Work Text:
-Whatever you do, don’t think about helping Din shave. Don’t think about holding his sonic trimmer, sitting on the floor of the ‘fresher together.
-don’t think about his hair still wet from showering, towel-dried and sticking up all over the place.
-Don’t think about his back against the wall, bracketing you between his outstretched legs, your legs crossed, knees relaxed, resting on his thighs.
-Don’t think about how the troubles that had creased between his brows all day have finally eased because your gentle fingertips following his jaw are like a balm after the day he’s had.
-Don’t think his warm hands splayed on your bare thighs, watching you work.
-He loves the set of your mouth when you concentrate, carefully angling the device with practiced ease. He Loves the sensation of your thumb carefully spanning his cheek guiding your methodical succession of strokes.
-Don’t think about the way he has to fight to keep his eyes open the whole time because your touch finally brings the tally of good things that happened today up from zero, in contrast to the monstrous sum of terrible.
- “At least you didn’t have to attend to the aftermath of your son's shenanigans with his imaginary jet-pack all afternoon,” you tell him with a fond smile
-Don’t think about how easily you can force the worry from his head and make him laugh. The way his cheeks stretch into dimples at the image you just gave him, creasing the corners of his eyes when you talk about your little boy.
- His boy.
-Don’t think about the backs of your fingers going back and forth over the spot to judge if it’s trimmed how you like it. how he likes it.
-Don’t think about tipping his chin up, tilting your face to the side to see the stubble underneath, watching his eyelids fall shut as he holds still for you, giving you more room to work.
-don’t think about how your eyes latch onto the curve of his collarbones and the steady thump of his pulse. Don’t think about the grooves of his neck or the quiet strength of his shoulders.
-Don’t think about your gaze flicking up, catching the way he looks at you with molten honey in his eyes ...the look that makes you forget your own name for half a second, before you return to the task at hand, diligently focusing the trimmer along the perfect bow and arch of his top lip.
- Don’t think about how easily one look can flood your chest with breathtaking magnetic flares, like the exquisite fury of a snowstorm after midnight that quietly polishes everything it touches, violently swirling flakes catching in the streetlights, their brilliance heightened, making the surrounding night so much brighter.
-His presence is a shield, protective, insulating you from the cold. It says with conviction, you’re right where you’re supposed to be in this life: in his orbit.
-Don’t think about your fingertips brushing across his mouth light as butterfly wings, satisfied you didn’t miss anything. He watches you sit back, your eyes roving across his features...
- inspecting your handiwork
-Admiring this extraordinary man who occupies all the space in your heart, this man who trusts you with his secrets.
-He doesn’t know what good things he’s ever done to deserve the quiet mind you give him.
-He doesn’t have to hide from you. You’ve seen all the pieces of him. All the scars from all the lives he’s lived, all the blemishes on his soul.
-Despite all the flaws and failures, somehow you’re still here, beside him. Unwavering.
-A fixed point in time and space. Constant.
-Like his own personal sun.
-A violent inferno so fierce he has the embers trailing behind himself to prove it, a force of love so bright, you're the only compass he’ll ever need.
-This hardened warrior who still gets flustered when you give him a compliment. Who pulls you closer in the middle of the night just because he can.
- This man, who does not love quietly, in halves.
-So yeah, don’t think about how he really wants to kiss you right now.
~~