. “You might love a good fight, but I’m retired.”

Din huffed at that. “I don’t love it when you’re hurt.”

You scoffed at him. “Barely!”

You tugged him along the corner hard to keep him from arguing with you further. Another team waited for the two of you there, but between you and Din, you were able to make quick work of them. You focused on aiming your blaster as Din went back in with his spear, slicing through his share until the entire team had been taken care of. With a nod, the two of you pressed on.

It was a rhythm you had been missing for a long, long time.

You turned the last corner into the hangar bay, and as it turned out, Din had already taken care of the greeting party on his way to come and assist you. You both had boarded the ship before the next wave of stormtroopers even entered the hangar, leaving their useless shots to clip the exterior hull as you pulled up on the controls and piloted the ship far away from their attack.

Inputting the coordinates back to your current homeworld, you waited to relax until the blue lights of hyperspace were flickering around you again. It was only then that you released the heavy breath you’d been holding, the adrenaline pumping through you and elevating your heartbeat inside your eardrums.

You chuckled and looked over at Din, who had assumed the same leaned-back posture as yourself. “Turns out I underestimated our abilities.” Your tone was nothing but amused as you spoke. “We didn’t have a problem getting out of there before backup arrived.”

Din snorted at that. “It’s always hard to judge how skilled these remnants will be.” He removed his helmet and set it in his lap, allowing you to openly admire his face that glowed in the aftermath of the fight. “Thankfully, Ptelan is in the middle of nowhere, and they probably didn’t want to waste resources on it.”

You hummed at that. Your order for him to leave you was starting to feel embarrassing, but everything had been charged by the past that his mere presence had dug up. The panic of something actually going wrong when it never had before only added to that.

You were about to acknowledge all this when Din spoke up first. “I’m sorry.”

You shot him a confused look. His brow was furrowed, and his gaze was downcast at his helmet. “For what?” You racked your mind for even a mere idea of what he could possibly be apologizing for. “You saved my ass back there.”

Din’s gaze found yours, and the longing there was so strong that it knocked the breath from your lungs. “I went against your wishes by not leaving.” He held a cautious breath. “I just… I couldn’t bear doing exactly what I had done all those years ago, especially after spending so much time regretting it.”

You let out a soft sigh and studied him. Din’s expression was written in guilt and remorse, both of which were so genuine that you could feel those very same emotions yourself by just looking at him. He had just proven to you that he wasn’t the same man he was when he left you, that he had learned from his mistakes and changed.

That was all you had ever wanted, and you had certainly spent enough time dwelling on the what-ifs. You wanted to know what a life with him would be like, a life where you both had made a different choice the day he left.

You stood from your chair, earning Din’s rapt attention as you peeled the helmet from his hands. Half-setting and half-tossing it onto the empty chair behind you, you took its previous place, tearing off your gloves and holding his face to bring it to yours.

There wasn’t a single ounce of regret or uncertainty in this kiss. Instead, it was a shared feeling of relief, a gesture of understanding and desperation that only brought you closer together. Using the hand that had woven into his brown waves, you tilted his head back further, deepening the kiss to prove the sentiment behind your actions.

The way Din pulled your chest against his showed his own understanding.

Still, you spelled out the words on your tongue for him to feel rather than hear, your other hand running along his jaw and gently tightening along the back of his neck. Din hummed into your mouth, the tension having melted from him completely as he melted underneath your touch.

You only pulled away when you had lost your breath, but you stayed close enough for your forehead to lean against Din’s. You opened your eyes, letting your gaze meet his up close like this for the very first time. It sent a jolt of the sweetest electricity throughout your body, proving that you were making the right choice.

“Stay.” You lifted your hand back up to his jaw and ran your thumb over his lips. “If you’re waiting for me to make the choice this time, then that’s what it is.” Your nose brushed his. “I want you to stay.”

Din closed his eyes and exhaled a breath that helped every single feature of his face relax. The small smile that began to tug at the corners of his mouth was breathtaking. “I will.” His eyes reopened to depict his severity as he nodded, minding your head against his. “And I won’t ever leave you like I did before. I promise. I swear.”

“I know.” You ran a hand over Din’s head, brushing his hair back and smiling when his eyelids fluttered in content. “You've just proven that to me.”

Din returned your smile before he kissed you again, but he kept this one brief, his sparkling gaze finding yours again. “I meant what I said the night I left.” His voice was barely a whisper, though every word he said carried its own heavy weight. “And I still do.” Your eyes were beginning to get misty from pure relief as he cradled your face. “I never stopped loving you.”

You beamed at him and whispered your own words upon his lips, the truth of them shocking you. “Neither did I.”

Even amidst all your anger towards him over the years, that love still remained, the same love that seeped into this kiss that could finally take its time. He had carved a part of himself into your heart, and that’s what had made it so difficult to watch him leave. But you knew he wouldn’t do it again. You knew he would stay by your side at all costs this time.

But above all, you knew that he would protect you from the galaxy, and he would no longer doubt his own ability to do so—just like you would protect him, too. Whatever happened next, you were doing it together.

Thank the stars you hadn’t turned your back on that opportunity.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr @pigeonmama @violetlilly2020

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #26

(I'm feeling angsty today.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Going Supernova

The GIW have discovered his identity, and they don't waste time on using this knowledge to their advantage. They spent the last six months creating a weapon that not only hurts ghosts but absolutely obliterates them down to their very cores. After testing it for so long on minor ghosts and then discovering the local ghostly menace's secret, they have the bright idea to make an example out of Danny.

They ambush him as he's fighting the invading ghost of the day. Their first shot misses and hits the ghost they're fighting. As soon as the shot lands, the ghost freezes in place with a look of dread and horror.

They look up at Danny with tears in their eyes and has only a few precious seconds to say, "Run," before their skin cracks and they shatter, the miniscule shards evaporating into nothingness.

Danny is petrified and grief-stricken over what he just witnessed that he doesn't have the time to even twitch before the GIW lock their sights back onto him and shoot him in the back.

Agony consumes him. His chest burns, and his ribs rattle with the effort it takes for him to breathe through the pain. The civilians who were still on the scene gasped in horror as they watched their local hero's chest start to crack and glow from within.

What the GIW didn't know was that Danny had just recently elevated to Ancient status due to helping Clockwork with the timestream. That and with his status as a halfa, what they did will end in nothing but disaster. (1)

Danny spots his parents, sister, and friends in the crowd. His parents watched in awe and excitement while his Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked at him with horror-stricken disbelief. Knowing what's to come and not having enough time to explain, he gives them a wobbly smile.

"I'm so sorry."

He whips around and rockets straight up into the sky. He breaks through the atmosphere in a matter of seconds and continues to fly at breakneck speed away from the little green-blue planet he calls home. He has to get away. He can't destabilize so close to them. He has to go even further.

His form is steadily breaking off into pieces as his human and ghost half fight and fail to keep him together. He can feel his human half dying and his ghost half barely holding on by a thread. He can't stop, though. If he stops here, the Earth will be destroyed from the backlash.

He had no worry for himself. After all, stars die all the time. That doesn't mean that's the end for them. They just take on a new form or even help breathe new planets and galaxies into life.

'A star's death is not the end!' He comforts himself.

He only makes it a few light-years further before his energy fades out to nothing, and he slows to a halt. It's only then that Danny starts to panic alone in the vacuum of space. The furthest he's even been from home and the comfort of his friends and family.

"No. No, no, no, no." He repeats over and over. "Not far enough. Not far enough! I'm still too close!!" (2)

His stuttering heart rabbits inside his chest along with his crumbling core. He hugs himself tight with the false hope that maybe that would stop himself from falling apart. He cries for his family, his friends, his planet. His life and lives he's about to take through no fault of his own.

Because for a star to give life, they must first destroy. (3)

"I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry! Please!"

He sobs into his hands as the light of his core pulses one final time.

"Please." He whispers brokenly.

His core shatters, and he screams for the entire cosmos to hear. His form expands with immeasurable force and shakes the very foundations of creation. His desperate attempt to spare the Earth from his self-destruction was in vain as the waves of his shattered core ravaged the solar system and destroyed everything within its path.

The countless people and other creatures on Earth didn't even have time to blink before they were completely eradicated. Quick and painless but nonetheless gone.

It took centuries for everything to settle again.

It wasn't until countless millennium passed that the solar system began to take shape again. However, everything was reshaped and put back together as though with a child's memory of what it used to be from so long ago. Some things were bound to be different, like how Mars gained its own population of intelligent humanoid creatures. How Earth's own population started to develop extraordinary abilities and magic was able to be used more freely outside of supernatural species.

Soon, there were heroes popping up all over the universe of all shapes, sizes, and species. Some people were even reborn. They started remembering a life that, as far as they knew, never actually existed. How could it? None of the people they were before showed up in any records. There were records, of course. They just, unfortunately, no longer existed.

No one knew why, either. At least not until a magic user stumbled upon a tome belonging to what they knew as the Underworld. It told the story of a young boy who died too young and was destroyed from what he became afterward. How his destruction also destroyed the world despite the boy's efforts to save it.

This story was shared with the masses of people experiencing these memories of other lives, including the heroes who took up the mantle of keeping the Earth and other corners of the galaxy safe. They mourned the loss of a life so young, so bright and full of potential. They hoped that wherever the child ended up, that they were at peace.

Little did they know, the child was part of the universe itself, his very being woven into the fabric that makes up the night sky and everything that lays beyond. They can't see or hear him, but that precious child--the Ancient of Space--laid curled around the Milky Way itself with Earth cradled gently in his trembling hands.

✦

(1) Because of his status as the new Ancient of Space and the fact that he is half human/alive is the reason his destabilization took longer than the ghost he was previously fighting. An Ancient has immense power of the aspect of reality they control, and his human half was desperately trying to keep him alive. He can't live without his ghost half, though. It was also the power of his Ancient status that made his destabilization so explosive and damaging. However, him being a halfa is also what saved his existence in the end and allows him to still continue to be the Ancient of Space, as Space itself is always in a state of dying and rebirth. It just took several thousands of years to pull himself back into a semblance of what he previously was, but obviously irrevocably changed.

(2) According to scientists a supernova would have to be within 30-50 light-years to trigger a mass extinction on Earth. To be actually completely safe from one, however, it'd have to be 160 or more light-years away. Danny didn't even make it to 20 light-years before his core self-destructed, which is why he was panicking.

(3) As I'm sure most of you know, supernovae are essential to creating life, but that life is preceded by the death of said star.

(*) I haven't really thought of who would be reborn into which character. I originally thought of Jack Fenton being reborn as Bruce Wayne, but Bruce only disguises himself as a himbo while Jack actually is one. The only reason I thought it would work out it because 1) Jack's paranoia about ghosts and translating into Bruce's own paranoia 2) him regaining his past memories would explain his propensity to collect black-haired, blue eyed children because of his loss of Danny and 3) him and his relationship with Jason after he came back as Red Hood.

Other than that, I can't think of who any of the other characters might be. You can decide!

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

hiiii!! absolutely love your crosshair stuff (i’ve been on a crosshair binge since season three started lol) anyways i was hoping you could write something that’s like post-omega and crosshair escaping tantiss and reuniting with hunter and wrecker (end ep 4) with the prompts

11. I promised to love you forever, and that is a promise I intend to keep.

and

16. No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.

like i was thinking crosshair and the reader are married but canon happened so the reader stayed with the bad batch and this would be the first time her and crosshair are seeing each other again since the end of season one at kamino

no rush for any of this btw. thankssss

Hello, hi! Thank you so much for this request. I had something similar going through my mind after the episode aired so was excited to see this drop in!! I hope you enjoy 😊

Never Stopped

When Omega's cryptic message leads to a heartfelt reunion on Ryloth's nearest moon, you didn't expect her to be accompanied by the one man you never thought you'd get to see again.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: spoilers for S3E04, we love a good reunion, inner turmoil, fluff, comfort, pet names.

“I had help.” Omega’s statement hangs in the air until the light sound of footsteps on metal reaches your ears, and you turn alongside Wrecker to watch as someone steps out of the stolen transport.

No. Not someone.

Him.

For a second, you forget how to breathe, unable to tear your eyes away from the man you never dared hope you’d see again. The last time you’d seen him had been after the fall of Kamino, on that blasted platform in the middle of the ocean. You’d pleaded with him to come with you - to leave the Empire’s clutches - but he’d declined. Your stubborn, infuriating husband.

Maker, you’d missed him.

Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re running, crossing the inky darkness between the two ships, closing the distance between you as Crosshair takes the final step down onto the planet’s surface. He doesn’t have time to protest before your arms are around his neck, hauling him into a crushing embrace. His brothers might be wary, but you aren’t.

Crosshair freezes, caught off guard by your affection. In the short time it had taken you to reach him, he’d braced himself for a slap or to be chewed out. This was…unexpected. You’re warm against him, the softness of your body so familiar, as is the scent of your shampoo. Tentatively, he slides his arms around you in return, pulling you close to suffocate all space between you both, soaking up the feeling of having you back in his arms. “Kitten...”

The whispered term of endearment is all it takes, and a heaving sob leaves you before you can stop it.

Everything since the order was given crashes down on you – the shots he’d fired as you scrambled to escape Kamino, how relentlessly he’d chased you across the galaxy, Kamino falling, the distress message he’d sent to your old comms channel…it had felt never-ending.

But it was over now. 

As you bury your face against his chest, the torrent of emotions overwhelms you. There’s a sense of catharsis, a release from the pent-up anguish that had threatened to suffocate you. The weight of his presence feels like a balm to your wounded soul, and with each sob that racks your body, it’s as if a burden is lifted, allowing you to finally exhale the turmoil that had gripped you for far too long.

He’s here. In one piece. Free from the Empire’s clutches, with Omega in tow.

Hunter and Wrecker’s tension eases slightly as they witness the reunion between you and Crosshair, but they’re not ready to let their guard down just yet. They exchange knowing glances before Hunter clears his throat. “We need to go.” He shouts across the distance, feeling guilty for breaking the moment but knowing that the Empire won’t be far behind.

You pull back slightly, hands still clutching desperately at Crosshair as he meets your gaze. He’s never been one to cry, but unshed tears line those sharp eyes you’ve missed so much. Silently, you swipe away your tears with one hand, the other finding his to guide him towards the Marauder. A blur of motion whips past you, and you startle, but with a click of his tongue, Crosshair stills the creature responsible, and a hound falls into step beside him as you lead him back towards the ship.

It feels too good to be true, too easy. The nervousness Crosshair had felt rolling through him as he’d forced himself down the steps of the transport returns. Fingers interlaced with yours, he can feel the skin-warmed metal of your ring. It’s still there after everything.

He feels nauseous as you cross the darkness towards the ship that had once been his home. He glances at Wrecker as you both pass him and the apprehension on his big brother’s face wavers for just a second before Crosshair looks away, unable to stand it.

Hunter has already ushered Omega inside, the young girl saying hello to Gonky, who beeps happily at her return. Crosshair lets you situate him in one of the back seats in the cockpit as Wrecker comes up the ramp, smacking the button to shut it as Hunter takes Tech’s seat and fires up the engines. 

Tech.

Crosshair swallows, bile rising in his throat. His twin is gone. Omega had brokenly told him what had happened during one of her many visits to his cell. Guilt curls through him - his brother had insisted on the mission to Eriadu and had been keen to find him, which ultimately led to his sacrifice.

Crosshair barely registers the ship setting off or the jump to hyperspace.

A soft squeeze of his hand draws his focus, and his head tilts to look across at you. Your wide eyes, which he adores, look at him with concern and something else he can’t quite put his finger on. Hunter and Wrecker are in the pilot and copilot seats, Omega curled in Hunter’s lap as they catch up while Wrecker pets Batcher.

You can practically see Crosshair’s discomfort, so you lead him out into the belly of the ship, closing the cockpit doors behind you to give the pair of you some privacy. “I thought I’d lost you.” You whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you sit side by side on one of the bunks, bodies tilted towards each other.

“Have to try harder than that.” Crosshair’s answer is quick, and the vice-like grip of dread that had encircled his heart slackens as he hears you laugh - it’s a short and sharp sound, nothing like the melodic giggles he’d grown accustomed to during the war, but it’s something. And Maker, does it feel good.

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of his quips, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. But you spot something missing as you turn his hand over in yours. 

His wedding ring is gone.

“They took it from me.” He’s quick to reassure you, seeing the pained expression on your pretty face. He hadn’t even been able to fight to keep it, having woken up on Tantiss without it. The troopers had quickly silenced him whenever he’d asked about its whereabouts.

Silence settles between you both for a moment, your gaze fixed on this hand - on the vacant spot. “We’ll get you a new one,” you state quietly, lifting your eyes to finally meet his.

Crosshair’s brows furrow in disbelief at your words. After everything he’s done and the pain and betrayal, he can’t fathom why you still want to be married to him. Guilt and shame churn in his gut, threatening to overwhelm him. “Why?” he asks, his voice low and raspy, his gaze searching yours for some semblance of an answer.

You reach out and gently cup his cheek, your touch sending shivers down his spine. “I promised to love you forever, and that’s a promise I intend to keep,” you say simply, your eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that Crosshair can’t comprehend. “Despite everything, I still believe in us - in you. No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.”

A lump forms in Crosshair’s throat as he struggles to process your words. He’d spent so long convincing himself that he was better off paying for his sins in that cell. But here you are, offering forgiveness and understanding. He searches your eyes for any sign of deceit or resentment but finds unwavering sincerity and love.

Crosshair reaches out, hand shaking as his fingers brush your cheek. “Maybe you’ve hit your head too many times, kitten.” Crosshair quips, a hint of his trademark sarcasm slipping through. Despite the gravity of the moment, he can’t resist teasing you. But deep down, he’s grateful for your forgiveness and unwavering love, even if he doesn’t understand it.

You roll your eyes at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe you just need a few more hits to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.” You retort, your tone teasing yet filled with affection.

As the playful banter lingers in the air, a moment of quiet settles between you both, the reality of the situation sinking in. Crosshair’s gaze softens, his hand lingering on your cheek as he soaks in your closeness. “I love you too.” He whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the ship’s engines. “I never stopped either.”

Your heart swells with relief and happiness, and with a soft smile, you press a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, feeling the slight tremble beneath your lips. “What happened, my heart?” You ask, your voice soft and concerned, brows drawn down as you watch how he shakes.

Crosshair hesitates for a moment. “They did…things. Some I remember. Some I don’t.” He answers vaguely.

You’re familiar with this game. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to talk about it. And while you know he'll need to one day, today’s not that day. Respecting his unspoken plea not to delve deeper into the horrors he endured, you gently squeeze his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” You murmur softly. “But we need to get you out of those awful clothes.” You change the subject, wrinkling your nose. “Handsome you may be, but this is not working.” You make a vague gesture at his outfit.

Crosshair chuckles softly at your remark, the memories chased away for the time being by your attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll have you know; I make anything look good,” he retorts with a smirk. “But I suppose some fresh clothes wouldn’t hurt.”

You nod in agreement, grateful for the ease with which the two of you fall back into rhythm. “Exactly, and I’m sure I can find something more comfortable for you.” You reply, standing up and glancing around the small quarters of the ship.

As you start to pull crates out from the nearby storage racks, Crosshair watches you with a slight smile, admiring the familiar sight of you in motion. “You always know just how to take care of me,” he remarks, his voice low and warm, a tone saved just for you.

You shoot him a playful smile over your shoulder. “Someone has to.” You quip back, pulling out the crate you’d been looking for.

His kit crate. You still had his kit crate, with all your doodles on the outside – his name in Aurebesh, the squad’s symbol, a copy of his tattoo, and ever so slightly wonky hearts that he’d made a show of grumbling about but secretly loved.

Crosshair’s surprise is evident as he watches you retrieve a clean undersuit from the crate. He’d assumed its contents would be long gone - tossed aside, sold, or scrapped. The fact that you kept all his armour, along with his bucket, fills him with a strange mix of emotions. “Didn’t think you’d keep it,” Crosshair finally manages to say.

Before you can respond, footsteps interrupt the moment, drawing your attention towards the source. Hunter steps out from the cockpit – even with the door shut, he can still hear everything. His eyes meet Crosshair’s, and while he knows there’s a lot for them to talk about and work through, and he’s still not entirely sure he fully trusts his baby brother, he wants to offer him some reassurance. It’s the least he can do. “We were never going to get rid of it,” Hunter says, his voice firm yet gentle. “You’re still one of us.”

Crosshair finds himself at a loss for words. Emotions swirl within him, a tumultuous mix of gratitude and guilt. As Hunter’s words sink in, his gaze flickers back to you. Despite the doubts and fears that linger in his mind, one thing is certain: he’s home.

With a small smile, you offer the clean undersuit to your husband. “Here,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection. “Let’s get you changed.”

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[kitcat22]

Y’know that shop that keeps popping up on tiktok where couples or friend groups make bracelets that match each of their eye colours?

I’m convinced Cody and Obi Wan went to one of these places and told themselves it was a completely platonic normal thing to do, but late at night they like to stare at it and picture the other’s eyes. They wear these bracelets 24/7.

Later on, Ben Kenobi will sit alone in his hut with the remnants of a bracelet that was broken in a moment of rage and will weep over the chocolate brown beads cradling them in his hands while the blue remain scattered across the floor. Remembering the past hurts so much that although he finds it hard to admit, Ben cannot picture his commander’s face properly. He cant remember the little details, how exactly his eyes crinkled and where his dimples formed, how high on his head his scar was. His eyes, though, Ben will never forget his eyes.

On the other side of the galaxy Commander Cody, who has spent far too many years as Imperial Commander 2224, will stand on what was once a battlefield on Utapau and will stare down at the bracelet he dropped there oh so long ago. He didn’t expect to find it, had thought the wind would have blown it away or a local may have found it, but there it lies. He doesn’t feel he has a right to wear it, he killed the man with the matching bracelet after all, but still, he takes it with him and keeps it in his breast pocket next to his heart. When times get rough he takes it out and clutches it in his hands and stares at those beautiful blue beads and thinks of another time, another life.

In the end both die with their bracelet in their pocket.

[captn-trex]

read between the lines

Fox x F!Reader

word count: 8.1k

description: the library is your favourite place to escape to when the galaxy gets too loud, and it just so happens to be the same for a certain marshal commander

warnings: sfw, fox being anxious & being frustrated about it, nervous (kinda non-sensical) ramblings from fox's pov incl. self-deprecating comments (basically projecting my anxiety onto him oops), but it ends cute and nerdy :)

a/n: really wanted to write a fox fic after seeing this post by @welcometo79s about fox being an introvert - I thought the idea was super interesting so here we have an anxious lil fox :) I could yap so much more but my notes are always too long so I'm gonna shut up

Going to the library was one of your favourite pastimes. Especially on a planet like Coruscant, which never seemed to slow down.

You had discovered this little corner of the planet years ago, and you spent more time here than you cared to admit. There were a number of libraries of Coruscant, but none of them as quiet and authentic as this one. You had truly struck gold in finding it, entirely by accident.

The feel of a real book, the feel of flimsi between your fingers, was an experience you relished in this technological day and age. You didn't have anything against technology, it was an integral part of your life and job after all, but holding something so precious and unique in your hands was something else entirely.

This particular library was not very large, though boasted an impressive catalogue of titles nonetheless. You loved curling up by the heater on cold evenings, in one specific cosy red armchair. It was a little more hidden, a reading nook of sorts, and it made the experience feel all the more special. Just you and a book, the outside world, the war, slipping from your mind easily.

In the last few weeks, there was a new regular that had started coming. At first, you were alarmed, his bright red armour alerting you to the fact that he belonged to the Coruscant Guard, but when he picked up a book and settled himself in a window seat, you had relaxed.

You had to admit, you found yourself watching him quite a lot. After a number of times seeing him, you had figured out exactly who he was. It was entirely surprising to you that the Commander of the Coruscant Guard frequented such a place, though he always walked in as if it was exactly where he should be, so you came to respect that.

Going to the library had become part of your daily routine, spending your evenings there as it was much quieter than spending them in your apartment. The people you lived with were particularly loud, not to mention the noise of the city outside the window. However, in the weeks that Commander Fox had begun to do the same thing, you found your reason for going shifting.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You were always too far away to see what he was reading, and he never took his helmet off. You wondered how he could read through it, but you presumed that if it had been made for battle then a book probably wouldn't be a problem.

One day, as he was leaving, you noticed him acting a little odd. He peered around to see if anyone was looking his way, not noticing you at all, and then he pocketed a stylus that the person who sat there before him had left. You smirked, watching him leave the library with a little extra hurriedness to his steps. After that, you decided that you needed to know what it was he was reading all this time, your intrigue finally becoming strong enough.

When you entered the library the next day, he was already sat in his regular seat, one leg stretched out on the seat and the other foot planted on the ground. He held the book in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the stylus that he had stolen the previous day. You found the book you had been reading, and made your way towards his position, your stomach turning just a little.

The window bay that he sat in was reasonably large, with a wooden frame and covered with pillows. You made your way to the opposite side from him and took your seat. His head raised from his book quickly in surprise, and you offered him a smile, before opening up your book and finding where you had left it.

Unbeknownst to you, and contrary to your own thoughts, Fox had noticed you. It was hard not to; you were here everyday, and he found you to be distracting, to say the least. He had often watched you sneaking glances at him, the secrecy afforded by his helmet allowing his cheeks to heat up without detection. It was the reason he rarely took his helmet off really, he didn't want anybody to he able to read him, he had a hard enough time conveying his thoughts through words without people watching him try to do it.

Fox had always been somewhat of an introvert, a stark contrast to his brothers. He didn't know how he had ended up not sharing in his brothers’ natural outgoing demeanour, but it was something that affected him constantly. He managed to have a commanding presence and confidence in his work through his rigorous training on Kamino, and he now had enough experience in his role that it felt safe, natural. Though at the end of a long day, when his brothers went out to 79s, he much preferred to be by himself. He craved so deeply to have his own space, and finding this library recently had afforded him some semblance of that.

Fox drew his knee up towards his chest so that he wasn't invading any of your personal space, despite the feeling that that was exactly what you had just done to him. He watched you from behind his visor, intrigued and confused. You didn't look up from your book once, leafing through the pages gradually as you took in the information on them. You were reading something non-fiction, something to do with theories about wild space and beyond. Somehow that surprised Fox - he didn't know what he expected you to be reading but it wasn't that. After his heart had stopped racing at the thought of having to talk to someone, he let his eyes drift back to his own book.

For the entirety of the evening, you didn't talk to Fox, nor did you so much as look at him. He found it to be equally relieving and maddening. He was glad that you both seemed to just be enjoying each other's presence without the need for conversation, but he couldn't understand why you had joined him.

He knew his armour made him stand out among the civilians, and usually people seemed to be scared of him because of it, as if he would arrest them for looking at him the wrong way. It was a blessing and a curse. People left him alone, but he stood out nonetheless. He got what he wanted, but was constantly being perceived in ways he didn't know as he did.

He wondered what your angle was.

When he had seen you watching him, he had initially thought it was for the same reason: that you were scared of him. However, he soon realised that you looked at him with no contempt, no ill-will, and now that you had come and sat yourself within his presence, he was even more interested to know what was going on in your head.

After a number of hours - he had lost count how many - he noticed you rising from your seat. You placed down the cushion that you had set in your lap as you read, and cast a glance over to him. With how he had rested his book in his lap and looked up, it was obvious he was looking at you, and you gave him another sweet smile.

He was overtaken by the need to speak with you. Your kind gestures seemed to be an obvious response to the way he was acting, and that you were respecting the fact that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, before he could work up the courage, you had gone back over to the bookshelf and put the book back in its place, leaving shortly thereafter.

Fox sighed audibly, and it came out as a small hiss through the filter of his helmet. Despite liking his own space, he had enjoyed having someone else with him, just sitting in silence while you both focused on your own things. He didn't have that kind of interaction with any of his brothers, they were often far too excitable for him.

He loved his brothers dearly, they meant a lot to him, but being around them all of the time tired him out, and sometimes it was nice to get away from them. He found himself thinking that perhaps he didn't always have to do it by himself. Perhaps it was possible to spend time with someone who didn't drain his energy. Someone like you.

When Fox arrived at the library the next day, you were already there, sat in your regular seat. He watched you for a moment, the corners of your lips lifting as you read something from your book. You looked so kind, so approachable. He didn’t feel as though you were trying to draw him in in any particular way, at least not in a way that would ordinarily have him feeling flustered. It didn't seem that you sought anything that would draw him out of his comfort zone at all. With that in mind, he just truly felt like indulging in your simple company once more, and so he did.

He approached the corner of the library where you were slightly hidden away, and he settled himself in the armchair opposite you. You looked up to watch him do so, and smiled warmly when his visor turned towards you. The crinkles at the edges of your eyes gave away how pleased you were that he had decided to join you, and he relaxed a little, his body moulding into the chair as he opened up his book.

As you had the previous day, you both engrossed yourselves in your books. The worries of today and tomorrow washed away and you just soaked up the words on the page. You were curled up in your chair, a cushion held to your stomach as you often did, whereas Fox had his legs outstretched, one over the other, his hand tucked under his arm as the other held his book. You were both just comfortable.

As the day wound to a close, you flicked your eyes to the clock, and thought that you best be getting home.

Fox watched you raise from your seat, placing the cushion back onto it neatly. His stomach lurched a little, once again feeling the urge to speak to you. He felt exceedingly stupid as he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was floundering for something, anything to say.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, a little louder than he would've liked, especially for in a library. You turned back to him, your eyes finding his visor as you waited for him to continue.

Fox's brain drew a blank. He couldn't think let alone speak right now. However, you just gave him a patient smile, not expecting anything. It calmed his mind enough to ask a simple question.

“What's your name?”

Your smile grew a little before you replied, you voice even more kindly than he could have imagined - soft, yet assured. He couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth raise a little under his helmet. After a moment, he realised that you weren't asking his name, and his smile dropped, slightly panicking for something to say again. He would've given anything to be as outgoing as his brothers at this very moment, or any subsequent one.

“Well” You cleared your throat as he just looked up at you, and a small smirk wound its way onto your face. “I suppose I'll see you around, Commander Fox” You gave him a little mock salute as you turned away.

Fox could feel his cheeks burning, his mind now in overdrive. You knew who he was the whole time? Somehow he felt especially embarrassed more than anything, and slumped back into his chair with a huff. What was he supposed to say to you now? How much did you know about him? If you knew who he was, why did you sit with him? And why didn't you say anything?

Endless questions swirled around in his head, stopping him from enjoying his book for the rest of the evening. Even as he tried to sleep in his bunk, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, his cheeks still burning as he thought of how stupid he must've sounded asking your name and sitting by you, when you knew exactly who he was.

He desperately wanted to know what you thought of him. Surely if you knew his name then you'd know other things about him? But what did you know? Had you heard that he was somewhat removed or lonely and thought he could use a friend? Because that would be positively mortifying.

Fox ran a hand over his face. He shouldn't be thinking like this. For all that he avoided them, he cared far too much what people thought of him. He wished he could stop doing that.

Fox had thought about not going to the library the next day, but after a long talk with himself in the mirror, he decided that it didn't matter what you thought of him, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what he had come to know as his little corner of the galaxy.

He was already there when you arrived, as you had come a bit later than usual. That had only struck Fox with an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he wasn't going to let on.

You slowly approached his window seat with your book tucked in your hands. His head didn’t raise until you spoke.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Fox's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes a little wide behind his visor. He elected not to speak, and instead nodded his head and gestured vaguely to the other side of the window.

Unlike the last couple of days, Fox was positively unfocused on his book. It was maddening, all he wanted to do was relax, especially after his sleepless night and the stack of flimsiwork that had awaited him on his desk this morning. He couldn't be so lucky, you had to go and distract him. Of course it wasn't your fault, and Fox knew that, he was just annoyed that he couldn't shut his mind off for once second. Ever.

After around 45 minutes had passed, and Fox had finally settled into reading his book, he noticed you watching him, and he internally groaned. He had just started relaxing.

He raised his head to let you know he saw you looking at him, and you smiled warmly before speaking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That made him nervous, the slight anticipation making his head nod quickly to release it.

“Is your helmet comfortable?” You asked, resting your book in your lap.

Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn't that.

“Uh… yeah, it's fine” He replied awkwardly.

“Cool” You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and opened your book back up.

Fox just stared at you. Was there not any other reason for you asking that? Did you actually just want to know if his helmet was comfortable or not? Why couldn't he stop questioning your motivation for doing anything?

“How do you know my name?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Your expression was sheepish when you looked back up at him again, and you fumbled slightly with your book, losing your page. You let out a small huff at that, “I don't know, I think everyone kind of knows who you are”

That was probably the worst reason you could have given. Fox cringed, his body folding in on itself fractionally even though he tried to stay rigid and strong.

He looked back down to his book and tried to read, but now it just felt like the awkward silence was swallowing him whole. He couldn't focus on the page, his mind swirling with various words that he tried to string together to reply to what you had said.

After a few minutes of that, Fox was fed up. He practically slammed his book closed and strutted over to the desk to return it, not looking back as he left.

The next night, you were still put out by the Commanders actions. You went to the library anyway, convinced that he probably wouldn't be going, that you had well and truly scared him off. You didn't know exactly why, or rather how, you had done it, but you could tell he'd been frustrated by it. You hadn't hardly said anything to him, but you supposed that you had managed to offend him in those few short words.

Thankfully, it soon slipped from your mind as you curled your legs into your chest and dove into the new book you had picked up today.

If Fox had been embarrassed by you knowing who he was, he was positively beside himself with mortification now. He had blocked it out the entire day, holing up in his ‘office’ and burying himself in his flimsiwork so he couldn't possibly let another thought into his head.

As it got to the end of the day, Fox couldn't stop watching the clock. Time was creeping along at a painfully slow pace, and that was as he was already staying late. It felt like torture, working late just to stop himself thinking. His brain was at maximum capacity, and all he wanted to do was rest.

“Commander” A voice called out, and Fox's head lifted slowly to see Thorn standing in front of his desk, “Maker, you look rough”

Fox scowled, “I thought I told you to knock”

“I vaguely remember you saying that…” Thorn said, a mocking grin growing with each word. “You do know this isn’t a door right?” He said, knocking on the wall that only vaguely separated Fox’s desk from the others.

Fox just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“We're clocking out now, you fancy coming to 79s?” Thorn asked hopefully.

“You already know the answer” Fox looked down at his flimsiwork again.

Thorn huffed, “Come on vod, just this once?”

“I've got work to do” Fox replied.

“That's what you always say”

Fox gave Thorn a tired look, “Another time”

“You always say that as well” Thorn remarked.

Fox sighed aggressively, “Look, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight”

“Alright, alright” Thorn put his hands up in surrender, “I'll get you next time”

“I doubt it” Fox mumbled under his breath as his brother left.

He picked up his stylus. It was the one he had stolen from the library, or more accurately, whoever had left it at the library. He let a sigh escape him. It was filled with mixed emotions, positive memories of the library tinged by his own stupidity.

He twirled the stylus in his hand, manoeuvring it through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to go to the library, to seek the respite he so desperately desired. If you were there, he could just ignore you, it couldn't be that hard.

Once that thought had entered his mind and he'd let it grow for just a second, he rose to his feet, grabbing his helmet from the edge of his desk. When he stepped out of his corner, the chattering voices he could hear stopped, and the two remaining clones in the office looked towards him.

“Ah, Commander, you decided to join us after all” Thorn grinned.

“Uh, no. I’m going out” Fox replied, continuing to walk towards the door.

“Where to?” Stone asked, pushing himself from his desk.

“Just- out” Fox replied, much more rigidly than he would've liked. It sounded extremely suspicious coming out.

“Out? Like on a date?” Thorn asked.

“No!” Fox barked back, almost stopping in his place.

“Oh my god, you are” Stone’s expression turned to a broad grin as he dashed towards the door, stopping his brother from leaving.

“I'm not” Fox insisted, a sharp glare directed at Stone.

“You're blushing” He pointed out, which only intensified Fox’s glare. Stone pushed his brother's shoulder lovingly, “Aw vod, I'm so happy for you”

Fox rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother and grumbling to himself as he could hear the two of them laughing at his expense. He loved his brothers, but they really got on his last nerve sometimes.

When he got to the library, it was much later than he usually arrived, which the librarian commented on as he checked out his book. He just gave her a polite nod, not really pleased at his patterns being recognised.

He had planned to just ignore you, but when he saw you sitting in your usual seat, curled up and peaceful, reading your book as if you were the only two things in the galaxy, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you once more. He walked over to you in a few long strides, and cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes a little wide.

“Commander” You said, a little unsurely as it wasn't entirely clear if he wasn't upset with you or not. You couldn't tell from under the helmet.

“Please don't call me that” He replied in a somewhat affronted tone, though he must have seen how taken aback you were because he instantly backtracked, “I mean- No, just- Fox is fine, please”

“Okay then” You smiled, “Hi Fox”

Fox returned the smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “May I join you?”

You nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite you. Fox sat down, leaning forward and clearly not finished speaking.

“I am… sorry, for leaving abruptly yesterday”

You couldn't stop your face from twitching with amusement, “You don't have to be sorry”

“Right… yeah” His hand snaked to the back of his neck on instinct as he spoke awkwardly.

“I do hope I didn't offend you though” You added, drawing your eyebrows together.

“Offend me?” Fox seemed genuinely confused.

“About… knowing who you are” You jogged his memory.

“Oh, no” Fox shook his head lightly. It had sent him spiralling, but you didn't need to know that.

“Good” You smiled sweetly and flicked your eyes back down to your book.

Fox watched you for a moment longer then opened his book, finding his place and continuing on.

What he liked the most about you, not that he knew much else, was that you seemed content just being in each other's space, and not needing to talk to fill the time. Talking wasn't his strong suit, it stressed him out at the best of times, even when he pretended it didn't. Particularly then, in fact. Somehow, without even communicating with each other verbally, this was the most meaningful connection he had shared with someone new in a long time. He didn't know that you thought that way too, but somehow he felt that you did.

Not too long later, the librarian came to tell you both that the library would be closing soon. Fox nodded and stood from his seat, but paused in going to hand his book back in when he realised you weren't moving. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

“Aren't you coming?” He questioned, his voice clearly showing his confusion.

You looked up to him, your lips curling into a smile, “I'm not quite done here yet”

Fox frowned, then sat back down opposite you, his knees spread and elbows leant against them, a stance he often took when questioning someone.

“You'll be chucked out by the librarian” He stated.

You shook your head gently, “I can be sneaky”

“Then you'll be locked in” He tried to find reason in whatever idea you had up your sleeve.

“Eh” You shrugged, “I can pick the lock”

Fox tilted his head. Even though you couldn't see the confusion on his face, you still found the action a little cute.

“You realise I could have you arrested for that”

Fox could see your eyes flash with a small amount of alarm as you remembered exactly who was sitting in front of you, but it was gone as soon as it came, and instead you narrowed them a little.

“Well, that would be a little pointless” You said as if it were obvious.

Fox’s eyebrows raised instinctively, “And why is that?”

“Because you'd have to arrest yourself too” You stated, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin overtaking your face.

“Wha-”

Before he could even finish the word, you had jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of bookshelves and pulling him in between two of them.

He wanted to protest, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was once again thankful for the shield that was his helmet, because he knew that his cheeks must have been bright red with the way you were looking up at him. Your face bore the widest grin, your eyes crinkled at your own mischief, and he was hopeless to do anything about it now.

Fox’s head was telling him to leave, that breaking the law, something that he dedicated his life to upholding, was not a good idea. Though between your excitement and the secret thrill it was giving him, his heart was aching to stay. So he did.

He watched you as you glanced around and listened out for the librarian. Somehow the only thing in his mind was that if he rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet that he'd probably be touching you, or at least feel the heat of your body. The thought was disturbed when the lights cut out and the librarian could be heard walking nearby. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him down the shelves to hide against the other end.

You were grinning, resting your temple against the end of the shelves and looking up at him.

“Having fun?”

Fox just hummed in reply as he copied your posture, not giving much away. You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, and you kept listening out for the librarian. Soon enough, the clunk of the outdated technology of lock and key slotting together rang out in the darkness of the library, and you stood up straight, walking back over to your regular spot.

By the time Fox caught up with you, you had turned on a nearby lamp and were already sat back in the chair with your book open. He just sat opposite you, watching you through his visor.

The library was usually quiet, but now it was dead silent, and Fox couldn't help but relish in that fact. Even the sounds of the city couldn't be heard in here. It was an entirely peaceful moment, something he rarely got the opportunity to indulge in.

Fox peered around the library, making sure nobody else was lingering after closing, and then hooked his thumbs under the base of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss. The noise made your head raise, seeming loud in the quiet environment.

It was hard not to stare. You knew more or less what he looked like, he was a clone after all, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him. His dark curls, streaked by silver, his eyes a dark brown and his battle worn skin. He was gorgeous, so rugged yet so stately, and so unique in his appearance as compared to the brothers of his that you had met.

He noticed you examining his face and immediately went to put his helmet on.

“No!” You called out, a little more desperately than you hoped for. Fox gave you a weary and puzzled look, and you could have melted right there. It was strange to see the emotion on his face when he had always concealed it from you.

“Sorry” You coughed out, a little flustered, “I didn't mean to stare”

Despite your words, you continued to observe him, inspecting his face. Every mark, every scar, every feature drawing you in.

Fox tilted his head to the side a fraction, a small crease forming in his brow, “You're still staring”

“Right, sorry” You looked down to your book and scanned your eyes across the page, trying to find where you had been when you got distracted by the sheer beauty of the man before you. It certainly wasn't helpful to think of it in those terms when you were trying not to look at him.

Fox let one side of his mouth quirk up at your reaction to him. He hadn't really expected you to care all that much, but your darkened cheeks were telling him that perhaps you did. He spoke your name, and the sound of his voice unfiltered by his helmet sent a shiver running up your spine.

“Hm?” You replied, glancing up.

“How often do you stay after closing?”

“Oh, not that often” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Why tonight?” He pressed.

You hesitated, “Well, you didn't come until late, and… I feel like that was kinda my fault”

Fox couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, even if he didn't know exactly why it had. He placed his book down on the table next to him.

“It's not your fault” He asserted, “I had a lot of work to do”

It wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't going to tell you that he had been trying to banish you from his head all day.

“But thank you. It's not often that I get to-” He gestured his hand vaguely around the library, “Experience the quiet like this”

“No problem” You smiled, setting your book down as well. It seemed you both were now more interested in each other's company than that of the books you had chosen.

Fox bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous under your undivided attention. The feeling in his stomach was akin to his usually anxiety around socialising, but it felt different, not entirely unpleasant.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” You replied, “I'm an open book”

Fox let out a breathy chuckle, the amusement dancing in your eyes letting him know that your pun wasn't accidental.

“What do you do?”

“Like… for work?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess” Fox shrugged. He didn’t really mind what you talked about, he just wanted to know more about you.

“Um” You looked away, flexing your hands nervously, “Nothing. I mean- you know, nothing interesting… or important”

Fox hummed, giving you a sceptical look, “Something tells me breaking into libraries in the middle of the night isn’t the only illegal thing you do”

“Okay, first of all - I don’t break in, I only break out-”

“Not much better really” Fox shrugged, trying to keep the smirk from his lips unsuccessfully.

”Sure, maybe not” You smirked, “But it’s hardly malicious. It’s nothing like, say… Stealing someone’s private property, such as a stylus or something like that…”

A blush dusted Fox’s cheeks immediately, now knowing you had indeed caught him doing exactly that. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to find a way to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” You teased, resting your hand on his knee for a second to draw his attention back to you, “Besides, who would I tell? We’ve already established that you’re not going to arrest yourself”

Fox dragged his gaze back to you, the gentle touch only making his cheeks burn hotter. He gave you a weary sort of look, but the edge of his lips curled upwards nonetheless.

“Why did you steal it?” You then asked, devoid of any of the teasing tone you had previously employed.

“Uh” Fox ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I don’t really have anything that’s… Mine”

You gave him a puzzled look, “How do you mean?”

Fox cleared his throat, “I mean… I don’t really have possessions, I share all of my time and my space with my brothers. I don’t have a place that is mine, to put anything that might be mine”

He paused for a moment, conscious that he may be oversharing, but your even gaze, the way you were sitting forward and listening attentively told him that perhaps you didn’t mind. That you were interested in what he was saying.

“I have an office, sort of, but not really. It’s just a tiny area in the corner of the Guard’s office, so it’s a little closed off, and it barely even fits my desk, but- anyway. I just take what I can get I suppose” He wrapped up his rambling.

“I can understand that”

“You can?” He asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve… never had a space to myself either really”

“You don’t have an apartment or something?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Not to myself. I live with three other people, and they’re very… loud. That’s why I come here”

“Yeah, same here I suppose” Fox smiled, then his face fell a little, “Hold on- We didn’t get to the bottom of what you do for work”

You chuckled a little nervously, “I’m a mechanic”

Fox gave you a dubious look, “That doesn’t sound illegal”

“It’s not” You sighed, “It’s just… my boss is a little dodgy”

Fox took a moment to shift in his seat, trying to appear casual, “What kind of dodgy? Who… is it?”

You just smirked at him, “You’re not getting it out of me that easily I’m afraid, Commander”

Fox wanted to chuckle, but he was also suddenly struck by the fact that he had no reason to believe you had any moral integrity or that you actually were any sort of good person.

“You don’t think they should be brought to justice?” He spoke with trepidation.

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I guess I do, but then I would be out of a job”

“You could get another one” Fox reasoned.

“It’s not that simple” You stated, “I don’t live with three people for the fun of it after all”

Fox was confused, you could see that much woven into the frown he gave you.

“I can’t afford anything else” You completed the thought, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh, right” Fox replied.

Fox didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t faced that kind of issue before in his own life, so he couldn’t say he fully understood. He wasn't shy of people turning to crime because of money, their were often few other reasons, though it certainly gave a new perspective to the way he looked at his role of what had turned into a short jump from policeman.

“Anyway” You said more cheerily, “It isn't such a bad job, I do get to spend my evenings here”

Fox smiled at that, “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years” You replied.

It wasn't long before you were talking animatedly, sharing little details of your life with Fox. He could feel himself coming out of his shell the more you talked, enamoured by the way you spoke and the things you had to say. He found himself agreeing with many of the observations you made, even if he didn't say so. It was also hard to ignore how drawn to you he now felt, in a way he hadn't experienced with many others, possibly anyone. He told you details about himself too, a little bit about his brothers, about a book that he had heard of but couldn’t find, about what he does in the Coruscant Guard.

You were explaining a passage of your favourite book, and the way the light was hitting you face was making it hard for Fox to concentrate on your words fully.

“Do you think that was the right thing for them to do?” He asked, a crease in his brow to show his engagement.

“Well, no. Probably not, but that's what the book is questioning” You explained, then noted Fox's slightly dazed expression, “Maybe they should take a page out of your book and just start stealing” You raised your eyebrows a little, and Fox laughed defeatedly, both as his own habits and your terrible library humour.

“I can't believe you saw me do that and still came and sat with me” He joked, the outright sarcasm feeling unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Oh no, that was what made me do it” You admitted a little theatrically.

“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, giving you a genuine disbelieving look.

“Yeah, it interested me. I wanted to know what the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was doing stealing from a library” You chuckled, “It was just… not what I expected, I guess”

“What did you expect?” He asked with a teasing edge, “The armour does tend to give a certain impression”

“Oh no, I would never judge a book by its cover” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, a smile still pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you always have such terrible humour?”

“I think it's funny” You shrugged, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped it. You blinked a few times, and it was only then that you realised it was most likely very late. Checking your watch, you saw that it was past midnight and you sat forward in your chair, “I should be getting home really”

Fox was tired as well, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. Though, he didn't want to keep you if you were tired, and he wasn't exactly fully awake himself.

“Can I escort you back?” He suggested.

You smiled as you stood up, “Sure, that'd be nice”

Fox followed suit, grabbing his helmet, and letting you lead the way to the door, both of you returning your books to the shelf on the way.

“My very own Coruscant Guard escort, lucky me” You muttered, eyelids heavy with sleep as you looked up at him with a smirk.

Fox’s lips formed a similar expression. He rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t as spiteful as when he had directed it at his brother earlier on in the night. He had completely forgotten about the aspect of having to pick the lock, so was a little surprised when you then produced a small tool from your pocket and knelt down, slotting it into the keyhole.

“Should I be worried that you carry around a lock pick?” He asked, placing his helmet over his head.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I only use it for this. Besides, it's just a regular tool, not specifically a lock pick”

The door cracked open, and you pulled the tool out, placing it back in your pocket.

It was only a few blocks to your home, and on the way you explained to Fox how you had first found the library on an evening stroll shortly after moving into your current apartment, trying to get away from your loud roommates.

You could already hear them as you approached now, music turned up loud and some form of excited squealing spilling from the windows. You cracked open the door, and winced as the noise became ten times louder. You gave Fox a sheepish expression and he chuckled a little.

“I can see why you go to the library” He noted.

“Yeah” You sighed, rubbing your neck, “They’re not so bad really, just…”

Fox nodded in understanding.

You both just stayed watching each other for a moment, neither one of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye. You stared into Fox's visor, hoping to find his eyes behind it, and by some miracle, he understood that, and took it off in one smooth motion.

You smiled up at him as his eyes emerged from beneath the mask, and his heart instinctively skipped a beat. With you looking up at him like that, and nothing to hide his own emotions, he suddenly felt exposed. His stomach erupted into what felt like his usual anxiety-ridden state, but for once, it was more exhilarating than it was scary.

“I'm glad I made you stay behind tonight” You admitted, little care for how odd the words sounded.

Fox chuckled slightly, “Yeah, me too”

There was another moment of silence, and now Fox read it as awkwardness, so he immediately began backing away.

“I- Um, I'll see you around?” He offered.

Your smile faltered for half a second before you replied, “Yeah, see you around”

Fox watched you get inside safely, and then turned on his heel to head back to his quarters.

The whole way back, and well into the night, Fox couldn't get you out of his head. Though, this time he didn't mind.

The following morning, Fox was once again buried in flimsiwork, already on his third caf and ready to pull his hair out.

“Commander” Fox heard the unmistakable voice from the ‘door’ of his office, and he could have easily groaned in frustration.

“I thought I told you to knock” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his flimsiwork.

“Perhaps you did” Thorn shrugged, a grin evident in his voice, “But you have a visitor”

Fox's head snapped up at that.

“A visitor?”

“Mhm” Thorn confirmed in a somewhat teasing manner, “No idea how she got past security downstairs but, there's a woman asking to see you”

Fox frowned a little, but stood from his desk, walking over to look around the corner. He saw you leaning on Thorn's desk, looking around the office and a book clutched between your hands. You were in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, folded down to the waist with leather gloves tucked into the belt, and seemingly not caring one bit how your appearance made you stand out in the office.

He called your name, and your head turned towards him, along with everyone else in the office that had already been staring at the you, the person who didn't belong. Your eyes lit up a little as you saw him, and you pushed yourself from the desk, striding over to him and Thorn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, leading you into his corner of the office.

“I wanted to g-”

“Actually, hold on one moment” Fox interrupted you, then walked back out into the office to find Thorn and Stone waiting just outside with their ears turned to the wall. Fox rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, making them jump away.

“Could I maybe have some privacy?” He gave them a pointed look.

Both of them mumbled a ‘yes sir’ as they slunk away, brandishing matching smirks. Fox huffed, before returning to you.

“Sorry about that” He ran a hand through his hair, “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine” You smiled, “I came to give you this”

You held up the book in your hands, offering it to him. Fox eyed it suspiciously, his gaze flicking between you and the book.

“Did you steal this from the library?”

You laughed gratuitously, “No. I thought we established that was your thing”

“But…” Fox frowned, “Did you buy it then? You really shouldn’t have spent your money-”

“I didn’t buy it, it’s mine” You cut him off, “Well, it was mine, it’s yours now”

You tried to hand it to him but Fox just pushed it back towards you, taking a step forward, “I couldn’t possibly take your property”

“I want you to have it” You grabbed his hand and forced him to take it, looking up into his eyes intently.

Fox’s heart stuttered at your intense gaze, aware of how your hand still rested over his as you awaited his reply. He looked down at the book, and turned it over to read the spine. His eyes quickly found yours again, and a grin had bloomed on your face.

“This is it” He breathed out, “The book I was looking for”

“It is” You nodded, finally taking your hand away from his.

“Wh- How- I didn’t even know what it was called, how did you…?”

“I guess I can read between the lines” You shrugged, your grin widening, and Fox laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I’ve read it a few times” You admitted, then flipped the book open, revealing annotations in the margins, “I went through and pointed out my favourite parts, wrote a bit about why and kinda analysed it a little”

“You wrote these notes for me?” He questioned, his voice sounding unusually small as his brows pinched together.

“Yeah” You gave him a warm smile, “That way, it’s like… personalised for you”

Fox was at a loss for words. You had really listened to him yesterday, and heard how his lack of personal effects weighed on his mind, and now you were giving him something of yours, and you had made it personal to him. His chest spread with warmth, his shoulders relaxing in a small contented sigh.

He let the book fall to his side, and he leaned forwards onto the balls of his feet, so his chest was almost against yours. He brought his hand up and gently brushed your hair away from your forehead, his hand lingering against your cheekbone. Your eyes shone up at him, and a genuine smile crossed his face.

“I'm glad I met you” Fox murmured, his voice low so that only you could hear.

“I know you are” You grinned.

Fox rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, because you can read me so well”

You chuckled, your head tipping to the side in thought, “I hadn’t thought of that one actually. Looks like you’re picking up my novel sense of humour though”

Fox scoffed a laugh, “You’re terrible”

“Maybe” You shrugged, “But I like to think that maybe you don't mind”

Fox hummed, “Perhaps not”

You grinned up at him for a moment, and then stepped back, “I should be getting back really, I'm not supposed to be here”

“You don't have to tell me that” Fox raised his eyebrows at you, “How did you manage get up here?”

“A fun story for another time” You smirked, disappearing around the corner.

Fox followed after you, watching you leave from where he leant in the doorway, when you stopped in your place and turned back to him. You seemed to be weighing something in your head, and then evidently decided to go through with it, jogging back over to him.

Fox raised an eyebrow as you came to stand in front of him, “What is it?”

“I forgot something”

“Forgot wha-?”

Fox was interrupted by you raising onto your tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, your hand finding his to steady yourself. The feel of your hand gently holding his, let alone your lips on his cheek, was enough to set his skin alight. His cheeks were already burning by the time you pulled away.

You gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand lightly and speaking in a whisper, “See you later”

Fox watched you go with wide eyes, his body unable to move from where it was firmly rooted to the ground. Your body finally disappeared out of the office, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise that he’d been holding, his body relaxing.

“So you did have a date” Stone nudged his brother, a grin almost splitting his face. Fox just gave him a withering look.

“What did I say about privacy?”

“Well I figured that since you made it everyone's business-”

“I suggest you get back to work, Stone”

“Yep. Got it”

Fox settled himself back at his desk, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book that was now in his possession. His cheeks were still burning, and they probably would be for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to going to the library that night, but it wasn’t for the books this time.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[magicbystarlight]

Star Crossed — Prologue

Hux x Reader, Ren x Reader

Summary: Years after leaving behind your life as a Jedi, an unexpected encounter forces you to confront the past you wanted to forget. Divider.

Warnings: 18+, canon-typical violence, sexually explicit scenes later, additional warnings as needed. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 1.1k

Lieutenant Atrox stalks through the halls, his face pulled taut with displeasure. It’s an expression you've grown familiar with in these last three months. You’re on his heels, nonetheless, with a datapad clutched tightly to your chest.

The Lieutenant and yourself had only arrived on board the Finalizer the night before from the Exheres System. He had spent the the time drunk while you spent it combing through three years worth of trade routes, ship manifests, store inventories, and planetary exports. It had been to quell the nagging feeling you’d gotten during a review of the last audit of an inconsequential clothing shop on an inconsequential planet, but it had paid off.

"Please, sir, if you would just listen I can—"

"I don’t have time for your theories. Ren will be here at any moment."

An unnecessary reminder. The headache that plagues you is evidence enough that the Sith had already boarded and subjected some poor soul to the Force. A day early of his expected arrival. Normally, you'd have found sanctuary far from any Force User. Twice before you'd been on the same vessel as Kylo Ren and twice before you'd shoved yourself into a dark corner far, far away. But this is important.

You hope.

"But I found it, sir. There's a bimonthly shipment of polyfibe that—“

“Polyfibe is the most common fabric in the galaxy.”

The hallway ends at two large doors. They open with a whoosh, revealing a room with a long table. It’s thankfully still empty. “It is, but it can’t be made on Sentrena which is where the shipments originate. Or any of the planets in that star system. They don’t have the proper resources or machinery.”

His steps came to a halt with a defeated sigh as the doors shut. “Could it be imported and shipped from there?”

“If they wanted the price quintupled.”

“Some people are stupid with their money.”

“Yes, but,” the datapad lit up as your fingers work deftly to bring up the list, “there’s no inventory of polyfibe or anything made of polyfibe in the shop.”

He takes the offered tablet, eyes roving over the list. His brows scrunch and he shoves it back into your hands. "When is the next shipment?”

“Today.”

“Send a squad to intercept.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

His fingers grip your upper arm, pulling you back harshly as you try to turn. “You better be right about this or you’ll find yourself shoveling shit somewhere for wasting my time.”

A nod in understanding is all you muster before he releases his grip. Scurrying away, the door barely opens in time for you to squeeze through. Or at least, you thought you had before you collided with a solid surface.

With a glance up, you meet the icy gaze of General Armitage Hux. A scowl adorns his face as it has in every hologram you've ever seen of him. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

You can hear the sneer in his voice as you continue past him. "I'll never understand why we use civilians for secretaries."

—

"Chromafiber?"

The hologram of Sergeant Eviena is shaky, but her voice comes through clear. "Yes. It appears they were making suits of it."

You nod, pacing the small, sterile office. “For camouflage. Stealth suits.” Chromafiber is expensive and difficult to work with in unskilled hands. "The best money could buy. Who are they for?"

"They wouldn’t say, but" she reaches into her pocket and produces what appears to be a clothing patch with a familiar, flame-like insignia, "we found a batch of these hidden away."

It’s the worst case scenario. You expected smuggling of some sort, perhaps avoiding taxes or bringing in some other outlawed substance. But they’ve been providing a lethal advantage to the Resistance, possibly for years. “Detain them. Send me every file you find. On the ship, in the shop, on any droid. Everything."

Despite you having no authority to give such commands, Evenia nods. “Yes ma’am.”

The hologram dissolves and you’re left alone once more. You don’t linger to soak in the victory, retracing your steps across the ship to where the meeting had been taking place. It’s been nearly two hours since you left and you've heard nothing on comms about them being finished. By the closed doors and the sweating lower officers waiting just beside them, it’s safe to assume the meeting continued. The pain in your head is dull. A good sign. Perhaps Atrox will be in a decent mood for once.

You wait, leaning against a wall further down a hallway that leads the opposite way of the docks. Two dozen reports have already chimed on your datapad. They’re easy enough to run through the programs you’d created to find key phrases, locations, names, patterns, etc. There’s nothing the programs recognize in them, but names pop out to you as you skim. They’re all common names. Too common.

Fake names designed to be overlooked. You’ll have to consider adding a program to make sure something like this isn’t missed again. You pull information aside as you continue to scroll, letting it drop in a new document for later review. No matter how well they hid their connections, there was always a trace left behind.

A commotion has you looking up. The doors open and the sounds of someone in hysterics floods the corridor. A man backs out of the room, pleading. Only one person inflicts that sort of fear. You don’t have time to flee.

Pain erupts in your skull. Blinding, burning white pushes from every corner. Something cracks. You try to resist, to push back against the Force, but it’s too much, too close, too late. A locked door that had held for more than a decade splinters and explodes beneath the pressure. The pain disapperates, but it’s no relief. Every part of the world around you turns bright and vibrant, connected and overwhelming. A sense suppressed for so long snapped back like a rubberband.

There’s a hand on your face. Green eyes boring into yours. "I love you." Brown Eyes. "Stay with me." Yellow eyes. Blinding red.

Gasping, ragged breaths drag air back into your deprived lungs. Cold seeps through the gloves. Your hands are on the floor. Shattered datapad between them. Black boots behind it.

He sinks to his knees. “You’re alive.” The robotic overlay can’t hide his surprise. Fingers on your chin make you stare into the abyss of a mask. Kylo Ren. But beneath the mask you feel him. A twisted, darker version, but still him. Alive.

Ben Solo is alive.

[varpusvaras]

Beru found out about their new neighbour on a one pretty unremarkable day.

Owen was out that afternoon, gone to recycle some of the old machinery parts they had left after one of their perimeter sensors had finally been worn down by the increased storms. The desert was calm that day, thankfully, as Luke had started to become very restless from not getting to go outside in days.

Perhaps Beru should've realised that such restlessness was going to make Luke forget their usual rules, in his haste to get out of the house, as all of a sudden she noticed that the immediate area around the house was uncharacteristically quiet, and not full of noises made by little boy playing space battles.

She didn't, however, get too far in her searches, when there was a tall shadow casted onto the sand right next to hers.

"Excuse me-" The man didn't even get to finish what he was saying, when Beru had already reacher for the prybar in the toolbox and turned around, gripping it tightly and ready to strike.

The Suns were partially behind the man, obscuring his features momentarily from her. She was tall and broad-shouldered, standing straight with his head held high even in the heat of the day. On his arms he held Luke, who had his arms around the man's neck in a relaxed, loose grip.

That made her loosen up her grip from the prybar just a little. Luke had the gift of knowing when to trust people, even if sometimes that trust overextended itself a little. The man's hold of Luke was, however, also relaxed, which made him a bit more trustworthy to Beru.

The man bend down and placed Luke onto the ground, and by doing so, he gave his face enough shadow for Beru to see him better.

He looked young, if a bit weathered, with some lines already forming on his face, though Beru could tell that they were in places that usually got creased up when someone was constantly concerned about something. There was a long scar running down the side of his face, showing up starkly as the skin around it had tanned more recently. It was the thing that told Beru that the man had not spent too much time on the desert yet, despite his clothes having already been weathered as well, and his footing being even enough on the sand. His dark, curly hair looked like it had only now started to grow out of a very well-maintained shorter cut. Another sign of him being a newcomer.

Still, there was something familiar in him, something Beru couldn't quite place, and she wasn't quite sure if that should've made her relax more or be more suspicious of him.

The man looked at her. His dark eyes were just as weathered as the rest of him, but still kind.

Beru made her decision. She lowered the prybar, and let go of it with her other hand, grabbing at Luke instead.

The man's shoulders lowered a bit as well.

"Excuse me", he said. "I saw your nephew had gotten a bit far away from the house."

Beru looked down at Luke. He looked up at her, and gave her a bit of a sheepish smile.

"Yes", Beru said, and looked back up at the man. "Thank you."

The man nodded.

"No problem at all", he said to her, and then turned to speak to Luke. "Stay where you're supposed to. The desert is a dangerous place."

"But you were there by yourself as well", Luke piped up, not able to resist the urge to talk back just a little.

The man smiled at him. Beru though he had a rather nice smile, even if it was worn down as well. She wondered what kind of hardships he had gone through, out there in the Galaxy, to seem like he had been sanded down by a multiple of storms already.

"I've seen a lot of places that are worse than this, kid", the man said. "I'll be just fine."

He then nodded his head again at Beru, lifted the back of the dark blue cape he had draped over his shoulders over his head, turned around and walked into the desert without another word.

Beru watched him go, ever so slightly confused about the whole interaction. She only moved his eyes away when Luke tugged at her hand.

"Did you know him?" He asked. "I've never seen him before. Not here or in town."

Beru shook her head.

"No", she said. "Did he say anything to you?"

She had not had the mind to even ask the man his name. She looked back out in the desert. He had already disappeared somewhere beyond the dunes.

Luke shook his head.

"He did know you are my aunt", he said. "And not my mom."

True, Beru realised. He had called Luke her nephew, without any introductions.

She decided not to be too alarmed about that. There weren't a lot of people who lived in the area. Chances were that the man had just heard about them already, and remembered who lived in the house.

Still. Not a lot people lived in the area, and even less had any business around there either. On top of that, even though she was more than sure that she had never seen the man before, Beru thought he had looked awfully familiar in some way.

"He seemed nice", Luke said. "He felt nice."

"If you say so, my little sun", Beru said. "Your feelings are often very precise."

She decided not to tell Owen about the man that evening. He would've just gotten unnecessarily worried about it.

----

Beru saw a dark blue cape in the corner of her eye.

When she turned, it wasn't the man from the desert, even if she was sure it was the same cape, with the tattered edges and faded shoulders.

She did know the man wearing it, though. Ben seemed to feel her eyes on him, as he also turned to look at her, and very briefly nodded at her before he went back to dealing with a customer.

Beru thought about it as she went on her business, and she walked back by Ben's stall as she came back.

Ben was already packing up by then, and Beru saw that he had also made purchases, as he was tying some wares that Beru didn't believe he had brought all the way from his house to the town. At the top were a new bedroll, and a pair of boots that even from afar looked too big for Ben's feet.

Beru smiled, before turning away. It really seemed like Ben wasn't alone anymore. That was good.

[owlespresso]

bedtime stories III. jing yuan. tags: not beta read lmao, jing yuan babies u

You do not love Jing Yuan, and that’s what makes him easy to come home to. To love, to want, is to place your beating heart in the hands of another—is to risk the deadly creep of mara, gingko gold and bitter.

Jing Yuan is easy to come home to because there is no fanfare. In the palest hours of the morning, when the moon hangs low in the sky, you rest your working shoes next to his boots in the foyer. Sometimes, it takes hours to come across him.

The estate is large, and he spends much of his time in the gardens, or in his study, or asleep in bed. You creep in quietly, always, slow and silent as winter’s first snows. Footsteps mouse soft and body obscured by looming shadow.

You avoid the master bathroom. The one on the bottom floor is just as cavernous, a luxurious space complete with a fancy shower, two sinks and a tub easily large enough to fit four. Your toiletries ans soaps make their home in the tall, multi-tiered shelf in the corner. On any other day, you would scrub yourself of the day’s grime before luxuriating in the tub, letting its oatmilk infused waters melt away your anxieties. It’s a part of your routine that you’ve come to look forward to the most, away from the doting hands and knowing smiles of your part-time paramour.

You open the door, and freeze in place, blinking at the hulking form of one Jing Yuan, clad in a cozy, grey robe. You look at him, and he looks at you, lips curling into a delicate smile. His eyes crinkle with it, genuinely delighted to see you. Something in your gut squirms.

“Ah. Welcome back,” he says, toweling off his face. “You look like you’ve had a long night.”

Your skin prickles with discomfort at the nonchalance he reads you with, as he stands in a space you have come to know as your own—which is silly, you know, because it is his house, and his hospitality you so freely encroach upon.

It’s stupid. It’s paranoia, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s done this on purpose—

“It was fine,” you reply, just a little curt. You snatch a fluffy towel from t he nearby rack and wet it. “Still no leads. We’re no closer than we were last week to finding the guy.”

“Mm.” Jing Yuan nods, contemplative. “It comes as no surprise. The individual in question likely traveled as far from the Luofu as they could—and Galaxy Rangers are notoriously difficult to track.” he g;ances down at you, at the cloth clutched in your hard grip. “Allow me?”

“What?” you blink. He plucks the poor piece of fabric from your cramping hands. You’re too surprised to stop him. The day has stolen from you your usual reflexes, long hours spent sifting through the dive bars and dim taverns Galazy Rangers ave been known to frequent whilst aboard. You’ve batted your eyelashes and pulled scraps of information off the wagging tongues of their susceptible patrons. It had all been useless, in the end. Just drunkards eager to brag about better days and past, undoubtedly exaggerated achievements. You stand there as he pumps a dollop of your face wash onto the towel.

The oversized sleeve of his robe dips down to his elbow, exposing the toned muscle of his pale forearm. You behold it for a flash, and then the towel is warm on your cheeks. Jing Yuan hums while he does it, touch tender yet firm. The soap suds against your skin. He’s careful around your eyes, and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to notice they have indeed closed, lulled shut but his gentility. 

“How about I run you a bath?” Jing Yuan murmurs as he rinses you, taking great care to not scrape your tender skin. He blots, rather than drags. One, massive hand comes to cradle your jaw—a move that on any other night would have sent you reeling.

“I’m just gonna take a shower,” you mumble as he dries you off, plush fabric wicking away the remaining moisture.

“I’m alright,” he sighs, striding around you—you presume to exit, but then his fingers and playing up your sides, jolting you from the warm stupor. “At least allow me to help you out of this, then.” His breath brushes the shell of your ear. His fingers toy with the zipper at the back of your dress, a classy black number that’s been hidden away in the depths of your closet until now.

“Sure. Be my guest,” you shrug, as if you wouldn’t have asked him regardless.

He’s delicate, in the way he undoes it. The cool zipper glides slowly over your spine. His other hand slips its straps off your shoulders, rumbling in approval when you shimmy out of them yourself. The sound is deep, almost inaudible, felt more than heard. It’s in your best interest to suppress your shivers, promptly busying yourself with kicking off your stockings. The moment of odd tension dissipates and the dress comes off, slid down to your knees.

You expect him to just drop it. He doesn’t. Perplexed, you glance over your shoulder and find the general knelt on the bathroom tile behind you. He looks up at you with a coquettish glint in his eyes while you are jarred by the consideration he shows to even your possessions. It awakens something ugly in you, something wet and shriveled and bleating. The feeling washes over you like a douse of cold rain.

“Well?” Jing Yuan raises a brow, curl of his lips just a bit mischievous. Silently, face aflame, you step out of your dress. He folds it over his arm and smiles at you, so exposed and undone, and does he even know that? “Come to me when you’re finished.” He says, honey sweet, like he’s soothing you. “I’ll get us some snacks, okay? Take as much time as you’d like.”

He doesn’t ask which ones, because he already knows your favorites. You stand beneath the spray and convince yourself that the general is just being exceptionally kind, that it’s only natural for him to keep you close and healthy while you investigate at his behest. After you capture the Galaxy Ranger who so foolishly infiltrated last month’s IPC-sponsored banquet, this will all come to a sudden, unceremonious end.

You wash off the day’s grime, the sweat and the smell of smoke and cheap booze from your earthly form. The weariness, as much as you wish it would follow suit, still clings.

The towels Jing Yuan keeps stowed in the small bathroom closet are massive on you, and downy soft. Each tender brush of the fabric against your naked skin makes you feel swaddled. You trudge the familiar path to his bedchambers. His home is nice, but Jing Yuan is here even less than you are. He indulges in only a few, choice things—his bed being one of them. When you enter, he is sat on a cluster of furniture surrounding a cypress coffee table, bowls of fresh fruit and tempting sweets laid across it in a few, modest portions. Enough for the dinner you admittedly skipped.

“You didn’t have to,” you say flatly.

“How could I not, when we so rarely dine together? Come,” your general orders, and so you take a seat next to him. You’re wedged between his hulking form and a plush cushion, a blanket thrown over the sofa’s back. It’s prettily patterned with stripes and repeating triangles—not from the Luofu, you think, but are promptly wrenched from that train of thought as a piece of sliced peach is pressed against your lips. You blink. Jing Yuan beams when you tentatively open, taking the piece onto your waiting tongue.

“Good?” he asks while you chew. You nod, and he seems oddly contented, wearing an expression you have only seen him wear after he emerges victorious in an especially close game of star chess. You can’t figure out why, but you nod and swallow anyways.

Now that you are bathed and off your aching feet and away from prying agzes, you can feel your appetite returning, clawing at your stomach with a vengeance. That’sthe only reason why you accept a second piece from his calloused fingers, and then a third.

“You didn’t eat dinner today, did you?” Jing Yuan inquires once the fruit is all gone. He licks the remaining juice off his fingers, sharp canines flashing with each broad sweep of his tongue. “Perhaps I should start packing you lunch every day? Yanqing tells me my cooking is much improved since I started.” he teases, and you’re struck by the visual of you, walking inside the Seat of Divine Foresight, with a brightly colored lunch box in hand like a child being sent off to school. Your mortification at the very idea must show on your face, because he laughs at you. “What’s with that expression? Do you truly have such little faith in me?”

“No!” you splutter, and look away, at the dim lamp on is nightstand. “I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t presume to take up so much of the general’s time.” you say, voice curling with the barest hint of sarcasm. 

“I am a general, but I am also a man like any other,” Jing Yuan hums. He wrangles you with a strong arm, draws you into his side. Cradled so close, you can smell him—ffresh from a recent bath, clad in only the softest of robes. And warm, warm above and below and everywhere. “And any man is obligated to care for what is most precious to him.” He murmurs. His voice vibrates through his chest. Warm as a hearth, steady as the sun-warmed earth.

You’re a little too dazed to make sense of it all, right now. But he has implied something severe, something you ignore because you are not strong enough to face, yet. Wind erodes stone and the tides weather the shore—but lightning splinters trees and sparks fires. You pretend not to hear the bolt as it lands, drawn from his soft lips.

He shoves a cracker up to your mouth. You eat from his hands with no hesitance, because you really are so tired. Tired enough to barely listen to the soft timbre of his voice as he describes his day—one-sided quarrels with the master diviner, a ceremony in Aurum Alley to celebrate its recent rebirth, the sparrows which frolic in his garden. You’ve seen them, fluttering from branch-to-branch, little things which land on his shoulders and chirp in welcome and receive soft kisses on their little heads for their trouble.

The general is kind to all creatures, you think, half-asleep. He moves around you, porcelain clinking quietly as he gathers the empty bowls and cleaned plates.

It’s not good to sleep so soon after a meal, but you’re helpless to the siren song of sweet sleep. You’re halfway submerged when you are gathered close to his broad chest and abruptly moved. Like you’re a mere babe, swaddled in the arms of your mother. Your head knocks into his shoulder, body feebly wriggling as you register the sudden lack of ground beneath you.

“It’s alright,” Jing Yuan holds you fast. “I’ve got you.”

His reassurances soothe you still. Jing Yuan ferries you across his bedroom. The sheets are already pulled back, cool and buttery against your skin as he settles you down. You stay there, where he’s left you, writhing against the bedding just to enjoy the feeling, the warmth. The scent of him pervades the entire room. But here, it is inescapable. You shove yourself further up the mount of pillows, pleased to find them just as cool against your skin.

The mattress dips next to you. He slips into his nest like a seal taking to water, yanking up the blankets to your shoulders. Your eyes have shut. The ease with which you let your guard down with him demands careful inspection. But that can wait until tomorrow.

For now, the general pulls you close, drags you to him with an effortless tug. He envelops you shamelessly. Every second hoarded close feels like a nap in the sun.

[longtimespentinagalaxyfaraway]

Hello there! I am alive!

Health issues kicked my butt last year, hence my not updating (or continuing) this challenge in a really disappointingly long time. But, the fog seems to be clearing, and I am once again able to focus on things I enjoy, so I am very happy to get back into this.

Entries 7 - 10 of my Star Wars Legends challenge are Dawn of the Jedi: Force Storm issues #2 - 5, written by John Ostrander and art by Jan Duursema, Dan Parsons, and Wes Dzioba. All four issues take place in 25,793 BBY, and were released in 2012.

Thoughts and images beneath the cut so as not to flood your feed.

Issue #2 introduces (who I assume will be) our main cast of characters from here on out - Shae Koda, Tasha Ryo, and Sek'nos Rath, all three Je'daii Journeyers from Tython.

Is it just me or do all three of them have maaaaaajor OT3 energy. I desperately need to see the three of them… er, kriff. And as I am assuming this is not going to happen on page, I WILL be turning to AO3 when I am done reading this series and y'all had better not let me down.

Willing to extend that to OT4 and let Xesh in on the kriffing as well.

(This part of the post is not getting posted on instagram xD for the most part what I post there and post here will be the same but people I know follow me on instagram xD containing the horny posting to tumblr for now bc I am not brave enough to… the mixed metaphor that popped into my head was "put my pussy where my mouth is" but that sounds like a physical impossibility and now I've gotten confused and distracted.)

Aaaaaaanyway.

Sexual tension between Shae, Tasha, and Sek'nos is palpable. All three having a tense force vision about a mysterious, dangerous bad boy dark force user? I am restraining myself from looking on Ao3 until I've finished reading this arc to avoid spoilers, but y'all I am going to be so kriffing mad if you disappoint me on the fic front. PLEASE tell me there is fic here. I DON'T want to be the one who has to write it.

For the most part, I am engaged with the three (four if you count Xesh) main characters. Their dynamic is engaging (yes, beyond just sexy lmao) and each of them are interesting on their own as well. I am looking forward to seeing them continue to develop over the course of the series.

Then, let's see. Things that annoyed me...

Boob armor is always annoying. Jedi Emma Frost has some incredible shoulder armor but the boob top is sigh. She must be using the Force to keep her titties from shooting out the gaping hole in her shirt. Like. I love good cleavage as much as the next bisexual, but c'mon, man.

On the other end for costumes that make me happy, I'm in love with Tasha's look. It is one of the few not over-the-top sexualized twi'lek costumes I can think of, and that is a breath of fresh air on top of just being a really cool skirt that I would absolutely wear.

I think that's it for now. Hope to read more of the series this week and will continue to update as I go! I might start posting reactions as I read here? Not sure yet. Sometimes it can be fun but sometimes it can distract from the actual reading xD

[almondemisewriting]

doomed to repeat

prologue: original sin

This story happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it. - Matthew Stover

notes: as mentioned before on my main blog @almondemise, I recently watched the acolyte while recovering from an infection and became rather obsessed with it. I fear this might be my roman empire. star wars had never really interested me but you can count on the fact that I watched every single of those movies after finishing the acolyte. although I haven't written fanfiction in years, I better put this english degree to work. no oshamir as I fear I can't do them justice. / banners are by @cafekitsune & gif by @goodsirs

summary: after Osha and Mae had banded together and betrayed Qimir in the forest of Khofar, he killed them. now, once again, he was alone. how good that he had already been working on another plan. on the other end of the galaxy, there was a girl born out of pure force. a weapon raised for one reason only: to kill him. but the force works in mysterious ways.

word count: 3.6k

pairing: qimir x female oc; the stranger x female oc

warnings: english is my second language, jedi evil arc, manipulation, psychological abuse, physical abuse, violence, martyrdom and other religious themes, probably inaccurate star wars lore & deviation from both plot and general worldbuilding, explicit content and other sensitive themes in following chapters

She had never chosen to be the Chosen one. Her destiny of martyrdom was forced onto her as retribution for her original sin: being born. All the suffering Amalthea endured throughout her life never could quite make up for it.

In fact, Amalthea had never made a decision, she was simply an amalgamation of all the choices made for her. She had no particular feelings about it. It was not like hate was a feeling that was allowed for her to feel anyway. There were dozens of rules for her to follow, a hundred things being forbidden to feel, a million things not allowed to experience, all for her safety.

If pride was allowed, Amalthea would have been proud of being good at following rules. It made her life easy, but it also made her lonely. Late at night, she lay awake, a blanket of unhappiness weighing her down, the viciousness of isolation gnawing on her bones so tangible that she bit her lips bloody. There was no one she could talk to. Amalthea was not allowed to speak to anyone unless spoken to. Emergencies excluded, of course. An easy rule to follow.

But at Anantore Point, only a couple of people were authorized to talk to her at all. Her days were spent in perpetual silence, thinking, listening. Often she went days without talking to anyone. It helped that people usually ignored her, acted like she was part of the furniture, her Cortosis ring and the veil helping to keep her hidden. Amalthea often imagined the others not being able to see her at all.

Until a year ago, no one bothered to correct her daydreams. It would have been worse if there were people who actually wanted to talk to her. A connection. Any connection. Amalthea vastly preferred being invisible. At least that is what she often told herself.

With time, not being able to talk to anyone made her into someone who was an excellent listener. And she was eager to listen. Going into most of the rooms of Building C and blending in to eavesdrop was easy.

"..heard that Team Three did not come back from their mission. Apparently they sent a message that they found him and then just vanished. They couldn't even track their ships!" "And they won't try to find them?"

Kiani and Odessa were low-stationed officers who mostly did administrative work but had a hang for gossip. Amalthea became acquainted with most of the events at the station thanks to them. Usually, it was just who slept with who, complaints about what food they served in the canteen, and other inconsequential things. But sometimes Odessa had interesting news thanks to Nyseth. Amalthea did not know exactly what his job was, but she did know that they tried desperately to hide their relationship.

Knowing so many secrets of the people living at the station did not make her feel bad. It was not like she could have told anyone. And with news like that she could not help listening in a bit more closely. Sinking into a plush brown chair close to them, she acted like she was reading one of the books she always carried around, but focused on their mouths. Conversations like these were often whispered and she was lucky that the veil hid her stare. 

"No, I heard Yavin say that they will not send a recovery ship. It's too dangerous. He is probably on some other planet already, but all kinds of cultists will be searching for him. He says that having multiple ships in the same vicinity will end up with us losing more teams."

Odessa's voice was hushed and taut. When she named him, she almost stumbled over her own words, her fear transforming her dispatch into a jumbled and croaky mess. Amalthea heard Kiani gasp. There was a short silence after.

"I guess it will be time then soon," Kiani mumbled. Both she and Odessa started looking towards Amalthea. The insinuation made her sick to her stomach. She promptly lowered her gaze down to her gloved hands. Had the others seen her staring? Were they still looking themselves?

Trying to sink deeper into the chair, her shoulders slumped forward in an unnatural curve, her veil almost touching her knees. Now, standing up and going anywhere would have made it obvious that she listened in. So she agonized in the awkward silence, trying to make herself invisible again, the feeling of uneasiness leaving behind an uncomfortable prickle on her skin.

Suddenly, loud chatter outside the door interrupted them. The metal of the double doors crashed into the sandstone walls next to it and in came a whole barrage of people back from their missions and other work, ready to storm into the canteen to fill their grumbling stomachs. 

By now, Amalthea knew all of them. At Anantore Point there were less than fifty people employed and even less than that were allowed to enter the buildings on a permanent basis. The less people knew she existed, the better.

The loudest group of all were Brom, Qimir, and Kona. Qimir was today's good news. During a mission over the last couple of days, his ship suffered sudden engine failure while in hyperdrive, and while going back into realspace he got unlucky and landed in an asteroid field where he got cut off from the rest of the group. Just this morning he was able to find them again, his ship completely beaten up, but his mission completed.

Amalthea did not know what to think of him. He was unprofessional, goofy, carefree, and not the smartest. But he knew his way around ships and various planets better than more experienced explorers at Anantore Point and he had come here on personal recommendation by Senator Fasmum. Most importantly, he was her anchor point when the time came.

Qimir's job was being responsible for getting her safely to him so she could do her job. Perhaps the last person she would ever see. Still, he was the reason she had to wear the Cortosis ring. At least that is what Amalthea guessed. Until Qimir showed up a year ago she never had to wear one. But like her, he was Force-sensitive, although he never studied it. They tested him and he could barely even light a lamp. Master Xylter said that the Force was wasted on someone like him. But Qimir could still observe it. 

And that was the problem. Although Amalthea could not see it, she exuded massive amounts of the Force and that was distracting for every Force-sensitive person who came close to her. Close in this case was relative. Depending on how sensitive someone was to the Force, they could feel her from hundreds or thousands of miles away, even if they were strangers.

She wondered what it looked like, but no one had ever bothered to tell her. And Amalthea did not dare to ask. Master Xylter had said that it was because more important guests would visit after the recent happenings, but it was obvious that Qimir could not concentrate on his job with her around in this state. Amalthea did not mind the Cortosis ring. Sure, it was heavy, but having it rest on her collarbones was strangely comforting sometimes.

However, not even the ring could make Qimir stop looking at her. She felt the weight of his stare bearing down on her without mercy. And she just didn't understand why. Most of the people at Anantore Point didn't even give her a single glance, never mind a second one. Meanwhile, it was like he could not rip his eyes away from her.

Sometimes, when she sensed him, she looked back and it was like he could stare straight through the veil into her eyes, making the hairs on her neck stand up. At least, he was good at concealing it in front of others. Amalthea was not ready to be lectured on being too noticeable. 

So, like many days in the last year, she decided to eat her dinner in her room. Nobody looked at her when she got up and made her way to the door. Except Qimir. His gaze was glued to her. When she walked past him to exit, she could have sworn that their eyes met. Knuckles white and straining, she clutched the front of her robe in her hands and got out of Building C as fast as she could, stumbling over elevator entrances, stairs, and her own boots.

Could he see underneath her veil? That was impossible unless you were a Jedi and had enough control of the Force. And there were only five Jedi living at Anantore Point: Grandmaster Torinn, Master Xylter, Yavin, Ecla, and Amalthea. Shuddering, she tried to physically shake off the feeling, her dense robe rustling in the desert winds outside. The way from Building C to Building A was, as usual, completely empty. Out of all of the people living here, only four had access to Building A, Amalthea being one of them. Only Ecla was standing in front of the entrance ready for her night shift and nodded at her. "Meditation?"

She simply nodded back and made her way to her room. As her guard, Ecla was allowed to talk to her. When she first came to Anantore Point six years ago, Amalthea was really excited but soon understood. Ecla was here to do her job, not make friends. She would later quietly enter her room to put down dinner and then leave as quickly as she came. The same routine as most days. Only after closing the door behind her, she realized that her books still laid in the employee room.

Although Amalthea was bored a lot, she was grateful. The Conclave of Light had saved her life when she was a baby, housed, fed, and trained her. In exchange, she did what she was born to do and it was an honor. There might have been many rules, but they were all there to keep her safe from Rebels, Wildlings, and, in the worst case, the Sith.

Most people believed them to be extinct, but you could never be too sure. And suspicious events over the last years had proven the caution of the Jedi right. Soon it would be time for Amalthea to go. A nameless Sith had been slaughtering people. Jedi searched for him and ended up dead too. He was not a dark user with many followers, but he was amassing amounts of Force that made it clear that he was a danger. Not just to the Jedi, but to the Republic at large.

Just a month ago he had executed multiple Jedi and civilians on Khofar, then vanished without a trace. It was Amalthea's responsibility to stop him. A final fight. It was all Amalthea had been working towards. The climax of her entire life. Her purpose. Her dream? She had never asked herself that. She would rather not. The choice had been made for her, the Chosen One. Her immaculate conception would either end in immaculate victory or immaculate death. Before her thoughts could get any louder, Amalthea assumed her meditation pose, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

Amalthea did not know how much time had passed since she started meditating when she heard Ecla enter her room. She often lost herself in her concentration, not knowing when and where she was when she awakened, saturated with Force and strengthened with knowledge. Ecla did not put her dinner plate down or leave the room. When Amalthea turned towards her, Ecla did not even hold a plate.

"Master Xylter requires you in the main office in Building B."

Immediately she knew what this would be about. Actually, Amalthea had already expected to be called in soon. It was time. The feeling of finality grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. But there was no time to acclimatize. She put her gloves back on and followed Ecla outside, struggling and breathless.

Amalthea could have found the way to the main office herself, but it was night, and Anantore Point, being the only cluster of buildings in this desert and desolation, stood out. Not having others around made it safer, but the lights flickering could be seen far away. So as soon as the sun tinged the sky with hues of pink and orange, Amalthea was not allowed to walk outside alone. She moved gingerly behind Ecla, almost hiding behind the broad shoulders of the experienced Jedi warrior, becoming invisible in between her massive strides.

Often, Amalthea pictured Ecla before Anantore Point in her head. She knew nothing but her name. Nevertheless, she trusted her. And, while she could not tell anyone, she admired her. She knew that Ecla would always keep her safe. Amalthea had personally seen her finish off intruders before. Secretly, she wished Ecla would come with her on her mission. She knew she was sinning heavily with that wish. Personal affections were forbidden. Any outside help during her mission was forbidden. But no one would ever know what she thought. No one ever asked. 

Master Xylter was not the only one waiting in the main office. Amalthea had a look at the others. Grandmaster Torinn. Yavin. Qimir. So it was as she expected. Master Xylter cleared his throat and she quickly got down on her knees and looked to the ground. "Greetings Master." Amalthea could hear Qimir swallow loudly. When she got up and glanced at him, he was glaring at her. Was he angry that she didn't greet him? But there was no time to contemplate.

"You know why you are here. Your mission is in three days. Say yes if you understand." Master Xylter had never been patient. "Yes, Master."

Amalthea pondered for a moment. It was now or never. "I don't know if I am ready for the mission yet. I still have not been knigh-,", she began.

Master Xylter reacted fast. "Insolent!" His voice was so loud that even Ecla flinched. Immediately, Amalthea fell to her hands and knees, her veil brushing the dirty ground. Not a second later, Master Xylter's boot secured it there. Desperate, Amalthea pleaded for forgiveness. She should not have acted so rashly and the humiliation of her audacity stung worse than a cut.

"How dare you question the decisions of the Conclave! I must have spoiled you too much. You have not been knighted because you're simply not worthy. I do not care if you do not think you are ready, you are ready when I say you are. You will do your duty and you will do it gladly," Master Xylter exclaimed. 

"Stand up." Slowly, Amalthea got back on her feet, her posture demure, her arms hanging aimlessly at her sides. They were dirty and bruised, but it was too mortifying to openly try to brush them clean on her already ruined clothes. She decided to get this done quickly.

"I have been ill-mannered, Master. I deserve punishment."

When she was younger, Amalthea cried every time this happened. But she quickly learned it would just incense Master Xylter more. By now, she had more control over herself. Calmly, she lifted her dirty veil, her face as tranquil as an undisturbed lake at dusk. When her Master struck, not a single soul in the room dared to move.

But the corner of her sight showed something interesting. Qimir's hands, tightly curled into fists. Did he want to hit her as well? He was an explorer, after all, a job that sought people with a hang for violence.

"Thank you, Master. I will do better," Amalthea said softly. As she put her veil back down her unobstructed gaze fell back upon Qimir. His eyes seemed to bore themselves into her, his dark blown-out pupils reeling her in like the gravity of black holes. It was the first time their eyes met directly. The moment was gone as quickly as a shooting star and Qimir straightened his gaze towards the empty space in front of him, his jaw unclenching and his back loosening. 

Yavin spoke up. "You will leave Anantore Point at dusk together with Qimir. He will take you to the designated place, deploy your pod, and wait for you to finish your mission. You will kill him. You will wait for further instruction," he stated slowly and clearly.

Yavin had been the commander of the explorers ever since Amalthea could remember and he was good at his job. He was deviant and did not want to be found. Commander Yavin did so anyways. He prided himself in his work, but he had gotten older as well and Amalthea could hear in his voice that he was glad that he could soon retire. It all came back to how successful Amalthea would be. Grandmaster Torinn laid a calming hand on Amalthea's veiled hair.

"Remember, Padawan. No weapons. Your Force will provide. Do not doubt the Conclave. As a last resort, please make use of this."

His old croaky voice was barely above a whisper, and still, everyone listened with reverence. Grandmaster Torinn had trained Jedi for decades, was highly respected, and had been specifically chosen to instruct Amalthea in the Force. He dropped a small green crystal in Amalthea's open hands.

"This is an Artusian crystal. It will strengthen your Force when you need it."

Next to him, Master Xylter grew impatient. "You will finish this mission. You will be successful. You will be allowed to talk to Qimir during the mission. Flight emergency situations only. Now go back to your room. Do not expect rations for the next twenty-four hours. Dismissed," he bellowed.

Amalthea clutched the crystal in her hand and felt the sharp edges press into her skin as she wordlessly left the room, bowing slightly. Of course, she didn't expect to get fed any time soon. Denial of food was Master Xylter's favorite punishment.

The three days were over faster than Amalthea anticipated. Ecla came into her room to wake her, but Amalthea had not been able to sleep and was already meditating, her new clothes equipped and her bag next to her. It was her first time to leave the building complex ever since arriving here over twenty years ago and the airfield fascinated her. There were thousands of little lights blinking like stars on the ground, dozens of ships awaiting to soar into the gradually lightening morning sky.

Amalthea felt electrified by what expected her, her stomach churning, her body slack and glossed over with cold sweat as she dragged herself behind Ecla towards a small exploration ship. Qimir was already waiting for her, greeting her shyly. Once again, his eyes wandered all over her body, fixing themselves on her face. Today was the second time he saw her without her veil.

She would not need it anymore from today on. There was nothing that could keep her safe now. So she lost her protective layers shielding her slender, bony figure and her dark curls. Qimir watched them billow in the artificial wind of the ship's engine, seemingly unsure of what to say. After some deliberation, he asked the worst question possible.

"Are you ready?" Ridiculous. Did it matter? Had Amalthea been anyone else, she would have probably laughed. Alas, she had not laughed in years. So she responded in the only way she knew and silently climbed into the ship that would deliver her into the hands of her destiny.

[bulkyphrase]

Avengers in Space - a fic rec list

I love the Avengers and I love outer space, and these are a few of my favorite stories that combine the two.

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? by sara_holmes (@captn-sara-holmes) (WinterHawk, Teen And Up Audiences, 24,537 words)

Summary: “What do you mean we left Clint on Mars?” Cap’s incredulous voice cuts through the stunned silence of the cockpit, loud and shocked. He’s standing there with his cowl in hand, gaping at the holo-screen at the front of the jet. Next to him, Tony is standing with his hands on his head, mouth hanging open in a similar fashion. Over on the other side of the cockpit is Jane, who has both palms clapped across her mouth like she’s trying to hold back hysterical giggles. For his part, Bucky is just staring at the screen like he can’t quite believe what’s going on.

Straight on till Morning by @sineala (Stony, Explicit, 109,848 words)

Summary: Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive. But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything. Also available as a podfic read by M_Samro (@msamro)

More below the cut!

A Far Better Thing I Do by @brighteyedjill (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 5,333 words)

Summary: A mysterious man with no paper trail was involved in a bloody attack on a meeting of Starfleet admirals. James T. Kirk and the crew of the starship Enterprise have tracked him to the Klingon home wold, Kronos, where they have threatened to unleash the experimental torpedoes Admiral Marcus sent with them unless the man surrenders. That man, Steve Rogers, has other ideas.

Into That Good Night by Nonymos (Stucky, Explicit, 73,540 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers has lived for entirely too long—long enough to see the world's end. The heroes are gone, and the Earth is pushing what's left of mankind towards the exit. But when a makeshift team rises from the ashes, when a mysterious presence all but drags Steve there, he begins to think there may be hope yet. As they shoot for the stars one last time, Steve will get proof yet again that the future is nothing if not an echo of the past.

Wandering Stars by @sabrecmc (Stony, Explicit, 24,470 words)

Summary: Alien Steve/Astronaut Tony (oviposition)

Cold Space, Warm Welcome by Annie D (@no-gorms) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 15,572 words)

Summary: Tony’s spent a couple of years flying around the galaxy in his best friend Rhodey’s spaceship the Iron Advance, doing what could perhaps be counted as ‘hero’ work. Among their allies is Steve Rogers, captain of his own crew, with whom Tony has a… potentially friendly relationship. When Steve’s ship is irreparably damaged, Rhodey takes him and his whole crew onto the Iron Advance to recover. Tony’s not at all nervous about this, because so what if this is the first time Steve will see him without the Iron Man armor?

Space Between by NachoDiablo (Samsteve, Teen And Up Audiences, 9,157 words)

Summary: Sam has a quiet life on a newly inhabited planet. He spends his days tending the garden plots and avoiding his past. But right before an impending storm, a fugitive crash lands in his space and upsets his solitude.

The Truth When Captains Meet by Kimra (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 2,303 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Brisingr by @ironychan (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 155,649 words)

Summary: When Jane Foster discovers an object on a course for the inner solar system, it looks like a job for the Avengers. But when what looked like a comet turns out to be a refugee ship from another galaxy, it's not clear whose job this is anymore. Tony Stark and the Vision find they have an uncomfortable amount in common with the creatures called the Brisings, while Jane learns that the aliens are being followed by something they thought they'd left behind five million years ago. Set post-AOU, pre-CW.

Liberate Tutemet Ex Inferis (Save yourself from hell) by Terrenis, with art by @kaiwrites (James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Explicit, 55,989 words)

Summary: In the Year 2060, Stark Aeronautics and Space Administration's prestige project, the “Event Horizon”, was on its maiden voyage with the newly developed Arc Reactor Gravity Drive, only to disappear beyond Neptune’s orbit without a trace. Now, seven years later, a transmission from the eighth planet is received, along with a very disturbing audio record. Tony Stark, who not only wants to redeem his reputation, but also needs to know what happened on the ship, goes on a mission with the enhanced Inhuman ragtag crew of the Singularity to salvage his baby. Little do they know that this is literally going to be a trip to hell… Or that totally unnecessary Event Horizon AU that no one asked for. But I’m going to write it anyway.

Catch a Falling Star by tsukinofaerii (Stony, Explicit, 42,741 words)

Summary: When Tony was sixteen, he got to meet his hero, Captain Steve Rogers, the Empire's not-literally-golden boy from the Continuity Wars. When he was twenty-seven, the aforementioned Captain turned Pirate picked him up at the outer edges of space. It would have been a good time to appreciate the abundant nudity that came from spending too much time with space colonists, but Tony had bigger worries than even Rogers' amazing hip-to-shoulder ratio. Something was sending the star-encircling computers that power the galaxy into a tailspin, and it was going to take a lot more than luck and skill to clean the mess up.

Luminosity by CSHfic, VSfic (Stony, Mature, 60,922 words)

Summary: The Avengers organize a two month mission to investigate an anomaly in space that appears to be engulfing planets, Steve is worried about leaving Tony alone, and Hawkeye is just worried about being left behind. But then something goes wrong. Steve drags himself out of the wreckage of their ship, on a planet that shouldn’t exist, the Avengers are missing, Iron Man is torn to scraps, and Tony has a lot of explaining to do. Or, in which Steve has no clue that Tony is Iron Man, and it takes crash-landing on an alien planet for him to find out.

Gravitational Pull by @antigrav-vector (Stony, Explicit, 29,718 words)

Summary: A strange temple floating in space is discovered, and Steve and Tony are the logical choices to go investigate. What they find is going to make or break their relationship...

Inquiries into Orbital Dynamics (The Mission Controllers' Remix) by Muccamukk (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 5,591 words)

Summary: When a mysterious object appears in orbit around the Moon, NASA teams up with the Avengers to investigate it. This is NASA's story. Inspired by Gravitational Pull

everybody needs a reason why they run by napricot (Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Explicit, 77,888 words)

Summary: Pepper doesn’t often regret the improbable circumstances and choices that brought her, Tony, and Jim to the SGC and then to Atlantis. After all, being an intergalactic explorer is way cooler than being the right hand woman of Stark Industries’ heir Tony Stark. But when strangers show up during her Gate team’s milk run of a trading mission, she’s got a bad feeling she knows better than to ignore. Which is how Pepper’s Gate team ends up picking up a stray in the form of a metal-armed runner with a mysterious past and learning about a dangerous new sect of Wraith worshippers called Hydrans. But the Atlanteans aren’t the only ones interested in the Hydrans: there are stories spreading throughout the Pegasus Galaxy about the Nomad and the Widows, three maybe-heroes who have set their sights on the Hydrans and the Wraith. Meanwhile, Tony’s trying to figure out if there’s something more to Atlantis’s helpful new hospitality-oriented subroutines, and Master Sergeant Sam Wilson is trying to have just one offworld mission where shit doesn’t get weird.

a war could be our only hope by @aceofwands (Stony, Explicit, 62,817 words)

Summary: Steve emerges in the future, where the Federation is fighting a war against the totalitarian Dominion. Traumatised from his experience with the Borg, Tony already has enough trouble coping without Steve's return bringing up unexpected feelings.

[thefrogdalorian]

Battered & Bruised

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: As you sit side by side on the porch outside your cabin, gazing at the stars, the stunning sight leaves you and Din reflecting on your pasts. The danger and punishing existence he once led is a lifestyle that you are so grateful he left behind to live happily with you and Grogu.

Word Count: 2.3k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Din sustaining injuries in the past briefly mentioned but not described in any detail, hinted that reader had a traumatic past but nothing explicit... other than that it's pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: Started off as a musing on Din being injured but enduring it for the one he loves after watching The Fall Guy (of all things) and finally ended up as pure fluff. I'm pretty exhausted after arriving home from my recent trip but managed to finish this WIP today. Hope you enjoyed, Din deserves peace and quiet and HAPPINESS... if we don't get it in canon we'll always have the fics :')

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

One of the rare occasions Din feels comfortable enough to leave the cabin you share without his helmet is when the stars twinkle high in the sky above Nevarro. At night, when it is too dark to see more than the length of a womp rat’s tail, he feels relaxed enough to join you outside without the protection of his impressive suit of armour.

You find yourself giddy each time with delight at the thought of him joining you outside, with his face briefly bared to the galaxy 

Usually, the two of you sit quietly on the porch while Grogu sleeps soundly inside, perched on the wooden bench you chose from the weekly market that passes through the town at the heart of this volcanic planet. After you moved in, Din realised that the seating arrangements on his porch could only accommodate one.

Buying it was another reminder that Din is far from alone.

So you lounge there on the bench night after night, hand in hand. Only unlacing your fingers to pour a glass of the latest exotic beverage donated by the ever-generous High Magistrate of Nevarro. 

Tonight is no exception.

Grogu was surprisingly quick to settle. Satisfied that his son was fast asleep, Din did not even have to ask whether you cared to join him for a drink on the porch. A simple look and nod were enough to convey the question. 

You know Din enjoys the peace and quiet the porch affords. Especially after long days spent raising a Mandalorian child so strong with the Force. Even though he no longer retains employment in the traditional sense – save from occasionally helping Greef Karga whenever he calls for help – raising Grogu is as demanding as any full-time job. Din rarely has a chance to relax. 

Stopping and staying still for a moment has never been particularly in his nature. Even though he is technically retired now, he would still shun such a term.

Instead, Din always seems to have a job on the go. There is always a now seldom-used blaster to clean, or a piece of armour now worn only occasionally to be polished, or maintenance for the ageing N-1 to carry out. The cabin has had more renovations and furniture rearrangements than you can count. But you never stop him. It gives him a sense of purpose, away from raising Grogu.

Despite your lives being far less busy than when you first met, evenings, where you pause on the porch, are a rare moment of relaxation for both Din and you. Alone with your thoughts, with only the faint sounds of creatures chirping across the lava flats and your even breaths for a soundtrack.

The stillness of the night appears to have left your favourite Mandalorian in a pensive mood.

Din gazes upwards towards the dark sky with a curious look in his eyes. As he surveys the stars, his brown eyes twinkle with an emotion you cannot quite place.

You watch him for a few moments; scanning his face for the slightest tell. A task which has increased in difficulty with the more time that passes.

When Din first began to remove the helmet, it had been easy to read his emotions. A life of obscuring his features beneath beskar meant that he was unaware of how expressive his face was.

Still, the cycles spent together mean that his handsome features and brown eyes are still relatively easy to read for someone who knows Din as well as you. Yet, much to your disappointment, Din has become more adept at hiding his emotions.

You wait a few minutes, gauging whether he will break the silence. Until you can take it no longer:

“What’s on your mind, riduur?” you finally ask, desperate to understand what thoughts linger behind those brown eyes.

Din turns to look at you, his eyes meeting your gaze as his plush lips curve into a half smile, “Thinking about the odds of us meeting, how there were as many chances our paths never crossed as there are stars above us.”

“Din…” you whisper, touched by the sentimental side of the man you love.

“You must think about it too…” Din asserts.

“I do,” you confess, “I wonder how a chump like me was ever lucky enough to capture your heart. How is it even possible that the tall, mysterious Mandalorian, who so intrigued me when our paths first crossed back on Coruscant, was equally infatuated with me?”

“I was,” Din whispers, “From the moment I saw you.”

You nod, squeezing Din’s hand tightly. 

“I know,” you add, your chest swelling with pride at his admission. 

You sit there for a few more moments, enjoying the silence and the security you feel from his love as the realisation that you have captured his heart hits you all over again. 

It is Din, this time, who breaks the silence: 

“Do you ever miss that planet? Your life there?” Din asks.

Clearly, your mention of your first meeting on the planet at the centre of the galaxy has caused him to cast his mind back over your life together. 

“I haven't thought about it for a long time,” you shrug, pausing for a few seconds to consider your reply, before continuing, “I suppose, if anything, I miss the eternal busyness of Coruscant. There was less silence to sit in, to be alone with my thoughts. The hustle and bustle kept me occupied, and there was always something exciting going on.”

Din raises an eyebrow quizzically at your admission, and you realise how those words could have inadvertently made it appear that your life here on Nevarro is boring somehow. That could not be further from the truth. 

You quickly move to reassure him, “Now, of course, I realise I was so keen to stay busy because I was not comfortable in my own skin. I could not bear the thought of feeling, certainly not of loving anyone. You changed that, Din. I have found joy even in the quietness here on Nevarro with you and Grogu.”

Din nods, apparently satisfied with your answer. You breathe a sigh of relief. Then, you feel your tenseness give way to softness as you melt at how his eyes suddenly appear glassy, shimmering even in the darkness. Your words have clearly affected him. 

Din squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips, pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of your hand. You chuckle lightly at the way his moustache bristles against your soft skin. 

The moment is sweet, but you do not intend to let it pass entirely. You are curious whether Din misses his past life, or whether he is as content as you are. Happy to peacefully sit here on your porch together.

“What about you, Din? Do you ever miss your old life?” you question.

“Parts of it,” Din nods, “I suppose I miss the thrill of the chase. The constantly changing scenery. But not so much the violence and injuries that lifestyle entailed.”

“I bet,” you smirk, “You must have sustained some grisly injuries over the years…”

Din tilts his head back slightly, shuts his eyes and sighs deeply; as though he is placing himself back somewhere he has not thought of for a long time. 

“I did,” he finally murmurs, slightly wincing at the thought, if you are not mistaken, “Nothing hurts quite like a cracked rib,” Din confesses. 

“Awwww, my poor Mandalorian,” you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek, his stubble rough against the palm of your hand. 

“Don’t baby me!” Din huffs affectionately, sticking his bottom lip out in an adorable pout.

“Never,” you smirk, leaning in to gently press a kiss against the tip of his prominent nose; strong and proud just like the man you love so much. 

You stay there for a few moments, your thumb stroking his cheek softly as you gaze at his handsome features; at the scars and lines that characterise his face. There is a certain ruggedness to him now. He is slightly greyer, with more wrinkles than when you first met him. Yet, you are still as attracted to him as you were that day when you first laid eyes upon him in a New Republic office building on Coruscant. 

When you finally break the moment and lean back in your seat, Din announces that he needs to use the 'fresher. He grunts slightly as he stands, the movement placing strain upon his battered and bruised body, still scarred from his many years following such a brutal way of life as a nomadic warrior. 

That small sound reminds you of just how much lingers below the surface. Usually, Din can hide it with an effortlessness that never even makes you consider the many lingering injuries he must be carrying. But your earlier conversation has brought it to the forefront of your mind. So many legacies of Din’s former way of life are imperceptible to the naked eye. So much pain you will never know about, because he keeps it to himself. 

You wonder how much longer he would have lived had he continued leading that life. You wince as you consider what quality of life he would have had if he had continued even slightly longer. If he had waited until a particularly bruising skirmish, you are sure that he would have been plagued by his injuries, chronic pain and fatigue.

Choosing to live a different Way, while still respecting his duties as a Mandalorian, means that life looks rather different for Din now.

You are certain that leaving his demanding line of work was a decision which will allow him to live many more years happily, with both you and Grogu. A quieter life with his riduur and the boy who saved him from a life of such violence.

You are so absorbed in your thoughts that you do not hear Din's footsteps until they echo across the porch. The sound startles you slightly. You hastily wipe the few tears which had sprung at your waterline before you turn to look up at him curiously as he makes no move to return to his seat. When you fully appraise the scene before you, you realise he is clutching the blanket you throw on your bunk during the cooler months. You shoot him a quizzical look. 

“Come on, I want to try something,” Din says as he jerks his head towards the lava flats that lie just beyond the porch. 

“But... Grogu?” you question hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. We aren’t going far,” Din reassures you as he holds his hand out to you.

You take it and follow him as he pulls you by the hand towards your intended destination which is, as promised, only a few paces away. Din has selected flat ground to spread the blanket on. He drops your hand momentarily to smooth out the coarse material, before Din laces his fingers through yours once more.

“Looking up at the stars before didn't just make me nostalgic. It also made me consider how nice it would be to lie out here with you. It’s so dark here, far away from the town, that I bet we can see every single star in the galaxy,” Din explains, “Maybe some comet storms if we’re lucky.”

As your eyes fill with tears, you slowly shake your head, “Din,” you whisper, touched by his sentimental side, “It sounds like a perfect idea.”

Din does not hesitate a second longer, clearly eager to gaze at the skies and appreciate all the sights the night sky has to offer. He lies back on the blanket, leaving enough space for you to join him.

You lean your cheek on the expanse of his firm chest, feeling the warmth through the thin cotton shirt he wears despite the slight chill in the air. Din’s arms wrap around your waist.

A feeling of security envelops you. 

You never feel more protected from all the monstrousness in the galaxy, all the evil that you and Din are only too aware of from your past lives than when you are lying in his arms. As you nuzzle into his chest, you feel his heart thumping rhythmically against your ear. You are grateful that it still beats; that you have captured his heart. 

Who knows if he would even still be here if it wasn’t for that encounter with Grogu on Arvala-7? That the brutal pace of his life and the numerous enemies he had made would not have eventually caught up with him?

You are about to remind him of how grateful you are that the most punishing combat he has become embroiled in recently is with Grogu when he seems more intent on eating frogs than his vegetables when Din’s husky voice breaks the silence.

“You know, I would take all of those injuries again in a heartbeat if I knew it was you and Grogu that my life was leading me to,” Din whispers.

He has shared many touching words with you this evening, but this one may have finally rendered you entirely speechless. You push yourself up on his chest, able to make out the faint silhouette of his face even in the darkness. 

In the time since your first meeting, you have discovered that the Mandalorian warrior who once struck fear into your heart has a surprisingly soft side. Still, Din’s sentimentality does not stun you any less each time you are privileged to glimpse it. 

You lean down to capture his lips with yours, hoping to convey with the gesture what you cannot with words.  You are just glad that he does not have to choose. 

Din is no longer battered and bruised. Instead, he shares a peaceful, happy life with Grogu and you. 

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[velchronica]

no take-backs! ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ blue lock

he’s spent ages planning the perfect moment to add to his lover agenda™ and immortalise your love story with a promise of devotion for all time

content: bllk charas x gn! reader, proposals, sfw, fluff

wc: 0.3k

he draws miniature galaxies onto the flesh of your back, hands slipping underneath the fabric of your his t-shirt, and thanks the heavens that you don’t stir from your sleep. he’s no artist by any means—far from it, in fact—but he loves the way you feel, the way you feel so right in his arms.

you’re still asleep as the sun rises behind silhouettes of skyscrapers, still blissfully unaware as he wishes on the invisible stars he’s drawn onto your skin. it’s a silent, secret prayer.

his blackout curtains are not fully drawn, so the golden hue of early dawn slip through the gaps. when he checks his phone, it’s little past five in the morning, so you still have plenty of time. if he carefully slips away now, it’s unlikely that you’ll wake up immediately, since you’re still jet-lagged from your flight. perfect timing.

he lifts his arms from your body, reluctant to leave you even for a moment after just a week apart, but doesn’t move from the bed. instead he takes a moment to admire every feature of your sleeping face, your lips barely parted and your peaceful expression.

your hair is dishevelled, strewn around your pillows, and your side of the bed is much less organised than his own. it’s a manmade mountain range built from crumpled sheets, blankets discarded in your sleep, and decorative pillows and plushies having been nudged around (and off) the bed at some point during the night.

doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you are every day. there’s nothing and nobody in the world who could enrapture him, have him as bewitched and enchanted as you do, even when you’re not awake to do so.

he snaps a picture and can already hear you shrieking, leaping to pry his phone from his hands, insisting you look a mess, face flushed with embarrassment. “don’t you dare!” you’d squeal as he’d take your attempted assault as an attempt at a hug, and he’s take both your hands in his before trapping you in an enveloping embrace. if he was lucky, your short-lived fury would melt away into giggles as you hugged him back, and if not so much, you’d flick his forehead and call him a hopeless idiot.

“well,” he’d then say, “at least i’m your hopeless idiot.”

begrudgingly, he pushes himself up off the mattress, and basks in the early morning haze for a few more minutes as he strokes your hair. you scrunch up your nose, and he freezes, afraid he’s woken you up, but your face relaxes and he breathes out a sigh of relief. knowing he’s wasted enough time watching over you—well, actually, it’s not a waste when it comes to you, but he’s got other things on his lover agenda™ to do for you today—he slips out the bed and slinks out your shared bedroom.

as he opens the door to leave, he glances back at your sleeping form, overwhelming affection and unmistakable adoration in his eyes. his gaze falls on the band around your finger, the very one he slipped onto your hand upon waking up in the morning, praying to still his pounding heart and hoping the sensation didn’t wake you. he wonders if breakfast in bed will be enough to distract you from its presence, which is still unbeknownst to your sleeping self, so that he can ask you properly. after all, a delicious meal is a sure-fire way to an 100% guarantee that you’ll say yes—not that he thinks you’d say no in the first place.

not with the way you flung your arms around him when you flew in yesterday. you’d only flown out to attend a close childhood friend’s wedding in your hometown, which had coincidentally happened to be during an important match week, so you’d had to go alone, much to his displeasure, which had been made clear at his next meeting with his manager. that had been the first time you’d spent so long away from each other in a very long time.

he knows you’ll say yes, because long distance for almost a year had been unbearable, but love had prevailed when you showed up at his apartment one day with a suitcase, beaming so brightly that he picked you up and spun you around before kissing you like it was a scene from a drama. “you’re stuck with me, now,” you’d told him teasingly, pressing chaste kisses along his jawline. “i have a job here now, so i guess you have no choice but to lemme stay with you.”

”oh, well, hm—then i guess i don’t,” he’d said, pretending it was a decision requiring much consideration. “but you’re stuck with me too now, so no taking it back, alright?”

he’s got it all planned out on his lover agenda™ for today. at some point later, when you notice the intricate and beautiful ring on your finger, he’ll simply smile innocently at you. “wanna stay with me for the rest of our lives? i do have to warn you in advance—if you say yes, you’re stuck with me forever, so no take-backs.”

and when you shriek and leap into his alarms at the speed of a shooting star, he’ll press kisses to your forehead, trying to hide his tears of joy when you tell him, ecstatically, “i’m yours, forever and always, so no take-backs.”

— CHIGIRI HYOMA, MIKAGE REO, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru + your favs!

© velchronica 2024

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It Is The Time You've Spent On Your Rose

When she wakes before Xavier, she finds herself compelled to free herself from his arms, to show him that she cares, to spend time on him and making his smile bloom

Pairing: Xavier x MC Tags: Fluff, domestic fluff, sleepy morning cuddles, cooking Taglist: @aluneposting

“It’s the time you’ve spent on your rose that makes your rose so important.” Antoine de Saint-Exupery, “The Little Prince”

Sunlight tracked across the floor, illuminating the fallen bodies of all the plushies that had tumbled from the precipice of the bed. Only one lone survivor remained, the purple unicorn they had won together. She had tucked it in her arms, clutching it tightly through the night, even as the others had toppled to the floor.

Just as tightly as she held onto her plushie, Xavier held onto her. His arms looped around her middle, his face buried in the back of her neck. He clung to her as though he was worried she would vanish, that she would be snatched away while he was lost to his dreams.

She didn’t even remember falling asleep, only that she’d been tucked against his chest, reading quietly, her precious unicorn plushie in the crook of her arm. Her eyes had been heavy, and he was always so warm, and his heartbeat had been so soothing. Slow and steady, like the pulse of a soundless lullaby.

She felt that slow thrum against her back, her mind relaxing as it pulsed steadily against her. His breath feathered against the back of her neck, warm and ticklish. When she shifted his arms only tightened, unwilling to let her go.

She brought the plushie up to her face, propping her cheek against its head as she watched the sunlight stretch across the floor. It was still early morning, the light pallid and watery, not yet the rich gold of late morning that painted the world in gold. The air was touched with warmth, another chord in the lullaby still lilting quietly in her ears, a siren song coaxing her back to sleep.

It was far too easy to doze off, snuggled so comfortably in his arms, his body a reassuring weight behind her. She felt as though she could sleep the entire day away if she remained her, caught in his gravity like planets orbiting the sun.

Yet as time ticked by she slowly woke more and more, the allure of sleep lost to her as her shoulder began to ache from lying on her side for so long, as dull pangs of hunger rioted in her belly. Comfortable as she was, and captivating as lying in bed until well past noon was, she knew she had to get up soon.

She squirmed, testing the strength of his hold. Each time she shifted his arms seemed to tighten, remaining locked around her, stronger than iron. How he managed to keep his hold so firm even in sleep baffled her.

As she flopped back against the pillow he murmured something incomprehensible, breath tickling her skin as he nuzzled against her neck, as he curved his body around hers. It made her wonder what he was dreaming about, what scenes were playing out in the galaxies of his mind that made him move closer still, that made him cling to her the way he did.

Although she was resigning herself to her fate of being trapped in bed until Xavier finally awoke, her stomach was not. It grumbled, dissatisfied with her singular attempt at escape, pain ricocheting through her empty belly for good measure.

Groaning under her breath, she steeled herself, twisting around as much as she could. “Xavier?” She searched for his face where it was buried against her. He only grunted in response, head lolling back, giving her just a sliver of space, enough to see the flush of his cheeks as he slept.

She tried again, managing to fully roll onto her other side to face him as she murmured his name. “Xavier? Love?”

And all she got for her efforts was a quiet snort, his head falling forward, nearly colliding with hers.

She held her plushie up to her face, giggling.

This sweet, sleepy man was so at odds with the hunter she knew on missions. In battle he was so serious, focused, his emotions guarded. Sometimes she couldn’t even tell when he was in pain, not until she pressed him and he caved to her badgering.

Even when they were not on missions, when they were enjoying a little peace, visiting the arcade or looking for new restaurants or quietly reading together, he was still stoic, quiet. Often his lips would be quirked into a small smile, like the first silvery crescent after a darkened new moon. His eyes would be warm, like water dappled with summer sunlight. But he would be calm, almost aloof, so much hidden behind that serene smile and his placid expression.

It was in the rarest of moments, the ones that she cherished most, precious memories that found their way into her dreams, he would smile brightly. His cheeks and ears would flush the colour of spring blooms, his lips would curve upwards, soft and sweet as honey-stained tea, as a bouquet of peonies filling the room with the smell of something warm and tender that she dared not yet name.

Those particular moments were few and far between, when she could coax out a smile that put sunlight to shame, that made her heart ache for all the mirth and unguarded joy in his eyes, in the creases of his face. They made her knees weak and her stomach sprout gossamer wings, flying as high as it dared, trying to escape beyond spun-sugar clouds.

There was something about this moment that reminded her of those times. He was not awake, not laughing, not rolling star-touched eyes at her for saying something that made him blush. But as she listened to him sigh, as she watched him settle once more, head sinking into his pillow, she could feel her heart pressing against her ribs, bone cracking and cartilage rending from the pressure as she peered at his sleeping face.

He seemed so young, almost vulnerable, and it made her heart ache all the more that he would let her see him like this. His hair was a mess, a halo of moonlight around his head, soft and fluffy as the plushie now wedged between them.

There were depths in his eyes that she could not reach, her lungs failing her before she could swim that deep. But tangled in the blankets together now, he was not fathomless, he was not so unknowable as the starlight left behind from celestial bodies that had long since burned out. He was just…

He was him. He was Xavier, warm and sweet, his heartbeat keeping time to the song of his blood, his smile like starlight lighting up her life.

She reached for him without thinking, her hands trembling as her fingertips brushed against the feathery edges of his hair. It was soft, as moonlight puddling on water, spilling through the glass of her windows at night.

When he did not stir she grew bolder, tracing her fingers down the side of his jaw, gingerly caressing his cheek, feeling the heat of his breath as she sketched her fingers over his lips. Her mind tripped, thoughts spiralling away as she imagined, like the sun emerging from the horizon in the morning sky, the curve of his smile beneath her fingers, against her skin.

Her cheeks heated and she moved her hand away quickly, brushing against his neck as she tried to banish the treacherous thoughts. They were chased by the echo of his breathy laughter, dredged up from her memories as her face continued to burn, as her stomach twisted and somersaulted with abandon. His laughter in the air, his fingers encircling her wrist, slowly drawing her hand to his lips, pressing kisses into her palm as her pulse thrummed like hummingbird wings.

It was as she lowered her hand in distraction, fingertips barely grazing his throat, that Xavier shifted.

Not so subtle of a movement as shifting, but flinched, breath catching before he settled once more, the momentary lines in his brow melting away.

And she remembered exactly how ticklish he was.

It was easy enough to put her plan into action, now that it was more than wiggling around helplessly in the hopes he would loosen his hold. Now all she did was reach for the sensitive places on his throat, behind his ears, along his shoulders, down his sides. She didn’t even need to add that much pressure, nothing more than a soft graze of the pads of her fingers over his skin, a light touch that could have been nothing more than the wind.

The results were instantaneous. One moment he was nestled comfortably in the blankets, his face serene, relaxed. The next he was shivering, twisting from side-to-side as he tried to escape her hands. He huffed, his brow furrowing, and then his arms were growing slack, just as he was rolling onto his back in an attempt to flee.

Biting the inside of her cheek to hold back her laughter, lest it be the final straw that woke him fully, she bolted from the bed, still clutching her unicorn plushie in her arms as she made her daring escape.

It wasn’t until she had fled from the room, flinging herself down the hall, that she allowed herself to laugh. She shoved her face against the plushie’s side, giggling maniacally, shocked that her plan had worked, and that Xavier somehow hadn’t woken up.

She couldn’t stop smiling, dancing on her toes as she made her way into the kitchen, energy crackling along her nerves like lightning as it cut through a storm-darkened sky.

She had slept much longer than she usually did, her dreams deeper, her sleep more restful with Xavier beside her. And now she was filled with energy, as though a million stars had bloomed in her veins, as though she were made up of galaxies of light.

She would have to put all this liveliness to good use. Maybe they could go out today, try to win more plushies at the arcade. Maybe they could go to the store and find new books now that Xavier was nearly done the ones she had lent him. They could take a walk by the water, or they could try out a new café she’d been hearing about for weeks, or-

Her stomach cramped, cutting off the excited flurry of her thoughts.

Before she got ahead of herself, she needed to eat something. And Xavier would need to eat something too, when he finally did wake up.

“I should probably make some breakfast, huh?” She lifted her plushie up, voicing her thoughts aloud. “What do you think Xavier would want to eat?”

He’d been talking about crêpes lately, and soufflé, although the last few times he’d tried making them he’d ended up setting off the fire alarms in both their apartments.

“Why not…” She trailed off, tapping the unicorn’s horn to trigger the miniature fireworks. “Why not something like soufflé pancakes? That’s a thing, right?”

The plushie watched her quietly, and she imagined it was telling her that she’d come up with a wonderful idea. That Xavier would be so delighted that he’d smile one of those sweet, heart-rending smiles that made her knees weak.

She swiped her phone from where she’d left it the night before, searching up recipes as she snuck back to the bedroom to change. She’d never tried making this before, and she didn’t want to splatter ingredients all over her pajamas.

She didn’t bother tiptoeing as she dressed, knowing how deeply Xavier slept. She was certain he could sleep through an earthquake if he was tired enough. Still, she dressed quickly, snagging what she thought was her sweater and pulling it on before she grabbed her plushie and slipped from the room.

“Alright, it’s time to get to work.” She spoke to the plushie, settling it on the kitchen table to supervise.

Perhaps it was childish, but it made her smile all the same. It was her most precious of all the plush and dolls she had won with Xavier at the arcade, and she’d gotten attached. She’d often set it somewhere to keep watch while she cooked in her own apartment, or she’d settle it next to her while she watched a movie, and she would always tuck it into bed beside her when she slept alone.

Getting started was easy enough, collecting all the ingredients she needed. Xavier may have been more dangerous in the kitchen than he was during missions, but he always kept his fridge and his cupboards stocked. It only took her a few moments to collect everything she needed, the eggs, the sugar, the flour, the milk and butter, the vanilla.

All her ingredients collected and organized beside her plushie, next was the more difficult part of the process. The actual cooking.

She had to separate the egg whites from the yolks, combining the yolks with a number of the ingredients, mixing them together until they were well blended. Then she had to whisk the egg whites until they formed little peaks. Only then could she mix everything together, carefully folding a small portion of the egg whites into the batter before adding in the rest.

She had to be meticulous, the recipe demanding careful precision. It was far more complex than what she usually made herself for breakfast, usually content with fruit or toaster waffles or eggs. And sometimes, when she was feeling particularly extravagant, all three together.

But the intricacies of the recipe were worth it, certainly. She wanted them to be worth it. Even if there were a hundred more steps requiring perfection, they would certainly be worth it.

Xavier had undoubtedly grown used to whatever charred remains that could be scrounged from his attempts at cooking, or greasy takeout on the days he was most exhausted. But making him something warm and fluffy and delicious for when he awoke would surely make him smile, wouldn’t it?

She imagined him in her mind, glowing bright as a star, loosening his hold on his evol while in the midst of his delight. The blue of his eyes would glow, a serene cerulean like the surface of a lake. His lips would quirk up, a soft laugh spilling from him when she showed him what she’d made.

It was nothing more than a daydream, and yet yearning tangled around her ribs, working its way through her heart as ivy found its way through stone and brick. She wanted to see his smile, she wanted to make him happy. She wanted to bask in his warmth as though she were napping beneath a summer sun.

As she began warming up the skillet, watching as the rectangle of butter she’d tossed onto its dark surface began to melt, she wondered if there was anything else she could make. Xavier was prone to sleeping late, sometimes well-past noon, which would give her plenty of time to make something else.

He’d been talking nonstop about a pop-up bakery he’d missed while away for work, specializing in pies and tarts. He’d even shown her a menu in a moment of bright-eyed fervor, telling her about how the bakery had advertised a cranberry cheesecake tart that he’d wanted to try.

“I’ve been dreaming of it for weeks!”

She’d laughed, mussing his hair as he’d laid back, his head falling into her lap. “Do you even like cranberries?”

“Of course I do, I like most foods.”

Could she make one of those tarts, too? She’d never made one before, but surely there was a recipe she could find?

Although she’d definitely have to run out to the store to pick up more ingredients. Xavier kept his apartment well stocked, but she doubted even he had the ingredients to make a cranberry cheesecake on hand.

The sizzle of the butter drew her back to the present, away from the starless depths of her thoughts. She had pancakes to make first, before anything else.

Yet even as she tried to focus on the task at hand, her mind still wandered. She should get some fruit anyways, to go with the pancakes. Something fresh and sweet to balance it out. Strawberries, maybe? Or raspberries? Maybe she could get mangos, if they were in season, peel them and cut them into cute shapes and pile them next to the pancakes.

She flipped one pancake, two, three, nearly an entire plate of fluffy soufflé pancakes still warm, resting on the counter next to the stove as she mulled over what else she could do. What else she could make to coax a smile from Xavier, to give him even a twinkle of happiness when he first awoke.

She hummed, oblivious to everything but the task in front of her and the glimmering ideas blooming in her mind. So when arms slipped around her waist, warm breath ghosting over the shell of her ear, she very nearly screamed. 

Like a window slamming shut, condemning a room to shadows and darkness, she was cut away from her quiet musings. She spun, struggling to process what was going on, the imaginings in her mind overlaid with the very real present.

A huff of laughter, a crinkle of sky blue eyes. “It’s just me, it’s only me, love.”

“Xavier!” His name was a plea, a prayer. And it was a song, a sigh, sunbeams gilding everything they touched in gold.

His answering chuckle was warm, his arms tightening around her as they had before. Sleep still clung to him, in the lines of his face where his cheek had been smushed against the pillow, in the disarray of his hair.

“Good morning.” His words slurred together, a burgeoning yawn he barely managed to cover his mouth. His brow fell against hers, the tickle of his soft bangs making her smile.

“Good morning to you, too.” She reached up to cup his cheek, the weight of his head leaning against her palm as he sighed. “What are you doing up so early? Don’t you usually sleep in much later than this?”

“Usually I do,” he agreed, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers. “But I was so cold that I woke up.”

“You were cold?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice, not when she knew how warm he could become, when he was content and happy, the light of his evol warming him.

He nodded, his head falling to the side, resting on her shoulder. She thought he would close his eyes, but they remained open, fixed on her, a glimmer of something that seemed an awful lot like mischief sparking in his eyes before vanishing into that cloudless blue. “I was cold, and then I woke up and you were gone.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, my love.”

“That’s okay.” Now his eyes did close, a pleased smile on his lips.

She would have happily stood with him like this until the day ended and night drew them into sleep once more, but a part of her mind screamed at her to remember the pancakes.

She patted his cheek until he lifted his head, his eyes wide and round, his lips pulled into the beginnings of a pout. She wasn’t even sure if he was trying, and yet he made the most devastating puppy dog eyes she had seen. Glassy as a quiet lake of moonlight, fathomless as the space between stars.

But the pancake she’d only just flipped when he’d surprised her would burn soon if she wasn’t paying attention, and she couldn’t afford to turn to jelly now when breakfast was on the line.

“Why don’t you go sit down? You still look a little tired.”

That was an understatement. He yawned again, sleep a mantle that weighed heavy on his shoulders. His head drooped, ashy bangs obscuring the starlight in his eyes.

“But I missed you.” The admission was cotton-ball soft, a swirling mote in a beam of butter-yellow light. It was quiet, gentle as a breeze rustling amongst leaves, and yet it cleaved apart the cage of her ribs, her traitorous heart bleeding as the shards of bone sliced through her.

A dramatic response to four little words, chased by another yawn and accompanied by the smell of pancakes on the cusp of burning. But something in her heart, in the marrow of her bones, was forever reaching towards him. She was a newly bloomed flower and he was the sun, emerging from the horizon to fill her heart and veins with warmth.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, the yawning chasm of the wound that had only seemed to make itself known now that he was a part of her life. She was bleeding and he was the stitches, the balm, the bandages that made her whole again. She needed him or she would surely exsanguinate like a hunted beast.

The strings of her heart and the hollows of her bones sang in resonance with him, with his light. She hadn’t realized she’d felt so restless and alone, like an unfinished chord severed from its song. Yet his quiet presence was the final note, music drawing her in, filling in the blanks she hadn’t known were missing.

Her lost harmonies, his warming melodies, an echo blooming between them both. A reverberation of ‘I know you,’ and ‘I miss you,’ threatening to shatter her and rebuild her like a crescendo.

And softer still, trailing after the pinnacle of the song, a twist of languid notes like fingers twined and palms pressed together, like a lonely, keening cry, ‘I need you.’

It didn’t make any sense to her, the feeling that she knew him, that she missed him. But when he spoke in the downy soft, hushed tones she was growing used to in the quiet of their moments together, her breath held, her heart stopped. His words echoed, and she nearly crumbled beneath them.

It was with a shaky breath that she managed a terse “fine,” before twisting in his arms, focusing her attention on the pancake, quickly lifting it from the pan and settling it on the pile of them on the counter beside her.

Saved, just in time, or it would have been nothing but charcoal.

Behind her now, Xavier nestled closer, his arms tightening around her waist, his chin perching on her shoulder. “Did you miss me?”

‘Yes,’ her bones screamed. ‘I missed you so much,” cried her heart.

There was no sense to it at all, the yearning, the ache in her marrow. Perhaps though, there was no sense to be found in it. She could feel a nameless thing lurking in the burning tributaries of her veins, gaining strength each time it passed through her heart, although she still refused to give it form.

There was never much sense in such things, in the waxing of feelings that grew and grew until they ruled over the tides in her veins, the ebb and flow of every beat of her heart.

“Yes,” she said at last, as she poured batter onto the skillet, watched as it grew fluffy and brown. For now she didn’t have to give it form; she didn’t have to define its shape and its name when it was not much more than a seedling beginning to sprout.

For now she could be content in the warmth of his arms and the weight of his body against her back and the growing pile of pancakes at her side.

“I missed you very much.”

From the corner of her eye she saw as he lifted his head, regarded her with sleepy curiosity. “Why did you get up?”

“I was hungry,” she said, tossing another pancake onto the plate. There wasn’t much batter left, and she would be done soon. “And I wanted to make you something you would enjoy.”

He hummed, resting his cheek on her shoulder. “Pancakes?”

“Soufflé pancakes.”

More humming, the press of his lips to her throat. “That sounds good.”

“Well you were talking about soufflé the other day, and I thought you might want to try this!”

He chuckled, sighing into her skin as he kissed her again. “Thank you, beloved.”

“And…” She hadn’t been sure if she would make anything else for him, but his tender murmurations against her throat made her weak, needy for even the smallest of praise. “I was thinking of making something else later, if you’d like.”

“Oh?” He straightened, rubbing his nose against her jaw. “What is it?”

Like the never-ending pull of gravity that spun the planets of the solar system around the sun, she was caught in his orbit, illuminated by the light that spilled from him. Already she knew she was lost to him, a moon cradled in the hold of its planet, its star.

But even moons had hidden sides to them, and she wanted to surprise him, wanted to delight him. Before she hadn’t been sure, but she was resolved. Even if she failed, she would try to make him more treats, if only to coax the embers of his smile into brilliant flame.

“It’s a secret,” she said, smiling when he groaned. “You’ll just have to wait.”

She could feel his frown, dangerously close to a pout as he pressed his face against her cheek, trying to ply the truth from her. She caved to him so easily, crumbling like an overbaked crust beneath the slightest of touches. He just had to fix those soft blue eyes on her, had to take her hand or nuzzle against her cheek.

How could she ever say no to him? How could a moon deny her star?

“Nope!” Her voice wobbled even as she turned her head away, not wanting to fall for the trap of meeting his eyes. “I’m not telling.”

Xavier made a soft, disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, but he didn’t press her further. Instead, he only held her tighter, resting his forehead on her shoulder again.

For a while there was silence, the quiet sizzle of the batter on the pan and their twining breaths the only sounds in the kitchen. She returned to her humming, idly running her fingers through his hair, leaning into his embrace. They swayed gently to the rhythm of her song, the slow, steady beat of his heart thrumming against her back, keeping tempo.

She was certain he had fallen asleep again, his breaths even, feathering against the side of her neck, his arms ever-so-slightly loosening their grip.

But when she called his name, no louder than the rustle of leaves sprouting in the spring, he roused quickly. His eyes, sapphire blue and bleary as they found hers, seemed to glow.

“Yes, beloved?” The nickname sent ribbons of sunshine twisting through her, illuminating every bone and tributary, warming her all the way to her curled toes. It was something a prince would say to his princess, what a knight would say to his queen.

It had fled from his lips once, and although his ears had tinged pink and he had looked away for the briefest of moments, he had smiled, and it had clung to her ever since.

Clearing her throat, she quickly looked away, focusing all her attention on scraping out the last of the batter, and not on the heat that danced across her nerves, sent tingles flaring in her fingertips and toes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d fallen asleep.”

“I might have for just a minute.” His hand found hers, fingers interlocking. “But can you blame me? I’m so comfortable.”

“Standing up?” She laughed, doing her best to flip the final pancake one-handed.

His soft laughter ruffled her hair, warm as a caress, as sunlight falling against her cheek. “With you, silly. It’s so much more comfortable with you in my arms.”

She was thankful she was facing away from him as her face flamed. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know her cheeks were stained the colour of overripe tomatoes. Even her ears felt like they’d caught fire, his words a match held to her skin, burning until fiery sunset red was all that remained.

She ducked her head, her unbound hair falling over her face, veiling her flush from Xavier’s keen eyes. She could only hope he hadn’t spotted the heat flaring at the tips of her ears.

She swallowed, her voice a warble when she was able to find her words. “If you’re tired, you should lie down. Breakfast shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“I don’t want to.” He spoke with the susurrus of the wind, hiding beneath it the telltale petulance of a whine, childish in its refusal.

It surprised her, coaxed a smile from her as realization dawned on her. She turned in his arms, the batter used, the tower of pancakes cooling, reminding her of the turret of a princess castle.

She cupped his cheeks, his brows disappearing beneath the fringe of his bangs as she held his face. “Then what do you want to do, my sunshine?”

Now he was the one to blush, a delicate pink unfurling like cherry blossoms in spring. It spread from his cheeks, creeping up to his ears as the colour deepened to the flush of dawn. But unlike her, Xavier didn’t look away. His eyes seemed to darken, a deep cobalt that bordered on midnight, the soft lights of the kitchen catching like starlight.

“I want to stay here,” he murmured, bringing her palm to his lips. “I want to stay with you always.”

Needy hunger yawned wide inside of her, a chasm where her heart should have been safely nestled between her ribs.

He wanted always, and she wanted always. She wanted his always, his forever, his chivalrous promises of staying with her forevermore.

But as much as she yearned, she also wasn’t quite done with breakfast yet. She would happily melt beneath the touch of his lips and the brush of her fingertips, after she’d finished up and cleaned everything.

“I need to finish breakfast,” she said, toes curling when his teeth scraped the skin of her palm. She gave a half-hearted tug, giggling when his eyes met hers, bright with laughter and devilry. “Xavier! I need my hand!”

“And what if I want it?” He kissed her palm again, his brows raised. There was laughter in his voice, finding his own teasing hilarious.

“You have two hands!” She wriggled helplessly, biting back her own laughter as he watched her, amused.

No, not just amused. Delighted.

“And I want this one too!” He chuckled, holding her hand tighter.

“You’re being greedy!”

He nipped her index finger, his smile bordering on joyous. “It’s for a very important mission.”

“Which one?”

“It’s classified.”

As his smile turned smug she was reminded of her secret weapon, Xavier’s ultimate weakness.

With her free hand, she reached out as quickly as she could, still half-caught in his grip. It was easy enough to find the sensitive spots on his sides, under his arms down his throat.

His eyes bulged, his grip loosening as he dissolved into giggles, her name broken up by snorts as he tried to get away. With her newfound freedom she gave chase, backing him up against the wall as he squirmed and laughed. 

He might have been pleading for mercy, but it was hard to tell from how breathless he was becoming. He did manage a breathy “please,” but she wasn’t keen on stopping just yet.

“Ask me nicely.” She was having too much fun and she would undoubtedly pay the price later. But for now her heart was caught in the wind, chasing after his laughter, losing itself in the crimson of his face and the moon of his smile.

“Please, beloved!”

She did pause then, feeling satisfied.

“Alright,” she conceded, smoothing her hair back as he sighed, as though he’d been indulging her.

He took her hands, catching them swiftly and bringing them both to his lips. “What am I going to do with such treacherous hands?”

She hummed, tapping his lip, goosebumps racing across her skin from the tickle of his breath. “You’ll let them go so I can finish breakfast? So I can make you a surprise treat?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he tipped his head to the side, his bangs falling like moonbeams across his brow. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. Although next time my mission will be to capture them.”

“Is that a threat?”

His smile was far too tender, hiding mischief in its fathomless depths. He kissed her hands once more before releasing them. “I wouldn’t say it’s a threat.” He swept his gaze over the kitchen, the corners of his lips quivering as if he was trying to hold them in check. “More like a guarantee.”

“I’m being threatened! I made you breakfast and you’re threatening me!” Her distress would have been more believable if she hadn’t been grinning so broadly, debating whether she should push her luck and see if he would make good on his “guarantee.”

Seeming to sense her impending shenanigans, Xavier took hold of her hands again, the stained glass of his eyes glittering in the light. He could not contain his laughter, even as she watched him try and fail to press his lips together to staunch the flow like a rift in a dam.

“I’m not threatening you,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

She squealed, wiggling in his grip. “I’m being attacked! I’ve done nothing wrong and I’m being attacked!”

Another roll of his eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“I’m innocent! I’ve never done anything wrong in my life ever!”

There was no need for a verbal response as the corners of Xavier’s eyes narrowed, conveying just how much he believed that. From the slant of his lips and the furrow of his brow there was no doubt he was remembering when she’d pinched his backside the night before.

But in her defense, it had been necessary. He’d wiped the floor with her in kitty cards that past afternoon and she’d needed to take revenge somehow.

Yet rather than bring up the day before, he instead settled his hands on the flare of her hips, her hands free to pinch and squeeze his cheeks in retaliation.

Xavier only grinned wider, submitting to his fate. “Do whatever you want, beloved. I’m all yours.”

She frowned, sliding her hands to his chest, feeling the slow thrum of heart beneath her palm. “You’re being awfully mean to me.”

“Maybe it’s because I missed you.” Soft as feather-down, as blankets fresh from the wash, as the brush of flower petals against her fingertips, Xavier’s words quietly fell from his lips. He lowered his head, peeking up at her from beneath the silver of his lashes and the ashy fringe of his bangs. “And I was upset because I woke up alone.”

Already she could feel herself wavering, succumbing to Xavier’s puppy-dog eyes. He watched her, silent, his words hanging in the air like stars blossoming in the night sky, guiding her through the dark.

How could she even pretend to be upset when he was looking at her like that?

She had to turn away before her knees gave out from the strength of his sweet, apologetic stare. His weakness might have been his ticklish spots, but her weakness was him.

“Love?” Xavier’s hand cupped her cheek, gently turning her face back towards him, giving her no way to escape. “What can I do so you’ll forgive me?”

“Um… Uh…” She trailed off, unable to think of anything but the heat of his hand on her skin, the sincerity in his eyes. He was close, too close, his breath tickling her lips. There was hardly any space left between them, and even the smallest of movements would bring them together.

Her bones were nothing but kindling, catching flame at the first strike of flint, at the cadence of his voice and the warmth of his touch and that look he was giving her that made her feel like she was in freefall.

“Um?” He cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lips twitching, a smile rising like the dawn. “What are you thinking?”

“I need fruit,” she blurted, her mind a mess of his lips and his hands and the pancakes rapidly cooling on the counter and the unfinished breakfast.

Xavier blinked, brows rising. “Fruit?”

She nodded, the motion robotic and strange. It felt like she’d never moved her head before, like she’d completely lost control of her body. “Y-yeah, I need fruit. And a couple of other things so I can bake some more.”

He hummed, more surprised than anything. For a moment she wondered if he would agree, or if he would vehemently refuse to go out like he had refused to rest on the couch while she’d cooked. Perhaps he would try to tease her more, until she really did lose every scrap of her mind to his storm, until the threads of her self were held in his hands.

But then he smiled that tooth-achingly sweet smile that made her melt, his eyes bright, his cheeks touched with pink. “Is this for that surprise you mentioned earlier?”

“Maybe.” She ducked her head, staring down at the floor. She pushed her bottom lip into a pout, hoping to ply him into agreeing to fetch groceries for her by sulking. “So will you do it?”

He chuckled, taking her chin between his fingers, his thumb pressing against her lips. “Won’t you look at me? I missed you so much.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she looked up. The first thing she found was his eyes, cerulean as a cloudless summer sky, the kitchen light reflecting in their depths like sunshine, like fractals of rainbows illuminating the world.

“Why don’t you write me a list,” he suggested. “So I know what to pick up.”

His thumb stroked her bottom lip as he spoke, and his words flitted between her ears, wispy and gossamer thin, unable to catch in her mind. It wasn’t until he snorted with quiet laughter and dropped his hand, murmuring “beloved?” did she snap out of it.

“Just a minute.” She hurried from the kitchen before he could enthrall her once more, snatching up her phone and a notepad, jotting down a messy list of everything she needed.

She could hear Xavier humming tunelessly from where she scribbled out her list, a siren song crafted to ensnare her heart and mind. It made her heart flutter, her breath catching like she was on the precipice of a cliff. Her mind slipped, forgetting for a moment what she was listing, caught up in the sound of his voice, in the warmth unfurling in her belly.

She had to give herself a shake, jostling her thoughts back into place. She had a plan, didn’t she? To make something that would make him happy.

Although it was seeming more and more like teasing her was more than enough to keep him happy.

Rolling her eyes at the thought, she tore the list free from her notepad, returning to the kitchen to pass it to Xavier.

“This is everything I need.” She watched as his eyes scanned the list, his expression placid. “I hope it’s okay.”

He hummed, nodding before slowly lowering his hand. “It looks good. I can get all of this for you, but…” He trailed off, lips quirking up.

“But?” Her heart lurched. What was he plotting? “What’s wrong?”

“There is one thing I need first.”

Frowning, she shook her head, not expecting that response. Did he want her to add something to the list?

Before she could ask what he needed, he was closing the distance between them, the calluses on his palms scratching her cheeks as he cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers.

She felt breathless, all the air in her lungs rushing away as the warmth of his lips enveloped her, as his hands held her steady. He groaned against her, the sound reverberating through her, singing in the hollows of her bones.

It would have been so easy to lose herself to him entirely. To forget about breakfast and her plans to bake, to forget about all his teasing, to forget about everything but his heat, his embrace.

And then he was pulling away, and dimly, through the lovesick haze he had left in her mind, she registered that he was smirking at her. But before she could do anything he was bolting from the room, calling that he would be back soon.

She was left standing in the kitchen alone, blinking as she heard the front door open and shut, Xavier’s footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

Part of her wanted to be annoyed, but her heart was a traitor, her lips in league alongside it, conspiring against her as they spread into a smile.

She couldn’t stop the flit of delight taking flight in her heart, nor could she hold back the buoyant joy that made her feel light as air, as spun sugar so sweet her teeth ached.

These little moments of mischief that he was slowly revealing to her, as he unwrapped each layer of his heart the closer they grew, made her happier than she could find the words to describe. To know he trusted her enough to bare a little more of himself to her every day.

To the world, he was a sleepy, stoic deepspace hunter. But to her? To her, he was Xavier, the man who usually let her beat him at kitty cards, the man who helped her collect more plushies than she knew what to do with, the man who clung to her tightly in the mornings and teased her until her face burned.

The warmth of his embrace stayed with her, lingering on her lips, filling her heart, as she started to clean up her mess. Settling the pancakes on the table, moving her plush unicorn to sit beside them, guarding her fluffy creations while she moved on to the dishes.

She was just finishing up the last of the dishes, wiping down the countertop to clear it of flour, when Xavier returned.

The click of the door and his footsteps echoed through the apartment, and she tossed her washcloth to the side, racing to the entrance to find him again.

He beamed when he saw her, his arms laden with shopping bags. “You know I’m very curious about your surprise, some of the things I had to get were very strange.”

“You’ll just have to be patient, because I’m not telling.”

He arched a brow, looking amused. “Oh really?”

“Really.” She snatched the bags from him before he could try and tease her any further. “Now go wash your hands, I’m going to cut up some of the berries for our breakfast.”

He snorted, murmuring a soft “yes ma’am” before heading towards the bathroom.

She made quick work of washing and cutting up the berries, settling little bowls of them on the table for the two of them to have with their breakfast. Then she stashed the rest of the ingredients, humming as an idea came to her, fizzing like bubbles of glittering champagne.

“Xavier?” She called to him as he emerged from the bathroom, hands washed, dressed in his favourite hoodie and worn jeans.

He came towards her, brows drawing together in curiosity. “What is it?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smirk as she clasped her hands in front of her. “You forgot to get me something.”

“I did?” Now there was worry saturating his words, his expression. “What did I forget?”

Now it was her turn to surprise him, taking his face in her hands and catching his lips in a kiss.

She could feel the widening of his smile, feel the vibrations of his sigh as he melted in her embrace. His hands fell to her waist, holding her close as she tipped her head to the side, trying to deepen the kiss.

His lips were soft, and warm, and they tasted of sugar and berries, like he’d snacked on them as he’d been bringing them home. It suffused her senses, until all she could taste was him, was his lips, his tongue. His hair tickled her brow, her nose, and she couldn’t help but smile against him as his teeth grazed her bottom lip.

She was far from satisfied when she drew away, but she was breathless, dizzy, the world spinning round and round like she was trapped in a carnival ride. Her lungs ached, screamed, even as all she wanted was to fall into his arms once more and give him the last of her breath.

“How could I be so forgetful?” He cupped her chin, stroking her bottom lip as she swayed. It was only when his other arm settled around her, holding her close, did she finally feel steady, leaning against his solid chest, his breath tangling in her hair, his cheeks red and his lips swollen from the embrace.

She licked her lips, caught in the gravity of his gaze. “It was awfully silly of you to forget. It was the most important thing I needed.”

He ran the pad of his thumb over her lip again, his smile soft, adoring. Like she truly was his princess, his queen, like he was a knight charged with caring for her heart. Like she was the most precious of stars in his sky.

Silence draped over them like a veil, a blanket tangling around them, a quiet comfort that swathed them in this little moment. Xavier’s eyes focused on her face, on her lips, his hand cradling her face so gently.

When he spoke, his words the flutter of gauzy wings on a breeze harkening spring, it was like a balm, a soothing melody for her heart. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice a sigh. “I’ll make sure I never forget it again.”

“Good.” She smiled, her ears burning hot as a newborn star, her face a galaxy of heat. Still, she couldn’t help but smile at the softness of his words, at the devotion in his eyes.

She took his hands, squeezing them gently. “I’ve finished breakfast, if you’d like some.”

“I would,” he bumped his nose against hers, dropping a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’m very excited to try it.”

She tried leading him to the table, where she’d set everything up, but Xavier slipped away, collecting their food and moving to the couch instead.

“Where are you going?” She frowned, staring at the now barren table.

He settled the food on the coffee table in front of the couch, unfolding a blanket. “It’s more comfortable sitting here.”

She frowned. “What if you spill? Or fall asleep again?”

He snorted, his brows arching high. “I’m not going to fall asleep, not when I’ve been looking forward to this since all morning.”

Xavier held out a hand, beckoning her towards him, and what reason did she have to say no? He looked happy, content, spreading blankets and pillows over the couch for them to sit together, to enjoy their food in comfort. And it did mean she could sit snuggled beside him, which was quickly becoming her favourite everything.

“Alright,” she conceded, moving towards him, fingers lacing with his as she let him draw her down into his arms.

Xavier beamed, fussing over the blankets, making sure they were comfortably tucked around the both of them before he retrieved their food.

“See?” He asked, once they were both settled, food balanced in their laps, the television a murmur in the background. “Isn’t this better?”

She couldn’t disagree, nestled beside him, basking in the glow of his smile. “You’re right, this is better.”

He readjusted the blanket wrapped around them, catching it as it slipped from her side. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, you know.”

“Hm?” She’d started eying his plate, watching it tip precariously in his lap. For someone who was obsessed with food, he seemed awfully focused on everything else.

“Are you listening to me?” She flicked her eyes back towards him, to his teasing smile and the deep blue of his eyes.

“I am,” she said, quickly, too quickly. It was a lie and he knew it, eyes narrowing and brows drawing low.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

She huffed, pointing to the plate in his lap before he could tease her. “I worked hard on those, you know! Aren’t you going to try it?”

He blinked, his eyes wide.

Without thought, she grabbed his plate, cutting up the pancake before spearing a piece with the fork.

“Try it,” she insisted, lifting it to his lips. “Please? I want to know if you like it.”

Xavier’s eyes widened further, round as saucers, their deep blue stark against the sudden crimson of his cheeks. A beat passed, then another, and she began to worry that maybe he didn’t want the pancakes, maybe there was something wrong with them.

But then his hand came up, fingers curling around her hand, his lips parting as he brought the fork the rest of the way to his mouth.

He chewed slowly, clutching her hand like a lifeline. Then, like the first flicker of starlight as dusk gave way to night, his smile grew, and grew, her bright, guiding star.

“Well?” She didn’t want to push, but she also did, so impatient it hurt, like cracks were forming along her bones, like they were fracturing, splintering beneath the weight of her restlessness.

“It’s delicious.” He brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to her wrist. “It might be one of the best things I’ve eaten.”

She snorted. “It’s only my first time making it, I’m sure it’s not that good.”

But Xavier shook his head, looking earnest, sincere. “I mean it, I think it’s amazing.”

She hummed, smirking. “Maybe you need another bite? Just to be sure?”

He chuckled, releasing her hand so she could spear another forkful of pancake for him. “I think you might be right. I might need quite a bit, just to be sure.”

“Oh really?” She fed him another bite, flushing with delight, with pride, to see his smile. He’d hardly eaten anything at all, and yet already he seemed so happy, so bright. Had there ever been such a smile before, had there ever been someone who filled every darkened space in her body, the life-giving light of the sun to the devotion of the flowers?

“Maybe I should make something else for you, just to test if my cooking skills are any good.”

He nodded quickly, so fast his hair fluttered around his head, boyish and silly. More pieces of him he had shown to her, more reasons to hold him in her heart. “I think you should. We really need to test your cooking skills. But first…”

“But first what?” She frowned as he trailed off, confused. “Is something the matter?”

“First, I want to finish eating this, with you,” he finished, catching her hand again. “I want to enjoy the morning with you first, beloved.”

Her heart stuttered, an uneven melody that made her tongue stumble, her words awkward and strange as she tried to respond. “O-oh. Oh. Are you sure?”

His brows drew together, disbelief etched in the lines of his face. “What else could I possibly want to do? I always want to spend time with you.”

Always. He wanted her always, and she wanted his.

“Even if it means waiting longer for more food?”

“I think I’ll survive.” He plucked up her fork, snagging a piece of pancake and a berry, dark pink juice spreading across the food as he brought it to her lips. “Now. You need to eat, too.”

His words were soft, but there was something sturdy behind them, something that brooked no arguments. So she took a bite, the mellow flavour of the pancake and the tartness of the berry bursting across her tongue.

And then she took another, and another, until she found an opening to feed Xavier more, berry juice staining his lips. She tried to lean forward to wipe it away, and he laughed, nipping at the pads of her fingers whenever she tried.

“Xavier!” She chastised. “I’m trying to help!”

He only tried to bite her again in response, and she drew back, snorting with laughter when he tried to toss a berry at her, staining both his fingers and her cheek pink.

The morning melted away around them in gold-touched laughter and smears of deep cerise. The food quickly vanished, yet even once there was nothing but crumbs left on their plates and flecks of berries spattered on the tines of their forks, still they remained tangled together, content in the other’s arms.

She sighed, tucking the blankets higher around the both of them. Xavier was beginning to doze once more, a contented smile on his lips, and although she’d wanted to get started on her next baking project, she was loath to rouse him. He’d snuggled close once their plates had been set to the side, his arms looped lazily around her, and she knew if she moved that it would disturb him, upsetting him once more.

So she remained in his arms, running her fingers through his hair as drowsiness crept over her. It was a blanket being tucked around her shoulders, her thoughts turning sluggish, her body growing heavier with each breath. But she couldn’t bear to move, not wanting to leave Xavier alone again.

She was content to stay right where she was, nestled in his embrace. She could always bake later in the day, or tomorrow. But right now all she wanted was to stay in his arms, to listen to the beat of his heart and feel the hush of his breath in her hair. She would slip away into dreams of starlight and soft words and baked goods, and when she awoke it would be to his smile, to his happiness, that shone brighter than all the stars ever could.