#the cantina's ficlets

[the-cantina]

Sweet Torture | Rex x f!Reader

Pinned post | Masterlist | The Bad Batch | Clone Squads | Delta Squad

Summary: Rex regrets all of his life choices as you make him swallow his pride in the best – worst – way.

18+ themes below the cut. Be responsible about the content you consume, if you're not of adult age in your country, do the both of us a favor and go away.

Ficlet | Mature | Word Count: 856 Contents: Cockwarming, Rex gradually losing his battle against lust

Mando'a terms Di'kut: Idiot | Ner kar'ta: my heart

Datapad in one hand, Rex watches you scroll through yet another article that caught your attention in the last twenty minutes you’ve both been sitting together in the spacious hotel’s bathtub. He sighs. Not for the first time — and hardly the last — his head rolls back, seeking some comfort in the decorative tiling of the bathtub’s edge; hoping the cold material will fight, even if minimally, the heat sweltering underneath his skin.

Looking for any distraction from the sweet torture of your nude form pressed to his front, Rex risks a peek at the device in your hands, wondering what had your attention this time.

Biting on the inside of his cheek is all he can do to keep in the moan clawing its way up his chest, when his eyes glance at the word lingerie and the picture of a lacy set in the perfect blue and white of his armor. And if there was a time Rex ever hated the tactical focus engineered into him by the long-necks, it was now.

Closing his eyes would only make his mind work overtime to turn whatever glimpses it caught and feed him all the scenarios he had no need of thinking of at the moment. At least, not if he didn’t want to embarrass himself like a shiny making out for the first time.

With another sigh, Rex can’t help but look back at his younger, unwise three hours younger self with petty contempt.

Had he not been a cocky di’kut, bragging with all the overconfidence of a cadet fresh out of their first successful training session about his “unbreakable focus”, maybe he would be in a better situation now.

Instead, he sits in the bathtub with your back flush with his chest, the soft warmth of your inner thighs bracketing his, your head resting back on his shoulder, giving him an unimpeded view of your chest. Of the way the lips of your cunt — your slick, warm, maddeningly pulsing cunt — stretches to accommodate around his cock. All things that would spell paradise, if not for the fact you are not moving a single kriffing inch on top of him, content to feel him throb inside of you, unaffected by the need tearing him from the inside out.

“Something wrong, ner kar’ta?” your voice, sweet like wild honey, breaks him from his thoughts. It takes Rex longer than acceptable for to pry his eyes open; longer yet to focus past the haze woven by the throbbing tempo drumming low in between his legs to find your gaze pinned on him.

He is mildly aware his voice rumbles in his chest, and assumes he must have mumbled you an answer. One that doesn’t reach — ever gets processed by his own ears — not with the way he’s busy drowning in your eyes. The hazy glint on them, the heaviness of your eyelids, the minute way your eyebrows tilt up when his hips curl up without his - and more importantly, your permission.

It’s enough to break whatever spell was weaving between the two of you.

Rex cursed himself as your gaze sharpened almost as much as the smirk growing on your lips as you looked pointedly at his hand. His own datapad — the one where he should fill reports in — groaned pitifully on his grasp, the edge near his thumb now sporting a small, concerning rainbow line.

And if he wasn’t so focused on not making a mess of himself, Rex might have bothered with forcing down the heat prickling from the tip of his ears to the last inch of his chest.

Gathering enough of his voice for a proper answer took every last thread of self-control ingrained from years of training, but at last, a wheezed “I’m fine, beloved.” made its way out of his lips.

“Then settle, love. I’m trying to read”, you chided in a satisfied purr that fell like the sweetest of caresses on his ears; a caress his hyper-aware senses feast in like a ravenous nexu.

Your back presses firmer against his overheated skin, and Rex squeezes his eyes until stars spark behind them, holding on the datapad and long-forgotten fruit in his hands like they were the only things threading him to sanity.

Breathe in, hold. Breathe out, repeat; C’mon Rex, you can do it. It’s just like in the old resistance training—

But then you decide to make yourself even cozier, hips shifting on his too-sensitive cock, your oh-so-warm, silky walls squeeze and rub him in all the right ways. His datapad meets the floor with a concerning crack, and the now ruined peach slice oozes sticky between his fingers.

You preen at your obvious victory, and Rex whines on the crook of your neck as the vibrations of your chuckling extend way past his chest.

And when you are finally moving, and Rex is sure he’s about to pass out. The ever winding coil in his core tightens to the point he can barely breathe. Fett preserve him. He felt he was about to die with every roll of your hips…

But karking hells, what a wonderful way to go.

★ And if you got to the bottom of this post, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! It helps me know you like what I share with you, and fuels me to share more ★

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello Ghost!!!!

So good to see you around ☺️ truthfully I haven't been on Tumblr too much lately either due to .... Shall we say.... complications in life? To put it mildly :D just a small bit...I've had a lot of angst lately and illness I can't quite kick :D but I saw your winter ficlet fun and I'd love to join!!! I can't wait to see everything you'll come up with! I love your stories!

Can I request something with Hunter? Maybe some angsty holiday fun or misunderstandings or whatever XD with a happy ending? (There has to be a happy ending right? Because that's what hope is for? :D forgive the rambling of a sick woman :D) thanks in advance!

i hope you're doing okay now, i'm sending love your way <3 hopefully this is fluffy and hopeful enough for you!

words: 980

summary: After taking a chance and doing something brave, the batch has to leave on a mission. When Hunter comes back, the two of you finally get some time to talk.

What Feels Like Forever

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

The longer you waited, the harder it was to get up and return to your regular duties. From a logical standpoint, sitting in the corner booth and staring at the door of the cantina was a useless endeavor, and it was doing no favors for your emotional state. You began to find yourself wrapped up in worries about the peril the Bad Batch was probably facing right now, and a pesky little thought about their fate (that you didn’t really want to contend with right now) took hold for a second in your brain. 

You had managed to momentarily distract yourself a few times, usually when a customer came through the door wanting a drink, but it was quieter than usual in here. Maybe it was the upcoming life day celebration, but the clientele of this establishment had (unknowingly) abandoned you when you needed them the most. But as much as you wanted to, there was nothing you could do to push those terrifying thoughts out of your head, because of what had happened before the squad had left. 

“Can I talk to you?” Hunter’s eyes moved towards yours, and you couldn’t help but admire how pretty his hair looked right now.

“Of course,” he said, stepping away from his brothers as they loaded up the ship with the necessary supplies for the mission. “What’s up?” 

Even though you were now faced with the perfect opportunity to admit your feelings, you still couldn’t do it. “I just wanted to wish you all good luck,” was what you said instead, internally sighing at the way you chickened out. 

Hunter smiled warmly at your words, nodding, “Thank you, we’re going to need all the luck we can get,” he said. “This is going to be a tough one.” 

This was not what you wanted to hear. “Oh,” you said. “Do you think you’ll be home by life day?” 

“I’m not sure. Tech wouldn’t say anything about the predicted outcome.” 

Your heart sank in your chest, and you spoke in a voice much brighter than you actually felt. “Well, we can celebrate with you all when you return!”

He nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.” 

One of the others called his name from inside the ship, and the former Sergeant turned to move away from you. You considered the implications of his words, understanding the heartbreaking truth that every time they left on that ship they were taking a pretty big risk, and this particular one was steeper than most. 

Oh kriff it. 

You reached out to grab his hand, rushing towards him as he turned back to face you. You leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips, but that moment of bravery was gone just as quick as it arrived. 

You didn’t see the look on his face as you turned tail and sprinted away, wondering why you would do something so stupid. 

You wanted them to come back, but the sight of the Batch walking through the door would also mean that you would have to talk to Hunter, because he didn’t seem like the type to let something like that go. Hopefully you would be able to say something about how you weren’t thinking and you could still remain friends. Of course there was the small but persistent hope that he would feel the same way, but you tried not to put too much stock in that fantasy. 

Besides, Life Day was tomorrow, and there was still no word about when this mission would be over. There was no use acting like this, at least not until you had a little more of an idea about what was going on. 

You had finally gotten up from where you’d spent most of the day moping, and you were about to walk into Cid’s office (to ask her if you could just go home for the day) when you heard the door to the cantina open, and you watched five familiar figures step inside. 

All you could do was stare as Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker walked by you, clearly heading towards your employer’s office. Hunter was the only one who had taken off his helmet, and you braced yourself for the reception of a harsh truth. There was no way he’d forgotten about everything, right? No, you weren’t that lucky.

Instead, you were wrapped up in the arms of plastoid armor, and before you could really register what was happening, Hunter’s lips were on yours, but this time things lasted a lot longer (and you certainly weren't complaining. 

“What-” you started to sputter when the two of you finally broke apart. 

“That was something I should have done before I left,” he said, a look in his eyes you never wanted to forget. 

“But I ran away from you.” 

“And I could have caught up,” he said with a smile. “But I was nervous about the mission and it took me by surprise, so I just stood there.”

“I shouldn’t have done-”

This time it was the look in his eyes (rather than his words) that stopped you from finishing your sentence. “If you hadn’t, we might still be on that mission right now,” he said. 

“What?” 

“I was so desperate to get back here and kiss you for real, I pushed the squad to get this thing done as quick as we could handle,” he said. “They hated me for some time, but once I explained, I think they understand my reasons - I wanted to get back here for Life Day, for you.”

Not knowing what to say, you just leaned in to kiss him again, and that continued until the rest of his family returned from Cid’s office. Teasing comments were made, but you barely even paid attention to them. 

You couldn’t be happier, and there wasn’t a thing in the galaxy that could change that.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[queen-scribbles]

Fine Print

Immediately post-Ruhnuk Kina/Rass ficlet bc I got a plot gizka. :D ---

The adrenaline didn't start to fade until their shuttle was lifting off from Ruhnuk in a flurry of dust plumes and downdrafts.

And even then her heart didn't slow much. This had been a close one no matter how much Kina thrived on adrenaline--and despite the fact they'd come out on top.

Kina set the autopilot to rendezvous with Shae's flagship and let out a deep breath as she sat back, glancing over at the copilot's chair. Jekiah and Akaavi were helping Shae in the back and she knew joining them would create a 'too many cooks in the cantina' situation. But Rass was sitting with one arm still curled protectively across his chest, over the burn marring his armor, jaw tight. That was something she could help.

"Hey," she began, bumping her knee against his to get his attention, "you alright? Anything broken?"

"Broken, don't think so." Rass shifted in his seat, jaw unclenching a little. He let go the shielding grip and ran his hand through his hair. "And I know what broken ribs feel like; that is distinctly absent. Aches like hell, but that's probably just bruises."

"Really?" Kina shot a skeptical look at the damage to his armor. "B'cause from where I was standin' it looked like Ri'kan had a hell of a backhand."

"Oh, he does," Rass said glibly. The half-smile he sent her looked forced around the edges. "Beskar's good stuff, Spike."

"Uh-huh." She gave him a flat look for the nickname. "Well, Tough Guy, maybe I should check anyway. Just to make sure you're not bleeding internally and gonna die a tragically young death soon as we land on the Spirit."

He laughed at that, though it was stilted and ended with a grimace. "That would be a shame."

"And since the med-techs are gonna bee busy with Shae" --and maybe Akaavi, she added to herself, remembering what he'd said about the relay station ambush-- "d'you really want them worryin' about you, too?"

Rass cocked his head, smirking faintly. "Better for you to worry about me?"

"I'm gonna do it anyway," Kina shrugged, "might as well benefit from it." Half-jokingly, she reached toward one of his armor clasps.

Something flickered in his eyes at her more-honest-than-intended comment, before amusement came back and he playfully batted her hand away. "Appreciated, but if you wanna get me out of my armor, you're gonna have to buy me dinner first."

"Not even if I say pretty please?" she teased with an exaggerated bat of her eyes. "Or remind you I did say I'd watch your back, and this counts. Y'know, in the fine print."

"Good to know, and more than a little tempting." Rass leaned his head back against the seat and watched the rapidly approaching flagship. "But I think I gotta stick to my guns on this one. Dinner. Or at least a drink."

"That's an awful fast compromise, Tough Guy," Kina grinned, still fiddling with the kolto injector she'd pulled out.

"Chalk it up to your persuasion skills." He glanced over, and there must've been something in her face that made him straighten. "Really, Kina, I'll be fine. Much like beskar, I'm sturdier than I look. And I'm pretty sure just bruises made it through."

"You'll hafta let me know if there're any pretty patterns to it," she joked. Something in her did an odd little flutter at him using her name, but she shook it off and waggled the kolto. "'Least want somethin' to help with the achiness?"

The good humor in his eyes faded to something serious. "Probably should. There's... a lot to talk to Jek about, once Mandalore's taken care of. Better to not be distracted by bruised ribs."

She almost protested, insisted on professional grounds rather than personal interest in 'getting him out of his armor', but just bit her tongue and handed over the kolto injector. "You know if you need anything you can hit me up." She smirked. "I am very good at acquiring things."

"This more of the fine print for havin' my back?" Rass teased. She didn't miss the wash of relief across his face when the kolto kicked in.

"Nah, I just like you," she grinned.

A flicker of a smile broke through the other emotions clearly taking over his thoughts. "Lucky me, then."

Kina winked at him, then turned her attention to the controls, witching back to manual for the final approach to the Spirit of Vengeance II. Her heart rate was climbing again, despite her attempts to settle it.

Just for a completely different reason now.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Work has been rough this week, it's really beaten me down. Can I get some moments of tender loving care from the charming reptile men here (shriv, bane, and Ohnaka)? Please have them care for their roughed up or worn out lover?

I am sorry work was rough for you! It took me a minute to be able to get to this, so I hope that it still does some good. I wrote three short ficlets for you! One for Cad, Hondo, and Shriv. I hope they find you well. Bane's was inspired by this work of art created by @deepbluespace4.

Total word count: 1.7+

Warnings: None. PURE FLUFF, caretaking, and the boys being kind to you.

---

You are a cantina girl; you serve drinks to scoundrels. You have a rough set of customers, and this week has been especially tiresome. You are dreading going back to work, though at least you have one measly day to call your own, but your lover is gone out on a job, and you are left to sulk alone.

You have no idea he came back early. He is watching you from afar. You take the same route back every night, only this time he observes you.

You kick a pebble, lost in your own thoughts. Your hands are shoved deep inside your pockets. If your mood was visible, it would have been a set of stark black lines, or a ball of malicious squiggles.

On top of everything, you barely make ends meet. Your boss is petty. Patrons had skimped on tips. You needed to do laundry, prepare a meal, clean your house, but you lack the required energy to do any of it.

You unlock the door to your paltry dwelling. Your stomach growls on empty, but all you can do is flop down on your bed. The tears come then. You sob into your pillows. A bittersweet release, though it somewhat helps.

Some few minutes later, your sense of smell is overpowered with the scent of food. Something warm, delicious, and meant for you. The hunter had been quiet. He had snuck in while your head was buried in your cushions. He had brought in a bag of street fare, takeout from a local market stall.

“Knock, knock, lil’ lady.”

You didn’t move. His throaty drawl had frozen you. You try to calm your tears as Cad Bane places the takeout on the table. His head cants to the side and so does that ungainly hat; he is quizzical, curious of your foul mood.

“It’s jus’ me,” he assures you. He hadn’t meant to frighten you, though his steps are often silent - it’s by second nature, and you had gotten used to it.

Your neck cranes up to look Bane in the eye. He frowns at you, or at least you thought he did, as his expression was nearly always wry.

“Brought ye somethin’,” he states quietly.

Bane strides forward, his grip upon his gun belt, the Duros toying with a toothpick that lives between his teeth with a motile tongue. He motions towards you, beckoning you to stand with the curling of a hand, a folding of four blue fingers and one thumb.

Your heart felt somewhat lighter at this nonverbal request; you went to him at his behest. Your arms encircle him about his tapered waist. He hesitates for just one moment before he envelops you in a cool, welcomed embrace.

It was said Cad Bane was cold-blooded in more ways than one, but he has a soft spot – one that you seem to fill, for you make him feel not so by himself.

“Ah don’t 'spose ye missed me?” he asks of you, though he thought he knew the answer. You respond with more tears and with a tighter grip upon his person; you had missed him terribly.

You give him a squeeze as he rests his hands along your back. He closes those crimson eyes of his and rumbles his contentment.

“Ah'll take dhat as a yes.”

He must have been in a kind of mood to be this nice to you, but you are thankful for him and will never take him for granted. The dark rain cloud has lifted, your temperament has shifted, and it is all thanks to him – this gangly man who wears a hat and hugs better than the rest.

---

You are a Spicerunner for the Ohnaka Gang – it is voluntarily, though you are weary. You sigh deeply as you situate your transport ship upon the steady ground. Home sweet home, or rather Hondo’s. You are just a visitor, though he often keeps you by his side.

You are more than just a flavor, a one and done. You are also a great pilot, though the Weequay is somewhat partial to you. When in your company he forsakes all others, and he gives you a home here with him on Florrum.

You were gone longer than you meant to be. Imperial TIEs had come upon your whereabouts. You had to hide in secrecy on some small moon. The cramped quarters, the low rations, had all nearly gotten to you.

You exit the hatch and stumble down the ramp. You are so tired from being vigilant, you nearly miss your step. Likewise, you hadn’t even noticed, though the pirate had come to greet you. He catches you in his outstretched arms before you hit the rocky earth.

“Water. Now,” he commands someone just out of your sight. He turns your body in his arms, adjusting you so you can look at him. His gray eyes behind his goggles appear concerned. He walks you gently to a nearby hovercar.

“You poor dear,” he says with a gentle lilt, “I was afraid someting had happened tu you.”

He opens the door and carefully sets you down. The ride is short up to his fortress, but you are happy to be away from the burning heat of the noonday sun.

You are handed off a cup; you chug its contents. Hondo picks you up like a bride being carried across a threshold as soon as you are done. He takes you up some stairs; you are hardly a bother for him. He had seen you fly in and had prepared a bath.

His undressing of you is sensual, though he is respectful. This moment is about you, and not what you could do together. He peels off your boots, your many layers, then guides you by his hand into the warm and soothing bath.

You relax, a sigh exhaled from your parted lips. You bat your lashes at him, slowly, and he gives you his signature, sly smile.

Water is rare on this dry desert planet. He cares enough about you to make sure you are clean and rested. He takes one foot up without him asking, his hands tough yet mild as he massages it with rapt attention and the utmost diligence.

“Du you feel better?” he asks of you in his most dulcet tone of voice. You can only nod your head as you dip down lower into the suds.

“Much,” you croon for him.

 Hondo was a catch, and a wily one at that, but he had his moments, and you were very thankful for him.

“So glad tu hear et, love,” he says as his lips brush against your ankle. You thought you must have died and met with Maker, for if not, he would surely one day be your undoing.

---

You cannot sleep; you are plagued by anxiousness. You have deprived yourself of rest and nutriment. You rove the shelves in the Restoration’s cargo hold, taking note of inventory, the supplies needed to keep the rebellion going.

A Star Destroyer had been spotted half a parsec out just days ago. Everyone was on high alert. That meant Danger Squadron was more often on patrol, and you were more than worried for it.

Shriv was the commander of that squad. He wasn’t the best at leadership. It wasn’t that you thought lowly of him, but he had told you that himself.

You tried to keep your mind preoccupied, squaring away reports and communicating shortages, but whenever you tried to lay down your head, your intrusive thoughts kept you awake in bed.

Finally, they gave Shriv a brief reprieve. It was Black Squadron’s turn to guard the fleet. He came upon your smiling face at a viewport on the lower levels, having searched the ship for you. You are weak, pale, tired, and hungry - his extended absence from you had made you ill.

“Fullua?” the Duros asks as he approaches you cautiously. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so-”

You outstretch your right arm, your pallid fingers. You stroke the lines etched into his cheek before you almost faint from pure exhaustion, though he catches you just in time.

“I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I missed …” you manage to get out. Shriv curls a lip, his eyes brimming with worry and concern. He guides you to a lift, he holds you in his arms the whole way to your quarters. He coerces you to sit down at a table.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He strokes your face before he departs from you as you emit a whine. He had just returned, and he was already deserting you, or so it felt.

You lay your head down on the table. You do everything you can do to keep from crying. Ten minutes rolls by before the Duros comes back to you, though he is loaded down with food.

Shriv had raided the Restoration’s mess hall. He brought you the leftovers of that evening’s meal, and a little for himself. “Eat,” he lightly commands you, a frown seated upon his face.

You smile at him. You partake of a piece of bread, though your other hand only wants to hold his, and so you did.

You eat all you can stomach. He watches you in total silence, though he makes sure you get your fill before he stands and helps you to stand as well.

Shriv guides you to the mattress within your dorm. He lovingly helps you take your boots off. He blushingly assists you get undressed, though he averts his eyes like a gentleman. He is being silly, you have already been intimate together, but Shriv has always been respectful towards you, and never once made you feel uncomfortable.

Once you are prepared for bed, Shriv lies down and wraps you in his big, strong arms. He cradles you as carefully as he might a newborn youngling. He kisses you upon your forehead. He hums a little tune; a melody that accompanies a song his life-giver had sung to him on Duro.

Within minutes, you are asleep. Shriv will drift off too, eventually. Your mind is filled with pleasant dreams, as Suurgav had shown you care and kindness. It was only one of the many reasons you loved him so.

---

Masterlist

[chiriwritesstuff]

Chiri’s Fic Updates (& whatnot) for 2024!

Hi guys!

Since we are now in the thick of 2024, I thought it was time to address a few things in regard to my works - I put out… 5 different series? In 2023 and added 3 in 2024. I wanted to touch base with you all in what I currently have planned for 2024. My thoughts are kinda all over the place but I'll try to make it make sense (lol).

Planned fics

'My Wife in IT' - The sequel to 'The Girl in IT' is set to start shortly after we conclude 'The Girl in IT'. It's inevitable that Joel and Sugar are to be married - it's listed (kinda) in Joel's list, and I thought it would be a good idea for Sugar to have a list of her own! I'm really excited to start planning it - I'm wondering if I should crowdsource Sugar's list with the readers as a thanks for all of the love and support that 'The Girl in IT' has received! I'll probably be posting a poll shortly!

'A Bounty Hunter Walks into a Cantina' (rough working title) is the Din Djarin equivalent to 'The Girl in IT' with a "Mr. & Mrs. Smith' twist - it's very early in development and I am debating if I should make it a Modern Din story over a Star Wars universe one.

Current Fics & Series

'The Girl in IT' - I am floored at the response that this little series got! I am 100% committed to see it through and finish. I have a rough timeline and chapter list - no more than 10 chapters (9 main chapters and 1 epilogue/teaser).

'Meet Me at the Farmers Market' - I think that I will still continue the series but it won't be updated as frequently. I had intended the series to only run for the holidays, so I tried to give Joel and Sunflower a resolution / happy ending before the year ended. I still have a few ficlets that I want to post to supplement the series - and will try to post them in the coming weeks.

'Call it Karma, Call it Fate' - Should be completed by the end of January.

On Hiatus (or slated to be canceled)

First and foremost, I have decided to put my earlier works - ‘Our Violent Hearts’ (Joel), and ‘The *** Diaries’ on indefinite hiatus. Honestly, if I could eradicate OVH from existence I would, only because I feel like my writing has gotten better and OVH was written and planned so poorly that I want to get rid of it, so if you notice it gone from my masterlist, this is why. Honestly, I had good intentions when I conceptualized it but my heart is just not in it to finish.

With ‘The *** Diaries’, I wanted to try something different, but it ended up being more work than what I was willing to put out, so for now, I have no intention to move forward with it.

‘The Impossible Man’ (Din) is on hiatus, but with one more chapter to go, I might just bite the bullet and finish it, but only when I have some time to do so. I hope to get it done by the end of the first quarter.

'A Woman Under The Influence' will also be going on a small hiatus - I love the concept of the story but didn't realize how daunting it is to write a story set in the Star Wars universe. There is a lot of research and planning that goes with it, and it can be quite overwhelming.

[brynnmclean]

I was tagged in a first-lines-of-fic meme by @eisoj5​!  I’m pretty sure I’ve done this before (can’t remember my tag), but it’s been a long time!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

Tagging: @ladytharen, @rain-sleet-snow, @dwarveslikeshinythings, @niennawept, @allatariel, @incognitajones, @aadmelioraa, @moriondors, @heymacareyna, and @moonatoms!  And like Josie did once, I’m saying it’s totally cool if you post the first lines of chapters instead of separate fics.  Also no pressure, obviously! <3

My first lines under the cut!  I’m partial to #9 for some Current Project reasons.

1. late night arrival - May 2019, Rogue One, 1k, complete

Their transport arrives late back on base, late enough that Jyn isn’t surprised there’s no one waiting to meet her in the hangar. Melshi nudges her when he catches her looking around out of habit and tells her Cassian probably got told to stop hovering around like a grim-faced shadow, which earns him a solid punch in the arm. She pulls it, but Melshi makes a show of wincing and shoving her away with a huff of laughter.

2. guilt goes away if you let it -  January 2020, Rogue One Black Sails AU, 500+, the start of a Ficlet Collection because I don’t write long fics but I do have ideas that take up residence in my brain

The letters feel hot beneath his coat, even through his shirt, the inner pocket fabric, and the protective leather keeping Galen’s words safe from the water.

3. it was inevitable - January 2020, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, 200+ ficlet in a collection so technically complete

Finn wakes up after Starkiller and knows what he has to do.

4. before the fords - May 2020, Rogue One LotR Grey Company AU, 400+ ficlet in a collection… who knows if I’ll write a full separate AU fic, but I do love the idea!

The night was dark and cold, the full moon shrouded by clouds, but the Company rode together and rode hard as they had through the many leagues from the Angle onward to… wherever they were now, Jyn thought, exhaustion weighing her down in her saddle.  They had thought Halbarad would have called for a rest a ways back, but Chirrut had urged Baze to bring the two of them up beside their Chieftain’s Second so that he could pass on news up ahead.

5. first flush of hope to carry the grey away - May 2020, Rogue One, 1k, complete

It goes bad fast, the way it sometimes does in a city ready to blow, a match flicked on a trail of fuel and sparking the firefight.  Cassian dodges the first punch aimed for his face, but takes a hit from a glass someone throws at his back, and chaos descends where there could have been something else—not clean, nothing is clean in this grimy cantina full of shadows and sharp teeth and knives—that’s a knife in that informant’s hand, the blade catching the light as it arches toward Cassian and slices into his side.

6. far from a hearth-fire - November 2020, Brothers of the Wild North Sea which is a slash romance novel that I devoured, saw there was no fic for, and then decided I needed to fix that!!! 2k, complete

The dream came to him again, the one of the warrior in the storm. Fenrir stumbled out of the angry Sea, his arms reaching for the man beside him, dragging him onto the shore. Rán’s fury howled in waves crashing onto rocks, but Fenrir knew in the drumbeat of his heart that the man clutching him back, shuddering with cold and yet warm with life—that man was his to steal from her, his to hold.

7. the far away shore - November 2020, Brothers of the Wild North Sea, 2k, complete

“So,” Tekla said, setting a heavy tankard of ale down next to Fenrir and then thunking down onto the dock beside him. “Who is he?”

8. I took a break from writing fic through basically all of 2021, but that was because a ton of my creative energy was going to my Akallabêth TTRPG Campaign.  Anyway, I’m going to cheat a little and do a quote from the first scene of Session #7 (out of 35 and counting!) from May 2021 which was when I think things really began to click in for my players.  I have all these titles and headers for my notes / recaps and this section was called “Sails & Sea-Monsters”.  The whole session overall was called “The Whale & the Corsair”.  I write little bits of prose to set up a scene, so here are the first two sentences:

Morning arrives with the rolling of fog along the Sea, a hazy cloud blanketing the ship.  It’s gloomy and oppressive, heavy veils shifting through the sails, the wind lifting the canvas but failing to bring more than a vague glow of sunlight.

9. fell in love with the fire long ago - last updated December 2022, Silmarillion / Rings of Power Uncorrupted Mairon AU, 11k (!), my current project and WIP that I am calling a ficlet collection so that I don’t scare myself out of writing a long fic

Mairon goes when the storms subside, when Ulmo sends word to the other Valar that he and Uinen have brought Ossë back. He doesn’t tell Aulë why he leaves the Forge early, but some measuring glow in the Smith’s golden eyes tells Mairon he knows Mairon's mind. He sees the dark corners of his heart.

10. grant a name to a buried flame - February 2023, Silmarillion / Rings of Power Uncorrupted Mairon AU, 3k, complete

“Well, I can’t fault your taste,” Mablung says, swiping the flask of wine from Celeborn’s hands and taking a healthy pull. Celeborn scowls half because he’d been saving that, damn it, and half because he knows Mablung doesn’t mean his taste in wine.

[depizan]

Have a horrible ficlet I've been meaning to write since last October, and the 2021 Whumptober prompt Ghosts.

22.7.5 ATC, night, Nar Shaddaa

The SIS safe house had no windows to let in the riot of color, noise, and odor that was Nar Shaddaa, but it still existed beyond the plain walls of the room they’d lent her. A harsh world, loud, polluted, teeming with hopeful, desperate, greedy, despairing people. Not a place Jedi traveled to lightly.

Not a place Jedi Knight Ianya Solarin wanted to be.

But she knew the underworld and had contacts there—or had during the war, and a Jedi went where she was needed. She would not risk her efforts to regain the Order’s trust and her knighthood by refusing the first mission that sent her beyond Republic borders, back to a world she hadn’t set foot on since the war.

Since the Republic had bowed to the Empire and signed away all hope of victory or justice. It was an insult to everyone who’d fought…everyone who’d died. It had been the only way to preserve the Republic.

Ianya dropped her travel bag beside the bed and lowered herself to the poorly carpeted floor. She would meditate, seek what peace the Force could lend her. She had always known she would have to face her past.

She’d been barely twenty when she’d first set foot on Nar Shaddaa, seeking allies against the Empire, pilots brave enough to run supplies to warzones, evade blockades, support the Republic for the good of the galaxy. She’d found what she was looking for, and among them, a handsome young smuggler from her own homeworld.

She could still see his face, his cocky grin, the tattoos that boasted of his skills as a pilot (though where in the underworld he’d found a tattoo artist who knew Mirialan tattooing she had never asked), his kind eyes.

Deell, she thought, as she had so many times in the past nine years, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have chosen us.

They had tried to have the impossible, despite the war, despite her Jedi duties, despite everything. They’d married on Nar Shaddaa, like eloping lovebirds in the years before the war. They’d had a daughter. Master Ri had known. A Jedi couldn’t disappear for months during a war with no explanation. She had covered for her, invented an undercover mission, wished her—wished her family well.

Xenva Ri had not survived the war, either.

Only Ianya remained. So much death and pain. So many suicidal missions against the Empire. So much Imperial blood on her hands. And in the end the Empire that had taken everything from her had won. It still existed, like a blot on the galaxy, and all her rage had done nothing to wipe it out.

Stay, she wanted to whisper backwards through the Force to her younger self. Forget duty. Nothing you do will matter.

The Order had tried to put her back together after the war, to pull her back from the darkness, to help her set aside what she had done in the final years of the war, to help her find a reason to go on in peace.

The Jedi were still needed. She was still needed.

The pain in her heart had faded.

Until she stepped off the shuttle ramp onto a cracked and oily landing pad at Deucalon Spaceport. The air, the very Force swirled with whispers of the life she could have had. Every sight, every smell, every sound taunted her.

There had been an XS freighter among the ships docked at the port. Of course there had, it was a popular, reliable, incredibly customizable ship. Fast, maneuverable, a joy to fly. A pilot’s ship.

She could see Deell in the pilot’s seat, narrating every switch he flipped and dial he checked to their six year old daughter, who drank it all in as if she could absorb piloting skill by will alone.

The past was gone. Like the Luck. Like Deell and Jezari. There was a cantina just down from the safe house. She could give up on trying to meditate and lose herself in drink, or whatever else they might have on tap. There were kinds of spice that could take the pain away for a night. Or forever.

No. She was a Jedi. She had a duty. A mission. A fellow Jedi who had gone missing. They had friends, perhaps even family. She would not let someone else feel her pain, not if she could help it.

She took a long, deep breath, and tried again to sink into the Force. There was peace there. Quiet. Well, perhaps not quiet on Nar Shaddaa, but a kaleidoscope of life: pain, joy, love, fear, hope, despair… none of it hers. An ocean of feelings and images that could sweep her away from the hard floor and her painful memories.

Fragments of the past still bobbed to the surface. Her and Deell. Her and Deell and Jezari. Deell’s friends. The Wookiee who ran the diner they always went to. The family who forged all of Deell’s permits and records, with the daughter that Jezari had befriended. His on-again-off-again partner, Cal, who’d had the horrible task of telling her, from halfway across the galaxy, that Deell and Jezari were gone.

Her pain bled into the Force, and the raw darkness of a Nar Shaddaa night washed over her: fear, rage, hopelessness...

She pulled her mind away, tried to clear her thoughts. A bright glimmer spun past her. A bubble of joy and laughter. Not a memory, something else. She tried to follow it, to find it amid the swirling currents of Nar Shaddaa.

A young human woman with very straight black hair, laughing. Artfully done makeup contrasted with the vivid scar down the right side of her face, and with slightly wicked edge to her grin. Her arm was around another smiling woman. Mirialan, about the same age, with slightly sharp features, pilot’s tattoos, and her father’s golden eyes.

No!

There was nothing in front of Ianya but the gray walls of the safe house bedroom. Her stomach heaved and she bent double, her forehead nearly touching the coarse carpeting. She clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back bile, and a sobbing breath.

What she’d seen in the Force was impossible, an echo of what could have been. What should have been. The present of a past where she had chosen her family instead of the war. Her daughter was dead. Shot down by the Empire. Lost with her father and the ship she’d grown up on.

Ianya hugged her knees to her chest, shivering.

On Nar Shaddaa, the Force lied.

[geronimo-11]

WIP Thursday

Tagged by: @redroci thank you!! Tagging: @cobb-vanthss @chyrstis @amistrio @foofygoldfish @teamhawkeye @jackalopestride @nightwingshero @mtwalker

I’m working on a 5+1 ficlet for Star Wars!AU Rhys and Sofi. I’m really excited about it lol ------------------------

Sofi knew that the Mandalorian was trouble the second he walked through the door. He had sauntered into the cantina with a practiced swagger in his step, red armor glinting as it caught the light of the low lit lamps along the walls. He plopped down in a seat at the bar, but declined a drink when she offered. There was something about him that seemed… different. Dangerous. But, different. She had seen other Mandalorians pass through over the years. It was rare, but they did pass through. They usually left a trail of bodies in their wake, and a mess for her to clean up. This one, though, seemed to leave a trail of broken hearts. Sofi still had to clean up the mess, though. He always sat with his back against the counter, his arms resting over the top and his legs stretched in front of him. Every time one of the dancers walked by, his helmet turned to follow them. The sound of giggling seemed to drift across the room non-stop when he was around, and the noise grated sharply on Sofi’s ears. She lived for the time when his friend with the red bandana would appear and whisk him away. Despite the Mandalorian’s constant visits, Sofi found she actually knew very little about him. She heard the gossip from the girls in the dressing room backstage, enough so that she wasn’t entirely sure if he was a bounty hunter, a mercenary, a pirate, or disgraced prince. Sofi wasn’t entirely sure she believed the latter, since Silmae had a romantic heart and a big imagination, but the others sounded like they could be true.

[greysith]

[005]

Deena, Enlin, Gavyn, Regina, all have Imperial Officer parents. They are also expected to become officers, so they all go to the Imperial Military Academy. (Basically military college? As I understand it?)

Jeren's only a couple years older than them, but he got a job from the Haines involving the creation of a zoo/nature reserve on Dantooine. (He wasn't the only one. There are mulllltiple multiple people making this thing happen.) He also takes up a side-job for the warmer part of the year assisting the professor of zoology at the Imperial Military Academy, usually with the student's field work.

That's probably more than you need to know, but I spent a long time thinking about what the hell brought him to DANTOOINE lmao

Deena hears about a guy from Naboo -- the son of a former QUEEN no less -- coming to Dantooine. She makes sure to be in the starport the day he comes in and introduces herself. He's tall, pretty, friendly, she decides this one is Hers. But she wants him to ask her out. She has a story she wants to unfold. She starts making plans.

Animals and animal welfare are Jeren's specal interests, but he's also into classic vehicles & starships. Gavyn's got a hotrodded speeder and Jeren strikes up conversation with him about it one day at the cantina, asking if he works on it himself orrrrr... So Gav introduces him to his mechanic, Enlin. Enlin and Jeren get on like a house on fire.

I have written just. SO much fic for this section of the story. I have 17k words for one event alone and outlines for so many more and afjdskaf I'm having fun. They're fun characters. Welcome to the shippy section of the story.

Jeren's an intense guy. He doesn't half-ass fuckin anything. He walks into the cantina one day to hang out with Enlin, sees Regina, and goes I have to talk to her. So he does. Immediately. Flirtatiously. And he's such a breath of fresh air. He's direct, confident, charming, and being 6'6" and rated 13/10 on the harem meter certainly help. Regina doesn't flirt. She's Resigned To Her Predetermined Life.

She flirts with Jeren. She is completely disarmed. She lets herself be charmed.

And it all comes crashing down when Enlin shows up. It's not Enlin's fault! But Regina puts two and two together. Enlin's new bestie is the zoologist her parents hired. The zoologist from Naboo. The guy Deena likes.

Regina mentally smacks herself with a stop sign and extricates herself from the conversation, exits the cantina.

She spends the next six months in the spotlight of Jeren's attention, trying not to flirt with him.

It'd... it'd be faster for me to just copypaste one of the ficlets I have for this part.

v🎬v

Regina has paved the way for Deena's chance with Jeren so many times. She just. Can't really stand to watch, so she has no real idea of how that ever works out for Deena except that it doesn't. Regina hopes and dreads that Jeren is kind enough, insightful enough, that he'll see the sweeter side of Deena and look her way.

It all starts to come unraveled when Deena flops down on Regina's bed with a huff, pouting in the way Regina knows she wants her to ask what's wrong. So she does. And Deena vents about how she's started trying to make Jeren jealous, but she was flirting with someone right in front of him and he didn't care at all. 

Regina sits at her desk with her books and notes, exasperated. Thinking about Jeren makes it hard for her to focus, so she's snappish when she asks, "Why don't you just ask him out?"

"That's not how a lady is courted! He needs to ask me."

This scrapes at her all wrong. "If you want to be with him, who cares about all that."

Deena says something about how appearances are so super important to maintain, especially for the higher ranks of society and it's so important to choose the right partner. Regina stares at her through her ramble.

"But," her lips feel numb, "you like him."

"Well of course I like him," Deena shrugs. "He's handsome, well-respected – and well-endowed, there is no hiding that thing – but he's harmless, really. Too nice for his own good. He'll do."

Harmless is not a word Regina would use for Jeren. He socializes wild animals for return to their proper habitats. He routinely wrestles powerful beasts to the ground. He could throw her and barely strain from it, but he's never so much as raised a hand to anybody. He'll barely spar with anyone, and so many people would love to test their strength against him.

"You talk like you just decided to like him."

"Well, no, I can't help that part. He's very likable."

"So you don't–" Regina just keeps blinking, mystified and aghast. "--you don't like like him?"

Deena glances at her from the bed, and just starts laughing. "Oh, Reggie," she giggles, "you poor idealistic thing. You don't need romance for marriage! Even if he weren't so pretty, he's high enough nobility that I'm sure I could make it work. But I digress. He's perfect!"

She turns to look out the window, holding her hot face in cold hands, elbows on her desk. Deena reads her embarrassment wrong. She calls Regina sweet for wanting better for her, for either of them, trying to console her that it'll all work out and she's sure Regina will find a pushover, too.

Regina isn't really listening. Her heart is threatening to beat straight through her ribs. 

Deena called Jeren perfect, and all Regina could think was, well, yes, but not for the reasons YOU think.

^🎬^

But!!!! Before Regina can work through her feelings about all THAT, before she figures out how to tell Deena she might be actually in love with Jeren... THIS happens!

(I love Enlin, but oh my GOD does his stumbling make for some plot convenience.)

((The following is how my first drafts usually look lol))

v🎬v

Enlin is trying really hard to flirt with Regina. Does the hand against the wall thing, leaning into her. She's unaffected and just blinks up at him, "What are you doing?"

He backpedals hard, blabbering something about her getting flustered when Jeren does it

"Excuse me, what?"

"Well uh it just it seems uh when Jeren does stuff like that in your presence you seem to uh well enjoy it and as someone who um would like if you enjoyed my er company as much, I thought I'd uh try?"

She sputters defensively, denying anything about Jeren

"No I mean like I understand, he tries real hard and Gavyn does too, it just seems like Jeren is WINNING and uh"

Now she's starting to get pissed off. "Winning? Winning what?"

"Uh. Well. You. The three of us, um, we all really like you, I really like you, so we all agreed we'd take turns um flirting with you so it was more fair. It was Jeren's suggestion but I don't think he ever even waits his turn anymore–"

Fire sparks and ignites in her gut. She is livid. She is incandescent. "This is a game?" Her heart hammers outrage against her ribs. "I'm just some sort of prize to you?"

Enlin goes shock-white, wide eyed. "No, no, it's not like that, we were just trying to make things a fair competi–"

"FUCK you!" She pushes away from the wall in a blaze, hands in fists, furious tears spilling over her hot cheeks. "Fuck ALL of you!"

Regina turns on her heel and storms down the hall so she doesn't beat the living daylight out of Enlin. 

He doesn't follow her.

^🎬^

She has NEVVVVER been so upset. She barely knows what to do with herself. One of her classmates invites her to a houseparty. She wasn't originally gonna go, but Deena insists they go (because she can't go alone, she doesn't know the host & therefore isn't invited) so Regina decides, fuck it, let's get drunk about it.

Also, she's like 18. She's Force sensitive & a kind of empathic, but she's Unwise.

It. Is. A. DISASTER.

I keep rewriting this trying to make it shorter afjkdsaf okay try number three:

Regina gets too drunk to deal with all this shit. She tries to shove Deena and Jeren together and runs away. Host catches her and tries to find out why she's self-destructing so hard. She cries on his shoulder about Jeren.

Jeren has to finally flat-out reject Deena. She pressures him about his reasons and he admits he's in love with Regina. She gets pissed. The scene looks bad. The host sees Jeren with his back to a wall, Deena's fists in his collar, Jeren's hands basically in the air. Host very loudly and thoroughly shames Deena and kicks her out of the party. Worst day of her life.

Host tells Jeren that Regina thinks he was trying to prank her. Jeren sets out to try and fix it.

WHEW! Okay. Those three paragraphs are worth 5k and counting in the document where I'm actually writing it out.

GM looked at me after I finished the part where Host kicks Deena out and said, "You realize this means Host is dead in canon, right? Dark-side Deena would have started with him."

It's fine :D I borrowed him from a different writing project, he doesn't belong here.

So. Yeah. Regina and Deena have had a difficult relationship since then. It could have been salvaged with Deena's pride, maybe, because she knew Regina was trying to do right by Deena... but then Regina did end up dating Jeren. They never really recovered their friendship. Regina tried. Deena shut her out and embraced the dark side.

[First] - [Prev] - [Next]

[Index]

[cosleia]

Branded

For the @kyluxcantina prompt “sunkissed skin”.

“Hux?”

“Mm?”

“You’ve lived on starships most of your life, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And before that, you lived on a planet where it was practically always raining?”

“That’s right. Why do you ask?”

Ren rolled onto his side, sweat glistening across his bare chest in a way that made Armitage want to lick it. He licked his lips instead; he was too boneless to move.

“I was just thinking,” Ren said, his eyes darting here and there over Armitage’s naked body, “that you’ve probably never had a tan.”

“A reasonable assumption, and a correct one. I suppose you’ve had plenty of tans, growing up running around the Core Worlds.”

“Yeah,” Ren said, reaching out to cup Armitage’s cheek in his hand. Armitage sighed, closed his eyes, and pressed into the touch. “I kind of like having a tan. Not much chance of that happening these days, though.”

At that, Armitage had to laugh. “True enough,” he said. Then he opened his eyes, considering Ren’s face thoughtfully. “Although.”

“Although?”

“We could take shore leave,” Armitage suggested, the words coming quickly because if they didn’t he might not say them, might take them back. “To a world with a shore.”

Ren grinned that lazy grin of his and drew his big thumb down over Armitage’s lips. “Yeah?” he said softly.

“Yes,” Armitage said against Ren’s thumb. He was trembling a little.

Ren pushed the tip of his thumb between Armitage’s lips. “Sounds good to me. I’d love to see what you look like, all sun-kissed.”

Armitage felt himself blushing and quickly shifted his focus to sucking Ren’s thumb. He wondered what he would look like with a tan. He wondered if it would drive Ren crazy. He almost couldn’t wait.

~

“This,” Armitage sobbed miserably, “is torture.”

He couldn’t sit down. He couldn’t lie down. He couldn’t let his body come in contact with anything. His skin was tight and hot, like he was still beneath the rays of a sun, and touching it, even moving at all was like burning himself all over again---blinding, searing pain.

He stood in front of the mirror at their hotel and tried not to cry as he inspected his nearly naked body. He had turned dark pink everywhere, so dark as to appear diseased, certainly not the rich olive color of Ren’s tanned skin. Boils were rising on his shoulders and back, and he could see his pink scalp through his hair. The only thing he was glad of was that the tiny swimming briefs he’d worn to the beach had kept his cock covered.

“It hurts,” he whispered. “It’s so awful.”

Ren had laughed at first, but when it became apparent that there would be no more fun (in the sun or otherwise), he’d sobered up pretty quickly. Now he sat on the bed, head in hands.

“We’ll leave early,” he muttered. “Get you back to the Finalizer and some high-quality bacta. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. You’ll go back to normal.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“I hate suns,” Armitage said fervently. “I hate them. This sun especially. I hate it. Someday I’m going to destroy it.”

He blinked. Blinking hurt, of course, just like anything else, but a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I’ll destroy it and take its power for myself. I’ll---I’ll kill it.”

Then, “Ren,” he said, excitement in his voice, “I finally have a name for the weapon.”

[thefact0rygirl]

nsfw headcanon: Boba doesn’t mind a good morning romp before getting up - 🔮

Desperate, needy Boba needing to be inside you first thing 🤤

18+ (fem!reader, creampie, breeding kink)

Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it

It’s his parting gift, so to speak. Whenever a mission takes him away from you, he always makes sure to leave you spent and filled. It's part of his routine at this point — brush teeth, dress, and fuck you.

Boba’s hand splays out around the back of your throat and pushes, forcing you to look down.

“Watch,” His voice is low and scratchy from sleep as he nudges the head of his cock at your entrance. “Watch and remember. Remember this when I’m gone and those boys at the cantina think they have a chance. Watch and remember how good it feels to be filled by me, little one.”

Boba slams in, the remnants of last night squelching out around his cock. You can’t look away, you don’t want to look away. Pulling out, his cock is glossy with your wetness and his cum from last night.

It's enough to shake the last bit of sleep from your mind. Your hands circle around his forearms and you moan his name. You want him to sink in further, you want to sink in further until you’re entrapped by him and he can’t leave.

“Think of me when they buy you drinks, think of me when you come home and play with yourself.”

He slams into you again, bending down to kiss you just as the sunrise catches the both of you.

[the-little-ewok]

The Way He Loves You

Title : The way he loves you (Ficlet) Poe Dameron X G/N Reader Word count: 600 (ish) Rating: T Warnings : None. Just a lot of fluff!

Summary: Poe tries to pick the moment he fell in love with you.

------------

If you asked Poe Dameron to pinpoint when and how he fell in love with you, he'd smile and lapse into silence, trying to think of the exact moment.

Perhaps it was the first time you smiled back at him across the yard. The way you had been so distracted by meeting his gaze, that you'd tripped over your own feet, landing in a heap at the nose of your ship. He’d been impressed with the way you'd gotten up and dusted yourself off. And the fact that even though your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you still managed to give him another bright grin, before disappearing across the base.

Or it could have been the moment he heard your laughter across the cantina, where you sat with friends, wiping tears from your eyes. The way you doubled over, begging them to stop because it hurt. The way long after the joke had ended, you suddenly burst into laughter again, causing the whole table to dissolve into hysterics with you.

It might have been the day you'd helped him fix the damage on his X-Wing. The way you spoke to the ship like it was your patient, calmly and softly, stitching and bandaging the damage until it came up like new. The way you hummed while you worked, lost in your own world. The way you only paused when your fingers had brushed against his, suddenly quietly shy. The way you'd held your hand there for just a moment, in no rush to move.

Maybe it was the night you'd danced together. The way you twirled across the dance floor, laughing and spinning, completely out of time with the music. The way you hadn't cared what people thought. The way your eyes sparkled with amusement. The way you'd sang along to every word. The way you had melted into his kiss as he captured your lips mid song. The way you'd asked him to kiss you just one more time. The way you asked that every time.

Or was it the first night you'd slept in his bed? Finally agreeing to spend the whole night instead of sneaking off to your bunk? The way he woke up to you dragging the sheet over your head, so he wouldn't see your messy hair, or sleep still clinging to your lashes. The way you'd covered your face with your arms when he pulled that same sheet off. The way you laughed and tried to push him away when he tickled you. The way you eventually caught his hands and laced your fingers together, while he studied your beauty in the early morning light.

It could have been the day you'd cursed him out in front of everyone for disregarding his own safety on a mission, tears filling your eyes. The way that no matter how angry, or how worried you were, you still sat him down to clean off the blood and dirt. The way you patched his wounds and put him to bed to rest. The way you curled against him, holding him and refusing to let go. The way you'd whispered your love for him as he fell asleep.

He would think of these thousand tiny moments, the days, and the ways he loves you. Then eventually after a long moment of silence, Poe would smile and shrug.

"I don't know." He would answer genuinely.

Because he doesn't. Because there isn't one moment. Because there isn't one day.

Because he fell in love with all of you, over time and all at once.

------

Thank you for reading!

Thank you also to my ever patient lovely beta: @fisforfulcrum

Taglist : @fisforfulcrum; @zoriis ; @fett-ching ; @mypedrom ; @pumpkin-stars ; @the-scandalorian ; @mbpokemonrulez ; @prettylilhalforc ; @salome-c

If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please drop me a message.

(Side note: To those of you waiting on fluff prompts they are done! I will resume posting these in a few days. To those of you waiting on Certain point of view prompts, watch this space...)

Requests are open. Send me an ask! - Fluff prompts , from a certain point of view , or any other requests!)

[wild-karrde]

Hi can I request a #1 with Crosshair and Iden please?

Something with the line "If you keep doing that, I'm going to make you scream my name all night long."

I wanna see your Darkside babe, show me your wild dreams for Cross and Iden 😝😝😝😝

Thanks love!!!!

*ahem* you asked for it. Jealous Crosshair and stubborn Iden? What could go wrong (...or right). This wound up kind of being a full-fledged one-shot over a ficlet. But, it is what it is.

Rating - E (MINORS, TAKE A HIKE - explicit sexual content, light dom/sub, oral sex, PiV, anal play, cum as lube, orgasm denial, language)

Iden sipped her drink as her eyes flitted around the bar, searching for the easiest mark. From her position, she could see Crosshair, tucked back into his booth, but while her eyes were scanning the seedy little cantina, his gaze was affixed on her. She smirked into her glass before tossing him a wink. He didn’t move, the only acknowledgement being the toothpick between his teeth flicking to the other side of his mouth as he sipped the amber liquid in his glass.

“That one seems like a bit of a stiff, love. Surely you could do better.” 

Iden turned to face the confident man that was leaning on the bar to her right. He was handsome enough, sporting dark hair that contrasted sharply with the Imperial uniform he was wearing, light hazel eyes sparkling from beneath two well-maintained eyebrows that complimented his impeccably trimmed goatee. “Might I top off whatever you’re having? Someone like you shouldn’t have to pay for your own drinks.” 

“Well aren’t you the gentleman?” Iden teased, a smile creeping across her face as she waved down the bartender. “Another of these, and he’s buying.” The bartender looked at the officer, who nodded. 

“I’ll have what she’s having.” 

Iden raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as a gin sort.”

“Oh? And what do I strike you as?” 

Iden pretended to appraise him, allowing her eyes to linger in certain suggestive areas before she leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, as an officer, I’d assume you have access to more…refined options regularly. I doubt you’ll like the cheap grog I’m drinking. My credits are on you enjoying a fine wine when the social occasion calls for it, but late at night, when you’re in your dwelling by yourself, you like to have a glass of whiskey by your side, something smooth that leaves just a hint of warmth in the back of your throat and your belly.” She’d leaned forward as she delivered her conclusion, her hand now resting on the officer’s thigh, and she could feel his muscles flex beneath her fingertips. 

Too easy. 

“Well aren’t you perceptive?” the officer said, his voice a little lower than it had been a moment ago. “Might I have a name to pair with those adept deduction skills?” 

“I go by Zo,” she replied, poking her tongue between her teeth playfully. 

“Marko,” he said, extending his hand palm up, and Iden slid hers against it, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His hands were soft, uncalloused. Never held a blaster in his life. “Got any plans this evening, Zo?”

“Nothing too important,” she teased, and he smirked. 

“Well would you mind spending it with me?”

“I think I’d like that, especially if you keep buying me drinks, Commander. In fact, I might be due for another one.” She tossed the rest of her drink back. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to run to the ‘fresher real quick. Watch my seat for me?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She winked at him before sliding off the bar stool and making her way towards the refreshers, being sure to swing her hips a little extra as she walked away. Passing a glass case of liquor, she noted Marko’s reflection had his eyes affixed to her ass, and she grinned. 

Way too easy. 

The goal of the mission was simple: get as much intel as you can in a week and report back to base. The routine had been the same the last few rotations. They showed up to an Imperial haunt, Iden parked herself at the bar and waited for the first catch of the evening. They’d buy her drinks, she’d flirt shamelessly as Crosshair watched from the corner, ensuring she never got in over her head. He lacked the social skills to weave a conversation, so he just provided back-up while Iden worked. She’d drink until tongues loosened, gather as much information as she could, and then signal Crosshair when it was time to head back to the inn. This evening had gone pretty much the same, but something about the way Crosshair’s shoulders were wound tightly told her tonight may end differently. 

He’s ready to snap, and I’m more than happy to give him that push as long as I get something out of it. 

Slipping inside the small refresher, she leaned over the sink, re-applying some of the dark lipstick she was wearing. The door banged open behind her and her eyes found amber irises burning into her in the mirror. Iden smirked. 

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Toothpick.”

Crosshair leaned his back against the counter, gripping her chin in between his fingers. “You know damn well I’m the jealous type, darling.” She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin loose from his grasp before she rummaged in her purse for her perfume, but he spun her, caging her in against the sink. 

“Careful, dear. You’ll mess up my make-up that I just worked so hard on,” she breathed against the shell of his ear. 

He turned to face her, his lips millimeters from hers. “Maybe I should mess it up just to stake my claim.” 

Iden leaned forward, taking the toothpick from between his teeth with her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue and taking satisfaction at the way his eyes followed the movement of the small wood piece across her lips. “I say it’d be a pity to waste the opportunity to get intel from someone so willing to give it. Besides, it’s just a little harmless flirting.” 

Crosshair gripped her chin between his fingers again. “I’d argue you passed flirting about five minutes before you came in here.”

“A new record for me then,” she snarked. “Normally it takes at least half an hour to loosen them up.” 

He placed his hands on either side of her hips on the counter, running his nose along the skin of her throat before nipping at her earlobe. “And if you keep this up, I’m going to make you scream my name all night long when we get back to the room. Just to make sure you remember who you’re here with.” 

Iden ignored the heat building in her stomach and the sudden dampness between her legs as she pulled the toothpick from between her teeth, holding it out to him. Her lipstick stained the end of it, and she smirked at him. “Oh my dear, I don’t scream without a good reason.” He took the toothpick from her fingers, and she patted him condescendingly on the cheek. “Do try to be less obvious. Commander Marko noticed you leering from the corner earlier.” With that, she exited the refresher, exhaling sharply to calm the electricity coursing through her veins as she stepped back into the dim bar. 

If he wants to play, we can play. 

Marko was impatiently drumming his fingers on the counter as she slipped back into the seat, taking a sip of the fresh glass of gin sitting in front of her. She allowed her foot to slip between his legs, resting on the bottom rung of his barstool as she leaned forward. “Now, where were we?” 

“Where would you like to be?” 

She hummed thoughtfully, nudging her knee in between his until he slipped a hand onto her thigh. “I’ve told you my name, but I’m much more interested in hearing about you, Commander. What do you like?”

He leaned in, his lips grazing against her ear as he whispered. “Confident women that know how to handle their liquor.”

She giggled. “Well in that case, you’re in luck.” Glancing at the booth in the corner, she noticed the way Crosshair’s look had darkened, a smirk pulling at one corner of his lips as he sipped his drink. 

And so am I.

—

“Look up for me, darling.” 

It’s all too much.

“Iden.” Slender fingers wove their way through her hair, tugging firmly, and she raised her head. Her reflection stared back at her from the full-length mirror in the inn’s room, panting on her hands and knees as Crosshair knelt behind her. The lipstick that she’d applied so carefully all those hours ago was now sloppily smeared across her jaw. The makeup that lined her eyes trailed down her face in rivulets. Her hair stuck up at odd angles from repeatedly being gripped. Before she could observe anything else, another thrust from behind her sent her tumbling back onto her hands, her fingers digging into the carpet. A hand slipped around her shoulder, the other remaining in her hair to pull her so that her back was pressed flush against Crosshair’s chest as he slammed his cock into her again. Now, she could see the fresh bruises that were blooming across her collar bone, her breasts, and on the inside of her thighs where Crosshair had marked her.

“Look how beautiful you look like this, darling.” 

The hand on her shoulder snaked around to her throat, gently gripping as she felt his breath fan across the back of her neck. The hand in her hair slid down her body, tracing the scar across her abdomen before sliding between her legs, fingers teasing at her clit as her legs quivered. 

“You’re close, I can feel it. You know what to do if you want to cum.” 

Iden dug her teeth into her lip hard enough to taste blood as the coil in her abdomen wound tighter yet again. 

“Do you want it, Iden?”

Her legs shook. He’d climaxed already once, not even softening before he had resumed his languid pace inside of her, fucking his spend back out of her cunt. She could feel his release dribbling down her thighs as obscene sounds filled the room, complimented by her labored breathing. 

Surely he’s almost done. 

He’d watched all evening as she’d let Marko touch her, buying her drinks that she sipped slowly while he downed his. She’d gathered plenty of information to feed back to the rebellion, slipping from the drunken commander’s grasp at the end of the night with a murmured farewell before making her way back to the inn. Crosshair had made his exit while she was settling her tab, and her nerves had hummed with anticipation as she’d quietly opened the door to their room, letting her jacket fall over a chair inside. Those slender fingers had been on her almost instantly, wrapping around her neck and pressing her against the wall as one of his knees slotted between her legs, grinding against her cunt. Crosshair’s breath had smelled of the whiskey he’d drank all night as his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. 

“I told you what would happen. And now, you’ll have to make sure everyone in this inn knows who’s in here with you if you want to earn your release.” 

She’d snickered at that, determined to not let him win this petty game, and much to her surprise he’d chuckled darkly in response. That’s when she knew she was fucked. 

That felt as though it had been hours ago. Crosshair had spent countless minutes between her legs, torturing her with his tongue as she gripped the sheets with white knuckles. Each time her breathing increased, her cunt tightening around his tongue as she neared the precipice, he’d slowed, leaving her biting her cheek to keep herself from whimpering. Every time, he’d asked the same question. 

“Why don’t you scream my name for me, darling? I know you want to. Let all the nice people in this inn know just who’s fucking this sweet little cunt so well.” 

She’d refused to let him stroke his ego, so instead he’d stroked her insides until she was shaking, whispering filth in her ear just before he’d pull out and leave her quivering and clenching around nothing. Iden was stubborn though, and while the prize was her release, she was competitive to a fault, determined to win whatever game he was playing at. 

Surely he’ll grow tired. Surely he’ll slip up and let me have it. Surely he won’t keep depriving me.

But time had ticked on, and now as she was staring at herself in the mirror, sweat dribbling between her breasts as he slowly dragged his cock back out of her, she started to wonder if her stubbornness was worth this. He’s a sniper. Of course he’s patient to a fault. How many hours has he had to sit, waiting for his target? Crosshair interrupted her thoughts as he loosened his grip on her throat, bringing his hand up to cup her jaw. He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, leaving a fresh smear of lipstick in its wake that traced down her chin.

“Look how gorgeous you are like this, coming undone for me. Just one simple word, and I’ll let you have what you want, Iden. I won’t even make you beg for it.” His eyes met hers in the mirror. “Now tell me, darling. Who’s fucking you like this?” 

Iden reached back to grip his thighs, grinding herself back down on him desperately. Almost there. I can almost get there. If I just…

He released her hair, pushing her back forward as he pulled himself out of her. Iden fell forward onto her elbows, swallowing the sob that ripped through her chest as more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Her legs shook harder as she felt him rub at her backside before working his way downwards and gently teasing the swollen lips between her legs as the coil unwound within her yet again. She wanted to scream, to beg, but she knew there was only one way he would let her have what she wanted, and she was determined to not give it to him. 

“Bad play, Iden. You know greediness will get you nowhere.” 

“Fuck. You.” Her words carried as much heat as she could muster, but she knew it came out as more of a whimper than a threat.

He chuckled again, and the sound sent a shiver up her spine as she felt him readjust between her legs, rising off of his haunches and dragging the head of his cock back through her folds. 

“Fine, Lieutenant, have it your way.” 

He sank back into her and Iden couldn’t bite back the moan as he immediately found the place within her that sent sparks skittering across her vision. They’d fucked enough that he knew exactly how to pull her apart, fiber by fiber like an unraveling tapestry. The head of his cock brushed against the spot inside her once more as his pelvis slammed against her, his fingers digging into the flesh at her hips. 

No. I won’t give in to this smug bastard. 

She looked up in the mirror again, and was met with the same cocky smirk that drove her insane as he fucked into her at a steady pace. Her cheek rested against the floor as he rocked her body back and forth against his. She wondered if he’d cum again, filling her while still denying her. He knew her orgasms were a steady build, not something to be rushed, but with every denial, the time it took to build seemed to lessen. Even now, she could feel herself approaching the edge once more, and she tried to keep her body from betraying her. 

Crosshair adjusted his grip on her, trailing one hand down her spine. As his fingers brushed lower, grazing her asshole, Iden shuddered. Crosshair hummed behind her. “Did you like that, darling?” He pressed his thumb against the ring of muscle again and Iden gasped. “You did. I see. Would you like me to play with you back here then?” She felt him reach between her legs, gathering some of the spend that had leaked down her thighs before he began rubbing again at her asshole, pressing experimentally. When his thumb finally slid past the entrance to the knuckle, she hissed at the burn. 

“Color?” he asked quietly, pausing his motions.

“Keep fucking going,” she hissed, her forehead resting against the floor.

“Iden.”

“Green. Fucking Green.” Her teeth were clenched tightly as he began thrusting again, gently working his thumb in further, alternating the push and pull of his digit and his cock inside of her. 

“If I’d known how much you’d like this, I’d have tried it sooner.” 

Iden could barely hear him as her orgasm built. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his hips slapping against her as she gasped into the carpet. The coil in her stomach was winding so tightly from the bliss she felt, every thrust was knocking the wind from her lungs. Iden had never felt so full, and the stretch and slight burn combined with the complete and total pleasure emanating from her cunt was overwhelming. Her mind faltered as she reached behind her, and he gripped her wrist with his free hand, pinning it to her lower back. Her moans were crescendoing as her orgasm grew ever nearer. A trail of drool leaked from the corner of her lips, trailing down her chin. She panted loudly, her mind barely able to comprehend anything happening around her. Without thinking, she moaned quietly.

“Crosshair.”

Fuck. 

“What was that darling?” 

She couldn’t do it. It was all too much. Fuck it. Let him win.

“Crosshair. Fuck. Don’t stop. Please.” 

“Louder,” he growled. 

“That…wasn’t the-FUCK-the deal.” 

He paused and Iden sobbed loudly. “I said louder.”

“CROSSHAIR PLEASE.” 

“Good girl.” 

With that, he gripped her harder, driving his thumb into her as his cock dragged out, and Iden screamed, babbling to whoever was listening. 

“Fuck. Right there. Crosshair. Please don’t stop. Maker above, don’t stop. Crosshair. It’s so good. Please.” 

“Are you ready darling?” 

“Yes. Please Cross. Please.” 

He shifted his hips just a fraction of a centimeter, and it was enough. Iden gripped the carpet so hard she was certain she’d break her own bones as the orgasm that she’d been denied finally ripped through her. 

She screamed. She couldn’t be sure if she screamed his name or a prayer or a curse, but her lungs burned as her vision whited out and her body locked down. She was vaguely aware of Crosshair’s hips stuttering against her as he spilled himself inside her again, but the only thing she was trying to focus on was falling forward onto the ground without hurting herself. As the blood rushing in her ears began to subside, she took stock of her body. She had managed to roll onto her side, gasping for air as her head spun. She could feel the warmth of Crosshair’s release dribbling out of her and down her leg. She could vaguely make out a figure stumbling back from the room’s refresher, a towel in his grasp. Warm hands shifted her legs apart, cleaning her carefully before she was cradled gently and carried to bed. Her knees burned and she noted they were probably rugburned after all of the time she’d spent on them this evening. She was tucked under a comforter, laying on her side facing the opposite side of the bed, which Crosshair quickly slipped into, his amber eyes meeting hers. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing some of her hair out of her face.

She grinned like a drunken fool. “Never better. Although, I wish you’d have done that an hour or so ago.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I told you what would happen if you continued to flirt with that commander like that. And you had an easy out.” 

Iden managed to roll onto her elbows, leaning towards him with a haughty grin. “It was all part of the job, dear. Plus, I think you knew I’d push back. You’re well aware that I’m stubborn and perhaps a bit too competitive.” She leaned closer, her breath against his ear. “I think you’d have been disappointed if I’d just given in.” 

His fingers wove through her hair, the grasp much more gently as he pressed his lips against hers. “You know, you’re probably right.” He traced some of the bruising on her collarbone. “I just needed to make sure you know who you belong to.” She smiled before leaning down and biting his throat, sucking a deep purple bruise that matched the ones covering her body. “I’m yours, dear, and yours alone. And you’re mine.”

Thanks for participating in my 300 Follower Celebration! :)

Tag List: @seriowan @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @partoftheeternalsoul​ @canesjedi31​

[materassassino]

Cynosure

I have a huge backlog of ficlets I haven’t yet posted, so I’m going to do that now because I think we need some good things!

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Cynosure (noun):  a person or thing that is the centre of attention or admiration.

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He draws attention like he’s the centre of the galaxy. He is radiant, a solar flare, black and gold and glorious, and Din has never felt more inadequate and unworthy of standing beside this man. He’s just a fool who would be king, out of place in his beskar. Luke is soft, beautiful, suited to glittering lights and merriment in a way Din simply is not, could never be, and all eyes are upon him as soon as they enter the room. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s not like Din can look away either.

He fully expects to simply blend into the background, all – deserved – attention drawn to Luke, but people won’t stop attempting to talk to him. He answers in polite monosyllables which Luke then steps in to translate into something vaguely more diplomatic. Someone even asks him to dance, which he declines in stammering bewilderment. Luke stifles his laughter when the would-be dance partner wanders off, looking miserable.

“What?” Din asks. Luke shakes his head, grinning like sunshine, and, oh, Din wishes he could kiss that smile right then and there, devour it and hold it inside his heart until the galaxy implodes on itself.

“You’re popular, tonight,” Luke says fondly. Din snorts.

“I don’t know why, when you’re here,” he mutters, folding his arms and glowering at the milling crowd for not having good enough taste (not that they can see it, but he hopes they sense it). Luke takes a sip of something sparkling from a tall glass.

“They’ve seen me before,” he says. “I’m nothing special.”

Din scoffs again. “Bantha crap,” he says. “You outshine everyone in this room.”

Luke turns pink. He slips closer, trailing a finger along the edge of Din’s cuirass, following the shape of the kar’ta beskar. “And you think you don’t?” he replies.

Din frowns, helmet cocked to the side in confusion. “What do I have to offer?”

“To them? Very little. To me? Take a guess.” Luke takes a long, pointed swig of his drink, a gesture more suited to a seedy cantina than a shiny gala.

Din is silent for a moment. Luke’s gaze burns, full of hot, dark promise, and Din suddenly feels immensely hot under all his layers. He tugs at his collar.

“Point taken,” he rasps. Attention is something he abhors, but if it’s Luke, then… it’s different. He doesn’t mind being at the centre of Luke's orbit in the slightest.

“We should dance,” Luke says suddenly. “Really give them something to stare at.”

The back of Din’s neck burns. They’ve been practicing, Leia his intransigent dancing master – one of Korkie Kryze’s many, less than stellar ideas – but the idea of actually doing so, in front of hundreds of people, is mortifying.

That’s when he notices Luke is laughing. He curls his hand around Din’s arm, leans up to press a kiss to Din’s helmet.

“I’m only kidding,” he says. “I know you hate being stared at.” He glances behind them, over at the chrono above the bar, biting his lip. “I think we’ve been here long enough that we can sneak out without causing a galactic incident.”

Din doesn’t even hesitate. He takes Luke’s hand, strides confidently towards the door as Luke chuckles. After all, why would he want the stares of many when he can have the eyes, hands and heart of Luke Skywalker?

[seasonsofeverlark]

Stowaway

Author: @taylerwrites​

Prompt: Hey guys, my birthday is on 27th May but i decided to send the prompt early on so you have plenty of time to work your magic :)

I just want an Everlark fic/ficlet (i wont mind it being a multi-chap XD) which is set up in the Star Wars universe. You can follow any dynamic, any plot, movie anything! I just want it to be a smutty, badass piece of work with Older Peeta (5 or more years older) and HEA! (gonna be HEA if its longer)

So bring on the action, battles, romance and smut!! [Submitted by @sparklingdust4612​]

Rating: E

Summary: Katniss lets her thoughts wander about the Mandalorian she’s been stuck with for weeks.

Author’s Notes: Happy birthday, Stella! Word Count~ 1.1k+ _______________

She’s been running for months now, hopping from planet to planet only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a desert rat onto their ship. Nearly a month has passed since she got stranded on Tatooine—an absolute backwater planet—after her last transport decided to dump her off and leave her behind.

Katniss knows she’s overextended her stay because she can’t leave the cantina during the day without worrying that glimmering beskar armor and a T-shaped visor will meet her outside. Sleep practically clings to her like a second skin, but she doesn’t dare close her eyes—she can’t.

So she sits in the corner of the cantina, using the last of her credits to order something strong. She doesn’t even realize that her eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the dim lights around her while she waits for her drink. Luckily, Katniss catches herself before her head hits the table, blinking away the exhaustion.

She should stay awake. She needs to stay awake—

~~~~~

Her luck runs out that day, and she’s disappointed that she made it easy for him—how he’d walked into the cantina and scooped up her sleeping form out of the dusty booth without destroying half the place in the process.

When she’d woken up to find herself tied down to his co-pilot seat, she cursed him out in every word of huttesse she could think of. Although, he’s probably used to it by now because he blatantly ignored her, only talking to her when he warned they were going into hyperspace. 

That was several weeks ago. Now, Katniss finds herself stranded on another planet that’s more green and vibrant than Tatooine, and this time, she’s stuck with the Mandalorian because his rust-bucket for a ship decided it didn’t want to fly anymore.

She’s sitting on the landing dock, twirling around a blaster that he gave to her solely for emergencies while he left to search for a mechanic—to say that she’d been a little surprised when he handed it to her is an understatement.

Although he’s a lot nicer than she first gave him credit for, he’s always very serious that it’s often hard to pinpoint if he’s merely tolerating her existence until he can get rid of her. It’s not like he goes out of his way to talk to her for her to assume otherwise. Over the past weeks, the most she’s learned about him is that his hair is blonde and curly when she had accidentally walked in on him while he was using the fresher.

Of course, it was too dark for her to see anything else, and she’d quickly closed the door before he could say anything that would embarrass them both. Yet, she’s curious about what his voice would have sounded like if he had. 

Is it deep or raspy behind the scratchiness of his modulator? Speaking of…

Katniss looks off in the direction where he’d disappeared into the thick mangrove hours ago, wondering if she should go out looking for him (mainly because she’s hot and sticky from the humidity) despite him ordering her to stay put. But after another hour rolls by, she heads off in search of something to help cool her off.

Luckily, unlike desert planets, there isn’t any water shortage on one that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take her very long to find a small pool next to a large waterfall. She sets her blaster down on a rock, followed by her wraps until she’s left in nothing but her plain underwear. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at her feet when she steps in. But she can’t complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further she walks into the pool and finds a ledge to sit on. 

Her thoughts drift back to the Mandalorian, incessant and intruding even though she shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. Still, she thinks about his hands as she runs hers along her neck. She knows they’re probably rough and scarred from years of hunting—aware that they’re big enough to encase her waist.

Katniss sighs, sinking further into the water while her hands smooth over her breasts and down her stomach. 

She wishes she could see him without violating ancient laws that hid him from the rest of the world. Instead, she’s left with just her imagination. Katniss pictures what he might look like under the heavy beskar, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his armor but also from the way his job has shaped him.

Her hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the sticky slick between her legs that’s evidence of what the Mandalorian does to her even when he’s not around. A breathy moan slips past her lips as she uses her middle finger to circle her clit, slow, precise swirls that make her heart skip. 

Except, she frowns at how small hers are compared to the ones she’s caught herself staring at far too many times. They don’t fill her nearly enough, not like his would—thick and unrelenting.

Katniss’s breath hitches from pinching the sensitive peak of her nipple, just until she feels a slight sting. Then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to her ears: “Mando,” she chokes even though that’s not his real name.

Does he have a name? If so, does he remember it? What would it sound like rolling off of her tongue…?

“Dirty,” he’d tell her for thinking such lewd thoughts about him. Which she probably is for getting so worked up over a man she knows nothing about.

A man who’s so big that he makes her feel small—it’s enough to make her shudder, body vibrating from the chill of the water and her frayed nerves.  

Fantasies aren’t nearly enough to sate the longing that swirls deep in her chest. Yet she’s slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking her next breath—little moans of the Mandalorian’s artificial name spill from her lips like the waterfall that rushes into the pool around her waist.

Her orgasm makes her feel light, floaty even, while leaning against the stone ledge to slow her heart rate.

She doesn’t realize her eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and she’s startled to find gleaming beskar peaking out through the mangrove across the pool. The Mandalorian’s chest heaves as if he ran here, though he probably did to find her. 

Katniss feels glued to that moment, and the longer she stares at her reflection in his visor, she’s suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen her cum—that he heard her cry out Mando so intimately.

On top of that, he came alone, meaning he didn’t find a mechanic and that she’s stuck on this desolate planet with him for who knows how long. 

Great.

[writeforfandoms]

Ahh Jen, Happy Birthday!! (I know it’s not your birthday yet, but if this posts on your birthday then it counts!) I hope you have a truly wonderful day - you deserve an amazing celebration. 🎂💕

For your ficlet request, could I request something with Cobb? Maybe something with a nice mix of sweet and spice? I love how you write him so much!

Jess darling!! Thank you sweetie! I love that you love Cobb - he's a fun character and I'm looking forward to writing more of him. Hopefully soon. 👀

Here, have a not-related-to-anything little bitty with flirty Cobb.

Warnings: Flirting. That's it, that's the post.

Cobb Vanth x gn!reader

Word count: 518

You swung your leg over your speeder bike, observing the town. It wasn't fancy, but it was still there. Not bad, actually. You'd been to worse places.

A man stepped out of a building perhaps mid-way down this main thoroughfare. He was wearing a red shirt, his hair gleaming almost silver in the sunlight. You stood and waited for him, curious to see what he'd do.

He stopped a few paces away, hand on one cocked hip. "What brings you way out here?"

You smiled a little, unable to help it. "A… mutual acquaintance sent me this way," you told him. "Goes by Mando."

He smiled at that, and it lit up his whole face. "Big guy, wears shiny armor?"

"The very one."

"Well, then, c'mon. Let's talk more." He beckoned to you with a little smirk. You followed him into the same building he’d emerged from, which you quickly discovered was the cantina. It was quiet this time of day, and he returned to a seat that was clearly his, judging from the jug of spotchka on the table.

“Mando said you could probably use some help out here.”

He chuckled. “Well, Mando’s not wrong.” He looked you up and down once. “I’m Cobb Vanth.”

You sat across from him and gave him your name.

“What is it you can do for us?” Cobb tilted his head, surveying you, smile still in place.

You shrugged. “I can do a lot of things. What needs doing first?”

His smile widened, apparently pleased with that answer. “Well, darlin’, guess that depends what you’re comfortable with.”

You blinked. Was he… flirting with you? Sure looked like he was. Time to test the waters a bit. “Once I get settled somewhere, I can be comfortable with… a lot.”

“Well now, that’s a real good thing,” he drawled, leaning in to rest his elbows on the table. “Because I’ve been told I can be a lot.”

Definitely flirting. You grinned and matched his pose, leaning in as well. “Oh I’m a quick study. I’ll learn.”

He laughed at that, tipping his head back to expose his long neck. He really was good looking. “I like you,” he told you, eyes bright. “Tell you what. There’s lots needs doin’ around here, and we could always use another set of capable hands.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice so you would lean in closer, too. You, of course, obliged. “Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days? I’ll show you ‘round, maybe get you started on a project… What do you say?”

You let the silence hang for a few moments, pretending to think about it. But you already knew your answer. “Well, it would be nice to have a local show me around. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

His answering smile was blinding and he held a hand out to you across the table. When you grasped his hand, his handshake was firm, but not crushing. Very good. “Well, then. Welcome to Mos Pelgo.”

Maybe this middle of nowhere town wouldn’t be so bad after all.