#star wars ficlet

[walkawaytall]

29! :3

Hey, look, I'm finally getting around to writing ficlets from this list I kept secret like a week later

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29. visiting their home for the first time

“Did you ever go there?”

Han shakes his head, chin brushing against her hair with the movement. “Never got the chance.”

“Mmm,” Leia hums, pressing her cheek against his chest. “Makes sense. We didn’t have much of a seedy underbelly.”

“Tell me about it?” he asks, paying close attention to her expression. He doesn’t want to upset her, and they’re still so new to this not-wanting-to-upset-each-other thing, he knows he’ll probably make a misstep.

A small smile breaks out on her face, though, and he knows he has chosen his question well. She looks at him, reaching up to brush soft and careful fingers across his brow bone. “Close your eyes,” she whispers.

He does as she says, reminding her aloud of how well he follows directions when she’s nice about it, which earns him a playful nudge with her elbow.

She laces her fingers through his and describes green forests and snow-capped mountains and lush grass under bare feet; the summer sun causing freckles to appear on her mother’s arms and her own; the winter chill forming a layer of ice thick enough to skate across on the surface of the pond nearest the palace.

And the palace…The palace. Leia whispers the word reverently before walking him through great big doors and airy hallways, bedrooms with antechambers and a kitchen large enough to need half a dozen cooks.

He asks which room was her favorite.

“My father’s study,” she says, and so vividly describes the hearth and after-dinner card games and her father asking first her mother, then her, to dance around the room during laughter-filled nights, that Han almost feels as if he’s there himself.

“Think I’d’ve even been allowed in the building?” he teases, though there is far more insecurity in his words than he dares to admit.

Leia gasps sharply, a chastising sort of noise, as if he should be ashamed for even thinking such a thing. “Of course,” she says, fingers brushing over his brow again. “They would welcome anyone who makes me as happy as you do.”

#this is so mushy #but that's all right #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars ficlet #hanleia fanfic #hanleia ficlet

[soclonely]

Wolffe Snack

Summary: Commander Wolffe goes on an important mission with Jedi General Plo Koon- Snack shopping!! Word Count: 681 Warnings: None ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Commander Wolffe found himself on a rare mission that had nothing to do with blasters or tactics. There weren’t battle droids to fight or strategies to plan in the field. It was a simple yet oddly charming errand—grocery shopping with his fatherly and enigmatic Jedi General, Plo Koon.

The fluorescent lights of the bustling marketplace on Coruscant illuminated their path as they strolled through the aisles, their interactions garnering curious glances from passing civilians who weren’t used to the presence of a trooper or Jedi in their local grocery shop. Wolffe couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in his battle-worn armor among the civilian shoppers, but with Plo Koon by his side, happy and seemingly unaware of the attention they were receiving, he remained steadfast.

Plo Koon seemed unusually excited about this excursion, bouncing along from aisle to aisle with a childlike enthusiasm as he peruses the shelves. Wolffe, on the other hand, couldn't quite wrap his head around the reason they were here. The GAR provided all of their dietary needs, and treats and chips weren’t mission essential after all. He watched as Plo Koon carefully selected a variety of snacks, and loaded up the shopping cart without a second thought.

As the cart became increasingly laden with treats, Wolffe's skepticism grew. "General, are you sure we need all of this?" he grumbled, eyeing the pile of snacks. "Seems like a lot for the Wolfpack. They are going to expect it all the time after this, you know that, sir?”

Plo Koon turned to him, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief beneath his serene expression. "Commander, our troopers work tirelessly on the battlefield. They deserve a taste of normalcy and indulgence from time to time." He chuckles, placing another bag of cookies in the buggy. “Besides, who's to say they won’t be getting this treatment every time they do well on a mission like the last one?”

Wolffe let out an exasperated sigh but didn't protest further. He was accustomed to following Plo Koon's lead, even when he didn't quite understand the reasoning behind it.”Yes sir,” he mumbles, continuing to push the cart along the aisles.

Just as they were about to head to the checkout counter, Plo Koon reached for a bag of wafers that made Wolffe's eyes widen, a rare and treasured favorite that he had developed a fondness for during his time in the service when he managed to get a hold of them.

"Ah, I almost forgot," Plo Koon said with a twinkle in his eye, his voice laced with a touch of mischief. "This one's for you, Commander." He laughs, delighted at Wolffe’s confusion. “Boost and Sinker told me they were some of your favorites and even searched the store directory for me to make sure they were in stock here.”

Wolffe's surprise was evident on his face as Plo Koon handed him the bag of snacks. For a moment, he was taken aback by the unexpected gesture, and then a genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, General," Wolffe said, his gruff exterior softening as he looked at the bag in his hand. It was a small act of thoughtfulness, but it spoke volumes about Plo Koon's understanding and care for him and his men. “I’ll.. be sure to thank them as well for telling you”

Plo Koon patted Wolffe's shoulder with a warm smile. "You're welcome, Commander. Everyone deserves a treat now and then, even you Wolffe."

As they finally made their way to the checkout counter, Wolffe found himself chuckling softly. This grocery shopping trip wasn't just about stocking up on snacks for the Wolf-pack to overload themselves on in their downtime over the next few days of leave .it was a reminder that even in the midst of war, there were moments of unexpected kindness that could bring a smile to even the most battle-hardened troopers face. He laid his bags of wafers up on the conveyor belt and nodded to the cashier to begin scanning.

#Commander Wolffe #Plo Koon #Jedi Master Plo Koon #the wolf pack #the 104th #star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #my writing #star wars fan fic #star wars fic #star wars ficlet #commander wolffe fluff

[writinredhead]

skysolo tattoo!AU ficlet i found on my google drive

I literally have no recollection of writing this as i haven't logged into my fanfic google drive account for literal years, but I think past-me did something fun here, so here it is for anyone interested

“Are you really sure about this?” Luke tore his eyes away from the neon sign of the tattoo parlor they were parked in front of and back at Han in the driver’s seat. He still didn’t think it was a good idea. Even for Han, it was pretty darn stupid, if you asked him. “It’s pretty permanent, after all.” 

Han rolled his eyes, let his head fall back at the head rest, then looked at Luke “Come on, buddy, give me a break. We’ve talked about it already.” 

“Yeah…” Luke fought the urge to pinch his nose. “If you count yesterday, telling me over lunch that you’re getting your car tattooed onto your body, then, yes, we did talk about it. Ugh, I can’t believe you’re making me come along for this madness.”   

“I called and they said they can’t let me drive home myself afterward. Who else should I ask, if not my best friend, huh?”

Han looked like he was seconds away from putting on that pout. That pout, that made Luke weak in the knees and agree to just about any idiocy Han came up with. He quickly turned back at the sign that proclaimed in blinking letters that the parlor was open. 

“You could have asked Leia? It’s summer break, she’s off too.” 

“Sure. Because asking my ex to drive me home from the tat shop sounds like such a good idea…”   

“You just didn’t ask her because she’d tell you exactly what a dumb idea this is and that you’re not to come crying to her when you're back to your senses. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”

Han did neither. Instead he muttered something unintelligible and took great interest in rearranging the pair of dice dangling from his rear view mirror. 

#skysolo #hanluke #fanfiction #star wars ficlet #al writes #or she did years ago #i need to get back into this hobby lol #my writing

[jgvfhl]

Maul Week Day 4: Dathomir

I slapped out some words!!! It'll tie into tomorrow's art for Reluctant Allies too. Uhhhhhh @maulweek. About 1600 words, no warnings to really speak of. Little bit of an AU goin' on over here. It is NOT supposed to be shippy so. Understand that. And uhhh yeah here.

The planet growing steadily larger in the viewport was a mass of swirling red clouds and shadows. Maul watched it approach with little interest, standing with his hands clasped behind him. He could not remember the last time he had arrived on Dathomir, his mental state as mangled as it had been. But he was the odd one out in this regard. Since he had announced his intentions to return to the planet, the Force surrounding the cruiser had been buzzing with anticipation. The Brothers they had acquired over the past several months of excursions had some skill in containing their emotions from the Force, but most did not use it, he’d learned. It was reassuring to the others, apparently.

He sensed his commander’s approach before he heard the quiet footfalls beside him. It was still odd, being so aware of someone so insensitive to the Force, but he’d grown to accept that odd was something of a new norm. As was part of that norm, the commander never showed his face outside of his chambers, even to his subordinates and officers. His helmet, like the rest of his armor, was a reflection of their odd alliance: when Maul looked over at him, he saw a distorted reflection of himself in the red armor painted to match his tattoos, the jet-black horns crowning the helm, and the deep gold light in the helmet’s visor.

Only his commander was allowed all ten horns.

Only he was allowed to approach him as an equal.

“Commander.”

“The men are excited,” Commander Ravage told him, looking out at Dathomir with him. “The Brothers, I should say. Going home.”

“Home,” Maul repeated softly. He frowned.

Dathomir was not his home. It would never be, really. It was a birthplace. It was a rebirthplace. But it… could not be a home. Granted, he wasn’t entirely sure he understood what it meant to have a place to call home. He tilted his head.

“What do your brothers call home?” he asked, finding himself genuinely interested.

Ravage hesitated. He mimicked Maul’s stance, his helmet’s visor hiding whatever expression he was making. “I’m… not sure it’s as simple as that, sir.”

Maul looked at him, then turned to view the bridge. Looking back at Dathomir, he said, “We have time before we need to assemble the landing parties.”

His commander dipped his chin slightly. Maul felt a fleeting spark of amusement, like an echo or a shadow of the emotion in the Force. “Right. Well, for starters, most clones don’t think of Kamino as their home, even though most of the Republic seems to think that’s the case.”

“That makes sense.” Kamino was a place of manufacture, of production. It was much like his view of Dathomir, in that sense.

Ravage went on. “I think the word has more to do with people than a place for clones. Kamino isn’t home, but it’s where our youngest brothers are. It’s where the most vulnerable members of our family are. They’re more of a home.”

Maul looked at him, feeling faint echoes of some emotion he had no name to give. It was not strong enough for grief, and he knew what Ravage’s grief felt like, even if he was not Force-sensitive. It was bitter, but not harsh enough to be spite or anger. It felt vaguely hollow, like there ought to be more behind it, but nothing appeared. Or perhaps nothing was left. The lack of a label for such a unique emotion was… irksome.

His commander cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. “Am I confounding you again, sir?” he asked quietly, a small smile audible in his voice.

It had happened enough now that neither of them had a use for Maul posturing or pretending he knew more than he did. He hummed, looking back at the planet before them. “Yes.” He didn’t continue, and Ravage knew better than to push by now. “The other clones, do they feel similarly to you? The Brothers are excited to be going… home, you said.”

For a long moment, Ravage was quiet as he processed the layers there. Finally, he said, “It’s called homesickness. What I’m feeling.” He sighed quietly, looking down to the floor under his boots. “Couldn’t tell you about the others, though. We’re taught to hide it, same as you. Not as well, though,” he added, glancing over. The light reflected off Dathomir’s clouds flashed as it bounced off his visor. “And, quite a few of the guys we’ve rescued were in captivity longer than they were in service. This is their home now.”

Homesick. Maul had seen the word a few times. He understood the meaning on paper. It was appropriate, he decided, for the not-quite-grief he had picked up from Ravage earlier.

“Have you ever been to Dathomir?” Ravage asked quietly, no doubt unsure how the question would be received.

“Once,” Maul said with a sigh, returning his attention to the planet. “I was reborn there.”

Ravage stared at him for a couple seconds, or at least turned his visor on him for that time. “Okay, are you just being dramatic, or is that literal?” he finally said.

Maul allowed a small smile. “Come now, Commander,” he replied. “I have always founded my dramatics on my reality. “But yes, my… brother brought me here after he found me. I… do not remember much from that trip until after. I do know he spoke to me while we traveled. I think they were stories of the planet, of his… home.”

“Is that why he brought you here? To have you home?”

That brought a short chuckle out of Maul. “No. I needed to be healed. My mind had shattered after so long on my own and in such a state.” He paused, frowning. “Savage never mentioned wanting to take me back to Dathomir. I do not know why.”

Ravage shrugged. “Well. We’ll see what’s down there, regardless. See if anything is left after Grievous all but obliterated the Sisters.”

Maul nodded, giving a quiet hum to show he had heard. Why had Savage never mentioned going… home? Perhaps there had never been occasion to start such a discussion. Maul could understand if he had been a bit of a harsh instructor. He had no other way to teach the way of the Sith. He didn’t think there was another way to learn the way of the Sith. But Savage had told stories, very rarely, usually at night, when they were unwinding to sleep. Or attempt to sleep, in Maul’s case. He had enjoyed those stories. They were simple, usually recounting some event from Savage’s younger years on Dathomir.

What he remembered clearest was how his brother’s face and presence in the Force had lit up when he spoke about the other Brothers. It had been clear how much he cared for them. Perhaps that was what Ravage meant when he said that clones understood home to mean other clones more than a place. Perhaps Savage had never really meant bring Maul to Dathomir, but maybe the motivation had come from the desire to bring Maul to the other Brothers.

He turned, looking behind them at the bridge, at the mixture of Nightbrothers and clones and a very small handful of other races working together. Odd, how he had somehow ended up here in his own time.

“Are you not at home here, then?” he asked Ravage, already knowing the simple answer.

His commander stiffened slightly, but his shoulders gradually relaxed as he thought. “I’m… not sure. It’s hard to…” He trailed off into a quietly frustrated sigh. “My brothers—the ones who were my home—all think I’m dead. I can’t risk revealing my identity to the fighters here so we can maintain the element of surprise against Sidious. And it feels… it feels wrong to start a new…” His words faded again, and he gestured instead to the people behind them, to the clones and the Brothers alike. “I can’t do that when they can’t know who I am.”

That made sense. Maul nodded. Starting any relationship on a lie had to be a carefully thought-out choice, whose consequences had to be impeccably understood. Ravage hadn’t had the time or the opportunity to do that.

Ravage shrugged, a familiar air of nonchalance rising to hide the deep curl of pain Maul could just detect from his person. “I’ll have a home when I’m allowed to be Fives again,” he said with some confidence. “Just Fives.”

“Then for now, you have no home?” Maul said.

His commander turned his head to look at him, silent for a moment. Then, he looked back at Dathomir. He indicated the planet with a casual hand. “Guess that makes two of us.”

A thin smile came to Maul’s lips. “Then perhaps,” he said, reaching up to hook a finger around the leftmost horn welded to the front of Fives’ helmet, pulling him slightly closer, “as we have found ourselves in other regards, we will be homeless together.” He let his hand fall away, clasping it behind his back again.

He was pleased to find echoes of contentment in response.

His commander shook his head. “You only ever horn-hook with me, and you wonder why some of the zabraks think we’re sleeping with each other instead of just sharing a room.”

Maul leveled a particularly stony glare at him. “If they are incapable of understanding how absolutely uninterested I am in any such activity, they cannot be helped.”

Ravage laughed, quietly. “I’ll just keep fielding the questions, sir.”

I should add this: the whole Affection Via Horns is heavily inspired by @/mercurydancer's writings about Maul and Nightbrothers and zabbys in general. It just makes me very happy so I adapted it.

#maulweek2023 #i write things sometimes #tcw fanfic #star wars ficlet #star wars fanfic #darth maul #arc trooper fives #fives lives au #they get to be traumatized besties~ #who are indescribably lonely despite being surrounded by their own people

[techwrecker]

seriously folks, i’ll write just about anything for you. (except smut, sorry lol)

#sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars oneshot #star wars ficlet #tbb oneshot #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic request #oneshot request

[sinisterexaggerator]

Ohnaka, Shriv, and Bane have find out their S/O was (until recently) a full time chiropractor/massage therapist, how do they find this out? Well she helps to massage all that tension out and probably help with a bad back in some cases (probably both) a lil something on this please? .3.

Ooh, the boys are gonna get spoiled! We all know Shriv deserves it most of all!

Warnings: None. Just a couple of Duros and one Weequay getting a nice massage from their S/O.

“Dis effort … es no longer … profitable!”  had been Hondo Ohnaka’s words. He had failed at his endeavor, but not before nearly dying at the hands of a clever Jedi Knight.

Oooh, but Hondo was more so. He had escaped death, lived to tell his tale, and tell he did. You had heard all about it, though he was loath to admit his neck, his back, and his arms were sore.

He had battled one named Skywalker, hand-to-hand with a melee weapon; an electrostaff against a lightsaber. It had seemed like a good idea, the pirate had tanks to back him up, yet all had proven futile in the end. The only thing that was left to him were his complaints and body aches.

He tutted around his Corona-class armed frigate, mumbling obscenities. You were perhaps his flavor of the week; the month; the year if you could keep up with him. Though, you had a few tricks of your own up your fancy sleeves, a way to please the Weequay. You beckoned Hondo to his stately bedchamber.

“Have a seat. Let me pamper you, my liege.”

You bowed in a show of theatrical humility. Hondo loved this game – for you to praise him and act as an abiding slave.

“Permission granted,” Ohnaka announced, stretching himself out leisurely. You took this opportunity to woo him with your valuable expertise.

Besides, in a way, he would profit from it…

“One thing you might not know about me: I was a massage therapist before you whisked me away on this grand adventure.” You rounded him, trailing your fingers along his coat; his shoulders. You began to help him take it off.

“Really? How fortunate for me.”  Hondo was not shy when it came to stating the obvious, or those things that were in his favor; to be humble was a thing reserved.

You had to work harder on him unlike other clients; his skin was tough, leathery, though still somewhat pliant. He moaned out a sound denoting he was happy, making this laborious undertaking all worthwhile.

“You are good at dis, my dear. Remind me tu... repay you.” He struck a wicked smile.

Shriv Suurgav had been nearly killed piloting a ship he wasn’t too familiar with – a TIE Fighter of all things. He had boarded a Star Destroyer with Iden and his niece - she was self-proclaimed. He had left for weeks afterward, on a mission from the general. Shriv somehow found the time to visit you on one of his recent meetups with the fleet.

Initially, they hadn’t let him land. He was turned away from you, your frigate and its team of medics. He had comm-called you once it was safe to do so, reassured you, letting you know he was still alive.

You could tell something was wrong - he was tired - beside himself in sorrow, yet he tried to play it off. Iden had been close to him, and now he was burdened with her loss.

You wanted to coddle him; show him affection; give the depressed Duros a reason to laugh again. He was overworked by Leia, and while you respected her, Shriv rarely received any commendations for a job well done.

He arrived to you a mess, yet he tried to muster a smile of sorts. You reached your hand out for him. He took it up and rubbed his cheek into the center of your palm.

Shriv looked on the verge of tears, his expression pained. He only managed to say three words, though they nearly caused your heart to burst.

“I missed you.”

He made the motions to engage you in a hug; that sort of thing was always awkward for him, yet he seemed to want one. His body would deny him, forcing him to scrunch an eye. He rasped out a haggard breath.

“S-sorry… I-I’m just a little sore…”

His shoulders were stiff; his arms, his neck; his muscles ached. The crash had done a number on him, and he was still recovering.

“Come here, Shriv. You know, I used to be a massage therapist before I joined the Rebellion.”

Shriv chuckled rather meekly; he was not himself. “I can see why you’d want to keep that a ssecret in a place like this. You’d have a line outside your door.”

You guided him along, sat him down, and lowered onto your knees behind him. Your fingers bore into his cobalt flesh beneath his uniform, your hands applying just the right amount of pressure to relieve all his undue stress.

The Duros gasped at first, not knowing what he was feeling. It hurt, but then it felt so good. His brow ridge knit; he melted into it. His fangs bit down on his slender bottom lip.

He had no quips, no snarky comments. He was feeling complimentary for once, simply grateful to have you by his side.  

“You spoil me, sweetheart. Don’t know what I did to deserve a gal like you.”

Cad Bane had gotten his choobies handed to him by Fennec Shand. He was beat to snot and had lost out on all his credits. He reached you worse for wear, in pain, and his muscles ached – his entire self. You felt sorry for him and decided to utilize your skills.

“Lie down, Cad,” you lightly commanded him.

He was too tired, too worn to argue with you. He sat down, slumping over with a wince upon your bed. Bane removed his hat and hung his head, mumbling grouchily, “maybe Ah'm gettin' too old fer dhis.”

“Nonsense.” you assured him, conducting him into the correct position. He was timid – Cad wasn’t used to dropping his wary guard or his excessive vigilance.

That all vanished into the ether, out and beyond the stars above, whilst your hands worked their magic on him. He made sounds you had never heard; groans, grunts, and ones perhaps of relief or pleasure. You were happy you could do something nice for him.

“Where’d ye learn te do all dhis? Ssome kinda ssorcery,” he claimed; his voice a husky gravel, though more subdued than was normal for him.

“I was a massage therapist back on Coruscant. My patrons were mainly Clones. They tipped well and were always sore – war and all," you responded reservedly.

“Keepin’ ssecrets from me, s’what it is.”

Did your ears deceive you? You could have sworn the Duros purred.

You’d be laserbrained to mention it, though you smiled a little to yourself. It felt good to be appreciated, knowing all too well that Bane’s involuntary praise was as close to a thank you as you would get.

---

Masterlist

#Cad Bane #Shriv Surgaav #Hondo Ohnaka #Cad Bane x Reader #Shriv Suurgav x Reader #Hondo Ohnaka x Reader #Cad Bane x You #Shriv Suurgav x You #Hondo Ohnaka x You #Anonymous Request #Star Wars #Clone Wars #Star Wars Battlefront 2 #Star Wars Imagines #ficlet #star wars ficlet

[ominouspuff]

The Promise

Cody had no identification card, and he certainly didn’t have a citizenship. He had a receipt of purchase, designating him by code and bio-signature as a particularly complex, high-functioning blob of programmed bio-material, but officially CC-2224 was considered only part of a whole. The GAR was a body, complete with organs and tools, and Cody might flatter himself with a comparison to being a finger at best — whichever one pulled the trigger.

“You wish.” Fox said flatly, overcorrecting for the slur that had crept in sometime during their second shared bottle, his bucket firmly resealed again. “You’re a damned eye.”

Cody thought about that for a moment; thought about watching battles from overhead, giving and receiving reports and knowing too many odds too well. He nodded slowly, flexing his hands. 

“If I’m an eye, you’re the teeth.” He said, and it was a bit cruel but it always had been; they’d learned how to swallow it better together. Teeth, Cody considered, and knew he was as right as he was angry — teeth, the smile of the GAR, pretty and presentable and favorable to the public eye, nestled at the heart of the Republic. The Coruscant Guard. 

Fox shrugged so slowly it was more just shoulders hunching, which meant — something. Something Cody might have cared to track, if he was sober.  “Sure. I’ll be the teeth.” He said.

#artists on tumblr #fan art #star wars fanart #star wars: the clone wars #commander fox #commander cody #ficlet #Cody: Teeth like politics and smiling yes that makes sense #Fox: BITE #Repurposing GAR Armor AU

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

~all creatures great and small~ (amazing illustration by the awesome @david-talks-sw)

“And just what exactly is it that you’ve been doing?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from giving his fellow Councillor—and friend—a rather pronounced eyeroll. 

“You tell me,” he said without taking his eyes off his clamoring little herd, feeling rather proud of himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Mace came up to his side and crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. He looked at Obi-Wan, then at his rambunctious little friends and their merrymaking, then back at Obi-Wan again. 

“It looks like you have been avoiding meetings all morning.” 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. He carefully put his hands in his large sleeves.

“Have I?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if he saw Mace’s no doubt exasperated face, so he kept carefully looking onward. “You should have called me.”

“You know I did,” Mace griped, valiantly ignoring the racket and still boring holes in the side of Obi-Wan’s face.

If it came to a contest of wills, Obi-Wan knew he’d be hard pressed to match Mace’s stubbornness. He turned to face him, and inevitably let out a huffed chuckle. Mace looked annoyed alright, but he could do nothing about the twinkle in his deep eyes. 

“You,” Mace insisted, no doubt trying to maintain what he probably hoped to be a convincingly stern demeanor, “have spent all day corrupting our next generation instead of going over mission reports.”

“Really, Mace—”

A yellow blur careening between the two of them nearly knocked them off their feet. A beige, more bipedal one rushed right after it, bumping into them both with equal speed if not equal force. 

“Sorry Masters!” the youngling yelled over her shoulder without stopping. 

Obi-Wan had to cough into his fist to keep from cackling.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace said.

“She apologized,” Obi-Wan pointed out with a brilliant smile.

“You still haven’t.”

“What for?”

Mace’s control finally cracked, and he thrust an accusing finger at Obi-Wan’s innocent face, ready to give into a rare display of unrestrained aggravation. Obi-Wan quickly batted it away and beat him to the punch.

“It’s a perfectly good way of teaching the younglings patience and control!”

Mace blinked at him, his mouth left hanging open, his finger still up and now pointing somewhere over to the right. He turned slowly, and surveyed the bustling courtyard in bemusement. The half-dozen or so pufferpigs that Obi-Wan had let loose there were being corralled by three times as many eager younglings, clone cadets and Padawans, and the animals all felt entitled to express the full range of their feelings on the matter in a loud and enthusiastic fashion. Little Mari Amithest was still running after the particularly rowdy creature that had mistaken Obi-Wan and Mace for Rodian bowling pins. 

Mace’s eyebrows climbed to previously undiscovered heights. 

“What part of this,” he gestured incredulously, “is controlled?”

“None of the pigs have puffed yet,” Obi-Wan explained seriously. 

Mace’s eyebrows were now on their way into orbit. A moment passed. Then, his expression of astonishment seamlessly melted into curiosity.

“They haven’t?” he asked, considering the whole bunch with renewed interest. 

“I told you, it’s a proven method,” Obi-Wan insisted, vindicated. He pointed to the far corner of the courtyard, where Katooni was showing some of the younger children how to feed a happy looking unpuffed puffer. “My Padawan has taught that one to do tricks.”

The squealing puffer was hopping from one foot to the other before avidly sweeping treats from the children’s outstretched hands. 

Mace was now looking suitably impressed. More careful study of Mari’s chase was making it apparent that the animal she was after was not distressed in any way, but was—rather mischievously—trying to run off with her sash clutched in its stout trunk. 

“You shouldn’t let emotions cloud your perception,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a serious voice.

“Hm,” Mace conceded magnanimously, impervious to the teasing.

The twinkle of carefully contained amusement that had been present in his eyes from the start had won over all other sentiments. A wet snort had the two Masters look down at the adventurous pufferpig that had made its way over to them. The amicable beast was fixing them with soulful blue eyes, candidly inoffensive. Its stubby tail was wagging quite politely. Mace distractedly bent down to pet the expectant critter on its broad, squishy face.

“It wants to smell your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan warned. “They like crystals.”

Mace straightened and put a hand on his hilt.

“The Mining Guild didn’t pick them up yesterday?” he inquired. “That was on the agenda.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“They tried, but for some reason all the identity chips turned out to be unreadable. There’s no way to prove who these fellows belong to.”

Mace gave him a flat look. 

“Hondo stole them from a Republic transport.”

“There’s all sorts of things on Republic transports,” Obi-Wan reasonably pointed out.

“The transport was chartered by the Mining Guild.”

“Hondo wiped the manifest during his hijacking. There’s just no way to know.”

“Your Padawan was there to escort the Mining Guild representatives.”

“Some mysteries can never hope to be solved.”

The pufferpig had taken to bonking its head against their legs affectionately. Mace, bowing to the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan’s ironclad argumentation, very seriously gave the tenacious quadruped another pat.

“They’re not staying,” he reminded Obi-Wan firmly. 

“Obviously not,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The Temple would be a terrible environment for them.”

His friend narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“And you’re not making me spend my time finding them a place.”

“Honestly, Mace.” Obi-Wan gave the affable puffer a gentle shove, and it obediently trotted away to a nearby group of younglings and clone cadets who were already entertaining one of its siblings. Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pants. “Naboo has very responsible educational farms.”

“Does it,” Mace said mildly. 

“Including a recently opened one in the Lake District.” 

Unashamedly petty enjoyment rang in the Force.

“Don’t come to me when Skywalker tries to send them back.”

“Who says I’ll pick up when he does?”

Obi-Wan loved Anakin, dearly. Still, he hadn’t yet quite forgiven his old Padawan for retiring—running away—before they could make him shoulder his share of the sacred responsibility of wrangling the Temple’s significantly increased youngling population. It was Luke and Leia’s birthday soon anyway. 

“You’re stooping to deviousness,” Mace said, carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan gave him a wry look. 

“Never. Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he said just as calmly. 

“It’s them you’re supposed to be teaching,” Mace said with a short nod towards the unruly bunch. “He’s had his turn.”

Speaking of teaching…

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan said smugly, pointing to a boy who had taken to carefully levitating a surprisingly compliant—if a little alarmed—pufferpig, “that wouldn’t happen to be Caleb, would it?”

His fellow Council member was now pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip. 

“I must say, that young man is certainly very skilled at forming connections with animals. Depa must be very proud.”

“Just don’t,” Mace groaned. He whipped out his communicator. “He’s supposed to be meditating with Yoda right now.”

“That explains it,” Obi-Wan said. 

Master Yoda was slowly ambling into the courtyard, looking quite pleased with what he was seeing. He poked misbehaving younglings with his cane as he walked, chuckling to himself when they yelped and hastily reached with the Force to make sure the pufferpigs stayed relaxed. The pufferpigs themselves were only curious, and in a sufficiently playful mood that the younglings’ offended squeaking was not enough to agitate them. Caleb had set down his floating puffer with all possible speed—and great care—at the sight of the venerable elder, and made ample and readily accepted apologies to the perplexed animal in the form of scritches. 

Mace slowly put away his communicator. He pursed his lips. 

“Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “next time, just have them practice making friends with the stray tookas.”

That’s how his master had done it, and Mace had never had any problems with connecting with animals, large and small. 

“Pufferpigs are much more even-tempered.”

It was all Mace could do not to facepalm. Giving up, he shot Obi-Wan one last dry look.

“Just do your damn paperwork.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride away, dignified and imposing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, with how focused he was on pretending he was above this whole situation, he didn’t notice Mari’s wayward puffer on a direct collision course with his legs. The poor creature, who hadn’t noticed Mace either, let out a terrified screech and promptly puffed. 

The entire courtyard froze, watching with fascination as the inflated pufferpig bounced twice and slowly rolled to a halt. It made a sorry little squeak.

Resignedly, Mace closed his eyes and set to work on gently calming down the pufferpig with the Force.

The children loudly cheered. 

#ficlet #mace windu #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #no order 66 #jedi order #jedi temple #my writing #yoda #caleb dume #katooni #loose sequel to my fic “villains and knaves” #Hondo stole the pufferpigs to sell them obi-wan confiscated them and now he’s not giving them back to the mining guild meanies

[meebles]

Obi-Wan knows he’s being rather old-fashioned about this.

Cody Fett is his own man, and he certainly doesn’t need his father’s permission to get married. But Obi-Wan figures it’s still the courteous thing, to at least make his intentions known before he proposes.

After Obi-Wan tells Jango as much, the man stares at him silently for an unnerving amount of time, before he sighs.

“You don’t need my blessing, if that’s what you’re asking… it’s the rest of them you need to worry about.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “The rest of them?”

—

“So,” Fox starts, sitting down on the chair across from him. “You think you’re good enough to marry my brother?”

“Fox, please,” Obi-Wan says, pained. “You know me. I’ve been dating Cody for years. Is this all really necessary?”

Fox just raises a brow. “I hope you cleared your schedule. You’re going to be here awhile.”

Obi-Wan looks to the door, behind which he knows the rest of Cody’s brothers are waiting. All nineteen of them.

He turns back to Fox, who takes that as his cue to fully launch into what’s likely meant to be a speech, but feels more like an interrogation.

Obi-Wan bites back a groan. For Cody, even this particular brand of torture is worth it.

#codywan #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #modern au #meebles writes #pls don't take this seriously #my brother just proposed to his gf so it inspired this goofy little ficlet #that i wrote last night instead of working on my actual fics oopsie

[chiliger]

Commander Cody finds himself in a galaxy that is not his own.

(Okay I had to repost this because my dumb butt deleted the original 🥲. If people don’t mind reblogging this post again I would really appreciate it.)

Ficlet under the cut.

The moment he had realized this wasn’t his galaxy, his dimension, Cody knew this meeting was inevitable. He’d hoped to avoid it, but that feeling in his gut always loved to prove him otherwise.

Standing before him was his face. And no, not the face of a brother. This wasn’t just one of the millions he had grown up with.

This was him. He could feel it.

An alternate version of him, with colder eyes and harder expression. But still, he was Cody. Or rather, he was Kote.

Cody swallowed down a dry lump in his throat, not allowing his own gaze to falter under Kote’s scrutiny. “Please,” he started, hoping that his voice didn’t waver. “I’m not supposed to be here. The Jedi… Our brothers are in danger.”

“Your brothers,” Kote shot back, eyes narrowed. The way he spoke the words sent a chill down Cody’s spine, as though being a Vod was something beneath him. “Why should I care what happens to them?”

Cody’s thoughts froze for half a second, then he blinked hard and shook his head to push pass the shock. Never in a millions years would he dream of hearing a clone say anything along those words, much less from himself.

But this was a version of him. This was Kote Fett, and he was obviously raised under the guidance and views of the Prime. Cody briefly wondered if Boba existed in this dimension before forcing his thoughts back on track. He needed to convince Mand’alor Kote, somehow.

“Look,” he half whispered. “You don’t have to help me. I can find my own way back. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Kote slightly tilted his head, and with it, Cody felt a sharp spike of heat in his head. He gasped and dug his nails into his palms, strengthening his mental shields at the same time as throwing back a spike of his own, causing Kote to stagger one step back.

“Kote,” Prime chided from the side wall, unmoving. It was short and clipped, but his tone carried a low warning with it.

Cody bit back a groan, the sudden headache making him lose focus for a moment. He breathed roughly past the mental pain, instead concentrating on the feel of the cuffs holding his arms up, digging into the skin of his wrists. It was something physical. He could deal with physical.

Kote let out a grunt in acknowledgment, making a quick cut sign with his free hand, the other holding his helmet. He gazed back at Cody, a glint of intrigue now in his eyes. “Huh,” he breathed out.

Cody stared right back, blocking out whatever feelings were suddenly directed at him. “Just… just let me go.”

Kote’s brow furrowed, just enough for Cody to notice. He stepped closer, until they were less then an arm’s length away, face-to-face. His eyes rove over Cody’s face, and Cody could feel him prodding at his shields for a weak point. Cody built up another layer, shutting Kote out.

The Mand’alor blinked, a flash of surprise there and gone. His eyes suddenly grew cold. He spoke, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “Now why would I do that?”

#chiligerart #comic #commander cody #kote fett #jango fett #multiverse au #Star Wars #the clone wars #sw tcw #ficlet #chili writes #*flops and buries face in pillow* *screams* #im still proud of myself for the art and colors though…

[z-socks]

Who's Older?

We all love our Domino Twin boys, but a very important question remains: who's older? TW: very brief clinical mention of fetus termination “That’s Bantha osik and you know it!” 

General Anakin Skywalker couldn’t help but sigh as he caught wind of the argument still going on. Fives and Echo had been at it since leaving Saleucami and appeared to have yet to resolve the matter. He cast a look at Rex who seemed so exhausted he almost felt bad for making him deal with it. But these were his men and they couldn’t risk a petty disagreement getting in the way of their next mission. 

“Alright, boys, what’s the problem?” Anakin asked, approaching the ARC troopers with Rex only a few steps behind him. 

“This di’kut thinks he’s older than me,” Fives accused, shoving his shoulder into Echo’s. 

“I am older than you,” Echo insisted. 

Anakin stared at them in disbelief. This is what was causing such a stir? 

Rex sighed beside him. “Not this again,” he muttered. 

The ‘again’ worried the general. If this was an ongoing issue, he’d have to put an end to it once and for all, no matter how trivial and petty it was. 

“Echo’s number is lower. I think that makes him older,” he offered. 

The three Clones stared at him. 

“Or not?” 

Rex stepped in. “Our numbers come from our growth-jar tree designation. But not all infants on a tree are decanted at the same time. Like, if a fetus is terminated, the jar is emptied and a new embryo takes its place.” 

Well that was all very informative, but not helpful in resolving the matter. Anakin crossed his arms. “Why does it matter who’s older?” 

“It’s a matter of principle. We’re twins, sir,” Fives answered. 

Anakin raised a brow. “Is that some kind of joke?” 

“No, sir,” Echo replied. “Split zygote. A rare but not impossible anomaly.”

Fives cut in, “Like Rex’s hair.”

The captain glared at them.  

“All that means is Echo here got moved to a different jar,” Fives went on. 

“Thereby making me the oldest.”

“Transfer is not decanting!” 

“I left the jar first!” 

“To go to another jar!” 

“Okay, okay, stop!” Anakin sighed, understanding Rex’s exhausted look from earlier. “Echo, Fives is right.” 

“What!?”

“Ha!” 

“If we’re going from decanting-“

“The general agrees with me!” Fives cheered, throwing an arm around Echo’s shoulders and tussling his hair. “You lose! I’m right! Ha! I won! Against you. In semantics!” 

Echo growled, shoving out of Fives’s grasp and grappling for him, the argument turning into a physical fight until Fives escaped and ran off, Echo running after him, still belaboring his point, now with rather colorful language. 

Rex rested a hand on the general’s shoulder. “Rule number one, sir. Don’t pick a winner.” 

Anakin shook his head. “It’s a dumb argument.” 

Rex offered him a small smile. “Just hope you never have twins, sir.”

#ba dum tiss #Poor Rex having to deal with everyone's BS #Does anyone actually know how Clones get their numbers? #I made that part up #tw abortion #technically #star wars #echo #Fives #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #captain rex #anakin skywalker #general skywalker #tcw #clone wars #domino twins #drabble #ficlet

[soclonely]

Just A Droid

Summary: Padawan Anakin copes with the loss of his first small droid and Obi-Wan begins the grief journey with him Word Count: 348 TRIGGER WARNING: pet loss/close first companion, as that is what it was written to mimic as I cope with this life experience

"Anakin.. It's okay to cry, you know?" Obi-Wan mutters softly, placing a hand on his padawan's shoulders. "I understand how hard this may be. And that as jedi we are supposed to be mindful of our emotions. But just this once I think we can make an exception." He looks down at the quiet little droid Anankin had placed gently on the table moments earlier."S-Ar3 had a good life for a droid. You took care of him well."

"it was the first present you ever gave to me, master." Anakin mutters, running his hands along the smooth exterior of his little friend. "I did everything I could to try and save him," He begins to cry. "Bug software, upgraded parts, constant monitoring. I don't understand any of it. He should have been okay. He-He shouldn't be- it shouldn't hurt this much! He's just a droid my friends at the temple said. But it just hurts so much! I can't do this-" Anakin turns, throwing himself into his masters arms without warning.

Obi-Wan holds young Anakin closely. "I know it's hard." he tries to speak softly over Anakin's sobs but finds it difficult as his own tears begin to form. "It's hard and it's unfair. But you did everything you could. Sometimes these things just happen and there is nothing we can do." He takes a deep breath and pulls away from Anankin, attempting a small smile. "I am so proud of you for being a good friend to S-Ar3. And others may say he was just a droid, but to us he was family." Obi-Wan looks down at the little mechanism. "We will always honor him and cherish the memories we had the pleasure of making with him, and we will find a way to move forward together from this." He pulls Anakin in from another hug. "And no matter what, you will always have me here to help you through it, Anakin. You know that don't you?"

Anakin nods, gently clinging to Obi-Wan's robes."Yes master. I-I just wish it wasn't so hard."

"Me too, Anankin. Me too."

#tw death #tw pet loss #loss of a loved one #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars fan fic #star wars ficlet

[ninjigma]

Part 2/7 - Previous / Next

Track: ‘Glitter & Gold’ - Barns Courtney

Cody had always said Rex would be the death of him, but he never thought about it quite so literally until he was watching his younger brother running headlong towards The Kriffing Sith Lord with two lightsabers in his hands. The cry Cody let out didn’t even sound like a word, simply a guttural feeling of fear as Rex was launched thirty feet into the air without even a second of hesitation. 

It felt wrong. It was all wrong. Rex should never be alone like that. Cody was his big brother, he should always be there for him. He would die if he was alone, they always did. 

He isn’t alone.

Cody wasn’t sure how the thought had come to be, but with a sudden clarity it all made sense. The goal was clear and as Rex landed before Palpatine's sneering face Cody whipped around to Obi-Wan.

“General, I need to be up there!” he yelled.

Obi-Wan blinked at him. Obviously the thought of his commander, and more importantly love of his life, running towards what looked like certain death was not what he wanted to hear right now; especially when he already had his little brother potentially dying behind him. He even got so far as to scrunch up his nose and start to argue before Ahsoka cut in.

“Master Obi-Wan!” she yelled, still holding her ground by the cliff and using it as an advantage to launch droids off the edge. “Focus on the force. It is their fight!”

Cody didn’t really know what they were saying and he wasn’t sure he cared as he watched Palpatine's red saber slowly grow. “Obi-Wan,” he nearly whispered. “Please.”

Obi-Wan took a breath, smoke burning his throat and tears from more than just the sting of ash in his eyes. He held out his lightsaber, his very life, for Cody to take. “You are coming back to me.”

It was a statement; and Cody took it and the lightsaber with more reverence than he could ever convey. He let the blade come to life, flooding him in light as he met Obi-Wan's gaze. “Always.”

#I say I can’t write because I have to Google every third word to make sure it’s a real one #fingers crossed it’s still legible #clone commander cody #codywan #star wars #clone wars #fanart #mustafar #give clones lightsabers #writing to music #ficlet series #part 2 #and for the person who said they wanted more congrats #there are 7 parts friend #my writing #my art

[melodygatesauthor]

Birthday Cake

Poe Dameron X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - A (very very belated) birthday gift for @campingwiththecharmings

Thank you for being such a good friend to me since the very beginning of my time on this site and for always being so supportive. I hope you like this and know that I love you dearly ❤️

Summary

It's your birthday, and even though the party is over, your boyfriend Poe still has a surprise in store for you.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, soft Poe Dameron, fluff and smut, food (frosting), birthday fic, pwp, established relationship, p in v creampie, bad jokes, Poe being Poe, reader is not coded

Word Count: 1.4k

You knew that Poe was good at surprises, but seeing him when you got out of the shower wearing nothing but some strategically placed frosting on his nipples was far from what you expected. You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips. He had that playful smirk on his face that let you know you were in for a fun time. It was good to know that even after the years you’d been together, he always managed to keep things interesting.

“Remember when I told you not to fill up on birthday cake tonight?” He asked as you slowly approached him.

“Yeah…” you stopped right in front of him, “I thought you were insinuating I needed to lose a couple pounds.”

Poe broke out of his suave demeanor into a laugh that he couldn’t contain.

“Baby, you know I always like what I see,” he bit his lip and looked you up and down, “thought you knew me better than that.”

He walked up to you, seeming to make a point of swinging his hips more than necessary. When he got closer, he leaned in slowly, pressing a soft, delicate kiss against your lips. A heavy breath escaped you when you went in for more, adding your tongue to the mixture, needing desperately to taste him.

You felt his hands roaming over your body over the towel. He untucked it from around your breasts and let it drop to the floor before pulling you against his chest. You gasped, pulling back from the kiss and staring at him incredulously.

“Poe I just took a shower,” you said, trying to push him back, “I don’t want to get all–”

He interrupted with his lips over yours again, to which you gave up finally and melted into him, letting yourself give in to the moment. He lifted you by your rear, carrying you over to the bed and laying you down before crawling over you. He was so fucking handsome, dark locks falling into his glimmering eyes while he looked at you like nothing else in the galaxy existed. He dipped down, brushing his nose along yours. You could feel the frosting between your chests, smearing all over your skin.

“Was gonna let you clean me up first but…changed my mind sweetheart.”

He moved his lips to your jaw, moaning hungrily. You arched your body upward into his, feeling the warmth of his skin enveloping you. He moved his gentle kisses down your neck, over your collarbone and to your left breast where some of the frosting had transferred from his body to yours. You watched him lap some of the sweet, pink confection off your nipple before closing his mouth on it, flicking his tongue over the peak.

You gasped, reaching one hand up to grab the back of his head while the other gripped the sheets for dear life. You felt Poe’s hand slide over yours, interlocking his fingers with you as he continued his work over your tit. He was messy, slurping and sucking every bit of the frosting on your pebbled skin.

“Mm,” he hummed, looking up at you, “now you really are my sweet girl, aren’t you baby?”

You couldn’t answer, you were too wrapped up in the pleasure that his mouth afforded you, but you still nodded and groaned to show your enjoyment. He moved to the other breast, mumbling something into your sternum on the way over about how he couldn’t let that one feel left out. You felt his thumb brush over the side of your hand, and you felt comfort in his embrace.

“P-Poe…” you whined, squeezing his hand tightly.

He kissed his way back up to your lips. His tongue tasted so sweet as he melted his mouth into yours again. It was as though his cock knew right where your hole was when he lined himself up between your legs. You felt the gentle prod of his precum-slick head, testing your hole to make sure you were ready.

“Couldn’t let you spend your birthday without smothering you in some sweet loving could I?” He bit his lip, looking at you amusedly.

Slowly he slid into you, the delicious drag of his cock giving you waves of pleasure immediately as he bottomed out completely. You both expelled a breathy sigh into the room. He brought his hips back until only the tip remained before he thrusted forward even harder this time. You whimpered in response to the ache of his size. You never quite seemed to get used to that stretch.

“Oh that’s right baby, love hearing those sounds coming from your pretty lips,” he moaned into another kiss as he continued his rhythmic pace, “don’t stop, wanna hear you.”

You complied, making sure he knew exactly how you felt with every cry he forced out of your parted lips while pounding deep into your core. He leaned back and swiped some of the frosting off of his chest, sliding two thick, deliciously coated fingers in your mouth.

“Clean that up for me sweet girl, get them nice and clean.”

You sucked on Poe’s fingers while he fucked you, feeling how hard he got inside your cunt as you swirled your tongue around him. He lurched forward on the next forward snap of his hips, grabbing onto your jaw. He kept his fingers in your mouth while he pressed his lips against your ear. A low rumbling groan came from Poe’s chest.

“Fuck, suck those fingers like you’d suck this cock baby,” he said in a breathy rasp.

You closed your lips around his extremities and started bobbing your head back and forth. You loved the salty taste on the pads of his fingers while he fucked them over your tongue. Poe’s moans became deeper, and you felt him rolling his hips in a stronger, more even tempo. He started kissing the space right below your earlobe, stray curls brushing your cheek. You let out a breathy whine, feeling the way his lips sent an electric current over your entire body.

You slid your own fingers along his chest, grabbing some more of the frosting before mimicking his actions, popping them in his mouth and pushing his face up so he would look at you. He smiled around your fingertips, sticking his tongue in between your middle and forefinger. Your moan was muffled around him, feeling him slide his own digits deeper to the back of your throat.

“Fees sho goob,” Poe said in a tone laced with gravel and muffled by your fingers.

You groaned, closing your eyes and tossing your head back. Poe let his hand leave your mouth and wander past your throat and over your collarbone before clasping onto your breast. You moaned, dropping your hand out of his mouth as well, letting it travel down his chest and swirling the pad of your finger over his nipple in the thin layer of frosting still covering his skin.

He moved faster, choking out a heavy groan as your walls fluttered around his girth in response to the increased pace. His hips started snapping, and he leaned forward, nipping at your neck and then soothing your skin with his tongue. You heard that signature high-pitched whine escape him, letting you know he was close.

“Such a sweet girl, always so good to have you with me, to hear you, to feel you sweetheart,” he continued leaving soft kisses along the soft skin of your neck and throat, breath punching out of his lungs with every forward thrust.

“Yes, yes, you feel so good Poe,” you clenched your teeth and arched your back into him, “so-fucking-good-I—oh!”

“Oh that’s it baby, fuckthat’sitfuck!” He started moving faster, pounding his hips into you until you felt the gush of warmth spill out of him and into your cunt.

You threw your head back, filling the cabin with the moans and whines you knew he loved so much as your cunt crashed down in waves over his cock. He was still going, length pumping hot spurts into your greedy hole, painting your walls white. His voice was low and raspy as he came down from the high, pressing his forehead to yours

“Now, you’re like a sweet little pastry with a cream filling,” he said, laughing too hard at his own joke.

“Not funny,” you gave him a pity chuckle and rolled your eyes, “come on,” you tapped his side, “let’s go get in the shower.”

“Did you enjoy your cake?” He raised his eyebrow.

You tapped his nose, “coulda used more frosting...”

Star Wars Masterlist

#poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fan fiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #star wars #star #wars #poe #dameron #fanfiction #star wars smut #star wars fic #poe dameron headcanons #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron ficlet #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #star wars ficlet #star wars drabble

[ghostofskywalker]

….I believe this is where to drop requests….

{this is a bad batch request} I have two small prompt ideas (it doesn’t have to be both), the rest I shall leave to your artistic liberty: “Medics need medics too, sometimes.” & “our scars show how we’ve learned and grown.”

hello! i used the first prompt, i hope you enjoy!! side note: this fic is hunter-focused :)

words: 714

summary: after you get injured on a mission, you try to take care of it yourself. hunter doesn't let that happen.

clone troopers masterlist

Stubborn Medic

As you sprinted back to the Marauder, you could feel one of the droids’ blaster bolts sting your shoulder, and you just tried to ignore the pain until you were on the ship. Hunter ran up the ramp after you, and soon Tech was bringing the ship into hyperspace, setting course back to Ord Mantell. You felt the pain in your arm begin to amplify as you set down the bag you were carrying and immediately headed towards your bunk, not even bothering to say anything to the rest of the batch. 

There was a medkit that you kept under your bunk, a small and simple one for when you didn’t want to have to go through the trouble of finding the larger one you kept around for more serious injuries. You knew that there were a few bacta patches in the kit, and you really hoped that those (along with a day or two of rest) were all you needed to get yourself feeling better again. You changed into a tank top and began to look through the kit, gathering everything you would need to clean and cover the injury.

As the team’s medic, it didn’t feel right to ask for anyone’s help, because you were the one who was most qualified to handle it. You know they would help you if you said something, that wasn’t the question, but you still felt a little bit useless sometimes on the ship, especially because all of the others had such useful enhancements. Half the time, the scrapes and bruises that the team sustained were so minor that they were able to patch themselves up, and you wondered why you had been assigned to them as a permanent medic. 

Right as you had finished cleaning the wound (to the best of your ability, because it was in a bit of an awkward location), you heard someone step into the room and Hunter’s voice fill the space. “What are you doing?” 

“I got hit with a blaster bolt out there,” you said matter-of-factly, as you peeled a bacta patch off its paper. “I was just patching myself up.” 

“Did you clean the wound?” Hunter asked, and you looked at him like he had grown a second head as you held up the medkit’s cleaning wipe. “Because there’s still some blood on your arm.”

“Oh,” you said, mentally kicking yourself for not doing a better job. “I’ll just-” 

“Here, let me help you,” Hunter said, taking the wipe out of your hand and gently running it on the skin surrounding your wound. You were about to protest, but it was all happening so quickly, and the feeling of the antiseptic against the raw skin made you wince. 

While you couldn’t categorize the relationship you shared with the squad’s sergeant, it was certainly different than the one you had with the rest of the squad. “Mesh’la,” he said, his voice quiet as he took the bacta patch from your hand and started to apply it to your wound. “Why didn’t you ask for help?” 

You sniffled, and whether it was from the pain or the emotions you were currently feeling you didn’t know. “I thought I should be able to handle it myself,” you responded. “It is my job on this squad after all, and you don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I hate to break it to you, but I’ll always worry about you,” Hunter said, and he sat down next to you on your bunk. Instinctively, you leaned into his side. “And medics need medics too sometimes.” 

“I know, but I thought I could handle it.” 

“I’ve seen you patch up injuries way worse than that, so there’s no doubt in my mind that you couldn’t, but I wanted to help you,” he said. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and you nearly combusted into flames right then and there. “You should get some sleep, sergeant’s orders.” 

Maybe on another day you would have argued a little with him, but the excitement of the day and the adrenaline rush from the mission had long since worn off, and you were really tired.

As you drifted off to dreamland, you couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on your skin.

- the end -

#2023 spring ficlets 🐝 #sergeant hunter #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars x reader #clone trooper x reader

[sinisterexaggerator]

Reactions if you please (or tiny filet for one/each) Hondo Ohnaka, Cad Bane, and Shriv Surgaav react to their respective ladies suprising them with a tasty homecooked meal?

Hondo Ohnaka would be appreciative of your home-cooked meal.

He would give you a *chef’s kiss* even if he hated it.

If it turns out you couldn’t cook, he will pretend to like it anyway.

If he’s drunk enough, he will eat anything when hungry.

“Tu what du I owe de honor, my dear?” Hondo rounded you, wafting his hand midair to entice the aroma towards his nostrils as they flared. It smelled delicious, not unlike the woman who had undertaken the task of making it – he grinned devilishly at you before he sat down at your table.

“Dis looks divine, but I simply cannot wait tou eat dessert. I daresay, I hope et’s pie.”

Oooh, he was sly…

---

Cad Bane would eye the plate suspiciously.

He may very well poke it a few times with his utensil.

I can see him raising his brow ridge at you, questioning your motives.

He will be honest with you if it’s terrible.

“S’not poisoned, is it? Dun pissed ye off an ye tryin’ t’kill me? Dhat it?”  The Duros poked at the spread you had placed before him. It looked edible, but he was overtly cautious. People just didn’t do things for him out of the goodness of their hearts, they had a rhyme or reason. Was it to put him in an early grave, or did you want something?

IF he trusts you …

He would still be cautious, but he would take a bite to make you happy.

He would chew slowly to scrutinize every hint of flavor, or to not let on how much he likes or hates it, depending.

He would have to think very hard and carefully before deciding to either praise or insult you.

In fact, he might not say anything at all, leaving you at a loss, or perhaps upset.

Bane took a bite of the dish you had prepared. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste. You couldn’t tell one way or the other if he was enjoying it, or if he was holding in his comments so as to spare you. He ate in silence before getting up to leave. He wiped his mouth gingerly, tipped his hat, then placed a toothpick between his teeth. You sighed, realizing you would never know the truth.

---

Shriv Suurgav would be ecstatic you cared enough about him to do something nice for him.

If it tasted terrible, he would be honest, but he would try to let you down easy.

If he upset you, he would feel horribly guilty and berate himself for being such a dick even if he meant well, though perhaps nonverbally (cursing himself inside his head).

He might question why you ever bothered to go out of your way for him, and depending on your answer he might choke, or blush profusely.

“F-for me? You didn’t have to do all this! I’m not worth it, sweetheart.”  The Duros felt nothing but gratitude for you. He was terrible at remembering to eat, and even more terrible at cooking. He rubbed his rostrum along your nose before sitting down to partake of your home-cooked meal, feeling somewhat nervous as you had sat down right across from him.

He took a bite, chewing slowly; his face brightened as he realized it was scrumptious. You smiled coyly at him as your foot ran up his ankle, his shin, and along his thigh. He nearly choked as he blinked briskly at you, his fork hovering outside his now open mouth.

“Hurry up, Shriv. That’s not even the main course,” you crooned.

Suurgav felt his cheeks go navy blue -  fierfek, he was sooo into you.

#Hondo Ohnaka #Cad Bane #Shriv Suurgav #Headcanons #Ficlet #Star Wars #Anonymous Request #Star Wars Ficlet #Star Wars Headcanon #Clone Wars #Bad Batch #Book of Boba Fett #Rebels #Weequay #Duros #Star Wars Imagines