#and i was probably about as convincing as ezra when i did it cause looking back... he DEEFINITELY knew 😂😂

[jessicas-pi]

the saga of semi-ahsoka-spoilers continues

yeah ok so i just remembered that when I was about 18 there was this guy i really liked but i was terrified of him finding out because he was also my best friend and I didn't want to mess that up, so i spent the next 2 years calling him my "long lost brother..."

So i'm definitely feeling better about that sister line now!

[oonajaeadira]

If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.

A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.

Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

_______________________________

You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”

“Hm.” 

Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”

“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.

The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.

That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.

But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.

And you’re pretty sure you know why.

This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.

There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one. 

There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.

It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing. 

The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.

You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.

“You okay, Ez?”

“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”

You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night. 

“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.

And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”

He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.

Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there. 

He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.

And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.

So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.

It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself. 

Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.

You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.

Or so you lied to yourself.

A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--

This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”

And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.

After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.

“What’cha reading, Ez.”

“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.

“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.” 

You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”

“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”

“I see. What’s it about?”

“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”

“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.

“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”

You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--

What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.

“Read to me.”

Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”

“Read it.”

His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.

Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.

“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.

“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”

“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”

The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.

“You stop, I stop, Ez.”

“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”

“Then don’t stop.”

In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”

You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”

He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.

“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--

“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”

Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--

“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”

He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.

Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--

“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”

Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.

“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”

He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.

“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”

He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him. 

There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm-- 

“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”

When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.

Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.

But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--

“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”

Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.

“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.

When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”

You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.

At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.

But not the same poem.

The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

And that’s it.

That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.

Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….

Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.

The book drops to the bedroll.

And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.

________________

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

Taglist: @melobee @extraterrestrialdork @14mcmd1122 @grogusmum @cannedsoupsucks

[mandoalorian]

Obey Me [Dark!Ezra Prospect x F!Reader] SMUT

Summary: After you run out on a trading discussion with other Prospectors, and embarrass Ezra, he is left no choice but to punish you for your bad behaviour.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, dark!Ezra, unprotected p in v, fingering, edging, slapping, spitting, choking, bondage, very rough, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamic.

Word count: 2200>

Author’s Note: I say this every time but I truly do have a hard time writing for Ezra so I’d like to thank my best friend @honeymandos​ for tolerating my questions and helping me gain a better understanding off the Prospect universe. Also there’s a very high chance we will both work together in expanding this Dark!Ezra type thing in the future so let us know if it’s something you’d be willing to read more of. <3

Masterlist

“Are you mad at me?” you asked Ezra after approximately an hour of silence. Stupid question. He was about five feet ahead of you, trudging through the long grass as he headed back to the tent. He was definitely mad and he hadn’t said a word to you since he dragged you out of the mercenaries’ camp. You’d caused a scene— but it wasn’t your fault.

The mercs were disrespecting you, and Ezra had messed up. They had offered aurlac at a good price, almost too good to be true. You’d illustrated your concerns to Ezra from the get-go but as always, he didn’t care what you thought. He pushed your feelings to one side, choosing to listen to himself and himself only. He never played by anyone else’s rules.

When the mercenaries began to call you, part of you waited for Ezra to intervene. Once upon a time he would’ve, but either obtaining aurlac was too important to him, or he’d been so caught up in his ability to use you and degrade you in your private time, he’d become accepting of others treating you that way too. If that was true, you weren’t happy. You could take care of yourself, but still, part of you wished that Ezra would just defend you when scoundrels and crime syndicates such as the mercenaries tried testing your patience.

Another hour passed by and it irked you that he was giving you the silent treatment. He couldn’t be mad at you for running off. Yeah, he hadn’t secured the aurlac like planned, but you were convinced he wouldn’t have ended up with it anyway. They were too suspicious and they displayed the weirdest cult-like behaviour. If it wasn’t for you trying to escape the camp, who knows what would’ve happened.

But according to Ezra, you had sabotaged his whole plan.

He didn’t say a word to you until you had finally arrived back to base.

“I warned you,” Ezra growled, pushing you into a corner. His sudden application of force made you stumble and knock over a few ornaments and items of clutter that decorated your shared pod. With a series of loud crashing sounds, they fell to the ground, but Ezra seemed completely unfazed. You’d think after hours not complete silence, he would’ve calmed down, but evidently not. “Why do you never listen to me, hm? Why are you so disobedient?” he continued, leaning into you so close his face was only centimeters away from yours. You could feel the way his breath fanned over your ear and the sheer warmth of it was intoxicating. You had missed this. You’d missed this kind of proximity with him. It only made you yearn for more.

His voice wasn’t like the usual sweet melody. It was rasp and abrasive. The comments he made were in the form of little snaps and all his questions were rhetoric, as you later found out. He was being so condescending, talking down to you like you were nothing more than worthless inconvenience. If he spoke to you like this when you had first met, you probably would’ve cried. Ezra could be hurtful - maybe even toxic to a degree - but you had known him long enough to know that he did have genuine care for you. This was illustrated through his possessive nature and the way he always put your safety before his own. You had come to learn that this side of Ezra was like an act, and you only encouraged it.

You swallowed, your gaze flicking to the ground as his large hand caressed your stomach. “I don’t… I uhm… I don’t…” you felt yourself become increasingly more flustered as you tried to desperately search for words. It was like he cast you under a spell. You were always so witty, you and Ezra could go for days fighting over who gets the last word. But right now…

“Aw, cat got your tongue?” Ezra chuckled. But his laugh wasn’t warm and welcoming, it was sinister. It was enough to make your heart slam against your chest. He gave your hip a little pinch before removing his gloves and slapping you across the face. You gasped, your shoulders curling inwards and you felt smaller than ever as you sunk down the wall behind you. Your face stung at his action and you shot him a glare.

“Fuck you.” you spat, rubbing the skin that would be burning red in just a few moments.

“I might just take you up on that.” he snarled, bringing the same hand to the column of your neck and wrapping his fingers around it. He squeezed gently at first, and a pathetic little moan escaped your lips. His honey brown eyes darkened with desire at the noise you made as it went straight to his cock.

“You like it when I choke you, huh?” he cooed, his thumb softly grazing the height of your cheekbone before squeezing your neck again, significantly harder this time. Your eyes snapped shut and you gasped, arching your back and pushing your body into his. The constant shift in his demeanor was getting you riled up as you never knew what to expect from him. Soft delicate touches or another slap to the face. He was the one who got to decide, not you. You knew better than to talk back, but still, where was the fun in that?

“You could do it harder.” you smirked playfully, not even sure why you would put that idea in his head. He scoffed, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief before slapping you again in the exact same place as before. You winced, already feeling your eyes become glazed, but ignoring the painful sensation, you offered him a pout of discontentment. He dabbed his finger in the corner of your eye, wiping away a tear, before dragging the same digit down your sore cheek and across your plush lips.

“I’m sure you could put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use.” Ezra growled, reaching down to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.

Within minutes he had you pinned to the floor, completely naked, your arms and legs spread out. He hovered over you, his aching cock in his hand— hard and heavy. He’d left you with no choice but to submit to him. Your arms had been binded up with rope and he’d tied you to the pipes. You couldn’t free yourself if you tried, and you knew better than to resist him.

“When will you learn your lesson?” Ezra asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as he squeezed your tit. He ran his thumb over your hardening nipple and gave it a little pinch.

“Never.” you gritted out, only to see Ezra’s smirk grow wider.

He hummed casually before positioning himself in between your legs and pushing his thick length inside of you with absolute no warning. Your body jolted with pleasure and you went to grab him, forgetting that you’d been tied up. Your wrists immediately sprung back to position as the pipes on the walls rattled. “Ezra!” you gasped as he settled inside of you. “Fuck— oh my god Ezra.”

He chuckled darkly, spitting on your face and rubbing his saliva into your raw red cheek. Ezra nudged the curve of his nose against yours. Then, his fingers did a little dance across your skin before he brought them down to your aching cunt, beginning to perform an assault on your clit. He was still buried deep inside you as he rubbed your bundle of nerves in tight little circles. He was a pro at many things, but you couldn’t help but feel that he was the absolute best at navigating your body and knowing the best ways to make you feel good.

“Ezra, please.” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes tight shut. He didn’t like that one bit.

“Look at me.” Ezra demanded but his tone was completely lost on you as you felt yourself begin to see stars. Ezra felt it too— the way your pussy clenched around his cock like a vice, signifying that you were close. You mumbled something incoherent, shaking your head as your thighs began to involuntarily twitch. “Look at me, whore.” Ezra drawled out again, staring at you intently as your face screwed up with pleasure. Sighing upon seeing that you had reverted back to your old disobedient ways, Ezra pulled his hand away from your cunt and tutted.

“No!” you cried out as he deprived you from your orgasm. He was still nestled into you, balls deep, not moving.

“I told you to look at me.” Ezra whispered lowly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. You were too busy getting lost in his touch, you hadn’t even realised his instruction. In that moment you hated him for edging you. He knew fine well you were close, but this was just one of Ezra’s typical ways of taking back control.

“Ezra,” you gritted out. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Now, you don’t get to decide that.” Ezra chastised, shaking his head.

“Ezra— please. Fucking— ngh, please move. Please move.” You chanted.

“You act like a brat all day and then you switch up the second I lay my hand on you… beggin’ for more.” Ezra observed. He brought his finger back up to your lips and pushed the digit into your mouth. “Suck.” he commanded, and you did so, willingly. You weren’t in the mood for messing with him anymore. You just ached for him to fuck his seed into you. You knew that he’d reward your good behaviour.

Once he was satisfied that you had licked your juices clean from him, he pulled his finger away from your lips and smiled. It was the smile you had fallen in love with— the smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and a dimple appear in the left of his cheek. “Good girl.” he praised before giving your neck a quick squeeze.

You wanted to plead with him— do anything to get him to move, but you knew that the most you could do was just stay quiet and obey him. Obligate to his every demand.

And it worked. You supposed he was struggling to last too, just stilling inside of you. He wanted to move. He wanted to fuck you just as much as you wanted to be fucked by him. He wanted to show you who was the boss and why you should never— ever— embarrass him like you had done earlier in front of the mercenaries.

His pace was fast and brutal, and his hands roughly palmed at your breasts. Ezra’s gaze flicked down from your scrunched up face to your cunt where he fucked you relentlessly. He watched as your pussy swallowed his cock and he praised you for taking him so well. His once articulate nature had been lost amidst the haze of lust that clouded his vision, and he had succumbed to whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You felt so perfect, your soft walls wrapped around him. Only a few lanterns illuminated the tent. Your folds were glistening under the artificial amber light, slick with your arousal. 

It wasn’t long before you began to jerk your own hips, meeting his thrusts desperately as his balls slapped against your skin. His large hands grabbed onto your thighs as he steadied you, and this time, it was his eyes that had snapped shut. He was close. You could feel it. His lewd moans filled the confines of the tent and you his cock throbbed inside of you. Just the feeling of him filling you up like that was enough to send you over the edge.

Your walls clamped down around him and he slammed his cock into you one last time, as deep as he could before his ropes of cum spurted inside of you. He choked as his orgasm washed over him, and you felt your walls flutter in delight as his cock pulsed inside of you. 

When he pulled out of you, you moaned at the loss of fullness, and Ezra rose to his feet and untied you from the pipes.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, taking your hand and helping you stand.

“For now.” you taunted back, shooting him your most innocent look as if he hadn’t just absolutely railed you. Ezra hummed, ignoring the way his softening cock twitched at the way you fluttered your eyelashes. You had him wrapped around your little finger.

“For now.” he repeated, his tone ominous as he contemplated your words. He pulled open the blankets on the bed and gestured for you to make yourself comfortable. It was the least you deserved after being binded to the floor for the last half an hour. “Rest well, little birdie.” he muttered, stalking around the tent and turning the lanterns off one by one.

“Good night Ezra.”

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[winter-fox-queen]

Fire Meet Gasoline: We Were Meant for Each Other

And here is the epilogue!

Thank you all for the linked, reblogging, comments…you make sharing my imaginings so worth while, and I am very grateful for all the support.

No warnings, aside from cursing. Maybe fast and loose with how certain things work, it probably will withstand the ten foot rule? Also, I jump around time wise, so be careful?

Sending you all my love.

Three Months Later:

They entered the town in the dead of night.  Three of them, a slender blonde with cropped hair, unlocked the door of the bowling alley that was now hers.

She was followed by a young woman with ebony skin and hair the color of fire, and by a man who looked like he could lead you down a dark alley and turn you into a pretzel.

Cee looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend.  “Do you think it’ll work?”

Sabrina, whose hacking abilities were extraordinary enough she was being courted by several high powered agencies nodded.  “We put in the time.  The care.  It’ll work.”

The meeting with the Sheriff the next day was the test.

The Sheriff did not know what to make of the three, dressed in black, looking like young versions of the four horsemen.  “I want Ezra Prospect’s remains.”  The blonde demanded.  “I’m his next of kin.”

The Sheriff sighed, deflated, as if he was finally having to face something he’d been hoping to put off forever.  “Come to my office.”

“All I know, Sheriff,” Cee says after the whole settling in and refusing coffee bit is past, “Is my brother came here to start a new life, and now he’s dead?  What happened?”

“Well, you see, that’s still under investigation.”

Sabrina leaned over, staged whispered “He’s saying they have no fucking clue.”

The older man glared at her.  “Young lady…”

“Am I wrong?”

His mouth thinned.  “Your brother met a woman…” he pauses to describe you a bit, your place in town.  “We did not know it at the time, but she was being stalked by the principal of the high and middle schools.  We found an online blog that suggests that…well.  He was obsessed.”

“Fascinating,” Sabrina said, because she and Mut were the reason the entries were there, and Cee had to put a lot of effort into not kicking her.

“He did not like how close your brother got with her and it pushed him over the edge.  We think he might have…well, his brother is missing, too.

“Did she kill him?”  Cee asked flatly.  “Ezra was found in her burned up house, right?  According to the papers?”

“No.  I really don’t think she would hurt him…she really seemed to genuinely love him.”

“But she disappeared?”

“We are working on the idea that Gary Michaels kidnapped her and stole your truck.  We haven’t been able to locate your truck, or any sign of…”. He slips the words away.  Anyone can tell the Sheriff is genuinely pained, but the three don’t actually care.

The man, leaning against the office wall finally spoke.  “Then how do you know it’s Ezra?”

“Uh.  Well.  We couldn’t pull any DNA we felt confident in.  The body we found was of the right age and height.  The right arm was broken in ways consistent with your brothers.  I am sorry, but that is the only thing we are convinced of…that Ezra Prospect died in a fire, and that the fire was caused by arson.”

Cee was surprised by the tears she felt welling in her eyes.  She let herself feel it, the enormity of it, the pain of it.  “Did he suffer?”  She asked in a tiny, tiny voice.

“I’m sure he didn’t.”  The Sheriff reached out and patted her hand.

“What about the librarian?”  Sabrina asked as if she couldn’t even be bothered to learn your name.

“Lost without a trace,” he said quietly.  “When you are ready, I have some papers for you to sign…”

**

Annoying Poppet:  The things I fucking do for you.

Space Pirate:  Have I been well and truly interred?  Will I now Rest In Peace, or will my ghost continue to walk the distant farmlands, mourning for the love of my life?

Annoying Poppet:  It’s done.  And you owe me.

Space Pirate:  Your beloved lady and I have been working the financial bit of that out.  Once we figure out how to transfer your remuneration without calling down the vultures, you shall have a comfortable nest egg.

Annoying Poppet:  Not What I Meant.  Asshole.

Space Pirate:  You will see me again, my darling sister.  Co-spawn of our beleaguered mother. Survivor of many things beautiful and horrible.  Do you really think I would create a life for myself where I would have to do without your shining countenance for too long?  My darling bride and I shall find a way to see you soon…or perhaps you would move here?  Where we have chosen to call our new domicile is rather lovely, a veritable paradise allowing for hermit like tendencies while still giving us access to those things which we love such as books and food…

Annoying Poppet:  How do you type that shit so fast?

Space Pirate:  You know you love me.  And I love you.

Annoying Poppet:  I know.  Speaking of.  Where do you want me to send those fucking books of yours?  The freight on that not going to be cheap.

**

A little short of a month after the fire — before Cee meets with the Sheriff.

You sit in the restaurant, waiting for a man who looks like Ezra but acts like the devil.  He’s late, and if you didn’t already dislike him because you are convinced that he used your Ezra (Though Ezra does not agree) then this would not endear him to you.

Ezra, you know, is outside by a food truck, waiting.  When you left his side he was contemplating what kind of Po Boy he was going to get, so you order dinner.  The waitress is sweet.  She has a quiet, watchful air to her that seems a little out of odds with her job, more like a security guard than waitstaff.

She comes back, after a little bit.  “Your food is ready on the balcony.  If you will follow me?”

You get up like you expected this, following her through the busy place.

She slides open a door, and gestures you in.  You step out onto a cast iron balcony with a view of the street below.  You look for Ezra for a second before turning your attention to the Thief.

He does — and he doesn’t — look like Ezra.  He’s a couple pounds heavier, perhaps, his face a little more lined.  Hair a little longer.  He side eyes you, in his deep grey silk jacket, and his expression is as if he thinks you are there for his amusement.  It’s not playful.  He’s weighing you.  Deciding your worth.  You must have passed because he shakes himself out of it, gestures.  “Sit.  I have taken the liberty of completely ignoring your order in favor of what I wanted.”

“Gee, thank you.”  One last glance at the street below, and you sit.

He grins and removes the silver covers from the dishes.  “You have the taste of a librarian who hasn’t had more than two thousand dollars in savings your whole life.  I thought you deserved a hand.”  There’s nothing but kindness in his expression, but you still don’t relax.  “My associate — the beautiful woman who led you here…will make sure we are not overheard…so let us eat and get to know each other…I am a very distant cousin of our Ezra.  I suppose that means someday you and I will be related.”

You look at your meal.

“Absinth glazed quail,” he says, “And alligator in a citrus remoulade…the chef here has a way of cooking alligator so it doesn’t just taste like chicken.”

You pick at it.  “Ezra told me that since getting a meeting with you is quite complicated, we should discuss business while we eat…just to make sure what we came for gets resolved.”

“A practical man, Ezra.  Please.  Let me see the goods.”

You slide two diamonds across the table, wrapped in a black cloth napkin that matches the ones you both currently have on your laps.  He opens it, strokes the flashing gems, each as large as his thumb nail.

“There are four?”  His face is impassive, but you fancy you see a touch of avarice in his eyes.

“Yes, but I did not want to put all my eggs in one basket.”

“You will understand if I have my associate inspect the goods?”

“Can she do it in my sight?”

He nods once.  The door opens and the associate takes the napkin wrapped diamonds on the tray, and steps back into the hall, placing the tray on the console table.  You watch as she inspects them.

“We will want all four, of course, if they are what you say they are.”

You pick at your food while you watch.  You are surprised at how much you like the alligator.  The waitress re-wraps the diamonds, writes something on her order pad, rips the paper off and places it next to him on the table, along with the bundle.  She leaves.

He slides the paper over to you.  You try to pretend the number does not impress you.  “That is for all four, of course.  Try the quail.  The absinth makes a surprisingly savory glaze…you will have to expand your palate, now that you are rich.”

**

You and Ezra have to travel separately now.  Papers for both of you are almost done.  Just one detail left.

Both of you on burner phones, a mile apart at the most.  You lay in the darkness and stare at the ceiling, aching and missing him.

“Ezra Pascal?” You suggest, because he wants to keep the name Ezra if he can.  Sabrina found some choices of men who look like him…people with lives he can borrow the edges of, if someone gets curious and does a search.

“No.”

“Ezra Balmaceda.”

“What?  No.”

“George Ezra?”

“He already exists, my pet, and no.’

“That’s what Sabrina told us to do…find someone who already exists…”

“Yes. But he’s getting rather more use out of his name right now…with my luck I would meet the one in one hundred who have actually heard him sing.”

“What?  You don’t think you can manage to sing super deep?”

He grouses with you for a bit longer and you say, “You will always be Ezra to me.”

“If I do not find a suitable replacement, then you will have to get used to a new name, my love.  After all, you may call me by the wrong name in front of someone.”

“We’re not on the Most Wanted list.  No one will figure it out, not where we are going.”

On his side of the phone, Ezra smiles a little at the ceiling.  He reaches his hand across the cold sheets, wishing you were there to warm them.  “I miss you.  I miss hearing my heart beating in time to your breath.  I miss feeling you against me.”

He hears you swallow.  “Soon, right?”

“I get on a plane as soon as the papers are done.   I’ll get there ahead of you, see what I can set up for us.”

“I can’t believe you’re booking me on a cruise,” you say, and he grins at the slightly aggrieved note in your voice.  “I’m going to be alone for a week.  A week.”

“And then you’ll be home.”

A soft, longing sigh.  “And then I’ll be home.”

He starts to make a Love Boat themed joke, but says, instead, “Talk to me while I go to sleep?  Once you hang up I won’t hear your voice again until…”

And you do.  You talk nonsense, run out of things to say so you start singing.  He drifts off with your voice, gentle and bright, declaring that he is your sunshine.

**

And it’s into the sunshine you step as you walk down the gang plank, happy to be off the ship.  All of your fellow travelers will get back on tomorrow morning, a few wondering what happened to…

“Mrs. Morales?”

Ezra’s shaved.  He looks…weird, clean shaven.  It’s jarring but he is so beautiful and all you can do is throw your arms around him and hug him tight.  He plays with your newly (to him)  dyed hair, and kisses you, deeply.  You breathe each other in, holding him so tight you think his ribs might start to creak.

“I cannot believe you went with the ex-delta force guy.”

“That’s what you have to say to me?  No ‘hello love of my life?’” You grin up at him, and he shrugs.  “Well.  Better than the FBI agent….or the ex-goth kid fresh out of jail.”

You let him take your bag, and then you let him take your hand.  He walks with you down the street for a bit, and then he says, “I have a wedding ring waiting for you at home, Mrs. Morales.  And a preacher who is willing to put truth to the lie and say the words that will make it feel more official that you are my wife.  If you’d like that.  If you would have me, despite my flaws.  But if you wanted to wait, give yourself a chance to flee before that, I would be more than understanding…”

“I would be more than happy to be your wife for…well.  It’s real where it matters, isn’t it?”

“We are a perfect match.” He says, and you tighten your hand around his, determined to never let it go.

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know.  <3.@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77 @quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys @sherala007 @evyiione @kirsteng42 @shadesofnerdlygrace

[padawansuggest]

AU where Obi-Wan and Luke get to Vader long before he was expecting to destroy Alderaan, which is basically an incredible thing that I think would have made it hard for them to bring him back from, and instead of Obi-Wan antagonizing him and getting ghosted, they capture Vader and take him with them, because Obi-Wan has had a theory goin for the last 20 years on an idea to try. So, with the force, you can create illusions of things. I like the idea of Obi-Wan forcing Vader to not only confront Luke and Leia (he draggin that tin can back to Bail and is gonna make him pay for their Uber), by telling him that’s his kids, but also forcing him to confront the fact that Obi-Wan will never love anyone as much as he loves the child he raised. I truly believe that Obi-Wan spent his whole life past his knighting caring about no one more than Anakin, and being a sith never stopped that. So, I kinda want Obi-Wan to show him a force vision of Obi and Ani when Obi-Wan first took him in as a kiddo, just a memory of them together. A playful one where ADHD Ani wanted to get up and play, but grief-recovering Obi is tired and depressed but still loves this kid, and just yanks him onto the couch with him for a nap and some decent cuddles together while Ani complains and talks about everything in the universe he can think of till he literally talks himself to sleep and Obi just gently lays his head on that little chest to listen to Ani’s heartbeat before giving him forehead kisses and passing out too.

Mainly. I just want Vader to confront something from his childhood, something completely sugar sweet that makes everyone else go ‘wtf Vader had a loving caregiver who would cuddle him???’ And absolutely breaks Vader to the point where Ani shines through and he just says that he’s so tired of everything why can’t they go back to that??

Anyways. I just had the sudden idea of Ani using force visions of him and Obi when they were much younger as a focus point for sanity to the point where he becomes an actual asset for the rebellion and even Bail and Mon Mothma are excited to have him back and they get him out of that horrible suit and fix him up as well as they can to convince the galaxy that General Skywalker is back after such a long captivity, and that drags Rex and Ahsoka (and probably Cody too) off to find them with great caution and then excitement when they can feel Ani’s broken force signiture again and know it’s him but he’s super fragile but It’s Him.

Anyways. What I really want after that. Is Ani to say he convinced Vader to save one of the creche kids and they’re still out there, but he keeps having to send hunters out for him cause the emperor keeps using him for testing and he’s got a guy he thinks can finally nab the kid for good and it’s Grogu and Din is the one they send for him and it take them like a year to get back to them cause Din ends up Being Hunted and he refuses to give the kid up (like a lot of other bounty hunters have done when they eventually decide the kid isn’t worth it) and then Din gets there and a buuuuunch of Mandos follow behind all annoyed that their covert got found in the process and now that the rebellions problem and it’s a full ass reunion at this point.

They pick up Yoda from the swamp and get both Luke and Leia some intense Jedi training (THEY BOTH DESERVE TO BE BADASS JEDI FIGHT ME) and Grogu becomes the communal baby and Obi goes back to annoying the fuck outta Ani by calling him his twin brother, which makes BOTH of them squeak all angrily at him, and Ahsoka and Rex are sus af about Ani being back but accept that he’s using force visions from his still thriving connection to Obi to stay sane and tbh he’s mainly just planning to survive to the end of the war (tbh Obi and Ani and Yoda are only gonna survive to the end of the war, that’s really all they got in them at this point and Ani is getting more fragile from holding back the crazy at this point) and Bail survives and Obi flirts with him constantly (which Bail reciprocates much to the twins eye rolling annoyance cause ewwwwww old men flirting) and Ani is all ‘lol have you two ever acted on that constant flirting?’ And they just both go super red and look away cause ya but it was a very long time ago shut up Skywalker and it’s cute.

If Cody shows up (yes) then he immediately assigns himself as the Bail and Obi bodyguard cause these old men stupid and Bail complains but he did some crazy shit in the clone wars too okay he’s just as dumbass as the Jedi.

Also Boba and Fennec eventually show up saying they had a shitty runin with Jabba and Fortuna which lead to both of them getting dead a lil bit and having a change of heart on this whole ‘bad guy’ thing which lead to them murdering the fuck outta both of them and now they control Tatooine and whatcha gonna do about it and also can we join your ‘kill the emperor’ club we bored af so they come along for the fun too.

Who else am I missing? Caleb and Ezra? They they came with Ahsoka and Rex. Cal? Ya they found him sittin on a rock bein all Jedi and shit and were like ‘damn, that’s a baby. Anyone gonna adopt that?’ And like ten Mandos fought for the honor of being his new parent. Kam? They find him when they have their showdown with Palpy and Luke is all ‘I’m gonna train him’ and everyone lived happily every after. Except Obi and Ani and Yoda who become young force ghosts and annoy everyone forever now. Thanks.

[hopelikethemoon]

Starlight || (Ezra x Reader) || {Moonbeams}

Title: Starlight Rating: PG-13 Length: 4,000 Warnings: Angst, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of pregnancy, brief conversation about abortion, and some more angst.  Notes: Casual reminder that I do not write stories with plans in mind, I simply let the muses guide the story as I write. I’m fortunate that my mind litters in allusions and foreshadowing that I can pick up on later. This is one of those chapters where a lot of foreshadowing comes full circle. I’m super nervous that this chapter will lose my readers, but I’ve simply allowed the story to flow how it wanted to. Also shoutout to anyone who gets the extremely obscure British history reference in here.  Part ten of the Moonbeams series.

Taglist: @princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @pedrospunk @maybege @chews-erotically @katlikeme @lose-eels @youmeanmybrain @theindiealto @irishleesh93 @seawhisperer @hdlynn @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @theindiealto @grapemama @roxypeanut @kochamcie @kiwi-the-first @hellomothermoon @soft-fanfics @spacegayofficial @storiesofthefandomloversreblogs @kindablackenedsuperhero @goblinqueen95 @nominalnebula @wheresthewater @letmybabysleep @hayley-the-comet @corrupt-fvcker @i-ship-it-ironically @mrsparknuts @the-feckless-wonder​ Hopefully I got everyone! Please message me to be added, comments to be added get lost in my activity.

Leaving Lykaois hadn’t been nearly as difficult as previous departures with Shiva accompanying you back to the Block. Not to mention having a way to communicate with Ezra when you were off-world really softened the issue of distance. You could go to sleep listening to him read to you, just like he was laying beside you in your bed. 

The only real downside to returning to the Block was Shiva all but forcing you to visit the medic. You felt fine. You really did. But apparently dying, coming back to life, and losing your memory warranted an immediate visit to get poked and prodded by the resident medic on the Block. 

It wasn’t as though you could tell the medic you were visiting because you had mental confusion related to dying. So you made up some excuse about feeling fatigued after being off-world. That wasn’t even a lie, technically. 

The medic tutted quietly as she scanned through the results on her datapad, “Were you aware that your stim was deactivated?” 

“What?” You jerked your head to the left to stare at the woman. “What do you mean it’s deactivated?”

She glanced up at you briefly before looking back at that datapad, “A high voltage of electricity can sometimes cause the system to malfunction. Have you had any incidents during transport repairs?”

You felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over you. The only shock of electricity you had received had been before going to Ay-7 and Quinn—

“Well, this is different.” The medic stepped around the examination table with a perplexed expression. “The stim appears to have reported back to the manufacturer that it was disengaged due to expiration of the client.” 

“Not because of an electrical current?” You questioned, your fingers curling around the edge of the table. 

“It appears the stim registered a time of death just over a month ago.” The medic’s brows furrowed together as they looked up from the chart. “Were you sexually active during this period?”

“Uh, yeah.” You blinked, shaking your head. “I was.” 

“Out of an abundance of caution, I would like to run a few more tests before we reactivate your stim.” She passed the datapad to you, “In the event that you have conceived due to a faulty stim, rest assured the corporation will billed for the termination of your pregnancy. You can just sign right there and we can handle that quite simply following a positive—“

You were quick to cut her off, “That won’t be necessary.” You couldn’t actually think that far ahead and if — and it was a huge if — it had occurred, you weren’t going to jump to that decision before telling Ezra. 

“Alright, then select here.” She scrolled the screen down to a line that declined immediate intervention. “Sit back and relax. The test services AI will be with you shortly.” She offered you a kind smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned with.”

What the hell were you going to do if you were pregnant? 

Your hand drifted down to your stomach. Could you be? It wasn’t as though you and Ezra were the least bit careful — you thought your stim was functioning after all. There had never been any reason to be careful. 

Thank the gods it hadn’t started malfunctioning before Ay-7. But you were probably working yourself up over nothing.

What if Ezra didn’t want it? In the past few months with him, children had never come up. Not to mention what you had learned about Sybil and Cora’s situation. 

The door opened and the AI bot rolled into the room. You hated getting tests done at the clinic. Some of the missions you were assigned to would require full health panels before shipping out — you should’ve been used to it by now. 

The bot took a vial of blood from you and started processing it within the hollow of its artificial chest, while commencing with various body scans. 

“The medic will return shortly to provide you with results.” The bot’s grainy voice informed you, before it wheeled out of the room. Leaving you all alone with your thoughts again.

Could you even handle having a baby on your own if Ezra didn’t want any part in it? If things went sour with Ezra, you’d have to work your way back into the program and that wouldn’t be possible while pregnant.

If worse came to worse, you could probably find some kind of work on Ay-7. 

It felt like an eternity before the medic returned to confirm that your anxiety wasn’t entirely misplaced. “Well, it would appear that in the short window of time between the malfunction and now, that you have conceived. Based on your hormone levels, I would safely guess implantation took place within the last two weeks. You’re in the very early stages of pregnancy.”

You weren’t even entirely certain you could understand the medic. She was speaking words, but you couldn’t really hear them. 

“Should you and your partner choose to terminate, you have a few non-invasive options at this stage. I can provide you with a resource file or you and your partner can come back for an appointment together.”

“He’s off world.” You told the medic, resting your hand on your stomach. “Did everything look normal?”

“It’s too early to detect any defects with your fetus. While you do have slightly higher than average iron levels, it isn’t anything to be concerned by.” She assured you. “If you have any questions, you can login through the portal and get answers from one of our aides.”

“Thanks.” You said quietly as you slid off the exam table. When Shiva had convinced you to get checked out at the medic — this was the last thing you had imagined. 

Pregnant. 

You had never imagined yourself as a mother — not really. The program was a dangerous situation to be in, at the best of times. Pregnancy would’ve made you vulnerable and worse, it would’ve meant being vulnerable with someone who would’ve just screwed you over in the end. 

Ezra wasn’t like that. But in reality, his situation didn’t really allow him to be like everyone that came before him. You knew where he was, you could come and go as you pleased, and you were his only connection to the world beyond Lykaois. 

You had all of the control in the relationship. But this — this might’ve been more than he had bargained for. It was more than you had bargained for. 

You’d had only a handful of months together, if you cobbled the days together and now… 

How would Ezra react? You couldn’t picture him as a father. Even if the situation hadn’t been dire — if he wasn’t trapped on the moon, if there weren’t those that wanted to hurt you… Would he want to bring life into the world? 

There was very little good in the galaxy. You knew more than a few people who had made sure that they could never bring life into the world. 

You didn’t even know if you wanted it. It was such a fresh concept. A terrifying one at that.  

Shiva looked up from the engine part they were reconfiguring. “There’s our Lazarus. How’d it go at the medic?”

Your hands went to your hips as you stared down at them, “Well…” You started. “My brain seems to be fine.” 

“But?” They looked up at you, tossing a wrench aside as they got up. “There’s a but in there. What is it? Did you get fleas? Sexually transmitted disease?”

You snorted, “I definitely caught something from Ezra.” 

Shiva’s brows furrowed together, “Caught what? Like the curse or…?”

You grimaced a little as you tried to find the right words to explain your situation. “Apparently my stim malfunctioned after whatever the guardians did to me and… I’m in the very early days of pregnancy.”

“Oh, sweet Yrica’s left tit.” Shiva swore. “Are you serious?” 

“How early are we talking?” Quinn questioned as he strolled around the corner, his brows knit together with concern. 

Your head snapped towards him, “What are you doing here?” You looked back at Shiva. “What is he doing here?”

“He’s in a bit of a rough patch.” Shiva shrugged. 

“I’m avoiding a collector.” Quinn admitted, before his gaze fell to your stomach. “Back to the kid you’re gestating.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here talking about it if there was even a chance that it’s yours.” You snapped. “I’m about a month, I guess. It happened after I died…”

Shiva grimaced, “Not the post-death side effect I was expecting. What are you going to do?”

You rubbed at your forehead, sighing heavily. “I’m going to go back early and tell Ezra.” 

“Can’t you just com him?” Quinn questioned. 

You glared back over your shoulder at him, “I think it’s a face-to-face discussion.” You looked back at Shiva then. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s dangerous.” They admitted. “If what you told me about Proctor’s family is to be believed, then you might be giving birth to a werewolf.”

Quinn crunched loudly as he bit down on a crisp, “Does that mean you fucked the beast or does it just happen regardless?”

“Quinn.” Shiva sighed. 

“What? Her life is a mess and I’m amused.” He hoisted himself up on the side of a fuel barrel, eating another crisp from the bag he had been snaking from. 

“That’s not what happens with the beast.” You corrected him, before continuing. “It’s possible Cora was born a werewolf because her mother is. Maybe it won’t be the same for me?” 

You couldn’t even believe that you were having this conversation. 

Shiva clicked their tongue against their teeth. “I think your best bet is to go back to the medic and have it terminated, get your stim recalibrated, and move on with your life like it didn’t happen.”

“I’m telling Ezra before any of that happens.” You ghosted your hand over your stomach. “He deserves to know. He’s already lost so much, I’m not going to add to it.”

“What if he doesn’t want anything to do with you or it?” Shiva questioned. “Ezra seems like a good man, but we both know they can be shit.”

Quinn cleared his throat, “I would be happy to pretend your kid is mine. Not that I have much to offer.” 

“Thanks.” You rolled your eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.” 

“And you’re certain about the timing?” Quinn questioned, tapping the heels of his boots against the metal side of the barrel. 

“One hundred percent.” You assured him. 

“Good. I really didn’t want to add child support to my debts.” Quinn shrugged dramatically. “I mean, it would certainly be a sacrifice I would be willing to make—“

“Why are you still here?” You questioned, picking up Shiva’s wrench and chucking it in his general direction. “Get out of here.” 

“Easy. Easy.” Quinn tsked. “Pregnant women aren’t supposed to be stressed.” 

“My stress would be relieved if you took a quick trip out of an airlock.” You shot back. “Can you make that happen?”

“Such hostility.” He laughed, crunching down on another crisp. 

“When are you leaving?” Shiva questioned. 

“As soon as I can pull my things together.” You rubbed at your temples. “This wasn’t in my plan.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” They reminded you. “You have options.” 

“Trust me, I know.” You sighed, worrying at your bottom lip. “It’s just a lot to think about.” You gestured to your stomach. “I feel like I’m going to wake up any moment.” 

Shiva stared at your stomach, “How do you feel?”

You shrugged, “Like it’s any other day.” 

“And they’re certain?” 

“Unfortunately,” You tugged your satchel off your shoulder, swinging it around to grab your datapad out. “I have everything right here. Blood test confirms it. They can’t do too much more until I’m further along.” 

“Do you think it will be like it’s dear furry father?” Quinn questioned, tapping his heels against the barrel again. “Are you going to have a werewolf fetus wiggling around during the full moon?”

That made your stomach turn. “I don’t know.”

“Hey,” Shiva grabbed your arm. “We’ll figure this all out together.” 

You smiled a little, “Thank you.” 

“Do I get a thanks?” Quinn questioned, a little too jovially. 

“Fuck off, Quinn.” You seethed. “Why are you still here?”

“I enjoy being a thorn in the side of my acquaintances. I’m also broke.” He shrugged. “Shiva’s letting me crash until things smooth over with a few connections.”

You gave Shiva a skeptical look. 

“I like strays.” They walked past you to grab the wrench you had thrown at Quinn. “He’s occasionally useful.”

He grinned and gave you a thumbs up. “All jokes aside, I do recognize our ship has long since left the port.”

“There was never a ship.” You grumbled. “It was an escape pod. A badly banged up escape pod.” 

Quinn wiggled his brows, “Ah, but you took that escape pod frequently.”

You rolled your eyes again, giving him an annoyed expression, before turning your attention back to Shiva. “Why?”

“He’s amusing.” They nudged you in the shoulder. “And you know it’s true.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So how do you think Ezra will react?” Quinn questioned. “I couldn’t really get a vibe from him.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You admitted, folding your arms across your chest. “We’ve never discussed children. We’ve never discussed what could’ve been situations.” You touched the spot on your arm where your faulty stim was. “We thought we were covered.” 

“The oldest story ever told.” Quinn quipped. 

Shiva finally looked annoyed, “Can you grab the manifold? It’ll be in the engine room somewhere.” 

“Trying to get rid of me?”

You both turned to him with an in unison, “Yes.”

You sank back in the pilot’s seat, stretching your legs out in front of you while you waited for the com to connect. The connection buzzed a handful of times and you wondered if Ezra was dealing with the side effects of the full moon. 

On the last buzz of the connection, he picked up. 

“Sorry, moonbeam. I was in the fresher.” He drawled out, his voice just as warm as it was when you sat right beside him. “And as tempting as it is to use the com panel in the fresher…” 

You laughed softly, chewing on your thumbnail as you tried to keep your tone as casual as possible. The last thing you wanted to do was to blurt out what you had to tell him. 

Not that you could even think about the situation without feeling like you wanted a black hole to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Did you hear me?” Ezra questioned. 

“Sorry, yes.” You exhaled slowly. “Sorry.”

“You alright?” 

“Just tired,” You lied. “And as tempting as it is to hear all about your time in the fresher, I’m not really in the mood tonight.”

“What are you in the mood for, little lamb?” 

You rubbed at the crease between your brows, “I could really go for a quiet evening with some quality cuddling time.” 

Ezra chuckled softly, “My bed feels rather empty without you.” He sighed a little. “What’s got you feeling down?” 

“Nothing in particular,” You answered easily. “It’s just been a really long day. How have you been?”

“Alright.” He sighed a little. “I felt like this month was harder, you know? We managed last month and I had something to focus on. I’m a bit sore.” 

“Sounds like you could use a quiet evening too.” 

Ezra hummed. “It would certainly make things easier.” He was quiet for a moment before he added, “Are you sure you’re alright, moonbeam?” 

“I will be as soon as I’m back on Lykaios with you.” You propped your chin up on the arm of the chair. “Which may actually be sooner than planned.”

“What?”

“I got everything together quicker than I anticipated.” You told him with a slight smile, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m a few hours out.” 

“That’s certainly a welcome surprise.” Ezra said warmly. “And what do I owe this surprise to?”

“I might miss you.” You teased lightly. “And I…”

You both fell silent for another long moment. 

“And you, what?” Ezra sounded nervous and you didn’t blame him.

“Nothing.” You told him as you flipped on the autopilot and transferred the com connection to your datapad. “I want to wait until I get there.”

Ezra hummed curiously, “And you’re certain all is well?” 

“Well, I managed to track down a book of Herrick’s poems for you.” You told him as you meandered down the corridor to your quarters. “Quinn sent along a book of Byron’s poems he had. I’m not sure what message that sends.”

“I think I know.” You rolled your eyes. “A different little lamb.”

He sighed heavily, “Are we certainly Quinn’s clever enough to make that connection?”

You snorted, “Touché.” 

“I would actually be impressed.”

“It’s not unlikely,” You shrugged, kicking off your boots and sinking back onto your bed. “He used to be really obsessed with British history.” 

“Interesting.” You could practically picture him grinding his teeth. “How long have you known Quinn?”

You thought for a second, “Early into the program. He’s just always been around.”

“And you never—“ 

“He doesn’t belong in the same box as Alia or Mars.” You assured him, “He was just a nice way to scratch the itch. You know?”

“Yeah.” Ezra sighed. “I suppose I can give him credit for owning Byron in the first place.” 

You laughed, snorting a little at how begrudgingly he said it. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” He murmured. “Are you in bed?” 

“I just laid down.” You told him, laying the datapad on the bed beside you. “Only one more sleep before I’m there with you.” 

“Why are you coming back early? Don’t get me wrong, I’m elated, but… your hesitation earlier is going to keep me up tonight.” 

“It’s something I’d prefer to discuss when I’m with you.” 

“Wait, does this have to do with your trip to the medic?” Ezra questioned. “Did Shiva make you go?” 

“It’s related to that.” 

“Is something wrong? Fuck.” Ezra hissed out. “Moonbeam, just tell me. I’m going to worry an ulcer into my stomach before you arrive.” 

“I wouldn’t call it wrong.” You sighed a little, trying to resist the urge to cry. You didn’t actually know if he would think it was “wrong”. He might. 

“You can tell me.” His voice wavered. “If the guardians have hurt you, I’ll rip them limb from limb.”

“Ezra, please calm down.” You said lightly. “We’ll talk about it soon. I promise it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. I’m fine and I’ll be fine.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to lose you because of something I could’ve prevented.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” You assured him. “This is why I didn’t want to have this conversation over a com-call.” 

“Only a few more hours,” Ezra sighed again. “Right?” 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything at all…” You raked your hands over your face. “All of this is new for me.”

“It’s new for me too.” Ezra drawled out. “I still think I’m going to wake up and discover it was all an elaborate dream.” 

“All of it?”

“Just you.” 

“I feel the same way.” You admitted as you rolled onto your side. “I expect to wake up on the Block, ready to ship out somewhere. It doesn’t feel real most days.”

“I hate when I have to let go of you.” 

“I hope you don’t ever let go.”

Ezra scoffed, “I could never.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes, I’ve returned to my dreadfully lonely bed.” 

“Did you get dressed after your shower?”

 He chuckled, “I thought you said you weren’t in the mood, my sweet little lamb.”

“What? I want to picture what I’m missing.” It was a nice distraction at least. You wouldn’t have to worry about questions about anything. 

“What’s the point of putting clothes on when you’re alone?” Ezra questioned, his voice a little raspier. 

“Well, I’m fully dressed.”

He tsked quietly, “How disappointing. Then again, you were fully dressed in my bed when you—“

You groaned dramatically, “It’s not my fault that you smell so good.”

“I could say the same. It drives me crazy, moonbeam.” His breath caught in his throat. “We should sleep.” 

“I’ll be there soon.” You promised him, smiling sadly at the datapad. There was no way you were going to actually sleep, your anxiety wasn’t going to allow that to happen. “Ezra?”

“Mhm?” 

“I love you.”

“Oh moonbeam, I love you too.” He said warmly. “And I plan to count the moments until you are safely in my arms again.” 

You switched screens on the datapad, “I am five hours out.”

“Would you be adverse to me coming upon your arrival?” Ezra questioned.

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t.” You say the datapad back down beside you. “I’ll see you soon, Ezra.” 

“Until the morning.” Ezra whispered. “Sleep well, love.” 

You stared at the datapad, even after the line went dead. There was a part of you that wished that you’d told him what you wanted to tell him, just to pull the bandage off and find out what he thought without being there. 

How were you supposed to guess what his reaction would be to discovering that was going to be a father? 

The man had lived alone for five years, keeping himself away from everyone who was like him. He feared losing the last vestiges of his humanity. He warred with wanting you to stay with him and wanting to cut you loose. He loved you, but did he love you like that? 

And for that matter, was this what you wanted? 

This romance with Ezra had been a whirlwind, but it had been different than any love that came before. You spent hours on end with him, cooped up in your transport or his and you never got bored. There was never a moment where you found yourself ready to leave, you never wanted to. 

When you thought you loved Mars, you loved him in small doses. It was intense and all-consuming, but you always needed to come up for air. Alia… You would have willingly drowned in your love for her, but she always needed her own space. 

You recognized that this might be too much for him. He couldn’t escape from you, not really. You came in and out of his life, but he was fixed in one spot. 

But neither of you seemed ready for your time together to end. If you were at his transport before you left to return to the Block, he would always follow you into yours and spend another hour with you before reluctantly parting ways. 

It was different. 

Maybe he could feel that invisible string connecting the two of you. The one that always felt drawn taut when you weren’t with him. The sensation that always drew you back to Lykaios. 

But would a child change all of that? Shiva may have been right. You could’ve gone back to Lykaios without having to worry about any of this. Though, what would you do if one day Ezra did express his desire to become a father — a possibility that was taken from him by the curse and by you. 

You just had to hope that things would sort themselves out. That he would understand. That his love for you wouldn’t falter. 

[honey-dewey]

Bomb (of the Bath Variety)

Pairing: Ezra/Reader

Word Count: 2,184

Warnings: None! 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Someone please introduce this man to the concept of a spa day. He just needs to relax in a tub with Epsom salts for the muscle pain and a bath bomb because they smell nice. He needs someone else to wash his hair for once because god knows he can’t do it. He needs to be introduced to moisturizers and other skin care products. He also needs (wants) funky colored nails. 

“Jesus Ezra!” You shouted, seeing him shuffle into the pod, covered in grime. “What did you do all day?”

“Uh,” Ezra hesitated, biting down on his glove and pulling it off. “Cee pushed me into a dirt hole.”

Cee nodded. “Can confirm,” she said with a grin. “I’m headed next door so I can bathe.”

You waved to her, watching the hatch shut once more. “And you,” you said to Ezra as he tried to sneak past you. “Get in the bathroom.”

Ezra pouted, but listened. He didn’t hate bathing, but he wasn’t super keen on it either. It was a hard task when you only had one hand, but today would be different. If you’d set it up right, today would be pure bliss for Ezra.

Starting with you turning the shower off.

“Moonlight?” He turned when you cut the water, clearly confused. “I thought I had to bathe.”

“You do,” you agreed, kneeling beside the bathtub and turning it on. “Ez, you’re taking a spa day.”

“A what now?”

You stood, slowly working a still confused but now considerably more relaxed Ezra out of his work suit, pushing the leather harness off his shoulders. “A spa day, Ezra. Where you take a day to just relax. Get all clean and done up with nice products.”

Ezra shrugged, looking into the bathtub that was steadily filling with water. “That’s gotta be some fancy tradition from your planet, because I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You were a state ward!” You pointed out, bending to grab a cardboard box of various spa day supplies you’d been saving for an occasion such as this. “You’d also never held a real book or eaten a full meal until you started prospecting.”

“Fair,” Ezra hummed. He wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially his days as a state ward. But you’d caught glimpses of the life he’d led prior to becoming a prospector. Cold bunks crammed into a room full of underage orphaned boys, all shivering. No one had a family name, and it was rare any one of them was happy, or really even survived to make it out. Apparently, at the state house Ezra had been raised at, the suicide rate was almost 40%.

But that was the past, and this was the present. You opened the box and pulled out a bath bomb, reading the label and setting it on the counter. “You like mint, right?”

“Of course,” Ezra said. “Reminds me of you.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Ezra. “Get in the tub Ez.”

Ezra, with that beautiful crooked grin on his face, removed the last of his clothes and stepped into the tub. “You know, this tub has room for two.”

“Shame I won’t be getting in,” you said. “I already bathed.”

Ezra pouted. “Moonlight, you wound me.”

“My sun, this is about you, not me.” You handed him the bath bomb. “Go ahead and put that in the water. I have some epsom salts in here, I know it.”

As you knelt down to find the pesky bag of salts, Ezra put the bath bomb in the water, gasping as it began to fizz. “Moonlight! It’s dissolving!”

“It’s supposed to,” you said, standing with the bag of salts. Ezra poked the bath bomb with a happy grin, his finger going green from the fizz. “It’s called a bath bomb for a reason. Scoot.”

As Ezra moved reluctantly from the bath bomb, you measured out two cups of epsom salts and poured them into the bath as well. Ezra was clearly disappointed when they didn’t fizz like the last thing you’d put in the water, but the slight rosy smell was enough to make up for it. “What is that for?”

“Epsom salts help with muscle pain,” you said, putting the bag down and dragging a stool over so you could sit at Ezra’s height. “I use them sometimes after we do really bad prospecting trips. Hopefully, they’ll help with your arm.”

Ezra’s face darkened, the delicate subject of his right arm, or lack thereof, causing the mood to sour. You sensed the change in the air and immediately brightened your tone. “But, that’s not all we’re here for,” you said. “Depending on how far you’re willing to let me go, we could be here for hours. I bet Cee would join us for face masks,” you added as an afterthought.

“Face what now?”

“Masks.” You held up one of the tubs of clay masks you had. “They help with your skin.”

Ezra grinned. “I shall partake in this face mask ritual on one condition.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at your poet of a boyfriend, you crossed your legs. “And what would that condition be, my sun?”

“Paint my nails?”

It was an odd request, but one you weren’t about to turn down. “Okay. Consider it done.”

You let Ezra soak for a while, sitting beside him on the stool and reading. It was a book aimed mostly at teenagers, but Ezra had said something about it being Cee’s favorite and now you were determined to read it. So far, it was pretty good.

Eventually, you put the book down and convinced Ezra to dunk his head under the water. When he came up, water running in thin streams down his skin and hair plastered to his head, you laughed and picked up a bottle of rose water shampoo.

“Lean back,” you instructed softly, laying a towel across your lap so Ezra wouldn’t soak your pants. He rested his neck on the edge of the tub, head falling back into your hands. “Comfy?”

“Could be worse,” Ezra decided. You leaned down to kiss his damp forehead, making a face when the soapy tang of the bath bomb and epsom salt water rolled over your tongue.

Sitting back up and popping open the shampoo bottle, you squeezed an appropriate amount into your hand and began to massage it into Ezra’s scalp.

The effect was immediate. He groaned, entire body relaxing as your deft fingers worked away the dirt and buildup from his hair. Ezra bathed every few days, just like everyone else, but with his once dominant hand gone, his job washing himself was lackluster at best. For him, you properly washing through his hair must’ve felt like pure heaven.

You scratched through his hair for longer than was probably necessary, keeping him in that blissed out state. When you finally lifted a plastic cup with water to his head and began to rinse the suds away, he keened softly, vocalizing his dislike of your lack of touch. You apologized, taking your non-dominant hand and sliding it up his forehead, settling it just before Ezra’s hairline to shield his eyes from the soapy water trickling down his face.

Tugging on the blond streak in Ezra’s hair, you discretely ran your fingers through it, slowly spiking it up into a mohawk.

“My moonlight, what are you doing?”

“Shit.” You didn’t stop in your actions, only finished what you were doing despite being caught. “Take a look.” You held a hand mirror out, giving Ezra a view of his new hairdo.

“Moonlight,” he said, turning to face you. It was too much. You broke down into laughter, doubled over and Ezra smiled and ducked his head beneath the water to return his hair to its plastered look.

Once your laughing fit had come to an end, you straightened and began to massage a small dollop of conditioner into Ezra’s hair. Restraining yourself from giving him yet another mohawk, you scratched your fingers over Ezra’s scalp for almost five minutes. He relaxed yet again against the porcelain rim of the tub, breathing evening out as he practically fell asleep beneath your hands.

You were slow going in your rinsing out of Ezra’s hair, trying not to wake him from his impromptu nap. He hummed, and when you put the cup down and seemed his hair free of conditioner, he reached up and cupped your neck. Pulling you close, he kissed you, lips molding perfectly despite being upside down. “I love you, moonlight.”

Smiling and pressing an upside down kiss to Ezra’s forehead, you softly murmured into his skin. “I love you too, my sun.”

Ezra got out of the tub some time later, once you’d helped him scrub dirt out of every crevasse of his body. The water was more brown than green at that point, but Ezra was clean. You held his hand as he stepped out of the tub and watched as he dried himself off, insistent that he could do it by himself.

As he dressed himself in soft sleep clothes, you called Cee in. She was eager to partake in your spa day, also dressed in her pyjamas. She had a few bandages spanning her skin, small ones indicative of minor scrapes. You counted three, one on her right wrist, one further up her right forearm, and one on her left foot. How she’d scratched herself through the boots and suit she wore on her jobs, you had no idea.

“I didn’t even know you had clay masks!” Cee said happily, opening the jar and taking a wooden popsicle stick to start applying it to her face.

“I made it myself,” you said, grabbing a second jar to start plastering the grey/brown paste to Ezra’s face. “It’s one of the only things I can make myself.”

Once all three of you had been properly covered in the clay, you began to slowly diffuse Ezra’s wet hair. Cee sat by, reading the book you’d been reading earlier. Nearly twenty minutes later, Ezra’s hair was dry and shockingly curly and the three clay masks were hardened.

“Thanks for sharing,” Cee said as you handed her a damp washcloth. “I don’t remember the last time I had a spa day.”

“We’ll have to do them more often then,” you decided firmly, passing Ezra the other washcloth. “My sun, do you still want me to do your nails?”

Ezra nodded. “Yes please.”

“Should I do yours too?” You turned to Cee, who shook her head.

“I don’t paint my nails,” she said softly. “Plus, I am exhausted. That prospect was hard as hell. Gonna go nap as soon as I’m clay free.”

True to her word, once Cee’s face was clean, she bid you both good night before leaving to go take a nap.

You took her washcloth, but Ezra stopped you before you could lift it to your face. “My moonlight, can I clean your face? Please? After all you’ve done for me, I want to make it even.”

You smiled, letting Ezra take the washcloth. “You don’t need to worry about making it even, my sun. I’m doing this because I love you.”

Despite your reassurance, Ezra gently began to rub the washcloth across your face in small circles, clearing away the clay as he worked. His hand was warm and soft, and you carefully put your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself still.

When Ezra was done, he kissed every inch of your face he could while you writhed with laughter underneath him. “Ezra!” You shouted happily, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Ezra, my sun! I yield!”

Ezra pulled back, lips quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry my moonlight, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You hopped off the countertop you’d been sitting on and grabbed your small box of nail polishes. “Give me your hand,” you said, getting back on the counter and pulling out a small nail file. Ezra put his hand in your lap and sat on the stool you’d been using.

It was a gentle, silent process. You filed Ezra’s nails down, wincing at the bitten away stubs you were trying to fix. “Ez, it’s a miracle you don’t have an infection,” you said softly, finishing on his little finger. “This is bad.”

Ezra looked at his knees, shrugging halfheartedly. “I know.”

You kissed each of his fingertips, pressing one final kiss into his palm. “I love you anyway.”

That brightened Ezra’s downcast face. “I know.”

You found a beautiful mustard yellow nail polish and a glittery gold polish, slowly painting each of Ezra’s fingernails with expert precision. He was still, watching you work with a look of wonder on his face. “You’re amazing.”

Putting the finishing touch on Ezra’s thumb, you put the cap back on the gold bottle and smiled. “Thank you, my sun.”

Ezra waited a few minutes for the polish to dry before looking at it properly. The yellow color was muted, but still a nice rich shade. What really made it pop was the gold accents, reflecting the shitty bathroom lights and drawing attention.

“I like it,” Ezra decided firmly, curling his fingers and watching the gold dance.

“I’m glad,” you said, sliding off the counter. “Wanna make dinner?”

Ezra nodded, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a firm hug. “We’re doing spa days more often,” he said into your shoulder. “Please?”

Hugging Ezra, you nodded, relishing in the mint and rose water smell. “Absolutely, my sun. Absolutely.”

[mndalorians]

hey hi i hope you're doing okay!! that fic about slow-dancing with ezra lives in my head rent free, so i'm wondering if you have any other songs you associate strongly with the boys? or who else you think would dance with their partner??

Aar!! I’m doing alright! I’m so happy to hear that you enjoyed it and that it’s stuck with you 🥺🥺

Below the cut are some songs and thoughts on dancing for Din, Ezra, Frankie, and Whiskey, thank you for asking about it!

Din:

- Show Me How - Men I Trust - this is one of the oldest songs I've associated with Din and it always makes me soft 🥺

- Little Dark Age - MGMT - in contrast is this song, maybe a little more suited to the Din we get a glimpse of in ep. 6, but there's a duality to him nevertheless that allows vastly different songs to be applied to him and I have a few

- Two Weeks - FKA twigs - bonus song cause it slaps

-

I have personal headcanons about what dancing is like within Mandalorian culture (with lots of banging of armour, stamping of feet, etc.) but those are group dances so I don't think Din has much experience when it comes to couples dancing. Maybe he remembers his parents dancing and laughing together, but the memory is faint, he remembers the general outline of them, not where their hands were placed or the actual steps of the dance. You can only really convince him to dance if you say it would mean a lot to you or he comes across you 'dancing' with the baby (basically just swaying and moving around the hull to the beat of a song you're humming), but seeing how happy you are in that moment as you dance leaves him wanting to be the reason for your smile, and if that means following a rhythm then so be it. He needs you to direct him and is as stiff as a board the first time you dance but he eventually softens and ends up resting his forehead against yours while you move about the hull.

Ezra:

- Black Mambo - Glass Animals (ZABA in general tbh) - I know I just write soft moments with Ezra but to me this song captures the dark undercurrent he has that really makes him dangerous

- Harvest Moon - Lord Huron - major Ezra vibes, it just suits him so well I think

-

I'll just expand a little on Ezra! Similarly to that wee fic, he'll hear a song and all of a sudden be overcome with the need to dance, doing very nearly anything to convince you to be his partner (if you need convincing). I feel like (maybe in his younger years) he'd be fond of the Charleston, or 'looser' dances that don't have the rigidity of a waltz, for example, and would enjoy having you as a partner for them, so long as space allows for it. If not, he's holding you close and cherishing the contact of you against him, since such a pleasure and privilege is denied while suited up and working.

Frankie:

I kinda associate old rock with Frankie but I don't listen to that lmao

- Crystals - Of Monsters and Men - I did rediscover this though, maybe this suits him in the aftermath of the movie? I do feel like there's a 'Frankie-ness' to it though

-

You might be able to convince Frankie to dance privately, I don't think he would be one for clubbing unless he was tagging along with the guys (and even then he'd probably stick close to the bar). If it's just you two though, it'll mostly be a little side to side sway that starts with your hands clasped and on shoulders/waists, but it would soon devolve into him holding you close with his chin on your shoulder, the two of you rocking back and forth. Maybe the gentle rocking becomes something he craves on days where everything is just a little too much, and so will seek you out just to sway and calm his mind.

Whiskey: (don’t look at me Hailee)

- Velvet Elvis - Kacey Musgraves - there's the obvious country vibes but the pop influence in it suits the modern cowboy I think

-

He's taking you line dancing, he's taking you square dancing. He'll laugh out loud when 'box the gnat' is called the first time you square dance and you look at him with wide, confused eyes, not knowing what it means, until he takes your hand and leads you through the motion. He knows formal dancing thanks to his time as a Statesman and will lead you through a tango just fine, but, like Ezra, he'd much prefer an impromptu dance to whatever song he happens to hear that takes his fancy. The steps to those dances are more like bounces than strides, he'll push your leading hands up to the sky then down until they're close to the floor, and he'd spin you both around with such reckless abandon that it would worry you if it were anyone but Jack.

[amazingmsme]

1, 2, & 5 for the writer asks!! ^^

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have a few fics I’m working on! First I have a commission that I haven’t started yet, but will soon. It’s a Love Simon prompt where Martin manages to convince Simon to do a fundraiser. The catch is that he’s gonna be in stocks & yeah you know where this is going

Next I have a chaptered fic that I plan on working on where Lambert rescues Jaskier & they become reluctant friends, then bffs.

I have a nsfw Dexter fic where Risa admits she thinks movie serial killers like Michael Myers & Jason are hot & asks Dexter to role play with her

An imposters fic where Ezra & Richard are being smuggled in the trunk & are cranky, bored & cramped so Richard starts a tickle fight to pass the time

I’m still working on that blue exorcist fic don’t worry. Rin has a little Miley Cyrus jam session with Kuro & Bon walks in on them. Rin’s a flustered angry mess & Bon won’t stop teasing him

I have the scraps of a lee!fjord fic that I might completely redo I’m not sure yet. Critical role is my biggest fixation right now & there’s not nearly enough lee!fjord to quench my thirst. I mean the dude is canonically ticklish!! He admitted to it!! & when Jester tried it again in episode 99 he literally said it was fine & that he actually enjoyed it (it was probably just cause serious shit went down & he needed comfort but shh) he is such a fucking sarcastic dork why doesn’t he get wrecked?

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Even tho the witcher fic is coming along slowly I have 1 part that I literally can’t get out of my head. Jaskier convinces Lambert to take him to a ball or gala to perform. Not gonna spoil my own fic but just know Jaskier has 2 jobs to do that night & its v important. But Geralt & Yennefer also happen to be there! Geralt notices Lambert first & is confused but thrilled to see his brother. Of course he has questions & he finds out Jaskier’s there. Lambert manages to drag him over & it’s pretty tense & awkward, but they’re still really happy to see each other. But to both of the witchers’ surprise Jaskier greets Yennefer much more warmly. Huge grin & open arms, a kiss on both cheeks. & just to piss Geralt off, & because she’s always wanted to, she grabs Jaskier & makes out with him right in front of him. Jaskier is of coursed dazed, flustered, & fairly aroused. Trust me it’s gonna be a great scene

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Hm, this is hard to say. I identify with a lot of characters I write, especially Klaus from tua cause ghosts love to bother me & I hate it. I really feel for Rin since I was constantly the outcast growing up & it felt like everyone avoided me because I had a lot of health issues that meant I couldn’t keep up with other kids. I also really relate to Jester cause she’s such a fun, bubbly, & sweet person & that’s kind of how I’ve always been. I’m a huge people pleaser & try to make others happy, plus I talk to my plants in a voice that kinda sounds like hers, even tho I did that before I watched campaign 2

Thanks for the questions, this was fun to do! As you can see, I have a lot of things planned & some others that I didn’t mention.

[anathtsurugi]

So, Star Wars buddies, y’all remember how I wrote that soulmate AU a couple years back...

Well, When You Pry it From My Cold, Dead Chest is finally getting a continuation. The new story will be posted in about a month as part of @kalluzebminibang‘s mini bang event, but the first chapter is available right now on my Patreon. So if you still remember my odd little story, if it touched your life in some way and you’ve maaaaaybe got a few spare dollars lying around for a rainy day, you can hop on over and be one of the first to see the start of the new fic.

But for now, if you haven’t got the spare change but are still excited for the new story, here’s a little sneak peek at the upcoming You Can Take My heart, You Can Take My Breath.

~*~

 Ever since returning from Mandalore, Kanan had been working with him to try and figure out a way to regain his soulmark. Nothing they'd tried had come anywhere close to succeeding. Zeb still possessed amber in his field of vision, and would occasionally report other flashes of color flickering in and out. So it seemed the problem lay not with him, but with Kallus himself.

 These last few days, he had gone out early in the morning to meet with the Jedi, before he had to be on shift and before Kanan would meet up with Ezra for their own regular training. But this was even earlier than he normally woke. He doubted Kanan would even be awake yet. Even so, he would head out, maybe take a little extra time to get into the necessary head space...

 "I know you're not goin' out at this un-Ashla hour," Zeb grumbled from the bunk just as he finished dressing. "Y'should come back to bed."

 Kallus gave a fond sigh as he crossed the few steps back to the bed, dropping to one knee beside it. "I will do no one any good lying here unable to sleep," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to his partner's lips. "Go back to sleep, my love. I'll return in an hour or so."

 "Mm, there's other things we can do if you can't sleep, y'know," Zeb mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

 "Be reasonable, Garazeb," he started with a small laugh. "We can't have sex every time I can't sleep."

 "We could. It's an option. You're just choosing not to."

 Again Alex laughed, placating his lover with one last kiss. "Maybe so, but you at least require sleep, and if you're a good boy and get enough rest, I promise you can kriff me up against the wall when I get back."

 "Promise?" the Lasat grumbled peevishly as he rolled away from him.

 "Promise."

 "Fine. But I'm holdin' you to that. I don't care how late we are for morning shift."

 "Fair enough," Kallus conceded as he got back to his feet.

 "L'ashkerrir an," Zeb mumbled, barely awake.

 Kallus stopped in the doorway at the sound of those words, feeling that same flutter of unbound joy in his heart as he had the very first time Zeb had spoken them. He hoped it never stopped.

 "And I you...my dearest Zeb," he said softly, adoringly, before allowing the door to slide closed behind him.

 Kallus took no weapons with him when he departed the Ghost, despite every instinct he had always begging him to. The very first time they'd gone out into the jungle, Kanan had insisted he wouldn't need any weapons.

 "Are you crazy?" he'd asked, certain the knight hadn't yet been informed about the local fauna. "Do you have any idea what's out there?"

 Kanan had simply given him a shit-eating grin and offered up cryptically, "Only what you take with you."

 Whatever that meant. Still, Kallus had obeyed, and he had not found cause to doubt Kanan yet. This particular morning was no different, if not a touch earlier than even he rose. The sky had barely begun to lighten as he moved through the dense jungle. He'd likely have had trouble finding his way if he didn't already know where he was going. However, much to his surprise, their usual clearing was not deserted when he arrived.

 "Couldn't sleep?" Kanan asked as Kallus stepped into the circle, clearly having been sitting in meditation for some time already. As had been the case on all the mornings prior, he was not wearing his typical mask.

 "I don't know that I've slept properly since Atollon," he admitted, tired of his own stoic front. He had learned quickly that the knight could read him like a holobook. "Though neither, it seems, could you."

 "Call it a hunch," the Jedi said, nodding to indicate he ought to sit down beside him. "Feel up to contemplating your innermost self this fine morning?"

 "As much as one ever is 'up' for such a task," he conceded as he came to sit beside the man he had previously hunted. "Though Zeb did try to argue that it isn't even properly morning yet."

 "And he was right. Unfortunately for those of us with normal biorhythms, the Force says 'jump' when and where it wants to, so we mortals must abide. Let me see your arm," he said, holding out his hand.

 "See, Kanan?" he joked half-heartedly as he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, resting his forearm in the Jedi's outstretched hand.

 "I can see better than you can right now," Kanan returned in a similar tone, caught somewhere between joking and serious. Exhaling, he brought his other hand up to run his fingers over the skin where the soulmark had once been, and when he winced at whatever it was he was feeling, Kallus was once again grateful not to be able to feel it.

 "Close your eyes," the Jedi told him.

 Kallus did as he was bid, easily quieting the skeptical voice in his mind that had grown smaller and smaller since he'd watched the inquisitor burn away a piece of his soul.

 "Quiet your mind," Kanan coached him.

 Kallus knew the Jedi had not found it easy to convince him to let go of the tight patterns of control Imperial conditioning had worked him into. He still didn't find it easy to just...let go. To give up control of his mind and his thoughts and allow himself to just...be. The closest he came was his state of mind when engaged in a particularly fierce fight ― the sort where he had gone beyond gauging his opponent and plotting his own moves and had simply become lost in the rhythm of the moment...the dance of it. He couldn't say how much time had passed when he became aware of Kanan's voice again.

 "When you first realized Zeb was your soulmate...what did you feel?"

 "Relief," he answered without having to think about it. "Even though I had tried- to give it up...I had feared that my partner had died soon after Lasan. There was something...freeing...in finally hearing those words spoken aloud."

 "But...?"

 "That relief was immediately followed by anger."

 "Because he was your enemy?"

 "Because I was his."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I think I had always known...from the moment I was able to understand the words on my arm...that there would be enmity between my partner and I. The older I became, the more I was prepared to hate myself...for all of it. When the moment finally came...all I had left was anger...hatred...for him, myself...for the galaxy and everyone in it. I tried to tell myself I'd done the only thing I could do..."

 "But you knew different."

 "Deep down...I suppose...yes. I didn't begin to consider the implications of any of it until after Bahryn...and then everything was happening so quickly...and Zeb was forgiving me everything...even if he shouldn't have done. I loved him...so fiercely in those days. I clung to it when I was weak...in my darkest moments..."

 "And then you were captured."

 Kallus gasped, any response he might've had slipping away from him as the memories pierced his awareness, sharp and unforgiving.

 Thrawn's red eyes...his cruel sneer...

 The inquisitor's chilling voice...her molten, scorching touch as she-

 "NO!" he cries out in anguish, struggling to pull back, to turn away from the horror of it.

 "No. Don't run from this. Stand your ground, Fulcrum," the Jedi's voice comes to him again, firm but not unkind, guiding him in the darkness. "We're so close now."

 So Alex let the memory play out, trembling, but not looking away as he relived his worst moment.

 "It- broke me...when that bond was cut," he recounted, his voice unsteady. "I had bled for it...killed for it...in a way, I had died for it...and they took it from me. As easy as peeling off a glove...they stole a part of my heart from me...the part that was good...that was true and worth saving...the part that Zeb loved. They stole it from me," he hissed, feeling the sting of tears as they pushed their way through his closed eyelids.

 "Do you really believe that?" he heard Kanan asking him. "That the part of you that's worth saving is lost?"

 "Yes," he answered, voice still unsteady, but certain. "I don't- doubt his love...but why should someone as wonderful as Garazeb Orrelios...be bound to such a broken creature as this?" He had taken comfort in Zeb's promises...after Atollon...but did he believe himself worthy of them?

 No.

 "That's it, then."

 Inhaling sharply, Kallus suddenly found himself blinking his eyes open in the grey pre-dawn light to find Kanan now sitting in front of him, unseeing eyes gazing rather pointedly into his. Kallus had to resist the urge to pull back from him.

 "I...what?"

 "That's why you haven't been able to regain your soulmark. It's because you aren't certain you deserve to have it...that you don't want Zeb to be tied to you when, in your view, he has the chance to be free."

 "It- would seem so. Yes," he said quietly, achingly, as he let his gaze drop to the small patch of dirt that separated them.

 "Then there isn't anything I can do to help you," Kanan told him, reaching a hand up to grip his shoulder. "Until you know what it is that the two of you share, that bond won't return."

 Kallus inhaled slowly before giving a long sigh and looking up at the Jedi. "I understand. Thank you for everything you've done."

 "Don't give it up for lost yet, Kallus," Kanan scolded him mildly as he climbed to his feet. "Zeb's a stubborn one. He'll help you scrub out that Imperial mindset. You just need to give him a chance to prove himself. Go back to him. You two can probably get in a little extra time before the day gets going."

 "Right. I'll...catch up with you," he said, voice still little more than a whisper. Not watching Kanan go, the only indication he had that the younger man had done so was the quiet sound of his footfalls.

~*~

Interested yet? Wanna see some more? Come check out the full chapter over on Patreon.

[rjhpandapaws]

(Not) What I Want in a Second Chance

Ch 1: The Devil is in the Details

//Tw: Emotional manipulation. Death, grieving, alcohol abuse, suicidal ideation; anti-android sentiments, and anti-android language. CyberLife is an unsettling mix of FB, Amazon and Google. Be prepared

Hank had his fair share of regrets, it came with the amount of time he had been on the force. His family fell apart. There were lives he could have saved if he had only been faster. The consequences that came with hitting a patch of ice; just to name a few. There were days he debated putting in for retirement, but he knew where that would lead. One more added to a growing statistic. Another retired detective that chose to suck on a bullet; and that was assuming anyone cared enough to come check on him. So he drank instead. On the days he woke up in time, he went to work. On the days he didn’t he woke up only to start drinking again. Another hopeless, tired man on the fast track to a whiskey filled grave. He wasn’t as bothered by that as he probably should have been. He wasn’t bothered by much anymore. If he could think clearly that meant he needed a drink. There was one thing that always bothered him though, and that was androids. He found them creepy over all, they had no reason to look that human. Then one had killed Cole; or rather, stood there and did nothing while he died. That had been when Hank had drawn the line. In that moment they had gone from something mildly off putting to something he actively despised.

That was why he liked places like Jimmy’s. It was one of the few places left that wasn’t overrun by androids, and the other patrons left him alone. Everyone was nursing a different sorrow so conversation wasn’t a priority. He could treat his grief with whiskey until he was face down against the bar and no one would judge him for it. Tonight was shaping up to be one of the rougher ones. He couldn’t drown his regrets no matter how much he drank. The thoughts refused to blur. It wasn’t Cole tonight. For a change, he was thinking about someone else he had lost. Connor Paldeki was one of his earlier partners, and his favorite even still. He had belonged to the Deerborn Police Department originally and they had met on a particularly bad homicide case. They worked well enough that they were paired for joint cases pretty often after that. So when Connor was transferred to Detroit it only seemed natural that they were made partners since they had previous work history. Even as a rookie Connor had been bright. He could pick a scene a part and put it back together with ease and accuracy that was almost scary. Hank had been certain that he was on the fast track to making rank. Then the Red Ice bust had happened and Connor’s glowing career came to a sudden and bloody end. Hank had wound up promoted, but it felt hollow somehow. Like it was a consolation of sorts.

He felt like it was written in Connor’s blood. Hank had been told that he hadn’t felt it, that he had been dead before he hit the ground. They hadn’t seen him though with the fear of death frozen on his face. None of the them had the haloing pool of blood seared into their memory. For all the consolation they tried to give him, they hadn’t been so powerless as to see the life leave the eyes of a dear friend. The papers had praised the whole raiding group as heroes, painted the thing like it had been a success. In a way it had been; they’d gotten what they were after, but they had lost three officers in the process. Connor, and two officers he hadn’t known from the SWAT team that had accompanied them. No one talked about it, and Hank wanted to scream. He went through the motions; his mandatory grief counseling, being a pall bearer for Connor’s casket; and then he took some time off to try and process all of it. When he got back he took the small bonsai tree from Connor’s desk and pretended things were alright. He had to be. He was Lieutenant now, he couldn’t just break. He took care of the tree like Connor was coming back and would be upset to find it dead. He continued to try and love Ezra even though things were falling apart slowly, and he did his job. If he just kept going something would have to got right eventually. He hoped so anyway; because if it didn’t then what the fuck was all of this for. When Cole was born Hank had thought that was the start of his better days, and it had been for a while.

It was some level of pathetic that the most put together his life had ever seemed to be was when he was drinking himself into an early grave. He was pulled away from that train of thought by the feeling of being watched. That sense of awareness wasn’t something he could turn off even when he was drinking away what was left of his coherency. He looked up from the bar, and there was Connor, but something was off. Aside from the fact that he was dead, had been for over ten years at this point. He was here in the flesh, and Hank was almost willing to write it off as a drunken hallucination. There was just something about this Not-Connor that was bothering him. It took longer than it should of for his eyes to land on the blue LED at his temple. He’d had to tear his eyes away from the face that had haunted more than it’s fair share of his nightmares for the better part of a decade. CyberLife had accounted for every little detail. Down to that stupid curl that had always refused to stay put no matter how much gel Connor put in his hair. He could hazard a guess at how they had gotten that information. They had files on everyone it seemed, whether or not someone owned an android didn’t seem to matter. Or, since it had been over a decade they could have pulled it through FOI, but Hank sincerely doubted that.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” He - It asked. Hank couldn’t place it, but there was something wrong about the voice. It was almost exactly Connor’s, but there was something wrong about it. He was tempted not to respond, but he had the feeling this Not - Connor would wait there all night even if Hank ignored it. “Yeah,” He huffed, “What do you want?” “My name is Connor.” It started, and Hank wanted to scream, this was not his Connor. Not the right one, “I am the android sent by CyberLife. There has been a homicide and I was told to find you; which I was lucky enough to do after the fifth bar.” “Fuck off.” Hank groused. “My instructions were -” It started, but Hank cut it off. “I’ll show you where you can stick your instructions.” He muttered. That seemed to give it pause. Where is Connor would have laughed and made a remark of his own, this convincing fake just looked pathetically confused. Hank almost pitied the thing, but it wore the face of a dead friend and that wasn’t something he could forgive. “What if I buy you a drink?” It pressed, “Would you come with me then?” Hank gave an annoyed sigh of defeat and relented. The sooner he got this over with, the less time he would have to spend facing this walking lie, “Fine.”

In the most put upon way the thing that was not Connor flagged for another whiskey and even paid for it. As annoyed as he was, Hank had to admit he was almost impressed. The real Connor would have never set foot in a bar unless it was for a case. It made it easier to distance one from the other. He nursed his new whiskey for longer than was strictly necessary. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it his way. He drove to the scene with his music loud enough that talking would be a pain in the ass, and the thing had still tried to make conversation. Hank would have turned into oncoming traffic if he was certain this thing wouldn’t have tried to stop him. It certainly seemed to have a purpose other than torturing him. “Stay in the car.” He said firmly when they arrived at the scene. “Got it.” It said in a way not too unlike the actual Connor and it made Hank’s stomach twist in disgust. It didn’t actually stay in the car of course, and Hank hadn’t really expected it to. It had it’s orders after all, and so did Hank unfortunately.

Hank took a bitter sort of satisfaction in Ben’s obvious discomfort when he saw it. Whatever comment he had been about to make died and he let them by with a tense nod. Every person on scene that had known the real Connor looked distinctly troubled by the fake; and that had been before it had licked any evidence. Hank passively observed the scene, he wanted to see what this thing was made of.  Was his computer brain anything like how the real Connor’s had been? Better? As much as he hated the thing, he was curious how it would stack up against the real thing. The other android self destructed in the end, even with Not-Connor’s unsettling attempt at compassion. Or perhaps because of it. It was something Hank hoped he would never have to see again. By the time they were done for the night, Hank had one question that was weighing on him. “Why do you look this way?” He asked as he gathered his things. “To ensure your cooperation.” Came the flat reply. That was when Hank realized what was wrong; the voice held no emotion to it. The next thing it said was what chilled Hank to the bone, “They figured you wouldn’t want to the cause of your partner’s death for a second time, and it was too soon to use the image of your son.”

Hank wasn’t sure what hurt him more; the blatant manipulation, or that fact that if seeing his dead friend again didn’t hurt him enough CyberLife wouldn’t be above using his son against him. When he made it the parking lot he threw up in a near by trash been. He didn’t remember the drive home, but when he got to the house he made sure to feed Sumo before he grabbed the Black Lamb and his revolver. When darkness finally came for him he didn’t know if it was because he had drank himself into unconsciousness again, or if he had finally won at Russian Roulette. He just hoped he never came out of it. He couldn’t do this.

[jaredstrout]

What complaints? - Rebels AU

“And what exactly are you doing here young man?” Ezra Bridger froze as he heard the voice of a woman behind him. The false cadet slowly turned around to find himself standing in front of Maketh Tua, acting governor of Lothal. And hanging around Agent Kallus´s office was probably not the thing she expected from a cadet.

So Ezra quickly straightened his posture. The minister looked at him with a saturnine look on her face, arms crossed and clearly displeased by something that could easily be a problem with the discipline of a cadet. Ezra was glad that these dumb helmets hid their faces, in case he needed to run he still had a chance that his cover was not blown. But best would be to get the minister´s mind busy with something else.

“I...I just wanted to know...if Agent Kallus investigates the commandante.” Now the minister frowned. “And why, if I may ask, should he do so?” she asked, her voice dangerously low and she even made a step closer to the young rebel. He suddenly noticed that the woman was quite tall and surprisingly managed to make him nervous...not as much as a real cadet, but Ezra felt that he really was in trouble, if he could not convince her of his story. Luckily he had seen the sadistic officer and his brute friend in action, at the day he met the Ghost crew. So while he did spin some lies, the foundation was built on truth. 

“About the complaints...and how he manages to get away with what he´s doing.” Ezra said, trying to sound both confidant and shy at the same time, probably not the best combination. The minister shook her head. “What complaints? If an officer was accused of misbehavior I´d know. Is this really your excuse for leaving your duty behind?” 

Ezra now started to sweat. “If you don´t know...can he you know...hide complaints about himself?” The expression on the minister´s face changed. “The complaints would be processed by...commandante Aresco...he is the one you mean?” she asked Ezra, who nodded as he didn´t trust his voice to hide the relief he felt as the minister now looked doubtful, but her eyes were no longer staring down at Ezra. “How do you know about this?” she suddenly asked and Ezra cursed himself, as he had congratulated himself a bit too early.

“I am a transfer cadet, minister, but the boys from around tell stories about the commandante and the taskmaster. Nobody went into detail...but the two are pretty infamous around town...at least that´s what I heard.” he explained. With all the trouble brewing in the last time, Ezra being a large part of it, the minister seemed to take the bait. Under his hemlet he allowed himself a thin smile, remembering how Aresco and Grint had tried to arrest a simple merchant for treason. If the minister really didn´t know about this...then Ezra might cause some trouble in Lothal´s upper echelons. And it gave him at least a glimmer of hope, if someone in the position of the minister cared for such things enough that she might even do something about it. Ezra would love to hear how Aresco and Glint got taken out by the Empire...that would save them the work to do so later down the road...and if Kallus got distracted with internal problems, that would make it just easier to get his decoder. 

Minister Tua seemed a bit lost in thought and didn´t complain when Ezra quietly made his way out. She would look into the commandante and see if that cadet had just handed her a plate full of shit...or if members of the imperial military abused their position for personal gain and by that probably created the unrest that haunted Lothal in the first place.

[ezrasarm]

Hello! I was re-reading Rapture (again!! I love it!!) And I finally decided to ask for something from you just for me. I'd absolutely love Ezra to take me into a beautiful field at sunset and maybe read some of his favourite books to me in THAT voice hnngh. Whether it gets smutty is up to you. Bonus points if Cee thinks we're gross :-)

I’ll Be You, Be Me

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Word count: 1.1K

Request: Above + Fictional Kiss Prompt 12: a hoarse whisper “kiss me”

Warnings: 10 ply super soft fluff, Ezra’s voice deserves a warning of its own

A/N: Oh my god! Again? You’re too sweet and I love hearing from you! I know this took me a while to get around to. I’ve been so busy these past couple weeks and I’ve had a few other projects on the go that have been taking up the rest of my time… hopefully you’ll get to hear more on that in the not too distant future but for now please enjoy this little somethin’ somethin’ just for you (and I hope you’ll forgive me for merging both your requests but I saw an opportunity and took it 🤷‍♀��😂). Also, anything in italics was NOT written by me. It’s a quote by Jean-Paul Sartre (the original source of which I spent hours searching for to no avail ☹️) but I thought it fit just right so here it is.

His voice, rich and deep, was almost as warm and soothing as the sunlight itself. Now low in the sky, the sun’s caress was still balmy enough to make your muscles feel heavy with comfortable lethargy. Only offset by an occasional silk-like breeze, the rolling hills of tall grass seemed to dance in the soft golden rays as you felt yourself sink into Ezra’s chest, which thrummed against your back with every melodious note he spoke.

“You stand there, you look at them, you touch them, you are warm, you are full of light,” Content in his embrace, the way the words spilled off his tongue wrapped around you, held you close to him, almost as steadily as the strong arm enveloping your waist. Completely transfixed. It compelled you to cling to every utterance that passed his lips.

“and you are not myself. It’s intolerable.” He crooned through his embellished drawl. He had a talent for reading aloud. For making the words dance off the page and form elaborate vignettes in your head. For turning prose to poetry and poetry to song with skillfully measured pauses and inflections.

“I cannot understand why we are still two people. I should like to become you, and still remain myself.” He went on. This, you were sure, was bliss, as you felt his face nuzzle into the nape of your neck, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing soft circles along the skin exposed just under the hem of your shirt.

You had convinced yourself this wasn’t possible. That any chance of a partner, a lasting relationship, some semblance of a family, simply wasn’t in the cards for you. Yet here you were, so tangled in the remaining limbs of the man you loved that you could hardly tell where he ended and you began anymore.

Though the circumstances that led to your introduction may not have been ideal you had both grown to joke that had it not been for the loss of his arm you two would have never met. It was that, after all, which caused his radical change in career path. That led him to the agricultural planet of Urun and that caused him to take up employment on the sprawling ranch you had recently come to acquire. Turns out raising cattle and growing grain required far less fine motor skills than the tedious retrieval of aurelac he had busied himself with before. And with that, he traded in his career for a new kind of harvest.

“Are you still listening, my lark?” Ezra murmured against the shell of your ear when the page didn’t turn the moment he ran out of words to read. His breath tingling across your skin made the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention and caused a welcome shiver to run down your spine. You hadn’t even realized your gaze softening to darkness as your eyelids drooped heavily into your line of vision but here you were being pulled from a state somewhere between waking and sleep.

“Mhmm,” You hummed in return but the quiet yawn that fought its way past your lips did nothing to convince him.

“I hadn’t realized I was boring you,” he huffed through mock offence, an amused smile tugging at his lips that caused an abrupt burst of laughter to bubble from deep in your belly.

“You could never.” You assured him, your fingers coming to lace in the hand which he had splayed across your stomach as you turned to get a better look at him. “It was just...” your words failed you as you attempted to define the unbelievable sense of calm, safety, love and comfort that had become so palpable you could hardly bring yourself to move for fear of breaking it.

“I know.” He said the words with the same tenderness as one would say ‘I love you’. As though in that moment he could read every thought that passed through your mind. His eyes darted back and forth between your own as he studied the way the golden light outlined your features with a kind of fondness you'd had yet to see from him until now. The kind of fondness that came out the other end of disbelief. That sunk in as he realized this was his life now. That this, as dreamlike as it was, wasn’t going to slip through his fingers any time soon.

“Kiss me.” The words were hardly audible as you noticed the way his gaze dropped down to your lips. You weren’t quite sure when but his hand had found the junction where your jaw met your neck and his thumb brushed across the swell of your bottom lip before coming to trace the edge of your jaw admiringly. His nose nudged against your own in a playful gesture that made your mouth tug upwards at the corners. Then his lips were pressed against yours. It was soft. Gentle, yet forceful and all consuming as your lips glided nimbly over one another. Your fingertips had abstractedly come to press into soft flesh just above his hip while your other hand played with the strands of overgrown hair at the nape of his neck. You’d gotten so caught up in the pure euphoria of the moment that you could have easily missed the sound of the book slamming shut behind you, but it was enough to make you jump apart.

“Ugh, You guys are adorable.” Cee spoke from where she herself had had her headphones on, face buried in the notebook that she had been scribbling in furiously. She was so quiet you’d completely forgotten she was there. “It makes me want to puke.” She groaned before clamouring to her feet. You didn’t miss the ever so slightly skewed smirk that toyed on her face as she turned to trudge off in the direction of the house.

“We should probably start thinking about putting dinner together.” You went to excuse yourself, motioning to extract yourself and follow Cee back up the hill but his arm had gripped around your waist again. It was firmer this time as he tugged you back into him, shaking his head as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder and peppered it with a few fleeting kisses.

“Just a moment longer.” He hummed, and who were you to deny him that?

Masterlist

Taglist: @agirllovespasta @chaoticspaceidiot  @engineeredfiction  @pedropascalito  @dreamgirl-67  @wickedfrsgrl  @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin @yespolkadotkitty @wille-zarr @chaotic-noceur @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @opheliaelysia

[basura2319]

Who lives, who dies

Pairing: Rex x reader (gender neutral)

Anonymous said:

“Hey! I’ve recently gotten back into the clone wars and Rex has stolen my heart 😂 would you be willing to do a Rex x Jedi!Reader but with a bit of angst where it’s older Rex in the Rebels series and he talks about the reader to Ezra? I hope that made sense 😂”

WC: 2.5K

Warnings: Takes place in Rebels, Ezra being nosy, angst, character death, blood, *S7 spoilers for tcw finale*, and things in italics are flashbacks.

A/N: I hope I did this fic some justice and sorry for making you wait so long. I had to force myself to rewatch the last episode a second time because that episode really messed me up, anyone else feel that way?

Rex never thought that he would be serving again since the Clone Wars. But times were changing and ever since the Ghost Crew came to him for help, he thought long and hard about joining a cause like the Rebellion. And when he did, it made him feel almost happy that he was doing something purposeful again. Something he’s choosing to be a part of. But at the same time, whenever he went on missions and saw rebels dying, ones he grew newly acquainted with, it brought back tons of memories he spent so much time on Seelos trying to repress.

Memories of his dying brothers, of Anakin and Ahsoka, and especially of you. Which was why he was outside of Chopper Base. Sleep eluded him right now and on those days when couldn’t sleep, he went outside to sit underneath Atollon’s night sky to think.

He sat on one of the crates by the shooting range and pulled out a hologram. With shaky hands, he turns it on and a tentative smile falls onto his lips at the image he sees.

It was a hologram of him—his younger self—and you, smiling at each other. Judging by the clothes you both wore, someone could look at the hologram and never guess that he was a soldier and you were a Jedi knight. But you were more than just a Jedi; you were his love. His everything. And this hologram, Rex thought, was his most prized possession. Because showed it a time in his life when he was in utter bliss. A feeling he would never have again.

Rex felt tears begin to build up as he gazes over your face again for the thousandth time. The light in your (e/c) eyes as you look to Rex and the crinkle on the edges of your eyes as you smiled. He remembered the day this hologram was taken. You convinced Rex to join you on a night around Coruscant. You had been the one to take the image without his knowing and you gave him a copy of it to keep. Since then, he has kept it with him at all times, as it is the only thing he has to remember you by.

He blinks the wetness in his eyes away. How he wished things turned out different. If only he believed Fives. If only he didn’t answer that incoming call from the Chancellor. If only they got out of the blazing cruiser fast enough. If only—

CRASH!

Rex immediately clicked the hologram shut and reached for his blaster, aiming at whatever made the crates behind him, he noted, fall over.

“Whose there” He growled. “Show yourself.”

It was probably those Atollon spiders again. How did they get inside the base?

“Relax! It’s just me!” said a panicked voice behind the crates. “Ezra!”

Rex sighed in relief. It was just the kid.

“What are you doing here?” asked Rex in exasperation, giving the boy a stern glare.

“I would ask you the same thing,” Ezra replied with raised brow. “Seeing as how you’re just…sitting here, doing what exactly?”

“That is none of your business,” said Rex sternly.

“Okay then,” he said sheepishly. “Well I guess my being here is none of your business so—”

“Ezra.”

“Alright,” he groaned. “I came out here to practice my lightsaber forms, see.” He waved his lightsaber around as proof. “And well…”

Ezra stared at the ground in shame. “And then I saw you by yourself a-and I didn’t mean to spy on you. I was—”

“Kid,” sighed Rex, feeling a slight tingle of warmth reach his face. “It’s alright.”

Rex shouldn’t feel embarrassed. It’s not like he could in trouble for possessing the only image of you he had. And it’s not like Ezra understood the context of what he saw.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped seeing the way Ezra looked at him. Something akin to concern? Pity? The young boy looked as if he had more to say.

“Something wrong?”

“No—it’s,” Ezra said hesitantly. “That person—in that hologram— I know them.”

Rex furrowed his brows in confusion. “How?” You died before Ezra was born.

“Kanan has these holo-recordings he’s been showing me,” Ezra began. “They’re mainly Jedi Knights teaching how to do a certain form. I saw them teaching a session on how to do the Soresu form, their name, I think, is—”

“Jedi Knight (Y/N) (L/N),” Rex finished hoarsely. The first time in a while since he had said your name out loud.

“You don’t have to answer this,” Ezra said with a curious tone in his voice. “But, did you work with them?”

Rex smiled, recalling all the adventures you both had. “I did, in fact (Y/N) was part of Torrent Company.”

He sat back down on the crate and so did Ezra. “I met them a little after I met Commander Tano.” He chuckled. “They came in to save our forces after the disastrous stunt we pulled off in Felucia. Had they not came in to rescue us, we would have died trying to fend off those clankers.”

Rex, in his mind, remembered it all. You coming out of nowhere with  gunships, screaming at Anakin to fall back. He recalled Skywalker being almost stunned at your presence.

“What are you doing all the way out here (Y/N),” Rex remembered Anakin asking you as they got inside the gunships.

“Here to save your ass,” you commented back. “Only this time from a battlefield instead of from Master Kenobi.”

Anakin chuckled. “Always with the quip remarks.”

“We both trained together since we were kids,” you stated with an arched brow. “Why are you surprised?”

“So you’re a general now?” he asked.

“No,” you answered with a knowing grin. “But I am assigned to one.”

“No way!”

You threw your head back and laughed. “You better believe it.”

“Well then, I should introduce to my second in command, other than you,” he said, smirking at the offended huff you made. “Meet Captain Rex.”

He remembered you reaching out to him as you hung to the straps of the gunship to shake his hand. “Hello Captain, I’m (Y/N) (L/N), but please call me (Y/N).”

He was so entranced by your smile that he almost forgot you were speaking to him.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N),” he said, silently thanking the force that he had his helmet on so you couldn’t see the tinge of red in his cheeks. “And please, call me Rex.”

Rex smiled at the memory. “(Y/N) was a very clever Jedi, but most importantly they were compassionate. They treated us clones like equals and was always there to listen and understand our grievances.”

“They sound amazing,” Ezra replied. “I would’ve loved to meet them.”

Rex paused. “I think (Y/N) would’ve loved to train you and certainly wouldn’t hesitate for a second to be apart of this rebellion if they knew what became of the Republic we both swore to protect.”

His smile disappeared. He really wished you were here to see this.

Ezra looked to Rex with sadness. He could feel the clone veteran’s grief so strongly and could also feel his love for you; just like how he could feel the love between his parents as a kid before the Empire took that all away.

“They didn’t make because if the order did they?”

“No…” said Rex hoarsely. “If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t even be here…”

Everything fell apart after Mandalore.

He had no idea he was going to be forced to kill (Y/N) and Ahsoka by just one simple command that was enough to overpower his senses.

While Ahsoka managed to escape the blaster fire from him and his men, he was relieved to learn after his chip was removed that you were in your quarters when the order happen, giving you time to hide in the vents.

He was so afraid that his men might’ve gotten you. But he could see the fear and realization on your face when he woke up from his chip removal.

“Fives…” you said in a hushed voice as you three ran to open the hangar doors. “He was right about everything.”

Rex reached for your hand and gave a hard squeeze. “I know, but it weren’t for him, I would’ve killed…”

He couldn’t say it. The thought of you or Ahsoka being executed out of his own will, he—

He just didn’t want to imagine it.

But things worsened. The cruiser was beginning to break apart as they got out of hyperspace and the cruiser was on its way to crashing on a moon.

His men. His brothers who he loved so much, were all waiting for them at the main hangar. Willing to kill themselves trying to complete the mission.

Tears were streaming down his face as he argued this realization to you and Ahsoka.

You knew more than anyone how he felt. Removing his helmet, you pressed you forehead against his in affection. “Rex…it’s okay. I know your brothers. Ahsoka and I know that they are good soldiers and this isn’t their fault.”

He knew they might not have a chance in finding a ship and leaving, but he went with the plan of trying to reason with Jesse, his little vod, on not killing you or Ahsoka. But Rex already knew his brother was long gone, lost somewhere in his mind. He was desperate when it didn’t work and they kept firing at them.

To add to the ongoing mess of things, their chance of escape was taken away by Maul when he took the last remaining shuttle.

They were reaching the moon’s surface rapidly and running out of time.

“Wait,” you called out to Rex. “I see another unharmed ship. There!” You pointed to the Y-wing bomber.

You deflected the blaster shots away as you three ran towards it. Using the force, you wasted no time in pushing Rex towards the ship and jumping your way over.

“There’s only two seats!” exclaimed Rex in panic. “What do we do?”

Your heart seized at the problem. You looked over at Ahsoka who you realized didn’t make it over to the ship, still trying to hold the clones back. She wasn’t going to last long.

“Rex…” you called out, voice strained.

He looked to you, face contorted in anxiety. “What is it?”

You took his helmet off so you could stare at his face one last time. “You know that I love you, right?” you said breathlessly. “More than anything, more than life itself…”

“Y/N stop—“

You kissed him, one last time, savoring his lips as tears leaked from your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”  

You shut the cockpit canopy before he could stop you. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

He was screaming your name and it broke your heart in two. Rex tried opening the canopy but it was too late.

“Ahsoka go!” You force pushed the clones out of the way and continued to deflect your lightsaber against their firing.

“No, I’m not—”

You didn’t let her finish. Using your remaining strength, you push your friend towards the ship. Rex felt the cruiser begin to tilt, watching how it made you lose your balance and fall towards the opening of the hangar. The cruisers billowing speed and harsh winds caused the Y-wing bomber to fly out before Rex and Ahsoka had a chance to help you.

As Rex gained control of the ship, he maneuvered through the rubble trying to see if you were alive, possibly hanging onto debris. He didn’t see you. Instead moments later, he found your mangled body in the debris along with his brothers.

He fell to his knees, gathering your body in his arms and wept. His watery eyes gazed at your form, noting the blood matted on your head that must’ve been from something blunt that collided with your head. The dried blood from your nose and mouth. And the most haunting thing of all was your (e/c) eyes, staring lifelessly at the sky.

It only made him cry out in anguish.

Ahsoka watched from afar as her friend mourn, silently crying at everything that went down. She felt the connection between her and her master die and now, you were gone too. To save her and Rex.

Rex reached a shaky hand over to close your eyes. He didn’t want to leave you here, but what choice did he have? Someone was going to come to evaluate the site soon. They had to leave.

Rex and Ahsoka took one last look at the burial site they made and left with a creeping feeling of numbness. When they went into orbit, Rex stared at the moon below while reaching for his necklace that held the hologram of you he hid under his shirt.

Pressing the device to his lips he whispered, “I love you… and I forgive you, my cyare”

They made the jump to hyperspace, uncertain of what their future would entail now.

***

“Did you ever go back to the crash site?” Ezra asked a little after Rex finished talking.

“No,” sighed Rex. “The place for all I know could be swarming with Imperial probe droids or they probably took whatever they deemed important.”

Ezra reached over to put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I might not know (Y/N), but from what you’ve told me, I think they would be proud of where you are now.”

Rex smiled at the young Jedi. “I’d like to think so too.”

***

All beings become one with the Force after death.

That’s what you’ve been told along with all Jedi.

Yet you didn’t feel like you were apart of the Force. Sure you could feel it binding you, but it was nothing like you’ve imagined. You thought that after death, you wouldn’t recall your past life, but you did. Or that you wouldn’t be aware of anything that’s happening in the universe.

You are able to see and acknowledge what’s become of this universe. And you're horrified of it. You’re horrified of what you know.

The only thing you’re thankful for is that the one’s you cared about made it out alive.

Ahsoka, you gathered, is following a path you knew suited her apart from the Jedi ways and you couldn’t be even more happy for her.

As for Rex, you never left his side after death, just not in the way you expected. He couldn’t see you. No one could unless they were Jedi. But that only happened when you wanted to be seen.

But you’ve watched over him after all this time and watched his struggle in adjusting to a new life as a free man. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel his guilt though. His guilt that he lived whereas his brothers didn’t and lastly, his guilt over you.

You were filled with sadness whenever he grieved over you, like what he was doing now. Sitting by himself, staring at the hologram you gifted him.

You hated that you couldn’t talk to him or that you couldn’t give him some sort of comfort. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but oh how you couldn’t wait to speak to him to again. It’s only a matter of time.

For now, all you can do now is be in his presence, wishing he knew you were here.

[smarchit]

Poetry for an Heiress, Chapter 4

Summary:  When a duchess and her children are abandoned far from home, they must rely on the kindness of one stranger to guide them home. 

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: None (For this chapter)

Three weeks or so after your arrival, as promised, you allowed Ezra to take the boys fishing if they were all well behaved. Aside from a week or so prior when Aiden had tormented Marie with a fat little grub, they had been absolute angels. They helped you whenever you asked, and helped Ezra sometimes even before he would ask. 

"Tomorrow, perhaps," Ezra said one evening after dinner. He rested his hand in his lap and looked across the table at the children. "I think tomorrow is a marvelous day for fishing."

Henry and Aiden gasped excitedly and looked at one another before they turned to Ezra. 

"Really!" Aiden cried, bouncing on his feet. "Do you mean it? We can go fishing!"

"Of course," Ezra said, his expression serious. "I did make a promise to you, did I not? And your mother did say if you were exceptionally well-behaved, you could go."

Two eager faces turned to you, as if for confirmation of this monumental declaration. 

"We shall all go," you said with a smile. "We can pack a picnic lunch and books to read for tomorrow."

Marie gasped and clapped her hands as the boys let out triumphant cries and hugged you tightly. 

"Easy, easy," Ezra warned gently. "Don't squeeze the life out of your poor mother. Come on, let's get these dishes cleaned and you boys can help me get things ready."

Marie climbed down from her chair and gathered up her plate and cup before placing both in the wash tub. She turned to you as you collected Ezra's silverware in your hands. "Mama," she said, trying to be as polite as she could be. "Can I go help Henry and Aiden and Mr. Ezra?"

"For a bit," you said, placing the dishes in the basin. "It's almost bedtime for little bugs."

Marie pouted and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not sleepy, mama. Please? Can I please go help?"

You smiled and crouched down to her height. You gently took her hands in your own and kissed her palms. She looked so much like you, according to your mother. You were hard to convince, for you always saw your husband's eyes staring back at you with curiosity. It had always been hard to look at your children, to see him when he was no longer there. 

Now, it felt like you were healing. There was no longer an ache in your heart when you thought of him. Going into his study, exactly the way he had left it, no longer caused you to break down. Looking at your children didn't fill you with an overwhelming sense of  grief. 

Your children had never known their father. Not enough to remember him, anyway. Marie never even lived in the same world as he did. 

Was it time for you to finally move on? It would have been what he wanted for you - happiness. A life.

"My darling," you said, stroking your thumb along her rounded cheek. "I think that is a splendid idea."

"Perfectly splendid," Marie repeated with a smile. She wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed your cheek. After a moment she skipped off to join the boys outside.

For a moment, you stood by the small kitchen window and watched Marie run to where her brothers and Ezra were huddled together in the yard. Ezra was so patient with them. He never raised his voice or got frustrated. It was like he was meant for this.

And, oh, the children loved him. They didn't even need to tell you. You just knew. You could see it in their eyes. They did tell you though, quite often, as a matter of fact. Almost every day they told you how they wanted to stay on Muir forever and explore like Mr. Ezra.

Outside, Ezra picked up Marie and rested her on his hip, his arm wrapped around her as she clung to him. She squealed with laughter as he motioned with a jerk of the head for the boys to follow him to the barn.

*

"You'll want to be very quiet so as not to disturb the fish," Ezra explained, keeping his voice hushed for emphasis. He looked at the twins with their homemade fishing poles and grinned. 

You were watching from the shore, safe and dry on the picnic blanket you'd dug out early that morning. Marie was beside you as she read her picture book, sounding the words out loud as best she could. 

Warm sunlight filtered through the trees and a cool breeze lifted the lace sleeves of your dress from your shoulders. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day, just as Ezra had predicted. 

"Careful now, son," Ezra warned, reaching towards Aiden. "You go whipping that pole around and you're liken to catch your brother in the seat of his pants with the fishing hook."

You saw that mischievous glint in Aiden's eyes and he grinned. You just raised a brow and stared at him until he caught your eye. He looked away suddenly, the gleam disappearing as quickly as it arrived.

"Mama," Marie mumbled, tapping on your arm. "What's this word?" She pointed to a word in her book and looked up at you expectantly.

"Sound it out," you encouraged, looking at the book. You helped her follow along with your finger as she sounded the word out.

"A... art-eye-kick?" she stammered, uncertain and shaky in tone.

"Not bad," you said with a smile. "It's 'arctic,' you said. "Try it again."

"Arr-tic," she repeated, sliding her finger under the word. "Better?"

You chuckled. "Better. There's three sounds, not two. But you did a wonderful job, little bug."

Marie beamed and then looked down at her book again. "What about this word?"

"Penguin," you hummed, sparing a glance down at the word and accompanying illustration.

"What's that?"

"An animal that was around a very long time ago," you explained. "Some of them are probably still around a very long way from here."

"It's got funny hair, mama," she said with a giggle as she, pointed to the picture. "Like Mr. Ezra's!"

You laughed softly and ruffled her hair a bit as you glanced up at Ezra. He was watching you both out of the corner of his eye, a warm smile on his face. "Mr. Ezra doesn't look like a penguin!" 

"I am inclined to agree with you," Ezra called to you as he recast his net. "Though one can't argue with her solid logic, Princess."

You smiled and leaned back on your elbows to enjoy the sunlight. The morning dew was still cool enough to wet your skin as you dug your bare toes into the soft grass.

Henry and Aiden had figured out the basics of casting a line fairly easily, it seemed, and soon they were wading towards the slightly deeper water to cast their lines, despite your better judgement. With the two of them with their poles and Ezra with a small net, they were sure to catch something for dinner. 

You pulled your book out of the picnic basket and opened it up to where you had left off from the previous night. The gentle sound of the water made for a pleasant background noise to accompany your reading and it was easy to lose yourself in the story. It was a scandalous romance, your book. An eager young woman keeping a secret romance with a stone-hearted mercenary - wholly obscene and tender all at once. It was a story you would have stuffed under the mattress as a girl to keep your grandmother from finding out about it. You found yourself imagining it were you in that scenario. It had always happened when you read books like that. It used to be your husband as the object of the heroine's affections, but now, someone else was slowly taking the place of the brooding mercenary. 

As if he were sensing your thoughts, Ezra called for your attention, his hand gripping the net tightly as he stood knee deep in the water.

"Princess, I believe we have our first catch of the day!" Ezra exclaimed as he tugged the net out of the water. Trapped in the net was a shiny little fish, about the length of Ezra's forearm. It shone pink and green, sparkling in the sun as it flapped in its confines.

"You mean you didn't catch anything bigger?" Aiden asked as he recast his line. "That's so small!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me, sir, I forgot you were a fishing expert," Ezra chided, walking towards the bank. He dropped the net to the ground and watched the fish as it flopped around for a bit.

You laughed and closed your book before standing. The grass gave way to gravel and mud as you approached the bank where Ezra stood over his catch.

"What do you think?" Ezra asked, nodding down at his net. 

"Oh yes," you replied. "Maybe a few dozen more of these and we can make something with it."

"Your words cut like a knife, Princess," he teased, putting his hand over his heart. "Bring that box over here, would you? I want to keep this little one fresh. One catch is better than none."

You brought the box over to him and pried open the lid. The smell coming out of it was horrific, but you didn't comment as Ezra tossed the fish inside. 

"Are you boys alright for a moment by yourselves?" Ezra asked. "I want to have a word with your mother."

"Yes, Mr. Ezra," Henry replied. He recast his line and tried his best to keep still, just as he was told so as not to disturb any fish. 

You looked at Ezra, confused by his request to speak in private. He led you by a gentle hand at your elbow over to a small cluster of trees, still well within view of the children, but far enough that you wouldn't be disturbed or overheard.

"What is this about, Ezra?" you asked, worry evident in your voice. "What's wrong?"

Ezra lifted his hand and shook his head. "No, no, nothing is wrong," he said quickly. He bit his lip and sighed for a moment before continuing. "It's just that... do you remember how I told you about that supply freighter that comes through about once a month or so? Well, it turns out that we won't be getting that freighter for quite some time. I found out from Jacinta down at the store yesterday morning. She's been---"

Ezra's words faded into a drone in the background, drowned out by a roar in your ears. You felt your heart sink to your stomach and you reached out to steady yourself against the tree. The air felt like it had been pushed from your lungs and you stared blankly at Ezra as you tried to comprehend what he had just told you.

He reached out to steady you, his hand firmly on your waist to keep you upright. "Woah, Princess. Stay with me now. It's gonna be alright, understand? I have a plan for how you and your flock are going to get home. It might take some time, but I can get you there."

"How?" you asked. Your voice cracked and Ezra winced at how afraid you sounded. You looked over at your children, carefree and happy, and then back at Ezra, who was watching you with a worried expression. "How are you going to get us home?"

"I haven't fully fleshed out all those fine details yet, Princess, but I am making a promise to you right here, right now, that you will safely get back home." Ezra rubbed a soothing circle with his thumb on your hip and you reached down to put your hand over his. Thinking you were going to push his hand away, he began to pull back, but you grabbed his hand and held it tight. He looked a little surprised, but then smiled softly. "I won't abandon you, I promise. I will do whatever it takes."

You took a deep, shaky breath and then nodded. "Alright. I trust you. What shall I do to help you?"

Ezra chuckled. "You're asking what you can do to help me, help you? That can get confusing if we aren't careful, so for now, let's just say the only thing I want you to do is not tell your flock. We don't want them to be worried too."

You brushed your fingers against Ezra's hand and sighed. He was right, you figured. If you told them, then there would be no chance in trying to calm the children down. Might as well not say anything in the first place.

Ezra smiled and then chuckled as he looked at you. "I would fly you home myself, Princess. It's just a little more complicated than that. But what's life without tests?"

"There's purpose to those tests," you replied. "Often there's rewards that come with them."

Ezra smiled, his eyes flicking across your face. He pulled his hand from your hip, your own fingers dragging against his.

You looked over at the boys as they stood like little sentries in the shallows and motioned for Ezra to walk with you back to the picnic blanket. He held out his arm for you to take and you looped your arm through his as you wandered back. His touch comforted the frantic racing of your heart. 

Marie was sound asleep, her book open to a page on people who used to live in houses made of ice, her thumb pulled between her lips. It was something she never fully kicked from infancy, one that your grandmother had often scolded you for as a mother and tried to force your daughter from continuing the habit. You didn't mind it though. If it was the only negative habit she ever developed, she would be far better off than half the population of the galaxy. You never thought it a glaring issue and therefore never corrected it. It infuriated your grandmother.

Both you and Ezra took a seat on the blanket on either side of Marie. He stretched his legs out and sighed happily as he looked around.

"You really did pick out a perfect spot for picnicking, Princess," he hummed contentedly. He looked down at Marie and chuckled softly. "Your little one here seems to be enjoying it too."

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the birdsong and the sound of the water.

"May I ask you a question, Ezra?" you inquired, looking over at him. When he nodded, you continued. "A while ago you mentioned med vacs come maybe once a month if you're lucky. What do you do if someone is in danger?"

"Field medicine, typically," he replied, watching the boys recast their lines. "Though sometimes your standard bullet is more merciful than any doctor. But when on a job, one must choose the best option given the situation."

"Is that what happened," you asked, gesturing at his missing arm. "That is, of course if you don't mind my asking? Forgive me if I don't believe the story that you told the children a few days ago. It's been eating away at my curiosity."

Ezra grinned and raised the stump of his arm, inspecting the neatly pinned shirt sleeve. "Not at all. This was the result of a rather unfortunate incident out on the Green - one of Bakhroma's moons, see? Had a run in with another prospector whose eyes were bigger than his brain. So I shot him and his daughter shot me in retaliation, thinking I was out to harm her."

You nodded and scooted a bit closer, waiting to hear more. This was the first time Ezra was sharing something with you about his past. Despite the fact that he rarely stopped talking, he often fell silent when you inquired about him. 

"We traveled together for a while, her and I, all the while my arm was festering in the dust. The Green kills, see? It gets inside and rots you from the inside out. Eats away at you. After a few agonizing cycles, I had no choice. It was life or limb. So the girl did the only thing that she could do, and I commend her for her steady hands and even steadier nerve."

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I can't even imagine what that was like."

Ezra simply shrugged. He had a distant look in his eyes,  as if he were trying to distance himself from the whole story. "She saved my life, such as it is, but in doing so, she created a whole new ordeal. See, no one wants to hire a one-armed harvester. Major liability, apparently. So here I am."

"And what about the girl?"

Ezra chuckled and hummed as he reminisced. "Cee is much better off than when I first met her. Went back to Central for school. She drops by every now and then - makes sure I'm not getting into any trouble." 

He leaned back on his elbow and looked out across the creek to where the boys were fishing and smiled in spite of the story he just regaled you with.

"What is it?" you asked softly, not wanting to break his thought.

He shook his head and smiled slightly. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Not once had you ever heard Ezra not want to continue talking. It stunned you and you almost wondered if you'd done something to offend him. Perhaps asking him about what happened brought up too many bad memories for him to handle. 

But Ezra turned back to you then and rested his hand on the blanket between you, picking idly at a loose string. "What are you gonna do when you get home? Back to your old life?"

You hadn't expected him to ask that question, and quite frankly, you didn't really have an answer. 

"I'm not sure," you said, drawing your knees to your chest. "I suppose I'll go back to my duties as duchess. The children will go back to their lessons and I will simply pick up where I left off, I suppose..." You trailed off, suddenly realizing how boring it all seemed compared to the last few weeks on the farm. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you turned your head and brushed them away, not wanting him to see. 

"Do you want that?" he asked softly.

"O-of course I do," you stammered, your hand still raised to try and hide your tears. You found yourself caught off guard by his question. "Why wouldn't I? The children, they--"

"Hey now," Ezra soothed, reaching for your hand. "It's alright. I didn't mean to upset you. I understand you need to go back. I do."

You looked at him and sighed. There had been a weight on your chest for some time that you couldn't place the source of. Perhaps it was years of expectations and unreasonable standards you had been held to since you were Marie's age. Perhaps it was the constant pressure for you to raise your children like your husband hadn't died, that he was only away for a while. Whatever that weight was, it vanished as soon as Ezra squeezed your hand. 

"You don't need to let anyone tell you what to do," he said, turning on the blanket to look at you. "Or where to go, how to raise your own children, anything like that. You are free to make your own choices, Princess."

"How is it you always know just what to say?" you murmured, your voice thick with held back tears. "I am finding that to be true, though. These last few weeks have shown that to me. I am trying to be a good mother to my children."

"You are," he said softly. Ezra smiled and brushed his thumb against your knuckles. He looked down at your hands and then up at your face. It looked like he wanted to say something else, but he was interrupted by a triumphant cheer from the river. You both looked over at the boys, who were rushing back towards the bank, one fish dangling from Aiden's hook. 

"Mama! Mama!" he cried excitedly as he dashed towards you. "Look, mama! I caught a fish!"

Both you and Ezra stood up to meet him as he rushed over to show you his catch. The fish was a little longer than the one Ezra had caught, still with those shiny pink and green scales. 

"Oh, that's wonderful, darling!" you said, bending down to admire the fish. "He's beautiful, isn't he? We will have a feast, won't we?"

Aiden grinned and held the fish aloft for you and Ezra to look at. He looked incredibly pleased with himself.

"You mean you didn't catch anything bigger?" Ezra teased, parroting Aiden's earlier exclamation. He flashed you a wink and then laughed at the flabbergasted expression on Aiden's face. "I'm just pulling your leg, son, don't worry. You did an excellent job. Go ahead and throw it in this here cooler so we can take it home later."

Aiden carefully removed the hook like Ezra had taught him and placed it gently in the cooler beside Ezra's. He grabbed his fishing pole and looked up at you expectantly. "I'm gonna go see if I can catch more!"

"Be careful, my darling," you called after him. "Don't slip!"

As the day wore on, the cooler slowly filled with fish. Most were a standard size, according to Ezra, and some were smaller, about the size of your hand. Both were exceptional in taste as far as river fish went, or so Ezra claimed. You figured you could make just about anything palatable with the dried herbs from the garden. 

Late in the afternoon, long after lunch had been eaten and the children had exhausted themselves from playing in the river, it was getting ready to go back to the farm. You had to stop yourself from calling it home when collecting the children. No need to get their hopes up, you figured. Later tonight after the children were put to bed, you and Ezra would need to have a long conversation about getting you all home.

Henry patiently helped you fold up the picnic blanket and gently placed back into the basket for you. He even made sure everything had been picked up from the surrounding area so you wouldn't have to. Earlier, he had caught a few fish himself, but quickly abandoned his fishing for exploring the surrounding area. 

"Maybe I could find a lost civilization!" he had said before running off. He returned a while later, his pockets stuffed with rocks and flowers. Clutched in his fist were several puffy white flowers and he handed them to you with a dramatic sweeping bow that had made you laugh. You made sure to promise him that you would be careful with them until you reached the house.

You picked up the picnic basket and gently took hold of Marie's hand as you guided her to walk in front of you towards the little path you'd traveled earlier that morning. It wasn't a far walk from the farm, but you still didn't want to risk her getting lost.

Ezra dragged the cooler behind you two, the boys hanging back with him. They loved talking to Ezra as they walked - he often pointed out animal burrows or old gem deposits from back when Muir was a mining planet. There was a little rope bridge that was suspended over a rather high gully as the river wound its way through the forest. 

"Go on, little bug," you urged, nudging Marie to cross. She whined and hesitated for a moment before she crossed, the bridge shaking and swaying as she ran. You looked back to make sure Ezra and the boys were behind you before you crossed, not wanting to leave them too far behind.

As you spotted them coming around the small turn in the path, you began to cross the bridge yourself. The wood creaked and groaned under your weight as you neared the halfway point. 

You stepped forward, wanting to get off the bridge as quickly as you could. The wood suddenly splintered and cracked and fell apart under you.

For an instant, you were weightless, suspended in midair. You saw Marie's horrified expression as she watched you from the far side. Then you were falling, falling... falling. You couldn't even scream, your breath caught in your throat and unable to escape. 

You heard the children scream in terror as you plunged into the river. Above their cries, you heard Ezra shouting your name. Not your title, not your nickname. Your name. He sounded terrified, unable to do anything but watch you fall into the water. You couldn't swim, you'd never learned how. You didn't know how this was going to end. 

You hit the water with a violent crash and as you fell deeper into the water, you frantically thrashed your arms and legs, hoping you would be able to propel yourself to the surface. After an eternity, you touched down on the muddy river bottom. You felt something grab your leg and you quickly tried to pull it free. A sharp pain shot up from your ankle and you thrashed in the grip of whatever held you there. The water was cold and murky, hindering any attempts to try and free yourself. The icy water filled your lungs as you screamed for help, the bubbles the only indication of any sound leaving you. 

As darkness closed in on you, your only thoughts were of who was going to look after your children? Would your mother ever find out what happened? Will Ezra be alright?

Ezra...

********

TAGLIST: If you want to be added, please let me know!  @phoenixhalliwell @the-feckless-wonder @lestrange2703 @huliabitch @miscellaneous-mando @gallowsjoker

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Hey you! Ok how about Pedro’s characters and the first time they wink at you. ILY and thank you 🙈

Hey babes! I simultaneously love and hate you for this ask because jfc winking irl is so fucking skeezy but, as with a lot of things I previously thought I despised, when Pedro does it I get a little weak in the knees lol. So now I have an excuse to comb through every gif of him winking. You know. For research. For SCIENCE. (Under the cut, cause fucking HELL. This got loooooong.)

(Gif made by @djjarindin )

Whiskey- On your very first day as a Statesman you make the dubious acquaintance of Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels. You’re standing at the window of your new office, flipping one of your knives in the air idly, when a handsome man in tight blue jeans and a black Stetson saunters in without so much as a by your leave. His grin is lazy, charming, and you acknowledge, in the deepest recesses of your hind brain, incredibly enticing.

“Well howdy there, darling,” he greets, thumbs hooked in the front of his belt, drawing your gaze to- is that a flask on his belt buckle? His mustache twitches up on one side as he notices that your eyes landed exactly where he had intended.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing playing with those pig stickers? You could hurt yourself with knives like that.” He steps closer to you, one hand leaving his belt to brace against the window next to your head so he can lean further into your space.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing playing with those pistols you’ve got under your jacket or that lasso at your hip,” you reply coolly, not backing away from his intrusion into your space. His raises his and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Well touché, kitten.” He bends a little at his knees to catch your eyes better and suggests softly in a voice that 90% of you demands you to listen to, “How’s about you and I get outta here and I can give you a tour of the place? Maybe, show you the ropes?” And he then winks at you.

That last 10% of your willpower has something to say to his blatant attempt at getting into your pants.

You slap him.

Javier Peña- You had been warned by more than one person that feminism hadn’t really made its way to Columbia yet when you accepted the portion to field agent and transferred down to the DEA office in Bogota. It was 1990 however, and you kind of expected the Americans you worked with to at least be a little more on board with the times.

That was on you, men were men it seemed, American or Columbian.

The tall blond who introduced himself as Murphy seemed nice enough, he was friendly and a little distracted, and he sounded almost apologetic as he led you further into the office to meet the other member of your team.

“Well hello there, sugar,” a man a couple of inches shorter than Steve greeted you from where he had been leaning on a desk by the door. He stood up straight and sauntered- there was really no other word for how pants that tight made a man walk- closer to the two of you, a wide smile stretched his mustache over his handsome face and showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh lord. One of those men.

“Javi this is-“ Murphy started, clearly trying to diffuse a potential situation but the man interrupted him, and his hand reached for yours, holding it a little longer than necessary.

“A girl too pretty for your married ass to be talking to, Steve.” He still had your hand in between his two large warm ones and you filed that information away for use at a later, much more solitary time. He had the audacity to wink at you and you sighed and rolled your eyes. Ah well.

“I’m your new partner.” Guess feminism still has some strides to make no matter what the nationality of idiot male.

Ezra- You had been stuck on this interminably brown moon for a week and you were going stir crazy. You and your still new partner had landed in a manner that was less than gentle or correct on this nameless rock, and not only was your landing gear bent at an angle a university mathematician would have trouble describing, Ezra couldn’t get the damn thing to start again. 

You weren’t any sort of mechanic by nature, that was one of the things he brought to the table, so until Ezra managed to repair whatever was wrong with this hunk of junk the two of you were still paying off, you were stuck sitting on your hands doing nothing. You had no particular desire to go traipsing around this rock by yourself, protection was one of the other things the man added to your partnership, as you had learned early in your mining career that that generally did not end well for people like you.

So there you sat, bored, listening to the click and clank of Ezra’s tools as he did whatever it was that you needed to do to get an impulse engine working enough to take off and dock to an FTL vessel. And listening to Ezra’s constant talking.

He was currently telling you a rather long winded, even for him and that was saying something, story about how an old partner of his woke up every morning and sanitized the floor of their pod with antibac spray before he would let any of the other four men set foot on it.

“The gentleman in question was a rather odd duck, badger,” he called out to you from half way inside the pod. “Why, in all my years and in all my travels in the black, I must avow never having seen someone so resolved on keeping the extremities of his associates so unsullied. I never cognized if his time running the stars had finally fractured his wits and this was the inevitable concomitant of a life lived as we do, or if it was a tic peculiar to him for all of his life. Still and all, one advantage I did discover at the conclusion of that particular venture: the bottoms of my socks never have been cleaner.” 

An unexpectedly loud guffaw punched its way out of your mouth and you dropped the flat rock you had been attempting to balance on a piece of the aforementioned broken landing equipment. Unfortunately, Ezra decided at that exact time to shimmy his way out from under your craft and instead of falling harmlessly back to the ground where you had found it, it bounced off of his rather distracting ass on its way down. 

He stopped moving and you were about to apologize, you really hadn’t meant to basically throw a rock at him, no matter how much he annoyed you at times, when you heard his voice float up to you again, a little amused, and a little something else that you had had occasion to notice a few times before but had never thought to classify.

“Badger, did you just take your hand to my ass?” You felt your face flush and wondered if this planet’s atmosphere wasn’t as hospitable to humans as you had thought. 

“What?!” You squeaked, voice cracking when it hit a pitch normally very much out of your range.”No! I just dropped a rock!” You heard him chuckle from your feet and refused to look at him as he shuffled all the way out from under to pod and stood to his full height in front of you. He chucked you under the chin and finally you looked up into his eyes. 

“Because darling, I strongly advocate any physical contact that you might desire to have with any part of my body you so wish, at any time of your choosing,” he told you with a wink.

Catfish- You had moved to Texas to take up residence on the ranch your grandfather had left you, not out of any real desire to take up the cowboy life. You hated how hot it was, you hated how slowly everyone talked, you hated how big the entire goddamned state was, and if one more goddamned truck managed to take up three goddamned parking spaces at the grocery store one more time you were going to throw a temper tantrum that would make all their southern asses wish they had managed to secede. 

That was how you had met Catfish (”No that isn’t my real name; no one but my mama calls me Francisco”). He had been the next asshole in a truck to take up more than what your space conscious Yankee ass had deemed his due. 

“Listen ma’am-”

“Don’t you “ma’am” me, how old are you implying I look?!”

“Sorry, miss, if you’re gonna holler at me, could we step a little further away from the truck? I just got that baby to sleep, and if she wakes up starts cryin’ again, I think I’m gonna start too.”

After a meet cute like that, it was inevitable that the two of you would hit it off as well as you did, and so a year later saw you still in a state that you were convinced was trying to kill you (hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Republicans, and rattlesnakes???), stretched out on Catfish’s beat up couch, more than a little drunk, and a lot happier than when you had left New York to come here. 

Catfish set both new bottles of beer down on the coffee table in front of you and smiled down at you with that big grin that summoned both the dimples in his cheeks and made you feel like your heart was growing four sizes larger inside your chest. He took off his ever present beat up baseball cap and tossed it on your lap. His hair was simultaneously flattened and a mess and you were sure he couldn’t look more handsome in this moment if he had an army of Hollywood stylists attack him. 

He reached down to he hem of his grey Henley and started to pull it up. 

“Whoa there cowboy!” You exclaimed with a grin, sitting up and plopping his hat onto your head for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize I was getting a show when I came over here!” He stopped with his shirt half way off his torso and looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked. 

“It’s hot as goddamned balls in here, baby, and I’m wearin’ two of these things. One of ‘em at least is comin’ off.” He pulled it off the rest of the way and straightened his first layer that had attempted to escape with its compatriot before reaching down and grabbing his hat off of your head and flopping onto the couch next to you. 

“Hey Fish, how long do you think we have before the baby wakes up?” He shrugged, his head rolling on the back of the couch o face you. 

“I dunno, darlin’, why do you ask?” You bit your lip and smiled up at him, playing with the fingers of the hand he had settled on your thigh. 

“Oh, well, you know how watching you nearly get stuck in your shirts really does it for me.” He groaned and slapped your leg lightly as you laughed. 

“I think we’ve got time for whatever you want baby. Helicopter pilots can go straight up pretty fast you know.” He told you with a wink that you were sure was supposed to be alluring. 

Oberyn Martell- The first thing you consciously noticed about Dorne was that it was hot. This was a kind of inescapable heat that permeated your entire body and made you feel like you were cooking from the inside out. You had never before given much thought to what it would feel like to be put into an oven and roasted alive, but without a doubt this is was that feeling. When you went back home to White Harbor you weren’t ever going to complain about the cold ever again.

The second thing you noticed when you put into port in Sunspear- a city quite a bit smaller than most of the cities of the upper six kingdoms the Manderlys sent your father to trade with- was that no one seemed to be wearing a lot of clothes. Which you supposed made sense because you were positively dying in yours.

You quickly changed into a pair of your brother’s breeches and a loose shirt before practically running off the ship and into the dusty warrens of the Shadow City below the walls of the Martell’s castle, eager to stretch your legs after weeks at sea and eat something other than hard tac and salted meat and fish. You figured you had at least a few hours before you would be expected to accompany your father to the castle to haggle about prices for wood and iron and silks and citrus.

The air only got hotter the further from the sea breeze you walked, and as you meandered the twisting and winding bazaars all you could smell were foreign spices and perfumes. Your head was on a swivel trying to take in the sights and sounds of a market radically different from any you had seen before when you walked into a silk covered shoulder. The shoulder belonged to a man nearly a foot taller than you and you wouldn’t have stood a chance at remaining on your feet if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and wrapped around your waist, dragging you back from your rather embarrassing descent to the dusty street and into a warm solid chest.

“I normally have to put in at least some effort in order to sweep someone off their feet, it must be my lucky day that you seem to have decided to do all the hard work for me,” an amused, accented voice said from above you. You felt every word from where your ear was plastered to the bare skin of his chest, his yellow and orange robes belted loosely enough to leave most of his golden skin exposed. You felt your face flush as you shuffled your feet, trying to get them back under you in a way that would allow you to stand and not fall on your face. The man set you back from him gently and you finally looked up

Your savior was beautiful. There wasn’t any other word to describe a face with deep set, smiling eyes that were so deep a brown you really had to look to distinguish his pupils. His nose was curved and prominent, his jaw covered with the same black hair that was cropped closer to his head than you were used to seeing in the North. And his lips were too pretty for a man. They spread into a smile as his eyes met yours, dimples appearing in his cheeks and you were smiling back before you realized it.

“Now,” he said, eyes still laughing. “You are either the worst pick pocket I’ve ever encountered or clearly too taken with the sights around you to be trusted to walk unescorted.” You hoped he never stopped speaking. His voice was deep and rich and at the same time soft and musical and no one in the woods and wilds where you had grown up spoke like he did.

“Uh, yes,” you stuttered and felt your ears burn as he smiled wider, eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hair. “I mean, no, I’m not a pick pocket! I just, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, my apologies.” You stuttered stepping further back from him, hoping maybe some more distance would restore your ability to not make an ass out of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. “Thanks for you know,” you featured vaguely at the ground.

“Oh, you’re very welcome for ‘you know’,” the man replied, somehow injecting a completely different meaning to your innocuous words than you had intended. Your face could have been used to light a campfire by now. You needed to get back and get changed before you did something truly stupid.

“Okay, well, um, sorry, again, for walking into you,” you said, backing away. “But uh, I’ve got to, uh, go...” You sort of waved and took off back the way you came, taking care not to run into any more handsome strangers.

You made it back to the ship in time for your father to lecture you about how dangerous it was to just run off in a “city full of wild Dornishmen! Don’t think that because you’re dressed like a man you’d be safe! That ‘sort of thing’ is common here, daughter!” while you dressed in clothes more suitable to both your station and a meeting with the ruling house of the kingdom.

It was somehow cooler within the sandstone walls of the castle, and you amused yourself on the walk up to the raised dais by listening to the different sounds your company’s boots made on the marble floor.

There was a woman sitting on a carved wooden seat and a tall dark haired man standing behind her, leaning indolently against her chair at the top of the steps you and your father stopped at. You listened to your father make the appropriate greetings, hoping that they could come to favorable terms of trade for items and goods they all wanted. And you felt someone staring at you. You looked up at the young woman in the chair as your father introduced you and you smiled and curtsied less gracefully than your mother would have liked. Your father turned his face to the man behind the chair and began to repeat the introduction when a familiar laughing voice interurrupted,

“Oh, I believe we’ve met already, haven’t we, little pick pocket?” Your eyes snapped up from the marble floor to lock onto those dancing brown eyes from earlier this morning. You felt your jaw drop and your face turn what you were sure was a very unattractive shade of crimson as Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne grinned and winked at you.

Din- You had been flying with the Mandalorian and his tiny green baby for about a month when you decided that hyperspace was boring and if you wanted any amusement you would have to take a page out of the little man’s book and make your own fun. You knew that stealing pieces of the ship and hiding them would not be as cute as when the baby did it, so that was out. You weren’t a tall person, but you were still bigger than the green terror so playing hide and seek was pretty close to useless. You were grasping at straws until suddenly it hit you like one of the utensils that the tiny monster liked to levitate around the cabin.

You were going to get Mando to laugh.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to accomplish this, or even any idea at all what a near silent warrior monk that you were still not a hundred percent convinced wasn’t a droid would find funny, so you decided to just do what you did best; you opened your mouth and let the word vomit out. 

You didn’t shut up. If you were awake and not actively hunting someone, you were talking. The baby seemed to enjoy the new amount of noise and animation, but thus far you had only gotten a few sighs and what you thought were exasperated glares from your adult companion. At least, you figured they were glares. His helmet turned to face you and frankly, you were beginning to even get on your own nerves, so he was almost definitely glaring at you under that beskar. 

This went on for four days straight until one day the three of you were sitting in the cockpit, watching the stars zip by, and you decided to narrate yourself drinking a glass of water. You had just gotten to the swallowing part and were attempting to put into words what that felt like when he turned around to face you. 

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I will cut into into small enough pieces that the baby won’t notice it’s a human that he is eating for dinner tonight.”

You choked. And you definitely spat water all over the visor of his helmet. 

You coughed and stared at him, terrified, not sure if these were going to be your last few seconds as a breathing creature, but sure that if they were you at least had the image of the Mandalorian with water and spit sliding down the front of his helmet to console you. 

All three of you sat in silence for at least a minute before he leaned forward very slowly. You leaned as far back as your seat would allow. 

“That was a joke,” he told you, voice warm despite the crackle of his modulator. “You can’t see it, but I just winked.”

Screw making him mad. You were going to kill the Mandalorian. 

Tovar- This was officially one of the worst ways that you could think of to die. You sure that if you were given a few more minutes, and a few less spears pointed in your face to distract you, you could surely come up with at least five different ways that were, in fact, worse, but right now, this seemed pretty awful and didn’t seem likely to get any better. 

“I need you to trust me,” your companion murmured in your ear, his hand on your wrist, stopping you from drawing one of your long knives. You cut your eyes quickly to his normally laughing brown eyes and then back to the soldiers in front of you. 

“That never works out well for me, Tovar,” you remind him in a quiet hiss. He moves his arm from his side to around your shoulders and draws you close and tight against his much taller body. 

“Good day, gentlemen!” He calls jovially to the five armored men blocking their way on the road. You can hear the wide grin that must be plastered on his stupidly handsome face and you send up a fast prayer to God that he doesn’t manage to get you into worse trouble than you were in already. Or that at least William can manage to get you out of it again. 

“Halt,” the spear man in the middle orders, and Tovar stops walking, forcing you to as well, still tucked into his side. His left hand strokes your arm casually (you note its not his preferred sword hand which gives you some hope that he might actually have a plan), and he leans a bit more of his weight on you than you think is really called for. Is he pretending-

“Why whatever are you fine men doing in the middle of the road? Don’t you know there’s a war on! Shouldn’t you be off fighting that fierce some mercenary army?” You want to stab him. His entire left side is open and unguarded mere inches away from your favorite knife, you could slide the blade in right there between his ribs, you could have the pleasure of puncturing his lung and watching him slowly suffocate. Maybe he would finally stop talking. 

“No one is allowed past this point,” the spear man informed you, still glaring. “Who are you and what is your business here?” The other four soldiers inched closer and you stiffen. 

“Don’t,” Tovar ordered you through his clenched teeth, smile still in place. “I can get us out of this, I just need you to play along.”

“If we get out of this I am going to personally castrate you,” you inform him, a clenched tooth smile of your own on your face.

“Anything to get your hands on my cock, eh?” You elbowed him in that unprotected side you had been eyeing before he tried to bargain with the guardians of the road.

“Oh but surely sir, you wouldn’t hinder a poor man trying to get home to his farm?”The soldier looked extremely skeptical.

“If you’re a farmer, I’m the King of England.” Tovar shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m not a farmer. This rather attractive filly is, however, only paid for for another hour, and I had meant to have my way with her at least twice before my time was up. Surely you can understand my need to make all haste now?”

Nope, not castration. Castration and then you were going to make him watch as you fed his balls to goats.

“Don’t bite me please,” was all the warning you received before Tovar looked down at you, winked, and kissed you, lips surprisingly soft, and incredibly distracting. Maybe the castration could wait for a few hours.

Max Phillips- When the higher ups bring in a handsome new manager to boost sales and productivity you aren’t entirely surprised that every employee gets called one by one into his office for a “chat”. He’s new, it tracks that he’d want to get to know everybody.

You are both anticipating and dreading your own 2:30 appointment with the new boss man, you’re positive that out of all your coworkers your performance has been the most consistently decent since you were hired two years ago, but who knows. This was a new unknown element. His goal might be to shake things up to keep people on their toes.

You hear a ‘come in’ after you knock firmly on his closed door three minutes earlier than your scheduled time, and you find him working at his computer, jacket off, a pout on his lips that were frankly too pretty to be on such a distinctively masculine face, and his shirt sleeves artfully rolled up.

He doesn’t glance at you as he waves at a chair in front of his desk. You sit as instructed, and try as you might, are unable to help staring at him as he finishes whatever it is that requires such attention. You take in the tiny tattoo on his left hand with a little surprise. And you try very hard to ignore the shift and play of the muscles of his forearms under his lightly tanned skin. This is your new boss get a grip, you scold yourself, tearing your gaze away to rest on the shelves behind his head.

He sits back with a sigh and his palms hit his desk.

“I am sorry about that. I honestly hate computers, they’re just so impersonal, don’t you think?” He asks with a winning smile, eyes and attention totally on you now. You return his grin with a small, polite twitch of your own lips and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get to know everybody here, you know? Know the real person behind your employee file! Find out what makes you tick, what gets you excited!” You’re only half paying attention to his spiel, but he garners your full and complete concentration when as he utters the word “excited” and he grins salaciously and winks at you.

You’re a little taken aback. You know you should call HR. At the very least that was thoughtless and at the worst, utterly inappropriate.

You are unfortunately intrigued. You know you won’t be calling anyone about this.

Maxwell Lord- You’d been working for Lord Enterprises for about a year before you were moved up to the top floor. You liked to think you were good at your job, you were a quick typist and resourceful, and you were excited about the bump in pay that accompanied your new position.

After a week of following one of the other girls around and learning the ins and out of the executive offices, you were turned loose and given your own duties and assignments. The very first of those were to take a pile of files from the desk of the most senior of the secretaries and make sure it ended up in the possession of Maxwell Lord himself. You hadn’t heard much about the the big boss one way or another, so you squared your shoulders and after knocking firmly, opened the door and entered his office.

Lord was seated behind a dark wood desk that you thought was probably a bit bigger than strictly necessary. He was in his shirt sleeves, waistcoat stretched over a bit of middle aged spread that he nonetheless wore well. His hair was thick, blond, and immaculately styled, and he was talking animatedly on the phone, gesturing with his free hand and you could see his body vibrating slightly as he bounced his leg up and down quickly.

He was a handsome man, and a lot younger than you had expected him to be. And when he looked up at you as you walked further into his office and smiled brightly at you his attractiveness only increased. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and they shone when two dimples appeared in his cheeks with his grin.

You held up the stack of folders in your hand and raised your eyebrows in a question. He gestured to the desk in front of him and you moved closer to set them gently down in front of the man. You observed him check you out from your hair down to you shoes as you walked closer and were a little surprised when no chauvinistic comment popped out of his mouth. This might have been the 80’s, but you were a secretary and knew that women’s rights only meant that you could earn your own paycheck now.

You nodded at him as you set them down and he mouthed ‘thank you’ as he continued to listen to the droning voice you could now hear over the telephone.

And then he winked at you.

Maybe this job would turn up some opportunities for you after all.