#when I sent this to the person I got boba with I did cover up the spotify song tho lmao😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hansoulo · 4 years ago

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you’re just a bottomless pit

part one of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - explicit language, allusions to violence, discussions of mild harassment, mentions of being royalty, kissing, choking, light non-descriptive smut, slight elements of dubcon, boba’s a big dick gotta be what you have amirite

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this is empire strikes back boba when he was just fucking around and finding out so i took a lot of liberties with canon don’t @ me. i offer u this picture as a helpful visual aid. merry christmas xx

༓ series masterlist ༓

Darth Vader was to be a house guest, and you promptly dunked your head underneath your bathwater.

The perfumed pool burbled for a few seconds while you groaned, listless and in the throes of dramatics, but your attendant only clucked in sympathy. Mila was long accustomed to your disdain for the Imperials who had come to occupy more and more of the palace. So, it seemed, was everyone except the Imperials.

After a long moment you emerged from below the water, droplets of it clinging to your face and trailing into your mouth. “Another Lord?” you asked incredulously, groaning even louder when the servant nodded.

You swam the two short strokes it took to go from one end of the small pool to the other, then floated bare on your back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “Is he the one with all the strange…” motioning towards your mouth, you made a vague gesture. “Apparatus?”

“I believe so, your Highness.”

Humming noncommittally, you let your gaze trail off for a moment and stood rightside up again before returning to the bath’s edge. Its intricate tiles were cluttered with bottles, little glass tinctures and oils and soaps that all wrapped themselves around the room in a heady, heavy incense. You inhaled deeply and sighed. Lord Vader with the strange apparatus.

You couldn’t remember a time before your father, the sovereign ruler of Quas Killam, was a puppet for the permanently stationed General and a yes-man for Emperor Palpatine. Then again, you supposed it wasn’t really his fault his planet just happened to be Mid-Rim and full of exactly what the Empire needed. Being a yes-man was probably the only thing keeping his planet intact during the civil war that was supposedly raging right now.

But it was hard to feel sympathy for a man who dressed you up like a paper doll and never let your mother talk.

A soapy sponge was brought up against your back, smelling of lavender. Closing your eyes, you let Mila’s motherly hands scrub at your shoulders and arms until the skin tingled in a pleasant burn.

You picked at the tile grouts with a polished fingernail, head swimming with rows and rows of grey uniforms and white shelled armor. “Wonder why they’re here this time,” you said, speaking softly to no one in particular.

“Princess, if I may...” the older woman began.

“You may.”

“I believe they’re building another weapons factory to supply the Empire, in the north fields. Lord Vader was invited to oversee its induction.”

You kicked your legs lazily in the water, half-asleep and lulled into slowness by the refresher’s warm steam. “And I suppose he’s bringing along an entourage?” you asked, already knowing the answer. They always did, those Imperial sorts. It was just a question of how many and for how long they decided to stay, having taken any real power from your family royalty years ago after they’d discovered the trinium mines your planet was known for.

Your title had rotted of its relevance, made even lesser by the fact that you were the youngest daughter of seven. Your infant brother was being groomed for ventriloquism and you, you were being groomed for obsoletion.

Mila’s hands, roughened by years of laundry and lye soap, rubbed warm oils into your skin. “There was talk of a bounty hunter, your Highness.”

Your eyes shot open.

A bounty hunter?

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You saw him a few weeks later, in the flurry of transport arrivals and mindless, droning ceremony. It was only a flash of his helmet, but it was enough to keep your imagination spinning for days.

Whispers from entreating servants and talk from stormtroopers that couldn’t keep their mouths shut had informed you of his reputation, his station, and his name. Boba Fett.

A particularly loose-lipped security droid regaled you with rumors of his being hired by Lord Vader, hunting a man named Han out in the Outer Rim. Quas Killam was on their way, apparently, good for information and heavy on the underworld dealings you’d always been shielded from. Truthfully, you didn’t much care. You knew no one got close to the Empire without blood on their hands. Whether they be kings or bounty hunters.

When you actually talked to the man, having been caught trying to eavesdrop on the chamber meeting he happened to be exiting the moment you leaned your ear against the door, any delusions of decorum were shattered the moment he opened his mouth. “Out of the way.”

You bristled, gathering up your skirts in a huff as you stepped away. Rude.

He was taller than you thought he’d be. Taller and broader than he looked before back on the cargo bay, a mere smudge in your peripheral vision. Now that he was alone save for you in the cavernous hallway, his words echoed on the marble tile. So much for espionage.

“My father’s in that meeting,” you replied shortly, putting on airs and doing your best to look like your mother, regal and cold.

Boba only stood there, thumbing the notches of his blaster until he caught the thin sparkle of the diadem crowning your head. A scoff, dismissive. “Then out of the way, princess.”

It wasn’t the title that bothered you. After all, it’s not like he was wrong. It was the way he said it. It was… it was patronizing! Condescending. Absolute inappropriate to a person of your station.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, more than a little attractive.

You shifted your weight onto one hip, scowling. “Don’t call me that.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, static-y and made even rougher by his helmet. “What? Princess.”

Stars, you heard that word a million times a day for a million different reasons. His saying it shouldn’t have felt so warm in your mouth.

Before you could volley back a reply, something equally biting and smarmy, the double doors he stood in front of began to groan open again.

“Better scram, little one.” Boba jerked his head towards the sound of your father’s advancing footsteps. “Daddy’s coming.”

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You often dreamed about what it’d be like to leave. Your title. Your station. All the bloody bores that came along with it.

But you had never even been outside the palace grounds. Probably never would, unless your father found someone willing to marry a low-ranking princess and hoisted you over their shoulder, a piece for a game you were never taught and never allowed to play. You’d already resigned yourself to that fact and half-way convinced yourself you were okay with it. But prisons were still prisons. Even if they were made of silk.

On the eve of Lord Vader's departure, everyone in the palace was preoccupied. Your father was most likely schmoozing some Imperial officer. Your mother, in bed with yet another headache. Your governess spent the day preening over your younger brother and your handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. You had a sneaking suspicion she was with one of the guards in a dark hallway.

So you slipped out behind a servant’s entrance and looked for a place to breathe.

Hardly anyone knew about this part of the palace gardens. It was sequestered behind so many winding footpaths and barely-oiled gates that the security droids never bothered patrolling past the main entrance, making it simple to duck underneath the overgrown hedges. The air was quiet; heavy-scented with all the flowers that had been planted and forgotten, left to grow wild across the footpaths and be crushed underneath your feet.

You used to come here quite often, when you were younger and it was easier to slip away. There were long spaces in your memory made of cotton, with hazy sun-soaked afternoons and the fountain that somehow still spouted out streams of cold water from the hands of a statue, some relic of an ancient ruler who had long since died. It was only a small courtyard, made smaller by the thick surrounding hedges and large chunks of cobblestone, but it felt like a whole galaxy to you.

A few minutes passed, then an hour. Two hours. A long, slow, summer stretch of day that just confirmed the fact of your irrelevance. It was filled in only by the mindless reading of your holopad and a few short naps. But better out here alone than stuck back inside, surrounded by those insufferable stormtroopers.

Maybe you spoke too soon, because a few seconds later you were toe-to-toe with Boba Fett, your back pressed to the garden wall. Stars, you didn’t even hear him walk in.

You’d think by now you would have learned to be more careful. Listening and being listened in on.

The helmet tilted up and then down, examining your sour expression. Rolling your eyes, you slumped against the ivy-covered brick, still smarting from your encounter with him a few days prior. “Why are you here?” A haughty, affected wave of your hand. “Were you sent here to fetch me?”

The man straightened out, stepping back from you with a broadening of his already broad shoulders. Chips in his armor reflected tiny bits of sunlight, little silver speckles on green armor that looked even greener surrounded by wild flora. He hunted people for a living, so the fact that you were made quick work of didn’t really bother you. Still, it was a bit disappointing. Having to go back to the palace was the last thing you wanted.

“The king was concerned for your safety.”

Oh for Maker’s sake. “You mean he was concerned for his reputation.”

“I was told to find you-”

“-and bring me back so I could sit in a parlor and be supervised like a child.”

“Princess,” he sighed.

There was that word again.

A heavy swallow bobbed the lump in your throat, your chest flushed and littering the space between your bodies in a low buzz. You narrowed your eyes, not trusting your own head for something more articulate, and spit the question out. “What?”

He motioned towards the footpath, one hand resting on his belt. “Let’s go.”

You only crossed your arms with a raise of an eyebrow, mind floating an acknowledgement that you were very much acting like a child who needed to be supervised.

“I don’t make a habit of tracking down spoiled royalty.”

No one had ever called you spoiled before.

It was sort of refreshing.

The man cut an imposing figure, you’d give him that. With the helmet and blaster and… armor and such. You weren’t even entirely sure you remembered to put on real shoes before coming out here, still slippered and in stocking feet. What a pair you must’ve made. Incongruous.

You cocked your head and leant against the wall with the fabric of your dress swishing out around your ankles. Caught by warm, humid winds, its layers separated themselves into thin sails before falling down together again. Rhetorical questions were blooming alongside flowers. “Are spoiled royalty below your paygrade, then?”

A tip of his helmet said yes, yes they are.

You supposed as such, with the sort of reputation he had. Skilled bounty hunter. Feared mercenary. Expensive and coveted.

A lap dog.

Maybe there was more in common between you than you thought.

Another breeze whistled past, but the man in front of you was silent. “Well,” you finally spoke, brushing away the imaginary dirt on your dress. “I don’t make a habit of following around strange men, so we’re in a bit of a bind.”

There was an edge in his voice when you moved to walk away, a gloved grip snaking up and resting a deadweight on the back of your neck. You pushed up against him. Lothcat and mouse. You were both, but he was too. “I’m not telling you again, Princess.”

If he called you that again you were sure something would happen. What that something was you had no idea, but the epithet, mocking as it was, felt too good soaking in your sternum for it not to be a catalyst.

A breathy smirk left your lips when your hips canted downward and the gauzed fabric of your dress caught on his cuisse plate. “If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, reaching to flatten your palms across his chest, “I’d say you almost enjoyed chasing me.”

The hand on your nape tightened and his leather fingerprints dug unspoken threats into your skin that simmered, burning up and down your spine. You faked a pout. “Shame you already caught me, isn’t it?”

The grip surrounding you loosened just slightly, letting your back slide down the garden wall whose ivy-covered stone dragged at your bodice back. A small voice chirped up in the back of your head, chiding you for dirtying the delicate fabric before you willed it away, done with listening.

Boba almost growled. “Don’t push your luck.”

“My, my,” you clucked, shaking your head. Your fingers trailed towards the edges of his helmet and traced stripes where his brow bone would be. They were gold. For vengeance. “Aren’t we feeling insolent today?”

The man underneath the beskar scoffed, the palm that was at the back of your neck now wrapping itself around your outstretched wrist and pulling your hand away. You let out a quiet whine of protest, both at the loss of contact and just to see what it might do to him to hear it. When he stiffened, leaning away with every muscle seeming to tense and release and tense again, you were unreasonably pleased. There was still red blood underneath all that red paint.

Boba’s voice was clipped when he finally replied; the vowels came through strained and raspy. “I could say the same for you.”

Yes, he probably could, couldn’t he?

Then again, maybe your two wrongs could cancel out into being right and not at all compromising.

It’s not like you really did anything erroneous. Well, besides the running away part. But that was par for the course for you. All that was new was… him. And his hands. And his being alone with you. Which could possibly be construed as something wrong and compromising but how wrong could it be, really, if neither of you did anything?

Of course, this all hinged on neither of you doing anything. Compromising.

“Take the helmet off and I’ll go with you,” you offered, knowing how juvenile you sounded. You just wanted to see if he’d hear you. If he’d listen.

He did.

Boot spurs clinked as he stalked towards you, closer than he was before. It was invasive; almost chest to chest with no room for breathing as you were pushed up against the wall again, and you were met with the revelation that whatever you were toying with was probably a really, really bad idea.

Static filled your ears from the husk of his vocoder. “You know I can take you back whether you want to or not.” The roof of your mouth went dry and you remembered how Boba’s palm spanned the entire back of your neck, cradled delicately by leather fingers. He could crush your throat in one hand. Squeeze until you went limp. You wouldn’t be able to stop him. “I don’t need your permission.”

Your thumbs reached up to the lock mechanisms on either side of his head anyway. “I know.”

Fire felt good when you were close enough to be warmed by it. Whether or not you’d be burned was left to be seen.

The helmet lifted with a soft click.

Truth be told, you’re surprised he let you do it.

You dangled the helm almost carelessly by your hip, curling your fingers around the lip of it whilst your other hand stayed hovering near his face. He looked a bit older than you imagined, mid-thirties maybe, scarred and stern-looking. Handsome.

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead but all you wanted—stupid, stubborn, and yearning for a plaything—was to feel the black curls cropped close to his ears. Which probably counted as compromising.

Without the modulator Boba’s voice was deeper, the rumbling kind of richness that was used to giving orders and used to having them followed. It bore down on you as a concrete weight. “I’m not a kind man, princess.”

He forgot that you were used to giving orders too.

The coarse material of his collar chafed your palm as you held it, gripping a lifeline, and tilted your mouth up to his ear. The softness of your voice disguised your intention. It sounded innocent when you whispered it. Gentle, even. “I never said I wanted you to be.”

His lips bruised you and tasted like salt.

It was all tongue, teeth, barely cloaked violence, pressed until your throat felt raw and your heartbeat dropped below the ground to join whatever was left of your dignity. When your knees buckled, a gloved hand settled large between your shoulder blades.

You didn’t think your first kiss would be like this.

Hypothetically it would have been clinical, fumbling and awkward in your own inexperience. Out in front of a crowd somewhere after you met the eyes of a stranger at the altar. Or maybe in secret, like it was now, with a tryst of boyhood and a peck on the cheek.

Boba Fett was a stranger, but he wasn’t a boy. And this wasn’t a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t realize he had lifted you up by your hips until you were placed back down again, his having crossed the few steps from the wall to the nearby fountain with arms firmly wrapped around your middle and not so much as a strain of his hips. His strength should have scared you. It did scare you, a little, but the same hands that had gripped the blaster still at his side were deceptively gentle around your waist. You let yourself be brought down by his bended knees.

“Easy there,” Boba said, still crouching on the ground beside you as you slowly lay back on the lip of the waterwork, white noise burbling from the quiet fixtures. The flat, curved slab surrounding the shallow pool was wide enough that you needn’t worry about balancing, speckled gray stone warmed from weather and soon by skin. There was one moment where Boba allowed you to catch your breath and then it was gone, knocked out of your lungs in another assiduous touch.

“Poor thing,” he mocked, sardonic even as he cooed gently into your open mouth. Your back arched in an unwitting presentation and blood pounded a drumbeat in your ears. All you could see was Boba; his face and his shoulders and his arms braced beside your head, leaning over your horizontal form. Like you were prey. Maybe you were. “What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

He wouldn’t be able to say anything. Would stand there, mouth agape and his eyes doing that strange bulging thing it always did when you did anything besides sew embroidery squares. Fainting wasn’t out of the question. It would be ridiculously fun to watch.

You huffed, chasing Boba’s mouth with your own when he shifted above you. The midday sun hung high, edging the bounty hunter’s tanned face in white. You could see your own eyes in the reflection of his pupils, could smell his warm skin. His canines scraped your collarbones. Everything was fast, blurry, and burning.

Stars above.

The whole situation was ridiculous. Twenty minutes ago you’d never been kissed on the mouth and now you were letting a killer-for-hire grope you like you were a back-alley harlot.

It wouldn’t end well. You’d curse after he left and hate yourself for letting him stay, because his staying would be brief and shallow and cruel, but right now, lying on the edge of a fountain with sunshine on your neck and a low voice in your ear, staying was the only thing you wanted him to do.

What an egregious lapse in judgement.

What a beautiful, electrifying lapse in judgement.

“You’re so—” a slurred pitchiness invaded your vocal chords, coating everything in bitter syrup. Your jaw was starting to numb from unforgiving lips. “—so rude,” you choked out, mind struggling to find footing amid its own dizziness. You felt like an overheating droid, full of bad code and faulty wiring that made your words and your actions discordant because even as you insulted the man, your hands were curling around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Always so rude, so… so mean to me. Makes me want—” you panted, voice breaking off into a whine when a calloused palm slid across the back of your thigh, “...want…”

His accent curled the consonants into a dance. “Want what, Princess?”

Expectant in their heaviness but teasing a smile in their lined corners, Boba’s eyes were the color of charred umber. Squirming in his arms, you nosed your face into the junction of his collarbones. “Want you,” you finally mumbled, admitting it in one long, pathetic exhale.

His promise had sharp teeth.

“You can have me.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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ilici · 4 years ago

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Summary: Karl finally hand delivers the bunny tail to Y/N and finds out she works at a Bunny Maid Cafe.

{Numbers mean Bunny Cafe}

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2809

Karl was now getting off the plane, as he walked to the baggage claim to get his suitcase. Niki and Karl had hid this from Y/N the entire time, making her think he wasn’t coming at all. Once he had his luggage, he was soon looking around for Niki, who instead was picking up Karl instead of picking up Y/N. Seeing her bright pink hair, he walked towards her a bright smile on his face, “Karl!” Niki said once she saw his fluffy brown hair. “Hey!” He said, pulling her into a quick hug, “How was the fly?” She asked, and Karl shrugged, “It would have been better if I wasn’t seated next to an old man who was snoring the entire time.” He said, which made Niki giggle. “I told you I would have gotten you first class, but you denied it.” She said, as the two walked towards her car.

“Yeah yeah.” He mumbled putting his suitcase in the trunk, “I am picking her up from work right? How long is the drive to your house?” He asked, not wanting to be late to pick her up. “Just down the road actually, but Y/N’s work is a ten minute drive. I’ll text her and tell her that I am picking her up instead, but it will actually be you driving my car. She usually is in the back, cleaning, so just wait for her outside.” She said, as she pulled into her driveway. “You weren’t joking when you said it was right down the road.” He mumbled, looking around seeing they lived in a somewhat secluded area. “Yeah, well, I will take your stuff into your room, you should head to her work. I’ll send the directions to you.” She told him, and he got out of the passenger seat, going to the drivers seat. While he was pulling out, his phone dinged indicating that Niki sent him the address for her work.

Pulling it open while watching the road, he saw that he led him to a place called ‘Coney Cafe’. Pushing the directions for it, the monotone robotic voice spoke up, telling him the way. Listening to it, he played some music to fill in the silence when the robot wasn’t speaking. As he was driving, he became more and more nervous, he didn’t know how he’d react or how Y/N would react. His heart was beating through his chest, and he gulped when he saw the little cafe appear in his line of vision. It was small and cute, from what he could see. Getting out, as it was still day light he locked Niki’s car, slowly walking into the cafe. His eye’s nearly bulged out of his skull when he saw three girls in an outfit similar to the ones Y/N was showing him days before. He looked around, seeing only one guy in a outfit that matched a butler, but settled on his head was a pair of bunny ears.

Karl’s first thought was he was at the wrong place, but when he saw a pair of white bunny ears on a similar set of hair, he froze. Y/N slowly walked out, in a white latex outfit, that was identical to Mai’s, and a pair of red knee high socks. He saw her carrying a tray of what seemed to be buns, and she kindly greeted a stranger giving them their desired food. Turning around, Karl locked eyes with E/C eyes, and he felt the breath get knocked out of him. Her eyes were adorned with red eyeshadow that matched her socks, “Karl?” Y/N said shocked, and Karl just let his eyes travel over her slowly, “Hey..” He said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Sadly, he couldn’t see her smile as it was covered with a mask, that had the cafe’s name on it. “You’re here?!” She said shocked, and he sheepishly nodded his head. “I’m here.” He said, adjusting the mask on his nose, as it kept slipping from him speaking.

“How, what? when?” She asked confused, walking towards him slowly, only then did he realize their height difference. She was about Y/H, and her eye’s seemed much more innocent looking in person. “You work at a maid cafe?” He asked, and Y/N nodded her head, “Niki recommended it, she knew how much I liked wearing stuff like this, and she saw this cafe when she was out getting a tour from Wilbur.” She explained, as she led him to a table to sit him. “Wait here while I finish up.” She said, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Karl was in the UK sitting, waiting, for her. The only way she recognized him was by the hair, the eyes, and the light blue Sapnap hoodie he wore that stuck out like a thumb. She knew something fishy was going on, because Corpse accidentally said Karl wouldn’t answer her for hours since he was on a plane. Before she could even ask, Corpse laughed and said, ‘Joking’ before hanging up.

She smiled and waved goodbye to her boss, who was always helping around the cafe whenever she was able to. “Bye Notori!” She said, as her boss waved back with a smile that was hidden behind her mask. Sighing, Y/N was mentally groaning because she had to open today, which meant she was awake since 4 this morning. Walking back out from the door that read ‘Staff Only’ she tapped Karl’s shoulder, “Do you want anything before we go? I usually fix myself a cup of Boba.” She said, and Karl just looked at the menu that was on the wall. “Yeah, I want to try the red velvet boba?” He asked, somewhat confused. Y/N smiled, “That’s new actually, it’s milk tea with red food coloring, and boba pearls that taste like red velvet cake.” She explained to him, going behind fixing their drinks. As Y/N made their drinks, Karl couldn't help but look at how amazing her body was, “Like what you see?” He heard a voice behind him, and he turned around coming face to face with the guy he saw earlier.

“I’m Vincent, but I prefer Vince.” He said, holding out a gloved hand to Karl. Karl hesitantly shook it, “You like her, don’t you?” He asked, and Karl’s face went bright red. He was thankful his mask covered his blush, “What makes you think that?” He asked, and Vince just grinned. “I’m like her older brother, I can tell.” He said, leaning in, “She likes you too. She hasn’t shut up about you since she met you.” He whispers, which made Karl have a boost of confidence. “So, where are you from?” Vince suddenly asked, changing the subject rather quickly, “Uh. Oh, I am from North Carolina.” He said, and Vince nodded, “So what made you work at a place like this?” Karl asked, noting he was the only boy here. “My mother owns the shop, we originally had the shop in Japan, but we moved here for better business, and because my step father lives here.” He explained, and Y/N walked back with two drinks in her hands.

“Hey Vince!” Y/N chirped happily, and Vince just patted Y/N head, ruffling her hair a bit purposely messing up her bunny ears. Y/N’s pout was not visible, as she ordered him to fix her hair and ears. “You’re lucky I have my hands occupied.” She mumbled to him, as Karl watched the two interact like actual siblings. “Oh! Here Karl.” She said, handing him is red drink, he looked at it closely before he noticed how shiny it looked. “Why is it so shiny?” He asked, confused. “I added some edible glitter into yours, special treat since you flew this way to see me.” She shrugged, as the two walked out. “Oh well thanks.” He mumbled, as they got into the car. “My feet hurt.” Y/N instantly whined, taking off her white heels. Karl looked over at her sympathetically, “How long were you walking around in those?” He asked, and Y/N took her mask off revealing her lower half of her face.

Karl’s eyes immediately went to her lips, and he watched her bite her bottom lip in thought. Her lips looked so soft, that he wanted to just reach out and touch them, but he held himself back. “Well, it is now 3 pm, so maybe 11 hours?” She said, and Karl looked over at her completely shocked. “11 hours?!” He said, bewildered, and Y/N simply nodded. “When we get to the house, you are going to change into comfortable clothes and I am giving you a foot massage.” He ordered, and Y/N looked over at him trying to think of ways to ruin the moment. “Karl.. do you have a foot kink..?” She asked, trying to pretend to be concerned. Karl let out a snort, and a few giggles as he drove shaking his head “No I do not.” He said, and Y/N laughed breaking out of character, “Okay good, that would have been a deal breaker.” She said, and Karl just laughed, as they drove back in peace.

After a short 10 minute silence, Y/N looked over at Karl, who was sipping on his boba. “Has anyone ever told you that your lips perfect for kissing?” She asked out of the blue, making Karl nearly choke. Quickly putting his drink down, he looked over at Y/N as they were now at a red light. “Pardon?” He asked, and Y/N just shrugged, “Nothing nothing.” She said, looking out of her window, and Karl just gaped at her. Hearing a honk, Karl snapped out of his trance and quickly pressed on the gas, turning left. “How long will you be staying?” Y/N asked, and Karl’s brain went numb at the fact that she could act like nothing happened. “Maybe a couple days, weeks.” He said, shrugging and Y/N just nodded. “Did you get the tail?” Karl nodded, “Yeah I did, you can pin it onto your outfits.” He said, “It’s actually under your seat if you want to get it.” He told her, pointing to the floor board.

Y/N reached down and grabbed a bag, pulling it up she looked seeing a ball of fur. Smiling, she grabbed it and took it out, examining it, “It’s so cute.” She said, feeling it, and put it on her lap. “Thank you.” She said, and looked over at Karl, as he drove. “Of course.” He mumbled, and finally pulled into the driveway. Y/N grinned and was about to open her door, before Karl yelled a quick ‘stop!’ which caused her to freeze. Seeing Karl now in front of her door, he opened it, and grabbed her heels and quickly picked her up from the seat. Y/N squealed, wrapping her arms around Karl’s neck so she felt more secure. Shutting her door with his foot, he walked to the porch, and reached forward, opening the door with one of his hands, holding Y/N up by his knee. Walking inside, he asked Y/N to lead him to his room, and finally they made it.

Placing her on her bed, he grinned, “You said your feet ached, so I am letting you take a break from walking.” He said, and Y/N’s heart fluttered at that, “Thank you.” She said, looking away to hide the very obvious blush that was creeping up to her cheeks. “I will be right back, be changed when I get back.” He told her, before he walked out shutting her door behind him. Looking around for Niki, he finally found her in the kitchen, “Where’s the room I will be staying in?” He asked, and Niki led him to a room upstairs, the left of Y/N’s. Walking inside, he noticed it was a neat room, it was a light grey and had its own streaming set up. He figured the room had it, since Wilbur would stay over from time to time. Unpacking, he changed into a pair of sweats, and a Harry Potter sweater. Walking out and back to Y/N’s he knocked, “Come in!” He heard Y/N’s voice.

Walking inside, he was welcomed with the sight of Y/N’s now disheveled hair, bare face, and her in a pajama set. “You look comfortable.” He reasoned, and Y/N just smiled, patting the spot beside of her, “I have Winnie the pooh playing.” She said, and Karl sat beside of her, and pulled her feet onto his lap softly. Y/N relaxed into the pillows behind her, as Karl massaged her feet. “I figured we could have a Disney marathon tonight.” She said, and Karl looked over at her, and grinned. “I’d love that.” He said, before finishing up his massage. After the movie ended, the two were now cuddled close together, “Y/N..” Karl whispered, seeing if she was still awake. Y/N hummed, turning over to face Karl. Now they were face to face, their lips inches away from each other. “I wanted to tell you something.” He said, looking at her features up close.

Y/N nodded her head, motioning for him to continue, both of their hearts beating rather quickly. “I really enjoy talking to you, and I enjoy seeing you every time we FaceTime.” He started, and Y/N smiled, “I really like you, Y/N. I know you don’t like long distance, but I will wait for you if I have to.” He said, and Y/N looked at him, her breath caught in her throat. “I like you too. It’s just I am so scared, I know you wouldn’t cheat or anything, I am afraid the distance will destroy everything. Especially with cover going on, you never know when the next travel ban will be.” She explained, “But I am willing to see if it will work.” She mumbled. Karl smiled, before both of their phones simultaneously dinging. Grabbing their phones, their eyes widened before they both laughed. ‘REPORT UK IS NOW UNDER TRAVEL BAN UNTIL THE BEGINNING OF MAY.’ “Looks like you’re stuck with me bunny girl.” Karl said, looking at her, and Y/N laughed.

“What about Jimmy’s youtube?” Y/N asked worried, and Karl just shook his head, “It’s okay, I will be streaming still, and I can just join Jimmy from FaceTime. I can also join the gaming videos no matter what, I just won’t be in the real life videos.” He said, and Y/N frowned, “Are you sure you are okay with that?” She asked, and he nodded his head, “Things happen in mysterious ways Y/N. I mean look at us, we met through Niki forgetting to mute her mic.” He said, and Y/N laughed at the memory, “Yeah that is true.” She said, and looked away in thought. “I’m getting a call.” Karl said, and answered it putting it on speaker, motioning for Y/N to be quiet. “Hello?” Karl answered, and Sapnap’s voice came from Karl’s phone. “Hey! I just saw that the UK is in a travel ban, which means you are stuck there.” He said, and Karl hummed, “Yeah I am.” He said, and Sapnap chuckled as another voice spoke up.

“If you don’t end up getting with Y/N by the time the travel ban lifts, I will meet you at the airport, and openly punch you.” Dream spoke up, and Karl laughed, “I will allow you to do that.” He said, and Sapnap spoke up, “If you don’t date her, our wedding in minecraft is off and I will marry Quackity only.” He said, and Karl gasped, “Now that’s just too far.” Karl said, and Dream’s muffled laugh came through, “That’s just messed up.” Dream said, and Sapnap just scoffed, “Screw you guys.” He mumbled hanging up. Karl laughed and looked back at Y/N who was just smiling at him. “What?” He asked, seeing Y/N wanted to say something. “Nothing.” She said, teasingly, and Karl groaned, “Not this again, just tell me.”

“Maybe the universe wants this.” She said, motioning to each other, and Karl grinned nodding his head. “Let’s not make the universe mad, we already have a pandemic going on.” He said, and Y/N laughed nodding her head, “Agreed.” She whispered, looking at Karl’s lips. Karl bit his lip, his mind wondering back to how soft her lips look, finally wanting to know the truth. He grabbed her chin and brought her face closer, “Let’s see.” He whispered to himself, as their lips were now inches apart. “See what?” She asked, clueless, and Karl smirked, “How soft they really are.”

#karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs imagine #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt #dreamsmp

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whatanoof · 4 years ago

Text

Of Angels and Promises

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: ~12.2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, violence, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, daddy boba is a warning all on his own, implied throne fucking

Summary: Promises are bad. They imply attachment and accountability, both very hard to come by in the maker-forsaken deserts of Tatooine. Falling in love inspires promises that one isn’t able to keep, and you let your guard down with him.

You saw the ship. It soared through the sky, slicing through the air like an arrow. It was the same one that he had drawn for you on the rough sketching paper in your mechanic’s workshop, and it was even more beautiful in person. It was a cloudless day, and the green paint contrasted the sky perfectly. You could track every movement across the blue expanse and expected to watch the ship set down directly by your hut. But it didn’t. It continued, stretching farther away in the direction of the palace with every passing second that you stood, frozen in space and time.

So you do what every other abandoned lover would. You ignore it and tell yourself that you were mistaken. It’s easy to pretend you’d imagined it. Because if Boba ever came back, he would come back to you, right?

A gentle knock on the doorframe rouses you from the depths of overthinking, and you accidentally slam your head on the shelf in surprise. “Shit! Motherkriffing, dank fucking farri-”

Your first name echoes through the building and cuts through your vicious curses like a bell, and you stop in shock. No one out here calls anyone by name. Your hand drops to your workbench and grasps a heavy wrench. You slowly approach the door and slide to one side of the frame to prepare an ambush. The voice calls your name again, and this time you register that it’s female, low-pitched and soothing. An arm appears through the doorway, and you swing the wrench with all of your might.

You expect at the very least to graze the limb appearing through the doorway of your workshop, but you’re sorely disappointed when you miss entirely. You stumble forward, off-balance from the misplaced strike. A hand seizes your wrist, torquing it violently to one side and forcing you to drop the makeshift weapon. Before you can blink, you’re pinned against the wall with your arm twisted behind your back.

“Let me go!” You struggle against the grip, but it’s too strong, and you grunt at the strain in your joints. “Please, I have water, maybe a handful of credits in the house.”

She doesn’t release you and your name is muttered sharply again. “Is that you?”

“You found me. If you’re going to kill me,” You turn your head enough to spit on the ground, “Tell Bib that I’ll come back to haunt him and shove it where the suns don’t shine.”

“I don’t come on Fortuna’s orders.” She spits the Twi'lek name like a curse. Now you’ve pissed her off. If you weren’t going to die before, you would now. “I come on Boba Fett’s.”

You stop struggling immediately, “What?”

“Boba Fett sent me to bring you to him.” You inhale sharply at the confirmation.

Betrayal flashes through you like lightning. “Let me go.” The words are an angry hiss, reminiscent of a desert serpent ready to spit venom.

She does so and you turn, rubbing your shoulder. The woman is deceptively small, with dark hair in a long braid down her back. A form fitting leather tunic and coat accents her slim waist and fit body. She’s wearing a helmet, though you can see dark eyes through the visor, and a long rifle rides on her back.

“Who are you? Are you a bounty hunter?”

“I am.” You wait for her to reach for her rifle, “But that is not why I am here.” She disengages her helmet lock and pulls it off. She’s too pretty to be a hunter. You wish that wasn’t your first thought, because now you can’t help but stare. You’re vaguely aware that you probably look stupid, but you’re too busy gaping at her smooth skin and fine features. The only indicator of her profession is the stern set of her mouth and perfectly shaped eyebrows, okay you need to stop.

Because you weren’t mistaken earlier. Boba is back on Tatooine, and you’re not sure how to handle that after so much time.

---

“Come on, don’t do this to me right now. No, no no no no n--” A puff of smoke drifts from the comm unit, and you drop the screwdriver with a defeated sigh. Kriffing hell. Weeks of searching for the right parts, the blazing hope within you that you might be able to finally get off this ball of sand when you saw the Imperial signal boosting unit, all ending in a smoking and sparking mess in your hands. Anger flashes hot through your veins, and your hand flies up and whacks the communicator hard, hard enough that the stinging impact chases away the anger momentarily. Then the fury returns, doubling in intensity, and the sheer injustice almost makes your vision white out.

The distant grinding of the sandcrawler shakes you out of your fervor, and you haul yourself to your feet with a sigh. Trading days always... intensify you. But you can’t afford to get hung up on one comm unit. It has been years of fried comm units. Even if you managed to patch together a working one on your limited knowledge, who would you call? A single name flits across your mind, but you veto it instantly. Even if he was in range, he wouldn’t come to get you.

So, back to the original plan. The long plan, the one that has stranded you on this planet for solar cycles. You busy yourself with the various scavenged parts that you’d collected over the past month, polishing and dusting the pieces until they glint like gems in the late afternoon suns. Every small scratch garners another twelve minutes of debate over whether the rebuilt astromech viewport would be worth the trade for the polished transparisteel, or the additional inhibitor units.

The first thing that’s off is the Jawas themselves. They seem… tense. No, that’s underselling it. They’re always high strung, running around and worrying about different bargains and barters. But today, they’re absolutely freaked out. Dual sun-stroked. High on their anxiety. Which is good for you; they’ll be distracted and maybe they won’t try to barter for your spare vapor consolidator again this time.

So you naturally pay it no mind while setting up your line of wares. You had a good haul this week, enough to make the water taxes this month.

The Jawas crowd out of the sandcrawler deck, and you greet them as you recognize them. A flurry of Jawaese flies around your head as they run about, laying out the wares for you to examine. One scurries to your offerings this week: random parts and a series of old mouse droids that you had reprogrammed. They examine the small droids while speaking to each other too quickly for you to follow. Finally, they come back with two of the small droids, nodding to each other as they present the desired pieces to you.

“Got any working EC processors lying around in there to trade?”

They look at each other, and one says a single phrase that you translate roughly to, ‘Bring him out.’

“Bring what out?” But you’re too late and the Jawas are already inside, hauling a mass covered in sackcloth down the ramp. “Is that a patch-in droid? Where the hell did you scavenge a whole one fr…”

The second thing that’s off is the human body. They rip the sackcloth off of the form, and you trail off. “What in the kriffing hell is that?” After further examination you confirm that it is probably a he. His eyes are closed, and he’s lying in the sun too limply to be healthy. There are bruises and cuts on the skin that you can see, but he’s draped in dark clothing that has to be sweltering hot in the Tatooine suns. A Tusken gaffi stick lies pinned underneath his body.

The Jawas erupt in a storm of chattering, waving their arms around their heads as you try to keep up your limited Jawaese. You crouch by the man. He’s breathing shallowly, and you don’t see any visible injuries, but dammit, you don’t know much about first aid. “Slow down, please!”

They don’t slow down, and you’re left scrambling trying to remember the difference between preterite verb forms while continuing to try to check on the man’s health. “He broke into the sandcrawler, killed your warriors, and took a nap?”

More unpleased Jawaese flies around your head, “He broke in, killed your warriors, and didn’t try to escape, just sat down and tried to interrogate you. And then you knocked him out and broke his legs.” The Jawas cheer gleefully in affirmation, and you sigh. A second glance at the man reveals the sunken skin around his eyes and the unnaturally pale color of his skin. There are white scars over his face that look like acid burns. “Maker, how long has he been in there?” The Jawas keep talking, but you’re not paying attention. He won’t last another day without attention, and that is coming from an inexperienced mechanic. You may not know medicine, but you can’t leave him in good conscience.

“I’ll take him off of your hands. Keep the mouse droids.”

It’s a kriffing miracle that you manage to get him back inside your hut and onto the cot without pulling a muscle. You don’t even know if he’s going to wake up. He just lies there, and the weight of the situation slams down on you in a single crushing moment. “What the hell did I just do?” You rake your fingers through your hair, “Take in a dying stranger, why don’t you? Sign away half of your supplies, half of your food, half of your water, half of the credits meant to get you out of this damned place? Dumbass.”

He groans, and you start. He’s awake. With a heavy sigh, you face the newest burden in your life. “Here, drink some water.” You grab the half-empty jug from the table and kneel beside the cot. “You’re lucky that the Jawas decided to meet me today. If they had gone to Tokonu’s farm, you might not have lived through the next few hours.” You reach to prop his head up.

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have tried to touch him. There’s an explosion of movement, and you suddenly find yourself pinned to the ground, arms locked painfully behind your back. Maker, he’s half-dead, and you barely saw him move. “Where am I?” The growl is so deep that you can feel it in your toes, though the roughness of his voice suggests that it hasn’t been used in a while.

You look over your shoulder, and you see dark eyes piercing into you. A shudder runs the length of your spine at the predatory gaze, and you’re feeling less like an unlikely caretaker and more like trapped prey. This is a dangerous man, no matter the state of his health. Then he curses and the weight on your back lifts as he falls to the side and you remember the broken legs.

You shakily roll to the side and sit up, studying the man next to you on the floor, who’s clutching his legs and muttering rude phrases about Jawas and thieves that you’d rather not repeat. He’s older, with creased skin and a dark scowl contorting his features. Scars run the length of his face, adding to the aged appearance. His dark clothing masks most of his body, though you’re sure that the rest of his skin bears similar scars to the ones slicing through his features.

“You done staring?” The rasping voice makes you jump and look away hurriedly, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment.

You stand. You have to find a way to splint his legs. “I don’t see many other Terrans out here.” He grunts, and you hurry to your workshop. You need wood, or metal, or something straight. Fuck you’ve never set a broken bone before, but you grab the bacta from the back cabinet. Your gaze lands on the ladder in the corner of the room.

“Hey.” His head lifts when you re-enter the room, lugging the ladder through the door frame. You dump it on the floor in front of him, and he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Angel, I’m not going to be climbing anywhere anytime soon.”

You ignore the endearment and the sass, “I’ve never set a broken leg before. I need your help if you ever want to walk normally again.”

“You’re going to set my legs?” He asks.

“I’m assuming that you know how to.”

He doesn't confirm your theory, instead tilting his head and looking at you more seriously, “Big assumptions.”

“If you know how to break an arm, you know how to set one.”

He just leans back and laughs, “You have a tongue on you.” You won’t dignify that with an answer, and his smile only grows. “Break the ladder. I need two straight planks.”

---

The massive palace is dank and cold, the polar opposite of the planet outside. It’s a new world compared to the heatwaves and sand dunes. The silence amplifies your quiet footsteps as Fennec leads you through the hallways. Speaking of which, she is absolutely silent. Her footsteps are nonexistent even on the cold metal floor. She put her helmet back on when you entered the palace, so you can’t even hear her breathing. The only sounds are the ones made by you, and the walls seem to amplify them to the point where you’re sure that wherever you’re going, you will be expected.

You can’t help but feel like you’re walking to an execution, though you haven’t decided if it’s your own yet. It could be. You don’t know if he’s changed. It’s been years. You’ve changed, that’s for sure. Actually, scratch that. You know that he’s changed, because he didn’t come straight to you.

You frown. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, though you can’t place your finger directly on it just yet. After years of being tied to no one, of being perfectly free and independent, why would he come back to Tatooine? What is tethering him to this desert of a planet besides his own suffering?

Out of nowhere, a staircase yawns in front of you, and you hesitate slightly before following after Fennec. The arched ceiling opens into a large room that prominently displays a raised dais, though it all falls away when you see who is seated on the throne.

It’s been a long time since you’d seen him, and you’d never seen his armor in color, only a sketch. The smooth green and red accents are color combinations that are in short supply on Tatooine, he cuts a menacing figure against the dark throne. He’s splayed out on a throne built for a Hutt thrice his size, legs spread and arms resting on the sides. It might be intimidating if it were a stranger, but you keep telling yourself that he’s not a stranger. It’s easy to imagine that he is, due to the blatant showmanship and armor. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, but this suit of armor isn’t the Boba that you knew.

---

“What’s that?” You’re sitting at the workbench while he’s in a kitchen chair that was dragged into the workshop so that he could have a place to rest. He’s recently become mobile, though he’s only allowed to move under your sharp eye, making sure that he doesn’t try anything stupid that will leave him bedridden for another month. That would be another seven weeks of extreme food rationing and existing on supplies only meant for one. That being said, he mentioned that he was willing to lend an extra pair of hands in your workshop, and you’re not one to deny free help, so long as he promised to not push himself too hard. Your measurement tools were left on the table, and to your surprise, he picked up the stubby pencil and began sketching with it. The rough parchment now shows evidence of a human-like figure.

“My armor.”

“What color is it?”

“Green.” Another purposeful sketch on the paper and there’s a prominent blemish in the helmet. “And red.” Stars, it’s like pulling teeth.

“Did you lose it?” Maybe you’re intruding, but you’ve been taking care of him for the past month, so you’ll excuse yourself from this one.

“Yes. These--” He waves a hand around his face, indicating the pale scars, “--are from a Sarlaac. When I fell in, I lost consciousness. Woke up without the armor. I need to find it.”

The Sarlaac pit is an execution site for those who oppose the Tatooine crime syndicate. You’ve never heard of anyone surviving either the wrath of the Hutts or the Sarlaac. “It’s important to you.” “The armor belonged to my father.” It’s hard to imagine the toughened man in front of you ever being dependent upon someone else. Though, you suppose that everyone comes from somewhere. You wonder not for the first time where this man came from. “It’s part of who I am.”

---

“Boba?” The name is a quiet whisper that echoes emptily through the chamber.

He says your name in return, but his deep baritone makes it sound so much more full than his did floating in the air. “Just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

“Can’t say that I can make the same observation.” You shift nervously. It’s too empty and cold in here, the absolute antithesis of the world you made your own. You can feel the dampness leeching the energy from the air.

“That’s fair.” There’s a beat of silence.

“How have you been?” It’s a passive question, nothing more than something to say to break the silence.

“Good. And you?” The conversation is stunted and awkward, though it only used to be stunted. Now, you’re looking at this man and you don’t know him anymore. Even before, he was your friend above all else. Now you’re stuck making basic observations about him.

“You got your armor back.”

The helmet inclines once, barely an acknowledgement of a statement that you feel should receive so much more. “Found it through a friend.”

“Some friend. Am I going to get that story?”

“Later.” It’s infuriating, the distinct lack of personalization. For solar cycles, you had Boba. Then, nothing. Now you have Boba Fett, the bounty hunter.

---

“What’s your name?” You can’t believe it’s taken you this long to ask, though in all fairness, there’s not much need for names when there are only two people around for leagues. You simply speak, and he assumes you’re talking to him. He rarely speaks, so when he does, he’s always talking to you.

He doesn’t answer at first, only continuing to hold the sheet of metal in place so that you can continue welding it shut over the gap in the droid’s body. You don’t mind. If he wants to answer, he’ll answer. Though it would be nice to have a name to place to the stoic face. It would also be nice to have a name to whisper when you touch yourself at night.

You hadn’t meant for it to end up like this, but you can’t help but admit that you had been setting yourself up to fail. Living with a man, especially one so tall, strong, so… kriffing dominant in how he carries himself? You’re just surprised that it took the dreams half a solar cycle to start up. But now you can’t stop thinking about how it would feel for him to back you up against a wall and pin you to the rough stone with just one of those wonderfully strong hands.

“Watch it angel--”

You snap back to the present just in time to see your torch drifting dangerously close to your hand. You yank it away, but the damage is done and your glove is burning. He curses, bare hands immediately flying to the thick cloth and yanking your arm forward. A few rough pats later, and your glove is smoldering. Shit. That had been your last good pair. You sigh, pulling the glove off and getting up to find another. You snag a mismatched glove from the bottom compartment of your storage unit and settle back down to finish the job.

You’re two inches into the welding line when he speaks. “If I had known you’d be so distracted by silence I would have spoken.” The tone is dry and sardonic, and your gaze darts up to meet his deadpan one before flicking back down to your work in time to keep the welder from drifting again.

“No you wouldn’t have.” It’s the truth, based on how he doesn’t seem to have a snappy answer.

Finally, he sighs, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” This time, you know better than to look away from your work.

You raise an eyebrow at the sheet metal, “I know.” You finish and click off your torch, settling it carefully down on the work station beside you. “No one ends up in a Sarlaac pit by following the law.” Air puffs out of him a little more forcefully than normal, and you squint. Was that a laugh?

“I wasn’t the one getting executed.”

“Didn’t take you for a clumsy person.” He doesn’t dignify the jab with a response, and you suppose that you deserve that. You examine the weld before pulling the torch back out. It’s a little sloppy. “Do you regret those things?”

“No. The sum of a person’s lifetime is found in his actions. Regrets or none, they are who I am.” That… is shockingly poetic considering that you’d only asked for a name.

“You’ve killed people.” It’s not a question, there is no doubt in your mind of the answer, but you want to hear it from him.

“Yes.” A beat of silence. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Depends.” You inhale slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase this, “I… understand that you don’t have an easy past.” He snorts at that, and you glower at him before continuing. “Tatooine doesn’t need more war.”

“You’re scared.” It’s a pointed statement, blunt and uncaring about the blatant assumption.

“No.” No, a million times no. You had not cowered in fear during the Clone Wars, you had picked yourself up and survived. But ever since Bib Fortuna took over the syndicate, violence had been minimal. You do not need more. “As long as you live here, I do not want you to be the one who brings it back.” You’re on shaky ground here, considering that you really don’t have much control over him or his choices. But this is the only request you have made of him so far.

He grunts in response, a thoughtful silence settling over the workshop. “You really care for this planet?”

“No. I fucking hate deserts. I’m blowing this joint as soon as I can.” You yank the glove off with more force than perhaps you needed. Whatever, it got the job done. You squint down at your calloused hands, “I just don’t want to be the reason that more innocent people get hurt around here. Bib does enough on his own.”

Bib Fortuna. The Twi-lek that currently commands the most powerful force planet-side on Tatooine: the crime syndicate that was left leaderless after Jabba the Hutt died in mysterious circumstances involving a Jedi and a Sarlaac execution. Wait a minute...

“No violence?”

You shake your head, chasing away the puzzle pieces that just began to slot together. “Only self-defense.” You’re not unreasonable, Tatooine may be more peaceful than during the war, but lowlifes still exist. “And if you get a chance to get off-world, take me with you.”

“Steep price.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I saved your life. You may as well return the favor.”

“Fair enough. You have my word as a…” He slaps a hand over his chest, but trails off before finishing the sentence, as if only realizing then that his armor is not there. He amends, “You have my word as a man.”

An awkward silence settles over the shop again, though there is no logical reason why it should be awkward, giving you the moment to remember the seed of the conversation. “A man with a name?” It’s a fumbling and clumsy attempt to turn the conversation back towards your objective, and you can tell that he picked up on it.

He looks at you with amusement, “Persistent.” There’s a half-beat of silence as he considers you. “You may recognize my name.”

“I live in the middle of nowhere.” You counter. “Who would I tell?”

“That’s not why I don’t want to tell you.”

Oh. You can’t really think of a response to that, so you stand and begin cleaning your station. Rusty bits of scrap go into that bin, useful parts go into that one over there so you can tinker late at night when you can’t sleep.

“I don’t know your name either.”

You turn a prop a hand on your hip, dramatically lowering your voice, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” There! Another huff of breath, and a halfway crooked smirk from the usually grim-faced and unreadable man. You smile back, “Trade?”

He considers it briefly, “First names only.”

You grin. That’ll do nicely. “Deal.”

“Boba.”

You introduce yourself, “Nice to meet you, Boba.”

---

“Why are you back?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” He sounds amused.

“I am.” You shift back and forth on your feet. “Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you. To know that you’re alive and healthy.” He’s avoiding answering.

“That’s only half of my question.” Your voice becomes small, “Why didn’t you come home?”

“If I had come to the farm, Bib would have sent hunters out again. You know how that ended last time. You have to cut the krayt’s head off, or it will just keep coming.” You don’t miss how he’s avoiding calling the farm his home.

“You don’t have to pretend, Boba. You have your armor and your ship, you don’t need me anymore. If you came back to take over the syndicate, I won’t be angry.” Even if it means that he’s throwing you away and not looking back. Your heart would heal.

“I--” He hesitates to finish the sentence, and your stomach drops as you expect him to confirm your suspicions. “I didn’t only come back for the throne. I still wanted to see you.”

“If that were true, you would have come yourself.”

“Ang--”

“Stop making excuses.” Your gaze narrows onto the visor blade, meeting his cloaked eyes, “If you really wanted to see me, you would have come to the farm, not sent your lackey. You have your armor and your ship. Why are you back?”

---

It’s all he talks about anymore. And it’s not like he talked that much before, so now ninety-nine percent of the conversations that you have with him are about the nearest pawn stalls, or the Jawa trading route, or the ship scrap yards scattered around the planet. He’s been moving about independently for the past two months, each day venturing out further into the sand hills in search of his armor.

The jug of water is disgustingly lukewarm, but refreshing all the same. You swipe a hand over your forehead as you pace around, propping open all of the windows and shoving the door open. You don’t want to work anymore, it’s too hot for this shit. Late afternoon is the worst, hanging the promise of sunset overhead while continually beating the world into submission with the heat that makes it feel like you’re dragging fire into your lungs. With nothing better to do, you slowly sweep the floor of the house, brushing sand outside just as it continues to blow inward.

The moisture vaporator is functioning passably, your supplies were restocked two days ago, and you made decent headway in your workshop. Nothing is urgent enough to spur you into action. All there is to do is wait for Boba to come home. That’s the brightest point of your day; seeing his figure appear in the shimmering heat waves as he treks through the sand towards you.

He still doesn’t talk much. Neither do you, but there is a comfortable sense of companionship every night when you set the meal down and eat together. If conversation is needed, then it’s needed. But until then, you’re content to sit with him. He’s my friend. The stark realization nearly makes you stop in your tracks. You’re friends with the gruff man who you took in with two broken legs and who leaves you alone for the better part of the day. The man who you imagine on the rough nights when you long for a body beside you.

Finally, finally it’s sunset. You climb to the top of a nearby dune. He’s there in the distance, he always is. You watch the suns sink beneath the horizon and turn to head inside.

You don’t hear him come in, though to be fair, you never do. You expect him to sit at the table. Instead he appears at your elbow, silent as a wraith but as large and solid as any human. You nearly jump out of your skin, “Stars, Boba, you kriffing scared m--” You turn, but are stopped short because he’s right there, crowding you against the counter and there’s something feral in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, face hovering an inch away from yours and gaze fixed on your lips. Your eyes are glued to his almost black ones. His flick up to meet yours. You can smell him, something spicy and musky that’s drawing you in. Stars, you want to fuck him.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips and the tension shatters. He shoves past you, planting his hands on the counter. He hasn’t changed out of his gear, and the gaffi stick sways threateningly on his back. The tip is darkened and shines in the dim light of the lantern.

Dread pokes your heart. “Boba, are you hurt?” You try to look over the rest of his body for hints of injury, but his baggy clothing masks his body. He seems to be moving fine.

There’s a strained silence before he rips himself away from the counter and stalks away with a terse, “I need to change.” He halfway out of the door when he stops, and you watch him carefully as his head turns back halfway. “Meet me in the bedroom.” The ‘fresher door bangs in the distance, and you nearly collapse against the counter.

You’re not sure how you make it to the room. You’re a trembling ball of nerves, anxious and fidgeting as you stare at the corner of the room. He killed someone. Someone is dead, because of him, and he doesn’t seem to be torn up about it. Only… tense. Like he’s more concerned about the consequences on you than him. You remember his promise.

He’s standing there now, dressed in clean clothes and looking at you like you’re the most complex problem in the room. He seems calmer, though he’s in this mode that you can’t describe with a single word, though you had witnessed it before when you first brought him into your home. There’s a feral intensity about him, almost primal. You don’t know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut.

Finally, he speaks, “I would never hurt you, angel.”

You nod. There’s a shared understanding of this, though it had never been verbalized. He has your back, and you have his. A mutual survival and benefit exists between you two.

“Will you come here?” There’s an underlying question to read in the rasped question. Will you go to him? There’s also a warning. He’s not a safe man, but you’re willing to ignore your fears about that if it means you'll have him. You stand and walk towards him purposefully, each step sealing your choice. You stand in front of him, barely allowing yourself to breath as he scrutinizes you. A hand comes up and tilts your chin upwards carefully.

And then he’s kissing you, more like absolutely devouring you with how far his tongue is down your throat. It’s sensory overload, because all at once he’s so close and so there right in front of you, pressing against your front so closely that you can feel him hardening against your thigh. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair, and you gasp as he yanks your head back.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle, angel.” His pupils are blown, dark eyes even blacker with desire and boring into yours. You can see the restrained lust in his eyes, and you shiver at the silent promise in them.

You grin, only barely aware that it’s slightly feral, “No one asked you to be.”

His own responding smile is nothing short of primal. “Maker, you’re fucking perfect.” His hand roughly smooths over your hair, and you melt into his touch. “Now strip.”

You can’t yank your shirt off quickly enough, but he stops you as soon as the offending fabric flutters to the ground. A hand traces over your collarbone, the rough calluses scraping over the crisp outline of the ink. “What’s this?”

You hesitate before answering, “It’s, uh, it’s artistic.” He makes his skeptical face at you, and you step in closer to him, pressing your body against his more clothed one, “I saw the design in a shop and liked it.”

The distraction seems to work, because he crushes his mouth to yours again, his hands removing the rest of your clothes so that you stand completely bare before his piercing gaze. You fight the urge to cover yourself. He has this way of making you feel like an open book even when you’re clothed, and now you feel that he can look into your soul without any other barriers.

“Beautiful.” The compliment is growled into the tension filled air. Blood rushes to your face, and you duck your head shyly. A hand tilts your chin back upwards to meet his eyes, “Get on the bed.”

He pushes you backwards gently so that you land on the mattress, bouncing slightly as you watch him remove his coverings. With every delicious inch of skin revealed, you feel another shot of heat between your legs. You hadn’t seen much of his body since that first day, and it’s like watching a gift unwrapped in front of you. When he pulls the last of it off, your eyes unavoidably drift between his legs, and your heart stutters at the sight. Stars he’s thicker than you’d expected.

You don’t get anymore time to overthink because then Boba is caging you to the mattress with his body. Your breasts heave, nipples brushing against his chest with every inhale. One thick finger slides through your folds, and you almost cry at the contact. Maker, you’ve wanted this for so long. He pushes into your heat and you swear your body seizes at the sensation.

Boba grunts, “Angel, you’re so tight.” His hips jerk seemingly of their own volition against your leg, his erection sliding over your skin. “Want to be inside of you. But--” He adds another finger, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more, “--I think I’d break you.”

The heel of his hand grinds into your clit, “Boba. Please, fuck. Told you not--” He curls his fingers against your g-spot and you gasp, “--not to be gentle.”

He pulls his fingers out with a growl and flips you around to your hands and knees. You shiver in anticipation as you glance over your shoulder while he aligns his hips to yours. He barely gives you any time to prep before he sinks into your heat.

Oh shit.

He is so much thicker than you expected. The stretch burns so good, and-- you spare another glance over your shoulder as it just keeps coming. Your arms give and you collapse to your elbows with a whine. Your teeth clench as you focus on taking him, and your hand slaps the mattress as you tense. He stops behind you, “Angel, you need to relax.”

You exhale shakily. Fuck, you can’t relax, it’s too much. He’s going to split you in two. You’d told him to be rough, but you hadn’t been prepared for this. So you crouch on the bed, trying to breathe enough to allow yourself to form words.

“I can stop.” His cock inches marginally out of you, and you panic.

“No! Fu-- keep--keep going. I can do it.” He’s holding himself back. You can tell in the tiny quiver of his hips as he inches further into you. All you can focus on is the feeling of him rubbing against the inside of your cunt. His fingers rub your clit, and a garbled moan escapes your throat as your hips press backwards into him. The pain mixes with pleasure, a bone-deep one that you feel through your entire body as it arches against the bedsheets.

When his hips finally fit to yours, you let out a breathy moan. But he doesn’t continue. He just rests there, which is ridiculous considering how every nerve ending in that region of your body is firing with pleasure and how is he staying so still when this feels like fucking paradise? You might go insane just lying here with him bottomed out so deep inside of you that you can feel it in the back of your throat. His hand leaves your clit to grasp your waist. He eases out of you, the satisfying fullness retreating until the head of his cock hovers at your entrance, just barely inside of you. He’s teetering on a cliff, all of that potential energy built up behind his body as he hovers there, waiting for something. He’s trembling, Boba is trembling as he waits for something that he never asked you for. There’s molten lust creeping through your veins, you need him to move, to fuck you nine ways to next week. “Move. Please. Need--need it.”

He rolls his hips forward and you swear the world implodes behind your eyelids. He doesn’t stop this time, just yanks you closer on the bed and fucking wrecks you. The pace is unforgiving and rough, and the obscene slapping sound of skin on skin echoes through the small home, making you ever more grateful that there are no neighbors for miles.

A whine escapes your throat before you can help it, and you clap a hand over your mouth. He chuckles as he pushes back into your dripping pussy, “Oh, you like that angel?” His hand seizes your hair and drags your back flush against his body, “Ah ah ah. Take it off your mouth.” You do so, your hand trembling, “I want to hear every.” Thrust. “Beautiful.” Thrust. “Noise.” Thrust. You could almost feel him in the back of your throat with that last one, and a strangled cry is ripped from you. “Understand?”

You whimper and nod at the velvety purr against your throat and he hums in satisfaction. “Good.” He shoves you back down onto the sheets, one hand pinning you to the cot by your neck, the other curling around your waist. Without your hand to muffle the noises, your sounds come without you intending; choppy moans that are only broken by the force of his thrusts. He’s anything but quiet himself, a series of soft grunts and curses coming from the general vicinity of his head as he continues to slam into your body.

Your orgasm peaks without warning, ripping through your body before you can think to prepare yourself for it. The climax ripples outwards from your center, white flashes appearing behind your eyelids as you keen high in the back of your throat. Your floor muscles clamp down on Boba, and his rhythm stutters.

“Angel--” With a curse, he rips himself out of you, painting your ass with his release. You’re in a daze of pleasure as you come down from your high, the sheets smooth beneath your cheek and his cum warm on your back. He pulls the sheet, and you whine in protest as he yanks the comfortable bedding from underneath you. He cleans you up with the cloth, tossing it to the side into a random corner of the room.

It’s dark now. The only light in the room comes from the flickering lamp in the corner. Boba pulls blankets over your cock-dumb body, and you snuggle down into your bed, fully expecting him to leave. He doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he naps on the floor with a blanket or two. You don’t expect him to climb into bed behind you, arms wrapping firmly around your waist and pulling you close to him. You drift before finally surrendering to peaceful sleep.

You wake when he moves behind you. The sunrise glints through the window, spraying warm light around the room. You’d have to get up soon, but not yet. He doesn’t have to go. You turn and look at him.

Your voice is raspy with sleep, but it cuts decidedly through the silence of early morning. “I trust you. You know that, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, because if you don’t say it now, you probably won’t have the courage to do it later, “It’s not hard to earn my trust. It’s hard to keep it, and even harder to regain it.” He’s quiet, and you can feel his deep, even breaths against your front and how his arms tighten fractionally around your waist.

He rolls over, and you feel the mattress dip as he stands. “I need to cover another sector by tonight.”

You turn on your side so that you can’t see the door. Best not to get attached anyway.

---

“Should I be calling you a title or something?” You’re hesitant to refer to him as anything in your mind. He’s just Boba. Not your boyfriend, or your lover, because you only name things you expect to endure. If you find a super cute loth cat, but you can’t keep it, you don’t name it, that's just a rule of life. Don’t label it if you don’t want to keep it. Don’t get attached to something that will not stay. “Lord Boba? King Boba? Master?”

He snorts, “Not necessary, Angel. Though I wouldn’t mind that last one.” You blink at the old nickname, the familiarity of the endearment stirring up emotions that you’d thought had long since been buried. “I’m still me.”

“Are you?” The question slips out before you can think to restrain yourself, the tone more accusatory than you expected.

“Do you want me to be?”

Now you’re the one caught off guard. You had thought about it, in the empty silence while he was gone, when the bed was too cold and empty after so much time adjusting to his weight on the other side of the mattress. No decision had been made. But once, in the darkest hours of the morning, right after you’d made yourself cum on your own fingers that couldn’t hope to measure up to him, you’d wished. You had wished that you had labelled it when you had the chance. Because maybe you had wanted the relationship to stay.

---

“Why do you call me that?” The words are whispered into the darkness of another early morning. He’s curled around you, the heat of his body keeping you warm despite the freezing cold desert night. You need to start thinking about getting up soon. It’s a new day, a fresh start, a time to restart. Chores are waiting, like they always are. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to want to move when he’s at your back.

He shifts, breathing in the scent of your hair, “Call you what?” His arms tighten around your midsection and you wiggle slightly in his grip, your hips pressing back against his half-hard length. “Ohhhh, angel you’re going to start something that you won’t be able to finish.”

You turn so that you’re facing him in the darkness, his features just a ghost of an outline against the early dawn rays glowing faintly through the doorway. “That. Angel. Why do you call me that?” He grinds against you, and you stifle a whimper at his heavy erection against your thigh. “Stop distracting me.”

He sighs heavily, but he does stop and allow you to regain your focus, “I call you angel because of that first day. Do you remember?”

You roll your hips against his, “Hard to forget.”

“Yes.” His teeth sink into the bare flesh of your shoulder, licking and sucking until you’re sure that there’s a mark. “I was in that sandcrawler for days, it’s a haze in my memory. Just blinking in and out, hoping that the sound would stop, that the world would stop moving, that those damn creatures would stop jeering at me for just a few minutes.” Your hand slips down and grasps his erection, and he inhales sharply, “And--and then. They’re grabbing me and dragging me out of that hell. And you’re there, standing above me, framed by the suns. And my first thought was that you--” He grunts as he thrusts up into your fist. His cock is leaking profusely over your hand, and you swipe your thumb over his head, “-- you must be an angel. How could you be anything else? You saved my life.”

“Bold of you to think that I’m from heaven.” With a wicked smile, your other hand drops to fondle his balls, massaging the flesh in your hand as you continue to slowly jerk him off. He snarls quietly, hand anchoring in your hair and tugging your head back so that he has access to the bare flesh of your neck and shoulder.

“Now, you’ve become more of a devil in my bed, my angel of death.” His teeth sink into the juncture of your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark. You were prepared for the pain, but you weren’t ready for his hand zeroing in on your sensitive clit, rubbing with the exact amount of pressure that could cause you to come in seconds, and you have other plans.

You roll on top of him, swinging your leg over his hips and positioning his head at your entrance, “So you try to break the arm of every angel you encounter?”

“That was your fault.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hands reach to grasp you around the waist. “For pushing me, like you are doing now.” His hips roll up, and your eyes roll back. The day can wait.

---

The surge of emotions only serves to make you more frustrated, and that’s not going to help matters. You may have a long fuse, but once your anger ignites, it burns hot and long. He knows this, and yet he continues to push you. “I came down here because I owe you one, for saving my ass. So you better talk if you’re going to keep me here.”

“I saved your beautiful ass twice in return.” He’s amused, and that only serves to make you angrier. “So you owe me two, one for coming and one for staying while I explain.”

Hell no, he doesn’t get out of this by throwing in a shabby compliment, though you furiously fight the rising embarrassment all the same, “No, the first one repaid me for dragging your dying carcass out of the sandcrawler. And the welding incident hardly counts, so you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“Angel--”

“No, you are going to stop with this pretentious bullshit and tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing.” Your arms are waving in the air, you’re on the verge of hyperventilating, your voice is rising in pitch and you’re vaguely aware that you shouldn’t be working yourself up like this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care, because he’s there. And you’re here, at the foot of the throne.

“Why are you so angry, angel?”

A laugh explodes out of you so forcefully that your throat stings, “Your fucking audacity, is pissing me off. You leave without explaining. You come back, and don’t think to come to find me yourself. You send your incredibly attractive, what are you, his sidekick?” Fennec raises her chin in response, though you don’t know if that’s a confirmation or not. “You drag me down here where I find out that you’ve killed Bib Fortuna and become Tatooine’s newest crime lord. And yet, you still haven’t shown the basic decency of telling me why I’m here. Do you have to kill me because of some new fucked up bounty hunter code? Because you know that I won’t go down easy, whether you have me two to one or not.” You’re scarily aware of Fennec’s gaze boring into the back of your neck.

Silence screams into the empty air as Boba freezes on the throne. “You know.”

“That you’re a bounty hunter? I’m not an idiot. It was smart to not give me your last name that first time I asked. As soon as the hunters told me, I knew. Jango Fett was your father.” The name drops a bombshell in the center of the throne room.

“What do you know of Jango Fett?”

“Not much. Only what Hondo told me.” Hondo Ohnaka. The pirate, the outlaw, the man who had morals enough to take in a starving child rather than leaving her to die.

“Hondo Ohnaka.” He leans forward, clearly interested once he recognizes the name. “But you’re not Weequay.”

“Fortunately, the man cared for children. He wouldn’t abandon one in need. He fed me, essentially raised me.” You’d been caught picking his pocket. Instead of killing you, Hondo took you in. You feel the corner of your mouth quirking up at the memory of the old pirate and the small-time smuggling jobs he’d allowed you to help out on, with your small size and quick fingers. “He’d always remind me that he used to be a feared outlaw throughout the galaxy, and that he wouldn’t be as soft the next day.”

“But he kept you anyway.”

You shrug, “He lived by a code.”

“The pirate code?” There’s skepticism in his voice, and you don’t blame him.

“Hondo… didn’t exist by societies’ laws. He was honorable, but never good. Told me to be the same.” The advice was the best that you’d ever gotten. It allowed you to move on from guilt, to live isolated from the chaos of the galaxy. It taught you to live on your own and to be independent, to not feel for the suffering of the collective galaxy. But it also commanded you by the morals that saved your life. Don’t steal from the poor, but the rich won’t miss a handful of credits. Don’t hurt a sick child who’s just trying to eat. Don’t kill a helpless enemy, even if he hijacked your ship and crashed it onto a desert planet in the middle of nowhere. Leave him to die in the sand instead.

“I was stranded on Tatooine a few years ago. I had no money, and no ship. I found the abandoned farm, and put together something so that I could save enough to escape one day.” No communicator either, and you’d only just struck out on your own too. Hondo was lightyears away by the time you’d thought to try to comm him, and none of the technology was current enough to reach that far. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have come to pick you up anyway. “Whe--” Your voice breaks, and you curse your emotionally sensitive vocal cords. You clear your throat, “When you left--” “You think that I could have taken you with me.”

“You could have!”

“It was dangerous, angel. I hated that I had to leave the way that I did, but--”

“You smeared bacta on me and disappeared. Was I supposed to feel happy?”

---

The day he left started the same as any other. The moisture filter needed replacing, but you didn’t have the credits yet. So you had a date with an ancient filter and your multitool. You look up, flicking hair out of your face when you hear the footsteps behind you. “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer, as per usual, but he nods and rubs your hair with a gloved hand. “I’m scouting towards the flats today. Only a day trip, I’ll be home before dark.”

“Sounds good. See you.” You turn back to your multitool. You’re too focused on tweaking the settings to allow for a greater flow rate to see him smile, a rare one-sided grin before he turns to leave. His path takes him south, so he doesn’t see the three dark shapes in the heat waves approaching from the north.

The vaporator beeps loudly, protesting the absence of the filter and loudly proclaiming that it needs the filter to harvest water from the atmosphere. You tune out the obnoxious sound. After a ten minute struggle, you snap the filter’s frame out of place, exposing the internal wiring. You’re going to need a smaller drill point to reach the last resistor knob. You walk towards the workshop, wiping the sweat out of your eyes, fiddling with the screen as you do so. You’re too distracted by the tech in your hands to notice the figure slipping around the outside wall of your hut.

You grab the smaller bit and unlatch the last knob, absentmindedly walking outside to get better light into the inner workings. Despite the heat, Tatooine’s afternoons were perfect for mechanics, with the twin suns illuminating all but the tiniest crevices. Unfortunately, with your attention elsewhere, it doesn’t reveal the crime syndicate members waiting outside your door.

The air rushes out of you as something slams into your midsection, effectively knocking you onto your ass on the sand. The filter flies out of your hands, but you’re focused instead on the helmeted figure standing over you, vibroblade levelled at your throat. “Where is he?”

Your hands are shaking as you raise them in the air, attention fixated on the masked figure. Adrenaline surges through your veins, and you almost don’t notice the second one hanging back near the wall. A third, the only unhelmeted one, stands beyond the first, smiling nastily. The blade grazes your throat, and you whimper at the cool metal against your skin. “I said. Where is he?”

“Who? Maker, please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fett! Boba Fett!”

Your stomach drops at the surname. The hunter curses viciously, holstering the weapon and grabbing you by the front of your shirt. You’re yanked to your feet, “Intel said that he’s here, so I’m guessing that you’re his little pretty piece on the side.” An arm presses over your throat, and you gasp as your airway is almost cut off. “Where is he?” The question is purred into your ear silkily.

He must be insane if he thinks that you’re giving him that information. “I don’t know, he said he’s going towards the Dune Sea today. I swear, he’s gone. Left an hour ago.” You inhale sharply as the blade stops against your jaw.

“You’re pretty.” Your stomach turns at the sneer, and you fight the urge to bite him. Better to bide your time. “But an awful liar.” The angle changes so that the point is pressing into your skin and you cringe in anticipation of the cut.

A sharp command rings through the air and your captor stops. You exhale shakily, but don’t allow yourself to feel any hope. Boba’s gone and will be all day. They’re going to kill you, or use you as leverage when he returns. Or both. You’re not getting out of this alive, but you’re not going to lay down and die. Your eyes fix on the knife in front of you, but you’re visualizing where the hunter’s holster is.

Blaster fire explodes behind you, and you duck as sparks shower down onto you and your captor slumps to the ground. You don’t waste a second, ducking to rifle through the hunter’s pockets, snatching the blaster. Boba is there, features contorted in rage. He’s standing over a body, blaster in one hand and his staff in the other. Your eyes lock, and for a moment, you can almost hear him asking if you’re okay. You nod your head almost imperceptibly, but he gets the message.

A laugh rings through the air, and the moment shatters. There is a single hunter left, the one who was hanging by the hut while the other one threatened you. The cocksure swagger tells that this is the one in charge, the one who gave the command to keep you alive. And yet, the favor doesn’t hold any value to you as the helmet tilts up at Boba, “Boba Fett. You’re a hard man to find.” Boba doesn’t answer, instead jerking his head and you move towards him, “Bib Fortuna wants to talk.”

Now Boba responds, “I don’t.”

“150,000 credits to me says that you will.” Another blaster(fucking blasters) points at you, and you stop in your tracks, fighting to keep your breathing steady. He’s only a few meters away, a dead shot if he decides to let his finger slip.“Because he may want you alive, but not her. And she lied to me. Drop the blasters, or I shoot her now.”

You slowly lay the weapon down, eyes fixed on the barrel. Boba does the same, his hands raising placatingly as the shiny metal plops into the sand, “She’s nothing to me.”

“You can try to tell Bib Fortuna that, but he’ll believe it even less than I do. I’ll cut you a deal. You come with me, I get my credits, she gets to live.” You focus on Boba’s face, trying to steal some of his stony calm.

Boba smirks, “You’re even stupider than you look.” Then he’s moving, eating up the meters between them faster than you can blink. The staff arcs up, the wicked point glinting in the sun before smashing into the hunter’s helmet, crushing the metal with stunning ease. Your mouth is still hanging open when white-hot pain flares through your shoulder. Fucking blasters. You drop to the sand, curling in on yourself as your entire body seems to throb in agony. There’s no blood on your hand when you pull it away, but the smell of burnt flesh almost makes you vomit. The suns are too bright and you blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in your vision.

A form crouches over you, blocking out the light. Someone is saying your name repeatedly, slapping your face gently as they support your head and neck, “Wake up, stay with me. Gotta get bacta on that shoulder.”

You blink blearily. The world is swimming before your eyes and nothing is focusing correctly. It’s a struggle to stay awake, never mind focusing on what Boba is saying to you. The sand is so warm. Sleep would be nice. You wouldn’t have to stay awake and focus on the implications of what just went down. You wouldn’t need to feel the hole burned in your shoulder. Fuck, Boba had been shot before? How did he bear it?

He turns away, but he’s instantly back, gloved hands ripping apart your shirt at the shoulder. You mutter, “Leave it. Self cauterizes. Best way to get hurt.” The suns blend into twin slurs of light across the sky. ‘Meteors,’ you think, ‘They look like meteors. Or shooting stars.’ People make wishes on those, right?

Boba snorts, “Bantha shit.” He smears the bacta on the wound, and you shudder as the pain lessens marginally. He starts talking as he works, though it’s a struggle to understand anything when you’re so distracted by the world spinning beneath you. “Angel, I have to leave. They’ll be coming for me. I can’t stay here with you. Do you understand? Tell me you understand.”

Okay. Okay, you tell yourself it’s okay. You’ve been expecting this day for some time. He’s a dangerous man, it was right to assume that he’s wanted by someone, you just didn’t expect the someone to be the resident crime lord of the planet he is kriffing living on. It’s hard to stay in one place for some time, but he did. For you. And now it’s your turn to let him go, to sacrifice for him because he sacrificed for you. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to say it. You have to settle for a shaky breath and a tiny nod.

He lifts you and carries you inside, arranging you on the bed. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, a second of tranquility before he turns and begins gathering supplies. You fight against the encroaching sleep, resolving yourself to watch and savor these last moments. He won’t be coming back, not while Bib Fortuna holds the bounty on him, and Bib has a long memory.

So you commit every detail of him to memory. His grim and stoic face and the deadpan sarcastic humor that you’ve grown to love. His broad shoulders remind you of the first time you met him. It was absolute hell fitting his massive frame through the small doorway of your home, only for him to flatten you to the ground when you moved wrong. His careful and smooth gait that you observed every time he walked out into the dunes and away from you. His lips, which sometimes wear that devastatingly attractive sideways smirk that promises trouble, but more rarely wear a genuine smile that you’ve only seen once or twice. His powerful legs that pinned you to the mattress more than a few times. And you wish on the twin meteors outside that this wouldn’t be your last memory of him.

You try to summon words to your dry throat, but they come out as a raspy cough on your first attempt. “Boba.”

He’s by your side instantly, so quickly that you would do a double take if you had any strength to do so. “Here.” He offers the water jug to you and you sip, remembering the first day that you met him.

But there’s no time to reminisce, “I know that you have to go. I know that I probably won’t se--” Your voice breaks, but there’s no need to finish the sentence. “But I’ll be here. If you ever come back.”

---

“You broke your promise that last day.”

“It was self-defense.” A huff of air echoes through the modulator, and he sits back on the throne, “Angel, everytime I kill, I kill for a reason. It’s not senseless.” No, that’s not what you’re talking about.

“You broke your promise when you left Tatooine without me.” You took a chance on him. You trusted him to hold to his word. And he’d betrayed that trust.

“I was trying to protect you. You couldn’t come with me, it would have been too dangerous. You have an entire life ahead of you. Coming with me off-world would have thrown it all away.”

You laugh scornfully, “So what, you just made that promise without ever intending to keep it? Is that all your word as a man is worth?”

“I made the promise intending to keep it.” His voice is stiff, mirroring his posture as he regards you with all of the bearing of a king lording over his subject. You hate it. “But my loyalties changed, angel.” You open your mouth to continue, but he cuts you off, “I couldn’t bring you into my life within good conscience. I promised to save you in any opportunity promised. My way of saving you was leaving you here.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“Angel, if you had come with me, I would have been violating both aspects of the promise. You would have seen killing, pointless and meaningless death. And it would have destroyed you, whatever good hope for the universe you had left.”

You scoff, “I am not a good person. I have flaws, Boba, you just refuse to see them.” You tear your collar open, revealing the tattoo inked into your skin. You’d told him that it was artistic, and it was the most beautiful reminder of your old life that you had. It’s the mark of a thief on your home planet, curling into your skin and reminding you everyday of what you had run from. “I lied and cheated and stole my way through life. I am not too naive to hear the real reasons for you coming back.” Because that’s why he didn’t tell you. He thought you were too pure to know about his job. He thinks you’re too innocent to know why he’s back. Well, you're done with him handling you with kid gloves.

“If you ever cared about me, you’ll explain why you’re here now. Because I won’t stay.” You stare down the emotionless visor, knowing that you can’t hold your ground. Your anger is still burning white hot, but it’s beginning to subside for lack of fuel. You’re exhausted, and you have no power here. You inhale, ready to continue to ream him out except the breath catches in the back of your throat and comes out a strangled half-sob. You continue to stare at him, but all you can manage is a little, “You promised.”

The suit of armor staring back at you holds the power, and he could kick you out in an instant without a backwards look. What’s a few solar cycles compared to a lifetime of independence? But someone is going to have to give ground here, and you’re almost convinced that it’s going to be you when he speaks.

“Fennec.” Without a single word, she turns and leaves. You watch her retreating back, not knowing if you should feel relieved or trapped. “Do you want to know why I came back today? Or that day?”

A rebellious tear slips down your cheek, and you scrub it away angrily. “Pick one first.”

He’s silent again for several heart breaking moments, and you’re terrified that you’re going to have to leave, “I didn’t break my promise at first. I didn’t leave Tatooine that day.”

“What?” The tears have stopped, and that’s one little victory you won’t have to fight for here.

“The day that I left.” His hand rubs against the visor of his helmet, and you can almost imagine that he’s rubbing the visor of his helmet, right over the bridge of his nose the same way he always used to when he was stressed. “I went to Bib and bargained. A year of my service to leave you alone. I had no choice, it was the only way I could try to protect you after they came after me.”

Your heart drops and rises in your chest simultaneously, making you feel both like you’re plummeting off of a cliff while bound to a torn parachute. Puzzle pieces click into place too quickly, laying out a picture that’s still unfinished, but one that you understand primitively. The next command from Boba is unexpected, slicing through your problem solving.

“Up.”

You blink, “Excuse me?”

“Come here.” You stand and walk to him. “Give me your hands.” His grip is gentle, guiding your fingertips under the lip of the green painted beskar. His hands stay on your wrists as you carefully lift the helmet, inch by inch, and it’s a good thing that they did because without his support your hands might have been shaking too hard to get the damn thing off.

He looks the same as when he left all that time ago. Same strong chin, stern mouth, and scarred skin. But you look at his eyes, and you know that he did change in the time away. There’s a soft look in his eye that you had never seen before.

“What happened to you?” Your hand grazes over his skin, and he leans into your touch.

“I fell into a Sarlaac pit.” The familiar sardonic smirk appears, but you don’t smile along with him. It vanishes, “I--” He breaks eye contact with you, looking down and licking his lips as if he’s trying to gather the words to explain, “I met a man. And a child.” He looks back up, and you almost melt at the muted shine in his eyes, “They reminded me of what is important. I came back.”

You gently set the helmet on the ground and raise your hands to cup his face. “Boba--”

“I came back that last day because I realized that I loved you. I turned around and came back to tell you, and it’s a good thing I did.” His hands come up to cover yours, and there’s the wicked spark of humor in his eye. “I wanted to stay, angel. I wanted to stay so bad, but you were safer if I didn’t.” Your eyes slip closed as you lean down and graze your forehead against his, the way that he taught you. His hand leaves yours to plant on the back of your neck and holds you there. “We couldn't be together until Bib was dead. I was wrong, to come here first and to send Fennec for you. But I needed time to… prepare.”

He had to prepare for the possibility that the bargain didn’t work, or that you had moved on. He hadn’t needed to worry, because you promised that you’d be here. You slip onto his lap, straddling his thigh without moving your head away from his. “I’m here.”

“Are you still upset?” A hand comes up and ghosts over your hair. You lean into the touch almost subconsciously.

“I’m working through it.” You pull back and fix him with a stern gaze. “This isn’t resolved.”

“But?”

“We’ll work through it.” He nods, his mouth hanging slightly open in a look of contemplation.

“I won’t stay.” What? You freeze, dread spiking through your chest. He must feel the tension in your body because he rushes to clarify, “I-- uh I, ah shit that was a bad way to put it.” He pulls away and meets your eyes, “I will leave this. I’ll be Boba. Not Boba Fett. Not king of the crime underworld. I’ll be anything for you. We’ll escape off-world together or some shit. We can go find Hondo, if he’s still alive.”

You snort, “That old man is too tough to die.” You tap his nose with your fingertip, “Like one other that I know.”

He snaps his teeth playfully at your finger, and you squeal happily. “My point is--” He looks up at you with such peace in his eyes that you want to curl up against his chest and never leave, “We can do whatever you want. Just the two of us. But I want to stay with you, this time around. That past life is all done. We’ll find something else to do, besides hunting bounties.”

Your eyes track towards the doorway that Fennec disappeared through, and his gaze follows. “Fennec will be fine. I’ll release her from my service. Hell--” He chuckles dryly, “Maybe I’ll leave the throne to her.”

That’s a terrifying thought that you’re not quite ready to consider just yet. “You’d give this all up for me?”

“Angel, that’s what love is. Sacrifice. I just didn’t learn it soon enough.”

You kiss him, a real one this time, melting into his lips, “Love can be compromise. And this is a point I’m willing to give on.”

“What?”

“I’ll admit,” You tilt your head, a mischievous grin sliding across your face, “Queen of the crime underworld has a nice ring to it after being a moisture farmer for several years.”

He smiles, the real one this time, “I like the title on you.” His hands attach to your hips, holding you down on the hard ridge of his thigh as he grinds the leg up into your cunt. “Makes me wanna act out, Your Majesty.”

You gasp at the surge of wetness between your legs. Stars, it’s been so long that you almost forgot how much you loved the feeling of his body beneath you. “Boba--”

“Ah ah, is that any way to address your king?” So this is how he wants to play? Fine.

“No, Your Royalness.” Wrong answer. One hand comes down hard on your ass, and there’s going to be a mark for sure. “Your Excellency?” Nope, and another spank burns on your butt. “My king?” You brace yourself for another, but the hand stays.

“Hmmm, I like that one.” His grip tightens, and you know that you’re going to have finger shaped bruises on the pillowy flesh. He captures your lips against his, and you roll your hips downwards onto his thigh. His erection rests heavy against the inside of your thigh, and you purposefully angle your hips to create more friction against it. “Angel, I want nothing more than to take you now, but--” He stands with a grunt, easily hoisting you into the air with his hands supporting your butt.

“--I’d rather taste you first.”

A/N: Okay wow this took me so long. This project has literally been in the works for months, and I found a way to finish it finally! I’m not sure if the Boba Fett craze has passed yet, but either way here we have Boba. Some throne-fucking for those of you who would care for it.

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #smut #fluff #violence #daddy boba #could rail me anyday and I would THANK him #sir #just a crumb of cock please

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Worthless Comforts

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Word Count: 2,146

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Reader shows Din the small comforts that make life worthwhile. Like sleeping in a real bed and eating three meals a day.

Life aboard the Razor Crest was always interesting. Not necessarily bad, but not good either. Interesting. Din had hired you originally as a translator, but that role turned into mechanic and then babysitter as time moved forward. You two were close, close enough for him to share his name with you. He knew your tells and triggers, and you knew most of his. So it was no surprise when you noticed he was stressed before he did.

“You need to relax,” you said offhandedly one day while you two were traveling to Tatooine to hunt a quarry. “How do mandalorians relax?”

“We die.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping another page in your book. “Okay Mr. This is the Way. When did you last eat something?”

Din shrugged. “It was that Bantha meat you gave me.”

“That was yesterday,” you said, sitting up straighter and staring at Din’s helmet. “When are we landing?”

“A few hours.”

You sat back, still eyeing Din’s tightly wound figure. “Okay.”

Tatooine was not your favorite planet. Boba and Fennec made it better, and Cobb was always fun. Peli gave you shit but made you smile, and you did like traveling with the Tuskens. But no amount of decent company changed the dusty atmosphere and the blinding suns. The way the sand dug into your feet and got into every crevasse. By the time you’d reached the old Hutt Palace, you were cursing the sand and the suns and everything in between.

“Finally!” Fennec said, guiding you into the palace. “We expected you last week!”

“Picked up another quarry on the way,” Din explained, nodding to the guards who stood by the doors. “Had the time.”

Fennec rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever relax?”

“That’s what I said!” You said, nudging Din. He sighed and shrugged you off.

Boba was happy to see you both in one piece, and he was especially eager to see Grogu asleep in the carrier across your front. “Your rooms are open, as always,” he said with a grin when you suppressed a yawn. “Go unwind. The quarry hasn’t moved in three months. You can wait another few days. I know traveling the way you do can be stressful.”

Before Din could open his mouth and ruin it, you spoke. “Thank you so much Boba. We appreciate it.”

As night fell, you ate, drank, and talked. It was fun, and Fennec made for excellent company. When you finally retired, you found Grogu asleep in Din’s room. He must’ve taken the child when you weren’t looking.

“Sneaky bastard,” you said affectionately, shutting yourself in your own room and falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillows.

You woke to loud thunder and the sound of rainfall. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and got dressed, forgoing your armor and weapons. You barely even put shoes on, sliding into leather flats instead of your supple boots.

Boba was already on the throne when you arrived in the throne room, Fennec on his right. He looked up as you walked in, an easy, relaxed grin on his face. “It seems you and Djarin have found yourselves trapped here,” he said. “Tatooine rarely has rainstorms, but when it does, they are dangerous. You will stay here until the rain passed.”

You noticed the final sentence was a command, and you nodded. “Thank you,” you said. “Din would’ve made me walk in the rain had you not kept us here, I’m sure of it.”

Fennec laughed. “Find him,” she said. “We have water for baths now. He smells like a bantha.”

You laughed. “Thank you again,” you said. “I’ll go find Din and tell him.”

Din’s room was locked, as it usually was at night, but once you knocked, he opened the door within a few minutes. “What?”

“Boba told us to stay until the rain passes,” you said. “King’s orders. Fennec also said there’s water for baths now, and she recommends you take one.”

Din nodded, stretching a tiny bit. You smiled. “Maybe we can take this chance and actually relax,” you said.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

You rolled your eyes as you and Din walked to the baths. Tatooine was big on communal bath spaces, so bathing was always interesting. But you’d figured it out.

As you walked, you examined Din. He’d done the same as you, forgoing his usual armor in favor of his long sleeved brown undershirt, brown pants with the black patches, and boots. He was still wearing the helmet, but not the head covering that hid his neck. The high collar of his undershirt did conceal most of his skin though. He looked comfortable, especially with Grogu tucked up under his arm.

The bath room was empty when you arrived, and you immediately began to fill two of the dry pools. Each one was small, meant for one person, but all the sunken pools were open to each other. No privacy.

While you filled the tubs, Din found a wooden divider, dragging it over and separating your pools. When you were done, you collected soaps and towels before hopping behind the divider and stripping out of your clothes. You could hear Din doing the same, folding his clothes as he took them off. Finally, you heard the sound of the helmet being removed and set down, and then the ripple of water as Din got into his pool.

You and him soaked, side by side, separated by the divider, for a while. The water was warm, and the smell of rain that filtered through the palace made your eyes heavy. “Din?”

“Hm?”

You sighed, leaning back so you could stretch your legs out. “How long do you think this rain will last?”

“Rain storms on Tatooine are aggressive,” Din said from behind the barrier. “But it should only last a few days.”

A crack of thunder sent a small shock through your body, but you calmed quickly, relaxing into the warmth of the water again. “Okay. I can do a few days.”

An hour later, once the water had gone cold and you’d scrubbed all the grit from your body, you got out and toweled off. Din, judging from the sounds, was doing the same. When you two reunited, you both smelled better, and Din seemed a bit more relaxed. Well, relaxed for him. He was still guarded, but it seemed he was finally starting to realize he was safe.

The palace was mostly empty. The rain seemed to deter most potential guests, so the only people around were Fennec, Boba, Din, and you. You and Din swung by the kitchen to grab some food, you carrying the food while Din held Grogu. It wasn’t an easy task, considering just how much Grogu squirmed. By the time you’d carried the food to Din’s room, Grogu had bitten Din twice in a desperate attempt to reach you.

“Alright you little Womp Rat,” you said, setting Grogu in his cradle with his food. “Stop messing with us!”

Grogu pouted, but let you walk away without crying too much. You sat beside Din, looking over your kitchen raid spoils. “Damn,” you said. “We did good.”

Din snorted, and you scrunched your nose at him. “What do you want?”

“This,” Din said, reaching over you to grab a metal container that was warm to the touch. “Please.”

“Go for it,” you said, taking something you didn’t recognize, but it smelled heavenly. “You have permission to eat as much as you want, and please do, because I know you don’t eat enough on the Crest. Turn around though, I want to be able to eat with you.”

Din turned, and you sat with your back pressing to his. He seemingly got the message and removed his helmet, slowly eating whatever he’d taken.

“Y’know,” you said, stabbing another glazed slice of fruit from your dish. “We actually get three nutritious meals a day while we’re here. No ration blocks twice a day.”

Din hummed, and you could feel him chewing when he put his head back and pressed it to yours. “Those ration blocks really are shit,” he decided softly. “But I can’t cook.”

“I can,” you said. “If we store ingredients on the Crest, we should absolutely be able to have meals like this. And I don’t mind cooking,” you added, knowing Din was likely to protest. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Decent,” Din said. “Feels good to sleep on a mattress.”

You laughed, reaching to grab a container of cake. “Told you!” You said. “You sleep on that damned rubber pad, I can’t believe it.”

“You sleep on the same kind of rubber pad,” Din pointed out. “Yours is just bigger.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “The mattress is really nice here. Why don’t we visit more often?”

Din was quiet for a second while he ate another bite of food. “I don’t like Tatooine,” he finally said.

“Preach,” you said, pulling Grogu’s cradle closer and feeding him some of your cake. “Want dessert?”

You and Din shared food back and forth until you were both full, Din finally relenting and admitting he wanted a nap. At which you closed your eyes so he could get up and get into his bed.

You didn’t open your eyes until you heard the curtains around the bed shut, a feature Boba had put onto the bed specifically for Din. When you opened your eyes, you saw the helmet sitting atop Din’s folded shirt. Oh right, he slept shirtless.

Standing and stretching, you quietly kept Grogu occupied until he fell asleep too, and then you decided to find Fennec and maybe practice sparring.

You scooped Grogu up and set him down on the bed, leaving him to crawl his way to Din’s warm side. As the curtains shifted, you got a tiny peek at Din’s sleeping form.

He slept on his side with his arms up, covering his face. His hands were tangled in his hair, and you stared, entranced by the scar pebbled expanse of Din’s chest. It was the most skin you’d ever seen on him, and you almost wanted to touch it.

“Are you getting in too?” Din asked sleepily, and you yelped, jumping away from the bed like it might hurt you. You heard shuffling from inside, and then the curtain rustled. Before Din could push it open, you slapped your hand over your eyes, determined not to look.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go spar with Fennec,” you said, trying to sound firm despite the wobble to your voice. “Goodnight.”

Din chuckled softly, and you heard more rustling before strong and very warm arms wrapped around you. “Please come nap with us,” he said, leaning on you. His hand found your wrist and tried to gently tug your hand off your eyes, but you stubbornly refused.

You whimpered, resolve softening at Din’s half asleep voice and almost unfairly warm body. “Din,” you said. “Your face”.

“My Creed has long since been reforged. You can see my face. Fennec and Bona both have.”

When Din pulled against your hand again, he met no resistance. Your eyes met his first, and you swear your breath stopped altogether. “Din.”

“Yes?” Din said, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Can we nap please? I’m tired.”

“Of course you’re tired,” you said, your wits finally returning to you. “You haven’t taken a break in a decade.”

Din led you back to the bed, and you discarded your shoes before crawling under the blankets beside him. Grogu cooed when you joined the cuddle pile, and you snuggled up to him and Din, deciding to close your eyes only for a second.

When you opened them again, it was to a loud crack of thunder. The suns had set already, and in the dark, you could barely make out the outline of Din’s face. His curls were unruly, the mess visible even in the darkness. You sighed, resigning yourself to sleeping beside Din, especially because his arm was tossed over your waist. You were a bit surprised to find that Din was big on cuddles.

It wasn’t long before you were drifting off again, absently watching the rise and fall of Din’s chest while he slept. You wondered faintly if this was the longest he’d slept since he’d last been here. He often napped in three hour increments, just for convenience.

“You awake?”

“Well I am now,” you grumbled, watching Din’s eyelashes flutter as he blinked, his silhouette shifting when he rolled to his side. “Why’re you up?”

Din yawned. “Felt you move,” he said softly. “Woke me up.”

“Ah. Sorry,” you said, settling back down and feeling your eyes droop closed. “I’m exhausted.”

“Same,” Din said, pulling you close. “Thank you.”

You smiled against Din’s chest, curving so you were practically molded to his body. “Any time Din. Any time.”

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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syn0vial · 4 years ago

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i want to address the “boba fett is catholic” meme i’m seeing in the notes of my post, bc, while hilarious, it’s actually quite an interesting bit of expanded universe history!

from what i understand, the meme comes from someone quoting a snippet from the expanded universe in which boba fett says that he considers sex outside of marriage immoral. which, yeah, is a weirdly catholic thing for him to say. so let me provide some context.

this quote is taken from the short story “the last one standing” by daniel keys moran. daniel keys moran wrote probably some of the strangest prose about fett and was the first writer to really take a crack at his backstory (this was well before aotc when boba was revealed to be a clone), as well as his history with han solo. if you like, uh, smoother characterizations of boba fett, you might not like this version so much: some words to describe moran’s boba fett would be obsessive, paranoid, and disturbed.

anyway, most of moran’s writing (aside from a few snippets that were expanded on but we’ll get to that later) was retconned after aotc, so if you just want to be like, “nope, boba fett never said that shit, never happened,” while still exploring other legends material, then absolutely feel free. but if you want several textually-supported reasons for why he’d say something like that that aren’t being space catholic, read on.

so, first of all, the immediate context: why tf is a bounty hunter talking about extramarital sex at all? well, the context is that boba fett is in jabba’s palace after leia has been captured. she has been sent to his room as a reward (ugh) and he’s trying to persuade her that 1. he doesn’t intend to assault her and 2. she really should just crash in his room for the night anyway bc if she goes back to jabba, it’ll be seen as a sign of disrespect and they’ll both get in trouble. leia is understandably on-edge and mistrusting of him and this is when he says the “sex between those not married is immoral” thing; he’s trying to convince leia that he really isn’t going to touch her.

(for those wondering, he doesn’t. he gives her some blankets to cover herself and lets her sleep in the bed while he spends the night sitting on the floor)

so! if you so wish, you could easily explain the whole thing as boba saying space catholic shit (whether he actually believes it or not) to reassure leia that she’s safe in his room for the night. he says himself that if she were to go back to jabba, jabba would likely take boba’s refusal to touch her as an insult and take retribution against him, so boba has plenty of incentive to try and convince leia to do otherwise.

but wait! what if you’re fine with boba having hang-ups about sex and relationships and just want a reason other than just “space catholicism?” well, friends, the good news is that that reading is even more supported by the text in a way that would later be expanded upon in post-aotc legends content.

though, before we proceed, lemme just slap down a content warning for discussion of drugs, sexual assault, and the intersection thereof.

now, back to “the last one standing.” leia eventually decides to trust fett and the two proceed to have a really awkward slumber party. leia, noting the lengths fett is going to in order to make her feel safe, begins to question what someone like him is doing working for jabba the hutt. they talk about morality for a bit and boba actually seems to enjoy talking to her--up to the point where she says he reminds her a bit of han. he reacts angrily, saying he and han are nothing alike. curious about his reaction, leia keeps pressing. why does he hate han so much? boba responds by saying it’s bc han smuggles spice. leia is like, “dude, seriously? you literally kill people for a living.” boba gets increasingly, uncharacteristically loud and agitated arguing with leia about why smuggling spice is worse than murder and is one of the worst things a criminal could sink to. and then, finally, at the crescendo of their argument, he snaps at her, “If I had been using spice tonight, Leia Organa, perhaps you would not be safe with me in this room.”

so, uh. what the fuck, right? apparently the reason boba hates han is bc han smuggles spice and spice... makes people more likely to be rapists, according to him??? what???

moran doesn’t fully answer these questions in the story, though he drops some major hints--the beginning few scenes show boba as a young man in jail for murdering a man named lenovar, his superior officer in the journeyman protectors, and staunchly refusing to say why other than that lenovar deserved it. this is followed by a scene maybe a couple of years later with boba literally burning a spice lord’s palace to the ground. this is all the context moran provides, but, the story doesn’t end there as later EU writers would keep this peculiar bit of characterization and expand upon its background.

which brings us to the backstory that post-aotc legends writers eventually settled on: when boba was 16, he began to feel dissatisfied with his life as a bounty hunter. he befriended another teenaged bounty hunter who felt the same way: sintas vel. the two of them ended up eloping to concord dawn, his father’s home-planet, and tried to live “normal” lives or as normal as two teenaged former bounty hunters could manage. boba got a job as a journeyman protector, where he was taken under the wing of a superior officer named lenovar; boba and sintas even had a daughter, named ailyn.

for awhile, everything seemed fine, but, of course, this contentment was not to last. lenovar turned out to be a scumbag predator who, after gaining boba and sintas’s trust, sexually assaulted sintas. fearing what might happen to her young family if she tried to retaliate, sintas attempted to keep the whole thing a secret. however, boba eventually found out and immediately ran off to murder the shit out of lenovar. combined with the details from moran’s story, the implication is that lenovar was a spice-user and/or that he attempted to use spice as an excuse for his behavior when boba confronted him. either way, after murdering lenovar, boba was imprisoned for killing his superior officer. however, in an effort to protect sintas, he refused to say why he did it and instead just insisted to his interrogators that lenovar deserved what he got and that he felt no remorse for killing him (retroactively explaining the scene at the beginning of “the last one standing.”)

boba was subsequently exiled from concord dawn and his family, leaving him with bucketloads of unresolved issues regarding relationships, sex, and spice. i would say that it would be perfectly reasonable if not outright supported by legends material to view boba’s apparent disapproval of casual sex in moran’s short story as his own thin self-justification for deeper issues that have nothing to do with space catholicism and everything to do with All That Shit that happened to him and sintas when they were teenagers.

at the end of the day, technically all of legends/the expanded universe has been retconned, so feel free to take as much or as little of this as you’d like for your own personal boba fett canon. i just wanted to provide some alternative interpretations of that line other than just “boba fett happened to be space catholic, i guess”

#boba fett #drugs mention ///#rape mention ///#honestly nothing is canon anymore so just choose whatever explanation you like best and run with it #up to and including ''he literally never said that shit''#i'm just incapable of NOT infodumping about legends!boba fett lmao

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fbfh · 4 years ago

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here’s to always finding each other

pairing: percy x gn child of calliope reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: percy kisses reader following a prior agreement that they don’t remember but it’s 100% consentual, you work retail, a hell yeah, memory loss, I think that’s it

summary: You didn’t really expect to have to spend your entire eight hour shift organizing shoe wax any more than you expected your fictional crush from middle school to be real and your boyfriend. Only one of those happened (and the shoe wax was still very disorganized when you left).

song rec: this lofi mix, boba manifesto - chris flemming (mostly as a joke but it slaps)

a/n: i am wOrKiNg oN tHiNgS!!!!!! It’s going well!!! expect some fun surprises soon!!!!!!!!!

Crouched down on the ground, rearranging an end cap of shoe wax in the men’s department wasn’t really what you thought being a grownup would be like as a kid. You can’t complain too much, the pay is pretty good and working conditions are decent - as much as they can be in retail. You stand up to check your progress (and stretch your legs) and notice that guy is still there. He’s been hovering around the athletic shirts and pants for a while, and he keeps checking his phone and looking around. You’re sure he’s probably just waiting for someone, but you’re considering asking if you can help him find anything.

He has a vaguely familiar energy, and your stomach drops for a moment, hoping you don’t know him from school or something. God, that would be a nightmare. That’s happened to you once or twice, bumping into someone you went to school with, and it’s always as bad as you expect.

‘You know what,’ you think, trying to see if you can fit the last few containers of wax on the shelf without making them topple over, ‘he’s probably fine. If he needs help he’ll ask for it.’

You go back to scanning and adjusting the prices of the clearance shoe polish - the company had changed their packaging recently, so it’s out with the old and in with the identical - but you still can’t shake the feeling of familiarity.

He turns around, holding up an orange shirt that says ‘go for it’ in a ridiculous font, and you get a glimpse of his face.

You crouch back down so he won’t catch you staring, and the realization dawns on you. He looks a lot like Percy Jackson from the books you read in middle school. Or was it high school? Everything between 6th grade and high school graduation is kind of blurry and confusing in your memory. Man, you should really re-read those, you heard there was a TV series in the works and you want to remember all the details for when it comes out. You’re a little surprised at how nervous that revelation makes you, like the feeling when you’re a kid going to a theme park and you can see the roller coasters as you pull into the parking lot. Weird. Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a customer who looks like a character from something. One time you saw someone who you swore looked just like Pidge from the Voltron reboot that came out a few years ago, and a coworker saw a girl who looked like an anime character she loves… Raka something? Her name sounded like gravity, but that wasn’t it. You shrug, making a mental note to ask her about it later.

You stand up once again to take one final look before you move onto the next end cap, and see that the guy is standing next to you. You look up at him, and all those weird feelings of excitement and something close to anticipation amplify, as you get a closer look at him. He really, really looks like Percy Jackson. Like if the Viria art was a real person.

“Uh… hi, can I help you find anything today?” You ask, snapping out of your daze and into your customer service voice. He takes a second before answering, and you’re a little unnerved by the way he’s looking at you; warm and intimately, like he’s known you for years.

“No,” he replies, a dreamy tone to his voice, “I’ve got everything I need.” You’re pleasantly surprised and a little freaked out that he even has the accent. Seriously, if he’s not already, this guy should really get into cosplay. Also, is he flirting with you? He seems to realize what he just said, and backtracks slightly.

“Actually, um, I was wondering if you could help me out with something over here,” he says, and you agree, in your signature chipper tone. He guides you to a table covered in various sweatpants behind a mirror.

He glances around again, and you have to ask.

“You know, if you’re having trouble finding someone we can-”

“Walkie customer service to have my group meet me at the front desk.” He finishes seamlessly.

“It’s not my first time at the rodeo,” he chuckles, and you get the feeling there’s more meaning behind what he’s saying, like an inside joke you’re not a part of.

“Oh… yeah.” you say, and he can sense your surprise, “How did you…” you trail off, and he can sense the silent question in your voice. He lets out a breathy chuckle, cheeks flushed pink.

“Like this.”

He catches your face in his hands, and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in shock, mostly at the fact that you don’t feel threatened by his presence at all. You’re shocked at how comfortable you feel around him, how you feel in your bones that you’ve known him for years when the logical side of your brain is telling you that you first saw him ten minutes ago. He pulls away, searching your eyes for… something.

“Uh…” you glance away, brow slightly furrowed, then back up at him, “what the fuck?”

His expression softens, and he says gently, “Give it a minute.”

You’re about to ask him to give what a minute, when a barrage of memories, feelings, people you don’t think you’ve ever met but seemed to be best friends with knocks you off your feet. You try to take in a breath, but the air in the room seems to have taken a temporary vacation from your lungs.

You look up at him, eyes flared in understanding and shock. He mutters something in confirmation. Someone yells nearby, and you both look over to an adolescent boy asking his mom why he can’t wear neon basketball shorts to school. Percy looks back over at you.

“Is there somewhere a little more-” the mom starts arguing back and forth with her son at a louder volume, and he continues, “private… where we could talk?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll… I’ll get somewhere.”

A few minutes later, you’re sitting across from each other on two step stools in one of the stock rooms. You’re still surprised at how easily you had lied to your boss that your long distance boyfriend showed up a few weeks early after over a year of not being able to see each other, and you needed a moment to catch up. She had agreed readily, asking that you tell her when you’re ready to get back to your tasks.

“I’m sorry about that,” he starts, snapping you out of your train of thought, and you look up at him, “I never would have kissed you without asking, but you made me promise last time that the next time you lose your memories I would get them back to you as fast as I can.”

“Uh, it’s okay, I feel like I remember talking about that.” Your memories are still fuzzy, but coming back sporadically.

“It can take a few days for them to come back fully.” He adds.

The most surreal part of this is you remember vividly what happened in the books - because you lived through it. You hold back a giddy laugh bubbling up.

“So…” you begin, and he looks at you, his gaze warm, “it’s all real?” you breathe the words, almost afraid of an answer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking away briefly, overwhelmed that you’re with him once again.

“The short version is, since your godly parent is Calliope, you sometimes get sent to other worlds. You kind of have to hop scotch from one place to another, like getting a goldfish used to a new bowl of water. The mist - or sometimes,” he glances up, pointedly and irritable, “other factors - usually take away a lot of your memories. They say it’s to make the transition easier, but who knows. Anyway, there are these waypoints, kind of like a time loop that you hang out in until you’re either ready to leave or one of us finds you first.”

“So this…” you motion around to the rows of cardboard boxes filled with plastic cups and paper towels. He nods and you let out a laugh of relief that you really won’t have to work here long term.

“As soon as you’re ready we should probably head out to camp. It’s gonna be a bit of a drive.”

“Wait, it’s all like… here? Like in this world?”

“Yeah,” he smiles again, once more sending butterflies through your chest.

You let out a disbelieving, excited laugh.

“Alright. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

Before you can get up, he takes your hand in his. He watches his fingers skim back and forth for a minute before looking up at you.

“You know that I’ll always find you, right?” there’s an overwhelming torrent of emotions he’s somehow managing to convey through his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter where you go, or how long you’re gone, or if we even remember each other. I will always find you.” His hand comes up to your cheek for the second time today, and your head tilts into his embrace automatically. You somehow trust him more than anyone or anything else right now. You nod gently.

“I do.”

He glances away again, cheeks flushing red, and he sighs, kissing your forehead.

You get up and head towards the exit together, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“How about we get some bubble tea once we’re in the city?”

“Oh hell yeah!”

You don’t remember the last time you had bubble tea, but it sounds really, really good right now.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x gn reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

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hoodedguitarist · 4 years ago

Text

Think you can Hide from Me? Part 3

Once again, Gif aint mine I just REALLY LOVE IT. It’s one of my favorite scenes of him.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: You infiltrated, the plan fell into chaos, Boba is mad at you, you’re catching feels, lots of time skips and some ANGST.

Warnings? None... Really not yet at least. Slight DinxReader if you squint. This just got a lot more feelsy and I got a whole lot more invested in this than I expected to. Which honestly seems to happen a lot to me. NO SHAME.

I really want to thank everyone who has liked, favorited, reblogged, and followed! You’re all amazing and make me feel amazing too. It means a lot to me that everyone is enjoying my writing. My inbox is open and I’ll even make a Tag List if anyone is interested!

Part 1: The Infiltrator

Part 2: The Distraction

Part 4: The Reunion

Part 3: The Regret

You should have known that plan was going to go off the rails. What you didn’t know, however, was that Boba was going to end up being a casualty of it all as well, and by complete accident.

Sure, you’d been caught with the others, sure you’d been sentenced to death with the others… And oh yes Boba was pissed… Very pissed. You didn’t need to see his face to tell that he was because instead of riding in the barge, he was there to personally bind you and hold you on the way to the Sarlaac pit.

Standing next to Han and Luke was going to make this conversation very awkward, but it needed to be said.

“Ok… So you’re mad at me, right?” You said out loud. Both of them glanced over at you, but you felt Boba’s hand tighten around your shoulder and yank you backwards into him. “Ah!”

“Mad is an understatement, sweetheart,” his modulated voice hissed.

“Ok, that’s fair… I’m sorry I lied to you about the whole work thing. Really, I am.”

“Uh… (Y/N)?” Han questioned.

“Stay out of it Han,” you snapped quickly. “You too, Luke. Mind your business, both of you.”

The two backed off and tried their best not to pay attention to whatever you could possibly be talking about with the bounty hunter, someone they considered an enemy.

“Was fucking me a distraction too?” Boba growled. Now the boys were really trying not to pay attention.

“No, actually, that part was real,” you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. “I was telling the truth when I said I’d wanted to do that ever since I saw you, and still do, if you’ll have me.”

“I think that was your last roll in the sheets, princess. If you manage to make it out of this alive somehow, I’ll know and I’ll find you,” he threatened.

“Hm, sounds fun,” you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. “If you make it out of this alive, I’ll come back and find you too. Do we have a deal?”

Boba scoffed and you figured he felt pretty confident that this was it and you were going to die some horrible death inside the belly of this beast.

“Deal,” he finally answered.

Han and Luke both cut their eyes over at you and you shrugged. “I told you two to mind your own business.”

~*~

Things had happened so fast. One minute you were about to be shoved into the pit, the next Luke is jumping around doing Jedi stuff and mildly impressing you. You didn’t have time to admire, though, because you were struggling with one of Jabba’s guards while Han and Chewie were getting into it with Boba.

Somehow, you were trying to manage not getting killed but also trying to watch Han’s back because he was still blind, and now Chewie who had been shot… But also Boba because you really didn’t want him dying on you either. It was a weird situation all around.

You struggled with the guard and managed to land a hit, but then a blaster fired out of nowhere and hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and into the pit. You were startled and turned to look where the shot came from, and sure enough you saw Boba’s blaster smoking. Your heart jumped into your throat and he simply nodded to you… Until he turned his sights on Luke.

You heard Chewie howl something out, heard Han get jumpy.

“Boba Fett?? Where??” He whipped around and smacked the bounty hunter right in his jetpack, which malfunctioned and sent him flying.

“Han what the hell??” You yelled over the chaos.

“I didn’t know he was right there! I can’t see!” He yelled back. You looked over the railing rather desperately, just in time to see the bounty hunter roll into the Sarlaac pit.

Well… That was a damn shame...

~*~

Five years had passed, and the Empire was defeated. Ghosts and whispers still lingered, but the Rebellion no longer needed you. It was now the New Republic and you didn’t really have any interest in politics. You said your goodbyes to your friends, the true heroes, and went back to being on your own.

You weren’t on your own for long, however, seeing as how you got caught up in chaos with another Mandalorian. This one was different, however. He had a kid with him. You didn’t mind babysitting during the really dangerous stuff but at the same time you sort of missed the chaos. After a while, the kid wanted to be everywhere his dad was so you were able to tag along.

Being with them led you back to Tatooine, to a small place known as Mos Pelgo. You wanted to help Din get the kid back with his own kind and when they spoke of another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo, you couldn’t help it as your heart jumped and your hopes spiked…

Especially when a ghost appeared in the doorway wearing Boba Fett’s armor.

You tensed beside Din, and he glanced at you briefly.

“Boba…?” You questioned carefully, letting your eyes run down the person in front of you. He was tall, much more thin. There was no way…

“ ‘Fraid not, darlin’,” the ghost answered.

First, you felt the icy cold stab of regret and loss all over again, then you felt the heat of anger bloom in you. Both you and Din were ready to throw down with the Marshal for entirely different reasons.

“Take it off,” Din ordered.

“Or I will,” your voice was a low warning, surprising all parties involved.

“I think I wouldn’t mind that,” the ghost now known as Cobb Vanth smirked at you.

“Yeah you say that now until you’ve got a knife in your back. Where the hell did you get that? And don’t say Jawas. That armor belonged to someone. Someone I knew!” You snapped.

“I don’t know what to tell you, honey. Anything else would be a lie. I did get it from the Jawas.”

A growl slipped your lips and you took a step forward, but Din grabbed you first. In the end, everything worked out in your favor. Cobb gave up the armor in exchange for help against the Dragon that plagued Mos Pelgo. When the two of you and the child were back safely on the Razor Crest, there were several times when Din would catch you gazing at the old armor, running your fingers across it, leaning your head against the empty helm.

He even thought he saw tears…

Finally, one night, he managed to carefully edge the story out of you. It was a little difficult, but you managed well enough.

“It was just supposed to be a fling, you know? No strings attached, just to say I did it. But there was just something about him, something else that drew me to him. I wanted him to live, I tried to protect him but so many things happened that day, and so many things went wrong way too quickly…” Your voice caught in your throat, but you laughed despite yourself. “I ended up catching feelings for this fucking bounty hunter after he supposedly died.”

“It’s possible those feelings grew from guilt,” Din said calmly. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me with this. I’m sorry this is bringing you so much pain.”

“Oh they most definitely grew from guilt, but then when I saw his armor, hope grew. He had to have come out of it. He’s got to be somewhere, I just don’t know where… And I don’t know if he’ll kill me on sight, so you might want to get ready for that too.”

“(Y/N) when are we not almost killed on sight?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice, and it made you smile. “I think we can manage,” he assured you.

“Yeah… Let’s hope…”

~*~

Seeing the armor hit you hard, but being on top of that mountain with Din and Grogu and seeing Slave 1 come out of the atmosphere and into the sky really did a number on you.

“Oh shit… Oh shit…” You muttered.

“What? Who is that?” Din looked over at you.

“I… I don’t know. It used to be Boba’s ship but there’s no damn telling now. I haven’t seen that thing in years. Somebody could have scavenged it or something.”

“Well we need to figure it out, come on,” he waved for you to follow, and you did so, trying your best not to seem too eager.

Unfortunately, that eagerness faded with the blaster fire, and the both of you took cover behind a rock.

“I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.”

That voice… It made your heart thunder in your chest. Masked by a modulator or not, you could tell it was him. You tensed and Din noticed. He looked over at you and you looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You gave a quick nod.

“It’s him… It’s Boba…”

“So not a Jedi… Great,” he whispered. The both of you eased out from behind the rock and you got your first good look at him. He was dressed in black robes, the hood thrown over his head, weapons strapped to his back.

“Boba??” You couldn’t stop yourself as you called out to him. He reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing a scarred face. It did nothing to deter you, however. He was older, but you were still just as attracted to him as you had been years ago. He stepped forward and moved closer, his eyes never leaving your face. It made you a little nervous. “If you’re going to kill me then ok, just do it, but I want you to know that I’m sorry first,” you said quickly holding your hands up. “I’m sorry for what happened that day.”

“Surprised to see me alive?” It was a simple question. No dark tone or anger.

“Relieved is more like,” you admitted. “I looked for you, for any sign of you after the war was over, but I never found anything. I knew somehow, though. I knew you’d survived, but I didn’t know if you’d want to kill me or not.”

“You know me well enough, girl. If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it right after I crawled out of that pit,” his eyes roved down you and you felt that old familiar rush, that feeling of playing with fire again. “It’s good to see you, princess, and we’ll talk later. For now, we need to talk about my armor that your man made off with.”

@pinkiemme @chadillacboseman If you need me I’ll be in the trash compactor thanks.

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laurafett · 4 years ago

Text

Unfamiliar Fruit

PART TWO

Friends to lovers, sex pollen Boba Fett x f reader

Words: 6k

- You and Boba are guests in a palace on a different planet. The King serves you some strange food, with the intention of doing both of you a favour -

No mentions of pronouns, hair or skin color, sexuality. Minors, do NOT interact!!

Warnings: smut, fluff, age gap (reader is 18+), oral (m and f), face fucking, spit, cumplay, fingering, choking, slight innocent kink, slapping, degradation and praise kink, mirror sex

______________________________________________________________

With one hand, he pulled the door close behind him. A sigh escaped him while he looked at the maid in front of him. She was wearing something more casual this time, what showed that she also got caught off guard with the message. She waved her hand to signal him to follow her.

“Again, I'm really sorry. I know that this is probably a very bad time, but we wouldn't call you if it wasn't necessary. Also, no one answered when I knocked at your door, so I figured you were with your partner.” Her steps were big while she walked him to the communication center.

“It's not your fault. No need to apologize.” A hand ran over the bounty hunters face. It was hard for him to keep up with the woman in front of him. His erection was still very present and the pain made his legs ache with every new step.

He hadn't cum yet. When he touched himself and heard your orgasm through the comlink he thought he would, but then you said those words. Said you wanted him to touch you. His hand stopped in the second the last word left your mouth.

At first, he thought he was imagining things but he didn't. He heard your voice so loud and clear, the words repeated themselves in his head over and over again.

Never ever, in his entire time knowing you, would he have thought you liked him in the same way he does. But right now, a little spark of hope made its way into his heart. Sure, you were in ecstasy and still reeling from the affects of the fruit , but he would have been damned if he didn't even try to find out if you really meant what you said. And he did. Thank the Maker.

“How are the symptoms going so far? You don't look too bad but your partner?” Her questions cut through his thoughts. Boba drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

The woman's head turned around to look at him, after he stayed silent. “You know, from the fruits.”

“He knew what they were going to do to us?”

She laughed a little and looked back into the direction she was walking.

“Sure he did. He actually wanted to do you a favor after being away from your 'partner' for so long.”

His eyes widened at her words. This was what this all was about? The King thought you two were in a relationship? “Me and my partner are not together in that way. Why did he assume this?”

Her figure stopped for a second and turned back. The man could see the surprise in her blue eyes. “You two are not- Oh, Maker.” She cut herself off and thought about something. “We... we thought you two were... Oh no. I'm so sorry.”

Sorrowful eyes looked up at him.

“It was just... the way you talked about your partner and the way you two looked at each other... We really thought the two of you are in a relationship, that's why The King decided to get you those fruits.”

Her hands started to shake and he could see that her eyes started to tear up. Today was really not the day he wanted to deal with this.

“It's alright. Forget about it. Just take me to the call with my other partner.”

The maid nodded and started walking again. Both of them stayed silent for the rest of the walk. Boba was confused. Were his feelings for you so obvious that the King really thought you two had a romantic bonding? He told him about you, but he couldn't recall what exactly he said about you. Probably not much, after all of this was business.

When the two arrived at the communication system the woman walked away to give him some privacy. Fennec's face was simmering as a blues light in front of him as he approached the holograph in front of him.

“What's wrong?” His voice was annoyed. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to go back to you and finally do what he was wishing for, for so many nights.

“Hello to you too. I see you don't even wear your armor around here, it seems like you got comfortable.”

Boba rolled his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. He wasn't in the mood for this banthashit right now. “Just tell what you need. I don't have much time.”

“Busy, huh? I can see that.” Even though Fennec was just a hologram he saw that her eyes wandered down his body. A smirk played around her lips.

He realized that his whole body was on display for her and stepped closer to her face, covering everything underneath his shoulders.

“Fennec.” He sighed.

A light chuckle fell from her mouth. “Alright, alright. Do you remember the guy you made a contract with two months ago?”

The man brought his hand up over his mouth and thought for a second. His eyes wandered back to Fennec, the look in them telling her he had no idea.

Boba was good in what he did, he has always been. He kept track of the people he talked to, noted all of his partners down, had all the contracts sorted, he knew what he was doing. Just, in this moment he couldn't focus. It was hard for him to stand upright and follow Fennec's words.

“Great.” Her words drowned in sarcasm. “Kero Raff. The Twi'lek from Coruscant. You made a contract with him about the slaves on Tatooine. Some of your men would free them and he would take care of them when they arrive at his base. Remember?” He nodded. “Well, he isn't happy about the money we sent him, he wants more or he's out. He's wants a response, or he will hop of today.”

“How much more?” He leaned his hip against the table behind him. His intention was to finish this as fast as possible, not wanting to waste any more time.

“That's the problem. Wait a second I wrote down some calculations.”

Boba frowned and rubbed his eyes. This couldn't be real.

You were laying on your bed again, sweaty and shivering at the same time. The tears stopped some time ago but you were still not able to control your breathing properly. One of your hands was between your legs, trying to get another orgasm out of you but it just didn't work.

Blood was pumping quickly through your veins, the adrenaline making your body buzz. Every muscle was tense, like you were about to have the worst cramps in your life. The fingers in your wet cunt hurt from moving but you didn't stop, not wanting the pain to become even worse.

Your fingers slipped back inside your dripping hole. You grew even more wet with every passing second, you were sure the sheets under you were already soaked too. With a fast tempo you wanted to force yourself to have another climax, but without Boba talking to you, it felt like it was impossible.

His voice was like a song stuck in your head and you listened to it on repeat. The little pantings during his sentences, sounding like he forgot how to breath normally. Maker, nobody did to you what he did to you with only talking. Beside the fact that you fell for him a long time ago, his words were doing things to you you couldn't describe. There was something so arousing about him you weren't able to point out.

Maybe it was the fact that he told you that he wanted you, for quite some time now. You still debated with yourself if his confession was real or just something you made up in your head. Boba wasn't someone to talk about personal stuff. He rarely did it, even when it came to Fennec or you.

Your eyes squinted shut when you felt just the smallest amount of heat rising in your lower stomach. Trying to focus on the picture of Boba's head between your legs in your mind, you brought your second hand down to your core to start rubbing your clit.

Whispering his name, you did what he told you when you two masturbated on the comlink together. Imagining it was him, his hands inside of you and his dark brown eyes locked with yours. The movements of your hands got sloppier and finally you felt yourself getting close.

You recalled the conversation with him, replayed the way he called you 'Princess' and 'Little one' over and over again until you pushed yourself enough to let go. Silent moans filled the room and your body arched up. You felt yourself clenching around your fingers, while you rode out the light aftershocks.

This orgasm wasn't even close to the first one you had, way too weak and less helpful than the one you had with Boba guiding you through it.

You couldn't tell if the pain got less or if you just got numb after this amount of time. Both hands fell beside your head, not being able to keep them moving without getting a cramp. If Boba wouldn't come back soon, you would have to think about other options to get rid of the pain and to be honest the best idea you had by now was jumping off the damn balcony.

The bounty hunter was furious. They managed to build up a connection to the man and now he had to watch Fennec and Kero arguing. Boba suggested to just give him the money he asked for but his partner tried to talk him out of it. He couldn't tell how long this discussion was already going, but he sure knew that he was beyond pissed and fed up. His body was slightly shaking and he didn't know if it was because of the anger or the pain that still flowed through him.

“Enough!” He screamed at the two holograms in front of him. Both pairs of eyes looked at him, waiting for what he had to say. “I don't have the time nor do I have the nerve to keep listening to you two. Kero, I will give you twice as much credits if that's what you want.”

The Twi'lek with the light green skin started smirking and nodded. “This sounds like a fair deal.”

“Boba! What the hell?” Fennec protested against the man.

“Great. Fennec, write it down in my books. We will see each other soon.” And with that, he broke the connection and let out a deep sigh. He rubbed his hands over his head before he turned to leave the room.

The maid that led him here was still standing in the long corridor they walked through before. She smiled weakly at him and started walking him back to his chambers. Not a single word was spoken on the way back and this time it was Boba setting the pace, so she had to keep up.

His head was full and empty at the same time. He couldn't keep his thoughts away from you now that you were even closer to him than before. With every step closer to your room, his blood started to pump faster and his cock twitched at just the mere thought of you.

The two arrived back at the corridor where she picked him up some time ago. “Thank you.”

He said silent with his eyes locked to the door of your quarters.

The woman nodded and was about to walk away, when the bounty hunter snatched her arm to stop her. “It doesn't matter what happens or whoever may call tonight. I wish no further distribution.”

She nodded a second time..

“Yes, sir. I won't let it happen.” And with those last words she was gone. Boba's look fell on your door again and he rushed into its direction. He was about to open the entrance when angst made its way into his head.

He was gone for quite some time, what if you were able to get rid of the pain yourself? What if the pain got less and now you saw things in a different light? His hand drew away from the doorknob. You asked him to touch you, but you weren't in the right state of mind. Maybe you thought about it and came to the conclusion that it wasn't right to do this.

“Shit.” Boba whispered to himself. Since when was he thinking about such things? He never doubted himself in anything he did but you made him think of things he didn't even consider before. You made him ask himself about so many of his decisions. He didn't care about anyone's opinion until he met you. One day, you would be the death of him, he saw it as clear as water.

Still drowned in his own thoughts, he didn't realize how the door to your room got opened. You heard him swearing and thought he was about to return to you but after waiting some more moments, you got impatient and wanted to see what was taking him so long.

When you opened the door, his back was turned to you. You heard that he muttered something to himself but you couldn't make out what exactly. So you reached out to him, carefully touching his shoulder.

The man jumped in surprise and turned around, now looking at you. His breathing stopped when he saw that you were only in the green lingerie he caught you in before the dinner. Both of his eyes roamed your body up and down until they found yours again.

“Do you still want to...” You didn't finish the sentence, too afraid that he might have changed his mind.

Boba's eyes wandered back down to your breasts, his cock jumped at the sight in front of him. “Yes, fuck I-” But before he could keep talking, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into your room.

You pressed your lips on his and started kissing him as if it was the last thing you would ever do. His hands found their way to your waist, squeezing it. Your teeth bit his lower lip and tugged slightly while your hands went to his pants. One of them brushed his dick through the thin material and his hips jerked up at the feeling.

Breaking the kiss to get some air, you drew your face a little more away from him, his lips trying to chase yours. You smiled at him, finally able to open his trousers and letting them fall down to his feet. In a matter of seconds, Boba got rid of his shoes and pants just to bring his hands back to you, connecting his lips to yours again. Trying to signal him to pull off his shirt, you tugged at the hem of it and he broke the kiss to throw it off as fast as possible.

His big hands captured your face once more as he started to kiss you again. You let your hands glide over his chest and to the waistband of his, also black, briefs. Feeling his smile against your lips yours let go of his and made their way down his throat. A deep growl escaped him when you licked over his Adam's apple, feeling the vibration on your tongue.

Your mouth went deeper, starting to bite and lick over his collar bones. His eyes were pierced on you, watching every single movement you made. Your tongue moved over his chest, through the small patch of dark hair till down to his navel. Placing a light kiss just underneath it, your eyes went up to meet his while you settled yourself on your knees.

His dark pupils were even wider than normal and you could see the lust burning in them. Not breaking the eye contact, your mouth followed his happy trail, till you reached his briefs. A mischievous smile painted your lips when your fingers hooked around the waistband of his underwear. Not being able to wait any longer you pulled them down and Boba's cock sprung free.

With big eyes, you mustered his twitching member in front of you. He was thick, thicker than anyone else you ever been with. His length was a little bit more than average but you were sure that he knew how to use every single inch of it. The pubic hair around the base was dark and short, like he knew what would happen today and prepared himself for it.

One of your hands reached around his cock and the man grunted. It wasn't the touch that was drawing those sounds out of him, no, it was the sight in front of him. Your hand seemed so small compared to his hard dick. His hips twitched and he accidentally pumped himself in your hand, what made him moan even louder.

Looking back up to him through your lashes, you gave him a few slow pumps before you brought your tongue to the underside of his base and licked one long stripe up till you reached his tip. The man groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. With some feather light licks, you collected the precum on the head of his cock. Boba's hand flew up, going directly to the back of your head, trying to hold himself steady.

Carefully and not too fast, you brought your lips around his cock, starting to bop your head back and forth. With each move you tried to take him deeper into your mouth. You looked back into the bounty hunter's eyes, seeing him watching you.

“Now look at that. Just when I thought you couldn't look any prettier I get proven wrong.” Your tongue swirled around his dick, making him hiss through his teeth. “Kriff, Princess you look fucking gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”

You took your hand away from around his base and brought both of them up to his thighs, looking for something to hold. Keeping the eye contact you tried to signal him that it was his turn now. One of his eyebrows rose, not really understanding what you meant.

Nudging your nose up, you told him that he was in charge now. Finally understanding, Boba started to slowly pump himself into your mouth.

“So this is what you want? You want me to take control, little one?” A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest while you nodded eagerly. “”How could I ever say no to you?”

And with that, his pace started to pick up. His hand was clenched into your scalp, bringing your head towards his hips with every thrust. Spit started to drip down your mouth, making its way down your chin and breasts. You relaxed your throat when he continued to go deeper, breathing steadily through your nose.

The now brutal pace made you gag around him and tears started to swell up in the corner of your eyes.

“Look at you. Taking me so well. You are so good for me.” He panted, shoving his dick even deeper into your throat, keeping you there. Your nose was nuzzled in his pubic hair and the tears now started to fall down your face. An animalistic sound escaped him before finally letting go of you.

You pulled his member out of your mouth and started to breath heavy, trying to get air into your lungs.

“Fucking hell, you feel so good. But as much as I would love to cum into your mouth right now, I think we should wait with that so I can help you too.”

Shaking your head, you reached for his dick again and started pumping it. “No. Believe me, you will be able to cum more than just once. You need more than one orgasm to get rid of the pain.”

Boba smirked down to you. “Princess, I'm a bit older than you, this won't work.”

Still touching him, you tried to argue. “But you have the same reaction as I do. Fuck your age, it has nothing to do with the situation we are in right now.” Your tongue licked his dick again, wanting him to change his mind.

When you brought him back into your mouth, he gave up. It didn't take long until he took charge again, pushing his cock faster and faster into you. His hand went down to your throat, wanting to hold you but instead he felt himself.

“Kriff, can you feel that? Fuck, I can feel myself in your throat. You are such a good girl, taking me so well.” You squirmed at the nickname and tried to push your thighs together, but it didn't work at giving you any sense of relief. Taking one of your hands off his leg, you sneaked it between yours and started to rub your clit.

The wetness in your folds was already on your thighs, before you even touched yourself. You were almost dripping and it would be no surprise if you were able to wring out the panties you wore right now.

Boba's eyes fell down to your hand and that was it. He pushed himself so deep into your throat one last time that your whole face was pressed against his abandonment. Grunts and curses rolled over his lips and you could feel his hips twitch. Not a second later, you tasted his salty release on your tongue, stopping your own hand.

After some moments, he came back down from his high, pulling himself out of you. With innocent eyes you looked up at him, opened your mouth and showed him the mess he made.

“Oh, you like that, don't you? You want to swallow it? Wait a second, little one.” His hand grabbed your chin in a hard grip and tilted your face up to him. He brought his mouth above yours, tipped his lips and let a drool of spit drop into yours. You couldn't help yourself but moan at this kind of filthiness. “There you go and now swallow it, every single bit.”

With a theatrical loud sound, you swallowed every drop and opened your mouth once again to show him that everything was gone. He hummed at the sight.

“If I wasn't still hard I'm pretty sure this would've changed that, but I guess you were right when you said one orgasm is not enough.”

You grinned up at him. “Told you so.”

His hand came down to your cheek and stroked it slightly. “That's my pretty girl. And now I should give you something back, after you've been so good for me. Get up and lay down on the bed.”

Without hesitation you got up, went to the bed and laid yourself down. Boba stood in front of you, pushing your legs apart with his hands before he went on to the bed on his knees. He hovered over you for a second, enjoying the view. A smile formed on your lips, which he gladly returned.

“Marker, you are so fucking beautiful.” You were about to giggle but his lips crushed down on yours, shutting you up.

The kiss didn't last long because his lips started to wander down your body. Normally he would have taken his sweet time with you, would tease you but he knew that the symptoms of the fruit were still going through your body, so he decided he would do it another time.

One of his hands sneaked around your back, clasping your bra open. You pulled your arms up to get the straps off. Finally free from it, he tossed it behind him, not carrying where it would land.

“I actually thought you would rip the clothes off of me.” You purred into his ear. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, don't you worry princess. This will happen sooner or later, I promise. Also, I want you to keep this set as a memory for our first night together.” A soft expression painted your face. “And because you look fucking hot in it.” You started laughing at his words.

“To be honest, I would have loved to tear it down since the first time I saw it on your body, but now I'm glad I didn't do it.”

He gave you one last smile before his head dipped back down, starting to kiss your breasts. You moaned at the feeling of his wet mouth against your hard nipples, but he didn't spend much time there, already on his way down to your core, leaving kisses and marks all over your body.

Now that he was finally where he wanted to be the most and where you also needed him the most, he wasted no more time. Getting on his knees in front of the bed, just like he did earlier, he pulled your panties down.

You hissed when the fresh air hit your wet center.

“Shit.” You heard the man in front of you swearing and you popped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “You are so fucking wet, princess. I know it's because of the reaction but do we want to try and see if I can get you just as wet when we go back home?”

You could feel yourself clench around nothing by his words.

“Dank, yes, Boba.”

“Oh, I love it when you say my name like this. Let's see how loud I can make you scream my name tonight, alright?” And with that, he brought his mouth to your cunt, starting to eat you out like a man's last meal before death.

Your head flew back and you started twitching at the feeling of his tongue between your folds. Boba brought one of his hands up and sneaked it underneath your thigh, pressing his flat hand against your hip to hold you in place.

His tongue flipped over your clit, making you whimper. Your hands grabbed the sheets underneath you, trying to hold on to something.

Suddenly you felt a sharp slap against your heat and you looked down. The man's face was inches away from your heat, dark, devouring eyes looking at you.

“Look at me, while I make you feel good. I want to see your face.”

Not brave enough to look away again, you kept the eye contact while he brought his face back to you. His tongue circled at your entrance, while his nose nudged against your clit. He moaned into you and the feeling rumbled through your whole body.

The bounty hunter raised his other hand, carefully thrusting one of his fingers inside of you. It felt like all the air got pushed out of your lungs. And before you were even able to get used to this feeling, he added a second finger.

The fast pace he started off with was enough to make you go crazy. It was hard to hold eye contact but you forced yourself to keep going. His two fingers crossed inside of you, stretching you out, while his tongue kept flipping over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He curled his fingers, making you arch your back and moan out his name.

You felt the heat rising in your lower stomach and your legs began to shake. “Fuck, Boba. I- I'm gonna cum.”

Without taking his mouth away from you, he started talking. “Go ahead. Cum all over my face, little one.” He curled his fingers one last time, sucked your clit between his lips and you were done.

Your legs pressed together around his head, keeping him in place. Your eyes fell shut, while a high pitched moan left your lips. Both of your hands still clenched at the bed sheets, ripped them out from their place under the mattress. Shaking and twitching, you pushed Boba's head away from you. Feeling nothing but the hot pleasure filling your body, you tried to calm down your breathing .

After some moments, you finally came back down from your high. You looked down at Boba who still sat on the floor by the bed. With one finger, you signaled him to come to you and so he did.

His body was over yours again, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. You tasted yourself on his tongue and moaned at the sensation. He rubbed his hard cock against your inner thigh.

“Kriff, I want to fuck you so bad, can I-” He wasn't even able to finish his sentence, because you already turned the both of you over so you were on top. Your hands were on his chest, steadying yourself while you grind your wet heat over his dick.

He brought his hands up to your waist, helping you move. When you were sure he was wet enough you rose up a little bit, grabbed his cock and lined him up at your entrance. Slowly you started to lower yourself down on him. Maker, he was so fucking thick.

Boba's dick stretched you like no one else had before. It was almost painful, but the pain was way too good to feel bad. When he was finally seated inside of you, you both took a moment to adjust yourselves to the new feeling.

“You are so fucking tight, Princess. I probably won't last long with this pretty, little cunt around me.” He breathed out underneath you while he squeezed your waist. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasms so you didn't mind. The most important thing was, that you were finally able to feel him.

You brought your hands back to his chest, holding yourself up and started to move. With the first few thrusts, you could already feel how his tip hit just the right spot in you, so you started to move faster.

Boba's hands helped you to keep the pace and from actually falling over. It felt so good that you were almost sure that you couldn't feel the pain anymore. You moaned and whimpered on top of him, looking directly to the part where both of you met, being sure that you never seen something so fucking hot.

The man grunted and had to hold himself back from thrusting into you from beneath. He saw that you were out of breath, at the end with your power. But Dank, if you weren't a sight to behold. Your tits bouncing with each thrust, your eyes closed in pleasure and your mouth open, making the prettiest sounds he has ever heard.

“Shit. You look so good right now, fucking perfect. If you could see yourself right now, Princess.” His eyes fell onto something behind your body and he finally knew how to finish all this in the right way.

“Stop. Hey, hold on for a second.” You stopped in your tracks looking down at him. He smiled in your confused face.

“Is everything alright? Did I hurt you?”, the panic in your voice set a warm feeling in his chest.

“Don't worry. Everything is fine, just move with me.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about but his broad chest was already pressed against yours, while he scooted over to the edge of the bed. A wicked smile danced around his lips, while you were still just confused.

“Get up and turn around.” You had no idea what his plan was, until you turned around and saw what was in front of you. The fucking mirror. Boba's hand pulled you back down to him and with his other hand he pushed his cock back inside of you.

This was something new. You have never seen yourself during sex, but something in you got excited at the thought. The man pushed your legs apart again and laid them over his own, so everything was on full display.

You saw your cunt, wet and swollen, stuffed with the cock of the man you were in love with. He smiled at the sight of your face, curious about what is happening in front of it right now.

His hips made an experimental thrust while to try to catch your reaction. Another thrust and he wasn't able to hold back anymore. He pumped himself in and out of you, watched your whole body reacting to his actions. It turned him on even more.

Your eyes wide in pleasure, your mouth open, your body bouncing with his and your hands on your thighs. Fucking perfect. Not being able to help yourself, you let your head fall back on to his shoulder. But that wasn't the plan. One of Boba's big hands grabbed you by your throat and pulled your head back up.

“No. Don't look away, or I won't let you cum. Look at yourself getting fucked. Look at how fucking perfect you are for me.” The hand around your throat tightened and you clenched around his dick at the feeling.

“Oh, you like that too?” He added a little more pressure, making you slightly light headed. “This is the best fucking cunt I've ever fucked. You want me to keep doing that? Hm? You want me to keep fucking you even when we get back home?”

An obscene moan left your mouth at his words. Kriff, if it was for you, he could fuck you for the rest of your life. You were sure that no one would ever be able to give you the feeling Boba gave you in this moment. You never wanted to miss out on that again.

His other hand went to your cunt and landed a sharp slap on it. A scream coming from your mouth, so loud that you were sure everyone in this palace heard you. The familiar feeling built itself up again, already bringing you to the edge with how sensitive you were.

“I asked you a question, little one.” His grip around your throat let loose a little bit so you were able to speak.

“Yes, fuck yes. Boba, you can fuck me whenever you want to, please. I'm yours, only yours.”

His hand returned to your cunt and started rubbing your clit. “That's exactly right and now cum for me. I can feel that you are close. Cum all over my cock.”

And with that, he pushed you over the edge again. Your legs twitched on top of his, making it very hard for him to keep pushing into you. White noise filled your ears again, almost making you deaf. Boba let go of your throat, letting your head fall back on his shoulders while you screamed his name on the top of your lungs.

The aftershocks were so strong in your body that you almost missed his question.

“Where do you want me to cum, little one?” His movements got sloppier with every thrust, just waiting for you to tell him where he can finish.

“Inside.” Your voice was so weak and silent that you were sure he didn't hear you, so you brought your last strength together and raised your head again to look into his eyes through the mirror. “I want you to come inside me, Boba. I'm safe.”

And that was all he needed to hear. You could feel how his release pumped into you, his cock twitching while he finished. His hands on your waist squeezed you so hard, you were sure he would leave bruises there. Your name fell from his lips, with many other swears.

Coming down from his high, his sweaty forehead fell to your shoulder and you could feel his hot breath on your back.

After a while of just sitting and trying to catch your breaths, he brought his head up again and put his chin on to your shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Yes, exactly.” You laughed breathless and he joined you. Carefully you tried to stand up and whine when his cock slipped out of you. To both of your lucks, he was already soft. As soon as you stood you felt his cum running down your thighs. He smirked at the sight.

“That’s actually kinda hot.”

“Ah, fuck off.” You said, pushing his shoulder and made your way to the bathroom on shaky legs. With a washcloth, you cleaned up the mess between your legs, doing your best not to touch any of the highly sensitive parts. Washing your face too, you looked at yourself in the mirror and all the marks Boba left on your body. You knew that he would be proud of them.

Stepping out of the refresher, you saw that no one was in the room. You looked to the balcony but the door was closed too. A bad feeling slowly started to overcome you. So, this was what this all was about? Not even his clothes were still here. Maker, you were so stupid. How could you think that the King of the Underworld would have interest in having a real bonding with someone?

You wanted to scream and cry, but before you were able to do so, the door to your room got opened and Boba stepped back inside. Fully dressed and in his hands a white bed sheet.

“I just thought it would be better to get some new sheets instead of sleeping in the dirty ones.” He went to the bed and threw the old sheets on to the floor, putting the new one on the bed. His eyes fell on your, still naked, figure standing in the middle of the room watching him. “Are you alright? Do you still feel some pain?”

“Are you gonna stay the night?”, you asked. The man let go of the sheets and went over to you, carefully taking your face in his hands.

“If you want me to.” He pressed a light kiss to your nose. “And if you want to, we can spend every night together from now on.”

You looked at him with a soft smile.

“That would be great.” He slightly pulled your head into his direction and kissed you deeply.

“Now, I think we should go to bed. We have to go back home tomorrow, without getting poisoned by the King again.”

“Poisoned by the King?” A confused look washed over your face while you made your way to the bed. You slid underneath the sheets right next to Boba after he got rid of his clothes again. He opened his arms for you and you went over to him, laying your head on his chest. His arm tugged you closer to him.

“Yes. It seems like the King thought we were in a romantic relationship, so he wanted to do us a little favor by giving us an aphrodisiac, so we could have fun.” He explained. And finally you were able to catch up.

“Ahh. Okay, that makes sense.” Some of the events of this current day went through your head and now you really got what it was about with all the expensive underwear, beautiful dresses and looks from the other guests at dinner. There was just one thing you didn't understand.

“Wait. Why did he think we were a couple? I've been here for only one day and the first time they saw us together was at dinner? That doesn't add up.” A sigh left Boba's mouth.

“The maid told me that they assumed that by the way I talked about you.” Your head shot up and you looked down at him with raised eyebrows and a wicked smile.

“What? Really? What did you tell them about me?” His dark eyes studied your face, while his hand went up to stroke your cheek.

“To be honest, I don't even remember. But I know for sure that they caught up on my love for you way sooner than you did, Cyare.” You leaned down to kiss him.

“You didn't catch up on my love either. Even though it was pretty obvious for a certain amount of time now.” With a hand to the back of your head, he held your face close to his and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Just good to know that we both had the same feelings for each other for such a long time and both of us weren't able to realize it.”

“Fennec will never let go of this. She will say 'I told you so' for the rest of our lives.” You chuckled against his face.

“Oh, she sure will. We will never hear the end of it.” Boba said with a smile across his lips. “But we should sleep now. I don't want to leave too late tomorrow.”

You brought your head down to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

The man kissed the top of your head before he whispered:”Good night, Princess.”

“Good night, Boba.” You said, snuggling closer to him.

This trip was totally worth it.

_________

Taglist:

@darthmama1618

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #smut #sex pollen #the mandolorian #the book of boba fett

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years ago

Text

Star Wars - Boba Fett x Reader: Eyes of Starlight

Author’s Note: Wow, am I late to the Boba party, or what? Back when Mandalorian S2 was brand new, tumblr blew up with Boba Fett, and I was so down for that, except the majority of the fics I came across were smut, so I didn’t get the Boba content I was looking for. Alas, I finally decided to write my own smut-free Boba moment.

In this, Boba is younger in this than in the Mandalorian.

Warnings: Action, a fight scene, nothing graphic in my opinion. Reader does encounter intruders, so if that is a trigger then be cautious.

The evening was anything but quiet, yet it was the lack of silence that made it so peaceful. Bugs and frogs chirped a sweet song of the warm spring that had arrived. You stood barefoot on the balcony off your room, hands resting on the railing as you enjoyed the time alone. The moon was only a sliver, but the lack of blue light made it easier to see the sky of stars. One in particular was twinkling many colors like a cut gemstone reflecting light.

A pair of eyes that held a similar gleam flashed in your mind.

You shook your head. The one who those eyes belonged to was the last person you wanted to be reminded of. He could be so smug at times. Annoying. Sometimes even condescending. Most of the time he was gruff, but every now and then he’d wear a smirk that got under your skin even when you couldn’t see it behind helmet of his.

He was Boba Fett, the greatest bounty hunter there was, and he was hired to protect you; a fact that he would not let you soon forget.

You thought back to one of your earliest exchanges with him months before, when you nearly collided with him in the hall and he regarded you with a raised brow as you waited for him to step aside as most of your guards usually did. He hadn’t moved.

“You know, around here it’s polite to let the princess pass.”

“Princess _________,” he sighed. “ I’m being paid a handsome credit to protect you, not coddle you while you play palace. Besides,” he paused, shooting you that look as you stepped to the side to let him pass, “I’m not from around here.”

His words were absolutely infuriating.

Sure, you realized from the very beginning that this Boba Fett was not impressed by titles, and perhaps you’d been asking for it by trying to pull rank. It was just a test, a nudge to get a feel for this renowned bounty hunter.

That glint in his eyes flashed across your vision again. Even though you were in the farthest corner of the estate, it felt as if he were right there with his gaze boring into yours. It made you feel hot despite the cool breeze that ruffled your nightgown, whether the heat was from frustration or perhaps underlying feelings you’d been denying, you weren’t sure.

A single slide of a foot on the stone balcony a few feet away caught your attention. You whipped your head around to get a look at what it may have been only to see a figure dressed in dark clothes with their face covered, and they stood as if they had just crawled onto the surface of the balcony, their gloved hands still grasping the railing. You let out a scream and made a dash for your bedroom, but the intruder had reached an arm out to grab and pull you away from the door leading inside.

You recognized the insignia on his glove. He was part of the group Boba had been hired to protect you from. They had launched an attempt to raid the palace and steal priceless artifacts belonging to your people to sell illegally, and they had succeeded in taking a few. For safety, you and a few other artifacts were moved to an estate of the royal family, and Boba was assigned to protect you.

Just as the intruder tried to put his gloved hand over your mouth to prevent a second scream, Boba burst into your palace quarters. He immediately shot at the assailant while you sank to the stone floor, frozen in place while he faced his opponents.

More of the intruders were climbing over the railing after scaling the estate wall. Boba fought off several of them, but they kept coming. At one point, he had knocked most of them down, save for one he was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with and another that sought to sneak up on him from behind.

Sure. He could be smug, annoying, and even act condescending. His smirk got under your skin even when you couldn’t quite see it through his helmet. He was Boba Fett, the greatest bounty hunter there was, and he was hired to protect you; and not a day went by that he didn’t remind you of that fact with his actions or words.

You could not have predicted the fear that clawed at your chest at the sight of some low-life attacking him from behind while he was preoccupied by another.

It was like your body unfroze and reacted on instinct. Your hand snatched up a nearby blaster pistol and aimed it at the figure. In a matter of seconds, the intruder was lying on the stone floor while Boba’s visor turned toward you.

Your chest rose and fell with each breath as you stared wide-eyed at the floor. You barely registered his footsteps as he crossed over to where you sat. It was only when you felt the blaster lifted from your hands ever-so-gently that you snapped out of your stunned state. It had surprised you, how slow and careful his movements were when grasping your shaking hand in his gloved one and helping you stand. Considering how he carried on and bantered with you, you half-expected him to yank you to your feet in a quick, unceremonious way and tell you to pull yourself together.

“Pull yourself together.” Though he didn’t yank you to your feet, he spoke firmly through the visor. “It’s over.”

Well, alright then. Perhaps you did know Boba fairly well by now.

Firing back a retort would be useless at the moment. Besides, you were too shaken up to try. Instead, you focused on taking deep breaths until your heartbeat slowed to a steady pace. After a few minutes passed in silence, you spoke.

“I can’t believe they found us. We took so many precautions...coming here without any guards even, to not draw attention...”

“That’s why your parliament hired me. These scum pose a serious threat.” He spoke over his shoulder as he walked through the sea of unconscious invaders.

“I’m...I’m going inside.”

He gave no reply and only knelt down to search one of them. You released a sigh and walked indoors, sliding the door to the balcony shut behind you. No tears fell. No sobs escaped your lips. You stared at the roomy bed in front of you that had been made by handmaids, not even feeling like collapsing into it. You were still on edge and unsure of how to shake it off.

Part of you wanted to head down the hall to the library and sit quietly with a warm cup of (favorite hot drink), but what felt like an invisible steel cable kept you from wandering. You didn’t like the thought of being too far away from Boba. Just in case.

So you settled for pacing around the room idly, your mind running through the event over again. You wished you had gotten a few punches in or managed to kick the trespasser where the suns don’t shine. You’d been caught off-guard and didn’t react the way you thought you should’ve. Even so, it was something you could learn from.

The door slid open, and Boba stepped inside, removing his helmet and setting it down on a side table. You were relieved that he didn’t appear injured. “I’ve contacted authorities. This group will be handled from here.”

“Do you know who sent them?”

He gazed at you for a few seconds, and at first you didn’t think he would answer. “I have yet to figure that out.”

“Oh.”

He was still staring at you, and your instincts kicked in when he took a few steps toward you. The dim yellow light of the lamps that lit your room glowed on his face and reflected in his eyes as he neared you. Your heart thrummed so quickly, and your body may still have been feeling the effects of the event that had transpired only minutes before. You flinched when Boba raised a gloved hand. It wasn’t a fast or sudden movement, but when he saw your reaction, he paused nonetheless.

Still spooked, you sharpened your tone in irritation. “What are you looking at?” That’s when the emotion finally crept in your voice. Your vision blurred with the forming of tears as your face twisted in a look of frustration as you returned his gaze with a new fire.

He didn’t look the slightest bit phased, but you noticed his expression lost some of its intensity. Boba reached up again to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, carefully angling your face toward the mirror on the wall to your left. You saw the eyes that haunted you each day and the man they belonged to staring at your reflection. Then, your gaze traveled to his gloved hand and up to your own eyes which gleamed in the lamplight. Finally, they rested on a splotch of blood on your cheek.

Your hand immediately reached toward it, but Boba caught your wrist with his other hand. His gentle touch kept surprising you. It was very different from what you’d expected.

“Do you have supplies for this?” he asked.

You simply gave a nod and extricated yourself from his light hold to retrieve the first aid you kept tucked under the bed. His eyes never left you, and you caught his gaze as you walked back over with the small box. Boba had removed his gloves by the time you found a disinfecting swab. He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger so delicately before taking the swab and dabbing your cheek. The sting was mild, but just enough to make you wince.

“Hold still,” he told you.

“You know, I am capable of doing this myself. This isn’t exactly in the job description of you protecting me and the artifacts.”

Boba didn’t respond, only leaned in to inspect the minor wound. You didn’t want to allow yourself to enjoy the moment, but there was no stopping the way he flooded your senses and filled you with a sense of calm. His masculine scent put you at ease, and the way he treated you so carefully as if you were made of glass evoked a quiet sigh from your lips.

When he was done, there was only a trace of the scratch that needed a few days to heal.

“There,” he stated, retracting his hands. You immediately missed the warmth. Even so, you maintained your composure as he leaned in once more. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Princess?”

“N-no.”

“Really?” That smirk touched the corner of his lips as he took on an almost intrigued expression. “No complaint? Not even a comment?”

“Well-” you began, and he chuckled.

“Ah, there it is.”

“Now you won’t get to hear it.”

“Fine by me.”

You sighed. “I was just going to say you should let me tend to your wounds. There’s no way you walked away completely unscathed.”

He paced over to where his helmet still sat on a table and knocked at it with his knuckle a few times. “It’s called beskar.”

“Alright then,” you tsked as you began to put the first aid supplies away. “Your loss. Let me know if you do need anything after all.”

His brows perked again. “There might be one thing.”

You paused before tucking the first aid box under your bed. “What’s that?”

“I do feel a little sting,” Boba said. “Right here.” He gestured to his lip. You rolled your eyes, but humored him by bringing the box back over and leaning in to get a better look. There were a few scars, but definitely nothing fresh.

“A sting?” you repeated, taking another step. “I don’t see anything.”

“Maybe you should look closer.” His eyes gazed deeply into yours, and you found it nearly impossible to look away. So you didn’t.

Not until your lips were on his. Then, you let your eyes flutter shut.

The kiss was, like his manner toward you before, gentle. Only after you relaxed into it did he kiss you back more firmly, his arm wrapping around you to pull you closer to his armored torso. When he did pull away, you nearly chased his lips with your own before you remembered yourself.

You had been the one to close the distance and kiss him.

You kissed Boba Fett. He had kissed you back.

Your handmaids and some security arrived on the scene, and Boba left you in their care without a word. Sure, he was annoying and smug sometimes. This man had been a mystery to you for the months that you’d spent under his protection. At first he had regarded you with similar annoyance, but perhaps things had changed. Perhaps you had started to grow on each other through the banter.

You hadn’t anticipated this. You hadn’t thought that you’d care for the bounty hunter so much. It was only after the kiss that you were finally able to accept your feelings. They went beyond professional, even beyond mere attraction. Did you dare to venture into the territory of love? You weren’t quite sure about that yet. All you knew was those eyes, his voice, and now his kiss, would haunt your dreams.

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headfulloffantasies · 4 years ago

Text

Legacy Returning

Din Djarin is not fit to be the Mand’alor. He runs from the responsibility and more specifically from Bo-Katan.

Ao3

Legacy Returning

Din received a hail while he was flying between planets on the Outer Rim. He opened the hail without thinking, expecting Karga or Cara with a new bounty.

Bo Katan’s face flickered through the hologram. Din dove for the disengage button.

“Din Djarin.”

Too late.

Din slumped in his seat. He had come to hate that stupid headband so much. “I’m not fighting you for the Darksaber,” he cut right to the chase.

Bo Katan pressed her lips together in a frown. “If you will not face me in combat then you must return to Mandalore and begin reparations.”

Din had never stepped foot on Mandalore. It was hard to return to a place you’d never been.

“No thank you,” he said. He reached out to end the call.

“Consider your fellow vod,” Bo Katan said.

Vod. Brothers. Din had no brothers. His covert had been destroyed. He had broken his Creed. He had no one but the foundling he’d given away.

“Mandalore needs its leader,” Bo Katan pleaded.

“That’s not me,” Din said. “If you want the Darksaber, I’m throwing it in the nearest supernova.”

He hung up.

Din arrived on Tatooine at Peli’s shop. She came out of her office wiping her hands on a rag. “Where’s the little womp rat?” She asked in place of a greeting.

Din swallowed hard. “He’s with his kind,” he said.

Peli’s face fell. “Well, next time you have him, bring him this way. I like the little guy.”

Din smiled under his helmet.

“I need some help,” he admitted.

Peli came over and banged a fist on the side of his new ship. “Doesn’t look too bad. Better than your old rust heap.”

“Not with the ship,” Din said. “I need someplace to hide.”

Peli turned on him with a finger pointed in his face. “I know you’re a good person under that bucket, Mando, but if you bring trouble to Mos Eisley I won’t forgive you.”

“Noted,” Din nodded.

Peli dropped the offending finger. “So, what kind of trouble are you in now?”

Din sighed loud enough that it crackled through his helmet. “I accidentally became ruler of Mandalore.”

Peli blinked. She burst out laughing. “You? You can barely take care of the kid!”

Din bristled at that. He’d done excellent with Grogu. He’d found the Jedi for him, hadn’t he?

“Do you know of anywhere I can lay low?” He asked.

Peli shrugged. “People come to Tatooine to disappear all the time. You might want to ask the new crime lord at the Hutt Palace if you’re looking for work.”

Din startled. “There’s a new crime lord?”

Peli waved her hands. “Regimes fall every day. Do I look like a newswave?”

Din thanked her and decided he’d make his way to the Hutt Palace. Work was good. It would keep him occupied until he could figure out his next move.

At the Palace a pretty girl led Din down the stone steps to the throne room. Din’s footsteps echoed in the quiet halls.

They rounded the corner. A throne sat on a raised platform. Din let out a soft curse. “Boba Fett?”

The green helmeted Mandalorian leaped off his throne. “Mando! I thought you’d been killed by that kriffing Mandalorian princess.”

“Not yet,” Din extended his hand. They clasped vambraces. Fennec appeared from behind the throne, carrying a bottle of blue spotchka.

“Nice to see you again,” she smirked.

“What can I do for you, my friend?” Boba asked.

“A job, if you have any,” Din answered. “A hiding place, if not.”

Boba exchanged a glance with Fennec. “You’re running from Bo Katan?”

Din sighed. The sound came from the depths of his very core. “She’s decided if she can’t beat me, she’ll join me.”

“Which means what?” Boba asked.

“She’s trying to put me on the throne of Mandalore,” Din explained.

There was a beat of silence. Boba Fett burst into laughter. The sound bounced off the stone walls. Fennec tried her best, but her smile broke into giggles. Fett bent over and braced himself on his knees while he caught his breath.

“That girl has no taste,” Boba Fett said.

Din wasn’t sure if he should be offended.

Boba sent Din on a task to collect a wayward dealer who’d skimmed some money off the top of Boba’s operation.

“She’s way out in the Dune Sea,” Boba said. “That should be far enough away from Bo Katan.”

Din borrowed Peli’s speeder and set out. As he rode into the sweltering heat of the desert Din reflected on his friends’ reactions to his supposed rulership. No one thought he could do it. Kriff, even Din didn’t think he should be the Mand’alor, but some support would be nice. He definitely could not accept the throne, though. He was dar’manda; he’d lost his Way. He couldn’t lead Mandalore. Especially when he’d come to understand that most Mandalorians did not in fact follow the Way. He should just accept Bo Katan’s challenge and let her have the stupid Darksaber. Kriff, what a stupid system to have a laser sword determine the right to rule. What if it got stolen?

Din arrived at the coordinates Boba Fett had given him. Amid the towering rocks jutting out of the sand Din found a cave. It seemed like the place a normal species would take cover from the suns.

Din stepped into the shade. His visor adjusted to the dimness. A blanket, a dead firepit and a mess of used ration wrappers strewed on the ground. And- was that? Yep. That was a bomb.

Din came to with his ears ringing. He blinked through his visor. Twin suns pierced his vison. He took a breath.

Dank Farrik, that hurt. He ground his teeth against the wave of pain. When it faded enough to manage, Din took stock. It didn’t feel like any shrapnel had pierced his skin. At most, his head hurt. And his ribs under the chest plate.

Gingerly, Din sat up. Smoke billowed out of the cave. The blast had obviously thrown him backwards into the sand. It would take days to clean all the grit from his armour.

A shadow fell over him. Din looked up, a hand on his blaster.

“Dank Farrik,” he hissed. Blue Mandalorian armour filled his vision.

Bo Katan lifted her helmet. Behind her, Kaska Reeves held the collar of Din’s bounty.

Din wobbled to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Bo Katan had the audacity to look shocked. “I’m here to speak to you. You are the Mand’alor.”

“No.” Din unclipped the Darksaber from his belt. Bo Katana stiffened. Din drew back his arm and pitched the Darksaber as far as he could. He nearly toppled over. The Darksaber winked in the light of the twin suns and vanished into the desert.

Bo Katan made a sound like a choked loth cat. Din did not care. He stomped over to Kaska Reeves and snatched his bounty from her.

“Wait,” she said. “She has to stand trial for trying to assassinate the Mand’alor.”

“No,” Din repeated. He tossed his bounty over his speeder and took off. Bo Katan yelled after him. Probably something about disrespecting his cultural heritage. Din still didn’t care.

Boba Fett took one look at Din at decided he needed a drink. Din agreed, but he’d prefer to drink alone. Besides, any planet with Bo Katan on it was not a planet he could stay on.

Din stayed one step ahead of Bo Katan for longer than he actually expected. Say you want about the princess, but she was competent and crafty. She managed to lure him to a backwater swamp with a fake bounty puck.

“I don’t want it,” Din said. Bo Katan held out the Darksaber to him imploringly. She must have spent hours cleaning the sand from its mechanisms.

Din sighed. “Do you want to arm wrestle for it? Would that work?”

Bo Katan’s eyebrows creased. “The Darksaber must be won in combat.”

Din sagged. He was so very tired of people telling him things he didn’t understand.

“I don’t know anything about it,” Din explained. “I don’t know how it works.”

He meant it as an excuse to pass the light sword along to her, but Bo Katan took it as an invitation to recite the Darksaber’s history.

It was… a lot.

Din latched onto one very important detail. “So, it hasn’t always been a symbol of the Mand’alor.”

Bo Katan faltered. “Well, no, but-.”

“And it was stolen from the Jedi,” Din said.

“Yes. But it was Mandalorian first,” Bo Katan emphasised. “The Jedi had no right-.”

“So, it actually belongs to the Jedi,” Din finished his train of thought.

He swiped the Darksaber from Bo Katan’s lax grip. He whipped around and ran up the ramp of his ship.

Bo Katan yelled after him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m giving it back to the Jedi,” Din shouted back. Glowing satisfaction filled his chest at the strangled noise Bo Katan made.

The best part was that he had an actual excuse to go see Grogu. Usually, he showed up to the Jedi academy with a half baked defense about protecting the children or something. Luke humored him, for which Din was eternally grateful. It wouldn’t do to have to kneecap his son’s teacher.

Din knew Luke was dramatic. The man wore a cape. Din did not wear a cape; it was a cloak and it was different. Capes were for dramatic entrances. This time though, Din thought Luke had taken the cake. Upon being presented with the Darksaber, Luke had vaulted into a tree and refused to come down.

“It belongs to the Jedi!” Din shouted up at Luke. He could just see his pale blond hair through the thick foliage.

“I want nothing to do with that thing!” Luke shot back.

Fine. Din could play dirty then. “Isn’t your sister Force sensitive? Does she need a laser sword?”

“Do not give the Death Saber to my sister!” Luke hissed.

Din did not move from his position of holding the Darksaber up towards Luke. He realised he looked much like Bo Katan had when she offered Din the sword. Kriff, why was she only person in the galaxy who wanted it but wouldn’t take it?

“Do any of your other students need a weapon?” Din suggested. He perked up. “What about Grogu? How long until he gets a sword? I can hold onto it for him until he’s ready.”

Luke sobbed.

Rude. Din thought it was a great idea. “It’ll be like a family heirloom.”

“I will murder you in your sleep,” Luke mumbled in the tree. “I will smother you with your pillow.”

Good luck with that. Din wore the helmet to sleep while he visited the academy. He’d had a close call with curious children the first time he’d come to see Grogu. Force users had no regard for locks that couldn’t stop them.

Anyways, Luke could not stay in that tree forever. Luke seemed to realise this too. He finally dropped back to ground level with surprising grace. He had a leaf stuck in his hair. It made him look much younger.

“That thing,” Luke jabbed a finger at the Darksaber. “Has been used to destroy the Jedi. It has no place here.”

Din looked down at the blade. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “It’s just a thing. An object. But everyone acts like it has a will and a destiny. It’s a tool. Tools don’t care what you use them for; they don’t know the difference between good and evil.”

Din had Luke’s full attention. It was a bit daunting. Din swallowed. “Instead of giving more power to the stories of evil deeds, why don’t you use it for good? Reclaim its legacy.”

Luke squinted at him. “You’re a very clever man, Din Djarin. And a very tricky one.”

At least someone thought so.

“Does that mean you’ll take it?” Din extended the Darksaber again.

Luke hesitated. “I think,” Luke said slowly. “That you should be the one to reclaim the Darksaber’s legacy. The Force is working very strongly around you, Din Djarin.”

Din sagged. “I don’t want to be the Mand’alor.”

“Then don’t,” Luke said.

Din’s gaze snapped up to the Jedi.

Luke shrugged. “Part of the Darksaber’s dark legacy is the bloody war for the throne of Mandalore. If you hold the Darksaber but refuse to claim Mandalore then the Mandalorians will have to come up another system to choose their leader.”

Din narrowed his eyes. Luke had a devious mind. It might just work.

“You want me to spend the rest of my life defending the Darksaber from would be assassins and someday die a natural death without ever being defeated?”

Luke shrugged. “Something like that.” He grinned. “You’re doing great so far.”

Din resolutely did not mention he’d been blown up earlier that month.

Din clipped the Darksaber to his belt. “Fine. But if anybody calls me a Jedi, I’m bringing the sword right back here and burying it forever.”

END

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purplesauris · 4 years ago

Text

Now Comes The Tide

Din is very unused to being around someone who's mastered the Force, and who seems intent on bothering him with it constantly. Said Jedi seems wholly unaware.

I am out of CONTROL and no one can stop me

Read it on AO3 here!

The first time that Din had felt the power that radiated off of Luke he'd been overwhelmed. It was such a foreign concept to him, for someone to feel, for all intents and purposes, like he was everywhere. The worst part was that Luke didn't even seem to realize the way Din shivered whenever Luke used the Force, the way he felt each grip of his armor as he was sent flying back like the gentlest of caresses. Din had no clue if he was supposed to feel this way, to feel so intimately the pull of Luke's power, but it left his nerves frazzled when the onslaught of Luke's attention never stopped.

It was worse when Din took his armor off- there was no protective layer between him and the outside world, and every time Luke walked past him or reached out Din's toes curled in his boots. The same feeling didn't apply to having seen Ahsoka or Grogu use the Force- it seemed inherently tied to Luke somehow, as if the way Luke manipulated the Force resounded so deeply within Din that he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. It was very rapidly becoming a problem, one that Din didn't know how to solve without breaking down and shouting at Luke to keep his hands to himself.

So he'd taken his supply run a week early, if only to hide away in his ship where the only pressure around him was the constant ebb and flow of recycled air filling the cabin. There was only one other person he knew who knew even a smidgeon about Jedi aside from Ahsoka herself, and Din did not fancy tracking her down to ask stupid questions that she would only smirk at, the same way she had when Din had asked about Grogu so long ago. So he went to the next best source- a bounty hunter who had captured Luke no less than two times, and was grinning, smug as can be when Din came trudging into his base on Tatooine.

"Mand'alor."

"Fett." Din looked around the room he'd descended into, taking in the blaster marks on the wall that showed him obvious signs of a recent fight. "Redecorating?"

"Adds a certain charm." Din snorts, as if that's what you'd call it, and Boba’s voice is amused, that same grin on his face. “You’re a week early.”

“We were running low.”

“On patience?” Din tenses, trying to hide the way his fingers twitch, but Boba is observant and he only chuckles. “What did your Jetii do now?”

Din glances at Fennec, perched on the arm of Boba’s throne, the woman’s eyebrows going up for a moment before she sighs, rolling her eyes. She rises from her spot, taking her rifle with her as she disappears somewhere deeper within the facility to give them privacy. “What do you know about him and his… powers?”

“Not much.” Boba leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against the arm in a slow, steady drumming that puts Din on edge. “He’s strong, a skilled fighter.”

“I know that. What I don’t know is-” Din cuts himself off, gritting his teeth, and Boba tilts his head. “I don’t know why I’m- reacting.”

“And you came here... To ask me?” Boba talks slowly, as if parsing out why Din would want to come here in the first place. Boba scrutinizes him with new eyes, tilting his head in such a distinctly familiar way that Din feels like he could be looking in a mirror. “You don’t react to Grogu, do you?”

“No. Not- this way.” Boba laughs then, shaking his head and covering his face with a gloved hand. Din feels as if the laughter is directly aimed at him, more than at the situation, and Din clenches his hands into fists. "I didn't come to-"

"I know why you came, Mand'alor, but I don't have answers. You'll have to ask Skywalker." Boba rises from his throne at last, broad form filling the room as he steps heavily down off of the dais. "Has he told you anything about being force sensitive?"

"I'm not force sensitive." Din shoots back, frowning when Boba inclines his head, brows raising. It only serves to fuel Boba's amusement, and he sighs heavily, clapping Din on the back.

"Go home, Mand'alor. Secretive as he may be, you've got the last Jetii wrapped around your pinky finger. Use that." Boba's expression has turned serious, and Din scowls within his helmet. "Make sure you get supplies though, or he'll think you were running away."

"Fuck off, Fett." Boba's booming laughter follows Din all the way back to the Razor Crest. Boba is right, though, of course he is, and Din really did mean for it to be a supply run, so he works through it like he always does. He hunts Luke's tea down, finds something that looks fluffy and soft for Grogu to play with, and takes a few bounties just to work his frustration out.

So what if they come back a bit more bruised than usual? So what if Din is a bit more silent when he drops them off and collects his credits? Cara and Karga know better than to comment on his foul mood, the former instead taking him out to the lava flats and affectionately beating the shit out of him. Din hasn't had a hand to hand fight without Luke's powers getting in the way in so long that fighting Cara now seems slow- predictable. Cara seems surprised by his newfound skill, but still manages to toss him like a sack of grain, Din hitting the ground and staying there, laughing like a fool. Cara collapses on the ground next to him, bumping her shoulder against his pauldron. Her chest rises with her own uneven breaths, broken by her laughs, and she's still chuckling when she talks.

"Remember Sorgan?"

"Mhmm."

"That widow was super, super into you."

"She was nice." Din agrees, Cara snorting next to him and continuing her thought.

"Why does everyone you meet fall in love with you? Is it the fact that you can fight?"

"You in love with me, Dune?"

"Very funny, Mando." Din snickers quietly, turning his head when he feels Cara shift next to him. He finds her watching him, eyes narrowed, and Din sits up, suddenly feeling vulnerable laying on the ground the way he is. Cara doesn't move, watching him as a smile grows over her face. "Have you ever fallen in love? Before Skywalker?"

"If I say yes, will you believe me?"

"Not a bit." Din bobs his head in a nod, as if that makes sense, and Cara sits up, smile fading into something softer. "He's good for you. You laugh more than you used to."

“Maybe you’re just funnier.” Cara laughs, but Din can’t deny that he feels… Happier. With Grogu and Luke he feels like he has a purpose, like he’s more than a faceless bounty hunter scraping by. He has a home, a clan to go back to, and that thought sobers him. He’s never dreaded being away from Luke, enjoyed being able to go out and get what they didn’t have, but he misses him. It’s an itch he can’t scratch, the lonely ache in his chest when he’s gone, but it makes going home, seeing the look on Luke’s face that much sweeter. Which he should be doing, he realizes. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too. Duty calls.” Cara rises to her feet first, holding out a hand and hoisting Din to his feet. Din tightens his grip on her hand, standing there for a moment. Cara grips his hand tighter in response, smiling and letting him go when his grip loosens. She shoos him off in the direction of the port while she heads the opposite way, and Din’s trip back home is spent in quiet contemplation.

He still has no idea what is going on with him, with Luke’s power, but there aren’t any other options other than talking to him about it. It shouldn’t seem like such a daunting task, but how do you tell the man you’re very much in love with that his powers do weird things to you without ruining the relationship? Din supposes he could just be straight forward about it, like he is everything else, but his cheeks burn already just thinking of the admission. Din will just have to buck up and face that conversation when the time comes, because the planet they call home is rapidly approaching, and soon Din is too busy with landing the ship and unloading to think much more about it.

Luke is waiting for him at the edge of the city, Grogu balanced on his shoulder, little hands in his hair as Luke floats rocks in a circle above his head. Din’s heart goes fuzzy at the sight, and the closer he gets the more the feeling of Luke washes over him. It’s a pleasant, buzzing warmth under his skin, one that Din didn’t realize he’d missed, and he adjusts the heavy pack against his back.

“Did you see me come in?”

“Sensed you. Everything go okay?” Din hums noncommittally, closing his eyes when Luke reaches out to cup the back of his neck, drawing him in and pressing his forehead to the cool metal of Din’s helmet. This close with Luke’s fingers on the back of his neck, twitching in time with the rocks orbiting them, Din feels an echo of what Luke must feel all the time. An unearthly, groaning abyss of something around him, permeating the air in layers that never quite let up. Din steps back, Luke’s hand falling away, and he can breathe again, eyes opening in time to see a curious expression flit over Luke’s face.

“Hungry?” Din asks, desperately wanting to shatter the fragile thing lingering in the air.

“For your cooking? I think I could settle.” Luke grins, wincing when Grogu pulls his hair, gurgling happily and reaching for his father. Din chucks him gently under the chin, voice fond.

“Yeah kid, me too. Let’s go home.”

-*-

Din really, really doesn't know how to start this particular conversation. Grogu is down for the night, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and Din has finally let himself somewhat relax. He’s got Luke up on the counter, or rather, Luke had seated himself on the counter while Din cleaned up, and Din hadn’t let him down since. Din leans into the fingers in his hair, eyes closed as Luke trails kisses over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. The feeling of Luke’s hands or lips on his face is a novelty he still hasn’t gotten over, and Din can tell he’s grinning when Luke bumps their foreheads together.

“You’re thinking.” Luke prods, Din leaning harder into his touches. “Have been since you got home.”

“Your jetii mind powers tell you that?” Luke snorts, pressing a soft kiss to Din’s mouth before cupping his cheeks, thumbs pressing lightly under his chin to tip Din’s head back. Din blinks his eyes open, locking eyes with Luke, who wears a soft frown on his face.

“They don’t have to. What’s eating you, Din?”

“Nothing.” Din’s stomach twists uneasily at the sad twitch of Luke’s lips, but he leans forward, kissing him without thinking and smiling when Luke softens under his hands, a hand sliding into Din's hair to hold him close. Din doesn’t pull away to talk, letting his lips brush against Luke’s with every word. “I have… to figure out how to say it.”

He expects Luke to protest, or argue, but Luke hums against his lips and smiles. “Okay.” Din makes a noise, a question, and Luke’s smile grows wider. “We’re adults, Din, I can wait until you’re ready to talk. For now, how about we spar?”

“It’s pitch dark outside.”

“That’s never stopped us before.” Luke points out, and well… He does have a point. Anticipation curls in Din’s gut at the thought, and he takes a step back, letting Luke slide off the counter, straightening his clothes and brushing a hand through his hair to let it fall back over his forehead. Din grabs his helmet on the way to the door, slipping it on and swallowing so his ears will pop as the pressure regulates. He allows himself a moment to pop in and check on Grogu, but he’s sleeping away, clutching the new toy that Din had brought back with him.

Din shivers when cold, firm pressure curls around him, and he stalks outside where Luke waits just inside the treeline, wagging his fingers mockingly and grinning when Din draws his blade. He’s used to the intense, fevered glow of the darksaber by now, and the green glow from Luke’s saber is a welcome sight, even muted by his visor. Din walks in a slow, even circle around Luke, watching and waiting for the telltale roll of Luke’s wrist right before he gets serious. He watches, and he waits, shivering when the feeling of Luke’s power swells, latching onto him with singular focus as Luke lunges for where he’s about to take a step.

Din is expecting that, though, darksaber already in place to intercept the blow, and Luke’s eyes flicking up to his as sparks rain from their blades. Din pushes back, shoves into Luke’s space and pushes him onto the defensive. It’s probably a mistake to do so so soon after their match has begun, but Din is fueled by the fire that rages through him when Luke fights, eyes flicking back and forth, tracking Luke’s movements as their sabers meet over and over again in showers of sparks that sizzle against his chest piece.

Luke pushes harder now, using his powers to throw Din off balance, to test his limits of what he can fight against while trying to gain the upper hand at the same time. Din’s hands are steady around the hilt of his saber even when the rest of him shivers and twitches with each brush of Luke’s power. It’s easy for Din to lose himself in the feelings of fighting, the shuffling of his feet and the way his heart pounds in his chest as he leans back, narrowly avoiding a lightsaber to the side of the head.

“Watch it.” He barks, glaring when Luke grins sheepishly and adjusts his angle. His helmet can take as much as his armor can, but his neck is semi exposed and Din doesn’t want to lose his head.

“You can stop, if you want.” Din growls at that, because that isn’t what he meant, but the firm hand of Luke’s power clamps down on him, dragging him forward as Din brings his sword up, letting it hiss and spit against Luke’s shield as Luke’s hand brushes over his hip. The touch is quick, fleeting and gone, but Luke’s handprint lingers like a brand, and when Din tries to take a step back, jerking against Luke’s influence his power surges up around Din, raking over his skin in fluid waves of ecstasy. A gasp escapes him before he can help it, loud and raw, and Luke’s lightsaber dies out abruptly. A hand wraps around Din’s, thumb finding the button on the hilt and retracting the blade of the darksaber as Din’s head empties out. “Din-”

Another wave of feeling cascades over Din then and he takes a step back, sweeping Luke’s legs out from under him in one smooth movement. Luke goes down with a shout and Din is on top of him before he can move. His beskar digs unforgivingly into the soft parts of Luke’s body but Luke doesn’t seem to care, struggling against him, fingers digging into the padding of Din’s hips. Din presses down, trying to pin his hands, but Luke’s legs come up behind him, hips shoving up and throwing Din off balance. Din topples forward, hands slapping the dirt on either side of Luke’s head as Luke’s arms wrap around him, rolling them over and over until Din’s head is spinning and Luke’s got his back pressed into the dirt.

Din struggles against Luke’s hold, knowing that they’re just about as easily matched as they can be, but phantom hands clamp down on his ribs, keeping him in place as Luke moves, shoving Din’s legs apart in favor of fitting himself between them. Luke stares, blue eyes wide and dark in the low light filtering through the trees, and Din’s back arches uselessly off the ground when Luke’s power flushes through him, heat pooling between his legs and lips parting as he chokes on a keening cry of Luke’s name. The lock on Din’s helmet pops hard enough for Din to feel it, and Din rips it off himself, pulling in huge, gulping breaths of air as Luke leans over him.

Din hardly has a chance to breathe between the onslaught of phantom touches tracing every inch of him and Luke kissing him senseless, but he doesn’t care. He buries a gloved hand into Luke’s hair and twists the strands between his fingers, lapping into his mouth and groaning when Luke presses his hips forward. “Luke-”

“That’s what you were thinking about.” Luke breathes, pulling back just enough to look at the way Din’s cheeks flush.

“It’s not-”

“Don’t lie, Din, it doesn’t feel nearly as nice as this does.” Luke rolls his hips forward, drawing another gasp from Din’s lips and grinning when Din presses his thighs tight to Luke’s sides. “Is that why you left early?”

“Yes- no- you won’t stop touching me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Luke tilts his head, considering, but Din’s hand drops to grab weakly at his hip, tugging him forward, and Luke rolls his hips again, giving Din just an instant of friction.

“I can- can feel whenever you- do your magic thing. It's distracting." Luke huffs out a laugh, and the reprimand that it isn’t magic is on the tip of his tongue, Din can tell, but Luke tilts his head suddenly. His brow furrows just a bit, determined, and Din’s hips buck up off of the forest floor when concentrated feeling brushes over his cock. Din's breath goes funny almost immediately, odd, hiccupy gasps, and his fingers dig into Luke's hip. “Luke-”

“So sensitive.” The Jedi purrs, leaning down and kissing along the edge of his jaw. Din arches his neck, whimpering, and Luke latches on, sucking soft marks into the sweat lined skin Din bears for him. “Should have told me about this before, Din. What fun we could have had.”

“Telling you now-” Din’s thigh jerks, and Luke laughs huskily as Din’s breath chokes off in his throat, whole body going taut as he comes. Din can feel Luke smiling against the column of his throat, but whatever control Luke is exerting only gets worse, dragging along the sensitive bud until Din is writhing, trying to both get away from the sensation and chase it. “I need- I-”

“I’ve got you. Tell me what you want, Din, I’ll give it to you.” Din brings both hands up to grab at Luke’s hair, dragging him into a wet, messy kiss that he can only half focus on. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants past the hot, insistent ache between his thighs, but Luke has never truly needed words when Din wants something bad enough. Luke groans against his lips, kissing him hard before pulling back, pressing their foreheads together in an effort to get Din to concentrate. Brown eyes so dark they look black bore into blue, and Luke’s eyelids flutter before he looks back down at Din. “You’re sure?”

Din nods frantically, tilting his head to nip at Luke’s lower lip, and Luke snatches at Din’s hip just to have something to hold on to. The first phantom press of Luke’s power against Din’s hole has Din groaning, and when Luke allows that feeling to press in, to slowly and surely spread him wide Din’s head falls back against the ground with a thud. His whole body quakes under Luke’s, hips rolling down uselessly into the sensation of Luke using his powers for something decidedly inappropriate. Luke pauses, breath shuddering from his throat, and Din moans, muffled when Luke kisses him, trapping the sound between the two of them as Luke’s hand draws back, the phantom feeling drawing back as well.

It makes Din whine, being empty, but then Luke is pressing back in, deeper and more insistent and Din sees stars. Heat rockets through him with each shove of Luke’s power opening him up and keeping him full, and Din loses track of time completely. It’s a feeling he’s never had before, being so completely full yet knowing that Luke isn’t moving a muscle. It’s too hot for him to feel any kind of shame, and he groans when Luke pops the button to his fly, tugging the zipper down and shoving his hand past the layers of his clothes. “Luke-”

“I can only focus on one- fuck you’re wet-” Din laughs breathlessly at the first slick slide of Luke’s thumb against his cock, the laugh petering off when Luke’s power surges, pressing up harder into him and making him clench down. Din bites down on his lower lip to try and dampen the noise, not wanting to be loud, but Luke’s free hand comes up, thumb snagging his lip from between his teeth. “Don’t hide- don’t-”

Din moans out loud, unable to help himself, and Luke’s thumb slips into his mouth, pressing against his tongue and dragging over his teeth. Din tries to wrap his lips around the appendage and suck but Luke presses his thumb in, Din choking softly until he lets his jaw go slack. Luke eases his thumb back, letting Din flick the tip of his tongue over the pad of his thumb while moaning lewdly. It’s shockingly loud in Din’s ears, his cheeks heating in embarrassment, but Luke moans right along with him, shaking in between his legs and other thumb speeding up on his cock. Din whines, trying to warn him, but Luke’s only focus is on him, on the wet warmth of him and keeping his power firmly filling Din up. Din’s body can’t tell whether the sensation is warm or cold, but it doesn't seem to matter much when Luke rubs a tight circle on his cock, thumb applying firm, steady pressure that sends Din careening over the edge for the second time in the span of only a few minutes.

“Good?” Luke whispers, hand stilling once Din whines at the overstimulation. Din nods, but his skin is still crawling with need and he only has one thought in mind.

“Want you in me.” Luke swears under his breath, a rather colorful word that makes Din wheeze out a laugh. Luke draws both his hands off of Din to wrestle with his clothes, unlatching Din’s thigh plates and yanking his pants down his hips. Din helps as much as he can, shoving his boots off and letting them fall somewhere in the dirt behind them and then twisting so Luke can yank his pants down off his legs, tossed to the ground somewhere near them. Luke hurries to get the fly of his own pants undone, but he doesn’t have to remove anything, just pulling his cock out and groaning at the first touch.

Din goes up on an elbow, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Luke strokes himself a few times, smearing the precum that gathers at the tip. Din lets his legs fall open wider, other hand sliding down to spread his lips, and Luke’s eyes flick down to watch with interest. “You’re gorgeous.”

Din scoffs, but his chest is warm with affection and he smiles when Luke shuffles forward, kissing him sweetly. Luke’s hands pet over his hips as he lifts him to settle easier in his lap, thighs tucking under Din to support him. It’s a bit weird to have all the rest of his armor on still, but he’s sufficiently distracted when Luke grinds his hips forward, slipping through the slick that’s made a mess of his thighs. “Oh.” Din gasps out when Luke angles his hips, pressing in slowly yet steadily. The phantom fucking that Din experienced earlier was definitely cold, because the hard, insistent filling of Luke’s cock burns in the best way. “Oh- LukeLukeLuke-”

Din’s hips lift of their own accord, easing the angle, and he’s so sinfully wet that Luke slides in faster than he means to, pressing to the hilt and voice cracking on a moan. Din shakes, clenching down on the length of him, and Luke pitches forward, forehead pressing into Din’s collarbone as his hips snap forward, forcing a loud, breathy noise from Din’s throat. Luke braces one hand next to Din’s ribs while the other grabs at his hip, steadying him as he breathes in slowly through his nose, letting it out through his mouth moments later. “You’re tight, I-”

Luke’s words strangle in his throat when Din purposefully squeezes down around him, hips rutting forward messily. Luke is gorgeous and amazing like this, eyes firmly shut and jaw clenched in concentration as a moan falls from his lips, and Din can't help but stare. "You can move." Din teases, smirking when Luke peeks an eye open to glare down at him. "Really, I won't bre- ah-k!"

Din nearly eats his own words right there when Luke pulls back, slamming his hips home and grinding hard against him. Din tightens around him in response and Luke groans, hand sliding down over Din's thigh to hitch his leg higher. It changes the angle just enough to skate over that delightful little spot inside of him, and Din sighs Luke's name. Done with the teasing, Luke finds his rhythm easily, thrusting into Din in long, even strokes, pressing deep enough each time that Din's thighs quiver around him.

Din feels hazy in a way he hasn't in a while, unable to think of anything other than the way that Luke feels in him, feels between his thighs, pressed so deep inside of him that he sees white. Din can feel when Luke loses his careful focus, rhythm going wonky and fingers twitching uselessly against Din's thigh. While he's still working toward Din's own pleasure his is rapidly approaching, and Din's heart swells at the careful attention Luke pays him. Here he is, having come twice already, and Luke is still trying to make him go again. Luke's eyes snap to his, half wild when Din very firmly thinks of what he wants, and Luke's nodding his head without really seeing, hands moving to grab at Din's ribs and haul him up. Din sits up, carefully shuffling his thighs and settling heavily in Luke's lap. The new position presses Luke deeper inside him still, making his toes curl, and he moans when Luke's hands grab at his ass, blunt fingernails digging in. Din grips Luke's shoulders as he lifts his hips, dropping them down as Luke thrusts up, carving hard into him and fucking him open. Din presses their foreheads together, panting and occasionally trying to kiss him before their rhythm forces him to pull back again.

"So good for me, fuck I love you-" Din grins then, tightening when he drops down and basking in the needy whine that drifts from Luke's lips. "So much- love you so much-"

"Come, Cyar'ika." Din whispers, listening as Luke whimpers, nodding jerkily as he fucks up desperately, groaning and hands sliding down a bit on Din's ass to spread him wider. Luke doesn't last after that command, eyelids fluttering shut as he presses up, hips stuttering and grinding up in small, tight thrusts as warmth paints Din's insides. Din's eyes roll back in his head at the feeling and he sags heavily in Luke's lap, keeping him pressed deep as he slots their lips together.

It takes Luke a few seconds to catch on, one arm shifting to lock around Din's hip and hold him still while his hips roll up, fucking his own mess into Din and chasing the last dregs of his release. Luke's other hand slips between them, wrist cramping as he traps Din's cock between two knuckles, letting Din grind up into his hand and whine against his lips. His movements are lazy the entire time, placated, and Luke takes his time tasting the moans that Din lets free while working himself between Luke's fingers. His third orgasm is nowhere near as all enveloping as his first two, just a hazy warmth that bleeds through him and makes him throb around Luke, finally settling as Luke pulls his hand back to hug him close to his chest.

The beskar makes it a bit odd to press closer, an unnecessary barrier, but Luke acts as if it isn't there at all, hands wandering over Din's back plate and occasionally brushing a clump of grass from his cloak. Luke eventually just tucks his face into Din's neck, seemingly dozing with Din in his lap. Din has almost drifted off himself, warm and happy when Luke speaks, voice groggy. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you felt me manipulating the force?"

Din hums, shrugging and leaning his head against Luke's. "Couldn't pinpoint an exact day. After we kissed the first time. Every time after that."

"So when we spar you…"

"Most of the time. Sometimes I can drown it out, like I would an injury."

Luke scoffs, but it's playful, and Din shivers when Luke's fingers trace idle patterns over the small of his back, just under the edge of his back plate. "Thanks Din, so glad to know it's an injury."

"You try being hard all the time." Is all he says back, Luke laughing and conceding the point. "I was afraid of what it means. It- doesn't happen with anyone else."

"Good." Luke says, a note of possessiveness coloring the edge of his voice. "You're sensitive to those you care about. If that person just so happens to be a force user it- creates a unique kind of feedback loop."

"You knew this would happen?"

"Nu uh. Read about it once, in an old text. We aren't supposed to have attachments, so it never seemed prudent. I couldn't be sure you even knew what was happening half the time we talked without me actually speaking."

"That isn't part of the force that's just…"

"You being sensitive." Luke kisses Din's neck gently, breath warm across Din's skin. "It's different with us. You aren't just guessing- you know, even if your waking brain doesn't. You used it earlier, to tell me what you wanted."

Din's cheeks flush at the memory, but Luke is entirely earnest, sitting back to look Din over carefully. He must like what he sees because the blonde man grins, Din's cheeks flushing darker as his face pulls into something resembling embarrassment. Hiding his expression is something Din is woefully bad at, and he knows every twitch of his face betrays him, how he's feeling. Luke's hands smooth over his hips, thumbs pressing into the line of his hip bones, and Din turns to frown at him, brows twitching upward.

"Don't tell me you want to go again." He deadpans, Luke's lips quirking in a small, teasing smile.

"Mm, tempting, but I was more thinking of going to take a shower." Luke's thumbs don't stop their slow, even press and Din shivers, shoving lightly at Luke's chest and lifting himself up out of Luke's lap. He's expecting the mess that standing will make, but Luke's fingers shift and Din gasps as cool pressure fills him up, fingers digging into Luke's shoulders. Luke's hands slip down to cup the sides of his thighs and he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on the skin below Din's belly button.

"Luke." Din's voice is sharp, a warning more than anything, and Luke hums, placing one last soft kiss before rising to his feet as well. Din doesn't particularly want to get redressed, but he is not walking his bare ass into the house in fear that Grogu is awake, so he shoves his legs back through his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Luke has his boots and thigh plates in hand already while Din pads over to where his helmet was discarded, scooping it up and tucking it under his arm. Luke holds out his free hand, wagging his fingers until Din rolls his eyes and takes his hand, allowing himself to be led inside to their now shared room. Luke drops off Din's stuff and turns to strip him of the rest of his armor. "I can undress myself."

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"Undress yourself." Luke scoffs at the idea, waving his hand, and Din rolls his eyes again. Once his armor is off Din drags Luke to the refresher, stripping himself out of his clothes while the water heats. Din is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, watching Luke undress when he sees Luke's fingers move, just a small crooking of his fingers. Din shudders, hand shooting out to grip the edge of the sink as the pressure inside him fades, and Din's cheeks heat at the way come drips onto his thighs. Din stands resolutely by the sink even when Luke slips into the shower, willing the strength back into his knees and only moving when he's sure he isn't going to fall over.

"Coming?" Luke calls, peeking his head out of the shower and snickering at the glare Din levels his way.

"You're an ass." Luke hums, cheeky grin on his face, and he holds a hand out, allowing Din to clutch onto it as he takes a step over the edge of the tub. Luke turns them immediately so Din can be under the warm water, regardless of the way he shivers, skin already wet. Din tips his head back, letting the water slick his hair back and paste it to his temples.

Despite Luke's teasing and general cheekiness his movements are tender as he helps Din wash up, occasionally leaving light, chaste kisses on the slope of his shoulders just to have an excuse to be close. Din basks in the attention afforded to him, and he's all too happy to do the same, hands mapping over the scars lining Luke's body and working soap through his hair. Luke's hair is longer, finer than his, and while Din's hair stands up with no prompting Luke's falls around him in loose waves, curling at the nape of his neck.

By the time that they finally make it out of the shower Din is half asleep on his feet, shuffling along behind Luke back to the bedroom. He can still hear Grogu snoring away on the other side of the house, so he doesn't feel bad when he collapses onto the bed, letting Luke manhandle him until the both of them fit nicely under the covers.

"So," Luke begins as Din is just beginning to drift off again. "Is this an every time thing?"

"Go to sleep, Luke."

"I'm just asking!" Luke says defensively, laughing when Din digs his fingers into Luke's ribs to make him squirm. "Fine fine, but you have to tell me in the morning."

-*-

Din is pleasantly sore when he wakes up the next morning, just a faint ache between his legs that he enjoys more than he should. The sun hasn’t risen yet, light barely straining to lighten the sky, but Din feels too awake to go back to bed. Instead he goes up on an elbow, glancing down at Luke’s sleeping form. He sleeps spread out, much like a star, wholly unused to sharing a bed with anyone and taking up as much space and blanket as he can. Din on the other hand, is used to sleeping in tight quarters, and it’s all too easy to tuck himself in the space that Luke does leave for him. Which seems to be growing with every night they spend tangled together.

Luke’s face is young, devoid of the usual calculating look or serene expression he wears at all times if he can help it. He’s so wildly expressive when he wants to be, quick to frown or grin and make a joke, but Din feels… Emptiness sometimes. Like the feelings that Luke wears are more like a shield, rather than actually being his. Din doesn’t know much about Luke’s training as a Jedi, and is still learning about his past, but Luke had mentioned more than once that Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments. That they made them weak, susceptible to the dark side that Luke always seemed so serious about. But here now, Din doesn’t feel weak.

Din finds himself touching Luke, gentle and easy, tracing along the scars on his chest and dipping down to follow their jagged, racing edges with his lips. One scar drifts under his nipple, so close that Din can’t help the way he detours to flick his tongue over the bud, smiling when Luke shifts, chest rising with quicker breaths. Din doesn’t stay there long, not quite wanting Luke to wake up and say something that he thinks is funny so early in the morning. He just wants to touch him, to let his hands drift, fingers trailing the bumps of his ribs that become apparent when Luke breathes in. Din sits up further now, moving slowly so as not to disturb Luke too much, and he skims his hand over the plane of his chest, up toward his shoulders and down one arm, over his bicep and finally stopping to cup his forearm.

Luke’s arms are impressive, corded with muscle but not enormous like Boba- There’s an inherent delicacy in Luke’s form that betrays the strength hidden there, and Din enjoys it immensely. He knows that Luke leans into the look, in letting people underestimate him the same way that Din’s armor and presence demand more. Din places his hand on Luke’s stomach, watching the way that Luke twitches when Din drags his fingers over the lean muscle.

“You’re affectionate.” Din hums when Luke speaks, voice groggy and eyes still closed. Din doesn’t bother stopping even knowing that Luke is awake, but now that he is awake Din’s hand drifts lower. Luke makes a soft noise at the soft brush of Din’s knuckles against the insides of his thighs, Din nudging his legs a bit further apart. Luke shuffles his legs at Din’s insistence, and Din presses his thumb into the crease of Luke’s thigh and hip, huffing a laugh at the way that Luke’s hips shift. He does it again and sees Luke’s stomach clench, flexing as his breathing goes funny. “Din, you know what that does to me.”

“Mhmm.” Din slips in between Luke’s legs easily while he’s distracted, bringing his other hand up to apply equal pressure to the other side too. Luke’s back arches weakly off the bed at the odd, wobbly feeling that Din made him describe the first time he touched him this way, and Din uses his elbows to keep Luke’s knees from digging into his sides. “We have time before Grogu wakes up.”

“Insatiable.” Din laughs at the way Luke’s voice rasps from him, and Din drops a hand to boldly take Luke in hand, watching the way Luke’s lashes flutter as his hips roll upward. “You’re very far away, Din.”

“Right where I want to be.” Luke’s breath hitches when Din shuffles himself down, left hand smoothing over Luke’s thigh, circling under to tuck his leg up and out. Luke plants his heel in the bed, adjusting himself as Din hums and dips to kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh. Luke croons at the affection, the sound dissolving into a whine when Din nips lightly and then sucks, coaxing a mark to the forefront. Din settles himself down on his front, propped up on his elbows and breath ghosting over the soft curve of Luke’s cock. “You had a question last night.”

“Hmm?” Luke murmurs, hardly seeming to pay attention. Din leans down to lap at the base of Luke’s cock, lips curling in a smile against the soft flesh when Luke gasps.

“Your question, Luke.”

“Ah, shit, umm- what we did last night, with the- ah- force-” Din trails his lips up, letting Luke feel the warmth of his mouth so close while Luke tries desperately to form a coherent thought. Luke seems on the verge of being able to say something when Din takes the head into his mouth, sucking lightly and a hand shooting out to grab at Luke’s thigh, forcing him back into the bed as Luke whines. “You- are impossible-”

Din watches as Luke goes up on his hands, one hand reaching down and fingers threading in Din’s hair. Din hums, bobbing his head in appreciation as Luke’s fingers tighten in his hair. Din looks up as he hollows his cheeks, taking Luke deeper and raising a brow. He lets his thoughts, normally so guarded, flow from him now, and Luke groans, whole body shuddering. Luke’s power rushes up his spine, pooling at the back of his neck and sinking into the base of his skull, vision going dark as Din closes his eyes, swallowing Luke down in earnest.

I want it to be every time. I thought you were uncomfortable around my use of the force, but this whole time- this whole time you liked it.

Luke’s voice is clearer than Din has ever heard it, and Din feels the first cold drag of Luke’s attention against his ass and thighs, raking over his skin. Din can’t do what Luke does, but he tries to show him, to share with him the way that Luke’s powers feel. He thinks about last night, when Luke had grabbed him and overwhelmed him so thoroughly so quickly, and Luke twitches in his mouth, hand tugging on his hair. Din rises with the insistent pull at his scalp, allowing Luke to guide him up and then back down, and Luke huffs out little noises above him, soft and needy in the still of the morning. Din gives him everything he can, thinking about the first time that Luke’s power had excited him, had left him aching and confused and lusting in a way that he was wholly unfamiliar with.

The times in between, when Din was left taking cold shower after shower, trying so desperately to garner back some kind of control until the next echo of Luke’s power sent him reeling again. The warm buzzing that hid under his skin, reaching a crescendo whenever Luke touched him with those strong, talented hands of his.

It never seemed to stop either- Din’s lust was an all consuming thing, a constant want that burrowed in his skin, lit him up from the inside. Din’s mind comes back to him slowly as the pressure at the base of his skull lessens, and he blinks back tears as Luke grinds up into his mouth. He isn’t sure how long he’s been like this, letting Luke see everything while using his mouth, but he can feel his hair sticking to his temples and his jaw has only just begun to ache.

“I didn’t know-” The sound of Luke’s voice, real and rough sends a shock of arousal through Din, and he pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head while Luke tries to speak. It gives him a break, but most importantly it draws the softest moans from Luke, and if Din’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied he’d smile. Instead he sucks particularly hard, chuckling as Luke’s thighs bracket around his head, Din’s hand coming up to keep Luke from squeezing too hard. “Didn’t know it was that way for you.”

Din pops off of Luke’s cock suddenly, surging up onto his knees and crowding into his space to kiss him. His lips are wet and he doesn’t doubt that he tastes like Luke, but Luke throws an arm around his neck and hugs him close, lapping into his mouth as Din wraps a hand around him, creating a tight fist that Luke bucks up into. “It isn’t just the force thing.” Din says, bumping their noses together as he pulls back.

“No?” Din wants him to know, needs him to know, love burning in his chest in time with the pounding of his heart.

Din laughs, bright and stupid and happy, and his wrist twists, drawing a keen from Luke as his hips stutter. “You’re too cocky to pretend you aren’t attractive, Luke.”

“Rude-”

“Stop talking.” Luke scoffs in offense, but Din stops touching him in favor of shoving him onto his back, Luke offering no resistance. Din trails kisses down Luke’s body, occasionally stopping to nip at a spot that makes Luke whimper softly before moving on. Din settles himself back down between Luke’s thighs, and he admires the healthy flush of Luke’s cock, the way it curves proudly up against his stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of Luke spread out like a banquet before him, chest rising and falling and lined with sweat, hair a mess. Luke throbs once Din gets his mouth on him again, and Din can tell he’s close. It seems cruel to keep him in so much suspense, so Din takes him down to the root, swallowing around him and lifting just a bit when Luke’s hips shove upward.

He doesn’t mean to draw back, to make Luke whine, and he soothes hands over Luke’s hips, rubbing at the sensitive junction of his legs in apology. It only takes him a moment to adjust to the weight of Luke on his tongue again, and he allows Luke to fuck up into his mouth, to chase his own pleasure as his hand comes back to grab at his hair. He holds on like without the feeling of Din’s hair in his hands he’ll float away entirely, and Din finds the small tugs whenever Luke presses up just right too attractive to tell him to stop.

Din feels that rush of power push into the base of his skull again, hard and quick, and Din’s hands clench, fingers digging in hard to the meat of Luke’s thighs at the first rush of Luke’s orgasm. He feels, tastes and experiences Luke’s release: his own body sings with it, thighs shaking in tandem with the way that Luke’s do as Din swallows down around him. Din draws back enough to lap at the sensitive spot just under the head of Luke’s cock, groaning at the small taste that he gets in reward as Luke basks in the aftershocks. Din pulls back when he’s able, panting raggedly and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His thighs are still shaking, Luke’s pleasure floating through him in lazy waves, and he slips up to lay along the length of Luke’s body, arm around his waist and head pillowed on his shoulder.

He knows that Luke has regained most of his sense when a kiss is pressed into his hair. “That was new.” Din observes, feeling Luke’s laugh echo through his ribcage from where their bodies are pressed together.

“Like it?”

“It was okay.” A rush of affection makes his stomach flop pleasantly when Luke hums, obviously amused but too sleepy to laugh. Luke turns to face Din, resting on his side and skimming his hand up and down Din’s side. The attention is nice, the simple touch warming him, and when Din deigns to open his eyes the sun has finally begun to peak over the horizon, bathing the room in swathes of oranges and yellows. “Just enough time.”

“We have more.” Luke muses, hand sliding down and catching behind Din’s knee. He stops, letting the offer hang in the air, and Din shifts forward, lifting his thigh in answer. Luke maneuvers himself closer, hooking Din’s thigh up and over his hip and dipping his hand lower. It’s a bit of an odd angle to work at, but Luke adjusts easily, hoisting Din up the bed a bit and grinning at the way Din draws in a sharp breath at the manhandling. He chokes on his breath completely at the first brush of Luke’s fingers against him, teasing over the sensitive edges of him before finally, blissfully moving more centrally. The first pass of Luke’s fingers tugs him open, and Din can hear the wet sound that Luke’s fingers make on the second pass, smearing the slick that’s collected in the time that Din was otherwise occupied. “Never get tired of this.” Luke breathes, humming when Din presses his hands to Luke’s chest to anchor himself.

“Sap.” Din murmurs, voice soft. Luke grins, bumping their foreheads together and watching, enraptured at the way Din’s eyebrows pinch at the first press of Luke’s fingers into him. It’s a bit of a stretch to take two at first, even with as desperately as Din wants this, but he hitches his thigh a bit higher, opening himself more as Luke rubs against his walls, crooking his fingers in a come hither motion that has Din’s fingers curling uselessly against his chest. Din’s brain goes fuzzy as Luke thrusts his fingers slowly, curled just enough that every time he pulls back he rubs just right, dragging over the little bump that makes Din’s thighs shake. He hadn’t even thought about himself when he’d woken up this morning- Luke had given him so much last night, had accepted and loved him more than he could ever ask for, but here, pressed chest to chest, breath mingling, Din has never felt more appreciated.

“Can I show you something?” Luke’s voice is soft, hesitant, but Din nods immediately, scratching lightly at Luke’s chest and gasping when Luke presses his fingers up deep, stilling. Din whines, clenching around his fingers, and he’s so distracted by the feeling that he doesn’t register Luke’s power latching onto him again. Din feels a dizzying sense of vertigo, and then he’s sucked somewhere into a memory, an image that’s firmly burned into Din’s mind just as much as it is Luke’s.

It’s the first time they were together, after Din had confessed, when neither of them were sure of each other or what to do. Din remembers the night as being hard and fast, something passionate, and it is, but the way Luke’s hands had held his hips as Din sat astride him, Din’s hands splayed low on Luke’s stomach to brace himself as their hips rocked together… That was love. Luke held him so gently, guided his hips when he lost his rhythm and never asked for more than Din was willing to give. Luke had paid such close attention to him then, always had, and his hands had scorched over Din's skin with each hesitant, shaking touch. Looking at it now Din doesn’t know how he ever thought that this could be fleeting, the all consuming magnetism that drew them together time and time again.

Luke draws him back out of the memory slowly, easing him back to the present, and Din snakes one hand up to cup Luke’s cheek, drawing him in for a shuddering kiss. His hips rock forward against Luke, egging him on, and Luke gives him what he asks for. Luke's touch is gentle, not wanting to hurt him, and Luke curls his fingers again and presses up against his g-spot, rubbing even as Din’s thighs begin to tremble and jerk with each sensation. He’s up on a razor wire and he doesn’t know how long he can last before it snaps, breaths coming faster and faster until Luke presses just right, flicking his tongue against Din’s and sending Din spiraling Din keens into Luke’s mouth, thighs numb, and Luke grins, working him over until he’s sobbing against Luke’s mouth.

“Luke please-”

“You’re okay, Din, breathe.” Din can’t, he can’t even think past Luke’s fingers still buried deep, and Luke groans, rolling Din onto his back and slipping from his arms. Din feels so empty that he clenches weakly, chest rising and falling as he pants, trying to suck in a proper breath. Din doesn’t care if his mind is wide open or if Luke can see the desperate, pained way he’s hanging right on the edge, he wants so badly that Luke being away from him makes him whimper. Din opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get his eyes to focus so he can see where Luke has gone, but then Luke’s fingers are sliding back into him at a new angle and Luke’s clever, wonderful, hot mouth is on his cock, tongue flicking just right- so right-

Din’s hands fly down to grab fistfuls of Luke’s hair as his back arches, and Luke’s mouth and fingers finally snap that wire inside of him. Din chokes on a cry of Luke’s name as he shakes apart underneath him, grinding down against Luke’s lips and gasping when Luke sucks very pointedly. Warmth rushes through him, making his muscles go loose and warm, and he slumps back into the bed, fingers trembling in Luke’s hair every time that Luke’s tongue slides against him in broad, slow licks. Luke is very, very patient, and he doesn't move from between Din’s thighs until Din lets go of his hair, content to use his mouth until Din is ready to be done. Din shifts his hips, wordlessly asking Luke to pull his fingers out, and Luke does so slowly.

“Okay?”

“We’re doing that again.” Din croaks out, Luke laughing and shuffling to sit between Din’s legs. Din traps him between his thighs, not letting him move, but Luke isn’t planning on going anywhere, blue eyes dark with lust as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking the mess from them as Din groans at the sight.

“You only have to ask.”

“Why is this the first time I got your mouth?”

“Wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it.” Luke says, but there’s something different about him, a sort of confidence that wasn’t there before. “You showed me- a lot, when you were distracted earlier. What you liked, what you thought about when you were- frustrated.”

Both Din and Luke know that isn’t the word either of them would use, but it makes affection bubble in Din’s chest all the same. He reaches out for Luke, pulling until Luke’s weight rests fully on top of him before he kisses him, muttering against his lips. “Make note for next time.”

“Next time?"

"You could use more practice with your mouth." Luke pauses, pulling back to look him over, and a tender yet smarmy grin colors his face, eyes bright.

"I think I can manage that."

#dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #trans din djarin #force sensitive din djarin #major sluttiness #nsft #it's basically all smut lets be real #Im

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masterjedilenawrites · 4 years ago

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The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 28

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: N/A

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 28: The Last Plan

"One more," he'd whispered in your ear, late on your last night with him. You'd been curled up at his side, as you always did before drifting off to sleep, though he'd never be there when you woke. You'd groaned but kept your eyes shut.

"Last one, I promise," he whispered. "A final back-up, if everything else fails and we're desperate. It'd be risky, and messy, but it'd be a last resort. Our last hope."

You'd only hummed in response as Boba had explained his idea, on the verge of a sleep you'd never thought would come in all your nervousness. But you remembered it clearly now, repeating his words in your mind a few times as you were led down a never-ending corridor by Commander Krennic.

There were other options, plans you'd worked hard on, accounting for all the variables you could think of. Plans to get messages to Boba, plans for him to pick you up, plans to hide safely for a time.... You'd covered so many variables, even a few crazy ones that did not seem likely. But none of them fit a scenario where you'd find your mother.

Except for the last plan.

There was a song that, if you could somehow manage to get ahold of your music player and play it for Boba in the Slave I, would signal him to send out a message. It'd be unencrypted, easy to stumble upon, sent to someone like Hondo who would also not be able to keep his mouth shut. He'd pretend to have found the other buyer and that the price had risen even more than 5 million. And he'd give the coordinates of your location with the Empire, pinging back to him from the tracker in your arm.

Any decent bounty hunter, pirate, or entrepreneur would be monitoring intergalactic chatter... and they would all immediately come after you. They wouldn't be able to resist such a payload, Boba had insisted, even if it meant crossing the Empire. Krennic and his soldiers would be overwhelmed by the onslaught and unable to pick a single person to blame in the aftermath. He could come for you without secrecy, amongst all the other hunters. It'd be chaotic, but he was certain he could take you before anyone else could.

The only problem would be stopping them all from continuing to hunt you. But that's why it was a last-ditch-effort, Boba had said just as you finally succumbed to sleep; it would be a risk reserved only for the most desperate of situations.

Krennic turned a corner, you and your mother following just behind. This may not have been what Boba had in mind as a desperate situation, but you were definitely on the verge of panic. Your mom being here changed everything. What would happen when Krennic realized you knew nothing of your father's whereabouts? You had to make sure she got out safely, too.

The Commander led you into a large room with monitors and a mess of equipment in the corners. Science-y looking people milled about, halting their work as soon as Krennic entered with you in tow. You looked a few in the eyes, trying to tell if they were truly loyal to the Empire, or prisoners like your mom.

"What a day, friends," he said as he swept across the room dramatically. The stormtroopers that had been flanking him stopped in the middle of the room, and you and your mom followed suit. "Your colleagues on the other side of the ravine made some wonderful progress today with their lasers, and now you all will soon be able to resume your work with the teleportation device."

He spun to face you and your mom, clasping his hands in front of him with a smirk. "That is, if you all cooperate."

There was murmuring, and your mom shifted nervously beside you, but you were much too occupied with trying to find a way to kick off your own plans. Thankfully, you didn't have to search long. Krennic pulled your music player from his pocket, shaking it in the air a few times to draw attention to it.

"Our analysts here have ways to dissect this device," he said in just a slightly lower voice, indicating his words were more for the two of you now. "But I thought I'd give you a chance to save us all the trouble. This was left by your husband for the bounty hunter you'd hired. It's a way to find him, isn't it?"

Your mom squinted and Krennic took a few steps closer. "What is that? Your old music player?" She looked at you, truly perplexed. You gave her a small nod, needing her to fill up a bit more of Krennic's time while you came up with an idea.

"I... I don't know why he'd have that. I mean, I knew he grabbed some old things in the attic before leaving, but I thought he was being sentimental. I didn't think something like that would matter to him... Maybe it was just a way to let her know her dad looking for her? Like a little clue?"

As predicted, your mom had rambled just long enough, and now you knew how you could spin this in your favor. You cleared your throat, trying to act sheepish and not like you were up to something.

"Actually, I think you're right, sir." You could feel numerous pairs of eyes staring at you. "Now that I know what's really been going on, it makes sense. The thing isn't broken, it just plays the music somewhere else. Where he is. It wasn't a clue for me to find him; it was his way of trying to find me."

You took a hesitant step forward, reaching out for the device. Krennic considered you for a moment before handing it over. It took all your self-control not to let your hands shake from this small victory.

"Once you hit play, it should activate a signal, like a homing beacon." You scrolled around the list of songs, making a show of picking one at random, while really settling on the one that would initiate your plan.

Krennic was now squinting his eyes, and you feared he might be getting suspicious. You gulped and tried to make yourself seem smaller. You were just a little nobody who didn't ask to be caught up in any of this and was now trying to stay on the good side of your captors. It wasn't far from the truth.

"Or at least, I think that's what he'd do with it."

"Yes," you were surprised to hear your mom say. Her voice was small, too, and you knew she was playing along. "I... remember there were similar ideas for secret communication with the scientists he worked with. Yes... that would make sense...."

Whatever doubts Krennic may have had seemed to disappear. He straightened up and snatched the device back from you.

"Good, good. I knew you had some usefulness yet, girl." He inspected the little screen that showed your chosen song playing. You wished you could know for sure Boba had heard it.

"So since it is on and playing, your husband will be learning that his daughter ended up with us here now, on Eadu?"

Your mom nodded, and you bobbed your head along, too.

"Well, signals can be traced both ways. Even if he's not brave enough to finally come out of hiding and surrender with the rest of his family, we can find him."

He tossed the device to the nearest person in a white coat, giving them a nod as their order to start examining it. You knew Boba would have turned off the transmitter by now, especially upon hearing that song, but you were still nervous. What if there was a tiny detail that gave you away?

"Take them out," Krennic waved a dismissive hand at the stormtroopers. But then held up a finger. "Actually, put the girl in one of the lower level rooms."

Your mom started to protest as the stormtroopers grabbed each of your arms and began to pull you in opposite directions.

"Orson, please. I haven't seen her in months...."

"Your family has caused enough headaches to last me a lifetime. I won't have you conspiring and making even more trouble. You'll stay isolated in your rooms until we finally get our hands on your husband and the codes. Then we'll discuss how to best bring you all to justice."

Krennic was already walking away by the time he finished, his lisp coming through on the last word. You tried to give your mom a reassuring look to calm her worries, but it was too subtle. She disappeared the way you'd came while you were moved through a different door, looking as old and distraught as you'd ever seen her.

That wouldn't be the last time you'd see her, you told yourself. The plan you'd just put in motion was crazy, but it was for her. And your dad. And every other loved one who might still be out there. Everything they had done for you, to save you, you resolved to pay back.

#star wars #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba x reader #romance #fluff #mystery #team up #lots of planets #bounty hunting #making plans #the empire #orson krennic #family #friends #home

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mickeymouse-moshpit · 4 years ago

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street lights, people

A/N: WOO I got it done on time! I’m so excited to share the second installment in my biker!Fennec x pediatrician!reader story. I appreciate how kind everyone has been and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks again to maybege for letting me tell my story in this universe. I promise that we’ll get more into Fennec’s past and why she does what she does, it just isn’t time yet.

Rating: T

Warnings: References to child abuse with NO descriptions except that the child was admitted and seen by the trauma surgery service, I don’t think there’s anything else except for some tooth rotting fluff/flirting/smooching.

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter Two: January 11th

“Would you just text her already? You have her number; I don’t see what the holdup is.” Boba tossed the socket wrench back into the open drawer and closed it. He wiped at the grease on his hands with a blue paper towel. “Besides, you need to take her to a BACA meeting anyway. She hasn’t partnered with us officially and needs to know more if this judge is sticking around.”

“You don’t mean—” Fennec looked up from the email she was writing.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Get your ass up, get your phone, and tell her she should come tonight.”

“But she’s probably going to be too tired.”

“Just. Ask. Her.” He picked her phone up from where she had left it when she set up her work area for the day and held it in front of her face to unlock it. “Or do I need to call her office and pretend to be you?”

She snatched the phone away from him and opened up the conversation with you.

Got home safe, thank you

Good. Sweet dreams, Doc -fs

Those two messages had haunted her since she sent hers. She wondered if she should have said less, or said hi in the meantime? Either way, she typed out the message.

What are you doing tonight? -fs

She set the phone down, went back to her work.

***

You picked at the sad chicken in your bowl. You really needed to do a better job of anticipating what you would want to eat through the week when you cooked on Sundays. Rolling your eyes at it, you scraped it into the trash can. You were washing the dish and its lid when you felt your phone vibrate for what seemed like the 80th time that day. Sighing, you dried it off and put it in your lunchbox and sat back down at the communal table in the breakroom. It was empty for now, the students and residents off getting work done in the hopes of not staying past sign out. You pulled your phone out and opened up the message without looking at the sender.

What are you doing tonight? -fs

It took you by surprise to be sure. You felt badly about not replying to her since Friday, but if you were honest with yourself, you knew that you hadn’t been ignoring her intentionally. The days had been long as you transitioned to your week covering this service and you barely had time to feed and bathe yourself.

Same thing I always do, try and take over the world.

And by take over the world I mean go to bed

Do you have time to come to a BACA meeting? It starts at 5:30 -fs

You considered for a moment. You had a few more patients to round on, but otherwise your job was done for the day. You looked at the time, 12:30. You could make it.

I can make that happen. Where do you meet?

The reply was almost immediate.

Boba’s Garage. There’s a makeshift conference room. -fs

Sounds good. I’ll see you there.

You walked back into the kitchen area and started a fresh pot of coffee. You wondered what they could possibly want with you; you weren’t a biker. Sure, you were stern when you were advocating for your kids, but you weren’t even close to being on their level. Well, you thought to yourself, at least you can see her in her element this time, learn what they did in more detail.

***

You hurried up the expanse of concrete to the open garage, trying not to fall but also trying not to be late. A last-minute admission had turned your plenty-of-time-to-maybe-shower-and-then-get-there afternoon into a oh-no-I’m-going-to-be-late-and-they’re-going-to-be-mad evening. You saw the open door, heard voices coming from it and hurried to it. You took a deep breath and tried to slink in unnoticed. But of course, it was a conference room. There were people seated all around it, all talking amongst themselves still. Whew.

You saw an empty chair along the wall and sat down, trying to blend in with the wall as best you could. The scrubs you wore were wrinkled and your baby hairs were sticking straight up from the day you had had. You tried to smooth them down as best you could, swearing you would have a wash day tomorrow when you had the afternoon to work from home on things for CPS. You had no idea why Fennec wanted you here, but you hoped your appearance wouldn’t take away from whatever it was.

You sat in silence as you heard her call the meeting to order. Silence fell. She controlled the room. You crossed your legs as you listened to her.

You listened to them discuss financial matters, an upcoming meeting with another chapter. Then the attention turned to the reason the club existed: the kids.

“As you all know, we’ve heard some rumors about certain kids around town. Today I got confirmation that one of them was hospitalized this afternoon.” Fennec went on to describe what the story was without naming names and your eyes went wide as you realized she was talking about the toddler you had admitted this afternoon for the trauma service. How did she know? Your team was diligent about patient privacy and none of them would ever violate that, so how did she know? “…I worked with Peli all afternoon coming up with a plan and we decided that BACA needed to get involved once this little one gets out of the hospital.”

Peli? Social work? You started putting the pieces together. That was how she knew. You listened as they discussed plans for various outcomes: if they went home, if they went to temporary placement, if there would be a hearing before they were discharged. You listened, still not sure what you were doing here but appreciating that you got to hear what they were discussing, got to know what you offered when you gave the contact card disguised as a business card for a medical supply company.

They wrapped up their discussions, started gathering their things and dispersing. You would go to Fennec, but you had no desire to interrupt her in her space. So, you sat and waited as the room started emptying and engines started kicking to life outside. As the last person left, you stood up carefully.

“You came.”

“Of course I came, I said I would. Sorry I was late.”

“What are you talking about? You weren’t late. And I figured you would be cutting it close when Peli told me you were the one admitting the little one. I know these things take time.” You walked closer to her, perching on the conference room table to her right.

“Uh, thanks. Do you mind if I ask how you know Peli?” She had worked with you since you had started your contract.

“I don’t mind. I’m a social worker there too, I just usually work on the adult side of things. I only started getting introduced to the peds side when I got this gig.” You nodded as she spoke.

“Thank you for inviting me. I appreciate everything you all do, and I can’t tell you what it means to me that I got to learn a little more about what’s behind those cards behind the desk at the office.”

“It was Boba’s idea.” She readjusted the already perfectly stacked papers in front of her. “He threatened to call your office and pretend to be me if I didn’t invite you myself.”

You huffed out a laugh as you bumped your knee against hers.

“Then I’m grateful to the both of you. Thank him for me, would you? I—” Your eyes went wide as your stomach growled and interrupted your thought.”

“Damn, Doc don’t they teach you all to take care of yourselves? Did you eat today?”

“You know, they claim to, but it’s more ‘here’s how you can be more efficient about selfcare so that you can work more and not actually do anything about your quality of life’ and less ‘we genuinely care about you not passing out in a patient’s room or dropping dead of exhaustion.’ I hated what I brought today and had coffee and swore I was going to go to the café to get a snack but that didn’t happen, got too busy.”

She grabbed your hand and gave it a tug to get you to stand up.

“Come on, I’m buying you dinner from this little diner we all go to. You can thank Boba yourself and I can make sure you get a decent meal.”

You nodded, gave her hand a squeeze in thanks.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“Nah, it’s only a couple blocks away and besides, you’re not fit to drive right now.”

You rolled your eyes at that.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“I know you think you are but come with me anyway.”

You nodded and she led you out of the conference room and then the garage out into the cold night air.

“I need to get my coat since we’re walking.” She just nodded and kept your hand in hers until you reached your car. You unlocked in, pulled the door open and grabbed the same wool coat you had been wearing when she rescued you, pulled it on. As you locked up and turned back to her, she took your hand again.

You walked in silence, which gave you plenty of time to sneak glances at her face, illuminated in the orange streetlights as you walked. The glow and the crunch of salt under your feet was hypnotic. As you got to the diner, light snow started again, making you grateful you were at your destination. She opened the door for you and dropped your hand again so you could pull the coat off and hang it up by the door.

“Hey, Fennec! You guys sit wherever you like,” the waitress called from behind the counter. “I’ll be over in just a sec.”

“Come on, you can thank him then we’ll sit as far away from him as we can.” She laughed. You thought you were going to swoon from her laugh.

“Sounds good, lead the way.”

“Boba, this is her.”

You held out your hand and introduced yourself.

“Ah, the famous Doc. We’ve all heard so much about you from Shand here.” He chuckled and gave Fennec a knowing grin as she groaned quietly.

“All good things, I hope? I just wanted to thank you for having Fennec invite me to the meeting tonight.”

“It’s no problem. And if that judge is going to keep handling abuse cases, we’re going to need you to know what we do, how we operate. I heard from a buddy from the last district they worked that they want all depositions given on the stand in front of them.”

You groaned internally at that. Your scheduling was going to get a lot more complicated.

“Thanks again,” you said as Fennec led you, true to her word, to a booth as far away from Boba and his line of sight as she could get you the two of you. You slid into the seat and she sat down across from you. You folded your hands on the table, then in your lap. “So, um, hi. I just want to say I’m really sorry for not replying the last few days. It’s been hectic and I haven’t had a lot of time to do anything for pleasure or leisure.”

“It’s okay. You’re a busy person, your job demands a lot of you and contrary to what a lot of people think, I know you’re not some all-powerful hero. You’re a person, doing what you need to do.”

You could have kissed her.

“You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. But enough about work and my inability to take care of myself some days. How have you been?”

***

You used the last bit of ketchup on your last fry as you listened to her tell you her story, about where she grew up, where she went to school, how she landed in this town and met Boba. How the two of them started the MC and that it had started as the two of them plus Din and Paz who you had yet to meet. When you were finished, you kept listening, you could listen to her all night. But it wasn’t long before you had to stifle a yawn.

“Come on, you need to go to sleep.” She slid the bill over to her, pulling out her wallet and wrapping a few bills up in it before you could get a word in of protest. “Boba will make sure no one takes it, let’s get out of here.” She stood and held out a hand to you, which you took. The two of you made your way over to where your coat hung and walked out as you shimmied into it. You tucked your hands into your pockets and squeezed the pocket warmers before you let her take your hand again, threading her fingers through yours.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence. The snow was still coming down, just flurries now, but with the promise of more to come. When you could see your car again, you both slowed your steps, neither of you quite ready to say goodnight, but you knew you had to, or you would be just that much more tired tomorrow, more on edge. She squeezed your hand once, twice as you got to it, now dusted with the white powder. You turned to face her.

“Thank you, for dinner, for talking, for inviting me, for everything.”

“No problem, Doc, really.”

You glanced back and forth between her eyes and her lips. You took a half-step toward her, tilted your head just to the right.

She brought her other hand up, cupped your cheek before brushing your hair out of your face. Her smirk made a brief appearance before she pressed her lips to yours. You kissed her back, letting yourself get lost as she brought her arms around your waist under your coat. Yours wrapped around her shoulders in response. She deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue along your lips briefly before you let your own brush against it. She tightened her grip on you, one hand sliding down into the back pocket of your scrubs.

When the two of you came up for air, you rested your forehead against hers, letting your breathing stay in sync. She made a small noise of displeasure as she leaned back, untangling from you and your coat.

“Fuck, I don’t want you to leave. But you need to. Go get some sleep, Doc. Let me know when you get home.”

“Fine, but I want you to do the same or I might just have to worry about you.”

“I can do that. Night,” she whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek and stepping back to let you drive away in the orange glow.

Tags: @maybege @phoenixhalliwell

#biker!Fennec #biker AU #Fennec Shand x reader #fennec shand #the mandalorian fanfiction #Fennec Shand fanfiction #sw fanfic #al.exe #street lights people

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