#I AM NOT BOBA FETT BUT NOW I HAVE TO SAY IT ALL THE TIME

[engagemythrusters]

Hi. I want to thank Temuera Morrison for everything he did for Boba Fett.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Say Yes

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Trigger Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, heavy suggestive themes, protective!Boba, Mandalorian!Boba, light angst, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A young, handsome bounty hunter on Tatooine makes it a daily intention to ask you to marry him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart riduur – partner / spouse “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde” – marriage vows

“Marry me, cyar’ika.”

You glance up from the worn open tome resting on the counter in front of you. “Again? Really, Boba?”

The Mandalorian helmet, dented with flaking green paint, tilts slightly to the right. “You called me ‘Boba’ this time,” teases the bounty hunter.

You roll your eyes and push off from the counter, cheeks heating even as you grumble in false irritation.

Boba Fett, Jabba the Hutt’s favorite mercenary for hire, has asked you to marry him every day for several weeks now. And each time, you have refused him. For the first few, you were overly polite. But as his attempts continued, your polite rejections transformed into snarky quips and blatant dismissals.

It’s not like you don’t find the man attractive. Underneath the armor is an incredibly handsome man, and his attention has always been sincere. But Boba Fett is a dangerous man, and you’re just a simple shopkeeper trying to make a living in Mos Espa. In that regard, the two of you are incompatible no matter how much he persists and chases after you.

“I like how you say my name,” continues Boba, his voice a soft purr. “Sounds beautiful on your tongue.”

“And you are too forward,” you snap, knowing that your sharpness is just a cover. Which is silly, because you do like him, and Boba seems to understand this. Boba burrows beneath your skin, and you cannot dig him out.

“Am I?” he asks with mock offense. You really want to throttle him, but you also really want to kiss him.

“Yes. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Fett,” you emphasize, deliberately using his last name. “But a ‘no’ is a ‘no’ even if you don’t like it.”

Yep. Push him away. Keep pushing. Maybe he’ll take the hint this time.

Boba Fett stands tall, arms crossed over his chest, one hip slightly popped. With the helmet on, you have no idea what his expression might be or what he’s feeling. Not knowing is maddening, and it quickens your heartbeat, a growing tingle buzzing in the tips of your fingers.

“So, all those touches meant nothing to you?” he asks with just the faintest hint of roughness in his tone.

“Yes,” you lie.

Boba shifts on his feet, shoulders straightening. “What about all the kisses you’ve given me? Hm? Nothing?”

Kriffing hell, why is this man always so direct? It’s nice that Boba is good about telling you what he wants and what he’s thinking for the most part, but it always catches you off-guard. It makes you weak, melting you into goo that he can mold however he wishes.

“Those are not enough to build a marriage, Boba,” you shrug. “There has to be more.”

“But there is more.” He steps around the counter, stepping into your space. “Isn’t there?”

Boba is right. There is more. There has always been more. Whenever Boba is on Tatooine, he is visiting you, talking with you, bringing you gifts, fixing things around the shop without you having to ask. He has offered to take you out after you’ve closed shop. He routinely takes a personal interest in your safety and security. Because of that, no one bothers you or tries to harass additional credits out of you. They stay away and respect you because they see you as Boba’s woman.

And it isn’t only that. He only ever speaks softly to you. He only ever treats you with respect and shows general interest in your life. The most maddening thing is how many women have actively shown their interest in him to his face, and he has brushed them all aside. Even after all these refusals on your end, Boba still declines their advances, and shows up at your shop each day insisting that you marry him.

“Why do you keep denying this, cyar’ika? You know I’d make you happy.” Boba is standing too close, almost on top of you.

“The shop is closed,” you reply. “If you’re not going to make a purchase, you should leave.”

Boba nods his head and backs up, reaching for an item off the shelf without looking. He deposits some credits on the counter, much more than what the item is actually worth.

“I’ll return tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder, tapping the counter as he makes his exit.

The soft chime that alerts you to when the front door opens echoes throughout the room.

You’re in the backroom organizing. It’s the next day, and Boba hasn’t shown himself yet. This might be him, but it’s likely not. There are times when Boba does not come, and you are fully aware that those are times when Jabba sends him off for a job.

“Sorry. We’re closed.” You step out from the backroom and immediately freeze.

Three Nikto bikers loiter in the middle of the shop. It’s evident that they are not here to purchase anything. Their dark eyes roam over the shelves and tables, but once they notice you, they focus in, drawing closer.

“Apologies,” you say, attempting to project your voice, to sound tougher than you are. “We’ve closed for the evening. If there is something you need right away, I can ring you up. Otherwise, you’ll need to leave.” You do your best to keep your voice steady and calm, but you hear the gentle shake.

“This street is our new territory,” hisses the leader of the group. “We were stopping by to offer our…services.”

Services, meaning protection, meaning “pay us or you’ll be a target.”

Tatooine might be overrun with crime lords and criminal activity, but the main powers at play are not known to harass the smaller folks just trying to make a living. These are outliers. These are individuals who answer to no one but themselves, and believe they can carve a piece out for their own gain.

Rarely are they ever successful, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, the soft chime comes again. This time everyone turns and you sigh with relief when you see who it is.

“Boba Fett,” says the Nikto slowly. His shoulders stiffen and they all put their hands on their blasters.

The bounty hunter does no answer right away. His helmet moves, scanning the Nikto, and then you, assessing. Even from across the shop, you sense Boba’s anger. There are few things that rile him up, but you’re one of them.

“It’s not smart moving in on Jabba’s territory. Or to harass what’s mine.” When Boba says mine, he growls it. The possessiveness in his tone heats your flesh, sends a sharp spike of desire down to your belly.

The Nikto all glance at each other before the leader addresses Fett. “We didn’t know the female was yours, Boba.” He holds his hands out in a placating gesture, indicating that he didn’t mean any harm. Yet you know that isn’t true. Their intention from the start was to harass you for credits.

You scoff at female but decide to let it go.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” Boba steps to the side.

The duo glance at their leader for direction. The Nikto’s features are impassive, but he eventually inclines his head, exiting as Boba insist they do. When the last one leaves, Boba momentarily glances in your direction. The door stands open, and Boba exits with him.

When it whooshes shut, you sprint over to the wall panel, immediately engaging the lock and shuttering the windows. You stand in the silent shop for a few minutes trying to calm your heartrate. Once it’s manageable, and not beating so hard it might burst from your chest, you head upstairs to your small apartment above the shop.

By the time you’re curled up in bed, you’re no longer anxious, but there is the slightest bit of tension that lingers in your limbs. Sighing, you turn over in the bed, only to hear the brief pulse of a jetpack shutting off and boots on the small balcony outside your bedroom window.

Slowly, you push up to sitting, the bedsheets falling to your waist. You know it’s Boba. He does this some nights. Camps out and protect you in the only way he knows how because you’re too stubborn to take him up on his numerous marriage proposals.

Tonight, it’s obvious as to why he’s out there. Part of you is reluctant to leave him outside. You’d prefer it if he were with you, within arm’s reach, to see him without the helmet. Plus, nights on Tatooine can grow cold. You want him inside where it’s warm.

On quiet feet, you go to the door that leads outside. Opening it silently, you stick your head out into the chilly air, finding Boba as he leans against the exterior wall, arms crossed.

“You should be in bed, cyar’ika,” chides Boba playfully.

You swallow, suddenly nervous now that you’re confronting him. “Do you want to come inside?” you ask, a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it’s the uncertainty in your tone, or the way you shrink back a bit into the interior of the room, because Boba is suddenly alert, all of his attention attuned to you.

Boba immediately pushes off from the wall and approaches you, his hand on the door, pushing it wider. “Are you hurt? Did one of them touch you?”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. I’m fine. Promise.”

Boba’s chest heaves slightly but you’re not sure if it’s from his sudden movement or a releasing of relief. He glances over his shoulder at Mos Espa, the t-shaped visor of his helmet fixated on the city’s skyline. Turning back, Boba nods.

You step away from the door and Boba enters. Even with the door closed and the windows’ shutters slanted to dim the moonlight, some of it still spills over the room like tiny white rivers.

His helmet hisses as the pressure seal disengages. Slowly, Boba lifts the helmet off his head and sets it aside on a nearby table. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the ends sticking up slightly after he does so. With the faintest movement, Boba turns, and that moonlight cuts sharp glowing lines over his face, highlighting tanned skin and dark eyes.

You don’t even realize you’re moving closer to him until Boba grabs you by the waist and pulls you against his armor-clad body. Instinctively, your hands reach out, locking onto the beskar. Boba’s head dips and yours rises to meet him automatically, and yet there is no connection. It is simply holding, a waiting between two hesitant people.

“You haven’t asked me to marry you today,” you murmur.

The corner of Boba’s lips turns upward in a soft smile. “Will you marry me, cyar’ika?”

“No,” you say automatically, before the two of you start laughing.

“Let’s try that again.” Boba reaches up and cradles your cheek. “Cyar’ika. Will you marry me? Will you allow me to speak the words of my people? And will you speak them back?”

The words of his people. The Mandalorian marriage vows. You are distinctly aware of what they are and what they mean. Which is why Boba’s earnestness isn’t fake to you. Mandalorians take their weddings vows seriously even though the process of exchange is simple. It is the intention behind the exchange that is most important to them.

That is how you know Boba speaks the truth, that him asking you to marry him is a genuine desire of his.

“Passion does not make a relationship,” you reply.

The answer is a shift away from actually having to answer. How many times have you and Boba ended up on the floor of the backroom after rejecting him? It’s more than you can count on your hands.

“That’s all this is to you?” he laughs. “You know I can give you more. I do more than that now.”

You curl forward a bit, rest your forehead against the beskar. “I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of what will change.”

Boba’s fingers brush under your chin and lightly guide your gaze back to his. “I wouldn’t ask you to give anything up.”

“Yes, but—”

Boba gives the slightest shake of his head and you instantly quiet. “Do you want me?” he asks. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I want you,” you breathe, allowing the words to drip off your tongue.

“May I have one of your kisses?” he asks softly, one gloved thumb lightly pressing down on your bottom lip.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Boba closes the distance, forms perfectly to you. It is slow and delicate and sweet. Your body hums with energy, and when you press for more, Boba growls and pulls back, hastily ripping off his gloves to reveal his bare hands.

Then he’s cupping the side of your face, drawing you back to him, tasting and tasting and tasting until your fingers are clawing at him in desperation. When he breaks the kiss, you still lean forward as if you can reach him.

“Then repeat the words with me, cyar’ika. Become my riduur.”

Boba presses his lips to yours, draws forth an air-stealing shiver from deep within your lungs.

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome,” you repeat.

We are one together.

Boba slides an arm around your waist to drape softly over your curves. “Mhi solus dar’tome,” he says.

You say it back to him. “Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when parted.

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

We share all.

This time, Boba slots his pelvis against yours, and you understand his heated intention.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” you say with shaky breath.

We will raise warriors.

Boba snuggles the side of your neck, breathes in your scent. “I’d like to lay with my riduur.” His fingers find the edge of your sleeping robes.

“As long as I can have my riduur the same way.”

Boba grins against your throat. Together, the two of you remove his armor, piece by piece by piece. The moment his flightsuit is unzipped and he steps out of it, Boba is on you, drawing your lips to his, desperately claiming what is now so rightfully his.

Your own clothes are gone before making it to the bed. Boba runs his hands over your back, sliding down to lift you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his middle, and Boba carries you off, placing you gently onto your back.

His mouth upon your skin is a brand. Hot. Searing. It goes lower, lower still until you’re crying out for him, begging for him to be with you as your riduur should. Boba is happy to do so, sliding between your thighs so perfectly, you both lose yourselves momentarily before becoming nothing but a raging storm, waves crashing into each other repeatedly until one of you breaks.

Rest does not come until the morning suns begin to ascend over the horizon. You do not open your shop. And Boba does not return to Jabba’s palace.

There is peace for a while.

Harmony.

taglist:

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[mediumgayitalian]

okay a few solangelo things i’m curious your take on,

what kind of gift givers do you think will and nico are to each other?

are either of them music nerds? making playlists? gifting playlists? what music do u think they like?

what is their favorite fruit?

do you think either of them keep up with pop culture? are they fans of anything? celebrity crushes? like do you think will would think timothee chalamet is cute bc he lowkey has nico’s vibes and is such a buzzer name for celeb crushes? lolll

and then, do you think nico shamelessly takes will’s sweaters and shirts to wear or secretly swipes them?

ty! love ur blog so much xx

HELL YEAH THANK YOU

what kind of gift givers do you think will and nico are to each other?

i think nico spoils will fucking rotten.

his dad is the god of wealth he is holding NOTHING back. aside from that, he grew up wealthy and spent so so long in the lotus casino. i think he has a rly bad handle on money lol.

however he's such a mysterious guy that i think it doesn't occur to will that nico is actively spending money on him??

like will makes an offhand comment about how he would marry the person who would bring him the mystical rocket launching boba fett. and nico is like word okay and the next day there is a rocket launching boba fett on will's pillow and he's like BRO???? OH MY GOD?????

but he just figures that nico knew someone who had it!! he knows nico is big on figurines & collectibles and has a lot of connections, so he thinks nico just called in a favour.

in reality nico did all those things and also spent like two hundred k lol

basically, nico doesn't even think about it. if he hears a friend express a want that he has to means to acquire...its not even an active choice to him?? he's like well why wouldn't i buy this for them.

and i think this means a whole lot to will!!

he's spent his life in his mom's tour van or a bunk bed. he grew up in two wars. he was responsible for an entire infirmary at 13. he's a nerd and he likes nerdy things but like...collecting takes time. and money he doesn't have, because money isn't really a focus in camp and its not like he's paid lol

so of course there are things that he likes but...imagine being will. imagine having a budget for the INFIRMARY YOU RUN and thinking, like...well the camp has only so much money. i know exactly what these medical supplies cost. i refuse to steal. why would i ever be so selfish to ask for money to be spent on me and the things i like?

and then there's nico, who doesn't need him to ask. who WANTS to give him things he wants, not just what he needs or what he wants for others. what WILL wants. nico will get him.

will on the other hand....he gives away his time like it's free.

he does things for people. constantly. like austin complains about not having anywhere quiet to practice and will builds him a soundproof practice room. you know?

now when nico, who has had no one spend their time on him since bianca....

like his father did not have time for him. even when he lived in the underworld, he was put to work. or else he was bored. it's not like he and hades HUNG OUT, you know?

and of course he had no friends to spend their time on him. even in his first time at camp half blood -- for the first time, bianca didnt have time for him. she chose the hunters for ETERNITY, she said i am done choosing you now. and nico drove percy insane, who certainly didn't have time for him between saving the world. the entire time we saw him in TTC he was being pushed away.

by the time he had hazel, HE was the one pushing himself away before anyone else could. he filled his time so he wasn't waiting for anyone else. besides, through no fault of hers, he and hazel CAN'T give each other as much of their time as they would like!! they live on opposite sides of the country!!

but will.....

gods will. will SEEKS HIM OUT. the first thing will says to him is i have carved out, in my busy healer schedule, three days of time for YOU. not only have i carved out these three days, but in that brief moment of time where i was running around camp, i was thinking about you. you were a PRIORITY and i'm upset that you did not come spend your time with me.

like.....oh my god. can you imagine that? being nico? hearing someone you barely know, at this point, talk about how much time he wants to spend with you? and then as you get closer, he spends SO MUCH time with you!! he makes you a priority!

will walks nico to breakfast and watches him in sword practice and takes out his schedule when nico is making his to make sure they line up. he plans dates and they're FUN and he is so careful to make them enjoyable for nico, too, so much so that he forgets his nerves.

the biggest gifts they give to each other is noticing, i think. i see you, i see what you need and wont ask for, and i care enough to give it to you anyway.

are either of them music nerds? making playlists? gifting playlists? what music do u think they like?

will is the HUGEST MUSIC NERD IN THE WORLD.

he may not have many musical talents himself but music was naomi solace's whole world. you bet your ass it's everything for him, too.

he is teased for his love of country, and he does love country (everybody loves country if you hate country you are lying to yourself, i know you sing along to before he cheats with your whole chest), but he has a VAST music taste.

he is a britney spears stan. i will not be convinced otherwise.

nico, on the other hand, is not nearly as ignorant about music as people pretend he is. y'all he was in a casino/arcade until like 2006!!!!! do you think it was silent in there!!!!! do you think he is not the absolute king of just dance and DDR!!!

however he was, like, 10. so i think he's familiar with a lot of songs but in the way you were when you were a kid, you know?? like i could sing paparazzi w my whole chest beginning to end flawlessly at eight years old, but i would not have been able to recognise lady gaga by name or sight.

i think he and will make somewhat of a game out of it. the first time they hang out, nico is NERVOUS beforehand. like for hours. will said they were going to have a chill day bc he has time off, but what are they supposed to DO?? before they were actively doing stuff together. will was teaching nico first aid basics, or nico was helping him around the infirmary; they were helping rebuild camp together. sure, they were talking, but they had something to focus on if things got awkward or conversation faded naturally.

that is VERY DIFFERENT from just hanging out in person. is nico supposed to have conversation starters prepared? how much silence is rude? is will going to finally decide he's boring? or weird? will is such a hyper person!!! how is nico supposed to entertain him!!

meanwhile will is in his cabin freaking the fuck out to his siblings like GUYS HES GONNA THINK IM A WEIRD NERD DORK LOSER 😭😭😭.....WHAT IF HE SAYS THE WORD SAND AND I GO ON THE ANAKIN SKYWALKER RANT ON REFLEX FUCK KAYLA WHAT DO I DO I DONT KNOW HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS LIKE A NORMAL PERSON HE IS SO OUT OF MY LEAGUE

so he calls his mom 💀

and his mom is like baby....you are a disaster are you aware. and hes like thanks MOM i know i need HELP OKAY

and naomi is like well you got on with my backstage crew just fine. and hes like well yeah we just talked about music that was easy.

...

OH THANKS MOM YOURE SO SMART

and he's like wait nico has spent a lot of time in the underworld...he might not be very up to date!! this'll be awesome. so he stays up till like 3 on the big house computer carefully making nico several CDs worth of playlists.

he makes HOURS of music. way more than they could ever listen to in one day, but he gets carried away. he makes a playlist with his favourite country music, including his moms stuff obviously, with rock music he thinks nico in particular will like, pop punk stuff, regular pop, an entire CD dedicated to the icon herself kesha (whom he knows personally bc she sun backup vocals for his mom when she was a teenager), some musicals, and some iconic european music to top it off. he has a little bit of EVERYTHING.

most important, though, he makes a CD with the top 100 billboard songs from the years 1958 (when it started) to 1985. he doesnt have enough time to do it all the way to this year in one night but vows to work on it when he has time.

when he goes to nico's cabin, he comes with a stack of CDs as long as his arm and chiron's CD player. he's practically sparkling with excitement; when nico opens the door he is already halfway through a sentence lol.

for four straight hours, they just listen to song after song, will pausing after each one to ask what nico thinks. he recognises a lot of them, even though he didn't know their names, but even still he's pretty quiet at first. but as they go on it gets hard not to get caught up in wills excitement, and he dances like such a dork, anyway, is it his fault for laughing? and those four hours pass like MINUTES and suddenly its curfew and will has to go.

this becomes their tradition! will plays a song, nico reviews it. even as they learn how to hang out with each other in different ways, it becomes reflex -- when there's a song playing will looks at nico for a reaction. when they're with others, in public, whenever.

the first time nico makes will a playlist he cries.

the playlist is called sunshine.

will plays on his walkman until its worn right through.

what is their favorite fruit?

at first will thinks nico doesn't like fruit at all because he has to force this dumbass to eat fruit and vegetables. all he eats is like. cereal and sandwiches. it stresses will the fuck out.

he's out here plopping a bowl of fruit on nico's table like eat this whole thing or i'm gonna whoop your ass before scurvy does. (he is genuinely afraid nico is going to get scurvy, although its not a very effective anxiety because hes kind of deeply afraid of scurvy in general and is always trying to push people to eat oranges lol).

nico ALWAYS drags his feet about it. at one point will gets worried that nico just straight up doesn't like fruit and starts fretting about synthetizing supplements.

turns out nico is just, like...a little pretentious. about fruit particularly. in his defense, he has been all over the world. like he's had indian mangoes and algerian clementines okay it is VERY hard to settle for stuff grown in north america as nice as the demeter greenhouses are.

his favourite fruit ever is the lemon though. he had a lemon tree in his backyard when he was a kid that he doesn't remember, exactly, but he remembers how it tastes. will brings him a lemon once and almost as if his hands are working on their own, he cuts a slice, removes the peel and pith, puts it in a jar of sugar, and shakes to coat it, like his nonna would do secretly when he mama wasn't looking. its the best thing he's ever tasted.

will is a fruit fanatic, on the other hand. he steals strawberries every time he walks by the fields. the demeter cabin has to count their blueberries every night because he can and will eat them all when no one's looking.

his favourite, though, and he never ever gets it at camp, is prickly pear. in the summers before camp he would go to the desert with his mom and pick enough to make his stomach hurt -- he's never home when they're in season now, so sometimes when she's free shell drive up to new york just to bring him a box of them. she knows he's busy and cant leave camp in summers but she wants him to have that, at least.

do you think either of them keep up with pop culture? are they fans of anything? celebrity crushes? like do you think will would think timothee chalamet is cute bc he lowkey has nico’s vibes and is such a buzzer name for celeb crushes? lolll

i think all year-rounders are into pop culture just fine, but they're a few years behind. except for music -- will knows music. but things like movies and tv shows and memes, they either get updated from their summer-only friends or they stumble upon in naturally when it's not longer relevant lol.

nico, though, has an encyclopedic knowledge of old pop culture, because the lotus got new tech and games and movies before literally anyone else. he saw back to the future before it was in theatres and it changed his life. he quotes it all the time and no one has called him out on it then, but it is only a matter of time.

(he has seen star wars. he saw star wars before will was alive. but it is 100% funnier to pretend he doesn't know what a galaxy is and watch will's eye twitch when he asks him about luke skyrunner)

and then, do you think nico shamelessly takes will’s sweaters and shirts to wear or secretly swipes them?

yes absolutely. but he's super embarrassed about it at first so he genuinely STEALS them, not just borrows them.

it's a heist and everything. he shadow travels into the apollo cabin at like three in the morning and rifles through will's shelf. when he gets back he panics and shoves it under his mattress, where it lives in shame for four months. will just thinks it must have been an unfortunate victim of some poor sick child or bleeding demigod and writes it off.

after several months, during which nico thinks about the sweater ALL the time but cannot physically force himself to touch, nico finally gets brave enough to take it out from under his mattress. he just stares at it for a long ass time, wrinkling it in his clenched hands. it's just a hoodie, you know?? who cares.

nico cares. obviously.

eventually he gets so annoyed with himself that he just yanks it on expecting to be able to tell himself like SEE you dumbass it's just a piece of clothing it literally does not matter. except.

except.

the hoodie still smells like will.

somehow.

and that is.

well.

he would rather dunk his head into the river of fire than admit it, but he melts. the hoodie is old as hell and worn and so so so so soft, gods, no wonder will wears it all the time. he never wants to take it off ever.

for weeks, whenever he's alone in the cabin, he wears the hoodie. it stops smelling like will pretty quickly but he doesn't mind, it's still the most comfortable thing ever. it becomes second nature to walk into his cabin, throw off his jacket, and tug the hoodie on, wearing it to bed.

on one night, and of course it's the hermes' cabin fault, everyone is rushing out of their cabin to see what the fresh fuck is sounding like twenty four fire alarms at once and also a nuclear explosion. nico, in his haste, does not take off the hoodie.

will, whipped, makes sure his siblings are okay and then turns immediately to find nico. he Sees The Hoodie. nico Sees Him See The Hoodie. nico tries to flee.

will has longer legs and also spots a teasing opportunity, so hera herself could not stop him.

will teases him to pieces but is also visibly pleased. the next morning nico finds another hoodie of will's hung over his desk chair.

he wears will's hoodies all the time.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THESE IN I HAD SO MUCH FUN

[maybege]

so uh, enjoy roughly 900 words of pure football coach!boba filth under the cut.

some warnings: d*ddy kink, overstimulation, consensual somnophilia, age gap, dom!boba, sub!fem!reader, modern au, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight verbal degradation

for some context: this snippet is based on this idea, set in this universe where boba is a retire footballplayer and now acts as head coach for whatever football team paz plays for

“Daddy, I can’t take it anymore,” you whined, your legs wriggling as you tried to escape his grasp. But the sensation did not let up. You had lost count of how many times you had come. You had lost count of how many times he had come. Then again, you had no idea what time it was. It had been dark when you had slipped into his room and it was dark outside still.

It was also winter and the days were short so who was to say, really. 

“What was that?” Boba asked, his thumb continuing to brush over your clit again and again.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. You must have looked like a mess.

“Do you remember your safe word?” he asked you, his hand on the back of your neck. His eyes looked at you, dark and intense, and you were thankful for the dim light of the lamp on the bedside table. Because his eyes were what had drawn you in the first time and they were what tethered you to reality now.

You nodded, another gasp escaping you as one finger pushed inside your pussy. The way was eased by the several loads of come he had left there during the night.

“Can you repeat it for me, princess?” he asked gently, his forehead resting against yours, “Can you say our safe word?”

“Football,” you whispered your voice from when you had screamed your orgasms into the pillow.

His movements slowed. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want to use the safe word?”

You remained silent, looking up at the older man above you. You were both sweaty, bodies running hot from the way you had spent the last few hours.

He raised a brow expectantly, shifting and you could feel his cock stirring against your hip. You whimpered, your pussy clenching at the prospect of feeling him inside you again.

“You asked me to push you to your limits, little one,” he reminded you, his fingers dipping inside your folds, “You asked a man old enough to be your father to fuck you so hard you can finally sleep. You can use your safe word anytime you want. But Daddy is not stopping until he hears you say it.”

And with that, he climbed on top of you again.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered, unsure you what it was that you needed.

“What is it, little one?” he teased you, planting a hot kiss on your neck as his fingers pinched your nipple. Your back arched off the bed and into his touch.

“’m tired,” you finally brought out, your words slurring, “I am tired, Boba.”

His dark chuckle sent shivers down your spine. His weight left you and for a moment, you were scared that that was it. That he would leave you alone. “Turn around then,” he instructed you, his hand landing a slap on your ass you followed his order.

You squeaked, turning you laid down on your belly. “Get nice and comfortable,” he rumbled, helping you fold your arms and cuddle a cold pillow to your face, “You comfortable, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, your hand reaching behind you to try and touch him, “Daddy, please, I need …”

“I know what you need,” he reassured you. You felt the bed dip behind you and soon, his warm hands spread your legs apart. Your eyes slipped shut, relishing in his soft touches and the knowledge of what was to follow.

The tip of him swiped through your folds and you clenched. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed you, one big hand squeezing your hip, “Relax. You know you want another load.”

The truth in his words made your cheeks heat up and you spread your legs further. Boba Fett was a large man and even though this was not the first time he had fucked you, your lungs still lost all breath when he pushed inside you.

“Fuck, you’re tight, princess,” he groaned, slowly continuing his advance. You could feel the come and the thought made you clench. You never thought you liked being messy. Turns out you loved being filthy.

At least for him.

It took only a moment until he was fully seated inside you and the feeling of completeness that filled you made you smile. “Look at you,” he whispered, leaning forward until his chest was plastered against your back, “Pretty princess really cannot get enough. No, she always wants another load in her pretty little pussy, hm?”

“Daddy,” you whined, resting your face on your cheek so he could kiss the one that was facing him, “I want your come. I was a good girl.”

A large hand landed next to your face and your eyes drifted over the swirling tattoos on his arm. Maybe one day you would ask him about them instead of staring at them and salivating when you watched him train.

“You are the best girl,” he agreed, “Best little slut that ever took my cock. You can fall asleep too, little one, that is why we’re doing this, isn’t it?” he mocked you, “Needed a big cock to fuck you to sleep.”

He continued moving, slow and steady, the movement making your

“Yes,” you sighed, your words jumble in your mouth as you drifted off, “That is exactly what I needed.”

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on your 650 followers Vodika! I bring you a request. May I please have a fairy tale AU with Jango Fett. Jango is the king of Mandalore and he hires you as his son's caretaker. As you spend more time with Boba and Jango the two of you fall in love with one another and even though you are just a commoner and Jango can have any woman he wants all Jango wants is to marry you and make you his queen.

Once again congratulations Vodika! I look forward to reading all of your requests once they are finished ❤️

Cin Vhetin

Summary: After losing your well-paying career as an in-home nanny due to a lie, you’re forced to move in with your older sister just to make ends meet. You’re about to give up on ever finding another job when your sister brings you an opportunity that you can’t turn down.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 2958

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, I've had this mostly written for days now, I just couldn't get the final section to come out right. But I'm finally happy with it! So I hope you like it!

“I’m home~”

You look up from where you’re putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner as your sister waltzes into the kitchen, a broad grin on her face. “Welcome back,” You greet tiredly, “You’re in a good mood, Rayne.”

“Of course I am, I got to see my future husband-”

“You mean the one who doesn’t know you exist? That future husband?”

“Hush, stop raining on my parade.” She spins around the kitchen, as though she’s still a teenager and not a woman nearing forty. “Anyway, I saw my beloved. And we had a conversation.”

“Oh?”

“He asked me if I wanted two loaves of bread or if one would be enough for tonight.”

“Sis, that isn’t talking, that’s him doing his job.” You counter with a roll of your eyes, “But continue.”

“It’s a step up.” She huffs as she stops spinning and flings her arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “But, much more importantly. I signed you up for an interview at the palace tomorrow.”

“You what?!” You spin and glare at her, “An interview for what?”

“Don’t freak out,” She says as she jabs her finger in your face, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Rayne!”

She rolls her eyes, “As you know, King Jango now has an infant son, and he needs a skilled nanny for Prince Boba. And you, my darling baby sister, are a skilled nanny and governess.” 

“Yeah, aside from the fact that I was fired from my last job.”

“Okay, so you weren’t fired because of anything you did, first of all. Those people lied about you and ruined your reputation, and this is an excellent way to repair that.” Rayne says as she places her hands on her hips, “Also, I know you’re doing your best to get a job and everyone is denying you because of the rumors, but I really think that this is the way to go.”

“If I get denied because of this lie—”

“You won’t,” Rayne reassures. “Your skill speaks for itself. And the King is rumored to be a discerning man.” She places her hands on your shoulders, “Will you go?”

You sigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

She squeals and flings her arms around you, “Oh, you won’t regret this, I know it.” Rayne releases you and claps her hands in front of her face, “Now, your interview is at the end of the day tomorrow, do you have a proper outfit to wear? I know you prefer your tunics, leggings, and boots. But do you have any skirts?”

“You know I don’t.” You say with a sigh, “I have a nice tunic and leggings that I can wear tomorrow. It’ll be fine.” Rayne opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “I know you’re worried, but my clothes will be fine.”

She sighs and folds her arms, “I know, I know. I just…you’ve been so unhappy since you lost your last job. I’ve been worried.”

You make a face, “Well, the rumors weren’t kind to me, Rayne.”

“No, they weren’t.” She takes your hands and squeezes them, “I’ll leave you to your cooking, alright? I need to tend to the garden and then get cleaned up. Call me when dinner is done?”

“I always do.”

Rayne smiles at you and turns to leave the room, and then she pauses and looks at you, “Vod’ika,” you start at the familiar word falling from her lips, “Our buir’e would be proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am.”

Your face heats and you avert your gaze, “You think so?”

“I know so.” Rayne hurries over to you and presses a light kiss to your temple. “Now, I do have to tend to the garden. Are you good?”

You smile at her, “Yeah. I’m good.” You watch as she leaves the room and then turn your attention back to the meal you’re preparing. You are so lucky that your sister is such an amazing person.  You’re never going to be able to pay her back.

The next day, your sister walks you to the palace, where you join the veritable army of other women who have applied for the position. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?” Rayne asks as she tucks some hair out of your face, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. You have better things to do than wait hours for me to finish my interview, Rayne. And I know you have some things you need to do.”

“Well, yes-”

“Don’t worry about me.” You reassure her, “I’ll be okay. I’ve done this before after all.”

Rayne sighs, “Alright. I’ll see you this evening then. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You watch as Rayne hurries into the crowd and you settle back to wait for your turn. You know it’ll be a long wait.

King of Mandalore, Jango Fett, leans back in his chair as the most recent interviewee is escorted from the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to stem the growing migraine.

“Well, this is going splendidly,” Miles notes dryly, “Half of those women have never seen a child, and the other half would be bad fits for living in the palace.”

Jango grunts, and then drops his hand, “You heard the woman who claims that children need a firm hand?”

“Oh yes,” Miles’ smile isn’t nice, “I made a note of that.”

“How many more?”

“Just the one,” Miles replies.

“And what do we know about her?”

“She’s quite the talented nanny,” He replies, “Has been caring for children since she was a child, used to Nanny for the Kryze clan.”

Jango lifts his head, “Used to?”

“There were some allegations of inappropriate behavior. Rumors and hearsay, mostly. Though, there are quite a few notes here, from a lot of people, indicating that those rumors and allegations are nothing more than lies.”

“Shocking, someone from the Kryze family lying.”

“Hm, if only we could power your kingdom with sarcasm-” Miles counters, just as sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jango glances at the peacefully slumbering Boba, and then looks at Miles, “Well, we might as well get this over with. Call her in.”

Miles nods, once, and leaves the room.

He’s gone for almost five minutes, though Jango knows that’s because Miles is doing his pre-screening. Something that he started after the second woman let slip that she was looking for a title and a crown.

Honestly, he’s never going to get used to these leeches. Being a member of the royal family is hardly worth all that.

He sits up when the door opens, and Miles steps into the room, looking very smug. Trailing behind him is a young woman. Her hair is neatly pulled out of her face, and her clothes are neat, but don’t hang overly loose.

And, unlike most everyone else, her gaze skips right over him to focus on Boba. 

That, by itself, moves her to the top of the list.

“The last applicant, your Majesty,” Miles says with a gesture towards the young woman, and then he bows and leaves the room.

“His name is Boba,” Jango says, “He’s only a couple of weeks old.”

The corners of her lips turn down thoughtfully, “Forgive me for saying so, but having such a young baby around so many people is not safe for him.” 

Jango leans back in his seat, and a small smirk plays on his lips. Negative reputation or not, his estimation of her is going higher and higher. “I haven’t been allowing anyone to hold him.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose.” She finally turns her gaze to him and offers a shallow, but respectful curtsy. “I apologize, then.”

“There’s no need for that.” Jango scans her thoughtfully. She is young, but she looks tired. And her clothes hang on her, as though she’s recently lost a lot of weight. Or the clothes used to belong to someone else. “You were looking out for my son.”

He picks up her resume and motions for her to take a seat, which she does.

“I have your resume here,” He says, “And, honestly, I have a hard time believing that you don’t already have a job. Nannying since you were a teenager. A qualified governess in your own right. You’ve nannied for some very big names over the years. The most recent being the Kryze clan.”

“That’s all accurate, yes.” She replies, though her lips tighten at the mention of her previous employers. 

Jango sets the resume down on the table, “Based on your qualifications, you’re more than qualified for the job.” he says lightly, “But, understand, Boba is my only son. So I have to ask about these rumors-”

She winces and her shoulders curl in on her, “What would you like to know?”

There’s something like resigned defeat in her voice, and Jango finds himself not liking it. “What happened?”

Absently she rolls the hem of her sleeve between her fingers, “I was hired as the Nanny and Governess for Korkir Kryze three months before he was born.” She explains quietly, “I prepared the nursery, made sure that the house had everything it needed, and when he was born, I was the first one to hold him. I don’t think the Duke or the Duchess ever held him.” 

“Go on.”

“I can’t remember a single instance of his parents ever being in the same room as Korkie for longer than it took for a photo op or a meal.” She continues, “When he started talking, he called me mom. The Duchess…” She trails off, “She wasn’t happy about it.” She finally says.

“They fired you.”

“And spread rumors that I was a Noble Hunter and that I tried to seduce the Duke.” She bristles slightly, “I would never. I have enough self-respect to not try and poach from another woman-”

Jango holds up a hand, “Peace.”

She quells, though she still looks very unhappy.

“What happened after you were fired?”

“I moved in with my sister, it’s where I’ve been living.”

Jango nods thoughtfully, “This position comes with a series of rooms in the palace,” He explains, you also get two days off a week, days that you can set. You will be responsible for Boba during the day when I’m working, but you’ll only need to take him in the early mornings, evenings, or at night if I’m indisposed for some reason.”

She blinks at him, “Wait, you mean-?”

He smiles, “The position is yours, we’ll work out the rest of the hard details a bit later.”

“Thank you!”

His smile widens, “Would you like to hold Boba?”

She immediately walks over to the infant and allows Jango to place him in her arms. He watches as she adjusts his weight with the ease of someone who’s been caring for children for a long time.

“Time for the grand tour,” Jango says, “Follow me please.”

You settle into your new routine with ease. King Jango is a fine father and an even better man. He never treats you as if you’re less than him, and he listens to you if you say that there’s something wrong with Boba, or if you note that something needs to be changed.

In the 6 months that you’ve worked for him, you come to realize that you’ve never been as comfortable working for a family as you do when working for the King.

And yes, there is something of a small crush there. But you would never dream of risking your job in the hopes of catching his eye.

At 6 months old, Boba can roll over in both directions, and he babbles, though he still isn’t quite at the talking stage. More importantly, he’s learned stranger anxiety. Luckily, you’re not a stranger and he reaches for you as often as he reaches for his father.

Right now, though, Boba’s asleep in his crib and you’re organizing his nursery.

It’s one of the few nights where Jango isn’t able to put Boba down for the night, though, knowing the King, he’ll pop in as soon as he’s done in his meeting.

And, true to your expectations, half an hour later the nursery door opens. 

The King offers you a tired smile, and then walks over to the crib to peer down at the baby, “How was he today?”

“A little grumpy.” You reply, “But he settled around noon time.”

“That’s good.” You watch as Jango smoothes a curl off of Boba’s forehead, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to put him down for the night.”

“It happens,” You reply lightly, you slip a couple more diapers into the drawer, and then you glance at him, “It’s been happening a lot these last couple of weeks.” You note, almost absently.

It’s an offer for him to confide in you if he wants.

Jango sighs, “It has, yes.” He falls silent for a moment, “I know I only hired you to take care of Boba, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who’s not involved.”

You finish folding Boba’s clothes and put them in the dresser before you turn to look at him, “I’m always happy to listen, Jango.” You make sure the baby monitor is on, and then follow him out of Boba’s nursery and into Jango’s suites.

You sink onto one of the plush couches as he offers you a glass of juice, before he sits next to you, “The Council, and Miles, are pushing me to get married.” Jango says.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a partner,” You note thoughtfully as you take a sip of the juice and set the cup on the table.

“I don’t. That’s the problem.”

“You’re the King, if you want them to stop just tell them.”

“Sadly, it doesn’t work like that. They have lists of women who might be interested in marrying me, but—” He shakes his head.

“But you’re not interested.”

“I’m not blind, I’m well aware that I could have any noblewoman that I wanted. The problem is that I don’t want any of them.”

“May I ask why not?” You ask, curious.

“Boba.”

You exhale slowly, “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Plus, I have no interest in firing you. And the last thing I want is to put you in another situation like the Kryze situation.”

“That’s kind of you, Jango. But I really shouldn’t be a consideration in this.”

“Why not? You’re basically Boba’s mother at this point.”

You laugh softly, “That’s going to get me in trouble, I know it.”

Jango leans back for a moment, his dark eyes scanning you, “I lied.”

“About?”

“Not wanting any woman specifically.” Jango clarifies, “There’s one woman I’m interested in.”

“Okay, so you should talk to her.”

“I am.”

“Oh. Oh!” Your face heats and you press your hands against your cheeks, “Me. You mean me.”

Jango chuckles softly, though there’s nothing unkind there, “I do mean you.”

“But I’m just a nanny.”

“So? My parents were farmers, it was my adoptive dad who made me King.” Jango shifts on the couch so that his knees are almost touching you, “Boba loves you. And you’ve managed to keep me sane these last six months.”

“I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom.”

“You don’t have to, that will remain my job.” Jango’s warm fingers brush against your cheek, “Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll never mention it again.”

You stare at him, “I just…why me?”

“Because you’re you. Because the idea of you not being in my life makes me miserable.” Jango’s fingers slide across your lips.

“People will make assumptions—”

“Let them. So long as we both know the truth,” Jango leans in, his lips hovering just over yours, “You are the one I want. The only one I want.”

A soft sigh falls from your lips, “Jango—”

You’re not able to finish your thought, as his lips catch yours in a gentle, almost chaste, kiss. Your hands come up to lightly press against his cheeks, and then one of your hands slides to card through his curls.

Jango releases a low groan, the kiss deepening as he leans you back, so you’re lying on the couch and he’s supporting his weight on his elbows. He lightly nips your lower lip and then soothes the sore spot with his tongue.

You don’t mean to release the breathy whine at the feel of his teeth against you, but you do, and Jango practically collapses on you with a deep appreciative moan.

His lips move to your throat, and you gasp when he bites down on the sensitive skin located there, intent on leaving a mark.

You know that he would keep going and that you would let him when the baby monitor releases a little noise, and you both still at the sound of Boba waking up. 

He stares down at you, and you blink up at him, “I need to go get him,” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” Jango kisses you one more time, “We’ll have to continue this later. If you want?”

“Well,” You smile at him shyly, “I wouldn’t say no.”

He flashes an eager, and boyish, grin. “I can’t wait,” Jango murmurs as he climbs off of you and allows you to grab the baby monitor to hurry to the nursery.

And, when Jango joins you in the nursery half an hour later and wraps himself around you to watch you take care of Boba, you’re really not surprised. Just like you’re not surprised when his arms slide tightly around your waist and he holds you tightly.

You know that it’ll be a change, being in a relationship with the King. But you find yourself excited about the change, rather than anxious.

[dominos-pizza-squad]

"You're going to have to."

I don't usually write meta on account of doing my best to avoid Fandom Drama like the plague and even a hint of Star Wars meta is like a siren call to Drama but. I have Thoughts about this scene and now I'm going to share them and if you're here for anti-Mace Windu thoughts this is not the post for you my friend.

Every time I see meta or reference to this scene it's used as more 'proof' that Windu was totally the worst and we shouldn't feel at all bad about him being maimed and thrown to his death which sure is a take, and on the surface I can understand why. When you don't bother to look more into that scene it does come off as Windu being a rude bitch to a child whose dad died in front of him, which is pretty uncool.

But this is a meta post and I am here to look more into this scene. I want to start with the concept of forgiveness, because when I go, I go big. I feel like a lot of the antipathy toward this scene (and by extension toward Windu) come from the fact that again, on a surface-level reading, it looks like Windu is demanding Boba's forgiveness for Jango's death, when we all know that's not how that works. That is, in fact, a concept that to most of us is viscerally offensive- our knee-jerk reaction is something more along the lines of "screw you i resent you more now" than it is "well okay that seems reasonable". Because you can't just demand somebody's forgiveness and expect it to happen. All that is is another wrong against the person you've already wronged. It's pure conceitedness and self-interest.

It's also not what Windu was trying to say to Boba in that scene. Not even remotely, in my opinion, and I'll explain why.

Think about the way the Jedi teach, particularly the way they teach philosophical concepts- they don't simply tell their students what to think, they tell them something and then make them think about themselves. Jedi are always expected to look deeper into a lesson to see what they can get out of it, this is the way Windu's lived his whole life, of course this is the way he speaks to Boba even though Boba's not a Jedi.

It's not exactly a hot take to say that Mace Windu and Boba Fett have very different ways of approaching the world. This is important to remember, though, because it guides the way that Windu interacts with Boba in this scene. When Boba swears he's never going to forgive him, Windu looks him in the eye and says, "Well, you're going to have to." And when he says that he's not saying that as some kind of ultimatum, he's saying that as a statement of fact.

What Windu is really saying to Boba in this scene isn't "forgive me 'cuz i said so". What he's saying is "your father cannot come back, and you will have to find a way to live with that so it doesn't consume you". Because what was Boba saying when he said "I'll never forgive you"? It wasn't just "I hate you", it was "I hate you, and I hate you so much that I don't care who I destroy in the process of destroying you". Sure, he expresses regret for all of the actual human beings that died because of his actions, but he follows it up with an utter refusal to acknowledge that those actions were wrong. What he was saying was "I hate you, and I hate you so much that I don't care who I destroy in the process of destroying you, even if it's myself."

Boba has done some genuinely horrible things by this point. He's put other children's lives at risk. He's crashed a star destroyer and killed who knows how many people. Maybe he didn't shoot the injured clones himself when they went in and took their hostages, but they wouldn't have died there if it weren't for him. He is directly responsible for the death of a man whose only crime was walking through the wrong door at the wrong time. He has charged headfirst down a path of death and destruction that will spread misery everywhere he goes.

And now Windu- who has just lost all of these men, lost Ponds, nearly lost his own life to Boba's actions- is looking down at this twelve-year-old boy, and he doesn't want this for him. He so badly doesn't want this for him, but he cannot make Boba's choices. All he can do is try and tell him "this path you're on is not worth it".

Because that, in my opinion, is what he means when he says "You're going to have to." He's not saying that he's entitled to anything from Boba (because he might have killed Jango in self-defense, but his motives and intentions don't change the fact that his actions hurt Boba), he's saying that Boba has to let go of that hatred before it ruins his life.

Which is exactly what it does! What happens to Boba in the end? He continues alone down his path of hate and misery, until he gets eaten by a sarlacc and enslaved by Tuskens. He had so little, and he loses even that. And it's no one's fault but his own.

But.

But. Finally, so many years after he started down that path, he does what Windu said. Finally, he lets that anger go. Finally, he gets to become what he could have been if he hadn't let himself be consumed by his rage. And that's why I liked The Book of Boba Fett, despite its flaws, because we get to see that change. After forty-odd years of strife, Boba finally gets to be a man at peace. And that's exactly what I think Windu would have wanted.

[blackterrae]

Ideas for Black!Reader Fic

I am going to try my hand again at writing. And I wanted to share some people and fandoms that I love. If you don’t know these shows/actors/franchises/movies/streamers I’m putting you on! For the following:

Princess Bride

Alice In Borderland

Johnny Depp- All his characters

Napoleon Dynamite

Cameron Monaghan- I know that there are fics out there but it’s only always his Jerome/Jeremiah roles never just him or Cal Kestis

Anthony Carrigan- I loved Anothy as Victor Zsasz

Paul Dano- There are Riddler fics but not as many for his other roles

Damsel

The Entire Cast of Hawaii Five-0 (2010) - Don’t even get me started on how good this show is! And the cast looks amazing!

Chicago Med/Fire/PD- These shows have so much potential for fanfic storylines!

The Game (2006)- Has great potential for slow burns and fluffs.

Star Wars franchise (1977-present) - I know I said Cal Kestis but there are also other characters like Anakin, Luke, Obi Wan,Boba Fett (etc.)

NCIS franchise- I honestly love this franchise and it’s characters!

Hamilton

Any/All Sports Men- Jude Bellingham,Lewis Hamilton,LaMelo Ball,Allen Iverson(etc.)

Berleezy - He’s handsome and he’s funny!

Coryxkenshin- I literally love him and his videos!

Albert Aretz (Flamingo)- Look … he may be the epitome of mediocre white man but I like what I like!

AMP- Duke Dennis, Kai Cenat, Agent 00, ChrisNxtDoor,Davis, and Fanum ( all I gotta say is love a black man from infinity to infinity🗣️)

Beta Squad- A British YouTube/ streamer group!

SOMEBROS- Berleezy, Rico, ,PG, Joe (etc.)

WWE- come on now, do I even need to explain!!!

Four Brothers- All the cast but Garrett Hedland in particular!

Peacemaker - Don’t get me wrong I love Adrian Chase but I want to see just as much Peacemaker x black!reader fics because 2 words… JOHN CENA

MAWS- New animated Superman show! Love!

Smallville - The entire cast is hot! Tbh I fell hard for Tom Welling when I was younger when he was in Cheaper By The Dozen. Plus they literally whitewashed Vixen. COME ON! Vixen is a black female hero btw. She was also with Jon (Green Lantern) at one point.

Justice League/Justice League Unlimited (2001 and 2004)- I mean I literally can’t find any Jon Stewart x black!reader fics and he was with a BLACK WOMAN!

Warner Bros Franchise (minus the looney tunes & space jam)- There are lots of popular franchises that this company has from Fast & Furious to The Matrix!

Peaky Blinders- Saw a Tommy shelby x arms dealer black!female reader fic on my previous account but even then I couldn’t find it again on that account. So it’s gone with the wind. And the cast (i.e the actors and other characters they’ve portrayed). Example: Cillian Murphy as Johnathan Crane.

The Bear

FBI (All)

The good doctor

Tiktokers: Vinnie hacker

Blue Bloods

Will Poulter- I haven’t really seen any Adam Warlock fics

Slashers

Stranger Things

Cruel Intentions

Burnt

Dave Lizewski

Eddie Redmayne

Macgyver (2016)

Fresh Prince of Belair

Guardians of the galaxy- Explanation? Do I really need one?

On My Block

Descendants (characters will be the actors age in real life.duh)- Love Boo-boo Stewart & Mitchell Hope!

Matt Rife

Joey Bragg (Liv &Maddie) - What can I say I love dorks!

The Boys- Haven’t seen that many fics about the characters and a black reader

Once Upon A Time- I love dark fairytales sometimes because they remind me that not every story has a happy ending and you have to learn from them. But this series is good for any theme really.

Walker Texas Ranger (1993)

Top Gun

Nicolas Galitzine

Magcon: Whether you saw their vines on YouTube or vine, you know who they are

Dolan Twins

Mission Impossible

Euphoria- Entire show has great storylines with the potential of drama in fics

Shameless- Especially Carl Gallagher and Lip Gallagher

Creed- Michael B Jordan need I say more

Keanu Reeves- There are very few fics about Keanu but I’ve seen a few of his John Wick x black!reader fics (chef’s kiss) but never see any of The Matrix Fics!Also Ted (Bill & Ted)

River Phoenix

Batman Beyond

Rider Strong

Danny Gonzalez

Timothée Chalamet

New York Undercover

Past-Present Singers & Rappers/ Groups -Bow Wow, Tupac, Lil Baby, Nelly, Omarion, Prince, Michael Jackson, Jon B,Usher, Central Cee, Måneskin, New Edition, BTS, James, PRETTYMUCH Bay, Daniel Caesar, October London, Steve Lacey, Artemas, YUNGBLUD, Andy Biersack,Eduardo Vega(etc.)

Anime(Any kind!)- Would love to see other shows, I know hunterxhunter,aot,one piece (etc.)

Bridgerton- There is very little Bridgerton stories catered around a black reader.

Marvel- Now that’s not to say that there aren’t any in fact there are many but I never see (Tobey Maguire Spider-Man stories and it seems like everyone tends to focus on the famous Marvel characters like The Avengers but not on other aspects like X-men or better yet, heroes that haven’t even gotten their own movie but are just as amazing like Squadron Supreme , it’s equivalent to DCU’s Justice League.

Secret Invasion- Not gonna lie , I’m feening for Gravik.😳

DCEU- Another franchise that pushes its other characters to the side. For example, Hush (Thomas Elliot) is literally the epitome of Bruce Wayne gone bad!

Ross Lynch- There are so many roles that Ross did so well in Like Teen Beach Movie or Sabrina.

Highschool Musical Franchise (2006- present ) I’m not just talking about HSMTS (2019), I mean even further back than that. I don’t see any Troy Bolton x black!reader and that’s crazy. I also can’t find any Zac Efron x black!reader

Interview with a Vampire (1994) and (2022)

Austin Butler- He did well in his role as Elvis!

Vikings - There are a good amount but still!

Transformers

Suits

Saved By The Bell

The Goldbergs

Parks & Recreation

Leverage

The Outsiders

Heart of Stone

New York Undercover (1994)

Addams Family

Victorious

Matpat

ICarly

The Real Bros of Simi Valley (2017)

Think Like A Man (2012)

One on One (2001)

Scorpion (2014)

The King of Queens (1998)

G.I. Joe Franchise

Terminator

Beware the Batman (2013)

Any and all Asian Idols/Actors

Seal Team

Mortal Combat

Bill and Ted

Barbie

Detroit: Become Human

Will Trent

Bones

Tokyo Vice

Growing Pains

Graceful Family (Kdrama)[Any Asian Drama shows or movies would be great as well]

The Regime

Batman: The animated series

The Sympathizer

The Invitation

Jawbreaker

Hunger Games

Saved By the Bell

Eve (2003)

Yellowstone

Superstore

Rodrick Heffley

Tracker

Girlfriends

Grown-ish

CSI

Kingsman

Jury Duty

Scoot Pilgrim vs the world

21 Jump Street (The Show and Movies)

Sky High

The Outsiders

Left

Midsomer Murders

Wayne (perhaps college AU characters will be the actors age in real life)

Carrington Bornstein

Yakuza

He’s Harmless I swear ( Webtoon comic)

Kaleidoscope ( formerly Webtoon turned Tapas comic)

If anyone needs ideas for these franchises/movies/shows/actors/webtoons , then holla at me! I got you!

Also add more to the list if anything that you would like to see comes to mind.

Also tag black writers who you want to see this!

@sheabuttahwrites @shinsouscatpisssmell @cocoamoonmalfoy @heathenarmyimagines @cinewhore @cocoamoonmalfoy @stxxllaaa @glitterjuju @lilvampirina @breanime @blackmissfrizzle @afro-hispwriter @stargirlfics @lavenderursa @clydesducktape @pettyprocrastination @theblvckvenus @plantvenuss @punani @n-slayaaaaa @infernalodie @halfofmysoulsblog @iridecsense @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @supremethunda @thekrazykeke @canumoveurseatup-no @hiatuswhore @avintagekiss24 @ohcaptains @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @xsapphirescrollsx @sunflowertuliplily @bakarilennox @batfamily14 @ramp-it-up @blackreaders-assemble @royallyprincesslilly @funnyexel @blackterrae @slashisms @artemisthewh0re @shelbydelrey @toocriticalharlow @v-era-18 @vampsired @queenimmadolla @sinnerlillith @greengoblinswifey @apocalypse-shuffle

[girlypopmoomin]

Yellowjackets characters as citizens of Pawnee quotes:

Misty: my bird is missing i need a permit to posts signs! (Let me just look for that form) there’s no time! He can fly!

Shauna: school is out in two weeks what am I going to do with my kids all day? Keep them in my house? Where I live?

Taissa: I am Leslie Knope and I represent the PCP!

Lottie: there’s a sign at Ramset Park that says do not drink the sprinkler water so I made sun tea with it and now I have an infection

Jackie: Hey. These pretzels suck.

Van: let the filibustering begin! I would now like to share some ideas I have for JJ Abram’s seventh chapter in the Star Wars saga. Pan down from the twin suns of tatooine we are now close on the mouth of the sarlacc pit after a beat the gloved mandalorian gauntlet of Boba Fett grabs onto the sand outside the sarlacc pit and the feared bounty hunter pulls himself from the maw of the sand beast

Natalie: *@ lottie* if she’s going to the topless park, I’m not signing the topless park petition…. You know what I take that back I’m still in. What’s up, I’m Harris.

Travis: yeah forget whatever the Pawnee commons is I’m with that pervert. Topless park! Topless park! Topless park!

Jeff: why don’t we build a fence around their fence? (Why?) it would give us… two fences. So if they needed to get to their fence for maintenance and whatnot their pants might get caught.

Coach Ben, and also Walter: why don’t we just set fire to the fence, you know, set it ablaze? (That’s arson) well, let’s leave that up to the lawyers. The point is it would work.

[bri-the-nautilus]

The Omega in the Room

Spoilers under the cut for the Bad Batch Season 3 trailer. All of this is my personal theorycrafting.

So something I haven't really seen talked about all that much is this shot of Omega from the new trailer.

She's flying a ship, clad in her Tantiss prison jumpsuit. The haircut is new, but her hair/eye color, clothes, and facial structure are indicators that it's her.

Now am I going crazy, or does Omega in this picture look markedly older than she does in Season 2 and in other shots from the S3 trailer? Take this one.

Maybe it's just the angle and the expression being different, but the top Omega looks somewhat older to me, and not just because she's changed her hair. See how she comes up to the clone commando's elbow in this one?

In this shot, she has her haircut from the cockpit scene. It's tough because she's standing in front of him, but she might be taller relative to the clone commando in this shot. And her face looks different. I really think this Omega is older than the one in the second picture by a not insignificant amount. Which is deeply worrying, because our girl is a Boba Fett-type clone. She doesn't have accelerated aging.

There's one other shot in the S3 trailer that people think is her, and it's the one of the downed Nu-class shuttle.

From the little we can make out, it looks like the two figures limping away from the crash site are Crosshair (rightmost, under a pointy rock) and Omega (on the slope just under the front of the dorsal fin). The first shot of Omega with her new hair is in the cockpit of a ship, which looks like it could be from a Nu. I couldn't find any good pictures of the inside of a Nu's cockpit, but from the canopy/size it looks similar enough. A fan theory I've seen floating around for this scene is that this is the aftermath of Omega and Crosshair escaping Tantiss, with Omega's flying lessons paying off as they narrowly escape before being forced to crashland.

The last thing that's relevant from the trailer is Hunter's line that Omega's "been waiting for a long time." Hunter doesn't strike me as someone who speaks in hyperbole, so if he's saying it's been a long time, we're definitely talking months to years. If I'm right, Omega has been on Tantiss long enough to noticeably age by the time she escapes. With her being in the 10-13 age range at the beginning of the show, she's at an age where it doesn't necessarily take a really long time for her to start looking older, but this doesn't happen overnight either. I think we're talking at least a year, and very possibly more, since the end of Season 2 and the time she escapes.

In the shots we have of younger Omega in the trailer, we see her looking surprised to see Crosshair and staring sadly out a window. Older?Omega looks grim and determined as she is escorted through the Tantiss facility and flies a Nu-class shuttle before bailing out with the aforementioned Crosshair. I think she's definitely older and harder in these scenes, and the fact that it's been so long and she's changed so much is going to be some great angst when they rejoin the Batch.

I also think there's amazing fluff potential for Emerie bonding with Omega and doing her sister's hair, but I digress

[casp1an-sea]

I love TCW and TBB but the white washing still pisses me off

All clones are meant to look like their live action counter pasts which are portrayed by Temuera Morrison 

Temuera Morrison  IS NOT WHITE

HE IS Māori

I’ve literally heard people say “He’s not POC because he’s light skinned” or “He’s not POC because he’s got Scottish ancestry”

That’s just fucking stupid and racist you’re disgusting!

—————————————————————————

This is a picture of Temuera Morrison around the time Attack of the clones was being filmed and also him portraying Jango Fett in that movie:

As you can see he is not super pale and his hair is VERY CLEARLY CURRLY!

Now here is a picture of Rex with the normal clone skin tone next to my poor boy Tech :(

LIKE WTF??????

After the release of the original trailer for season one of TBB they actually had to go back in and darken the clones skin tone due to all the back lash they got, but Tech still looks like this and Crosshair is also paler then the other clones aside from Tech.

Then there’s the clones with longer hair like Howzer, Obviously Hunter, and now Emerie too. WHERE’S THE CURL????? I highly doubt every clone straightens their hair every day!

It’s also the child clones too!

Omega always looks like she has pin straight hair

here’s some more examples

I will give them a partial pass because Daniel Logan who portrayed young Boba Fett in live action does not have the same hair texture as Temuera but still I feel like it should be based more on the adults then the children and the adults aren’t even accurate! Plus the kids are kinda pale too.

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AND I DON’T WANT TO HERE ANYONE SAYING THAT IT WAS A STYLISTIC CHOICE OR THRY COUND’T MANAGE IT. THEY’VE DRAWN MULTIPLE HAIR TEXTURES BEFORE! and that’s also just not an excuse in general. If an art style can’t accurately represent certain hair textures there is a problem with that art style.

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Also I gotta say it I am not a fan of the cyborg Echo design

Like come on now give my boy back his melanin

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It’s season three Of TBB with new episodes coming out every Wednesday and there’s been seven seasons of TCW. Why has Disney not adressed these issues and fixed them if it’s something the fans have been mad about for a long time? Star Wars loves taking advice from their fans until they critique it on their harmful design choices.

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I know this is a Star Wars thing, but I think it’s important for everyone to see

@xen-blank @thehollowwriter @ferris-the-wheel @fizzydreamz @hyperfixation-or-death

@ravenwing0110 @keii-starz @distant-velleity

@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb

@cimonim-crunch @theosb0rnway @fryofthefrench

@sunshinechildskywalker @xentari94

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three (BOBF) - Chapter 4

Chapter Four: In the Name of Honor

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with a slowly discovering lineage. With the child off with the Jedi, the close-knit pair continues their travels through the galaxy.

Word Count: 8.9K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, angst, slight ptsd, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

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Returning quickly back to Mos Espa hearing an attack happened on the Sanctuary, reaching the exploded building the sandstone blacken by the explosion. Entering the building you see Boba, Fennec, and the two Mods; Drash and Skad.

“That was fast. Were you able to hire any foot soldiers?” Fennec asks and Din says, “I think so…Cobb Vanth is raising a garrison for us.”

“What price did you negotiate?” Fennec questions waiting for the price but he shakes his head, “Free.”

“Free?” Din nods, “He’s been holding off the spice trade single-handedly. I told him we could shut it down.”

“That’s not free. That’s most of Jabba the Hutt’s business.” Fennec protests with Cobb’s demand.

“That’s what the town wants,” Din replies and Fennec goes to retort but Boba cuts her off.

“I agree to their terms.” Fennec comes over to her boss trying to reason with him, “There’s a lot of credits to be made from that orange powder.”

“In the long run, it is better for us as well. Mos Espa can become a prosperous city under our protection. Spice is killing our people. Let Marshal Vanth and the people of Mos Pelgo…” Boba says.

“Freetown is its name now.” You pipe in and Boba nods, “Let the people of Freetown know they have my word.”

“You can tell Cobb Vanth himself when he arrives here with the reinforcements.” Din says and Boba is only worried he will not, “You are confident he will come?”

“I am.” He vouches and the bounty hunter nods, “Well if he does not, we are doomed. Our skill is no match for the Syndicate numbers. We must buy time until they arrive. We’ll lockdown at the palace.”

“It’s a bad idea.” Skad says and Fennec looks over at the bionic man, “Is that so?” 

“It is.” He says and the assassin leans against a wall looking at the man, “And where do you propose we wait for reinforcements?”

“Here.” He says gesturing to the ruins you were in. “Here? In these ruins? Nonsense. The palace offers greater protection.” Boba says shaking his head and Drash steps forward.

“If you want to abandon Mos Espa and hide in your fortress, go ahead. We’re staying. The people who live here need our protection.” She says that the two young adults' decisions are final. You had to respect it, this was their home and they were fighting for it. Fett is silent looking at them before he nods, “We’ll stay.”

You set up camp in the ruins of the Sanctuary and when dawn arrived the plan was put into action with only Fennec, Boba, Din, yourself, and the majordomo that was apparently their hostage/informant.

“As we wait for the reinforcements to arrive with Cobb Vanth from Freetown, our forces are quietly patrolling the streets of the old city. The Pyke Syndicate has not yet arrived in numbers, but the minute they do, we will see them before they see us. The truce you negotiated with the other families of Mos Espa will ensure that they will remain neutral and allow us to gain the upper hand by surprising the arriving soldiers,” Fennec explains the plan as you sit on a piece of rubble listening in, “The Gamorrean guards are posted in the Klatooinian territory at the starport and will alert us if any of the Pyke Syndicate forces arrive. Krrsantan is in Trandoshan territory, keeping tabs on the streets of the municipality in front of City Hall. Drash and Skad are with the other Mods keeping an eye on the Worker’s District and the Aqualish Quarter. As you can see, all our flanks are covered. Nobody is sneaking up on us. When the people of Freetown arrive, we will have the forces required to pivot our strength to whatever region the Pykes choose to attack from.”

“For now?” You ask resting your hands on your crossed legs and Fennec looks over at you, “We wait.”

“Lord Fett?” Boba’s 8D8 droid enters the sanctuary, “There is someone here to see you.” You all stand up surprised someone had arrived at your positions.

“I thought you said nobody could sneak up on us.” Boba says to Fennec as you all draw your weapons and Din puts you behind him as the three of you hid outside behind the pillars while Boba steps out into the open and you hear him speak, “I thought I smelled something. If you’re looking for a job, you’re late.”

“I’ve already got a job. I’m here to negotiate on behalf of the Pyke Syndicate.” A gravelly but distinctive voice calls out and Boba scoffs, “I don’t negotiate with gutless murderers.”

“If that’s not the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.” The man retorts for the hypocrisy from Boba. “Clear out. And tell your bosses we know they’re outnumbered.” Boba warns him and you hear the man chuckle and you tighten your grip on your blaster.

“I wouldn’t be counting on the people of Freetown to be coming anytime soon. I paid Marshal Vanth a visit. You should’ve never left him without his armor,” The air is silent as your blaster falls from your hands. No, you just saw him he couldn’t be. The guilt that crashed into you made you physically ill, no he was still there and safe. Cobb was…

“Without training, you are a danger to yourself and others. People will die because of your actions if you continue down this path.”

“You bastard!” Your body reacts running past Din and you get right around to see the man with blue skin and completely red eyes. His hand moves to the blaster on his waist and Boba grasps his own. Hands snatch your shoulders and you’re pulled behind the pillar as Din’s hand covers your mouth muffling your screams that turn to cries his other wrapped around your waist to stop you from running. Fennec has her rifle aimed out to cover you both as Din tries calming your breakdown.

“Shush you’re alright. You have to be quiet.” He whispers in your ear as he holds your back against his chest as you flail in his grasp as your tears and cries are quieted by his hand. His heart breaks hearing your cries it was cruel you had just seen the man who had helped raise you only to find out he was killed in cold blood.

“Before you get any ideas, I’ve got backshooters too. Let the spice move through Mos Espa, and all this can be avoided.” The man calls out as your struggle stops as you slump back to Din’s body tears streaming down your face.

“No.” Boba says and Bane looks at him his hands resting on his waist, “What do you propose then?”

“I will only negotiate with the head of the Pyke Syndicate.” Boba says and Bane grins ready for the killing blow, “You mean the one that massacred your Tusken family and blamed it on a speed bike gang?” Boba is frozen by the memories of the ones that taught him the ways of Tusken, he had thought it was the speed bike gang.. “You know it’s true.”

Boba’s hand moves his finger resting on the trigger and Fennec appears from behind the pillar her rifle ready as she calls out to him, “Boba.”

“Let’s do this right here, right now.” Bane taunts him as anger runs through his veins. He could do it right now.

“Not now. You pick when.” Fennec reminds him but he shakes his head, “He killed Vanth. The reinforcements aren’t coming.”

“We fight on our terms, not theirs.” She says trying to convince him but anger had taken over him as they were clearly at the disadvantage, the Mandalorian behind the pillar was busy calming the grieving girl and he was blinded by the idea of killing Bane.

“I can take him.” He says his voice rough, “You’re emotional.”

“I can take him.” He grits out and Fennec moves to stand right beside him.

“We need to adjust. You’ll have your moment.” She reminds him. Understanding where he was coming from but it wasn’t the time. The anger clears his vision just enough to listen to her reasoning and his finger leaves the trigger.

“Tell your client negotiations are terminated.” He says turning and Bane calls out to him making him look back. “You’re going soft in your old age.”

Looking at the other bounty hunter the man that knew his father that knew him before he responds, “We all do.”

You’re pulled inside the sanctuary Boba and Fennec following afterward as the majordomo starts speaking, “That was an impressive display of restraint. Exemplary stratagem. If I may be so bold as to offer additional counsel-”

“I wonder how much he would pay for the Twi’lek.” Boba says and that shuts him up, “Understood. Many pardons. I should never have interjected.”

You shove Din off you moving towards the back of the room the guilt and sorrow in your chest turn into something ugly. It was burning in your veins the anger you had felt on that cruiser, the rage that fueled your body. Your knees hit the floor and your hand grabs the saber resting on your belt. The small pearl resting inside the kyber crystal chamber is the first gift you’ve ever got from him. He raised you…protected you..and he was gone. You clutch the blade to your chest mourning over the loss of the man you once saw as a father. Those ugly thoughts whisper in your ears, he would be alive if you were there to protect him, you got him involved with the Pykes and now he’s dead, Freetown blames you for his death, you killed their Marshal…their protector. The fear and anger bleed through your body unaware of it seeping into the weapon in your hands.

Din looks over at where you sit on the ground staring off completely shutting out the world. Your droid stands beside you but you don’t even notice it. He didn’t know what to say or do, he wasn’t good at going through loss. He moved on when someone died having connections was not safe for a man who is constantly put in danger. But you were just a child…you wore your heart on your sleeve and he was forced to watch you lose yourself with the man’s death.

Boba and Fennec are silent, the other man going through his own form of mourning with the truth of the Tuskens’ death. Silence fills the destroyed sanctuary before Drash’s voice comes in through the comms, “Come in, boss. Come in. Something feels strange over here.”

“Have the Pykes arrived?” Boba asks, “Not yet, but something feels off.” The woman responds and suddenly there’s blaster fire

“The locals are attacking! I thought we had a treaty.” Drash shouts over blaster fire and Boba frowns at the news,

“So did I.”

“They laid a trap!” Drash yells out before the comms go mute as Boba yells trying to get in touch with the Wookie, “Santo! Santo, come in!”

“It’s a coordinated attack. We’ll have to gather our people.” Boba says looking at Fennec and Din who listens in keeping an eye though on the girl in the back.

“There’s no way to overcome their advantage. We need to take out command and control.” Fennec shakes her head and Boba curses.

“Does the Pyke Syndicate still operate out of Mos Eisley?” Boba asks Shaiz’ majordomo who tries not to reveal the full information.

“Oh, it’s difficult to say for certain that…” Three blasters are pointed at him and he corrects himself, “Mos Eisley? Yes, now that I think of it, indeed they do. More specifically, the Desert Survey Office.”

Boba turns to the assassin, “Can you do that? Can you get there in time?” She shrugs, “Worth a shot.” She quickly departs taking a speeder and zooming through the streets.

“They’re here,” Din calls out and Boba joins him looking through the broken window as the Syndicate forces begin to move in surrounding the whole front of the building.

“It was just a matter of time. Is Cad Bane with them?” He asks trying to spot him but Din shakes his head, “Don’t see him. Any news on the others?”

Boba looks defeated, “Would be a miracle if any survived. All three gotras of Mos Espa turned on us.” He says and Din nods,

“It was the smart move.”

“It was. I suppose you’ll be heading out.” Boba asks seeing the very imminent failure.

“I’m not.” He refuses but Boba gives him the chance, “You should.”

“It’s against the Creed. I gave you my word. I’m with you until we both fall.” Din says and Boba looks at him, “You really buy into that bantha fodder?” He asks and the Mandalorian nods

“I do.” Fett chuckles checking the cartridge of his blaster, “Good.”

“The way I see it, we have two choices. We wait until they get into position and launch a siege on their terms.” Din says and Fett looks at him, “Or?”

“We rush out there, catch them unaware,” Din gives a quick but shoddy plan, “Then we can escape to your ship at the palace.” Fett shakes his head hearing the end of the plan.

“I can’t abandon Mos Espa. These people are counting on me.” He explains and Din nods pulling out his blaster, “Okay, then. We’ll both die in the name of honor.”

“You sure you wanna stay?” He says he was giving him the chance to leave, especially with the girl he was protective of.

“This is the way.”

“If I may offer an alternative?” The majordomo cuts in and the two bounty hunters look at him silently, “Shall I continue?...I’ll continue. You may not know this about me, in fact, how could you, except perhaps what vestiges remain of my accent, but… I was educated on Coruscant. Not that that makes me better in any way.”

“Get to it.” Fett cuts him off and he nods sharply getting back on track,

“Yeah, uh… I attended finishing academy. My parents were not wealthy by any means. I specialized in Civic Council Negotiations. Now, if you would feel confident empowering me to negotiate on your behalf, I’m fairly certain we would be granted passage off world with, at worst, some theatrical, symbolic, groveling gestures and an exchange of funds.”

Fett is silent before nodding, “Very well. Give me your tablet. I will write out my statement and what I am willing to pay.” Taking the majordomo’s tablet and starts writing as he smiles, “I shall go as your emissary. I have no compunction whatsoever genuflecting or even groveling if needs be, which would save you from any potential bruising of ego, so to speak.”

Fett returns the table before gesturing outside, “Now go before I change my mind.”

“Yes. Excellent.”

Din looks over to where his adopted daughter rests panic runs through his veins finding you and your droid missing. “Kid?!” He shouts but it’s too late to try finding you as their plan was already in action

“Salutations! Salutations! I am unarmed but for this tablet bearing the terms of surrender. I wish to present to whomever spokesperson is empowered to deliberate an acceptable outcome in the eyes of the Oba Diah high council.” The majordomo calls out with open arms to the armed men outside the Sanctuary. The commander of the group steps forward looking at him,

“Read it to me, tail-head.” He spats and the majordomo points to his head laughing at the joke, “Oh, because of the enchanting sobriquet, and one of which I never tire. Yes. Someday I hope to see the fabled Obsidian Cliffs of Oba Diah with my own eyes.”

“Read it.”

“Agreed. Let us dispense with the pleasantries,” Clearing his throat he looks at the written surrender, “I, Boba Fett, speaking as Daimyo of the Tatooine territories formerly held by Jabba the Hutt, do present the following offer,” His voice trails off having read ahead quickly growing silent, “Perhaps we should discuss what you’d be willing to…”

“Read it.” The man repeats growing tired.

“…following offer. Nothing. Uh…You will leave this planet and your spice trade. If you refuse these terms…,” Clearing his throat fear taking over his body as he’s forced to keep reading, “…the arid sands of Tatooine will once again flourish with flowered fields fertilized with the bodies of your dead.”

The Pyke commander lifts his blaster at the majordomo as he holds his hands up, “His words.”

Before the majordomo can be executed, Fett and Din soar in on their jetpacks gunning down the Syndicate soldiers. Though they are fired back the beskar armor protects them and with their weapons and the surprise strike the two are able to take down many of the Syndicate soldiers on their own. Firing his whistling birds Din takes down several Pykes and Boba sends an attack with his flamethrower. Bolts hit the two of them striking them back as they grow too much as they are knocking them down.

“They just keep coming.” Boba groans firing at as many soldiers as he cans but when one falls down another appears.

A few soldiers draw closer to the two of them as they try taking them down when they suddenly are pulled into the air dropping their blasters and clutching their throats. The soldiers and the two bounty hunters look around for who was doing this when a loud crack fills the air as their necks all snap in sync their bodies hitting the ground.

A screech fills the air and they all look over as fear strikes through them, even the bounty hunters seeing their ally. Din felt his throat close up and he was back on the cruiser, frozen watching you beat the life out of Moff Gideon. The rage in your eyes as your fist pounded caving in the man’s face the blood coating your body. What frightened him was seeing the weapon in your hand but it crackled in the air the plasma blade wild and chaotic reflecting your emotions. It was the color no longer orange but a blood red, a color all knew that referred to the opposite of the Jedi.

The color of the Sith.

“Is that a Jedi?” One of the Syndicate soldiers calls out the confusion in their tone. Unsure if the red-lightsaber wielder was their enemy or their ally. A snap fills the air as their neck turns a full 180 and they drop dead. You drop your hand the other clutching the saber your anger and hate bleeding into the weapon as it grows more powerful but also more unstable.

“Where is Cad Bane.” You growl out as blaster fire aims right at you. Dodging or reflecting the bullets back at them as they try to fight back but your rage is flooding through your veins. The blood pumping in your ears as you decapitate a soldier turning the blade around to stab another that tries to get the jump on you from behind. Din and Fett watch in awe but also in slight horror as your fluid movement with the weapon massacres their enemies. You arch the blade up slamming it down on one as they are split in half. The shades and hues of different blood coat your hands and parts of your body.

Grabbing one by the neck after cutting his hands off you pull him into the air, “Where. Is. Cad Bane.” You hiss as he screams in pain and you dig your saber deep into his chest silencing him.

The roar of a speeder and blaster fire comes from behind unaware reinforcements arrive. “The people of Freetown,” Boba calls out firing out as they move towards the armorer vehicle filled with people firing at the Pykes. Din wants to pull you away from the fight as you are in the middle of it but is unable to move beside the speeder seeing Taanti,

“I’m sorry about the Marshal.” Din gives his condolences as the Weequay fires out at the soldiers,

“They gunned him down in cold blood.” He hisses and Din feels his heartbreak trying to think about how you were feeling.

“You didn’t have to come here.” He says and Taanti shakes his head, “Yes, we did. This planet deserves better. I don’t know how she’s dealing with it.” And they two see you slash your blade through another man not getting a second to breathe as you block blaster fire to kill another man. This is what he feared, he had seen your old self start to come back but it was crushed so quickly. The bloodlust and anger in your eyes, when the punches stopped being held back the attack not to defend yourself but to make them hurt. For them to feel the suffering that you felt. Blood soaked the sands as you tear through their defenses, but it was the moment he saw you hesitate to take in much-needed air he saw you go down.

“Kid!” Din yells running straight into the chaos, as the others give him cover, and the arrival of the mods pulled the soldiers' focus away from you. He sees your hand grabbing your leg your saber held in the other, you swing at him still blinded but he’s able to block it with the beskar. Your arm drops seeing it’s Din as he pulls you up to stand trying to take most of your weight off pulling you to safety and your free hand blocks blaster fire with your saber. Once around the safety of the Freetown armored speeder, your back is against the speeder as Din kneels in front of you. Your thigh was bleeding from a bolt striking you there, he rips part of your cloak and ties it above the wound to stop you from bleeding out. You go to move but Din pushes you back down the fighting still going on around you.

“I have to get Cad! I have to kill him! For Cobb-” “You’re done!” Din yells pushing you back down as you try to get back up again. Your gaze is fierce as you stare down Din and he holds you against the speeder. “You’re done, kid…” He says his voice weak.

“They’re falling back!” Someone yells out and you struggle to stand as Din helps you up an arm around your waist to keep you up. You could see the Pykes retreating away as the people around you cheer and celebrate.

“Freetown!” “Yeah!”

“I wouldn’t celebrate yet. We got problems,” Din says as you see coming around the corner two very large spider-like droids, “We got real problems.”

Blasters and even Fett’s missiles are useless with their powerful deflector shields as they turn and take aim at the vehicle. “Run! We’ll distract them.” Din helps you run away as the attack hits the speeder and it explodes in a ball of fire. The people of Freetown, the Mods, and Krrsantan start to flee down the streets of Mos Espa as the three of you stay back.

“Go get out of here!” Din yells and you shake your head pulling out your saber the red blade appearing with a crackle and roar,

“I’m not leaving you!” You shout back quickly dodging a bolt from hitting you as it collides. Rolling as the sand kicks up in the air from the powerful attack you hiss in pain looking at your leg and seeing the blood soaking through your pant leg. Din and Boba attack the droids their blasters making no dent and Din pulls out the Darksaber trying to pierce through their shields but it doesn’t go through.

“I can’t get through.” Din yells out as you keep moving backward avoiding the droids' attacks, “These two will destroy the whole city!” Fett shouts and Din tackles you when another attack is aimed at you. He helps you up as you keep running well yours is a half-sprint half-hobble

“Our energy weapons can’t get through, and our kinetic weapons have too much velocity,” Din says

“Can you protect the others?” Fett asks and Din nods, “I can distract them for a spell. Why?”

“Watch out!” Fett yells as you both dodge a bolt heading to the two of you, you grunt from the strain in your leg.

“We need reinforcements.” You wheeze out your arm wrapped around Din’s shoulder the other holding your saber.

“From where? You’ve run out of friends.” Din says aiming the comment at Fett.

“Protect the others.” He says before blasting off into the air leaving the two of you against the giant droids. Din fires at them and is able to get the attention of one as you both take off in the streets. You’re pulled forward by Din a clear trail of blood following behind you both as the droid fires upon you. Turning the corner you see a cart driven by a rickshaw droid heading toward you and a woman waving at the two of you.

“Mando! Ha! We found you! I got a surprise for you.” Peli calls out to you two as Din waves his hand forward,

“Turn around!” He yells over the sound of the droid getting closer and how far away you were. “What?”

“Turn around!” “Can’t hear you!”

“Turn around!” You both scream as the droid turns around the corner and Peli screams out as the cart quickly turns around. Din with the help of Peli helps you onto the back as he jumps on as well as the droid drives down the street.

“Can this thing go any faster? Go faster, you bucket of bolts!” Peli yells at the rickshaw droid as it speeds up and you have to clutch onto the back of the seat to hold on. Din fires back at the Scorpenek as it chases after you all, his focus was torn in two defeating the droid and making sure you were okay. Your hand was a death grip on the back of the seat the other deflected bolts from the droid. You were bloody and sickly-looking he could see your blood staining your pants from your injury.

“Hey, Mando! Look who’s here.” Peli calls out and you both look as she pulls a blanket off revealing the child you both look away only to whip back in shock.

“What? Hey, what are you doing here?” Din leans forward looking at Grogu in shock, “Buddy? How..” The small child jumps into Din’s arms and he pulls him into a hug,

“Oh! Okay, little guy. I’m happy to see you too. I didn’t know when I’d see you again. It’s okay. Yeah. I missed you too, buddy,” Din chuckles at the coo Grogu releases and you smile stroking his ears and he giggles, “But, uh… we’re in a bit of a bind here right now. You be careful. You keep your head down. You stay hidden until the fight’s over. Hey, that’s the shirt. You got the shirt.” He brings Grogu back to his seat and peeks inside his cloak spotting the beskar shirt hidden underneath.

“Save your tender moment. We’ve got a Scorpenek droid chasing us.” Peli shouts out as she fires her blaster past you.

“What is he doing here?” You ask and Peli shrugs, “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

The Scorpenek droid fires at you missing you all but it manages to shoot off the head of the rickshaw droid. It shakes before exploding as the cart flips from the momentum as you all are sent into the air. You see Din grab Grogu right as you crash into the ground groaning in pain as you turn to see the Scorpenek droid right upon you as you deflect its blaster fire. You come to stand but fall back down your hand presses against your thigh pulling back and seeing it stained red. Din yells out to you as the droid aims right at you but before it could fire a terrifying roar that makes you cover your ears distracted. Looking up seeing a rancor jump over several buildings dodging the fire from the droid. You’ve only heard the stories of the creatures hearing the legend that Jabba the Hutt had a rancor and those that disobeyed him would be fed to it.

The rancor appears before you and you see Boba Fett on top riding the beast as it manages to damage its shielding. You see Din appear behind the droid and use the darksaber to break inside the deflector shields. Climbing on top of the droid as it tries shaking him off and he slices off one of the gun turrets but is knocked off. It raises its leg to crush Din when you throw your saber it spins cutting off the leg and it returns back into your hand. The droid collapse gave Fett’s rancor time to finish tearing it apart and destroying the tech. Din grabs you pulling you into his arms as he embraces you and the child. His breath is shaky as he holds the two of you feeling like a part of him is whole again. He wasn’t sure how the child had gotten here but was thankful for the higher beings out there.

The attack of the second Scorpenek droid ends the touching moment as Din stands helping you up holding Grogu in his arms, “Keep ’em on their heels. They’re on the run.”

“Come on, let’s get the Pykes.” You say moving forward your saber ready as you join the battle against the remaining Pyke soldiers and the final droid. The rancor beats the droid into buildings and it fires at it but its hide absorbs the attack. It rips apart the turrets stopping the droid from firing it tries stabbing the rancor with its legs but the creature destroys it. With a roar, it destroys the droid before going after Pykes. You deflect blaster bolts from hitting you or your allies as you shove your hand out and it shoves back a few Pykes into stands of fruits or walls. A fresh breath of air fills your body and you sense the presence. Your head turns off in a direction and the anger that had been left distracted by others had felt it too. You could do it. Get your revenge..for Cobb. Your saber drops slightly as the blaster fire flies past you, you can reach out tapping into the force that surrounds you. Feeling the grains of sand, the smell of the blasters, the drip of sweat mixed with blood falling from your body, the muffled sounds of gunfire and shouting.

Then you find him as the world around you returns and you stare at his presence.

“Bane…”

Cad Bane fights against the Rancor firing his blaster at it before he scares it off from the fire in his vambraces. The creature roars throwing Fett off his back and flees into the streets of Mos Espa. Fett rises staring at the other bounty hunter across the street just the two of them.

“Clear out and take your hoodlum gang with you,” Fett calls out to the man.

“I’ve known you a long time, Boba. One thing I can’t figure. What’s your angle?” He admits and Fett shakes his head, “This is my city. These are my people. I will not abandon them.”

“Like the Tuskens.” Bane tries to goad Fett but he remains firm and doesn’t let the anger take over, “Don’t toy with me. I’m not a little boy any longer, and you are an old man.”

“I’m still faster than you.” Bane retorts.

“That may be, but I have armor.” He agrees but he had the advantage of the beskar armor that protected him.

“Let’s find out.”

The two stand still before whipping out their blaster, Bane hits Fett knocking him down his blaster flying from his hand. Looking down at him Bane stalks toward him, “Now’s about the time you jet off to your bacta tank.”

“This is my city!” Fett yells sitting up flames emitting from his vambraces as Bane dodges rolling out of the way and firing at him again knocking him back down.

“You gave it a shot. You tried to go straight. But you’ve got your father’s blood pumping through your veins. You’re a killer.” Kicking him back away from his weapon, Bane kicks his weapon away, “This isn’t the first time I beat you out on a job.” He slams his foot onto Fett’s wrist as he groans in pain pinning him down to his knee and digging into his chest as he shoves the blaster between the gaps of armor.

“There’s no shame in it,” Bane says ripping the helmet off Boba revealing his face as he glares at the man. Rising to stand still pinned he slowly raises his blaster, “Consider this my final lesson. Look out for yourself. Anything else is weakness.”

“Bane!” A voice calls out and the bounty hunt looks forward and Boba looks upside down trying to see who it was. On the end of the street is a girl covered in blood though not her own. She stands tall though Bane notices the weight she shifts off the injured leg. “You and I have business.” Your hand pulls the saber off your belt a screech fills the air as the red blade appears and you see Bane grin.

“A jedi?” He says and you raise it pointing it at him,

“You’re going to die for what you did.” You spat and he laughs only making you tighten your grip on the weapon.

“I think you’ve wandered off little lady..best get back to your Mandalorian.” He says and your glare is piercing.

“I’m exactly where I need to be.” You hiss and Bane steps away from Fett not before delivering a swift kick to his side making him groan.

“You know I’ve met your grandfather before,” Bane calls out and you bring your other hand to stabilize your grip on the saber, “I know who you are, you look just like Kenobi…but your anger is just like Skywalker.” He hisses the names to remember his enemies during the time of the Clone Wars.

“The Marshal died a painful death because of me…his screams filled Freetown.” He says and your vision goes red. You race towards him as he fires at you though you deflect them sending them back to him. Throwing your saber it spins toward him but he dodges the attack sending flames your way. Rolling underneath the attack grabbing your saber mid-air a beam of plasma clips your hair the loudness causing a ringing in your ear. Closing the distance you raise your saber to strike him down when he kicks you in the stomach you fall back and he fires right at your saber hitting the open chamber of the saber.

The plasma completely destroys the saber as the power cells become unstable and explode. You’re thrown back hitting the ground the wind ripped from your lungs as the destroyed saber rest before you. You were certain you blacked out when you hit the ground, your ears ringing as you gasp for air. Scratches from the shrapnel of the hilt decorate your face and hands. Shakily trying to push yourself up a kick to your face and you spit out blood before a foot digs into your chest pinning you back into the sand, Bane stands above you and you see the blaster raised and aimed at you when he’s attacked by Boba Fett. You force yourself to roll to your side pushing yourself up on shaky hands and catching Fett impale Bane with his gaderffii stick. 

Blood pours from your face and nose as you drag yourself and rest on the sands the destroyed saber and the crystal shattered in pieces. Tears and blood blind you as your fingers shake trying to collect the pieces of the krayt pearl until the fragments rest in your palms. The gift you treasured for years, using it for your saber, destroyed by you…by your anger. Your head drops as you cry over the broken weapon mourning over losing one of the only things you could call yours.

Following the battle, Din realized you went missing before he received a call through his comm from Boba, that he had you. Arriving with Grogu in his arms and Peli and the others they found Boba Fett standing over the body of Cad Bane a grim look on his face. Din’s focus was instantly drawn to the girl keeled over in the sands. Rushing to her his movements slow down hearing the cries come from the girl and coming around to face her sees the destroyed saber resting in front of her as you clutch something in your hands to your chest. Slowly kneeling down and placing the child down beside his hands hover out in front of him.

“Kid..” He whispers making you look at him and his heart cracks. Cuts litter your face as blood a now steady trickle from your nose and your mouth. Your eyes were red fresh tears wet your waterline and lashes. Your bloody hands pull away from your chest opening it up and revealing the shattered pearl, “Oh kid..” He pulls you into his chest as you crumble crying into his chest. Din holds your head to him the other stroking your back.

“It’s…it’s my fault…I would get people hurt,” Your voice hoarse as he tries wiping the blood from your face, “People were…going to die…because of me.”

“No..no none of this is your fault okay…it’s not your fault cyar’ika.” He says holding your face between his hands as tears fill your vision.

“Din..” You fall back into his chest as he holds you to him. The small child looks on with a sad expression before coming between you two and you pull back as it brings his small hand over yours. His fingers barely cover a single finger and he closes his eyes focusing. You can feel the immense force coming off him as he pulls back then looks up at you and you understand the look in his wide eyes. You look at your hand at the pieces of the pearl it was dull lacking its shine and hue.

Closing your eyes you squeeze the portions of the pearl tightly in your fist pouring all your energy into it, turning the fear and anger that first harmed the crystal into love and peace. Thinking of all your positive memories, being on the Razor Crest with the child and Din, on Sorgan seeing trees and so much green for the first time, reuniting the Frog family with its children, coming home to Tatooine, and seeing Cobb. The memories you had with him, your first time meeting, he teaches you how to defend yourself, the times he took care of you when you were sick or soothed your fears when you had a nightmare, his horrid jokes as you worked on your speeder together, your fifteen birthday and actually celebrating it since your parents died, him gifting you the Krayt Pearl. Tears of sadness as the memories of Cobb fuel you to heal the crystal. Din watches you focus your eyes closed as you clutch the destroyed pearl between your hands. A weight is lifted off your shoulders and you open your eyes slowly opening your palm tears spring from your eyes seeing the intact crystal as it shimmers in the light. You look at the pearl a wide grin covers your features as he looks at the item resting in your hands. He would always remain amazed by the things you or the child could do just earlier seeing Grogu put the fierce rancor to sleep. You smile looking up at Din when all the energy in your body is drained as your vision goes black. Din was able to catch you the second your eyes rolled back, he panicked for a second seeing you collapse in front of him bringing his fingers to your pulse sighing in relief feeling your heartbeat. The pearl barely rests in your unconscious hands, the act of healing must have drained all your energy just like it had for the child who looks at the two of you.

“Come on kid,” Din says to Grogu as he grabs the pearl and the remaining pieces of your saber putting it in his satchel, his own gift still with him. Scooping you up into his arms he holds your unconscious body looking down at the small child beside his feet and then at the one in his arms. He felt at peace knowing the two of you were back with him, he would protect you two and make sure you never shed a single tear again. He swears on it.

You felt weightless a calming sensation surrounds you but the urge to wake up draws you away from the dreamless sleep you are in. Your eyes blink open and you notice you submerge in some cold liquid and a breathing device is in your mouth. Taking in a breath of air from the device as you try thinking back on how you got to hear everything in a blur. Suddenly the liquid drains as the capsule opens and you sit up pulling the apparatus from your mouth and taking in a shaky inhale suddenly aware you were soaking wet only in the new pair of clothes as they stick to your skin.

“Princess Kenobi-Kryze you are awake, your bacta session has fully healed your wounds.” A protocol droid rolls in as it hands you a robe that you quickly wrap around yourself. Being the cold water now out in the air your body shakes slightly as you try to warm yourself up. “I will notify Lord Fett and your party that you have awoken.” The droid doesn’t give you much time to answer especially the title as you sit there looking around the room, it was pretty empty besides the bacta tank and some other items which you assumed were Fett’s. You bring your hand to your face not feeling any cuts or scaring on your face. Looking at your leg pulling up the pants to see your thigh. Your fingers run along the smooth skin, the blaster wound not even leaving a mark

“Kid.” You turn seeing Din standing in the doorway the small green infant in his arms. He crosses the room before you’re even out of the machine his free arm wrapping around your head and pressing you to his chest. You can feel the shaky exhale he releases as he holds you to him Grogu grabs a finger with his small hands and you smile stroking his ears. He pulls back looking over you not a single scratch was left, the bacta completely healing your injuries.

“Come on kid, they're gonna need this tank.” He helps you to stand as he keeps a hand on your shoulder. You don’t get to ask when Drash and Skad bring in a man and the air leaves your system as they move past you quickly to place him inside.

“Cobb..” You whisper looking at the man as he’s placed inside the tank and they quickly close it up, it filling with bacta. “But they said…”

“He was able to get some help but the bacta will quicken the process,” Drash says as she looks at the man with understanding in her eyes and it hits you.

“You modified him..” Drash nods as you pull from Din’s arms stepping towards the tank and seeing the man resting peacefully in the healing bacta. Your hands rest against the glass wishing he could reach out and take yours. Resting your forehead against the tank whispering into it, “Please be alright.”

“Come on kid..” Din calls out as you stand up swiping the stray tear that threatens to fall and you pull returning to the Mandalorian as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Let’s get you dressed.” He says leading you like a child to another room as the droid comes over your clothes in its arms. Thanking the droid you head behind the privacy screen getting dressed grateful to be back in your clothes. Your fingers run along the clean fabric as you pull your pants up your legs surprised to see the sewing put in to fix your pants.

Returning around the screen Din still waiting there with the child in his arms as you holster your blaster and knife. It was like instinct to grab your belt to fix your saber but your hand comes empty. The pain from losing your saber is too fresh as a frown takes over your features.

“Hey kid,” Din calls out and you look at the man trying to hide the sad look on your face to no avail. He waves his hand for you to follow him. Leaving the tower as you move through Boba Fett’s palace until you reach the throne room and laying in the middle as a rug and a singular item wrapped in a cloth tied with a cord.

“What is this?” You look at the man as he leads you toward the rug placing the child down as it moves to the cloth sitting across from it.

“A gift.” He says taking you by the shoulders to make you sit on the rug in front of the object wrapped in cloth. Din moves back standing to the side and you look up at him as he gestures to you and then to the cloth, “Go on.” You give him a suspicious look before turning to the cloth and glancing at the child who is also looking in interest. Undoing the cord with care and putting it to the side you slowly undo the cloth, your breath gets caught in your throat when you see the item. The saber is in perfect recreation as it rests in separate pieces including the inner works. The only difference that you did notice was the metal of the hilts it had a slight marbling effect something you’ve never seen before. Grabbing a part of the hilt the cold metal presses against your skin, and you feel the weight of it but it was light at the same time.

“Is this beskar?” You look at Din as he nods at the shocked expression on your face. “But I thought beskar wasn’t meant to be weapons.” You ask as he moves towards you crouching down.

“It’s not, it’s technically considered taboo to Mandalorians, but like the child, you deserved armor as foundlings,” He points at the hilt resting in your hand, “This is your armor. To protect you as a Jedi…and a Mandalorian.” Din reaches into his satchel pulling out the krayt pearl and you perk up as he passes it to you and you accept it with such delicacy. The intact pearl shimmers in the light and has a faint warm glow that is brighter in the healed cracks. You look at the disassembled saber and the crystal in your palm slowly placing it back down onto the cloth as Din steps back. Taking a deep breath feeling your heartbeat loud and strong as it slows down with your breathing. Your hands rest on your knees as your palms face upward as your drift shut. Focusing on your breathing as the doors open as the Force rushes over you wrapping around your body like a blanket. It’s comforting and welcoming like an embrace protecting you as the small objects shake gently and then rise into the air. You can feel the sunlight through the sandstone, the texture of the handmade rug underneath you, hear the inhales from the child in front of you and the modulated breathes from the Mandalorian, tasting the crisp air, and the smell of fresh linens that wraps your body.

Din watches in amazement as the pieces of the weapon move throughout the air stopping in their desired places and the weapon forms before him. Working outwards on both ends towards the middle, the power cells are covered through wiring and the beskar hilt. The weapon of the Jedi imbue with the Force as it comes towards the middle the final piece of the puzzle being the krayt pearl is it slots itself in the open chamber but protected by the metal of his ancestors.

You open your eyes as the weapon rests before you. Reaching out towards it you feel the sudden weight of the beskar but in your hands, it lightens in your grasp. Your eyes trace the details of the saber as your finger rest on the button and you activate it. A screech fills the air as the plasma emits from the hilt. A gorgeous orange like the sunset on Tatooine bathes you in the color light. The healed crystal purifies it of the color of the Sith.

The blade retreats back into the hilt and you look at the saber resting in your hand but also the weapon on his belt, the whispers faintly coming from it calling you. Din follows your gaze seeing the Darksaber resting on his hilt before he pulls it off his belt holding it out to you. “I am not the owner of this weapon thus it should not be in my possession.” He explains that you froze it was fear that stopped you. The weapon that had cut through your flesh, in the possession of the man that slaughtered your people, was yours by right, your claim to the blade but also to the throne of a destroyed planet. But while no throne rests or no armor of your ancestors adorns your skin this weapon was yours to lead and rule the hidden Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” The whisper of the voice as a hand is ghost-like on your shoulder, and you feel the presence of the person before it fades as you take the weapon in your grasp feeling the weight of it as you attach it to your belt beside your saber. You felt the conflict in yourself as you hold the weapon meant for true rulers not orphans from Tatooine. Din could see the fear in yourself with this weapon and the responsibility it means to yourself. You look up at Din who is looking at you though you can’t tell what his expression is underneath the beskar.

“You can stay here, with Cobb have a home here on Tatooine. I won’t stop you.” Din says the fear of seeing you hurt again is too great for him to deal with. If he knew you were here and safe he could deal with his exile without fear. You look away to the child holding onto your pant leg. Bending down pulling the child into your arms you step forward and Din holds his breath ready for you to agree and leave his life. Your hand reaches out grabbing his holding onto the leather glove as his finger wraps around yours instinctively his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“I’m not leaving you,” You say looking at the man you see as a father figure, the man who protects and loves you, the man who would tear a part of the galaxy to see you safe with him, your buir, “I’ll follow you anywhere you go.” You promise him as he looks down at you.

He was at a loss for words, the girl he had originally meant to be a quarry, their relationship rocky and hesitant, but with time you had slowly broken down his walls and created a space in his heart, he would do anything to see you smile or to hear your laughter, put down his own life to make sure you and the child were safe, to allow you to be a kid…his kid, his ad. Din looks down at you before nodding,

“Okay.”

Din prepares the N-1 with the coordinates of the planet they were meant to travel sending the navigation to link with your X-Wing. From behind him, Grogu taps the dome with the small ball from the Razor Crest in his hands.

“No.”

A series of more taps as Din speaks again to the child in the pod seat built into the N-1.

“Uh-uh.”

More taps follow as Din grows more annoyed by the persistence of the child.

“No.”

A chuckle follows his comms as he looks over seeing you in your X-Wing watching the display, “Come on he’s not gonna stop until you do it.” You say as the child bangs on the glass more frantically. R4 produces his own response as you make a sound of agreement.

“Don’t need the opinion of the droid here.”

More banging comes from the glass making Din glance back at the child.

“All right. But this is the last time.” He says flipping the switch you watch the ship accelerate rapidly and you hear Gorgu’s squeals from the comms as it jumps to lightspeed. R4 beeps at you as you chuckle adjusting your grip on the joystick and punching in the coordinates,

“I know R4,”

Flipping the switch as the 5th engine roars ready and your finger hovers over the button to release the energy and jumps to hyperspace. To explore the galaxy as one adventure ends and another begins,

“This is where the fun begins.”

A/N: There is Clan of Three: Book of Boba Fett! Another part of this fantastic series is done! You are fucking incredible people and season three's first chapter is coming out next Wednesday!

[maybege]

The App - Part 2

Summary: You know who your perfect-match alpha is and it is not the guy from The App.  

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 11.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, knotting, etc.), older man/younger woman, implied age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sexual intercourse, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight (loving) degradation, semi-public sex, creampies, size kink, fluff fluff and more fluff

So … this second part kind of exploded which is why it took me so long to actually finish it lol but I hope the wait will have been worth it for you because ngl I am just swooning over alpha!Boba. Also I placed a little Easter Egg in here for another upcoming fic so bonus points to anyone who finds it 👀 Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!  

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

It was two weeks – and no phone call – later, that you decided to take matters into your own (nervously trembling) hands.

Boba thought he didn’t have to call you? Great. But you would not let him think that you were not interested, because you were. He was the one who had shown you what it could feel like to be loved by him and you would not let him ghost you without any explanation.

And if you so happened to want to give Josh back his jacket he had forgotten at your place and you needed to visit him at work for that? Well, then it would just be the most fitting coincidence if Boba was there too.

It was your luck that the receptionist, Peggy, recognized you from the few times you had visited Josh at work and simply waved you through to the elevators. No questions asked.

The doors slid open and you were faced with an empty floor and your heart plummeted. You stepped outside, letting your eyes roam over the open office space. But except for a few people you did not recognise, no one was there.

Shit. So much for coincidentally crossing Boba’s path.

You gripped the jacket tighter, fighting the insecure thoughts in your brain. So Josh was not here. That still meant you could leave the jacket and maybe write a quick note for Boba, just to let him know you were here and open to talk.

Maybe it was better this way. What were you going to say when you met Boba anyway? “Hi, sorry to show up unannounced but you said you would call and you didn’t and I’d very much like for you to call me.”? Yeah, no, that would not do.

Josh’s desk was as empty as always, particularly neat and void of anything that would make it seem remotely personal. You scoffed. How The App could have presumed you were the perfect match, you would never understand. You only regretted it had taken so long for you to see it.

You shifted on your feet, unease filling you at the thought when your eyes fell to the office at the end of the room. Just a few desks separated you from the glass-walled office that Boba inhabited during his work days. And that Boba was sitting in, right now, his phone by his ear.

It seemed he had not noticed you yet but your heart started racing all the same. This was your chance, this was the moment you had to use or else you would beat yourself up over it forever. This could give you clarity.

Taking a deep breath, you set a determined pace to the office, only to falter when he suddenly looked at you. You could not hear what he was saying but you could see the way his entire body shifted. How he paused his words, his eyes running over your form before hanging up, his hand gripping the phone tightly.

You opened the door without knocking and Boba stood up, his eyes still on you. He wore a black suit and with the way it clung to his broad frame, you were convinced that it had been tailored just for him.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly, “Is Josh here?”

“No,” he said, still standing behind his desk, “He is gone for lunch. They all are.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“I, uh, I brought his jacket,” you said, holding up the piece of clothing as if he would not believe you otherwise.

“I can see that.”

“I, uh, can I leave that here?”

“No.”

You faltered, “No?”

“I mean, you can, just not in my office, please,” he said, stepping around his desk. You could not help but swallow, trying to brace yourself for his proximity. His words did not seem inviting but there was something in his scent, something in his eyes, that had you hoping still.

So you took a step forward, a step closer, and you could see his hand flex and his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened and then he was in front of you, his chest brushing against yours and it was all you could do not to lean into him and beg him to scent you again.

Stars, did you want him to scent you again.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

At this point, you could not have cared less about Josh’s stupid jacket but there was no way you would not use it as a reason to stay. Even if it was just for a minute, for a second, longer in his presence.

“Why?” you breathed, taking in his scent, eyes already half-hooded at the familiar smoky scent.

“Because I don’t want anyone’s scent in here but yours,” he answered, just as quietly, “Omega.”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

The blood was thrumming in your veins and you wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him you loved him, you were pretty sure you did. And you wanted to ask him to scent you. And you wanted to tell him about how he was right, that Josh was a horrible match and The App was wrong and maybe he was your match.

No, not maybe. He looked at you so softly, so tenderly, it confirmed what your heart had known all along. He was your match.

But all you got out was a helpless whisper, “Alpha.”

As if it was even possible, his eyes got more intense, boring into yours as if to say I know.

“You did not call,” you said, almost accusatory as you watched his fingers brush over the back of your hand, “I thought maybe – maybe you don’t want me.”

“There is no universe in which I do not want you,” he murmured, his nose brushing your temple and his hand wrapping around yours, “I wanted to give you time. I didn’t … want to force you into something you might not be ready for.”

“I had no way to contact you,” you whispered, “I was so stupid, I just deleted all the groups when I broke it off with Josh and – what?”

“Nothing,” Boba said innocently but when you looked up you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.

“That’s not nothing,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“I didn’t know you had broken off things with him,” Boba stated, his smile widening, “Josh may have announced that he was the one who ended things.”

Say what now?

Your displeasure only grew because Boba chuckled again, a deep rumble in his chest that made you feel all warm and tingly and you leant into him, effectively hiding your frown. It was not that you particularly cared about Josh or how the world would see the end of your relationship. But hearing that he was evidently too ashamed to tell the truth about the end of your relationship just made you angrier because it showed the kind of person he had been all along. And you had been too blind to see it.

“I knew it was a lie all along,” he assured you quietly, his warm hand running down your back, “No alpha in their right mind would ever let you go. And I am pretty sure most of the others thought so too.”

“I don’t care what they think,” you answered truthfully and looked up at him. He was so close this way and you could see that he must have shaved this morning because the stubble was almost non-existent and you wondered if you could still feel it if he were to kiss you. “I only care what you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, “You should get that stinking jacket out of here and then come back so I can kiss you, omega.”

“You want to kiss me?”

You hated how surprised you sounded, how eager, but Boba did not make fun of you. His face looked dead serious and your heart skipped a beat. This man wanted to kiss you!

“Actually,” he said, straightening up and looking to the elevator where a few employees had come back from their break. You did not recognize them but you knew it meant it would not be long until familiar faces returned from their break. And you did not want to see them. “Did you have lunch yet?”

You shook your head.

“Let me take you out, then,” he suggested, seeming as put together and in control as always as he quickly went over to his computer and typed something, “Italian sound good?”

The smile appeared on its own on your lips and you felt like your feet no longer touched the ground, you were that happy.

“Italian sounds great.”

*

There was something to be said about Boba leading you through the city with his hand on your lower back like it belonged there. Like you belonged next to each other.

“Table for two,” he had told the maître d’ at a fancy-looking place you never would have considered for lunch. Suddenly you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had dug out your most beautiful winter dress for the day and the boots you had spent a whole movie on cleaning so they looked brand new.

You were sat at a slim booth, facing each other and your heart skipped a beat when you crossed your legs and your foot accidentally brushed against his slacks. You were so close.

Boba rumbled, eyes dark while he looked you over, his gaze lingering suspiciously long on your neckline that dipped a bit lower than what you usually wore. “Thank you for letting me take you out,” the alpha said, “I really appreciate getting to spend time with you.”

“I enjoy spending time with you, too,” you mumbled, avoiding his intense gaze by folding open the menu, “Though I wouldn’t have expected it when I first met you.”

The laugh he let out made your heart flutter (He sounded so happy!). “No, I hadn’t suspected it either,” he admitted, “If I recall I called myself an old man no one would ever want that day.”

“You are not that old!” the protest slipped off your tongue immediately and you felt your cheeks burn when he raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

“I am, though,” he said without any heat, “But at least I can say that it makes me better at some things.”

“Like what?”

He leant forward, his voice dropping to a low rumble that you felt reverberating in your chest, “Like I am better at making you come than all these boys on that app these days.”

All air left your lungs in a woosh and you swallowed harshly, trying to get your bearing and ignoring the sudden urge to press your thighs together. Or open them for him. Both sounded good at this point.

“Oh,” you breathed, your foot landing against his calf. It did not turn into anything sexual per se but the contact was enough to have your heart skip a beat. The tension was palpable between you and you wondered how you could have ever thought he was unbearable when he could make you flustered this easily.

“You probably are,” you replied quietly, your cheeks burning at your confession, “I have never felt like this with anyone. So … so on edge.”

“On edge, hm?” he smirked, leaning even closer, “I really wish I could sit next to you, omega, I want to see how close I can get you by just teasing that scent gland of yours.”

“Me too,” you whispered, taking a sip of your wine in the hopes of cooling down, “I really want you to scent me again.”

Boba did not say anything but demonstratively put his hand on the table palm facing up and open. You followed his silent instructions and put your hand in his, immediately enjoying the gentle skin-to-skin contact.

His thumb brushed over your wrist and your entire body shuddered. This was what you needed.

“Better?” he asked, his voice deep as his thumb carefully ran over your scent gland over and over again. The ones on the wrists were not as sensitive as the one on your neck, they never were, but it was enough, still, to have him gently scent you out here in the open for anyone to see.

You did not know what surprised you more: How much your body seemed to crave his touch or how he did not seem to mind to scent you in public. Your previous partner had always refused to actually scent you – it was just not something they wanted to do. But here was Boba, looking at you with so much tenderness and scenting you in plain sight. Not ashamed of you in the least.

“What do you want?”

I want you to fuck me.

“To eat,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, obviously recognizing the needy look in your eyes, “Because that waiter looks like he is ready to come over and I know how nervous you get about ordering.”

Your heart grew in size. He knew you so well, this quiet man who seemed to notice all the things you needed and was not afraid to point them out to you. But that realization did not help you when it came to the ache between your legs because he knew you so well and you just wanted to have him in your bed to try out all the fantasies your head could come up with.

“The – the pasta,” you finally found your words, your heartbeat picking up at the thought that maybe he would stop scenting you now that a witness would be here, “Please don’t let me go, alpha.”

“Never,” he vowed, “The ravioli, you mean?” he guessed, coaxing another sigh out of you when the pad of his calloused thumb drew a circle over your wrist, “With the cherry tomatoes and the basil reduction?”

You nodded with your eyes closed, completely letting yourself enjoy the way he touched you, the way he caressed you. “Yes, that one.”

The waiter came by and Boba ordered for you both, still holding your hand and the waiter did not even spare a glance at the way he touched you. You had spent so many years afraid of what the world would think when you were so obviously treated as an omega in a relationship. Spoiler alert: They did not care. And it was glorious.

“Now only one question remains,” Boba said with a smile when your food arrived, “Can I take you out for dinner sometime? On a proper date?”

*

A few days later, a knock on your door drove you into a flurry. You counted until six in your head before you opened the door, pretending like you had not waited in the hallway for ages for him to show up. Not because he was late, no, Boba Fett was punctual as always, but because you could not wait for this evening to start.

This date today was something you had looked forward to ever since he had called you and officially asked you out. (“There is that lovely little place down by the river,” he had said, “My friend owns it and I could get us a table with the best view. What do you think?”)

Now, Boba Fett was standing in your doorway, looking even more handsome than usual, in dark slacks and a white button-down with the top button undone, revealing a little bit more of his chest. He looked serious, just as much preoccupied with looming at you as you were with looking at him. Which meant that it took both of you a moment to realise that he was holding a colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Forgive my distraction,” he said, “You look stunning.” He held up the flowers, their scent floating between the two of you, “Here. For you.”

You were sure the smile on your lips could not get any brighter as you accepted them, your fingers brushing, “Thank you. Let me get them in some water. Wanna come inside?”

He hummed, following you into your tiny and cluttered apartment.

You tried not to look back at him and gauge his reactions. You liked to describe your apartment as cosy and homey and, yes, maybe a teeny tiny bit cramped. You had never been one for the minimalistic way of life and your apartment reflected that. There were pictures and books and trinkets everywhere, your fridge was covered in magnets from your travels and postcards from your friends and family.

It was no surprise, in hindsight, that Josh had not liked your place at all and he had not shied away to articulate that out loud. Several times, in fact, until you had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would stay over at his place and your souvenirs would have to live the rest of their lives in storage boxes.

But this was your home. It was you. Which is why it was more important than anything to you that Boba liked it.

Boba was too good a man to criticize your place openly, you knew that. But you still could not resist glancing at his broad form in the living room while you filled the vase with water.

“What do you think?” you asked, hoping to hide your nervous undertone when you set the vase down on your kitchen table. You could not wait to wake up each morning and be greeted with the sight of the flowers your favourite alpha had gotten for you.

“Feels like a home,” he said, running his fingers over a stack of books that had no space in the bookcase, “Feels like you.”

His words were soft-spoken and sincere and you watched as his gaze roamed over your apartment. The couch with the sunk-in cushions where you always sat, the mess of books and notepads and remotes on your coffee table, all pulled together by the singular scented candle you treated yourself to once in a while. The walls were covered with pictures and prints of your travels (or the places you wanted to travel to) and your friends and family peppered in between.

It did feel like you. And when he said it, it sounded like a compliment.

“Thank you, alpha.”

His head shot up and, in his eyes, you could see the thoughts he had. If calling someone omega was a love confession, what did it mean to him to be called alpha?

He crossed the few steps that were between you before he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle and so full of love it made your heart swell. His scent was in your nose and the stubble on his jaw rubbed over your skin, making you want him even closer.

“Let’s go, omega,” he whispered against your mouth, “Or else we will be late and Paz will have my head.”

“If you say so,” you grinned, “Lead the way, alpha.”

*

Hours later, you still were not ready to say goodbye.

You had talked and flirted and laughed and eaten and now, Boba had driven you home, parking a few blocks away with the insistence that he should walk you home. You had accepted with a smile.

“So,” he started, casually walking alongside you, “How was it for a first date?”

You hummed, pretending to mull over your answer as if it weren’t incredibly obvious. The streetlights illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the profile of his nose, his full lips, and the twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It could have been worse,” you teased him, “I don’t think it was the worst first date I have ever been on.”

Boba chuckled, coming to a stop in front of an entryway that looked like yours. Your heart fell at the thought of having to leave him. If it were up to you, this night could go on forever.

“Not the worst first date,” he quoted you, his grin lighting up his whole face, “I count that as a win. Besides,” he turned, facing you, “The most important thing is whether you would go out with me again. What do you think?”

“I would,” you murmured, entirely too fixated on how close he was and if you could get him to kiss you again, “Of course, I would, Boba.”

The silence between you two was comfortable but you could not feel like time was running away from you two. So you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“Do you want to come up for a coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded you with a little smile, “You told me that tonight, remember?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten about that, “You know I wasn’t really asking you up for a coffee, right?”

“Hm,” he said, stepping closer to you and you did not shy away. His eyes roamed over your form. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looming over you, his breath washing over your face. “You know there is nothing I would love more than to come up for … not coffee”, he winked and you smiled, “But this is our first date and I – I want to do this right and proper. So, no coffee tonight, little one.”

“Oh well,” you pouted, your hand reaching out to tug his hand out of his pocket. Boba smiled and followed your lead, his hands leaving his pockets and landing on your lower back, pulling you against him. “Your good night kiss will have to make up for that disappointment then.”

His nose brushed against yours and the familiar excitement built up again in your belly at the prospect of kissing him. “I guess I will have to work really hard for it,” he joked quietly before he closed the distance between you.

The kiss started soft and gentle, his mouth moving against yours, slowly coaxing you open. But it did not take long before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. It did not take long before his tongue mingled with yours, his teeth brushing over your bottom lip and one of his hands wandering to your ass, slightly squeezing.

It was when the slightest of moans left your lips that he pulled away from you, your body instantly missing his touch.

“Dinner, then?” Boba asked, his breathing slightly laboured, “Next week?”

*

You did not make it to dinner.

And you hated yourself for it.

But whatever flu had caught you, it had caught you good and as you drafted the text to Boba, cancelling the dinner date you had spent the last week looking forward to, you felt like crying out of pure frustration. But there was no way you were able to leave your apartment today.

So you did the only thing you could. You planted yourself on the couch, curled up with a heated blanket and too many mugs of tea and set your timer to when you could take the next painkiller to keep the migraine at bay. You could not even focus on the old sitcom that you had put on in the background, instead just dozing on and off and trying to find a position that did not make every single muscle in your body ache.

It felt absolutely miserable.

A knock on your door got you up and you trudged to the door, hoping that it was just one of your neighbours with a package that got misdelivered. Stars knew you weren't up to anything else.

“Boba,” you mumbled, completely confused at the sight in front of you, “Did – did you not get my text?”

He stood in front of you, dressed in jeans and a shirt made from a material so soft, your fingers itched to touch it. “I did,” he confirmed, holding up a white plastic bag that smelled divine, “So I brought you some soup.”

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You wanted to tell him that but somehow, your tongue refused to move and the words would not leave your mouth. You just stared at him, tears brimming in your eyes as you looked at this alpha who did not seem to be angry at you at all for ruining his plans.

“Will you let me come inside?” his voice was gentle and caring, “I can heat up the soup and make you some tea. And then I can get out of your hair and let you rest.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you found your voice again, happy that you managed to express at least this one thought, stepping aside to let him in, “Th-thank you for coming, alpha.”

You watched as he set the food down in the kitchen before coming into the living room, taking in the damage. The pity was clear in his eyes and you felt a little ashamed at him seeing you so out of control. Everything was a mess and there were used tissues lying everywhere, your laundry had not been done for a week and the dishes were piling up in your sink. Not to mention that you had not managed to gather the strength to take out the trash which was why your kitchen was currently a No Zone for you.

But none of that seemed to interest him.

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?” he asked finally, his brows furrowed as he took in the haphazardly thrown blankets on the sofa.

You shrugged, tugging on your sleeves. You would have to change your shirt soon, the fabric felt unusually scratchy today and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. ”The bed feels cold,” you tried to explain, “And – and the pillows don’t sit right. And I’m too sick to – “

“Make a nest,” Boba realised, his eyes softening, “You’ve been needing a nest all this time, ‘mega?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and bracing yourself for the rejection that you would inevitably see in them. So far, Boba had proven different from Josh in every way, different from all the other alphas in every way. And while you knew that your brain was most probably playing tricks on you, you felt too miserable to stop the intrusive thoughts that tried to tell you that this would be the point where he realised that being with an omega – being with you – would be too much work.

“Do you want me to help?”

Your head shot up and you were unable to hide the surprise on your face. But the look on his face was sincere as he looked at you, expecting your answer.

This was one of those moments, you realized, where you could accept what the universe – Boba – offered you. Even if you had never experienced it before. Careful not to jostle your head too much, you nodded and made your way to your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you.

The curtains were still drawn but with how bright it was outside, one could still see the half-finish nest you had attempted to build on your bed. It just looked sad now, the twisted blanket and the pillows you had half-heartedly thrown on top of it.

But with Boba behind you, it just felt incomplete and you realized what you had been missing. “I – I want it a little bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

Big enough for you to join me.

But the words remained unspoken as you focused on pulling the blankets apart, getting a bigger circle shape to fill out the entire space your mattress offered. If you pulled it just this way, then you could have –

“Do you have some extra blankets I should get you?” Boba asked from where he had been standing on the opposite side of the bed, carefully copying your movements. You liked the look of his big hands touching the materials of your nest, colouring them in his scent. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would stay long enough that his scent lingered even after he left.

You nodded, pointing to the closet next to the door where you stashed your extra pillows and blankets. The kinds that were always freshly washed and soft enough that you endured them even in your heat. Now, you felt hot too, but in a sick kind of way and your head was thrumming with pain.

Deep down, you knew you should rest. You knew it would not be long until the dizziness set in or the itchiness of the fabric made you want to cry. But Boba was there and he had seen the mess and you did not – you swallowed harshly, your hands starting to tremble – you could not bear if he left now.

“Omega,” Boba rumbled upon his return, clearly having noticed your distress, and your hands stilled at the strict tone in his voice, “Let me take care of this.”

“Don’t want you to work,” you mumbled as you pushed the circle a little wider, “I promise I'm not that much work.” You looked up at him, your voice earnest and your eyes tearing up and you cursed yourself for how weak Josh had made you, how weak you felt at having to face the fact that Boba Fett meant more to you than you had wanted to admit.

His face fell at your words and you could feel the tears threatening to spill.

The blankets fell into the space of your nest, freshly washed and smiling of your favourite laundry detergent. But you could not focus on them now. Not when he made his way around the bed to you until he was right in front of you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Omega,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face. They felt cool against your skin and sighed in relief, your eyes closing, “You are sick, my omega,” he repeated, “You are not too much work. I want to help you. Please, lie down in your nest and let me help. Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated for a second, the demons in your head still whispering about whether or not he was telling the truth. But one look in his warm eyes and you knew he was and you knew you could trust him.

Boba only let go of you once you nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you straighten out the blankets. “Here is what we are going to do,” he said, his voice warm and gentle, “I will help you make the nest and then you will lie down and take a nap, okay?”

“And you?” you asked unsure, fluffing a pillow in the corner, already imagining yourself and Boba lying down right there.

“I will take care of a few things and then we will see what you need.”

His voice did not leave much room for protest and if you were honest with yourself, you did not want to protest either. Taking a nap in your nest sounded like a dream and having Boba close by? That was even better.

It did not take long after that before your nest truly looked like your nest. The blankets and pillows were arranged in a perfect circle, high enough for you to lean against them and your favourite blanket was folded inside, too, ready to cover you whenever you needed.

“I will leave you to it, omega,” Boba murmured, his hand gently running over your back before disappearing into the hallway.

Only after you heard him cluttering around somewhere, did you take off your leggings, feeling positive that he would not leave. After a bit of thinking, you took off your panties too. You changed into your sleep shirt, the one thing that felt soft against your skin and it was long enough to cover your ass, too. The only things you kept from your original outfit were the fuzzy socks. Just at first until you could feel the cold leave you.

Lying down in your nest was just as glorious as you had expected and you dozed off in no time. The little sounds from the depths of your apartment and the dimmed sunlight through your curtains paired with Boba’s lingering scent on your blankets resulted in your body feeling relaxed and pliant for the first time in three days.

You did not know how much time passed but by the time you opened your eyes again, you felt much better and Boba stood by your bed.

He carefully arranged the pillows around you, making sure they were as fluffy as possible and you smiled when his hands lingered on your shoulders. “Is that okay?” he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out for him, “Do – Will you join me?”

The large man smiled, his voice still careful as he pulled the curtains closed. “I would love to, omega, what's the dress code?”

“Shoes off,” you ordered with a weak smile, “And the shirt, too. And the belt.”

He hummed and you did not have to see him to know he was smiling. You watched with interest as his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, more and more tan skin revealed to you as he pulled it over his head. It was the first time you had seen him like this and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that maybe it would not be the last time.

“Like what you see?” he joked, his hands going to his belt and you bit your lip, your eyes not leaving his body as he crawled into bed next to you. He pulled a soft blanket from somewhere, covering you both with it and you sighed, shuffling closer to him.

The alpha’s arms went around you, holding you to him so you could tuck your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent and enjoying the sheer touch of him against you. While the silence between you felt comfortable and you found yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever, you also could not shake the little bit of nervousness at this new position you found yourself in.

“I have never shared my nest with anyone,” you confessed into the crook of his neck, “I – I don’t know if I am doing it right.”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” he asked you gently, his hand holding the back of your neck firmly. You closed your eyes, giving you some relief from the strain behind your eyes. His finger started moving, gently and slowly massaging the back of your neck.

He was right. It did feel right.

“If it helps, it is my first time in an omega’s nest as well,” he replied and you hummed. “No, that’s a lie,” he added after a moment of silence, his hand movement never ceasing, “I was in my mother’s nest a few times when I was very little.”

“A few times?” you asked, remembering how you had spent entire weekends as a toddler with your parents in their nest.

“I have a lot of brothers,” he revealed, “Like a ridiculous amount, really. It was sometimes a fight to get in there, you know? Not that it made me feel any less loved.”

You smiled at the thought of a young Boba toddling around with his brothers in a big nest.

“It sounds nice,” you murmured, running your hand over his chest. You focussed on the warmth of his body, the way his skin felt under your fingertips and how you could feel his heartbeat.

“It is,” you could feel him nod, “Family reunions are a nightmare though. Pure chaos.”

Your laugh got stuck in your throat when his nose brushed over your neck. His breath washed over your scent gland and you could feel how your body attuned to him.

“This is nice, too,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. His nose on your scent gland sent warm shivers down your spine. It was calming and made you feel safe and cosy and like you could finally rest.

“It is,” he agreed quietly, turning your body so he was on his back and you were glued to his side, “Rest now, my omega, I got you.”

*

It was several days of rest until you finally could breathe through your nose again. But when the rest of the flu had dissipated and you felt like you could return to life as usual and Boba asked you out to the opera, you knew it would be even better than the date you had originally missed.

The older alpha took you out to dinner first. To a fancy restaurant by the water where the waitlist was several months long. So long, in fact, that you marvelled at how he managed to get a table there. As it turned out, the small restaurant in question was owned by his friend Paz, a giant of an alpha who came out of the kitchens with a huge grin and a promise to deliver you the best meal you ever had.

And just like Boba, Paz Vizsla was an alpha who kept his word. Paired with the most delicious wine you ever had, you were served a three-course pre-theatre dinner that had you humming with delight.

But the true highlight of the night was not the strawberry pistachio tarte or the seafood pasta, no. It was the man in front of you.

Boba’s eyes never left you. He held your chair for you and had his hand on yours whenever time allowed. He looked so handsome in his black suit with a dark grey dress shirt and you found your eyes straying to the first few undone buttons that granted you a look at his chest.

Stars, you were so done for.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you, “That has to be my favourite colour on you.”

It was a dark green silk dress that was clinging to your body “in all the right places” as your friends had assured you in the group chat. And hearing Boba thinking the same things made you happier than you could have imagined.

“And you look very put together, as always,” you teased him back, leaning forward and not missing the way his eyes flashed to your neckline. If only he knew …

Your alpha smiled at you, then, and leant back in his chair like it. You watched with bated breath as he held his thick hand up and started rolling up his sleeves, revealing his tanned forearm to you. First the one, then the other and then he dared to wink at you because he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And it was exactly these filthy thoughts that got you into the mess that followed.

Because Boba had a private boy. Of course, he did.

You felt like a princess when he led you up the carpeted stairs through the gorgeous old building to a little room that was reserved just for you. It was hard to look at the steps in front of you when you were so distracted by the painted ceilings, the stucco and the giant chandeliers that, just for a second, gave you the feeling of travelling back in time. But Boba’s hand was right there to steady you, his hand squeezing yours warmly when you heisted before.

The first thing you were greeted with was a set of fancy drinks – your favourite mocktail and a scotch that was older than both of you for Boba. Only then did you take in the room.

For some reason, you had thought that the door would lead immediately to your private seats for the show. Instead, you were standing in a little reception room, furnished with a plush couch and a minibar and looked far fancier than any hotel room you had ever stayed in.

Slow music was playing from a record player and if you listened carefully, you could hear the orchestra getting ready through the thick curtain. It was cosy and private and made you feel like you were far away from everyone and everything.

You sat down on the couch, sinking into the fabric with a laugh and Boba joined you. Sitting next to you, with his legs spread and leaning back against the couch with one hand still holding his scotch, he was the picture of sex appeal. Everything about him made you hyper-aware of the arousal simmering in your core.

“What are you thinking about, little omega?” he rumbled, taking a sip of the amber liquid. You watched his throat move and swallowed with him, wanting to press your lips to his Adam's apple.

“Nothing,” you whispered, slowly leaning forward. Your heart was pounding in your chest, “Just that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

The glass of scotch landed on the side table with a clank and he turned towards you, his eyes intense. “We can't have that,” he stated, a small smile on his lips, “C’mere, love, let me remedy my mistake.”

You don’t know who moved faster but his warm hand cupped the side of your face the moment your lips met his. He tasted of scotch and something uniquely him that had you opening your mouth for his tongue.

Desire overcame you and in no time, his hand on your hip held you steady as you climbed on top of him, your knees settling on the couch on either side of his lap as you tried to get as close as possible. He was warm and solid and you just wanted – you needed – to feel him.

The fire in your core was fuelled by the low groans that left his mouth and when your hips stuttered against his and you could feel him hard against you, you wished you were anywhere else but the opera. Maybe your bedroom. Or his bedroom. Anywhere with a bed, really.

You were completely out of breath when you pulled apart. Boba had a lazy smirk on his face, his free hand trailing slowly over your neckline. He ran his finger over the silk of your dress, right over your tit, circling where you needed him most and sure enough you could feel and see your nipple pebble through the thin fabric.

“Tell me,” he rumbled, “What did you think would happen when I realised that you were not wearing a bra and that you are this close,” he hooked a single finger into the neckline, gently pulling the fabric down your skin until your chest was free to the cool air, “to showing me your pretty tits?”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumbled, your ears hot at him knowing how bare you were beneath this dress. You had never done anything like this but Boba – Boba brought it out in you. It made you feel a little dirty in the best way and you knew you had Boba to thank for it.

“That’s one way to say you’d like to skip straight to dessert,” he teased you and you could not help your smile. The tension did not falter though and neither did the movement of his finger circling your nipple but not quite touching it.

You wriggled your hips, trying to get closer to him.

The groan that left him had your pussy weeping.

“How long did you know?” you asked shyly, arching your back so he could touch you freely.

“When you bent over at dinner,” he revealed, his thumb finally brushing directly over your nipple, bringing it to a peak. The feather-light touch was repeated on the other side as well. “Had me rock hard in an instant, princess. I had half a mind to sit you in my lap right there so no one can see how I would bury my cock in your sweet pussy.”

“Alpha,” you breathed. His fingers tightened on your nipples and you squeaked when he gently pulled, the mixture of pain and pleasure making you whine.

“Performance doesn’t start in the next 30 minutes,” he rumbled, his mouth closing over one east and you gasped, “How about we get you out of this pretty dress and I make you come?”

“Boba!” you gasped, “You – We – we are in the opera.”

“That we are,” he agreed, lightly biting the underside of your breast.

“You – you don’t mind?”

“Omega,” he said softly, standing up and pulling you with him until you were standing in the middle of the room, “I have you half-naked in my lap, ready for me to devour you. I don’t mind where we are as long as no one sees how pretty you look for me. So what do you say?”

You did not say anything but you shimmied your shoulders until the dress fell down your torso. Boba’s hands were big and warm on your back as he helped it along the rest of your body. The silk fell from your body in a whisper and just like that, you stood in front of him completely bare, in a private room in the opera.

Stars, you never would have thought to do something like this. And Boba Fett still looked at you like you were the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

“Stunning,” he stated, his dark eyes running over your body. He sat down on the couch again and patted his thighs. You stepped closer, feeling strangely secure and forward – completely bare for this man who made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“It’s unfair, though,” you pouted as you ran your fingers over the buttons of his shirt, “You are still fully dressed.”

“Hm, let me enjoy it for now,” he smiled, pulling you against him, his hands immediately finding their way to the soft flesh of your ass, “I want to pay attention to all of this,” he squeezed your ass, “before I get distracted by your touch.”

His words turned you on more than you wanted to admit and so instead, you only squirmed in his grasp.

“Straddle me,” he instructed, relaxing against the couch as you followed his order, “Keep the heels on.”

The feeling of your bare skin against the fabric of his suit was surprisingly erotic and your pussy clenched at the proximity to him. He was warm and strong beneath you, letting you rest your weight on his thighs and the couch.

“I want you to feel how hard I am,” he explained, pushing your hips down on him and your eyes flew open at the bulge you felt pressing against your core. He felt … big. “And then I want you to tell me how you want to come tonight.”

You swallowed heavily, gathering the courage to reciprocate the honesty he was giving you. “On your cock, alpha,” the words felt strange on your tongue, never having been one for dirty talk, but the flint in his eyes made it worth it, “I want to come on your cock.”

He chuckled. “I'm afraid that’s not an option, omega. We are in public after all,” he winked, his hand wandering down your cheek and body until his fingers brushed against your folds. You were already soaking wet and you closed your eyes, grinding your hips against him, “You can have my fingers or my mouth.”

His middle finger ran through your wetness before his fingers twitched and he pushed one inside you to the first knuckle. You breathed in sharply, his touch causing everything in your body to stir.

“This okay?” he asked you, his voice rough like sandpaper, “Does my finger in your pretty cunt feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, gasping when his mouth closed over your nipple again, “It feels really good, alpha.”

“Good,” he rumbled, finger moving carefully deeper inside you before pulling out again. With his other hand still kneading your ass, he grinned, “Would you like me to add another finger?”

A whine escaped you at his slow pace. He really wanted to make you work for it.

“That is not an answer,” he mocked, looking up at you. You kissed him again, enjoying the way his stubble rubbed over your jaw and his tongue playing with yours, “Do you want my fingers in your pussy? Yes or no?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “Please, alpha, let me come on your cock.”

“Fuck, you're filthy,” he cursed, his hand landing on your ass in a slap, “Who knew my pretty omega could talk this dirty?”

His praise made your cheeks heat up but it did not keep you from moving your hips again. This time, you could feel the tip of him catching against your clit and a thousand nerve endings tingled. Your eyes fluttered with desire and you did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until Boba made you stop with a strong hand against your back.

“Lean against me,” he ordered, “Go on, your chest against mine.”

Following his instructions, you fully rested against him and used the position to your advantage by plating your mouth on his scent gland. It was the first time you properly tasted him – all pinewood and smoked – and it clouded your mind instantly. All you could and wanted to do was follow whatever Boba said.

“Spread your legs,” you did, “Wider, omega.”

You whimpered against him but still spread your legs as wide as they would go. It opened you up to him but instead of slipping his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushed down your back to your ass, until –

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers only barely brushing over the crack of your ass, “I am not here for that now. Soon, though.”

You could feel his finger slowly pushing inside you, its way eased by the wetness coating your thighs and walls. Your eyes widened, completely locked in by his gaze as you felt him slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy.

“Want you grinding against my cock while I finger you,” he explained, voice rough, “You deserve to come, pretty omega.”

He pushed his finger, so much thicker than yours, back in again and you could feel your walls flutter. By the way Boba’s eyes darkened, he had felt it too. Soon, he added a second one, thoroughly stretching you until you were helplessly humping against him.

The sight of you must have been filthy. This older, completely dressed man with an undressed omega on top of him grinding herself against his cock and panting against his scent gland. It turned you on even more and when you licked a stripe up his neck, he groaned too, his hips rocking up against yours and paired with his fingers inside you, you were already so close to coming.

But it was not what you wanted.

“I want your cock,” you pouted, rocking against him. He was heavy and hot and your pussy was throbbing for him, “Don’t make me wait, Boba, please.”

The hand on your ass travelled to your jaw, tilting your head until he could kiss you. “You beg so prettily for me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip, “You almost have me reconsidering.”

Spurred on by his words, you pushed your hips back against his fingers, having them go deeper. Trying to keep from gasping, you bit your lip until it hurt.

“Please, alpha,” you breathed, doing your best to put on your most seductive voice, “Please alpha, I want to feel your cock so badly, I – I just know it is going to feel so good, p-please. I need it. I need it so bad.”

He did not reply for a while, simply adding a third finger that had your walls flexing around him. That should have been the sign of your victory but you were too busy grinding your clit against his covered shaft to really register it.

“I am nothing if not generous,” he teased you, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your scent gland, “But I will not knot you. I will only let you sit on my cock and fill you with my come. But I will not knot you. Not yet.“

You could live with that.

He spread you out on the couch before resting over you and it was that moment that you remembered that all that was separating you from hundreds of people were the thick velvet curtains. He seemed to know that too.

“Stay quiet, little one,” he warned you but the devious smile on his lips made you feel like he wouldn’t mind at all if everyone knew what was about to happen. And that just made you feel even hotter.

The sight of him undoing his belt alone was enough to cause another rush of wetness down your thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord, wanting to give him the view he was giving you. Because seeing his cock, big and heavy, had your pussy clenching. There was a bead of precome on the tip that you desperately wanted to taste and when his hands wrapped around his shaft, giving himself a few strokes, it was all you could do not to beg.

But Boba had plans. “One foot on the floor,” he ordered you and you did as you were told. He pushed your opposite leg on the backrest of the couch, effectively spreading you even further and felt a little ashamed, being so exposed to him.

His strong hand continued to pump his cock while he looked at your pussy like he wanted to devour you.

“Alpha,” you whined, growing restless, “Please …”

“We got to be quick, little omega,” he warned you, “We have a show to catch, after all.”

Despite his warning, he pushed inside you slowly, letting you get used to his size. You had known it would be a tight fit from just seeing him but the feeling of the tip alone breaching your walls had your breath catching in your throat. Boba noticed, of course, and his thrust remained shallow until you could finally relax.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Can feel you opening up for me. You’re all quiet now, hm? All you wanted was that big fat cock fully in your pussy, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, his words making your cheeks flush. His body, still dressed, moved above yours expertly while you hardly knew what to do with yourself. You felt full and pleasured and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. All you could do was run your hands over his body, grabbing his shoulders, brushing your fingertips over his scent gland and then to the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Boba, meanwhile … Boba was a rock. He was confident, calm and in control. All the C-words, really. Cocky too, judging by the smirk on his face as he bent down to kiss you again.

“Tell me,” he encouraged you, “How are you feeling with my cock inside you, princess?”

“Full,” you breathed, “So full, alpha. It’s – are you –“

He looked down, his finger circling your clit, making your clench around his firth. “Not even halfway, little one,” he stated and you took a deep breath, “I’m gonna fit in this tight little pussy, no worries.” He continued to circle your clit and you hummed, feeling your walls stretch around him.

“There we go,” he encouraged you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he spoke, “There’s my good girl. So gorgeous for me, feel so good around my cock. Tell me, does it feel good for you too?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, trying to shift your hips to get closer but Boba pinned you down with his body weight, shoving the rest of him inside you in the process. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the moan that wanted to break free. His weight on top of you was comforting. You wanted him to have this control over you, having to worry about nothing but enjoying yourself.

“I am the one who moves around here,” he chastised you, fully thrusting inside you again and brushing a spot that made you shiver, “Trust me, omega. Let me take care of you. You just lie here and take it.”

And take it you did.

“Faster, please,” you whispered, “Just a little – oh!”

He adjusted his pace perfectly like he knew exactly what you needed. The size of him inside you made you see stars and you felt dizzy with pleasure. When he angled his hips just so, his cock met that spot again and again until your eyes fell back and your mouth fell open. Thick fingers wrapped around your neck, just under your jaw and you could feel his breath on your skin.

Your toes started tingling and soon the sensation ran through all your muscles until you were spasming around him in the strongest orgasm you had ever felt. Everything felt heightened and with how you were clenching around him, he felt even bigger than he already was.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed into your neck, his hips stuttering, “You are so fucking pretty, omega. Can’t wait to fill you up like you deserve, full of my cock and my come. Gonna do this every day, princess, so you remember who you belong to, hm?”

Gasping for breath, your heart still racing in your chest, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “Alpha, I –“

“I know, princess,” he groaned quietly, his hips stilling, “I know.”

His cock was so deep inside you, you never wanted him to leave. You wanted to remain like this forever. He came inside you and you could feel it, the strange sensation of him filling you up with what felt like a lot of come, a guaranteed mess between your thighs.

Still, you had never felt as connected with anyone as with Boba at this moment, his clothed body pressing against yours, his breath slowing against your neck.

 “Stars,” you whispered, blinking the sudden tears away.

Boba kissed you softly, his rough hands running over every inch of bare skin. His weight on you was comforting and the way he caged you in made you feel oddly small and safe. He pulled out of you, slowly, and you winced when his come trickled down your tights as soon as he left you.

You watched as he reached for some tissues, gently cleaning you up. He remained silent but gentle, his fingertips brushed carefully over your inner thighs and your already swollen folds.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucked,” you breathed out. Both of you chuckled but the sight of him pocketing your panties had you grow quiet. “Don’t mind if I keep these,” he rumbled, his hands helping you stand before smoothing your dress down your legs, “Want to keep a souvenir of when I filled you up the first time.”

You were completely breathless again and it did not help that you could still feel him inside you. “Thank you,”

“For what, omega?”

You stepped closer to him, planting your hands on his chest. His heart was beating just as hard as yours and you could not wait to later peel the shirt off him and feel his body heat against yours. For now, though, you just pressed a kiss to his neck. “For taking care of me,” you explained, “For making me come,” you kissed his jaw, “For fucking me so good,” you whispered before kissing him softly, “For coming inside me.”

His hands went to your waist, holding you closer and allowing him to prolong the kiss. He was growling when you pulled away and it was easy to admit that he already had a hold on your heart and pussy. But it was your turn to tease now.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “Didn’t you say we had a show to catch?”

Boba grinned, eyes twinkling as he pulled back the curtains for you. “You're gonna be the death of me, little one.”

*

Fortunately, you were not the death of him, though he did like to continue the joke weeks (if not months) into your relationship.

Being with Boba was like stepping out into the daylight after the movies. It was strange at first, getting used to the fact that he was so openly in love with you. That he was not afraid to embrace you being an omega. It led to a few misunderstandings and more than a few serious talks in which you came to the realization that your dating history had impacted you more than just a little.

But Boba was not about to leave you because you were an omega and he was not about about to leave you because you were too high-maintenance.

It took a bit of time and a few in-depth conversations with your friends but soon enough you learnt that you were lovable, omega and all. And Boba was the exact right person to love you.

Your first heat together was better than anything you had ever imagined. He had noticed it before even you had, showing up at your door with takeaway food from Paz’s place, flowers and a bag of his worn shirts. That and his “I took the next few days off, princess, let’s get your nest ready” came just a few hours before you noticed the cramping in your belly.

By the time your heat properly hit, you were already buried in the softness of your nest, cuddled against your alpha’s chest as you watched your favourite movies. You spent three days holed up with him in your apartment, taken care of in every single way from him scenting you to arranging the nicest fruit platter to sitting you on his knot until you cried, whispered the sweetest nothings in your ear.

It was the happiest you had ever been and for the first time in a long time, you were confident that this happiness would remain because Boba gave you every indication that it would remain.

Like when he suggested one winter evening that your flowers would bloom nicely in his garden come springtime or when he took you to the hardware store, getting all the tools to hang your pictures in his – your – home. Or how careful he was to help you pack up all your stuff, making sure everything stayed secure and safe as you made the move from your small apartment into his house that became yours.

Or that time he surprised you with the Merino wool throw blanket for your nest when you complained one December evening that the only thing that could keep you warm was him.

The one moment where it all came full circle though, was when he decided to host his team for another summer BBQ. You already had a ring on that finger (a ring he had put there after an especially romantic evening at Paz’s restaurant) and his house now truly reflected the both of you living there, but the prospect of seeing the man who had triggered it all still made you a little bit nervous.

It was hard to believe that only a year ago, you had tried to avoid Boba and the feelings he caused in you at all costs. And now you were engaged to him and could not imagine your life any other way.

A few guests were already mingling in the garden when you put out the last of the cutlery. Boba followed close behind, carrying the cooler out of the garage.

“Ready?” you asked, smoothing your hands over your yellow sundress. The hem was hitting mid-calf and you loved the little twirl it did. What you loved even more was the way your alpha had buried his head under that dress only a few hours ago.

“Ready,” he confirmed with mirth in his eyes. It would not surprise you if he knew exactly where your mind had been.

A wave of new guests arrived in the garden and you stiffened when you recognized one familiar face. And he recognized you.

“Hey,” Josh greeted you, his voice just as grating as you remembered, “I didn’t know you would be here.”

He did not try to hug you for which you were grateful but he also did not leave. You really wanted him to leave.

“Hi,” you forced yourself to smile, highly aware of Boba standing right next to you. His hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting as you faced the man who once called himself your perfect match.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, but, uh,” Josh looked to Boba, questioningly, “Why are you here, exactly?”

You wanted to scoff, you really did. But your body was tight with nerves and you did not like the eyes of the other guests on you. But you should have known that Boba would take care of you. He always did.

“C’mere, omega,” your alpha mumbled with a soft smile and your heart skipped a beat as his fingers gripped your chin and pulled you to him. And then he kissed you in front of everyone. Just a slow peck, nothing more, but you could not help but sigh against him, your hand landing on his warm chest.

He hummed, his scent surrounding you even in the open air and when he pulled away, you were both smiling. Pinewood and smoke were your favourite scents in the world.

Everybody was smiling, really, except for one.

“Do you wanna explain yourself?” Josh demanded, for the first time sounding displeased.

“I don’t think there is anything to explain,” you replied coolly, your hand still on Boba’s chest, smiling at the man in front of you. The diamond on your ring caught the sunlight but it was nothing against the blinding smile on Boba’s face.

Boba, who paid just as little attention to Josh as you, his eyes never leaving yours as he raised his hand to your face. “What can I say,” he grinned, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, “She found her perfect match.”

[hxney-lemcn]

To Fight For What You Love — Luke Skywalker x gn! Bounty Hunter! reader

summery: Being a bounty hunter for Jabba leads you into babysitting Han. Who knew that would mean you saving a princess and the rebel alliance in the process.

tw: reference to suicide (like the sayings, not actually talking about suicide). Fighting? Idk, anything in A New Hope.

a/n: Y'ALL 😭 I WAS NOT EXPECTING THE FIRST CHAPTER TO BE NEARLY 10k WORDS ODEWOKHVGK SAVE ME CUS I'M DOING ALL THE OG MOVIES

wc: 8.6k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

(Read on AO3 here if you'd rather)

I stood still as the Tatooine suns beat down on the sand. I watched through my goggles as Jabba called out to Han Solo. I’ve only seen him a few times, some smuggler. Had a silver tongue and tried to talk his way out of many situations, but this time Jabba wasn’t going to fall back. 

Who am I? No one special. I’m a Devaronian, from planet Devaron. My father convinced my mother to allow me to come with him somehow. We landed on Tatooine, the heat reminding us of our home (although it was a lot more dry than we were used to). Quickly, my father couldn’t find work and landed in the clutches of Jabba the Hut. He tried to keep me out of it, but if he didn’t teach me how to fight…let’s just say Jabba had a different plan for me than being a bounty hunter like I currently am. 

I turned around as Han came into the area. I repositioned my scarf back over my nose as it shifted down. 

“Right here Jabba,” Han said. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.” The others pointed their blasters at him, but I just crossed my arms, ready for this to be over. I need to make more money for my family after all, and I can’t do that sitting around here.

“Have you now?” Jabba asked incredulously. 

“You didn’t think I was gonna run, did you?” Han asked back.

“Han,” Jabba started. “My boy, you disappoint me. Why haven’t you paid me and why did you fry poor Greedo?” I tensed slightly as Boba Fett stood beside me. We never seemed to be on good terms. I suppose we were competition after all, but that’s why I let him claim all the bigger bounties, so he understood I wasn’t after his position.

“Jabba,” Han responded. “Next time you wanna talk to me, come see me yourself. Don’t send one of those twerps.”

“Han,” Jabba sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t make exceptions. What if everyone who smuggled for me dropped their cargo at the first sign of an imperial starship? It’s not good business.”

“Look Jabba,” Han said defensively. “Even I get boarded sometimes.” Han walked on his tail before continuing, “You think I had a choice? But I got a nice, easy charter. I’ll pay you back, plus a little extra. I just need a little more time.”

“Han, my boy,” Jabba gave in. “You’re the best. So, for an extra 20%...”

“15, Jabba, don’t push it,” Han interrupted. 

“Okay,” Jabba agreed. “15%. But if you fail me again, I’ll put a price on your head so big you won’t be able to go near a civilized system!”

“Jabba, you’re a wonderful human being,” Han said sarcastically.

Jabba motioned for the others to leave, but halted me, “You go with him, keep an eye out.”

I blinked, not believing this, “Will I be paid?” 

“Yes,” Jabba said, waving his hand. “8% of Han’s payment.”

I tried to hide my surprise, knowing Han owed a lot. I nodded, and quickly followed Han and his co-pilot, Chewbacca inside. They looked at me, hands on their blasters. 

“Aren’t you supposed to take your leave?” Han asked, raising an eyebrow. 

I raised my hands in the air in fake surrender, shrugging, “I was ordered to come with you.”

“Great,” Han rolled his eyes. “Just what we need, a baby sitter. And you’re younger than me!”

I tugged my tan scarf under my chin and sighed, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I don’t want to be here either.”

“Whatever,” Han grumbled, standing up. “Don’t touch anything, Chewie, guard the door and escort our guests. I’m gonna go fix what I can.”

The two left the ship and I sat down behind the table. Moving my goggles onto the top of my head, I rested my arms on the table, looking around. It was not the best looking ship. Dusty, probably from the Tatooine climate, a lot of parts seemed rusted. This was going to be a long ride. 

I nodded at Chewie as he walked through to the cockpit. He didn’t even acknowledge me. A few minutes later, the weirdest group boarded. Two humans, an older man and a guy around the same age as me, and two droids, an R2 unit and 3PO protocol droid. 

“Hello,” I greeted with a small wave. 

“Who are you?” The guy with blonde hair asked. I tried to ignore the way my mind immediately went to admire him.

“I’m-” I stopped once I heard the sounds of blasters being fired. I stood up quickly, making my way outside, blaster at the ready. I started shooting at the troopers. “Get on!” I shouted at Han. He kept shooting, running backwards towards the ship. I kept shooting, but Han grabbed my arm, pulling us into the ship. He shut the door behind us before running towards the cockpit.

“Chewie!” Han shouted. “Get us out of here!”

Not knowing what to do, I followed him, wanting to help however I could. I sat down in the seat behind Chewie, putting on my seatbelt. They quickly flew out, quite the bumpy ride. 

Chewie growled something, Han replying back, “Looks like an imperial cruiser. Our passengers must be hotter than I thought. Hold ‘em off. Angle the deflector shields while I make the calculations for the jump to lightspeed.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked hesitantly. There was a reason why I was a solo bounty hunter, and that’s because I was really awkward with others. It didn’t help that Han seemed to have a sort of disdain of me being here. 

“Yeah,” Han said sarcastically. “Don’t touch anything.” 

I let out a huff under my breath. That was the second time he said that to me. I haven’t even done anything wrong! And it’s not like I have an incentive to sabotage him or anything either!

“Stay sharp. There’s two more comin’ in,” Han said to Chewie. “They’re gonna try and cut us off.”

The two human passengers came in standing next to me.

“Why don’t you outrun them?” The blonde guy asked. “I thought you said this thing was fast.”

“Watch your mouth or you’re gonna find yourself floating home,” Han snapped. “We’ll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace. Besides, I know a few maneuvers, we’ll lose them.” One of the imperial starships started shooting at us, and I held on tighter to my seat as the ship started shaking. “Here’s where the fun begins,” Han smiled. 

“How long before you can jump to lightspeed?” The old man asked.

“It’ll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navicomputer,” Han replied, flicking switches.

“Are you kidding?” Blondie asked incredulously. “At the rate they’re gaining?”

“Traveling through hyperspace ain’t like dustin’ crops, boy,” Han snapped once more. “Without precise calculations, we’d fly right through a star, or bounce too close to a supernova, and that would end your trip real quick.”

Wanting to deescalate the situation, I decided to speak up, “I’ve mostly heard rumors about Han, but it’s common knowledge that he’s a pro at getting out of sticky situations.” They didn’t seem any more at ease at what I said, but blondie only continued his nagging.

“What’s that flashing?” He asked, pointing to a flashing light.

“We’re losing the deflector shield,” Han replied, batting blondies hand away. “Go strap yourselves in, I’m going to make the jump to lightspeed.”

Pulling a lever, the stars warped around us. I sighed, finally relaxing at the fact that we weren’t being shot at. I unstrapped myself as we glided through the universe. I followed Chewie into the main room of the ship. I sat next to him, watching curiously as the old man was teaching blondie something. 

Blondie glanced back at us, “You never got to tell us who you were.”

“Oh,” I said somewhat awkwardly. “I’m with Han-” Chewie growled out, probably in protest to what I said. “Well, I mean Jabba sent me to go with you. My name is (y/n).” 

Blondie nodded, “I’m Luke, that’s old Ben. And those two are C3PO and R2D2.”

I nodded, “Uhm, nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to see that there are still many Devaronians about,” Old Ben smiled. “Though I’m surprised that you’re so young.”

“My dad took me with him,” I shrugged, looking over to see that Chewie was starting a game of dejarik. 

Nodding, Ben turned towards Luke, who turned on…was that a lightsaber? I’ve only heard tales of the Jedi. Being Devaronian, we tend to be force sensitive. Though we do not focus on these attributes of ourselves. I myself was not force sensitive, but my mother was. Although we do not focus on the force, we are taught the basics, and a little about Jedi. My father told me about their eradication, so seeing that they weren’t all gone was a marvelous sight. 

I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard Chewie growl. I looked over at the board and watched one of Chewie’s pieces be killed. Leaning over I pointed out what I thought was the best move. This went on for a bit, but Chewie quickly grew frustrated.

“You can forget your troubles with those imperial slugs,” Han said while walking into the room. “I told you I’d outrun them.” Han took a seat next to Ben who didn’t seem to be doing well. I turned my attention back to the game. “Don’t everybody thank me at once,” Han said sarcastically. Chewie groaned as another piece was killed, and I tried to find a way to redeem the game. “Anyway, we should be at Alderaan in about 0200 hours.”

Chewie ignored the spot I pointed at, and C3PO said, “Now be careful, R2.” The R2 unit killed another piece and Chewie growled loudly. I sighed, holding my head in my hands. “He made a fair move. Screaming about it can’t help you,” C3PO argued. I shook my head.

“Let him have it,” Han spoke up. “It’s not wise to upset a Wookiee.” 

“But sir,” C3PO replied. “Nobody worries about upsetting a droid.”

“That’s ‘cause a droid don’t pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose,” Han replied back with a smirk. “Wookies are known to do that.” I shifted slightly away from Chewie, not wanting to be on the other end of his aggression.

“I see your point, sir,” C3PO nodded. “I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the Wookie win.” I let out a slight chuckle, I suppose I don’t have to help out Chewie anymore. 

My eyes wandered back over to Luke, blocking against a training droid. He sure did look like a Tatooine local. Blonde hair that swooped out, tan skin from the twin suns, and a typical outfit you’d see of a farmer on Tatooine. What stood out the most were his blue eyes. I never met someone whose eyes drew me in so much. I wanted to just stare at him, but I knew that was weird, so I kept my attention on what he was doing. 

“Remember,” Ben spoke out. “A Jedi can feel the force flowing through him.” 

“You mean it controls your actions?” Luke asked. 

“Partially,” Ben replied. “But it also obeys your commands.” The droid hit Luke, causing Han to laugh.

“Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a blaster at your side, kid,” Han said condescendingly. 

“Hey,” I spoke up with a glare. Han only rolled his eyes at me.

“You don’t believe in the force, do you?” Luke asked. 

“Kid, I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other,” Han replied. “I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe there’s one all-powerful force controlling everything. There’s no mystical energy field controlling my destiny. It’s all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense.”

“You clearly haven’t been to Devaron,” I scoffed. “I remember the elder matriarchs raising a statue without lifting a finger.”

“Tricks, I tell you,” Han scoffed, waving me off.

“I suggest you try it again, Luke,” Ben said, changing the subject. Grabbing a pilot helmet with the blast shield down, he handed it to Luke, “This time, let go of your conscious self and act on instinct.”

“With the blast shield down, I can’t see!” Luke exclaimed. “How am I supposed to fight?”

“Your eyes can deceive you,” Ben replied. “Don’t trust them.”

Hesitantly, Luke lifted the lightsaber back up. Immediately he got hit. I winced slightly for him. 

“Stretch out with your feelings,” Ben instructed. This time, Luke managed to block three blasts. “See? You can do it.” I clapped quietly, a small smile on my face. Taking off the helmet, Luke glanced at me with a smile before focusing on Han and Ben.

“I call it luck,” Han dismissed. 

“In my experience,” Ben spoke up. “There’s no such thing as luck.”

“Look,” Han replied. “Good against a remote is one thing. Good against the living, that’s something else.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t listen to him. That was really good, especially for a beginner.”

“Thanks,” Luke thanked, his grin growing. 

A beeping sounded and Han spoke up again, “Looks like we’re coming up on Alderaan.” I moved out of the way as Chewie got up to go to the cockpit with Han. I let out a silent sigh as I held my head in my hand. Hopefully on the way back we don’t have to deal with the damn Empire anymore. I was brought back to the real world when suddenly the ship started shaking. Ben, Luke, and I all looked at each other before quickly going into the cockpit to see what was wrong.

“It’s not on any of the charts,” Han said, looking at the panels. 

“What’s going on?” Luke asked. 

“Our position is correct, except no Alderaan,” Han explained. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, watching rocks fly towards us. 

“What do you mean?” Luke asked. “Where is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, kid,” Han explained. “It ain’t there. It’s been blown away.” I felt my heart drop, because I mean…just how was that possible? We were currently flying through the remains of a planet? One that held so many lives?

“What? How?” Luke asked, voicing my exact question.

“Destroyed by the Empire,” Ben spoke up.

“The entire starfleet couldn’t destroy the whole planet,” Han replied incredulously. “It’d take a thousand ships with more firepower than I’ve…” The ship started rapidly beeping. “There’s another ship coming in,” Han reported.

“Maybe they know what happened,” Luke said hopefully.

“I have a feeling they aren’t going to be too friendly,” I murmured, the sinking feeling getting worse.

“It’s an imperial fighter,” Ben acknowledged. 

“It followed us,” Luke gasped.

“No,” I shook my head. “Those ships are short-ranged, it wouldn’t be able to make the trip to lightspeed.”

“There aren’t any bases around here,” Han replied. “Where did it come from?” Han continued to follow the ship as it tried to fly away.

“Sure is leaving in a big hurry,” Luke commented. “If they identify us, we’re in big trouble.”

“Not if I can help it,” Han mumbled. “Chewie, jam its transmissions.”

“Let it go,” Ben said. “It’s too far out of range.”

“Not for long,” Han dismissed.

“A fighter that size couldn’t get this deep into space on its own,” Ben commented. 

“He must’ve gotten lost,” Luke suggested. “Been a part of a convoy or something.”

“He ain’t gonna be around long enough to tell anybody about us,” Han grumbled. 

“Look at him, he’s heading for that small moon,” Luke pointed out. My heart continued to sink as I didn’t have a good feeling about this situation at all. There’s gotta be a starship that the fighter is from. There’s no way it’s alone. 

“I think I can get him before he gets there,” Han said. “He’s almost in range.”

“Is this really worth it?” I asked, wanting to get out of here as soon as we could.

“That’s not a moon,” Ben said and I felt my fears come to fruition. “It’s a space station.”

“It’s too big to be a space station,” Han replied back confused. 

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Luke said, the closer we got to the ‘moon’, the more it was revealed to clearly be a space station. 

“Han, turn us back,” I said, fear making its way through my tone. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Han spoke slowly. “Full reverse. Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power.” We kept getting closer and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. “Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power!”

“Why are we still moving forward?” I exclaimed, gripping the seat in front of me to try and calm myself. 

“We’re caught in a tractor beam,” Han explained. “It’s pulling us in.”

“Oh great,” I scoffed.

“There’s gotta be something you can do,” Luke chimed in. 

“There’s nothing I can do, kid,” Han replied. “I’m at full power. I have to shut down. They’re not gonna get me without a fight.”

“Fight?” I asked incredulously. “You’re gonna get us all killed!” I glanced over at Luke as he grabbed my shoulder, eyes locked on the sight in front of us. I didn’t think anything of it as I was more concerned about how the hell we were going to survive.

“You can’t win,” Ben said softly. “But there are alternatives to fighting.”

“Chewie, bring them to the smuggling compartments,” Han ordered. “(Y/n), help me make some fake logs.”

“Okay,” I nodded. Luke shared a worried glance with me, but I motioned him to leave with my head. He let go of my shoulder and exited with the others. “What’s the story?” I asked, looking over at Han.

“We abandoned the ship,” Han replied. Nodding my head, I helped him write a few logs before we both rushed to the smuggling compartments. We squeezed ourselves to fit, and I tried not to squish Luke any more than I had to. We heard stormtroopers walk over the compartments, and I waited with baited breath until we couldn’t hear any more footsteps. Han and Luke quietly shifted the fake floorboard off of us and looked around. 

“Boy, it’s lucky you had these compartments,” Luke said quietly.

“I use them for smuggling,” Han replied. “I never thought I’d be smuggling myself in ‘em.” Ben came out of his compartment and Han turned to him, “This is ridiculous. Even if I could take off, I’d never get past the tractor beam.”

“Leave that to me,” Ben replied, getting out of the smuggling compartment.

“Damn fool,” Han huffed, also getting out. “I knew you were gonna say that.” 

Luke got out, offering a hand to help me but I waved him off, “Don’t worry, I got it.”

“Who's the more foolish?” Ben asked. “The fool, or the fool who follows him?” Chewie’s head poked up from Ben’s compartment and growled. 

Two Empire scanners entered and were quickly taken down by Chewie.

“Hey down there!” Han called out. “Could you give us a hand with this?” Three stormtroopers entered and Han and I made quick work of them. We decided that Han, Luke and I would disguise ourselves as stormtroopers. Luke stayed behind as we all rushed to wait by the command room doors. An officer opened them not too long later and Chewie knocked him out, and I quickly shot the other one. 

Rushing in, Han and I took our helmets off, me struggling slightly due to the vestigial bumps on my forehead (it’s typically where horns would be but I didn’t have any). Chewie was growling and I ran my hand through my hair to fix it. 

Luke ran in and took his helmet off with a glare, “Between his howling and your blasting everything, it’s a wonder the whole station doesn’t know we’re here.” 

I felt myself shrink, since it was actually me who did the blasting. I know we’re on a stealth mission, but I panicked. 

“The blasting was all them, kid,” Han replied snarkily, pointing at me. “Besides, I prefer a fight to all this sneakin’ around.” Luke’s gaze fell onto me and I turned to face the control panel, not wanting to fall under any more scolding. 

“We found the computer outlet sir,” 3CPO spoke up. I was glad for the distraction.

“Plug in,” Ben ordered. “He should be able to interpret the entire Imperial network.”

R2 did as ordered and started beeping, 3PO translating for us, “He says he found the controls to the power beam that’s holding the ship here. He’ll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor. The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations. A power loss at one of the terminals will allow the ship to leave.” On the screen, R2 showed the closest terminal.

“I don’t think any of you can help,” Ben stated. “I must go alone.” 

“Whatever you say,” Han dismissed. “I’ve done more than I’ve bargained for on this trip already.” I couldn’t help but agree, I mean I was just meant to make sure Han didn’t try to run off with the money, but I got waaaayyy more to deal with than just that. I should’ve negotiated a higher price with Jabba. 

“I want to go with you,” Luke whispered to Ben.

“Be patient, Luke,” Ben replied. “Stay and watch over the droids. They must be delivered safely or other star systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan. Your destiny lies along a different path from mine.” Opening the door, Ben finished, “The force will be with you…always.” We all watched Ben leave, and once Luke closed the door, Chewie started growling. 

“You said it Chewie,” Han agreed. “Where did you dig up that old fossil?” I rolled my eyes, of course he’s going to insult an elder. He really knew no respect. 

“Ben is a great man,” Luke replied defensively. 

“Yeah,” Han agreed sarcastically. “Great at getting us into trouble.”

“I didn’t hear you give out any ideas,” Luke defended. 

“Anything’s better than just hangin’ around waiting for ‘em to pick us up,” Han countered. I bit my lip, I did feel uneasy just waiting here, but that could also just be because of the fact that we were stuck on an enemy base. 

“Who do you think-” Luke was cut off when R2 started making noises. I’m sorry Luke, but if you were concerned about how loud we were before…well fighting amongst ourselves isn’t helping. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure, sir,” C3PO responded. “He says, “I found her,” and keeps repeating, “she’s here.”” 

“Who?” Luke asks, walking closer to the droids. I once again didn't like where this was heading. “Who has he found?”

“Princess Leia,” C3PO answered.

“The princess?” Luke asked in awe. “She’s here?”

“Princess?” I asked, confused at the lack of context. 

“Where?” Luke asked excitedly. “Where is she?”

“Princess? What’s going on?” Han asked, also confused. 

C3PO once again translated for R2D2, “Level 5, Detention Block AA-23. I’m afraid she’s been scheduled to be terminated.”

“Oh no,” Luke said with big puppy dog eyes. Don’t…think like that. “We’ve gotta do something.” 

“What are you talking about?” Han asked, shaking his head. 

“The droids belong to her,” Luke explained. “She’s the one in the message, we gotta help her!” I blinked in confusion as the two stood chest to chest. What message? Why is she so important? I mean yes, princess is a big title, but there are many princesses across the galaxy. 

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Han scolded. “The old man wants us to wait right here.”

“He didn’t know she was here,” Luke countered, then turned to R2. “Find a way to that detention block.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Han said, sitting back in one of the officer's chairs. 

“They’re going to execute her,” Luke replied back with a glare. “You said you didn’t want to wait to be captured. Now you want to stay?”

“Marching into the detention area is not what I had in mind!” Han argued back, and I felt hopeless watching the two fight. 

“But they’re gonna kill her!” Luke exclaimed.

“Better her than me,” Han spat. 

“Han,” I said sternly, but he only waved me off. Luke turned towards me, frustration showing in his crystal blue eyes. 

“(Y/n)...” Luke trailed off. 

I bit my lip, “We’d need a really put together plan…”

Then, like a lightbulb appeared over Luke’s head as he turned back towards Han, “She’s rich.”

Chewie growled and I felt like I was on the same side as him. I shook my head, They had no plan! This was stupid! 

“Rich?” Han asked, turning towards Luke once more. 

“Rich, powerful,” Luke listed. “If you were to rescue her, the reward would be…”

“What?” Han asked.

“Well, more wealth than you could imagine,” Luke replied.

“I don’t know…” Han trailed off. “I can imagine quite a bit.”

“You’ll get it,” Luke said persuasively. 

“I better,” Han replied. 

“You will,” Luke agreed. 

“All right kid,” Han agreed. “You better be right about this. What’s your plan?” 

I stared blankly at the two. Idiots. Complete and utter idiots. 

Luke looked around, “3PO hand me those binders there, will you?” Walking over to Chewie once he got them, he continued, “Now I’m gonna put these on you.” Only Chewie growled back, batting at the binders. “Okay, Han, you put those on.” 

Han smiled, and I turned to Luke, “What’s your plan for getting out?” 

Glancing at me, Luke turned towards the screen that showed the map, “Don’t worry, it’ll be an easy in and out.”

“Master Luke,” C3PO called out. “Sir, pardon me for asking, but what should R2 and I do if we’re discovered here?”

“(Y/n) will keep you safe,” Luke replied, handing Han his helmet. 

I furrowed my eyebrows, discontent with the situation. I wanted to go with them, but the droids needed someone to protect them. It still somewhat hurt that I seemed to be automatically chosen to sit on the backburner. 

“Lock the doors and hope they don’t have blasters,” Han chimed in. 

I scoffed, “I know how to fight, thank you very much.” 

Luke patted my shoulder, passing by me with a smile, “Don’t worry 3PO, they’ve got you two covered.”

“That’s a bit more reassuring,” C3PO agreed. 

Once the three left, I turned towards the two droids, “Do we have any communications with them?” 

“Yes,” The golden droid replied. “Master Luke gave me a comm link.”

“Good,” I mumbled, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Hey R2, can you tell me the layout of the detention cell?” R2 beeped, pulling up the map once more. “What are all the exits?”

“He said that there is only one exit,” C3PO translated. “That is through the main elevator.”

I blinked in disbelief. This was literally a suicide mission. I groaned out, knowing this entire situation was going to go downhill. 

“Any vents they could go through?” I asked exasperatedly. 

“There is a trash shoot,” 3PO replied. 

“Well that’s something,” I grumbled. 

I spun around in my chair, trying to pass the time. Coming up with excuses to give Ben when he eventually comes back to a bounty hunter with two droids. I wonder who this princess was. Luke didn’t seem to have much experience outside of Tatooine, and there definitely weren’t any princesses there. Of course the first person I’m attracted to seems to like someone, a princess no less. I suppose I didn’t stand a chance in that aspect. Besides, I barely know Luke, so it’s not like I wanted anything like that yet. Best to get past these emotions than dwell on them. It’s not like I’m gonna see him again after this. 

“C3PO, C3PO!” Luke’s staticy voice called out through the comm link. I sat up and turned towards the droids once more.

“Yes, sir?” C3PO asked back. 

“Are there any other ways out of the cell bay?” Luke asked. “We’ve been cut off.” The sounds of blasting could be heard in the background and I shook my head. 

“Lemme see that,” I said, reaching out for the comm link.

“Master Luke asked-”

“Don’t worry,” I waved him off. Turning on the comm link I replied, “That’s the only exit, but there are vents on the bottom that you can go through.”

“What was that?” Luke asked back, sounds of blasters getting louder. “I didn’t copy.”

“All systems have been alerted to his presence!” C3PO gasped after R2 beeped. 

“You're being swarmed, there’s vents running along the cell bay, go through that!” I shouted into the comm link, hoping he heard.

“Open up in there!” A voice sounded outside the room. “Open up in there!”

“Shit,” I muttered, handing the comm link back to C3PO. I quickly put on the stormtrooper helmet, the more armor the better I suppose. 

“Oh no,” 3PO muttered. 

I got my blaster ready, looking around the room. There was a door, and opening it revealed a closet. I bit my lip in thought, they’re gonna find a way in somehow. I motioned the droids and they entered the closet.

“Pretend I’m dead, and act like you were attacked,” I whispered. C3PO nodded and I closed the door on them. I laid on the ground with my blaster being close enough to my body to grab, but far enough to look like it fell with my body. The sound of Luke’s voice could be heard coming from the comm link. Damn it, of course they need help when we’re being found. I just hope it stops when the stormtroopers enter. 

From this position, I couldn’t see much as the door opened. I held my breath, my body tensing. I watched as a stormtrooper walked into my view, nudging my body with his foot. 

“Look, there!” I heard a stormtrooper call out, and the one looking at me turned and followed. I let my breath out slowly, thankful for the armor blocking their view of my chest moving. 

“They’re madmen!” I heard 3PO shout. “They’re heading to the prison level! If you hurry, you might catch them.”

“Follow me,” A trooper called out, and the sounds of their footsteps grew fainter. “You stand guard.” 

Shit…I really don’t want to bring attention by blasting the stormtrooper. I moved my head slowly, I bit my lip. I don’t want to underestimate my enemy, but troopers tend to be really dumb. I saw C3PO’s feet in front of me. I let out a gasp, trying to act like I was an unconscious and injured trooper. 

“Oh my!” C3PO faked surprise. “Let us escort this trooper to the medbay.” 

The trooper rushed in front of me as I clutched my side, standing hunched.

“I’ll be fine,” I said with a groan. I slightly leaned against C3PO, not wanting to put too much weight on him, “Just keep guard.”

The trooper nodded, and just like that, we were out. I bit my lip to suppress my chuckle. I can’t believe we made it out of there alive. We made it down towards the ship, but a good amount away from any of the other troopers. 

“You still got the comm link?” I whispered to him.

“Right here,” 3PO nodded, handing me the comm link.

“Luke,” I whispered into it. “Are you guys still alive?”

I tuned out C3PO as he talked to R2, listening for Luke or any stormtroopers. 

“(Y/n)?” I heard Luke ask. 

“Yeah, we managed to escape some storm-”

“We need you to turn off all the garbage mashers in the detention level!” Luke shouted. “Do you copy?” 

“R2, shut down the garbage mashers on the detention level,” I ordered, just in case he couldn’t hear Luke repeat himself. 

“No!” C3PO exclaimed. “Shut them all down! Hurry! Oh no.”

I clenched my fists, hoping we got it in time. R2 was beeping and I bit my lip. Suddenly, the sound of cheering filled the comm link and I couldn’t help but laugh quietly in relief. 

“Listen to them,” C3PO said solemnly. “They’re dying, R2. Curses, we weren’t fast enough. It’s all my fault, my poor master.”

“Don’t worry, 3PO,” I chuckled. “I think they’re doing just fine.”

“You did great!” Luke praised, and I smiled. “Hey! Open the pressure maintenance hatch on unit number…where are we?” 

I rolled my eyes in amusement, just glad that we all seemed to survive so far. 

“Number 3263827,” Luke said.

“You heard that?” I asked R2, who only beeped while turning the controls. 

We waited a bit, I kept low to the ground, not wanting to be spotted. After a bit the comm link went off once more.

“(Y/n), C3PO, do you copy?” Luke asked. 

“We copy,” I replied. 

“Are you safe?” He asked.

“For now, yeah,” I said. “We’re in the main hangar, across from the ship.”

“We’re right above you,” Luke said. “Stand by.” 

I sighed, once again sitting like waiting ducks. More troopers came and went, the ship being surrounded. I wonder if they had a plan? 

“I wonder where they could be?” C3PO asked aloud. After a minute, all the stormtroopers ran off, and a pit of worry hit my stomach. Did they finally catch them? What was going on? “Come on you two,” C3PO said, breaking me out of my anxious thoughts. “We’re going.” I nodded, discarding my helmet, no need for that now. Not that it was going to help me now. I followed behind them, blaster at the ready. 

Luke, Han, Chewie, and I’m assuming the princess all came out at the same time. Luke got sidetracked, calling out for Ben. I turned to look at where he was going and my heart dropped. Being barely able to see through the horde of stormtroopers, I was able to see Ben facing off the one and only Darth Vader. His looming presence caused all my alarm bells to go off. I raced towards Luke, stopping beside him. Ben stood still as Darth Vader cut through him. 

“No!” Luke screamed, bringing all their attention towards us.

“Luke c’mon!” I shouted, tugging at his arm. He stood his ground, shooting at the troopers. I helped him, as did the others. They called him to board the ship and I managed to blast the door close before Vader could cross through. I tugged at Luke’s arm once more, blasting with one hand as best I could. This time, Luke allowed me to drag the both of us to the ship. 

I tried to catch my breath as the ship took off. I’ve caught bounties 2x my size, and that was nowhere near as scary as this entire trip was. I discarded the stormtrooper gear, grabbing my scarf and goggles once more. Getting my outfit all situated, I found Luke solemnly sitting at the round table, messing with the table. The princess brought him a blanket and sat next to him. I looked over to the droids and I decided to sit at one of the side seats.

“So you’re (y/n)?” The princess asked, looking at me softly. I nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, you really helped out in the end.”

“You too,” I smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry, but I never catched your name.”

“You can call me Leia,” She replied. It was silent once more, our focus once more on Luke. 

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Luke finally spoke. 

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” Leia tried to console. 

“C’mon buddy,” Han said standing in the hallway. “We’re not out of this yet.”

We all followed Han, Han and Luke towards the guns while I followed Leia into the cockpit. She sat in the pilot seat and I stood behind her chair. 

“Here they come,” Leia warned the two. Four tie fighter jets flew around us. I held onto the back of her seat as the ship started shaking. “We’ve lost lateral controls!” Leia shouted after a few minutes.

“Don’t worry,” Han dismissed. “She’ll hold together.”

We could hear Luke cheering and I decided to pipe up, “Just two more to go guys!” 

We watched in suspense as the last two kept flying around. Luke managed to get one, and I sighed out in relief when the last one was hit. 

“We did it!” Leia cheered, hugging Chewie and I. I let out a chuckle, hugging her back. I patted Chewies back before making my way back into the main room. I ran into Luke before making it.

“You did great!” I praised with a smile.

A similar smile graced his face, “Thank you!” Similar to Leia, he pulled me into a hug, which I of course returned. My heart seemed to beat a bit faster at the affection but I ignored it. Pulling away Luke seemed a little sheepish. “Thank you also for uh…trying to keep me grounded back there…” He trailed off, looking away. 

My smile turned slightly bitter at the memory, “Don’t mention it. I know if the roles were reversed you’d do the same.” 

Our eyes met and I felt myself soften. I ignored the sudden urge to kiss his cheek and nodded at him before continuing on my way. Soon after, Chewie and Leia joined me. I took out my blaster, checking to make sure it was clean. I didn’t do much fighting, but it never hurts to check. 

“What’s your position here?” Leia asked as she sat next to me. 

Looking up at her I started to fidget with my weapon, “I, uh…I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.” I chuckled awkwardly. “Basically, think of me as Han’s babysitter.”

Leia raised her eyebrow, “Well you aren’t doing a good job.” 

“Well,” I sighed. “Once he drops you guys off, I basically just gotta make sure he returns to Jabba to pay his debt.”

“I see,” Leia sighed, seeming less friendly. “So I’m assuming you're not going to help.”

“I wish I could…” I trailed off. “Really, I do. But I have to go back and continue to take care of my family.” I knew my reasoning was selfish, I just hope she understood. 

“I suppose we all have our priorities,” Leia shrugged. I looked down, feeling guilty of my decision. It was quiet for the rest of the ride, only Chewie's growling breaking it from time to time. 

Once we landed, I couldn’t help but look around the planet in awe. It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a planet with such luscious greenery. I smiled, a comforting feeling as it reminded me of home. We were escorted to a hangar. People were all around preparing their x-wing ships. Clearly the rebels were preparing for a fight. Once again, I felt guilty. All these people who either lost their family or left them to fight for a noble cause while I cower and run away back to the monotony of my life, being Jabba’s puppet. 

Someone greeted Leia as we finally stopped. I looked over to Luke who was looking around in awe. His gaze met mine and I felt flustered and embarrassed at the fact that he caught me looking.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Luke asked breathlessly.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I didn’t realize the rebellion was this big, but I suppose I didn’t think of it much.”

“C’mon, they’re going to go over the plans to defeat the Death Star,” Leia called out, waving us over.

Luke looked towards me once more, his blue eyes shining brilliantly, “You think they’ll let me pilot a ship?”

“Definitely,” I chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll take all the help they’ll get.” 

Once we got to the meeting room, I stood next to Luke and his droids. If this was going to be the last I saw of him, I might as well make the most of it. He was a sweet guy, and I would love to stay friends with him. There needs to be more people like him in the galaxy. I zoned out as the person was discussing their plans to defeat the Death Star. It didn’t involve me so I didn’t find any harm in it. 

Once they all started standing up, Han patted my shoulder. I looked over at him and he motioned me to follow him and Chewie. Looking towards Luke, I spoke up, “Uhm, bye Luke.” When he looked at me, I waved. 

“Cya,” He grinned, waving back. Following the two smugglers, I felt like Luke didn’t understand that we weren’t sticking around. When we all made it back to the hangar, boxes of credits sat next to the escort. 

“Help me with this woudja?” Han called over to me. “If you want Jabba to pay you that is.”

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing as I helped him load the payment. 

Luke quickly came onto the scene, “So, you got your reward and you’re just leaving then?”

“That’s right,” Han nodded. “Yeah. I got some old debts I gotta pay off with this stuff. Even if I didn’t, you don’t think I’d be fool enough to stick around here, do ya? Why don’t you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight. We could use ya.”

“Come on,” Luke frowned. “Why don’t you take a look around? You know what’s about to happen, you know what they’re up against. They could use a good pilot like you. You’re turning your back on them.”

“What good’s a reward if you ain’t around to use it?” Han asked back. “Besides, attacking a battle station ain’t my idea of courage. It’s more like suicide.”

“All right,” Luke said with no emotion. “Well, you take care of yourself, Han. I guess it’s what you're best at.” Then, Luke's gaze fell onto me, “You too, (y/n)?”

I kept my head down, knowing I couldn’t meet his gaze, “I’m sorry, Luke. But I can’t stay…”

I heard him scoff, “I guess I just expected you to be different.”

I felt like crying as I heard his heavy boots storm off. I kept my head down as I loaded the last box. One thing I hated the most was disappointing the people I care about. 

“Hey Luke,” Han called out. “May the force be with you.” Chewie growled and I finally looked up. “What are you looking at?” Han asked us. “I know what I’m doing.”

Boarding the escort, we made our way back to the Millennium Falcon. We then loaded all the money onto the Falcon. Chewie and Han bantered a bit, but I kept to myself. 

“What’s got you so quiet?” Han asked as we carried the last two boxes. 

I stayed quiet, placing down the box I was carrying, “...I…wish it could be different. That we could help.” 

I heard Han sigh, “If you want to help you can, I’m not making you come with me.”

I felt tears brim my eyes, feeling even more guilty due to the fact that Han spoke the truth. I kept blaming others for this choice, when I can only really blame myself. My obligation to my family was more important. I mean what would my dad say? What would my mom say? 

Han shuffled before continuing, “If it’s what Luke said…kid, we all have to choose what’s more important to us. We can’t please everyone.”

I nodded, “I know.”

“C’mon,” Han said, ruffling my hair, making me glare up at him. “Let’s get outta here before it gets bad.” The sound of ships flying could be heard above us. “And that’s our queue.”

I followed Han into the cockpit, Chewie already getting the ship running. I sat behind them as they started to fly away. I couldn’t help but watch as the tie fighters were getting shot down one by one. My heart clenched as for all I knew, one of them was Luke. This felt wrong. It all felt wrong. Just leaving them there when we could be helping. Couldn’t we help them before we left? 

It was quiet in the cockpit. My gaze wouldn’t leave the Death Star as it continued to shrink. I bit my lip in worry. I couldn’t get this damn feeling out, and I knew it would haunt me the rest of my life. The uncertainty of it all. Leaving my newly founded friends behind to die. Tearing my gaze away, I looked back to Han. He was quiet, his face contemplative. 

“We should go back,” I spoke up, not being able to stand the guilty feeling bubbling under my skin. 

“No,” Han dismissed. 

“This isn’t right,” I countered. “Once we finish helping them we can go back to Tatooine.�� 

Han stayed silent, the Death Star was now almost out of site. Chewie growled, and Han’s frown grew worse. 

“Please Han,” I pleaded. 

Finally he seemed to snap, “If the both of you are gonna keep whining about it then fine.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cried out, wrapping my arms around him. 

“Quit your yapping and go prepare the shooter,” Han waved off, flipping some switches and turning around. 

I quickly ran to the same ladder that Han and Luke went into before. I sat in the seat putting on the headset. I flipped some switches and the gun hummed, turning on. 

“All right,” I spoke into the comms. “Everythings a-okay here.” 

We quickly approached the Death Star, getting in position behind three tie fighters. Only one x-wing was left and I knew we got back just in time. As fast as I could, I aimed for one of the tie fighters and got it in the first shot. Han whooped into the comms and I let out a ‘hell yeah!’. The other two tie fighters nearly collide, one falling outside of the Death Star. 

“You’re all clear, kid,” Han said. “Now let’s blow this thing up and go home!”

Luke shot right into where it needed to go and we all flew out. I laughed out in relief as the Death Star blew up.

“Great shot Luke!” I cheered. 

“That was one in a million,” Han cheered as well. I got myself out of the gun pit and went back into the cockpit with Han and Chewie. Han clapped me on the shoulder, “You had a great shot too.”

“Thanks,” I smiled breathlessly. That weight of guilt that was pushing me down seemed to lift. Luke was safe and so were all these fearless rebels. 

We quickly made our way to the hangar. We found Leia and Luke already hugging, Han and Chewie quickly joining. I went to follow but was blocked by the other rebels. My huge smile fell quickly as they continued to cheer for each other. I raised my hand, but lowered it. I suppose I’ll cheer from a distance. Luke suddenly looked around and his eyes met mine. I smiled awkwardly and he quickly made his way towards me, pulling me towards the rest of the group and hugging me tightly. I hugged back, just as tight as he lifted me off my feet slightly.

“I knew you weren’t like that,” Luke whispered, nuzzling his face into my neck.

“You should thank me,” I laughed. “It took a bit of convincing to get Han on board.”

Luke laughed, letting me go. We gazed at each other for a second before we all looked up to see R2. 

“Oh no,” Luke said breathlessly.

“Oh my,” C3PO cried out. “R2, can you hear me? Say something. You can repair him, can’t you?”

“We’ll get to work on him right away,” A rebel agreed. 

“You must repair him,” C3PO replied. “Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I’ll gladly donate them.”

“He’ll be alright,” Luke consoled. 

Leia wrapped an arm around me with a knowing smile, Han hugging her other side. I wrapped my arm around Luke’s shoulders and followed the other two, dragging him along. 

“Wait what?” I asked, turning towards the rebel members who held up the outfit I was supposed to wear. 

“It’s an award ceremony,” One said. “You weren’t expecting to wear your regular clothes were you?”

“I mean…” I sighed out exasperatedly. “I don’t know. I’m not used to dressing up for anything.”

“The princess picked this out for you specifically,” The other mentioned. 

“Of course she did,” I mumbled. “Fine, I’ll wear it.” They left to let me change. Once I was finished changing, I couldn’t help but pick at my clothes. They were so form fitting in some spots, a drastic change to my casual wear. 

I stood in between Luke and Han with a slight frown. Luke looked towards me and his eyes widened. 

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Is it really that bad?”

“N-no!” He stuttered out. “You, uh…uhm actually look really good.” I looked away, not used to compliments.

“Oh,” I said, not exactly sure how to reply. “Thank you, you look real nice too.” 

“Thanks,” He replied in a whisper.

“C’mon you two,” Han said, rolling his eyes. “Quit flirting, the ceremony’s starting.”

I looked up at him aghast, but the doors opened and I tried to calm myself down. As we walked, I tried to keep my gaze on Leia and not the hundreds of eyes that were currently on us. Once we reached the stairs, we stopped and Leia stepped forward. She looked at Han sternly, her gaze fell on me and she smiled a bit more softly. When she looked towards Luke, they shared a goofy smile, which seemed to spread to me when I glanced at Luke and noticed that he did the same. 

When Leia put the medal on Han, he winked at her which made me roll my eyes. And he says the awkward compliments Luke and I gave each other was flirting. Leia placed a medal around my neck, and then finally one around Lukes. We all bowed our heads in respect. Suddenly, R2 showed up, beeping and whistling. We couldn’t stop our laughter, happy to see the droid was okay. Turning around, Chewie growled and everyone started clapping. I felt small, finally seeing how many people were looking. 

Once the ceremony was finished, everyone started packing. It was time to move to a new base after all. I was waiting for Han to stop bothering Leia when I noticed that Luke snuck up next to me.

“How’re you feeling?” Luke asked, giving me a side hug. 

“Much better outside of all that attention,” I replied, returning the short hug.

“You don’t like being recognized as a hero?” Luke laughed lightly.

“Not if it means that many people are watching you,” I replied back. 

“So…” Luke trailed off. “Are you staying?” His smile somewhat fell at the question and he looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, looking down at my fidgeting hands. “I was just gonna talk to Han about it. I’m sure my parents would understand and support my decision…but…I don’t know.” I looked back up at Luke feeling somewhat helpless, “What do you think I should do?”

Staring back at me, he smiled gently, “Well…I think you know what I’m about to say.” I laughed softly, crossing my arms. 

“I think I know what Han’s gonna say too,” I sighed, watching him interact with Leia. It’s clear he was interested in her…but wasn’t Luke as well? This was definitely going to get messy. 

“I’d love for you to stay,” Luke spoke up. “Uh…a-all three of you, I mean.”

I looked back over to Luke as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away. 

“Okay,” I couldn’t help but agree with a giant smile. How could I leave the friends I made now?

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight - 20

Chapter Twenty

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!AFAB!Reader

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings/Tags: smut, SUPER loving sex, skinny dipping, piv sex, tenderness, found family, mentions of scars/insecurity

Chapter Length: 8k

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notes: if you've seen any of my recent tumblr posts or updates on the fic tag, you'll know i've been having MAJOR tech problems, as well as various Life Problems too! hence why this took an ABSURD amount of time to update! i am SO sorry, i can only apologise and offer this new chapter that i hope was worth the insane wait. thankfully i have my laptop back and didn't lose any of the fic, so all is well again. (i'm still sick tho). anyway, enough from me - let's get to what you're here for! enjoy ♥︎

recap: reader and din are on the run from the cult that raised her, and they're escaping to D'Qar to hide out while they wait for the aid of boba fett, who is hoping to make a deal with the cult for reader's freedom.

and now i see daylight, i only see daylight

There’s nothing but green as you fly over the jungles of D’Qar. Despite living in forestland for years, it’s never lost on you—the beauty of it.

Din finds a tiny clearing to just about fit the ship in. It’s beneath the cover of a mountain, tucked away in a huge cove of rocks, rivers, and waterfalls. When you first see the space, you’re not sure he’s going to be able to manage it; it looks so small. But he knows the size of his ship, and he knows exactly how to manoeuvre it, so he lands just perfectly on the flat, rocky ground in the clearing. 

It’s only a few hours until sunset, Din says, but you and the kid are excited to get out and have a look around. So as soon as everything’s secure, you lower the ramp, instantly hit with the warm, humid atmosphere of the jungle surrounding you. It’s somehow loud and quiet all at once; rushing water is close by and all kinds of wildlife are tweeting, chirping, croaking, whether in the trees or in the brush. The late evening sun is lowering, casting a golden-red glow through the tall, evergreen trees that surround you. 

A river runs underneath the ship. It’s only small, probably shallow enough for even the kid to stand up in. But it’s running quickly and downhill, winding around damp rocks covered in moss. The waterfall feeds into the lake just ahead; this is probably one of the offshoots from it.

“You like it?” Din’s modulated voice says over your shoulder. 

You turn to him, the kid in your arms. “We like it,” you confirm, smiling. 

Grogu is leaning over towards the river, making grabbing motions at it. He seems fascinated by the running water. He probably also wants to look for fish and frogs to eat in it, too. You know him well.

“Not tonight, kiddo,” you tell him apologetically, straightening the collar of his robe. “We can explore some more tomorrow. We’ve been travelling a while, haven’t we?” 

His ears turn down sadly. He looks at you, gives the Pleading Eyes.

As cute as he is, you’re not as much of a sucker as Din. (He’d never admit to it. Ever. But you know that he is, when it comes to Grogu.) You give him a little smile and a shake of your head. “Sorry, kid. Your dad and I are tired. We can explore all you like tomorrow, though; we’re here for a few days.” 

Grogu looks to Din, like he’s asking for a second opinion. 

He sighs, long-suffering. “Kid,” he says, so rueful it’s almost comical, “sorry, but I agree. I’m not gonna go against her word, you know that.” 

Your heart swells.

Grogu looks significantly less pleased by Din’s words, though. 

And, boy, does he let you know it. 

You’d been hoping that maybe you and Din could have some alone time tonight. Really take your time, enjoy it, make each other feel like nothing bad in the Galaxy will ever touch any of you again. It’s what you both need right now.

But Grogu has other plans. 

He refuses to settle. 

In hindsight, it makes sense. You’ve been in hyperspace for days with no fresh air and no opportunity for him to use up some energy. And he’s been so good with sleep all this time, despite the fact that his days have been pretty dull and routine. Really, he was overdue a hyperactive night. He’s just a little kid, after all, and he’s done this a few times while you’ve been with them, especially since extended periods stuck in hyperspace have become a thing. He usually crashes and falls asleep where he stands by a few hours before the day cycle begins.

But, kriff. You’re so tired. You hadn’t realised just how much sleep has been helping you heal until it’s been six hours since the moons rose, it’s four until they set again, and you’re not just exhausted but starting to ache. 

As you remove Grogu from one of the power line tunnels for the seventh time, you feel a soft hand sitting on your shoulder. Plopping Grogu back down on the floor, you look up to find Din beside you with a mug of something steaming in his hand. “You should get some sleep,” he says quietly, then takes Grogu in his arm and hands him the mug. You realise it’s his favourite: a malty, chocolate hot drink that Din always gives him when he’s scared, tired, or he can’t sleep. 

Grogu takes it eagerly. He wiggles to get out of Din’s arms, so Din puts him down in his hammock and sits down beside him, resting his elbow on the top of Grogu’s cubbyhole. 

“I’m fine,” you lie, suppressing a yawn. 

“No, you’re not. Go to bed. He’ll settle soon.” 

You look at him. At the tired tilt of his body, leaning against the little door. You can hear the tiny slurps of Grogu enjoying his drink. On nights like these, Din knows the exact right time to give Grogu his hot cocoa, timing it with the oncoming energy crash. It helps bring it sooner, when he does it right. 

“Cyar’ika,” Din says softly, calling your attention back to him. You hadn’t even realised that your gaze had slipped away, your eyes blurring over with tiredness. “I mean it. Get some sleep. I’ll come and hold you soon, once he’s settled.” 

You sigh. “Alright. But tomorrow, we’re taking him out there, and we’re tiring him the fuck out.” 

A tired chuckle comes through the modulator. “Agreed.” 

“I’m taking him swimming. He wanted to do that.” 

“He’ll love that. Don’t talk about it too much, though, or he’ll think we’re going to do it right now.” 

You chuckle, too, even though it hurts. Pushing yourself up from the floor with a groan, you then walk over to Din, and lean down to press a kiss to his helmet. “Call me if you need me, okay?” 

He takes a hold of your hand and squeezes it. “Promise.” 

You’re asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

You don’t know how much longer it is until you feel Din slide in behind you, still wearing his armour, gently wrapping his arm around your waist. “I’m here,” he whispers, quiet enough not to wake you if you were asleep, but loud enough that you’d hear it if you stirred. 

Which you do. Just enough to shuffle back into him, take hold of his hand, and fall asleep again. 

When the day comes, Grogu wakes with it.

Which you expected. But, still. 

Din is already awake and taking him upstairs for breakfast. Tiredly, you follow them, and it’s only because you know him so well that you notice the way Din is standing differently. The way he only does when he’s exhausted.

“I’ll take Grogu out this morning,” you say to Din while he cooks up breakfast for all three of you. “You can catch up on some sleep.” 

Din shakes his head. “I want to come.” 

“You don’t have to. We won’t go far.” 

“I want to come,” he says again, in that tone of voice that says Thank you, but I’m not going to change my mind. 

Knowing this, you nod, and sit down at the table beside the kid. He looks bright-eyed and innocent, like he didn’t spend over half the night trying to tear the ship apart. 

“Are you going to swim with us?” You ask Din, smiling teasingly. 

“I think the beskar might weigh me down,” he replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Who said anything about beskar?” 

“You asking me to scar the kid for life by going in naked?” 

“Fair point.” 

“What are you going to swim in? And the kid?” 

“I figure we can change his robe afterwards; this one needs cleaned anyway. And I’m going in my shirt and underwear.” 

His helmet tilts towards you for a second, glancing at you. “I’m definitely coming.” 

You giggle, and feign shock, “Get a hold of yourself. Not in front of the kid, Mando.” 

Chuckling, he dishes up breakfast, and slides two plates across the table for you and Grogu. He takes his own plate, and tells you he’s going to eat in the cockpit. He’s still getting used to eating in front of you. Hell, he’s still getting used to having his helmet off in front of you, period, but he hasn’t eaten at all without it yet. You understand, and it doesn’t bother you. You’re just lucky to have any part of him at all.

The waterfall is just behind the trees a few metres along from the ship, pouring down over a sheer cliff face a ways up the mountain. Green vines and long tree branches hang over it, colourful flies dancing in the rainbow water spray before it hits the lake below. The lake is big, curving around the base of the mountain before it runs down over a rock and splits into little rivers. The water is clear but looks blue and green with the small pebbles and soft, mossy plants that coat the bed of it. It’s hot out here, but pleasantly so, the sun shining brightly in the late-morning blue sky. 

Grogu is cooing excitedly in your arms. You’ve got a towel wrapped around your shoulders and a smaller one over one of your arms for him, along with a spare robe. Din follows closely behind.

You stop by the shore of the river, watching as Din lays out a blanket on the ground to sit on. As you turn to look at him, the sun glints brightly off his armour, the bright green of your surroundings reflecting in the beskar and making him look like he’s one with nature. Or, as close as someone covered in metal could look to being one with nature. Your heart swells with warmth as you’re reminded of the first few days you spent together; when so much of your mind was occupied with how he’d look in different lights, in different worlds. 

It hits you, for a second, that you’re getting to see it. That you can not only admire the way he’s somehow never looked more silver, but also looks green and brown all at the same time; but also you can tell him how you feel. You can touch that armour, touch him. 

The poor kid is trying to get a good look at the water, trying to get you to put him down. But you’re too transfixed by the sight of Din. By the fact that this is everything you ever wanted, since the first moment you heard his voice. 

“Cyar’ika?” Din questions, stepping closer. “You okay?” 

You snap back to the moment at hand. Finally you put the kid on the ground, and he runs towards the water in an instant. “Sorry,” you say, and glance back at the kid, “Can he swim?” 

Din shakes his head. “He won’t go deeper than he can handle. He likes to just splash.” He steps closer again, close enough to put his gloved hand on the underside of your elbow. “Where’d you go, in your head just now?” 

Your hand finds his chest plate. You look down, see your reflection in it, the green trees behind you. A smile is on your face before you realise. “You’re beautiful,” you say instead of answering his question. When you look back up at his helmet, it’s tilted slightly, quizzically. “We’ve come a long way,” you whisper. 

His thumb rubs over your arm. “I’ve loved every minute.” 

Your heart lurches. If you could, you’d lean up and kiss him. 

“Kid’s waiting,” Din says, nodding his head over your shoulder. 

When you turn around, Grogu is standing in the very shallows, only an inch of water above the hem of his robe. He’s looking at you with a tilted head, his ears turned in a way that asks you a question. You chuckle at the sight of him. “I’m coming, kiddo. You wanna go swimming with me?” 

Grinning, he jumps up and down on the spot and waves his hands around a little. Water splashes up around him. 

You hear Din chuckle from behind you, then feel the towel start to slip from your clothed shoulders, his hands following in its wake, slowly rubbing down your arms. He hooks his helmet over your shoulder. “Go on,” he says lowly, “I’ll keep watch.” 

You turn your head and press your nose into the hollow of his helmet’s cheek, then give him a sunny grin before you run towards the shore, towards the kid who’s looking increasingly excited. 

Happiness is warm in your veins, like the sun in the sky, like the feeling of the water on your skin. 

After a long swim and a hike around the surrounding hills and forest, the three of you are well and truly hungry. You’d let the warm air dry you out as you walked and picked berries and herbs for dinner, gathering them in Din’s satchel. Grogu started tiring an hour out from the ship, but you coaxed him along with promises of finding some nice insects for him to catch; which he did, and enjoyed every single one. 

Now you’re back at the ship, and Din is cooking up some fresh meat with the herbs you picked, while you make a little fruit salad from all the fruit you found in the forest. The sun is setting, Grogu is watching his HoloNet show, and he’s looking very sleepy. 

Dinner is what gets him truly ready to sleep. He’s snuggling into Mando’s thigh by the end of it, looking about ready to drop off right there and then and make it his bed for the night. With a soft chuckle, and a knowing glance towards you, Din lifts him up from the sofa and cradles him in his elbow. 

“Night, kiddo,” you reach out and run your hand over Grogu’s cheek. His ear twitches in response, his left eye opening just enough to look at you. Din reaches out with his spare hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, then he turns, and heads down the ladder. 

You follow after a minute, anticipation stirring low in your belly as you hope for the much-needed night alone with Din. Absently, you listen to the soft sounds of him putting the kid to bed. It doesn’t take long. 

Before you know it, Din’s standing in the bed chamber doorway. “He’s out. Like a light.” 

“Mission accomplished, then?” 

Din nods. “He’s snoring, so we know he’s really asleep.” 

You chuckle softly, letting your eyes roam over Din now that you know you have him to yourself. You reach out your hand towards him. “Come to bed?” 

He takes your hand, but doesn’t climb into bed. Instead, he smoothes his thumb over your knuckles, and says, “I thought we could go for a swim.” 

Oh. 

You weren’t expecting that. Somehow, it’s better than what you were expecting, which you didn’t think was possible. 

“Yeah?” You just about manage to say, your voice coming out as a squeak as anticipation spikes higher in your chest. 

He nods. “It’s a nice night. Moons are out, kid’s asleep…” 

You nod, too, and bite your bottom lip. “Din,” you whisper, “are you asking me to go moonlight skinny dipping?” 

A lovely chuckle comes through the helmet. He steps closer, reaches out his other hand to brush it down your cheek. “Yes, Mesh’la, I am.” 

“Well,” you push yourself up from the bed without another moment to waste, “don’t have to ask me twice. Will the kid be OK?” 

“Like I said, he’s out of it. I’ve put a live commlink in there with him, just in case,” he fishes said commlink out of his pocket. Then, with a smirk in his voice, “It’s waterproof.” 

Oh, he has planned-planned this. You could not be more thrilled. 

It’s still so warm outside. The moons are full and bright, casting a white light over the entire jungle. It reflects on the lake, glimmering in ripples of water and illuminating the waterfall as if it’s made of light itself. 

Din has taken off his armour, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You’re wearing the shirt you wore to swim earlier and underwear beneath it. Din reaches for your hand as you pad towards the lake; you’ve never held hands while walking before, and it’s strange, but nice. Definitely unnecessary outside of a situation like this, but, still. 

He stops by the shore, and you stop too. The waterfall is loud at the other side of the lake, but calming. 

Then, Din starts to take his flight suit off. You’re too distracted by the slow reveal of his skin at first to realise that you should probably be getting undressed too. He just looks ethereal beneath the moons’ glow; it reflects from his helmet and makes his skin glow as he strips off his suit and lets it fall to the floor. He glances at you, knowing you’re watching, and when he pulls off his helmet there’s an amused smirk on his lovely lips. 

“You’re looking at me like I’m a show,” he says, leaning down to place the helmet carefully on the grass. 

You smile. “You are to me.” 

He leans down and kisses you, just once, chaste. Like he can’t help it. Then he takes off his boxers, and he’s naked before you, glowing white in the daylight-like lights shining in the sky. Now you’re really distracted. If you thought naked Din was perfect all wet and tousled in the shower, this is something else entirely. He’s not even wet yet. You can’t wait for him to be wet. 

As if reading your mind, he places a kiss on your forehead before whispering, “See you in there.” And he’s off, wading into the water. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you watch him go. The muscles in his back shift as he walks so casually into the lake, brushing at the surface with his fingertips. They leave diagonal trails in the water, like skimming stones. His back is so broad, so muscular, all highlights and shadows in the light. 

And his ass. Kriff, that’s the Ass of the Galaxy right there. Glowing under the moonlight, curved just right, muscles shifting with each push of his legs through the water. It’s a shame when he gets in deep enough that it covers him. He turns around when he’s waist-deep and raises an eyebrow.

“Are you coming?” 

Probably in more ways than one, yes. 

You quickly strip off, feeling self-conscious standing here on the shore in front of him, and wade over to meet him. The waterfall is close now, just on the other side of the lake, rushing down from the mountain. If you get any closer, you’ll probably feel tiny droplets of spray. 

You reach your hand out as you approach Din, and he takes it with a soft smile. As you come to a stop in front of him, you look up into his eyes, and all the breath falls from your lungs. Somehow, looking at him like this overwhelms all the other senses in your body. The water is warm around you, and the lake floor is a strange combination of soft and rocky, some plants tickling at your toes. The air is a little humid but nice, comforting, something you’ve not felt before. And the sound of rushing water is all-consuming, covering all noises of the jungle wildlife and even the wild beating of your heart.

And he’s here, naked, his bare and damp skin on show before you.

But his eyes are what holds you. They are what make you feel weak in the knees, what make your fingertips tingle. Especially when he looks at you like that. 

Like he knows you. 

Like he loves you.

“You are so beautiful,” he says into the space between you, his voice somehow coming up clearer than anything, even above the noise. 

You stroke your hand down his cheek, leaving a wet mark there. Then you move to his chest, running through the chest hairs, smiling when his skin rises into goosebumps. You wonder how many times it’s done that when you can’t see it; when it’s hidden behind his armour. 

“You’re perfect,” you tell him. 

It’s not really quiet enough to talk. Thankfully, you don’t need to.

He pulls you in by the waist and presses your bodies flush together, all warm and wet and bare here beneath the two moons. His arms wrap around your middle, and yours around his neck as you stand on your tiptoes to hook your head over his shoulder. Your hands are wet as they tangle in his hair, press against his shoulder blade, feeling his lips so hot and gorgeous against your neck. He mouths lazily at your skin. Doesn’t suck or bite or even really kiss; just touches you with his lips and his tongue, like he’s trying to take as much of you as possible, like he wants his breath to go into your skin and make you his on the inside, as much as leaving a mark on the outside would.

You let him. You let him, too, when he pulls away and takes your hand, leading you over to the waterfall. 

Your eyes don’t leave him the entire time. They don’t need to; he’s guiding you, and you don’t need to watch where you’re going. 

He stops in front of the rushing water and looks down at you expectantly, his hand still in yours. You raise an eyebrow in question, to which he responds, “We’re going under it.” 

Your eyebrow raises, too. “I love to shower with you, but I think this shower’s flow might be a little too strong.”

He grins. His skin is shining with water spray, making him sparkle. “We just have to go under for a second, then we’re going behind it. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” 

Always trusting him, you nod, and follow when he tugs on your hand again. 

The waterfall is pretty intense as you walk under it; you do it as fast as you can, worried at first that it might hurt you, but it doesn’t. It’d probably feel pretty good against your tired muscles, actually, if it weren’t for the still-healing wounds on your back. Din seems to enjoy it; he stands under the flow for a little longer than you, letting it run over his back and closing his eyes for a second. (You make a mental note to give him a massage one of these days. You don’t know how you haven’t thought about it before.)

Standing behind the waterfall, you’re in a strange sort of cave area, a metre or so in between the flow and the cliff face behind it. The rocks are shining, glistening in the moonlight that comes through the water. When you turn to look out where you came from, you’re amazed by the sight: the bright white of the moons is shining through the wall of water that encases you in this little haven, making each large droplet look like a light, a white flame rushing down towards the lake. It’s like a cascade of stars too dense to see each individual one before it falls. 

When you look to Din, the light and shadow from it is dancing across his face. The water that you stand in is sparkling, too, casting a rippling reflection on the skin under his jaw. You’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. 

“You like it?” He asks you, his voice surprisingly loud as it echoes from the wall. 

A smile stretches your lips. “I love it,” you tell him with a nod of your head. You reach out and hold him again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him, soft and sweet. “It’s like our own little hideaway.” 

He trails his lips over your cheek, your jaw, down to your neck. His wet hands sit gently on your waist. As he kisses your bare shoulder, paying special attention to the curve of your clavicle, your hands run down over his pecs, fingertips catching on his hardened nipples. Yours are hard, too; you can feel them where they press against his chest. 

You close your eyes as he starts to suck a mark at the place where your shoulder meets your neck. One hand runs down his chest, towards his belly button, the other back up into his hair. A pleasured breath releases from your mouth when his hands slide down your body, around to the small of your back and eventually landing on your ass, one hand on each cheek. He squeezes, just lightly. A soft gasp from you is rewarded with an even softer whimper from Din, breathed right into the crook of your neck as he continues to nip at your skin. 

“Din,” you whisper, not the start of a sentence, but a statement. Because you’ll never get tired of saying his name. You tighten your hand in his hair, pull on it a little, earning another one of those lovely, soft moans. You feel it vibrating in your neck. 

Then he’s moving down, his face coming to rest between your breasts. It feels colder without him pressed right against you, but he’s still close enough for you to touch him just the same, the hand on his tummy running back up through his chest hair, then down his arm.

You gasp as his mouth closes around one of your hard nipples. Your hand in his hair tightens in response, pulls him in even closer, urges him to do it again. 

He does, and he sucks it into his mouth. The pull is fucking gorgeous. He’s never done this before; you don’t ever want him to stop. His mouth is so hot and wet, a contrast to the damp sheen on the rest of your skin that’s leaving you with a bit of a chill. You feel his tongue lapping at the underside of your nipple. The texture of it has just the right amount of roughness. 

He moves to the other breast and continues his job there. You’re whimpering, barely even hearing yourself, just feeling your chest moving in his mouth as breaths escape your throat. 

“Din, that’s…that’s so good…” 

He hums his approval. When he pulls his mouth off you, you can just about hear the pop, and you definitely feel the string of spit that connects your skin to his mouth for a second. “If the water was shallow, I’d get my head between your legs, too, Mesh’la…” he breathes as his mouth finds yours again, not giving you a chance to say anything in response before he’s kissing you again, all open-mouthed and hot and breathy. You just moan, surprised and pleased. Your arms wrap all the way around his neck and pull him down into you. 

He’s so warm. He’s so him. 

His tongue is on yours in a second, pushing and pulling with each give and take of his lips. You let him guide you, pinning him to your face with a firm hand on the back of his neck. His arms are around your waist, holding the rolls of flesh in his palms. It feels so good. He feels so fucking good. 

You want him to know that. You need him to know how much you love to look at him, to touch him, to feel him. The coolness of your skin as the night air dries droplets of spray is the most beautiful contrast to the heat of his hands, his mouth, his breath. It’s intoxicating and you will never get enough of this. If his body wasn’t so irresistible to touch, you’d pull back and just stare at him. All kriffing night. 

Instead, though, you let your mouth fall from his in favour of trailing your lips across his jaw. They leave a wet trail in their wake. He doesn’t seem to care; in fact, his hands tighten against you when you start to suck at his neck. You use your teeth, pulling his skin into your mouth so hard that you hear it spluttering against the suction of your lips. You want to mark him, too; make sure his skin never forgets the way you feel. 

“Cyare…” he groans as you move your face to his chest. Your nose nuzzles into the hair there, one of your hands sliding down to play with his nipple. You suck at the other one and he’s got one hand on your breast now, cupping it in his palm and squeezing with each pull of your mouth. He tips his head back and if you weren’t so occupied with getting his nipple as hard as it can possibly get, you’d lean up and kiss the expanse of that gorgeous neck and mark it up until there were no doubts that he’s yours. 

By the time your lips are at his belly button, the water is starting to tease at your chin. You’d go lower if you could. 

You tell him as much. 

To which he responds with a desperate groan and a hand on the back of your head, bringing you back up to his face. “I need you,” he whimpers, pressing his nose into yours, “I need you, Mesh’la. Please.” 

You stroke his face. “You have me. Any way you want me.” 

A moan slips past his lips. He falls into you, kisses you slowly for a minute. 

“You wanna take me against this rock wall?” You ask him, letting your nails run over the side of his neck, just hard enough to pull a gasp into his throat. “Or take me back to land, fuck me on the shore?” 

“Kriff, Mesh’la,” he’s falling apart, his voice just a broken whimper as his hands find purchase on your ribs again and squeeze at the plump flesh. “Whatever you want. I’ll—do whatever you want.” 

You smile softly. “As much as I’d love for you to take me here in the lake, the footing isn’t exactly stable, and you know I like it rough…” 

Another moan. Good. 

You press kisses to his neck, catch the fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallows heavily. “Let’s go back to shore.” 

Desperate, he nods, and leads you under the waterfall. “You okay? Does it hurt?” He asks. 

You shake your head and smile at him, always appreciating that your comfort comes first, even when he’s this desperate to fuck you. “No. I’m good.” 

He practically throws himself onto the grass bank when you’re back on land, pulling you down on top of him. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness. It’s so fucking cute and really kriffing hot that he wants you so badly he’ll just collapse on the riverbank, beneath the silver glow of two moons, completely bare for you and out in the open air, if it means you’ll give him what he wants. 

Which you will. You always will.

You lean down over him, palms pressed to the grass on either side of his head. You’re both still wet, dripping into the ground below. Your breasts press into his chest, hair falls into his face. He pushes it out of the way and holds it there, like he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of you.

“Kriff,” he curses softly. You can hear him better now you’re out of the waterfall; can hear the desperation in his voice, how even his breathing is starting to sound like a series of whines. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you…” 

“Look at you,” you counter with a smile, feeling your chest bloom with warmth at his compliment. “Under the moonlight like this. Kriff, Din. Don’t you look pretty?” 

Breathy, he laughs. He closes his eyes for a second, shakes his head. “Don’t tease me.” 

“I’m not. You do look pretty,” your fingers run through the sparse hair on his jawline. And then, it escapes you in a sigh, an expel of breath like it’s releasing some kind of something by saying it out loud, “Kriff, I love you.” 

His eyes open at that. Right into yours, all glowing and watery and adoring. You could look at him like this forever. His hand strokes down your cheek. “I love you,” he tells you. Soft, shaky. Still just a hint of desperation there. 

As much as you could look at him like this forever, and stay like this for just as long, there is a distinct throbbing between your legs and a wetness there that definitely did not come from the lake. You’re sure he can feel it; your core is pressed right up against his hips and you can feel his cock there, hard and wet and ready for you. 

As if reading your mind, Din’s hand runs down your ribs, over the curve of your hips, then presses between your legs. He dips his fingers into your folds, separates them. “Kriff, you’re so wet already,” he says, gazing up at you as though he’s amazed by it. By you. 

“You do things to me,” you tell him with a grin and a shrug, to which he laughs, tipping his head back for a second. You just watch him, warmth not only spreading between your legs but around your heart, too. 

His lips kiss messily at your neck as he slips his finger inside you. It’s heavenly; a warm, slick glide of the one digit sending something hot and comforting all the way through you. Your eyes flutter closed when he slowly thrusts in and out. He’s not even trying to achieve anything; he’s just feeling you, appreciating every inch he can get his finger on. 

“Din,” you say, already feeling breathless, “more. Please.” 

He’s never turned you down. His thumb finds your clit, pushes back the hood and presses gently. Pleasure courses through you again, a jolt for each circle he makes around the bundle of nerves. His other finger joins the first after a moment, but you’re so kriffing ready for him that it’s not enough, you can feel his cock against the inside of your thigh and it’s so close but not close enough—

“Din, I’m ready for you. Are you ready?” 

He meets your eyes. He’s looking up at you like you’re the stars in the sky. It sends a shiver down you that has nothing to do with the two fingers he’s pushing in and out of your soaking heat. He nods, then, and says, “Please. I need you. Need to be inside you.” 

You nod, too, leaning down to give him a kiss. “Mind if I stay on top?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

“Mm. Are you gonna beg tonight?”

“If you want me to.” 

“You could try it,” you say with a smirk as you slide down his body, lift yourself up on your knees above him, “See how I like it.” The ground is damp below you, grass tickling at your skin. You take his cock in your hand, and it’s still wet, but you can’t wait to make it properly wet. 

Like it’s an instinct, he reaches out to take hold of your hips. He gazes up at you, and says, “Please, baby. I need to feel you.” He’s so vulnerable like this. Underneath you, naked, bathed in moonlight. He could, of course, overpower you—or anyone who got on top of him—if he wanted to. You never imagined The Mandalorian lying on his back like this for anyone; would never think that it was a place he could feel comfortable, safe. His whole life has been about fighting. About making sure he’s one step ahead.

And yet here he is, spread out before you, so open, bare underneath you, completely at your mercy. Because he wants to be. Because he trusts you.

You line him up at your entrance, but don’t slide onto him right away. You’re enjoying the desperation on his face just a little too much; the wrinkles in his forehead, his brows drawn together, bottom lip pressed under his teeth. With a grin you take a moment to admire in him in the moonlight and, with your hand wrapped around his cock, you slide him up and down through your wet folds. 

The look on his face is priceless. His neck strains, he swallows so heavily you see the movement all the way through it, and a whimper comes from him, even better than the ones he’s given already. 

“You look so pretty like this,” you tell him, still teasing him. You brush the head of him over your clit and, fuck,that feels good. His hot dick, already leaking and wet from your slick, rubbing over the bundle of nerves like his finger would, but different. Bigger. Rounder. 

“That feel good?” Din asks, and it’s only when you hear the smirk in his voice that you realise your eyes have closed. You’re focusing on the feeling, the roundness of his head. Before you know it you’re grinding on it, desperate to feel more of it. 

“Kriff,” you gasp, suddenly breathless, “that’s really fucking good.” 

“Keep going, if you want.” 

You could. You’d love to. The very fact that he’s offering this to you, knowing that it would only delay the part where he’s inside you and getting what he wants, turns you on even more.

But you know how desperate he is. And your heat is practically begging for him to be inside you. 

“Feels good for me, too,” he tells you as if sensing your hesitation. 

You smile at him. “Later,” you decide. “I want you inside me now.” With one last swipe of his head over your clit, you sigh, and then move your hips up so he’s lined up with your entrance again. Then, you sink down onto him, and kriff, it’s fucking delicious. 

The stretch, his heat, the way his dick caresses your walls like they’re something precious as they pulse and throb around him. 

He tips his head back and groans. His fingers tighten on your hips and you fucking love it. Love looking at him like this. Stretched-out, lit from the bright light of two moons, the jungle surrounding him and water still sheening over his chest.

You run your hands through his chest hair and sigh as heaven pulses through your core. “Feels so good,” you whisper, biting your lip, “Feels so good, Din.” 

“Mm-hm,” he nods and looks back at you. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Bracing yourself on his chest with your palms flat against him, you start to move. Instead of thrusting or bouncing, at first you just grind, swaying your hips in circular motions over his cock. It hits against that spot inside you with each circle, and somehow it feels like he’s going deeper than ever before, the tip of him a constant pressure against your cervix. It’s not rough like it usually is, and yet it feels just as good. 

One of his hands finds your clit and works it in time with your movements. Heat is already burning inside you, starting between your legs and smouldering up into your stomach and ribcage. You’re losing yourself in your pleasure in an instant, your eyes falling shut as you work yourself on him. 

Each grind lifts him in and out of you just a little, just enough for both of you to have some much-needed friction against your walls. But you’re still going round in circles, and it feels so fucking good, having him swirling inside you like this, coating every inch of you on the inside. 

“Fuck,” you curse in a whisper, one hand lifting from his chest to grasp at your breast. You squeeze it, remembering how your nipple felt inside his mouth. “Fuck, Din, that’s so good.” Your eyes are closed again, head tipped back towards the sky.

“Yeah?” He says. “You look so perfect. Take what you need, Cyar’ika, you can have it.” 

You’re too lost in pleasure to respond. It’s not even sparking, it’s burning, boiling, running over you in a hot wave over and over and over again. He’s so hot inside you, the contrast of his heat to the coolness of your skin just setting everything alight. The head of his cock is pushing against the highest point inside you, just like you like it, but instead of a fast, unrelenting beat, it’s stroking, so slow with each circle your hips make. His finger is still on your clit, so much slower than usual. In rhythm with your movements like he’s just going off of whatever makes you feel good.

“Kriff, Din, baby…your cock feels so good, I’ve never…it’s never been…” 

“Feels good to me, too, baby,” he promises you. 

When you open your eyes, he’s gazing up at you with such adoration, such universe-shattering perspective, that you could swear you see Galaxies in his eyes. Galaxies that you have yet to find, that you want to dive into and never leave. 

“I love you,” you whisper, leaning down so that your damp hair falls around his face, frames him like the piece of art that he is. 

His hand comes off of your hip and reaches out, stroking back a strand of hair. He rubs your cheek. His mouth is open and his breath is hot against your lips. “I love you,” he says back. His voice is raspy, low, so fucking perfect. “You look so good like this. Just using me to make yourself feel good. I’m so deep inside you, Cyar’ika, feels so good…just want to stay like this forever…” 

You nod, desperate, and lean in to kiss him messily. “So deep,” you breathe into his mouth, “so fucking deep inside me, kriff, filling me up so good, Din, you just fit…” 

His hand finds the back of your neck and holds you to him. The new angle brings the pleasure inside you to a new level; you’re leaning forward and down over him, and his cock is heavy, almost pulling at your walls as you continue to grind around and around and up and down. He’s pressing his thumb to your clit, his fingers closed around the flesh near your hip, holding tight. Holy kriff, it feels so fucking good, all hot and beautiful and just pleasurepleasurepleasure—

“Din,” you gasp, “gonna come…” 

“Come for me, Mesh’la, please, I need it…need to feel you come around me like this, so good…” 

Bracing yourself on his chest, you keep yourself at that lower angle and chase your pleasure, feeling it coiling low in your belly first but soon exploding through your entire body. It’s a flame, a roaring fire, a wave of lava through your veins. 

“Ride it out, baby,” Din tells you, and you do, you ride him until the drop comes and you’re just chasing it, chasing that high, wanting it to last forever. Wanting to be here forever, in this moment, just the two of you. Beneath the moon. Din inside you, as deep as he’s ever been. So fucking good it’s like you’ve never felt it before. 

“Oh, fuck, Din,” you pant as you come down, your aftershocks pulsing around his cock. You can’t even say that you came hard. Because it was the furthest thing to violence you’ve ever felt; it was soft but sudden and beautiful but terrifying. “Din, kriff, I love—I love you—”

His hips are starting to stutter. Like they want to thrust, but he’s holding himself back. 

You plant your elbows on either side of his head and lean down to kiss him. “Come in me,” you tell him, “please. Use me, fuck me. You made me feel so good, want you to feel the same too.” 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “You sure? You’re not too sensitive?” 

You shake your head. “Feels so good still. Please, wanna feel you, baby.” 

He nods, and starts to move. He shifts so his feet are planted firmly on the ground behind you, knees bent a little and pressing into your back. The hand on your clit moves and instead sits behind him on the floor so he can sit up and use it to prop himself there. Your body follows him, leaning back as he leans up. His breath is so hot on your face, your hair falling against his damp cheeks. 

You push it away, kiss his mouth. “Fuck me, baby,” you tell him, “feels so good.” 

Using his hand and both feet for leverage, he starts to thrust. Slow at first, testing the waters. His face falls in ecstasy, a broken moan leaving his lips and falling onto yours. You hold his face in both your hands, anchor him to you. 

“That’s it,” you praise, “fuck me just how you want. Come for me, Din, I wanna feel you. You’re so perfect, I love you…” it feels like it’s going to be hard to ever stop saying that. 

“I love you, Mesh’la,” he says, and it’s the last coherent thing he manages before he starts to thrust harder into you, finding a good rhythm. It’s not as rough as it’s been before—it would be pretty hard, in this position and out here on the wet grass—but it’s just perfect. He still hits the highest point inside of you, even guides your hips to do the circle thing again, like he knows that’s what feels good for you. 

It does. Kriff, it’s just as good as it was before. The aftershocks are already turning into new desire, heat bubbling low again. You bring one of your hands from his face and press on your clit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s so good.

It takes you by surprise. You gasp, pulling your head back and tipping it, granting him access to your neck; access that he makes full use of, immediately leaning in and attaching his mouth to your skin. 

“Oh, fuck, Din,” you almost laugh at the feeling because it’s so unbelievably good and you’re probably going to come again and it’s so soon after the last one and you weren’t expecting it—“Fuck! Din! Baby, feels so fucking good like this…” your tits bounce against his chest, almost pressed completely into him. 

He’s mouthing at your neck and his thrusts are getting faster, more urgent. “Baby…I think I’m going to…” 

“Come for me,” you request to the stars. “Please, Din, come inside my pussy.” 

That does it for him. 

He spills inside you, his chest heaving with desperate whimpers and moans and breaths that sound like something from a different realm, panted into your neck and against your shoulder—

Then you’re coming, too, clenching around him so hard that it almost hurts. Your thighs are burning from holding yourself up, the pleasure coursing through you only adding to the strain in your muscles. But it feels so fucking good. He feels so good, chasing his orgasm for as long as he can, fucking up into you as if it’s what he was put in this Galaxy to do.

“Oh, baby…” Din says as he starts to come down. He’s kissing your neck again, all wet and messy and lazy. His hands slide up your body. Caress you like you’re something precious, a map he wishes to memorise. Eventually they settle on your back, his palms pressing into your shoulder blades. 

You realise, then, that this is the first time he’s seen you while you’ve done this. Seen all of you. Nothing separating his eyes from your scars, your stretch marks, every insecurity you’ve ever had. 

It feels earth-shattering and unimportant at the same time. Because it’s a big step, it’s huge, something you never thought you’d have with anyone, ever. But it’s also…right. Din isn’t looking at you or holding you any differently. He sees more of you than just that, and it doesn’t matter. 

You’re breathless at the realisation. Even more so, when you realise that it actually feels really fucking good to be naked with him like this. To have nothing separating you. 

Your lips meet after a moment. He kisses you so softly, so tenderly. Your hands tangle in his hair, feeling the lingering wet from the waterfall. You think about saying something, about telling him how good that was, about how much you love having him like this; you think about saying I love you one more time, just for good measure. 

But the words won’t come. Instead, you just press your forehead to his, let your breaths mingle in the humid air between you. You’re both still panting. His cock is twitching inside you, probably a little overstimulated as your walls continue to pulse and beckon him further in. But he never pulls out too soon. Even if it’s too much for him. 

He holds you like that, staying inside you beneath the moons, the sound of rushing water and wildlife all around you. He holds you like he knows. Like he knows how you feel, and wants you to know that he feels the same, too.

If you could, you’d stay like this forever. And yet, even a moment will do.

notes: ahhhh i'm so sorry for the long wait.

i can't believe we've only got 2 chapters left. the last 2 are some of my favourites so i'm excited for y'all to read them! thank you for being here as always, i know it's been such a long time. please do leave a comment if you can, and reblogs are always appreciated <3 love u <3

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