Her Ship Mechanic | Jedi!Kit Tanthalos x mechanic!fem!reader
Pairings: Kit x reader (mutual liking)
Type of fic: Comfort
Warnings: None
Settings: Star Wars
Summary: After a mission Kit’s ship broke down and she wanders into your shop for you to fix it, but the certain Jedi just won’t leave you alone
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Kit Tanthalos adjusted the collar of her Jedi robes as she stepped off her battered ship. The damage was worse than she’d thought after her last mission—a near-catastrophic encounter with a group of mercenaries wielding blasters more powerful than standard issue. The hull was scorched, the landing gear groaned with every step, and the hyperdrive sputtered ominously. It was a miracle she’d even made it to the repair dock.
The repair bay smelled of grease, burnt metal, and hard work. In the middle of it all, you were hunched over the engine of another ship, tools scattered around your feet. Kit cleared her throat, and you looked up, a streak of oil smeared across your cheek.
“Got a real fixer-upper for you,” Kit said, gesturing toward her ship with a sheepish grin.
You raised an eyebrow, taking in the sorry state of the vessel. “Yeah, no kidding. This is going to take more than a few hours. Come back tomorrow—I’ll see what I can do.”
Kit nodded, appreciating the straightforwardness. She turned to leave, glancing back to see you already rolling up your sleeves, muttering to yourself as you examined the damage.
The next day, Kit returned to find you perched on the ship’s wing, wiping your hands on a rag. The ship looked pristine—new, even. You slid down, landing lightly on your feet, and handed Kit the datapad with the diagnostics.
“It’s done,” you said simply.
Kit inspected the ship, a low whistle escaping her lips. “You’re a miracle worker.”
You shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
Kit lingered a moment longer than necessary, watching you organize your tools. She thanked you, and you watched her leave, a peculiar smile tugging at her lips.
It wasn’t long before Kit returned. This time, her ship was in fine condition.
“Something wrong with your ship?” you asked, frowning.
“No, just… wanted to check in,” Kit said, her hands shoved into her pockets.
You blinked, but said nothing, letting her stick around as you worked on another project. She asked questions about your tools, your work, and occasionally shared stories about her missions. Her presence was oddly comforting.
This became a pattern. Every few weeks, Kit would show up—not always with a ship to repair, but with a story to tell or an excuse to stay. Over time, you got used to her voice filling the quiet space of the hangar. And you started to look forward to it.
Nearly a year passed like this. One day, as you crouched under a massive freighter, your birthday quietly came and went, barely a blip on your radar.
Kit, however, decided to mark the occasion a little. She arrived at the hangar unannounced, as usual, and greeted you with an easy smile.
“Happy birthday,” she said casually.
You stared at her, confused. “Wait, it’s my birthday?”
Kit chuckled. “Yeah, it is. Thought you’d know.”
Before you could respond, a wrench slipped from your hand and clattered under the ship. You groaned, reaching for it, but it was out of reach. Kit crouched beside you, leaning into the cramped space without hesitation.
“Got it,” she said, pulling the wrench free.
As she handed it back to you, her face was suddenly much closer to yours. The grease-streaked light illuminated her features in a way that made your breath hitch. Without thinking, Kit reached out, her fingers brushing your cheek.
And then she kissed you.
It was short and surprisingly gentle, her lips warm against yours before she pulled away.
“Happy birthday,” she murmured again, her voice softer this time.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Kit stood and left, leaving you crouched there with a tool in one hand, a dirty cheek, and a heart racing faster than any starship.
You stayed like that for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened.
And wondering when Kit would show up again.
