Turns out, sleep deprivation makes people delirious—delirious enough to say stupid shit.
Selene found that out the hard way when she let something slip to Demi the morning after the chaos at the docks.
“You want to get laid?!” Demi shrieked, nearly choking on her tea.
“See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” Selene groaned, swatting her arm.
In a moment of exhaustion-fueled honesty, she’d told Demi almost everything—from the shootout to the makeshift clinic, to how her mind wouldn’t let her sleep.
Everything except the part where she got herself off thinking about the Mandalorian.
Luckily, there hadn’t been any more casualties beyond Dreck. Just some damage to clean up and a few injured already being taken care of.
Selene kept the bar closed that morning. Once Demi returned—fresh off checking sex in space off her bucket list—they both headed down to the docks to help with cleanup: splintered wood, broken glass, scattered debris.
By next week, everything would probably be back to normal.
Selene had spent the morning telling every volunteer to come by the bar later for a round on the house. She was expecting a full crowd—and Demi, bless her chaotic heart, canceled a date to help Selene before they reopened for dinner.
They were supposed to be deveining Cadefish for the dinner special, but in reality, Selene was doing all the work while Demi sat at the prep counter, eating.
“Don’t be ashamed, girl. I love this new version of you,” Demi grinned.
“I’m not ashamed, I’m just—” Selene paused, knife still in hand. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to admit that the Mandalorian—this silent, armored mystery—was giving her a kind of sexual whiplash she wasn’t prepared for.
But her silence said enough.
“Who did you have in mind? Jaun? Mikael? Someone new?”
Selene cringed at the mention of names. Jaun definitely wasn’t her proudest moment—loud and wrong most of the time, he was the kind of man who mistook persistence for charm.
And in a moment of weakness—loneliness, really—she gave in. Then again, and again, until it turned into a habit she regretted more with each walk of shame.
Still, she’d been willing to overlook it because, well… he was good in bed.
Mikael, though—he had been different. He only came by the bar once, said something dumb that made her laugh, and just like that, they clicked.
No pressure, no games. He had this easy warmth about him, he was funny without being rude. It felt nice to laugh and smile with him.
But they were just flings, nothing more.
“No, neither of them,” Selene said, laughing it off.
“Oh?” Demi leaned in, waggling her eyebrows. “Has someone else caught your eye?”
“Oh, yeah. So many options,” Selene deadpanned. “The town is just crawling with emotionally available men who smell like fish.”
“You’re right,” Demi groaned, finally hopping off the counter. “All the hot ones reek of the ocean.”
Selene laughed. After last night, she definitely needed a little... release. And since she was pretty sure the Mandalorian had already skipped town with his bounty, Rick wouldn’t be coming back for another week. Maybe tonight was a night she could actually let go and have fun.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and change into something a little more…” Demi motioned vaguely at Selene’s outfit.
Selene looked down. Her simple black shirt was dusted with flour, water-stained across the front. Her loose pants dragged at the hem, collecting water and dirt from all the walking they did that morning.
“Revealing,” Demi added, though the hesitation in her voice made it clear she wasn’t convinced Selene even owned anything that fit the word.
All the prep work was done, the Cadefish just needed to finish cooking.
“And what are you going to be doing?” Selene asked Demi.
Demi grinned and pulled out a pink flask from her pocket. “Pregaming.”
Selene was halfway up when Demi called after her, “Maybe slap on some makeup… and seriously you have to do something with that hair!”
Selene shot her a glare over her shoulder.
Upstairs, Selene peeled off her flour-stained shirt and kicked aside her pants, stepping in front of the small mirror above her dresser. Her reflection looked worn. Shadowed eyes, unsmiling lips, a face still carrying the weight of the night before.
She shook the thoughts out of her head, she didn’t want to think about surviving or being tired. She wanted to feel like herself again—whoever that was these days, even if it was just for one night.
She dug through her limited stash of going-out clothes, pushing past pieces that didn’t feel like her anymore—a dress that clung too tight, a skirt cut shorter than she’d ever wear now.
Most of it felt like it belonged to someone else—someone lighter, more carefree.
Eventually, she landed on something simple but striking: a black, sleeveless top that looked plain from the front, but dipped low revealing her back.
She paired it with soft black cargo-style pants, cinched high at the waist with a wide belt. They were comfortable, practical. The fabric swayed when she moved but wouldn’t get in her way if things got busy.
At her makeshift vanity—really just a narrow shelf beneath the window—she applied her makeup with practiced ease. A dab of concealer under her eyes, bronzy shadow across her lids, a sharp flick of liner, and a lip stain that made her look like she’d just eaten a bowl of ripe cherries.
Her hair, though—that was always the part she hated. She slicked it back into a low bun, neat and sleek, leaving a few loose tendrils to frame her face. Clean but intentional.
By the time she came back downstairs, Demi was leaning against the bar, casually tossing a piece of potato skin into her mouth. She turned at the sound of Selene’s boots on the stairs—and her jaw dropped.
“Damn, okay,” Demi said, standing up straight with a grin. “You clean up real nice.”
Selene rolled her eyes, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah.”
“If you end up alone tonight, I’m sleeping with you,” Demi said
“Oh my gods,” Selene laughed, a flush creeping into her cheeks.
“I’m serious,” Demi went on, eyes roaming appreciatively. “If I looked like that, I’d be dangerous—and probably have, like, four kids by now. You look hot. Like, capital-D Dangerous.”
Selene ducked behind the bar, checking the pot still simmering on the back burner. “Let’s just hope it scares off the fish-smelling men.”
“Scare them?” Demi grinned, sliding onto a stool. “Babe, you’re about to ruin them.”
Selene grinned. It felt good to be admired—for once, to be seen. She didn’t know why she ever let Rick convince her she wasn’t enough. Why she let him trample her spirit and shrink her into someone small.
Maybe when he gets back, I’ll finally tell him off.
Yeah, right. He’d just beat the confidence right back out of her like he always did.
She exhaled hard through her nose, shaking the thought away. Tonight wasn’t about Rick. Tonight was about forgetting him—and maybe remembering what it felt like to have fun.
“Can you bring that chair over?” she called to Demi, who raised a brow but did as she was told.
“What are you doing?” Demi asked, steadying the chair as Selene climbed up.
“I thought you said we were having fun,” Selene said, reaching for the high shelf behind the bar where they kept backup bottles—and a few expensive ones meant for special occasions.
Her hand wrapped around a bottle of vodka still in the packaging. A wedding gift. Unopened. Untouched.
Perfect.
“Ooooh,” Demi grinned. “Now you’re talking. And for the record, your ass looks incredible in those pants.”
Selene smirked as she hopped down and grabbed two shot glasses. She poured generously.
“What should we toast to?” she asked, holding hers up.
“To…” Demi paused dramatically, “…having fun, looking hot, and making very questionable decisions.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Selene laughed, and their glasses clinked.
The Star’s End lit up like a firework.
Music pulsed through the floorboards—not too loud, just enough to keep hips swaying and boots tapping.
After the chaos at the docks, folks needed a reason to gather and enjoy themselves and she’d given them one.
Cadefish platters steamed on tables, cracked shells glistening in spiced broth beside piles of corn and sausage. Bellies were full, drinks were flowing, and for the first time in days, people looked like they could breathe again.
Behind the bar, Selene moved like she was made for it. She poured, flipped bottles, slid drinks across the counter with practiced ease. She tossed a rag over her shoulder and leaned in with a grin to a man trying to shout over the music.
“All four of these for you?”
He grinned back, flushed from the heat or the drink—or both. “Nah, for my buddies! But I can outdrink every one of ‘em!”
“Sure you can,” she said, already lining up the bottles.
Across the room, Demi had taken her third break of the night, perched like royalty on a stool and surrounded by a group of off-duty deckhands. One of them was trying to impress her by arm wrestling the others, and Demi, true to form, was soaking it in like sunshine.
The place wasn’t just packed. It was alive. Warm. Buzzing with the kind of energy Selene hadn’t felt in ages—like the bar belonged to the people inside it.
She paused, hands braced on the edge of the counter, catching her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, a pleasant burn under her skin from the shots she and Demi had shared throughout the night. Not drunk, not even tipsy. Just good.
The suns were just slipping behind the edge of the horizon, casting a deep blue glow through the bar’s front windows. Night would fall soon. She’d need to eat something to pace herself if she was going to survive the rest of the shift.
Selene stiffened.
She didn’t see it but she felt it. That distinct prickling behind her ears. Selene straightened, scanning the room casually. Probably just someone trying to flag her down for another round.
Someone was watching.
But then she saw him.
Half-shadowed in a corner booth, a man sat alone with a drink in hand, elbow propped on the table. He wasn’t doing anything—just watching. He didn’t look away when she met his gaze. Instead, he lifted his glass slightly, the barest curve of a smile on his lips.
He was handsome, sure. But unfamiliar. Too clean to be a dockhand, too polished to be a local. His jacket was sharp, collar crisp, his whole presence just a little too put-together for a place like this.
Selene lifted her own glass in return, a silent mirror of his gesture. A flicker of heat rose in her chest, followed by a sharper edge of caution.
She blinked, unsettled by her own reaction—somewhere between intrigue and warning.
Demi appeared beside her, unbothered and grinning. “Someone’s staring at you,” she sing-songed, elbowing her gently. “He’s cute. Bit shiny, though.”
“Too shiny,” Selene muttered.
But she didn’t look away.
Selene decided she’d ignore the man in the corner. She didn’t want him—or the strange feeling he gave off—anywhere near her good mood. Tonight wasn’t about mystery men and whatever strange game he was playing.
So, she poured drinks and cracked jokes, matching the crowd’s energy beat for beat. Demi worked beside her, the two moving like they’d done this for years, even though they hadn’t.
Selene wished it could always be like this—easy, wild, free. Just the two of them, shoulder to shoulder, keeping the whole place spinning.
She was in the middle of pouring a round of shots for a group of girls near the end of the bar—ones who had volunteered with her and Demi this morning—when Demi suddenly yanked her away.
“Hey! That was for the girls who helped us scrub the docks, they deserve their drink—” Selene started, but Demi wasn’t listening.
Instead, Demi grabbed her by the shoulders and started fussing with her as if she was her mother and today was Selene’s wedding day.
She smoothed down a stubborn flyaway that had escaped Selene’s bun, then licked her finger and dabbed under Selene’s eye where her eyeliner had smudged from all the laughing.
“Demi!” Selene protested, swatting her hand away.
But Demi was determined. She leaned in like she was about to fix Selene’s cleavage next.
“Oh my gods, there are people watching—what are you doing?” Selene crossed her arms over her chest, the liquor bottle still clutched in one hand.
“Perfect!” Demi snatched the bottle from her and poured the shots with a flourish, handing them out to the waiting group of girls. She poured one more and shoved it into Selene’s hand.
“Ugh, rum?” Selene frowned. “I thought you said not to mix liquors.”
“Just drink it,” Demi said, distracted and slightly manic.
“Where’s yours—”
“Just drink!” Demi snapped, grabbing Selene’s hand and guiding the shot to her mouth.
With a sigh, Selene threw it back, grimacing as it burned its way down.
“Why does it have to taste like—”
“Don’t forget you’re beautiful, you’re strong, and you’re a badass. Men should be worshipping the ground you walk on,” Demi said, hands on Selene’s shoulders, voice suddenly serious.
Selene blinked. “Are you wasted? You’re acting really—”
Demi didn’t answer. Instead, she spun Selene around by the shoulders.
And there he was.
The Mandalorian.
Seated on a barstool just a few feet away, helmeted head tilted ever so slightly in her direction. Silent. Still. Staring.
Selene's words caught in her throat.
“...Weird,” she finished weakly.
Demi leaned in, lips close to Selene’s ear. “Go get him, sister.”
Then she smacked Selene lightly on the butt and gave her a gentle shove forward.
The suns had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the town of R’hye in soft, warm shadows.
The Star’s End was quieter now. Selene hadn’t been lying to the Mandalorian when she said the Sabacc games would eat up her customers. Even if they didn’t go to play, most townsfolk showed up just to drink, spectate, and gamble the night away.
She decided to close the kitchen early — hell, she even poured herself a drink or two — while the last of the day’s stragglers nursed theirs.
It had been a strange day. Quiet, yet brimming with revelations she couldn’t quite shake.
Mando’s visit lingered in her mind, like the faint scent of smoke long after a fire had burned out. His steady words. The unreadable gaze hidden behind that helmet. The creed he spoke of — the life he lived.
Now, with the bar practically humming in low, lazy silence, Selene leaned back against the counter, the cool wood grounding her.
It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to hope — to wonder if maybe something more was out there, waiting beyond the worn edges of her life on R’hye.
Beyond the clink of glasses.
Beyond the endless tide of familiar faces.
An obnoxious burst of laughter jolted her back to reality.
A woman at the bar swung her arms too wide, sending a cup flying from her hand. It hit the floor and shattered, shards skittering across the wood.
Selene sighed and grabbed a broom and dustpan.
For now, this was home. For now, she'd let the night unfold as it always did.
She was sweeping up the last bits of glass when a commotion outside snapped her head up.
Yelling. Screams.
Selene set the dustpan down and crossed quickly to the door.
"What the hell...?" she muttered, trying to peer through the windows — but it was too dark to see anything.
She stepped outside into the cool night air — just in time to see people running past her.
Not toward her — away from something.
Instinct screamed at her to go back inside, lock the doors, tell the remaining customers to get home.
But then a sharp, panicked scream cut through the night.
Fuck.
Without thinking, Selene took off toward the noise, pushing against the tide of bodies scrambling to get away.
She spotted a young woman crumpled on the ground — no older than Selene herself — shaking with fear and still drunk from whatever celebration she’d been part of.
People dodged around her like she was debris, some even stepping over her in their rush to flee.
Selene shoved her way through the chaos and dropped to her knees beside her.
"Can you stand?" Selene shouted over the noise.
The girl only sobbed, curling tighter in on herself.
"Listen to me," Selene said, gripping her by the arms. "I'm going to help you. But you have to get up. Just stand, okay?"
The girl’s fingers tightened around her arm in response.
"O-Okay," she whimpered, voice cracking.
Selene hauled her upright, the girl practically collapsing against her.
Keeping a firm hold around her shoulders, Selene used her body to shield her, forcing a path back toward the bar.
When they finally stumbled inside, two regulars — Kit and Victor — rushed over, grabbing the young woman from Selene’s arms and easing her into a chair.
"What the fuck happened, Selene?" Kit asked, wide-eyed as he checked the girl over.
"No idea," Selene said, trying to catch her breath. "Just... chaos. People were running from the docks like it was on fire."
She peeled off her long-sleeved button-up and draped it around the shivering girl, who had clearly been dressed for a night out.
Selene crouched down to meet her eyes.
"You’re safe now, alright?" she said gently, though her mind was already racing.
The girl clutched the button-up tighter around her shoulders, still sobbing quietly.
Selene glanced toward the door, unease prickling the back of her neck. Whatever was happening near the docks wasn’t over yet — the shouts and faint blaster fire were growing louder.
Kit threw a nervous look outside. "Maybe we should bolt the doors."
"Yeah," Selene said, wiping her palms on her pants. "Do it."
Victor was already moving, sliding the heavy bars into place across the front entrance just as another sharp crack of blaster fire rang out.
Selene stiffened.
This wasn’t just a regular drunken scuffle.
The high-pitched whine of the shots sliced through the night air, different from anything she’d heard before.
This was something else.
The Mandalorian.
He must’ve finished his sightseeing.
And now someone — no, the whole damn town — was running for their lives.
Selene moved back to the young woman.
"Did you see what happened?" she asked, crouching low, keeping her voice calm.
The girl nodded shakily, swiping tears from her face. "It was Dreck. He—he pulled a blaster at the tables. He started shooting! Some man came for him — not one of us — he was after Dreck!"
Selene felt her stomach drop.
Dreck.
The local thug who half-ran the Sabacc games, handled all the dirty money floating through the docks. If he felt cornered, he’d burn the whole place down before letting himself get taken.
And if the Mandalorian was the one who went after him—
Shit.
Selene stood, pacing a few steps before turning back to Kit and Victor.
"You two stay here," she said sharply. "Keep her safe. If anyone else comes pounding on the door, don't open it unless you recognize them."
"Where are you going?" Victor asked, even though he already knew.
"I'm going to see if I can help."
“Like that?!” he said, gesturing at her bare arms.
Selene looked down — she was in just her undershirt after giving away her long-sleeve.
Victor shrugged off his jacket and threw it at her. Selene caught it and yanked it on, pulling the hood up over her head.
"I’ll be back."
Kit swore under his breath, but neither of them tried to stop her.
Selene slipped out the side entrance, keeping low along the shadowed alleys. The distant hum of fighting was closer now — sharper.
Selene crept toward the docks, keeping hidden behind a row of cargo crates.
Chaos.
Blaster fire lit up the night in stuttering flashes, and people were still scattering, wild-eyed and terrified.
Near the main loading platform, she spotted him —
The Mandalorian — a dark, cutting figure against the flickering lights.
His movements were precise. Deliberate.
He was calm — a storm moving through the wreckage.
Across from him, Dreck was a mess — wild-eyed, drunk, screaming curses as he fired blindly, not caring who he hit.
Selene ducked instinctively as a bolt sizzled past her head, slamming into the crate behind her. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She collapsed onto the ground, staring at the smoking hole inches from where her head had been.
She struggled to breathe.
Why had she left? She should’ve stayed inside, like any sane person.
Another shot cracked through the night, yanking her from her spiral.
Still shaking, she peeked around the edge of the crate, scanning the scene.
Dreck had backed himself into a corner and — desperate — grabbed a bystander, shoving the terrified woman between him and the Mandalorian as a human shield.
Selene’s breath caught.
Without thinking, she shouted, "Hey! Leave her alone!"
Dreck’s head snapped toward her voice — and the Mandalorian seized the opening.
One smooth, practiced shot — and Dreck went down hard, stunned and crumpling without another word.
The Mandalorian strode forward, cuffed him with some kind of high-tech binders, and gave the terrified bystander a short nod, a silent permission to run.
Then — slowly — his helmeted gaze found Selene in the shadows.
She froze.
He couldn’t see her. It was too dark. She was more than halfway hidden behind the crates.
And yet — when she peeked back out — he was still staring in her direction.
His head tilted slightly — almost a silent question:
"Are you alright?"
Selene swallowed hard.
No way. She had to be hallucinating.
Shock. Stress. Adrenaline.
Without waiting to find out, she bolted, running back to The Star’s End, leaving the docks.
The way back to the bar was a blur.
Selene guided frightened bystanders along the way, telling them to head to The Star’s End if they needed shelter or somewhere warm to wait out the chaos.
She even sent out a quick comm to two regulars she trusted — one was a trained medic, the other a healer. She promised free drinks if they could come help with the wounded.
By the time she returned, the bar had become a makeshift nurse’s station.
Thankfully, the only blaster wound was a clean shot through the arm — painful, but not fatal. Others had scrapes and bruises from the panic at the docks, but nothing they couldn’t handle.
By night’s end, the bar was full. Locals helped carry the injured home, and those more seriously hurt were taken to the town’s small hospital.
Selene stayed on her feet the whole time — handing out towels, throwing together quick meals, even pouring the occasional shot for someone too shaken to sit still.
When the last guests finally left and the doors were bolted, silence settled over the place like a heavy blanket.
Selene moved slowly through the room, doing one final check of every table, wiping down surfaces, straightening chairs.
Her thoughts drifted back to the first young woman she’d helped — the one who’d been trampled in the crowd.
She hadn’t seen her again after the girl left the second time.
Didn’t even get her name.
Selene frowned.
Was she like Selene — someone with no place to go?
Or maybe she had a family, like Demi, and just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She was too tired to think about it. All she wanted now was sleep.
Selene stepped behind the counter and poured herself a stiff drink, her hands trembling as she brought it to her lips.
Out of the corner of her eye, something flickered — a glint of light in the window, or maybe just a reflection.
She froze.
But when she looked again, there was nothing. Just shadows and the quiet hum of the bar’s old lighting.
She must’ve been more exhausted than she realized.
She downed the drink in one go and climbed the stairs to bed.
It was quiet, but in her mind, the chaos hadn’t stopped. Blaster shots. Screams. The scent of scorched metal. Selene lay flat on her back, eyes wide open, staring at the cracked ceiling above her bed.
Her muscles ached, her feet throbbed, and her head still buzzed from too much adrenaline and not enough rest.
She tried to force her mind blank, to push away the weight of the day, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time she got close, her heart would stutter and spike, anxiety clawing its way back up her throat.
“Motherfucker,” she muttered, voice hoarse. Frustration knotted in her chest, and before she realized it, tears slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, angry with herself.
She refused to cry.
It wasn’t like this was new. She’d done this kind of thing before—helped during riots, tended to the wounded, opened her doors when no one else would. Rick had always hated that. Said it wasn’t her place. Beat it into her, even.
So why did tonight feel so different?
Him.
The Mandalorian—steady, controlled, lethal in motion, yet somehow gentle when it mattered. The way he moved, the way he looked at her… it was burned into her mind.
Her eyes fluttered shut, but her thoughts only sharpened.
She could still feel the brush of his fingers against hers, brief and unintentional. But what if it was intentional next time? What if his hands held her—not to take, not to restrain—but to ground her? To want her?
Selene turned onto her side, tucking the pillow under her cheek, her breath catching as her mind wandered. She imagined the cool press of beskar against her bare skin, the rough scrape of his gloves tugging at the hem of her shirt. The heat he’d carry, despite all that armor.
Her thighs shifted, pressing together.
She exhaled shakily, one hand drifting down her stomach. Her pulse was still thrumming from the memory of the docks—his figure in the smoke, the precision of his shot, the way he turned to her afterward like nothing else mattered.
Like she mattered.
Could he see her now? She imagined his gaze on her—sharp, focused, that slight tilt of his helmet as if silently asking, Are you okay?
She bit her lip and sighed. This was foolish. He was a bounty hunter. He would be gone by morning again.
She thought to herself that maybe it wasn’t just about him. Maybe it was about being wanted. Touched—not because someone felt entitled to her body, but because they chose it. Chose her.
She hated Rick for what he’d done to her. For warping her sense of love, of safety, of her own goddamn body. He didn’t just ruin sex — he ruined touch. Made it feel invasive, dirty, something to endure instead of something to crave. He hollowed her out, left her flinching at kindness and numb to intimacy. He didn’t just take things from her — he stripped her of the right to feel like she belonged in her own skin.
She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to sleep with someone she actually liked. Sex with Rick had always been fast, unfeeling—something to get over with. He never asked what she needed. He never cared.
There had been others. She hadn’t been faithful. Still, none of them were real—not lovers, just temporary company when the loneliness got too heavy.
But tonight?
Her hand slipped lower, beneath the waistband of her underwear. Slow, teasing, cautious. She rubbed gentle circles, her thoughts drifting back to the Mandalorian—his presence, his silence, his strength.
She pictured tha Mandalorian again standing tall in his armor, the way he moved with quiet certainty, like nothing in the galaxy could shake him.
He didn’t need to shout to be heard, didn’t throw his weight around to prove anything. He was just... solid. Capable. In control.
Everything Rick wasn’t. Rick was loud and insecure, always needing to remind everyone he was a man — fists first, words second. But this one?
He didn’t take power, he carried it. She imagined what it would feel like to let herself fall into someone like that — someone who wouldn’t flinch at her fire or try to smother it. Someone who could handle her and hold her, who wouldn’t take from her, but protect what was his.
A man who wouldn’t twist love into something ugly. And gods, some dark part of her wanted to belong to him — not because she was weak, but because she was tired of pretending she never needed anyone.
She pictured him again on the docks, his blaster still warm, his body tense, yet his focus solely on her. That tilt of his helmet, that silent question.
And with that image, her body trembled.
She came with his name barely whispered on her lips.
After, she lay still in the dark, her hand resting on her stomach, breathing slowing. Shame tried to creep in, but she pushed it away. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning. Maybe he’d never come back. Maybe it was all just fantasy.
Her ribs were almost fully healed, and honestly, she felt better than she had in a long time.
Demi had been over every day since—and even spent the night once when they got too drunk and high for Selene to walk her home. Life felt easier without Rick lurking around.
Breakfast service had just ended, and Selene was finishing the prep for lunch specials. Everything had gone so smoothly without Rick that she even had time to change into real clothes after spending most of breakfast in her pajamas.
Demi was there too, helping frost the last of the mini mooncakes Selene had made.
Selene was laughing as Demi told her latest hookup story.
“Okay, so we sit down at this really fancy restaurant, right? I go to pee, come back out… and I couldn’t remember what he looked like!”
“No, you didn’t!” Selene gasped, pulling out a tray of steaming meat pies from the oven.
“Yes! I even did two laps around the place. Poor bastard—completely forgettable.” Demi shook her head. “That’s the last time I let my mom set me up with one of her friends’ sons.”
Selene laughed, balancing a tray of clean glasses to carry to the bar. Demi followed, still telling the story.
They chatted between serving customers. Selene was on a roll—plates going out, drinks refilled, everything running smooth.
She was just setting down a drink when she heard it: heavy, deliberate footsteps at the door before it swung open.
The Mandalorian walked in casually, unfazed by the stares he drew as he made his way to the bar. A floating carriage hovered beside him, the little one peeking out at counter height.
Selene gave the customer she was serving a quick smile.
“Let me know if you need anything else, hun,” she said, then headed down the bar toward him.
As she moved, she caught Demi’s eye from across the room—Demi sitting at a table, clearly on another date. Demi’s eyebrows lifted meaningfully.
Selene cleared her throat when she reached him.
“Hello,” she said awkwardly. Would he remember her? Should she make a joke?
She took the safe route.
“What can I get for you?”
“Food for the kid,” the Mandalorian said, voice low and steady. But there was something about his tone—like he wasn’t quite finished.
“Yes, of course! Are meat pies okay for him?” Selene asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“That’s fine.”
She was about to turn away when he added, a little hesitant:
“We were here a couple of weeks ago… you gave him something sweet.”
Selene’s heart lifted a little.
“Yes, of course I remember! How could I forget this little one?” she said warmly, smiling at the child, who giggled in response. “And you. We don’t get many Mandalorians stopping through.”
The Mandalorian shifted slightly.
“Right. You gave him a dessert. He… refuses to eat anything else now. It’s been a pain.”
Selene laughed under her breath.
“They’re easy to make. Not too many ingredients. I don’t have any ready right now, but I can whip up a batch.”
“We don’t mean to put you out—” he started, before trailing off.
Selene followed his line of sight—he wasn’t looking at her anymore but past her, toward Demi, who was making her way over to the bar.
“Excuse me one moment,” Demi said with a smile, slipping between them smoothly. “Mind if I steal her from you for a second?”
Selene let Demi tug her a few steps away from the bar, lowering her voice so only Selene could hear.
“I’m about to ditch you,” Demi said with a mischievous grin. “Gonna run off with Lucas over there. He’s got a ship. Ever had sex in space?” she half-whispered, half-giggled.
Selene snorted, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me mid-shift.”
“Please. You’ll survive.” Demi flicked her eyes meaningfully toward the Mandalorian, still sitting patiently at the bar. “Besides, you’ve got better company now.”
Selene folded her arms. “Don’t you dare.”
Demi’s grin widened. “Come on, Selene. I have to introduce myself. It’s good manners. Plus, you’re clearly too chicken.”
“I was getting there!” Selene hissed.
“Yeah? Before or after you serve him meat pies?” Demi teased. “Trust me. I’ll keep it short. Maybe just a little spicy.”
Before Selene could protest, Demi grabbed her wrist and pulled her back toward the bar with the kind of reckless confidence Selene both envied and feared.
They stopped in front of the Mandalorian. Demi leaned casually against the counter, flashing a bright, easy smile.
“Hi there,” she said warmly. “I’m Demi. Part-time helper, proud friend of this one.” She nudged Selene gently with her elbow. “Mind if I call you Mando? You just look like a Mando to me.”
Selene opened her mouth, mortified, but the Mandalorian only tilted his helmet slightly, considering.
“You can call me whatever you like,” he said, voice low and even.
Demi laughed. “Dangerous thing to say to a girl like me.”
Selene covered her face with her hand, trying not to die of embarrassment.
“And this,” Demi said with a flourish, gesturing to Selene, “is Selene. Owner, boss lady, best cook on R’hye.”
The Mandalorian turned his visor slightly toward Selene.
“Selene,” he repeated, giving her a small nod.
She nodded back quickly, cheeks warming. “Mando,” she said, carefully trying out the nickname.
Huh. Guess she really hadn’t gotten to properly introduce herself last time after all.
“And if you’re nice,” Demi added, giving the floating child a wink, “she might even make you some mooncakes.”
The child gave a delighted little gurgle, and Selene groaned into her hands.
“Alright, alright, enough,” she said, pushing Demi lightly on the shoulder.
Demi just laughed. “Fine, fine. I’m off. Places to be, people to meet.” She gave Selene a quick hug and whispered, “You’re welcome.”
As she walked toward the door, grabbing her date’s hand, Demi called over her shoulder, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, girl!”
Selene turned back to the Mandalorian, cheeks burning but smiling despite herself.
The Mandalorian didn’t say anything right away—just gave a slow tilt of his helmet, like he was considering her.
“This is Grogu,” he said simply.
Oh.
Selene blinked, surprised he’d offered the name so easily.
“Grogu," she repeated, smiling. "Nice to finally meet you properly, little one.”
Grogu cooed and grinned, and Selene couldn’t help but chuckle.
"He's a charmer," she said. "Must take after you."
The Mandalorian gave a soft, almost imperceptible huff — maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh.
Selene fiddled awkwardly with a dishrag, too aware of every second ticking by.
She cleared her throat. "So... you two sticking around a while? Or just passing through?"
“Just passing through. Didn’t get to see all the tourist spots last time.”
Selene’s motions stilled; she looked up at his visor, trying to read him.
“That was a joke.”
Selene snorted—louder than she meant to—Grogu giggling along like he was in on it.
“I’m sorry," she said, holding her sore ribs between laughs. "I just didn’t expect a Mandalorian to joke today.”
“Let me get your food," she added, still trying to suppress her grin as she disappeared into the kitchen.
She came back balancing two plates of warm meat pies. She doubted Mando would eat, but it felt wrong not to offer. She opened her mouth to make another teasing comment—only to hear a holler from the far end of the bar.
“Here you go," she said, setting a plate in front of Grogu. "And if you finish them all, I’ll throw in an extra mooncake to take home.”
Grogu squealed and picked up a pie, taking a big bite.
"And you—" she called over her shoulder, "—don’t go telling another joke while I’m gone."
Grogu watched her go, bright eyes following her every step.
Mando watched too.
Not obviously, not like some drunk fisherman might leer at a barmaid.
It was subtler than that — a quiet turn of the helmet, a tilt of the body that tracked her weaving between tables, dodging grasping hands, handing drinks out with easy grace.
He lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Maybe it was the way she moved — every step efficient, but still full of life.
Maybe it was the way she smiled at the regulars like old friends, and gave as good as she got from the rowdier ones.
Whatever it was, it held him still.
Grogu cooed softly.
The Mandalorian grunted — almost like agreement — before turning back to his stillness.
It didn’t take Grogu long to finish his pies. Even then, he waited patiently in his pod, mirroring Mando’s stillness.
When Selene finally reeled back around, Mando was checking something on the commlink at his wrist.
Tracking something.
Someone.
Wex.
Selene’s stomach flipped.
She’d almost forgotten—the Mandalorian hadn’t just visited last time. He'd hunted.
She had to get a grip.
The Mandalorian was a trained killer, someone who hunted people down for a living. That wasn’t something to take lightly.
But then Grogu nudged closer to the bar, and the child inside peered up at her, wide-eyed and curious.
Her heart melted.
"You run this place alone?" Mando asked, visor tilting toward her.
Selene shrugged, trying to stay casual while she poured Grogu a glass of water.
"Mostly. Demi helps... sometimes. And my business partner is out on a work trip."
She caught herself lying, giving a tight smile.
Why was she embarrassed? She couldn’t control Rick being a piece of shit. But somehow... she didn’t want Mando to know.
He didn’t press. But she felt the weight of his attention.
"You’re good at it," he said finally. "The food. The crowd control."
Selene’s heart did an odd little flip.
Praise from a regular customer was one thing. From him?
It hit differently.
"Thank you," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
The Mandalorian said nothing more, but the silence was... comfortable.
Full of things unsaid.
“Not a lot of people in today," Selene said, glancing around the light crowd.
“This time every month they have a big sabacc night down by the east docks,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
"Sabacc not your game?"
She shrugged. "I’m alright at it. But it’s no-rules — I could win fair and square and still get shot on the way out."
Mando listened intently — at least, she thought he did.
The damned helmet made it hard to tell.
"East docks," he repeated.
Selene looked down at Grogu, whose plate was now empty.
He babbled happily, reaching tiny fingers toward her, and without thinking, she leaned down, letting him grab one.
Mando watched, silent, but not disapproving.
"Well," Selene said, laughing softly, "looks like I’ve made a new friend too."
"He likes you," Mando said.
Selene looked up, meeting the dark visor.
"No, he just likes that I feed him," she teased, poking Grogu’s tiny belly and making him giggle.
Selene pulled away just as Mando handed Grogu another meat pie.
The child squealed in delight.
Selene found herself glancing at the Mandalorian again — not just at his armor, but at the helmet itself.
The question burned on her tongue.
She knew better than to ask. But... something about him — so steady, so close — made her brave.
Leaning closer, lowering her voice, she said:
"Can I ask you something?"
The Mandalorian didn’t move, but she felt the shift of his attention.
"If you don't want to answer, that's fine," she rushed. "I was just... wondering. The helmet. You ever take it off? Even just for eating or... sleeping?"
A long pause.
She opened her mouth to apologize —
But then he spoke.
"I do," he said. His voice was steady, but quieter now.
"But not in front of others."
Selene blinked, surprised by the simple honesty.
He shifted slightly, almost like weighing whether to continue.
"It’s part of the Creed," he said. "Our faces stay hidden. It’s... who we are."
Selene studied him, heart beating faster — not out of fear, but from the weight of what he was trusting her with, even in so few words.
"I get it," she said softly.
And she did. Maybe not completely. But enough.
She gave him a small, genuine smile.
"Thanks for telling me."
The Mandalorian inclined his head — a small, respectful nod — but it made something warm uncurl in her chest.
“We should get going,” the Mandalorian said, rising from his seat.
Selene froze, worry prickling at her. Had she said too much? Asked too many questions?
“If you don’t mind,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile, “I can pack something for you to take. I still owe him some mooncakes for being so good.”
The Mandalorian tilted his helmet slightly, a small gesture — but enough. He gave a short, almost reluctant nod.
Relieved, Selene darted back into the kitchen. She packed whatever she could find: meat pies, a portion of leftover stew, braised fish from dinner prep, fresh rolls, and of course, a few extra mooncakes — one for Grogu, and, without letting herself think too much about it, one for Mando too.
When she returned, he stepped forward to take the tray. His gloved fingertips brushed against hers — a brief, accidental touch, but it sent a quiet jolt through her.
Before she could second-guess herself, she blurted out,
“I could start a batch of cookies. If you stop by tomorrow... I can have them ready.”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Just stood there, the tray balanced easily in his hands, visor fixed on her.
It was impossible to read anything from the helmet, but somehow she felt the weight of his consideration — like he was memorizing the offer, tucking it away.
Finally, he gave a slight dip of his head — not quite a yes, not quite a no.
“We’ll see,” he said, voice low and noncommittal, but not unkind.
It made Selene smile despite herself.
Without another word, he turned and started toward the door, Grogu’s pod floating faithfully after him.
It wasn't until the door swung shut behind them, letting in a brief rush of cool night air, that Selene noticed a small stack of credits left tucked neatly beneath the edge of Grogu’s empty plate.
Far more than the food was worth.
Selene let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking her head.
Of course he wouldn’t say anything. Just... leave it behind, quiet and unseen, like everything else about him.
She gathered the credits carefully, her fingers lingering on the worn edges.
For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at the door where he had disappeared.
In the span of a few short visits, he had disrupted her careful, lonely routines — not with grand gestures, but with small, deliberate acts.
A steady voice. A silent kind of trust.
It was foolish, probably, to think anything could come of it.
He was a Mandalorian — a soldier clad in beskar, sworn to hide his identity from the world — and she was just a woman running a rundown bar on the edge of nowhere.
And yet, as she tucked the credits away and wiped at her suddenly stinging eyes, Selene couldn’t help but hope — just a little — that he might come back tomorrow after all.
Selene hadn’t even bothered flipping the sign back to Open. After dragging herself upstairs, she locked the door behind her and collapsed onto the small couch in her apartment above the bar, every inch of her body aching.
The towel Rick had thrown at her still sat in a crumpled heap in the corner—tossed aside after she’d used it to wipe up the mess.
She hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. She didn’t need to.
The bruises were blooming beneath her skin—hot and sore, pulsing with every breath. Still, she felt the urge to see the damage. Maybe to feel real. Maybe to prove to herself that she was still standing.
With a wince, Selene pushed herself upright and shuffled into the kitchen. She pulled a cold pack from the old cooling unit and pressed it to her ribs, then made her way to the bathroom.
Her hand trembled as she turned on the light.
It’s from the impact, she told herself. Not fear.
Her hair was tangled and wild again, her makeup smeared down her cheeks. She reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly lifted it, flinching as the fabric dragged across her bruised side. The purpling wasn’t too dark yet—a sickly pinkish hue that would be worse by morning.
The muscles in her side screamed in protest when she finally worked the shirt over her head. She gasped, then dropped down to the floor, breathing through the pain.
From under the sink, she pulled a roll of bandages and carefully wrapped the cold pack in place, wincing as the compression settled in. The numbing chill was the first bit of relief she’d felt all day.
She sat there in silence, leaning against the wall.
And the silence—gods, the silence was a gift.
Usually, the faint hum of traffic or the laughter of passersby would filter in through the windows. But tonight, it was like even the planet knew not to disturb her.
Rick hadn’t come back.
And she knew he wouldn’t. Not tonight, anyway.
That was the pattern: he’d explode, vanish, and return a day or two later with a gift in place of an apology. A coat that didn’t fit. Perfume she didn’t wear. Jewelry she quietly pawned.
Never a word. Never sorry.
The bar could stay closed tonight. The world could wait.
She needed one night to remember she was still human.
Selene made her way to the bedroom, lowering herself onto her side of the bed with a wince. She reached for the drawer in her nightstand and pulled it open.
Tucked beneath old journals and forgotten credits was a small tin. She popped the lid, her fingers brushing over the soft, earthy-green spice rolled in thin paper.
She used to smoke before she met Rick. Funny—he hated the smell of spice, claimed it made him sick.
This strain wasn’t strong. She’d traded a few drinks for it with a local grower weeks ago. Mellow, easy—just enough to hush the noise in her head. A soft haze. A little peace.
She lit it and took a slow drag, her body still sore, her hands still trembling—but something inside of her eased.
She couldn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t remember getting up. Didn’t remember opening the bar.
It was like she’d only just regained consciousness once lunch was over—half-empty glasses on tables, crumbs scattered like dust, a trail of boot prints tracking in from the muddy street outside.
Weird.
Maybe it was her mind trying to protect her. Maybe she was just too used to going through the motions. Maybe it was better if she didn’t think.
Selene wiped down the bar with slow, practiced motions, her ribs aching beneath the bandages she must’ve tightened that morning. The place smelled like grilled fish and fried kriln cakes, but beneath it all lingered the faintest trace of cleaning solvent and whiskey.
A pair of regulars lingered in the corner booth, laughing over some inside joke she didn’t care to catch. A delivery driver had come and gone, leaving behind a fresh crate of produce. She’d signed for it with a steady enough hand.
On the surface, everything looked normal.
But beneath her shirt, bruises bloomed darker by the hour, her ribs protesting every reach and twist. She hadn’t dared to lean on the counter for long—it hurt too much to hunch.
She poured herself a small glass of water and leaned back against the back bar shelf, eyes scanning the room. Not for trouble.
Just for something. Anything.
A sign that the worst was behind her.
The bar had settled into a lazy hush, the last table finally cleared. Selene gathered the dishes, moving slowly, careful not to aggravate the sharp pain still buried deep in her ribs.
The door creaked open.
Demi stepped in, her eyes scanning the quiet space until they landed on Selene. Her smile was still there—but softer this time, touched with concern.
“You’re still here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you’d close up early today.”
Selene offered a tired shrug as she approached. “I actually did yesterday. Can’t afford to miss another one,” she said with a weak attempt at a smile.
Demi slid onto one of the barstools, casual as ever, though her gaze was sharper than usual. “How’re you holding up? Is he…” Her voice trailed off.
She didn’t need to finish. Selene understood.
“Nope. He took off after…” Her own voice faded, and she didn’t bother filling in the blank.
A breath slipped from her lungs as she leaned against the counter. “I’ll survive. I’m just tired.”
Demi tilted her head, voice gentle but firm. “How tired? Like... take-a-break tired?”
Selene met her eyes—and caught the familiar spark of mischief behind them.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. Truth was, she didn’t feel like being alone. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d just gone for a walk.
“We could hit the market,” Demi said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Scope out some hot guys, stir up trouble.”
Selene snorted softly. She knew Demi was trying to lift her spirits.
“I could use the sunlight,” she admitted. “Let me just lock up real quick.”
She made her way upstairs to change her shoes, grab a spare bag for the market, and to collect a handful of credits. Every step was a reminder of the bruises blooming beneath her shirt.
When she came back down, Demi was waiting in the kitchen, quietly observing the careful way Selene moved. Neither of them said anything at first.
“I’m fine. Really,” Selene said, breaking the silence.
Demi stepped forward and took her hands, gripping them tightly, like she could will her care straight into Selene’s skin. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
Selene’s breath caught for a moment before she nodded. “I know.”
They stood like that for a long, quiet beat, hands entwined.
Then Selene gave her a grin and gently let go. “Let’s go find you a husband.”
Demi lit up. “Now you’re talking.”
With that, Selene locked up the bar, and they made their way outside, the cool breeze of the afternoon lifting the weight in the air. The market was bustling, people haggling over produce, stalls overflowing with colors and scents. It was the perfect distraction—everything felt miles away from the disaster that was her life.
The market buzzed with life—voices shouting over deals, the clatter of crates, the hum of a street performer’s tune near the fountain. Selene let herself be swept up in it, the scents of citrus, spice, and grilled meat wrapping around her.
Demi moved through the crowd like she owned it, tossing waves at vendors and flirting shamelessly with anyone who looked her way.
The scent of sweet glaze drifted over from a food stall at the edge of the market, where a pair of dockhands grilled skewers over an open flame. One of them—dark curls tucked beneath a grease-streaked bandana—caught sight of Demi and straightened, wiping his hands on his apron like she might be royalty.
“Well, that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he called, just loud enough. “Care for a sample, miss?”
Demi didn’t miss a beat. She sauntered up to the booth, leaning her elbows on the counter like it was hers. “That depends. What’s the catch?” she asked, giving him a flirty once-over.
“No catch,” he grinned, lifting a skewer dripping with glaze. “First one’s free, if you tell me your name.”
She tilted her head like she was pondering something important. “Tempting,” she said, eyes gleaming. “But I don’t take bribes… unless they’re offered by handsome men.”
He laughed and handed her the skewer. Demi took it, made a show of taking a delicate bite, and let out a dramatic, satisfied hum. Then she turned, glancing at Selene, who hovered behind her with her arms folded.
“Well, my beautiful friend here might want a taste too,” Demi said with a wink. “She’s the real catch.”
Selene blinked, caught off guard. “No, I’m fine—”
“She’s shy,” Demi said smoothly, waving off the protest. “But she loves good food. Especially when it’s served by someone easy on the eyes.”
The dockhand turned toward Selene, this time with a softer, more sincere smile. “On the house, miss.”
Selene hesitated, then took the skewer with a quiet, “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said, eyes lingering like he’d just handed her a bouquet instead of street food.
As they walked away, Demi leaned in and whispered, “I’m telling you, you’ve got a whole market of admirers just waiting for you to dump the deadweight.”
Selene rolled her eyes, but the blush blooming across her cheeks gave her away. “You’re crazy.”
“No,” Demi said smugly. “I’m a good friend. And a romantic. Now eat your damn skewer and enjoy the attention.”
They wandered stall to stall, picking up fresh greens, a pouch of dried fruit, and a bottle of fizzy berry tonic. Demi insisted on carrying most of it, claiming Selene “looked too delicate to haul groceries today.”
But as they rounded the bend near the cloth merchants, Selene’s shoulders tensed. A sharp voice cut through the crowd—a voice she knew too well.
Yelner.
He was mid-argument with a stall owner, voice raised and arms flailing. Selene ducked behind a stack of crates, tugging Demi with her by the wrist.
“Don’t want to deal with that today,” she muttered.
Demi peeked over the crates. “Stars, does he ever shut up?”
Selene tried to catch the details, but the market noise muddled most of it. She heard something about a loan—Yelner demanding money back.
They waited until he stormed off, still muttering under his breath. Only then did they move again.
Selene lingered at the stall he’d argued with, pretending to browse the fabrics. She listened as the merchant and his wife spoke low and fast behind the counter.
“I paid him back,” the man whispered. “He just wants more.”
“He wants more?” the woman hissed. “You said we were done!”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down,” the man said. “I’ll figure it out.”
Selene stepped away, confused. She always thought Yelner was just a sleazy gambler—not someone smart enough to run some kind of loan-shark racket.
Her head throbbed the more she thought about it. She was too tired to untangle whatever that meant right now.
They turned a quieter corner of the market, and Selene slowed. One stall sat eerily empty—its frame still standing, a few crates overturned. Leaves skittered across the ground. A tin ashtray sat nearby, half full of burnt spice rolls.
“Hey, wasn’t this Wex’s spot?” Demi asked, eyeing the stall.
“Yeah…” Selene stepped into it. “I just saw him a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t say anything about leaving.”
Wex always talked—about everything. Where he was from, where he was going, what he was smoking, what he should be smoking. The spice kept his mouth running.
“Damn shame. I could’ve used a joint,” Demi muttered, poking through one of the crates.
“Maybe he moved back to Hadros,” Selene offered. “He always said he’d go back one day.”
“You’re probably right. Or maybe he’s on a spice run,” Demi shrugged. “Let’s go.”
Selene was about to follow when something caught her eye—a crumpled bit of cloth near the crates. It could’ve been trash. But something about it tugged at her.
She crouched slowly, wincing. Demi rushed to her side. “Selene! You shouldn’t be—”
She stopped when she saw what Selene was looking at.
Underneath the cloth was a cookie. A single, round cookie.
But not just any cookie.
Selene stared at it, her stomach dropping. It was hers. One of the batch she’d baked the other day. The one she gave the Mandalorian.
“Oh, it’s just a cookie,” Demi said. Then she froze. Her eyes widened. “Wait. Oh my gods!”
Selene turned, startled.
“Do you think it’s an edible?!”
Selene burst out laughing. A sharp, sudden laugh that pulled at her ribs and made her eyes water—but she didn’t care. She laughed anyway.
Maybe she was hysterical. Or maybe it just felt good.
“Whatever it is,” she said, letting Demi help her up, “I don’t think you should eat it.”
Selene didn’t want to lie to Demi. It was ridiculous, really—lying about a cookie. But if she admitted it, she’d have to explain why she’d lied about the Mandalorian being there in the first place. And that… felt heavier. It was easier to let it go.
The two of them walked arm in arm, heading back toward the bar. They were only about twenty feet away when Selene saw him.
Rick.
Smoking on the front porch of The Star’s End like he hadn’t wrecked the place just the night before. Like he was waiting for her to come home.
Selene faltered, her steps slowing. Her hand tightened around Demi’s.
She wasn’t scared—just tired. Tired of the dance, tired of the dread. She just wanted to get it over with.
Demi saw him too. Her smile faded. “You could come home with me,” she said softly, searching Selene’s face. “You don’t have to go in there.”
Selene shook her head. “I’ll be okay, Demi. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Demi hesitated, then handed her the market bag filled with their finds. “Buzz me,” she said, holding up her wristwatch with a mock-serious look.
Selene gave a small wave and turned toward the steps of The Star’s End.
Rick didn’t look up right away when Selene approached. He stayed slouched against the doorframe of The Star’s End, cigarette pinched between his fingers, smoke curling around his face.
“Where’d ya go?” he asked casually, like it was just another lazy afternoon.
Selene didn’t answer. She walked past him, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, leaving it open behind her.
Rick followed.
The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, throwing long shadows across the worn floorboards. Selene dropped her market bag onto the bar with a little too much force, the bottles inside clinking sharply.
Rick lingered by the door, watching her. “How’s it been?” he asked, like he actually cared about the bar for once.
“Fine,” Selene said flatly, staring him down across the room.
He shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat.
“I got you something,” he said finally, stepping forward.
He dropped a large pouch onto the counter in front of her.
Selene braced herself for another ugly necklace. Or worse — something lacy and humiliating.
Instead, the pouch slumped open, revealing a fat pile of credits.
She didn’t let her face move. Didn’t give him the satisfaction.
But it was enough to keep the bar afloat for three months — maybe more.
“What is this?” she asked, voice sharp.
Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I did a job. Some guy needed help with a thing, paid good. Was gonna bring you more, but I hit the slots on the way back and, y’know…” He trailed off into a ramble.
Selene barely heard him. Her mind raced, calculating repairs she could finally make. That busted refresher upstairs could finally be fixed. She hated how much she needed it. Hated even more that it came from him.
“Anyway,” Rick said, scratching his chin, “I’m headin’ out again. Couple weeks this time. More jobs lined up.”
Selene’s focus snapped back. “Weeks?” she repeated, stunned. Relief and dread tangled in her chest.
“Yeah, and if they like me, might be more after that.” Rick grinned, like he just won the lottery.
“When do you leave?” Selene asked, eyes flicking down to the credits again.
“Midnight. But I gotta grab some supplies, so I’m headin’ out now.”
Selene only nodded. What else was there to say?
Rick hesitated, lingering at the door. He looked back at her, cigarette burning low between his fingers.
“You’ll be here when I get back, right?” he asked.
Selene didn’t answer.
Rick waited a beat longer, then stubbed his cigarette out — right on the wooden counter — and walked out without another word.
Selene had made a quiet decision that morning: she wouldn’t tell anyone that the Mandalorian had come to see her. When the usual morning crowd wandered in asking if the “shiny silver guy” would be back for another round, she let them think it had been an uneventful morning like any other.
The caf had long gone cold, but the warmth left behind by the Mandalorian—and his small, curious companion—still clung to the edges of her thoughts.
She was behind the counter, lazily wiping down glasses that didn’t need cleaning, when the front door slammed open so hard the frame rattled.
Rick was back.
“Se-leeeene!” Rick’s voice boomed through the bar, loud enough to startle a family seated near the door. The youngest kid nearly dropped their spoon into their soup.
“You would not believe the kriffin’ day I’ve had!” he declared, oblivious to the wide eyes and stiff shoulders of the midday crowd.
Selene flinched at the language. She wasn’t a stranger to a good curse—she’d even consider herself a pro going up against drunken fishermen every night—but she knew how to read a room. Families were eating. This wasn’t the time or place.
Rick stomped in like he was returning from a war zone, not a 24-hour bender. Boots caked in mud, shirt hanging open at the collar, and that same cocky grin plastered across his unshaven face. He made a beeline for the bar, sliding behind it without asking and bumping shoulders with Selene like they were partners in this.
Technically, his name was still on the lease. But that was about the only thing he contributed these days.
Rick clapped a hand on her back like they were old friends catching up—not a married couple.
“Bar’s lookin’ good,” he said, grabbing a towel like he had any idea what to do with it. “You should’ve seen the credits I made today. Had this guy practically begging me to help him win it back for his family—poor bastard.”
Selene didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The chaos clung to him like the smell of ale and smoke, and she could already see the mess he was about to drag her through.
He reached for a stack of clean glasses, nearly knocking over the tray of pastries she’d arranged with care that morning.
“Rick.” Her voice was low and measured. “Why don’t you go lie down upstairs? I’ll make you something to eat. You look like you need it.”
“Aw, babe, you don’t gotta do that.” He flashed her a grin, misreading her tone entirely. “But maybe you should close early and come up with me. You look real nice today.” He said as he eyed her up and down, noticing the subtle makeup and the effort she’d put into taming her hair.
Asshole. He wasn’t the only one paying attention. Selene had already clocked the faint bruises on his neck, the kind you didn’t get from sleeping alone.
“Braised gillbeast stew sound good? I know it’s your favorite.” she offered, softening her tone and giving him the kind of smile that made her stomach twist. She placed her hand lightly over his. “You can eat, get some rest upstairs. I’ve got it handled down here.”
He raised a brow, mock-offended. “Handled? What, you think I’m just gonna sit around? I could help out—talk to the tables, boost morale.”
That was the last thing she needed.
“No!” Her response came too quickly. She caught herself, then forced a sweeter smile. “I mean... please, Rick. Just go rest.”
He squinted at her for a beat, she held her breath hoping he wouldn’t choose now to cause a scene.
“Yeah, yeah, stew and a nap. You’re the boss.” He must’ve brushed it off as he sauntered off toward the stairs, nearly colliding with a customer on his way.
Selene let out a long breath, her palms braced against the counter.
Gods, living with him was like taking care of a toddler.
She scooped some stew into a bowl and slid it onto a tray, biting her tongue to keep from thinking how easy it would be to slip something into it.
She shook the thought away with a dry laugh.
Maybe she should’ve been a bounty hunter.
The image came unbidden—her beside the Mandalorian, tracking scum across the galaxy, her life finally her own.
She loaded the stew onto a tray, balancing it carefully even as her thoughts spun.
Maybe she should’ve fought harder. Told Rick to leave. Told him anything, really.
But she was tired all the time. Too tired to make calculated decisions like asking for divorce… or offing her husband.
As she reached for a napkin to tuck under the bowl, her gaze drifted to the corner of the bar where the Mandalorian had stood just hours ago. Quiet. Steady. Certain in a way that made her feel less uncertain.
He hadn’t said much—but she remembered how his presence filled the room without suffocating it. How Grogu’s eyes lit up at everything. How he’d paused at the door, like maybe he didn’t want to leave just yet.
Selene exhaled, realizing only then that she’d been holding her breath.
It wasn’t that she wanted the Mandalorian, she told herself.
He was just a nice change of pace.
A reminder that something different existed.
Even if it had only lasted a morning.
She pushed the tray away from the edge, steadying it.
Back to work.
The afternoon crowd was thinner than usual, sunlight peeking through the windows. Selene leaned against the bar, wondering what else she could possibly clean. The place was already spotless.
The door swung open, and in stepped Demi, all sunshine and smiles, lighting up the room like it was something she carried in her pocket.
“Hey, pretty girl,” she called. “Tell me I didn’t miss the silver mystery man again.”
Selene froze for half a second before turning with a practiced smile. “You mean the Mandalorian?”
Demi plopped onto a barstool, elbows braced against the counter. “Duh—who else would I be talking about? Did he come back? Who’s he hunting? Did he take off the helmet or, y’know… anything else?” She fired off questions in rapid succession, barely taking a breath.
Selene blinked, caught off guard. “Gods, no. He didn’t come in again.”
“Oh... that’s lame,” Demi huffed, her voice heavy with disappointment as she leaned back on the stool.
Selene chuckled, keeping her tone light. “He’s probably off tracking whoever he’s after.”
Demi narrowed her eyes deep in thought. “Hmm. Maybe. Or maybe he already left. I bet he moves fast.”
Selene exhaled through her nose, relieved Demi seemed to buy it—until a loud clang echoed from the kitchen. Her body tensed. She made eye contact withDemi, silently praying Rick was just coming down for food and nothing more.
Of course, nothing ever went her way.
Rick stumbled out from the back, boots not all the way laced, shirt rumpled, that same cocky stride giving him away long before his voice did. But there was something burning in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.
Selene instinctively shifted a step away from Demi, not wanting her caught in the middle of whatever storm was brewing.
“Demetria,” Rick said flatly, offering a fake smile with none of the warmth behind it.
“Roderick,” Demi returned, matching his tone but skipping the pleasantries.
“So,” he said slowly, eyes flicking between them. “There was a Mandalorian in here?”
Selene tried to keep her voice steady. “Um… yeah. He stopped by yesterday. Grabbed a bite, then left.”
Rick stared at her, clearly expecting something more. Silence stretched between them before he slid an empty glass toward her across the bar.
Asshole wouldn’t pour his own damn drink.
Selene reached for the bottle beneath the counter, gripping it tighter than she needed to. She poured him a heavy drink, catching the way Demi’s jaw tensed—biting down hard on whatever sharp remark she wanted to make.
Rick threw back a gulp like water, barely reacting.
“He say who he was after?” he asked, eyes still locked on Selene.
“No,” she said honestly. “Didn’t say much. Just ate and left.”
Rick didn’t reply, just kept staring into his glass like he was trying to read something at the bottom. And Selene stood there, praying he didn’t dig any deeper.
“Shame,” Rick finally muttered. Then louder, with a pointed look at Selene, “Guess we’ll just have to keep an ear out—figure out who he’s after.”
Before Selene could respond, Demi chimed in, voice sweet with just enough edge to slice through metal.
“I’m sure if he wanted anyone to know, he’d have said it. Doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who needs help doing his job.”
Rick’s jaw clenched as he turned to her, not liking her smart ass response. Selene’s heart dropped—whatever this was about to become, it wouldn’t be pretty. The two of them couldn’t be more different, but the loathing in their stares was perfectly matched.
“Hm. Funny,” Rick said, smile gone. “I thought I told you I didn’t want you hanging around here anymore. Can’t afford a freeloader.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Demi laughed, tossing her head back with a theatrical cackle. “Coming from the king of freeloaders himself.”
If the bar had been full, she’d have stolen every ounce of attention. But it wasn’t. And Rick wouldn’t care about that later.
His face turned an angry shade of red, veins standing out like warning signs.
Demi’s laughter faded as the tension snapped taut. She gave Selene a glance, a flicker of regret passing through her expression.
“Get the fuck out!” Rick barked, straightening to his full height.
Demi held his gaze, disgust written plainly on her face. She opened her mouth, ready to fire back—but Selene stepped in.
“It’s okay, Demi,” Selene said quickly, voice strained. “It’s fine.”
Demi hesitated, clearly torn, then grabbed her purse off the counter with a sharp tug.
“Well, I’ll be back, Sel. I’m not scared of this ‘man,’” she said, making dramatic air quotes around the last word.
She looked back at Selene, expression softening. “I’ll see you later.”
Selene managed a quiet, “I’ll see you…” but the words barely reached past her lips.
The door slammed shut behind Demi, the sound lingering in the silence of the empty bar.
Rick didn’t say a word at first. Just stood there, staring at the as if he was trying to will Demi to come back so they can fight some more.
Then, slowly, he turned and walked over to it—his steps heavy, deliberate—and flipped the lock.
Click.
Selene’s pulse jumped.
She stayed behind the bar, both hands flat on the counter, like holding herself in place might keep the rest of the moment from unraveling.
His boots scraped the floor as he turned toward her, each step deliberate. Slow.
“You think that was funny?” he said, voice cold and calm in that terrifying way she knew too well. “Still letting her in here after I said she wasn’t welcome?”
Selene met his eyes carefully. Measured. “Demi pays her tab,” she said. “She’s not a freeloader.”
“That’s not the point!” he exploded, slamming his hand on the bar so hard a bottle rattled against the wall. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”
His voice cracked—not from hurt, but from fury barely held together.
“She’s not who you make her out to be,” Selene said, trying to keep her voice even. If Demi was brave enough to stand up for her, she’d do the same. “She’s my friend. She’s welcome here.”
Rick started pacing, dragging a hand through his tangled hair, the other curling and uncurling into fists like he couldn’t decide what to break first.
“You think I’m weak?” he asked suddenly, stopping mid-step.
“No one’s saying that,” Selene replied, swallowing the sharpness rising in her throat. “We can talk like adults. The only reason you want her gone is because you think she doesn’t pay. I’m telling you she does. She has every right to be here.”
He turned sharply, rounding the bar.
Selene took a step back.
Then another.
Until her back hit the cooler.
He came in close. Too close.
“You think you run this place now?” he hissed. “She gets to strut in, run her mouth, and you stand there defending her? Saying she’s welcome?”
His hand slammed the wall beside her head. Not touching her—but close enough that she flinched.
“You want people thinking they can talk to me like that?” he growled. “Like I don’t own this place… like I don’t own you?”
Something snapped in her.
“You don’t,” she said, voice low, steady. Then louder. “You don’t own me.”
Silence stretched between them.
Rick’s nostrils flared, lips twitching with something between a sneer and a threat.
But Selene didn’t stop.
“I’m your wife,” she said, standing her ground. “You remember that? Wife. Not property. And if you can’t respect me for that, then at least show some damn respect for the person who is always there to clean up after your sorry ass every single day.”
The words hit the air harder than she expected.
She went still.
Maybe she’d gone too far.
Rick didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just stared at her.
And Selene stared right back—even as her courage drained from her body, even as every part of her wanted to disappear.
She didn’t even have time to react.
One second, she was standing her ground—then her body was flung forward like a rag doll. The world spun violently as she crashed to the ground outside the bar, pain exploding through the side of her head the moment she hit the floor.
Her ears rang. Her vision swam.
Inside, Rick sauntered toward the shelves and grabbed two bottles of whiskey, still untouched. He bit the cork off one, spat it in her direction, and chuckled to himself.
“Respect,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
Then he walked back toward her—calm, almost casual—as if nothing had happened.
“Say she’s not welcome here,” he ordered, pacing in front of her as she struggled to lift her head.
“Wha—what?” Selene’s voice was barely more than a rasp, her skull throbbing, her limbs heavy.
She hated the way he towered over her.
“I said,” he repeated, each word sharp as glass, “Say. She’s. Not. Welcome.”
He took another long drink, then stared down at her like a wolf over prey.
Selene tried to think, but everything was spinning. Her ribs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, her stomach twisting.
“I’m not—” she started.
His boot connected with her side before she could finish.
A strangled scream tore from her throat as she crumpled, curling inward, arms wrapping around her ribs.
“Say it!” he roared, suddenly crouched beside her—when had he gotten so close?
“Fuck… you,” she gasped through the pain.
Rick smiled like it was exactly what he expected.
Then his voice turned cold.
“Open your mouth.”
Her eyes widened. “No,” she said, clamping her lips shut, twisting her face away as he reached for her.
He straddled her, using one hand to grab her jaw and the other to pry her mouth open.
“Open your fucking mouth!”
She fought him, thrashing her head side to side, but it didn’t matter. He forced the bottle to her lips, pouring the whiskey down with no precision. It spilled over her face—into her nose, her eyes, burning every inch it touched.
She gagged, choked, but some of it went down. Her throat screamed in protest as the fire of it spread.
Finally, he got off her, letting her writhe and cough on the floor. Selene crawled to her hands and knees, gagging, the taste of whiskey and blood thick in her throat.
“Say she’s not welcome anymore,” Rick said, straightening, brushing nonexistent dust from his shirt like it was her fault that he was dirty.
Selene looked up at him, trembling, fury blazing through the pain.
“I hate you,” she spat.
He shrugged like it didn’t matter.
Then kicked her in the stomach.
The whiskey came back up, violent and immediate, spreading onto the floor.
Rick didn’t even flinch. He turned back to the bar, grabbed the second bottle and a rag. When he returned, he tossed the towel at her feet.
The sun had set, and R’hye’s dark purple moon hung heavy in the sky. With it, the atmosphere in The Star’s End shifted.
Gone was the friendly chatter of fishermen swapping stories over caf. Not a single family lingered. Now, music blared from the old speakers mounted above the bar, the bassline rattling the glasses on their shelves.
Loud laughter echoed through the space, growing rowdier as the night wore on.
Selene moved behind the bar with practiced grace—pouring drinks, serving plates, cracking dry jokes in between. She was always moving, always scanning. The smile she wore in the daylight was still there, but at night, it came with sharper edges.
Demi popped up beside her like she’d been waiting all day for the chance. “Okay—spill,” she said, expertly sidestepping a tipsy dockhand. “The Mandalorian. The Mandalorian, Sel. What the hell?”
Selene didn’t miss a beat as she poured three drinks at once. “What about him?”
“What do you mean what about him?” Demi shot back. “He just strolled in here like it was nothing. Who do you think he was looking for? And with a baby strapped to him! A baby!”
Selene handed off the drinks, then leaned one elbow on the bar. “The kid was cute. Big ears. Bigger eyes. Ate like he hadn’t seen food in a week.”
Her heart tugged a little at the memory. She wondered if the Mandalorian ever gave him that dessert. After the second helping, the armored man left a thick stack of credits on the bar and disappeared without another word.
“I bet he’s here for Yelner,” Demi said, accepting a drink from the drunk sitting beside her.
“Could be,” Selene replied, tone casual but guarded.
She remembered her run-in with Yelner all too well—no matter how hard she tried to forget.
He’d pounded on the front door half the night, yelling for Rick to come out and pay what he owed. Of course, Rick was nowhere to be found. Typical. And Selene? She was the one who had to deal with his fury.
She’d pleaded with him while he smashed bottle after bottle across the bar. He only left after she handed over everything in the register.
Fucker probably deserved whatever the Mandalorian had in store for him.
She wasn’t totally sure how bounty hunting worked, but she figured it was one of those “dead or alive” type deals. And judging by the way he carried himself… Selene had a feeling the Mandalorian wasn’t big on prisoners.
She shuddered.
“Whoever it is definitely picked the wrong person to screw with. I’d hate to be on the Mandalorian’s radar,” Demi said, chugging her drink.
Selene had just dropped off another round when she heard a chair scrape sharply across the floor.
She turned, instantly on alert.
Near the back, two regular shitheads were squaring up—Dockhand Bren, burly and already halfway through his fifth drink, and Kael, a wiry merchant with a sharp tongue and a reputation that’d been circling the drain for months.
“You calling me a liar?” Bren barked, pushing to his feet. His voice was thick with booze and anger, loud enough to silence half the room.
“I’m calling you full of shit,” Kael slurred, clearly not intimidated by the size difference.
“Say that again,” Bren growled, one hand drifting toward the blade at his hip.
Selene was already moving.
“Hey!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a blaster shot. “You want to fight, take that shit outside. You throw down in my bar, you deal with me.”
Bren froze, jaw clenched. Kael raised both hands in mock surrender, laughing like it was all a game.
“Relax, Selene. Just a friendly disagreement.”
Selene cocked her head, one hand resting casually on her hip—just close enough to the blaster tucked into the back of her waistband.
“Yeah? Then maybe next time, don’t reach for your knife during your friendly disagreements.” She gave Bren a look, and to his credit—or maybe his fear—he actually looked sheepish.
Kael opened his mouth, clearly ready with some smartass comeback, but Selene cut him off.
“Save it. If I even see the two of you speak to each other again tonight, you’re both out.”
A beat passed. Bren grunted. Kael shrugged like it wasn’t worth it. The tension began to fade as the rest of the bar went back to pretending they hadn’t been watching.
“You two are lucky I don’t make you hug it out in front of everyone,” Selene muttered as she walked past, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear.
That earned her a few laughs. Bren slumped back into his chair with a heavy thud. Kael kept smirking, but one sharp look from Selene wiped the smug off his face.
She made her way back to the bar, passing Demi, who was now wide-eyed and sipping a fresh drink.
“Damn,” Demi whispered. “You ever think about becoming a bounty hunter?”
Selene smirked. “Eh. Bartending’s more fun.”
As the night settled into its usual rhythm of drunken yelling, Selene found a rare pocket of calm. She leaned against the back counter, pouring herself a small glass of dark whiskey.
Right on cue, Demi slid her own glass beside her, raising her brows in silent request.
Selene smirked, topped it off, and clinked her glass against Demi’s. Her cheeks were flushed—from the heat, the liquor, maybe a little of both.
“My comm’s been buzzing nonstop,” Demi half-slurred, glancing at her wristband. “My brother’s convinced I got kidnapped by pirates or fell off a cliff or something.”
Selene chuckled low in her throat. “You’ve been here since lunch. I don’t blame ‘em.”
“Yeah, well, they should know better by now,” Demi said, elbowing her lightly. “This is just the pregame.”
Selene swirled her drink, then knocked it back in one go. The burn was welcome. Sharp.
She envied how Demi’s family still checked in—even if it made her roll her eyes.
Selene never had that. No comm buzzing. No one to miss her.
She didn’t know what happened to her parents, didn’t even remember what they looked like. Sometimes she imagined her mom with the same wild black hair, her dad with soft, steady brown eyes like hers. It helped, even if it was all fantasy.
“This might be my last one,” Demi said, glancing at her watch. “Now my dad’s buzzing me. Guess my joke about the pirate threesome wasn’t that funny.”
Demi didn’t reply at first. Just picked up the bottle and quietly refilled Selene’s glass.
She knew. She’d heard it all in the early days of their friendship—about the sanctuaries, the odd jobs Selene had to work to survive.
She knew about Rick, too. About the drinking, the cruelty, the nights Selene showed up with a busted lip and no excuses.
Demi had patched her up more than once.
“You’ll be alright, Sel,” she said softly, giving her arm a quick squeeze.
Selene gave a tight smile, not trusting herself to say more.
Demi let the quiet hang for a moment before nudging her again. “For what it’s worth? You built something here. This place? It works because of you. People come back for you.”
Selene blinked, a little caught off guard.
“You’re a pain in my ass sometimes,” she said, lips twitching. “But... thanks.”
They shared a small smile, the kind that lingered longer than it should’ve—before a shout from across the bar broke the spell.
Selene pushed off the counter. “Back to it.”
“You bet,” Demi said, hopping off her stool. “And when your secret Mando boyfriend shows up again, I want all the details.”
Selene didn’t see the Mandalorian that night. All she saw were passed-out patrons, and the sticky residue of too many spilled drinks.
By the time she finished cleaning up, it was well past midnight—and Rick was still nowhere to be found.
Thank the stars.
Maybe tonight she could actually sleep without him stumbling in, slurring sweet nothings until they turned sour. Maybe he’d find somewhere else to crash, someone else to bother.
She gave the bar one last look before slipping through the kitchen doors. Tugging off her apron, she mentally reminded herself to wash it tomorrow and hung it on her usual hook.
With a groan, she dragged herself up the stairs to the living quarters above. Her favorite thing about living where she worked was never having to walk far to get home—but tonight, even those stairs felt like punishment.
At the top, she kicked off her shoes and padded toward her bedroom. She paused at the door, fingers lingering on the knob. She knew Rick wasn’t in there—the only entrance was through the front, and she’d locked it behind her—but still, the thought of stepping into that shared space made her stomach twist.
Instead, she turned and slipped into the spare room. It was mostly empty, just a small dresser and a beat-up lamp she’d fixed up when they moved in. The cot took up most of the floor.
Good enough.
She didn’t want to risk another night like the last one. Didn’t want to wake up to Rick slurring her name and pawing at her in the dark. She just wanted sleep.
Selene stripped off her clothes and pulled on an old shirt of Rick’s—soft, oversized, worn thin with time. It hung to her mid-thigh.
It’d do.
She crawled into bed, the cot creaking under her weight, metal bars pressing into her back no matter how she shifted.
She sighed, eyes heavy, the noise of the bar still faint in her ears like a ghost.
And then, finally—
Sleep.
She couldn’t have slept for long when she woke up heart pounding, her shirt clung to her skin with sweat. It took her eyes a second to adjust the small room, cold air, and faint scent of whiskey clinging to her hair.
Right. The spare room.
She pressed her palms over her face, trying to steady her breathing, and remember the dream already slipping from her mind. It didn’t seem she was dreaming from her memories, it hadn’t been the old memories from the foster sanctuaries or her sad life.
No—this time she’d seen him.
The Mandalorian.
Not in her bar, though, she didn’t think her memory already failing her but it was somewhere darker—an alley or maybe the docks, lit only by the dull purple glow of R’hye’s moons. He was standing over someone—no, dragging someone.
Yelner.
She didn’t remember hearing anything, just the same heavy thud of boots like she heard at her bar this time they were hitting the wet ground and the sharp metallic glint of armor lighting the dark.
It felt real enough that for a moment she almost believed it had happened. That he’d found Yelner just like she and Demi had guessed and finished whatever business he came to the planet for.
Selene scrubbed a hand over her face and sat up slowly, the cot creaking beneath her.
Just a dream.
But the unsettling feeling stuck in her gut anyway.
If the Mandalorian had been hunting Yelner… well, good. Yelner deserved whatever was coming to him.
Selene peeked through the blinds. The sun was brighter than she was used to.
Oh shit.
She’d actually slept. A full seven hours, maybe more. So why did she still feel like shit?
Her bare feet hit the cold marble floor as she stood, stretching with a quiet groan. She padded softly toward the master bedroom and eased the door open.
Still untouched.
Well, fuck. I could’ve slept in the bed after all.
She mentally punched herself.
She took a quick shower and got ready for the day, it felt different. Her hair even cooperated with her, falling into soft waves instead of its usual chaotic mess. She had enough energy to swipe on a little makeup, and when she caught her reflection, she didn’t look like someone running on fumes.
“Not bad,” she murmured to herself.
Downstairs, she moved with an unusual lightness. She started a fresh pot of caf for the morning crowd and set out the pastries—flaky meiloorun danishes stuffed with spiced fruit preserves. The hot breakfast special was already warming, and for once, she had time to breathe.
She put on a bit of music—something low and mellow, nothing like the thumping bass that usually rattled the walls at night.
Cup of caf in hand and a still-warm danish on a plate, she allowed herself a quiet moment at the bar before unlocking the door. Technically, she could open and close whenever she wanted. Some days she was up before the twin suns crested the horizon, and others, like today, she took her sweet time.
Regulars had been known to throw pebbles at her windows when she opened late—sometimes she served them in her pajamas with sleep still in her eyes. She didn’t mind. There was something comforting about being needed.
“I guess it’s time,” she sighed, hopping down from the bar and heading to unlock the front door.
She’d barely made it back behind the counter when she heard it creak open.
“I am so sorry, you must’ve been waiting all morning,” Selene joked, half-turning. “Please don’t be mad—”
“I don’t mind. My partner, on the other hand, might have some words,” came the familiar modulated voice.
Selene froze.
Her head whipped around.
There he was.
The Mandalorian stood just inside the doorway, beskar catching the morning sun like polished silver. And beside him, perched at his hip, the green child giggled, big eyes lighting up at the sight of her—a jarring contrast to the bounty hunter’s silent stillness.
“Oh. Well, in that case, let me offer my deepest apologies... and maybe a cookie or two, for good measure,” Selene said, surprised at the ease in her voice.
You’d be a great mom.
The thought slipped in uninvited, hitting her like a sucker punch.
She thought—just for a second—that she saw the Mandalorian tilt his helmet. Maybe in amusement. Maybe disappointment. Maybe nothing at all. She hoped he’d at least rolled his eyes at her weak attempt at humor.
As he stepped closer, the heavy thud of his boots echoed off the wood floors. Her smile faltered as she remembered her dream.
He hesitated before sitting, placing the child carefully on the counter, nestled against his chest.
“Did we frighten you?” he asked.
“No—no, gods, no. I just... had this weird déjà vu,” Selene said, her words tumbling out a little too fast. “Don’t you hate that? When it’s so real, it kind of messes with your head?”
She laughed lightly, praying she didn’t sound completely unhinged.
He didn’t respond right away. She could feel him watching her, analyzing her like she was a bounty with too many moving parts.
She held her breath.
Then he sat down fully, pulling the child a little closer.
Selene reached under the counter, sliding over a small plate with a danish and a napkin. “For the little one,” she said softly. “On the house.”
The child cooed and reached eagerly for the treat, tiny claws tugging at the pastry.
The Mandalorian gave a slight nod. “He approves.”
Selene let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. A warm smile tugged at her lips.
“I won’t be staying long,” the Mandalorian said, voice even, almost too casual. “Just stopped by before heading out.”
Her hand paused halfway to her cup. “You found your bounty, then?” she tried to ask casually bringing her mug to her lips.
His helmet tilted a fraction. “I did.”
Selene swallowed. She didn’t know what she expected, of course he would just leave after finishing his task.
But there was something in the way he said it—not final, not sharp. Just... unfinished.
“Well,” she said, feigning brightness, “I hope R’hye treated you kindly while you were here.”
A pause.
“It had its moments.”
Their eyes didn’t meet—couldn’t, not with the helmet. But something in the air shifted. That unspoken tension hummed between them, familiar and strange all at once.
Selene looked down, fussing with her cup, suddenly unsure of her hands. “Safe travels, then.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just stayed there, watching her for another breath too long.
Then finally:
“Maybe I’ll be back.”
She looked up, surprised, but he was already rising from the stool, the child bundled in his arms, still munching on the last bite of danish.
Selene opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t sure what—but the moment was already slipping.
He nodded once and turned toward the door.
She looked down and saw another thick pile of credits on the table. And just before the door shut behind him, she swore she heard him say, almost too quiet to catch:
Hey y'all so I've been posting on Ao3 and finally wanted to add the chapters to tumblr. I'm still very new on navigating both lol but I will do my best! Luv u guys <3
Selene
The suns were barely peeking over the horizon—one just a little higher than the other—when Selene woke up.
She didn’t want to stay in bed anymore, but she didn’t quite want her day to begin, either. She lived for the moments when life wasn’t trying to kick her down.
Then she felt her husband’s arm wrap around her waist, trying to pull her back into bed.
Fuck that.
She quickly stepped out of bed and hurried into the washroom to get ready for the day.
As she started the shower, she wondered how late her husband, Rick, had been out the night before.
He must have just gotten home—if he still had some movement left in him after another long, long night of drinking.
She cringed, scrubbing her skin harder under the hot water. Selene hated when Rick came home drunk and crawled into bed with her. What she really hated was the fact that she didn’t even feel him get in bed with her.
She got ready for the day as quietly as she could, waiting until she was downstairs to slip on her shoes. She tied her hair into a simple long braid down her back, took her apron from the hook at the bottom of the stairs, and stepped into The Star’s End.
How would one describe The Star’s End?
Well, for starters—it began as a dump. Sticky floors, dirty mugs... it was the kind of place that drew in the wrong crowd.
Rick inherited it after the original owner couldn’t pay off his debt to him. And of course, he left it for Selene to run by herself.
She cleaned it up. Made it into a legitimate business.
The only problem? Every time she got ahead, Rick managed to screw things up.
He took money meant to pay others. He brought in his rowdy group of “friends” to drink for free. He even stole bottles from behind the bar.
She unlocked the front doors and stepped outside, letting the cool wind brush against her face. The Star’s End sat far enough from the fishing docks to stay dry, but close enough that the scent of salt and seaweed still lingered in the air.
It was tucked along the main road—just past the bustle of the harbor, but just before the vendor stalls and market stands that marked the edge of town.
The building itself stood two stories tall, all weather-worn wood and soft edges, like it had been part of the town forever. She spent days attaching warm string lights hung along the awning outside, the place emitted a soft, golden glow even before the suns were fully up.
Selene even hand-painted the sign above the entrance reading The Star’s End. The bottom floor held the bar and dining space, while the second floor was the living space for her… and Rick.
The rest of the morning was uneventful, regulars coming in getting caf, hungry fishermen coming off of their early morning shift looking for a warm plate of food.
Selene felt like she was going through the motions haphazardly until she heard something coming from the closed off kitchen.
“Here you go hun.” She said with a soft smile while setting a plate of meat skewers and rice to a new regular who liked to read the paper by himself at the bar, away from everyone else.
“I’ll be right back” She called out not to anyone in particular, mostly everyone who came in knew it was just her working there and gave her grace when she got slammed with orders.
She pushed through the swinging kitchen doors and caught sight of Rick sitting on a stool, helping himself to the meat pies she’d prepped for the lunch rush.
Of course.
She sighed loudly through her nose. He turned to look at her mid-bite, completely unbothered.
“Hi baby,” he said, still chewing.
She grabbed the warm sheet pan from in front of him and started stacking the pies onto a serving plate, slapping a glass lid on top to keep him from grabbing more.
“Well, look at that,” she said dryly. “Up before noon. Big plans today, or were you just doing quality control?”
Rick smirked. “Actually, yeah. Gonna meet Zed down by the docks—he owes me a few credits. Might swing by Rallo’s after that to double it.”
“Wow. Sounds like a busy day,” she said, unimpressed.
“While you’re out doing all that, maybe one of your buddies can finally fix the toilet in the refresher?”
This would be the fourth time she’d asked. Selene wore a lot of hats at The Star’s End—cook, cleaner, bartender, waitress—but plumbing was one skill she hadn’t quite mastered yet.
“Mhmm,” Rick hummed in that patronizing tone of his. “Like I said, babe, he can only squeeze us in between his real appointments. He’s doing us a favor, remember?” His voice went soft, the kind people used when breaking bad news to a toddler—like that would somehow make it easier to swallow.
Then, without warning, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, his lips pressing light, lazy kisses to the top of her head.
“Where did you go this morning?” He said in between kisses
Typical fucking Rick.
She rested her hands on his, but not out of affection—more out of control. If she had to endure this, she could at least manage it.
“I had to get everything prepped for the week,” she said, keeping her voice even. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
You would’ve just gotten in the way.
He made a low hum of acknowledgment, then let go and slipped out through the kitchen doors into the dining area.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath and followed him, just in case.
The second Rick stepped onto the floor, he switched it on—the charm, the swagger. He greeted fishermen by name, shook hands, clapped backs, slid a few credits across the bar, winked at a lady on the other end of the bar.
“Hey Ricky!”
“What’s up, man?”
“When we shootin’ dice again?”
Selene returned to the grill, flipping the skewers and keeping one eye on him the entire time.
Then he made his way behind the bar, back to her.
“Alright, I’m off. You think you can manage without me?”
She couldn’t tell if he was joking or genuinely delusional. Instead of answering, she plucked two skewers from the grill and handed them to him—her silent way of hurrying him along.
He took them with a grin and leaned in for a kiss.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t lean away. Just glared at him through her lashes and gave him a quick peck—eyes still open.
Their marriage had never been built on love.
Selene had been young when they met. Alone. No family, no money—just a string of bad jobs and worse luck. And when Rick came along with a smile and a promise, he seemed like an answer. A way out.
At first, it even felt real. He said all the right things, played the part of a caring partner. He wasn’t even ugly. Nice smile. Long lashes. Strong.
She needed someone strong.
He filled her head with lies about building something together. But the moment the papers were signed, everything shifted.
She became the one holding the business together—cooking, cleaning, paying bills—while he sank deeper into late nights, bad bets, and a steady haze of alcohol.
Now, six years in, Selene couldn’t even remember the last time they felt like husband and wife. He had his affairs and a string of lovers. And she had the bar.
They still lived together, but only because neither had anywhere else to go.
She didn’t love him. She wasn’t even sure she ever had. But at the time, it felt better than being alone.
Now it just felt like another trap she couldn’t escape.
“Don’t wait up for me,” he said, slapping her on the ass as he passed.
She didn’t respond. Just watched him stroll out through the back, whistling like he didn’t have a single care in the world.
The lunch rush came and went. The fishermen had returned to the docks, leaving behind empty mugs and scattered plates. Selene moved through the dining area, stacking dishes high in her arms before dropping them into the sink to soak.
“You’ve got some muscles on you, girl,” came a perky voice from behind her.
Demetria—Demi, as most people called her—was hard to miss. The first time she walked into The Star’s End, every man in the room had tried to buy her a drink or charm her into taking them home. Selene had poured her shot after shot that night, but Demi left alone, dropping a generous tip on the bar even though her drinks had all been covered.
Selene loved her instantly.
Since then, their friendship has bloomed. They talked about everything—or at least, Demi did. Selene didn’t have much of a life to share, but she loved listening to Demi’s stories, especially about how she grew up. Demi had a way of making even the smallest details sound like an adventure.
“Well, if I knew you were just watching me clean, I would’ve made you help,” Selene said, genuinely smiling for the first time that day.
They gave each other a quick embrace, and then Demi launched into a story about the latest man she was planning to marry.
Selene listened thoughtfully as she worked.
By the end of Demi’s long story, even she didn’t seem sure if she wanted to marry him after all.
“And when you think about it, how can I marry someone who’s the same height as me? I mean, what if I need help reaching the top shelf? How is he going to help?” Demi was talking too fast now, her voice climbing higher and higher.
“I mean... you could always just get a stool,” Selene said, setting down a large plate of Spiced Reef Fish for a mother and her two kids.
“You know that’s not what I mean, Sel. I need someone to take care of me.”
Selene smirked as she wiped down a table, pocketing the credits left behind.
“You mean you want someone tall enough to reach your wine glasses and rich enough to pay for the wine.”
Demi giggled, clutching her chest dramatically. “See? You get me!”
Selene smiled to herself and moved on to pour drinks for a group of vendors visiting on their break.
“Do you ever think about that, though?” Demi asked softly. “Letting someone take care of you for once?”
Selene snorted. “Yeah, right.”
When she turned back, her eyes met Demi’s—watery and concerned.
“Don’t start, Demi,” Selene said firmly. She refused to let anyone feel sorry for her.
“I know, I know. I’m not supposed to cry over you,” Demi said, her voice soft and shaky as she took a deep breath.
“There are people who have it much worse than me. I’m doing just fine.” Selene gave her a tight squeeze, then handed her a towel. “Now here—wipe your eyes and start opening the windows.”
“You’re such a bitch,” Demi laughed, getting up to let the cool air into The Star’s End.
Selene went through the kitchen doors, unloading the dishwasher and starting the next load. She knew she could take a minute back here now that Demi was out there.
Selene wouldn’t call her an employee, but she definitely helped out more than Rick ever did. Maybe Selene should’ve married her instead.
She sat down, thankful for the chance to give her feet a rest. It was heading into late afternoon, and she still had the whole night ahead of her.
She made a quick sandwich, eating it way too fast—her body would hate her for it later. Maybe she’d pour herself a drink before the night rush started, just to loosen up a little.
Grabbing the large dish rack of mugs and plates, she pushed through the doors into the bar.
Demi was there, talking to another regular about her latest dilemma.
“So do you think I should let him down easy, or should I just tell him it’s because of his height?”
Selene laughed to herself as she started wiping the dishes dry, getting them ready for the night.
She got into a groove, losing herself in the rhythm of her work, humming quietly—until she heard the front door swing open.
Conversations died down. Even Demi was quiet, which was practically unheard of.
“Welcome in, what can I get you?” Selene said, turning toward the new visitor.
And there he was. Tall, broad, wearing a visor and full beskar armor.
A Mandalorian.
He walked toward her slowly, scanning the room as he moved.
Selene’s eyes dropped to the small bundle at his hip. A child—green-skinned, ears too big for its head, large dark eyes—peeked out from a sling strapped to his side, gazing at the world with curiosity.
She cleared her throat and set her rag aside.
“Out of all the things I expected to see today, a Mandalorian was not one,” she said, half-joking.
The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted slightly toward her.
“Didn’t expect to find decent food on this rock.”
Selene smirked.
“Welp, you’re in luck. I happen to serve more-than-decent food, hot caf, and alcohol. Are you eating, or is this a pit stop for the baby?”
He stepped forward slowly, the wood floor creaking under his weight.
“Just stopping for food—for the kid.”
As if on cue, the green child reached out toward Selene, little fingers curling like he wanted her to pick him up.
Too cute.
“Table or bar?” she asked.
“Bar.”
He took a stool at the far end, the child still snug against his chest, now sitting on the bar in front of him.
The only other person at the bar quickly finished his drink, dropped a few credits, and left.
A few patrons peeked over their shoulders, then returned to their drinks. Demi watched from her table, eyes wide.
Selene poured a glass of water and slid it in front of him.
“Something toddler-friendly?”
“Whatever you recommend.” He looked down at the child. “The more protein, the better.” He sighed.
She gave him a quick once-over, then nodded.
“Right. It'll be out in a moment.”
As she turned to head into the kitchen, the quiet began to fade, conversations restarting once people realized they weren’t in danger.
Of course, none of the current patrons would be on the Mandalorian’s radar—these were townspeople, dockworkers, families. If it were nighttime, when the wanderers and shady types came in, it might be a different story.
There’s nothing to worry about, she told herself as she got his food ready.
She decided to serve him her Caf-Braised Brisket Bowl—rice, veggies, tender meat. Simple, but effective. Enough to leave anyone full.
Selene placed the steaming brisket bowl in front of him alongside a wooden spoon.
“I hope the little one’s okay with vegetables. If not, no dessert,” Selene said in a mock-stern voice, directing it toward the child.
The kid giggled and tried to wriggle out of the Mandalorian’s grip.
The Mandalorian sighed and let him go. The child immediately reached for the food with eager hands.
“That won’t be a problem with him. He’ll eat anything,” he said.
Selene raised a brow, half-smiling. “Nothing for you? I’ve got plenty.”
“Just for the kid,” he replied shortly.
Selene should’ve left it at that—should’ve minded her business and gone about her day.
But instead, before she could stop herself, she asked, “You passing through?” as she dried her hands on a towel.
“Maybe. Depends on how things go.” He didn’t elaborate.
She shook her head. “Mysterious. You bounty types always like that, or is it just the helmet?”
He paused. “It helps.”
Selene huffed a short laugh, watching the kid scarf down the last piece of the brisket bowl.
“That normal for him?” she asked, lifting the empty bowl to the Mandalorian’s eye line, as if he hadn’t just watched the kid inhale it.
“He took a long nap.” His tone suggested it had been anything but that.
“Do you mind if I get him more? I meant it when I said I’ve got plenty.”
The Mandalorian gave a silent nod.
Selene nodded back, stealing a glance to make sure Demi hadn’t exploded from curiosity. She hadn’t—though she was clearly eavesdropping like her life depended on it.
Selene plated another generous helping for the child, then packed an extra portion into a box and closed it up.
“Here’s that second helping,” she said, offering a wide smile to the child, who grinned back.
“This is for after he’s done with supper,” she added, sliding a couple of cookies wrapped in napkins toward the Mandalorian.
“And this—” she said quickly, holding out the box of food to him, “—is for you. For later. No charge, just something warm when you’ve got time to eat.”
The Mandalorian said nothing. The only sound was the child working his way through the second plate.
“Well, if you need more food or a drink—you’ve found the right rock,” Selene said, wiping her hands. “Just don’t bring any trouble through my door. There’s enough of that going around as it is.”
“No trouble,” he replied simply. “Just food.”
She gave him a skeptical look, then smirked. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.”
i’m so back guys getting back into my tumblr era (aka i change my layout and username in an attempt to start writing again) working on a new story🙈 going to try and write the first few chapters and then post them!
oof another chapter I swear once semester is over I’m going off on all the chapters but after finishing this one it honestly gave me some motivation so maybe new chap tomorrow?!?! thanks for reading! bennie <3
Mickey
You sat back down at the table with Roger and happily waited for your food. Carrie came by with your water and told you your food will be out soon.
Roger talked about his band practice a bit more while you patiently listened to him, you loved the way he talked so passionately about music his droopy eyes were wide with excitement even when he was talking about how he was arguing with his bandmates. He waved his hands excitedly while he explained how he played the drums.
“Brian and his stupid ideas always throwing everyone off. Freddie, our lead singer, had to agree with just so he can calm down. Deaky, our bassist, completely agreed with me that we didn’t need a whole bunch of background vocals on the song.” Right as he finished Carrie and another waiter came with two trays of food.
They set down multiple items of food that you saw on the menu, from pasta to pizza. You just watched as they set down plates and plates mouth agape.
“Does everything look good to you guys?” Carrie asked once the last plate of food was set down.
“Yes, everything looks perfect. Thank you so much.” Roger gave her a smile as she left.
You looked at Roger, then to the food on the table, and then back to Roger and started to laugh, you laughed until you had tears in your eyes and he joined you.
“Roger-” you said in between laughs “Why did you order so much?” just thinking about all the food on the table made you go into a fit of laughter again. You covered your mouth with both hands to try to stifle how loud your laugh was.
After a while, you calmed down enough to wipe the tears that were falling from your eyes.
“Well I didn’t know what you wanted to try and I always get the same thing when I come so I decided that I should get a couple of things on the menu,” he said shyly.
“A couple? Roger, it looks like you ordered the whole restaurant.” you jokingly teased.
He stared at you in silence sticking his chin out to the silverware that was set aside for you.
“Oh no Roger please serve yourself first.” You don’t know why you felt like this, maybe it was the way you were brought up.
He grabbed a plate and you felt yourself sigh with relief.
“What did you want to eat Mickey,” he said fork in hand gesturing at the plates of food.
“Huh” never in your life had you been served by a man. It’s not like you had a problem with it, it was just new to you. It felt wrong and you were sure that if your mother had been there she would have scolded you for not serving him.
“Well I think your a chicken parm type of girl,” He said while he cut about half of the chicken parmesan and put it on your plate.
“Andddd….” he drawled out, “I think you would also like some shrimp alfredo” putting another serving on your plate.
“And finally some pizza.” As he put 2 slices of pizza on the side of your plate.
Your eyes met his droopy blue ones and at that moment you felt something pull in your chest. You haven’t been in a relationship in years, you have been on dates since you’ve been living in England. But you always made an excuse to stop seeing the other person.
You have never met anyone like Roger though he was so confident and didn’t care what anyone had to say about him, and something about that scared you but it also made you more curious.
Roger lives such a different life than you. You like to only go out when you need to where he barely stays home, You like to stick to that shadows and not cause a scene while he needs everyone’s attention to feel satisfied. You are complete opposites it couldn’t work out in the long run.
But.
Every time he smiles at you or cracks a joke you feel like you are floating as if you two are the only people in the world. You haven’t known him for long… practically a day at most. But you couldn’t help to let yourself go a bit more while you’re with him.
He slid your plate back to you carefully as it was filled with food. You smiled and grabbed his plate and served him the same way he served you.
…
Walking out of the restaurant with full stomachs and 2 bags worth of leftovers you felt satisfied and honestly a bit sick. You both ate way too much and somehow he managed to convince you that you both needed desert.
He also refused to let you pay for the meal or even go half. He just put cash on the table and even left a good tip for Carrie too.
He opened the passenger seat for you again and gave him a small smile before getting in his car. He gently shut the door and jogged over to the driver’s side to get in.
“What do you want to do now Mick?” he asked as he started the car.
It was going to be nine but you didn’t have anything to do the next day except maybe for a couple of alterations but you were sure you could get those done quickly.
“I’m up for anything Roger.” You said as clasped your hands and put them on your lap.
He pulled out of the parking lot and started driving.
“Do you think it would be cool if we went by my apartment, Freddie really wanted to meet you and he’s probably hungry too.”
You felt your stomach drop a bit, you didn’t have anything against going into his apartment but what if he was expecting something from you? He brought you to a nice place for dinner and paid for everything.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to either Mickey, you can say no” he laughed a little to make you feel better.
“We can just drive around and once one of us thinks of something we can do that… is that okay with you?” he asked as he gently took one of your hands from your lap once he saw you picking at your skin.
You drove around listening to the soft music playing from his car and you allowed your mind to wander off for a bit. You don’t know how but you were suddenly weighing out the pros and cons of being with Roger. Pros: he is a really great guy, he is really kind and always pays attention to how you are feeling especially if it was something you were uncomfortable with. It also didn’t hurt that he was easy to look at. Cons: you are very inexperienced in relationships and especially with a man.
Your only other relationship had been with Olivia and you had been friends with her first before you actually dated. Everything seemed like it was moving too fast with Roger, which isn’t always a bad thing. You felt your stomach flip and you felt your food come up.
You pulled your hands from Roger’s to cover your mouth as you breathed in and out from your nose to try and calm yourself down.
“Mickey? Are you alright?” He asked looking over quickly at you before turning his eyes back to the road.
“I think I’m going to be sick Roger,” you said hands still clasped over your mouth as you shut your eyes trying to get ahold of the situation.
“Oh my gosh okay okay, let me find somewhere with a restroom Mickey.” He said as he made a sharp turn that only made things worse.
“Oh no Roger pull over pull over pull over.” you kept saying feeling your dinner rise.
He pulled over on the side of the small road that was thankfully not busy. You quickly found the door handle and jumped out of the car and emptied your stomach out on the side of the road.
Roger was by your side in a second pulling your hair back and repetitively asking if you were okay.
Once you were finished you felt gross and somehow even sicker. Your throat hurt and your stomach felt like it was throbbing for some reason.
Roger helped you get into the passenger seat again as you tried to get your breathing under control.
“I’m sorry Mickey I was driving too fast this is all my fault.”
Only Roger could make you throwing up and ruining your almost perfect date his fault.
“No Roger I’m sorry I don’t know why I got sick all of a sudden.” You said.
“My apartment is literally down the street I’d honestly feel a lot better if we could stop there first and get you some medicine before I take you home.”
That didn’t seem like too bad of an idea, you shook your head yes and felt your eyes start to drop feeling extra tired.
Roger started the car again and said “Don’t worry Mickey, I got you.”
If only if only the woodpecker sighs the bark on the tree was as soft as the sky why the wolf waits below hungry and lonely he cries to the moon if only if only
Sorry it took so long but here is an update, Sorry if this chapter isn’t what you’re expecting this chapter is to explain Mickey’s background. Also I don’t know if anyone has any problems with Mickey speaking Italian and Spanish, I’m not trying to appropriate any Italian culture but as someone who is Mexican I appreciate seeing my culture represented in a story and I hope y’all feel the same way. Nothing but love here! Thanks for reading
TW: some homophobia and mentions of an anxiety attack
Mickey
You didn’t know what to expect as you walked in, probably some borderline offensive Italian decor with the words “Ciao!” or a lot of red, green, and white decoration. But inside was actually really nice, the lighting was dim and every table had a candle lit on it so it had a warm type of feel to the restaurant.
You held Roger’s arm as both of you waited at the host stand waiting patiently to get seated. You noticed a short girl walking towards you at a very fast pace.
“Hello, how can I help you?” She said in a very heavy Italian accent.
Your eyebrows shot straight up, you haven’t heard anyone speak Italian since the last time you went home to visit your family.
“Ciao, va bene se ceniamo?” Hello, is it ok if we dine in? You said softly wondering if you were right about her speaking Italian if not this would be really awkward.
“Ovviamente! Un tavolo per due?” Of course. A table for two?
You shook your head excitedly feeling content that you could actually talk in your native tongue. The whole time Roger just stood there next to you watching as you and the hostess had a conversation that he couldn’t understand.
The hostess led you and Roger to a booth near the back of the restaurant, she told you that a waiter would be with you shortly and left.
“So is this place up to your standards Mickey?” Roger questioned.
“So far because they have actually Italian speakers, yes it does.” You replied as the waiter came and placed menus on the table.
“Hello my name is Carrie and I’ll be your server today, Is this your first time here?” Carrie didn’t have an accent but she seemed very nice nonetheless.
“I have been here quite a few times but my friend over here hasn’t,” Roger told Carrie.
“Well, I’m glad you are here now.” She said with a big smile directed to you. “We are known for our Carbonara and have three pizza ovens that are on at all times so your pizza is always guaranteed fresh. I’ll let you guys have a moment to look at the menu while I go grab some bread for you, does that sound good?” Carrie asked. She had to be one of the nicest people you had ever seen.
“That sounds great Carrie thank you,” Roger said.
You picked up the menu and looked through what they had, there were a lot of pasta dishes and a lot of pizza types, but you didn’t mind.
“Hey, Mickey?” Roger asked as you closed your menu.
“Hey, Roger.” You laughed at how formal he was in trying to get your attention.
“Can I order for us? If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just thought-”
“That’s fine with me Roger.” You said with a small smile, he probably wants to order a pizza or something. “I actually have to go to the restroom, if Carrie comes can you get a water for me please?”
“Yeah of course!” He said excitedly, he must really want the pizza.
It took you some time trying to find the restroom but once you were finally done and washing your hands the hostess that sat you came in and gave you a small smile.
“Ciao” Hello she said softly
“Ciao” you replied.
“Posso chiederti una cosa?” Can I ask you something? She said shyly
“sì, naturalmente.” Yes, of course.
“Quell'uomo con te è il tuo ragazzo?” Is that man with you your boyfriend? She said quickly as if she was scared to ask.
“Beh, non stiamo insieme, stiamo solo parlando.” Well, we’re not together, we’re just talking. You said as you blushed, you had only met Roger a day ago but you could’ve sworn it had been longer.
“Oh, mi dispiace che tu sia davvero carina.” Oh, I’m sorry you are just really pretty. She turned away quickly but you saw her ears turn bright red.
You had been under these circumstances before except you were usually the one doing the flirting. It was been so long it had pulled a memory deep in your subconscious.
You had known you liked girls before you knew you liked boys but due to your strict mom, you didn’t really express that part of yourself in public. You didn’t have time for anything extra, your mom at first didn’t even want you to go to high school. She was really big on women serving their husbands. After long arguments with your dad, your mom decided that you were able to go to high school but if you did you would have to come home right after school and help her around the house.
Your first “girlfriend” was one of your best friends Olivia Morales, you had known her since middle school and were inseparable. It wasn’t until one night while you were sleeping over at her house when she made the first move. You both had just finished laughing over a scene in the movie you were watching, clutching each other while you held back tears of laughter. You felt like you had never felt true happiness until that moment and she must have felt it too. She leaned into you and you met her halfway. It was your first kiss and you still get butterflies thinking about it. You and Olivia were in a secret relationship from your eighth grade year until your sophomore year, you always thought you would go to college together and then move away and always be with each other.
Of course, that all changed. Your mom was very old-fashion with the way she did things even though her arrangement with your dad wasn’t arranged; she wanted to make sure yours was. She finally met her favorite family which so happened to be your neighbors across the street, The Del Toro’s were a nice family Mrs. Del Toro was a stay at home mom like yours and they were always gossiping in the kitchen while you and Mrs. Del Toro’s daughters helped alongside them. You had never heard Mr. Del Toro speak but he seemed serious enough for you to stay away from him at all cost. They had two older daughters Elena and Maya; they were 19 and 20 when you were 15 and one son Felipe he was 17.
After multiple meetings, they decided that you would marry Felipe in June a month after your birthday. You had known Felipe since you were little but marrying him wasn’t something that crossed your mind. You didn’t want to get married especially when you were already in love with someone else.
You left your house when you heard the news about your soon-to-be engagement and headed straight to Olivia’s house to tell her what had happened. You both cried for hours trying to figure out a plan so you wouldn’t have to go through with it. It wasn’t until your eldest brother Lucas came to Olivia’s house to bring you home.
Tears dripped down your face as you and Lucas walked home, he kept saying how Felipe would take care of you, and on the bright side, you didn’t have to go to school anymore. No matter how many jokes he made nothing made you laugh about the matter.
When you finally got home you found your mom and dad sitting across from Felipe and his parents. Your mother made you and Felipe go up to your room to “get to know each other” more. You and Felipe sat awkwardly on your bed as you cried silently.
“Listen Mikaela, I know this is hard for you but I just want you to know that I didn’t want this either, you were always like a little sister to me but my parents doesn’t let me have a say in anything,” Felipe said softly as he put an arm around your shoulder.
“I know Felipe, I just don’t want to leave school what about my friends, and then once we get married my mom is going to expect babies from us what do we do then?” you cried harder as you leaned into him.
Maybe if you hadn’t met Olivia or if your parents didn’t force you, you probably would’ve been with Felipe after all. Tall with brown hair and soft hazel eyes always protective over you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to accept your fate.
“I know it’s going to be hard but what other choice do we have?” he said, hugging you.
Time passed by and it was May 17th, your 16th birthday you didn’t want to have a party because the way you saw it you were one step closer to getting married. Your mom insisted you had one and invited all of your relatives and Felipe’s family. You weren’t able to invite Olivia because your mom wanted you to entertain the guest.
You were faking having a good time until your favorite tia came up to you,Tia Talia was from your mom’s side of the family which would surprise anyone because she and your mom are so different. She was the youngest on your mom’s side and lived in the city Madrid with her roommate, you hardly ever saw her but you both wrote to eachother frequently she probably knows more about you than your mom, she even knew about you and Olivia.
“Your mom just came up to me asking for donations for your wedding, is that true?” she asked with sad eyes.
You shook your head yes as tears started to form in your eyes.
“What about your friend?” she said lowly.
“I haven’t been able to talk to her since the engagement,” you said she picked up your hand and looked at the ring Felipe gave you it had been in his family for years and now it sat on your finger.
“Ok here is what we’re going to do.” Your tia explained to you her plan.
On the day of your wedding, you were going to run off and live with her. You would need helpers so everything went as planned you recruited your older brothers and even Felipe knew about it wanting to help you.
Your bags were packed so you and Felipe could “move in together” right away. You saved every dollar you could by sewing alterations or fixing patches. Not seeing Olivia for 3 months made you even more set on leaving.
When the day came, you were dressed in your mother’s wedding gown and had your hair and makeup did. Your bridal party was with you at all times in a small room in the chapel you were to get married in. Your hands shook hoping this would work because if it didn’t your mom would make sure you would never leave again. The music started and your bridal party all lined up with the groomsmen, you caught Lucas’s eyes, he sensed your nervousness and came up to you to give you a final hug.
“It’s all going to work out Mikaela.” he whispered in your ear and gave you a wink and lined up with his partner.
Slowly they all took their place beside the altar Felipe in the middle trying not to look so obviously to what would happen next.
It was just you in the small room until you heard a small knock on the door, it was your dad. You were a daddy’s girl, how could you not you had four older brothers and you were the youngest. Your dad hasn’t spoken to you about the engagement since it was announced he thought it was best to keep your mind off it.
“Are you ready Luciana?” he asked. He never called you by your first name, always by Luciana or Luci.
You shook your head and grabbed his arm. You were shaking so bad you couldn’t walk straight. Your dad gently stroked your hand to try to calm you. The doors opened to the chapel and you met eyes with everyone who showed up, relatives from both yours and Felipe’s family. They all stood and gave you soft smiles as if marrying a 16-year-old girl off was a normal activity for them.
You felt your heart drop, you couldn’t leave your family would be ashamed for raising such a non-obedient daughter. Felipe’s family would be mad for wasting their time and you would be at fault. You couldn’t just leave and let your family deal with your mess. You saw your brothers nudging each other knowing what you were thinking. Lucas shook his head with a serious look on his face trying to make you change your decision, you gave him a pleading look.
You had finally reached the altar your mother was there waiting to give you off, she fixed your veil and said “Be a good wife.” You looked her in her eyes wondering if that was all she could say.
Your dad hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear.
“Stick with the plan Luciana you’re so strong I’ll see you soon mia figlia.” (my daughter) You looked up at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know that he also knew about the plan.
Felipe grabbed your hand and walked you up to the altar waiting for the sign that you needed to leave. The priest went on and on about morals and vows you weren’t paying attention you just tried to stay calm hoping your aunt would come through.
As the priest started talking about the duties of a wife, you saw your Tia quietly get up and walk to a side door getting ready. You looked at the crowd hoping they didn’t notice her, they didn’t. Almost everyone’s eyes were on you, except your mother’s. She was staring straight at her sister then she turned her head to you and shook her head.
You looked past Felipe to the groomsmen and gave one last look to your brothers, your heart broke hoping this wasn’t the last time you would see them. Felipe squeezed your hand and gave you a grin, you grinned back at him realizing this wasn’t a dream you were actually going through with this you pulled him in for a hug before you ran off to meet your aunt.
You heard gasps while your heels slapped the concrete floor of the chapel echoing across the room. You and your aunt ran across the long courtyard of the church grounds. She had parked right in front of the church allowing you easy access to leave as quickly as possible.
You jumped in the passenger seat of the car waiting for her to leave, you wouldn’t feel safe until you in Madrid but you couldn’t help but laugh hysterically as she peeled off. The plan was to board a train that heads straight to Madrid but were ahead of the clock.
“Can we stop by Olivia’s house?” you asked your Tia Talia.
She gave you a long look “ I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mickey. She lives too close to your house.”
“Please I need to break things off with her before I disappear.”
She gave you a sad look and made a hard U-turn driving as fast as she could to Olivia’s house. Your Tia didn’t even have time to put the car in park before you jumped out running to her front door.
Olivia’s mother opened the door.
“Oh Mikaela, what a lovely surprise and what a lovely dress is that something you’re working on?” She asked nicely.
“Nice to see you Mrs. Luz but can I speak to Olivia please, it’s urgent,” you said quickly looking back at the street for your parents car.
“Oh sure, Olivia!” she called upstairs.
Olivia came jogging down the steps, looking effortlessly beautiful her dark skin and dark hair contrasted with her bright eyes in such a mesmerizing way that made you not want to look away.
“Yes mom?” she faltered a bit when she saw you.
“I’ll leave you to it.” her mom said as she left to a different part of the house.
“What happened Mikaela, I haven’t seen you in months, everyone at school kept going around and said that you were pregnant already,” she said as she ran into your arms.
“They tried to marry me off to Felipe I had to leave look at how ridiculous this is.” You said gesturing to your wedding dress and makeup.
Olivia laughed for a second.
“What are you going to do now?” She said seriously.
“I have to leave, I’m going with my Tia to Madrid.”
Tears started to fall from her eyes.
“What about school? What about your parents? What about…” She stopped what she was saying, but you knew what she was trying to say “What about us?”.
“I haven’t been going to school for the past 4 months I’m just not going to go anymore. My dad and my brothers know about what happens next but not my mom. I'll be back when she’s less likely to kill me.”
You looked back at your Tia and she gently pointed at her watch telling you you needed to wrap it up.
“Olivia I have to go, I won't be able to see you anymore.” She hugged you tighter.
You felt your heart break as you kept repeating I have to go. She was sobbing now you gave her a kiss on her forehead and pulled her head up and gave her one last kiss on her lips. Just as her mom walked in, she gasped and immediately started yelling.
You gently peeled Olivia’s hands from around you and whispered one last I love you to her and left back to the car.
Olivia’s mom immediately chased after you yelling at you from the street as your Tia floored it, you looked back at the rearview mirror and saw your parent’s car pull up in front of Olivia’s house. You stuck your head out the window to try and get a better look at your mom and Olivia’s mom talking to each other no doubtly about what just happened.
You turned back facing foward looking at the mirror and started to cry, your secret was out and now you really weren’t able to go back home.
You got pulled from your bitter memory as you realized you were staring at the poor hostess.
“Sei troppo gentile, sei anche molto carina.” You’re too nice, and you’re also very pretty. As you finished drying your hands and left returning to Roger.
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