#krick's fics

[sagitariusrising]

I Let The Beast in Too Soon

“I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live without my hand on his throat, I fight him always and still. Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy, how crazy I am. You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know, And I pray that you will…”

A man with silver hair meets a woman covered in stars…

18+ content. Orson Krennic / OFC; Modern AU; Modern Rogue One tech interpretations; Boston setting; Defense Contractor!Krennic; Scientist!Krennic; Kyber Crystals; OFC with psychic abilities; Mentions of Wilhuff Tarkin, Galen Erso, Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus; other characters forthcoming; clubbing; alcohol use; smut; mutual attraction dialed up to 11; safer sex practices; OFC doesn't have time for Krennic's games; emotional vulnerability from both characters; fear; Krennic is besotted; more tags to be added later

Word Count: 5450-ish

This story is inspired by the house on the bluff on the coast and my need to put Orson Krennic and his science in a modern setting.

Full courage!! This is my first full fic post ever and the story has lived rent-free in my head for years. Several of you have seen it, you know who you are, specifically @smolbeandrabbles (who was my first reader: OCs = my babies), and @pinksiamese (who gave me thoughtful and constructive feedback, edited what was needed, and kicked my rear end into gear). I owe a lot to @sufferthesea (and her perfect comm that helped form the entire planned story) There's more...

Playlist (in order)

The title comes from "Fast as You Can," by Fiona Apple: This song nicely encompasses the entire planned fic.

"More," by the Sisters of Mercy.

"Fascination Street," by The Cure

"Perfect Kiss," by New Order

"Natural One" by the Folk Implosion

"The Killing Moon," by Echo and the Bunnymen

OFCs faceclaim is here

***

A man with silver hair entered the club. 

Kary noticed him immediately, but who wouldn’t? Confident in his masculinity, pale suit, and haughty expression. He checked his coat at the door and surveyed the dance floor. 

Feigning disinterest, she peeked as he strode to the bar.  He raised his hand and ordered a drink. 

He’s too old to be here, he’s probably slumming tonight. Maybe he’s lost? Or meeting someone? 

That was it. Turning her attention back to the beat of the music, she lost herself in the dancing. Tonight’s venture away from home had a purpose: she needed the distraction, to get outside of her head. 

***

Clubbing in the theatre district hadn’t been part of Orson Krennic’s evening agenda. Tonight was supposed to be his big sendoff, but he’d left the festivities early, feeling let down and almost empty. 

The event had been part presentation, part retirement party. Krennic delivered his academic paper, titled “Nanotechnology and Optic Crystals: Military Applications of Laser Technology for Drone Warfare” at the banquet sponsored jointly by MIT and Tarkin Industries. A celebration, his last hurrah. 

Retired from the Navy with Captain stripes in place,  Krennic went to work in the private sector. For Wilhuff Tarkin, his rival both in school and in the service. Putting their differences aside, the two men had diligently worked to produce technology for military contracts. 

After five years, Krennic had become bored and embittered. Tarkin had regularly second-guessed and belittled his ideas and took more than his fair share of credit for their designs. Krennic was paid well and was respected in the industry--at least to his face. And he had all the status symbols: a penthouse apartment with a view of the waterfront, first name status at all the restaurants, and an expensive car. Plenty of beautiful women threw themselves at him, a rotation of bed partners whom he’d enjoy for the night and forget in the morning.

But the thrill was gone. 

Krennic was bored. He wanted something beyond the superficiality of business transactions and casual sex. His weapon designs had become repetitive, the innovation was gone. The social scene in Boston was dull and noisy. He began to entertain the possibility of a more substantial relationship, but the dating apps were bewildering: all of his matches were airbrushed women with parted lips who called him “Daddy.” 

Galen Erso was the zenith of his disillusion. They had been as thick as thieves in the Science Corps, had come up together in the Futures Program, attended MIT together, and become commissioned officers in the same unit in the Navy. They were like Oppenheimer and Groves: the crystal-based lasers they designed together were invaluable to the government and had been used for crushing conflict in countries across the globe. 

But Galen had seen the impact of their work in real-time, the bodies of civilians whom their weapons had struck down. Horrified and encouraged by his wife, Galen had resigned his commission, left the Navy, and settled on some organic farm in the middle of nowhere to raise a family. 

Krennic had seen Galen at a protest in front of Tarkin Industries. Disheveled, with long hair and hemp trousers, Galen had been carrying a sign that said STOP THE WEAPONS OF WAR and was leading a chant of REMEMBER THE INNOCENT. The next day, Krennic received an email with attached photos of dead bodies and destroyed cities. 

Deciding he needed an exit plan, Krennic spent extra hours at the lab, developing and testing a new application, nanotechnology with ion beams reflecting from lenses made from Kyberium.  Testing in the lab had proved successful, his field simulations had confirmed his hypotheses, and he’d been able to duplicate his results successfully. 

The power of the Kyberium was swift and deadly. Applying for a patent was easy and he had stealthily offered the technology to Raytheon. Krennic was going to get out of Boston, build a house up north by the ocean, and figure out the next chapter of his life.  

After the sale had gone through---a generous profit and a share of Raytheon’s proceeds in perpetuity---he had sold his shares in Tarkin Industries and resigned. Wihuff was furious, apoplectic. And humiliated when the paper Krennic had written about the technology had gotten noticed and published in a well-regarded academic journal. Forced to swallow his pride, Tarkin had arranged for Krennic to present the paper at tonight’s conference and combined the presentation with a retirement party. 

The applause had been thunderous. After the presentation, Krennic accepted a glass of scotch and made his way around the room, shaking hands and nodding at his peers' congratulations. Tarkin muttered “congratulations” and palmed over a shining point of Kyberium, Krennic nodded his thanks and slid the crystal into his pocket.  But the room was stuffy, the company boring, and there was too much fawning. He had already moved on. Krennic ducked out of the gala as soon as he could. 

***

He had boarded the subway with the intent of going home. But at the Theatre District stop, he’d made a spur-of-the-moment decision to get off the train and walk the remainder of the way. 

The sidewalks were crowded with theatergoers, tourists, and scads of people streaming in and out of the blocks of dance clubs. The music coming out of one of the clubs had stopped him: the tunes reminded him of his youth and decided he would have a drink and perhaps find some female company, he’d paid the ridiculous cover charge and gone in. 

The pulse of “More” by the Sisters of Mercy greeted him.  Through flashing lights and the crowd at the bar, the dance floor was packed. 

Meeting women was easy: his looks and obvious income made sure of that. But surveying the room, he thought blonde...brunette...too thin...too fat...too odd looking...taken...Christ, they’re all too young!” 

He ordered bourbon, tugged off his tie, and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe he would just sit and enjoy the scenery. 

Leaning against the bar, he scanned the crowds. 

And found her. 

Twirling on the dance floor, a shapely redhead. Pale skin, with tattoos covering her shoulders and back. She wore a thin camisole and a flowy skirt made of silky material. Younger than him, but not a kid. She sang along to the music, oblivious to others. 

No dance partner. He watched her rebuff a man who slid up against her. Interesting…

The opening chords of “Fascination Street” by the Cure dropped from the speakers. 

Krennic watched the girl change her rhythm and sway her body to the music; enchanted to watch her run her hands over her shoulders and hips, twisting and turning. He’d found his mark for the evening. He ordered another bourbon and downed it. More courage, he needed a buzz to focus his concentration.

***

Kary was grieving: Baze and Imwe were dead, and their house was on the market. Nan had died two years ago. Her circle of protection, the friends who had helped her understand her powers and harness and control the visions. 

And the responsibility that had been left to her. She shook it off.

Just stop. Dance, get another drink. 

She twirled to the pulse of the music, hands in her hair. The song faded away. Out of breath, she turned to the bar. 

The silver-haired man was staring at her. 

She met his gaze. A jolt flared in her belly. He was cruelly handsome: tall, flinty blue eyes. And still alone. 

What is he doing here? 

Intrigued, she maneuvered to the bar. An empty seat allowed Kary a clear view. 

And why is he staring at me? 

Flagging down the bartender, she ordered a bottle of water.  She downed it in large gulps. Then, a gin and tonic. Triple limes. Her third, fourth drink of the night? She’d forgotten. 

…screw it.

She gulped her drink and swiped her hand across her face. the juniper tingled on her tongue. 

Tonight is for forgetting. 

He was still watching her.

***

Her bare back was half-turned towards him and Krennic’s eyes followed the lines of tattoos; they wrapped her back and shoulders, clear patterns of constellations: Cygnus, Lyra, Hercules, Draco, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Libra. His trained eye found the circumpolar patterns of Ursa Major and Minor, Cassiopeia, and Cepheus.

The night sky, he thought. Northern Hemisphere in the summertime. A slight smile tucked one corner of his mouth. She knows her astronomy.

Repositioning himself to get a better view, he continued to study her. Hair cascaded into tendrils of copper that glimmered in the colored lights. Damp with sweat, her camisole clung to her body, enhancing the round sweep of her waist and breasts. But her smile was unaffected, she seemed oblivious to the admiring glances. 

Including mine…

The music covered his growl. That body. 

Phantom sensations of her pressed against him, curves swaying on the dance floor. His cock stirred as he envisioned her hair spread across the sheets of his bed, his hands moving her hips to match his rhythm, that smile evolving into moans of pleasure.

Krennic put down his empty glass and signaled the bartender. “Another. And send a drink,” he said, raising his voice over the music, “to the redhead with the tattoos.”

He watched the bartender mix another drink and slide it in front of her. She shook her head. The bartender retracted it and poured her a shot of something instead. Krennic watched her toss it back and signal for another.

“Sorry, bro.” The bartender handed Krennic the refused cocktail. “The lady says no.”

Krennic smirked and stared down the bar. Her eyes met his; cool and savvy, gleaming with interest. No giggling or primping herself, no salacious expressions or fluttering of eyelashes: none of the usual female responses to his interest. But she was returning his appraising gaze, eyes drifting from his face, studying his body, drifting to below his waist. She met his eye again and seemed to remember herself, and her eyes darted away.  Then she shrugged and returned his smirk. She turned away. 

This girl is a rebel.  

His intrigue continued to grow. So did the lust coursing through him. He got up and strode towards her.

***

Kary focused her attention on the drink in front of her. 

Who is this guy? 

The way he held himself and the smirk on his face told her that he was used to getting what he wanted.

This is getting more and more interesting... he’s played this game before, but I’m not falling for run-of-the-mill games. 

“Not feeling thirsty?” 

His voice was rich and distinguished, gilded with an accent she couldn’t quite place: Australian? South African? 

He glared at the young man sitting next to her until he got up and left. 

Stomach flipping, Kary watched him take the vacated seat. She shook her head and looked him over; he was dressed in a crisp white shirt, pale grey slacks, cufflinks, and an expensive watch. The body beneath was broad through the chest and tapered at the waist. He had enormous hands. Close up, his eyes were shockingly blue, full of intelligence and cunning. 

Not as old as I thought. She studied his hair; up close, black threads wove through the silver.

He studied her too, eyes sweeping over her.

“Not feeling chatty, either?” 

Kary shook her head. She met his eyes and felt the familiar white noise in her head that was the precursor of…what she was drinking to block. She focused on his mouth instead, fearful that her eyes would give away the attraction she felt. 

Or see who he really is…

Finishing her drink and tilting her head towards the dance floor, Kary got up and walked away. 

***

Snubbed again. He watched her weave into the crowd. Or am I?

Krennic’s amusement deepened. His interest sharpened. This stunning woman wasn’t falling prey to his small talk and wasn't visibly impressed by his stature. His pride was wounded, but with every passing second, he felt she was worth the challenge. He wished he was still in the Navy; perhaps his dress whites would have made a stronger impression, but then again, she didn’t know who he was—his past, his work, his connections.

Even if she did, would she be impressed? 

He scanned the dance floor, found her twirling to the music. They locked eyes and she jerked her head.

New Order blasted from the DJ booth. “Perfect Kiss.” It was one of his favorites, with its gorgeous synth-pop bridge and climax. 

I haven’t danced informally for years. 

Downing the last of his bourbon, he straightened his shoulders and neck. He kept his eyes on her and removed his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves.

***

Keeping her back to the bar, Kary waited for the silver-haired man to join her. 

Will he accept the challenge? Or is he too proud to let go of himself?

Warmth settled up and down her back. The scent of expensive cologne and tobacco wrapped around her shoulders. Lips hovered close to her ear.

“May I touch you?”

That accent. She shivered, her thighs clenching together; she turned her head toward him. Nodded. Her hips filled his splayed hands. Kary’s head spun. He found the beat of the music with his body and buried his face in her hair, matching her pace. His fingers caressed through the silk of her clothes. His hard cock pressed against her backside. 

No attempt to hide that. She struggled with her breath.

The nine minutes of the song felt like an eternity, which then dissolved into “Natural One” by Folk Implosion.

He spun her around and locked eyes with her, slinging his arms over her shoulders. She didn’t know if it was the drink, the music, or just lust, but she pressed herself close to the man with the silver hair. Tugging her closer, he eased her into a thrusting movement that matched the beat of the song. He slipped a long muscular thigh between hers and she ground herself against him, fresh jolts of desire rattling her spine. His hand skimmed down her back and cradled her bottom, moved lower, and went under her skirt; she was wet, and if she kept going like this, she was going to come right there on the dance floor. 

I don’t care.

The white noise in her head dissolved into the red noise in her blood.

The music changed again.

***

The moody romance of Echo and the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon” slowed the pace of the dancefloor. 

Krennic stepped back and let a sliver of air between them. Twirling her into a waltz-like move, he steered one steadying hand between her shoulders and dropped the other one to her hip. As the music swelled, he eased her into a backward dip and left a lingering kiss on the throat. 

She groaned.

Grinning, he drifted his lips up the curve of her neck.

He wanted more but the song ended and she pulled away from him.

“I’ll be back.” She made brief eye contact, then smirked. “But if I’m not, you should come find me.”

She walked away, trailing her fingers down his arm.

***

Pushing her way through the crowd of women in front of the ladies room, she found an empty single bathroom with a door. Locking herself in, washed her hands and studied herself in the mirror. She was flushed, hot. Her hair was a mess. 

Do I know what to do next? She steadied her breath. He’s a catch, that’s for sure…but why is he here? 

She wasn’t looking for a man. The dance floor was full of women who would gladly take her place. She had come to the club to escape her grief. He was just a bonus to the night, a sexy dance partner who could be filed away as a fantasy.

He’s fucking hot, but there is too much at stake. She pushed back from the sink. I’ve gotta lose him…like now.  

Running one hand through her snarled-up hair, she opened the door. 

What happened next was a blur.

***

Krennic grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. He kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue seeking hers. He grinned as she returned the kiss, once, twice then jerked her head away and buried her face in his neck, kissing along his jawline and running her fingers through his hair. 

Nails scraped against his scalp. Krennic growled and shoved her against the bathroom sink. Hoisting her up, he felt her legs wrap around his waist. Desire boiled over as she ground herself against him. Pushing her further back he kissed her chest, pushed his hands under her camisole and bra, and cupped her bare breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. She thrust herself back against him, hands scrambling at the buttons on his shirt, growing more desperate and her hands traveled lower, the last button popped off and rattled against the floor. 

Chest bare, he grunted as she nipped at his collarbone, the sensation going straight to his cock. Pulling her back again against the sink, he yanked up her skirt, running his hands up her legs. Krennic couldn’t contain his smile at the whimpering sounds she made as he plunged his fingers past her panties and found her wet. 

Krennic pressed his fingers into her. Swirling and exploring, he grazed her clit and pressed harder as he heard her gasp.  Stopping, he lowered his mouth against her ear and whispered: 

“Is this for me? Did I do this to you?” His smile got wider as he met her eyes and watched her nod. 

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, he drew them down. She spread her legs to pull them off entirely and reached for his belt. 

Her hands rubbed his cock through his pants, then stopped. Hissing at the friction, he looked down at her: she was frowning. 

“Do you have something?” Her voice was soft, but firm. 

Krennic mentally clawed his way out of his haze of lust. 

What? Something? Oh. Protection. 

Of course he didn’t have anything: tonight he hadn’t planned on an adventure with a strange woman.

Glancing around the room, he noticed a condom dispenser on the wall. Coins only. He had no change. 

Reluctantly pulling away from her, Krennic examined the dispenser. Bending his elbow, he jammed it against the machine. Once, twice, three times. The dispenser dented and clanged open, condoms scattering across the floor. Krennic grabbed a handful and tossed them on the edge of the sink. Problem solved. 

She grabbed the waist of his slacks and pulled him back to her. Another kiss then moved her face away.

Why wouldn’t she look at him?

And why was she avoiding kissing him on the mouth but letting him touch her everywhere else? 

Krennic resolved to get to the bottom of these questions right after…

An insistent nip under his ear brought him back to reality. Krennic responded with a bite to her neck and slid his hands back under her skirt. Less tentative this time, he thrust a finger directly into her warmth and slid his hand around her back, holding her steady as she gasped and teetered on the edge of the sink. The only way this was going to work was if she could keep her balance against the sink. Fucking in a public bathroom was something he hadn’t done in years and he certainly wasn’t going to take her on the filthy floor. 

She gasped as he pressed into her, she was so fucking wet, his palm pressing against her clit. Feeling her rub against him harder, he withdrew his hand. Krennic smirked as she whined in protest. He kept his voice light, teasing. 

“Feeling eager?”

Krennic’s belt buckle clattered as she unzipped his slacks, jerking them down along with his boxers.  Krennic saw her eyes widen as she boldly grasped him, stroking cock to the base, tightening and relaxing her grip. He groaned as he watched her lean forward and tease him with her tongue.   

Hissing, he pushed her head away and pushed himself against her heat as she dragged her nails across his chest. 

Reaching behind himself, Krennic fumbled for a condom. He had to get inside her. Hands shaking, he dropped the first condom on the floor. She had both hands on him, clenching, dragging. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t open the fucking condom. 

Impatient, she released him and plucked the condom out of his hands.  Blinking in confusion, Krennic watched as she effortlessly opened the wrapper and with swift and triumphant ease, sheathed it over him.  

Grabbing her waist again, he tugged her up onto the sink. Her hand reached between them, and grasped his cock, Krennic covered her hand with his and allowed her to guide him…

Watching her carefully, Krennic saw her eyes go out of focus as he eased into her. Trying to go slowly, to savor her, he gripped her hips, grit his teeth, and fought the urge to bury himself completely into her. She fought him, covering his hands with hers again, threading her fingers over his. Krennic was startled at the sense of intimacy he felt, but this was forgotten as she pushed her hips against his, engulfing him in soft warmth. 

Groaning at the unexpected movement, he watched her, awed as she moved her body against his, bore down once, twice, and then trembled, and cried out. He felt her clench and pulse around him and realized that she was coming already. 

Krennic watched her bite her lips to smother her cries of pleasure. Feeling her go limp, he supported her body against his and continued to thrust into her. She was perfect: hair askew, face flushed, hands sliding across his chest. 

But she wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

Desperate to see her, Krennic pulled out, she whined and clutched at him. He roughly spun her around and pushed her against the sink. Gripping her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh, he plunged back into her from behind, feeling himself grow harder as she moaned gratefully when he thrust back into her. Gasping, she moved her hips to match his rhythm. 

Burying his face in her hair, Krennic struggled to hold his composure. She was too far away from him, her hands and chest pressed against the sink. Keeping his thrusts shallow, he ran his hands over her back and shoulders and pulled her back against him. his hand roamed over her belly, caressing his fingernails across her breasts, he pressed his hand against her chest and drew her against him. 

He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror in front of the sink. Her face was a mask of pleasure. 

The mirror…

Krennic leaned closer, and whispered in her ear. 

“Look at me, little rebel…”

Her eyes met his in the mirror, feline green and heavy-lidded. She reached up and grasped his hair, shrieking as she came again, slamming her hips against his, keeping her eyes locked with his in the mirror. 

Krennic fucked her through her second orgasm. The combination of her pulsing around his cock with their eye contact and the new rhythm of her hips against him sent him over his own edge. His orgasm shot through him. He gasped, pounding himself into her, coming hard, blissful, dissolving. 

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her scent, something floral, her sweat combined with his own. Moving his hand down her chest, over her belly, and back down between her legs, fingers brushing against her clit, grinning at her gasps. 

Images of tenderness flashed through his mind. Inviting her to his bed, drinking coffee, and lounging in bed with the newspaper. Her tattoos, the stars lining her shoulders and back:  maybe she would understand his work. 

Christ, I didn’t even know her name. 

Still inside her but receding, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. Her hand moved against his, then up to his face. She kissed him. Once, twice...she didn’t pull away. 

Someone banged at the door. “Hurry up in there!!!”  

Krennic reluctantly pulled away, and withdrew from her, wincing. She made a mewling sound as she lowered her head. He pulled off the condom, washed his hands, and turned to her. She was meeting his eyes now. He reached for her...

“Will you excuse me?” 

Nodding, he adjusted himself, buttoning his shirt. 

“Just give me a minute”

Krennic stepped out, pushing against another couple trying to get in “Wait your fucking turn”. 

***

Kary sagged against the sink, body thrumming and trying to collect her thoughts. 

When their eyes locked in the mirror, Kary had a vision.

Shouting, fists slammed against tables. A panorama of explosions. The man’s voice, full of awe and pride. 

“Oh! It’s beautiful” 

Combined with his hands on her body, his cock thrusting, the vision had sent her over the edge.  The best sex she’d ever had. 

Her legs were wobbly, she was shocked at how empty she had felt when he pulled out. Turning around to see her backside in the mirror, Kary noticed marks on her hips. She was probably going to have bruises tomorrow. 

I don’t care…

But she did: the visions frightened her. His presence, his power. She was intrigued by the man with the silver hair. He was stern, but a tiny bit vulnerable, a skilled lover who had met her challenge. What was he like outside of this place? 

Hold on: you don't do things like this, you're drunk and lonely, the stars aligned and you let your guard down. 

The fear and desire were overwhelming, and he was waiting for her. 

Did he feel her power? 

Never mind, you’ve got to lose him. Go home and forget this ever happened. 

Cleaning herself up she noticed her panties under the sink, along with the button that had snapped from his shirt. 

Collecting herself, Kary opened the door. He was leaning against the wall, ankles crossed, head lowered. Raising his eyes to her, he bit his lip and gave a shy smile. He reached for her hand. 

“Hey, little rebel…”

Her stomach flipped as his blue eyes continued to plead with her: he had given her that look in the mirror. Kary felt the pulsing between her legs return. 

“I think this is yours.” She held up the button. 

His smile was boyish, the arrogance she had seen earlier was gone. He traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. 

Kary tucked it into his pants pocket. 

I need to get out of here. 

“Listen, I’ve got to...you know…” He jerked his head towards the men’s room. “Meet you at the bar?” 

She nodded, and his hand lingered on hers as he pulled away to stand in the short line. Kary backed away, keeping eye contact with him until she left the area. 

She had five minutes, tops. Weaving around the dance floors to the crowded bar, she pushed her way through and flagged the bartender. Throwing a wad of cash on the bar, Kary made her way to the coat check. 

***

Navigating his way back to the bar, Krennic was lost in thought. He was going to settle his bar tab, get her out of this club, and take her to his apartment. Maybe he’d fuck her again, but it wasn’t necessary tonight. He just wanted to hold her, wake up next to her. Get to know her, study the tattoos on her back up close. Figure out who this mystery girl was, and why this felt like something more than a casual fuck. 

She could be the start of something beautiful.

Signaling the bartender, Krennic tossed down a credit card. Signing off on his tab, he glanced around the bar. He surveyed the dance floor: no sign of her. A coil of concern bloomed into panic.  Flagging down the bartender again, Krennic asked “Have you seen the little redhead who was here earlier?” 

The bartender pointed behind him. “I think that’s her over there…” 

Krennic spun around and saw her at the coat check counter. 

She was leaving!

Fighting his way through the crowd, Krennic shouted “Wait!!! Don’t go!!! Please!!”  She glanced over her shoulder, and he caught her eye, pleading “Wait!! I don’t even know your name!”

Her eyes flashed with panic. What happened to the woman who had clung to him? 

Fuck!!

Krennic cursed out loud, shoving people out of his way. She was too far away from him! Stumbling towards the exit, he shoved the door open and ran onto the crowded street. Panicking, he looked left, right, searching desperately for her in the throngs of people. He couldn’t find her. 

Struggling against the impulse to punch out a window, a person, something, Krennic drove both hands into his hair, his heart pounding in despair. He was frantic, he had to find her, but how? 

He didn’t even know her name, how could he let her slip away?!?! 

An idea occurred to him. He pushed back into the club, through the crowds, and up to the bar. Almost shoving a young woman aside, he reached over and grabbed the bartender’s arm. 

“The redhead!? Did she pay by credit card? Do you know her name?!”

Shaking off Krennic's hand, the bartender said “No man, sorry. I’ve never seen her before tonight, she’s not a regular here”

“Did she pay with a credit card!?”

“No man, sorry. She paid with cash. If I were you I’d check your pockets. Lots of thieves come in here, gotta be careful…”

Krennic cursed aloud again, bar patrons staring at him. She couldn't have been a thief. He reached in his pockets. Wallet, money clip, cufflinks-all there. His credit cards and cash were intact, his watch was still on his wrist. He dug into his back pocket, hands finding the button from his shirt, and something else. 

He pulled out a bundle of silk and lace. Her panties. Despite himself, Krennic grinned. His little rebel had gotten the last word in. Now how the fuck could he find her? 

***

Heart hammering,  Kary fought back unplanned tears. He was frantic, heartbroken. She had heard him shout after her and almost had a change of heart. But she shoved the impulse aside and hurried out of the club. Pushing through the people on the sidewalk, she ducked into a parking garage and pressed herself against a retaining wall, hearing him holler in the streets. 

She looked for a way out. The parking garage had an exit at the opposite end. Pulling out her phone, she called an Uber to pick her up. She needed to get home, away from where he could find her.  

Baze and Îmwe had tried to teach her control her response to the Kyber crystals. But the visions were too overwhelming, unbearable. There was always a surge of power, blue and green fire.

And the silhouette of a man…

Dammit, this is no time to speculate, get out of here…

Looking up, she searched the shy. Through the glow of the city, she found the glint of the North Star and breathed through her panic.

Kary didn’t even know the silver-haired man’s name. It was better this way. 

***

Krennic paced back and forth. He had taken a cab home, muttering his address to the driver and sitting in the back, clenching his fists and trying to keep a handle on his panic and anger. 

He’d poured himself a bourbon, downed it, and poured another. The apartment, modern and sleek, seemed less like a home, too damn tidy. She would have been a beam of freshness and color to this place. 

The bourbon was getting to him and he was going to pay tomorrow. Krennic didn’t care, the drink wasn’t numbing his wounded pride and the confusing -imagined?- connection he felt with the redhead. He pulled her panties out of his pocket. Again. Stroking the soft silk, he remembered the groans of pleasure, her weight against him, her lips, his surprising feelings. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve wanted to take someone home with you. 

He clenched his fists, downed the rest of his bourbon, and threw the tumbler to the floor. Ignoring the shattering glass, he thought “This is why I have to get the fuck out of Boston”. 

Desperate for a distraction, Krennic picked up his phone. He scrolled through what looked like a million missed text messages and phone calls.

His realtor.

“​Orson, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all night. I’ve got your dream house, it’s going on the market next week, and you’ve got the first showing. Be there, bring your checkbook.”

A date. An address: Coburn Cove. Manchester-by-the-Sea. 

And several photos of a ramshackle house atop a buff facing the ocean.

…to be continued

[smolbeandrabbles]

Linzi’s 2021 Thank You Post

To be honest due to the lack of real activity on this blog - at least writing wise - I don’t really have much to go on for this year!

It’s been a good one by all accounts, learning to write for myself again and taking a break to write something that made me truly happy 😊

Although we’re entering a new era with this blog next year - where you’re likely just to see this used as my main, and any writing I decide to publish either on my AO3 or my side blog @soultek, I did want to thank absolutely everyone who this year has discovered this blog, read a fic, liked a fic, reblogged a fic or commented on a fic! Thank you so much for your readership and taking your time to do such things! It truly means the world to me that everything I created over the past 3 years is still finding new audiences that enjoy my work! 🥰

Special thank you to both Starset and Smash Into Pieces for soundtracking my year. Took me waaay too long to get there with you both, but my gosh... I’m glad I did. Because you soundtracked all my writing too! And happen to be perfect to write to!) 🙌

My big thank yous for this year go to you, @sufferthesea @sagitariusrising @mandy23b​  - thank you for keeping me sane, helping me to discover new things, encouraging me every step of the way, fangirling with me over a whole range of things, letting me ramble to you about whatever new interest was grabbing me at the time and helping me to grow. Bee, Krick, Amanda... you are all real ones. And I love each and every one of you so much 🤗💙💜 Thank you for an amazing 2021! Here’s to 2022!

Signing off as Olderguysandcutiepies, one last time before we change it up tomorrow! Stay tuned!

Love, Linzi x ❤ P.S. Obviously this would not be complete without the boys that captured my attention over the past year. That make me so happy to have found (often with help! 😁), and happy they’ve been a big part of my 2021... in some form or other-! So, thanks, boys... Let’s do this again next year!

[housesilmontaix]

Fic Tag Prompt

THE RULE: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic/original/anything!) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Things in life that would never change: Eao deflecting her own racism with more racism.

Tagged by: @gwenneth-in-wonderland and @poison-lily  ((Thanks guys!))

Tagging: @duskwightwoodsman @nebula1984 @praevalidum-viator @countofthemoonlightlantern @aegir-ffxiv @nierfenhimer @araris-vairoy @helioheliks @moonhartsffxiv @fondebrodeur @krick-ff14 @auliander-ffxiv @grapecatte @thetreewaffle

[sagitariusrising]

Living Here So Long Undisturbed

"Help me, someone, let me out of here, 'Cause living here so long undisturbed, dreaming of the time we were free, so many years ago, before the time when we first heard, welcome to the home by the sea"

Part two coming soon:

The man with silver hair and the woman covered in stars remain unnamed and unknown to each other. But not forgotten. Kary reels and Krennic plans. Allusions to Kyber crystals, and modern interpretations of Rogue One tech. Appearances of other Rogue One characters. House porn. And solitary smut.

Part one