#i’ve been thirsty for Boba for years....

[clonewarslover55]

You say you like Boba?? Any chance for some Boba Fett SFW/NSFW HCs for a relationship with him??

Yes!!!! I love Boba!!!! I made this super long because I love Boba Fett too much lol. I also based this mostly off of legends Boba, because legends Boba is the best lol.

Note: Boba Fett is a true Mandalorian, just like his father Jango Fett. 

Boba Fett relationship headcanons SFW and NSFW

SFW 

Boba Fett is the galaxy’s most famous bounty hunter, so he is a very busy man 

He lives on Slave I so if you ever want to see him often you’d have to move in with him 

If you don’t join him on his ship then you’ll see him whenever he gets a chance to stop by 

He’ll stop by at like your job or something, making sure to cause a scene because he’s dramatic 

If you stay with him on Slave I you quickly learn that he owns like three t-shirts 

Boba has no outfits at all, when he’s not in his armor he’s in a t-shirt and cargo pants

He only owns one pair of boots that are older than he is 

If you even think of buying him clothes he won’t wear them 

Boba is extremely stubborn, and you learn that early on 

For example, Slave I is old as shit and is falling apart slowly. He fixes the ship by himself, he will not pay to get it fixed

Fixing Slave I while shirtless just to show off is Boba’s favorite pastime

He’s a big show off and will not admit it 

Boba has a lot of money from his job, but he never really spends it. 

He is also a very blunt man, he speaks his mind openly and doesn’t take any shit

This makes him sassy as hell sometimes

He plans ahead constantly, he always has a plan for everything 

Boba even plans out what is going to happen with you both in the future

He just believes you’ll get tired of him and leave one day, which secretly worries him 

He’s use to being lonely and miserable, so he never really tries to stop you if you ever want to leave 

Being a blunt man, he isn’t very romantic.

He isn’t big into giving or receiving gifts. Sometimes he’ll bring you back little trinkets from his job 

“This reminded me of you.” He mumbles out as he throws a pretty necklace that he stole at you 

 Speaking of mumbling?? Boba doesn’t like to raise his voice and he mumbles often 

Boba doesn’t talk that much. Once you get to know him better you’ll learn that his body language is very readable. 

Boba is terrible at showing any emotion besides anger and irritation, so you’ll have to work hard to get him to laugh 

He is a very angry man, you can see it in his dark irises

Boba doesn’t like to talk about his emotions, instead he bottles them up 

He hardly talks about his father, but if you ask he’d love to tell you stories 

He obviously misses his father, and thinking of his death angers him greatly

Being such a detached man means that you’ll have to work hard for your relationship to work out 

Boba is a workaholic, so expect him to always be working 

Slave I often as has bounties in the cargo hold, just ignore them and you’ll be fine 

Sleep? Boba has never heard of her. He hardly ever sleeps, and when he does he doesn’t sleep well

He has nightmares often, mostly about losing his father and his hard life as a teen 

Please cuddle this broken boy when he has nightmares 

You swear you’ve never seen this man eat anything but protein sticks/ration sticks 

They taste like paper but carry all the proper nutrients so he doesn’t care

If you bring him sweets though he’ll act like he won’t eat them. Then eat them all in the middle of the night

He is a very very attractive man, but he doesn’t see it 

All he sees in the mirror is his father, he hates his reflection

The clones? Boba doesn’t like them either. He doesn’t see them as brothers 

Especially the clones trained by his father and the Cuy’val Dar

Boba Fett is a very miserable man, but you make him happier 

Does he show it? Not really.

Boba is a hardass and doesn’t have the time to give any fucks 

He does not care about anyone's opinion, sometimes he cares about yours though

Boba doesn’t know how to really show his love for you, so he shows it by being super protective 

Possessive as hell. Boba get’s jealous super easily but won’t show it in any way but anger 

He will kill a person that looks at you wrong. You’ve seen him kill a man in a bar with his bare hands over you before

He’s crazy but it’s pretty hot

He sometimes does trophy hunts and will bring you back a fur blanket or something. He thinks it’s sweet 

Those braids on his shoulders? Wookie scalps. He’ll happily tell you about it 

Boba had a wife and daughter when he around eighteen(18) but he had to leave them because his dangerous job made them targets of other bounty hunters 

He doesn’t like to talk about them. At all. He’ll tell you he fucked up badly with them and that’s it

If you ever get pregnant with his child expect him to freak out badly 

His dangerous job will make you a target as well, so be prepared for Boba to have a tracking device on you that you don’t know about 

He has a reason to be so protective of you, he has many enemies 

Boba gets injured a lot and knows how to fix himself up. It’s terrifying how he doesn’t really show pain

He’s obviously had a very difficult life, and it makes you sad. 

Once he escapes from the Sarlacc and heals he is covered in acid burn scars, and one of his legs is pretty fucked up. 

The leg will give him problems throughout his life, and that’s all he really complains about 

You’ll have to say “I love you” first. Boba will either be like, “Ha ha cool.” Then disappear for a month or he’ll be like, “I think I love you too.” Then disappear for a month 

Boba knows that everyone he has ever loved has either died or ended up in danger 

So falling in love with you scares him pretty bad. You’ll have to talk some sense into him 

Once he calms down and learns that feelings are a good thing he’ll be a little nicer to you 

He’ll still be an asshole but he’s an asshole that loves you 

Boba Fett would die for you, that’s how he shows his love 

He isn’t the perfect boyfriend but he tries 

NSFW

Your relationship starts out as only sexual btw

Because Boba is scared of falling in love with you 

Boba has a lot of experience and it shows 

He’ll find out what makes you tick and he won’t ever forget 

His self control is terrifying, so you’ll have to work hard to make him snap 

Since his self control is so good he draws out orgasm after orgasm from you 

Like I said before, Boba does not give a fuck. So he’ll fuck you anytime, anywhere 

Boba has fucked you in front of his bounties before 

He is also extremely possessive, so he covers you in marks to prove that only he can fuck you 

When his jealousy gets the best of him he basically turns into an animal and fucks away his frustrations

He absolutely loves having sex in his armor while you’re completly naked 

Boba loves some good ol’ rough sex, but sometimes he’ll be gentle and slow 

Sometimes he’ll fuck you painfully slow, mainly as a punishment 

He loves punishing you, sometimes he’ll leave your ass bruised for days 

Orgasm denial is his favorite punishment, that or overstimulation 

Boba is surprisingly kinky and will openly tell you about his kinks

He does have a breeding kink, but he tries to control it. He doesn’t want another kid 

Boba is on male birth control but he is still cautious 

He’ll really do anything, so tell him your darkest desires and he may make them come true 

He isn’t really into being submissive but there are some rare nights 

Pegging? Absolutely. He’ll whine and beg like a whore 

After you peg him once he’ll ask you to do it a lot more often 

He’s pretty big into anal in general, so prepare for that 

Boba is into choking as well, if you try to choke him then it’s game on 

Sometimes he can be pretty rough, but he makes up for it in aftercare 

He’s a sweetheart if you two have time for aftercare 

He’ll clean both of you up with a warm rag then cuddle you, while whispering sweet nothings into your ear

Boba’s weakness is his neck, if you kiss him there he melts 

Please mark this dirty man up, he loves it 

He loves oral sex! Giving or receiving! 

His mouth is magical and he knows it 

Boba is a quiet man so he isn’t really into dirty talk, but he will mumble out some hot words here and there

His voice is gruff as hell, so the few words he does say makes you melt 

He’s a little shit, so he teases the fuck out of you 24/7

Please fall asleep on his chest after sex and just cuddle him, he’ll sleep like a baby 

[presidentrhodes]

44. Din + Omera 🥺

44. “You’ve always felt like home.” (Angst/Fluff prompt list) 

After Grogu left with the Jedi, Din hit the road — a quick trip to Nevarro and a discreet under-the-table handshake with Greef Karga earned Din, his first bounty puck in more than a year. Tucking it in his belt, next to the gear knob that felt heavier day by day, Din wandered around the spaceport outside the city.

He needed a ship.

After a bit of haggling and veiled threats, he landed a bargain on another pre-Empire gunship, in a considerably better shape than the Razor Crest — with four laser cannons instead of two but lacked a carbonite freezing chamber. Still, it didn't feel like home. The cold, unmoving durasteel interior lacked the warmth and familiarity Din had grown used to onboard the Razor Crest.

With the ship in hyperdrive, en route to Ryloth, Din spent time in the cargo hold arranging his newly acquired arsenal into the weapons locker. Home. He thought about that word lately, what it meant, what it should have meant if he had been born at a more peaceful time before the Galaxy imploded. The Razor Crest used to be home, the same way Grogu was once his home, the Tribe and his Creed, the little settlement on Aq Vetina, — all of them were gone, reduced to mere fragments of memory.

Din sighed.

***

The bounty required minimal effort — a Twi'lek spice runner who had fallen into debt. Din tracked the target through valleys and jungles, apprehending them on the third night. Tired of the Twi'lek's desperate struggles to get free and their insistent pleas for mercy, Din knocked them out cold and hoisted them over his shoulder to make the long, arduous trek back to the ship.

Back on Nevarro, Din tuned out the kicking and screaming as Karga's men dragged the target off his ship. It didn't matter, nothing did anymore — there was only the next job, the next bounty as Din went looking for his next puck.

***

He spent a year going from one bounty to the next, racking up enough credits to upgrade the ship's weapons system, its engines and even install a carbonite freezing chamber to make his job easier.

Nothing he did brought back the warmth and comfort he had gotten used to: The soft coos that used to wake him up, the nasal whines that drew his attention whenever the child was hungry, the chittering giggles that echoed through the cockpit everytime Grogu found the sweets Din kept hidden from sight.

Din studied his next puck and sighed. Tatooine. Karga had been cagey about the details — no chain code, only a fob with a location. He had been weary to take the job; the last time Karga had been that secretive over a bounty, Din had learned the true meaning of loss and heartbreak. He was still reeling from it. But Din needed the credits to pay off the latest upgrades he made to the ship.

***

On Tatooine, he parked at a different hanger on the Mos Eisley spaceport. He didn't have the heart to face Peli — though she had only met Grogu a handful of times, Din knew she had grown to care for him. Learning about the kid's departure would break her heart and the least Din could do to repay her kindness was to spare her from the truth.

He followed the tracking fob into the desert until the spires of a familiar fortress came into view. Din paused. "What the—"

"I was hoping you'd take the bounty," someone said as Din turned while his hand reached for the blaster on instinct.

Upon seeing his unexpected companion, Din let out the breath he had been holding in and sighed. "Fett." Realization dawned on him at Boba's words as Din's expression morphed into a frown. “You're the client? Who the hell is the bounty then?"

"Me." Fett had the audacity to chuckle. Din took a step closer and Boba raised his hands. He was unarmed and out of armour — surely Fennec had to be nearby with the rifle trained on Din. "Easy there. I just want to talk and you haven't been answering lately."

Din dropped his hand to his side. "I've been busy."

"Clearly. Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

***

Though Din had heard rumours on the HoloNet, he didn't believe Boba was crazy enough to take over Tatootine's crime syndicate. Walking though the Hutt Palace, Din said, his voice a little in awe, "I didn't think you had actually done it. I heard whispers but this—this is—" He gestured at the surrounding. "You're a crazy shabuir."

Boba chuckled. "Yeah well, this seemed more reasonable than your quest, burc'ya. Taking back Mandalore? Insanity."

Din waited for the other shoe to drop. He knew Boba was baiting him — wanting to dig out information from Din to piece together whatever else he had gathered in their time apart since they apprehended Moff Gideon. After a brief silence, Boba's patience got the better of him. "Bo-Katan contacted me. A few weeks ago. She must be getting desperate if she is reaching out to me."

"You are a crime lord. You have resources that could be of use in her efforts. She may be arrogant but she's no fool," Din replied. They resumed walking until they arrived at what looked like a private meeting chamber. Boba pointed towards the seats by the fireplace and Din obliged as he sank onto one of them.

"She's not interested in what I have to offer. She called about you."

Din frowned under his helmet. Of course she would — onboard Gideon's cruiser, Bo-Katan had shown a surprising level of tact in the end as she allowed Din to walk back on his promise, and to leave with the Darksaber. "We will see you soon, brother," she had said with the forced pleasantries of someone who knew they had, temporarily, been defeated. Her words were laced with a promise she was keen to make good on but with Din's constant moving around the Outer Rims made her task difficult.

"I'm not interested to rule Mandalore. Yet she refuses to take the Darksaber." Din did little to hide the irritation in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at the man opposite him — had Boba lured him to Tatooine with a bounty on his own head just to force a meeting with Bo-Katan? A meeting that Din had gone out of his way to delay because he had no interest in acquiring the legacy of a dead planet that would never feel like home. And—since when had Boba been doing Bo-Katan's biding?

As if understanding Din's line of thinking, Boba shook his head and offered a quick explanation. "I couldn't care less about what the Princess wants. She can wait. I'm—I'm worried about you. There's been a great deal of murmur about you in the past year. You're working yourself to exhaustion."

"Am not." The denial felt hollow. Din's voice sounded unconvincing and he slid down his seat, hating the sympathetic look in Boba's eyes. If he hadn't met Boba, if he had just gone by the myth surrounding the Empire's most famous bounty hunter, Din would've never believed the man's capacity for kindness, lost among the tides of his bottomless rage. "I don't need your pity, Fett. I'm doing just fine."

"Never said you weren't," came the sharp reply. "But you're a man without purpose. You're lost, you need closure."

Din sighed. In silence, he plotted a way to make a quick exit and return to Mos Eisley. If he hurried back to the ship, he could still make it back to Nevarro, pick up a bounty in a nearby system and settle his debt over the ship. Anything to get out of listening to Boba drone about Din's emotional state of being. As if Boba had any ground to stand on and lecture him about closure.

"Are you done? I have to go. Not all of us have the luxury of running a crime syndicate. Some of us have to work to pay off our debts." Din stood up, prepared to make his exit. Without an armour, he doubted Boba could physically stop him and the palace seemed to lack a heavy security presence.

"I'll pay your bounty," Boba said and his words stopped Din on his tracks. "50,000 credits as agreed. More if you want but in return, I need you to do something for me."

Din was a practical man. He wouldn't let his ego get in the way of his income. Boba continued: "I want you to stop. Take some time off, find some backwater planet to lay low and heal. Because Bo-Katan is assembling Mandalorians in the outer worlds and there will come a time when there will be a challenge for the throne. And not all of them will be as generous with you as you were with that Imp."

"Why do you care so much?" Din couldn't resist asking. "Mandalore is a dead planet, you said so yourself."

"I don't care—" Boba hesitated, a flicker of doubt on his scarred face. "But if Mandalore is to be restored, it is in the Galaxy's best interest that it isn't ruled by another blood-thirsty dinii. Or else the fighting will never stop. It needs to be you who sits on the throne, not Bo-Katan or worse, a Viszla."

***

Din took the credits and left Tatooine by sundown. As his ship flew over Hangar 3-5, Din felt a pang of guilt in his chest. As much as Din wanted to spare Peli the painful truth about Grogu, a selfish part wanted her to know, if only to share the misery of the kid's absence with someone.

He considered returning to Nevarro but it no longer felt like home. The Tribe was gone — dead or scattered throughout the Outer Rim with no foreseeable ways for Din to contact them. Even if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to return. Din didn't know if he wanted to return after breaking the Creed. Arvala-7 came up on his radar until he remembered Kuiil had sacrificed everything to protect Grogu and it made his stomach churn.

After drifting around for days, Din charted a course for Sorgan. He didn't know what to expect there but he hoped there would still be a touch of familiarity that he hadn't felt since Grogu left.

As his ship cruised in hyperdrive towards Sorgan, Din wondered about Grogu — it had been more than a year since the kid left with the Jedi. Din had belatedly found out the it was the same Jedi who blew up the Death Star that hammered the final nail in the Empire's coffin, sending them scuttling back into the dark, lurking in the shadowy Outer Rim like the unseen monsters in children's tales.

Both Cara and Boba had offered to track down the location of the Jedi temple but Din dissuaded them from their efforts. "No, Gro—the kid needs to concentrate on his training. My presence will be a distraction," he had said. Din hadn't trusted himself to not show up at the temple as soon as he had the coordinates in his hands. Being ignorant of its whereabouts was necessary for Grogu's safety, or so he told himself — Din knew he wouldn't survive making the kid choose between him and the Jedi and if he chose the Jedi.

As he drifted off, Din dreamt of Grogu and their time on Sorgan, where for a short few weeks he could pretend he wasn't a bounty hunter who ran off with the bounty — "You and your boy could have a good life. He could be a child for a while. Wouldn't that be nice?" It would.

***

The lack of a spaceport on Sorgan meant Din had to land his ship in a forest clearing and trek his way to the nearest settlement, about an hour by foot. He considered his options as he walked through the cantina, drawing curious stares and excited whispers among the patrons. It wasn't everyday that a Mandalorian walked through the front doors, especially one whose presence had been spotted on the backwater planet several times.

Sitting down at a corner table with a bottle of spotcka, Din hesitated only for a moment before taking off his helmet. That earned him another round of hushed murmurs. Showing his face in public was still a nauseating experience that left Din feeling exposed. But the helmet felt suffocating at that moment, worsened by the blue liquid's allure.

He drank fast and straight from the bottle, reducing its content by half within a few minutes. The bitter, smoky liquid burned at the back of his throat but it did nothing to ease the perpetual constriction in his chest, like something or someone had gotten a good grip on his heart and refused to let go. Din knew who and that battle had been lost more than a year ago on board an Imperial light cruiser. Din learned to get used to that feeling.

"Excuse me," someone said as they approached his table. Their nervous gait made Din look up and the creases between his brows eased. It was Stoke. "Mando? Is that—is that really you?" Good old Stoke and his buddy, Caben, had lured Din with the promise of accommodation and safe passage (for Grogu) to fight off raiders in their fishing village. Stoke appeared to be alone in the cantina.

"What do you want?" Din crossed his arms and frowned, not the least bit interested in carrying on the conversation. Stoke misunderstood as he sat down across him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Vacation."

Din's deadpan tone failed to deter him as Stoke broke into a wide grin. Leaning on the table, he said, "You should come by the village. It's harvest season and they'd be really happy to see you again. You're our hero, Mando—" Din felt like he was anything but that. He wasn't a hero; he was a lesson in abject failure. His actions had exposed the Tribe, it had gotten a good Ugnaught killed, he had created needless obstacles in his people's quest to reclaim Mandalore. Worst of all, he had broken his Creed, both by necessity and choice, and still he had lost the kid. A fitting punishment for his many crimes — to spend his remaining days yearning for the kid, for his Tribe, for a home but all he deserved was the cold, emptiness of his ship. It wasn't a haven, it was a prison, a fitting choice for a wicked man like him.

Stoke's voice cut through Din's thoughts. "Oh come on, Mando, come stay with us for a while," he said, pleading, before showing his hand. "Omera would be thrilled to see you again."

Din's head snapped up. "No," he said and stood up. Tucking the half-finished bottle under his arm, he tossed a few credits on the bar counter and left. He walked fast, determined to put as much distance between him and the cantina — in case Stoke followed him — until the ship came into view.

***

Din finished the bottle by sundown and tossed it inside the cargo hold, hearing the glass shatter. He didn't move from his seat on the edge of the ramp — there was no kid on board so glass fragments were not an immediate concern. He'd clean up later.

A pleasant breeze blew through the forest that made the leaves rustle while the stagnant air was punctured by calls of wild animals prowling in the distance. The planet's humidity left him flushed and sweating under the armour. Before the constant suffocation in his chest worsened, Din stood on shaky legs and went inside to strip out of the beskar and the flight suit. Instead, he put on a pair of brown pants, a beige shirt and a black waistcoat with holsters for his blaster.

The second he left the ship, Din knew it would be a bad idea but his legs carried him on their own accord, the destination imprinted into every cell in his body. He didn't have the right to impose on a quiet, unassuming fishing village any more than he already had — while Stoke had earlier assured him his presence would be welcomed, Din's own conscience was conflicted. Already, the Tribe was gone because of him, Kuiil was gone because of him, how many more people would pay the price for acquainting with him? Like the planet of his people, Din knew he was cursed.

By the time he came out of the forest, the villagers had retreated to their homes for the night. Cartons full of krill lined up along the edge of the lake as Din stumbled his way down the uneven path, twice avoiding tumbling into the water. The booze at least numbed the tightness in his chest and—

"Hold it right there," someone said from the periphery. Din squinted in the darkness, trying to get a look at the unexpected companion. "I mean it. Step away from the harvest and turn around. Slowly. Otherwise I will shoot." Even drunk, Din had no doubt the threat wasn't made in jest. Raising his hands, he turned and found himself looking down the barrel of a familiar blaster — one that he had owned for years, one that he had left behind on Sorgan both as a souvenir and as a source of reassurance. "Take it. Please. You can use it to protect yourself and your daughter," Din had said once.

"Omera," Din slurred.

Omera lowered the blaster and in proximity, Din saw the confusion unfurling across her face. "How do you know my name?" she said, her voice low with suspicion. She raised the blaster back in Din's face and placed a finger on the trigger. "Answer me!"

"It's me," Din said, swallowing back bile. His stomach churned, tying itself into knots and he managed to blurt, "Mando," before emptying the contents of a rationed lunch and spotchka on the dirt path.

The blaster was gone. In its place, a pair of gentle hands held Din's shoulders until he stopped hurling and broke into a coughing fit. The hands guided Din down the uneven path towards one of the houses — inside, everything happened in a blur: Omera sat him down by the fireplace and held a glass of water at his lips. After he drank, she wiped his face with a damp cloth and helped him out of the black waistcoat, setting it and his blaster on a nearby table, within his reach.

"What happened to you?" she said when Din became cognizant of his surroundings, after the booze-addled nausea had passed and he could think straight again. Omera stood in front of Din and as he looked up, he noticed her eyes were as beautiful as the first day he had seen her. She ran her fingers through his hair and took his face between her hands, her forlorn expression gave away her question. "Where's your boy?"

That proved to be the final straw. For more than year, Din had reassured himself that letting Grogu go was the right thing to do. It had been for the kid's safety. The Jedi could protect him better than Din could and every other sacrifice was made to save Grogu. Losing the Tribe had been worth it. Losing Kuiil had been a necessary sacrifice. Losing the Razor Crest was another necessity, breaking his Creed served a higher purpose — at the end of the day, Grogu was still gone. "He's—he's gone," he said in a soft, trembling voice, choking back a sob. "He was all I had left and—and he's gone."

Without a word, Omera pulled him close, allowed Din to bury his face into her tunic and let out sobs that shook his frame. He clung to her, his skin clammy with desperation and her solid presence became an anchor in the swirling tides of emotions that threatened to overwhelm his mind. Din lost track of time. Pulling back, he took sharp breaths that forced air back into his lungs and wiped his eyes. Looking up at her, he blushed and stammered, searching for words to excuse his behaviour. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

Omera pressed a finger to his lips. She cupped his cheeks and smiled. "You don't ever have to apologise for anything, Mando—"

He interrupted. "Please. Call me Din."

Sitting by the fireplace, Din told her everything: His quest to find Grogu a Jedi master, his search for other Mandalorians, the run-ins with remnants of the Empire. When Din paused, Omera leaned forward to brush back his fringes. "So you're the king of Mandalore now?" She studied him and her smile broaded. "It suits you. You have really kind, brown eyes, and after everything you say your people have been through, they could use a leader like you."

Din tucked his head, blushing. It wasn't the first time he heard someone say he was meant to be the Mand'alor, but her voice carried an air of sincerity that chased away the constriction in his chest. His heart thrummed against his ribs but this time, it felt different. Her words freed him in a way Boba's words had caged him into a title he hadn't wanted.

"You really think I could do it? Be honest. Please." He needed to know.

"Do you want to do it? Do you want to be a king?"

Her words gave Din pause. Did he want to rule a society where he had always felt like he was one mistake away from being an outcast? As a foundling, Din had always doubled down in everything he did to prove his worth but his devotion to the Creed was still questioned. Paz had done little to hide his disdain when Din joined the Bounty Hunters Guild. Yet, the more he had heard about Mandalore, its violent but glorious past, Din had come to see the complexity of wielding the Darksaber. Boba had been right — if Mandalore was to thrive again, it needed to be rebuilt on an understanding of unity and loyalty. Not just to the Mand'alor but to each other. Unity between the clans could make their society untouchable once more and if Mandalorians rallied behind Din, then Grogu would be protected no matter where the Jedi had taken him. No Imp would dare touch the kid.

"If you had asked me this a year ago, I'd have said no but now—if it can keep Grogu safe, then I owe it to him to try," Din said, leaning into her touch.

"Then you must do it. Children are the future. But for now, I insist you stay here. At least for the night."

Din looked down at his palms. "I don't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing." Omera leaned closer. Din saw a sliver of doubt cross her face before she pressed her lips against his, a quick peck that ended almost as soon as it began. Din’s chest fluttered as he watched Omera duck her head, biting back a smile that threatened to pour from her lips. "You'll always have a home here," she said and if Din hadn't been sitting so close to her, he wouldn't have heard it.

Din spent more than a year searching for a place to belong again, where he could rebuild his life until Grogu came back — he had to. Not once did it cross his mind that he could one day belong, even for a short while, in a krill farming village tucked behind the forest in a backwater planet in the Outer Rim. Still, a part of him felt as if this was where he was always meant to be. "You've always felt like home, Omera, and I'm sorry it took me so long to find my way back," he said, pulling her onto his lap as she pressed their lips together again.

Din was finally home.

[viastro]

prom dress | kwon soonyoung

ミ★ synopsis: in which your dates ditch you both at prom.

ミ★ genre: high school!au, humor, fluff

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 1,666

ミ★ pairings: made up character x female reader (only for the beginning) hoshi x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! I don’t really like this oneshot uhh I literally pulled it out of my ass and it did not turn out the way I wanted it to. I hope you guys still enjoy it tho!

“Wow, you look amazing.” Gunwoo says as you walk down your stairs. 

“Of course she does! I did her hair and makeup.” Your mom boasts, and you roll your eyes with a smile. You walk over to your date, giving him a hug.

“You look handsome Gunwoo.” You compliment, patting his head and he gives you an embarrassed smile. “Psh, stop.” 

“It’s true!” You laugh, and he laughs along with you. He took the time to find a dress shirt that matches the color of your dress, a royal blue. Your dress is satin, a bit form fitting but it still gives you a bit of wiggle room which is a necessity for a prom dress. 

“Okay! Let me take pictures of you two.” Your mom squeals, turning on her camera.

How you and Gunwoo ended up going to prom together? You can’t give a real good answer to that. You and him aren’t even that close, you’re just lab partners. He asked you to prom because him and his girlfriend broke up right before tickets went on sale, so now here you are.

a pity date.

“Okay mom, I’ll see you later tonight!” You say, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll have her home by 12 auntie.” Gunwoo smiles as he gives your mom a hug.

“Okay! Have fun you two.” You both wave bye and head out the door, walking over to his car.

 “Where are we eating?” You ask as you buckle in your seatbelt. Gunwoo turns on the engine, handing you his phone so that you can aux. “You know that cute little cafe? The one that has all those aesthetic spots where we can take photos?” 

“Yes! I heard they have really good boba.” You squeal, making Gunwoo laugh as he pulls out of your driveway.

“I’m glad to know that you’re excited.” He says as you put on Day6. You glance out the window, looking up at the stars for the rest of the drive there.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“You go sit down, I’ll order for us.” Gunwoo tells you and you nod, going over to sit in one of the booths. You take out your phone as you wait, scrolling through Twitter before Gunwoo sits back down with your boba.

“Yay! Thank you Gunwoo.” He gives you a smile.

“The food will be ready in a few minutes.” You nod your head, and you get your phone ready so that you can take a video of you two shoving the straws into your bobas. You put your straws into the bobas successfully, giggling like little kids afterwards.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You mutter, shaking your head and he laughs a bit more.

“I feel like a middle schooler.” Gunwoo tells you and you accidentally snort up boba at the comment, making him choke mid-sip. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” He asks while laughing and you laugh as tears fill your eyes from the milk tea up your fucking nose.

“I’m okay.” You respond, blowing your nose to get all the tea out of your nose. Gunwoo’s face is red from laughing so hard, as is yours.

“Holy shit.” Gunwoo whispers and you look up at him after having calmed down. You raise an eyebrow and look in the direction as to where he’s staring, only to see his ex-girlfriend, Youngmi with her prom date. Your eyes widen at the sight of her date.

It’s Kwon Soonyoung, the guy you've lowkey been eyeing since the beginning of the school year. Soonyoung is incredibly handsome but at the same time very cute? It’s hard to explain, but just know his duality is insane. He has squishy cheeks, and looks very boy-ish when he smiles. When he’s not smiling however…. Good lord.

“We can go if you want?” You ask Gunwoo, turning around to check back on him. He shakes his head, giving you a small smile instead.

“It’s okay, we can leave after we eat and take a few insta pics.” He responds, and you nod your head. You move your curled hair to your right shoulder, holding out your phone to take a selfie with Gunwoo. 

“Say… boing boing!” Gunwoo rolls his eyes playfully at your request, but mutters a quiet boing boing anyways. You take a couple shots, checking them over once you pull away. You notice that Gunwoo is looking in the direction of Youngmi in a few of the photos, and you let out a small sigh.

“Here’s your food.” The waiter interrupts, placing your plates down in front of you and Gunwoo. You practically inhale the ramen, making Gunwoo chuckle at you.

He’s not the only one who chuckles at the action, as you turn your head and notice that Soonyoung is smiling at you from the booth on the other side of the cafe. You feel your face warm, turning away immediately to prevent yourself from choking at the fact that you caught him staring at you. 

“So cute.” Soonyoung whispers to himself as he watches your cheeks turn red. “What was that?” Youngmi asks as she takes a bite of her brisket. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Soonyoung responds, and Youngmi nods slowly, continuing to eat as her attention drifts off to you and Gunwoo.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“Can we go get some water? Dancing made me thirsty.” You tell Gunwoo as he takes your hand and leads you out of the literal mosh pit. 

“Honestly, I’m literally about to sweat buckets right now so let’s sit down.” Gunwoo says, and you sit down at a table. 

“I’ll go and buy us some water, I’ll be back yn.” You nod your head gratefully as he walks off to buy some water across the dance floor. You take a look around the prom venue, noticing the couples grinding on each other and a girl literally oh my god she fell.

You notice a water bottle get placed onto your table, and you turn your head to see oh christ almighty.

Soonyoung is standing before you in all his glory. He’s giving you a small smile, a few drops of sweat dripping down his neck from dancing. “Can I sit here?” He asks and you nod your head slowly, realizing that you were literally gaping at him. 

“I don’t know if you noticed, but our dates ditched us.” You raise an eyebrow at Soonyoung’s words, immediately turning to see Gunwoo speaking to his ex-girlfriend Youngmi. They’re smiling at each other, and she reaches out and holds his hand. She gestures to the dance floor and he nods his head, before his eyes widen and he turns to look for you.

He gives you a look that basically means, is it okay if I go? To which you nod your head, giving him a thumbs up. He gives you a grateful smile, letting Youngmi take him onto the dance floor. You let out a small sigh, leaning back into the chair and glancing over at Soonyoung.

“We just got ditched.” Soonyoung says, and you nod your head, letting out a laugh. 

“I wouldn’t usually expect someone who just got ditched at prom to laugh.” Soonyoung tells you and you push your hair back with your hand.

“I mean honestly, I never thought I’d get ditched at prom. Or like, be sitting here with you while our dates go and dance together.” You answer honestly, and his eyes widen a bit in surprise. 

“Is sitting here with me a bad thing?” Soonyoung asks you, and you give him a small smile, to which he grins.

“No, it’s not.” You respond and he giggles, making you giggle as well. You open up the water bottle he got you, taking a big gulp. The music changes to a slow song, and you notice all the couples start holding each other close. You see Youngmin rest her head on Gunwoo’s shoulder, and him smiling content at the recent turn of events for the night. You let out a small sigh, taking another gulp of water.

“Damn, I feel kinda lonely now-” You stop mid-sentence once you realize Soonyoung is standing now, hand outstretched towards you.

“Yn, would you like to dance with me?” You bite the inside of your cheek, reaching out and grasping his soft hand. He smiles down at you, and you feel a blush form on your cheeks once again. “Yes, yes I would.” 

He leads you to the dance floor, wrapping his arms tentatively around your waist. You reach your arms up, linking your hands behind the back of his neck. You both sway in silence for a beat, taking a look at the couples around you. While Soonyoung stares down at you, taking notice of the way your eyes sparkle under the lights.

“Not going to lie, I’ve had a small crush on you this whole year.” Soonyoung confesses, and you immediately turn to look at him with wide eyes. “Are you being deadass right now?” 

“Hell yeah. I’ve been too shy to actually try and have a conversation with you though. I was hoping we’d be lab partners, but the teacher paired you and Gunwoo up so I was stuck with Chan.” You feel your face progressively get warmer at Soonyoung’s confession, and he smiles at you.

“I can’t believe this…” You mutter and he spins you around, making you squeal as he pulls you back to him.

“What do you say we go to the arcade across the street?” Soonyoung suggests, and you grin. 

“That would be absolutely epic.” 

“Okay, let’s go after this song finishes.” 

“But wait,” You say, looking back up into Soonyoung’s eyes. He cocks his head to the side as he looks down at you.

“Don’t you want to hear my answer to your feelings?” You ask and he gives you a sweet smile. 

“I don’t want you to feel forced to return my feelings, I’m willing to try harder.” Soonyoung answers and you feel your heart warm. “What a sweetheart you are.” You tease, retracting your hands from the back of his neck to cup his face.

“Let’s make the arcade our first date.” You tell him, squishing his face and he laughs at you, pure affection in his eyes as he stares at you. He turns his head a bit so that he can place a soft kiss on your wrist, making you squeak. He gives you a big smile, squeezing your waist softly.

“I’d love that.”

[thishintoflove]

For the BobaDinLuke discord server prompt: "Get out of my head and get into me instead."

Y'all here about the fallacy of the "anti-sex beds" in the Olympic Village this year? They're just made of sustainable cardboard, but let's be real, they probably wouldn't hold up against multiple super-strong athletes going at it....

Anyway, here's some thirsty thursday content!

Din sighed as he tried to wind his way through the crowd at the Track and Field Mixer. He’d been told that the Tokyo Olympic Games would be different- that they wouldn’t include as many group gatherings- and yet the entire team was expected to attend this mixer. Apparently it was for “international comradery” among the athletes, but Din hated the pomp and circumstance of these events. He was just here to run and to win.

Just as he was considering whether Coach would notice if he slipped away, he heard a deep voice call out to him.

“Djarin!”

He turned around to find Boba Fett, the famed shot put athlete from New Zealand, coming toward him with a big grin on his face. They clasped arms and Boba slapped him hard on the back.

“Good to see you back at the Games, brother! How’s Team Canada this year, you guys feeling strong?”

“As strong as possible, considering the year we’ve had.”

“Fair enough,” Boba laughed, the sound warm and deep in his chest, “I’m glad I found you here. I was getting real tired of introducing myself to kids who are still all starry-eyed about being at their first Games. Makes me feel old. It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“I agree,” Din replied warmly, “And congratulations. I saw that you broke a new record at the trials.”

“Yup, 23.37 meters. Beat my own personal record by half a meter on that one. Getting another world record was just the icing on the cake.”

Din rolled his eyes, but chuckled at the same time.

“And they say that Fielders aren’t cocky. You’re worse than the Sprinters!”

Boba just grinned even more, then raised his brows and gave Din a pointed look, “I thought you knew from experience that Fielders like me are very cocky.”

That comment had Din blushing even as he rolled his eyes again.

Usually his mind was completely focused on his goal, but Boba was a welcome distraction. As a marathon runner, Din was used to taking things slow. He played the long game, always, and he was usually single-minded in his focus. That focus was almost always dedicated to training, but when he’d met Boba in Rio, he’d discovered the benefits of loosening up once in a while.

Boba was a world class athlete, a Shot Put record breaker, but he also liked to have a good time. And during the last games, he and Din had a very good time. Din swore he felt looser after a night with Boba, something he had never experienced before with anyone else. He wasn’t anxious about what it would mean or how it would impact his training: they were just two athletes letting off some steam in the evenings.

“Speaking of,” Boba continued, stepping even closer to Din, “Did you get a load of the beds this time?”

“It has nothing to do with preventing sex among ahtletes,” Din replied, cutting Boba off before he could make another remark, because he knew exactly where the other man was heading with this, “Some kid thought it’d be funny to make a joke about it on that clock app and look what happened. Now it’s all anyone wants to talk about. They’re supposed to be environmentally friendly, that’s it.” “Which is great and all, but I’m not sure they took fat athletes into consideration. Most Fielders like me are twice the size of the other athletes, and don’t get me started on the weight lifters. It looks like I could break that bed on my own.”

“They’re stronger than they look.”

“Care to test that theory?”

Just then, the energy in the room shifted as Team U.S.A. arrived at the Track and Field Mixer. Boba and Din watched with matching expressions of disinterest as the group entered with loud voices and boisterous excitement.

“Americans,” Boba grumbled under his breath, “Your neighbors to the south are the flashiest bunch of bastards every damn year.”

Din nodded in agreement, but he was quickly distracted by a new face at the front of the pack. A blonde man with notable blue eyes and a blinding grin on his face. He looked like an All-American poster boy.

“Who’s that?” Din asked, unable to look away.

“Who, Blondie?” Boba asked, craning his neck to “That’s Skywalker. Some hotshot Hurdler. He was supposed to be a favorite at Rio, but he got injured during the trials. These are his first Games.”

“Hmm, know anything else about him?”

“I’ve only seen a few interviews. California boy, mid-twenties, he comes from a family of athletes. He loves doing press. Seems like the type to talk your ear off.”

They both watched with appreciation as the man shook hands with almost everyone he passed, his muscled arm flexing again and again, giving everyone in the vicinity a charming grin.

“Bet you twenty dollars that we can get him to join us for a little fun tonight.”

Din turned back to Boba and gave him an incredulous look.

“You were just complaining that he’s a conceited hotshot!”

“Yeah, but he’s a pretty hotshot.”

He looked back over at the blonde man. He was lithe and lean, but with thighs that could crush a skull, just like all good Hurdlers. His wide blue eyes sparkled from all the way across the room. Boba was right, he was pretty.

Din sighed.

“Canadian dollars or New Zealand dollars?”

~~~

In the end, Boba won the bet.

It only took a little conversation, a few sly remarks, and Luke was following them back to Din’s room.

“We can lie on the bed, you know. They’re actually pretty sturdy,” Luke said, breathless as Din attacked his jaw and neck with his lips. One hand fisted into Din’s hair as the other tried to brace itself against the wall.

“Why risk it?” Din mumbled against his neck. A shiver went down his own spine as he felt Boba trail a large hand up and down his back.

“Blondie is right,” Boba said, allowing his fingers to grasp a sizeable chunk of Din’s ass as pushed up against him, “As much as I know we’re all capable of fucking against this wall, why waste the effort?”

“I thought you didn’t trust the beds?” Din muttered, leaning into Boba’s ministrations.

“Changed my mind.”

Din just hummed and pressed his back against Boba’s chest, reveling in the feeling of being trapped between the two men. He could feel Luke hard and insistent against his thigh as he sucked a bruise on his collarbone. Luke’s head hit the wall as he leaned back and the moan he let out was enough to have Din hardening even more. He pulled back from Luke’s neck to meet the smaller man’s eyes, and he noted his blown-open pupils with satisfaction.

“I don’t really care how or where,” Luke gasped out, running a hand up Din’s toned arm, “Let’s just do it.”

Din smiled and gave him another quick kiss on the lips before pulling away. He gave Boba’s shoulder a squeeze as he slipped out from between the two men and moved to his nightstand to gather supplies.

“It’s cute that you think you’re in charge here, Hotshot,” Boba rasped, suddenly stepping in to take Din’s place in front of Luke. He slowly trailed a hand along Luke’s thigh and then lifted his leg to wrap it around his hip. Luke just smirked at him.

“Don’t treat me like a kid, I’ve been around the block too.”

His hands wrapped around Boba’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue. Boba growled into his mouth and lifted Luke’s other leg, pressing him into the wall with his body.

“You’re confident now, but just wait,” Boba muttered, trailing his teeth along Luke’s jawline and nipping at his earlobe, “Din and I have been doing this for years. You Sprinters wouldn’t understand, you always finish too soon.”

“I think I can keep up with you.”

“Oh yeah? You think you have the stamina? Or are you gonna falter like you did at the Rio trials?”

“Get out of my head and get into me instead,” Luke growled.

Boba just chuckled and lifted Luke higher, pressing him back into the wall as he attacked his mouth again. Luke let out a long groan as he tried to swallow Boba’s tongue, rutting his hips against the larger man.

“Put him down for a second,” Din called out, turning back around and waving the small bottle of lube in his hand, “We’ve got to prep.”

“Sure thing,” Boba replied.

He turned around, Luke still wrapped around his waist, and then he threw the smaller man halfway across the room onto the bed.

Luke let out a small yelp as he was tossed through the air, just as Din called out “Wait!”, and then the room was filled with a horrible crashing sound as the bed collapsed and Luke hit the floor hard.

[artificialqueens]

What's Her Name? (Gigi x Nicky) - Mina

A/N: I’m working really hard on a fairy au right now (go to @goodemornting for updates on that lmao) but in the meantime I wanted to do something different! I hope you all enjoy it :)

Your soulmates name shows up on your arm when you turn 15. Gigi’s only problem is that her’s is in French, and she doesn’t speak a word of it.

Soulmates are a pretty common thing. Realistically they shouldn’t be; even with someone’s name written on your arm, what are the odds you’re going to find them in a sea of seven and a half billion people? Not only is it unlikely, it’s improbable. What if you have a name on your arm like John Smith? How many John Smiths do you have to go through before you can find the “one and only”? Soulmates were romanticized, and frankly unnecessary in Gigi’s humble opinion. She wouldn’t have had the slightest interest in finally finding her own but it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t at least have some idea of who their soulmate is. There are a lot of tells, like what language the name is written in, what gender the name is usually assigned to, stuff like that. Probably the biggest reason why so many people in the world have managed to find their soulmates is because they care so much about it. Apparently there’s also like, a gut feeling you get, when you meet them. Like you know for a fact that they’re the one and only. She’d never experienced it herself, but according to the people in her life who had met their soulmates before, there’s just some kind of pull, like on an instinctual level. This subconscious feeling you have that they’re the right person for you. And when the names match up - well, there’s really no way to deny it, at that point.

It’s kind of a sweet notion, in a way. To know someone all your life by a set of letters and then when you finally get to meet them, that they’re the right person, and they’ve been thinking of you too. Gigi was independent sure, career driven and logical, but she would’ve been lying if she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what her soulmate might look like, what perfume they might use, what their favorite band might be. It was drilled into her since she was younger, in her defense, but that yearning feeling that encased every bone in her body whenever she accidentally glanced down at the cursive words delicately engraved on her arm made her wish that she could just find them already, so she could focus on more important things than the love of her life.

The only problem was, that the name imprinted neatly on her arm just happened to not be written in English, but some terrible variation of French.

Truth be told, she’d started studying French ever since google translate had helpfully informed her that’s what language the name was written in. She knows it starts with N, probably ends in L or Y, but her soulmates parents must’ve decided to give their child the most unique spelt name on the planet because the letters every French person had told her that the name possessed didn’t form anything that has much of a ring to it. She really hoped it was a girl’s name, because, well, it would be pretty inconvenient for her if her soulmate was a guy (Considering that she’s, like, a lesbian, and all). But other than that there were absolutely no indicators as to what it could say.

It used to bother her a lot more when she was younger. Being seventeen and knowing absolutely no characteristics of your soulmate is both pretty rare and pretty sad, but it’d never been her primary concern. She had other things to fill her life with, like good friends and family, school, art, overpriced coffee. It was frustrating that she couldn’t read it, but also extremely easy to distract herself from. Besides, having no way of knowing what the her soulmates name was gave her plenty of time and energy to spend helping her friends with their soulmate problems, and there’s plenty of those to go around.

Gigi stirred her tea, poking her tongue out slightly from between her lips. She hated that all the tapioca pearls end up sinking to the bottom, she didn’t want to put the straw in only halfway and get a mouthful of tea, but at the same time she didn’t want to drink all the boba all at once because it’s all pooled at the bottom. There were probably more important things that she could be focusing on right now, but this was a major pet peeve of hers. She cares a whole lot about how her bubble tea is consumed! The tapioca should be dispersed evenly throughout the drink, anything else is a disgrace.

Jan looked between her own two multicolored drinks, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. She was probably trying to decide which one to drink first, but it’s still pretty funny to watch. After Gigi had given up on fiddling around with the tapioca pearls, she sipped her tea and laced her fingers together, leaning forward to look at the blonde closer.

“You could try drinking the one they gave you for free.” She remarked, Jan’s golden brown eyes sliding up to meet hers with a sheepish smile. They’d been best friends since grade school but she still got way too easily embarrassed when Gigi gave her advice, it was pretty stupid. “Since you like the other one more, right?”

“I mean,” Jan pouted again, cocking her head like an upset puppy. “I like taro and lychee evenly, I just wanted lychee this time.”

“Hmm.” Gigi hummed, chewing her lip. “I’m trying to decide if you’re an immediate satisfaction kinda girl or the kind to bide your time. Or you could alternate between the two. Get a good mix of the one you’re in the mood for and the one you’re not in the mood for to keep you going.”

“That’s pretty gross, Gigi.” The older pointed out, wearing a wry smile. “It’s weird that I even have two to begin with.”

“Business as usual for you,” she chided, taking another sip of her single strawberry flavoured tea. Jan was lucky, generally. Gigi didn’t mean that in a jealous way, it was just true, and a little unnerving, at times. The fact that whoever ordered the taro bubble tea had completely took off, prompting the worker to offer it to the blonde, wasn’t even surprising to her at this point. Jan was even lucky in the soulmate department, kinda. The name on her arm was Jacquline Cox, pretty basic, and apparently they’d already met - though Jan hadn’t given her a lot of information about the mystery woman other than something about long dark hair and Persian food.

“It makes me feel awkward,” Jan complained with a sigh. “Who comes to a cafe and orders two boba teas?

“People who are really thirsty, probably.”

“I guess you’re right,” She conceded, but she still looked apprehensive, so Gigi reached across the table and grabbed the taro drink to take a long sip of it. She wasn’t the biggest fan of taro (It’s hard to describe, it’s too earthy for her taste?) but the eyebrow raise from the older woman was funny, so it was worth the slightly unpleasant flavour. “Gigi?”

The brunette glanced up from the tea, watching as Jan’s lip curled up harshly, thinking about her next choice of words. “You said wanted to catch up today?” She asked after a moment, and Gigi buffered briefly before nodding.

“Yeah. It’s so weird not going to the same school.” Gigi smiled sadly, drawing a smiley face in the condensation of her cup, “I’m not used to not seeing you every day, but you said the new school is better, right?”

“It’s not much different than the one we went to last year,” Jan shrugged, “But it’s a good school. It’s nice going somewhere where people don’t all remember me from primary.” She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s how I met Jackie, so I can’t be too mad about it.”

Gigi can’t help being a little bit more attentive after she hears the name, but she’s not very expressive at the best of times, so there probably wasn’t much more than a slight shift in her expression. The shorter woman was pretty good at picking up on that stuff, though, so she wasn’t surprised at the knowing smirk smiling back it her. “You know, you could just ask if you want me to tell you about her.”

Gigi winked, leaning forward on the table and resting her head against her hands. “Tell me then, what’s Miss Jacqueline like?”

“She’s from Iran, transfer student, stupidly funny, super smart, tall,” Jan sounded wistful, smiling serenely. The expression was generally deceiving, but thankfully Gigi had a pretty good idea of how to read her, too. It comes with being best friends for so long. She chewed her boba, waving a hand to encourage the blonde to continue. “I’ve been so happy lately, she really completes me. I don’t think she likes me much yet though.”

Gigi swallowed, narrowing her eyes. “Hmmm, maybe she’s just nervous. Does she have eyes? You’re pretty attractive.” She hesitated, “Probably.”

“Thank you,” Jan giggled, “But that’s not really what I meant.” She sighed, swirling her tea with her straw. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time.” She hinted, rather than say that she’d been waiting on this tea since Jan had first mentioned meeting her soulmate, and that she’d been starved of this kind of thing in her own life so she was more than happy to be hearing about it in her friends.

Gigi had never been good at any of that… romantic stuff, which people often found surprising given how confident she was normally. She didn’t read often, but on the rare occasion that she did, and she got to the romantic part of a book, she felt terribly flustered the whole time through. She had no composure. She’d just have no idea what to say, or what might be tactful to do in any situation. Sure, holding hands and cuddling sounded nice, but beyond that- things like communication, and physical gestures of affection, were intimidating. Not scary, necessarily, or unappealing (because wow Gigi loved to be kissed by g… girls…) but definitely intimidating. A large part of her was worried that when she eventually met her soulmate, she’d embarrass herself with a total lack of expertise in that area. Then again, the whole point of a soulmate is that they’re your one and only, so maybe they’d both be completely unequipped to handle what being a soulmate might entail. In general Gigi was most worried about identifying them, though. Who’s to say that they’d know English? Maybe they don’t know what the name - which was hopefully written nicely since her handwriting could be terrible at times - on their arm says either.

Jan groaned. “She’s so nice to me but she’ll never initiate it? Like if I compliment her she goes along with it otherwise it feels forced?”

Gigi scoffs, picking at her nails, the answer is fairly obvious. “It sounds like she’s doing that thing that people do in the movies.” She dipped her thumb in the puddle of water that’d formed on the table from the drips of condensation dripping off her drink. “What’s it called, playing hard to get?”

“Y’know, that does sound kinda accurate,” Jan smiled, which told Gigi that shes completely right. She’s glad for that, too, because she really just repeated platitudes. “Why don’t we talk about something else? You haven’t told me how you’ve been, recently.”

By the time they’d both finished their bubble teas (as well as the taro one in the middle of the table), they figured it’d be a good time to head home. Gigi begged the shorter woman to keep her posted on the Jackie situation, and Jan swore that she would with a roll of her eyes.

The brunette’s text came in while she was at the mall. When her phone vibrated, she stopped for a second to check the notification. It was Jan, of course, the paragraph of emojis next to her name lighting up Gigi’s lock screen.

The blonde has texted her a picture; she doesn’t recognize the subject of the photo, but she can only assume that it’s the Jackie Cox soulmate woman, or else there’d be no reason for the candid shot. She’s facing away from the camera, looking off into a cityscape, but her head is turned very slightly, and there’s a fond smile practically glowing off of her face. From what Gigi can see, her eyes are a deep wood brown, she’s freakishly tall and probably towers over Jan, and her hair is dark and curled slightly at the tips. She nods sagely, this woman and Jan would look like a cliche Pinterest board aesthetic together. The Persian woman is beaming, which probably means that the two getting along just fine- which is contrary to what Jan had told her so mayb-

Someone (or something? But she’s pretty sure it’s a someone because whatever it is is warm) collides into Gigi’s shoulder, and knocks not only her phone out of her hands, but also her feet out from under her. With an undignified sound, she watches the ground get closer to her, and then blinks in confusion when it suddenly stops roughly a foot away from her face.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” it’s a woman’s voice, Gigi thinks, and vaguely accented, but her English sounds pretty okay. When she turns her head she is accutly aware of of pale blonde hair brushing against the woman’s shoulders, the sweet scent of honeysuckle perfume, a Lana Del Rey shirt tightly hugging her chest. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, are you alright? Mon dieu, your phone..”

Huh? Gigi followed her line of sight and noticed that her phone was on the floor some ways away. As soon as her eyes landed on it, the blonde woman kneels and lifts it up delicately, wiping it off with the silky red scarf she’s wearing. It’s at that moment that it occurs to her that she’s still being held up by the other girl, and when she’s pulled to her feet, she takes a step back and chews her thumbnail, blinking at the vision before her.

This girl is fairly tall, definitely has an inch or two on Gigi. Her hair is shiny, concealed by a stylish black beret, and her eyes are sharp and seemingly all knowing. She’s remarkably pretty, Gigi’s heart beginning to get that fluttery feeling she gets whenever she makes eye contact with an unfortunately attractive girl her age. She tries to calm it down, though, because she can’t imagine that going all ditzy-highschooler on this girl will help the interaction any. It’s awkward enough as it is.

“I’m fine,” She says quietly, before the blonde girl can begin to fret about her phone. “I shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the walkway on my phone, so it’s my fault, probably.” Gigi wipes down the wrinkles in her shirt, watching relief cross over the girl’s features. She’s looks French, the brunette concedes. Like she stylishly sell you a baguette on the side of the street, and her accent further hints at it. She’s probably around Gigi’s age as well.

“I’m happy that you aren’t mad.” The girl smiles. “But it’s still my fault.” She clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck. “Could I make it up to you?” The way she asks it is curious, like she has some sort of other reason for asking, but Gigi holds her tongue. “I was going to this restaurant- pardon me, my name is Nicolette — are you free right now? – Not that you have to be, we could do it later – they make a really good stir-fry.”

For a pretty girl, Nicky stutters more than Gigi would’ve expected. It’s cute, charming almost, and the offer sounds great right about now. “That sounds fine.” She smiles, suddenly forgetting whatever she had come to the mall for because stir fry and French woman definitely sounded like her cup of tea.

“Perfect! I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” Nicolette - that’s a long name, maybe she could shorten it to Nicky - remarks thoughtfully, and Gigi realises that she’s a fool.

“Gigi.” She replies, and then adds, “Goode. My name is Gigi Goode.” Inwardly she scolds herself, that introduction could’ve been much smoother. For a minute she thinks she was so weird about it that Nicky has been thoroughly unsettled, but it crosses her mind after a bit of thought that the French woman’s comically widening eyes probably isn’t on account of her stuttering.

“Gigi Goode?” Echoes the girl. “Wait, uhm,” she shakes her head quickly, eyes frantically flicking between her arm and Gigi’s own, which is concealed by her coat sleeve. “Do you-” Nicky fumbled with her shirt, yanking it up with one hand. When Gigi looks down at the girl’s arm, she sees some incredibly familiar letters written, tiny hearts dotting every i. “Do you spell your name with-”

“Yeah. Yeah - yeah I do.“ The brunette interrupts, vision suddenly becoming blurry. She pulls up her own sleeve, feeling like she’s in some kind of a stupor, and holds out her forearm shakily to the taller woman. “Is this your name? I’ve never been able to read it.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“That is certainly my name,” Nicky replies, voice high pitched and frantic. “It’s spelt weird, you know, with the q and u and stuff but - merde that’s my name.”

Honestly, Gigi isn’t really capable of thinking clearly right now, but by the sounds of it she might’ve just found her soulma-

She gets knocked off her feet for second time within five minutes. This time, though, Nicky isn’t able to catch her, because though Nicky is again the reason she goes down, the blonde’s arms are occupied by being thrown tightly around Gigi’s shoulders.

“I’m so glad to meet you!” The woman bursts out, and the brunette’s face warms at the close proximity. “I came to America to look for you, did you know that? I suppose you wouldn’t, as we’ve never met before, but I- well- I’ve been searching for so long and some days I felt like I would never find you- that is a bit too much information for a first meeting, sorry, - and I’ve knocked you over again too, oh-”

“It’s okay,” Gigi dismisses quickly. “I don’t mind.” She doesn’t, though her face is definitely like a thousand degrees right now. Nicky beams at her, strands of angel blonde hair falling in front of her eyes, and Gigi swallows down a bit of flustered anxiety. Her heart is beating hard, she can hardly hear anything through it’s ringing in her ears, and Nicky can definitely feel it, but it’s not so embarrassing when she realises that the other girl’s heart is beating just as fast. At the same tempo, even, though it might be a bit presumptuous to say as much. She clears her throat a few times, trying to figure out something cool to say. “Uhm, well, how about that stir-fry then?”

Not quite, but close enough, because Nicky’s responding smile feels like a billion dollars.

[countessofbiscuit]

Hi doll! I enjoy your writing so much!!! Anything new lately for a thirsty girl? P.S. hope life is being good to you!

hiya and thank youuu ♥ i do feel i’ve been writing my brain dry for the past few months (lockdown has been largely good to my word count on ao3), but sometimes things just need longer to simmer for flavour or cook for body. nothing in the immediate offing, i’m afraid.

Banned Bingo dominates the remainder of the year, with a prickly Boba/Bo-Katan piece and two plaintive Foxiyo works, one or both of which may make for a very unhappy Whumptober.

Then there’s Star Wars Rares (aka the exchange that sees Christmas come early), which opens for nominations soon -- lord knows what that will turn up, though it’s usually something I don’t expect to write! (fun fact: Rexsoka has graduated from rarepair status! <kazoo noises>)

And speaking of: as Rexsoka Week bears down upon us, I’m scaffolding a series of ficlets set in the Regency AU, following the fortunes of a certain Captain Felton Rex and Miss Tanough as they depart Calcutta aboard the Gloriana and approach that nest of maurauders that is the French station in Mauritius ...

[christinalcheng]

What did you do to your hair?

Ever since I was in 3rd grade, I was told that I needed to “suck in my tummy.” Why? “Because no one needs to see it.” But it’s so tiring and I don’t want to always be thinking about sucking it in. 

10 years later, no one has to say anything. I don’t have to say anything, I just do it. No questions asked. No conscious thoughts run through my mind. It is sucked in, tucked away, so “no one has to see it.” 

Even when I was at my skinniest, under 100 lbs and over 5 ft tall, I still thought I was fat. Everyone around me would tell me that I lost so much weight, but I couldn’t see it. I still kept comparing myself to my friends who were twigs. I had a thigh gap, but when I sat down, I swear my thighs expanded to triple the size they were when I was standing. But I swear, every time body image would come up at my church, every time my skinny friend would say that she’s fat, every time people talked about their insecurities concerning physical appearances, I would tune out because that wasn’t my problem. It wasn’t my issue. I didn’t care how I looked, what matters is what’s inside, my personality, my soul, right? 

But every year, I would gain weight and keep being told that I need to lose it. Every year, something hard would happen and I wouldn’t have enough time or energy to stress over how I looked. I was still swimming at the time, so I was healthy, right? 

All throughout high school, I would stare at girls’ torsos and wonder how their organs could fit inside such a narrow space. I wondered how it was possible for abs to be visible on someone’s stomach. I knew I had muscles somewhere on my abdomen, but there was always that protective layer of fat. I was told that I was strong, intimidating, like I looked like I could beat someone up. 

I never complained that I was fat or overweight. I didn’t have to. Someone else would chime in about my weight. But I was eating pretty healthy, if healthy includes 3 cups of sugary caramel iced coffee a day to give me energy and life, to distract me from what was happening at home, to give me motivation to get through school and emotionally draining relationships. 

Everyone kept saying that I would get diabetes. Every month, I did google searches on the symptoms of diabetes. I was always tired, gaining weight, always thirsty, but that was probably due to all of the sugar, not diabetes. 

Eventually I went to college, and Freshman 15 turned into Freshman 30. I came home and did a physical in Spring Quarter, and my doctor was concerned with my weight and asked me if I was depressed. I told her I wasn’t and that I actually really enjoyed college. At the same time, that year was the year I broke some serious emotional and relational ties with this person. It was also the year that I was able to escape home life, only realizing that it would catch up to me and pile on top of me all at once. That was the year that I wasn’t me for a while and learned how to be me again, independent of someone else telling me what to do. That was the year in which it was acceptable to eat whole pints of ice cream in a sitting, to go on midnight boba runs to Sharetea, to consume 911′s from Dutch Bro’s, to not sleep until the sound of birds chirping outside creeps in, to eat plates of late night cookies and pizza with salad on top. 

Sophomore year was a blur. I maintained the weight I was at during the end of freshman year, fluctuating every now and then, but remaining the same. And then this past summer, I probably lost a few pounds, but am ultimately the same as I was. Except, pretty sure I’ve lost muscle and replaced it and then some with fat. 

I want to seem capable. I used to love hiking, but inclines have become my worst enemy. Davis has coddled me to only knowing how to stand and navigate on flat terrain. Exercise gives me a rush. I just don’t do it enough. 

But I never cared about my weight previously, and if my mother were present, I would continue to act like I don’t care because it’s easier to seem like I don’t care instead of crying every time her comments pierce me. 

So why am I even writing this? 

A couple of days ago, I was studying for my Nutrition exam, and I came across information on obesity, weight gain, and how to measure and check if you’re in a healthy range. I was curious, so I measured my BMI and the results came out that I was obese. 

I’ve looked at myself in the mirror and the word “obese” has never passed through my mind. I’ve always put that label for others, not myself. When I look in the mirror, I don’t like what I see, but I also wouldn’t categorize myself as obese. 

And I felt shame, deep shame when I found myself in that category. How have I not been taking better care of myself? How did I let myself get here? I felt this dirty, crawling sensation on the back of my neck. I wanted to scrub it out but it was just under my skin. And then I felt this strong urge to change. But it was 2 AM and I probably should have just gone to sleep. So I did. 

But every time I feel a strong desire to change, another desire comes along with it, and that’s the desire to cut my hair. There’s something so freeing about seeing hair fall, about having the length be shortened. It’s  a risk, but the consequences are temporary because hair grows back. 

So the next day, I came home, grabbed the kitchen shears and cut half of my hair. But then I had a meetup, so I left it unfinished, asymmetrical, imbalanced. 

But that’s what I am right now: imbalanced. And until I make serious changes to my lifestyle and lose some weight, then my life will be imbalanced. So as a reminder to myself about the imbalance between my health and other areas of my life, I will leave one side cut, and the other side as it was before. Once I reach a milestone in my health journey, I’ll cut the other side to match the shorter side. 

Until then, a goal that I have is to establish healthier relationships- with friends, with my family, with academics and ministry, with food and ultimately with myself and my body. 

[clonewarslover55]

I LOVED your Boba HCs!!! So SO MUCH. Any possibility we could get a drabble/some more HCs about that "he's worried when he finds you're pregnant" idea?? Maybe him during pregnancy/after kiddo is born? I love your work and I am soFT for this man. A siMP.

Thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed!!! Welcome to the Boba Fett simp club!

Notes: Find the Boba Fett headcanons here 

Boba Fett with pregnant!Reader headcanons 

When you found out that you were pregnant you panicked 

You knew Boba had a daughter and an ex wife that he was forced to leave so they’d be safe 

But Boba wasn’t nineteen anymore, he had a very large reputation now 

He was extremely feared now, so he wouldn’t leave. Well you hoped he wouldn’t 

You stressed for days about how to tell him 

Boba Fett is not a stupid man and he can read you like a book

He found out for himself by just doing what he does best, observing 

Boba gave you a hard look, “You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t a question.

It scared the shit out of you in all honesty 

You mumbled a yes, showing him the test results 

All he did was nod and get up. Leaving you there, scared

Boba left you on Slave I, alone, for two weeks 

When he came back you wanted to murder him, but he looked very upset 

He didn’t want to leave you or cause you to be in danger 

You two talked for a few hours, and eventually he agreed to have this child with you 

Boba was obviously scared. He didn’t want to lose you like he did his ex wife 

Throughout the pregnancy you’d have to reassure him some 

When you began to get a baby bump and your breasts got larger Boba learns something about himself 

He has a pregnancy kink. 

If you don’t like how your body is changing Boba will remind you that you’re sexier than ever to him

If you’re horny during the pregnancy, the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy will be there to satisfy your needs 

He’ll get you whatever weird foods you have cravings for

“You’re really fucking disgusting.” He’d mumble while you ate something he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole

He’s there every step of the way, through morning sickness and mood swings 

When you get nasty mood swings he just stares at you bemused

He’ll argue back with you, so he doesn’t make the anger mood swings much better 

If you tell him to leave he will, but he won’t go far 

He’ll come back with your favorite sweets, causing you to cry like a fool 

You thought Boba was overly protective before?? 

As your pregnancy progresses he gets more and more protective 

He’ll buy baby things, but you won’t know till you see things start popping up on Slave I

When you go into labor he’s panicking on the inside 

He holds your hand the whole time 

When the baby is finally born he doesn’t really know what to think 

The child comes out with a full head of hair. They come out looking like Boba, regardless of what you look like

He doesn’t really know what he feels at first. So he just holds the child, a dumb ass smile on his face

He obviously loves his child, but he seems scared to hold them 

Boba gets distant after the child is born, obviously worried he’ll hurt them 

You’d have to talk to him, letting him know that he won’t fuck this up 

When you catch him holding your child it melts your heart 

Boba will 100% wear his armor and have a baby sling on 

A super dangerous Mandalorian, holding their baby while in full armor? It’s more likely than you think

Boba will be super protective of you and the little one

He knows Jango would be proud of him for staying with this child 

Boba isn’t the best dad, but he tries 

He works a lot, but he makes up for it 

Boba Fett will raise that baby the Mandalorian way

[clonewarslover55]

If requests are still open!! Could we get some sweet smut HCs/a drabble with Boba? Maybe something after a mission? I love your stuff!! Thank you for all this wonderful content!!!

My requests are still open, plus I love Boba so much!! Of course I’ll write this!! Thank you so much, I’m sooo glad that you enjoy my content!! 

Boba Fett X Fem!Reader //Smut and Fluff//

Notes: I just decided to do a drabble. I hope that's ok! 

Warnings:  Fluff, smut, showering together, shower sex, Boba Fett is a little shit, Unprotected sex! Please be safe everyone!! 

Boba walked onto Slave I looking exhausted, he moved slowly. No purpose in his steps. You walked to him, “What’s the matter?” He removed his helmet and gave you a lazy kiss, “I’m just drained. That last bounty was an asshole that drained my will to live.” He grumbled. You nodded and ran your fingers through his curls. You let him vent out his bad day for a little bit. 

You grabbed his gloved hand when he was done venting, “Let's take a shower, come on.” Boba didn’t protest as he followed you up the ladder halfway. The door to his quarters slid open and you walked into the room, holding Boba’s hand. Boba’s small quarters had an even smaller fresher. The shower could hardly hold both of you, but you didn’t mind being so close. 

Both of you removed your clothing and stepped into the shower, the hot water instantly relaxing Boba. You smiled and rubbed his tense shoulders, “Just relax, I'll wash your hair.” Boba let out a soft grunt and you grinned, kissing his cheek softly. 

Boba closed his eyes as you washed his hair, groaning in enjoyment. You loved Boba’s hair, it was fluffy and very soft. You washed his hair with extra care, so it would be extra soft when it dried. You began to wash his body, taking your sweet time admiring his dark skin and toned muscles. 

He noticed you paying extra attention to his many scars. He opened his eyes and you flushed under his predatory gaze. You rubbed his toned chest, “What.” You mumbled, your cheeks still hot. Boba shrugged and kissed you softly. 

Boba’s lips were usually chapped and dry, but they were always super soft. You moaned softly into the kiss, his lips slowly moving against yours. Boba’s taste was addictive, he just tasted so unique to you. 

He rested his large callused hands on your hips as you two continued to kiss. Boba’s tongue played with yours while his fingers traced patterns into the skin of your hips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You played with the hair at the base of his skull, making sure to tease his skin with your nails. 

Boba pushed you up against one one of the walls and moved his lips to your neck. You let out a breathy moan as his lips attacked your neck. Boba loved to mark you up, so he made sure to nip and suck wherever he pleased.

You gripped his muscular shoulders as he easily picked you up. His hot lips didn’t leave your skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist, gripping him tightly. Your head was thrown back, resting against the cool tiles. 

The water was hitting Boba’s back as he left love bites all over your neck and collar bone, causing you to grow chilly from the cold air of Slave I. Boba moved closer to you, his warmth soaking into you easily. 

You were growing wetter by the second, and not just by Boba’s magical lips. He was using one of his hands to slowly rub along the insides of your thighs, making sure to avoid your soaked core. Even though he was exhausted he was still a huge tease. 

“Boba.” You pulled his wet hair slightly, “Hm?” You glared at his dumb smirk, “Can you please just fuck me already?” Boba sucked a particularly big love mark onto your pulse point. He hummed softly and kissed his way to your ear, giving your earlobe a hard nip. 

You sighed impatiently, your core begging to be touched. Boba was an incredibly patient man, and sometimes that was irritating. Boba moved his mouth to your lips, his taste quickly distracting you from your thoughts. He gripped your thigh, his other hand beside your head keeping his balance. 

Boba groaned when he rubbed the head of his cock against your entrance, feeling just how wet you were. You gripped him tightly as he slowly pushed into you, making sure to be slow so you could adjust to his size.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you both of you moaned out, just basking in the feel of one another. He kissed you passionately, his tongue quickly invading your mouth. He began to thrust into you lazily, keeping his thrusts slow and deep. 

You quickly became a mess of moans and whimpers from his mouth and calculated movements. Boba nipped your earlobe softly and let out a low groan, “Just look at how beautiful you are.” His gruff voice was hardly heard over the shower. “All marked up.” He nearly purrs out. You moaned at his words, causing him to smirk. 

He shifted your hips some, so he could sink even deeper into your slick channel. The head of his cock began to hit that special spot deep inside of you, causing you to approach your peak even faster. Boba lazily trailed kisses along your jaw and neck as he rubbed your breasts, turning your nipples into hard little peaks. 

“Boba.” You moaned out, causing him to groan against your skin. You gripped his shoulders tightly, leaving angry red lines. Boba picked up his pace when your walls gripped his cock tightly, making pleasure shoot down his spine. 

Boba moaned out curses in many other languages as you came hard, your walls clamping extremely hard around him. You cried out his name like a prayer as you came, which made Boba hit his peak along with you. He gripped you tightly as his hot ropes of cum shot deep inside of you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as you both relaxed. Boba slowly pulled out, causing cum to leak down your quivering thighs. He clenched his jaw watching his cum drip from your fluttering core. He shook his thoughts away and decided to wash you off. 

He held you under the now cold water as you tried to remember how to stand. Boba kissed all over your face as he washed both of you off. He turned off the water when he was done cleaning up both of you, causing you to shiver from the cold air. 

Boba quickly wrapped an old towel around you, helping you dry off. “I was supposed to be the one caring for you after our shower.” Boba just smiled, “I beat you to it.” You huffed and watched him dry off, his muscles flexing with every movement. 

You already found yourself growing hot and bothered again, just from looking at Boba. He rolled his eyes at you staring and walked into the bedroom. You stared at his perfectly sculpted ass as he walked out of the freshers. 

He laughed from the bedroom, causing you to flush. You quickly walked into the bedroom and stole the worn t-shirt he was about to put on. Boba huffed, but looked you over in his shirt. You grinned and walked to the small bed he had. 

Boba shook his head and followed you to his bed, so you could continue the night full of passion.