#brasso the ferrixian

[uwingdispatch]

My newest shakers are here! This batch has two Swiftie shakers and two Star Wars score shakers.

Inside the “Haunted” shaker features you’ll find a photo of Anakin Skywalker from Revenge of the Sith, Anakin’s lightsaber, and his ship the Twilight.

Inside the “Run” shaker you’ll find a photo of Han Solo, his blaster, and the Millennium Falcon.

For score shakers, I did one of my favorite pieces of music in Star Wars, “Princess Leia’s Theme,” and inside this shaker you’ll find photos of Little Leia, Rebel Leia, and Resistance Leia.

I also just really wanted to do something featuring my faves from Ferrix, so I made a “Rix Road” shaker with photos of Bix, Brasso, Cassian, and B2EMO.

I hope you love these! They’re available now. Shop is here.

[notasapleasure]

The Saga of the Coal-biter and the Skraeling

A Cassian Andor/Brasso medieval Icelandic saga AU

Keeping my head down was not as much a part of my nature as I thought it was, though. And it's no easy task when you're tall and stand out for a variety of other reasons. Everything I did to try and distance myself from my father and his past only made me appear stranger in Icelandic eyes - the more I tried to extricate myself from the build-up to a feud, the more determined the world was to drag me into it.

That included Cassian. His people were familiar with war, he was clear about that much. He was too proud not to be susceptible to the mores of the honour-based culture he had found himself in. Also, he saw something in me I don't suppose anyone else had seen, just as in him, I found another true outsider in the eyes of the only place I knew.

For many years, I thought of us as just that: two outsiders, bound by our detached perspective on this odd little world. Cassian never did think of it in those terms though. Cassian saw me and he saw anger beneath the veneer of calm disinterest, like he could see the well of magma rising under a volcano. He saw me and he recognised a fellow freak, I suppose - we weren't linked because he was the only one who didn't think of me as trollish, but because he was the only other one trollish enough to recognise one of his own.

I didn't want a sword and I didn't want to go raiding. I didn't want to be involved in a feud. But Cassian did see a latent hunger for vengeance in me, and he was patient in drawing it out.

[beatrice-otter]

Festivids is live!

As usual, there are a LOT of really good vids, go check them out!

Here are some ones I liked:

The Only Way to See Fandom: Amaury Guichon - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Fanvids, Baking, Chocolate, Pastries, The Artistic Process Summary:

What you feel like, planning a sky.

A fanvid of Amaury Guichon (the chocolate guy).

Lonely Day Fandom: Andor (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Cassian Andor, Maarva Andor, Bix Caleen, Mon Mothma, Vel Sartha, Luthen Rael, Kino Loy, Cinta Kaz, Dedra Meero, Arvel Skeen, Karis Nemik, Brasso the Ferrixian (Star Wars), Syril Karn, Kleya Marki Additional Tags: Fanvids, Angst, Rebellion, Depictions of Police, Family, authoritarianism, Comrades in Arms, Embedded Video, Physical Triggers, brief shot of auditory torture, ends hopefully Summary:

From the loneliest day, new growth springs. Oppression sows the seeds of its own destruction. Featuring the whole Andor cast of characters but mainly focused on Cassian.

Come Forth Now Fandom: Andor (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Cassian Andor, Luthen Rael, Bix Caleen, Maarva Andor, Brasso the Ferrixian (Star Wars), Vel Sartha, Cinta Kaz, Arvel Skeen, Kleya Marki, Mon Mothma, Kino Loy, Karis Nemik, Taramyn Barcona, Clem Andor, Syril Karn, Ruescott Melshi Additional Tags: Rebellion, Hope, some explosions, Police images, Family, Friendship, Fanvids, Embedded Video Summary:

And this is all we need And this is where we start This is the day we greet This is the day, no other

Boys Keep Swinging Fandom: As You Like It - Shakespeare Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Rosalind | Ganymede (As You Like It) Additional Tags: Fanvids, Embedded Video, Crossdressing, Genderbending, Queer Themes Summary:

When you're a boy Other boys check you out You get a girl These are your favorite things When you're a boy

Drink You Sober Fandom: Bound (1996) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Corky/Violet (Bound) Summary:

'I want to feel you'

We Can Be Anything Fandom: Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Evelyn Wang, Joy Wang | Jobu Tupaki, Waymond Wang

How to make a perfect Hanukkah movie… Fandom: Hallmark Movies - Fandom, Hitched for the Holidays (2012), Double Holiday (2019), Mistletoe & Menorahs (2019), Love Lights Hanukkah! (2020), Eight Gifts of Hanukkah (2021), Hanukkah on Rye (2022) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Fanvids, Hanukkah Summary:

…(according to the Hallmark Channel)

Oh No Not Now [Fanvid] Fandom: Philadelphia Story (1940) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Macaulay Connor/C.K. Dexter Haven/Tracy Lord, Macaulay Connor/C.K. Dexter Haven, Macaulay Connor/Tracy Lord, Macaulay Connor/Elizabeth Imbrie, C.K. Dexter Haven/Tracy Lord, C.K. Dexter Haven/Elizabeth Imbrie Summary:

What do I do with this?

The Hunted Fandom: Prey (2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Characters: Naru (Prey 2022), Sarii (Prey 2022), Feral Predator (Prey 2022), Bear (Prey 2022) Additional Tags: Action, Hunters & Hunting, Animal Death, Animal Attack Summary:

The hunter becomes the hunted.

[vid] out with a bang Fandom: Robin and Marian (1976), Robin Hood - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Maid Marian/Robin Hood, Little John/Maid Marian/Robin Hood Characters: Maid Marian, Robin Hood, Little John, Sheriff of Nottingham Additional Tags: Fanvids, Embedded Video, Character Study, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Summary:

I'm way to young to lie here forever, I'm way too old to try, so whatever...

A Marian character study.

magnetic [VID] Fandom: Romeo+Juliet (1996) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Mercutio (Romeo and Juliet) Additional Tags: gender feelings, Fighting Feelings, your crush keeps falling in love with girls feelings, honestly vidding this made me want enemies to lovers fic for mercutio and tybalt, let's skip the sad ending and just be angry together, Fanvids Summary:

Mercutio's been magnetic since he was a baby.

Trust+Fall Fandom: Romeo+Juliet (1996), Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague Additional Tags: Romcom turned tragedy, Self-Harm, Suicide, Physical Triggers, Depictions of Police Summary:

Juliet met an awesome guy at a big party her parents threw and fell instantly in love! With a meet-cute like that, what could go wrong? (Turns out: literally everything.)

VID: I'm That Queer Fandom: Janelle Monáe Music Videos, Janelle Monae (Musician) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jane (Dirty Computer), Cindi Mayweather Additional Tags: Physical Triggers, Fast cutting, flashing lights, Glitch effects, Queerphobia, Depictions of Police, Fanvids Summary:

A fanvid of some of Janelle Monáe's Music Videos, focusing on their Cindi Mayweather and Jane characters.

Physical triggers: extensive fast cutting, extensive glitch effects, flashing lights. Other warnings: authoritarian state, queerphobia, depictions of police.

[distressednoise]

Made up fic title (man I am bad enough at coming up with my own fic titles 🙃): any lyric of your choice from Stealing Cars by Nadine Shah

I'm not saying that "neither you or I can drive" is the title of my "brasso and cassian accidentally rebel together" thesis BUT. PERHAPS IT SHOULD BE.

We talked a bit about ferrix having layers of underscrap that worked like the lower levels of coruscant and maybe ferrixians working low down on coruscant being recruited for rebellion-backed bombings, but please consider those ferrixians turning luthern down and not understanding that his backup plan is carpet bombing the sites they work under, so theyre doomed anyway. Cassian is frantically trying to make brasso understand that he needs to get these people *out*, but to them brasso (shipped in for desperate diplomatic reasons, please brasso, they don't believe I'm from ferrix) is just some sad old-worlder who doesn't understand how things work here, and their efforts to relocate the ferrix diaspora are doomed and everything is tragic

Or its "check your pulse when I speak: an oral history of brasso noticing but not betraying anti-imperial activity", if I'm in a more positive mood.

[ao3feed-rebelcaptain2]

All of the Girls You Loved Before

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3HuhNk8

by BumbleHumbleBee

“We’ve been invited to see Bix and Brasso,” Cassian announces, walking out onto the balcony. She can see the happiness on his face, excitement in his dark eyes.

This is it…

He’s going to see them again…

Enjoy it all while you can…

“Oh, when are you going?” Jyn asks, composing herself with the best carefree smile she can manage.

“We. You’re invited too.”

“Oh.” That she didn’t expect. “I didn’t think they knew anything about me.”

I didn’t think you told them. She doesn’t say it out loud, but the subtext is there.

Jyn's demons rarely let her relax and those voices telling her she isn't good enough, that one day Cassian will leave, don't seem to want to rest when Bix Caleen invites her old friend to visit.

Words: 5483, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Andor (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, Bix Caleen, Brasso the Ferrixian (Star Wars)

Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor & Bix Caleen

Additional Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Insecurity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Very minor past Bix/Cassian, Bix & Jyn friendship, Jyn Erso-centric, Jyn Erso Needs A Hug, Romantic Angst, romantic smut

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3HuhNk8

[chaos-monkeyy]

Onward, into the August fic updates! Had too many feelings about Cassian Andor and Brasso the Ferrixian and Brasso the Ferrixian's chest ahem, had to write lighthearted FWB pre-canon hookup about it 💖

Cassian x Brasso smut: Both Ways (on AO3)

“Come on. You really didn’t know I’m gay?” 

Shrugging, Cassian bit his lip and slowly spun his half-empty glass in place on the scuffed tabletop, holding his friend’s gaze. “Well, I wondered. I mean, I was pretty sure. But then I thought, what if it’s just wishful thinking, y’know?” 

Brasso’s eyebrows lifted and he sat back, eyeing Cassian thoughtfully over his refilled drink. 

“‘Wishful thinking’?” he echoed. “Really. You do know you have something of a reputation, right? Around women, specifically.” 

Cassian shrugged again, a crooked smirk tugging at his mouth as he raised his glass again. 

“I go both ways, you know,” he said blithely. “All the ways, really. When the mood strikes me.” 

“Uh huh,” Brasso said with a tiny smile, gaze fixed on Cassian and his drink seemingly forgotten. “And what’s the mood right now, then?” 

“Maybe you should take me home and find out.” 

Brasso’s eyes flicked down and back up again, that tiny smile widening. “Should I, now.” 

“Yes, because I’m also hitting on you right now,” Cassian offered helpfully. “In case you weren’t sure.” 

[twicesonnet]

what haunts a ghost (6224 words) by roadtripexpert Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Andor (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Cassian Andor & Kerri | Cassian Andor's Sister Characters: Kerri | Cassian Andor's Sister, Original Characters, Bix Caleen, Jezzi the Ferrixian (Star Wars), Brasso the Ferrixian (Star Wars), Wilmon Paak, Cassian Andor Additional Tags: Life Under Empire, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Memory Issues, Disabled Character, Coruscant is the Space Atlanta Airport Summary: Kerri never had a brother, she had a space where a sibling could be, the possibility of family as beautiful as fog.

[andorerso]

About Jyn and Kerri I have a very random AU idea

So, Jyn ~somehow~ ends up in the Gangi Moon and meets Brasso, Bix, B2 and the other Ferrixians and stays around for a few days. One of them notice Jyn wearing a bracelet that looks so much like one that Cassian used to wear when he was young and then asks her where she got it. Jyn says that she bought it in a small craft store run by three Kenari girls in (some planet) while she was visiting. And then they casually comment that they have a friend from Kenari that was looking for his sister and most people thought they were all dead. So Jyn gives them the bracelet and tells them where to find the girls and asks them to give it to their friend so he could have hope to find his sister again and also would have something to remind him of home. And when Cassian goes there to visit them they give it ho him and he keeps it with him

oh my god, I love it 🥺😭 combining so many of my favorite things! Jyn meeting Kerri, Jyn meeting the Ferrix gang, Cassian and Jyn just being the absolute epitome of soulmates by having all these missed meetings and connections between each other even before meeting... perfect!

[gnomebud]

[image description: a gif of Andor episode 12: Rix Road. As the fighting breaks out during Maarva's funeral, Brasso, after kicking down an Imperial, turns and swings Maarva's funerary stone at another Imperial who's pushed into the Ferrixians. The stone knocks the Imperial to the ground and knocks off his helmet. Text overlaid across the top and bottom of the image reads in all caps, "Never bring a gun / to a dead old lady brick fight". /end id]

Keep fucking around, we got a whole wall of dead people over here.

[uwingdispatch]

Devotion

Devotion

Notes: Brasso/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

CW: depression/mental health struggles, active shooter

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

“What’s going on?”

You’re in your pajamas, standing at the end of the hallway that leads to your bedroom. It’s 3:00 in the morning and you’ve woken to find Brasso sitting at the kitchen table, fiddling with something in his hands.

Startled, he looks up. “How long have you been standing there?” He asks, running a hand through his dark hair, his grays hidden in the shadows of the dimly-lit room. In this moment there’s a sadness in his eyes that he doesn’t often allow you to see.

“Not long,” you say.. “I woke up and you weren’t there. I had a feeling…”

“I made you anxious,” Brasso says, pushing away from the table. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You insist that you’re fine, but he’s already wrapping his big arms around you and you can’t help but sleepily lean into his embrace.

“I got a message from Wilmon today. Did you know it was the anniversary of Rix Road?”

“I should have remembered.”

“No, darling,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “No, I’d rather not remember that day. Most of it, anyway.”

“Are you all right?” You ask.

“I will be,” he says. “Last time I was on Ferrix, Xanwan’s niece was cleaning up his old store front, getting it ready to sell. She gave me this keyfob of his that she found in a drawer. It’s just a festival trinket from an old holiday but…there are pictures from that day. The old gang, you know? Before I met you, even.”

“You’re thinking about Xan?”

“And everyone who didn’t make it out that day. How things could have gone differently if I’d just—”

“If you’d just what? Let fascists steamroll your entire community? Brasso, people did get out because of you. And I’m sure I’m not the only one you warned away from town that day.”

“You’re not.”

“And you got Wilmon out.”

“I did.”

“Bee. Bix. Jezzi.”

He answers with a sigh.

You step back so you can see your partner’s face, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear so you can look into his eyes. “You’re one man, Brasso. A very good man, but still just one. How were you going to stop anything that Maarva Andor started?

He laughs a little, remembering the woman who had been so much to so many people. You’d never been a Daughter of Ferrix, but it was Maarva who invited you to join in on some of the community projects anyway. It was people you met through Maarva who had encouraged you to start selling your handmade goods, who had told you how much they’d enjoyed the things you’d made for fundraisers over the years. And it was the Daughters, so many now spread throughout the galaxy, who’d helped you leave Ferrix and find a place on Gatalenta. Who’d told you that Brasso would find you when the war was over, because surely someone knew where he was, even if it wasn’t safe for you to know yet.

In the hallway, Brasso hands you the keyfob. There’s a year etched on the back and it is indeed before you’d met Brasso, but you’d been in town then. Back after finishing your degree, trying to feel out what was next. You’d made jogun fruit jam that year for the festival these pictures were taken at. And you’d only been at the stall for a few hours each day, but in the background of one of the pictures, there you were.

“Brasso,” you say. “That’s me.”

“No kidding,” he says, zooming in. “Beautiful as ever.”

“You can barely see me.”

“I can see enough.” Brasso kisses your forehead, his lips soft and warm on your skin. “Let me get you back to bed, darling. Enough of my troubles for the night. I never should have woken you in the first place.”

“You didn’t wake me,” you remind him.

But he has your hand in his and is leading you back down the hallway to the bedroom, the keyfob left behind.

*

There were a lot of things you loved about Ferrix, but the time grappler had never been one of them. He was a nice enough man, and you didn’t have any quarrel with him personally. But you’d never been a morning person. And nothing about Ferrix was going to change that. You’d occasionally pick up a morning shift at the café where you worked if someone called out and they needed help. But other than that? You needed the rest. So you jammed a pillow over your head while the time grappler struck the beskar steel in the tower at the start of each day until you could go back to sleep.

You’d known Brasso for a few years when he showed up with a basket of fruit a few hours after dawn, banging on your door like the galaxy was collapsing. You crawled out of bed and put on a robe, sure that there was some kind of maintenance emergency in the building.. But when you opened the door, it was Brasso, all two meters of him with a desperate look on his face. And…the fruit.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, the annoyed tone in your voice unmistakable.

“Thank the stars,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “You’re all right.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Someone opened fire at the market this morning. Not even from here…at least nobody I can think of matches his description. Someone called Morlana-1. Corpos showed up and all they managed to do is chase him to the café.”

You knew without asking that he meant your café, and at the word of corpos, you stepped back to let Brasso in. His cheeks were rosy from the early morning cold, his eyes bright, and his work clothes were crisp and tidy before a long day at the salvage yard.

“Is anyone hurt?” you asked.

“There were some injuries at the market,” Brasso said, running a hand through his hair. “But the café…we don’t know yet. They won’t let anyone near the building. I came to see you as soon as I heard.”

You didn’t live far from your work—just a few blocks. And as all of the information you were receiving began to solidify in your brain you felt your nervous system kick into high gear. You tried to steady your breathing as you asked, “What’s with the fruit?”

“The Daughters dropped this off for my mum the other night. But you know how she’s allergic to meilooruns—won’t eat anything that’s touched them out of precaution. I thought I’d leave it for you on my way to work…and then someone commed me about all this…I’m just so glad you’re safe, love.”

This was the first time he’d ever used that term of endearment with you, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, but it warmed something inside of you that you knew you’d never shake, even as you felt yourself giving way to panic.

Brasso pulled you close again. “Hey,” he said. “I’ve got you.”.

It’s all you needed to hear.

“I know you don’t do mornings. I’m so sorry to wake you…I just…they don’t have the guy in custody yet. Do you mind if I stick around for a bit? You don’t carry a blaster and…”

“I’ll make us some caf,” you say, turning toward your little kitchen.

“No,” he said, his hands steady on your shoulders. “You sit down. I’ve thrown off your day, the least I can do is make you breakfast.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Unless you want to go back to sleep. I can leave if—”

“No,” you said, your breath shaky. And, when he took your hand in his, it felt so right that for a moment you forgot that everything about this morning was unusual. “Stay,” you said. “Please.”

“All right,” he said, his eyes searching yours for something neither of you seemed to quite grasp.

You snapped out of your haze and went to get yourself cleaned up and dressed, allowing yourself in your sleepiness to think thoughts about this man, your closest friend, that normally you pushed away. He was right there, after all. In your kitchen. If you let yourself feel what you felt, if it came burbling out of you in a groggy delirium…you couldn’t bear the thought of anything changing between you. Of losing this closeness. Because somehow it hadn’t occurred to you that he felt those feelings about you, too.

*

You wake to the sound of clattering in the kitchen, a string of curses on Brasso’s tongue. There’s not a lot that can get you out of bed quickly but, after last night, you’re a little worried that he’s not just upset about a broken dish.

You slip into a robe and hurry into the kitchen where you find your husband sweeping up broken glass.

“It’s early, love,” he says when he sees you. “You can go back to sleep.”

“No, I can’t,” you say. “Some anniversaries you just feel in your bones. This is one of those for you.”

Brasso is washing his hands. You can’t tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just doesn’t know what to say.

“Brass?”

“I don’t know why it’s hitting me like this,” he says. “It’s been so long.”

“You told me last night you heard from Wilmon. Is he all right?”

“He is.”

Brasso drops a towel on the counter and you take his hand. You’ve both had more than your fair share of grief. Grief for loved ones lost. For futures that could never be. For safe places that would never feel safe again. And with the Imperial occupation of Ferrix you lost your home as you knew it. But you’d moved there as a teenager. You didn’t have generations of history there like Brasso did. His roots there were different. And when he chose to stay on Gatalenta, it was partly because could never go back to the place he left—not for more than a visit. Because too much had changed for it to feel like home for him.

“Let me make us some caf,” you say.

“Nonsense,” he says. “I’ve spoiled your sleep again, I’ll just—

“Brasso.”

“Okay,” he says, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I hear you.”

He’s always been the kind of man who takes care of everyone else and struggles to let others take care of him. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to ask for help, it’s that he doesn’t want to burden anyone. Even after all this time, he hesitates to tell you when something is wrong that he thinks he can handle on his own. You usually figure it out anyway, and he usually gives in to your care. But it hasn’t always been easy.

As you grind the caf beans—a blend he’d picked up at the market last week—you think of all those afternoons after you’d first met, when he’d turn up at the cafe on his break. It had been the best part of your day. You’d later learn that he’d been pretty loyal to a caf bar closer to his place until the day he stopped in on his lunch one afternoon and recognized you, the person he’d helped with the spilled groceries just a week or so before. Soon, he was a staple, falling into an easy routine with you. The two of you started taking your breaks together, soon becoming so close that it seemed like you’d always known each other. The first time he walked you home, on a night when the end of your shifts coincided, you had a feeling that maybe—just maybe—when you got to your apartment he was going to kiss you. But the moment passed. And you let yourself push the thought of a romance with Brasso to the back of your mind for the first time.

When you put a cup of caf in front of Brasso today, he takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Tell me what you need,” you say.

“Just sit with me, love,” he says. “All I need is you.”

*

Brasso was the kind of man who didn’t know how not to be busy. He’d been in your apartment for all of ten minutes before he’d sliced up some of the fruit to go with eggs and toast for breakfast. You’d known him long enough to know that this was just what he did. When he was upset, he took care of other people. So you should have known that when you’d sleepily mentioned that your refresher sink had been leaking that he was going to have to try and fix it. Now, a few hours later, he was in there with the tools he’d meant to take to work before the trajectory of his day had changed, leading him to you instead.

“You don’t have to do this,” you told him. “I can call the building manager and have him come take care of it.”

“It’s a simple fix,” he said. “I’m almost done.”

It was noon. Word was out that the scene had been cleared at the cafe, luckily with only some minor injuries. But nobody wanted to go out while the corpos were still around. And Brasso hadn’t said anything but you could tell he didn’t want to leave you by yourself either. Ferrix had always watched out for their own, and there was no telling what these off-planet police might do while they were here. Who they might bother. They didn’t know Ferrix and they didn’t like it any more than it liked them. So the streets had emptied. Places of business were closed. And Brasso was still with you.

“Finished,” Brasso called out from the refresher. “Good as…well as good as it was when you moved in here at least,” he said.

Not a lot on Ferrix was brand new. You liked this about your home. When you first came to Ferrix, you hadn’t known what to make of it. But now—now you felt there was something cozy about it. It was comforting to think about all the lives that had touched everything here.

You smiled as you heard Brasso taking off his tool belt and putting it with his boots by the door. When he came to sit with you, he’d unzipped the top of his coveralls and tied the arms around his waist, the black tanktop underneath accentuating the muscle of his chest, his broad, freckled shoulders. His hair was a bit mussed, and you fought the urge to reach out and touch it, to smooth it back in place.

He noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I zoned out for a moment. Probably just tired.”

“Things are changing around here,” he said. “It’s setting people on edge. I can’t remember the last time I had a day where I just felt at peace. Where things felt normal.”

“I wish there was something more I could do.”

“You’re here. That’s peace enough for me today.”

You yawned then, and he put his arm around you.

“Come here,” he said, grabbing the knit blanket you kept thrown over the back of your couch. “Close your eyes. Just rest.”

So you did. You let yourself relish in that closeness, in his clean, familiar scent, the secure warmth of his strong arms, the steady rhythm of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you’d fallen asleep in his arms. And you did still wonder, sometimes, if there was something there that neither of you dared to speak about. But you had seen Brasso’s affection with other friends as well. And, at the end of the day, you were grateful for what you had with him, even if it wasn’t quite what you wanted. He made you feel safe, even on days like this, and given the state of the galaxy, that was a considerable feat.

*

“Would you want to go out today?” Brasso asks.

He’s just woken up from a nap, and he’s wandered out of the bedroom looking delightfully mussed in his favorite pair of sweatpants. You’ll never get used to the fact, even after all this time, that this beautiful man has chosen to spend the rest of his life with you. You’d been answering holomail, but you put down your datapad, ready to do what you can to ease your partner’s stress.

“Are you up for it?” you ask. “There’s that food festival downtown, you know. In the park by the spires. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go.”

“That sounds nice.” He sits on the sofa next to you, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I think I need some fresh air.”

“I think you do, too.”

You smooth his hair away from his face. Even as you say this, a part of you wants to just sit here like this all afternoon, resting your head on his chest, tracing the lines of the tattoos he collected in his travels, before he came home to you. A part of you wants to just stay here, like this, for the rest of the day. Still, you tell him to go get dressed, that you’ll be ready to go when he is.

Soon you’re in the park, a soft blanket laid out over the grass beneath you, paper containers of hot treats waiting to be opened—things from a few different food carts, because neither of you could choose.

“Now this,” Brasso says to you, “this is something I want to remember.”

“Hm?” You’re trying to open a bottle of a fizzy drink you hadn’t seen here before.

“Love,” Brasso says, one finger under your chin as he eases your face toward his. “Today is the day I first met you. Did you know that?”

You have to admit you didn’t remember the date. But he isn’t the kind of person to be upset over that. He knows his memory is better than most, and that you have a tendency to forget anything you don’t write down.

Still, you say, “I’m sorry,”

He smiles, leans in to touch his nose to yours. “No need,” he says.

There was a time when you never could have imagined Brasso would be the type to kiss you this way, out in the open for everyone to see. But whatever part of him that maybe had been too bashful for that kind of intimacy was gone with the war. With all the years he couldn’t hold you or kiss you at all. And under the bright sun he pulls you toward him, bringing your legs over his lap as he leans in to kiss your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips, a kiss rich with devotion as he cradles your cheek in one of his big, rough hands.

You reach for his face, caressing the scruff of his short beard before threading your fingers through his hair, now collar-length, the silver strands catching the light. He still doesn’t believe you when you tell him you’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than him. But you’ll never get tired of telling him this, of telling him that from that day you met him there was nobody else in the galaxy who stood a chance to win your affections.

Today, you tell him: “I love you, you know. So much.”

“I know,” he says, a sparkle in his hazel eyes. “I can remember these things for the both of us.”

He kisses you again, a bit deeper, lingering, and you whisper, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “People are staring.”

He laughs, running his fingers softly over your jaw before his hand comes to rest at the nape of your neck. “Let them,” he says.

And so you do, letting yourself enjoy this closeness as a warm breeze comes through the park, the sky in this moment seemingly full of possibilities, his kiss an infinite canvas for you to complete. You make a note of the date, and think to yourself that you won’t forget this time. You couldn’t possibly forget an afternoon like this.

★★★★★★★★

Hopefully it won't be so long between fics next time, but I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @zinzinina @princessxkenobi @aerynwrites @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @againstacecilia @elasticreality @zombiedixon89 @forresway @sith-as-heck @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian @ginger-swag-rapunzel @iamsuchanasshat@vvpoisonous @saradika @islandfrogeery @boba-brasso-bee @groguspawbeans @fluffyprettykitty @mischiefqueer @wretchedmo @wyn-n-tonic @dystopicjumpsuit

[notasapleasure]

Wild hopes for Andor S2:

Oh, apparently blorbo *might* be in the trailer? Riding a speeder on Dantooine you say? Aughhhh don't toy with my emotions like this!!

So for posterity, before anything about s2 does actually become clear, my vague hopes/'if I got to write their story' headcanons for my Ferrix badasses are a jumble of the following:

I don't see them immediately going back to Ferrix, they're recognisable (Bix is known to the Empire, Wilmon will be known by association with Salman, Bee is known as Maarva's droid, they had an eye on Brasso as 'the big guy' even before he fucked shit up with the funerary brick...and I can't remember Jezzi doing anything specific but she'll have been seen round Maarva's home and funeral), and riot or not, I'd say the Empire will be in the mood to make an example of Ferrix rather than to go 'oops our bad we'll leave you in peace'. So it seems a bad idea for the fugitives to return there for their rebellion as soon as they've left.

On that ship we know there's a skilled electrician (Wilmon) and mechanic (Bix), and I've always presumed Brasso must know his way around a ship well enough to be able to take it apart, and that Jezzi has some similarly Ferrixian industrial skill. I thought it would be very sexy if they all got involved in making/repurposing tech for the rebellion. In my heart of hearts they're patching together the first fleet of X-Wings.

Orange. Ferrix orange (Brasso's felt jacket orange) and rebel pilot orange. And there's the shot of Cassian in an orange pilot's suit in the trailer. I just. I just have hopes. And dreams. And colour was so significant in Rogue One (the red of the force/rebellion...there was an awesome post on here pointing out way more examples than I'd noticed, but I always think of the lining of Jyn's vest). Maybe it's reclaiming Narkina orange, even? But the look of the Ferrix clothes reminds me so much of the OT aesthetic, I think that's got to be the more likely connection.

Bee? Kay? Do they meet? ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ trying to suppress the thought 'what if Bee helps to make Kay possible?' but the thought has been thunk. (ETA: NOT into the theory that they're the same person that's not what I mean. I'm talking hardware donation. Wires and chips. Not personality)

Dantooine. Dantooine base. After all this time!!!! What Legends book did I first read about the base on Dantooine in?? idek but if I'd ever written the epic angsty plot follow-up to that one fic (only ever just one night) it would have involved the Ferrix gang making X-Wings work on Dantooine :') I have feelings about Brasso the wrecker learning to make things instead :))

It should go without saying that I want to see Bix channel her healing into getting stuff done and fucking up the Empire.

I guess my feeling is that if we're time-skipping over a five year period in a, what, 12 episode season? There's not time for a huge arc for all the Ferrix characters alongside everything else the show needs to cover. My cautious assumption is that this either means a load of them get killed off/sidelined early, or they're kept together in the same setting so their stories are interlinked, but presumably with focus remaining on Bix (and Bee). Dantooine/wherever the rebel base is beforehand/the move to Yavin struck me as a good place for this, where they can still be brought in and out of episodes through whatever time-skips happen because it's a place the title character is going to be coming and going from regularly, like Ferrix is in S1. Naturally it is a selfish thought to want to recreate the S1 dynamic :)) because I want my blorbo(s) to get to be relevant and a part of Cassian's life still, but if that suggestion about Brasso on a speeder on Dantooine in the trailer is remotely accurate then I will cry happy tears.

Who knows, if they get to survive, maybe all those heart-pulverising fics and fanarts about Cassian's (glass) stone being laid on Ferrix will find a place at the end of the series?

[colleybri]

So my headcanon is that after helping get Brasso and the others safely onto that ship, Pegla - knowing that the Empire would soon reinstate the aircraft control restrictions that it had eased (hoping to lure Cassian)… went and prepared another ship on the lot for more Ferrixian refugees. Please, please, please. Pegla, you already rescued B2EMO and proved yourself to be an absolute legend of a friend to Cassian despite being abrasive in episode 1.

But I think that’s why he didn’t go with them. He still had a job to do on Ferrix.

Pegla - you’re the man! 🫡

Character Appreciation Friday - Pegla

Name: Pegla Played by: Kieran O'Brien Appearances: Kassa, That Would Be Me, Rix Road

Happy Appreciation Friday, my friends! Only 22 more Fridays to go until the new season! (I think. Counting not my strong suit).

Anyway! This week we're appreciating Pegla, Ferrix's most responsible dog owner (presumably). He's as tired of Cassian's shit as anyone, but he'll still help out in a pinch.

What do you appreciate about Pegla? Let me know in a reblog, comment, or ask!

[uwingdispatch]

Andor babes, I have some new keychains for you!

These motel-style keychains say Niamos Resort and Spa. On the bottom it says room 5, since Cassian visits Niamos in 5 BBY. I like to think that when the Empire falls, Niamos thrives again, becoming an amazing destination full of local businesses and delicious treats. Maybe Cassian or Melshi takes you there to celebrate.

I also made these:

These are about 2.5” and printed on sturdy pine wood. They have the Ferrix Honor Guard symbol and say BRASSO along the bottom. I think they have a really Ferrix-y feel, and I can see the Honor guard making it’s members personalized keychains. And maybe Brasso gave his to you.

I hope you enjoy these! Shop is here! I’m working on some more Brasso fic, it’s just coming slowly. But I think y’all will love this one when it’s ready. 💜

[uwingdispatch]

Steady Me

Steady Me

Notes: Brasso/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

**CW: **chronic pain, hospital scene, depression/mental health struggles, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

Maybe it’s the days and days of rain but when you got out of bed today, you felt a heaviness in your heart that, even into the afternoon, you couldn’t seem to shake. Still, you made yourself get dressed and went into town to run errands during a break in the weather, hoping that getting out of the house for a bit would help you shake this feeling. With Brasso off-planet for the past week helping an old friend get resettled back on Ferrix, you knew you’d just been spending too much time in your own head. Vetch had come by a few times, probably because Brasso had asked him, knowing your tendency to isolate when you weren’t well.  

Perhaps some of the fog was coming from guilt, as you’d originally planned to join Brasso on this trip—but you’d had a debilitating migraine on the day you were meant to travel and sent him without you. He’d made some effort to insist on staying home, but you both knew that Ferrix and your friends needed the extra hands. And now he was late getting back after a storm that delayed all flights off of Ferrix for a day and a half.

You’re barely holding it together when you get a ping on your comm, and you feel like the dam you’ve put up inside yourself is about to break.

“I just got home and you’re not here,” Brasso says. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You sigh. His voice has always been a balm on your hardest days. “I’m on my way back from the market,” you tell him.

“You don’t sound okay. Let me come get you.”

“You just got home. You must be tired.”

“I am. But I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, but I can. And so I’m going to, if that’s all right.”

You give him the cross streets you’re at and sit on a conveniently located park bench. Winter has taken its toll on the local wildlife, but it’s been warmer lately. Birds are whistling in the trees and you think to yourself that it’s been a while since you heard those whistles. And then you wonder if you’ve just been so depressed that you’d stopped noticing the birds altogether.

Brasso arrives on his speeder bike—a recent purchase. You’d encouraged him to indulge himself a little after last quarter went extraordinarily well at his shop. And you remembered the old days, riding on the back of Brasso’s speeder back on Ferrix, before the war. The first time you’d gotten on the new bike with him, all of those wonderful memories stirred in you. And you’re glad to see him with it today. He gets off the bike and immediately pulls you into his arms, kisses your hair.

“Are you hurt, love?”

“No,” you say. “Just exhausted. Existentially.”

“I know you’ve been struggling. Let me get you home and make you some tea, yeah?”

Brasso secures your bags before the both of you climb onto the speeder, and as he drives you home, your arms wrapped around his middle, a sense of safety begins to return to your body.

When you get home, two plump tooka-cats greeting you at the door, Brasso insists on putting the shopping away. In recent months, even things that had been easy for you had become overwhelming. You sit on the sofa trying to take steady breaths, but you’re just so frustrated with yourself, with your inability to keep up with what should be “normal.”

Brasso puts the kettle on and comes to sit with you, immediately pulling you close, the scent of him warm and comforting as you rest your head on his chest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say.

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe the depression is a bit worse than usual but you don’t have to tough this out alone. You know that.”

“I hate putting my shit on you.”

“You’ve always held me up when I needed holding. And I’m always going to hold you up if you let me.”

“I know.”

Brasso strokes your arm, a sweet, grounding touch. “You’ve been working so hard these last few weeks. Maybe it’s time for a break,” he says. “Can you turn off holonet orders? Take some time off?”

“I’m already taking this weekend off from the market,” you say. “I don��t know if I can afford to do that”

“I know you don’t like to talk about money, but you also don’t need to worry about it right now. We have what we need. We have more than what we need, love. You can afford to take a break.”

You let out a long breath. You know he’s right. And you love him for that. But it still hits sour in your gut. “The way I grew up, the way my family always talked about this kind of thing…I don’t feel good about putting the burden on you. I feel like I need to—”

Brasso interrupts you, tips your chin so you can see his eyes. “Do you remember what I said, just after we were married? When you were in the med center for a week and you were panicking about whether you’d be able to take on as much as you were used to?”

You remember. How he’d squeezed in next to you on that uncomfortable med center cot. And he’d held you until your panic dissipated, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that everything would be okay. And when you finally were able to put words to what you were feeling, how worried you were about your ability to contribute, he’d promised that no matter how much you were able to or even wanted to work he would support you.

“I just want you to be happy,” he’d said that day. “And I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to worry about credits. We’ll figure it out together.”

Today you lean into his touch as he wraps an arm around you. “I remember,” you say. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I just…”

“I know, love,” he says. “But please know that I meant it then. And I mean if now.”

The kettle goes off. Brasso kisses your forehead before getting up to make tea. And you watch him, his towering figure, his thick arms, as he walks to your kitchen. You think about all the work he did on your home when you bought this house together to make it perfect for both of you. He and Vetch had knocked out a wall to create a more open space, and from where you’re sitting now you can see him sorting through the cupboard, no doubt looking for the tea he always makes on rough days—a blend similar to one you used to drink together on Ferrix, back before he left.

Returning to the sofa, he hands you your tea and says, “When I got here, I had very little other than the clothes on my back. You let me live in your house, made sure I ate well, helped me find work. We had no idea where this was going, but you took care of me.”

“Of course I did,” you say. “Brasso, you’re my person. I love you. What else would you have expected me to do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, love. You’re my person. And the way I love you, I will always find a way to take care of you. To take care of us. You just being here is enough.”

There are tears in your eyes when you pull him toward you to kiss him. And he leans into your touch as you caress his face, the short scruff of his beard familiar in your hands, your fingers soon threading through his thick, dark hair.

Before you met Brasso you constantly worried you couldn’t possibly be enough for anyone. Or even, perhaps that you were too much. With all of the baggage you brought with you to any relationship, the way your brain worked, the physical disabilities that kept you from doing even simple tasks sometimes—it was hard to imagine there was a person who would tolerate this much in a partner. And then Brasso came along. And while it took a while for you to see it, he loved you in a way no one ever had. In a way you’d always wanted to be loved. And as the sun sets and he kisses your tears away, your tea growing cold on the table, you remind yourself that he’s never shied away from loving you.

*

It was raining the day you moved into your new house. And it had grown dark since the last box had come inside from the moving truck. Brasso was in the garage with Vetch figuring out a plan for tomorrow, when he’d be back to help you unpack and set up in your larger space. With Brasso, the two of you could probably handle the move yourselves, but that’s not how your community worked. Maybe it was the Ferrixian in you, maybe it was just having survived the upheaval and struggle of a years-long war. But, with the people you held dearest, nobody had to do anything alone.

You were tired, but you’d gotten out the fresh linens you and Brasso had chosen just before the move. Curtains could wait until tomorrow, but for now you got to work on the bed, laying out the clean sheets and the soft duvet. You’d never thought you’d have a house like this—one with a big enough office that you could actually call it a studio. A garage large enough for Brasso to have space for his projects. He’d already laid out a few plans for the next few weeks—you both wanted to take out a wall and open up the space between the living room and kitchen. He especially wanted to build you floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for the paper volumes that had come back into fashion on Gatalenta—and which you’d collected rather quickly. The kitchen cupboards needed redoing and there were some plumbing issues in the guest refresher. But for now—this was yours. Yours and Brasso’s. And as overwhelmed as you were at the prospect of unpacking, of all the work that was to come, you were a happy kind of exhausted when Brasso came into the bedroom and wrapped his big arms around your waist.

“Slow down, darling,” he said.

“I just wanted to get things set up,” you said as he tenderly kissed your neck. “Before we sat down and didn’t want to get back up again.”

“I could have done that,” he said. “But it’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It’s ours.”

You turned around and Brasso smiled. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek—you brushed it away with your thumb and he tipped your chin toward him, placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let me finish in here,” he said. “Vetch helped me get most of the big stuff settled in the living room before he left, and I ordered dumplings. Go rest.”

“He didn’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Apparently he has a date.”

“Good for him,” you said.

You had to admit the ache in your body as you headed out to your new living room, the furniture mostly where it was supposed to be, several boxes left to be unpacked tomorrow. Your two tooka-cats had snuggled up in their favorite chair, exhausted after spending most of the day exploring their new space. There was a bit of a draft, and you made a mental note to check that out tomorrow as you grabbed a knit blanket and laid down on the couch, just to rest your eyes. But you were half-asleep when you heard a knock at the door, Brasso stumbling around boxes as he rushed to retrieve the delivery.

The aroma of your favorite meal never failed to bring you back to the moment, to the beautiful man in front of you somehow holding plates and silverware along with the takeout. “You sure you don’t need some help?”

“I’ve got this.” Brasso said, setting everything on the living room table. “The usual place was closed but I’ve heard good things about this one. You can’t really mess up dumplings, can you?”

You thought back to the first date that never was, back on Ferrix, Brasso in that nice sweater, the little restaurant just outside of town, your absolute inability to see that he’d wanted more than friendship when he’d invited you out that night. And the dumplings.

“I thought this would be nice on our first night in the new house,” he said, sitting next to you. “I’d wanted to actually cook for you myself, but—”

“Are you serious, Brasso?” you said, almost laughing. “We moved today. You were going to cook, too?”

“I thought about it.” he said with a shrug.

And then he kissed you, and you could feel the smile on his lips as you leaned into the kiss, reaching for a moment to touch his face. This was a kiss you could live in forever, and you suspected he felt the same as he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you toward him.

There was a clatter as an empty dish fell off the table. In the corner of your eye: a tooka-cat racing out of the room before he could get in trouble. Brasso filled a glass with a fizzy beverage that the two of you often indulged in on special occasions. And as he kissed you once more he said, “I can’t wait for everything that lies ahead of us, love.”

“Everything?”

“Absolutely everything.”

*

The rain has started coming down again when, after tying up any loose ends to close your holonet shop for the weekend, you look up from your datapad. A part of you feels this weather heavy in your chest—a weight that can’t be lifted. But Brasso is in the kitchen chopping vegetables and you think about the ways in which he has provided for you. When he first came back after the war, he’d always wanted to do the cooking. Each meal was so lovingly prepared—he’d remembered, after all those years, exactly what you’d liked when you were both younger. And he was always eager to try the new foods you’d found and loved since. Whenever you told him he didn’t have to do this, he’d just insisted that until he had steady work he wanted to do this one thing for you.

But it was never one thing. He’d been on Gatalenta for just a week when he started fixing things around the house—things you’d known needed taking care of but that you hadn’t gotten around to.. You’d come home from the market one day and he was putting a base coat of paint on the walls of your refresher.

“I know you’re still thinking about what you’d like in here,” he’d said. “But I thought I could at least prime it today and you can let me know what you want me to do for the color.”

There were samples in the kitchen for you to look at, in the shades you’d mentioned the night before in bed, when you’d thought he was half asleep. But Brasso was always listening, always seemed to know what you wanted. What you needed.

Today, as you watch him from the sofa, you think of all those cold Ferrix nights you spent together. How, over a short text exchange at lunch time, he’d intuit that you were experiencing the kind of anxiety that sent you spiraling and somehow by dinner you’d agreed to have him over for a holofilm night. You’d hear his speederbike outside and immediately feel safer, knowing that for the rest of the night nothing bad could possibly happen. And when it was so late that both of you could barely keep your eyes open, he’d tell you he was too tired and it was too cold to ride home and ask if he could stay on your couch. Later he would confess that he’d worried about you, that he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t wake in the night panicking and alone.

That had always been enough for you. Just him being there. And you tell him this often, but you’re never sure if he quite believes you.

You put your datapad on the living room table and make your way to the kitchen where Brasso is rinsing his dishes, the aroma of one of your favorite comfort meals coming from the oven.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks. He dries  his hands, places the towel on the counter before pulling you into his embrace.

“Better,” you say. “I think.” You pause. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad, too,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around for you this week.”

“You’re allowed to have a life, Brasso.” You say. “It’s just…a fog I’m in. And I can’t quite reach past it.”

“I don’t really know what that’s like,” he says. “But unless there’s an emergency at the shop, I’m home all weekend. I’ll take care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I kind of do. Unless you want some space, of course. But I know you don’t like to call anyone else when you feel like this and I’d rather you didn’t have to be alone.”

“You know,” you say, your head resting on the firm muscle of Brasso’s chest, his heart beating in your ear, “It still baffles me how quickly I felt like you were the one person I could always call. And you’ve always been so generous with your time. Not just with me, but with everyone.”

Brasso kisses your forehead, his lips warm and soft. “I never saw any reason not to be,” he says. “And I never minded. Especially with you. I always knew that if I showed up on your doorstep, you wouldn’t turn me away. Even if you knew that I wasn’t really coming by just to check on you.”

There were nights when you’d hear the buzzer for your door in the evening, after dark, and you immediately knew it was Brasso. Nobody else visited that late unannounced—and there was no one else you’d tolerate this with. But it was Brasso, and so you always let him in. And sometimes he’d say hadn’t seen you at the cafe recently and thought he should come see if you needed anything and you’d invite him in and you’d end up just talking for hours over a late meal. And sometimes he’d show up and you could see in his eyes that something was wrong and you’d let him pretend he’d come by because he was worried about you and not because someone he cared about had gone missing and he didn’t want to be by himself.

“I’m always glad to see you,” you tell him. “Always have been.”

“I know.”

Brasso tips your chin toward him and presses a slow kiss to your lips. You feel like you’re melting at his touch, the layer of fog you’ve been trying to break through perhaps clearing a bit as you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over his angular jaw, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind his ear so you can better see the smile in his eyes.

“Sometimes I think about the day we moved into this house,” he says. “How it felt like this was always where we were supposed to be. Even though I would have liked for us to start our life together sooner. What we have is just so perfect.”

“Nothing’s perfect, Brasso. I think I snapped at you last week for putting cheese in the wrong drawer in the fridge.”

“And the guest refresher sink is leaking again. I probably need to take the whole thing out and get new parts.. I know. It’s not that kind of perfect. But it’s perfect nonetheless.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“I missed you this week,” you tell him. “I’m so glad you got to help out on Ferrix for a bit. But stars, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, love,” he says. “Any time I leave I’m grateful that I get to come home to you.”

It’s easy to forget everything dark inside you as he drags his thumb slowly over your bottom lip. As his hand slips under your shirt to caress your back. And when he presses you up against the counter, his body flush against yours, there is nothing in your world but him.

“Would it help if I ran you a hot bath?” he asks, bending to kiss your ear. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while. We can take some time to wash away all the difficult things.”

“That sounds nice,” you say.

A shiver runs through your body as Brasso presses a soft kiss to your lips, his gentle hand at your cheek. When he heads down the hall to the refresher, the weight of the galaxy around you is lighter.

“Are you coming, love?” he calls.

And you laugh to yourself as you follow him, remembering that he’d remodeled your refresher just for times like this, for hot baths on days you needed them most. For enjoying those hot baths together. You can already smell the healing salts and sweet soaps he’s chosen for you—all your favorites.

“There you are,” he says.

Gently, he undresses you, and you think that perhaps his touch alone could heal every ache in your body, every anxiety, every dark thought. And as often as he tells you he’s lucky to have you, you feel like you must be the lucky one, to have a man who always seems to find you even when you’ve retreated into yourself. So tonight, in his strong arms, in the comfort of this perfect bath, you believe him when he kisses your shoulder and tells you everything is going to be all right.

★★★★★★★★

It took me way longer to finish this than I’d expected, but I hope you still enjoy it. Thank you for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @zinzinina @princessxkenobi @aerynwrites @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @multifandom-fic-rec-blog @againstacecilia @elasticreality @zombiedixon89 @forresway @sith-as-heck @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian @ginger-swag-rapunzel @lyuir @little-wolf-white-peacock @iamsuchanasshat @vvpoisonous @saradika @islandfrogeery @boba-brasso-bee @groguspawbeans @fluffyprettykitty @mischiefqueer @wretchedmo @wyn-n-tonic

[uwingdispatch]

I miss him so much.

[uwingdispatch]

He’d bring my sleep disordered ass a pumpkin spice latte on his lunch break. Every day. New standard unlocked.