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lamaenthel · 11 months ago

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Tivaevae | Chapter 6: Trapunto

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

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Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 6,860 Chapter Summary: Obi-Wan's meditation is interrupted, Rex gets an unexpected update from Wolffe, and Anakin has breakfast with Chancellor Palpatine.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure why he'd been drawn to Ahsoka's favorite meditation spot at the Temple given that he was doing his best to free his mind of the distraction of her, but it was where the Force had called him. He took to his knees by the koi pond and was greeted with an expectant splash by the pond's gluttonous residents.

The oldest koi in the meadow mediation room's pond – Hinata, Obi-Wan remembered his name was – was a hundred and ninety-seven years old. He had a close call at a hundred and eighty-five, when an understimulated, carnivorous Jedi Initiate dove into the pond and surfaced with him in her mouth, proud as could be and very confused as to why everyone was so upset. Poor fellow still had a silvery scar on one side. Ahsoka had never stopped being fascinated by the koi pond though, still choosing to meditate here more often than not when she spent more than a day at the Temple.

This was a rare break in violence for her, and she had chosen to spend her precious time running across the galaxy with a baby terrorist under her wing.

Obi-Wan felt guilty almost as soon as he'd formed the thought. Boba should never have been imprisoned in a place like that. He was twelve, for goodness' sake, even if he was a great deal more skilled than most his age. He shouldn't have left the boy there. If Obi-Wan had been proactive in ensuring the boy's safety they never would have been in this situation. Ahsoka would be at the Temple with him, not on Kamino with Master Plo.

Obi-Wan wasn't jealous of Plo, of course, the notion was too ridiculous to even consider; he was simply frustrated by the obstinance of the girl. He couldn't understand why she was so determined to ice him out. If she had truly been that upset by his death, shouldn't she be ecstatic at his return? He understood a bit of stiffness, daresay even some resentment, but this glacial formality was so… so unlike her. Ahsoka was warm, always warm, even with people she wasn't fond of.

At least Anakin was yelling at him; though, to be fair, Obi-Wan hadn't given him a chance not to. He had learned many years ago that the longer his Padawan had to sit and stew about something without resolution, the more it would expand in his mind until even a small annoyance would become an insurmountable obstacle. Being obnoxious to Anakin and goading him into yelling wasn't pleasant, but it was much better than waiting for a volcanic eruption. It also allowed Obi-Wan to complain about Ahsoka and… influence his Padawan into helping resolve their split.

Anakin was working his resentment out one shouting match at a time. He'd run out of vitriol soon, and hopefully he'd be proactive in rebuilding the bridge with Ahsoka that Obi-Wan had unfortunately burned.

Obi-Wan just didn't know how to manage Ahsoka's anger. He thought he did; she'd been miffed at him more than once, of course, over small things or being told no too many times in a day, but he didn't recognize this cold, formal Padawan. He scratched his scalp and stared at Hinata, who was making tenuous, fishy eye contact with Obi-Wan and practically spitting jets of water at him in anticipation of food pellets.

"I didn't bring anything, old boy," Obi-Wan said wearily.

The fish disappeared back into the pond with a huffy splash. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed. How unsurprising that another creature he'd known north of a decade was angry with him for an idiotic reason. He closed his eyes and started his mantras.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Except there was, unfortunately, emotion in this case, and he couldn't find the peace he desperately sought.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Obi-Wan couldn't even get through the first stanza without becoming frustrated. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, stupidly hoping the mantra would just hold true if he repeated it enough.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

His breathing steadied and his heart rate slowed. The annoyance that had Obi-Wan's fingers tapping his thighs and chewing on the inside of his cheek slowly left him, and all that was left was–

"Bo-bi," Ahsoka said with a quivering lip and eyes almost completely swallowed up by her pupils, and waved at Obi-Wan over Plo's shoulder as he walked away with the doctor. "Bo-bi!" Then they turned the corner and were gone.

Blast it all, he was getting nowhere. This whole room was haunted by Ahsoka's presence. He needed to walk out his annoyed energy and then meditate in a room far, far away from this one. What was he thinking, anyway, coming to–

A jet of pond water hit him straight in the mouth. Obi-Wan sputtered and spat out the water, wiped his face with his sleeve, then glared at the culprit.

Hinata was smirking. Obi-Wan didn't know that a fish could smirk, but the koi was definitely smirking at him. He turned and dove back into the water, splashing a curtain of water in Obi-Wan's direction. A giggle came from behind him.

Obi-Wan paused and slowly turned. There, poking out from behind the tree that Anakin had unceremoniously launched himself into that time he accidentally projected his consciousness halfway across the galaxy, was the edge of a chubby little montral bud. "Hello there," Obi-Wan deadpanned, instantly hard-pressed not to laugh. "Come out, Taarak."

Taarak peeked out. "Hi!" he giggled, then hid again. This time his little orange foot poked out from behind the tree as well.

"Taarak," Obi-Wan chuckled, "Bwerani kuno chonde."

The youngling squealed and came running, then hopped into Obi-Wan's arms with glee. "Hi," he said solemnly, then dissolved into giggles again.

"Young man," Obi-Wan said sternly, tickling his dimpled cheek, "Did you tell Hinata to spit like that?"

Taarak had a little Basic, though he didn't seem to speak anything other than Toydarian yet. He laid his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder and blinked piteously.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Interesting. That isn't something many Jedi can do without a lot of practice, you know. Influencing animals, yes, but not complex instructions. Can you say animaconnexio?"

Taarak just blinked and smiled, not understanding a word but counting on his powers of adorability to save him from getting in trouble.

"That's admittedly a mouthful. Most people just call it kenning." Obi-Wan booped his nose and then carefully stood. He planted Taarak on his hip and looked around. "It's a bit late for you to be exploring, isn't it? Where is Parna?" he asked him, looking down his nose at the kit. "Did you escape her?"

"Parrrnaaaa," Taarak sang. He gently scratched at Obi-Wan's itchy chin stubble.

"Goodness, we seem to be repeating a little bit of history here." Obi-Wan adjusted him and took off at an easy amble, on the lookout for a set of lavender lekku. "May as well start over. It didn't work out so well the first time around. She hates me now."

"Inde," Taarak said, patting his chest. "Inde baby."

"Yes baby, hmm?" Obi-Wan chuckled. "Tell me, young man, what would you do if I had to do something to save the life of the Chancellor of the Republic that hurt your feelings. Would you hate me forever?"

"Inde," Taarak said again, nodding.

"Yes? Oh dear. That's not very Jedi-like." Obi-Wan gave him a kiss on the forehead. He recognized the smell. Taarak had turned the pheromones on and was extra spicy, like asters in autumn. "Don't even think about trying to snare me, young man. I made that mistake once already."

"You're purple," Ahsoka whimpered, her Basic still heavily accented with her native Togruti dialect. "Help? ‘Soka help." She placed her tiny orange hands in his and he felt a wave of peace-love-comfort flow up his arms and down his spine like warm water. " ’Soka help," she whispered again, her eyes bright with tears; Obi-Wan realized that she could feel his sorrow like it was her own.

"This isn't like me, you know," Obi-Wan muttered to Taarak, still walking. "I am a Jedi Master. I am on the Council. I do not stew like this."

"Bup," Taarek said sympathetically.

"I must… I must move past this. I will return to meditating once we find Parna, and I will release my frustrations over Ahsoka's immaturity to the Force."

Taarak nodded.

"She knows better than this," Obi-Wan grumbled to Taarak. "The good of the Republic always outweighs the good of the individual. How has she forgotten?"

Taarak hummed and suddenly became very interested in the shape of Obi-Wan's ear.

"She'll either come around, or she won't. I cannot stay in limbo forever, begging for her affection like a dog."

Taarak stopped tracing his ear so he could bark in it.

Obi-Wan smiled at the boy. As sweet as he was, there wasn't that same spark that he'd felt with Ahsoka. Her absence ached in his heart in a way that Obi-Wan wasn't comfortable with. "You're an excellent listener, young man." Obi-Wan kissed his forehead again. Force help him, Togruta kits were just so blasted cuddly, he had half a mind to go take a quick walk around the entire Temple perimeter with the toddler before he got hungry. "I cannot force Ahsoka to forgive my deception. I must move on and allow her the distance she clearly desires. We are far too close, this proves it."

Taarak frowned. "Ayi."

Obi-Wan slowed and looked at the boy suspiciously. "Did you just tell me 'no,' Taarak?" he asked, trying not to smile and failing. "You don't like my plan? What do you think I should do, then, hmm?"

Taarak solemnly reached up, pulled Obi-Wan's face down, and rubbed his fat little lek on Obi-Wan's cheek.

He laughed and couldn't help but wonder how Ahsoka would react if she smelled another Togruta's scent-mark on him. She probably wouldn't care, he realized a moment later. Not anymore.

Obi-Wan sighed. It was much easier when Ahsoka was little, she could be guided towards the proper reaction. Now that she was grown, she was so… strong-willed. There was no consideration of nuance with her anymore.

"Please, p-please Bobi, open your eyes, open your… no, no, no, please no, Bobi please–"

Perhaps he'd gone a bit far with the blood pack. He was simply trying to be thorough, but there had been… a lot… smeared all over Ahsoka when all was said and done.

"Muh," Taarak said, patting his shoulder.

"I didn't need to have her discover my body," Obi-Wan conceded reluctantly.

He could still remember the blind, all-consuming fury that had overtaken him after watching Maul run Qui-Gon through. More than once he had bitterly wondered if Qui-Gon would have survived had the blow been just an inch to the left or right instead of directly through his spine. He'd been just a Padawan, then, not a Jedi Master; a Padawan that was almost ten years older than Ahsoka, and he'd still nearly lost his mind from grief after seeing his Master be cut down.

"No," Obi-Wan muttered. "I did nothing wrong. I took my assignment seriously. Nothing about it was personal."

"Ayi," Taarak said sleepily. His big, indigo eyes were struggling to stay open.

Obi-Wan sighed and petted his head, then spied a blur of frantic lavender lekku bobbing at the end of the hall. "I see Parna," Obi-Wan said softly. "Ready for bed, young man?"

"Eepy," Taarak agreed with a yawn.

Obi-Wan rubbed between his montral buds and was rewarded with a tiny purr. It was a different frequency than Ahsoka's.

"Parna!" Obi-Wan called.

The Twi'lek whirled around and gasped. "He is so fast!" she wailed, approaching at a jog. "Come back here, naughty boy. No more escaping!"

Taarak smiled dreamily at her and held up his arms. "Bye bye," he sang quietly to Obi-Wan.

"Bye bye, Taarak." Obi-Wan gave him one last head pat before relinquishing him to the young Crèchemaster. "First Togruta youngling, I presume?"

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," Parna sighed. "And yes– well, no, he's not technically mine, I'm still a Padawan. I'm apprenticed to Crèchemaster Veirexim."

"Veirexim?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the irony of Taarak being assigned to Ahsoka's Crèchemaster. "Well, tell him to keep an eye on him around animals. I noticed him kenning in the meditation room with Hinata."

"Really?" Parna looked at the kit, surprised. "Well, I suppose he's in the right clan, then. Animaconnexio is technically a form of Empathy, and Crèchemaster Veirexim is well trained."

Obi-Wan knew. It was the reason Ahsoka had been assigned to him, despite being the oddball in her all-male, all-human clan.

"I've done all of the Togruta modules, but I didn't realize…"

"Oh, they're quite fast," Obi-Wan chuckled. "I'd suggest keeping a marrow bone on you."

"A marrow bone?" Parna's brows went up.

"Yes." Obi-Wan pinched Taarak's chubby cheek. "He's teething and needs to chew, but more importantly it's very effective in luring back wandering kits."

"I'll keep that in mind," Parna said, blushing slightly. "Thank you, Master."

"Of course." He waved at Taarak then dropped his arm once they disappeared around the corner.

"Back to it, then," he mumbled to himself, and set off to find a meditation room on the opposite side of the Temple from the one he had started in.

Boba's eyes go wide in his fat little face. "Uh-oh." He peers down the vent and looks up, guilty. "Sowwy Wexsika."

Rex frowns and pushes his face against the vent. The tooka plush sits in the pipe's bend, black button eyes peering back helplessly. "Haar'chak." He flushes and guiltily looks around. Mama and Daddy didn't hear. He knows he's not supposed to swear, but he hears all the grown ups say it, so why can't he? "Di'kut," he snaps at his little brother, then reaches into the vent. His arm is too short to reach the toy, he needs Daddy. "Why'd'ya drop it down there again?"

Boba's eyes well with tears, his lower lip trembling. "I sowwy! Tawek I sowwy!" Boba reaches up to hug him but he stands up and stomps off. "Tawek!" Boba toddles after him.

"Dad!" He stomps angrily into the living room and winces at the too-bright fluorescent lights. They're supposed to be bright like sunlight since Kamino barely has any, just endless storms that spark lightning and boom thunder that shake the windows and scare his little brothers. "Daddy!" He scampers through his parents' room. "Daaad!"

"What?" Daddy pokes his head out of the shower stall, water droplets clinging to his skin. "What's wrong, Tiarek? Can't I take a shower in peace?"

"Boba dropped my tooka doll down the vent," he says, and rolls his eyes. "Again."

Boba sniffles, having caught up, and clings to his leg. "I sowwy." He looks up at their father with wet puppy eyes.

Daddy sighs, turns the water off, wraps himself in a towel and then follows the two to their room. He drops to his belly to peer inside the vent. "Osik," he grunts as he reaches down, all the way up to his shoulder. He grimaces as he struggles. "Boba–" he pulls his arm free, toy in hand. "Boba, what did I tell you about dropping Reks'ika's tooka doll down the vent?" Daddy asks wearily, handing the toy to Rex.

Boba hangs his head. "Sowwy Boo."

Rex's commlink buzzed on his arm and he startled awake with a wince. He needed to stop falling asleep at his desk. Reports be damned, his neck was killing him. He rubbed the achy part on the side of his neck and tried to remember what he had been dreaming about. Something with Boba and a tooka doll? Why a tooka doll?

He opened his messaging center.

[04:𝟺𝟶] 𝙲𝙲𝟶𝟷𝟽𝟷𝟹𝟼𝟹𝟼!𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵𝙵𝙴> 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑��𝚜.

[04:𝟺𝟶] 𝙲𝙲𝟶𝟷𝟽𝟷𝟹𝟼𝟹𝟼!𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵𝙵𝙴> 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙰𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍: [𝟸𝟾𝚛𝚊𝟹𝚞𝟸𝚏𝙳𝟼𝟹𝟼.𝙾𝙾𝚇]

Rex raised an eyebrow and forwarded the attachment to his datapad before opening it. It was a clip from Wolffe's helmet-cam, and he was looking into a white room with a bed, a toilet, a sink, and– Dogma, that was Dogma getting a tight hug from Ahsoka.

She'd done it. She'd gotten in.

"Told you," he heard Wolffe say.

"Commander?" Dogma stood swaying in Ahsokas's arms. It seemed like he was in shock at the appearance of his Commander, but after he shook it off he hugged her back and started crying. "Commander, I'm… I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't touch the prisoner, Commander Tano!" someone bellowed with a screech of audio feedback.

"Ke'shabi nebat," Ahsoka snapped. Rex almost choked and wondered who'd taught her that. She cupped Dogma's face. "Ke'sushi, Dogma," she said quickly. "Gar cuy cin'kar'ta. Gar cuy jat'verd. Gar ru'cabuor Republika. Ni partayli. Gar vode partayli. Ni ven'akaani akay gar cuy yaim. Ne noy'ganar manda. Mhi ne'nibra."

"Now, Commander!" Rex caught a glimpse of the angry clone's armor; ARC Commander Blitz. Rex winced. He wasn't a bad man by any means, he just completely lacked a sense of humor.

"Do you understand? I won't stop, Dogma." Ahsoka pushed their vod's hair out of his face.

"On program!" Blitz roared.

"Commander, please don't leave me here," Dogma cried. Rex found that he was blinking back tears of his own, but reminded himself that Dogma was alive, and that's what mattered. As long as he was still alive, there was hope.

Ahsoka pulled him back into a hug. "I'm sorry, Dogma."

"On fucking program now, prisoner!" Blitz burst into the cell and roughly yanked her back by the collar of her robes, then pinned her arms at her sides in a wampa hug.

Dogma went for his sidearm. Wolffe began to curse and looked away from the window, trying to break through the door.

"No, no, no, fuck–" Rex stood up and his chair fell to the ground behind him. He held his breath and stared helplessly at the datapad screen, knowing that he couldn't change whatever was about to happen, but still feeling the panicked urge to reach through the screen and hold his brother back. His heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it might burst through his ribs. "Dogma, no–"

Wolffe turned back to the window just in time for Rex to see his vod'ika break Blitz's hold and toss him in a perfect cetan jabat'lamirud throw over her shoulder and pin him with a bony knee to the throat.

Rex nearly went dizzy with relief and he couldn't help but cackle out loud. He'd taught her that throw. "Well done, littl'un, well done," he whispered fondly at the screen.

"Stand down, Corporal!" she ordered Dogma.

He immediately drew back to the wall and stood at attention. "Sir, yes Sir!" he barked. Rex saw life return to his eyes. He wondered if she had been projecting hope at him.

"Well I'll be damned," Rex heard Sinker mumble.

"That was for your safety," Ahsoka said softly. "I'm going to let you up now, Commander. No hard feelings, 'lek?" Once she was on her feet, she stayed between Blitz and Dogma. She was still protecting him.

"Out. Now." Blitz marched Ahsoka out with a firm hand on her rear lek and the clip ended, leaving Rex to stare at his horrified reflection in the dark-screened chat of the datapad. Blitz… Blitz was stationed under a fucking Togruta, surely he knew that he should never touch one on their rear lek, especially a female, without permission.

The relief of seeing Dogma safe was overwhelmed by the blinding rage of seeing his little sister be manhandled. He immediately sat and opened a 72-79 report. How dare he touch her there. That was… well it wasn't intimate like that, but intimate in the way that it was a sign of trust. That was for their clan-mates only, and Blitz had just grabbed it like she was a shabla misbehaving puppy, used it to walk her out of the room like it wasn't incredibly sensitive–

"Nature of complaint," he growled to himself. "At approximately–" Rex glanced at his chrono, " –0443, I witnessed Commander Blitz, ARC-2485, inappropriately handle the sensory head organs of Padawan Commander Ahsoka Tano via helmet-cam footage captured by Commander Wolffe, CC-3636, while on Kamino. Commander Blitz used the rear lek organ of Commander Tano as a handle to direct her out of a room–"

"On your feet, Captain." Cody rapped on the window above Rex's desk. "Come for a run with me before the shinies are awake. They keep challenging me to race them."

"I'm busy," Rex snapped, not looking away from the screen. "The mentioned organ is an intimate area of a Togruta female, the touching of which is reserved for their mate and their family unit–"

His door slid open and two hands clapped down on his shoulders. "It's not even five, vod'ika, why are you working on reports?" Cody asked him wearily, then leaned in closer. "Wait, is that a 72-79? Sexual harassment?"

"Wolffe sent me helmet footage from Kamino," Rex seethed. "I just saw Blitz grab Ahsoka's rear lek."

"Uh…"

"You can't touch that without permission, Cody!" Rex stopped typing and glared at his ori'vod. How did he not know that?

"Rex, I know for a fact you touch that all the time."

"I have permission."

"And how did you obtain that permission?" Cody asked with a raised brow.

"She gave it to me," Rex replied scathingly.

"Rex, stop." Cody yanked the datapad away and then slapped Rex's hand away. "I said stop, you idiot. How exactly are you going to explain that it's okay for you to touch it and not for him?"

"I just said I have–"

"I'm not talking about permission." Cody interrupted, rolling his eyes. "If it's an intimate area for–" he glanced at the datapad, " –for family and mates, then why are you allowed to touch it?"

Rex opened his mouth to protest, then closed it.

"Exactly. You're not either, technically. Drop it." Cody deleted his report and then tossed the datapad on his rack. "Did you talk to Skywalker yet?"

"No, Codes." Rex rubbed his neck and tried not to scowl. "I don't know what to say."

"Just tell him you noticed that Ahsoka was hiding an injury and refused to go to the medbay. Threaten to involve Kix. Doesn't matter when he says, just watch his eyes."

"And what do I do if he says yes?" Rex asked, leaning back in his chair. "Where do I go from there? Do I report it? Who do I even report it to?"

"Kenobi," Cody said immediately. "Don't tell me you've got no balls when I just watched you try to file a bloody sexual harassment report on a superior officer for touching her tail."

Rex very much wanted to argue that it was different, but for the life of him he couldn't explain how. "I really hate you sometimes," Rex mumbled.

"I know, little brother, I know." Cody clapped him on the shoulders again and squeezed. "Come for a run. You can practice with me, pretend I'm Skywalker."

He'd need an idea of how to start, first, but he followed Cody out anyway.

Chancellor Palpatine lived in the penthouse of 500 Republica, the same building that Padmé lived in. It meant that when Anakin went to meet him at seven in the morning for breakfast, he actually had to wake up two hours early instead of one so he could sneak back to the Temple and reapproach in the proper speeder.

"Master Jedi." Chancellor Palpatine's butler greeted him at the door with a deep bow. He was a tall, dark-skinned Human man wearing an impeccably pressed white tunic, black pants, and shoes so shiny that Anakin could see his reflection in them. "His Grace is waiting for us in the garden."

"Thank you." Anakin nodded at him and followed.

"Anakin!" Chancellor Palpatine was already fully dressed and seated casually at a small glass table with legs made of a complicated braid of black wire. The table had a vase full of tiny Nubian flowers of pink and red that smelled like citrus, and around it were tiny plates of pastries and tarts. He stood as Anakin approached and beamed at him. "Let me thank you for saving my life once again, dear boy. You are a marvel. The Jedi don't know how lucky they are to have you."

Anakin tried not to blush. The Chancellor had always been too kind to him. "I simply did my duty as a Jedi, Your Grace," he said, ducking his head.

"Oh, lad, there's no need to be humble," the Chancellor chuckled, then patted him on the back. "Have a seat and share breakfast with me. Would you like some caf?"

Anakin nodded. "That would be great, Your Grace."

The Chancellor snapped his fingers at the butler, who delivered a delicate porcelain cup with a pad of bantha butter floating on top, just the way Anakin liked it. He stood at the ready with his arms crossed behind his back once Anakin had taken a sip and made a face of appreciation.

"What a stunning morning." Chancellor Palpatine held up a small plate with a slice of Nubian fruit tart to Anakin with a wink. "Shuura fruit. Your favorite."

Anakin put down his caf then took the slice with a grin. "Thank you, Chancellor. I'm flattered that you remembered."

"I take pride in knowing everything about my friends." The Chancellor smiled and took a bite of a flaky pastry. "How was your trip to Toydaria?"

"Fairly uneventful." Anakin tried not to eat too fast. Padme was always reminding him that wolfing down his food was rude.

"I understand that you brought a baby back with you."

Anakin smiled. "Yes. Taarak Na'Hane-Bata. A Togruta youngling."

"A Togruta? Whatever was he doing on Toydaria?"

"He was adopted. His parents were Toydarian." Anakin finished his tart and gingerly wiped his hands with a cloth napkin. "Togruta younglings are very affectionate. Next to Humans, they're the most commonly adopted race of youngling in the Republic."

"Oh, what is that phrase?" Chancellor Palpatine asked, thinking. " 'There's no word for orphan in Togruti,' I believe it is, yes?"

"Yes, Chancellor. That's just a saying, though, there's hundreds of dialects of Togruti and a word for orphan in most of them. The saying refers to their sweet nature, it's not literal." Anakin blushed, hoping that he hadn't just been rude.

"It's a wonder any of them are given up, then." Chancellor Palpatine sipped his caf.

"Many of them are stolen," Anakin conceded. "The operation on Xior-Cal that my Padawan dismantled was a disturbing example of the industry. Dol Sylen had been breeding Togruta infants to be sold like tooka kittens, as they're in high demand for adoption."

"I remember your reports. A vile man. Your Padawan was lucky to have escaped him unviolated." The Chancellor frowned. "I do hope that Taarak wasn't one of his… kittens."

Anakin had had an unfortunate amount of time to think about it, and the probability was high. Not that he was necessarily a product of Dol Sylen's horrific farm, but that he was probably sold into slavery and then 'adopted' by rich, well-meaning parents who went to less than reputable agencies to find the exact child that they wanted. Ahsoka had told him how important clan was to her people. If a child's parents died, they'd be raised by other family members without hesitation; in fact, family members would be fighting each other over who got to raise them. She'd even joked that they were as bad as Mandalorians and tended to walk off with unattended children left in public. They didn't often, if ever, give them up for adoption willingly.

Additionally, many children that were sold into the adoption industry were native to the southern continent of Shili. Taarak was definitely southern; not just because he had similar coloring to Ahsoka, but because he had venom glands. It was a vestigial trait, one that was almost completely absent in the north but occurred in around twenty-five percent of all Togrutas native to the southern continent. Thankfully his venom hadn't actually developed yet, because Anakin – and Cody, unfortunately – had been gnawed nearly down to the bone by the teething toddler.

Ahsoka once had venom glands too, but the Temple had removed them when she was five. Eliezer Gretch had called Anakin a stupid slave who couldn't read in front of her. She had lunged forward and bit him like a rat, then the next day she'd been booked for surgery.

The possibility of Taarak being a product of the slave trade had certainly made separating Taarak from his loving Toydarian parents easier to bear. Even though they'd been the ones to contact the Temple and seemed to genuinely want the best for him, the fact that they had probably bought him like a pup from an adoption agency sat wrong with Anakin.

"So," Chancellor Palpatine finished his caf. "How goes Ahsoka's quest?"

"Not great," Anakin admitted. "There was nothing to find on Kamino. Someone had erased all of the information on the Cuy'val Dar from their archives."

"How unfortunate."

"They're going to Geonosis to look for Fett's armor," Anakin continued. "Ahsoka's hoping that there will be some sort of backup there."

"And she expects to find it?" The Chancellor raised a brow. "He's been dead for quite a while."

"I highly doubt she's going to find anything, but she is skilled in seeking out the auras of objects. If anyone can find it, it'll be her."

"Really?" The Chancellor looked impressed. "I don't think you've spoken of this ability before."

"I taught her how," Anakin grinned proudly. "Well, sort of. I explained how I would do it in theory. Her Empathy allows her to experience it in a more visual way, I think."

"Ah, yes, her Empathy." The Chancellor gestured at his butler, who quickly refreshed his cup of caf. "What a fascinating Talent that she has. It's hard to comprehend someone having such control over the emotions of others. It's a frightening concept."

Anakin laughed out loud. "I suppose so. In a lesser person, it could be dangerous, but she's…" Anakin smiled and looked away. "She's phenomenal. She's stubborn and reckless, but she's also kind hearted and pure. She only uses her gift to help. The thought of using it to hurt people repulses her. I don't think she would do it even to save her own life."

"What about yours?" The corners of Palpatine's eyes crinkled with a kind smile.

"I…" Anakin paused, unsure. "I don't know. Hopefully it would never come to that."

"Oh, indeed. It would be a sad day for such a pure-hearted young woman."

"Agreed." Anakin's smile faded. He didn't want to think about what it would do to her spirit to use her Talent like that. He knew firsthand that she would endure anything to help him, now.

"What's wrong, Anakin?" Palpatine was looking at him with concern heavy in his eyes. "Did I say something to upset you?"

"No, no of course not." Anakin looked away. The Chancellor had been a trusted confidant for years. He'd never judged him, not even for what he'd done to the Tuskens who had murdered his mother. He could be trusted.

He certainly couldn't ask Obi-Wan about it. The best case scenario would be him removing her from his tutelage. Worst case he'd be expelled, though he wasn't sure if watching Ahsoka be trained by a new Master wouldn't actually be worse in a way.

"After Obi-Wan faked his death, I…" Anakin hesitated.

"It's alright, my boy, you know that whatever you tell me stays between us." The Chancellor squeezed his shoulder.

"I didn't handle it well. I was spinning, and I ended up hurting Ahsoka," Anakin admitted quietly. "She was only trying to take care of me, but I just wanted to be left alone and she… she wouldn't. She wouldn't leave me. She–" Anakin broke off and closed his eyes, ashamed.

"What happened, Anakin?" The Chancellor's concern was clear.

"She wouldn't leave me," Anakin repeated, almost in a whisper. "I grabbed her arm and I… I didn't mean to squeeze it that hard but I just wanted her to go, and I…" Anakin looked at his mentor, sick with guilt. "I broke it. I squeezed it so hard that it snapped."

"Oh, Anakin, that's…" The Chancellor looked troubled. "That's terrible, but it was an accident. We both know you would never do such a thing in your right mind."

"Of course not, but I still did it," Anakin replied miserably. "It woke me up out of whatever dark pit I'd been stuck in. I healed it immediately and she's okay, just a little sore, but I can't get the look on her face out of my mind. She was so afraid." Anakin swallowed hard. "I broke my Padawan's arm because I couldn't control my anger and grief. I failed her."

"No, Anakin, you made a mistake," the Chancellor assured him. "A serious mistake, but a mistake. You were grieving and lashed out."

Anakin shook his head. It wasn't a good enough reason. He still should have been better.

He did feel a little better now that he'd admitted it to someone, though, almost like the secret was an infected boil that had needed lancing. He took a long, slow breath before finally looking up at the sympathetic, concerned face of Chancellor Palpatine.

"Are you afraid that she'll resent you for it?" The Chancellor asked in a kind voice.

"I was, at first," Anakin admitted with a nod. "But she forgave me immediately, and afterwards, she… she still didn't leave me." He stared at his boots. "I broke her arm and she didn't leave me. Not for a second."

The Chancellor was silent for a few moments. "Do you think that she will report this incident to Master Kenobi?"

Anakin shook her head. "She's not speaking to him at the moment," he said with a humorless laugh.

"Well, that's fortunate." The Chancellor fell silent again. "Do you… no, nevermind. I shouldn't ask that."

Anakin turned his head. "What is it, Chancellor?"

"I…" Chancellor Palpatine hesitated. "I hate to even propose this, but I feel as though I may be remiss if I don't. Is there any chance that she may reveal this information to him when it would be… advantageous to her?"

"What?" Anakin said, his voice cracking in surprise. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "Like– like blackmail? No, never. She wouldn't. She's not ambitious."

"You're sure?" The Chancellor raised an eyebrow. "I only ask because I would hate for an accident to derail your entire career."

"I'm positive," Anakin said. "She just wants to help people and be a good Jedi." Anakin played with the straps on his glove. One of them had been almost severed by Taarak's chewing. "She's never cared about power."

"I find that hard to believe," the Chancellor chuckled.

Anakin looked up. "Believe it," he said earnestly. "She truly doesn't. All she cares about is serving the galaxy."

"That's a rare quality in a person," the Chancellor said quietly. "To be as selfless as you claim she is. I am glad that you have such an apprentice, Anakin. It sounds like the two of you complement each other most agreeably. And she certainly seems loyal to you."

"She's as loyal as they come." Anakin smiled as he said it, truly appreciating how true it was for the first time. "She'd never betray me. I trust her completely."

"Then I will say again how glad I am that you have found such a devoted apprentice."

Anakin nodded. He was lucky, despite what Obi-Wan would say.

"You should bring her the next time we meet," the Chancellor said pleasantly. "I so rarely get a chance to see her. She impressed me with her tenacity when making her case for Boba Fett's release."

"Thank you again for that, Chancellor. I know Ahsoka appreciates it."

"Before we depart," Chancellor Palpatine said, steepling his hands with a guarded expression on his face, "I, ah, I was contacted by Senator Burtoni before you arrived. It seems that there was an incident at Tipoca City. Ahsoka apparently decided that they should leave in the middle of a hurricane and threatened to shoot down their weather matrix tower if they didn't release her ship."

"They locked her ship down?" Anakin frowned. "They had no right to do that."

"I am led to believe that it was a safety precaution, to prevent the ship from being blown off of the landing pad," the Chancellor replied.

Anakin chewed on the inside of his cheek. "She'd never do something that drastic without a good reason," he replied. "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you. I'd hate for a diplomatic incident to arise because of a misunderstanding."

"Don't worry, Chancellor. I'll get to the bottom of it."

"I trust that you will." The Chancellor smiled broadly. "You've never let me down, Anakin. That's something I very much appreciate about you."

Anakin blushed into his caf. "Thank you, Chancellor."

"Well, I suppose it's finally time to start the day." The Chancellor finished his cup and stood. "It was a delight to see you again, Anakin. I wish your Padawan luck in her endeavors, and…" he paused. "Do not be too hard on yourself when you've already been forgiven. You are only Human, after all."

Anakin bowed, deeply grateful for his reassurance. "Thank you, Chancellor."

"Perhaps…" the Chancellor paused, then smiled. "You should buy her a nice gift. Girls her age love presents, and if I recall correctly Togrutas delight in collecting small trinkets. Something to do with their more animalistic nature, I believe."

Anakin knew from Padmé that because Nubian aristocracy was exclusively Human, they tended to speak with a certain level of bluntness about the traits of Near-Human races. Chancellor Palpatine didn't hold any prejudice or malice towards them – the Chancellor didn't seem to hold malice towards anyone at all, in his experience – but Anakin still didn't like it when he used terms like beastly or animalistic. Anyone else would have gotten a death glare and a sharp correction, but Anakin simply bowed his head and bid him farewell.

The butler led him through the apartment and had just closed the door behind Anakin when a call came through on his commlink.

"General Skywalker." Rex's hologram popped up.

"Morning, Rex. What's up?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to you about something when you have a moment." Rex looked nervous. "It's… about Commander Tano."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"I, ah," Rex's hologram rubbed the back of its neck awkwardly. "I believe that she's hiding an injury to her arm, Sir. I'm concerned as to why."

Anakin froze. "Oh?" he asked, trying to sound like his stomach hadn't just dropped out of his body and right off the edge of 500 Republica.

"Yes, Sir." Rex swallowed hard. "Like I said, when you have a moment."

"Alright." Anakin's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Alright. We'll, um, we'll talk soon."

Something in Rex's eyes changed. "Thank you, Sir," he said quietly, then disconnected.

Anakin leaned against the Chancellor's door and tried not to panic.

Notes:

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS cetan jabat'lamirud: kneeling over-shoulder, name of the move Ahsoka used to toss Blitz (in judo it's called a seoi nage throw, which translates to 'over-back' or 'over-shoulder' throw) Ke'shebi nebat: fuck off Ke'sushi, Dogma. Gar cuy cin'kar'ta. Gar cuy jat'verd. Gar ru'cabuor Republika. Ni partayli. Gar vode partayli. Ni ven'akaani akay gar cuy yaim. Ne noy'ganar manda. Mhi ne'nibra: Listen, Dogma. You are pure hearted. You are a good soldier. You protected the Republic. I remember. Your brothers remember. I will fight until you are home. Don't lose spirit. We won't fail. TOYDARIAN TRANSLATIONS Bwerani kuno chonde: Come here please OTHER NOTES Porg Eyes 2 electric boogaloo ayyy lol. SO there's a weird kind of… not plot hole, but inconsistency with the whole Padawan age thing? So in Legends, if they weren't chosen by 13 by a Master they were sent to the Agricorps as a washout. That almost happened to Obi-Wan. This is all fine and good except when Ahsoka shows up, everyone is like baby??? Baby padawan??? Tiny, too small, not old enough??? In part I know this was because she was originally intended to be 11-12 and was retconned to 14 later on, but to make it logical in my brain I'm adjusting it to where if they weren't selected by 16 they got sent to the Agricorps and Ahsoka's 14 year old ass was at the very beginning of the normal range for being a Padawan and she was short for her age lol

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

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rp-partnerfinder · 6 months ago

Note

The Mandalorian Roleplay (OcxCC Doubles Welcomed)

I’m 18+ and All Participants must be 18+

Please allow me to introduce myself! My name is Kim and my timezone is CST.

Now onto the rp.

I’m gonna try this again because so far no luck hahaha. So I love love love Mando! Like love! It’s unhealthy. I also love love Grogu. The plot idea that I wanted to do basically was of us following the lines of maybe after season two like maybe when it’s the book of Boba Fett like Boba need Din’s help so I was thinking of maybe incorporating that our characters are friends or maybe they are a couple but in secret and they are in the sort of like they like each other but they don’t wanna say anything and then at the same time Din is kind of worrying between himself because he’s like I’m not a Mandalorian but I like her and it’s like we could just go along from the book of Boba Fett and into season three.

I can totally double and I can play a canon character as long as you play a Din for my end. If you can’t be Din then Boba Fett would be my second choice. I would like the rp to have 50/50 mature scenes and stuff. I do also want to talk about ocs and be friends and just get all cute with our Ocs hahaha and their respective partners.

Now Rules:

1. Be of Age because this is will have content not suitable for minors.

2. Next is reply length.. NO ONE LINERS

3. I'm a very enthusiastic person when it comes to rp, so please if you just want to write don't reach out.

I do work Monday- Friday from 7:30 to 4:00 but I do have breaks however I am not available Monday evenings or Saturday Mornings but any thing other than that I’m free and I will let you know if I am not. I run on CST time

I write in third person and I am semi literate and ask you are the same as well as creative! I also only rp on Discord

If you’re interested tell me your characters and favorite character from The Mandalorian. Thank you for reading! Is you're interested please do let me know!!

#18+ rp #The Mandalorian Roleplay #The Mandalorian Rp #Mandalorian Roleplay #Mandalorian Rp #star wars rp #star wars roleplay #book of Boba Fett roleplay #book of Boba Fett rp #roleplay #rp #roleplay search #roleplay finder #rp finder #1x1 rp #fandom rp

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findyourrp · 6 months ago

Note

The Mandalorian Roleplay (OcxCC Doubles Welcomed)

🚀🚀❤️❤️🗡️🗡️🪐🪐🪐

I’m 18+ and All Participants must be 18+

Please allow me to introduce myself! My name is Kim and my timezone is CST.

Now onto the rp.

I can totally double and I can play a canon character as long as you play a Din for my end. If you can’t be Din then Boba Fett is my second choice. I would like the rp to have 50/50 mature scenes and stuff. I do also want to talk about ocs and be friends and just get all cute with our Ocs hahaha and their respective partners.

Now Rules:

1. Be of Age because this is will have content not suitable for minors.

2. Next is reply length.. NO ONE LINERS

3. I'm a very enthusiastic person when it comes to rp, so please if you just want to write don't reach out.

I do work Monday- Friday from 7:30 to 4:00! I don’t however rp on Monday Evenings and Saturday Mornings sometimes! However it is also close to summer break so I’m excited hahahah. I run on CST time

I write in third person and I am semi literate and ask you are the same as well as creative! I also only rp on Discord

If you’re interested tell me your characters and favorite character from The Mandalorian. Thank you for reading! Is you're interested please do let me know!!

#18+ rp #rp finder #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #the mandalorian rp

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maybege · 4 months ago

Text

the entire comment is under a cut because i am on holiday and apparently in yapping mode lol

so fun fact about this piece: I was actually terrified of reading it because I knew that as soon as I read our dbf!Boba, I knew I would never want to look at a keyboard again unless I think it could even come close to the absolute perfection that you serve with Boba 🤌 But we all know me and The Horny always wins especially when it comes to your Boba (that and also your fics are like watching a favourite movie on a sunday, so i gotta take my time, make my tea, get the snacks and the blankets and so on (and i wanted to save it for my holiday lol))

Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.

And neither did I. Sweet Jesus, the images this just conjured up in my brain are giving me very nsfw feelings and we aren't even in the nsfw passages yet.

ALSO THE FACT that he is saved as boba 🖤🧸🧋 ???? This has my entire heart. No three emojis could ever portray him as well as these three because hell yes. THE TEDDY BEAR?? MY HEART 🥺😭😫

“You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”

I know this was just a tiny flashback to a taste of something more but I have to repeat myself. SWEET JESUS! This is so hot and works so well because Boba 🤝 (semi-)public sex is a combination that is just exactly what the world (me) needs.

“It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…” “No thigh to get off on?”

EXCUSE ME MAAM MS ZWEI HOW DARE YOU CALL ME OUT LIKE THIS?

“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”

… somebody called?

“Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”

Indeed, that is what they do and I had a completly normal, average, subtle reaction to reading this line. No grinning, no squealing, no blushing at all. Completely normal. I am fine. Totally fine.

Also also also I want to highlight the entire following passage:

Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?” Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman. Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.

This deserves not only to be written down in gold ink and framed (as does everything in this fic, lbr) but like. This just sums up how magnificent of a write you are?? We have the hotness, the spice, the teasing and the fun and it shifts so effortlessly into the deep, dark voids we all have inside us where sometimes, you are ashamed of your kink and you are scared that the person you love doesn't love you back and I am not crying, you are.

“Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”

Girl is a pillow princess and I have nothing but respect and admiration for her because samesies.

“You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”

Boba teasing about coming inside?????????

^real time footage of me lol

Anyway 12/10 this was absolute perfection and I’ll never ever be able to not think about this 🥲 you truly blessed us 🥵

WORTH THE RISK

—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—WORD COUNT: 10.8k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, dad’s friend!Boba, reader has parents mentioned in the story, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), secret relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), light choking, this is straight up filth y’all I’m not even joking, if the previous things are not your cup of tea this will not be the fic for you 🥴

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll post this fic in a couple weeks! literally a month later here we are besties, the dad's friend Boba fic inspired by @maybege's post!! this fic ended up taking waaaay longer than I expected since the story took a turn I didn't plan for, but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end! big shout out to Moss for betaing and all the besties who sent me incoherent emoji scrambles for my snippets along the way 💖 enjoy y'all!

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

Setting out the last of the dessert trays on your parents’ patio table, you swipe a hand over your forehead. A delightfully cool breeze ruffles the hem of your dress, signaling the coming summer evening and carrying the pleasant mixture of laughter and music from the backyard. Satisfied with the arrangement of treats, you look out over the party of family and friends gathered on the lawn: neighbors, coworkers, and family of all sorts gathered together for your parents’ annual cookout, which your father fondly calls the “Bar-bo-polooza” (and which your mother decidedly does not).

Scanning the crowd, you spot her bouncing their neighbor’s baby girl on her hip while your father diligently lectures her partner on proper grilling techniques over his beer. A swarm of kids darts around the party in what appears to be a high stakes game of tag, while a gaggle of your aunties and Uncle Steven are clumped together in tight conversation over the latest gossip. A smile curls up your lips—nothing bridges the generational or cultural divide quite like a juicy piece of insider knowledge.

Giving the yard a final skim, you give up on locating your boyfriend and head for your chair by the fire pit. You’re no sooner settled when you feel your phone buzz.

Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You still can’t see him from your seat, but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides just high enough to still be considered appropriate for a family setting. Your phone vibrates again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.

A heated shiver snakes down your spine, pooling in the dampness already nestled between your thighs. Your plan to tease Boba to the edge of insanity is already taking its toll.

Logically, you know you shouldn’t be riling him up like this at a family function, but you can’t seem to stop yourself after he’s been out of town. You’ve missed his bone deep comfort, his small touches, and the safety of his arms. Hell, you’ve even missed the smell of him, breathing in that balmy spiciness that’s all his own.

Of course, you’ve also missed his keen knack for making you black out with pleasure. But who could possibly blame you for that? The man is nothing short of a god when it comes to making you feel good, so it’s not your fault you rubbed him half hard in the driveway or brushed up against him in your flirty new sundress during the party set up. Besides, you’d been an absolute angel in his absence: texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drank enough water every day, and not touched where you wanted him most just like he asked.

Really, you’d been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises. Just the thought of what he said he’d do has your thighs pressing together. So, with a sly grin sneaking over your lips, you tap out a response.

Adrenaline pumping hot in veins, you hit send and click of your screen. You make a show of stretching so your tits press together, sure Boba’s got a laser focus on you after that message.

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You search for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.

“My, my, my, such a dirty little mouth on such a pretty little girl.”

A hot shock of electricity shoots down your spine. Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin deceptively gentle, like a blade wrapped in dark velvet: sheathed, but no less dangerous.

Your pulse jumps under the thin skin of your throat. You don’t need to look up to know you’re in treacherous waters. His tone alone tells you everything you need to know—your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially when you acted like you could get away with them. Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Wanna find out how dirty it can get?”

The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” His umber eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours… don’t make me add to that list.”

Something hot and dangerous spikes in your core. You can practically feel his lips on your overheated skin, the scrape of his teeth down your neck. Luckily for your rapidly evaporating self-control, however, you catch Ari waving at you and you signal at their saved seat. The reprieve gives you a moment to swallow back the well of desire pressing against your throat. You’re already playing a dangerous game with your relationship—you really shouldn’t be adding to it by tempting fate, or Boba, in your parents’ backyard.

After moving to town two years ago, Boba and your dad had become fast friends, bonding over their love of classic cars and good whiskey. Freshly cut in your former employer’s downsizing, you had come home just after they had started spending weekends drinking and working on the old Chevy in your dad’s garage. It was over for you the second you saw him: broad shoulders, tanned, and impossibly gorgeous, Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.

For a torturous year you danced around your simmering mutual attraction, months filled with “accidental” touches and excuses to see each other more than strictly necessary for a daughter and her father’s friend. He gave you rides when your poor 2003 Toyota finally met its end, helped you move in with Ari, and even let you drunkenly cry on his shoulder at last summer’s cookout when you were sure your life was a failure. You really fell for him then. Hard.

Always teasing you with winks and flirty smiles, things finally came to a head at your parents’ New Year's Eve party. Scrabbling down the stairs for the countdown, you’d crashed right into him, his arms wrapping around your waist to halt your fall. By the time the voices outside yelled “Happy New Year,” you already had your hands (and mouths) all over each other.

The instant chemistry between you has only become more explosive since. In the almost six months of your relationship, you’ve orgasmed harder, louder, and more often than you thought was possible for a human being. But more importantly, you’ve also grown and learned a lot about yourself, with Boba coaxing you to embrace your needs without shame, both sexual and not. Mentally, you’re in a much better place than you were after you were let go from your dream job; and physically, well… you’ve never been more satisfied.

Of course, you’re not nearly ready to reveal all this to your parents.

Boba has respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, despite his desire to claim you as his own every time your mother introduced you to some nice boy from her temp agency. Her mentioning that she invited “Kevin from Jimenez Landscaping” today is partially what made you decide on wearing the particular little sundress you had on. Not for him of course, but to drive Boba wild while you humored your mom and talked to the guy. The rest of your scheme—putting your hand down Boba’s pants behind his truck and digging yourself into a very deep hole over text—had been more or less spur of the moment.

Staring up at him now, dead serious with little patience left for mercy, has your insides twisting in tight, needy knots. Boba is a man of his word and not above leaving you unfulfilled when he thought you deserved it. Maker did he know how to make you squirm.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, doing your best to tamp down the need leaking into your voice. “I swear I’ll take them off when Ari gets back.”

You might be a brat but you’re not stupid: you know when you’ve flown too close to the sun.

He smiles then, smug and shining, leaning down to plant what appeared to be an unoffending, fatherly kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s more like it. Not so hard to be a good girl, now is it, darling?”

The sensual rasp of his whisper calls forth memories of love made sweet and long, making your stomach flip and tighten. Praying for the heat to leave your face, you clench your thighs together to ward them off.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Your head snaps up to see Ari’s freckled face plastered with a sardonic expression. Your confidant since childhood, your cousin is the only person who knows about your relationship—and isn’t afraid to give you shit about it.

“Of course not,” Boba answers breezily, patting your shoulder, “we were just commenting on how perfect the weather turned out.”

Ari scoffs, dropping down next to you. “Yeah, sure. If anyone else here actually had eyes, they would see right through the two of you.”

You grin and accept the offered lemonade. “What? Can a young lady and a handsome older gentleman not talk at a party?”

Boba’s hand squeezes your shoulder in a silent warning to behave. Still glowing with his praise of “good girl” echoing in your ears, you opt to stay so.

“Last I checked, they can,” Ari gestures back and forth between you. “It’s just the ‘fuck me’ eyes that make it totally obvious you’re screwing.”

“I myself prefer the term ‘making love’ over ‘screwing,’” Boba chuckles.

Ari immediately makes retching noises, their face screwing up in disgust. “Making love?! What are you, like a thousand years old?” They hold up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t even want to think about that more than I already have to.”

Despite your cousin’s reaction, his words bloom heat in your stomach. As good as Boba is at straight up fucking, he also loves you so tenderly and slowly some nights it nearly brings you to tears. With sweet kisses wrapped in praise and gentle touches laced with assurances that you were his and he was yours, he crafted a devotion more sincere and pure than you thought your heart could hold.

Ari elbows you, pulling you back to reality. “Now unless you got tea to add to this conversation, sir, I’m gonna need you to beat it. Me and your girlfriend have some important information to discuss. Auntie is three margaritas deep and just told me some very interesting things about her divorce.”

Boba’s fingers drift across the nape of your neck in a subtle reminder of delicious possession. He makes a show of sighing in exaggerated defeat and comes around your chair. Sticking out his hand, he nods. “Ari.”

“Fett.” They shake and Boba heads over to where your dad is flipping burgers on the grill. Somehow even his walk made you thrum with electricity.

When he’s out of earshot, Ari whispers behind their drink. “Finally. Now, she said that she was the one who instigated the divorce…”

It’s not until you head inside to pee that you remember your promise to Boba.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Clock’s ticking, princess. Panties. Now.> Received 6 minutes ago

Shit. You groan and throw your head back on your shoulders. Why is there always a line when you want to use the bathroom? Especially when you need to get your panties off before your boyfriend reaches up your dress and rips them off for you?

When the door finally opens, you rush in. Clicking the lock, you immediately yank off your underwear, taking the briefest moment to admire them. Pink, cute, and soaked in the middle, you feel deliciously dirty holding up the scrap of fabric in the mirror to snap a pic.

<All yours 😘> 1 image attached

The urge to run and take another picture in his truck is extremely tempting, but a knock on the door has you rushing to finish up.

Boba’s waiting for you when you step outside, looking handsome as sin as he leans against the deck railing. As casually as you can with a naked cunt and a pair of panties balled in your fist, you slip next to him and press them into his large hand. Maker, the sight of him stuffing the illicit garment into his pocket should absolutely not be as fucking hot as it is.

Seeing the scrunched look on your face, he chuffs a quiet laugh. “I can smell how wet you are, babygirl. Something’s got you all worked up, huh?” His tone is molasses, thick with self-satisfaction. “Brats do always love it when the consequences of their actions catch up to them.”

In an attempt to diffuse his pride, you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you said I was your good girl.”

He flashes you that jaw-dropping smile of his. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Before you can get any more hot and bothered, you see your mother approaching with a gangly young man in tow. You curse under your breath; you’d forgotten about Kevin-from-Jimenez-Lanscaping.

Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”

Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re going to have to make polite small talk with your mother and a stranger with your panties stuffed in your secret-boyfriend-who-makes-you-scream-with-pleasure’s pocket.

You’re also aware that it turns you on an embarrassing amount. Fortunately (or not), you don’t have much time to contemplate the extent of that particular depravity before Kevin and your mom stop in front of you.

“There you are!” she exclaims happily. “Kevin, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.” The young man smiles and shakes your hand politely and your mom turns to the older man. “And this is Boba Fett, our neighbor and family friend.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “Now he’s very protective of her, so be careful. Even worse than her father.”

Boba bares his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile, gripping the younger man’s offered hand harder than necessary for the brief shake. The act of possessiveness has your blood boiling even hotter as the poor boy’s eyes widen in surprise. After a couple minutes of tedious conversation that’s mainly Boba glaring over your shoulder, Kevin excuses himself, thanking your mother for inviting him and apologizing for having to leave so soon.

Watching him dart for his car, she levels a scolding tone at your boyfriend. “How is my daughter supposed to find someone when you stare murder at every single person I bring over?”

Unrepentant, he shrugs and smiles. Your shared secret dances on his lips. “I just want what’s best for her. Surely you can’t blame me for that.” Seeing your mother still unconvinced, he throws an arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek.

He sneaks a wink at you and you make a show of rolling your eyes even as your insides warm at his attention. Morally, you’re sure it’s wrong to enjoy this deception so thoroughly, but in this moment you don’t care; it lights some infernal fire inside you that burns hotter than any desire you’ve ever had.

“I hate to say it, but Boba’s right,” you play along. She still looks skeptical and he looks entirely too smug, so you elaborate. “I mean, what good is a guy that’s too chicken to even have a conversation with this grandpa?”

She bursts into a round of laughter that wipes away the previous exasperation from her face. “Oh, be nice to Boba,” she admonishes, lightly smacking your shoulder. “He’s no older than your father.”

A grin splits your face. “Gosh, you’re right, Mom! Boba’s only what, twice my age? I should really have more respect for my elders.” The words barely leave your mouth before Boba turns out his solo cup of ice water out over your head. Shocked with the sudden cold pouring down your face and neck, you instantly resort to tattling and finger pointing.

“No, ma’am, don’t come crying to me!” she manages through a peal of laughter. “You earned that one fair and square!”

Boba is positively dripping with his own self-satisfaction. “Sure did,” he brandishes a double-edged smile, paternally crossing his arms over his chest, “And I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”

Your skin burns so hot you can feel the rivulets of water trickling down your neck heat up. Memories of your tits pushed up against the chilled hood of Boba’s truck flash across the backs of your eyes—you had complained you were cold after a skinny-dip in the lake and he wasted no time in warming you back up.

“Careful, princess,” he panted damply against your neck. “You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”

It’s a miracle that you don’t immediately buckle when you catch his hand digging into his pocket to fist your panties. Keeping your eyes decidedly off him, you rush through an excuse to go up to your room to change. Before you can scurry off, however, he catches your elbow.

“Here, take this.” Boba pulls off his overshirt and wraps it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catching a cold, now can we?” Your mom nods approvingly before she’s pulled away by another guest. Once she’s out of earshot, he drops his voice low. “Go inside and meet me in the garage. I’m going around front.”

Even as you repress an excited shiver, your heart warms in your chest at Boba’s caution. He never made you feel bad for wanting to keep things private and always structured your affairs so you were never seen going or leaving together. And although you look forward to the day you’ll be ready to hold his hand and steal kisses in front of the world, sneaking around in the meantime did add an extra layer of excitement to your sex.

Sandals slapping wet against the tiled floor, you race across the kitchen to yank open the door to the garage. Thick, sun-warmed air hits your face with a pleasant staleness, smelling of cardboard and motor oil. The quietness of the space clashes with the clamor of excitement pumping through your veins. Sweeping your eyes from one side to the other, a frown weighs on your lips when Boba is nowhere to be seen.

No sooner does the displeasure darken your expression than you’re scooped up into a pair of strong arms and whirled around.

Familiar lips and a suede voice swiftly gentle your startled yelp. “Quiet now, darling,” Boba purrs, practically preening with the pleasure of your surprise, “you don’t want to get us caught now do you?”

Your gleeful giggles of realization are smothered by his barrage of kisses, each one an intoxicating mix of passion and urgency. Boba hooks your legs around his waist, not caring about the water soaking into him as he walks you deeper into the garage.

The intense press of need pushing against your chest melts under his touch, releasing your lungs and draining to pool in your thrumming core. It’s been so long, too long, without him, your body surviving on the mere scraps memory could provide you—nothing in comparison to the sustenance of the man himself. Having him back in your arms, his marred skin beneath your fingertips, his thick torso filling the empty space between your legs… it unhooks the final thorns of discontent left from his absence.

A wave of relief washes away the tenseness of separation, leaving you pliable and radiant once more; the release has Boba’s lips parting in a gratified groan at the satisfaction of being your sanctuary. You take the greedy opportunity to lick your way into his mouth to savor the way his taste fills yours. Lost to the sensation of your tongue sliding along his, a hiss escapes your lips when the back of your thighs hit the freezer’s lid.

The chill dissipates quickly in the glow of Boba’s urgent heat. “Fuck I missed you, babygirl,” he pants against your pulse, “Even if you’ve been a karking terror all afternoon.”

“S’not my fault,” you slur, dragging your teeth across the tan skin of his throat, “missed you too much.” His salt seeps into the warmth of your mouth, spurring memories of late nights pressed together under a quivering lake water moon. Seeking that passionate warmth, your heels dig into Boba’s thighs to press him deeper into your eager desire.

Unyielding and unrushed as ever, he pulls back, refusing to let you usurp his control. Bereft, a whine flies from your throat and you keel towards him in a desperate arch.

Boba catches your cheek in his palm and sharply angles your face to his. Pure dominance radiates off him in the unwavering set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eye, their darkness glinting like two sable jewels in the dim light. His raw power, sanctified by his restraint and your willing submission, shimmers in the air between your bodies—the ephemeral calm before his storm’s consequences.

He knows that disquieting stillness of his never failed to draw your desire. Without a word, his free hand disappears into his pocket to free your panties.

“Mmm, is that the problem?” His strong fingers dig into your cheeks and he turns your head towards the dangling bit of bows and lace. You can feel how the visual evidence of your arousal affects him. He presses the damp fabric against his nose, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your needy little cunt making you act out?”

Your answer comes out more as a whoosh of air than a word, your insides twisting with the searing heat in his tone. “Noooo…”

“So you’re just a naughty brat then?”

You want to protest that you’re nothing but innocent but your throat is too tight with the thrill of his wrath. He balls the frilly underwear into his fist. “Shame. I was thinking about taking mercy on you for your good behavior while I was gone.” He cuts his eyes back to you, smirking. “Too bad brats don’t get that privilege.”

You jolt, panic locking your ankles at the small of his back in an attempt to keep him close. “No! No! That’s not what I meant!” you cry, your voice taunt with distress.

A dangerous chuckle sounds in his throat. You’d shown your desperation, giving him the easy advantage. “Better start explaining then, princess. Or else I’m just gonna come all over these pink panties and you’ll get nothing.”

You blink up at him with pitiful eyes and a swollen-lipped pout. “It’s because I missed you,” you simper, tracing a finger down his chest. “Seven days is a long time. Too long.”

Even through the haze of your shared arousal, Boba resists temptation. “Too long? Babygirl, we talked on the phone every night.”

He lets you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and your fingers begin to loop into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…”

“No thigh to get off on?”

You squeak when he pinches your ass, the subconscious roll of your hips halting.

“As cute and sincere as you may be, my darling girl, you still have a debt to settle for your behavior today.”

That’s fair, reasonable even. You had pushed him further than you yourself would have been able to stand. You slip your fingers under his shirt hem to graze your nails over the dark hair trailing into his jeans. “What if I gave you a little apology?” you offer with a fluttering of lashes. “Show you how sorry I am?”

Boba’s breath hitches but he turns up his chin like he’s uninclined to accept your offer. “You really think a handy is gonna cut it after everything this afternoon?”

The fevered dream from his absence flares white-hot in your mind. Grabbing his belt buckle, you haul your hips forward to press your slick folds against his bulge. “Not even if that apology is you fucking me into the mattress in my childhood bedroom?”

Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.

“Not even if it’s you ruining me in the room where I learned to touch myself? Where I’d cry out into the pillow thinking about what it would feel like to have a real man fuck me instead of stupid, silly boys? Not even then?”

“Princess-”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while, you know… what it would be like to bury my face in those cute flower sheets while you fuck my tight little cunt till I’m sore. Had to take a cold shower while you were gone just to keep my hands off myself.”

In a burst of strength, he forces you flat back against the freezer. “Enough,” he hisses through locked teeth. “For Maker’s sake, enough.”

Despite his protests, he’s rutting his twitching cock into the slick mess at your apex. You grin into his kiss—you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Awww, pleeeease?” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. “Pretty please… Daddy?”

The sound that scrapes up from him is so utterly depraved that for a second, you think he might’ve come in his pants.

“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”

“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”

Boba pushes his hand over your mouth. “You… you have ten seconds to get in your room before I’m fucking you where you stand. And I don’t give a karking shit who sees. Do you understand me?”

“So, apology accepted?”

“One.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Two.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!”

“Three.”

You’re flat out running for the kitchen door, wrenching it open without checking if someone is behind it. Luckily, your path is clear as you fly up the stairs up to your room. The lavender paint and neat rows of school awards are nothing but a pastel blur when you fling yourself onto the twin bed. Quickly positioning yourself, you hike your dress up around your hips so you’re completely on display.

At this point, you don’t even care about the danger; you drop your hand between your legs and delve two fingers between your wet folds. The friction burns delightfully after days without so much as a finger to your clit. The relief is so sweet you have to bite down on your neckline to halt the sounds of delight from spilling out. Imagining just how much better it’ll be when Boba gets his hands on you has you bucking under your fingers.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you, little brat?”

It’s no use snatching back your hand—he’s seen your transgression and is all too ready to add it to your growing list. Grabbing your wrist, he wrenches you up off the bed and whirls you around so your back digs into the door.

“Oh, babygirl,” he husks in a low, cruel voice. “You’re so fucked.”

He’s pressed so far into you the damp fabric of your dress burns, absorbing his overwhelming heat. Pure, wanton desire floods your brain, drowning any hope of sanity until all that remains is him.

Boba yanks down the ruffled sleeve covering your shoulder and sinks in his teeth, groaning when you buck against him. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? You like it when I put you in your place, when I treat you rough.” His large hand snakes up your chest to grab your throat.

“Yes-yes, Daddy!” you gasp, writhing with prickling pleasure when he greedily palms your breast.

He grunts, his hips thrusting into you. “You think calling me that will get you out of trouble?”

“I mean being in my old room… seems kinda fitting, doesn’t it-oh!”

Boba shoves his hand over your mouth. “Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”

Fuck that should not make your clit throb like it does. Just when your knees start to tremble from the sweet friction he’s smoothing over your nipples, he tears himself away. Your cry of displeasure is choked off by a squeeze of his hand. With big, shining eyes, you blink pitifully up at him in a bid for more.

“Don’t bother with the kitten eyes, darling. It won’t save you… and neither will anything else you say.” He rubs his thumb gently over your pulse point, a jarring contrast to the pressure on your throat. “After your little attitude this afternoon, you’re going to have to earn the right to speak.”

Boba just tuts when you pout, a wicked flush of darkness shadowing his expression. “Brats don’t get what they want, especially not such disrespectful ones.” Licking his lips, his voice sinks even deeper. “Still think I can’t do shit with all these people around?”

When you don’t answer, he releases his grip on your neck to run his fingers up your skull and jerk your head back. Taking his time, he kisses you, devouring you until you’re fighting for air. “Little princess, I can do whatever I want to you no matter who’s around, do you understand that? Do you?”

Your answer is nothing more than a pitiful waver but he takes it all the same. “Good. Now take the dress off before I tear it off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat until I’m satisfied you’ve learned some respect.”

You’re out of the offending garment before he even has time to unfasten his belt. Despite the heat in your veins, goosebumps blossom across your skin, heightened by the moisture from your dress. When Boba sees you rubbing away the chill, he smirks and snaps you to his chest. “Looks like you need some warming up…”

Sliding his hands over your ass, he hikes you up into his arms with a puff, chuckling at your small sound of surprise. When he lowers you gently onto your bed, you wriggle into the position you know he wants: laid out on your back with your head hanging off the edge, ready for atonement.

It feels almost like relief. This was the reason you tested Boba’s patience with your antics and attitude; you crave the way he gives you no choice but to comply, the thrill of a fantastical danger shaping you into something vulnerable and eager to please.

The fire in his eyes dampens some as he caresses a hand over your cheek. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into the soft gesture. “Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts gently. When your eyes drift up to his, a smile warms his face. “I know you like it rough and I’m going to give it to you, but I need you to promise to mind your body, okay? Let me feel your three taps to stop.”

As you’d practiced many times, you reach up and slap your palm against his thick thigh. His white smile gets even bigger and he bends to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. You glow with his affection. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you grab a towel for me to lay on? I’m going to soak a spot on the sheets if you keep talking like that.”

A devil’s grin stretches across his bronze features. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he instructs, his voice already husked smoke, “or I will make you only watch while I jack off with those panties.”

If he’d waited a second before darting to the adjoining bathroom, he would’ve seen the way your slicked entrance clenched at his threat.

For a fleeting moment you consider sneaking a hand to your peaked nipples, but the threat of him making you watch and not touch is far too distressing to test. Before you can get too tempted otherwise, Boba strides back into the bedroom with a towel in hand. Without a word spoken between you, he bends and you hook your arms around his neck so he can lift you and lay the towel down.

Boba hums in appreciation when you stretch back out before him, biting back your longing under his gaze. He lets his belt loose and his pants slide down his thighs, finally revealing the gorgeous image of his thick cock. Flushed rosy with want and beautifully slicked with desire, it bobs against his belly full and ready for your touch.

He steps back so you’re forced to crane your neck to see him. The baneful fire has returned to his dark eyes. He pumps his length once and your mouth waters in anticipation. “Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you just because you finally decided to behave.”

You shake your head.

“No talking and no hands, understood?”

Now you shake your up and down. You know far better of him than to disobey.

“Good. Now we don’t have much time before someone comes looking for you, little princess, so open up that mouth and make Daddy proud.”

Thank the Maker for that towel.

Tilting your head back to make your throat one smooth channel, you stick out your tongue wide and ready. Just seeing the way his expression darkens with desire at your obedience has fresh slick wetting your thighs. Hell, your obedience turns you on. Not just any man could make you want to give yourself over to him and you’re sure there are next to none who could possibly deserve it.

Boba steps forward, cupping your cheek in his rough palm and dragging the slippery head of his length over your lips, coating them in his arousal. You stay still, enjoying his taste and gentle attention; he would tell you when he wanted more.

When he rocks forward to let your tongue slide down the vein that runs the underside of his cock, you claw your fingers into the floral sheets beneath you. Your heart pounds against your ribs and your lungs bellow more air into your chest. He’s so close yet so far from where you want him. Spit begins to dribble from the corners of your mouth and your jaw twinges from its wide angle, heightening your need for him even more.

Boba continues his leisurely pace across your tongue, rumbling a few low, pleasured sounds. He notices your frustration—he always notices everything—and chooses to ignore it. It’s a lenient punishment in light of your behavior but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier or your cunt any less desperate.

The whine that escapes from you when he lets his head graze your front teeth is so small it’s almost silent, but he hears it all the same. “Mmm, is there a problem, darling? Something the matter?” The slow drag of him doesn’t stop.

You flick your tongue over his frenulum in a wordless response. Although you can’t see him, you know his pretty brown eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

“Aaah hah hah,” he chuckles through a groan, “is this not enough for my princess? Is getting her tongue used while she’s naked on her pretty pink bed not enough for her?”

Again, since he hasn’t given you permission to speak yet, you stretch your head up to capture the head of his cock between your coated lips, lightly suckling his sensitive tip. When he doesn’t stop you, you let your tongue snake up to lick the pearled drop from his slit.

A faint tremor runs through him, making his length thrum in your mouth. Boba curses and stoops to lay a hand on your throat. No pressure or grip to it, just his hand resting over the exposed column of your neck.

“Swallow.”

His simple command races through you like a spark up a gunpowder trail, igniting the tinder of aching pleasure between your thighs. Reflexively your body snaps to follow his order, your jaw closing and your muscles pushing him deeper into the wet heat of your mouth.

“Fffff- that’s it, babygirl. Juuuust like that… let me feel how good you take me.”

The jagged sound of his enjoyment shoots bright seams of glittering ecstasy into your veins. Conscious of the lack of permission to touch him, you dig your heels into the mattress to push further up his shaft, sucking in a final deep breath before letting his girth slide down your waiting throat.

The next seconds dissolve into a filmy timelessness where every single one of your senses are his—your every sensation and fiber belonging to Boba. Your breath, your sense of smell and taste, sense of direction, everything is all in his control, all his to direct and decide. Even as the need for air burns through your ribs, you feel impossibly free, weightless and perfect within his care.

Retreating into that protected soft space of submission, your mind goes blissfully blank, your sole happiness being Boba’s grunts of pleasure as he pumps his cock down your throat. Sweat slicks your skin and hungry breath claws at your lungs but they’re none of your concern, all you have to worry about is keeping your jaw open. Though it had taken some time to learn to get there, now you rejoice in finding this quiet place within his storm, relishing the way you fall out of time and into his world. Even with the strain and weight of him pressing down onto you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

After some wonderful, unknown period of time, air hisses through Boba’s teeth as he retracts from your warmth. Still blinded by submission, you gasp in big bubbles of air, blinking against the tears of exertion pricking your eyes.

You feel the muted thump of him dropping to his knees near your head. His thumbs are brushing away the salty trails as he cradles your head like a fragile flower against the wind, a smile blooming radiant on your damp face. “Baby… my darling girl,” he pants through seeded kisses, “you did so good for me, took it all… can you believe it? Almost couldn’t stop myself from coming down that perfect throat.”

You’re still hazy, drifting through the fog of your accomplishment, but you manage to pull apart your wet lashes to see his beaming smile. Its luminance turns up your own lips. “I… I did?”

Before now, you’d never managed to get the last thick inch of his cock down your throat—though not for the lack of trying. As oxygen flushes through your system, your head clears. “See,” you croak, buoyed by your success, “doing it in my old bedroom was a good idea.”

Genuine mirth crinkle up his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.” Boba turns and scoops you into arms, pressing you close to take in your scent. “I still gotta make you scream into the sheets, remember?” he murmurs against your temple.

You happily slide against him, relishing the way he fits perfectly against you. “Pretty sure I said ‘screamed into my pillow.’”

He snorts, caressing his hand along your jaw. “How about I make you do both?”

Taking your wild giggle as confirmation, he flips you onto your back to hover over you. You bite your bottom lip against your laughter as he trails tickling kisses down your neck and over your sternum, your breath hitching when he latches onto a pert nipple.

“Tell me…” he rasps through his mouth’s divine suction, “tell me how you would touch yourself.”

The great, crested wave of fire that crashes through ignites your limbs, making you jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. You never felt ashamed with Boba, he has always been your safety, your refuge; he’d wiped more tears than you’d let anyone else ever see and you’d twisted fantasies into his ear that would make the devil blush. But telling him how you rutted into your hand, sweating and barely keeping in your breathy sounds as you tried desperately to understand why boys your age never turned you on suddenly felt absurdly embarrassing.

He must have felt you stiffen under him because he prompts you again.

“I, um… I mean…” Why was this so embarrassing? It’s not like he didn’t know you were into the more seasoned male age range. Sucking in a steadying breath, you realize he’s stopped his ministrations to observe you with a keen eye.

It only makes your unforeseen shame bruise darker. You force a chuckle from your gut. “Sheesh, you know how to get a girl to blush, don’t you?” Your words are too high and paper thin—your façade not remotely convincing, not even to yourself.

Boba’s eyes flick over your strained expression, his lips pressing into a thin line before he bows his head to place a small kiss on your stomach. “We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later,” is all he says. It’s all he has to.

You blow out a weighted breath. His way of making you confront life while still giving you a degree of choice could be as infuriating as it was liberating. If you talk about it now you likely won’t have time for the down and dirty you’ve been craving all week (and, at this point, might shrivel up and die without), but the thought of soldiering on in this cold shadow of shame is utterly unappealing.

Maker, you’re a buzzkill.

Boba slaps a smack against your hip and you yip at the sharp sensation. “No apologizing,” he warns. “Just answer the question, princess. Don’t worry about anything else.” His palm opens to rub away the lingering sting.

Feeling your anxiety swarm like wasps, you try to sink back into your warm mental refuge where things were easier. Try as you might, however, your brain refuses to release itself from its nervous confines to slip into that softer shape.

It had been so terribly confusing back then. Watching your friends swoon over boys in your grade or just above, you tried to see what they saw in them: the supposedly hot guys on the basketball team with their burgeoning height or the apparently dreamy, mysterious poet laureate of your high school. You never understood what they saw in these lanky, acne covered boys or why they would cry so profusely over them. A real partner wouldn’t make you cry, you’d thought, he would take care of you, show you the love you were told you deserve.

But oh how you had wanted to understand, to have a believable answer when the subject of crushes came up at the lunch table or someone’s sleepover. Everyone else did.

You only made the mistake of saying the school’s head coach was hot once—the grossed out looks and “old enough to be our dad” comments made sure of that. Eventually you settled on the safe choice of the football team captain for your obligatory answer whenever the subject came up. Even though it wasn’t true, the pressure was off then.

When you went to college, things didn’t change, no matter how much you hoped they would. You thought maybe it was just the boys at your school you weren’t attracted to, that maybe you were normal after all.

Tears lodge in your throat at the memory of the guys you’d fucked trying to fix what was surely broken inside you, the nights you spent wishing it wasn’t the kind eyes and visible signs of life experience that drew you to the men you desired. Trying to pursue the older guys at bars and social events never ended well for you either; their kindness always dried up when you didn’t want to go back to their place immediately, followed by cutting comments about “daddy issues” and all the mean things that came with them.

Finding Boba, finding acceptance had been a taste of heaven. A golden slice of peace, the vindication that you weren’t some freak or wrong to want a partner who cherished and cared for you. Your stomach drops at the thought of that pure, devoted love. He gave you all of that, asking for nothing in return but your happiness, and you can’t even bring yourself to claim your relationship in public.

Shame curls in on you like leaden weights. He deserves so much better than you. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world they love him and proudly walks at his side—not some scared girl who can’t even bring herself to face her own parents. The wound you thought had long healed rips open inside you, spilling its tainted blood into your heart and a scalding brine down your cheeks.

Before the first sob can sound from your chest, you’re pressed tightly into Boba’s front, held fast by thick, warm arms that stall your rising grief. A watery stream of words tumble out of you all at once. “Back then, it was-I thought-and I couldn’t, I mean I tried-”

“Shhh, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, everything’s alright… yeah, just like that, princess, that’s my good girl.”

His gentle touch and storm soothed voice has your sobs ebbing under his care. “I-is there something wrong with me?” you whisper in a fragile voice.

Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman.

Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.

Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.

You’re vaguely aware of being pulled under covers and tucked in tight to his side. Despite the furnace warmth of him and the blanket, you can’t seem to stop shivering against some inner cold. Piece by patient piece, Boba pulls out your discontent, wiping away new tears and kissing the old ones from your lashes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the darkening sky outside your window but he assures you Ari’s got your absence covered.

Tracing his roughened fingertips up and down your spine, he tilts up your chin to kiss your forehead. “Darling girl, why did you never say anything? That’s all too heavy to have to deal with by yourself. Especially when I’m here to help.”

Why did you? You’d shared so much of your other burdens—your disillusion after losing your dream job, your struggle coping with your life not following your set mental timeline—why had you kept all this to yourself?

“I don’t know…” you whisper, letting your pointer finger trace along the collarbone of his newly revealed chest. “I guess I felt like… like even though what I like isn’t normal, that being with you would make those bad feelings go away… and you make me so happy I thought maybe they would disappear if I never looked for them.” Hearing these half-baked assumptions out loud makes you hide your face in his shoulder. You feel like an idiot. No, worse. An idiot who’s wasted all her sneak-away time crying instead of getting railed by her boyfriend.

Boba makes a sympathetic sound, squeezing you closer to him. “I want you to listen to me, princess. Really listen. Number one, no keeping things from me that hurt you or make you upset. If you need to cry the whole thing out or scream about it until you’re hoarse, that’s fine as long as you tell me. Understood?”

You make a noise of agreement and borrow deeper into his hold. He allows you his comfort for a few more moments before gently unfurling you to run his thumb across your cheek.

“Number two. There’s no such thing as normal. Not a fucking thing. You like what you like just like everyone else likes what they like. Being attracted to handsome men like myself is not anything different than having a preference for blondes or brunettes, yeah?” He kisses you on the tip of your nose and you can’t help but smile up at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t find anything wrong with me being attracted to special princesses who have dirty little mouths and dirtier minds, would you?”

Heat rises to your cheeks. “As long as I’m the special princess,” you mumble into his palm, suddenly self-conscious under his attention even as you revel in it. Maker, how do you still want him to pound you into the mattress after an emotional breakdown? All his patient love seems to only make you hornier now that your tears have been shed and your fears have been voiced.

“Always.” Boba chuckles and chucks up your chin for a kiss. When you slip your tongue into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to murmur, “Still needy, darling?”

How could you not be? Your need for him feels different now, though. Not so much more or less intense but an entirely different kind altogether, like a fire that burns just as hot but with a different fuel than its predecessor. Treading carefully around this new flame, you hold a tentative hand out to test its heat. “We don’t… if the mood isn’t right, we don’t have to… and we’ve been gone for too long already-”

Boba drags his hot mouth over your jaw, positioning you beneath him. “Then a couple more minutes isn’t going to change that, now is it, babygirl?”

You frown even as your hips seek his. “But the whole ‘sexy fantasy’ thing is kinda ruined.”

Taking your hand in his large one, he draws it down his chest and over his stomach until you feel the hardness of his arousal filling your palm. “Does it feel ruined to you?”

Rock hard and fire hot, he leaks into your fingers. Your stomach clenches. Not too distant memories burn bright and vivid behind your eyes: recollections of impossible fullness, banished thoughts, and the generous stretch to accommodate him.

“Tell me,” he commands, knowing his firm tone always had you melting like silvery mercury in his palm. “Does it feel like I don’t want to be buried in your sweet cunt? Ruining your ‘innocence’ all over again like you want me to so badly?”

His roughness, the obvious tint of desire in licking up his neck and cheeks all have their intended effect: you succumbing to your desires within the paradise of his control. “N-no, it feels like-fuck-it feels like I want you inside me,” you pant, desperate and breathy. You arch up in offering and he bows his head to enjoy the fruits of your desire.

Sliding a hand down your waist, his fingers trail torturously close to your wet heat only to skim over it with the barest of touch. “How did you imagine it back then?” The crackling weight in his voice sinks through your skin to light in your core. “Soft and sweet? Gentle nothings whispered in your ear as you came apart?”

Without warning, he slaps at the wet flesh between your thighs and covers it with his broad hand, claiming it for himself. Perfect nettles of pain flash across your mind and you jerk against his hold. “Or did you want something a little rougher? Want a man who knew how to treat this pussy like it was all his?”

You can’t help it now. The fire he coached is burning you from the inside out, blossoming from you with slips of petaled flame. “A-all yours,” you manage thickly, twisting against him for more. “Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”

“Yeah, I know, baby, they didn’t know how to touch you, did they?” Two of his thick fingers push past your lower lips to slide through the slick seam there. Trailing over your slit for a languorous second, the pad of his middle finger circles your swollen hood. “They didn’t know how to rub that cute little clit so you screamed, huh?”

“Not at all,” you sob, your voice quivering as you shake from the electric sensation of his fingers. “Never knew, never knew-”

Boba smothers the rest of your pathetic sounds in a kiss that pushes deep into your pillows. “Awww, my poor princess,” he croons. “So achy and needy with no one to help. No wonder you were all over me that first time, whining and riding my dick like you would die without it.”

Never mind that he had been equally out of his mind, pounding into you that night like a man possessed with adoration.

He notches a finger at your fluttering opening, ringing it around your flushed entrance just to see you squirm to get him deeper. “Remember how you begged me to fuck you, princess? How you didn’t even want to wait for me to stretch out your tight cunt?” Sinking in an effortless finger, he dips to lap up the beads of sweat from the hollow of your throat.

By the time he’s pressing in the blunt head of his cock, you’re face down and ass up, shimmying your hips back onto his length through a babble of pleas. “Please, Boba, please I want it deep, so fuckin’ deep I cry.”

Huffing out a breath that curls over the dampness of your spine, Boba grips the back of your neck to snap that first delicious thrust into you. Your broken sob is muffled by the rucked bedding, matching the slap of skin in a salacious accompaniment. Never one to do things in half measures, he digs a hand into your hip, anchoring your body to drive into you harder. He hits that divine spot that you didn’t even know existed before him.

The air whooshes from both your lungs in a blurred haze of ecstasy. “Shit, baby,” Boba squeezes your nape, “I’ll always give it to you… always, darling girl. Anything you want, I’m always yours, forever.”

You know it with every breath in your body and hair on your head—Boba loves you with every fiber of his being and he never hid that fact from you. From the way he looks after your safety to the care he takes just to see you flash a simple smile, you never had to wonder if he loved you the way you love him, not even for a second.

The realization happens suddenly then, tipping your axes so you could center on the one truth that had orbited just out of your consciousness: Boba is worth the risk. He always has been. No matter what you might lose or gain by sharing your relationship, he would always be worth the risk.

You swirl with dazzling vibrancy, this epiphany developing in full splendor within you. “Yes-yes-yes!” you repeat mindlessly, flinging an arm back to search for his tethering touch. His hand disappears from your hip to intertwine with yours. Face crushed into the rose covered sheets of your old bed, breath tearing into your lungs as soon as it’s knocked out again, you smile. It had all led to this: all those years wondering if you were somehow broken, all those loves lost trying to fix what didn’t need repair, that one New Year’s night when you stopped denying what you truly wanted—all of it, everything, had been worth the risk.

Boba pulls on your hand, forcing you to arc farther back so that last sweet, solid inch of him is finally able to press into you. “Ffffffff-that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re better than heaven, babygirl, you know that? Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You want to tell him the same but your head is filled with hot, sparkling clouds of stardust and your throat is tight with cresting pleasure. “Yes, Daddy, yes!”

“Shit, you calling me… say it again. Say it again and don’t fucking stop.”

You’re chanting now, watching how the room around you shrinks to a pinpoint as you draw higher and higher with him. The prick of light and the chorus of your glass-thin cries shake with impending explosion when he drags his blunt nails down your back, swelling over your hip to find your throbbing center. “Is it as good as you imagined?” he husks, his own voice leaden with delicious strain. “Getting fucked into the mattress you dreamed on?”

Each snap of his hips sends your clit skating over his calloused fingertips. “Better, so much better!” Crushing your eyes closed, you surrender to the scorching wave waiting to take you. “Please, Daddy! Please fill me up so everyone knows I’m yours!”

Boba jerks forward, breaking the pattern of his thrusts to fold over your back. His sweat dampened skin melds to yours and fuses you into one splendid being. His hand travels from your shoulder to clasp around your throat. “You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”

Your answer doesn’t waver, solidified by your new-found conviction. “As long as they know you’re mine, too.”

Muscles rippling to lock at your affirmation, Boba’s head drops to your shoulder. The groan that heaves from his chest rattles through your bones like a welcome spirit charged with animating the last gasps of your union. “C-come for me then,” he chuffs in your ear with his last dregs of restraint. “Come for me so they know what you fucking do to me.”

Would he ever truly know how easy, how intrinsic to your being coming apart for him is? How your world had only ever been ordered by his particular equation, even before your eyes first met? Unraveling to be respun with his thread is your very nature, and you would always yearn to be in his weave, stitched and re-stitched by his expert hand. His fingers press tight against the glowing center of pleasure at your core and you burst into a glorious, unbound tapestry of light. Undulant patterns of pleasure flow through your every inch, anointing your entire body in golden thread from the crown of your head down to each individual toe.

Feeling the hot claim he spills inside you is the final beautiful detail in your joint creation. These final fleeting moments where it feels like your very souls mesh together are always your favorite; Boba’s guard comes down and you rise to catch him, your usual roles reversing as he burrows into your warmth. “Always, baby. Always yours,” he promises, his voice thick and sweet as honey.

Echoing his sentiment in utter bliss, you tighten your grip on his hand, joy taking flight when he does the same. Content and at peace, the pair of you roll so you’re pressed flush together, still joined in the middle when your limbs re-tangle. Boba pushes your hair back from where it had stuck your forehead and plants a kiss in your hair.

You’re happy to smooth your palms over the scarred bronze of his chest to rest them lazily around his neck, his heartbeat jumping under your touch. How could you not realize this, that he, is worth more to you than any fallout from revealing your relationship? Was this not what you shed all those tears for, what you wished for every single time you tried to fit into another man’s mold?

A resplendent joy feathers out in your chest, floating down your arms, then your legs with soft announcement. “Boba?”

His finger traces up your spine. “Yes, my princess?” His voice is dense as goose down and packed with comfort.

You swirl your own shape into his skin. “I meant it, you know. I want… I want everyone to know we’re together. I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”

He goes silent, his only sound the movement of air in and out of his lungs. Even as you know he always takes time to consider his next move, your pulse still ticks up with a spate of nerves. The lines on your spine continue and you do your best to temper your unease as the long moments inch by.

Eventually, a rumble reverberates in his chest. Your ears prick up.

“You don’t have to do that, babygirl, not before you’re ready. Just because it slipped out in the heat of the moment doesn’t mean it has to be set in stone.” Boba shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer. “I know there are more risks for you than me in our relationship.”

You hate the far off note of despair in his voice. You hate the way he sounds like he’s resigned himself to a truth that isn’t at all what it has to be. “No,” you sit up on your elbow to cup his cheek, “there’s not. Not in any way that matters to me. You’re-”

“Princess, it’s okay, I-”

You silence him with a kiss, suddenly feeling like you have to get the next words out of your body before they explode. “You’re worth the risk, Boba. You always will be. Every single day since I met you, you have done nothing but prove that to me.” Your pace picks up as your truth spreads its wings. “I was afraid before, not of being with you but of what others would think about my preferences. I didn’t want them to judge me and think I was only with you because I have “daddy issues” or whatever, not because I love you more than I thought people could. And I know my parents will be shocked but all they want is what’s best for me, and you’re what’s best for me. I know this now—and I’m not ashamed of it.”

As quickly as you started, you run out of steam. No longer inflated with the sense of frantic urgency you had before, you sag back down onto his chest. A quiet second flicks by, then Boba’s grabbing you, hauling you up into his arms to kiss you like a man desperate to live. He says nothing, his lips working against yours in fervent passion but you can feel the sentiment he doesn’t speak. Each pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth communicate more than any words could: his joy in your self-realization, the excitement of proclaiming your love to the world at long last. Your only wish is that you could have given him this sooner.

When he finally lets you break for air, his handsome face is lit up with a smile more radiant than any sun. Whispering your name with a reverence of only the truly devoted, he brushes his nose over yours. “Babygirl, I… I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me.” He sweeps his lips over yours again. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

Besides his love, Boba’s greatest gift is his forthrightness. You never have to guess with him and now, no one else will have to either. They’ll know where his loyalties lay.

“That’s a good thing,” you tease into a quick kiss. “Because all my aunties, and uncle Stephen, are going to be very jealous that you’re off the market.”

Boba chuckles in that bone-deep way that always makes you warm all over. “I didn’t realize I was in such high demand.”

You push yourself up on his chest. “Oh, don’t lie to me, Boba Fett. I’ve seen the way you flirt and wink at them. They eat it up and you know it!”

Sitting up with you, he grins. “Just being polite, princess. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Maker, how could you ever be jealous of anyone after the sex you’d just had?

“Oh, not at all. Because at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.” You smirk up at him. “Speaking of which, we better get back out there before those same aunties start tearing the house up looking for you.”

“Only if you promise not to clean up and put these panties back on for me, darling girl,” he counters with a devilish smirk of his own.

Giggling, you bite your lip. “Anything for you, Daddy.”

He’s worth the risk.

#may reads #boba fett x reader #smut #fic fair 2024

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dindadjarin · 2 years ago

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This season is so thematically incoherent and im astonished by the lack of direction. Is it fun to watch Din and Grogu having pockets of cute moments? Yes. But theres no driving force every season had a clear driving force established. Season 1 was keeping Grogu out of the hands of the Imperials and bonding from it, season 2 was finding the Jedi and the mystery of introducing Boba Fetts armour and it connected together seamlessly.

This season felt like episode 1 established it well. Episode 2 was mostly great save for certain elements that are becoming a bigger problem now. Episode 3 was a mixed bag of varying opinions but we mostly can agree Dins parts were emotionally unsatisfying.

And episode 4 is just....who is the protagonist? What is the driving force? Who is the antagonist? By episode 4 of season 1 Din had turned Grogu in, rescued him gone on the run and was trying to find places and people he could trust. It feels like episode 1 didn't even happen because literally nothing in it has paid off or even brought up again.

Din feels like a side character and I can't help but wonder if its beacuse they are trying to establish grounds for Bo Katans show. Beacuse she feels completely distracting from Din, and it makes no sense

Boba Fett was perfectly included in season 2 and you believed this interesting bond of two outcasts finding companionship and trust for a common goal. And it didn't feel distracting Boba Fett was still a side character not a co main character.

I just...I do not understand this seasons direction at all every episode feels disconnected and there is literally no hint at what the seasona story arc even is 4 episodes in.

Hello dear anon (i can't believe i got an anon omg)

I understand where you're coming from and I'm sorry this season is making you feel this way. I totally get what you're saying, specially cause I re-watched the first 5 episodes of Season 2 over the weekend and it felt more chronological in a way, like you could see every episode was a stepping stone to the next.

What I think is the problem with this season is that they started with the premise of Din's redemption but now that's done and we don't have a clue of what's next (something i think it's the season's intention) and obviously Din doesn't know what's next either. But we don't have a villain yet, we don't have that high stakes thing that we're working towards whether it's Gideon wanting Grogu again or him going after other mandalorians and that's why these last episodes feels like a filler but I believe with the next ones it'll all fall into place.

They could have given us the villain after Din's redemption, like a clear villain, not a hint like Pershing's lil side story from last week, that way we know something's coming. That's just my way of seeing all this, and my hopefulness talking ahahah the actors hyped up this season a lot, so we could be having a calm-before-the-storm kind of moment in this episode before they tie all the loose ends. I do agree about the Bo-Katan thing tho, and I think this is how people felt with TBOBF, cause she's taken a bit of a protagonist role and good for her but not for me because ultimately it's Din and Grogu's show and I was hoping more of an emphasis on them both (especially Din in his self-discovery journey) this season. But we'll see with the next chapters!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian s3 spoilers #din djarin

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rinrinp42 · 4 years ago

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I can't remember for sure if Boba is around in TTH AU but if he is! Dad Obi and Boba, 15 please? :D (Jango in the BG Melting probably lol)

He is! Uh, Jango’s probably above in the cockpit (maybe I’ll actually make a post about how I’m picturing Slave I/The Stathas in TTH but...)

15. Calming them down when they have a bad dream

32495 TYA (3958 BBY) on The Stathas:

Obi-Wan woke before the whimper broke the air, the foul taste of a bad dream steeping in the air. The Jedi slid from where he was curled next to Jango. He dropped down to the second deck and the passenger/guard seats and Boba’s bunk. The boy was trembling as he sat up, eyes wide and breath quick.

“Udesii[i] ad’ika[ii],” Obi-Wan soothed, reaching out.

Boba latched onto his hand with a sob, tugging Obi-Wan closer. Obi-Wan easily followed the silent plea and climbed onto the bunk with Boba, gathering the boy into his arms, running his fingers through his hair as Boba cried.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Obi-Wan asked as Boba caught his breath.

“You and Buir[iii] were gone,” Boba told him, “an’ I was alone.”

Obi-Wan closed his own eyes and cursed Revan, Meetra, Alek and the rest for deciding to start a war right after the Mandalorian Wars ended, and one that Obi-Wan couldn’t step somewhat away from as he did before. There was no Kar’ta Beskar[iv] to mark him kin to some of his opponents. He might have called some friends and crèche-mates, but they obviously did not care of those bonds as they carved their way through the galaxy.

Boba had been born into war, but before there was always the symbols that Jango and Obi-Wan placed all over themselves in efforts to keep from having to fight those closest to their cyar’ad[v]. Now that safety net was gone, and Boba had picked up on the unease they both felt.

Obi-Wan tucked Boba closer, and reached out, finding that part-of-him-but-not and gently moving it towards them.

“I can’t promise that we’ll not leave,” Obi-Wan told him, hand still carding through Boba’s hair, “but even if something happens to me or your buir, you have your ba’vodu[vi], your aliit[vii]. You have Lyssha, Marss, and Master Thon. Even the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order is my Sister-Padawan and will aid you should you need it. But you know what Bob’ika?”

Boba sniffled and shook his head, wet eyes staring up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan smiled at him and gently turned him so he looked up. Floating above them was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

Obi-Wan separated the parts, opening it up and showing the kyber crystal that was it’s core.

“Do you know what that is Bob’ika? That’s my crystal. Out of all the crystals that lived with it and all the jetiise[viii] that were with me, this crystal chose me. It bonded with me. I can feel it always, I carry it with me even when it isn’t with me.”

Obi-Wan silently asked his crystal and the Force sang with support and agreement. Carefully, he broke off a piece of his crystal. The shard floated away from the rest, and as Boba watched in awe and fascination, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber reassembled. Obi-Wan at the same time drew forth some of the cording that they kept aboard and twisted it around the shard and up.

The necklace floated down to Boba’s hands.

“This way Bob’ika,” Obi-Wan told him, “even when I am gone, you have this part of me. Just as I am here,” Obi-Wan lightly touched Boba’s chest, above where his heart was, “I won’t truly leave you.”

“Promise?” Boba asked, pulling just far enough away to slip the necklace on.

Obi-Wan gently tightened it, and pressed his forehead to Boba’s, “ni haat’mirit[ix].”

Boba nodded and then they spoke together, “haat, ijaa, haa’it[x].”

Boba settled back into Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan went back to carding his fingers through the boy’s hair. Soon he added in humming as he did so, drawing Boba back into sleep. Obi-Wan wrapped his Force presence around his ad’ika to keep any more bad dreams away and followed him down.

[i] Take it easy/Calm down

[ii] little one, son, daughter, of any age, boy, girl (also used informally to adults much like "lads" or "guys")

[iii] Parent

[iv] Iron Heart aka Mandalorian Diamond (ancient symbol used by the Mandalorians)

[v] lover

[vi] Aunt/uncle

[vii] Clan/Tribe

[viii] Jedi (“se” makes it plural)

[ix] I swear, give oath, promise.

[x] "Truth, honor, vision" (words used to seal a pact)

#rinrinp42 answers #My writing #writing prompt #time traveling husbands au #jangobi #jango/obi #obi-wan and boba fett #boba fett #obi wan kenobi #technically jango is 'sir not appearing in this film'#boba is like 6 #nomi sunrider is obi's sister padawan and grandmaster of the order #so boba could totally run to her for help

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nostraightheadcanons · 3 years ago

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Who prefers coffee and who prefers tea?

This one also answers an anon asking about Mayday's reaction to coffee!

May: Neither, I think standard teas would be too boring for her and most coffees too bitter for her sweet tooth, unless she pours a bunch of sugar and cream in it. Not to mention, I hc her with ADHD, so she wouldn't be affected much by the caffeine. She'd be more of a hot cocoa or fruity drink enjoyer instead. Mod Celeste says that boba tea would probably strike her fancy! Zuke: A tea guy for sure, though he also enjoys coffee sometimes. Mod Nine thinks he'd like green tea! At least he doesn't have to worry about May stealing sips of his drinks like she does with bites of his food. DJSS: Everyone knows coffee is a scientist's best friend! I'm kidding, but I can totally see him watching the stars at night with a cup of strong coffee in hand; he wouldn't want to doze off and miss any shooting stars. How he drinks it is a mystery. Sayu's crew: They give me boba tea vibes! They would all make boba when they hang out together. And Sayu-brand pearls being manufactured for the stores just makes sense. Sweet honey bubbles, anyone? Yinu & Mama: I'm imagining them holding tea parties together and the cuteness is off the charts. Yinu would make little sandwiches and cookies for her stuffed animals too! Neon J: Does he eat/drink? If he does he seems more like a coffee guy to me. He bundles up with the occasional cup for those long nights in the workshop, or as a morning pick-me-up for NSR meetings. 1010: If they eat/drink like NJ, you can bet they would be all over those trendy Starbucks-style beverages. They probably promote new coffee flavors in exchange for free drinks! Eve: She might like latte art for its aesthetic, but I think taste-wise she'd definitely prefer tea, it helps her relax after stressful days. She likes to go to different tea shops around the city and taste different artisan blends. I could see her and Zuke bonding over various teas back in the day. Tatiana: Coffee, a constant stream of coffee. Running a city is tiring work! She drinks it scalding hot to help her wake up and get her embers flowing in the morning.

-Mod Pango (mostly!)

#mod pango #mod nine #mod celeste #anon #these were fun ones to answer!#ask #nsr #no straight roads #nsr headcanons

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blueaphelion · 2 years ago

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Now that I’m caught up on all the Star Wars visual canon (or whatever you’d call the movies and series), I’m starting to speculate more about the upcoming stuff, mainly The Mandalorian season 3 and Ahsoka.

I wonder if Sabine will show up in Mando S3, since it looks like it’ll heavily be about Mandalore itself. She hasn’t been with Ahsoka during the times she shows up in Mando or TBOBF, which could mean any of multiple things:

1. Timeline-wise, we haven’t gotten to the Rebels epilogue yet, which means Sabine is still on Lothal, and Ahsoka has yet to stop by. Maybe Ahsoka is doing some footwork on her own, until she gets some actual leads on Thrawn and Ezra. Since there haven’t been any leads on them yet, Sabine decides to go get involved with whatever is going on with Mandalore when she catches wind of it. This is also why Ahsoka’s clothing/design in the epilogue is so different from what we’ve seen thus far in live action. She hasn’t yet gone through whatever it is she has to go through to become what fans have deemed “Ahsoka The White.”

2. We are past the Rebels epiologue, but for Mandalorian political reasons Sabine has split off from Ahsoka to help her people while Ahsoka continues the search for Thrawn and Ezra, and that’s why we haven’t seen her accompanying Ahsoka in Mando/TBOBF. Whatever happens in season 3 happens, and then we hop over to the Ahsoka series for the storyline that focuses on the search.

3. We are past the Rebels epilogue, and Sabine is with Ahsoka, but for whatever reason we don’t see her the times Ahsoka is on screen. She could be on the same planet doing other things for their cause, or she could be doing mundane things like sleeping on the ship or something (lol).

4. Something else that I’m not thinking of that is totally different than any of the scenarios I described. (Because let’s be real, we can speculate all we want but in the end, the official writers often come up with stuff we never would have dreamed of.)

It really all depends on the timeline. From what I’m observing, the live action series have all been released in chronological order, since Mando S1-2 came first and then The Book of Boba Fett follows after both in-universe and by release dates. In the future, Mando S3 is next, followed by Ahsoka (from what I’m seeing? Neither have had official, specific release dates confirmed yet.) If that’s the case, the events of Ahsoka will take place chronologically after the events of Mando S3.

Also, they seem to really like having characters cross over from one show to the next, especially if they’re a main character in one show and are just a side in another. Because of this, it seems highly likely that Sabine will be in Mando S3, even if she’s only there for like an episode or two as a background character with only a few lines. I mean, she is a Mandalorian, and we have no idea if anything happened to her family during The Purge, or if Krownest was hit at all, or what that situation is.

Also, as someone who is a former wielder of the Darksaber, it seems fitting that she would run into Din at some point. Lots of very interesting things could happen with that, since Din will have then met two former wielders whom are very different from each other. Sabine even still has Ezra’s lightsaber, which could mean some very interesting scenes and conversations. Just sayin’.

At this point, I’m going to drive myself insane thinking about all the “what if’s.” There are infinite possibilities. Do I hope we see Sabine in Mando S3? I love her and think there’s interesting potential for her character there, so yes. Will I be surprised if she isn’t? No. Again, the official writers know more about where the story is supposed to be going than I do. All I can do is sit back and enjoy whatever ride they’ve created for us.

#star wars #star wars rebels #the mandalorian #ahsoka series #sabine wren #din djarin #darksaber #speculation #long post

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myers-meadow · 3 years ago

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Ambrose Boba Tea Shop: Vincent x Reader

Title: Mango boba

Word count: 623

Content and warnings: None. Fluff. Gender neutral reader

Summary: Stepping into the boba shop is like a different world, and you have grown fond of the people who run it. One day the owner has a small surprise for you to show you how he felt since he met you.

I'm normally not the type to write coffee shop AUs, but after a chat with Krakersy it was difficult to stop myself. This is short, just a fun little crack fic.

For @krakersy. Thank you for being so wonderful and for continuing to inspire me to write and for cheering up my routine days. It may not be much, but I hope you like it regardless.

Lester/Black milk tea here

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped in the Ambrose Boba Tea Shop. The café was pleasantly chilly after the humid outside, and it smelled heavenly of sweetness and baked goods. Your mouth watered, wondering if you should also get a snack with your order. Paintings of landscapes and a few portraits lined the walls and gave the establishment it’s endearing rugged charm. When you found out it was one of the owners who made all of them himself, you were amazed. Since then, this café was a staple in your weekly routine.

The joint owner and baker of the café greeted you from behind the counter with a wave. He didn’t speak, or at least not to you, but the mask had become such a familiar sight that you couldn’t help but smile warmly at him. He knew your regular order by heart, but still wrote it out on the eraser board to make sure it was what you wanted that day.

“Good morning Vincent!” you greeted. “Yes, the usual is fine.”

Underneath the order he wrote, in pleasant handwriting: ‘we have new mango boba, want to try?’

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” you nodded, darting your eyes over the new figurine that sat atop the fridge. “Is that one new? Can I see it?”

Before you had finished your sentence, it was already in your hands. Behind the counter the masked man busied himself with making your order. The figurine was a siren, half snake, half woman, with gills and a long fin at the tail. Vincent’s work always had that haunting quality to it, and an absurd level of detail. You were shaken from your thoughts as Vincent set the cup down on the counter in front of you.

Quickly you handed back the figurine. “It’s incredible, Vincent, as always. Your eye for detail is unmatched. I love her expression too.”

He wrote out the total on the board, and you pulled out your wallet to pay. Before you reached for your drink, he held up his hand, and put down a pre-wrapped muffin next to it. He gestured to the display of the muffins, strawberry. Large chunks of fruit stuck out of the frosting and he nodded kindly at you.

“Thank you,” you said, throat suddenly dry, “you’re so generous. I have to go now… There’s class in a bit. See you next week!”

The heat was suffocating as soon as you stepped out, the drink cold in your hand. Beads of condensations wet your palm. The sweet taste of milk tea and mango accompanied you on your way to your car. You reached your car and climbed in, setting the drink in the cupholder and unwrapping the muffin. A slip of paper fell out onto your lap.

It was Vince’s neat handwriting, and you picked it up to read it.

‘Thank you for brightening my day whenever you stop by. There’s something I need to say, if I don’t, I feel like I could burst. Instead of writing my feelings, I decided to show them and ordered the new boba while thinking of you. Here is my phone number: 56***65 and if you would like, there’s this lovely park we could visit. See you soon, Vincent.’

Your heart thumped in your chest, heat rising from your neck up to your cheeks. Reaching for the cup, you stirred the drink with your straw and sure enough, the mango was heart shaped. You pressed your hand to your forehead, unable to stop the silly grin from forming, and started the car. The rest of the day you could barely focus. With each sip of milk tea you felt the irregular shape of the chewy hearts and thought of him.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x gn reader #house of wax #slasher community #slashers #slasher fandom #vincent sinclair x y/n #coffeeshop au

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pepperonijem · 4 years ago

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When He Sees Me || Peter Parker

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: um peter might be a little ooc and that’s because i’m writing about my unfortunate crush but i basically just changed his name to peter parker any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental <3

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? Catching feelings for your best friend is never easy.

A/N: This fic is sponsored in part by @bitchassbucky, @spiderrpcrker, @shurisneakers, @midnightsunfae, and @blackberrybucky who instead of shutting down my feelings, hyped me up to turn my crush and some of the things that we’ve done into a fic <3 this goes out to anyone who has ever started crushing on their best friend.

Oh God, please don’t walk this way, please don’t wa-

“Oh, hey Peter!” The crack in your voice betrayed your attempt at a casual greeting, despite your efforts to disguise it with a cough. “How’s it-- how’s it hanging?”

“You good?” Peter smiled at you but his eyebrow quirked upwards in concern. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?” His concern faded into a wide grin as you nodded in response. Peter gave you a quick goodbye before walking away towards his next class.

As soon as you saw him turn into the classroom, you turned to face your closed locker, letting out a groan before setting your forehead against it. Peter had asked if you were good, and although you nodded, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to give you away. You were very much not good.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see your friend MJ. “What did Peter do this time?” MJ asked. For the last month, every interaction with Peter -- there have been a lot -- ended this way: a groan of defeat and a few welted lines on your forehead from holding your head against your locker. You turned to give MJ a dirty look, annoyed by the amused smirk on her face.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed, finally lifting your head up to talk to her. You opened your locker as you talked, not wanting to make eye contact with MJ as you confessed your feelings. “He just… smiled… and everything went downhill from there.” You rolled your eyes as MJ laughed. “It’s getting worse, I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.”

MJ laid a hand on your shoulder. “Well we’ll all be there,” she offered. “And if it makes you feel better, no one’s even noticed. Just act normal and you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her shoulders as if that was the easiest thing to do. But you couldn’t act normal anymore, not with Peter. Not when normal means resting your head against his shoulder every time he makes you laugh. Not when normal means borrowing his clothes when his aunt May tells you to stay the night every time a study session runs too long. Not when normal means wearing the extra sweater he keeps for you because you always forget yours.

Normal was when you didn’t feel butterflies everytime he looked at you, before your curious heart got the better of you and you began to wonder what it might be like to hold his hand. Now, things were just weird. At least for you. Nothing on the surface had changed, no one noticed how your heart rate picked up every time Peter touched you, or how you suddenly felt hot whenever he winked at you. But inside your heart was navigating uncharted territory in your friendship, trying to traipse along the thin line that separated how things have always been and how you suddenly wish things could be.

Pulling your textbook out of your locker, you shut the locker door a just a little bit more aggressively than necessary. MJ gave you a small hug before linking her arm through yours as you walked to your next class.

For the rest of the day, you found it impossible to focus on anything. Instead of taking down notes on George Orwell in English, you found yourself absentmindedly doodling hearts. Everything just reminded you of Peter and your own confusing feelings. Thankfully, you didn’t share any classes with him today, leaving you enough solitude to think about just why you were so frustrated with yourself.

Logically, you knew there was nothing wrong with having a crush on someone. You’ve had plenty of crushes before, a few of which reflected a temporary lapse in judgement on your part. You remember telling Peter about each of them, gushing about the most basic acts of human decency as he rolled his eyes and told you that you deserve someone better, but nevertheless helping you pick up the pieces every time someone broke your heart. That, you realized, was what scared you the most.

If you were to date, and then break up… well who would be there with kind words and your favorite boba when everything fell apart? The thought of losing your best friend over emotions, feelings, left far too much to chance. Was the idea of holding his hand, of hearing him call you his enough to make you risk the friendship that has always been enough for you? It should be enough for you, you reminded yourself. There was too much on the line and not enough guarantee for you to risk it.

With that determination in mind, you steeled yourself for the rest of the day, determined to put your feelings to rest and go back to normal.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly fell through.

You got to the restaurant a half hour late with only a really good nap to blame. You felt bad that your friends were waiting for you, but when you got there, you found an empty spot next to Peter, where your usual order of ramen was waiting and against your will, the butterflies flew rampant. The noodle that hit Peter’s nose as he ate while waving you over made you laugh as you sat down beside him.

“I got you your usual,” Peter explained in between bites. You smiled and thanked him before digging in. Peter had done this for you many times, and you willed your body to fight against the flutter of your heart.

Thankfully, the rest of your dinner was going well, and everyone had plenty of stories to tell. MJ had begun doing more portraits of people in distress and revealed her latest piece -- a portrait of Peter slurping up a noodle only to get a rogue drop of soup in his eye. Ned and Betty were off again, but of course they tried to keep it civil (they were on again by the end of the night) so no one would have to pick sides. Flash teased Peter about the B that he made on his literature exam yesterday over poetry and Peter’s face turned beet red.

“Hey,” Peter began, attempting to defend himself. “I totally could’ve made a perfect score. I was just distracted.” He shrunk down in his seat a little bit, and the rest of you laughed teasingly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Flash continued. “You’ve been drawing little hearts all over your notes, dude, it’s unsettling.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food, swirling his fork around the bowl trying to grab as much noodle as possible.

Across the table, you and MJ made eye contact, a look of surprise between the both of you. You tried to signal her to say something before a weird silence fell on the table, but she was not reading your cues. Thankfully, Peter spoke again.

“H-hearts?” He repeated. “Why would I be drawing hearts on my notes?” Although he tried to play it off, the rise in pitch gave him away. He scrunched his face in exaggeration.

“Actually,” Betty began. “Now that I think about it, you were doing that in Spanish class too.” You glanced over at Peter who looked at you with panic in his eyes. You took a long sip of water, suddenly feeling a layer of sweat form at the back of your neck. “Wonder what that’s about.” She shrugged and turned to Ned asking if he wanted to split a slice of cheesecake with her.

Before Peter had a chance to try to defend himself once again, the waitress appeared. “Are you all ready for the check?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re splitting the check,” Flash replied. Betty rolled her eyes in response. “What? Just because I’m rich does not mean I have to share the wealth.”

The waitress nodded in response. As she was leaving Peter called her back. “Oh wait,” he called. “I’ll also be paying for this order,” he gestured to your bowl. She smiled at him and headed for the counter.

“Peter,” you smiled. “I have money, I can pay for myself.” Although Peter usually had to order for you, he didn’t usually pay for you, unless it was a special occasion.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice,” he responded, giving your shoulder a playful nudge. “Plus, you seem like you’ve had a rough week. Every time I see you, you seem to be lost in thought. What’s been on your mind?” The sentence came out casually, but the furrow in his brows revealed how concerned he actually has been. Peter was nothing if not observant, like he could sense things better than most people.

You let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to lie to Peter, but you also didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were thinking about him-- well, your feelings for him. Just when it seemed like he had backed you into a corner, however, the waitress had returned with the checks, and the question left unanswered.

After dinner, the six of you went to Flash’s house to watch a movie. He had a home theater and early access to new movies and he loved to remind everyone of that. Not that any of you minded, especially if it got you free popcorn and a movie out of it. Every week, a different person got to select the movie and today, unfortunately, was MJ’s turn.

You loved her, of course, but you absolutely detested her taste in movies. Mostly because she was a horror junkie, and you were absolutely not. Her last few turns however had been spent making sure you all had seen all of the Shrek movies. But today, she picked a horror film. Something about demons and the like. Peter and Betty cheered at her selection as Flash groaned. You settled into the couch in the back of the room and grabbed a blanket. Ned and Betty sat together on a smaller loveseat, and MJ sat on the floor in front of Flash’s seat, the perfect spot to be able to scare him with a single touch on his leg.

Peter sat down beside you, handing you a tub of popcorn and a soda. He pulled the blanket over his own lap as he sat criss-cross on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to how his leg was brushing against yours under the blanket, instead focusing on the screen as the room went dark.

The movie had just started, but you could already feel yourself tense up in expectation.The music was coming to a crescendo and you knew something was already going to happen. You didn’t realize just how tightly your fists had balled together in your lap till you jumped at the sound of Peter’s soft voice at the shell of your ear. “Are you okay?” He asked.

He tried to hold in a chuckle as you almost bounced the tub of popcorn off your lap. He grabbed it from you and set it to the side. “Look,” he pointed to the screen where the creature’s head had just rotated a full circle as it crawled up the wall in pursuit of the main character. “That thing kinda looks like the spider from that kid’s tv show, but not as creepy.” You let out a laugh, a little louder than you meant, and Ned turned to tell you to shut up.

The small joke was enough to dissipate the anxiety you felt towards the movie, but unfortunately only heightened your feelings about Peter. But he noticed how your fists unclenched and how your shoulders relaxed once you laughed, so he continued to tell you whispered jokes for the rest of the movie. Each time he noticed your body tensing, he tried his best to make you laugh, and god, how could you stop yourself from those butterflies anymore?

At the height of the movie, you found yourself with your hands over your ears, and eyes squeezed shut, unable to even look at the screen or hear a joke. When Peter realized a joke wouldn’t be enough, he slid closer to you and pulled you into his side and you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Before you had a chance to think about the spicy notes of his cologne or the softness of his skin, the sound of a high pitched scream in the movie caused you to jump with a gasp. In response, Peter wrapped his arms around you tight, with a gentle shush.

It was only after the music began to die down that you opened your eyes again, only to find Peter’s eyes fixed on the screen. Now that the worst was over, you no longer had an excuse to be in his embrace the way you were. You began to wiggle your way out of his arms, attracting his attention.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Peter I’m a big kid,” you smiled, teasing. “You don’t have to hold me like a baby.” Peter let out a soft laugh before relaxing his hold on you just a bit.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll just hold you like this then.” He began to shift so that your head was on his shoulder, and one of his arms looped under yours, intertwining your fingers. The smile on his face was calm as if this was something the two of you did all the time, but his racing heartbeat reminded you this was something new.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie. By the time the soft music began to play in the credits, you could hear light snoring from everyone else in the room. However, you and Peter made absolutely no efforts to untangle yourselves from each other. It was as if you were worried that once the lights came back on, you would never find yourself like this again, and what a sad idea that was. Normal, would never be enough for you again, not when you know now how much better life could be like this.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the jump scares, or the sureness of his hand in yours, like it’s always belonged there, that gave you the courage to finally break the silence.

“Peter,” you breathed out, lifting your head from his shoulder, but not letting go of his hand.

He turned to you, with a look of concern, afraid of what you might say.

“Kiss me.” The words came out so softly and so quickly that you weren’t sure if you said it at all.

“Finally,” he whispered as his lips fell against yours, softly and slowly. He pulled away after what felt like hours and yet not nearly enough time. His hands reached up to cup your face. “I like you,” he admitted. “So much.”

Suddenly, you felt it. You felt exactly what it must feel like to fly, to let yourself go without worrying about gravity or anything else. The risks were still there, the numbers hadn’t changed, but you knew that no matter what happened next, just having the chance to fly would always be enough.

#peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter #peter parker #peter parker headcanon #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #i don’t know if the read more will work but uh i’ll fix it tomorrow #it’s like 4 am but i couldn’t leave this unfinished

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Text

Hates to, Hate you.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Harry realizes that hurting Y/N broke him into pieces and tries to win her back with the confession of true feelings, will Y/N let him? If yes, how? How will he walk through fire for her?

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader!with anxiety.

AU: fake dating, slow burn, sexual tension, enemies to lover!

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual assault, language, adult topics.

PART 1, MASTERLIST

"Please, stop." He says dolefully rubbing his eyebrows to get rid of the ache pounding in his head.

He's miserable. It hurts to not have her with him. It's been two tragic months of going through constant sleepless nights, disrestless stomach, intoxicating himself to forget her, staring at things like a hawk and missing her terribly.

He was alone before her and never felt this lonely.

He sees her everywhere. In his dreams and her shadows in his drawing room getting excited over a ceramic vase someone gifted him. Dancing in his kitchen to the beat of pink floyd and hip-checking him for a cheerful nudge, in his back garden rescuing a sparrow who broke it's neck and in his attic stressing over her assignments.

Everything reminds him of her. The fruity drinks that the barista's handing to the people, the fairy lights upon their heads and how she used to fond over them —- buying it for his bedroom too and when he refused to hang them, she just brushed off his snarky comment and did it herself.

The ring in Harris finger floods back all the bitter-sweet memories of the time he refused to have a lil fun with her, (Y/N and Harris made friendship rings and bracelets for eachother with the colorful beads to spend their boring time in his home waiting for him to write some lines before they went to a gumball shop) as they try to knock some senses in their friend's brain, "You tried to dodge a heartbreak and still ended up shattering your heart, yourself." They worry about him. That he's been bearing the pain all alone and not sharing it with anyone.

His voice croak-y and hoarse, "How's she?" The question haunts him. She blocked his phone number and even in the wee hours of night he wrecks his mind whether he should call her or not, he couldn't because she doesn't want to hear his voice.

He misses her voice. He misses her complaints and whines as if they filled the stoic parts of his life with happiness.

"How'd I know?" Harris lowers down to rest their elbows on the table, "I -- I thought . . she isn't in contact with ye'?" When Harris shakes their head with a gesture that he's being truthful it sinks his heart furthermore.

He clears his throat, twisting the jewels on his hand and sucks his bottom lip to muster some courage, "I've been seeing someone." Harris chokes on the boba they were chewing on for so long, "You what?" They are completely perturbed at his statement. Even though they've been working together and been friends before Y/N came in the picture, she's still their bezzy and we don't betray our bezzies like that.

"Yeah, someone to help me sort me feelings out." Harry frowns confusedly and then realization washes upon him so he becomes frantic in his chair, "No . . not what you're thinkin'." He runs his fingers through his hair to subside the twitch in them.

"A therapist, 'm talkin' bout a therapist . ." He sighs watching his tea waft down sympathetically.

"Oh. That's a good start, Harry!" Harris tries to bring the same dimply boyish smile that used to flutter over his lips whenever she used to tease him, unfortunately it never appears.

Y/N didn't handle her first ever heartbreak well. She lost her appetite, her focus on her studies and to her surprise didn't shed a single tear –-- it just kept piling in her chest and she waited for the moment it'd burst until she saw those pictures plastered all over social media. Pictures of him with some model that isn't a shorty pants like her at all, totally how those ladies described his type to be and someone with whom he wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with.

She's everything, Y/N's jealous of. Those sparkling blue eyes compared to her boring brown ones, handsome figure and the radiance of richness.

Then she got stuck into her life responsibilities and worried about other things such that; she wasn't able to pay any bills and her flat's rent despite doing two part time jobs along with doing her class-fellows assignments in return of money and still got kicked out of it. Her close friend offered her to live in her studio and she has made it her kitchen, study, sleeping room with her stuff and clothes scattered everywhere.

She lives on noodles and toasted breads sometimes treating herself with delights of kit-kat bars in the middle of nights.

Watches her friend do her work and leave when the night comes by —- she has never felt this lonely in her entire life.

"So, was it love at first sight?" Nora her friend asks, handing her cuppa tea and a scone. Y/N let a weak sad smile slip, shaking her head and reminiscing all those moments where she was falling in love with him without even realizing, "Falling in love slowly patiently is the most beautiful . . . at some time I used to loathe his existence but staying with him and after knowing him, it was like --— an escapeless tunnel. I didn't realize it, till one day I woke up and my heart saw him in a different light, where I wanted to give him all me lovin' but he wasn't ready for it." She shrugs sipping the hot beverage and doesn't flinch from the burn that tingles at the tip of her tongue.

When she put her cup aside Nora takes her hand assuring her sweetly, "You'll have that person soon -- he's just on his way, with a big bouquet of roses and a teddy bear to give you the lovin' you deserve." Y/N giggles at that waving her off and not showing how her person is still Harry. What does she do to forget him? To fool her in thinking he isn't her first love.

"Aish, Nora aren't you gettin' late? Gooo." She had some clients to meet before she stopped here at studio to grab some things but it turned into a girlie hangout, "Take care honey and don't forget to put a bucket there." She points to the corner where water's dripping from the rooftop and Y/N exhaled an exasperated sigh of breath when the door clicks leaving her alone yet again.

It was past twelve and when usually she pulls an all nighter to study -- today she decided to sleep early. Her bad habit of overthinking kicks in again, this time it's not over some silly thing but she ponders over where she went wrong? She should've kept her feelings to herself and atleast would have been sleeping in her bed cuddled with her chonky cat Zippy.

She misses Zippy badly.

A noise of door unlocking loudly drags her from her reverie and her heart pounds against her ribcage ready to break it. Who could be at this hour of night? It could be Nora since she's the only one who got keys to the place.

Sitting up quickly she squints against the blinding lights and watches someone's boot stepping over her blanket that flopped onto the floor from the sofa she's sleeping on.

"Kevin? What are you doing here?" He's Nora's boyfriend and her classfellow. He just shrugs tumbling his way towards the sofa and she tries to scoot back from him as much as possible, "I'm here to see you. . ." He slurs. It knocks her breath out, filling terror in her veins as the heels of her feet rub against the leather of the couch in her effort to be away from him.

"What? This's not appropriate I -- I . . suggest you to call Nora s –- so, what're you doin —-" She squeaks in fear sinking into the couch when he towers over her and traps her under him with his hands on either side of her body aggressively, "I like you. Why don't you get it!!" She flinches when he shouts angrily with bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol disgusts her springing tears in her eyes.

"Please, stop . . ." She whispers with silent tears running down her throat using all her strength to push at his shoulders but he grips her hips tightly and yanks at her sleeping shirt revealing the strap of her bralette. She couldn't even cry for help. It's useless so putting some belief in herself for the last time she uses all her power and kicks him in his crotch pushing him roughly on the floor.

His nails tear at her delicate skin but she doesn't care before running out of the studio ignoring the names he's calling her from behind.

She runs away, away and away. Not thinking twice where she's going before crossing the bridges and tunnels. It feels like her ears are bleeding with the echo of loud horns of traffic and the hopelessness of her life makes her fall on her knees. She cries all the tears she was bottling up for months feeling like she's running out of time and reaching dangerously near to her end.

She's been in the same neighbourhood she's been before many times. The chilly wind doesn't prick goosebumps over her skin, the night's darkness doesn't scare her and the stray dog that's barking somewhere in far doesn't affect her at all as she stares at the door from where she has stepped into her comfort space many times.

Harry's with Scottie. His childhood friend who's here in London for some shoot. They were lounged in the living room talking their hearts out and their cringey memories from when they were small when he halted mid-talk, jaw slacking when his eyes took the sight of someone standing at his main door from the multiple security screens appearing on the telly.

He doesn't believe at first. Thinking he's hallucinating and that maybe he just saw a flicker of a ghost but when she looks up revealing her sad face and those big brown eyes he rushes to open the door.

"Fuck." He breathes out working on the heavy cold locks of the oak door with shaky hands anxiously and she was about to walk away with her back turned to him when he spurts out her name in haste, "Y/N." She listens to him. Insides breaking with the nirvana and scent of him surrounding her.

His breath hitches in his throat when she spins to meet his apprehensive gaze and she doesn't give him a chance to have a proper look at her before falling in his arms, her head hitting his chest and body shaking vigorously as she sobs sadly.

"Darlin'?" He asks worriedly, slipping his arms around her shoulders to lull her in his embrace, "Are you oka?" He feels like his stomach ate his heart as he anticipates an explanation from her and she isn't doing anything but crying.

"You're scarin' me, pet. What happened honey?" He pulls away to cradle her face in his calloused palms. His chests pangs with hurt and remorse upon seeing her tear stained cheeks, wobbly blue lips, and disheveled state.

He steps inside with her still in his arms and rubs his hand down her spine to calm her down as little sad sniffles and hiccups keep slipping out of her mouth.

He sits her on the sofa squatting down infront of her and Scottie brings her water. When she refuses to drink it because Harry strokes his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "Shh, 's okay . . you're okay. You're with me now, sweet girl." It's like the world and anything else has blurred around him and his ever priority's focusing on her only. His observant gaze dawdles from her face to her bruised shoulder emitting an afflicted gasp of trepidity from between his lips and it deepens to a growl when it fell over her hip-bone where the fabric of her pyjama's spotted with blood.

He glances up at Scottie who gives him a knowing look of horror. He gets closer to her and she doesn't retract as his thumb streaks away the blood oozing from her shoulder gently, saying nothing as he examines it.

After a brief pause Y/N's heart skips a nervous beat when he tilts her chin to have a better look at her face, taking in the evidence of someone handling his petal so brutally it left scratches at her face.

Harry looks her dead in the eyes. His anger barely restrained tippling from the pot ready to leave burns, his voice is tense and quite, ears heating with wrath.

"Who did this to you?"

"Kevin." The tears are back at her waterline more concerned that he's panicking because of her and Scottie sits beside her massaging her shoulders.

"Kevin, who?" Harry's question is curt controlling himself from finding this mother fucker himself and beat the shit out of him, "H -- he's my friend's boyfriend, I though --– was sleeping in her studio 'n 'n --- when he . . . he —-- " She hides her face in her palms unable to speak but Harry quickly pulls her down in a comforting hug whispering sweet things to stop her crying.

She parts from him with puffy eyes and swollen lips shaking her head at her stupidity, "I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here, 'm gonna leave — ' " She's a weeping blubbering mess trying to stand up on her jello legs with the help of the couch's armrest.

He catches her wrist crying out, "No! Don't! please, please stay . . . . fo' me?" Scottie has never seen him like this. Bended out of shape for a person, begging them on his knees to protect them as he rambles loudly.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden on you, I -- I'll go in the morning." Since she has nowhere to go it's better she sleeps here for a night instead of on the streets.

Harry finds it ironic. That once he didn't want her overnights now he wants her all days and weeks, perhaps till the end of his life.

He's gonna win her back.

He hands her his tattered comfy sleeping clothes and the spare toothbrush leaving her to it. When he comes back downstairs Scottie's waiting for him at the main door.

"You should report a file against that bastard the first thing in the morning." Scottie tells him seriously and he nods. His head snaps when she spoke softly, smiling at him, "You're in love."

"What?"

"I haven't seen you like that with anyone, Harry. Make it to her foolish boi -- tell her what you feel." She laughs, jolting him with his shoulders and he smiles timidly bidding her a good-bye.

The door to her room's ajar opened as he peeks inside to make sure she's okay and sighs deeply when finds her staring blankly at the ceiling. The floorboard creaks when he pads inside quietly and her stare diverts to him while he stands on the foot of bed, "I read somewhere that cuddlin' helps ye'sleep better, you w'na try?" She hums in return, fisting the duvet under her chin and slip shuts her eyes remaining stiff in her spot when he slides under the duvet closer to her.

She turns into a puddle when his long arms wrap around her tummy, "Is this okay?" His voice a mere whisper of care earning an honest nod from her -- his thigh strings over her legs to cocoon her in his warmth completely, ". . and this?" She again nod at him so,

He smushes his cheek into the crook of her neck and she could feel something moist on her skin while his lips puckered to speak, "Y/N?" He murmures broken and sad snuggling more into her.

"Hmm?" She hums, the exhaustion from walking and crying this much forcing her to sleep, "I've missed you, terribly." Her heart leaps and she wants to exchange the familiarity of emotions but her tongue remains heavy in her mouth.

Her toes curls and fingers clutches the wrinkly fabric of the pillow case she had her head rested on but now it's slipping down from over it due to her body shaking vigorously as she tries to escape those filthy, gruesome hands like a terrifying shadows of evil choking her throat and sucking the life out of her.

Harry's head snaps down to where she was snuggled to his side moments ago when she murmur-yells no,no,no,no'. He feels like someone placed a heavy brick over his chest at the sight of his lovie writhing like a leaf petrified of whatever she's dreaming of and his shoulders rolls back while he perches on his elbow to shake her gently out of it.

"Y/N . . ." He remains dulcet. Chewing onto his already swollen bottom lip since he didn't even close his eyes the entire night manipulating the plush flesh, he doesn't know what kept him awake —- but it sure was this sense of responsibility to make her feel protected under his wings. She smacks his arm away pushing at his chest with her all might to skid away to the edge of the bed in her sleepy state, so he quickly hunches on wobbly knees to catch her before she falls.

"It's just me, Angel, Harry –- wake up darlin'," His heart beating ominously frantic and head jumbling with horrible thoughts of what she's going through as her warmed up cheeks soak with tears, he has never seen her like this, he never wanted to see her for the first time after months like this --- shattered to pieces and drained of her energy.

He smooths his thumb to caress her cheek slightly and swipe those sad tears away. She wakes up with a gasp making him jerk his chin back, blinking rapidly to confirm her surroundings and her fearful vision zeros to his panicked features. She places her palms against his pectorals to make sure he's real and there and that ugly nightmare just ended, "Harry?" He gulps the thick web of tears down his throat and bobs his head.

"Yes, sweet girl, Harry . . ." The very streaks of golden rays sneak through the curtains and dances between their faces as she fists the hem of his shirt, "It was just a nightmare." He assures her running his hand up and down her arms to calm her down.

"Don't be afraid, dovie' won't let anybody hurt ya from now on, g'na protect you —--" It was the last straw for her before she flipped him over and climbed out of his bed to get out from his room.

"Shit." He drives into a state of frenzy following her down the stairs like a puppy almost missing a step or two as she wears the slippers she came in last night, "Where ye' goin'?" His muscles twitch in a hurry to make his next move and save whatever's between them that's keeping him sane, " Dunno, away from you." She shrugs, lost in her own fog and the sting in his heart's unbearable with the inflammation of hurt.

"Why?" He tumbles through the last step and infront of her, eyes bloodshot and heart how from the squeezing agony of loosing her for second time for the same cause.

"Because, I w'na forget about you!!" The scream she had in her lungs to convey her anger gets stuck in her throat. His shoulders slump from the burden of guilt and regret.

"Why?" He feels like throwing up with the unbearable anguish of him hurting to a point he wants to wash his memories out of her mind.

"Because you make me so confused, Harry…" Her face pinches into an exasperated expression of hopelessness while she nudges him aside to pass by him and to the main door but he catches her wrist before she could step outside and never come back to him, "I wouldn't confuse you from now on …. 've been better fo' you y/n, 'cos I want you to know that I'm yours." His confession springes her off guard by pure stupefaction and when she looks at him -- he's already gazing at her as if she's the moon surrounded by singing stars.

"Please, let me fight for you baby." Tears springs at his waterline ready to welcome a sob out of his lungs. Because he knows he'll be unable to live his life without her, his love will rot in the cage of his heart because he'd never be able to express it for anyone except her.

He continues not holding back anything from her instead unlocking another love language and that's being vulnerable and completely defenceless to her, "While being with you I still thought a part of me was in love with my ex and I didn't want ya to be me second priority, could neve', was so so wrong 'cos even though you're not my firsts you're gonna be my lasts. I'll make sure that you're." He gulps down the tears blocking his wind pipes and making it difficult to speak.

"I want you to give us another chance, to forgive me and give me a proper chance to love you 'cos that's what you deserve . .." The sincerity and genuineness in his stained smaragdine irises turns her pudgy in his hold, ". . . you deserve all the lovin' in this world, honey."

"Work for it then." She tells him and his pretty eyes widen adorably as of some golden fish, a vivacious smile adorns his features and he doesn't take a moment before swiping her off her feet and into his arms to hug her tightly.

His insides feels like nourishing after a time with contentment and satisfaction.

To have his loved one in his arms.

In his life.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank youuu." He rambles into the crook of her neck, elated and joyful. Swaying their bodies together and making her smile softly after a prolonged time of suffering.

She'll heal.

He'll make sure to put ointment of affection and love on her wounds to help her heal, for herself but nobody else.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She mutters putting the alcohol swab on his torn bleeding knuckles and he squeaks locking his calf around her ankle, "Ouch! Ye' mad woman."

Harry and her went to file a report against Kevin, along with Nora who became her witness because she despises that disgusting of a man to be even around her and her studio let alone her boyfriend.

Harry was her biggest support through the whole process and dropped her off assuring her he'll pick all her stuff from Nora's place. There he was, Kevin. Stumbling at the footpath after Nora kicked him and his luggage out.

Harry's very patient and optimistic but not when his loved ones get hurt. He didn't know what was happening around him before he sprinted towards Kevin and punched him square in his face, breaking his nose and busting his own knuckles with a fierce shout of "y'son of a bastard!"

"If I ever . . . ever see ya near her, I promise that you wouldn't be able to see the living daylight." He grunted, resisting to hit him in the shin with his boots and walked past him to the studio to collect her stuff.

He was grief stricken seeing the way she had to live and not finding her pet cat anywhere. His heart could be heard cracking into tinytinytiny pieces when Nora told him that Y/N gave it to the vet since she was unable to afford it.

When she catches him staring up at her like a love-stricken puppy she huffs wrapping a band-aid around his knuckles, "'M mad at you." He seems unfazed making her gasp when brings her closer with his legs wrapped around her's, "Why . . . you're always mad at me." He whines jutting out his bottom lip and she shakes her head at his silly dotiness.

"You -– you can't go hurtin' yourself fo' me, H." She's very unaware, because certainly he'd do it as many times.

She narrows down her eyes to squint him in offense when he brushes her comment off with nonchalance and raises his bandaged wrist up to her face, "Will you kiss it better' fo' me, pet?" Her insides crumbles like dry rose petals falling from a beloved book of her favourite romances.

"Hmm?" He nudges it in a questioning suppressing a smirk. She wipes her clammy and antiseptic hands down her trousers not meeting his gaze while taking his hand awkwardly but delicately closer to where her soft mouth is located; she halts glowering at him, "Only if you ask nicely."

"That wasn't nice? Thought I was being a good boy there." He mumbles diligently pulling at the hem of her shirt and she bites down a smile, fingers still wrapped round his wrist.

"Pretty please…?" He wheezes his words out begging-ly -- upper lip curving, pupils dilating and she shrugs, "..if you insist so.." His grin was immaculate that of golden sun when she pressed her lips to his knuckles carefully giving it a gentle pat afterward.

"Not doing that again." She breathes out the air she was winding up inside her for so long. Spinning on her heels to turn her back towards him and put the first aid back under the sink, "We'll see 'bout that, let's do some grocery." He stands up patting his thighs loudly, "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll find bugs in me cabinet instead of goodies."

They've been roaming isles for an hour now and they always end up fighting who will push it. Harry doesn't let her because she keeps on filling it with instant noodles, chocolate bars and sakurai oreos.

"How about we try to live till our fifties wouldn't be that beautiful?" He follows behind her closely. His chest brushes against her shoulders everytime she makes a stop to cooes over some brightly coloured food and candies, "'M trying to make it till next year, dunno 'bout you." She mutters grumpy-ly tossing another packet of cherry lollipop inside the trolley.

He puts it back.

With a strict warning glare to her way.

"I want you to stay healthy." He says sternly glaring up at her from his ducked position. She tosses the lollipop back from the shelf, "'M paying for my things." She dismisses him off panning deadly.

"Fo' fucks sake, 's not 'bout money!" He grits annoyed at her stubbornness and she arches her brow leaning against the trolley, "Harry…'m not an actress or some high-paid model. Lemme enjoy real things, okay? Or just say you'd look too outta my league standing next to me." Her brows pints down into a frown and her shoulder slumps with her body further relaxing against the trolley.

She's up for a debate with him right in the middle of the junk food aisle if that's the case.

"See. That's why I don't want to be married!" A couple from far banters off in astonishment catching Y/N completely off guard.

"Uh-ah!" She yelps getting startled from the boom of interruption and a high-pitch squeaks leaves out of her petite lungs when the trolley rolls from under her perched elbow making her stumble for a nice trip but the bang never came as Harry coiled his arm around her waist to pull her on stable feet with a firm hand over her smallest of back.

His gentle pupils flicker between her frenzied one's, noses tickling and teasing each other with each spurt of breath that rushes out of her parted soft mouth and against his cheek.

"Maybe it's not that bad after all." The couple who were planning their future based on another couple, who's not even a couple yet but trying to work on it with their shared amount of affection; sighs in awement leaving Harry and Y/N in their own bubble.

He takes her by the elbow and helps her with his lips thinned, "Careful there." His mumble is deep and coherent husk.

She didn't whine about his green vegetables, boring low fat cheese and planned meals, celery or whatever that shit is, after that. Walking by his side like a kid who just got relief from his time out punishment.

While on the counter she asked him politely rather than biting his head of, "Lemme pay please. I'm already imposing on you by staying at your place." She knows that he wouldn't let her. Harry wants to take care of her -- in every way. He just hopes she warms up to him slowly that there will be a day she thinks of his home as hers too, oh how the table turns!

T'not make her think that his love for her is only restrictive to materialistic things he lets her pay --- but for half of it.

"D'ya got a change, miss?" The cashier asks her and she cranes her neck up to him. He denies waving his credit card with a disappointed expression so she quickly takes a chewing gum from the racks beside in return for the change.

He stops in his tracks. Watching her with glinting eyes more like fawning at her when she sways on her feet happily swinging the bag in her hold side by side.

"C'mon Harry!" She grins twiddling her fingers in a gesture to usher him where she's standing beside his car, "Yup. On your command, darlin'." He shakes his head. To fetch himself from the fond-land he always enters with anything she does.

There's a low hum of telly buzzing in the room as they sit crossed legs on the coffee rug with their knees brushing if any of them moves their bum a tad, while they slurp onto the remaining soup in the noodles cup.

This whole time he wanted to say something, to talk to her, his heart out and make it a domestic routine of sharing stuff while they eat comfy in eachother's presence but seems like his tongue betrays him everytime and his needy eyes always want to admire her and the little things she does.

He licks his lips, nodding profusely when she asks for his cup and chopsticks to take to the kitchen. A huge sigh of relief vanishes out from his chest when she disappears inside giving him time to re-collect himself, he rummages through the bag to take out the chewing gum they bought at the last moment.

He rips the packet with his teeth but it remains pressed there between his morals when he senses the familiarity of the foil --- she bought a fucking condom out of accident!

At the same moment she pads outside halting in her tracks infront of him with a horrendous expression as her peepers wouldn't stop blinking. He doesn't not know what got into him but he throws it her way as if he's utterly disgusted by it.

Sinks into the couch and refuses to meet her gaze. She throws it back at him, "I don't want it, keep it you might need it." There he goes. The smugness fuels back as he outstretches his arm over the back of the couch and man-spreads scrutinizing the way her eyes linger at his meaty thighs before flicking them away with a nervous gulp.

"You've already planned it all out, hun?" He smirks rubbing the belly of his nose with his pinky's knuckle and she folds her elbows under her breasts shaking her head at his teasing, "Yeah planning to . . . murder you t'night." She laughs out evilly when his eyes widen comically.

"Hmm. I see. Didn't know ye' were this kinky 'n naughty." She rolls her eyes at his edgy nip. She wouldn't admit it but him testing her patience turns her hot and flustered.

"Night, H." She yawns and his heart grows ten times bigger at the softness of her appearance. She cranes her head against her shoulder to look at him from the spot she's standing at when his voice calls for her, "Y/N!? Ye'really into knives? In the bed I mean." His grin mischievous knowing fully well what he's doing to her as he waits for her answer propped on his knees.

She slams the door at his face and he plops back into the sofa with a pouty victorious smile.

Harry didn't realise that in the middle of watching Gilmore Girls on the telly he fell asleep straining his neck from keeping it in a weird angle, his arms hugging the pillow and feet dangling adorably nowhere. He groans knuckling away the sleep and tries to wake up when he heard a feeble noise of someone taking his name until he looks up and finds Y/N towering him with her fluffy cream blanket pinched around her head darlingly.

"What happened, pet? Y'okay!?" He gasps trying to sit up and take her precious face to inspect her properly but she shakes her head and lays him back gently.

Her nose runny and cheeks rosied as she asks for a favour from him, "Can I -- um," She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater paw. He doesn't question her further and opens his long arms to welcome her for a warm embrace.

"C'mere, pet." His whisper delicate to her.

She lies down pressed to his front resting her head on his sprawled arm and scooches herself closer to him smiling shyly against his hoodie where a Harry is embroidered in pink thread. It's like a gust of fresh spring and dew of nighty mountains as Harry takes a relaxing breather snuggling her impossibly affectionately close to himself, petting down her sweet smelling hair.

"Y'can talk to me 'bout anythin'." Their heart-beats in sync as he keeps his palm spread at her back to protect her from falling, "Ye' know that right?" He pulls back to cradle her chin between his fingers and look her in eyes sincerely.

"I know that button. Sleep for now, hmm?" He smiles softly, shutting his eyes from giving out how much a mere love name's enough to fuse him into a cloud of giddiness.

In the morning though, Harry's a small spoon and Y/N a big one. Her limbs trying to latch to his body in every way possible with her cheek smashed against his shoulder blade.

His lips quirks up into a lazy loopy smile full of contentment and peacefulness as he weaves his each finger into her's to bring her knuckles to his mouth and smother it in kisses, "Rise n' shine you furball." He rasps. chin doubling adorably as he tries to look at his squirmy girl.

He turns to face her side, temples touching and lips hovering over eachother's skin. He feels her smiling against his chin as she cuddles up into him, "I'd like to make you a brekkie…." She murmurs playing with baby curls on the nape of his neck.

"Dunno 'bout that. What if you poison me, t'death?" He giggles and she smacks his belly pouting grumpy-ly.

"Offer, expired. no more brekkie for you." She tells him wiggling out of his grip and walks towards kitchen but burst into gleeful laugh when he wraps around her calves like a koala bear, "Was jokinnnn', babe." He emphasizes his words with a twinge of whine and she meanders her hand in his ruffled curls.

"Kay! Kay! But, I could only make you omelette and sour bread." He jumps back on his feet enthusiastically looping his arm around her clavicles, "No problem. Glad t'eat anythin' made from your lovely hands."

She made him brekkie and he made fabulous peach tea for them. She blabbered off and he listened with careful ears. He praised her with glinting proud eyes and she treasured these praises in her heart.

While she chewed slowly he messaged his manager that he couldn't come to any working place for a week or so. He wants to make it special and memorable for them, their honeymoon phase.

"D'ya have any class today?" He asks her leaning towards her atop the counter, "Nope 's Saturday dummy." She chuckles flicking her thumb against his forehead and he gives a dimpled grin with bolted shut eyes.

"Yeah … silly me."

"Why?"

"So that I could take ye' ona date." His inners bouncing desperate to know her answer, "Me?" She points at herself surprised with parted lips.

"Yes you, is there somebody else sitting with us? Hello?" He calls for that non-existent person and she suckles her bottom lip to subside her squeals down. She breathes out, "Some ghostie? Evil spirit? Jesus himself —-" She cuts his banter of. With a light slap to the back of his hand.

"Okay." She says with an excited shake of head happiness bare in her words and Harry literally slips from his seat padding towards her in haste, "I'd love to." She confirms with a sweet smile and he hooks his nimble finger around her jeans loop to pull her closer to him for a fervid emotional hug.

She was a frolic mess in her room trying out her outfits and fitting into her skirts, trousers anything that could match perfectly. Deciding to terminate any ideas to wear cotton floral sun-dresses instead ends up tucking a baby pink sweater into her chequered white and black plaid trouser along with a pair of Mary Janes booties.

She took huge puffs of breath to calm her wild heart down when the knock on her door appeared. He decided to be a full on romantic today doing all the date rituals without any shame dressing up in a silk shirt three shades lighter than her's, with a pussy bow around his neck and she thinks she couldn't be more in love with him as he has a bunch of sunflowers and jasmines in the cracks of his jewels adorned fingers.

"Well, well, well, Look who came to their enemy's door holding presents." She smirks and he scowls, "Oh cut it. 'M here to pick y'up fo' our date."

What makes her lose her mind's Zippy on his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" She leaps towards him and takes her fluffy beast in her arms and showers Zippy's crown with many many kisses, "Thank you!" She cries out joyfully wrapping her free arm around his waist and cuddles him for dear life.

"I lo —-- " She thinks it'd be embarrassing to say it on the first date and Harry almost had a mini heart-attack but she changed her words, "I can't be more grateful to you, thank you so much."

"Now, stop thankin' me hunny." He gives her the flowers he plucked himself from his backyard and kisses the apple of her cheek turning her into a gooey mesh.

"Where is it?" She avoids checking him out.

"Why should I tell ya?" He nudges her to lock her elbow around his and she gazes up at him with loving eyes, "'cos 'm your date that's why."

"Bribe me then." He grins bashfully.

"Harry!!" She gasps and huffs tipy-toeing timidly to plant a soft kiss to his chin but it lands against his throat making him thin his lips to give out a noise that could embarrass both of them.

"Not telling you." He squeaks dragging her outside into the porch and she whines, "You leech!"

"You did not!" She snaps her neck in utter exhilaration from the view in front of her and towards Harry who's watching her with puffed cheeks to not to give out his bunny smile as her face turns guppy. The sunshine dawdles around them and she pulls him down to her level with the tug of their intertwined hands, "You're somethin' else, Styles." It warms his blood. Bursting sentiments of pure love and amiability through each orifice that leads to his heart.

"Only fo' you." He whispers stroking the plush of her cheek -- restraining to place his needy lips on her alluring pillow one's inviting him to have a good taste of their sweetness before they could taste the ripeness of strawberries growing at the farm he just took her.

"Uhm. Let's see who could collect more!" She grins pushing herself three steps away from him with support of his pecs, "What's the prize?" He asks pawing at her hips to keep her in intimate distance and she giggles tapping his chin.

"A feeling of saccharine-ss and sweetness when we'll eat those strawberries out." She tries not to step on heavy branches that are still growing and makes her way to the fresh patch, "Perhaps, that could be acquired from eatin' somethin' else out too." His wet lips brushes against her earlobe as he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You're being very loud and lewd." She pokes him in ribs. Squatting down to pluck a juicy perfectly sized strawberry and hovering it against his mouth to give him a taste, "Hmm what could I say 'm a man of dirty words." His eyes darken to an intoxicating shade of emerald as his heart-shaped magenta lips wrap around the strawberry to split it in two with his teeth.

He still remembers. How her mouth tasted that night, how her lips came molding around his's like a stamp of a lover's letter and her body fitted against his's like a lost piece of puzzle.

Just made for him.

"Harry …" She's out of words. Maybe, breath.

"Yes dovie?" He hooks his finger into her belt's loop to saturate the thread like distance between them and makes tight hold at the nape of her neck to crane her head up to meet his honey eyed gaze, "D'ya know how to make strawberry mochi?" His shoulder slumps at her question and he rests his cheek atop her temple cutely.

"Noo." His voice sort of whine-y.

"No, problem. We'll make it together." She chuckles turning back to collect the strawberries into her basket.

She never had this fun. Messing around with him. Feeding eachother the sweet fruit. Him scaring her that some rat sprinted by her feet and enjoying the way she jumps at him, only wheezing comically when she throws a blow at him.

Her giggles bounces off each and every ivory flower and leafy plant as he pins her to the viridescent grass, with his thighs and tickles her non-stop. What started as raspberries turns into sloppy smothers of kisses all over her face.

"Harry!!" She bursts into another fit of laughter, "Stop." She warns him squeezing her thighs around his waist and he giggles challenging her.

"O'what? Huhh?" She closes her eyes nuzzling into his arm that's trapping her down, "Or I'll kiss you…" Her voice gentle and dulcet making his grip loosen and heartbeat fastens like a thunderbolt.

"'M not afraid of that." He gives a toothy grin sneaking a glance at her hand which's gliding up his throat to cup his cheek, eyelids fluttering like petals from breeze as she smudges her sweet mesh coated lips against his's in a tenderly ardent, and yearningly amiable kiss feeling her pulse ring in her ears with so much force.

His fingers make their home down her smooth hair to cup the nape of her neck, elbows digging into mud when he lifts her up to deepen the kiss sloppily. Just her. Only her. Swirling inside of him as his very thought.

Their noses crooking perfectly, skins kissing and bodies hitched to eachother with the knot of souls.

She whimpers into his mouth squishing the poor strawberry she was holding in her free hand from the intensity of fierce sentiments she's spiraling in; to have him all and swallow him all because he's that damn gorgeous. His tongue pokes and tickles the plush insides of her small mouth tasting the strawberry straight from where he loves the most. His belly burning with the fire of desire feeling the way her body's reacting with puriency to his subtle touches of affection.

He was dying to have a kiss from her the day she gave him her lips that night and he couldn't resist but to think about it regularly.

A wet filthy sound bubbles around them when they part away with the remnants of spit in the form of intricate strings connecting them; that breaks when he relaxes his forehead against her's taking a good breather of mossy air.

"S' messy." He tuts when his eyes fall at her palm covered in strawberry pulp.

She gasps giddy-ly when he pokes his pink tongue out and takes a huge swipe up her palm with an erotic hum that rattled her insides.

"H -- arry." She nibbles at her bottom lip to filter noises she's unable to hold meanwhile he sucks her fingers one by one to clean them, her panties twisting with an ache of want.

"Hmm. All nice 'n clean, now we should go." He says flipping her wrist to act as if he's inspecting it. Brushes the dirt of his trousers leaving her baffled and grumpy. When she doesn't stand up he squats down at her level arching a brow at her and before she could know what's happening she's thrown over his broad shoulder like a rag doll.

Her squeals hearty and giggly as she tries to punch his back but her breath gets caught in her throat when his large hand comes spanking her butt-cheek. He waits for her reaction —- grinning cheekily when she sucks in her weak mewls and grabs the back of his neck blabbering his name off.

He puts her back on the ground once out on the gravel path and hands her the basket piled with strawberries. Ducks down to sponge a kiss to her cheek telling her to stay glued to her spot as he leaves to pay.

She smiles down at her feet then at the sky revinding all the moments and their lovely kiss that makes her feel all warm and stupidly gooey.

While boarding the train he wiggles his finger behind himself to get a hold on her and keep her close to him, craning his neck with a lopsided sly smile, "Hold me hand."

"If you insist." She nods with a grin slipping her fingers over his palm and he wovens them with his own with a firm grip stepping inside the train and helps her to do so with his free hand behind her head.

She sighs. Sitting with her back pressed against the window of the train. One leg folded and other dangling from the seat as she stares at Harry with a pouty smile.

"Don't ya think you're sittin' too far away from me?" He says, grabbing her knee, "Come here." And slides her towards himself now their thighs overlapping. He doesn't like even the mere distance between them —-- might sound sappy but he wants to be like her scent.

"Happy?" She pinches his cheek and he winces dramatically ruffling her already loose tresses of hair making her look as if she was on a roller coaster minutes ago, "aren't you a one clingy bunny!" She huffs trying to blow away the hair falling in her eyes. He bobs his head in agreement and slings his elbow around her shoulders to tuck her under his chin protectively.

"Okie, now add some sugar in it —- aish slow down …" She coughs waving away the sugar dust tickling her nostrils as Harry poured so much sugar all at once. He has his chin rested on her head and her hips crooned against his thighs as they make the strawberry and vanilla mochi together.

His puffer jacket on her shoulders (To the time they went to buy grocery stuff it started being cold and Harry being a mommy he took out his jacket and bundled her up in it) —- She sneezes and he quips pecking her hair, "Bless your heart." Fetches her a tissue too.

"Thank you, bubs." She giggles grabbing his jaw bringing him down to smooch a kiss to his lips. She pulls back but he persists snaking his palm around the nape of her neck to keep her put —- she gives in with her heart fluttering like candle flame in a destructive storm.

Turns in his embrace and hooks her elbows behind his head patching tiny, tiny, tiny pecks on his pillowy lips until he gets desperate to kiss her mouth and tongue pushing her to his front by gliding his hand into the back-pocket of her jeans.

Her head lulls. Feeling as if the kitchen got filled with candy clouds floating around her when he cradles her cheeks in his both palms lapping at her bottom lip and nips at it with every whimper of desire that falls, "Mine." He breathes out rubbing the bridge of his nose up and down her cheek like a puppy nuzzling into his favourite plushie.

"Yours." She says without any hesitation.

He smashes his wet lips back on hers. Swirls of gleeful colours surrounding them as he feels like he could kiss her forever.

She gasps gazing down lustfully at his wine cherried lips when he holds her from waist and sits her on the wooden counter, "I want you to take me." She murmurs nailing at the silk of his top and he paws at her hip-bones cravingly, it makes her feel like one the most desired women alive.

"I'm all yours to pleasure you lovie'," He looks her in the eyes with so much love and affection it melts her whole, "Just ask me and I'll give me girl what she wants …. " He says trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Her head falls against the tiled wall giving him more access to her skin --- so he could mark her as he wishes.

The heat from his mouth to her bare skin arouses her to an extent she feels wetness sticking to the insides of her thighs with each grind of his crotch against her's.

She tugs at the roots of his curls, mouth parted around a moan when he grazes his touch over her plump breasts, "Is this okay?" He asks breathlessly and she bobs her head vigorously latching onto him.

"Yes, please, more … " He blinks to let reality sink in when she raises her arms in the air for him to get rid of her clothes.

He smiles. Hard. Crinkles forming by his eyes and cheery lines around his mouth as she looks up at him with those doe eyes glinting with his own reflection.

She squirms grumpily and he cackles loudly when she hooks his fingers into the hem of her jeans as a sign that "just undress me right now and fuck me hard over this counter." But, the romantic sap he's just keeps on being a tease.

"Fuck me already." She huffs locking her ankles behind his back.

"Trust me, I want it as bad as y'do but are you sure —-- "

"I'm --- just fuck …. " She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks and kisses his mouth. He groans when she sucks his swollen lip in between his teeth and lifts her pelvis grinned against his swell lining in his trouser to elaborate her neediness through actions,

He undresses her finally folding them and putting them away nicely while she stays a breathless mess just in her undies, her sheer panties soaked in her juices and profanities of moans fuses into air from both of them as Harry places his hands on her knees. Irises darkening with lust when he looks at the delicate lines of her drippy pussy lips forming from underneath the material.

"Spread your legs, I want to feel how turned on I made you feel." His voice an obscene grunt and it tingles her core making her feel she should obey him, "Fuckin' hell." His moan is dirty as he rubs the pad of his long digits against her soaked centre. His piercing gaze flitting between her thighs crumbled her in the best way possible.

She fists the hem of his top, tugging at it with the blabbering of his name.

A series of pornographic whines leaves her through her nose when he demands her to raise her bum so he could get rid of the last thing being a bother to them.

"Oh my — " She arches her spine when his fingers withered in her stickiness, between her glistening pussy lips to her mound pinching her clitoris in the way and listens to the soapy noises he's creating while lathering his hand with her juices he'd love more to coat his tongue with.

"This is what you want, hmm? For me to bend you over this counter right fucking now and pump me thick cock inside your sweet cunt from behind till you're screaming for me to ram harder inside you, so deep that you feel me in your little tummy and I keep it there for hours making you cum on it again and again — many time that you're milky and cramped around my prick like a filthy girl you're." He dips his impossibly sweet pink tongue inside her mouth and makes her sip down his dirty words through her throat not letting her mewls slip out as his lengthy finger slicks inside her causing her melt against his chest with a turmoil of emotions and heat she never felt before.

Her brain whirles with the mantra of fuckfuckfuck but her guppy lips says otherwise, she coils her arms around his shoulders scratching her nails down his neck — eyes rolling back as she shakes with the build of ecstasy.

"You're so snug and warm, sweets. Can't wait to be inside you." He husks curling his digit to give her upper wall a good rub, "Harry!" Her scream comes out gruff vibrating with a sexy octave.

"Yes, baby." He pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger staining soft wet kisses from the corner of her lips, to her rosy cheeks and down her throat sewing love bites along her veins.

"Does it feel good, hmm? 'M g'na stuff you full of my prick bet it'll make you feel like heavens --" Her brows tenses up as he forces her to keep her eyes locked with his's and groans with the throb in his cock bound to implode with each whimper of his name she lets out hiking up her knees on the counter — the heels of her feet sticking firmly against the edge of the counter giving a carnally pleasing view for him to enjoy and ooze with sticky precum.

He huffs out breathily, fingers sliding in and out at a fast pace while he moves down to take her perky nipple between his teeth teasing it with nip of his tongue, "Fuck. Mhmm baby I've so many dirty things to d'to you, would you be an atta girl and be naughty with me?" He nuzzles his curls against her skin grinding his knuckles up and down against her swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes." She moans trying to sink impossibly deep on his fingers. He admires her in amusement as her belly twists into ripples and she thrashes in his tight hold —- broken into pieces of vulnerability foxily.

He withers his gaze to where he's driving his fingers roughly inside her and a cold shiver runs down his spine, eyelashes fluttering and he sucks his bottom lip brutally praising her softly, "yes just like that darling taking my fingers so good —- they'll look pretty down your throat too while I'll fill your other holes with me, all me." He wraps a hand around her throat giving it a light squeeze and it was enough to spread warmth and the saccharine feeling of fullness in her every tissue gushing over his fingers.

"You're mine." He growls nipping at her sweet spot –-- wearing her out with his continuous different motions inside her. His wrist glistening with her come and her head lulls on his tanned shoulder, eyes slip shut, chest levitating with shallow breaths.

She cups his cheeks wrapping her trembling legs around his waist and kisses his smile, it's sloppy and barely a kiss with their lazy effort to keep their mouths on each other to soak into intimacy.

Next they're a moaning and crying mess on the kitchen floor with her knee hooked around his hip to keep him close as he stretches her out leaving a pleasurable burn against her squishy inviting walls.

His cock sits warm inside her pussy and his balls snug against her bum. It's torturous waiting for her to give a signal that he might move because he couldn't resist but to be rock hard inside her and fuck her for hours but his knees are laughing at him for being unable to bear the sting of cold tiles.

"You can move, 'm okay." She whispers hugging him for dear life and he nods grinding his hips slowly, the bulbous head of his dick hitting all the right spots —- he's so good at fucking.

He takes her fleshy tits in his palms caressing them with each lewd stroke of his cock inside her and treats her glistening lips from his spit back to his mouth, pecking it generously.

"Pull me hair." He groans pushing hard and guides her hand into his swirl of sweaty curls — hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into his skull erotically when she does so peppering loving kisses under his earlobe, "You're g'na ruin me lovie … fuck me please." He whines grabbing her ass and lifts her pelvis to slide inside her dripping pussy with much more roughness.

She has never seen him like this. Shredded to seams for her, sweat beading down his gorgeous face like glimmer of pearls and eyes mossed with so much lust and desperation it knocks air out of her lungs.

He rolls them over gently and her squeal turns into a shameless yawp when he feels much more bigger than before inside her with her being on top of him —- he was right she could feel him in her tummy.

She's clueless what to do. Not that she's gonna show it –- she doesn't want to give him an impression that she knows barely anything about riding but the way she begins with zealous back and forth movement digging the heels of her palms against his pecks wrecks him havoc.

"You're doin' so good pet, yes, yes, yes. Use me baby. Use me like your little fuck toy 'm c'mon." He grabs the nape of her neck and brings her down to skim his tongue over her lips, manipulating the plushiness of them with his teeth. His balls slapping against her skin as she bounces on his cock diligently and he fists the soft flesh of her bum with both of his hands to help her ride him knows she's labouring herself out, "I'm all yours." He says caressing her sides to make sure she's okay and brushes the wisp of sticky hair behind her ear.

"You're looking so sexy sitting on my dick like that -- how about I don't allow you to cum so you could keep me warm with your pussy like that fo' hours?" His pants out gripping at her thighs as his prick spills with wetness inside her and she cries out shaking, "No!" He smirks crinkled forming by his eyes and takes this chance to drive hard up inside her making her flop onto his chest.

She gasps moistly, pulsating around him feeling every ridge and vein of his cock stroking against her walls creating obscene noises of skin meeting skin and their moistures mixing soapily like gooe.

"Cum fo' me baby -- squeezing me s' tight. I know you're there." His pants laboured and heavy as he sucks his own digits coating them with his spit nicely and glides them down pressing them to her weeping bud, then flickers it in prolong circles. Toes curling. His thrusts consistent and fast. She crooks her nose against his's murmuring to him with a wavering voice.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck."

"You're gonna make me come."

Her eyes widen in surprise but her body reacts otherwise albeit she has never experienced it —- but her moans were uncontrollable when he spanked her butt cheek and she crampied down at him jolting tremendously with the wave of insanity spreading to her bones.

"I'm a naughty boy, give it to me." He kisses his teeth together man spreading and throwing his knees up to ram up inside her perfectly.

His eyes shuts till he could see white spotting behind them -- he spills inside her in form of thick ribbons and milks her cunt with it riding her out of her high. She clings to his body and snuggles into him to tone down the shivers running down her spine with each tiny orgasm she feels rushing out with his lazy thrusts.

"I'm jello." She tells him and he looks down at her with a mishevious grin, "Does that give me a reason to eat you whole?" She rolls her eyes poking at his cheek with a grossed out expression.

"I'm still inside ye', remember?" He stirs his hips to make her realise and she yelps not know if it's making her feel hot or utterly sensitive, "You're insatiable." She mumbles pouting her lips to indicate him she's dying for his lips to smooch kisses to her.

"No kidding I love the noises you make when you come undone." She confesses timidly drawing stars at his chest and he giggles kissing her temple gently, "Stop before you wake me buddy up again –- he quite fond of you." He blushes hiding his face into the crook of her neck with tiny voice.

They're canoodling under the fluffy blanket on the sofa watching telly after they just took a bath together, shampooing eachother with peach scents and drying eachother off with warm towels. She's nuzzled into his side wearing one of his baby yellow robes, his arm stays around her shoulder thumb addicted to caressing her silky cheek, sometimes spreading his fingers down her throat to tip her chin up to smooch sweet kisses on her lips.

"You're cute when you're not a pest." She giggles and he frowns comically pretending to munch her alive, "That's very rude -- you should be thankful that I lov — " Her heart almost stops functioning.

They were sipping onto their green teas and nibbling onto the strawberry mochi they made and refrigerated before when the doorbell rang making them groan in laziness.

She stood up going to see what took Harry so long on the door and got revealed to him talking instinctively to whoever rang the bell.

"Hi, Y/N." Scottie smiles at him. Carrying her luggage and Y/N looks down at her attire for a second then forwards her hand shyly. She was so scared that day –- it's a blur to her but now she watches Scottie properly she realizes …. She's the same girl from all the paparazzi photos.

Something switches off inside her. The rainbows and confettis, the moonlight and stars and the nebula of the whole galaxy she had consumed in her little body from making love to Harry just shuts down into a white noise.

Her bottom lip plumps into a pout. Eyebrows trembling from this confused feeling of some invisible thing squeezing the life out of her.

She's jealous.

"I just came here to say bye." Scottie's voice makes her focus back into reality.

"Oh…" She just nods. She doesn't return the hug even though her brain guilt trips her for that and when Scottie leaves with the air thick and tense, Harry corners her in between a wall and piece of furniture cradling her grumpy face in his careful palms speaking gently to her.

"You don't 'ave to worry 'bout her, she's just a friend …. Infact you don't have to worry 'bout anyone because I love you so so much baby that I don't see myself spending me life with anyone else." She glances up at him twice, jaw falling slack from shock and he chuckles smothering her in kind-hearted kisses when she stares at him like a hawk.

"You what!?"

"I love you, Y/N." Her eyes closing like a moth flapping nearer to fire and finding peace in burning inside it.

"I love you too so much." She whispers and welcomes his lips melting against her ardently. With the passion only lovers hold. Amiability she couldn't find anyone else but in his embrace, in his kisses and his lovemaking.

"Can we go back to cuddlin'? Me feet gettin' cold baby." He whines treading fastly into the living room while carrying her like a kitten from behind and makes squeaky noises once snoozed under the warmth of the blanket.

He touches their foreheads. Kissing the tip of her nose adorably.

"I love you." Then burst into giggles. When she returns the passion coyly.

"I love you too."

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