#fennec shand is a gay icon

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

I made y’all an ice cream cone. It’s one scoop Boba x reader and one scoop Fennec x reader. If you enjoy it, I’ll make you a whole sundae.

THOTS UNDER THE CUT.

Boba Fett - or at least the person she supposed must be Boba Fett - along with his menacing entourage and a masked man in chains entered the antechamber unannounced.

“I’m here to see the mayor.”

Her eyes widened and a furrows appeared between her brows. She tried to scroll through her data pad, but she was reluctant to take her eyes off of imposing figure of Boba Fett.

“Do you have… an appointment?” she asked in a small, hesitant voice. She’d always been able to hold her own, but this broad man had a powerful quality that made her feel like shrinking against the wall.

“I found one of his stray pets. I’m here to return it to its master,” he growled. She swallowed.

The Majordomo, that gladhanding little worm, appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Apologies, Lord Fett. I did not see your litter arrive,” he offered as he dipped his head apologetically. “The mayor is indisposed but I’m sure we have an appointment available some time late next week…”

He moved behind her and, as he reached around to take the data pad from her hands, placed one of his palms on her ribcage. This one was step too far. She could tolerate his leering for the sake of keeping herself fed and housed, but she would not be subjected to groping.

“Get your hands off of me before I slap you back into your mother!”

The majordomo jerked back with a stunned expression on his face.

“You want to see the mayor?” she said, looking directly at the Daimyo. She grabbed a key card from a rack on the reception podium, walked defiantly over to the locked door to the mayor’s office, and swiped the card over the locking panel. The red light turned green and the door opened.

“His schedule just opened up,” she said, throwing the key card back onto the podium before turning to walk past them all and out the door.

“I quit!” she shouted over her shoulder.

…

He sent Fennec to find her. He needed an administrative assistant and she had moxie. Fennec tracked her to a hole in the wall cantina drinking cheap, adulterated spotchka. The Daimyo’s job offer included a generous salary and a private living quarters, but she knew to be suspicious.

“Does the Daimyo know how to keep his hands to himself?” she asked warily.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll cut them off myself.”

Fennec’s assurance was enough for the moment. She accepted the position and found herself packing her belongings the following morning to make the short hike up to the palace. As she was leaving and turning in her key for the cramped little room for which she paid exorbitant rent, Fennec arrived on a bantha to collect her.

“I though you’d have more possessions.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m also poor.”

Fennec chuckled and gave her a leg up onto the bantha. She rode astride behind Fennec, holding her around the waist as the bantha plodded along.

“You’ll like working for the Daimyo,” she said over her shoulder. “He’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Does he keep you out of trouble?” she asked coyly.

“He couldn’t even if he tried.”

They were both silent for a while. As the bantha climbed the hill towards the palace, Fennec spoke to her over her shoulder again.

“You made him laugh, you know. With what you said to the majordomo. He couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“He think you’re gutsy. The Daimyo endeavors to surround himself with gutsy women, apparently.”

…

“You’ll be free of unwanted advances,” offered the Daimyo, sensitive to her unease with the possibility of being taken advantage of by men holding power over her. “I ask for loyalty, but loyalty is meant to be reciprocated. You are now under my protection.”

“Thank you, Daimyo,” she said, still wary of him.

“You have nothing to fear under Boba Fett,” said Fennec in an unexpectedly soft voice that momentarily caught Boba off guard. Fennec warmed to few of the palace staff, Boba thought. She must like this one.

Boba liked her too. He had now doubt that she would at least try to make good on her threat of violence against Mok Shaiz’ majordomo. Now that Boba knew what a lecherous pest he was, he might just find an excuse to feed him to the rancor. Boba was certain that his new assistant would fit in just fine with his motley crew. Fennec was certainly fond of her, and although he found her striking as well, he had the good sense to leave her be. If she decided to climb into his bed, or Fennec’s, all the more reason to keep her safe.

…

This was originally going to be a one shot but now it’s a whole thing.

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Fennec’s strap game remains undefeated.

inspired by comments from @daimyosprincess and @writingwintermoon on my Fennec post ✰ y'all are so right and I agree

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Has anyone written a Boba Fett x reader x Fennec Shand threesome yet? Because @daimyosprincess gave me an idea…

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Part VI of Fate’s Epitaph, based on a shared lucid dream with @meshlaxbunny

IF YOU’RE HERE, YOU’LL WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S UNDER THE CUT.

For the first time in many months, she woke at sunrise. For the first time ever, she woke up in the arms of a man who would tear the whole planet apart to keep her safe. Boba Fett felt familiar, like the warmth of a campfire or the taste of fresh, clean water from her water skin. Like the slow jog of her dewback under saddle. Like the possibility of belonging somewhere, to someone.

She straddled his hips and laid her head back down onto his chest. He put his arms around her neck and kissed the top of her head. They remained like that, drifting in and out of sleep, until Boba’s comm beeped.

Normally Fennec Shand would not hesitate to walk in to Boba’s private chambers and wake him with intel from the previous night’s patrols or a plan for the day, but she didn’t want to intrude upon his privacy this morning. He’d brought that pretty little thing up to his bedroom after the banquet and whatever happened after that was none of her business, but it did make Fennec consider finding a pretty little thing of her own to keep her warm through the cool desert nights. Fennec thought about visiting the flirty little waitress at the open air cafe in the town center to see if maybe she’d want to give a night in the palace a try. Boba needed to show his face in town and scare some sense into mayor Mok Shaiz anyway.

“I’ll be down in an hour, Fennec,” Boba said into his comm. He maneuvered Lalya on to her back and kissed her forehead. He was hard, but restrained his desire. Hers was the lead he should follow in this regard, and she was content with affection that crossed the boundaries of propriety, but only just. He moved to settle his hips between her legs and allowed his erection, straining through his shorts, to rest on her belly. He kept his focus on her face, though, and spoke softly to her in Mando’a with his lips only a hair’s breath from hers. She blinked sleepily and smiled, burying her face where his wide, strong jaw met the muscles in his neck.

She spent the day with her dewback, first accompanying Boba Fett and Fennec Shand into town and then loping up Xelric Draw before heading back to the palace. A full day and night of rest made him fresh and he tossed his thick head and dug into the dirt for a few strides in a fantastic gallop on the way back to Boba Fett’s palace, which the dewback understood instinctively to be his new home. The ride gave her time to think. Was this what she wanted? Was she trading her freedom for another chain? It was, she decided, in both her and Boba’s best interests to have a frank conversation about what was happening between them. She had no designs on his power. Up until only a day ago, he was no more than a ghost from her painful past. He clearly did not intend for her to be his slave or concubine and she had no family worth marrying into. If anything, a publicly verifiable romantic relationship with a laborer and former slave would be seen as a weakness, but he seemed unconcerned to have her by his side in front of the three ruling families of Mos Espa. Her antennae were ever attuned to the possibility of exploitation, but she felt no sense of alarm at Boba Fett’s behavior towards her. He was like the clear blue pool of an oasis - transparent and serene.

To Fennec’s delight, though she’d never admit it, the waitress was serving coffee and batting her pretty eyes at customers. Boba cut his eyes at Fennec and smirked.

“You’re a dog, Fennec.”

“Learned from the best, boss.”

They took a seat at a small table under an old cloth awning and Fennec waived her waitress over.

“Daimyo, Mistress Shand. What can I get you today?”

Fennec made no attempt to disguise the way her eyes walked their way up and down the waitress’ figure.

“Let’s start with your name, sweetness.”

Tisila. Fennec liked the way the girl’s name felt in her mouth. Boba had never seen Fennec flirt and found the whole scenario deeply amusing. He would have teased her were he not utterly infatuated with his own little desert flower.

She was a natural flirt, but Tisila was quite obviously far more receptive to Fennec than any of her regular customers. She had not expected this kind of attention from Master Assassin Fennec Shand, the beautiful and terrifying woman who put the enemies of the Daimyo in their place or six feet under. What had she to offer someone like Fennec?

A nice hourglass figure, thick thighs, round cheeks (both upper and lower) and a bright smile - according to Fennec, who had once described her ideal woman to Boba after a few drinks. Now that she’d seen her up close and exchanged banter with her little waitress, Tisila, she was well and properly smitten.

“I can’t let you have all the fun,” she told Boba on the walk back up to the palace that evening.

@daimyosprincess

…

@acatalystrising

@dukeoftheblackstar THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, COMRADE

@baufraus

@wings-and-beskar

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

I’ve been UTTERLY EXHAUSTED lately because I started a new job and it’s a rodeo of nightmares. I’m getting my fic writing muscles warmed back up for @meshlaxbunny’s Fate’s Epitaph series by taking a short jog around the track with a sequel to what was supposed to be a one-shot.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

The Daimyo maintained a respectful distance, but Fennec flirted mercilessly. A few weeks in to her new position as an administrative assistant at the palace and she was already fighting the urge to crawl to Fennec on her hands and knees and beg for whatever crumbs of affection Fennec had to offer. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.

One evening after a particularly long day of navigating bureaucratic foolishness and very real threats of violence, Fennec pulled her favorite administrative assistant into her lap.

“Take a sip of this. I promise you’ll like it.”

Fennec wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck as she took a sip of a bubbly drink from a long fluted glass.

“You like it?”

She nodded.

Fennec reached between her legs and cupped gently with one hand while her other found its way under her shirt to knead her breast and pinch her nipple. The smoothness of these motions simultaneously made her gasp.

“I told you you’d like it.”

For her the night started in Fennec’s lap and ended on her knees in Fennec’s bed with Fennec’s fingers making soft squishing noises as they thrust into her and worked her clit. By the time she fell asleep with her limbs and Fennec’s tangled together, the taste of Fennec’s own pussy on her mouth had not yet faded.

In the morning Fennec kissed her forehead and drew circles on her back with her fingertips.

“So only the Daimyo keeps his hands to himself?” she asked, jokingly.

“The Daimyo doesn’t want to scare you off. Good help is hard to find,” replied Fennec.

“And what if you scare me off?”

“You didn’t seem scared last night.”

…

He wasn’t jealous of Fennec. If he wanted an attractive bed warmer, he could go out and find one quite easily. But loyal palace staff, that was harder to come by. Best not to spook her by inviting her into his chambers. She did not take kindly at all to the majordomo’s unwanted advances and in any case, Boba was not inclined to coerce a woman.

Seeing Fennec furtively grab a handful of her ass as they went over shipment details on a data pad together did raise his eyebrows. Not just his eyebrows.

She didn’t spend every waking minute with Fennec. They weren’t exclusive, as far as Boba observed. She seemed as independent as ever, only now with the glowing confidence of someone who is getting laid regularly and enthusiastically.

“Come here,” he said flatly to her from the throne one afternoon when he was feeling especially deprived of the feel of a pliant, appreciative lover in his hands and on his bare skin.”

She approached him respectfully, but without the reticence and wariness of her early days at the palace.

“What can I do for you, Lord Fett?”

He removed his helmet and allowed his eyes to soften.

“Would Fennec mind if you came to bed with me, little one?”

“Not at all,” she replied brightly.

“And would you mind?”

She put down her data pad and climbed the throne to straddle him. Their foreheads nearly touched.

“Of course not.”

…

Her mouth felt like warm rain against his skin. There was comfort in her touch and it surprised him. An oasis, he thought, as he pressed the tip of his cock into her. She gripped his forearms and he studied her face carefully. Boba kept his desperation in check for as long as he could, but once he was inside her he fell apart, kissing her desperately and gripping her jaw with one hand while with the other he dug his fingers into her thigh.

She laid with her head on his chest and his heartbeat lulled her to sleep. The weight and warmth of her was enough to make him wonder if he’d even be able to share her with Fennec.

…

Maybe there will be a third part, but maybe not. This was a good little exercise either way.

@daimyosprincess

@acatalystrising

@dukeoftheblackstar

@wings-and-beskar

@baufraus

@marierg

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

HAPPY PRIDE Y’ALL

ALT

ALT

ALT

are you guys realizing yet that my interpretation of the star wars universe is just “gay men and lesbians being best friends, but also hating each other” (twitter) [ID in Alt Text]

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS.

MANY OF THEM GAY.

In my heart, ⚡️GAY ICON⚡️ Fennec Shand has a crush on the reader even if that’s not where the story goes. Also, soft!Boba is everything.

— WASTELAND, BABY

v. you are unbreaking, though quaking

[masterlist] | [part iv]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 4.2k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, mentions of violence & wounds, guns & weapon training, flirting during said training, mild body horror (descriptions of Fennec’s injury and modifications)

The meeting of a new friend, a very interesting lesson, and an afternoon spent lending a hand.

It's not long before you're taking Boba up on his offer.

A chance meeting in the marketplace - a dip of your head from across an aisle as you pass by. He's deep in conversation with a shop owner, a glint from the sun catching on the dark visor as his head tilts in your direction.

All it takes is two beckoning fingers for you to abandon your plans, veering off the path to wait quizzically next to him. Wondering if he had some task for you, something you needed to run to the Mandalorian, or Fennec.

"I was going to see her." He tells you, cryptically - as the conversation quickly wraps up, "I was hoping to run into you. Would you like to come?"

Your brain trips helplessly over his words - a little jolt as you remember, “Oh! Yes, please.”

With a nod, you're following after him. Back through the streets, though you circle around the tall set of stairs to an entrance in the back.

Entering the Palace at the ground level - winding your way inside an refurbished underground parking garage, until you're arriving at a set of metal double-doors, tightly bolted shut.

Boba pauses then, as you hover at his shoulder.

Removing his helmet to clip it to his belt, his gaze shifting your way. Thinking for a moment, before he retrieves a bundle of cloth from the bag that hangs from a shoulder - passing it to you.

You frown, as it unfolds. A soft and worn black shirt - long sleeves and fraying at the edges.

"Put this on. I thought perhaps, if your smell was familiar, she might be more comfortable." He explains.

Understanding dawns, and you resist the urge to bring the shirt - his shirt - to your nose and inhale.

"Of course." You murmur - slipping it over your head, pushing the sleeves up your arms.

"You ready?" He asks, and you just miss the slow sweep of his eyes as you tuck the edge of the shirt into the waistband of your trousers.

The nerves are still rattling around in your chest, but you nod, "Yes."

He unlocks the doors with a key from one of his pouches, a press of a bare thumb to the pad bolted on the wall. The doors are thick - grinding and loud as they open inwards, gradually letting in light.

Walking in confidently, as you trail just behind. Shoulders hunched, your heartbeat skyrocketing as you see the swish of something large and shadowed. A skittering of stones and sand shifting with the weight of a heavy foot.

One step, and then another. The arc of light from the opened door spilling out, slowly revealing the creature as she moves closer. A rumble of a deep growl that has your chest pressing into his arm, the sound of a nose snuffling.

The growl pitches up, and then it's moving. Covering the ground faster than you thought possible, as your fingers dig into the canvas covering his bicep.

Your breath catches in your throat as it lopes forward on four legs. Thrusting itself into that light - and all you can see is the snarl of sharp teeth, curling horns, it's gray, leathery skin.

You can't help it - your head presses into his shoulder as your eyes shut. Reading about them wasn't the same as seeing. Even though time has passed in the now, there were just some things your mind hasn't managed to wrap around.

Like 9-foot tall beasts that could almost swallow you whole.

Hot breath washes over you, an inhale as she sniffs both you and Boba. He coos at her, his body shifting as his other arm raises, stroking the bridge of her nose.

Your eyes peek open, then. Seeing the way her eyes shut, the low rumble as she pushes into his touch. They way he smiles like a proud father has your grip loosing, and then he's curling an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Muchi, I've brought a friend today." His voice is low and soothing, "She wanted to meet you."

His head tilts towards you, taking on a quieter tone, "Are you doing alright?"

Heat rises in your neck, curling up to your cheeks as you squeak, "Just fine."

He laughs, that grip around you tightening. The touch on her nose changes to a scratching at her jaw, as she rumbles again.

"You’re a good girl. Aren't you?"

You never thought you'd be jealous of a deathclaw, but his praise does something to you. Suddenly aware of how he's holding you, how your hand splays across the armor covering his chest.

It takes all your strength to drag your eyes away from him. Up to her, to actually take her in under the flickering bulb above.

She's fascinating, something like awe settling over you now - like the time you had seen the life-like model of a tyrannosaurus rex at the museum. Marveling over her size, even as she crouches to lower her head to his level.

A shift of her feet brings you down to her claws - each one long, deadly sharp.

Still an apex predator, even here.

"Would you like to touch her?" He asks, and your eyes are widening.

"Do you think she will let me?"

"She will." His head cocks to the side, "Do you trust me?"

You do. You nod.

Boba's hand takes yours, mapping your fingers. Carefully and slowly bring it up to her muzzle, patting your fingers against her cheek - just under a bright, golden eye.

Muchi makes another noise at that. It sounds almost happy, and you find yourself smiling. Fingers gently petting the rough skin, her eyes shutting in what you think is contentedness.

Your opinion of her swift rises.

"She's beautiful." You breathe, your smile widening, "Is she... is she happy, here?"

The room extends into darkness. Transformed from a storage space for machinery into something akin to outside. Large boulders, a scattering of small shrubs.

When you look at him, he's always watching you. A flicker of his expression as he masks the hint of tenderness, but it still lingers with his smile.

"She is. They prefer darkness and quiet for their nests." He explains, "Sometimes at night I take her out to roam. She takes direction well enough."

The arm stays carefully wrapped around you. Keeping you close, selfishly, protectively. Only stepping away from when she becomes restless, a swishing of her tail as she noses at his bag - smelling the food tucked inside.

Chasing after the pieces he throws, as his rumbling laugh brightens the space.

Yours, soon joining.

Time ticks away - and when you finally leave, you don't think to offer to give his shirt back.

And he doesn't ask, either.

Your days in Mos Espa continue to pass - each one bleeding into the next. You have been feeling a little more grounded each day, getting used to the routines.

More familiar faces, acquaintances that inch into something more.

You learn the Mandalorian's name. Din. It's gifted to you close to two months after that first walk around the city. Fennec's odd jobs often included ones for him - collecting and pieces that he could use on his own Power Armor set. Trading for fusion cores to power it.

Part of you wondered whether he just grew tired of you calling him Mando all the time, thought he was called that often enough. But eventually, you decided that maybe - just maybe, you were friends.

Perhaps because you bring him snacks, or because you ask him about his foundling. He's opened up a little, since the beginning - sentences growing longer. You can recognize the tilt of his helmet to mean one thing, now. The cock of his hip as he leans, as another.

You pick up things about Fennec, as well.

Right now, you're tying not to look at her hands too often, where they drift to press against her abdomen. The way she seems distracted, her answers coming a little more slowly.

Lingering, after you had dropped off what she had asked for - a small crate of copper, from Goodneighbor - to repair the generators that went down during the last big storm. The first of the shipments exchanged with the new supply line, their courier meeting you just outside Mos Espa.

It had been strange to step outside, through the line of barbed wire and tall, stone walls. Not that you couldn't see it from the windows of the Palace, but just the vastness sprawling in front of you - a reminder that you don't know what the world looks like, anymore.

Eventually, you can't help but ask.

"Are you alright?"

Her face is a swirl of emotions - the briefest flicker of appreciation. Quickly covered with annoyance, not wanting to be fussed over.

Not her style.

"I will be, later." She brushes the question off, but it's half-hearted. A glance outside, checking the angle of the sun for time, as she hands you a stained slip of paper, "I have one last thing. Can you give this to Din? He has something for me, and you're supposed to start training with him."

"Training?" You frown.

"Yes, training." Her smile is small, the slightest curve of your lips, "We all know you don't know how to use that."

The toe of her boot extends, to the holster around your waist. Where the gun from the farmhouse remains, never removed.

You don't even know if it's loaded - you just know that the safety is on, and it's stayed that way. More to blend in, than anything else.

"I think I've been managing okay," You hedge, resisting the urge to fidget with the brass buckle at your waist.

"Mm, well this comes from the boss," Her grin turns sharp, "So you'll have to take it up with him."

Your stomach flips at the reference. It had been hard not to think about him - the night he came to your room. His questions, something about them feeling more pointed than just merely "checking in".

Daydreaming about that stolen moment of time, tucked against him when you had met Muchi. Your brain twisting the moment late at night - making you unsure whether that touch - his shirt - had just been his attempt at comfort and safety, or whether it had something more.

The occasional run-ins after had left you feeling the same. Leaving you wondering if his gaze really did seem more intense, lately. If he had been closing the polite gap that most people held, standing a little closer than you remember he did before.

Each time, you decide that it's just your imagination.

Wishful thinking.

Fennec mistakes your silence for sullenness, her tone softening.

"I think it would be good for you. To know you can defend yourself, if you ever need to."

She's right - you still have dreams about the farmhouse. Waking up with a gasp, brow dotted with sweat. So different than the old dreams - those slow loops you had been stuck in, day after day.

Year after year, more like.

So, you find yourself agreeing - trotting off to the edge of town. Where the group of houses break apart and then fade, where the cobblestone turns to dirt roads. Off to find Din, or so you've been told.

You find him, the sun glinting off the shining silver of his armor. A row of crates lines up to make a barrier, a handful of younglings in the mid to late teens taking turns at the makeshift range, under closer supervision.

A wash of emotions come over you - a sadness that those at such a young an age are learning this. Unable to help the small smile at the way they turn their heads for approval as they hit a target - looking for Din. His soft "good job, kid" that leaves them beaming.

A curl of embarrassment - at having to practice with them, worrying you'll make a fool of yourself.

He sees you coming, a tilt to his head and his hip as he keeps watch. Taking the paper, reading it quickly before tucking it into his bags.

"Was wondering when you'd be sent my way." Din greets you, helmet tilting down as his gloves ghost over the guns resting on the makeshift table. Halting on a long rifle, before passing it over to you.

It's heavy and solid in your arms, as he walks you to the end. Fishing a few bullets out the pouches at his waist, carefully conserved. Scarce in the Wasteland - a reminder to take this seriously.

"This is uh-, a lot bigger than I was expecting," You trail behind him, as he guides you down to the end of the range.

Showing you the basics - where the safety is, how to hold it in your arms, nudging your feet into position.

Your first shot going so far wide that it disappears into the Wasteland. Fingers fumbling as you copy how he ejected the old casing, replacing it with a new one.

Wanting desperately to do well, but it’s hard with him standing at your shoulder. Silent as a statute, but it doesn’t make you feel any less pathetic.

The next round goes just as poorly.

“I’m making you nervous.” He observes, stepping back. Placing a few more bullets on the barrier, “Take some time, get comfortable with the weight, and try again.”

You can breathe again, when he leaves. Hoisting it back into place, peering down the sights.

Barely grazing the upper right corner of the target, but at least you’re hitting something now.

When you look up again, there’s no glint of silver. Replaced with a swatch of green instead, your eyes drawn so easily to it as Boba moves down the line, as Din had.

The younglings settle, with their new teacher. The idle teasing and chatter disappearing as they begin to concentrate.

Rewarded with solemn nods of his head, that they eagerly soak up. Advice taken with wide eyes, their attention transfixed as he crouches - pointing down at the targets.

A clap on the shoulder as their stance is adjusted, something murmured that makes them beam.

When he finally reaches you, you’re realizing you’re been staring this whole time - the rifle dipping down towards the ground, brushing against the grass.

There’s the quirk of his lips as his eyes meet yours, as you smile at him in greeting. But then he’s gesturing with two fingers that point towards you, then flick towards the target.

“Show me.”

Your smile fades, already anticipating missing. Taking your time to line everything up like you did the last time.

The careful pull of a finger, followed by the loud bang - a wince as the stock kicks back against your shoulder.

A mark appears, a clean hole showing just outside the largest red ring.

Your grin appearing again, as his head tilts.

“Not bad,” He says, as he steps closer, “A lucky shot, but you made it.”

Your eyebrows raise, “Lucky?”

“I could see you flinch from here,” His arms cross, as he leans on the barrier. “You closed your eyes, anticipating the recoil.”

You hadn’t even realized you had. Firing was part you disliked the most - the rumble in your hands, the thud of pressure against your shoulder.

“And you’re twisting too much. Here.”

His hands are at your elbows, as he steps behind you. Tucking them closer to you, then gently adjusting your fingers.

So close that it’s hard to concentrate fully, your attention split as his armor presses against your back. Wanting him to stay like that - mourning when he takes a step back to give you room.

“Again.”

You fire. This time it’s lower, closer. The impact not as harsh - and he’s there again, stepping into your space as you both look down to see you’ve hit the third ring from the center.

“I hit it!” You exclaim - missing his smile, as you point excitedly.

“You did.” He nods with approval, “Good girl.”

And god, it’s so different when it’s directed at you.

Before, it had felt like a little jolt to your brain, as silly as that was. Now, goosebumps threaten to prickle down your arms, in spite of the heat. A little hitch of your breath as your heart pounds.

There’s a tug, as he takes the rifle from you. A ghost of his fingers against your hip, the thigh. The sound of a button snapping as he works your pistol from holster, pressing it into your hands, instead.

“Now, this one.”

You look down at it as the flutters in your belly start to wane - your companion from the beginning. One that you know nothing about.

“This one?” You echo.

It’s so much lighter. Stocky, a short barrel and a thick handle - heavy in your hand.

“This is what you’re carrying. You should learn to know it.” He advises, as you look down.

“I don’t even know if it works.” You admit, “I just took it, like you told me to.”

Before you can blink he’s plucking it from your open palm. A quick inspection before his arm extends - the briefest moment before he’s putting a hole through the dead center.

It sends a different kind of thrill through you. Something breathless as you remember just how skilled he is, how this is nothing.

Your eyes are wide as he presses it back into your hands. Fingers lingering, his chest so close to yours as he leans - as all you’re able to do is blink dumbly up at him.

Din appears at his shoulder then, and your eyes drop - stepping back, as you nudge the safety on. Cheeks warming at getting caught, though you remind yourself that there was nothing to catch - he was just helping you.

He passes a small, golden cylinder to Boba, "Just came in, had to go pick it up. Thank you for keeping an eye on things."

"Think nothing of it," The cell is turned around in his hands, checking either side for wear or damage, "She's not happy, we've cut it too close."

There's a sigh, Din folding his arms as you reholster your pistol.

His voice low, not wanting to be overheard, "My contact said there's some Gunners making trouble. Out towards that settlement to the east. They didn't want to move the product until I sent an armed escort.”

A look passes between them, before Boba turns his attention to you, "Do me a favor, adi’ka. Take this to Fennec, she’s in her quarters."

You take the cell from him automatically, a quick look thrown his way for confirmation. Never once have you been in Fennec’s room - she was too private of a person.

But he’s already turned back to Din, and by now you’re used to such a dismissal. Not taking offense - actually appreciating the interruption because it meant that you could breath again.

Trying not to think too much about how his arms fit around you - the “good girl” he had murmured. Curling sweetly on his tongue and making something in your lower belly ache.

The door is shut when you arrive, as you knock on the wooden door. Her room was on the second floor, down the wing from where you’ve heard Boba’s is.

Trying not to think about that, as well - as you wait for her answer. Her voice sounding weaker than usual, as you enter - having to use your shoulder to nudge the heavy door open.

“Was hoping he’d send you,” Fennec grimaces, half-slumped on a couch, tucked off to the side.

The small gun in her hand clattering to the table as you cross the room quickly, lowering to your knees in front of her.

“Stars, are you okay?” The worry is back in full force, catching the sweat on her brow, her pinched expression.

“Yes,” She huffs, her grin grim, “Well, fine enough.”

Growing serious for a moment, “I need you to help me with something, bluebird.”

“Anything.”

There’s a twitch to her lips, at how quickly and genuinely you answer, “Usually Boba does this. But I think you’ll be better suited.”

Her eyes drop to your hands, where they press into the worn fabric of the couch.

Another long moment, and for some reason - you think she might be nervous. Which is laughable, considering everything you know about the assassin.

Never seeming afraid or ruffled by anything.

It makes you want to comfort her. Your voice going low and soothing, like it had years ago - helping your family with their scrapes and bruises, “What can I do?”

“Easier to show you, I think.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, before she pushes herself up to a seated position. Fingers hovering at the dark, thick band at her waist - before she’s tugging it back.

You’re unable to help the small gasp.

Where soft skin should be, there’s a cavern. Filled with bundles of wires and tubes, metal replacing flesh.

“Who did this to you?” You breathe, looking up at her.

Where’s she’s watching, the apprehension more evident. But at your question it eases - a small, rueful smile replacing it.

“Boba did.”

Your heart plummets, fingers curling into fists.

“Easy, bluebird.” She soothes - though you still can’t draw your eyes away, “He saved me.”

That catches your attention, gaze finally lifting to yours.

“I was shot and left to die.” Fennec tells you - her words automatic, practiced. Softening, just a bit, “Boba found me in the Wastelands, and fixed me. Some things had to be replaced, but it was a while ago.”

A pause, as she reiterates, “I’m fine.”

You settle then, the fear and distress easing. Risking another quick glance down, and then away - not wanting to stare.

Realizing your tight grip on the fusion cell, holding it out to her.

“Does this… go in there?” You ask meekly, not sure how else to word it.

She laughs at that - a sigh, as if she’s been holding her breath, “Smart girl.”

Taking it from you, angling some wires out of the way - to where to can see another cell fitted against the metal side.

“The one I have is low. Almost out. It powers a lot of the pieces in here. If it runs out, it will be very painful.” She lets the words hang.

You’re sure it would be more than that. She’s been moving slowly all day, the discomfort evident in her typically-easy tone. One last question works it’s way into your mind.

“Will it hurt you?”

Her jaw grits, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You shift on your knees, focusing on the fitted cell - holding out your hand for the new one.

It’s cool in your grip. You can do this - you’ve gotten good at tinkering since you’ve woken up. Just don’t think about this cell powering the stomach of your boss and friend.

A moment, as you take a breath.

“You can do this.” She tells you.

You nod, “You can, too.”

Trying not to think too deeply about it - about fucking it up - as you reach in. Fingers brushing the curved edge of the cell before they wrap around, gently tugging.

There's sharp hiss of breath through clenched teeth, her body tensing as you tug it free. As the small green bulb attached to the casing dims down to nothing.

Quickly and carefully, you fit the new piece in, nudging it until it clicks back into place.

Both of you taking a breath then, relieved. The cover fitting back into place, as you move to sit on the other edge of the couch instead.

"Fuck, that’s better." She sighs, rubbing at her abdomen. Some of the color coming back into her cheeks, her expression less pained.

But there's something that settles in your heart after - a small ache.

"Fennec." You ask, as her head turns your way, "Were you worried to tell me? About your-"

You search for the words, "…cybernetics?"

She sighs then, easing back against the couch a little more, "Yes, and no. It's not easy, being part synth. There's a lot of distrust in the world, now. Especially if you are... different."

You nod slowly, an edge to your words, "Unfortunately, that sort of thinking isn’t new."

"Then I'm sure you can understand where I was coming from." Fennec answers grimly.

Another silence settling for a moment. Giving you a moment to take in her room - the table just off to the side. The wide bed, set in the middle of the connection room.

Bits of her collections scattered throughout the rooms, her rifle sitting on a long worktable next to the tall windows.

You've come a long way, since you first arrived.

"Well, anytime you need help - you're welcome to my nimble fingers," You smile, holding them up, wiggling them towards her.

She scoffs, hiding the bit of smile. Pushing up then, as you follow. Taking her lead, knowing that if you were in her place, you'd want to rest.

Her voice, halting your steps in the doorway.

"Glad you stuck around, kid."

It's kind, genuine. The unspoken understood - and not just for this. A small offering, something that is not extended often.

The gesture tugs at you.

Making you think about your time here. About Din - his gruff kindness - slowly coaxed out his shell.

The way Boba had looked at you, those weeks before - eyes intense, as if trying to read your mind. The almost vulnerable way he had asked if you were going to leave.

How you hadn't wanted to. Not at all.

You smile.

"I am, too."

ahh more 👀 feelings 👀 this week (with more to come!) thank you for reading 💚 part v will be out thursday, the 6th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @ri-a-rose, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ray-rook, @dumfanting, @bedky, @thirsty-boba-fett-posts, @dukeoftheblackstar)

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

This is Fennec’s whole vibe.

inspired by these iconic lesbian posts (x x x) ✰ Reminder that TERFs can fuck off, and if you reblog this you love trans & nb women ❤️