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uwingdispatch · 7 months

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From the Very First Night

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

CW: light discussion of past traumas/implied PTSD

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

The day you met Ezra Bridger you laughed when he told you his name.

“Forgive me,” you told him, “but you’re not the first man on Lothal to try and pick me up while claiming to be the guy in the mural on the wall outside.”

“Well that’s new,” he said. “I tell you my full government name and you think it’s a ruse. Maybe I should have used one of my old aliases.”

You’d been finishing up some work in what had come to be your favorite caf bar in town, a few blocks from your home on Lothal. And you were thinking about leaving when a man approached with a look in his eyes that, on another day, might have prompted you to pick up your comms and fake an emergency call from a friend.

But now he was reaching for his wallet, pulling out an ID. “You can check my chain code if you want. I didn’t realize I had so many doppelgängers.”

You quirked an eyebrow. None of the other “Ezras” you’d met had offered ID but, as soon as you saw it, you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Okay,” you said. “This is embarrassing. ”

He smiled warmly as he put his wallet away. “To be fair, most of the stuff in town depicts me as a kid, and I didn’t have this handsome beard back then. But I can appreciate a skeptic.”

You put away your datapad, your instincts still split between staying where you were and running out the side door. Surprising yourself, you say, “But I’m not hearing you say that you're not trying to pick me up.”

“Well…maybe. That depends, I guess, on whether you mind if I join you.”

You nodded, and he sat opposite you, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling when he smiled. Up close, you could almost see the teenage boy from the mural. But his hair was longer, dark curls falling soft around his face, and he had a short beard that he did wear quite well.

You wondered if his nerves had caught up with him as he ran a hand through his hair, the late afternoon light coming in through the window catching a streak of silver at his temple.

“Sometimes it feels like I know everyone in this city. Or at least that everyone in this city feels like they know me.” he said. “But you’re new, aren’t you?”

“What gave me away?” you asked.

“Well, I could never forget such a lovely face.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I really am.”

There was something sincere about him, despite the flirtations. Something about the way he moved was honest. Welcoming. A server brought him a cup of caf and Ezra exchanged a few words with him in Rodian.

“So how long have you been in town?” He asked.

“About eight months,” you said. “I just hit this point where I felt like a fresh start might be nice. I don’t usually abandon ship when things get rough, but I thought maybe this one time…I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

He winked. “I used a Jedi mind trick.”

“Right,” you said, fairly certain he was kidding.

He shrugged. “And somehow you landed on Lothal.”

“I narrowed it down to the places where I’d be able to have my astromech serviced.”

“Must be a special astromech.”

“She’s a therapy droid.”

“Ah,” he said. “There are several mechanics in Capital City who work with that program.”

You were a bit taken aback at how unfazed he was at the mention of your therapy droid—issued by the New Republic. Similar programs had been available to injured veterans before, but the civilian program was newer. And he not only knew about the program, but didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you had a condition that required this kind of aid.

“We had a lot of options,” you said. “But Ceetoo and I decided Lothal seemed nice. So…I’m here.”

“Glad you are,” he said, both hands cupping his caf mug.

“You just met me and the first thing I did was call you a liar.”

“That’s what I like about you.”

A day would come when you’d realize what he meant then. That when you saw him you weren’t thinking about all the war stories, about the way Lothal had memorialized him when they’d thought he was dead. That he had a chance, at least for a moment, to show someone who he was without the burden of their assumptions and expectations.

You would also come to realize that from the first time Ezra smiled at you, there was no coming back. He had you, melting like chocolate in the palm of his hand. Because he saw you too, like no one else ever had before.

***

It’s late afternoon when C2-B35 comes in from the garage bleeping about the line at the pharmacy. She’d gone with Ezra to pick up your medication after getting your doctor to call in something new for your joint pain. Ezra could have gone by himself but, because of an incident early in your dating history when there’d been a mix-up, Ceetoo almost always insists on going with him—and he learned a long time ago not to fight a stubborn astromech.

Ezra finds you on the sofa where you’ve been trying to relax, the pain in your back making it hard to even lie still. He knows better by now than to tell you that you’ve been working too hard, that you should take more breaks. He knows to help you up, taking you gently into his arms and kissing your hair. By the time he hands you the tablets, you’re already feeling a bit of relief.

You take the medicine and let out a heavy sigh, resting your head on Ezra’s chest before whispering a thank you.

“I wish I could heal,” he says.

“We still don’t know if that kind of healing would help me,” you say. “Genetic condition.”

It’s a dance you dance every time you have a flare like this, bad enough that Ceetoo insists on contacting your doctor.

“I met a kid once who could do it. His dad said he could nullify the effects of a neurotoxin. Close a wound like it had never been there at all.”

“What did the kid say about it?”

“The kid doesn’t talk much. Still working through some things, I think.”

He gets quiet, and from the look in his eyes you know that he’s gone somewhere in his mind lost you can’t follow. It’s been 25 years since he last saw his adoptive father, the man who’d trained him in the Force, and there are some wounds that time never quite heals. Ezra is still working through some things, too.

“Hey,” you say. “Come back to me.”

He smiles, his eyes bright as he gently squeezes your arm. “I’m right here, sunshine.”

The medication starts to hit, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You reach for his face, the sharp line of his bearded jaw, the parallel scars on his left cheek. “Just as you are, you’re enough, Ezra. I don’t need a Jedi. I just need you.”

C2-B35 beeps irritably before retiring to her room, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast.

“Thank you, Ceetoo,” you call, with a promise that you’ll have a proper dinner.

“Is it helping?” Ezra asks. “The medicine?”

“It is,” you say. “Finally.”

“Have you really not eaten all day?”

Your face tells him everything.

“Right,” he says. “Dinner. I could make some quick dumplings? I think I froze some last time to fry later…I’d just have to make the sauce, really.”

He’s up and in the kitchen, pulling jars of spices out of the pantry, and you know he can already taste this comfort dish, and so can you.

So much of his life had been unstable after Ezra’s parents disappeared. He was on his own at such a young age, and then after a few short years in the Rebellion he ended up in exile on Peridea. Now, everything he had felt like a luxury to him: a permanent home, a pair of naughty indoor loth-cats, soft clothes he wore without consideration for armor. He’d told you about learning to cook when he came back to Lothal and, now that he has access to just about any ingredient for any dinner in the galaxy, he has every intention of not only enjoying the luxury of any hot meal he can dream up, but to make sure you enjoy food as well. When Ezra offers to cook, you never say no.

“Ezra?”

“What do you need, love?”

“I need you to kiss me.”

And he does, pulling you up from the sofa, taking your face in his hands as he presses his lips to yours, his neatly trimmed beard soft against your skin. You’re lacing your fingers through his dark curls when he pulls away to look right into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whisper.

And he replies, “I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

***

It was night before you left the caf bar and, at this realization, Ezra insisted on walking you home. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that,” he’d said. “I would understand. It’s just dark out and…”

And something about being with Ezra just made you feel safe. Even on that first night. You’d never let a strange man walk you home before—it was on its face a bad idea. But you’d stayed out much later than you normally would, and the idea of being alone felt far more unsafe than being with this charming man.

“I don’t normally do things like this,” you told him, the words coming out way too fast, just a block from your building.

“I figured,” he said. “For what it’s worth…I haven’t done anything like this in quite a while.

This did surprise you. “Walked someone home?”

There was a playful tone to his voice when he replied, “Approached a beautiful stranger in a caf bar.”

“You sure are bold for someone who doesn’t regularly…do whatever this is.”

“I just…” he started and paused, taking a breath. “This is going to sound like a line, but I just felt so drawn to you.”

“In the Force?”

“Maybe.”

“It does sound like a line,” you said. “But somehow I believe you. Jedi mind trick?”

“I’d never actually—”

“I know.”

You were both standing outside your door, a cool evening breeze in the air. You took all of him in—his firm chest beneath the deep v of his tunic, his dark hair catching on the wind, those blue eyes that seemed to see right past all of your walls. You’d met this man just a few hours ago but, beyond all reason, you so wanted to—

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, the words falling from his lips as if he hadn’t considered the consequences.

You nodded and he took a step closer, cupping your face in his hands, his nose brushing yours as he leaned in to press the most delicate kiss to your lips. And you felt his smile just as you felt that joy in yourself—a spark of something unlike anything you’d felt before. Maybe it was the Force, but every inch of your being wanted to be close to this man as you reached for his face, drawing him nearer, slipping a hand into his hair as the kiss deepened.

“I should go,” Ezra said, breathless into your ear.

“Why?” you asked.

“I have an appointment.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Then stay.”

Nervously you fumbled with your keys, dropping them not once but twice as you tried to open your door, Ezra eventually placing them steadily into your hand, and just the touch of his fingertips against your palm sent a pleasant shiver through you. Quickly you shooed an alarmed Ceetoo away as you entered. Unlike you, her memories included files from the war, and she recognized Ezra as soon as she saw him. Beeped out something along the lines of this one’s mostly trustworthy and I’m going to charge.

“Mostly?” Ezra said, almost in a whisper. “I wonder what she’s heard.”

You bite back a laugh. “I just need you to know I don’t normally do this either.”

“Okay.”

“I could make some tea.”

“Sure.”

But his arms were around you again and you both stumbled toward the sofa, falling into the cushions wrapped in each other like teenagers, wholly unworried about anything else in the galaxy.

That tea didn’t get made for hours. And it was nearly dawn when you retired to your bedroom and Ezra fell asleep on your sofa, your loth-cat sitting at his feet. When you woke, he was gone, a note left on your kitchen counter: Had to work this morning, but I hope you’ll call me. You traced your finger over the comms code left in scratchy handwriting below, wondering for a split second if this could be real. But if you closed your eyes you could still feel the sensation of his fingertips ghosting over your cheek when you’d handed him a blanket the night before. His voice when he’d whispered in your ear, “Sleep well, sunshine.”

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! They really gave us Hot!Ezra in the Ahsoka series and I'm just here to be a gremlin about it. 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 @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @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

#middle-aged ezra bridger #ezra bridger #ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger x gn reader #ezrabridger x gn!reader #adult ezra bridger #ahsoka series #ahsoka series fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels #and a loth-cat because I can #disabled reader #chronic illness #hurt/comfort #just a little domestic fluff #and a first meeting #comfort reads #the fluffiest fluff

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allyofavonlea · 5 months

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Perhaps it is always restful to be around someone who does not expect anything from you beyond what is in your nature.

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries

by Heather Fawcett

★★★★★

A comforting, romantic, winter adventure reminiscent of Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Album… but BETTER.

We follow gloriously curmudgeon Miss Emily Wilde, faerie scholar extraordinaire, as she fastidiously researches the fae in the remote village of Ljosland. Along with her trusty dog companion, Shadow, whose every scene brings a smile to the face, and her curiously charming friend Wendell Bambleby (who sends her drawings he’s done of her!!! So cute!!!) during countless treks through the magical wilderness, encountering all sorts of fae friend and foe.

I cannot recommend this enough for a winter read, as this book brings the same feelings of being swaddled in hundreds of blankets, just as Wendell loves to be. The characters are lovable and memorable, from the townspeople to Emily and Wendell themselves. You can’t help feel a rosy glow of happiness reading the exchanges between these two, and the ever-present love that exists between them.

The story is told in the form of journal entries with countless footnotes about other faerie related scholarship that brings such a gorgeous touch to the book. Appeals to both the inner child and the inner romantic, and to anyone who wishes for a wintry adventure along with a nice cup of tea.

I cannot wait for the sequel to be out this upcoming January!!

#Emily wilde #five star reads #comfort reads

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noswordinourlake · 6 months

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I've seen the comfort movie post on my dash from multiple folks now and I realized I don't comfort watch at all bc when I'm overwhelmed my ability to process multiple stimuli falls through the floor. So I'm curious— what do y'all comfort read?

Mine are probably the Queen's Thief Series; the Goblin Emperor; the Night Circus; anything by Patricia McKillip. I would say I attached myself to my comfort books pretty early in life, interested to know if this is the same for most folks!

#books #reading #comfort reads #idk what to tag this go wild #i'm back on my bullshit

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sage-green-kitchen · 1 month

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I like re reading books because sometimes I don't want to have to get to know new people.

#fictional characters are people too #books #light academia #literature #chaotic academia #dark academia #life #books and reading #books and libraries #fandom #fan fiction #fictional characters #comfort reads

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moonkisseddelight · 1 year

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PAC: A Comforting Letter

*This is an intuition based reading.And it's also a letter from me to y'all incase y'all had a rough/bad day,week or month🥹 Sending love and abundance 💗✨

PILE 1🫧

Hey love💕

How are you doing, i know you feel like giving up sometimes or feel like nothing is going your way...But trust me, everything is going to fall in place and everything is going to go your way. Have patience my love, because the universe has the best in store for you. Your heart and your intentions are always good and blessings are on their way... So hold on tight and know that this too shall pass and happy bright days are on their way. Don't worry too much and try practising meditation 🥰

Love you,

XOXO 😘

PILE 2💙

Hey sweetie 💫

Are you exhausted and feeling burnt out and also feel like taking a break, then this pile is just for you. Tbh, all of us have been there too and ik it just gets hard sometimes. My dear reader, believe it or not, you're so hardworking and the amount of dedication you have towards the things you do is just so admirable 🥺, there's actually no harm if you sit back for once and rest a bit because your body,mind and soul are all begging for it, so please listen to them. Trust me sweetheart, your efficiency and productivity soo admirable and if you think your not matching some unrealistic expectations of people or even yourself, then please stop, cuz it's not true. Your already doing more than what you usually do. So,please take care of yourself and i suggest y'all to start journalling or even picking up a hobby to relax☺️

Lot's of love,

XOXO 😘

#enhypen tarot #tarot community #kpop tarot #pick an image #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a card reading #daily tarot #tarot reading #tarot of the day #comfort reads #letters #fyp2022 #law of manifestation #bts tarot #stray kids tarot

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andreai04 · 3 months

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“I wish to know the unknowable… To peel back the carpeting of the world and tumble into the stars.”

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intothestacks · 6 months

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Comic by @myjetpack

#comics #tom gauld #funny pics #bookworm #comic books #comfort reads #librarylife #libraryland

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gutterandthestars · 1 month

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This is AMAZING. A group of troopers speculate about staging an Olympic-style games in secret. In realising their self-styled GARlympics, they discover not just the joy of sport, silliness, and Art for Art’s sake, but some darker secrets lurking within the Republic.

This story will warm your heart and make you cry about art and self-expression. And there’s so much silliness. Beautiful.

#star wars #the clone wars #commander mayday #commander fox #commander Cody #fanfic #art #comfort reads #SO SOFT YOU MAD GENIUS #Pratchett levels of prose here it’s so good #GARlympics fic

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kurtbusiek · 8 months

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What are some good PI/mystery novels you enjoy that you can recommend?

When I felt in the mood for a comfort read, I’d often turn to Lawrence Block’s Matt Scudder novels or his Bernie Rhodenbarr series -- the Scudders are dark, the Bernies are funny, but a stack of those would keep me reading not just for the plots but to see the leads and the ongoing supporting characters interact and develop over time. Others that work well for me: John Sandford’s Lucas Davenport novels (and his Virgil Flowers novels, which are sort of a second-track for the Davenports, interacting often) have a very satisfying sense of work-related bullshitting -- the mystery always gets addressed, but the crime-solvers have a great sense of co-workers who’ve been together for long enough to comfortably banter back and forth. Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch and Mickey Haller novels work very well as series reads too -- it’s actually worth reading Connelly in publication order, because even when he starts a different series or does a standalone novel, characters from those books wind up showing up in other series books, so it’s rewarding to take in the whole universe of Connelly crime. [Sandford does this too -- there are a few novels that focus on other characters and then they show up in the Lucasverse, which is enjoyable.] Robert Crais’s Elvis Cole mysteries are not only enjoyable reads, but the characters and mood develop a lot over the series, so they make good multi-book reads, too -- and again, there are characters who start out in their own novels and then feed into the Elvisverse. The standalones that don’t connect tend to be extremely good, as well.

Donald E. Westlake’s Dortmunder series and his Parker series (under the name Richard Stark) are very much not PI novels -- both characters are professional thieves, though Dortmunder’s world is one of comedic disaster and Parker’s is tough and spare and mean, and both are great. There’s even one book (JIMMY THE KID) where the Dortmunder gang decides to follow a crime plan from a Parker novel and the chapters alternate between the tough-guy procedural and the comic everything-goes-wrong. Dick Francis’s racing mysteries rarely have series leads (there are a couple of leads that recur here and there), but the novels all take place in the horseracing world and the leads tend to be similar, so reading through a stack of them can be a lot of fun too. I’m sure there are plenty I’m leaving out -- I like the first 13 or so Spenser novels by Robert B. Parker, but think that after that they largely get less and less interesting, though the banter is always readable. Laura Lippmann’s Tess Monaghan novels have a lot of engaging growth and change to them, too. Chelsea Cain’s Archie Sheridan/Gretchenn Lowell serial-killer novels are unsettling but, again, have change and growth over the series. When I was younger I loved John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee, but I fear those haven’t aged well. Hammett and Chandler are the classics of the form, but the Continental Op doesn’t change or grow, and I never read Chandler’s novels in chronological order. I also remember scarfing down Leslie Charteris’s Saint novels and Manning Coles’s Tommy Hambledon, but haven’t read either for years. I’m still sure I’m forgetting series I love, but that ought to be a respectable list. As for where to start in all these series, I’d say start at the beginning for most of them. Maybe start four or five books in with Lucas Davenport, because he got more interesting as he went. The same might be true for Elvis Cole, and with Robert B. Parker I’d say start with MORTAL STAKES. If you like them you’ll eventually want to read the early ones, and they’re not bad, it’s just that the series kinda rev up a few novels in as the writers find their footing.

#mystery novels #crime novels #comfort reads

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sitp-recs · 1 month

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Hello Liv, hope you are well ❤️ Thank you for the amazing work you do, I am so glad I started following you.

I am struggling a bit at the moment, and was wondering if you had some cozy drarry to recommend? Could be hurt/comfort or anything else, but preferably not to explicit. If you know of some where either of them is dealing with figuring out they are asexual that would be great, but I haven't really found many fics with this before, so no worries if you don't.

Again thank you so much for all that you do, I really appreciate it ❣️

Hello darling, I’m sorry to hear it’s been a rough time for you 🫂 here are some of my favourite comfort fics that I’m always revisiting to lift my spirits. All of them are T-rated, except for Nice Things (M). I hope they help! Take care 💜

Ace Drarry:

Glowing by @cavendishbutterfly (10k)

Harry's lived alone and vampiric in his cottage for ages, until a long-lived Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up to answer an advertisement Harry had practically forgotten he'd put in the Prophet.

Passion Cake by @icmezzo (19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Misc:

Waiting for that Feeling by @sorrybutblog (4k)

Draco Malfoy has a car and Harry Potter is on the case! Featuring Muggle car repair, a road trip to Cornwall, and falling in love in a Ford Fiesta.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

warmest part of the winter (orphaned, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

Art:

Going Postal by dustmouth

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #comfort reads #ace drarry

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uwingdispatch · 7 months

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Wayward Evenings

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

CW: alcohol consumption, the aftermath of alcohol consumption, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You hadn’t expected to spend your evening holding your husband’s hair back in the refresher. In fact, you’d had other plans. But when Hondo was in town…you’d learned to expect this kind of thing. Perhaps it was your mistake to try and do tonight any other way, but you’re still annoyed that Ezra is just so…Ezra when it comes to the former pirate.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you tell him. Ezra is leaning against a cabinet on the floor doing his best to stay upright. Despite your irritation, you’re right there with him, smoothing his sweat-slicked hair away from his face. “Every time,” you say. “It’s like you’re incapable of making good decisions around that man.”

“I think you’re onto something there, sunshine,” he says. “But can we talk about it tomorrow? I feel like I’m going to die right now.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Sure,” you say. “If you promise to never drink pirate moonshine again.”

“It was made on Batuu, so technically it’s moons-shine.”

“You know what? I’m just going to leave.” You have no intention of leaving.

“I’ll never touch that shit again,” he says. “For you, of course.” And then wretches again.

An hour ago someone at the cantina had called you to come get your idiot husband. They normally would have called Sabine—she was more physically capable of dragging Ezra out of a bar and throwing him into a speeder—but she’s been off planet for the past few weeks and that left you and your droid to come coax Ezra out of the building and get him home.

“I know you had plans,” he says. “I’m so sorry,”

“Too drunk to stand up,” you say, “before the sun’s even fully set!”

“I guess I was just feeling ambitious.”

“When they called me to come get you they were worried you were going to try and fight a Dowutin. Over an insult to Hondo’s ‘honor.’”

“I would never actually—”

“If you weren’t who you are you might have gotten arrested.”

“I know.”

“Ezra, I love you, but I really don’t love this.”

Even still, you’re rubbing his back, holding him steady. There are people you meet at a certain age and somehow, whenever they’re around, you become that age again. You understand this. It just doesn’t make your current predicament any less frustrating..

C2-B35 rolls in grumbling and hands you fresh towels, which you pass off to Ezra, who seems to be regaining his balance as he stands, the nausea abating.

“I think the worst is over, Cee,” Ezra says.

Ceetoo, being a therapy droid ultimately concerned with your wellbeing, chirps and whirrs—a curse-ridden message for Ezra that you don’t bother acknowledging. Because despite her vitriol, the little astromech has been monitoring his vitals since the two of you picked him up earlier.

“Get cleaned up,” you say. “Is there anything you need?”

“You’re too good to me,” he says. “But all I need is you.”

In the kitchen, inhaling a bowl of leftover pasta, you remind yourself that this is not a regular occurrence. You hear the shower running and feel a bit of relief knowing you’ve moved on to the part of the evening where Ezra can take care of himself. Which means the vomiting is over. And given how much of that had gone on earlier, you’re pretty sure he meant it when he said he’d swear off Hondo’s moonshine.

When he emerges he’s wearing just a pair of gray lounge pants and a soft red robe—yours—left open.

Ceetoo is nearby watering her plants and in a series of beeps and whistles she asks if she needs to still be monitoring Ezra.

“I’m good, Cee,” he says. “I just need to rest. And make up for…all of this.”

He slips his arms around your waist and nuzzles your neck before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” you ask.

“Eh…mostly.”

“Still a little drunk?”

“A little.”

You take his face in your hand, brushing your thumb over his cheek before tucking a few wayward curls, still wet from the shower, behind his ear. He leans in as if to kiss you and you stop him. “Not before you drink that water,” you say, pointing to a large glass on the kitchen counter. “All of it.”

“And then?”

You shrug.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sunshine,” he says, his voice low, his lips almost touching your ear.

You reply: “I know.”

***

You’d been dating Ezra for six months when you first met Hondo. Ezra had described the old Weequay as “kind of like an uncle, but not the kind of uncle you call in an emergency…unless it’s like a real emergency, he’ll show up for that.”

And after a night out with Ezra’s “uncle” you wondered if you really knew who you were dating. It wasn’t that the liquor had changed his personality, or even that Hondo had. You just hadn’t seen this side of him before.

“I think I overdid it,” he said.

“You did.”

“I should have warned you.”

“Ezra,” you said. “I don’t know if there’s any way to warn someone that one of your dearest friends is the kind of person who thinks axe-throwing while drunk is a good idea.”

You were walking a rather tipsy Ezra home after what you had thought would be a casual dinner with a quirky family friend. But that was not how time with Hondo would ever go. You’d threatened to leave over the whole axe-throwing throwing thing, but stayed a while when Ezra reluctantly backed down from the challenge.

“I forget that Ezra Bridger cannot hold his liquor,” Hondo had said. “I would do anything for this boy, but he would have made a terrible pirate.”

Ezra looped his arm around your waist and sighed. “With Hondo,” Ezra said, “sometimes it feels like I can go back in time. Like…”

“Like all the time you lost while you were away didn’t happen?”

“You get it,” he said. “Of course you get it.”

“I don’t know if I get it, but I think I know what you’re saying.”

Ezra never got to go through a wild phase—not the way most people did as young adults. Hondo, however, seemed to make space for the chaotic teenager in anyone. Which maybe under other circumstances might have been fine, but Ezra’s limit was usually a pint or two of ale. Tonight there had been Correllian wine. And then shots of something that smelled like explosives.

Just outside of his house now, Ezra mumbled, “I would have been a great pirate.”

You swiped his key card to open the front door and, as soon as he could get to it, he flopped into his bed.

You sighed, watching Ezra struggle to take off his socks. “I’m sure you would have been legendary.”

“Legendary!” he repeated.

You got ready for bed, using the items of yours that had started to collect in the refresher. Some you’d left at Ezra’s place over the last few months. Others Ezra had bought for you, wanting you to feel welcome and at home with him. He called your name, and you went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, knowing he’d be feeling this in the morning if he didn’t at least try to hydrate.

“Come here,” he said. “Let me hold you.”

When you joined him in bed, he pulled you toward him, undressed now, his skin warm against yours. “I don’t usually drink like this,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you this intoxicated before.”

“That’s on purpose,” he said. “I can’t believe I let myself…you know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Drink the water,” you told him.

“I will,” he said. “Hey. Hey…can you look at me?”

You tuck his hair behind his ear, let your fingers trail down his neck and along his jawline. “I’ve been looking at you this whole time.”

“I’m just so glad you came out with me tonight. I know Hondo is a lot, but he’s family.”

“He’s probably not too fond of me.”

“Are you kidding? He loved you.”

“Really?”

“How could he not, sunshine?” he said. And after a pause, “Do you know how important you are to me? How much I love you?”

It was the first time either of you had said these words to the other. And you hadn’t expected to hear them as a drunken confession. “Ezra, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“It’s okay. Just…tell me again when you’re sober.”

“I will.”

He pulled you close and you rested your head on his chest, breathing deeply. He smelled of sweat and alcohol, of course. But also of him. Of a man you’d very much fallen in love with. Sometimes you thought you’d fallen in love with him the day you’d met. But you’d held those words back, wondering sometimes whether Ezra Bridger was the type to settle down.

But now, there was something about the way he stroked your hair as he started to doze off. And when he said “I’ll tell you I love you every day for as long as you’ll have me,” tipsy or not, you believed him.

***

You’re in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of caf when you hear Ezra stumbling down the hallway, followed by the loth-cats that had been sleeping at his feet.

“You’re never up this early,” he says.

His hair is wild, and he’s wearing a robe—his this time—and not much else. You don’t need to tell him he’s a mess. He knows. And he knows how he got here.

“There’s no Jedi trick for hangovers,” you say. “Or at least that’s what you’ve lead me to believe.”

You put a plate of eggs and two headache tablets on the table and he sits, a look of defeat in his big blue eyes.

“I’d been hoping to make you breakfast today,” he says. “I really kriffed things up last night.”

Ceetoo comes in the front door carrying a shopping bag, looks straight at Ezra and starts grumbling in binary.

“I know,” he says. “I’m profoundly aware of this. Can you please lower your volume?”

You bring two cups of caf to the table and sit beside Ezra. A man who’s stayed up with you through countless nights when your chronic pain was at its worst. Who makes a point of bringing you your favorite tea anytime you have a particularly bad migraine. A man who, when you’d first met, lived on the opposite side of town—but when he found out how difficult your anxiety could get, he started making that long drive to you any time you were struggling and he thought he could help.

He did kriff up last night. But you can’t find it in yourself to hold it against him. “It was a rough night,” you say. “But it’s behind us.”

Sipping his caf he says, “Thank you, love.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“I don’t mean the breakfast. I mean, I do. But you deserve better than a grown man who can’t get his shit together for one night so you can go out with your friends.”

There’s something sheepish about him as he takes your hand, and you see the “boy” Hondo always refers to when he talks about Ezra, despite his being in his forties.

“You have your shit remarkably together ninety-nine percent of the time, Ezra,” you say. “I can make new plans. And you were sick enough yesterday that I think that might be punishment enough.”

Ceetoo grumbles as she brings you a plate of sliced fruit. She’d happily gone to the store for you but had been less than enthusiastic about it when you told her the fruit was for Ezra—she could hold a grudge as well as any organic. But you reminded her of how many times he’d been there for the two of you, and that if you could forgive him for one ruined night, she could, too.

As she’s leaving the kitchen she beeps and whistles: try not to barf.

Ezra laughs. “I’m so glad she doesn’t actually hate me,” he says. “Though sometimes I wonder.”

You sit in silence for a while, listening to the wind blowing a tree branch into the window outside, the birds singing in the garden. And you remember planting that garden with Ezra when you first moved into this house, how you reminded him again that you probably wouldn’t be able to help much with maintaining the garden because of your chronic pain. And he’d taken your hands and told you that he didn’t expect anything of you other than that you being in his life. That just you being here, making a home together—that was enough. He’d wiped the tears from your cheeks when you began to cry, your heart so full it was spilling over.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Better now that I’ve eaten, actually.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before you get up to feed the two tooka cats who have gathered under the table, nipping at your feet. One you’d had when you met Ezra—the other was a three-legged stray Ezra had found living in an alley behind his work, far too friendly to be a street cat. You nearly trip over the little guy as you turn to put the kibble away, only to be steadied by Ezra—you hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up from the table.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

“I was fine,” you insist.

He smiles. “Sure.”

His grin is infectious, and soon you have your arms around his neck, unable to stifle the smile on your own face. He ghosts his fingers along your cheek, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip for a moment before leaning in to kiss you, slow and lingering.

“You can make me dinner tonight,” you tell him.

“And in the meantime?”

You can’t imagine he’s recovered that quickly. But Ezra is always full of surprises. So when he leads you back to the bedroom you follow. He discards your clothing in the hall, piece by piece as you stumble over each other, a feeling of lightness filling you as he kisses your forehead, your nose, your neck before you tumble into bed. And when you find yourself beneath the sheets with Ezra, you’re thinking about how seamlessly he fit into your life, from the very beginning. And now, how perfectly your bodies fit together, his deft hands finding exactly where and how you love to be touched.

He whispers in your ear: “Let me make this up to you.”

And you melt into him, your fingers lacing into his hair as he kisses you deeper, a spark of electricity running through you as if it were the first time he’d ever kissed you.

“You still owe me dinner,” you tell him.

“I’ll give you anything,” he says, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “Anything you want,” he says, “it’s yours.”

And, if only because he’d never once given you a reason not to, you believe him.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! Once again I am here to be a gremlin about Ezra Bridger somehow growing up to be Blorbo. I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @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 @1vlouds @lucypaulette @x-0ophelia0-x @densenubi @dolphincommander @glass-soup @cosmictearsfall

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